[Column 229]

He was born in 1913 in Lesser Glusha and was active in the Hachalutz Hatzair. He immigrated to Eretz Israel during the disturbances of 1936-9 and joined the founders of Kibbutz Ramat Ha-Kovesh.

On Tuesday 16^th November 1943 he was mortally wounded by British police who had invaded the kibbutz searching for hidden Jewish arms. He died of his wounds in Shechem Government hospital on 21^st November 1943.

The village, Lesser Glusha, somewhere in Polesia, with its thirty Jewish houses hidden in a copse of pines deep in the endless forests, hills of sand and streams. The Jews work the land and live the life of farmers, to the extent that one cannot tell which are the Jewish homes and which are those of their neighbors. The earth repaid their toil with abundance and grace and they ate from the sweat of their brow. Their homes were wide open to whomever passed by: they ate of their bread and drank of their water and were favored with the full generosity of their hearts. The house of the Wolynetz family flaunted its luxury among all the homes of the village. The head of the family returned from America and extended his holding. Shmuel's uncle, R' Zalman, taught Torah to the children of the village and told them stories from the Bible and the Mishna. The boy, Shmuel, listens and sees in his mind's eye personalities from ages past. Both near and far to his heart. Shmuel loved his village and went out to work in the fields with his brothers and sisters and his hand was skillful with the scythe, the sickle and the plowshare.

The years 1915-1916. World War. The Pinsk exiles. The Pinsk exiles wander the forests with their few belongings and are welcomed with open arms in Jewish homes. They also arrived at Shmuel's village; naked and lacking everything, they came. With them they brought the atmosphere of the culture of Israel: Zionism, Hebrew literature. From then on a new life began in the village and the surroundings. The Hebrew language was heard in every Jewish home, although the Wolynetz house was the center for everyone. There, was the Hebrew school, the Keren Kayemet, the local branch of Tarbut (school). From there, the sound of singing from the mouths of his sisters, echoed throughout the village, breaking its habitual silence. And in the fields – in addition to the peaceful-melancholic songs of Byelorussia, resonated a new sound. A rich Hebrew melody, full of appeal. In that ambience Shmuel the youth was educated and his vibrant heart was charmed.

[Column 230]

The end of the war. 1920. General Balachovich, with his gangs, leads the Polish army in the liberation of Poland, the “Homeland”. He sees the Jewish settlements as the enemy of Poland and turns them into fields of slaughter and desolation. They arrived at Shmuel's village as well. The rioters kidnap the Jews one by one in a central place, leading them like lambs to the slaughter. And Shmuel's eyes saw it all happen. The farmers buried their Jewish neighbors under thin layers of dirt, pillaged and destroyed their houses to extinction. The few remnants return from the forest and gather together the sparse, pitiful broken pieces of their homes, jumbled and spread over the sand. The skulls of dogs unearthed from the common grave. The Scrolls of the Law - brought to a Jewish burial. And the eyes of Shmuel saw it all. Back from captivity. Silence in the fields of Israel. The sound of singing will be heard not in them, neither will they be refreshed. The joy of life has been terminated.

A few years later, on 3^rd May, Shmuel chanced to be in a nearby town for a victory parade. A speaker talks about exile and promises freedom to all minorities, even Jews… and at the end of the parade marches proudly a group of small youngsters speaking Hebrew, among them Shmuel.

Shmuel is at a crossroads not knowing which path to take. They are many and the lights enticing and beckoning. His parents are pressuring him to go to Argentina, to Cuba and from there to his brother in America. Or perhaps to Vilna – to the teachers' Seminary, to complete his studies. Shmuel refuses. And now, suddenly, a new light breaks through: from Tel-Chai to Klosova it sent its beams and conquered by storm the Jewish settlements of Wohlyn. Shmuel had found his way. He was one of three local field workers – and he the living spirit. Many movements fought for the attention of the youth and the war extended to his village. One has to stand in the breach. Shmuel was in touch with the center in Warsaw, with the Council in Luts'k and won. He founded the branch of Hachalutz (The Pioneer). The branch gushed forth with life. Conversations, dancing hora, parades, flags and Hebrew – Hebrew everywhere, in every corner. If you passed through the village you would think you were in a small settlement in Eretz Israel.

And in the meantime the children of Israel are assimilated in Polish schools. One must save them. And the branch approached the Center. A letter from the delegate, Avraham Grabov placed his feet on highways and byways, by horse and cart, and by foot, in all the distant villages, creating there new branches of Hachalutz Hatzair (The Young Pioneer). He arrives at Lesser Glusha. The work here is not much, but how

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to “escape” from the Wolynetz home? Here, he was wrapped in the great warmth, here, he breathes the spirit of the Land of Israel, here the home full of laughter and his joy and laughter is great and causes everyone to roll with laughter. Grabov stays for days in the house. Shmuel is very busy. He helps arrange meetings, create the new branch of Hachalutz Hatzair and in the evenings Shmuel listens to Grabov who sings silently and with dreamy eyes:

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“May you then attain the target, should I not reach my goal.”

And the song so shakes the heart and draws the soul to something hidden, concealed, towards an unknown fate. Did Avraham and Shmuel already sense that they will not reach the end of their task, that tragic circumstances will deprive them of their lives and that even after their death they would be so close…?

[Column 231]

Lema Klorman

The image of Lema is fixed in my memory together with the creation of our branch of Hashomer Hatzair in Kamin Kashirsky. He was one of the ten boys and girls (all of them about 12 years old), who constituted the founding of the Hashomer Hatzair movement in our town. He was a modest lad, quiet and retiring, who drank every word, every idea, as if they were the words of the living G-d.

His father was a stubborn man, righteous and pedantic. Lema inherited these qualities and while still very young tried to sought to translate the ideologies of the movement into practical terms.

I remember once, it was one Sabbath morning in summer, we all gathered in a copse behind the church. We were holding a debate on the topic: “Hashomer Achiezer Achisamach”^[1] (one of the ten commandments of the movement). Suddenly we heard a shouted warning and saw

[Column 232]

pillars of flames and smoke arose from the direction of Zastawie Street where lived the Gentile peasants and farmers. It was then that Lema stood up and said: “Now we will fulfill the commandment 'Am I my brother's keeper' Let us run and help them put out the fire.”

And that's what we did; we equipped ourselves with buckets and formed a long line from the well up to the first house that was going up in flames. In Kamin Kashirsky, a fire was a real danger. There was no fire-brigade and no water hoses and all the roofs of the houses of the gentile peasants were thatched. There was always the fear that a fire would spread to the Jewish street as well and on more than one occasion the town hall had been completely burnt down.

It is easy to imagine the welcome we received when we got home wet, dirty and covered in soot. But Lema got a doubly rigorous telling off from his strict father. He confined him to his room and swore that he would not allow him to come and join the congregation as a defiler of the Sabbath and a polluter of Israel.

But that same evening Lema was free to come to our group meeting. But how on earth he managed to escape from his confinement and how he succeeded in evading his strict father has remained a secret to this day. Lema was not one to talk – he acted.

Lema emigrated to Eretz Israel in 1933. He was faithful to kibbutz values and precepts and sought zealously in himself and others the concepts of cooperation and equality.

During the battle for Negba he demanded more from himself than ever before. After he had finished his hours-long guard duty, he continued to be active carrying ammunition and worrying about the evacuation of children. During the cease-fire he cared for each and every seedling, pruned and watered every bush and plant.

He fell 8^th Elul, 5708 (12^th September 1948) while giving aid to a group of soldiers that had entered a mine-field. He left a wife and two daughters.

1. Achiezer and Achisamach are two biblical names. Achiezer means “my brother is my help” and Achisamach means “my brother is my support.” Return

[Column 233]

The survivors of Kamin Kashirsky asked us, the members of Kibbutz Negba, to say something about the life of Lema Klorman (z”l). Our archivist began to dig deep into the records of the kibbutz – documents and pictures. But we discovered that it was better to leave the papers alone and turn inwards to our memories and our hearts; better to go and visit those same corners that even today, fourteen years after Lema fell in the War of Independence, still whisper his poetic life.

Listen, then, O sons of Kamin Kashirsky and your children, to the story of fifteen years in the life of Lema Klorman in Kibbutz Negba in Eretz Israel and remember his name with love and pride.

Lema Klorman was one of the central figures of the kibbutz. An active participant and a dynamic element from the first moment his feet touched the land until his last day, the moment of his death in action.

His character and status in the kibbutz can be shown by his adaptability and abilities to blend physical labor with social positions. Lema was an ideal example of a working man. He was a specialist in building activities and later worked in agriculture. From time to time he was asked to act as treasurer, in the secretariat or as farm manager or coordinator, rotating between these positions. In his tasks he always displayed total responsibility and dynamism. In fulfilling a task as organizer he could never not “do something” with his own hands. Eventually he created for himself “career” that demanded commitment, persistence and a sense of learning and beauty:

Parting from Lema Klorman at the time of his aliya to the Land

[Column 234]

Lema went out onto the torn-up lawn, opened up the sprinklers and said: “No doubt you'll all laugh at me but I'm going to irrigate the lawn!” At that moment it seemed indeed strange but we immediately began to understand that it was a sort of omen that our community was destined to survive and that the enemy would not conquer. Lema's legacy still exists today, the greenery and flowers of Negba tended and cared for with a faithful hand.

Lema was congenial and knew how to laugh and joke even under difficult circumstances and to be “one of the crowd.” He demanded much from himself and his working day often included “overtime.” Towards evening, before he stripped off his working clothes, he would be asked, “Lema, how are you?” And he would answer with the familiar reply, “Having a great time!” During his little spare time he would indulge himself in his hobby – his own small garden attached to his home. He would tend his flower-beds, seedlings and flowers. The few times he changed his living quarters in Negba and he always started anew, leaving for the next tenant a well-tended corner steeped in greenery and flowers.

He demanded from others the same dedication and loyalty in their approach to work. He was the friend of many, and many were his friends but he never forgave nor remained silent in the face of irresponsibility or evasion of work by others.

During the War of Independence he excelled himself as an example of responsibility and care. He fulfilled the position of farm-coordinator and worried about evacuating the property of the farm. With a sub-machine gun on his shoulder and a steel helmet on his head he would stride from bunker to trench, from a collapsing store-room to a loaded truck, in order to fulfill his task of evacuation and as communications officer. During the cease-fire, at the first general meeting of the kibbutz to reorganize the various working committees of the community, he was at the very center of activities. But we were destined to pay a heavy price for the campaign that won our independence. After the cessation of direct hostilities, yet more victims to the mines that had been sown all around us and among them our beloved Lema.

But Lema's life's work remains here, in the place where he built his home and he lived his life to the full, up to the time they buried him for the sake of the state. Here, he married his wife, Zipporah, and raised his two daughters, Ophra and Margalit. Here, from the deepest roots to the soaring canopies of the copses, are the trees planted and cared for by Lema's own hands; here, the spirit of Lema the builder and hero hovers over all, in our hearts, his image lives and is kept safe and in the passage of time has come to symbolize the spirit of loyalty and dedicated productivity.

[Column 235]

From the dawn of our childhood until his last day we were friends. Lema was in my eyes, the incarnation of everything that is good in a human being. And from him I drew strength in moments of extreme frustration and confusion.

We were young when we emigrated to Eretz Israel and the birth pains of our absorption and our living conditions were difficult indeed: a life of toil, enforced satisfaction with little material comforts, and danger. Lema coped with all these and his strength spilled over on to me. In his company, I felt as if I were in the bosom of my family. It was because of this that I would visit him every Shabbat.

From the days of Nachlat Ganim until the terribly tragic day of his death, in which he fell rushing to help friends, he was an exemplary man.

[Column 236]

To my sorrow I was not present to pay my last respects because these were the days when the state was being born and every man was at his post.

Only on the day of the cease-fire did I get to a smoking and burning Negba, the fighting Negba, deep in sorrow and mourning her dead.

At his fresh graveside, I whispered: “On this wooden board is displayed heroism and charm. The name of one endowed with an abundant degree of qualities and overflowing with all the good characteristics ever given to flesh and blood.”

Today his spirit floats over Negba, which has been built anew. This is the place in which he believed and whose prosperity is his everlasting memorial.

Baruch, or Boziale, as we called him at home, was born in Kamin Kashirsk on 28 Iyar 5683 – May 14, 1923. This was after the First World War, and after my mother and sister were murdered by the bestial people. I did not want my son to withstand the same experience, so I decided to make aliya to the Land.

At the beginning of 1925, another son was born to us, named Moshe. In September 1925, we set out from Constan?a to the Land of Israel – my wife, two children, and I. Our ship anchored in Haifa, and we traveled to Tel Aviv two days later.

After the difficulties of absorption and a period of crisis in the Land, we moved to live in a new dwelling on Balfour Street.

Baruch of blessed memory, who had completed kindergarten, entered the Herzliya

[Column 236]

Gymnasia. He was a good student, diligent, and dedicated to his friends and parents. Almost from the moment he learnt the alphabet, he loved to read books, and would always say, “When I grow up and have my own home, one room will be filled to the brim with books.” He did not like quarrels. Nevertheless, he knew how to stand up for his honor, and at times of need he even knew very well how to use his fists, for under no circumstances could he suffer insults. He had deep love for his many friends.

Baruch of blessed memory continued his studies in the Gymnasium. He spent every coin he received from me to purchase used books. I will never forget the moment that I brought him to the Ahad Ha'am Library next to the Gymnasium. His eyes opened wide, as if they refused to believe the reality of so many books. From that time on, even though many tribulations were before him, he never sat alone. He would sneak into the library time after hours and read books of adventure and travel. When he was thirteen years old, he began to take interest in drama. He was a member of Zevulun, and spent most of his free time on the banks of the Yarkon, sailing in boats with

[Column 237]

friends. At that age, Baruch got to know the prominent Zionist, the leader of the generation, Zeev Jabotinsky. At that time, he was the president of the Yehuda company, where I worked, and I would meet him through my work.

Baruch of blessed memory was influenced by the personality and became a follower of Beitar.

In November 1933, our son Yigal was born.

In the summer of 1939, my wife traveled to visit her parents. She took Moshe and Yigal with her. Baruch of blessed memory remained with me. At that time, he was already active in the underground, the arm that was ready to break the yoke of the rule of the White Paper. However, this was all done with such secrecy that we in the house did not sense anything, until the British Police caught him posting placards of the underground. Poor Baruch was then no longer able even to go to an afternoon movie with his friends. According to the British edict, he had to remain in the house from sunset until dawn. Many good people were sent to the Latrun Prison. He was punished with house arrest on account of his young age.

This is what happened: One afternoon, a policeman appeared in our house, with a veil over his face, and informed us that Baruch of blessed memory had been caught posting placards of the underground, and that they were going to conduct a search in our house. Since we had in one of the closets a bundle of placards that had not yet been posted, we had to get rid of this bundle before the police would come. I saw through the window people I did not know (apparently, secret police), circling the house. The policeman who informed me left. My sister-in-law Puah and I searched through the closet and found the bundle, but we did not know what to do with it. Then the idea of burning the placards in the laundry room on the roof popped into my mind. That is what we did.

Then we returned to the dwelling. After a short time, the police and secret police arrived. They rummaged through the entire house and found one placard, but here six-year-old Yigal redeemed us, by telling the police that he had found the placard on the street. Before they left, they informed me that Baruch is in the C. I. D. [Criminal Investigation Department] and will be sent to prison in the evening by Captain Vilkenski, the head of the English secret police. We succeeded in commuting this into house arrest.

Despite the house arrest, Baruch of blessed memory continued his activities in the underground. At times, the British police would knock on our door at night for an investigation, and Baruch had disappeared and was not there. In such cases, our son Moshe, who was about a year and a half younger than Baruch, but was mature and of similar height, salvaged the situation. He was sleeping innocently in his bed. Out of desperation, we showed them the bed and said: “The lad is sleeping quietly.” They were satisfied and left…

[Column 238]

The war against the Nazi enemy began about a year later. The British declared a voluntary draft of youths, even before the official Jewish institutions made the call to the youth. Baruch was then sixteen years old, but appeared to be at least eighteen. He placed his accounts with the British “into the refrigerator,” added two years to his age, and volunteered for the British Air Force without us knowing, even though he had been trained by Zevulun and was trained for the navy. The lad disappeared from the house.

We went about dizzily for three days, searching for him until the first letter from Sarafand reached us. That was where the draftees were gathered. Baruch wrote to us:

“There was no choice. I believe that within a short time, the majority of the youths of our people in the Land of Israel will follow in my path. We are the only ones that can fight with a high head against the Nazi beast, the Amalekite viper who plots to annihilate us. I ask you, my dear parents, to not inform the government of my true age. I enlisted as an eighteen-year-old.”

His letter convinced us. We knew that we could not oppose his will to fight against the enemy. After two weeks of training in Sarafand, Baruch came home for a two-day vacation, wearing the uniform of the British Air Force. Then, he set out with his unit to Egypt, where he took a special course in parachuting.

When the war broke out, the economic situation in the Land worsened. I too was affected. Baruch, our beloved and dedicated son, asked permission to send us five Lira a month from his meager salary throughout the entire time of his army service. His entire salary then was seven Lira a month.

Baruch of blessed memory fought against the Nazi enemy for six years. For most of the time, he was the only Jew in his unit. On only one single occasion, he came on a furlough in a sudden fashion. I will never forget that moment. I was sitting in my workplace in the committee for caring for families of soldiers. Then suddenly someone hugged me. I turned my head, and my eyes saw my Baruch, innocent and happy. I fainted for the first time in my life. I was allowed a vacation, and I talked with him a great deal that week. Most of his words were about the war against Naziism, about their final downfall in which he believed with full faith, about his return to the homeland, and his plan to obtain land with a group of freed soldiers. “Nebo” (we will defeat the enemy and return)^[1]. This was the happiest moment in my life. Instead of a child full of caprices, a son with a firm opinion stood before me, whose life path was clear to him. He was a lad full of pride and national consciousness. His furlough ended, and he returned to the front. Indeed, he fought against the Nazi enemy on the fronts of the western desert, in Greece, in Crete, in Tunisia, and in Italy. On more than one occasion, enemy aircraft were downed by the fire of his cannon. In Italy, he also began to become involved in “illegal” activity, that is the organizing of the aliya [haapalah] of the Holocaust survivors.

[Column 239]

He found out about the victory while he was in Italy. He received the honor of a Papal audience together with a select group of allied soldiers. At that time, he also did not forget the homeland, and he worked at extending assistance and support for the Holocaust survivors, and in bringing them to the land in both legal and “illegal” fashion.

He returned home healthy and whole, decorated with eight medals for his wartime achievements. Our joy was great when we saw him, for he was full of energy and joy of life.

In military service, the areas of battle are listed by order of their development: infantry, navy, and air force. However, Baruch reversed the order. After studying for the navy in Zevulun, and despite the fact that he had not seen in a dream that there will yet be a navy in independent Israel, he knew that “the upcoming Jewish state” would require navy in order to bring him the maapilim [illegal immigrants]. However, when the fateful moment arrived, he chose the British Air Force.

When he returned home, he went out to Nahalal with a “Nebo” group to prepare himself with settling on land. However, was unable to dedicate himself to this desire of his soul for an extended period, for he was called to lead the fighters in the Palmach. When Baruch was called to battle, he answered immediately. One day, a different Baruch returned home, directed, quiet, occupied for entire days in fulfilling his many roles in defense. He defended the suburbs of Tel Aviv. Between, battles, he spent entire days in special unites that defended the caravans coming from Jerusalem.

I recall the night of the announcement of the Lake Success decision. We did not sleep. There were wine and sweets on the table. From time to time, people entered and drank Lechayim. People were dancing and rejoicing on the street. Baruch came back from the street, poured a cup of wine for himself, drank it, and said: “The State will arise. But it is not sufficient. Now is the time for the sacrifice of thousands of youths of Israel, strong and mighty, to bring this decision to actuality.”

How correct were these words of his!

From that night, he did not have even an hour of rest. The war against the Arabs began.

Colonel Marcus, of blessed memory came from the United States to Sharona [name of a Moshava], which we had received from the English, to organize the army into its divisions. He met Baruch and chose him to organize the military police. However, Baruch did not like that task. The lad had studied warfare and could not come to terms with being a captain of the military police. He deserted the camp for the first time in his life, and hid for two days. He made contact with

[Column 240]

the head of the Haganah, Yisrael Galili. Through the intermediation of the commander of the Haganah in Tel Aviv, Shachnai of blessed memory, he was transferred to the shock brigades that were preparing to fight against the Iraqi enemy who invaded the Land and based themselves next to Arabic Hulda. The shock brigade based themselves in Arabic Hulda and attempted to break through the route to Jerusalem. On Wednesday, 20 Adar II, 5708, corresponding to March 31, 1948, the battle broke out between the Iraqis and the Jewish defence force. More than thirty Iraqis fell in that battle. However, seventeen members of the Jewish defense also fell. Signs of torture by knives were found on their bodies. Their heads were chopped off and pierced by sword tips in the old city of Jerusalem. Baruch was injured in that attack at 10:00 a.m. and was brought out at 6:00 p.m. by the Jewish reinforcements who arrived. Twelve victims of the enemy were lying around him. He was transferred to Rishon LeZion, where Dr. Stein operated on him. After, he was transferred to the Hayarkon Hospital in Tel Aviv.

When I returned home from work on Thursday evening, my wife informed me that she had received word that Baruch had been wounded and was in the Hayarkon Hospital.

When I stood next to your bed, my son, in the hospital, I saw in your eyes how much you were suffering despite your light conversation about your brother Moshe who was in the United Stats at that time, and about Yigal whom you wanted to be next to you. I felt my great tragedy, and I felt that I had been given a few hours to be next to you. You asked for a piece of paper, and you wrote a letter to your brother Moshe:

“Dear Moshe! You have certainly heard that all the men and woman up to the age of 35 were called for obligatory service, I among them. I participated in the defense of Jerusalem and I fought along the road for it. Slowly, the Land has entered into a state of actual war. You will not find any youth in Tel Aviv. All of them, without exception, have been drafted. It is my opinion that you, as a young lad, must return and fulfil your obligation, for there is a shortage of manpower.”

After details about the situation of the family, you added:

“Do not believe in the newspapers of America. The situation is not as terrible as you imagine it. The Arabs have not succeeded in conquering a single point. In every fbattlefield, we win. I have participated in many battles, and I must tell you that the Arabs are not worth a cent as soldiers. I am certain that we will be victorious in the end. We have no choice: either we win or we die. Everyone in the Yishuv knows this, and the time has come for you too to know. If I am not for myself – who will be for me. I have fulfilled my duty.”

[Column 241]

I realized from the final words that Baruch understood his situation.

I did, my dear, everything that I was able. I ran to Professor Marcus and asked him to examine you, even though he was very busy in Hadassah. He could not refuse our relative, Dr. Chechik. Professor Marcus traveled with me to the Hayarkon Hospital. He examined you, came out to me and said: “Mr. Shapira, you must be strong. Everything in his abdomen is crushed. However, he has a strong heart that can function, in my opinion, for another day.”

My world darkened for me. I entered your room, you received me with your usual smile, and tried to appear happy and joyous. I know how much effort this was for you. However, you realized from my face that the secret had been revealed to me – and you, my excellent son, my dear son, began to comfort me:

“Father, you must restrain yourself. I did what I was supposed to.”

I sat next to you for the entire Friday and until 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, when your pure, holy soul departed.

You did not return to till the soil of the homeland. You only merited to rest in it, in the military cemetery of Nachalat Yitzchak, after fulfilling your duty to defend it. I did not merit my son, to set up a room of books for you. However, the Israel Defense Force made sure that your name will be perpetuated forever.

[Column 242]

A library was opened in your name at the chief military rabbinate, in the Matka'l [General Staff Reconnaissance Unit]. Your picture hangs in that room, and upon your face is your special smile that attracts all who visit with its unique charm. Every year on your yahrzeit, soldiers of the Israel Defense Force visit your grave. They memorialize you, and, together with your family members, travel to the memorial ceremony in the library, in the room full of books, as you desired. However, it is not you who reads and peruses them, but rather the captains and soldiers of the Israel Defense Force. Among those books, the book by the Minster of Defense and Prime Minister “Behilachem Am” [When the Nation Fights] stands out. It contains a special dedication to your member. As long as the Israel Defense Force exists, this library in your memory will exist.

The first Torah Scroll of the Israel Defense Force was dedicated in your memory. That Torah scroll goes out to all the battles, from the day that you returned your pure soul to G-d.

You have asked that I visit you often. This is now the twelfth year that I do so. However, you, the living, vibrant, stormy Baruch, are not with me. I will never see your laughing and serious face again. You have been uprooted from us – and an empty space remains behind.

Honor to your memory and peace to your ashes, my dear son.

Your father, Eliezer Shapira

1. The word is an acronym for the Hebrew phrase. Return

[Column 243]

Moshe Zeltzer

He studied in the Hatechiya School, and later, he enlisted in the army. He fought against the Germans and their helpers, and received recognitions of excellence for his actions in battle.

In the army, between one battle and the next, and in every free moment, he never stopped thinking about his family. When he found out that his brother was alive in Russia, he began to search for him, and knew no rest until he found him. During his search,

[Column 244]

he also met people from Kamin Kashirskiy, and assisted them greatly.

At the end of the battles, he began to journey eastward, toward the Land of Israel.

He endured many difficulties along the tortuous journey. However, his decision to get there was firm, no matter what might be. During his wanderings, he got married, may his wife live, and the two of them continued their journey together. He did not think for a moment to change the direction of his movement, even though it was known that the gates to the Land were closed by the English.

When he reached his objective in 1946, he was transferred to Cyprus. He quickly stood out there as well and was chosen to the committee that represented the exiles before the English. At the end of a year of exile in Cyprus, and almost immediately after his arrival, before he even had time to get to know the Land an get set up there, he enlisted in the Israel Defense Force and participated in the War of Independence.

His first-born son, may he live, was born in the midst of the days of battle. He finally returned to his family, but as was his way, he did not only concern himself with them, but also with all his friends and acquaintances.

When the Sinai Campaign broke out^[1], he enlisted once again and participated in the battles. When he returned, he advanced in is civilian status, and filled many roles in his new city of Hadera.

He suddenly became ill with a malignant blood disease. He fought it for two years, but could not overcome it. He died and was buried on 25 Kislev (first day of Chanukah) 5621 [1961].

May his memory be a blessing.

1. October 29 – November 5, 1956 Return

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