into town like something out of the wild west. Had any of that happened, we would have started a small-scale war, not to mention run the very real risk of not getting out alive.
In fact, we left the missile boat, Manno’s offshore command post, in motor dinghies out of earshot of Beirut and cut the engines as we got closer to the shore. All of us, including the “women”, were wrapped in ponchos to avoid showing up on Rue Verdun soaking wet. After getting out of the dinghies, we were carried ashore by the SEALs to make sure we stayed dry. All of us had loose-fitting jackets. The attack teams used them to conceal Uzis, explosive charges to blow the locks on the apartment doors if they couldn’t be forced open, a hand grenade or two and flashlights for the dash up the stairs. One member of each team had a large plastic bag, with orders to take away any easily accessible documents for Mossad analysts back home. As the mother of the brood, I also had a large purse, in which I carried our radio to communicate with the team leaders and with Manno on the missile boat if necessary.
Our SEAL pilots steered us well away from the more built-up part of the seafront towards the Coral Beach, one of the private clubs on the southern end of the shoreline. Four rented station wagons were waiting, two of them for us and two for Amnon’s squad. Amnon set off toward the DFLP target. We headed north towards the center of town. In the Spielberg film, my speaking role consisted of two words, my name, as I introduced myself to my driver. In fact, we had already met: during the run-through exercises in Tel Aviv. After we got into the cars, I asked him how his scouting of the route had gone. He said basically OK, but that he’d noticed a couple of cops patrolling near the top of Verdun on one of his drive-bys. I assured him it would be fine. There would be no reason for a policeman to suspect what we were up to, or who we were. Still, I could tell he was nervous. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He hesitated before replying. “I’ve never been in a place where there’s live fire,” he said. I told him not to worry. He sti// wouldn’t be. “You’re going to be parked around the comer, until it’s over. Then, it’s just about getting home.”
When we reached the top of Verdun, it was about ten minutes after one in the morning. Our cars pulled over. I took Mookie’s arm as we began walking the 150 feet or so to the first of the apartment buildings. The others followed in knots of two or three. Both Mookie and I saw a policeman approaching on the sidewalk. “Ignore him,” I whispered. We weaved a few inches to the side to let him pass. The buildings were as we’d expected, with their lobbies set back from a covered terrace in front. As the other teams made their way to the second
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