Waltz with Bashir Page #2

Just one image in my mind.

Somehow you're in it.

What image?

Were you there too?

It's hard to say.

What do you mean?

Were you there?

It's hard to say.

I don't remember anything

about the massacre.

But you were in Beirut

when the massacre took place.

Yes, I remember being there.

I'll never forget

us marching into Beirut.

But the massacre...

How did you say it?

That's not stored in my system.

Right.

- Massacre...

Then it happened in a taxi

to Amsterdam airport...

Suddenly all the memories came back.

Not a hallucination

nor my subconscious.

The first day of the war. Barely 19,

I haven't even started shaving.

We're driving down a road.

Orchards on one side,

the sea on the other.

We're shooting everywhere

at everything, until nightfall.

That evening, when we stopped,

an officer tells me:

"Load up the dead and wounded.

Go and dump them."

"Dump?"

- "Yes, dump."

"Where?"

"How should I know?

Out there, near that bright light.

That's where they're dumped."

So I drive all the way back.

I had never seen an open wound

or any kind of bleeding before.

Now I was in command of a tank

full of the dead and wounded,

looking for a bright light, salvation.

What should we do?

Why don't you tell us what to do?

Shoot.

- At who?

How do I know? Just shoot.

Isn't it better to pray?

- Then pray and shoot.

Finally we see the helicopter lights.

Like halos.

As we get closer to the light,

we see dead and wounded everywhere.

We unload mechanically,

as if we're not even present.

The we turn around and drive off.

On the first day of the war,

I transported the dead and wounded

from tanks on the coast road.

I'm looking for people who were with me.

Could your men have been among them?

It sounds logical.

We were in the coastal area.

In the western sector

It's possible.

Do you recognize me here?

No.

I don't recognize myself either.

Crossing the border at Rosh Hanikra,

felt like an excursion.

We took photos,

we told jokes...

We had time to fool around

before going into action.

Good morning, Lebanon

Good morning, Lebanon

Too much pain to carry on

Good morning, Lebanon

The landscape was beautiful,

trees all around,

a few scattered houses...

A really idyllic pastoral scene.

The slow drive allowed us

to enjoy the scenery.

May your dreams come true

May your nightmares pass

Your existence is a blessing, Lebanon

In a tank, you always feel really safe.

A tank is a very massive.

enclosed vehicle.

Inside the tank,

we were protected.

You are torn to pieces

You bleed to death in my arms

You bleed to death in my arms

You are the love of my life

Oh, my short, short life

Tear me to pieces

I'm bleeding...

Suddenly our commander

stopped responding. We lost contact.

Was he beside you.

- Yes.

I saw his head slumped forward.

I went down inside and saw blood,

blood in the tank.

The blood was coming from his neck.

You were next in command?

- Yes, I was.

But I didn't react immediately.

We just stayed in the tank

without even thinking of firing back.

Two minutes later,

there was an explosion. Everyone tried

to escape from the tank hysterically...

without weapons or anything...

Those who stayed inside,

were killed in the tank.

I ran as fast as I could

in zigzags towards the sea.

My only thought.

It's over. I'm done for.

They'll be here any minute.

All I can do is wait for the end.

I saw the building from which they

were shooting, and the commander.

I hoped he'd get closer.

I don't know why,

but he started to retreat.

I felt abandoned by our forces.

I imagined how my mother would react.

We're very close.

I was always like her right hand.

I'm the only one

who helps out at home.

Like the firstborn son.

I took a peek.

I saw them chatting, smoking.

I wondered why

they didn't notice me.

I peeked a few more times,

I realized that they probably thought

that everyone was killed in the attack.

I decided to wait until dark.

I had a good place to hide.

I don't know why, but I decided

to crawl out to the sea.

I didn't want to stay close to shore,

so I swam quite far out.

When I felt I was far out enough

I started swimming south.

How was the sea?

Really calm, no waves.

I felt calm and at peace.

Just me and the sea.

I felt safe, because the sea

was calm and peaceful.

But I was still really afraid

that my strength would fail

and I'd drown.

Or maybe someone might spot me

and shoot at me, kill me.

While swimming through

this peaceful water,

I suddenly heard a loud noise.

I felt the water pulsating.

I felt the turbulent water

enveloping me.

My body shook with fear.

I saw lights in the distance

and I headed in that direction.

They might be Israeli forces.

I kept swimming

but felt my strength was dwindling.

I could barely move my limbs.

Sometimes I simply

let the water carry me along.

I eventually reached shore

and started walking.

I heard voices speaking Hebrew

on the two-way radio.

I knew

that I had to get to them

despite my exhaustion.

To my amazement, it was

the regiment that had abandoned me.

After I got back to my regiment,

I felt like...

like it was me who had

abandoned my comrades.

I always felt

that they regarded me like...

like someone who didn't help

rescue his friends.

As if I had fled the battlefield

just to save my own skin.

I sometimes felt very uneasy.

I broke off contact

with the families of the dead.

At first I visited their graves,

but then I just stopped.

I wanted to forget.

I didn't want to relive those moments.

Visiting the graves, you felt...

- Guilty.

I felt guilty standing at their graves.

As if I didn't do enough.

I didn't do enough.

I wasn't the hero type who carries

weapons and saves everyone's life.

That's not me. I'm not the type.

I bombed Sidon today

amid the clouds of smoke at dawn

I almost went home in a coffin

I bombed Sidon today

One month after Ronnie Dayag

swam back home safely,

the army took the beach

from which he had fled.

They told us we'd soon attack Beirut

and that we'd all die.

But on the beach

we didn't think much about death.

I had a hut of banana leaves.

Thinking back,

the smell of Patchouli Oil

still makes me nauseous.

It was really popular in the '80s.

For my roommate Frenkel,

Patchouli was not just a fragrance,

it was a way of life.

Patchouli...

How do you use it?

Show me.

You sprinkle a drop on your hand,

like this.

This way,

your comrades always know you're there.

I remember my men telling me:

"Frenkel, you walk too fast.

Like a rabbit."

So what do you do? Patchouli!

In the dark, at night...

They couldn't miss me!

The scent is really strong,

even out in the field.

I still use it.

I bombed Beirut today

I bombed Beirut every day

If I came close to death

I couldn't say

I bombed Beirut every day

At the pull of a trigger

We can send strangers

straight to Hell

If I came close to death

I couldn't say

I bombed Beirut every day

Our daily routine was this:

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