He turned around and looked at those old brothers.
"We fight our way in."
6:30 PM, Jerusalem, Prime Minister's Office.
Shamir looked at the war report just delivered, his hand steady.
"Chechens have broken into Safed?"
Moses' voice came through the phone, hoarse like sandpaper.
"Yes. Over thirty people, they've rushed in. There are civilians in the city."
Shamir was silent for three seconds.
Then he said:
"Tell the Golan Brigade, at all costs, keep them out of the city."
"They're already in the city."
Shamir closed his eyes.
He knew what that meant.
If those Chechens opened fire in the city, killing civilians, the whole world would see it. If the whole world saw it, then Hezbollah, Hamas, Syrians, Iranians—all would see an opportunity.
"Moses."
"Yes."
"Get them out of the city. Use shelling."
Moses was stunned.
"Shelling? There are still civilians in the city—"
"I know." Shamir interrupted him, "But if we don't shell, those people will kill more in the city."
