Free The Glory by Herman Wouk Page A

what can I do for you, Amos Pasternak?”
    He took a moment to find his voice. “Just be happy, Dvora, that’s all. Have a long happy life, and a wonderful family. Congratulations,
     and congratulate Ben for me, he’s very lucky.”
    She choked out one word, “
Hazzer
[Swine],” and disappeared with a doorslam, leaving Amos looking at half a dozen nonplussed images of himself and thinking
     ruefully,
Talk about reprisal!
Threading through the Hadassah ladies, he left the shop and saw a new blue Porsche pull up at the curb, out of which jumped
     another romantic misfire of his, Daphna Luria.
    “Amos Pasternak!” Sprightly tone, flirtatious smile. “Why aren’t you in California?”
    An Israeli query, that. He had not talked to Daphna Luria for nearly a year, and they moved in different circles, but here
     everyone tended to know everything about everybody else. Somewhat asphyxiating, at times. “Nice car,” he said to the young
     driver as he got out, an American by his clothes, his haircut, and his callow look, not to mention the exotic automobile.
    “This is Noah’s cousin from New York,” said Daphna. “Dzecki Barkowe. He’s made aliya.”
    “He has? Kol ha’kavod,” said Amos, perceiving the resemblance, but guessing that this fellow was no Noah and would probably
     not last long here.
    “Actually, Amos might be the one to talk to,” she said to Dzecki, as the men shook hands.
    “What about?” Amos inquired.
    Dzecki said in clumsy slow Hebrew with New York inflections, “My draft service. I’m thinking maybe I should go in now, get
     the three years over with. A crash course in being an Israeli, you might say.”
    “A real question.” Amos shrugged. “Just don’t be hasty. Once in, you can’t get out. Daphna, how’s Noah?”
    “He’ll be all right, but he’s still in much pain. We’re going to visit him after I pick up a new dress. My aunt gives me big
     bargains.”
    “Bad business, the
Eilat
sinking,” said the American. “But I’ll bet the Egyptians will be plenty sorry.” He trailed after Daphna, as she went into
     the shop with a farewell wave at Amos.
    Why had they never clicked, he and Daphna? Unlike Dvora she was mighty bright, extremely well read, sure of herself, maybe
     a bit too aware that she was a Luria, a squadron leader’s daughter, and very pretty, if no Dvora; also given to leftish antimilitary
     patter, which she considered smart and he thought an unserious nuisance. Whatever the reason, their few dates had fizzled.
     Noah Barak was welcome to Daphna Luria, since she fancied him.
There
was a real mentsch, Noah Barak. Noah had had rotten luck, but at least he was alive and recovering. Amos meant to visit him
     soon.
    What now? He decided to telephone Sue Weinberg, a divorcée in Kfar Shmaryahu, who was sure to welcome him with joyous warmth,
     a superb meal, and a familiar bedroom. Three kids, no future there, but somehow he got along best with older women. Girls
     made problems.
    MAIMONIDES HOSPITAL
    HAIFA
    November 10th, 1967
    Dear Abba:
    You keep asking about Daphna Luria in your letters. Actually, she’s been here several times. She couldn’t be sweeter, and
     I could become serious about Daphna, but I doubt she’s in that frame of mind. Not yet, anyhow. That dizzy relative of ours
     Jack Barkowe usually brings her here in his damned Porsche. She says he’s just a pleasant kid, but she sure loves that Porsche.
     He let her drive it and the Mekhess nabbed it, but with protectsia he got it back. Was that your doing? As for the physical
     therapy, it’s starting to work at last. My back pain is almost gone, except when I make sudden movements. I’ll be out of here
     in a week, the doctor says. But then what?
    Abba, I’ve spent a lot of time on my back, thinking about my future. If I do go on with a military career, I doubt it’ll be
     in the navy. I’m disillusioned and disgusted. Yesterday we had a reunion of
Eilat
survivors in the hospital dining room,