In my second year at College, the Six-day War broke out in Israel. A lot of the rabid Zionistic students went off to help ( dreaming of carrying a gun and going into battle, but in reality they were left behind to pick oranges). Of course, wherever there was a fuss and some excitement, I was always keen to be involved in it, so wanted to go too. This meant getting permission from my parents as I was under 21 and also would've meant me having to come back and start my studies right from the beginning again as they wouldn't give me any priveleges for dropping out halfway (of course no one knew it was only going to last 6 days). My parents of course flatly refused, and rightly so, as money was scarce in our home and I was halfway through my diploma course already. Ma always used to say 'you never finish anything you start!'They had to fight that war without me, as I had my own private wars to deal with.
