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My second husband was an Israeli and he used to sneak out of his base in order to visit his mother and to enjoy her home cooking! If anyone has spent any time in Israel, you know that the soldiers are very young. Although there are career officers, and older reservists, it is mainly a young, civilian army. The girls and the boys are a familiar part of the Israeli landscape. Everyone either is or knows someone who is in the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). The entire country under the age of 45-50 is called up in an emergency. Everyone picks up soldiers who are hitchhiking. They do not seem strange or dangerous.
They are the most ethical soldiers in the world.
I had the privilege of meeting ten wounded Israeli soldier-heroes over the weekend. Some soldiers were as short as I am! (Ridiculously, this made me–a relatively short woman–feel taller, bigger, happier.) Some soldiers towered over me. Some were well muscled. Others less so. All were seriously wounded in Operation Cast Lead or in the Second Lebanon War.
All were unbearably sweet and so grateful to be taken on a holiday to tour the sights in America.
The Upper East Side Orthodox world in Manhattan turned out to meet them. We were hanging from the rafters. The rabbis delivered inspired sermons. (Truly, these are the righteous ones among our people; they are our feet, the sturdy foundation of our survival.) The women wept or held back tears. These young men (about whom I wrote here) have lost hands or the use of a foot. Some shake. Many use canes. Others survive only with the help of pain medication.
Their spirits are happy, sunny, grateful.
Their family origins include Ethiopia, Yemen, possibly Iraq, Russia, and both eastern and western Europe. One soldier, Roi, has endured 20 operations in the last 30 months. He is facing the twenty-first surgery in July. Israeli-born, he spoke to us eloquently and in colloquial English.
His story would make a movie.
He was trapped in a courtyard in Lebanon. He was shot in his leg and could not walk. He was shot in his jaw and could not talk. He shot several Hezbollah members. The shooting duel continued. Roi was shot in other parts of his body. When a soldier-buddy came to rescue him, he was also shot, as was the medic who came to tend to them both. Roi was shot again and again. The pain was enormous. Still, Roi insisted that the other soldiers leave without him. Miraculously, Roi managed to remove his body armor, slip through a hole in a fence, and drag his body along the ground until he found some Israeli soldiers. But, because there were so many other casualties, Roi was not taken away to a hospital for four hours.
He endured.
There he was, standing before us, sweet and smiling, brave and grateful, well-spoken, a consummate survivor.
