So today after my brief visit to the Lishkat Hagius, where I wasn't helped due to the fact that Limor was not in, I took a trip down to the Gazan border with a few administrators from Yeshivat Netiv Aryeh to make a barbecue for our four soldiers serving near Kissufim. On the way down, I got a call from the Lishkah informing me that I have to go there tomorrow anyways for a Machal interview. I guess I'll try to kill two birds with one stone and sort out the Michve Alon fiasco while I'm there anyways.
After a nice drive we arrived at the Givati base near Kissufim, and barbecued outside for a good 3 hours with the soldiers of the Rotem '09 brigade. The Yeshiva sponsored a barbecue for ~50 guys in the unit. After Mincha followed by sunset over Gaza, we relaxed with the guys from the brigade. It was a nice relief for them from the constant stress on the border, and it was satisfying for us knowing that we helped out the guys who give up years of their lives to keep the inhabitants of Israel safe. Kol Hakavod Rotem '09!
When I was ten years old, I remember walking into my parents bedroom one morning, and instead of being greeted with a hearty good morning, I was received with a gloomy nod. At the start of the second intifada, two middle aged reservist Israeli soldiers took a wrong turn and ended up in Ramallah. A mob of angry terrorists took the two young fathers, beat them to death with clubs, tied their bodies to cars, and dragged them through the city. They then took them to the second floor of a structure, dismembered their bodies, and threw each organ and limb out the second-story window individually. When they finished, they raised their bloody hands triumphantly in front of a cheering mob. I vividly remember the pictures on the front cover of the New York Times the next morning. I was ten years old at the time, but my eyes still well up when I am reminded of that atrocity.
In a short while I myself will be in the army. The only son of two wonderful parents, in a struggle where inevitably, the dove I shall send out with an olive branch, will inevitably come back in a coffin.
The lynching in Ramallah bears a stark resemblance to this week’s events. In the past few days, Israel has been suffering through a nightmare. A group of provocateurs set sail on a few ships from Turkey to Gaza. Anticipating an Israeli attempt to peacefully commandeer the vessels like on previous occasions, and after inspections for weapons, transfer the contents of the vessel to Gazans, the provocateurs opted to lynch the paintball gun toting soldiers.
The first soldier to board the ship was met with a beating administered by the attackers which clubs, bats, and metal rods. After a short but brutal beating, he was tossed 30 feet from the first deck, enduring a skull fracture. Then came the second soldiers. Shouts of “Don’t shoot, hold your fire” could be heard from his comrades still on the helicopter. He followed his commands, and in turn had a knife speared into his stomach, as he was being stabbed, a beating was administered by some more of the peace activists. A third soldier slid down the rope from the helicopter onto the top deck. Dragged down by yet another mob of peace loving humanitarian workers, he had his arm broken with a metal rod. One by one soldiers slid down the rope, and one by one they were cruelly pummeled. A soldier was thrown down a flight of stairs and kicked repeatedly while he was down. The passengers threw smoke grenades and Molotov cocktails. Meanwhile, the soldiers had not fired a single round.
And then the situation took a turn for the worse. Two pacifists disarmed two soldiers of their unused emergency pistols and began to fire. The order was then reluctantly passed down, authorizing soldiers to shoot back in self defense. But not before at least two soldiers were shot.
