On Patrol in Nablus

"Look!" says Private Dror, his eyes nervously scanning the street. "There are no youngsters over twelve in sight. Hell, where have they disappeared to?" The five Israeli soldiers from the Nahal unit quickly slip down a narrow alley. Four Palestinian youths peek briefly from between two houses. Seconds later, a hailstorm of stones and metal pieces pelts the patrol. Hugging the walls, the unit breaks apart. When it reassembles, Dror, 20, is breathless. Three masked men had hit him with rocks. "The bastards knew very well I couldn't do anything to them," he mutters to TIME's Ron Ben-Yishai. "They know our orders. They knew I would not shoot."

Tempers flare and subside along the Israeli-occupied West Bank, but life is not getting any easier for the Nahal soldiers. The unit was dispatched last month to patrol the city of Nablus and its outskirts. The soldiers have been instructed to keep main roads open to traffic and to disperse small threatening crowds on the spot. If the group is large, they are under orders to call in a high-ranking officer. Their commander, Lieut. Colonel Yisrael, detests this assignment. "It's against everything we teach them," he says. "We train them to use their guns when they are attacked. Here it's forbidden." Here the aggressor, more often than not, is a woman, child or student.

The dilemma is no less uncomfortable for the local residents. Dror, who speaks Arabic fluently, asks shopkeepers why their stores are closed. Says one: "I got a telephone call reminding me that there is a commerce strike for 21 days to protest the expulsions and killings." The call came from the Shabiba, a P.L.O.-affiliated youth group. A major instructs Dror, "Tell them to open the shops. Tell them we shall weld their doors shut and not let them open for a week." He points to welding instruments. Ten minutes later most shops are open. Grumbles one Arab: "The Shabiba will burn my business down."

Dror is not indifferent to the Arabs' plight. "I don't know if I could live with foreign soldiers around me," he says. Still, this tour of duty has hardened many Israelis' political views. "In the past I was ready to give up some of the ((occupied)) territories," says Private Nir, 20. "Today I think that's impractical." As children return to the streets, soldiers offer candy. The youngsters accept, whispering "Shalom." For the soldiers, it is a welcome break from hostilities.