As much as I love writing this blog, guest posts from my sons are still my favorites. Here, Yeshiva Bochur (aka Exiled Warrior) shares some feelings about another aspect of being an IDF soldier.
EPIC
FAIL
Today, while walking through the stone passageways of the Old City in my uniform, I was reminded of something. Something that a soldier sitting on the lonely border, counting the hours before he goes home again, can easily forget: my job as an IDF soldier.
Of course, I know that part of my job is to guard the borders of Israel from possible attacks. I know that part of my job is that in case of war I must set aside my individual safety for the continuation of the State of Israel. These things we are reminded of everyday.
What I was reminded of today, however, was the other part of my job. Possibly the part I draw the most pride from.
On my short walk through the Old City, two kids asked me to be in a photo with me, at least five people asked me directions, and a few old Yerushalmi women threw me blessings for safety.
Even though I've only been in the army a year and have seen very little of what would be called "action," to those kids I was Yoni Netanyahu rescuing hostages at Entebbe; I was Ro’i Klein leaping on a grenade to protect his fellow soldiers. To them I was a hero, and they were honored to be standing beside me.
It doesn't matter that I've only been in this country two years -- to those "direction seekers" I was a reliable source of information, because of course, I'm a soldier, so of course, I know.
Our job is to defend these people. Whether that means giving our lives in the field of battle or giving a woman a hand with her bags, our job is to help our fellow Israeli.
We are part of the very fabric of this Land. We are your sons and daughters. We are your brothers and sisters. We are your grandkids.
We represent this country and every human being who sacrificed his life for it.
It doesn’t matter what I was before, what I will be after, or what I am when the uniform comes off. When I don this garb, I represent sixty-four years of rebuilding the State of Israel, sixty-four years of bravery, sixty-four years of brotherhood.
It is this part of my job, we soldiers tend to forget. And it this part of my job the Old City reminded me of today.
Sleep well Am Yisrael. Your family has got your back.
8 comments:
So awesome! Thanks for reminding us of why we are all here!
What a stirring post! Take me to the land of beautiful people!
Given these stirring comments, it makes me wonder why you almost never, ever hear of an Israeli soldier who reups. I wonder why that is?
To the two Rivkas: Thank you for your lovely and supportive comments!
dasd: I believe that the reason is that here in Israel, a trained soldier is never "out,"or at least not until he's Yeshiva Bochur's father's age -- so he doesn't need to re-up. Our "real" army is our miluimnikim, our reserve soldiers. I am fascinated that when there is a call-up in wartime, it is reported that 150% of the soldiers report.
wonderful post
I know of many soldiers who extend their service and are then "professional soldiers."
Ruti Beautiful post...left me with a lump in my throat.
Our chayalim and chayalot are very special people doing a very special and difficult job.
May The Hand of Hashem protect our heroes and guide them in serving our nation.
Miriam
My son just walked out the door after a week and a half at home [Kol haKavod to his kzinah for letting him stay through the weekend (after the shiva)!]. I suspect that my son feels very much the same way.....
What a beautiful post! And especially meaningful for me, because - as I've written on my blog - our oldest son just started his army service last week. May Hashem watch over and protect each and every one of our dear chayalim!
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