HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027900.jpg
2.2 MB
Extraction Summary
6
People
2
Organizations
4
Locations
2
Events
1
Relationships
4
Quotes
Document Information
Type:
Memoir excerpt / discovery document
File Size:
2.2 MB
Summary
This document is page 52 of a memoir or narrative account (stamped HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027900) describing a young Israeli soldier's experience. The narrator, who is 18 but looks 15, volunteers to lead a convoy of munitions trucks through the desert based on navigation skills learned in 'Gadna Sayerim' and at the settlement of Patish. The text details the skepticism of the commanding officers and the commencement of the mission in American-made six-wheelers.
People (6)
| Name | Role | Context |
|---|---|---|
| Narrator (Anonymous in text) | Soldier/Scout |
18 years old but looks 15, slender frame, kicked out of high school, trained with Gadna Sayerim, volunteers to lead a...
|
| Yigal | Associate/Mentor |
Worked with the narrator in the kibbutz orchards and at Patish.
|
| Battalion Commander | Military Commander |
Skeptical of the narrator's age and appearance but approves the mission due to lack of options.
|
| Unidentified Officer | Company Commander (implied) |
Barks orders asking for a convoy leader.
|
| Reservist Driver | Truck Driver |
Mid-30s, driving the lead truck.
|
| Staff Sergeant | NCO |
In theoretical command, located in the second vehicle.
|
Organizations (2)
| Name | Type | Context |
|---|---|---|
| Gadna Sayerim |
Israeli youth scout/military training program where the narrator trained.
|
|
| House Oversight Committee |
Source of the document via Bates stamp.
|
Timeline (2 events)
Historical
Narrator volunteers to lead a military supply convoy through the desert.
Military base/The South
Narrator
Officers
Historical
Convoy consisting of eight American-made six-wheelers carrying munitions departs.
Heading into open desert
Locations (4)
| Location | Context |
|---|---|
|
Farm settlement in the south where the narrator worked.
|
|
|
General region of the operation.
|
|
|
Location of early training/work with Yigal.
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|
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Terrain the convoy must traverse.
|
Relationships (1)
scouting and navigating... since those first evenings with Yigal in the kibbutz orchards.
Key Quotes (4)
"“Can’t any of you,” he barked, “lead a convoy of a few dozen trucks?”"Source
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Quote #1
"I’m not sure what possessed me. But I thought to myself: yes, I probably can."Source
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027900.jpg
Quote #2
"Still, I could see the surprise in his eyes when he looked at me: only just eighteen, but looking closer to 15, my uniform sagging on my slender frame."Source
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027900.jpg
Quote #3
"But, surreal though it felt, I was actually in charge, since I was the only person who might, conceivably, get us to the right place."Source
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027900.jpg
Quote #4
Full Extracted Text
Complete text extracted from the document (2,479 characters)
first 25 miles will be familiar territory.” He left unspoken the obvious postscript: the need to negotiate the final five to ten miles, through open desert, and to find the right area, on our side of a border that wasn’t even marked. “Can’t any of you,” he barked, “lead a convoy of a few dozen trucks?”
I’m not sure what possessed me. But I thought to myself: yes, I probably can. I had been scouting and navigating in one way or another since those first evenings with Yigal in the kibbutz orchards. I’d trained with Gadna Sayerim. And while I’d never lived in the south, the farm settlement of Patish, where I’d worked along with Yigal after getting kicked out of high school, was not far from the route the conveys would have to take.
So I raised my hand.
“Can you lead a convoy?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Of course, I’ll need a map. And a compass.”
“Why do you think you’re qualified?” he prodded. I’d been in Gadna Sayerim, I said. I was good with maps. “Okay,” he replied, and he sent me, along with two of the company’s junior officers, to the battalion commander.
Someone must have phoned ahead, because he was clearly expecting us. Still, I could see the surprise in his eyes when he looked at me: only just eighteen, but looking closer to 15, my uniform sagging on my slender frame. He gazedat the officers, then back at me, then at the officers again, as if trying to figure out whether he was about to approve something utterly crazy. But he had little choice. Three convoys had to be dispatched within the next couple of hours. So far, with me, he had a sum total of one guy to lead them. “Fine,” he said, and waved us out.
The column consisted of eight huge, American-made six-wheelers, each packed with ten tons of munitions and other supplies. I was in the lead truck. The driver was a reservist in his mid-30s. So were most of the men in the rest of the transport trucks, one driver and one soldier in each. A staff sergeant, in the second vehicle, was in theoretical command. But, surreal though it felt, I was actually in charge, since I was the only person who might, conceivably, get us to the right place.
The platoon commander was right. The first part, on paved roads, was fairly easy. But just before sunset, we reached open desert, the beginning of more than three hours of picking and weaving, calibrating and recalibrating, our way across a wide expanse on sand and occasional scrub bushes that, every mile or
52
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027900
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027900
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