"A month ago you said that you want to be a shaheed [martyr], look," shouted the father, kissing the face of his dead son, Ala'a Ayayda, 20, in the clinic of the village of Bani Naim. "Yaba, yaba, may Allah have mercy on him, leave me alone, let me cry, look, I'm calm, leave me alone," he pushed away relatives who tried to calm him down.

The amateur video camera didn't stop focusing on Ala'a's father, who was weeping bitterly, banging his head, refusing to believe what he was seeing. Slowly it panned over the faces of the three other victims, lying on stretchers, their bearded faces showing through the bandages that were meant to cover the wounds of death and to close their open mouths. They were all young laborers in a stonecutting plant in the quarry of the village of Bani Naim, without any history of political or security activity, who were shot to death last week by IDF [Israel Defense Forces] soldiers.

The flickering pictures were effective in showing the hysterical despair of relatives, circling around the stretchers, crying, waving their hands, giving each other orders, washing the bloody faces of their dead, kissing their lips, exposing bullet-ridden legs, congealed blood on their bellies, congealed blood on their heads.

The amateur photographer, who documented the ceremony of purifying the bodies and the funeral - another detail in the monument of the cumulative national Palestinian memory - found it important to focus on close-ups of the injuries: on the neck, the forehead, the belly, the legs, the left side beneath the armpit; but the crowd standing around didn't always allow him to do so. More than once, the camera focused on the arms and legs of the corpses, tied up with white ribbons.

"We straightened them and tied them, so that the corpses wouldn't become rigid in the distorted position in which we found them. We wanted to preserve their shape," said the head of the village of Shuyoukh, Yussef Hassan al- Halayka.

Green, red and black flags and Palestinian flags flew at the funeral, testimony to the unity of all the movements, from Islamic Jihad to Fatah. A group of children barely managed to lift a huge Hamas sign. Masses of people approached the grave - a huge wave of anger, hatred and pain.

Nowhere were there any masked men shooting into the air, a sight that in the past typified the funerals of intifada victims. The belligerent political slogans were not heard, either. "Allahu akbar," shouted the crowd, "Ya shaheed, beloved of God, rest, rest ya shaheed."

After the systematic assassination of the leadership of the movements and their militias, the torch seems to have been passed on to rank and file citizens. Quietly, empty-handed, they yearn for revenge. "The way I feel now, I would kill a Jew every day. Revenge, that's the only thing I can think about," wept one of the relatives, young, tall, strong, a graduate of the Hebron Polytechnic College, a traditional supporter of Fatah.

Used to shooting at night

It happened at night, with no witnesses. The workers at the stonecutting plant in Bani Naim had finished their work about 10 minutes earlier, at about 2 A.M., and had gone to their homes in the village, says Ishaq al Halayka, the only survivor of that night. Only he, his brother Atiyya and their three friends, who live in the neighboring village of Shuyoukh, at a distance of about 10 kilometers from Bani Naim, remained in the factory. One of them, Hisham al Halayka, was on night shift, and was supposed to finished his work at 6 A.M. The others planned to sleep until dawn in the tin shed in the courtyard of the factory.

They used to do that every night, family members said. The residents of Shuyoukh consider Bani Naim a very dangerous place. The village, which is near the bypass road leading to Kiryat Arba, was in Area A, under full Palestinian control, before the renewed occupation of the West Bank, whereas Shuyoukh was in Area B, under Israeli security control.

Since the occupation, which has met armed local resistance, the village of Bani Naim has suffered from a reinforced military presence. IDF patrols protect the tomb of Calev Ben Yefuneh, state land that was sold to Menahem Livni, a settler from Kiryat Arba and one of the leaders of the Jewish terrorist underground that operated in the territories in the 1980s. This Jewish enclave on the outskirts of the village, about half a kilometer from the quarry, is a constant focus of defiance and unrest for the entire village. In June a bomb placed there wounded three yeshiva students from Kiryat Arba.

"The soldiers always shoot there at night," said Ishaq al- Halayka in a quiet, hoarse voice, still stunned. He is 23 years old, with a mustache, round red cheeks, a son of one of the poor families of Shuyoukh. "Once the army closed the quarry for 15 days, because of problems with the Jewish plot of land," he continued. "We were always afraid to return to our village at night. It's a long way, on dirt roads in the hills, what will happen if soldiers find us?" So they used to stay to sleep in the factory and to return home in Husam's car with the first light, he said.

That night, the four were sitting in the courtyard of the plant, which is lit by a searchlight. The guard was sleeping in his camper in the yard. Hisham turned on the stonecutting machine and joined them, said Ishaq. He himself went to the toilet, and when he came out he saw from a distance that his friends and brothers were sitting on the floor, with armed soldiers standing over them. He hid behind a pile of stone from the factory. The hum of the stonecutting machine prevented him from hearing what they were talking about. "I thought they wanted to interrogate them, as usual," he said.

When he dared to look again he saw them with arms raised. Frightened, he hid deeper in the huge factory, filled with piles of cut stones. After a while he returned and looked again, but the courtyard of the factory was empty. He went up to the covered roof, from which the road leading to the Calev Ben Yefuneh site is visible.

In the blinding light of day, this road and the green plot of land alongside it are spread out like a miniature pastoral painting. Along it, on the road, beyond the gravel barrier, not far from the factory, the body of Ala'a Ayayda was found the next day, shot in the knees, the belly and the neck, as relatives who washed his body, and the videotape, testify. Further on, near Calev's tomb, the bodies of the 30-year-old twins Husam and Hisham al-Halayka were found ("They were born on the same day, and died on the same day," they're saying in the village). Next to them, tossed in the field, lay the body of their uncle, Atiyya al-Halayka, 25. Husam was shot in the forehead, the two others were shot from the back. There is no argument between the IDF and the Palestinians regarding the location of the bodies. But in the heavy dark of the deadly night Ishaq al-Halayka saw nothing from the roof of the quarry.

At the same time, Mohammed Shouab, who lives near the quarry, couldn't sleep. He went out to his sheep, he said, and saw soldiers leading several Palestinians from the quarry. He wasn't able to identify them in the dark. He only remembers saying to himself: "Here, again they've arrested Palestinians from the quarry." After a short time, both Shouab and Al-Halayka said, they heard shots. They heard one of the young men shouting: "Ala'a." Shouab didn't attribute any importance to it at that moment, he said. Shots at night are an everyday occurrence in the area.

In cold blood

"There were many moments of silence," adds Ishaq al-Halayka. He was sure that the soldiers were doing something terrible to his friends, perhaps beating and wounding them. He lost all sense of time. And again shots were heard. Many shots. The sounds were far away. Shouab thought he heard laughter. And then the military jeeps came and filled the place.

Ishaq sneaked out of the quarry from the opposite direction, making his way on dirt paths in the hills, a walking distance of over three hours to his village. When he arrived home, dirty, with torn clothes, frightened, he heard on the radio about "the killing of four terrorists in Bani Naim." That was the first IDF announcement. Gradually, contradictory statements were publicized, which originated in the office of the Defense Ministry, to the effect that the four "had no criminal or security history, and it is quite possible that they were not engaged in the planning of any attack." Ishaq al-Halayka burst into tears and hastened to join the masses of villagers who had already begun to make their way to Bani Naim. "That's it," he concluded drily. "They murdered my friends in cold blood," he muttered, "and also left the bodies tossed aside to bleed until 6:30 A.M."

The guard, Khader Ali al-Khadour, heard the shots in his sleep and continued to sleep. "We're used to shooting here," he said. He sat up in his bed inside the camper only when flares were thrown. "I was afraid to go out; if there are soldiers in the area, it's dangerous," he explained. "Nobody wants to die."

At about 3:15 A.M., he said, he heard the stonecutting machine beginning to hit iron. He entered the factory and shouted to Hisham. Nobody answered. He started to turn out the lights, but nobody stopped him with shouts, as always. He didn't know where the workers had disappeared to. He thought that perhaps the soldiers had arrested them. Only at 6 A.M. did he report to the owner of the quarry that the workers had disappeared. "Look, I last saw them here," he pointed to a stool in the tin shed in the courtyard, on which four half-eaten pitas, two hard-boiled eggs and a green plate with tomato sauce remained.

At 6 A.M. the Palestinian police of Bani Naim informed the headman of Shuyoukh, Yussef al- Halayka, of what had happened, and asked him to come to identify the bodies. Only after great effort did the IDF allow him to enter the place. According to his testimony, he found the bodies in underpants, covered with their work clothes.

First he identified Hisham and Husam. "Husam had a hole in his forehead, and his belt was tossed to the side," he said. Afterward he identified Atiyya. "His face was covered with blood, he was still wearing his work shoes, high rubber shoes, and there were work gloves alongside him. I didn't see their entire bodies; I only lifted the clothing a little in order to see their faces," he said, careful to report the dry facts. He says that the broken chain of the gate to the grove at the Calev tomb had been tossed aside. An ID card was found in the pocket of Ala'a's shirt, and he was not allowed to approach the body. "I have no doubt that they tortured them before killing them," he whispered.

That is the Palestinian version.

On high alert

The IDF has an entirely different version. Three soldiers and their platoon commander were lying on the lookout at the Calev site, alert and attentive. This, for them, and according to all the briefings they received, is a site "with a sectoral history" and a "sequence of incidents," in army language. Two bombs have been placed here during the past year; one was very sophisticated - operated by a cell phone. There have also been several "incidents" of dummy bombs, and dozens of break-ins at the grove, "with and without intention to commit hostile terrorist activity."

Therefore, "from the professional battalion point of view, the area of the Calev site is an arena for hostile terrorist activity for us, with all the military implications of varied activity, lookouts, day and night forces, with the mission of frustrating and preventing hostile terrorist activity," as explained forcefully by an officer who arrived at the "site of the incident" immediately after its conclusion.

That night, at about 2:30 A.M., the soldiers suddenly heard a noise made by people coming down the road, which is closed to Palestinians, from the quarry to the Calev plot and the Hebron road. The noise intensified when the young men climbed onto the pile of gravel that serves as a barrier on the road. Only then did some of the snipers clearly identify four figures, their faces covered with kaffiyehs, one of them carrying an ax that could be seen clearly against the skyline.

The platoon commander was not equipped with night vision equipment like his soldiers. He received this report from one of the snipers, and immediately "upgraded the force" to high alert. "For us, movement on this artery is almost criminal intent," explained one of those present. But this was not enough for the platoon commander. He waited until the four young men approached the gate to the grove and tried to saw the chain open. The soldiers clearly saw and heard them trying to cut the gate with the wire cutters. Only then was the order to shoot given.

"From the moment they opened the gate, that is actually a definite criminal intent," said the young soldier, the tremor in his voice unsuited to his manner of speech, his eyes red from a night on patrol. "That is actually to catch them in the act. The order was given and we opened fire. All four of the snipers were shooting. From the moment we heard the steps until the shooting about 12 minutes passed. Our ability to hit the target at distances of 100-150 meters is 90 percent and more.

"For an ordinary person, one bullet is not enough, unless it hits critical places. An average person still walks a few steps after the shooting, and only then does he fall. I saw two of them fall in the middle of the road. The third fell in the field. The fourth was not hit in the volley, because he had hidden behind a tree on the other side of the road. He started to run up the road toward the quarry. At first it was hard to spot the escape, but from the moment it was spotted another volley was fired. He fell before the gravel barrier."

Why couldn't they shoot at their legs, or at other parts that would neutralize them without killing them? After all, even the IDF says that there had been many incursions into the vineyard for the purpose of theft rather than terrorism.

"We are talking about hostile terror activity; the orders in such a case are to shoot to kill, we don't play with the lives of soldiers. And what if the terrorist is holding a bomb or a hand grenade?" explained the officer drily.

Then why did you have to shoot the fourth Palestinian - whose name happens to be Ala'a al-Halayka - and who, even according to the IDF's version, was running away when he was shot; at that stage it was already clear that there was no danger to the soldiers from him?

Those are the orders, he replied.

Immediately after the incident, jeeps arrived with reinforcements, and in their wake, the bomb squad. On the ground they found an ax, a saw, a small pair of pliers and wire cutters. These work tools were photographed and documented, laid out side by side.

"It's a very bad feeling to be accused of such things," said the soldier, upset and frightened. "I say without any doubt that we shot at people who didn't have good intentions, we have a lot of experience, no question, the ax, the saw, everything points to a cold-blooded attack. A thousand percent that they were trying to break into the grove, to wait until morning, and to kill someone with the ax. We in the battalion and in the company are so careful to treat people well, and to be accused of such a thing, cold-blooded murder, we talk all the time about values, how one has to be careful about little things, how even property shouldn't be damaged, and after all this effort, they accuse us of the worst crime possible. The rules were entirely clear to us. There was no reason to hesitate. We were even strict with ourselves when we waited for clear indications of criminal intent."

An IDF investigation committee, headed by Major General Yitzhak Harel, absolved the IDF this week of any responsibility for the death of innocents in the last three incidents, in which altogether 13 Palestinians were killed, including six children and a mother. The incident in Bani Naim was also included in the investigation. The central conclusion of the committee is that "that there were no defects in the procedures for opening fire."

In fact, the IDF doesn't need additional criteria. As Operation Defensive Shield progresses and completes its "pinpoint" missions by assassinating the political, operational and organizational leadership of the Palestinian struggle, the IDF is increasingly positioned in a frontal war against civilians. "The absence of a security record doesn't interest us," said the officer. "Too many terrorists today have no security history."

This type of war naturally causes constant erosion in the official and unofficial instructions for opening fire, an intolerable ease in pulling the trigger, uncontrolled anxieties of young soldiers who have been pushed into an impossible warfare situation, and an elastic flexibility in the conceptual world of military ethics. On the Palestinian side, civilian enlistment is only increasing. The bereavement, the despair, even the rumors, fuel new hatred.

The cycle of hatred

The common mourners' tent for the families of the victims, in the courtyard of the school in Shuyoukh, also served this week as a united national assembly of followers of all the organizations. The speakers talked of the increasing number of shaheeds "whose blood is soaking the land of Palestine and intermingling with its dew" and about continuing the struggle until the end of the occupation. The exhausted audience, seated on plastic chairs, hardly reacted.

There was a mixture of exhaustion, subdued anger, powerlessness and a violent silence. Permission to speak was left to the graffiti slogans, which cover the walls of the houses with depressing density in all the villages of the northern Hebron hills: "We swear to the fallen of the intifada to continue in their path; If Sharon has forgotten the Popular Front, its rifles will refresh his memory; The covenant is a covenant and the oath is an oath, until we achieve our goals."

Alongside the militant slogans, the focused and surprising unanimity as to the purpose of the struggle stood out: "There is no solution to the cycle of bloodshed without an end to the occupation and the establishment of a Palestinian state within the `67 borders," the young people of the village repeated with determination - both those identified with Hamas and those identified with Fatah.

"They've murdered innocent people," shouted Mohammed Ayayda, father of Ala'a, his eyes dry. "What peace is Israel talking about, if it thinks that the blood of an innocent Palestinian can be washed away with an apology? What are we in their eyes? Why don't they put the soldier who shot my son on trial? I want the defense minister to come to court and explain the war crimes he is carrying out, let him explain how his soldiers have become accustomed to killing, without having to account for it. I want to look into the eyes of the soldier who shot my son, let him explain to me what reason he had to kill him. Let's say they suspected them of something, why couldn't they have arrested them?"

Ala'a's mother found out about the death of her son from the cries of the muezzin, who announced the murder of the four the next afternoon, and she fainted. During the early morning hours she had baked pitas, as usual, to serve her son for breakfast when he returned from work. The telephone call that the father received from a reporter from Radio Palestine at 6:30 A.M. aroused her anxiety. "I started to scream: `My son, my son, where is my son,' I cried, I went out to the yard and went back inside, I didn't know where to put myself, I thought they had taken him, arrested him, or perhaps he was injured, it didn't enter my mind that they had killed him," she cried bitterly. "He was a good boy, he offered me his money all the time, the only thing that interested him was studying, he stopped studying at the sports college in Tul Karm because he was afraid of the army there, and returned to the village, to die here, what a fate, and not simply to die, to die of torture," she leaned back exhausted, closing her eyes.

"My son is a victim of Al-Aqsa," she hissed, moaning. "As long as there is occupation there won't be peace, only when they leave us alone will we live in peace. They are killing the working man, the man at home, the man on the road, that's the situation. I only hope that God takes the soul of the soldier who took my son's life and destroyed my life," she said, suddenly crying harder. "I hope that God takes the murderer of my son, paralyzes the hands that pulled the trigger."


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