Division versus legend • Who will save us from hunger, who will feed us with plenty of bread…

The "Bright Tracker" Trio, Yom Kippur War. A prelude to another performance of many kinds. We are on our way to Arik Sharon's division headquarters somewhere in Sinai and we arrived at dusk. The desert was an endless plain to the horizon. Very low and sparse vegetation, scattered throughout the area. Around the camp area, the sand is hard and allows for comfortable walking.

On the tour we were given of the place, we were taken to the commander's war trailer, Eric. A trailer that contained a bedroom, a bathroom, and a toilet. I remember the many films I saw as a child about the Great War, in which generals lived in such trailers and accompanied the fighters in sleeping and living conditions that allowed them to be the clearest and make the right decisions at the right time. Now I walk around in such a trailer. The accompanying officer goes into great detail and explains every detail.

After the show, we were invited to dinner. If anyone thinks they should apologize for forgetting the mustering, they're wrong. We're talking about a meal that, except for the carpet, is five-star plus.

The open front of the tent was hoisted high and, with the help of poles, created a kind of high canopy. Under the canopy stood a long table that ended inside the tent and was surrounded by over twenty chairs. We sat down around the table. Arik Sharon, the commander, several senior officers and us, the recruited band. Several soldiers, with a white towel tucked into the waistband of their pants and used as an apron, were the waiters. We were treated to a royal meal, which was no less than a good restaurant in Tel Aviv. A meal that included a rich selection of special dishes, a wide variety of alcoholic beverages made abroad and fine cigars for dessert.
The first courses were brought out, and among them stood out a dish of hummus that did not resemble the hummus I knew, from the 'Iskander Restaurant' in downtown Haifa where we spent my childhood.

The musical background for the meal was the sounds of explosions from the battles that were taking place not far away. There was the explosive sound of a shell exploding and after a few seconds, an impact. A flash of light in the sky was followed by a loud explosion. The noise was not deafening because of the distance, but it gave the picture a surreal touch. The horizon was flat and deserted to the four winds of the sky and we were hanging in the center. A feeling of helplessness and inability to defend ourselves against a scheming stranger.

Twenty people are sitting at a table in the middle of the desert. Eating gourmet dishes from the kitchen of a famous restaurant. The cook, a chef who underwent special training with the greats in Paris and is now applying what he learned in the desert. The background lighting is provided by firing shells weighing tens of kilograms each. A unique atmosphere.

Every officer who went on a few hours' leave, so it is said, was given the task of bringing with him a number of products to upgrade the food and what was around him. If I had seen everything I described in the film, I would certainly have argued against the director's lack of credibility, who must immediately wean himself off the prohibited substances he uses. One has to use all the resources of the imagination to absorb this image in the middle of the desert.

The next day we were already racing along the Sinai roads on our way to another division. We arrived at a tank parking lot, where nature had created an ideal place for a performance: a high mound served as an amphitheater and we were at its foot. Everyone saw everything and no one hid anything. The entire area was full of mounds of hard, sandy dirt that didn't sink. Dinner awaited us immediately after the performance. It was almost completely dark and a line of soldiers was queuing up to receive their food. My friend Maggie and I joined the line that was climbing up the hill and moving at a satisfactory pace. A flat surface at the top of the mound marked the end of the line, on which stood a large barrel resting on several stones. Under the barrel were burning wooden sticks and inside was boiling oil. The head cook stood and broke soft-boiled eggs into the boiling oil, which in seconds turned into an omelet. Egg cartons were placed on one side and on the other a large carton containing five-centimeter-thick slices of black bread. The meal consisted of one thick slice topped with an omelet soaked in fresh-from-the-barrel frying oil and another slice. A delicious, healthy, and satisfying hearty sandwich.

I turned my head to the side and out of the corner of my eye I saw some iron bars on the shoulder of the one standing behind me. I turned around in panic and found myself standing face to face with Major General Avraham Eden "Bern". Stammering, I made way for him so that he could move ahead of me up the line. He refused firmly, hugged my shoulders and brought me back to where I had been standing before, in front of him. And so we waited patiently until we reached the long-awaited sandwich.

Two champions, two nutritious combat meals, what's the difference?