My own sweet Yoni: Last Wednesday I got up in the morning
and heard in the news bulletin that the Carcom outpost, in which you fell in
action, had been blown up and turned into a pile of rubble. Twelve soldiers had
been killed at this spot in the course of the fighting in Lebanon. Before the
withdrawal, the panel to perpetuate their memory was transferred to a back room
and I do not know what was its fate. I cried bitter tears.
From the early morning hours, your friends and ours got in
touch and their tongues were bone-dry. They did not know what to say. Should
they console us? Should they be happy with me that the struggle to leave the
Lebanon has borne fruit? They asked me whether I think that your death was in
vain. I had no answer to give.
For the first time since your death, I decided to go up
into the Lebanon. Until that day, I had not the strength to visit the place
where your life came to an end at twenty years of age. I took a look at what
used to be a stronghold. It is a pastoral landscape, suitable for picnics with
all the family. There is no trace of the clatter of communications equipment,
the clicking of deadly weapons, the thud of artillery and the whirling of
helicopters. There is no sign of the observation post with the field glasses
where you were stationed when the shrapnel from a mortar shell cut your life
short. Only peace, tranquility and a great silence reign.
This land has a stomach of iron that grinds up and digests
everything at the speed of lightning. On Sunday, the people of Israel felt
humiliated by our hasty departure and by the sight of vandals operating the
keyboards that the armed forces had left behind.
On Monday the people felt overjoyed to see the jubilant
soldiers and the happy mothers. On Tuesday, everyone began to calculate how
much it cost, how many perished, who is to blame and what will happen next. On
Wednesday, Lebanon disappeared from the main headlines of the newspapers and
gave way to fresher and more sensational items. The State President was about
to resign. People were starting to tally up the votes and compare the chances
of the two candidates for the Presidency, Shimon Peres of One Israel and Moshe
Katzav of the Likud.
The morning news program was already discussing an
exclusive, innovative method for weight control. A new tourist site was opened
in the North, offering personal encounters and dialogue with the Hizbollah.
Even the eternal political division between two camps remains unchanged. Half
of the population is convinced that Barak fled from the scene of a training
accident and is a loser, whereas the other half is convinced that Barak read
all the signs, took a brave decision and is a winner.
Indeed, this country has a stomach of iron that grinds and
digests everything in a flash of lightning. Nowadays, my sweet Yoni, I am no
longer angry at those who sent you out to your death just like that. Lebanon
was a march of folly, the result of laxity, closed minds, arrogance and the
fear of taking responsibility for fateful decisions. Do those responsible for
the catastrophe – generals and politicians from the right and from the left –
feel regret or sorrow today? In the meantime, no one has is beating his breast
to atone for his sins. No one has confessed, “I was wrong.” No one has
requested pardon and forgiveness from us, the bereaved parents. Sure, they are
all men of honor; they are all so righteous.
My sweet Yoni: Father and I have searched for your name in
the comprehensive list of the fallen and it broke our hearts to find it once
more. You are also listed on the monument for the fallen at the Glilot Junction,
at the computerized site in the Knesset, as well as in the books of the Yad
LeBanim society for the perpetuation of the memory of our service men.
You are one name among many. When we all pass away - Father, myself, and our children Michal and Eyal - your
Book of Life will be forgotten, just as the Book of Life of all the deceased is
forgotten. The sole consolation that I allow myself is that your death and the
deaths of the one thousand and two hundred of your comrades may cause the State
of Israel to end the season of adventures and inaugurate a more enlightened
period of sanity and self-restraint.
Farewell, Yoni. Rest in peace in your tomb and may you find
eternal rest at last.