Forty years later, Tzipi Cohen still remembers sprinting across the tarmac to the IDF Hercules waiting to rescue her from captivity in Entebbe, Uganda.
She remembers how her mother gripped her hand tightly, yelling, “Run, run, run!” until they made it to the plane as gunshots resounded. She remembers gazing up at the IDF soldiers helping her aboard the plane and feeling a strong affection for them – a love that persists to this day.
And she remembers, before the dash to the plane, how her father, Pasco, lay down unconscious with his wife’s bloody shirt wrapped around his bullet wound. Later, when Tzipi was back at home, there would be a knock at the door.