Shabbat – Simchat Torah
8.59 AM: What a great way to end the Chagim (holidays)! Rosh Hashana - so meaningful to be blowing shofar again! Yom Kippur - wow! Succot - so much familial and communal joy! Simchat Torah what a high and wha... what?!
9:00, Eli comes over to tell me that something bad is happening. He heard from Yoel … land, sea, air…
I go home to wake up Akiva L. (my soon-to-be son-in-law, and an officer in the Nachal infantry brigade). I tell him to turn on his phone and get ready to leave. Now.
I go back to shul and realize that it is so big that likely miluim (reserves) will be called. I send my son, Akiva (14), home to wake up my son Yedidya (24), tell him to turn on his phone and go with his handgun to provide protection for the women’s tfila (prayers) being held in a private home.
12.30 I go home again. Akiva L tells me that he has been mobilized … he will drive his car to his home in Modiin, get his gear together and continue from there.
Yedidya then gets his call. He is super focused. It takes him only 20 minutes to get his stuff together. I call my son Yonatan (24) who is volunteering in Jerusalem at Shalva (where he works with severely disabled children) and tell him that he should also get ready. Yonatan is determined to stay with his special-needs chanich (charge) until the last minute. His charges don't understand "war" but they do understand disappointment, and my Yonatan is determined not to leave them emotionally distressed.
I drive Yedidya to his pickup place – Machane Ofer. Many other cars are also zipping through this Shabbat-observant community. On the way, I pick up a random miluimnik in Jerusalem, hitching a ride on a mostly deserted Jerusalem street, and also pick up one of Yedidya’s buddies. I drive through every single red light and find out that my van can go about 153 KPH (that's close to 100 MPH).
Sadly, at Bar Ilan junction, many kids shout at me and "remind" me that it is Shabbat, even though they can see that I have my hazards on, I’m driving like crazy, I am in Shabbat clothes, and next to me is a Chayal (soldier). But then, they do not have access to media today, and they are oblivious to Israel's predicament...
2 PM By the time we get to Ofer Base, there are hundreds of cars parked along the highway and in the median.
I return home to join a very tense meal with our neighbors and friends. Their son (a friend of my twins, is married with a baby, and also a combat reservist. They are beside themselves with no way of knowing if he too has been called up...)
At the end of the meal, Yonatan calls. He too is drafted. Chana (my wife) and I pack up his gear and I drive it to him in Jerusalem. Police have closed the road with tape. I pull up and immediately the officer opens it up to me as I point to the bag and tell him I’m on my way to my son. He wishes me, and my Chayal son, the best of luck.
As his apartment is about 300 meters away from the PM's residence, the secret service security come by just to check why I’m stopped in the road. They get it right away, and wish us both the best of luck as well.
My departure with Yedidya was very rushed. Focused. Brief. Non-emotional. It was so fast.
My departure from Yonatan was heart-wrenching. By this time, more news was coming in and we both felt the weightiness of the moment. My chest constricts with the pain and agony.
When Shabbat is over, I call Lee and Chuck, my two dear friends-clients who are back again to explore this holy land together. They landed today at 4 PM... in the middle of a warzone. I tell them to sit tight and I will be in touch with them in the morning.
By the end of Shabbat the body count is up to 250…
Sunday
My mission today is to deal with Lee and Chuck.
It is a very teary reunion with my friends from Louisiana. As per my policy, I do my best to help people reach the goals they set. I give them their options. No judgment. Stay, and be an impromptu solidarity mission or… they decide to leave. The problem is that there are no open seats on any flights, and the next available one is a few days away… and that would likely be canceled as well.
I decide it best to drive them to the airport and for them to see what possible options they might come across. The airport seems chaotic, but in retrospect, it is really just a normal day … but there is a lot of agitation in the air. I find a helpful service provider who takes us under her wing. When I tell her about the medical condition, she doesn't hesitate and cuts the line of over 100 people... but comes back with bad news. No seats on any flight.
I decide to continue with my plan and get them out of the country by land. I drive them to the northern crossing into Jordan, near Bet Shean. Once there, everything is actually very smooth, and functional. After 18 months and a mere 7 hours, we depart once again with teary, heartfelt hugs.
I drive home through the Jordan Valley, with my gun at the ready the entire time. As I go south and pass the junction across from Hemdat, I notice a soldier clearly in hiding behind the bus stop on the northbound side. I realize immediately that he is alone, waiting for a bus, but doesn’t want to be an easy target. I continue for another mile, but then feel the urge to turn around. As I approach, I loudly identify myself with words only an Israeli would know. I don’t want him to fire on me… sure enough, he is a non-combat army-ambulance driver who needs to go home urgently. Some miluimnik gave him a ride and this was as far as he got. As we are in the middle of the West Bank, I gave him some fatherly/army advice and told him he was an idiot (but in a friendly fashion) and told him that I would stay with him until the bus came, which it did indeed some 15 minutes later.
A few miles down the road, another random guy at a bus stop. I could see we were not talking bad guy here… he was backpacking, but after IDing that he wasn’t Israeli, I wished him the best of luck and went on my way. German backpackers coming from Ramallah could take care of themselves today.
I called my old police officer – Udi - from the days when I was a police volunteer. (Budgetary cuts forced me out a few years ago). I told him that it was apparently time for me to reenlist. I couldn’t believe it. He said: be at the station at 5 PM this Wednesday…
I decide to fill up on gas even though I’m far from being low… you just never know during times of war…
When I get home, I eat dinner, realizing that I have not been able to eat anything for the past 30 hours.
The body count is past 500...