MY TURN

Avi Goldschmidt

On Friday, March 29, 2002, 16 Nissan, 5752 at 1:47 PM, my turn came. 

Pessach in Israel this year was not enjoyable. The acts of terror in Netanya and Eilon Moreh seemed to reflect a worsening in the on-going Intifada El-Aqsa. My wife, Sagit, & I were visiting friends in Nahariya on the first day of Chol HaMoed Pessach and were planning to spend Shabbat with cousins in Haifa. We were walking around the mall in Nahariya when my cell phone rang. 

“Avi Goldschmidt,” the voice said, “this is your liaison officer calling. This is a Tzav 8. You are to report immediately to the emergency base near Jerusalem.” 

“What?” I responded in shock. “But I’m in Nahariya on vacation…We’re supposed to be with 20 people in Haifa for Shabbat….I’m not packed….”

“Well, you better hurry up!”, he said as he hung up the phone. 

I had been called up for an emergency mobilization (Tzav 8). Tzav 8 are two words that, when heard, instantly put all things into perspective. I’m a natural worrier. I am always concerned about my job, my MBA studies and anything else that is worriable. But these two words were able to instantly make all my worries go away. I was being called up for war. 

Call up time plus 15 minutes: Sagit and I are packing our bags at our friends’ apartment. We have to quickly get back to our apartment in Gannei Aviv so I can pack for the army and she can pack to go to her parents. She doesn’t want to stay alone at home. A quick thank you and Shabbat Shalom to our friends and we are out the door. 

Call up time plus 1 hour & 45 minutes: What is normally a 2 hour & 15 minute drive, we drive in about an hour and a half. We are now packing our ‘real bags’. One of the greater inventions of our times is the cell phone. In the car we are able to update people about what happened. Now I am quickly trying to pack and prepare for an indefinite amount of time away from home, work and university. I normally prefer a couple of weeks to prepare for Miluim (reserve) service, not an hour. At this point, my initial shock is replaced by nervousness and I can’t properly organize my thoughts. I throw into my bag whatever comes to mind, hoping not to forget anything. We ask our neighbors to feed the fish and bring in the mail, and then we are out the door.

Call up time plus 3 hours & 10 minutes: We are in the car outside the meeting place where a bus will take me to the emergency base. I see in Sagit’s eyes that the words Tzav 8 have triggered thoughts about the stories she has heard her entire life about her biological father who received a Tzav 8 on Yom Kippur 1973 and never returned. We are getting emotional, but I can’t allow myself to fall apart. A kiss, a hug and a tear, and I am off into the unknown for an indefinite amount of time…an indescribable feeling.

Call up time plus 5 hours: I am sitting on the bus as the remaining people are boarding. The calling out of names by the officer interrupts the tunes of Kabbalat Shabbat echoing from the Shul on the corner. After the last name is called, we leave. This would not be an ordinary Shabbat. 
Call up time plus 6 hours and 20 minutes: I am wandering around the emergency base looking for my unit. It is pitch black, cold and raining…and I have no idea where I am. I want to wake up from this nightmare and go home. Eventually I find my unit. It is great to see familiar faces. We had last seen each other in November when we had a month of Miluim in the area of Me’arat HaMachpelah in Hebron. We had been scheduled to see each other in May for our service in the Gaza Strip, but everything has changed. We spend the next couple of hours getting our weapons and battle equipment and then looking for the rest of the guys in our unit who are also wandering the base looking for us. At this time, word is spreading that the Israeli army is preparing a large offensive operation and we are to be a part of it. I call my wife to let her know that everything is all right, and also to calm myself, as this reality is becoming VERY scary. I don’t tell her everything; we just speak for a few minutes. I then call my parents who live in America. It is the second day YomTov in the States, but word is that we are going to be on the move soon and I may not be able to call them on Sunday as I had planned. Besides, I need to hear their voices. Their voices had sustained me through my 31 months of regular service in the Givati Infantry Brigade, which had brought me to tours of duty in Southern Lebanon and to the Gaza Strip during the first Intifada in 1987. Their voices had also seen me through annual Miluim services, which had brought me to Har Dov, the Syrian border, Ramallah, Jenin & Shchem. There was no way that I could go do whatever Israel had planned for me without speaking to them. Speaking into the answering machine, I persuaded my parents to pick up the phone and gave them a partial update. 

Call up time plus about 10 hours: I am lying in my sleeping bag in a massive hangar. No cot, no mattress (no supper either), just the cold cement floor. I had heard many stories about the emergency call-up for the Yom Kippur War, but could never imagine it. What about all the plans that people had? My calendar is full of meetings for work and group meetings for university projects. I have two university presentations to deliver and salaries to pay right after Pessach. We were just plucked out of our lives. One guy was on a jeep trip in the Negev. Another one was at the Mikvah. One guy was packing for a trip to Europe on Saturday night. I tell myself that as far as Jewish history goes, it could be a lot worse. Sixty years ago, we would have also been rounded up, but to be sent somewhere else. We have the privilege to be rounded up to defend the State of Israel. “ The Angel that redeems me from all evil” are the soothing words that temporarily put my fears aside as this long day finally ends and I fall asleep. 

Day 2: Shabbat. We wake up at 6:30 and immediately board the bus that will take us to our training camp. This is not very comforting, as it is known that the Israeli army does not train on Shabbat, except in emergencies. I have never trained on Shabbat before. The entire day is spent doing target practice, some exercises and preparing our equipment. 

Day 3: Sunday. We wake up at 4:30. We have to quickly get back to the base by Jerusalem for a briefing. Apparently, this operation is called “Operation Defensive Shield” and my unit is to enter Beit Lechem (Bethlehem) later on today. At first, we are confused as there are as yet no Israeli soldiers in Beit Lechem. And then a harsh reality of Israel’s 54 years of existence becomes apparent as we become aware of the fact that Israel will be relying on its Miluim forces for a major part of the assault, and not just for back-up. We all have been watching the news for the past year and a half and are now all too well aware of the weapons that the Palestinians have at their disposal to be used against any invading force.

After the briefing, we are taken to the outskirts of Jerusalem next to the barricade leading to Beit Lechem. There, we receive our Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs) to be used in the assault. We spend the rest of the day preparing them, filling sandbags, and trying to avoid the countless photographers so that our wives, children, and parents would not see on the news that which we are about to do. In the late afternoon, we receive a change in orders. Along with a few tanks, we are to take over the highlands surrounding Beit Lechem and monitor them for fifteen hours. We leave in the middle of the night. 

Day 4: Monday. The assault goes smoothly. Aside from some random gunfire, there are no incidents. This is a big relief. The rapid and drastic changes that one goes through in Israeli society are simply mind-boggling. Four days ago I was sitting at the Seder, and today I am sitting in an APC overlooking Beit Lechem. I get a little claustrophobic inside APCs as there is no room and it is very dark. We alternate between sleeping and looking out through the periscopes, but it is too uncomfortable to sleep. In the late afternoon, we finish and return to the Beit Lechem barricade in Jerusalem. We receive a new briefing. Our objective: to take control of and secure several buildings of a complex in Beit Lechem. This strategic position will open up the way for the rest of the army (tanks, APCs and soldiers) to enter Beit Lechem. The catch… the path leading to the complex winds through Palestinian houses and snipers and the latest intelligence is that there are approximately 30 terrorists hiding within the complex. I am feeling nauseous. I haven’t eaten in four days and I haven’t slept in two. I call Sagit. I need to speak to her, but I can’t tell her anything. I am thankful that videophones are not yet common, as I can disguise the tone in my voice, but not the tears in my eyes. I tell her that it may be a couple of days before we speak as we are on the move and there may not be any cellular reception where we are. “I’ll speak to you as soon as I get a chance,” I tell her, and I pray that she does not become a widow. 

Day 5: Tuesday. It is shortly after midnight. We have just finished our last briefing, reviewed the aerial photos and are now ready to begin our assault. We are all silent as one of us recites a prayer for battle. “AMEN!” echoes above Jerusalem. I had thought that I had heard meaningful prayers on Rosh Hashanah & Yom Kippur in the past, but nothing can compare to the Amen shouted by a unit of Israeli miluim soldiers, religious and secular, Ashkenazi and Spharadi, right-wing and left-wing, about to embark towards the battlefield. 

I am now in some kind of daze that I have never experienced before. Apparently, for the past few days I have been emptying myself of all physical, mental & emotional aspects of life. School and work were the first to go, then friends, then family. I have eaten virtually nothing. My mind and body are a clean slate. The two things on my mind are my wife and my task. The order is given to take our initial positions. We walk around shaking each other’s hands, wishing good luck and saying that we’ll see each other on the other side. We load our guns and take our positions. My position is next to our platoon leader. We look at each other, remove our protective gloves, and shake hands as if we are conducting a business meeting. An Apache helicopter hovers above and shoots to clear the path of any and all possible explosive objects in our paths. “As I walk in the valley of the unknown, I fear no evil because You are with me”. These words have comforted me on every patrol and ambush that I have been on, but the fear is too great this time. This is the first actual offensive that I have ever been on. This is it. 

Our heavy packs (about 50-60 pounds) are weightless. We are full of adrenalin. We scramble across streets, sneak through alleyways and try to avoid all snipers. We reach the complex. There is some random firing. We run and storm into the building. It is pitch black and we are moving very slowly and cautiously. Floor after floor, corridor after corridor, room after room. Inside, we are not allowed to shoot unless shot upon as Israel does not want to cause any unnecessary damage. And the world accuses Israel of war crimes! Any other country would have blown up the buildings with the Apache helicopters. Throughout the remainder of the night, we clear the floors and secure the entire complex. We are tense and alert, minute by minute waiting for the terrorist resistance shots that never come. (We find out later that the terrorists had fled to the Church of Nativity, where they remained in hiding throughout the duration of the operation). We set up a lookout post and base on the top floor of one of the buildings. It is now 6:30 in the morning. The assault is over. We are all alive and unhurt. I call Sagit and wake her up. I act as if nothing has happened and lie to her that I will not be able to speak to her for a while because I have guard duty. The cell phone is my only escape from reality. I find a corner in the room, lie down on the floor, and close my eyes. The first moments of silence since Sunday morning, 4:30 AM. 

The rest of the day is spent manning our positions. The word now is that we will be in Miluim for 27 days, and it is only day # 5. We hear on the news that soldiers on the front lines will receive catered hot food for Chag, but no such luck. What’s the difference, since I have no appetite. The Erev Chag newspaper is brought to us along with other supplies, and we are thrilled to see a half page picture of our mobilization team as we prepared for the assault. 

Day 6: Chag. Wednesday. Early in the morning, our routine is interrupted and we are told to prepare to leave. We are to enter the Kasbah, go house to house, and weed out the terrorists. Platoon 1 is already in action and our battalion commander has been shot in the stomach. Fortunately, the bullet has not penetrated the flap jacket and he is suffering only from a burn caused by the heat of the bullet. There is a lot of tension in the air as we once again prepare our battle equipment. We are all set, but the order never comes through. Instead, we stay where we are, on alert for backup. Most of the terrorists are fleeing to the Church. In the evening, we are allowed to alternate between ourselves and remove our boots and socks (but not our clothing) for about 15 minutes…the first time since Sunday morning. We have to always maintain a complete state of immediate readiness, and when we do sleep for a couple of hours, we are fully dressed. This was probably the most enjoyable 15 minutes I have had since my cell phone rang last Friday. I am learning to appreciate the finer things in life. 

Days 7 – 8: Thursday. Pessach is over, but we are still eating Matzah, as supplies are slow coming into Beit Lechem. We are managing to maintain a routine, and today we are allowed to take shower shifts. An incredible treat. At this point, bags of underwear, socks, towels and other items that were likely to have been forgotten when packing on a minute’s notice, begin to arrive. Additionally, residents of Jerusalem and the neighboring settlements send trays of homemade food. Boxes and boxes of snacks are also now arriving from schools throughout Israel. Emotionally, we read all of the letters written by the children who send the boxes. The letter that I received, which I saved, said: “To the soldier. You should peacefully return to your house and enjoy the sweets of the package that I have prepared for you. Much health and happiness. From me, Dovid.” 

Our turn comes to patrol the Kasbah and search houses. We cautiously walk the alleyways, peeking before every corner, avoiding every window and scanning the rooftops for snipers. Shots are fired, but there is not much that we can do other than to proceed with caution. There are too many civilians around and it is virtually impossible to locate the needle in the haystack. We finish the patrol and spend the rest of the day transporting prisoners. When we return in the late afternoon, we are informed that our new orders are in and we are going to Hebron. Once again, tension flares. There are no Israeli soldiers yet in Hebron and we are to lead the assault. On a brighter note, we are told that a few of us can go home for Shabbat. We draw lots. Those of us who stay behind prepare our equipment and the APCs. We finish cleaning up the area and head out in the middle of the night. Again, our orders are changed. We are to be in a hotel in Jerusalem on alert to enter Hebron. This is great, but mind-boggling. At 3:30 AM, the entire unit checks into the hotel in Jerusalem, without suitcases, but with guns, radio packs, stretchers and battle vests. And the best news is that this state of readiness can last for a couple of days, and we will be in the hotel for the entire time. And…we are sleeping on a mattress…without our shoes on!

Day 9: Shabbat. 8:30 AM. We are mobilized. So much for a couple of days. Within a half hour, we are on the bus headed towards Hebron. We arrive at the entrance to Hebron an hour later. Once again, our orders are put on hold and we spend the rest of the day relaxing at a gas station near Beit Guvrin. This is great. We are outside in the spring sun, with no helmet and no flap jacket. A much needed, relaxing Shabbat. Some of the guys who live in the area have their wives and kids come by to visit. The proximity of this war to home is too much to comprehend. In the evening, we go to a nearby base to replace some of our equipment and further prepare for our assault on Hebron. While walking around the base, I bump into Saul, a friend of mine from class who has just been called up also with a Tzav 8. We hug and laugh as we realize that neither of us will be in class on Monday to deliver our group presentation. 

Day 10: I RECEIVE A LEAVE! I hitch a ride most of the way and Sagit comes to pick me up. I give her the biggest hug that I have ever given her. I am at home but can be called back at any time, so I do a wash and repack. This time I remember to pack the things that I had forgotten. All I want to do is sleep. I don’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone or do anything. We watch the news, but don’t hear anything about Hebron. What is going on? The next day, I am notified that my unit has been mobilized to Shchem (Nablus). 

Day 12: Terrible news greets me as I return to my platoon. Thirteen Miluim soldiers have been killed in Jenin and another soldier was killed in Shchem. Additionally, any and all hopes of finishing our service within two weeks have disappeared. There is talk in the papers that not only is it possible for the army to hold on to us for 27 days, they can even extend the time with government approval. The situation in the North is worsening, and there is a possibility that we will be sent there in a couple of days. The platoon is already positioned inside a Palestinian apartment in the center of Shchem and a convoy of APCs and tanks transports us there. There is constant shooting as the road is cleared of all suspicious objects (possible mines). This is a difficult task, as we must avoid firing stray bullets, which could possibly penetrate a house and kill an innocent civilian. There is a curfew now in Shchem, and we also shoot warning shots at violators. Despite media reports o the contrary, we give violators the benefit of the doubt and don’t simply shoot to kill, even though the danger to us is quite apparent. 

Days 13 – 23: There is much activity as we search house to house for weapons and terrorists, enforce the curfew, inspect ambulances, fire trucks and cars, confiscate weapons, and confront journalists. We are constantly on the move and don’t stay in one place for more than three days. It is now more than 2 weeks, and the constant state of Palestinian sniper shooting, lack of food, sleep and ‘down time’ continues.

An interesting event (that would never be heard on the news): One afternoon, one of our lookouts spots a person with a long object on the roof of an apartment where another platoon is stationed 200 meters away from us. Everyone is immediately mobilized. I and another (we both have special sharpshooter scopes on our M16 rifles) take up positions and locate the person in our sights. We do not shoot since we cannot be sure if the object that is held is a pipe bomb, weapon or just an ordinary object. During the next half hour, the person keeps appearing and disappearing as we wait for a patrol to assess the situation. In the end, it turns out to be a person with a broom who, for whatever reason, was on the roof. This is just one example (of many) of the precautions taken by the Israeli army to avoid harming the Palestinian civilian population, even at the risk of its own soldiers.

Over the weekend, the final pullout is completed. We clean up the apartment that we have occupied and leave behind all of our food supplies for the returning Palestinian family. 

Days 24 – 27: I receive another short leave and when I return, we spend the next couple of days returning all of our equipment to a state of emergency readiness. 

Day 28: We complete everything and my unit is released. 

Discharge + 2 days: Shabbat. I am standing by the Torah in Shul at 9:00 in the morning where I recite the "Gomel" blessing.

My turn is over…for the time being.