Warrior: An Autobiography
Ariel Sharon, David Chanoff
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Israel's newest prime minister as of February 6, 2001, Ariel Sharon is a dynamic and controversial leader. A hero in Israel's wars, perhaps the most daring and successful commander in Israel's extraordinary military history, Sharon has always been a warrior, whether the enemies were hostile Arab nations, terrorists, Time magazine, or rival politicians. The public man is well known -- aggressive in battle, hard-line in politics -- but the private man has always been obscured by Sharon's dazzling career and powerful personality. In this compelling and dramatic auto-biography, the real Sharon appears for the first time: a complex man, a loving father, a figure of courage and compassion. He is a warrior who commands the respect and love of his troops, a visionary, and an uncompromising, ruthless pragmatist.
Sharon tells his story with frankness, power, intelligence, and a brilliant gift for detail. Always controversial, he is as outspoken as his friends -- and enemies -- would expect him to be.
passed to our rear, and then turned westward toward the Egyptians. Watching from my observation post on the western slope of Havraga Ridge, I was dismayed by what was happening. Only a relatively small number of tanks were involved, perhaps two battalions charging valiantly into the Egyptian artillery fire. It was not a divisional attack; it was not even a concentrated effort. There was no way it could succeed. But I did not have much time to worry about it. At 10:45 A.M. I received an order
fifty Jews fleeing Rumania were killed when the Struma sank off the Turkish coast, hit by either a torpedo or a mine. Two hundred more died when the Salvador sank in the Sea of Marmara. Other refugees who somehow managed to slip through the blockades and land in Israel were rounded up and shipped to concentration camps on the Indian Ocean island of Mauritius and later on Cyprus. When the Struma disaster was reported, thousands of people took to the streets of Tel Aviv. When the British police
condolence call on Bashir’s father, Pierre, and his brother, Amin, whom I would be meeting for the first time. As we pulled up in front of the father’s house, thousands of people were milling around, a crowd which projected a mood of tension as well as mourning. Inside I met Amin (my first meeting with him), who told me that he was aware of the conversation Bashir and I had had on the twelfth. Then Pierre Gemayel walked in, obviously moved but in full control of himself—much stronger, I thought,
somewhere else, stay here, live as inhabitants. But you cannot dictate what government we will have here unless you bear all the burdens. Equal rights, equal duties.” At that point one young man made himself heard above the din. “What do you mean?” he said. “Why should we just be residents? We were here long before you were.” “Where are you from?” I asked. “From Kfar Kara.” I knew Kfar Kara well, so I said, “What do you mean, you came earlier than we did? What is your name?” “Masarwa!” he
strong that he had been known as “Gulliver” since childhood. He was one of the seven who had gone with me on the Nebi Samuel raid in 1953. But for some reason he had not joined Unit 101, although I had asked him several times. He had not joined the paratroopers either, though he knew I would have welcomed him with open arms. For several years now there had been a strain in our relationship, though I was never sure exactly why. But just before the Galilee operation I had called him up. We had had