Across the stony, sere landscape, the marchers trudged last week40,000 strong. They were young and old, parents with infants, grandparents with dogs and cats, lovers holding hands. They carried sleeping bags, musical instruments, rifles, pistols and submachine guns. As black clouds stacked up over the Samarian foothills, a chill wind whipped through the marchers' ranks; many of the men had to secure their yarmulkes (skullcaps) with bobby pins. Still, they were in a festive mood, strumming guitars and singing patriotic songs around their campfires. From all over Israel, they had descended...
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