Translated from Hebrew by Marshall Grant
© by Roberta Paula Books
Ram (Rami) Levin, of blessed memory
Son or Yitzhak and Dvora
Fell in the Yom Kippur war at the Chinese Farm on SImhat Torah -22 Tishrei, 5734.
Born in Poland on 12 Tishrei, 5711 - October 5, 1950
|The unveiling of the memorial plaque in the Holocaust Basement in Jerusalem,
in memory of the holy souls of Przedecz, 1961.
Rami is lighting a candle in their memory.
Goodbye, dear lady, goodbye and not till we meet again
I read that you lived for many years
So why is your frame black and not blue or red
Goodbye, dear lady, goodbye and not till we meet again
December 12, 1973
Mother, father and Gabriella, shalom!
I feel great and everything is fine with me. I hope you are the same. I hope you aren't worrying, because there is no reason for concern. In a short time, I hope we can return home and if it takes some time before I do, don't worry, it's for the best. So that's all, nothing else is new here. Moral is fine, and even better than that. My address is Military Mail 3130, and it will reach me, if anyone calls, give them my regards. Gabriella, call the university find out who is taking care of the farm and if everything is OK. Be healthy, and lehitra'ot.
|Israel Defense Forces
Military Mail Unit 3130
To the Levin family,
The soldier, Sergeant Rami Levin fell in action during an offensive in the central sector of Sinai on Thursday, 22 Tishrei, 5734, October 18, 1973.
Your son Rami, of blessed memory, served in an armor unit and went into battle as a tank platoon commander. Your son displayed courage and resourcefulness, and was calm under pressure while in combat against enemy tanks and infantry in the area of the Chinese Farm.
Your late son filled the role of a platoon commander, even though he was only a sergeant, in exemplary fashion, while leading by example and showing excellent leadership.
The image of Rami will be forever be in our memories, his comrades in arms.
In my name, and in the name of all the unit's soldiers, I express my deepest sorrow and we extend our condolences. Soldiers like your son have given us life,
January 17, 1974
I never dreamed I would write to you, and surely not when I know you won't receive the letter; but I believe that you knew what I think about you, since besides the loving glance, they were also occasionally voiced. Concerning the irritating day on the device, when you were the only one who didn't need any urging to go up to the observation and shooting post, and when I was angry at you when you wanted to booty from the abandoned Egyptian tank binoculars that would help you do your job and prevent the enemy from surprising you, only the binoculars, which are now surely in the dunes of the Chinese Farm. You probably don't remember that you were mad at me when you removed Ana (the dep. company commander) from the tank, since it took me a few seconds to know, think and understand where to evacuate him.
You were an excellent soldier, you took the initiative to do things and you did them in the best way possible; and not just in the war. I was so excited when I saw that in the backpack you brought from home was a book about birds in Israel. I hope you were able to look through it during the war and forget about the horrors. We saw a few jackals and foxes later in the field.
I won't tell you about how the war continued, even though this surely would interest you. We don't really believe, but hope with all our heart, that things will be good, there will be peace, and let it be that we can, in the future, travel in the warzone with books about Israel's birds and its plants packed in our backpacks in a real Jeep, and not in an army pack in the turret's basket.
Goodbye Rami, and until we meet again, we promise we will meet and see each other often in our memories, with the entire company.
Words don't do justice for the sorrow and bereavement of mothers who have lost what is dearest to them, and for the sorrow of fathers, who say kaddish for their sons, and no author nor poet is ever able to detail the magnificence of their heroism.
Their memory is etched into my soul until the day I die.
I met Rami, of blessed memory, during his military service. During basic training, in the tank company, in exercises, in the War of Attrition and in reserve service. The grueling exercises were never hard for him, and even when he was exhausted he found the mental strength to smile and make jokes, and to carry everyone around him.
I remember once in the War of Attrition, during one of the nights, his platoon was surprised by an enemy ambush. For a moment, everyone was lost and confused. Rami came to his senses first, opened fire and the enemy attackers retreated. More than anything else, his integrity stood out, along with his willingness to always help and be considerate of others around him. For these reasons, and because of his natural friendly demeanor, he was the center of attention and strengthened and unified the entire company.
His vast experience as a tank commander, along with his previous knowledge, proved themselves during the cruel war, which he was unable to survive.
On October 10, 1973, in a defensive battle along the Suez Canal, Rami, of blessed memory, extracted me from where I lay wounded and helpless in a stricken tank,
I was unable to repay my debt.
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