It was a pleasant, clear morning. The sort of morning when a man gets up and wonders how it can be that on a morning such as this a war can break out! Until the voice from the radio broke through it all. The announcers voice reading out the call signs to mobilize the reserves.
I was leaning on a newspaper stall at the time. The newspaper seller was in the very act of stretching out his hand towards the paper I wanted when suddenly the voice caught his attention. His eyes widened, he looked through me rather than at me, and said, as if in surprise ‘Oh! They’ve called me up too’. He rolled up his papers and went. The salesgirl came out of the shop opposite, stopped jerkily at the door, adjusted her blouse a little nervously, snapped her handbag shut, and walked off. The butcher took off his apron, pulled down his shutters, and left. A girl came towards me, clicking along on high heels. She too was struck by the voice, and stopped. She listened, turned around, and left. A unique silence descended on the town.
– Abba Kovner
– The Seventh Day – Penguin Books – 1970
