I am writing about Devorah, with whom I was in Tel Adashim, I had brought her to Kfar Giladi, I saw her in her death and I buried her with my hands.

- - -

I had felt her fatigue was not from work. Something was getting her depressed. I hinted to her, and she replied: Haven't you heard that our friends were robbed on the way? They were stripped of their top clothes and their weapons were taken. I said: But they're still alive. She got mad and spurted out heatedly! Imagine, they took the weapons of - -, from the former guards: if a guard has his weapon taken, he'd surely go out of his mind. I wanted to see his face after the incident, but better not, best that I do not see him.

- - -

On one bright day we looked out and saw about a legion of about a hundred people approaching Kfar Giladi, all of them armed, and four of the riders holding bombs --- at that moment I saw Devorah marching with another member towards us holding guns. They would have to pass the Arabs. I stared at her and my heart fluttered: What will happen?

They arrived in peace.

Devorah's face lit up with high spirits --

The next night the two of them were brought to Kfar Giladi in a wagon.

Devorah lay alongside of four other members.

I took her down ----

She's sleeping, I thought, and with this in mind, I started moving her and shaking her. I wanted to scream and wake her up from her deep slumber.

Her death answered all of her questions.