ISRAEL'S DEPARTURE

	May 26, 2000
	Israel's departure from Lebanon means no more buffer zone for residents of northern Israel. Special correspondent Martin Himel prepared this report from the border town of Misgav Am.

MARTIN HIMEL: After 22 years of fighting, Israeli troops are pulling out of Lebanon. The question these soldiers are asking is whether the Hezbollah Islamic guerrillas will carry their war across the border after them. For now they are preparing for the worst. This road is just inside of Israel. The soldiers are exercising emergency medicinal procedures, as if Hezbollah had just detonated a roadside bomb. The frontier runs just across the hill behind these soldiers. Perched on top of that hill is the Israeli border town of Misgav Am. Army tractors are standing by to gouge out a new border fence adjacent to Misgav Am. Roni Tzvi lives in Misgav Am with his wife and three children. RONI TZVI, Misgav Am Resident: The army is leaving me behind-- that's what this means to me. It means the border will come a lot closer to me and nobody will be between me and the other side. You can see the border now and the border that will be. The difference between the new border and the old border is the difference of five to ten minutes of them climbing up to the kibbutz, cutting the fence of the kibbutz, and I am the first one to be hurt, me and my family, of course. That's the difference. MARTIN HIMEL: Misgav am has known a lot of hard times. This is a kibbutz, a communal village. Members equally share the income from their work. On one side Misgav Am faces the Lebanese border, on the other side, Misgav Am faces the it looks down at Israeli towns in the Hula Valley. By looking at the mountaintop, Misgav Am residents are safeguarded from the inhabitants below. Rafi Telem is a manager in the medicinal gauze factory. He has lived in Misgav Am 38 years. When Rafi came here, there were 70 members and their families. Now there are only 100 members and children. With on again-off again cross-border rocket and terrorist attacks, Misgav Am has found it hard to attract new members, not to mention thrive economically. Ever since the military went into South Lebanon, the terrorist attacks stopped. The residents of Misgav Am say they can handle the occasional rocket barrage. Rafi vividly remembers when Palestinian gunmen infiltrated the kibbutz 20 years ago and took toddlers hostage in this nursery. One of the children, Eyal Gluska, was killed in the subsequent shoot-out. With the army pulling out of Lebanon, Rafi fears Misgav Am will return to those difficult times. The military says it can provide security, but the nursery stands as a painful reminder of what happened. RAFI TELEM, Misgav Am Resident (Translated): This house represents the heart of the kibbutz. The dining hall is here, the homes there, and right here, in the heart of the kibbutz it happened. Terrorists came in here. This is not fiction. It is a trauma that follows us from then until now. And that is why we are so sensitive about the military's withdrawal from Lebanon, because we are in essence going back to that time. MARTIN HIMEL: Palestinian terror and rocket attacks led to Israel's first invasion of Lebanon in 1978. That eventually led to a summer siege on Beirut in 1982, which expelled the PLO from the Lebanese capital. But with the PLO gone, Lebanese Islamic militias like Amal and Hezbollah quickly took up the guerrilla fight against Israeli forces. After 18 years of ambushes and suicide bombings, Israelis say they have had enough of their children coming home to graves. New political movements like the four mothers exerted pressure on the government to bring their boys home. Eyal Gluska's grave overlooks Lebanese villages across the frontier. Misgav Am's victims of the conflict are buried here. Residents here accuse the rest of Israel of abandoning them, their losses, and their safety. Roni Tzvi and other kibbutz members are meeting to consider blocking the military's tractors from digging a new border road. While they plan their strategy, their children attend school nearby. This school hall used to be a pioneer outpost when Jews first came here a century ago. Now Roni and the other members wonder how many of these children and their parents will stay here when the army leaves Lebanon. Roni's two daughters study here. A children's bomb shelter is within quick access of the playground. Esther, Roni's wife is a nursery teacher here. ESTHER SHAKED TZVI, Misgav Am Resident: If I want my children to be like normal kids, they can't live here, because I want them to go swim, to ride a bicycle, to be outside to play. How can they do it, if every day, once a week, the bombs are all around? Now we feel secure, really, we felt secure. But now it feels closer. It's near my house. The terrorist can go out and shoot me at the window because so near, or my kids. A week ago we had the memorial of the kid who died here in the terrorist attack. I have a boy the same age. I just thought about it. It was craziness. I can't bear it. I think if it will be hard, I won't stay here. MARTIN HIMEL: For many residents, the question is whether the withdrawal forced by a guerrilla army is Israel's Vietnam. RONI TZVI: That's the worst question you can ask an Israeli citizen. That's the worst. When somebody shoots you and you don't shoot him back, in the Middle East, it means you're weak. And weak is a dead person. MARTIN HIMEL: What hangs in the balance is the future of the next generation here. The Israeli government is banking that the military withdrawal will preserve safety by ending the guerrilla war. Local residents argue the pullout will simply bring the war into their homes. For now, thousands of soldiers have been stationed between the schools, homes and parks, to provide the best security possible. Only time will tell if that is enough or not.