The humid Gaza Strip air hung heavy, thick with the smell of burnt plastic and the lingering scent of fear. Inside the makeshift operations tent, a group of Israeli soldiers, faces grim despite the ceasefire agreement, huddled around a table overflowing with documents. Sergeant Avi clutched a pen, his brow furrowed as he meticulously altered the deployment log.
“Three more patrols to Jebaliya,” he muttered, scribbling furiously. “And make sure to note the ‘heavy enemy resistance’ encountered.”
“Don’t forget the ‘intelligence reports’ of imminent rocket attacks,” Corporal Dan chimed in, adding a flourish to the casualty report. “We need to justify that emergency request for more drones.”
Lieutenant Gal, the unit commander, sighed dramatically. “This audit is going to be a nightmare. We haven’t actually fought anyone properly in months.”
“Blame it on Hamas,” Corporal Eitan suggested, puffing out his chest. “Those cowards are hiding.”
“Hiding? More like smart,” Gal muttered, glancing at the exaggerated enemy strength reports. “We made them look like a freaking superpower.”
“Hey, it worked,” Dan grinned. “We got that extra budget for those new night vision goggles.”
Gal shook his head. “Yeah, the ones that still don’t work. And what about the IFVs? Where did that money actually go?”
A nervous silence fell over the tent.
“Well,” Eitan stammered, “there was this… opportunity.”
He gestured towards a battered pickup truck parked outside, its paint peeling. “Local farmer. Needed cash. Said it was a steal.”
Gal stared at him, speechless. “You bought a used truck with the IFV budget?”
“It’s… practical,” Eitan mumbled. “For… resupply missions.”
“Resupply missions of what?” Gal demanded, his voice rising. “Falafel?”
“Look,” Eitan pleaded, “everyone does it. The engineers embezzled funds for a hot tub. The medics bought a speedboat. We just… diversified.”
“Diversified?” Gal scoffed. “We’re supposed to be defending the nation, not running a used car dealership!”
“Relax, Lieutenant,” Dan said soothingly. “We’ll handle the audit. Just follow the plan.”
Gal looked at him skeptically. “What plan?”
“The usual,” Dan winked. “Invite them to that new topless bar in Ashkelon. Wine, cash, maybe a… ‘souvenir’ for each of them. Works every time.”
Gal stared at him, aghast. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Dan confirmed. “Keeps them happy, keeps us out of trouble. It’s the IDF way.”
Gal slumped back in his chair, defeated. “I suppose so. But next time, let’s try… actually fighting the enemy.”
He sighed, knowing full well that the next “opportunity” to embezzle funds would likely present itself sooner rather than later. After all, paperwork was far less dangerous than actual combat.
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms.
Israel-Hamas ceasefire in Gaza to take effect on Sunday morning
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