The letter below came to us from Nathan Cherny, an oncologist and palliative care physician working in Jerusalem's Shaare Zedek Medical Center where he looks after Israeli and Palestinian patients. From early in the afternoon yesterday, the news was grim. Glimpses emerged from the fog of war... first news of a difficult battle, then news of "many casualties".
By the time I left the hospital, reports of 22 injured. Only late in the evening was it revealed that 8 young men had been killed.
Today the full extent of the tragedy has emerged. The names and pictures of the boys and young men fill the screens and the papers. A pall of sadness hangs over all of us working in the day oncology hospital. We all share the gut-wrenching awareness that, inevitably, there will be more in the days and weeks ahead.
Hanan, our Palestinian social worker, confided that she felt uncomfortable speaking to one of our East Jerusalem patients in Arabic in front of the Jewish patients whose eyes were riveted on the streaming news coverage from the front. Usually comfortable with everyone, and much beloved by all, she feared that she too would be a focus of hatred in these miserable days of bloody conflict.
I have never been a soldier (thank goodness) and it seems no coincidence that most soldiers everywhere are single young men. Most are filled with macho bravado, ideals of responsibility, surging testosterone and are unshackled by the responsibility towards loving dependants. That is true for most but not all.
Roi Klein was more than 10 years older than most of the young soldiers under his command. He was married to Sara and together they had 2 young sons. They lived in the hilltop settment of Eli half an hour from Jerusalem, along with several of my patients.
Personally, I find it difficult to recondite how a young man with so many personal responsibilities can commit himself to the known risks of being a battalion commander...
Today's paper carried a glimpse of the mentality. The front page carried a quote from the words of a company commander leading his soldiers into the fray:
"It's our turn to protect the border. And we'll carry out any mission we need to, against any force, in the best way possible. If we don't, we have no right to exist.We will not lose this war. We did not start it, but it's our duty to protect the Jewish nation and see to it that the residents of Metula and Haifa can live in peace. If we don't do it, no one will. We waited 2,000 years for our own state, and we won't fold because a group of terrorists think that they can scare us.Someone who cannot protect his freedom does not deserve it. When missiles and rockets land on all the northern cities and reach Haifa, and when two of our soldiers have been kidnapped and ten have been killed and dozens have been wounded - this is no time to talk, it's time to fight. From the moment we cross the border, you must be super alert, super sharp. We are threatened from every side. Each of you is responsible for his comrades."The last 8 words tell the grim tale of Major Roi Klein as told by his comrades.
When, in the course of the ambush, a grenade was thrown in among his young soldiers. Roi leapt onto to it, covering with his all, to protect his young solders from the blast. His last words were in accordance of the Jewish tradition of one who is about to die: "Shema Yisrael.." Here Oh Israel the Lord is G-d, the Lord is one.
I wonder what thoughts flashed through his mind in the those final seconds. Thoughts of the lives he was saving (and he saved many in this act). Thoughts of his parents, his wife and his young boys. Thoughts of the rolling hills surrounding his hilltop home. Thoughts of the country under missile fire that he was trying to stop.
And with that he was gone... leaving his soldiers, leaving his parents, his friends, his wife and his young sons.
For Roi, in the conflict of his awesome and awful responsibilities, I have only tears... Tears for him and for his family. Tears for the senseless hatred that has taken the likes of him.
Sadly,
Nathan
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