Det danske Fredsakademi
Kronologi over fredssagen og international politik 16 Oktober 2004 / Time Line October 16, 2004
Version 3.510/16/2004
Confirmed and confessed
By: B. Michael Yediot Aharonot, 15/10/2004
(translated by TOI-staff from Yediot Aharonot)
Between Sept 29 and Oct 15, fifteen days in all, I killed thirty
children.
Two children per day.
Two dead children per day is more or less four bereaved parents per
day. Why more or less? Because some of them were brothers. So, two
dead children for one pair of bereaved parents. Perhaps that's
better, because these parents are bereaved anyway, so they are just
bereaved twice, and another pair of parents is released from being
bereaved. But perhaps it is less good, because to be bereaved is
worse than being dead, and being twice bereaved is twice worse than
being dead. So I don't really know what to decide.
All these children I killed in the Gaza Strip, and all of them I
killed by mistake. That is, I knew that there were children there,
and I knew I would kill some of them, but since I knew it would be
by mistake I did not feel so pressured about it. Because everybody
makes mistakes. Only the one who does nothing does not make
mistakes. Mistakes happen, we are all human beings. That is what I
think is so nice about my mistakes, they make me so human and
fallible, is it not so?
The 30 children I killed by all kind of mistakes. Each child with
his special mistake. There was one about whom I thought by mistake
that he was not a child. And there was one which I hit because he
insisted on standing exactly on the spot at which I decided to
shoot. And there was one who threw stones and did not at all look
six years old. And there was one who from the air looked like a
wanted terrorist. Or like a Qassam rocket. Or like a terrorist
holding a Qassam rocket. And there were some children who by
mistake got into their heads some of the shrapnel from the shell I
shot into their house. And there was one who by mistake hid under
her bed exactly when I blew up the bed in order to expel the
terrorist squad which was hiding there. But this does not count, it
was her mistake, not mine.
I remember it was the most hard with my first mistake. I shot and
shot and shot, then they told me I had killed a child. I became
pale, and my mouth was dry, and my knees were shaking, and in
general I did not sleep very well that night. But with the passing
of time, and of mistakes, it became much easier. Now I make
mistakes with hardly any side-effects. It was very helpful that my
friends, my environment, everybody, did not make so much fuss over
every small mistake.
Here, just last week, when I killed by mistake one girl, I shot two
more mistakes into her head, just to make sure that I was making a
mistake. And then the rest of my magazine, full of mistakes. Once,
I would not have been able to do that.
True, some people tell me that I am making a mistake in making this
confession. They tell I have not been in Gaza at all, and did not
shoot any bullet, and did not bomb, and did not shell, and did not
snipe. That's true, I did not. But who paid for the bullets? Me.
And who bought the gun? And financed the shell? And the missile?
Me. Me. Me. Also me.
And also, who is not growing pale any more with every new mistake?
Whose mouth is not getting dry when one more child is laid in the
earth? Whose knees do not grow weak when another nameless baby lies
dead in a bloody cradle? Who goes on sleeping soundly even when the
number of mistakes reaches thirty in two weeks?
Me. Also me.
So, don't tell me I didn't kill.
 |
 |