Jenin War Diary of a Hasidic Soldier (Israeli describes what went on in Jenin)

I finish the Shabbat meal with my family and go out to wish "Mazal Tov" to a neighbor who's holding a shalom zachar party, celebrating the birth of baby boy. Around the table there's talk about neighbors who've already been recruited. Some friends are poking fun at me: "We thought you were a combat soldier, how come you're still here?"

The truth is I wasn't expecting an Order-8 (call for reserve duty). It's true that I belong to a reserve combat infantry unit, but being older than 41 I'm treated as "frozen goods." Just a few weeks ago we, the unit geezers, celebrated the fact that we're done with active reserve service.

It's 11:30 PM. There's a knock on the door. It's an "Order 8." I try to get organized. I used to keep a knapsack with all the equipment required for emergency calls, but now everything's scattered about all over the house. My wife and daughters join the effort and we collect everything, item by item. At some point I wonder whether I should pack my tefillin (since it is Shabbat, and I wont be needing them until after the holiday, on the following Friday). I recall the story about the late Rabbi Meir Freiman who was recruited on Yom Kippur and insisted on taking along his lulav and etrog (for the holiday of Sukkot). I pack the tefillin.

Midnight. I climb the bus, wave good bye to the kids. I'm first on board, as the bus now begins its lengthy rounds through the neighboring villages. I make a note of gratitude for the driver, who keeps his radio shut and refrains from smoking out of respect to my Shabbat observance. The trip continues into the night, as more and more recruits climb on. I must admit I was pretty glum. After all, to be snatched in one fell swoop from a magical Shabbat in Kfar Chabad and transported to this interminable bus ride…

At 3:00 am, in Tzafria, an officer of the elite unit Egoz got on the bus. I saw how delighted the young man was to have been called, so eager to go in and hit the terrorists. In an instant my own mood changed and I, too, became filled with strength and decisiveness, thinking as I had been given an opportunity to defend with my body my home, my wife and children, and the whole nation of Israel.

By 6:00 am we reached the Offer compound, our headquarters. The organizational mess was considerable. It took us an inordinate amount of time to locate our supplies and set up the equipment. In the meantime I began preparing for the morning prayer. In the camp synagogue some 200 people of all walks of life assembled: knitted yarmulkes, Charedim ("ultra-orthodox"), Sephardim, Chasidim.

At the end of the service I was approached by a baal teshuvah (a recent "returnee" to Torah observance) who asked if I had hand-baked matzah. He told me he wouldn't eat machine-baked matzah and so hadn't eaten a thing since yesterday. I made kiddush, we ate my matzah and we improvised a kind of Shabbat meal. The atmosphere was quite cheerful. It warms the heart to see such a spirit of voluntarism all around. I met there the father of six who nevertheless left his family and enlisted. I was happy to meet our company commander, Major Moshe Gerstner, an excellent officer.

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In the morning we were informed we were being positioned in Jenin, and to that end were going to receive some training in a military installation up north. We arrived there at noon and began training, which included a series of exercises of combat in urban terrain.

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Among the guys here I'm known as the company elder statesman. I've been with this unit since '82, when we went into Lebanon to take over Sidon. My contemporaries, who've been through Lebanon, know the urban combat procedures inside and out. So we asked the company commander for a pass to hop home to pick up essential supplies. Because of the urgency of my Friday night enlistment I hadn't brought many needed items. Besides, I hadn't tasted any real food on base, because of Passover. I wanted to go home to eat.

The company commander permitted us to leave at 5:30 pm and come back the next day. I left for home and arrived around 10:00 in the evening. I ate a warm meal (last one to date) and caught some zees in my own bed, an indulgence which now sees very remote…

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At 7:00 am we returned to base, for the final preparations before embarking on Jenin. Our company commander brought us up to date on the coming operation. In retrospect it turns out that we underestimated the force of resistance we would run up against.

There was tension in the air. I wished to say some words of encouragement. I opened the Chumash (bible) and read out a few verses dealing with the need to fight with determination, without fear. The company commander asked me to speak some more, to uplift everybody's spirits. I discussed the statement by Maimonides, that when Jewish soldiers go to war they must do so with faith in their victory and without fear, because G-d goes with us.

In the evening it poured. We were a rather large group of religious soldiers. As the holiday began (i.e., the 7th day of Passover), we stood under a lamppost to conduct the holiday evening prayer. The regiment's chaplain gave a motivational speech, and then we made kiddush on board our troop carrier. I had brought wine and matzahs and now conducted a kind of holiday meal.

We set out in a massive column, which included tanks, troop carriers, heavy bulldozers and countless other vehicles. We arrived in the Jenin refugee camp in the morning hours. We crossed the camp, and everything seemed quiet. Not a single shot was fired. Things appeared to be simple and easy, but we could sense the tension in the air, even though we weren't sure why. I recall our company commander's last words: "This is no laughing matter. I've commanded many missions in my lifetime, but this is the most challenging operation I've ever run."

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We reached the hilltop on the outskirts of our target. The company commander gave us our final instructions and the force was on its way. It was 11:30 am. I took advantage of a few free minutes to wrap myself in my tallit and pray the holiday morning prayer. Suddenly I hear one of the communications men yelling, "Chief is hurt." A while later it turned out it was our chief, Moshe Gerstner. May G-d avenge his blood. He was hit by a sniper directly in his temple.

His men risked their lives without hesitation to remove him under hellish fire and put him, when still critically injured, on a chopper. A disturbing pall fell on the warriors. Things got worse when two more soldiers were injured. We were becoming very upset. At that time our number two and his three platoon chiefs took command and led the company in an exceptionally competent fashion, in my opinion, under the toughest circumstances. I finished my prayer with a heavy heart and made kiddush. Suddenly the regimental coordinator came to me and said Gerstner's family is asking for his belongings. I wasn't born yesterday. I understood immediately what this meant. The blow was terrible for all of us, and particularly for me.

But I pulled myself together right away. We were at war and you can't afford to become depressed at war. You must get stronger and strengthen your buddies. Before evening some thirty soldiers assembled around me. I took out what little matzah I had left and a bottle of wine and told the guys it was time for "Moshiach's meal," to enhance our faith in the coming redemption. All of them responded as one: "what we need now is Moshiach." I handed out matzah and wine to everybody and we had a kind of Chanukah miracle -- there was enough matzah and wine for thirty people…

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Throughout the day there was heavy fighting in the camp. I was engaged in transporting forces from one point to the next in a troop carrier. As long as you're inside the carrier, you're relatively sheltered, if you're careful to avoid the explosive charges laid out by the terrorists. The problem begins as soon as you stick your head outside or when you try to move from one house to the next.

Inside the camp snipers positioned themselves in protected nests, which were very hard to locate. The tank crews were asking us to point out the sources of fire but it was extremely hard to do, as the shooting was accurate and highly focused. One of us experimented with a helmet which he placed on top of a stick and extended outside our position. The helmet was shot at immediately.

Meanwhile, we received warnings that teams of terrorists were planning suicide bombings near IDF troops. This forced us to stay on guard even more. Then our kosher food ran out. I called up Yaakov Kenig of Kfar Chabad and asked him to send us wine for kiddush, rolls and other food. I also asked for coffee and tea. I coordinated with the company sergeant who was accompanying an injured man to the hospital and was later due at a funeral, to pick up our food on his way back. And, indeed, he appeared before Shabbat with a bag full of food which helped us through the holy day.

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I finished my guard shift and began the morning prayer. I finished around 7:00 am. Suddenly one of the guys from our sister company ran over and asked to put on tefillin. The entire platoon followed suit, and a line was formed by my tefillin. Guys who always refused to put on tefillin now began to do it. I didn't understand what was going on.

Then one of the soldiers told about the shocking death of Einan Sharabi, may G-d avenge his blood. He was with the forces that took over the camp. His unit finished clearing one of the houses and Einan found a quiet corner, wrapped himself in a tallit, put on tefillin and stood in morning prayer. A Palestinian sniper tried to shoot through the window into the house. Unfortunately, one bullet hit the window guard, ricocheted and fatally hit Einan. In solidarity with the fact that their comrade had been killed while putting on tefillin, all his friends came to me asking to put on tefillin.

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On Friday afternoon our crew was ordered to go outside the camp and situate ourselves in a field by the mountain slope. I told my buddies, Let's get a minyan together. Quickly we assembled a prayer quorum, half of which, by the way, was composed of non-religious soldiers. It's hard to describe the feeling of singing the Lecha Dodi verses in an open field, in the middle of the toughest battle.

After the Kabbalat Shabbat prayers I made kiddush. All the guys waited until I made kiddush on the wine and then we had a Shabbat meal out in the field. The atmosphere was elated and the food was great: rolls, tuna, kosher spam and a few tomatoes. Two hours later the supply arrived, with ammunition and a hot meal, but everybody was already satiated. The entire Shabbat we stayed put, while in the refugee camp the fighting continued from one house to the next. Late afternoon, between Minchah and the end of Shabbat, I got the soldiers together and taught them a chapter from the tractate Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers.

After Shabbat we went out on a complicated mission, in collaboration with a special force which arrived to complete the refugee camp takeover. It was a difficult and dangerous mission, demanding a high state of alert to avoid soldiers getting injured.

I went to sleep at 2:00 am. At 4:00 am they woke me up again. Our boys came back from the refugee camp and wanted something to eat. You can't imagine how happy we all were to see everybody alive and well. We hardly exchanged words. Only a handshake, or a pat on the shoulder, without any words, but those gestures said everything. An officer from the settlement of Elli, a religious guy, asked me, "You have any wine left? I haven't done Havdalah yet." I had exactly one cup of wine left. The man did the Havdalah ceremony and only then did everybody touch their food.

These days we're sleeping three to four hours at night. A shower or even a change of clothes are out of the question.

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In the morning we got orders to move to different assembly areas. Everyone passing by me asked to put on tefillin. One guy came to ask how to make the "HaGomel" blessing of gratitude, after three bullets had whistled right above his head. This was a guy who never put on tefillin in the past, yet now he came to give thanks to G-d for the miracles he experienced inside the camp.

It's heartening to see the wonderful spirit of voluntarism among the guys. Two of our people suffered dehydration in the house where they were staying and a doctor sent them to be evacuated. The two of them fought to go back into battle, knowing full well the kind of hell they were going to. There were men who had been chronically absent during training sessions, yet here they were, every last one of them. You saw the nation of Israel in its finest hour. All the talk about "conscientious objectors" seem like they belong on another planet. Here the opposite holds true.

During the evening hours the camp takeover neared its completion. Tens of armed terrorists surrendered and turned over their weapons. There were still a few pockets of resistance, but I believed that by morning and the next day we'd manage, with G-d's help, to finish the cleanup in the camp and finish off those final pockets of resistance.

As told to Menachem Brod by Sergeant Major Rami Meir.
Translated from the Hebrew by Yori Yanover

You won't find this soldier's diary published by any mainstream media. He doesn't mention any atrocities, except the ones in which his buddies were killed.

As I wrote during the battle, knowing that the Palestinians would try to smear the memory of these fighting men, these are the Citizen-Soldiers of the Israeli Defense Forces.

Their fight is our fight.

Be Seeing You,

Chris

The ironic thing is that these Israeli soldiers died saving the lives of the Palestinians. Israel could have fought this in the air with bombs, but they were trying to avoid civilian casualities. And now they are being accused of atrocities!!!

What I find so inspiring is that a 41 year old man, obviously deeply religious, gladly shouldered his responsibilies to his family and his country without even a second thought.

Now there's a worthy man.

This is why we should support our allies. Israel is taking the battle to the enemy -- and many on our own shores are cheering on the enemy (how quickly they forget our own dead, barely 7 months old). Blood is on the hands of the media, the Europeans and the American left, who support those who would kill them in a New York minute.

Their fight is our fight.

That is so true. We will soon be facing the same enemy on our own shores. Radical Muslim extremists will be carrying out terrorist acts here in the US. Israel is on the front line right now - and we should be thankful.

may G-d avenge his blood

I notice he says that a lot.

Good.

The first thing that I noticed was the sincerity and reverence of this man.. The pre-post-peri-millenialist bashers will surely have a field day, but this truly gave me a warm spot in my heart. I know that Gods' plan is on course no matter what the atheistic rabble thinks.

I appreciate this post. As an evangelical, non-denominational Christian, I consider the Jews to be my brothers and sisters in God and The Holy Spirit. They are our staunch allies as well, and their enemies ARE our enemies. May God bless them mightily.........may He strengthen them in these trying times.

They need us all right now, folks. To Hell with the idiotic U.N.; to Hell with the leftist media. This has become a worldwide struggle between the Islamic east and the Judeo-Christian west. We didn't start it.........................................................................................but we'll DAMNED well finish it.

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