Apart from the odd Scud, life carried on as normal. The newspapers were full of pictures of happenings in Iraq and its surroundings. He gave up on his diary and started a scrap book, tearing out pictures from all the papers he could get his hands on. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when, on the 28th Feb, the war ended.

It was certainly one experience that would stick in his mind for the rest of his life.

Things eventually slipped back into place. No signs of worry on peoples faces. During the war he'd got to know some of the members - asking their opinion on matters, how they felt. He was glad he'd started talking with these people. Never before had he felt the way he did now - so much happiness inside him. He was given more responsibility at work and he took it well.
Friday nights, his only night, he spent in good company. Enjoying the cheap bottles of vodka and all the new music he'd come across. His tape player wasn't as loud as he'd have liked but it did the job - he'd bring it out onto the balcony outside his room and turn up the volume for everyone to hear. Summer was on its way and with it a very relaxed atmosphere. As soon as the swimming pool opened, his afternoons were spent there enjoying a swim and then soaking up all the rays that the sun could give.

Time for a break - a two week holiday back to England. It was good to see old friends again, but he couldn't wait to be on that plane again - it's engines powering the massive bulk back towards Israeli airspace.
Soon enough he was back on the kibbutz, full of energy.