The Last Israelis - an Apocalyptic, Military Thriller about an Israeli Submarine and a Nuclear Iran (12 page)

Michael complemented Eitan’s point: “And if they think of it in terms of a religious war, then they destroyed half of the Jews in the world but – with over a billion Muslims on the planet – any retaliation from our sub would destroy not even one percent of the Muslims. So they win the war of religions, hands down.”

“Good point,” Bao conceded, reluctantly toning down his bravado. He looked at Ambesah, almost disappointed. “How can you think that a reformer would make any difference to the overall strategic picture we’re describing here?”

Eitan continued: “We’re talking about a country that lost over half a million young people and half a trillion dollars in an eight-year war with Iraq that didn’t resolve shit. So why not sacrifice a few million Iranians if it means that you become the dominant power in the Middle East and can take credit for eliminating evil Israel?”

Boutrous tried to come to Ambesah’s defense: “Yes, but if Iran actually destroyed Israel then they’d also be destroying the millions of Palestinians they’re always talking about trying to defend.”

“You think the Iranian regime actually gives a shit about them?” Michael countered. “If they cared so much about Palestinians, don’t you think they would’ve sent money for things like schools and hospitals?”

“Or at least invested money productively in their economy,” Eitan added.

“Right. Instead, all the money that they’ve given to the Palestinians went to Hamas and Islamic Jihad for the sole purpose of attacking Israel militarily,” Michael continued. “And we can see how much that’s really helped the Palestinians.”

“Oh, and Muslim terrorism has probably killed more Muslims than non-Muslims, so the fact that lots of Muslims might die if Iran destroyed Israel would hardly stop them,” Bao added.

“Good point,” Michael agreed. “If anything, those Palestinian victims would just be part of the total cost – like the millions of Iranians who would die from Israel’s retaliation. That’s a cost that they’re prepared to accept, at least according to Rafsanjani’s logic.”

“OK, maybe I was being a little naïve about changing the system there,” Ambesah conceded.

“A little?” Eitan smiled, giving Ambesah a friendly pat on the back.

“But why have you been carrying that printout with you?” Ambesah asked.

“Why? Because I’m the Weapons Officer!” Bao replied. “I don’t want to hesitate, if the time ever comes to use our weapons in response to an Iranian attack. This is a good reminder of what we’re dealing with. The Holocaust began with a long list of public statements like what I read you. And it’d be naïve – or just plain stupid – to assume that things will be different this time.”

“I think it’s amazing that you identify so much with Jewish history, even though your origins are Vietnamese,” Eitan said.

“First of all, the Holocaust is not really a Jewish cause. There’s a lesson for all of humanity there. Sure, it came mostly at the expense of the Jews, but there were many other victims – homosexuals, gypsies, the disabled, and anyone else who didn’t fit neatly into the Aryan categories defined by the Nazis.”

“He’s right,” Ambesah said.

“Second, Israel is home to me and my family. Not only do we have no other place to go to, but we owe our lives to the country, and it’s been very good to us.”

“But you must have encountered problems here and there,” Michael said. “Even I need a break from Israelis,” he continued, sarcastically.

“Of course. But I’m sure there’d be difficulties in any country. And if we went back to Vietnam, things would probably be even harder. Our family would show up with nothing and might even face some hostility from the people who now live on the land that my parents lost.”

“Makes sense,” Ambesah said.

“And if they moved back, they might forget how to complain, cut in line, talk endlessly on their cell phones in public places, and argue all the time!” Eitan added.

“Seriously,” Bao chuckled. “But we also wouldn’t have the same freedoms and economic opportunities that we have in Israel. So, on the whole, the country’s been good to us, and we’re naturally gonna be loyal to it, even if we don’t have the exact same history.”

“But weren’t you thinking of converting to Judaism at one point?” Eitan asked.

“A few years ago. But I decided that it wasn’t really necessary.”

“I can’t blame you – I wouldn’t want to get my dick snipped as an adult,” Michael remarked.

“No, I was actually circumcised.”

“Really?” Ambesah and Eitan asked simultaneously, with the same surprised look.

“Yeah, you want to check?” Bao replied, mocking their skepticism.

“No, it’s OK,” Eitan said, blushing a little. “We just weren’t expecting…”

“Yeah, I think all Israeli-born babies are, unless their parents specifically object to it.”

“So what made you change your mind about converting?” Ambesah asked.

“Well, at first I thought it would somehow help me fit in better socially. But then I realized that I actually fit in better without being religious since most Israelis are pretty secular. I mean look at the crew. It’s maybe only about 20% religious, right?”

“So you don’t believe in God?” Eitan asked.

“Does God believe in us?” Bao quipped rhetorically.

“I think He does.”

“Why would He?” Bao asked. “Look at our world. If there was any reason to believe in us, would we need to be swimming around at the bottom of the sea in a submarine armed with nuclear missiles?”

“Well, God gave us the freedom to choose, so that our acts would have meaning, right?” Eitan replied. “I mean, if we were all just robots doing good things automatically, then our good deeds wouldn’t actually mean anything.”

“Now you sound like Yisrael,” Bao replied.

“He’s not religious,” Ambesah pointed out.

“No, but he’s the philosopher,” Michael said, agreeing with Bao. “So I guess you really believe? Or you just wear a kippah because you were raised that way?”

“Yes, I do believe. My family is pretty traditional. And the Persian Jews have been around for thousands of years.”

“Thousands?”

“Yeah, man. When Cyrus invaded Babylon, he freed the Jews from Babylonian captivity. So we’ve been around a long time. And that makes me feel like I should keep the tradition going in some way. Besides, there’s something comforting about praying with the Shema or gathering for Shabbat dinner. But don’t get me wrong – there have been times when I had my doubts.”

“So how do you keep all of the Jewish rules when you’re on the submarine?” Bao asked. “Like not working or traveling on Shabbat?”

“Oh that’s not a problem,” Ambesah replied. “There’s the concept of Pikuah Nefesh.”

“Remind me, what’s that? It’s been quite a while since I took those Jewish conversion classes.”

Eitan answered: “It’s a principle of Jewish law that basically says you can break any religious rule in order to save a life.”

“There’s actually some debate about whether this should apply to military and government duties,” Ambesah added.

“Yeah, the ultra-Orthodox probably wouldn’t consider submarine duty to be Pikuah Nefesh.”

“Well, that’s not surprising, given that most of them don’t even serve in the army,” Bao pointed out.

“Right. But most other rabbis would probably agree that important roles relating to national defense are exempt.”

“I see…So how about you?” Bao asked Ambesah. “I mean, obviously you wear a kippah, but that doesn’t always mean that someone is convinced of God’s existence.”

“I’m convinced in a spiritual way, if that makes any sense.”

“Beta Yisrael is also an ancient Jewish tribe,” Eitan noted.

“That’s true. And I’m like you – I enjoy the customs and family togetherness that Judaism gives us. And I think you need an absolute moral code to guide your conduct, or everyone just does whatever he wants.”

“I disagree,” Michael countered. “We have secular laws and morality to keep us in line.”

“Yeah, but those things don’t always tell you how to act in every type of situation. And sometimes the law itself can be wrong. Look at Nazi Germany. Or even the USA with some of its early racial laws. Or South Africa’s apartheid system. These were all government laws. So you need a higher source of morality.”

“So you believe in God in order to have an absolute morality?” Michael asked.

“Well, maybe that’s not really why I believe. I guess it’s more of a nice side-benefit.”

“So why do you believe?”

“Because the world is an incredible place. I mean, look at this submarine. When you see such a complex and beautiful machine, you know for sure that something intelligent created it, right?”

“Yeah, humans.”

“Right. Now think about humans and how much more complex they are, if they can build and operate something like a submarine. Now imagine the kind of infinite intelligence or power you’d need to create humans. And add to that all of the complexity of the sea and the creatures in it. And the land. And the entire universe…It’s pretty awesome, right?”

“Yeah, but why does that mean we have to believe in God?” Michael asked.

“You don’t have to. But I think it’s all too complex to be a random accident.”

“No offense, guys,” Michael said to Eitan and Ambesah, “But I think it’s all nonsense. Religion is just what people come up with when they don’t have scientific answers to their questions.”

“Maybe,” Ambesah conceded. “But somehow the universe feels like a lonelier place without God in it.”

“And somehow it feels like we forgot about our poker game!” Bao complained. He began dealing the next hand.

Chapter 15: Tensions on the Submarine Surface

There is never really a good time for a fight on a submarine: it’s a small space with countless switches, buttons, and instruments that shouldn’t be accidentally touched or bumped into and, more generally, the crew’s cohesion is critical to everyone’s survival. But Daniel reasoned that if there was going to be a tense confrontation with his second-in-command, possibly even culminating in a physical altercation, then by far the best time for this to happen would be when the Dolphin was still cruising on a simple course, in friendly waters, and not too far from the home base. So he had to address the issue with Yisrael well before they approached Port Said at 0400 hours. Sometime between midnight and 0100 hours seemed like the optimal time to discuss matters because that was also when there would be fewer crewmembers awake and about. Consequently, that time would give Yisrael and Daniel a bit more privacy and perhaps encourage them to keep their voices down, which might indirectly help them to keep their cool.

To Daniel’s pleasant surprise, Yisrael had apparently gone through the exact same calculation and reached an identical conclusion because it was he who at 0035 hours approached Daniel just after he saw the captain walk over to a part of the command center that was unoccupied and thus offered a measure of privacy. The fact that Yisrael had the good sense and prudence to approach him when and as he did reminded Daniel of why he respected his deputy captain, and gave him hope that the tension might be resolved in a reasonable and peaceful manner. Daniel was further surprised when Yisrael’s opening topic of conversation was about something completely unexpected.

“You know, Netta brought me a printout of my grandfather’s diary, and I’ve been reading it.” It was the first time since the picnic that Yisrael had engaged in non-operational conversation with Daniel, so the captain stayed silent, waiting to see which direction Yisrael was going to take their chat. “I never realized how many Polish goyim helped him to survive the Holocaust.”

“There are good people everywhere,” Daniel replied.

“Did they help your grandfather too?” After so many years of serving together, Yisrael knew his captain quite well, including the fact that his grandfather had also survived the Holocaust in Poland. This seemed to Daniel to be a personal question intended to bring them closer, through some common history. Unfortunately, however, their shared history was not common in this particular respect and Daniel couldn’t bring himself to lie about it for the sake of whatever peace Yisrael was hoping to achieve through this dialogue.

“Tragically, my grandfather’s experience was quite the opposite. He was abandoned and sometimes betrayed by his friends and neighbors in Poland. He survived by hiding in trashcans, feeding off garbage and even learning to kill and eat rats. That was the pathetic state he was reduced to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I can never really understand how he did it. No one should have to endure such things…But now he savors his own survival at every meal. He eats triumphantly, bragging about how abundant and delicious the food in Israel is,” Daniel said, with contained pride and sadness.

Yisrael smiled empathetically, but they both felt a slight awkwardness about the very different family histories that were just contrasted, as if the subject through which Yisrael had intended to create trust and closeness had been revealed as an ineffective feint. But Daniel knew that they had to address something and Yisrael somehow wanted to get to that issue by mentioning his grandfather’s diary, so Daniel returned them to the topic.

“Did you learn anything else from your grandfather’s diary about his Holocaust experience?”

“I learn things every time I read it, and it’s hard to put down. I’m already about half-way through what Netta gave me…And…speaking of things that we got from Netta at the picnic, what did she give you?”

There it finally is, Daniel thought, now seeing what was on Yisrael’s mind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the captain replied.

“I’m pretty sure I saw her slip you a piece of paper. Or an envelope, or something like that.”

“Maybe you’re confused about what you saw.”

“Or maybe you’re avoiding the question.”

“What are you trying to say, Yisrael?”

“That you should stay away from my wife.”

“I have my own wife and three children whom I love very much. You have nothing to worry about.”

“So show me the letter she passed you.”

When he first mentioned the letter to Daniel, Yisrael was only about 80% sure that his wife had in fact passed the captain a note at the picnic, based on how likely he thought it was that Netta’s denials were prevarications. But the deputy captain knew the master of the submarine so well that he was now 100% certain. He knew that Daniel was being evasive, so he also knew that he must be concealing the same letter that Netta had tried to claim didn’t exist. Thus, when Yisrael demanded to see the letter, there was firmness in his voice – beyond just a conviction in the justness of his position. Daniel sensed in Yisrael’s tone a primal readiness to escalate the issue dramatically because they were dancing around hallowed ground that was above even the rules of the submarine.