Z32 (2008) - full transcript

Is it rolling?

Do you think

the frame is good?

Yeah?

Yeah.

Okay, talk.

Me?

I don't know,

I don't feel like it...

Seriously,

this whole thing...

It's obvious you're

talking to the camera.

I know, I feel it.

I feel the camera on my face.

Come,

let's try do it.

- Come.

- Come.

- Should I sit up straight?

- Sit like this.

It feels impolite.

Who cares if it's polite?

You already look bad in this story,

so...

I don't look bad.

It's not true, I look...

You're talking as if

you have an audience.

I know how you talk

when we're alone.

How do I talk when

I'm alone with you?

You sound like you're

trying to impress someone.

- So how do I talk when...

- See?

I know,

I can't do it.

Fuck it!

Fuck this whole thing...

- See?

- I can't do it.

You're even swearing

self-consciously.

Do you know where

this idea came from?

Talk to me and not to

an imaginary audience.

- I'm not...

- Talk to me, there's nobody here.

I just lit this,

give me the ashtray.

Anyway, do you know why

this whole idea came up?

Last time,

when I filmed myself at home,

at one point I talked to you.

About...

how you didn't understand...

Both you and Avi told me

you couldn't understand...

How I could do it...

As if I had a choice.

- Like I said.

- And I say I didn't have a choice.

And that's what we've

been fighting about.

Like the fight we had when

we didn't speak for 2 days.

Can I?

Is the camera rolling?

Okay.

This is how the film begins.

Okay?

An unidentified figure

wearing a hood

faces the camera and waits

for the crew to set up

and tell him everything's ready

so he can begin.

When they say the camera is rolling,

the figure takes a piece of paper

and begins to read a testimony:

"Then one evening,

"we were driving along Road 443,

"back when there were

still shootings on 443,

"we went to arrest

a 'wanted' Palestinian."

The figure reads

a sentence or two and says:

"Look, this is impossible.

"Let's cut some holes."

So the wardrobe assistant

comes in with little scissors

and cuts holes...

for his eyes...

and his mouth.

Maybe at this point Michael,

my younger son,

will walk in from his room

down the hall

and stare in amazement at

what his father is doing.

He's familiar with...

But this time,

it's stranger than usual.

Or else he'll sit there

and watch us,

like a bunch of retarded adults.

So, maybe there'll be

something with Michael.

Then the figure

will continue with the testimony.

"And suddenly our bus stopped.

"I don't remember

where we were headed.

"It stopped for two hours.

"Our commanders got on

their mobile phones.

"Finally, we headed to

the base of Battalion 605."

Listen,

I can't breathe like this.

And the figure asks

to cut a hole for his nose

because it's simply...

He continues:

"We entered a briefing room,

our commander went upstairs,

"we heard there'd been an attack.

"Six soldiers were killed

at a checkpoint on a foggy night."

At this point, the figure

can't continue...

and takes off the hood.

We discover it's the director,

all sweaty and flushed...

He says:

"Listen, I don't know.

"We can't do it like this.

"We need another solution.

"No one can testify like this."

At this point, you...

There'll be a piano there.

You'll come in

and sit at the piano,

with earphones, etc.,

like a soundman,

and start improvising something.

From this point on,

it's all music.

Whenever we return

to the director's living room,

it's all song and...

No more talk.

If the wife comes in,

no problem.

If the son is there,

or the dog, it's cool.

Hi honey.

What perfect timing.

Want me to go?

On the contrary, I was hoping

you or Michael would come in,

it's part of the scene.

I won't participate in this movie.

I'll put a hood over your head,

like I did over mine.

I filmed myself with a hood.

- Want one?

- No.

I enlisted in 1999,

after volunteering with

a leftist youth movement.

I did 20 months of "Yael"

reconnaissance unit training

Then I was a combat soldier.

It's a small "elite" unit.

It feels like you could be

thrown out anytime.

That's how elite units work.

You do your best

not to be thrown out.

The training period is

divided into a few parts.

First, regular basic training

and then unit basic training.

Ten weeks in the woods,

twenty guys in two tents.

We live in those tents

and everything happens there.

It's 99% humiliation and harassment

and 1% field skills.

Down on the ground!

Forward charge! etc.

And what you do more than anything

is make long treks

and carry weights.

At my peak, toward the end,

I could carry 100%

of my body weight.

I carried the equivalent

of my self for a week.

We had to carry as much

as possible, and we'd compete.

I remember trying

to reach 82 kilos.

I'd eat to gain weight,

to raise my percentages,

to carry with the big boys.

Are you mad at me?

What?

I'm asking if you're mad

at me for what I did.

- What is this, an interview?

- Yes.

I can't look over there

when I see you here.

Look over here.

Do I have to answer?

The truth?

The honest truth.

Am I mad at you?

Not as much as I was...

But now that we're

talking about it, yes.

I mean no, but...

I can't stand this camera.

If I tell you the truth

you'll be offended.

Maybe you think it's

good for the film, but...

Tell me.

When you first told me,

I was mad.

And then?

- Will you stop it a second?

- Yes.

You didn't stop it, liar.

Why stop it?

Just tell me.

It's weird to talk about it now,

it's not related to anything.

Yes it does,

it's something I'm dealing with...

It comes up in our lives

from time to time.

But I can't just talk

about it all of a sudden.

In the middle of the morning,

with a sore throat, in India.

I asked you to stop filming.

I'm not retarded,

I see the red light is on.

Since its heyday in Lebanon,

where it would lay

explosive devices,

the unit hasn't done a thing.

The soldiers mainly work out

at the gym or go running.

That's 99% of what we'd do.

We'd see lots of plays.

- "Culture Sundays"?

- Yeah.

We'd go to the weekly ball game,

we'd get free tickets...

But otherwise do nothing.

Occasionally,

a big plan would get drawn up,

and we'd start

training for it big time.

Blow up a house here,

do something else there.

But it never happened.

It always got canceled.

Until the 2nd Intifada began.

Then, I was already a combat soldier,

the unit began looking for "jobs".

We realized "action" wouldn't come

unless we went looking for it.

What do you mean?

We went to Beit Jala.

The commanders there

realized they had...

a great combat unit

with nothing to do,

and they can send us

on the worst missions,

because we're so hungry for action

and eager to kill,

that we'd do anything.

After Beit Jala we returned to base,

we had this terrible feeling

that everyone else

gets to do things,

while we, an elite unit,

don't get to do anything.

It's an IDF thing.

Every soldier feels like

they're in the best unit,

with the best fighters,

their operations

are the most amazing.

Everyone is Chuck Norris.

Everyone.

We did too.

And it's frustrating,

with all this build-up,

to find yourself at home,

I mean on base,

just jerking off.

Okay.

Shall we do it?

Okay.

Are we rolling?

Okay, cool.

Mask his face

so we can talk to him.

Leave a hole for his nose

and two eyes,

so we can sense his smile.

He says he must

leave the past behind.

He has good reason

to be afraid.

And he has good reason

to feel... exclu...

...excluded.

But he has no reason

to feel exceptional.

It turns out...

he's just another bench-warmer.

Mask his face

so we can

continue to imagine him.

Leave a hole for his nose

and two eyes,

so we can sense his smile.

That nothing about him is evil,

that he is the model

taken-for-granted son of his parents.

Mask his face.

Mask his face.

Other than the B-part where

I keep getting mixed up,

because I can't stand

the lyrics there.

- You wrote them.

- I wrote them...

So I'll be the one

to slit my wrists.

I can't wait...

You're right, it's not great.

Okay, but let's do it.

We'll sing it like this

and work on it later.

Yeah, let's lighten it up a little.

Mask his face so we can...

More conversational.

Mask his face

so we can talk to him.

- Okay, let's do it.

- Okay.

Mask his face...

Okay, where to today?

The same place,

but this time for real.

I assume you found out

where it is.

No one knows. Not even...

So without me

nothing would...?

He didn't know.

The guy I thought would know,

didn't know either.

Good thing I'm here.

What did you find out?

Here it is. We were at Halamish.

Yes.

And it's at Deir as-Sudan?

Here's Deir as-Sudan.

From Halamish we need to

drive toward Ateret,

and then left.

It's not far.

How do you know it's

at Deir as-Sudan?

- I found your fingerprints there.

- Cut it out.

Seriously.

Deir as-Sudan is on a ridge.

It's like...

Deir as-Sudan is up on a ridge.

That's a problem.

Look, it might be wrong.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Hello.

We're heading this way...

This is Umm Safafa.

- Umm Safafa?

- Umm Safafa.

It's also blocked.

- No, it's not.

- No?

There's something very gratifying

about being Ronny from the

"Yael" reconnaissance unit,

or Danny from the commando,

or Ronny the combat pilot.

There's something

powerful about it.

I'm Ronny the F16 pilot.

What's up?

In my masculine imagination

I'm fucking girls like...

Superman.

Now, we kept looking for

ways to justify this.

We were dying to

get some action,

or do something

really dramatic.

And then we got to do

house-to-house searches.

From morning to night,

sometimes only at night.

You go to someone's house

and knock on the door:

"Open the door! Army!"

They open the door,

tak tak tak!

In go 6-7 armed soldiers,

ta ta ta tam!

We put everyone in one room,

on their knees,

women and all.

We take one of them

and go room by room,

looking through their stuff.

In my unit there are 12 guys,

the cream of the crop,

great guys each and every one,

with values and ideals.

So the first time you enter

a home you move stuff carefully,

glance at documents,

put everything back,

speak courteously.

By the 4th day you're shouting,

shoving them around,

turning things upside down,

tense from every move.

It happens because

there's serious burnout.

They keep telling you that in

the next house there's a terrorist,

next time there'll be a clash,

and you're dying

for it to happen.

You've spent 20 months

training for it.

If anyone dares point

a weapon at us,

we'll kick his ass and kill him,

if only he dares.

We teamed up with

the "Nahshon" unit

to occupy the Kasbah

of some village.

At the briefing,

the "Nahshon" commander says:

"We're facing a real tough battle.

"Some of you won't make it back.

"There'll be intense shooting...

Be sure to fire at..."

The rules of engagement

were to shoot

even a kid with a stone.

A kid with a stone

was fair game.

- Live ammunition?

- Of course.

When told: "It'll be a tough battle,

some of you won't make it back,

"shoot whoever threatens you."

I shoot whoever threatens me,

and everybody is a threat.

Any male over 5 years old

is a threat.

That's how you feel.

Here?

Let's ask the...

Hello, where's the road

to Deir as-Sudan?

From here.

- On the right.

- On the right? Thank you.

Dig my Arabic?

Yeah, this is cool.

I think.

- Something here doesn't feel right.

- It doesn't?

Maybe I'm wrong.

This village looks too high.

But maybe it's

on the other side, I don't know.

What can I say, babe?

I'm left with

the feeling that

I could and should

have acted differently.

That theoretically

I was strong enough to do so,

and now all I can do

is live with my guilt.

All I can do,

as far as you're concerned...

All you can do

is stir-up these

feelings of guilt.

There was a place from which

the Palestinians kept shooting

at an Israeli army post.

And they didn't manage to...

The angle was such that

they couldn't shoot back.

The Palestinians had these

cement bags for protection.

So our plan was to booby-trap

one of those bags.

Two guys from my unit

were sent to train for the job,

together with another unit.

They trained and trained,

until they finally did it.

Before hand, a guy from my unit

said there was a problem

because you can't see

what's going on.

To activate the charge

you need to push a button,

but you can't really see,

there's no eye contact.

You can't know exactly

when to activate it.

Then...

contrary to my unit's

recommendation,

they decided to put

a touch-sensitive device.

If you as much as touch this thing,

it explodes.

They set up the device,

and the next day

five kids on their way to school...

Sorry, four kids

on their way to school

stepped on it and

were blown to bits.

Four brothers...

were killed.

I feel like...

I'm seeking forgiveness.

I'm looking for someone to

absolve me of this whole thing.

But you won't...

I wanted you to forgive me so much.

When I told you about it

and we fought.

And you haven't forgiven me.

You won't absolve me.

I'm asking you

to forgive me, somehow.

But you won't.

But now I'm able to forgive you

and I understand your

need to be absolved.

It really is, as you say,

"forgiveness."

You didn't use this term before.

Forgiveness is when

you've done something

and you regret it

and ask to be forgiven for it.

You want someone

to acknowledge your regret.

It wasn't always like that.

At first you just wanted me

to understand you,

to hug you and tell you

I understand why you did it,

even if it was wrong.

And now that you're older

and wiser, it's okay,

because you were

just young and foolish.

I didn't accept it then

and I don't accept it now.

My forgiveness presumes

that now as an adult

you can reflect on it...

and understand it...

and you're angry

about it and hate it.

See what I mean?

My forgiveness is to try

to understand psychologically

how a person can do

such a thing.

Maybe it sounds patronizing,

but I know, at least I hope,

that in a similar situation

I'd act differently.

One night we went out on

a search and seizure operation.

We were based at Ofer camp,

on Road 443,

back when there were still

shootings on 443.

We were on the bus

and suddenly it stopped,

I don't remember

where we were headed.

Something happened,

we didn't know what.

The bus stopped for two hours.

Our commanders got on their phones.

Finally, we headed to the base

of Battalion 605.

Right?

Engineering Corps.

We entered a briefing room

and our commander went upstairs.

While we waited,

we heard there'd been an attack.

Six Engineering Corps soldiers

were killed at a checkpoint.

Shot at close range

on a foggy night.

Our commander returns and says

that we're going on

a revenge mission.

An eye for an eye.

They killed six of ours,

we'll kill six of theirs.

They showed us on the map

a Palestinian checkpoint.

The idea was

to go there at night

and when they came

in the morning,

kill the Palestinian policemen

who manned it.

Three other units were to do

the same at three other sites.

Paratroopers, reconnaissance

and another engineering unit.

- Can we trade places?

- No.

Okay, bon appetite.

Tell me my story.

- What, and ruin my meal?

- Yes.

What do you mean by "tell"?

Tell it as if...

You're telling a friend

about something I've done.

- Is there more bread?

- Here.

- Let's toast another one.

- In a minute.

When you were in the army

you were taken one night,

in the middle of the night,

snatched from your sleep,

you didn't know where,

they just said: "We're going..."

It's not polite to speak

and eat at the same time.

They put you on a bus

and said:

"We're going on a revenge mission,

"to kill four Palestinians."

I don't think you asked

too many questions.

You were all highly motivated and...

thrilled and delighted

to finally realize

your wet dream of...

killing some Arabs.

Then you arrived somewhere,

you had no idea where.

I think it was...

I don't remember the name.

But it seemed...

like a God-forsaken place,

not much there except for

a Palestinian police outpost.

All you knew is that

terrorists came from there...

Okay, the day before...

Some terrorists came

from that area

and killed...

two soldiers.

I think...

or five...

or six...

and killed six soldiers.

So an order was given

by whoever it was at the time...

Who was it?

The Chief of Staff gave the order

and you were sent to kill

four people...

in their stead?

It's just so absurd.

I don't have the exact words

to describe it.

It happened somewhere out-there,

don't bring it over-here.

Just don't bring out-there,

over-here.

It's a story about a soldier

who was raised to be

one of the hot-shots.

Who was cultivated to wait

until they let him,

until they let him charge.

Until they let him feel the itch.

His service will soon be over,

so they ordered:

"Go on, gallop!

"Down the valley,

up the mountain."

Until they let him

until they let him charge.

Where was this checkpoint?

I have no idea.

I don't remember where it was.

How can you go on a mission,

be ordered to do this and that,

- and you don't even know where it is?

- Yes.

On nearly all the missions

I went on, and there were many,

I had no idea where I was.

When the 2nd Intifada began,

we had a lot of work.

I'd return to base on

Sunday morning with my gear,

go to my room and fall asleep.

They'd wake me and say:

"Come."

I'd take my vest and pillow,

get on the bus

and go back to sleep.

I'd wake up in another camp,

get in an armored vehicle,

and fall asleep.

I'd wake up in an Arab village,

do what we had to do,

and get back in the armored vehicle.

I had no idea if we'd turned

right or left when we left the base.

Whether we'd headed to

Hebron, Jenin or Gaza.

No idea.

Are you interested in going there?

I'm not afraid.

I have no problem going there.

That's not the issue...

Does it...

Does it occur to you

that you'd go there

and someone might recognize you?

Oh, that's... Hang on.

That's a different issue,

because that scares me.

Of all the interviews I've given,

this is the first time

I've agreed to be filmed.

And I want my face concealed

because I'm very afraid.

Afraid someone might decide

to take revenge on me,

which would be very easy.

It scares me to think

that someone whose father

I shot at that checkpoint,

might kill me in revenge.

Yet I think I committed a war crime.

If I ever want to go to London,

I could be arrested

and prosecuted.

Do you ever dream that

one of the men you killed

sees you and recognizes you?

No, I'm in denial

about the whole thing.

I try to look at it from

every possible angle,

yet I'm in a serious state of denial

or emotional indifference.

I'm not afraid that...

I'm in denial...

I'm not afraid that someone

will see me and recognize me.

I don't dream about it either.

The faces of the dead

don't haunt me at night.

That never happens.

I remember my own comrades.

Do you remember their faces?

One of them.

The one I confirmed his death.

I remember his face.

It's a story about a soldier.

It was passed and gone

but two years later he recalled

That freezing night

when they let him,

finally, let him charge.

So just don't bring out-there,

over-here.

Okay, it's here.

It's here. We've arrived.

Well done, Avi.

- This is it.

- Really?

Really.

Totally.

This is where the checkpoint was.

I can't believe I'm here.

- I want a cigarette.

- Me too.

Okay, I'm getting out.

Hope nobody shoots me.

It's absolutely here.

No shit.

Okay, let's look for

our hide-out.

There's nothing here.

Look what a nice long shot

I'm giving you, Philippe.

We were more or less like this...

Unbelievable!

It was there.

We hid here, that's for sure.

I feel like I'm not telling

it accurately.

Because we haven't talked

about it all that much.

I'm telling it cynically because

the whole episode seems cynical.

I'm having a hard time

because I'm supposed

to empathize with you.

Yet, it's absurd for me to empathize

with such a thing.

It's a collaboration that

began all of a sudden.

A collaboration that is,

perhaps, out of place.

My wife asks me not to film him

here in our living room.

She says:

"This is not material for a movie!"

She doesn't understand

where it all leads.

Why help him find his way?

It's a filthy fable,

not a three-penny 'musical'!"

She says:

"This is not material for a movie!"

"He's playing the repentant sinner,

"and you're in the role

of the supposed observer.

"He's purging himself

through you

"and you will cash-in on

another profound film.

"Stop flirting with evil,

"you and he are not

in the same boat.

"And promise you won't film him

"here, in our living room!"

She says:

"This is not material for a movie!"

We got there, I was

my commander's signal operator.

- He led the force?

- The unit commander led the force.

There we were,

waiting and waiting.

It was freezing,

I was shivering.

I was on my knees shaking with cold,

but also with fear.

I dozed off gradually

and awoke quite suddenly.

I heard:

"We've spotted them!"

I woke up with

my back to the checkpoint.

I was covering the rear.

I understood they

were approaching.

I turned around,

but didn't see anyone.

I didn't have a good angle,

and the radio was cumbersome.

We signaled the sector commander

for authorization.

But no one responded

and no one responded...

They were really close now,

like 20 meters away,

so my unit commander

reported a run-in with them,

and authorized the operation.

Then the snipers...

- But you didn't run into them.

- We didn't, we spotted them.

A "run-in" is when they shoot

at you, they didn't shoot.

We hid here and we had...

We sat here behind the wall.

I looked back.

Then...

They came up...

I didn't see them,

I had my back to them.

I was covering the rear.

They came up and went behind

the other barrier...

the other ditch.

Then we pounced on them.

We shot and shot and shot.

And I ran and ran and ran.

What a trip,

I don't even remember this ditch.

Okay.

The checkpoint was

exactly where the car is now.

Before that burnt-out part,

see where it looks burnt?

There was this semi-wall,

or maybe a boulder,

I don't remember which.

Somewhere here, we fired.

I hit someone over there

and he fell to the ground.

There was a Palestinian policeman

who ran into a tin shed.

And the one who fell on the ground,

someone else shot him too,

and said:

"Wow, I hit him! I hit him!"

All excited.

The guy lay behind a terrace

with his lower body sticking out,

from the waist down.

And three of us

riddled his legs with bullets.

We shot and shot and shot.

All of us, me too.

Then we went after

the guy in the shed.

There were two

butane tanks beside it.

We fired at the shed

and it exploded.

The shed went up in flames.

- Didn't the heat reach you?

- The heat reached us.

You're talking about it

with sterility.

Yes.

Weren't you worried

that you would...?

When I charged at them,

I saw myself from above.

I saw myself running

from a bird's-eye-view.

I thought:

"Wow! Look how my body

is moving all by itself!"

Boom boom boom!

Changing cartridges,

feeling no pain.

My body is like a robot

and it's thrilling!

I look around and

we're all running and it's fun!

And we're smiling.

Not amused like: "Ha, ha, ha!"

But everyone is on

an adrenaline high.

On uppers,

we're all on uppers.

When we shot those legs,

they were shots of joy.

Ta ta ta!

With smiles on our faces.

Then we went to the tin shed.

We shot it and shot it

and suddenly it exploded!

Our response wasn't: "Oh no!"

It was: "Wow!"

That was our response.

The mood was...

Like a trip to the amusement park.

...It was fun.

You were told you were

going on a revenge mission.

And you went with

your eyes shut and did it.

And you said you enjoyed it.

You were so out of whack

you could actually enjoy

doing something so horrific.

- Yes.

- So anybody...

You can't avoid the fact

that you're responsible

for the feelings you had.

And that you didn't think for

a second about right or wrong.

You didn't stop to think:

What are we doing?

Who are we killing?

Why are we killing?

Why are we enjoying this?

You can't just blame

whoever sent you there.

Of course these

questions came up.

Why am I enjoying it?

Why are we killing?

Stuff like that. But it's not...

If you had to tell my story

through my eyes,

to imitate me.

If I were directing you

like an actress,

I'd tell you to go to

a place that is both

guilt-ridden but also,

given the situation,

lacking any ability...

Unable to resist it.

I see what you're saying,

but as an actress

I'd have a hard time

getting into this character.

Maybe to you and others,

I seem naive,

or hypocritical

or sanctimonious.

But I just don't understand

how you could have felt...

Joy, pleasure, intoxication.

I really don't.

If I tried to get into character,

I'd imagine a psycho-killer.

Seriously, some kind of...

- Lady Macbeth.

- I didn't see Lady Macbeth.

It's a play.

I didn't see it.

- Something totally...

- Babe, you think I'm a murderer?

I... No... I...

No, I don't think you're a murderer.

But...

It's clear why the families

of the people you killed...

I'd like to know...

Did you or your commanders

bother to find out

who they were,

their names, ages, families?

- No, nobody knew.

- Nobody knew.

I'm under this mask

because I'm afraid of it.

Yes, but...

Nobody knew.

Clearly these people

had families and lives.

And clearly the wife

of the man who died,

and his children,

see you as a murderer.

- And you?

- What about me?

Do you see me as a murderer?

When you first told

me this story,

I got really scared.

I didn't want to believe it.

I had this thought that...

The man facing me

really killed someone.

Actually he murdered someone!

It's murder!

He murdered someone.

It was premeditated,

it was murder.

He wasn't a terrorist,

it wasn't...

an act of self-defense.

It wasn't during a chase,

he wasn't even a terrorist.

They were just standing there

doing their job.

They were killed in revenge.

It was murder.

And you were part of it.

So what can I say?

It's a complex situation.

I don't know the details

or see things in-depth

from your perspective,

I see it my way.

I'm sure you see it differently.

But somehow,

whoever was there,

whether or not they

shot someone to death

or just shot in general.

It was...

Murder.

- It was murder.

- And do you forgive me?

Oy, I'm harboring a murderer

Oy, inside my film.

It should be

between you and yourself,

or the people you wronged,

which is unlikely to happen.

Oy, I'm harboring a murderer

Oy, inside my film.

He murdered someone.

You know, it calls for

some kind of forgiveness

or acceptance.

At first it was really hard for me.

That's why we

didn't talk about it.

Whenever we did,

we either had a fight

or we ended up feeling

cold and terribly distant.

Like now.

Oy, my wife says that

Oy, you cannot forgive

a murderer.

The fact that you care

and its troubling you,

is partial consolation.

Oy, my wife says that

Oy, you cannot forgive

a murderer.

If you weren't dealing with it

or troubled by it

or digging into it

and involved in this film...

In short, you're outing it.

It's troubling you and

you're dealing with it.

But if you weren't,

if you didn't care,

I don't think that...

If it was just

a past experience,

a story you don't know

how to relate to...

This isn't the case,

so it's irrelevant, but...

Oy, but between us,

Oy, you can forgive a murderer.

Fact is,

oy, I'm harboring a murderer

Oy, inside my film.

Then we advanced and joined forces.

The two machine-gunners up front

said they saw someone go into...

Someone ran down the road

into the fenced-in area.

So my commander and I ran

over there with another guy.

Hello.

Now there's a fruit orchard here.

But then there was nothing,

but boulders.

We got here,

I leaned against the wall,

the other guy climbed up

and shot and shot and shot.

Then we traded places and

I saw someone on the ground.

I couldn't identify him,

but I shot anyway.

Behind this wall,

that didn't have an orchard.

We identified him and retreated

to the first guy I shot.

They told me to confirm he was dead.

He was riddled with bullets.

A 55 year old man

with a white mustache.

An older man, a little fat.

He was riddled with bullets

and was obviously not alive.

I wanted to check

if he had a weapon.

I went to move him

and the two machine-gunners

covering me

were like: "Yuck!"

"Don't touch him with your hands!

That's disgusting!"

And I said: "Yeah, I don't

really want to touch him."

So I tried to move him with

my foot, but it didn't work.

I flipped him over

using my hand and foot,

to see if he had a weapon,

but he didn't.

It really was disgusting,

it was the first time I touched...

the first time I saw

a dead person.

The first time I touched

a corpse, and it had this...

texture...

I remember a texture like...

like...

jelly.

Something soft

that slips from my hand.

If pressed too hard, it'll squish

through my fingers like jelly.

It was disgusting.

He wasn't armed,

so we headed back.

How can I sing about it

instead of shrugging it off,

instead of turning him in

to whoever may arrest him.

How can I live with

all my good intentions

when there is

no table to bang on,

no court-of-law to turn to.

Instead of shrugging it off,

instead of turning him in,

to whoever may arrest him,

I just sing about it.

Now tell my story

as if you'd been there.

As if it's you,

like putting on a show?

As if it's me.

What do you mean?

I don't know how.

- You've heard me tell it.

- Give me a drag.

I don't have a cigarette.

- What? "We went..."

- Yes.

I won't tell it any differently.

"We went..."

- But I don't remember the details.

- Never mind, imagine it.

Okay.

Make it up.

- Come on, tell me.

- Wait, I'm thinking.

Our commander

woke us up one night...

Great masculine voice!

We were really tired from

the patrol the day before,

we only slept 2 hours...

- I'm not good at this.

- You're excellent.

They woke us up,

gave us 5 minutes to get ready,

"Take your weapons..."

It's clear I wasn't in the army.

We got on buses,

I slept the whole way.

Enough with this voice,

it's confusing me.

I slept the whole way,

I woke up when I heard:

"Let's go, your moment has come...

"Take courage, men...

"Your turn..."

Okay, not "your turn."

I'm trying to think of phrases,

but it's not working.

What, masculine army phrases?

- Like what?

- Like...

All those phrases

I don't know how to say.

Those things you said

made you feel like...

"We're taking this hill."

"Liquidate the enemy."

In short,

we got there,

saw a bunch of Arabs...

We understood our mission,

all we wanted was to...

- Stick 'em.

- Shove a bullet up their ass.

Everyone was very excited.

I don't feel like doing this.

You're wiping off your...

- Your sweating...

- My body wants to be itself.

It's rebelling against

the attempt to erase me.

- Really?

- I think so.

At least it troubles him...

Amazing, there's nothing here.

And he's struggling with it.

At least he's struggling with

having turned a man

into a stain.

He shot him at point-blank.

Those positioned here

missed out on all the action.

And he enjoyed it.

And now he's struggling with

having enjoyed it.

And now he's blaming them

for having to take part in it,

for wanting to take part in it,

being happy to take part in it.

If they opened fire

on us now, you know?

That would be symbolic.

The whole episode would

be symbolic, somehow.

If the son of the...

But in the end,

who enjoys it?

I enjoy it.

That now he's struggling with

having enjoyed it.

Truth is, it eats me up inside

that I'm driven to sing about

how he shot him like a stain

and that I can

forgive him for it.

I saw he was unarmed,

so we retreated.

The two gunners threw

a grenade into the burning tin shed,

and we walked away.

We went back to the settlement

from which we'd set out

and waited for 7-8 hours

until they picked us up.

Then they picked us up

and I went home.

I went on a date with Karin.

We went to see my friend

Roy's band perform.

He gave a hell of a show.

On that night.

- The whole event took 20 minutes.

- What event?

Everything that happened,

the whole story, start to finish.

- You said you waited...

- Without the waiting.

The shooting took 20 minutes.

And the policemen?

They were policemen, right?

- Palestinian policemen.

- What did they do?

They fled.

Did they yell?

I don't remember hearing them.

Did you think about them at all?

What, about their families?

Who they were, what they felt?

No.

How did they seem

to you at the time?

I hardly saw them.

All I saw was gray stains running.

But what were you thinking?

"I'm killing a man."

Or "I'm killing a terrorist."

Or "I'm killing an Arab."

Or weren't you thinking...?

You don't think.

It's like target practice.

You don't think it's a human being.

It's not as if we heard

cries of pain. Nothing.

- Why not?

- The shooting was so noisy.

Was there anyone who tried...

to put his hands up in the air?

No.

It wouldn't have helped,

we'd have shot him.

And after you finished

and waited for the bus,

did you talk about it?

Only bragging:

"I came from here and saw him run.

"I shot him, didn't you see?"

On that level.

But only for a half an hour.

After that we dozed off.

And you didn't discuss

the meaning of the operation?

Who they were

that they had to be killed?

When we got back to base,

it was like...

The guys called it "the massacre."

Like a macabre joke.

And you didn't feel guilty at all?

Not in the classical

sense of the word.

I didn't feel guilty like:

"Oy, the poor

Palestinian policeman."

I didn't think of him

as an individual.

But were it the other way around

you'd have been horrified.

Yes.

I remember when we reached the base

that had lost the six soldiers,

everyone was crying,

the whole base was in tears.

I remember two secretaries

sitting outside and sobbing.

Of course, it doesn't diminish

the killing of the soldiers,

it's always horrible

when people die.

I'm trying to say something else.

I'm saying something else.

I remember being filled with pride,

as if I'd done something good.

You didn't even kill the guy

who killed those soldiers.

I killed someone who had

nothing to do with it.

Yes.

He was just doing his job.

We could also talk about

what it means

to kill someone who did

kill another person,

but what did he

have to do with it?

Where's the pride in that?

I don't know, it's like...

You see yourself at war.

There's a big difference between

how I saw it then

and how I see it now.

Or between my

cognitive abilities then

and my cognitive abilities today.

You're a soldier,

it's like you're at war.

Your side is good

and the other side is bad.

- How many policemen were killed?

- Two.

Didn't you once say four?

No, I said there were

supposed to be six,

but I know for sure

that two were killed.

And at the other sites

were more killed?

Yeah, but more.

- How many people died that day?

- I don't know.

Now you tell it.

Let's stop this.

Stop it.

On the top.