Josh’s War Journal: Weeks 63-94 – “Of Faith and Fighting Spirit”

Part I: September 2024 - February 2025

After guiding many academic missions, I was once again privileged to draft. I spent 155 days guarding Kibbutz Saad, located about one mile from the Israeli-Gazan border. Soon after the war’s beginning, the IDF created two battalions with a single mission: to provide security to the southern border communities, about 50 in all. This objective was broken down into two parts. The secondary objective: providing physical defensive security to the kibbutzim. The primary objective: to restore the sense of security to their residents. In the role of stationary sentries, even people like myself - returning many years after our release - were suitable for the task. As for the primary role, we actually were even better suited. Interacting on a daily basis with civilians - who at best were disappointed in the IDF (even though they too serve in its ranks), and at worst, disillusioned and angry - took patience, thick skin and life experience.

During the time I spent there, most of the kibbutzim were still not yet back to functioning, and the majority of the residents had yet to return. Saad was an exception, as it was one of the only communities that although was attacked on October 7^th, it was not infiltrated, and there were no casualties directly in the kibbutz. As such, by the time I arrived in September 2024, about 95% of the residents had returned. It is important to add that as all locals, they too suffered more than can be imagined. 25 years of rocket fire. Two young members were murdered that awful day while they were in neighboring communities. Most lost family, friends and colleagues. And in spite of it all, the kibbutzniks I interacted with were incredible. Industrious, kind, scarred yet resilient.

Indeed, a community of faith and a fighting spirit.

In my last blog from September 2024, I wrote about the diversity of the people serving with me. This time, I want to give a shout out to one particular individual: my roommate David. David was born and raised in New York and had the accent and attitude to boot. When the war broke out, he sensed the intense crisis of his people, and decided to make Aliya and draft. Overcoming many obstacles, David succeeded in his goal and became a combat soldier, a medic in the paratroopers’ brigade. For clarity, I should mention that the war I’m writing about is the 1973 Yom Kippur War! Yes. My friend David is an able-bodied 72-year-old. David remained in Israel, raised a beautiful family here, pursued a successful career and retired. And when this war broke out, he again sensed the intense crisis of his people, and decided to redraft. Overcoming many obstacles, David succeeded in his goal and became a combat soldier, a medic in the “Avshalom” Brigade. Do you sense a pattern? I do!

Indeed, a person of faith and a fighting spirit.

Part II: March 2025 - June 2025

Attrition is wearisome. We are living with an intensely mixed amount of celebration, challenges and tragedy. Celebrations of Purim, Pessach and our daughter’s Bat Mitzva. Challenges of my two oldest sons in reserves, and my younger son and son-in-law in combat units in Gaza. Tragedies as our nation lays fallen heroes to rest.

Then two miracles occur. The first is the miraculous “Twelve-Day War.” I have often spoken about the Palestinian issue as a threat to Israel's soul, and the Iranian regime as a threat to Israel's body. Already from October of 2023, I made a point of educating the hundreds of mission participants, that on an existential level Gaza is at best an inconvenience, but at worse an intentional “red herring.” The real threat, and the only existential one, is Iran’s nuclear ambition. With the attention of Israel and the world focused on Gaza, the Iranians were making a mad dash for their nuclear finish line. Other threats still exist and the Iranian threat still looms, and yet, our victory in just two weeks is nothing short of a miracle. I’ve been praying and waiting for this day for over a decade!

The second miracle: the miracle of new life. I became a grandfather! My daughter gave birth to a beautiful boy: Sha’ked. My faithful followers who have stood with me under an almond tree – the sha’ked tree – might remember that the biblical meaning, as embodied by the tree’s nature, is diligence and vigilance. My son-in-law Akiva pointed out that in the Bible it also represents these three things: Renewal after devastation. God’s ultimate deliverance. The best the Land has to offer. What a fitting name!

Indeed, the IDF, and my grandson, are both imbued with a generous dose of faith and a fighting spirit.

Part III: June – July

For my faithful readers, take a pause and reread “Josh’s War - Week #6.” (For those who do not, a summary: I intensely debated if to join a local unit guarding my city or get back into a tank with the “Phoenix” unit.)

Don't get me wrong. It's not that I made the wrong choice in not opting for a tank unit. But it was definitely a difficult choice. I spent two and a half months of guard duty in my city and then another five months guarding the kibbutz. I try to focus on what I can take from the experiences that I have had. How I can utilize them to grow, learn, and teach. By serving in these rear-combat positions I was privileged to see how different units function. But as I stated 2 years ago, “old soldiers do not die, they merely fade away.” My heart and soul was always in the tank. In April, I found myself applying to over a dozen various units exploring options of how I could become once again even more relevant with my specific qualifications. As Providence or luck would have it, I landed a position of simple guard duty for a unit that happened to be a tank unit. The position never materialized but from the interview, they decided to recruit me and attach me to their logistics unit. When I arrived, the deputy commander asked me what I, Josh, wanted to get out of this. I looked at him puzzled. I told him he was asking the wrong question. He should not be asking me any question. He should be telling me what it is that he needs. “That's what I'm here to do,” I said. He asked me if I'd be willing to get back into a tank after all these years. For the second time I told him, it is not about my willingness; it is about his need. I spent a week with logistics and met an incredible array of very dedicated people. When the week was over, he told me that there was indeed a need for a loader in the battalion commander's tank. Would I be willing? My insides said “Gulp!” and I sensed a surge of energy. My mouth said, “I'm willing to give it a try.”

Apparently, there are things in life, other than bicycles, that you never forget once learned. 13 years have passed. Besides the muscle memory that kicked in, physically I've never felt better. And emotionally I knew that I had returned to my second home. 

For all of you thinking that a tank in Gaza is no place for a grandpa, you are not alone. I thought this too. But an even louder inner voice said: “Until now you were fighting for your wife, kids, family, friends and people. Now you are also fighting for Sha’ked!” I’m not back in a tank despite Sha’ked. I’m in a tank for him.

The previous roles I held during this war were important. However, many others could fill those same spots. Whereas the specifications and training needed for this position are more precise. Indeed that is a sense of mission fulfillment. 

From the first day I drafted back in 1991 I tried to live by my own three “Golden Rules.” One: the only thing guaranteed is that nothing is guaranteed. Two: take the bad and the difficult with humor and optimism. Three: the mission is not “what” but “how.” The mission is to do, at any given time, the best damn job you can do, with the tools at your disposal at that moment. 

One of the most challenging things about military is that much of your autonomy vanishes. Your time is not your own. Your gear is not your own. However, how you relate to situations and complete the job is totally up to you. We do not get to choose the mission, but we do have autonomy to choose the manner in which we accomplish it. 

The tank crew that I joined, like me, are all “too old” to be in a tank. They came back to the tanks through the (now dismantled) Phoenix unit. So there it is. I came full circle. I may not have caught up with the Phoenix unit. But the Phoenix unit caught up with me! My commander and I are the same age, and of the same mindset in many ways. The hours fly by as if minutes as we easily maneuver from topic to topic, from conversation to conversation, discussing the meaning of life, Judaism, the mission, movie references from the 1980s, The Princess Bride and Monty Python. 

So much of the army same, with only very small variations. The tank is the same; the sand is the same; so is the food and the uniform. But the human resources… 

I loved the men that I served with in the 1990s. Tough men. Men that you could rely on. Guys that you want at your side when you go to war. Men that you would take a bullet for, as they would for you. But as in so many militaries throughout time and space, the language was crass, the topics were crude, and references were lewd. The age of the men in my new company are the same age we were 25 years ago – 25-35 years old. As opposed to the about 30% religious soldiers of my early days, about 70% of the soldiers in the company are religious-observant of various shades and colors. Not just the classic religious-Zionist with a knitted kipa of my era. Many have the telltale signs of Jewish spiritual renewal. Long side curls. Big wool kipas. Tzitzis (fringes) hanging out of the uniform. And the conversations… it's a different world. Spiritually uplifting beyond measure. Here in Gaza, we are surrounded by the death and destruction brought on by the Gazans. In recent history, Jewish communities flourished here and in 2005, they were destroyed. Palestinians who took their place were more focused on bringing about our death than their prosperity.

So observing Jewish ritual and prayer in this location is incredibly uplifting. As an example, in “my day” there were never people singing Shabbat songs at the conclusion of Shabbat’s “third meal.” Because there was no “third meal.” It just wasn't “a thing.” There was not enough interest nor a culture for it. Here, not only was there a “third meal,” but between the various units there were so many men that we split into two groups on two floors. And the songs from one group would rise up over the tunes of the other! A real taste of Heaven, even if surrounded with Hell.

Kabbalat Shabbat in Rafah/near the remains of the Israeli community "Pe'at Sa'de" - July 2025

So what's different? The dress code. The language. The vocabulary. The tone. The mindset. It is an entire culture. 

Our current mission is to prevent terrorists of being able to return to this vicinity. The tactic is the demolition of the infrastructure and urban environment. To the casual observer it appears that we are a deconstruction company instead of an army. In reality where performing tactical measures to achieve a strategic goal. But these soldiers in their hearts are also civilians. They see beyond military strategy. They do not feel that they are destroying; rather they are preparing the ground for renewal and reconstruction - for Jews and Arabs who wish to live in peace - on a land where the recent inhabitants, through their own barbarism, lost their right to exist. Such is the price of their war. My fellow soldiers do not feel they are on foreign soil. They are in the land where their Jewish roots run much deeper than modern Western thinking.

The soldiers from my youth were giants. But this new generation has managed to build another level, reaching new heights and new dreams.

Indeed, an army of faith and a fighting spirit.

This war is not yet over. I believe the ingredients for achieving its end are clear.

A heaping of FAITH and a generous amount of FIGHTING SPIRIT! And as proven in all the above - those we have!