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his coat and kneel down to embrace his kids. The throng of small bodies knocked Dov off his feet and sent him sprawling in a mass of tickles and giggles onto the ground.
    But the peace of the moment was short-lived. Suddenly, four British army jeeps and a large truck roared furiously through the front entrance of the kibbutz, still open from when Dov arrived. Everybody working in the field looked up in shock as the vehicles screeched to a halt, throwing up stones and clouds of dirt. Ten British soldiers jumped out and fanned out in a protective line in front of their vehicles, rifles pointing at the kibbutz inhabitants.
    Shalman’s eyes turned back to Dov and saw him quickly push his children off him, stand and move sharply to his truck so he could pull the cover back over the back. He then ordered the children to return to their mother.
    Last out of the vehicles was the commander of the group, a man Ari already knew; he was the senior officer who had remained sitting in the jeep while his NCOs had intimidated the family that day when they were having a picnic on the beach ten years earlier. Though Ari wasn’t the kibbutz leader, he walked slowly out of the field, as though this was a daily occurrence, and meandered over to the commander, his hand outstretched to shake in greeting.
    Reluctantly, the major took it. A nod of the head was his only greeting before he said, ‘That lorry . . .’ pointing to Adolf the Beast, ‘. . . who owns that?’
    Ari didn’t turn to face any of the kibbutz residents who gathered around. But he knew that Dov was standing there near the lorry beside Shalman.
    â€˜This is a kibbutz, Major. We all own it,’ said Ari. With a smile, hoping to remove some of the tension from the air, he added, ‘It’s a piece a junk. We’ll pay you to take it away.’
    The major didn’t appreciate the joke. His face remained stern. In a clipped voice, he said, ‘I’ll ask the question again. And don’t mess me about. Understand? Now, who was driving that lorry?’
    By this time more of the community had gathered around. Women pushed children behind them but all stood and watched the soldiers. In turn the soldiers gripped their rifles more tightly. Ari sensed all this and sweat beaded his brow.
    â€˜Can I ask what this is all about? We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re farmers.’
    â€˜Answer my question. Who was the driver of that lorry?’
    Ari turned his head to look briefly at the people gathered nearby. All knew the answer to the question, but none knew what Ari would say. Dov had retreated back into the crowd, his children, frightened, gathered about him – all six holding on to a hand or leg of his trousers. Dov’s eyes met with Ari’s, wide and still and uncertain.
    â€˜Now! Right now! Who was driving?’ commanded the major.
    One of the soldiers behind the officer nervously raised his rifle and a woman nearby let out an involuntary whimper. Dov’s eyes darted backwards and forwards like a trapped animal but he didn’t move. Then Shalman stepped forward from the crowd towards his father.
    â€˜Stay back, Shalman,’ said Ari, raising a hand to ward him off.
    â€˜I won’t ask again, farmer,’ the major said. There was no mistaking the menace in his voice.
    â€˜Abba?’
    The silence weighed leaden in the air as Ari looked once more to the mass of frightened children about Dov’s legs. Dov’s six young children.
    â€˜It was me,’ Ari said softly. He heard a gasp behind him. So did the major, who continued to stare deeply into his eyes before he turned and barked an order.
    â€˜Search it.’
    Three of the soldiers ran over to the lorry and the people nearby parted like a field of reeds. The soldiers threw back the cover of the lorry’s tray, while the other soldiers stayed where they were, pointing their rifles at the men and women in the field as though