Hava could not do enough to make life easier for all of them. She was full of wild energy. Once she went off to Haifa for two days to furnish a new apartment for Amos and his young wife. Amos was rarely home on leave from the army because the situation on the borders had worsened and crack units were almost continually in a state of full alert. As soon as she got back from Haifa, Hava sewed four nightdresses for her granddaughter and knit her a pair of woolen booties and a sweater. When Azariah grew delirious with fever from a throat infection, she took him to Srulik’s bedroom without even asking the secretary’s permission and nursed him like a baby. When Yonatan broke a finger in the tractor shed, she took him to the hospital and never left his side until it was set in a cast. Once, when Rimona suggested that she ease up on herself, Hava broke into uproarious laughter and proceeded to take down all the window screens and scrub them one by one. In late May, both Yoni and Azariah were mobilized. Soon after, the war predicted by Azariah broke out. Israel won and pushed forward its front lines. Etan R. was killed on the Golan Heights. His two girlfriends went on living in his room by the swimming pool. Yonatan’s reconnaissance unit fought in the Sinai. On the sixth and last day of combat, he took over its command from Chupka, who had been torn to shreds by a direct artillery hit. Azariah, serving in a front-line grease pit, worked around the clock. Major Zlotkin called him a miracle and promoted him to sergeant as soon as the war was over. On their discharge, Hava baked them a cake. Srulik threw a small welcome-home party for the sons who returned from the battlefield. Yonatan and Azariah discovered when they came back that the baby had learned how to turn over. Soon she would be crawling on the straw mat. “Look at her. She’s laughing,” said Rimona. “It’s because she understands,” said Hava.

If anyone dared say a slighting word about her happy trio, Hava would bare her fangs like an old she-wolf.

“You, Paula, are in no position to talk. Not with a daughter like yours, a nebbish who’s been through two divorces in two years.”

The next day, however, she would apologize. “Please forgive me. I lost my temper yesterday. I went too far. I’m terribly sorry.”

In his journal, late one night, Srulik wrote: