The Last Israelis - an Apocalyptic, Military Thriller about an Israeli Submarine and a Nuclear Iran (22 page)

“You make it sound like I had nothing to gain from solving the problem,” Samir joked. “Are you forgetting that I would have been as dead as you had I failed?”

“Fair enough. OK, enough glory for now. But I reserve the right to sing your praises again if you keep saving our lives.”

Samir chuckled. “Agreed.”

Towards the end of his meal, Samir’s tone became a little heavier: “Say, are any of you guys worried about the fact that we haven’t had any update from headquarters in about nine and a half hours?”

“Daniel hasn’t said anything about it,” Michael noted.

“I know. And that’s what bothers me. Like maybe he’s keeping something from us so we don’t get distracted. Ambesah, you should know about this stuff more than anyone. Was there an update that he didn’t share with us?”

“No. There was nothing. I swear. In fact, we just worked on fixing the communication buoy problems for about four hours. We finally got it working, but didn’t receive anything. We waited for thirty minutes, but there was nothing.”

“Nothing is a very bad sign,” Samir replied.

“I think you’re being a little paranoid,” Yisrael replied. “Ambesah just said that they spent four hours repairing the defective communication buoy, so it’s hardly a reliable piece of equipment.”

“Yes, but it was working in the end. We tested it.”

“OK, but you still can’t know for certain that the communication buoy is working properly until you try satellite and HF radio. If you still don’t get a message using those methods, then you can probably conclude that the buoy is fine and something happened to naval command.”

“Aren’t you even a little worried?” Samir asked Yisrael, with a touch of annoyed impatience in his tone.

“No. I don’t see the point of worrying before we have all of the facts. And before reaching drastic conclusions, facts are even more important. So let’s just wait and see.”

“But we have some facts,” Samir insisted. “We already know from the last update that IDF intelligence detected suspicious military movements by Iran, Syria, and Hezbollah and that they think an attack is imminent.”

“Do you know how many times there have been suspicious movements by those forces in the past that were then followed by a massive nothing? I lost count a long time ago and stopped getting excited by such things. Besides, you’re forgetting that Iran, Syria, and Hezbollah are all controlled by leaders who ultimately want to survive. Starting a war with us is not a great way to survive.”

“I disagree,” Michael chimed in. “Some of these leaders might actually see the destruction of Israel as part of their survival strategy.”

“How does that make any sense?” Yisrael quipped dismissively.

“Look, everyone in this neighborhood hates us no matter how many peace treaties we sign or how much we try to solve common environmental or economic problems in the region. So if they have some way to win a war against us, then they become the new heroes of the Middle East.”

“That’s a huge ‘if,’” Yisrael replied. “But there’s no way to win a war against us without paying an unacceptably high and painful price. It’s been that way since 1967.”

“You should never underestimate the enemy,” Michael warned.

Samir jumped in again, slightly more irked than before but still trying not to show it: “Yisrael, you make it sound like we’re arguing over something straightforward – like the average weight of a torpedo or something. But we’re talking about rogue, extremist regimes. Predicting their behavior is pure speculation. And the cost of miscalculating their plans is unimaginable. So try a little humility when making your predictions.”

Chapter 26: Homesick

Samir left the eating area in search of an empty bunk where he could rest a little and clear his mind. The exchange with Yisrael had annoyed him, and he preferred to keep his distance from the deputy captain, lest he lose his cool at some point. Samir needed to escape the accumulation of stress, and the general worry that gnawed away at his stomach more with each additional minute that passed without word from headquarters. He also just missed his wife and three children.

About ten minutes later, after Samir had found an empty bed to lie in and relax for a bit, his thoughts drifted to his most recent memory of his wife. Unfortunately, their conversation in Arabic at the picnic, which he replayed in his mind, referred to some of the things that now troubled or annoyed him, so it wasn’t an ideal escape by any means. But that memory was the most recent and therefore the closest that he could get to his wife in spirit, so he couldn’t help but replay – yet again – the entire reunion, from their initial and ecstatic hug, to all of the family updates, to their reluctant goodbye kiss.

****

“Tamam is at the top of her class in math and science,” his wife, Regda, proudly reported. “She takes after you, it seems.”

“She couldn’t have done it without all of your tutoring when I was away at sea.”

“Rabia was selected for the junior soccer team in our village.”

“That’s great…Tell him I’m really sorry that I missed his 14
th
birthday and that I’ll make it up to him.”

“He understands.”

“I’m going to buy him a new soccer ball and training shoes. And maybe even some private lessons.”

“Oh he’ll love that!”

“But don’t say anything. I want to surprise him when I get back.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t…Shadi just started voice lessons and his teacher says that for a nine year-old boy, he’s really talented and we may want to start thinking about training him for a long-term future in music.”

“Wow. With so much good news during my absence, I should go away more often!” Samir joked.

“We have a lot to be proud of.”

“And what about you?” he asked.

“No, tell me about you first. Should I be worried that you came back so suddenly and had your break cancelled?”

“It’ll be fine, honey.”

“You always say that.”

“And I’m always right, aren’t I?”

“It’s the national motto…How are you getting along with the crew?”

“They’re a great group of guys. Yisrael sometimes gets on my nerves, but you can’t be best friends with everyone.”

“Maybe there’s some kind of rivalry between you?”

“No, we’re not really direct competitors. He has two years of seniority on me, so I don’t expect to be promoted before him or anything like that.”

“So then what is it?”

“Sometimes he just has this attitude – like he knows better than everyone else. I mean he’s very knowledgeable about a lot of things. But he has this way of showing it off a little and assuming that everyone else is wrong. I just ignore him when that happens…Anyway, I’m not here with you to talk about him! Tell me about you.”

“Well, the biggest news on my end is that…I’m thinking of changing careers.”

“What?” Samir looked into his wife’s green eyes to see if she might be joking. She wasn’t. “So you’re tired of catching viruses from sick kids?”

“No, it’s not that. I love being a pediatrician. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“It started a few months ago, when I called my cousin on the Syrian side of the Golan Heights. She was terrified about everything that’s happened to her country.”

“OK. But why does that mean you have to stop being a doctor?”

“If you let me finish, Samir, you’ll see.”

“I’m sorry. Go on.”

“She kept saying how lucky I am to have personal security and basic freedoms – to criticize the government and get uncensored information from the Internet and independent media.”

“I know. The situation in Syria is terrible. Brutal political repression and an all-out civil war.”

“She fears that the Syrian regime could attack Israel any day, in an attempt to reconquer the Golan Heights, and thereby appear as the hero of the Arab world. That could restore Syrian nationalism and maybe unify its different ethnic groups against a common enemy.”

“The Syrian leadership knows that such a move could trigger an Israeli response that would destroy it.”

“But if the regime is seriously threatened anyway, then maybe it has nothing to lose.”

“True. And if the next regime is run by radical Islamists, then Syria’s chemical weapons could be an even bigger threat. But I’m sure Israeli intelligence is following these developments closely.”

“I’m worried, Samir. It’s not just the Syrian situation. Last week the Prime Minister is mysteriously hospitalized. Yesterday Iran says that its nuclear program is now fully protected from an Israeli military strike. And now all of the sudden they cancel your two-week shore visit.”

“I know there’s a lot going on right now. But we have a strong army and a government that’s thinking about these issues all the time so that you and I don’t have to. So don’t worry, honey. Everything will be fine.” He gave her that look that always calmed her, with his confident, dark eyes steady on hers, as he smiled gently. “Anyway, I think we got off topic. You were starting to tell me something about your freedoms.”

“Yes, I feel like I’m not making use of them.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My cousin asked me if I take advantage of my freedom in any way, and I didn’t really have a good answer for her. I told her that I just go to my medical clinic and do my job. So she urged me to start doing what she can’t – like reading about freedom online. So I did. And then I came across Irshad Manji’s writings.”

“Irshad Manji? I read something about her – didn’t she receive death threats for trying to criticize and reform Islam or something like that?”

“Yes, she is very brave. And brilliant – so sharp and persuasive in her reasoning.”

“So what does she say?”

“She writes about Arab culture and how it influenced the way Islam is practiced today. She talks about how it has taken away women’s individuality and freedom, to the point that ‘honor killings’ can be seen as somehow justified. And she encourages Muslims to avoid what she calls ‘groupthink’ by questioning and reforming Islam.”

“But why is this relevant to us?”

“I know that our culture is more liberal and egalitarian than Muslim culture in many ways. But reading Irshad’s work made me start questioning certain rules and traditions, and thinking more independently. And I realized that we need to reform certain things in the Druze community as well.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Arab women from the Muslim and Christian communities have been elected members of the Knesset, but an Arab Druze woman has never been elected to the Knesset.”

“I still don’t see the connection to your medical career.”

“There are issues that affect the Arabic-speaking sector that need to be addressed. I see it every day in my medical clinic, which doesn’t get its fair share of government funding.”

“So you’re saying you want to go from being a physician to a politician? Just like that?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. But I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

Samir was quiet for a moment as he tried to digest the news.

“Would you support me in this decision, Samir?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure how we’ll manage financially...”

“I could still try to work-part time or something.”

“I don’t know if you’ll have time for that when you’re campaigning…But we’ll figure it out.”

“How do you think the rest of the village would react?”

“There will be objections from the more traditional elders and certain members of the community. But why shouldn’t you be the first Druze woman to serve in the Knesset? I was the first Druze to be admitted into the Israeli submarine force, so we’re obviously a family of trailblazers.”

“Really? So you’ll support me? Because I can’t do it alone…”

“You supported me when I was first trying to get qualified to the submarine force…And then through all of these years when I’ve had to be away at sea so much. How could I not support you in your new dream?”

She gave Samir a tight hug of gratitude. “I love you so much, Samir.”

“I love you too, Regda.” He pulled away for a moment to ask a question to which he suddenly had to have the answer. “But wait – do you know which political party you want to join?”

“I think I’m going to start a new party around my basic platform of equal government benefits for equal social contributions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to pass a law that would guarantee the same level of funding for each municipal zone, adjusted for population and discounted by the percentage of citizens who fail to serve in the army or national service.”

“Now there’s an idea whose time has come! I can definitely see the Druze getting behind that. I don’t know about the Muslim Arabs though.”

“I think they’ll go for it too, because it gives them a very clear path to achieving total equality. And they can always choose to do national service if they don’t want to serve in the army.”

“I don’t know, but it’s certainly worth a try…Actually, you should talk to Yardena about all of this.”

“Who’s that?”

“Ambesah’s wife. She’s here today visiting him. She’s a journalist at Yediot who focuses on social and economic issues, equality, etc.”

“Sounds great.”

“Yes, I’ll introduce you. She could help you raise awareness about your campaign idea, and maybe even get you coverage as a candidate.”

“I’d love to meet her! Oh wait, before I forget…” She searched her purse for a minute until she pulled out a small MP3 player. “I have a surprise for you.”

Samir’s face lit up into a curious smile. “What is it?”

“You’ll find out when you play it on the submarine. It’ll warm your journey a little.”

****

Samir returned to the present for a moment and put his hand in his pocket, to make sure that the MP3 player was still there. He smiled a little as his fingers grasped the small device, confirming that his son Shadi’s musical voice performance was still in his pocket on the submarine with him. How strange that a priceless moment in time – a little boy’s mellifluous singing session – could be captured on land, transported in a little pad of circuits, carried to a submarine, and later experienced thousands of kilometers away and hundreds of meters below the surface of the water, as if father and son could suddenly be physically reunited for a private recital. Samir had played the recording every night of their voyage, before going to bed, and would listen to it again, after he finished once again recalling the last time he had seen his wife.