The more difficult question for some in the unit was how we were delivering

The more difficult question for some in the unit was how we were delivering that message: breaking into apartments in the middle of the night. Yes, each of the men was almost sure to be armed. But these flats were their homes. Very likely, members of their families would be there. If the operation went as planned, it was hard to imagine how any of the men would have a chance of surviving. My answer was that ideally we would face them on a battlefield. Yet given the nature of Black September, that was not going to happen. Mossad was right to conclude this was the only way to isolate and attack them. For Amitai Nachmani, who would be leading the attack on one of the apartments, my words were not enough. Twice, he came to see me. It was not that he didn’t trust or respect me as his commander, he said. But before leading his team into Beirut, he needed to satisfy himself that the people we were attacking, and the way we were attacking them, had been properly thought through by the people giving the orders. I told him I understood. I did not tell him that I was actually proud of him for asking — which, although I’m sure he sensed it, was an omission I regretted when he lost his life in the Sinai Desert a few months later. But I did go see Dado. I told him what Amitai had said. He needed no convincing when I urged him to address the entire Beirut team and answer their questions at our final planning meeting. He did so, explaining how and why the decision to target these three Palestinians had been reached, to the satisfaction of Amitai and the others. We set off by missile boat from Haifa on the afternoon of April ninth. To my relief, since I suffer from seasickness, the Mediterranean was calm as we headed west towards Cyprus, before circling back in the direction of the Lebanese coast after nightfall. I ran through the plan a final time with each member of the team and then joined Amiram and Lonny in transforming ourselves as best we could into credible dates for the evening. I’d vetoed dresses or high heels, in favor of flared slacks and flats. We used standard-issue army socks to pad out our bras. The Mossad had recruited a volunteer from a Tel Aviv beauty parlor to help us with our lipstick, blue eyeliner and eye shadow. The final touch was our wigs. Amiram and Lonny were blondes. I went as a stylish brunette. I’m reluctant to take issue with the Spielberg version of events, if only because he had my part played by someone undeniably better looking than I was, even as a 31-year-old. But in Munich, we are shown zooming into a crowded harbor area on a line of motor boats, changing into drag only once we ve sprinted ashore, opening fire on a dockside kiosk and shooting our way 139 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_011610