Imagine yourself in Kibbutz Gadot in the Galilee Panhandle. The year is 1966. Every morning you go out to work in the fields, praying that you will return in the evening. Your children live underground, protected from Syrian snipers by the bomb shelters, seldom seeing sunlight. Do you stay on the kibbutz? Is it right to raise children underground? How can you go on existing like this?
