Ever Upward

Hizbollah is demanding the release of their hero Sami Kuntar, among others, in return for the latest kidnapped Israeli soldiers. Hizbollah and Hamas want war with Israel, and it looks like they are about to get it, with Syria perhaps thrown in to make the trifecta. Iran, who had its representatives present at the North Korean missile launches, bides its time while the UN enjoys a leisurely catered lunch and promises to issue a report one of these days, if Russia doesn't object. The Democrats, who are able to take religious war seriously only long enough to declare defeat, keep looking at their watches, wondering when they can get back to talking about health care and the minimum wage. The Europeans believe their Palestinian project would have gone OK if only there weren't so many Jews, an inconvenience for which they certainly cannot be blamed. India, still swabbing blood and body parts from railway carriages, thinks it's a bit wider thing than that, and proceeds with the warp-speed modernization of her huge military. How many more assassination attempts will Musharaf survive next door in nuclear Pakistan, and to whom will the reins pass when his security runs out? Bin Laden in a landslide? The progress of humanity is an inspiring thing to behold.

Byron


Some background on Sami Kuntar:

Around midnight, we were asleep in our apartment when four terrorists, sent by Abu Abbas from Lebanon, landed in a rubber boat on the beach two blocks away. Gunfire and exploding grenades awakened us as the terrorists burst into our building.

Desperately, we sought to hide. Danny helped our neighbor climb into a crawl space above our bedroom; I went in behind her with Yael in my arms. Then, Danny grabbed Einat and was dashing out the front door to take refuge in an underground shelter when the terrorists came crashing into our flat.

They held Danny and Einat while they searched for me and Yael, knowing others lived in the apartment. If Yael cried out, they would find us. So I kept my hand over her mouth, hoping she could breathe. As I lay there, I remembered my mother telling me how she had hidden from the Nazis during the Holocaust.

As police began to arrive, the terrorists took Danny and Einat down to the beach. There, according to eyewitnesses, one of them shot Danny in front of Einat, so that his death would be the last thing she would ever see. Then, he smashed my little girl’s skull in against a rock with his rifle butt. That terrorist was Samir Kuntar.

By the time we were rescued from the crawl space hours later, Yael, too, was dead. In trying to save all our lives, I had smothered her.