Waltz with Bashir Page #4

During all this,

civilians are seen on balconies:

women, children,

and old people are watching

as if it were a film.

They are shooting at us

from all directions.

And we can't get across.

Throughout my military service

I was a MAG shooter.

During my officer's training, I thought,

"You've used a MAG for so long,

why not try something else?"

So they gave me a Galil.

And while they're shooting at us

from all directions,

I realize that I can't shoot

with the Galil like I could before.

I missed the good old MAG

that I was familiar with.

So I say to Erez,

"Erez, do me a favour.

Give me your MAG.

I won't make it across with the Galil.

Give me your MAG

and we'll cross the street.

I'll shoot better."

He says' "Frenkel, are you nuts?

They're attacking us!

Stop babbling and shoot!"

I finally realize that I must

take drastic steps.

I grab him and say,

"Listen, Erez, give me the MAG,

or I'll take it by force!"

Whether an eternity

or just a minute,

there was Frenkel at the junction

with bullets flying past him

in every direction.

Instead of crossing the junction,

I saw him dancing, as if in a trance.

He cursed the shooters.

Like he wanted to stay there forever.

As if he wanted to show off

his waltz amid the gunfire,

with the posters of Bashir

above his head.

And Bashir's followers

preparing their big revenge

just 200 yards away:

The Sabra and Shatila massacre.

I'm starting to remember.

I've met people,

I've heard stories...

Stories about myself.

I didn't want to believe them.

So what can't you remember?

The day of the massacre.

I can remember everything else.

I don't understand

why people were so surprised

that the Phalangists

carried out the massacre.

I knew all along

how ruthless they were.

During the storming of Beirut

we were in the slaughterhouse.

Where?

- The slaughterhouse, that junk yard

where they took the Palestinians,

interrogated them, and executed them.

It was like being on an LSD trip.

They carried body parts

of murdered Palestinians

preserved in jars of formaldehyde.

They had fingers, eyeballs,

anything you wanted.

And always pictures of Bashir.

Bashir pendants, Bashir watches,

Bashir this, Bashir that...

Bashir was to them

what David Bowie was to me.

A star, an idol,

a prince, admirable.

I think they even felt

an eroticism for him.

Totally erotic.

Their idol was about to become king.

We were the ones to crown him.

The next day he was murdered.

It was obvious they'd avenge his death

in some perverse way.

It was as if their wife

had been murdered.

This was about family honour,

which runs deep.

Why did you come back?

I m still having these hallucinations

about the massacre on the beach.

And you're there with me.

You're crazy.

You're obsessed.

Beach? What are you talking about?

Who was on the beach that night?

What beach?

I've reached a dead end.

I can't find anyone

who was with me at the massacre.

No one who was with me

has any solid memories

of the days of the massacre.

I only have this one vision.

And Carmi, the only person in my vision,

denies being there with me.

It's still real.

- It's a vision.

But it's yours. Shall I explain?

- Yes.

What does the sea symbolize in dreams?

Fear. Feelings.

The massacre frightens you,

makes you uneasy. You were close to it.

That doesn't help me much.

Your interest in the massacre developed

long before it happened.

Were your parents in camps?

- Yes.

Auschwitz?

- Yes.

So the massacre has been with you

since you were six.

You lived through the massacre

and those camps.

Your only solution

is to find out what really happened

in Sabra and Shatila.

Seek out people.

Find out what really happened,

ask who was there.

Get details and more details.

That way...

Then maybe you can find out

where you were exactly,

and what role you played.

On that day we were sent

to a certain post.

It was actually on a hill.

This hill

was opposite the western sector

of the refugee camp.

From where I was,

I could see the settlement houses.

There was occasional shooting.

We tried to locate them

and retaliate.

The Christian Phalangist forces

began to arrive.

In full kit,

soldiers in Israeli uniforms

took position behind tanks.

I was called for a briefing.

It was in English.

What was it a out?

- They told us that the Christians

would enter the camp

and we would give them cover.

Once they had purged the camps,

we would seize control.

Purged of what?

- Palestinian Terrorists.

The next morning,

they began to bring out civilians.

The civilians were led out of the camps

in a long line.

The Phalangists watched on,

constantly shouting at them

and occasionally firing into the air.

There were women, old people,

and children walking in a line

towards the stadium.

From inside in the tank, did you wonder

where they were taking them?

Did you think about it?

Not really, because wherever we went,

an announcement was made

upon entering a camp.

Civilians were ordered out.

Those remaining were considered rebels.

It seemed quite natural

to say to the residents,

"If you don't want to get hurt,

then come out!"

On that day I drove to Docha,

a city on the coast.

It had

an Israel Defense Forces landing field.

On the way,

many Phalangist

half-track vehicles appeared.

They shouted with joy

as they headed towards the airfield.

At the airfield,

I met a Colonel friend.

He told me,

Have you heard

what's happening in the refugee camps?"

He had pointed to Sabra and Shatila.

"What's happening?", I asked.

I didn't witness it myself, but they

say there was a terrible massacre."

Palestinians were slaughtered.

I heard they put them on trucks.

I was told that crucifixes

were carved on their chests.

There were wounded,

some in critical condition.

They were put on trucks

and taken to an unknown destination.

We saw a Phalangist soldier

taking an old man away.

At some point we heard shots.

We heard shots.

Then the soldier came out alone.

We asked him what happened.

We couldn't hear him,

but his gestures meant "Boom!"

We understood that he'd told the man

to kneel down before him.

When he refused, he shot his knees.

When he refused again,

he shot him in the stomach and head.

Didn't you ever realize

women and children were brought out

and bulldozers went in?

Yes, of course.

I realized something was happening

only when my men told me.

From the top of their tanks,

they started shouting,

"They are shooting people!"

They claim that people were lined up

against the wall and shot.

So I called my commanding officer.

I told him what I heard

was going on in the camps.

He said, "We know about it.

It s under control. We reported it."

As far as I was concerned,

the army was handling it.

Where was the operations room,

the headquarters?

About yards away.

On top of a very tall building.

How tall?

- Tall enough to see everything.

They surely had a better view

than I did.

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