Don't Ask Me If I Love by Amos Kollek Page A

change your character; nobody ever changes. You can only think you change, but that is all. Stupid thinking, he told himself irritated, you better go to sleep. That’s the best thing you can do right now.
    There was a faint sound of footsteps and he forced his eyes to open. The fly of the tent had been turned aside and a tall figure emerged and started walking on the path toward him. Ram watched him silently. The soldier kept advancing in his direction, humming in a low voice. When Ram spoke, Rotman still did not see him because of the dark.
    â€œRotman.”
    The big figure flinched. Then it stopped and looked hesitantly around.
    â€œRotman.”
    The wandering gaze fell on Ram’s face in the shadow of the tree.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Ram straightened himself and dropped his arms down to his hips. He stared curiously at the set, tense face beside him.
    â€œHow are you feeling?”
    â€œWhat?” He seemed surprised. “O.K., I’m O.K. now.”
    â€œFeet don’t hurt any more?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnd the stomach?”
    â€œNo, sir.” His voice regained its usual placidness. “I am feeling fine now.”
    Ram looked at him thoughtfully.
    â€œWell, that’s good,” he said softly.
    Then, he swung his right arm back and drove his fist into the soldier’s stomach. His expression still remained thoughtful and curious as Rotman took two steps back and doubled up. He opened his mouth in a desperate attempt to breathe. Ram hit him in the jaw, putting all his weight behind the blow. Rotman crumbled and fell to the ground. Ram bent over him and looked down.
    â€œIt’s against army rules, actually,” he said thoughtfully.
    He got no answer to that.
    â€œSo you see,” I said, concluding my story, “even Ram’s a sentimental baby sometimes.”
    Ruthi looked at me dubiously.
    â€œDid he complain?”
    â€œWho, Rotman? No. He isn’t that type. Ram told me he wasn’t worried about that, he was just worried he wouldn’t be able to hit him hard enough to prevent him from getting up and hitting back.” I laughed for no good reason. “Rotman is a toughy himself.”
    â€œIt seems.”
    We reached her hut and stopped by the door. She looked rather good just then, in the dark, although I never went much for girls in uniform. Joy’s image, in her light white dress appeared before my eyes and insisted on staying there.
    I grimaced.
    â€œWell, then, I guess I’ll go to bed,” Ruthi said.
    â€œIf you don’t invite me, I won’t join you,” I said, “so I’m going to my room.”
    She frowned.
    â€œYou didn’t really give it much of a try, did you?”
    â€œI sensed the uselessness of such an attempt.”
    â€œDid you?”
    She fished her key out, and turned to the door.
    â€œGood night.”
    â€œFlights of angels,” I said.
    As I walked away, Eitan’s stupid remark that one always misses the army once he’s out of it floated into my mind. It irritated me for a moment, until I reminded myself that he had said it sarcastically. Eitan never meant anything he said. He had a good sense of humor, that’s why I liked him. He said that the Israeli situation was getting to stupid to be taken seriously. Once you started thinking seriously you could find yourself concluding that we couldn’t beat the Russians. Nor the Chinese.
    Life was O.K. so long as you didn’t think.
    Eitan had been an officer in the tank corps. Now he was studying art in Jerusalem. A strange combination. I passed by Ram’s shack. There was light coming from his window, so I stepped into his room. He was sitting on his bed with a newspaper, trying to fill in a crossword puzzle. His two roommates were still in the canteen. I sat on one of the empty beds.
    â€œA philosopher, starting with B, five letters.”
    â€œTry Bacon,” I suggested.
    â€œLooks