We also did such things, you know. Kids would throw stones at us, we’d catch some kid who happened to be there and beat him to a pulp. Even if he didn’t throw stones. He would know who did. “Who is it? Who is it?” Finally he’d tell us who did it. Once we were on patrol, someone threw stones at us, nothing really serious, so we caught some Palestinian kid who had been nearby, we knew he’d seen this, he knew who had thrown the stones. Let’s say we hit him, to put it mildly, until he told us. He took us. He told us where that kid was, we wouldn’t leave him alone until he told us exactly where that kid lived. We went to that person’s home. He wasn’t there that day. We went back to ***, came out on patrol again at 6 a.m., went straight to the home of that kid. He was about 15 years old.

The kid you caught? No, the kid that he ratted on. The kid who was the regular stone-thrower.

How old was the kid you caught? About 10 years old.

And the one he told on was 15? Something like that. Yes. We went to his house. He hadn’t been home the night before. So we came in the morning, knocked on the door, some old woman came out, around 60 or so. She says: “There’s no one here.” You know how it is. We said we didn’t care, went in, me and another guy, and at this point you have no more patience for Hebron and Arabs and Jews there. We entered, began to trash the place. There are doors on both sides of the corridor, I open all of the doors on one side, my friend on the other side. We found the boy behind the last door on the left. He was totally scared, realized we’d caught him. At first he wanted to escape, then he saw my comrade standing at the door, and gave up. We took him out. We had a commander, never mind his name, who was a bit on the edge. He beat the boy to a pulp, really knocked him around. He said: “Just wait, now we’re taking you.” Showed him all kinds of potholes on the way, asked him: “Want to die? Want to die right here?” and the kid goes: “No, no...” You know.

In Arabic? Yes. He spoke Arabic well. So we began to walk, trying to walk behind them. I’ll spare you the whole description, some things there were really out of line.

What happened? We walked on and on, the commander showed him holes in the ground: “You want to die?” “No, why…” He was taken into a building under construction. The commander took a stick, broke it on him, boom boom. And the kid didn’t cry. I tell you, he was tough. About 14 years old or so. Not big. The commander took a stone, gave it to him, and said: “Throw it at him,” pointing at me. I stare at him. What? “Throw it already.” Slaps him in the face. “Man enough? Throw it at him.” Boom, more beatings. The kid thought he was being made to throw the stone at me, so he did, not strongly or anything. The commander said: “you throw stones at a soldier ?” Boom, banged him up even more. I tell you, that guy… Then people started coming. His whole family came out. And they were weren’t allowed in. They surely heard all the slaps and hitting. That kid was such a mess, broken apart. Then one of the soldiers said: “Listen, you’re going too far. We don’t want to come out of here with a dead body, there are still families around here.” And I tell you, that kid got punched in the face, in the knees, kicked around.

Only from the squad commander? No, there was another soldier who joined in, but not as seriously as the commander. That commander had no mercy. Really. Anyway the kid could no longer stand on his feet and was already crying. He couldn’t take it anymore. He cried. The commander shouted: “Stand up!” Tried to make him stand but he couldn’t. He really couldn’t. From so much beating he just couldn’t stand up. The commander goes: “Don’t put on a show,” and kicks him some more. Then ***, who had a hard time with such things, came in, caught the commander and said: “Don’t touch him anymore. That’s it.” The commander goes: “What’s with you, gone leftie?” And he said: “No, I don’t want to see such things being done.” He always stayed away, never liked such things. A sensitive guy, a medic, one of the good guys.

And then what? Then he said: “I can’t stand to see this any more.” An argument ensued. The commander said: “I can’t believe I take you out on patrols.” Like he was really doing him a favor.

Where were you standing? We were nearby but did nothing. We were sort of indifferent, you know. Well, you only get to thinking about this later, not ahead of it. This was happening every day. These were the little things. And then it becomes a kind of habit. Patrols with beatings happened on a daily basis. We were really going at it.

And then he let the kid go? No. He grabbed him, took him out, and the people saw him, the parents saw him. Took him out? Lifted him by force. The kid hardly got up. I tell you, I have no idea how he managed, after an hour. And the commander goes on: “What are you carrying on about?” and kicks him some more. Takes him out, others are asking: “What did you do to him? Look!” Obviously he’d been beaten up. Anyway, he told them: “Get the hell out of here!” and all hell broke loose.

What do you mean? You know, after all it’s her kid. “What, he’s only a kid!” His nose was bleeding. He had really been beaten to a pulp. The commander said to his mother: “Keep away!” Came close, cocked his gun, he already had a bullet in the barrel, or halfway so it wouldn’t just fly out. She got scared. He actually stuck the gun-barrel in the kid’s mouth. Literally.

In front of his parents? Sure. “Anyone gets close, I kill him. Don’t annoy me. I’ll kill him. I have no mercy.” He was really on the edge. Then the father, or not even the father, I don’t know exactly who it was, caught her: “Calm down, leave them alone. Let them go, so they’ll let him go.”

All in Arabic? No, they spoke to us in Hebrew. And he wanted us to see this, he was no fool. A good man. The guy who spoke to us? Was a really good man. Things got to a point where you can no longer tell good from bad. That’s how it was in our platoon. We thought they were all shits. Anyway, the commander gripped the kid, stuck his gun in his mouth, yelled and all, and the kid was hardly able to walk. We dragged him further, and then he said again: “One more time this kid lifts a stone, anything, I kill him. No mercy.” It was like that the whole way. *** was going on and on at this commander all along: “You’re such a retard, all you’re doing to this family is making them produce another suicide bomber, that’s what you’re doing. You have no mercy. If I were a father and saw you doing this to my kid, I’d seek revenge that very moment.” He went on and on for a whole hour.

If I were a Palestinian, what would I get beaten up for? It was enough for you to give us a look that we didn’t like, straight in the eye, and you’d be hit on the spot. We got to such a state and were so sick of being there, you know what I mean.