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ARAFAT'S CASKET

Serving with the Volunteers for Israel - October 2001

Everyone but June, my new love, told me not to go. Comments ranged from
stupidity to craziness on my part. A pregnant teacher, Shosana Greenbaum from
New Jersey was blown to pieces, alongside seven other adults and seven
children just two months ago in a suicide bombing at a Sbarro pizzeria in central
Jerusalem. About 130 were also injured. Shootings and suicide bombers were
the order of the day. The United States seemed to apply a double standard:
Palestinian terrorists were somehow different (better?) than Bin Laden & Co. The
rest of the world behaved even worse - no surprise there, unfortunately.

This was the backdrop to our departure on October 14th. My answer to my loved
ones and friends was the same: This is the time Israel needs us the most, to
show our people they're not alone in their fight. Volunteers for Israel (Sar-El in
Hebrew), a program supported by the IDF was the best way, in my mind, to
achieve that. I signed up in August for a two week "tour of duty" in October.

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October 14th - Departure from JFK airport, NY

Waiting in line at the El Al security check station reveals that the only American
Jews, flying to Israel today beside our group, belong to a rather large contingent
of Hasidic families.

The next stop, after the El Al check-in is the beefed-up airport security stations.
We notice a group of armed National Guard troops, in loosely worn uniforms. The
nail cleaner piece of my new nail clipper is broken-off by an overzealous security
guard. Little wonder, as there are about twenty security personnel in the
background, watching them and us as we file by. If I didn't know better, I'd feel
like a criminal.

October 15th - Ben Gurion airport, Lod, Israel

It's 7:30 A.M. when I enter the arrival hall area. With Israel in a real, day-to-day
war against terrorism, I expect to see army and police troops galore. There is
none. Relatives and friends waiting there talk relaxed and smile a lot.

I go around the whole building to find somebody from Sar-El, preferably in
uniform. Lena shows up around 8:30. She'll be our madricha. That means group
leader/caretaker. I learn later that she came to Israel only ten years ago from St.
Petersburg, Russia, with her family. The Israeli version of the M-16 goes on her
shoulder as our group boards the new tourist bus.

We are off to our designated army base somewhere in the north. The very first
song coming through the stereo console is "It's closing time." A favorite of June
from Leonard Cohen, a Canadian poet/songwriter/singer. I'm spooked by the
coincidence.

An elderly fellow claims the seat next to me. We start talking. Mostly him, though,
as we drive on a new three-lane highway, in the midst of heavy traffic, with new
construction sites and tall cranes passing by all the time. This is in a country at
war, spending upwards of 50% of GDP on defense.

His name is Werner Sherry and he's also from Jersey - specifically from Monroe
Township. Turns out he was an active participant in the making of the history of
the last 70 years most of us only know about from books and newspapers:
Settled in 1932, what was then the British Palestinian Mandate. Signed up with
the Jewish Brigade of the British Army in 1939. Served in it till the end of WW II.
Fought in the War of Independence in 1948-49. Was in the detachment that
refused to fire on fellow Jews (Menachem Begin and others from the Irgun) on
the Altadena in Tel Aviv harbor. (Troops commanded by Rabin were sent in to
finish the job.) His next war was the Sinai campaign of 1956 and the last one the
Six Day War in 1967. What a fitting end to a military and nation building service!

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He has a great memory, active mind, and stamina. I am grateful and privileged to
be here, hearing history first-hand from him.

October 15th - Becoming a volunteer soldier

We are shown to our quarters and get our uniforms. Accommodations are
spartan and somewhat crowded, at least for us men during the first night. Bunk
beds, especially top ones, never held any attraction for me, since my days in the
Hungarian army. Now I get one of them, as the youngest in the group. Art, a
former Marine, is the other lucky one next to me up there.

I feel a special pride to be in the Zahal (IDF) uniform. In Hungary we knew we
were a live shield for the Soviet troops, who were stationed behind us. Somehow,
that didn't inspire us to be the proud and fearless soldiers the communist
propaganda was passing us off for . . .

October 16th - Our first full day of work

Wake up is at 6:15 A.M., so we can make it to the reveille (flag raising) at 7 A.
M. The sergeant-major, who is responsible (in every army, it seems) of carrying
out the daily tasks surveys the contingent of soldiers - 18 to 20-year-old boys and
girls, who are the real troops here. We get taken by bus - an old Dodge from the
Wild Middle-east - to our workplaces. Our boss is a tall, lively 20-year-old
corporal, called Salamah. He proudly tells us in semi-fluent English that he's a
Druze (Christian Arab). I see no difference between him and the other kids in
khakis. There are some beautiful black soldier girls of Ethiopian descent too. It
just feels natural to hear them speak Hebrew.

Breakfast is from 8:30 till 9 A.M. Lots of hard-boiled eggs. Lots of fresh veggie
salad, made with diced green pepper and tomato. Plenty of yogurt, soft cheese
and sour cream. Dairy products are excellent in Israel. Not so fresh, but good
bread. Pre-sweetened tea with lemon. Lena tells us the latest news about
terrorist activities and Israel's response. We ask about the anthrax situation in
Florida, New York and Washington DC.

Back on the job we are given heavy parts to clean, grease and pack. Three of us,
Ron Biscow from California, Art Freyman from North Carolina, who is here with
his wife, Patty, and me from New Jersey are found to be in good enough shape
to work outside, in the pallet repair shop. That's where we'll be going after lunch.

Even more eggs (now scrambled), fresh veggie salad, meatloaf and pasta, soft
cheese, sour cream, and apples for lunch. A balanced, high protein diet, indeed!
They really want you to keep those muscles in good working condition around
here.

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This is Ron's sixth round with Sar-El, but his first job assignment in a pallet repair
detail. He takes it with his usual fun-loving disposition but remarks later that this
is, most likely, his last tour of duty . . . .

We're at our new workplace from 1 till 4 P.M. There are only a few clouds in the
light blue Mediterranean sky, so it gets pretty hot fast under the sun. We take
breaks when we need to and shoot the breeze, so to speak, with our new "boss",
Gal. Like most everyone in the young generation, he speaks English.

Dinner is from 5:30 till 6 P.M. Guess what? It's hard-boiled eggs, pasta, veggie
salad, yogurt, etc. again. I like most of this stuff, so I don't mind.

October 17th - Rehavam Ze'evi is assassinated

What an ominous day! We're told at the breakfast briefing about the killing of the
Minister of Tourism, Rehavam Ze'evi. It was carried out in the Jerusalem Hilton,
just a few hours ago, by the Palestinians. The air suddenly feels much thicker. By
now we've gotten used to hearing a few rounds of artillery fire from the north and
seeing an occasional fighter plane or army helicopter fly by during the day. Now
we hear them all day long.

I read his obituary later in the Jerusalem Post. His picture was in every house of
two newly built Bedouin villages for which he secured government funds. He did
that to reward the loyalty of the Arab trackers who fought under his command in
previous wars. Somehow, hard facts like this and his humanity are conveniently
forgotten by the media at large. Could it be that they would contradict the
carefully constructed image of him as an ultra-nationalist right-winger, who
"deserved" to be killed by "righteous" terrorists?

Later on the same day

Lena gives us the passes when we return from work in the afternoon. We get
ready in a hurry to take our first leave. She and Tamara, her replacement in
training, accompany us. The center of town - a city, really, with lots of high rise
office and apartment buildings and a large (even by American standards) mall is
only a twenty-minute walk away. The weather is perfect. Cars, buses, and trucks
hog the roads. Sidewalks are very busy. Parking space is at a premium. It's like
Midtown New York, trafficwise!

Having been checked through the entrance, we enter the crowded mall. Where
do all these people come from? Israel only has about 6 million inhabitants. My
fears of it being overpowered by its enemies or events are starting to fade.
The vitality and will to overcome the tragedy that took place just this morning is

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palpable in the air. I'm grateful to be able to add my "bit" to my people's deter-
mination to fight, win, and prosper under such trying conditions. So is everyone
else in our group. That's why we're really here.

October 18th - The Museum of Clandestine Immigration

Thursdays are designated for full day historical and sightseeing trips. We get to
spend Friday and Saturday any way and at any place we want. The return to the
base is set for Sunday morning.

Our first stop is the Museum of Clandestine Immigration in Haifa. The Navy
Museum is also at the same site. We see a movie in the bowel of one of the old,
decrepit ships that was fully restored and made to house this exhibit. What a
heart-rending story of suffering and homecoming in such a setting! Most of us
know about this period only from the Hollywood rendition of the travails of the
Exodus. The reality was so much worse . . . .

We take a stroll afterwards on the Bat Galim promenade hugging the bay and
end up at the cable car that goes to Stella Maris on the crest of Mt. Carmel. No
time to make the trip though, unfortunately. We head back on the road to Tel
Aviv, where I get off at the Central Bus station to catch a bus to Jerusalem.
Passing through the security at the entrance I find myself in the middle of a
Middle-eastern bazaar, with a cacophony of loud music coming from floors and
floors of small stores and food places. A mass of people swirl by in constant
motion. Now this is what I call the real thing!

October 18th - Evening in Jerusalem

I'm to meet Anna, June's daughter inside the huge new central bus station by the
Information kiosk. She is in Israel for religious studies and is considering making
aliyah. I expect to see her dressed in the usual American garb. She expects me
to wear the same. We almost miss each other, except for the fact that nobody
else is around. She is in traditional Jewish dress with a scarf and the rest. I look
like somebody straight out of Central Europe, according to her.

We take a taxi to a very nice, clean and inexpensive ($35) Army hostel on King
David Street. Overnight stay was arranged for me there by Lena, back on the
base. It is only half a block away from the King David Hotel. We go there to look
around and out to its terrace to take in the view of Old Jerusalem. It's dark
already. The walls of the eternal city sparkle as they're illuminated. We share a
few magical moments.

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October 19-20th - Old and new

The Jerusalem Hilton is down the street too. It was just reopened this morning,
two days after the assassination of Rehavam Ze'evi there. I stroll through the
empty lobby to find the business center, so I can check my email and send some
too. Then I trek through Independence Garden, up on Jaffa Road, and through
the Old City to the Kotel. My daughter asked me to go there to leave a message
for all of us. I fold it up tight and press it into a crevice that seems to be already
overutilized for this purpose.

Back in Tel Aviv just before sunset, I'm looking for a place by the beach on
Hayarkon Street and Herbert Samuel Boulevard. Hotels are almost completely
empty. First class rooms, facing the beach and the sea, go for $55. That's about
a third of what they used to be. I recall reading in the Jerusalem Post that more
than fifty percent of hotels, be they small, large, or chain owned, were going out
of business or closed already. The article cited the lack of tourists and business
travelers from the US as the main reason.

Strolling on the busy promenade in the warm, breezy evening I get to meet a
retired school principal, who likes to talk, talk, and talk. His English is very good
though and he shows real appreciation for the fact that I and my group are here
now, helping as volunteers in the Army.

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I go back to the Yamit Park Plaza hotel around midnight. Middle-eastern songs of
unrestrained monotony fill the air till 2 A.M. as I try to sleep. This is supposed to
be the holy Sabbath?

It is a perfect Saturday morning for a swim in the clear, green-blue, warm sea.
The water is at least 75oF! Colorful parasols dot the wave-lapped golden sands,
which are filling up fast with people from the city and the outlying areas. You can
stay on this gorgeous beach all day long for 15 shekels ($3.50), with a lounge
chair, umbrella and freestanding showers thrown in for good measure.

October 23th - Our "signature photo" shoot

A long, rectangular ammunition box was dropped off yesterday at our worktables
for repairs. My mind started to churn. I turned to Art, Ron, and our "boss" Gal and
asked, "What if we made this into a 'casket for Arafat?' He sure deserves one
pronto, and we're here to be of service, aren't we?" I thought also, that it would
give us some badly needed motivation, as the excitement of the first days of
banging away on broken pallets was pretty much gone by now….

So, here we are in the picture, from left to right: Art, me, and Ron. Might it be
possible, that in a rather roundabout way, this little prank of ours has helped to
bring about the demise of Arafat as a "negotiating partner?" Do I wish it were
true!

October 25th - The Museum of Diaspora, Tel Aviv

Thursdays being "trip-days", we're back in Tel Aviv and Jaffa. Our first stop is
Beth Hatefutsoth, the Nahum Goldmann Museum of the Jewish Diaspora. It is
located on the ultra-modern campus of Tel Aviv University. The permanent
exhibition is divided into six thematic sections: Family, Community, Faith,
Culture, Among the Nations, and The Return to Zion, as envisioned by the poet,
Abba Kovner. to tell "A story thousands of years old - forever new."

Each section is full of murals, reconstructed walls and ceilings, dioramas, audio-
visual displays, models, documentary films and interactive multimedia
presentations. They come to life as Ron and I listen to the knowledgeable tour
guide, whose group we join, instead of staying with our own.

Millions of floating small lights hit my eyes in a dark space at the center of the
building. It is the Memorial Column, suspended from high above, commemorating
Jewish martyrdom throughout history. My immediate family perished in the
Holocaust, except my mother, who survived Auschwitz and father, who was in
forced labor camps. I pray for all of them as we leave.

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November 30th - Reflections

It's taken me till now, since my arrival back to the US, to come to terms with and
reconstruct these events. We're now in the same war against terrorism as Israel
is. What can I say? Israel needs our help now more than ever. It is just as safe -
or unsafe - to be there than here under the circumstances. Visit or stay there as a
tourist, volunteer, student, scholar, business or religious person now! You'll see -
both you and Israel will be richer for it.

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