[Page 127-130]

This year, on the 1^st of May, was 20 years since the military ship, “Erinfura” sank into the waters of the Mediterranean, midway in World War II. This ship was the flag ship of 80 ships and carried on her deck, among other companies, the Jewish transport company 462. There were 334 soldiers and officers, but 19 of them that had accompanied their machines, sailed on another ship in the same convoy. During the twilight of the evening on May 1^st, the ship was attacked by enemy bombardiers. It was hit and descended into the depths within four minutes, not having a chance to lower the rescue boats. The majority members of the company were pulled out of the water during the night by British rescue ships and were saved, struggling between the bitterness of death and the heroic, mutual help. However, 140 soldiers perished, of which the British headquarters later announced that they “were missing as a result of a sea action and are considered not to be alive”. And then the names of the company's missing soldiers were listed in memory of those company members and the tragedy.

Before the “Arinfora” picked its' anchor out of the water to sail from the Alexandria port to its last voyage when aiming to reach the island of Malta, the boys from the 462 company had sent their last letters to their families in Eretz Israel. From the contents of their short letters that were written in a hurry, it was evident that they were facing with great anxiety the future secret battle during the dark days of the war. In a small letter to his mother who was worried about him, a soldier-boy of the company wrote: “The future foresees great danger but, if Michael is with us, I have no fear in my heart”. This was the boy's confidence on the immediate future which they faced. Within three days, both boys sank into the depths of the Mediterranean Sea, with 138 members of the company. Their traces became unknown.

His upright, wide shouldered boy of Michael Shternheim, was silenced. His seriousness, spiritual courage and his life experience were attributes which instilled confidence, daring and readiness to all that were near him.

He came to the company, not like a first-time recruit, holding a rifle for the first time, but came equipped with a diversified and rich experience – like a pioneer, a guard and a fighter in foreign lands as well as in the fields of Eretz Israel. During his early childhood, he was thrown into the hardships of life and struggle and wrestled with them. His character and spirit were hardened like steel in fire.

Michael was born in 1905 in Lancut, Galicia, to wealthy and intellectual parents who were the elite of the community. He was a descendent of the Spanish exiles – doctors who served the royal palace in Spain. His father was a descendent of a family of wealthy merchants and Rabbis who were the patrons of the town for generations. They had established community institutions and were very charitable people. His grandfather had renovated the magnificent Synagogue – the pride of everyone.

Michael lost his father in 1914. He died of typhus in a military hospital at the beginning of World War I. His mother was left a widow with five small children, of which Michael was the oldest and was nine years old. The mother toiled to raise her children in the best of the tradition and provided them with education from the best teachers that were invited to provide knowledge to the children in their home.

In 1918, when the war ended, Michael witnessed the rebellion of the Polish young men who disarmed the conquered German soldiers, after which they joined the big movement that engulfed Poland and returned independence and political freedom to the Polish nation after centuries of depression and enslavement. However, unfortunately, the national awakening was accompanied by pogroms against the Jewish population in town. Jewish young men, who had just returned from the battle fields, had organized and created a local Jewish defence. The boy, Michael, who was only 13 years old, stuck around the defenders and helped as much as his aged allowed him and as much as he could. Suddenly, he encountered a stone throwing skirmish between the Jewish boys and the “Shutzim” (gentile boys). He joined forces with the defenders that were defending the defiled honour. At the same time, news had reached the town about pogroms and massacres which Petlura soldiers committed in the Ukraine. Rage, helplessness and the urge to do something about it, shocked the soul of the boy.

As a result of the enraging events of those days, staying home weighed heavily upon him. Michael wanted a change. To do something that he himself did not know what. His path was not paved for him yet. The education he obtained at home was basic Jewish and observant, but not Zionists. Zion was only in his prayers, dim memories and foggy yearnings. Now, during the stormy new times and in the quest for a way of life, he realized that no one marked for him a way out from distress and astonishment. Yet, the routine, the continuity of existence did not respond to what the time had demanded and to the yearning of his soul.

After exertion and prolonged, painful quest of the soul, the boy turned to three activities. He began learning Hebrew. He became an apprentice at a gentile metal worker and in the evenings; he began courting the boys from the self-defence to learn from them how to use arms and tactical fighting. It seemed that no clear, crystalized Zionist conception guided his deeds but a healthy instinct of self-preservation and an intuition about a distant future. Perhaps he had not intended to get integrated in the solving of the general problem of his people. But it was a spontaneous reaction of a tall statue, proud and alert boy who paved for himself his own way of life, individually, without help and without guidance.

Becoming a professional metal worker aroused a strong opposition in his family. In their eyes, it seemed as a deviation from a proper way that brought shame on the entire family. Therefore, he did not see any other way as a 15-year-old boy, but to move away from his home, his city, in order to be able to continue on his path without interference and save his family the shame which he brought upon them. He went to the nearby city of Rzeszow and continued to stubbornly work in his profession, lonely and hard-working way. Inwardly, he was supposedly dreaming about emigration to Eretz Israel, and for the money which he earned, he used to acquire tools for metal work to take with him we he would emigrate.

Having a thirst to learn and be prepared, and perhaps it was the lust to wander and being restless. He went from city-to-city, passing from one job to another. He left the workshop and began working wherever he could find something to do. He even wound up in a coal mine. Of course, he was one Jew among many other people who kept wondering about the strangeness of a Jew lowering himself into a coal mine. They mocked him and at the same time, deeply respected him in their hearts because he was different from all the others whom they hated.

When, in the city that he happened to be in at the time, a branch of the “Hechalutz” movement was founded, he immediately joined it's ranks. There, he suddenly discovered a great anvil for his spirit and thirst to action and deeds. Without any delay, he went to the Sokolow pioneer training place. At that time, he was already a hard working and independent person, not like the other who had just left their parents' nest, and began to adapt themselves to a life of labour, hardship and difficulties. He, good-heartedly, smiled at the blistered hands of the “Greenhorns” and their hard life in the training place. But still, he offered them his shoulder to help and gave them encouragement. His hand had specialized in every kind of work and became the pillar in the kibbutz, whether it was in social problems as well as in work problems. He was involved in every hardship and work where expertise and talent were needed. They turned to Michael.

With the great waves of emigration during the beginning of the 4^th “Aliyah”, he reached the shores of Eretz Israel. He immediately began working after disembarking. He did not have to go through the painful adaptation process like his colleague immigrants that came with him. He worked the same as he was used to since his childhood at his parents' home and it did not cause him any hardships. He worked in construction, carried bricks, buckets of mortar and was proud seeing how the white buildings sprang forth like mushrooms after rain, built in the sands of Tel-Aviv and the concrete roads that were winding through the narrow streets.

As it was customary among the pioneers in those days, he wandered all over the country, in length and width to get to know and to love it. The time he was unemployed, which often happened, he used for rowing around. He even crossed the borders of Eretez Israel and spent some time in Transjordan, Syria and Egypt. He loved wandering, like having a bit of Gypsy nerve in his body, but he still believed that knowing the land and its neighbours could not hurt.

His love for the land was simple and sensual. He was a prisoner of the urge to wander in open spaces; to see something new and dangerous. His effort, his hardship and dangerous life, did not deter him. On the contrary, it was like a fertilizer to his bones which instilled a drunken joy into him. It seemed as if the danger had added more flavour to his life and granted contents to his being. It was compensation for all the lovely and pleasant details a man has at his home and how his home was the field, and his native land, an open space.

His main power, energy and ability during all those years in Eretz Israel until the day he fell and was immersed in problems of guarding and safety. In 1926, he joined the police force where he served for years being the only Jew in the police station in Beit Shean, at the edge of Emek Yizreel. Perhaps many are not able to appreciate, nowadays, the attribute of pioneering and sacrifice that was involved in that profession of those earlier days. With his work, he strove as much as possible, openly and discreetly, to help the isolated Jewish colonies that had already existed in Emek Yzreel and the Jordan Valley, and to discover the thievery, robbery and murder that were committed by the villagers in Gilboa, and by the Bedouins of the Emek Shean Valley. From his letters of that time, we derived the appreciation and admiration he had for the farms of the united kibbutzim Ein Charod and Gesher, about their life style which they adopted and the mission they took upon themselves. He was especially charmed with the great devotion which they showed to their creative deeds and their addiction to defence problems which, at that time, were intertwined with the chapter of the United Kibbutzim activity. Indeed, when the time came, he became a member in that kibbutz.

From the police force, he joined the border patrol which consisted of only Arabs subordinated to English and Circassian officers. Jews in that unit were such a small number that a little boy could count them. Despite the oppression and bullying and the feeling as a stranger in that unit to which he held on for two years, first in the Mursas camp and later in Gisar-Al-Magami. During the period of riots in 1929, he spent being confined to the Arab unit. He went through many critical times in the border patrol. The Arab soldiers mocked him but he withstood everything with honour, even though he was entangled in trials and arrests, he held on with his nail to this unit. Colonel Kish, in his letters, had urged him not to resign.

The necessity to help his sister to adapt to the new land after her arrival in Eretz Israel, had forced him out from the border patrol after the riots. He was forced to return to regular employment. He later joined the “Hasadeh” group affiliated with the “Kibbutz Hameuchad” in Rishon-Letzion. There, he encountered the complicated problem of the pioneer's tasks to conquest jobs in the citrus grove colonies where most were Arab workers who were the source of cheap labour. He wandered with the hoe on his shoulder from one citrus grove to another, and he also tried to work in the small farm owned by his group and in many other services without being picky at what kind of work he did. As it was customary at that period, he had to overcome the exhausting work with a hoe which was done under the watchful and mocking eyes of the foreman, specifically watching Jewish workers because of the continuous competition with cheap labour. This was a time which complimentary for the Jewish farm workers. But lo and behold! Small wonders! Michael had awakened in that colony and fell in love with the land and farming. A love which never left him. Despite all kinds of entanglements, it did not prevent him from putting down roots in village life and farming. He had never abandoned this dream until his last day when he went down into the depth of the sea.

I don't know why? But in 1932, he left his working group and went back to the security business. For a short time, he guarded the isolated colony of “Beer Tuvyah” at the edge of the “Negev” and later moved to guard “Kfar Malal” and vicinity. Riding his beloved and gentle horse, he rambled around day and night in the open spaces of the fields, in citrus groves and vegetable gardens in order to guard and secure the toil of the workers to prevent plunder and damage. He stayed in that area for four years, gaining confidence and respect among the Arab population, and love and confidence among the Jewish population. During all that period, he did not remove himself from personally working the land. He always owned a small plot even though it demanded great exertion. In his free hours, between his shifts, he worked on the land. Sometimes, after several night wanderings, he would bend down with his hoe, digging in the garden bed, and that is where he found satisfaction for his soul and a relief to his inclinations. This was also the place where he found his love, the village teacher.

For a certain time, Michael was involved in the national guards' association and extended a helping hand in establishing a generation of Jewish guards. He helped find a solution to the complex of guarding problems against the Arab villages whose concept of the sanctity of toil, property and life of others, was entirely different to ours.

During the peak of the 1936-39 riots, he enlisted in the regiment of the railroad guards and served as Sergeant along the railroad lines between Haifa, Zichron Yaacov, Cocoon, Tul-Kerem and Kilkilyah, in trenches that were built to guard the line from being interrupted.

When the riots ended and the regiment was disbanded, he went to the city which was not to his liking. But, having family obligations to the ones he loved and with the hope of returning to the village, he started work in the construction industry but he was not absorbed by the city. It looked as though he lost his ground from under his feet. He worked, suffered, had many unemployed days, but it did not bother him. He felt like a bird in a cage. He carried the burden but everything was strange to him and he was a stranger to it all.

World War II found him struggling between the walls of the city. He was among the first to enlist in the war enlistment in the Jewish agency, ready for any war service. However, he was not anxious to enlist into the British Army because they had hunted the “Haganah”, confiscating their arms and arresting its members – the people of Ben Shemen and Mishmar Hashlosha. They mocked the Jews who enlisted into their military and assigned them into special service units only, with secret names without recognition of their language and flag of their longing. He was eager to participate in the war and at the same time, was burning with rage for his helplessness, for the humiliating dependence of strangers.

The war was getting hard and serious. The enemy was approaching the gates of Eretz Israel from the south. The first information about the ghastly deeds committed by the Nazi to our people in occupied European countries had reached the land. Like many other people in the country, the news of the murder of his family had reached him too, about his sick mother that was abandoned by the people of his town, escaping the enemy. She expired from starvation. Such information depressed his spirit and at the same time, awakened a renewal of activity even before the Jewish Agency called the people of military age to enlist and appealed to those who were not required to enlist, to join the army. Michael talked about the danger for the land and for the Jews everywhere and about the necessity to fight the Nazi. He repeatedly pointed out to take up arms and preferably more arms would be in Jewish hands. He then was dressed in British uniform and in that uniform, he died.

This was the way of life of a modes man who did not seek greatness, who fulfilled his obligations with simplicity and self-understanding for which he had not aspired to receive an award or to be crowned. Hence, this was the way of life of a man who realized, during his lifetime, everything that he though of and was proper to his personal realization. He never demanded from others more than he demanded of himself. We shared friendliness from time-to-time, and I can testify that he did not see himself as victimized by an idea or a goal, or to a certain campaign. Whatever he did, he did with joy and sometimes, even in a depressed mood, but always acted with simplicity as though it was for his own personal benefit, without talking about general obligations to a movement or to the land. He recognized that obligation was a bone of his bones and flesh of his flesh and not something from the outside. It was something that he had voluntarily adopted.

He was not an abstainer from life's pleasure. He loved to live. He was very friendly, good-hearted and generous. He loved people and was happy when they were happy. Physically, he was in good health, equilibrate, knew how to exploit the best and the useful from life and merge everything with obligation. In spite of having malaria that never left him alone and for which he suffered many years as it kept coming back, he still remained in good health, upright, active and craving life. He loved to row, swim, fence, horse ride, read a good book and a cosy home filled with happiness.

Actually, he was a taciturn person. Not too many words came out of his mouth but every word was valuable. A stranger could never detect any boasting. Sometimes, I saw him being lonely, keeping to himself, distancing himself from people as though there was only one great love. And to that love, he was attached, holding on to it like a rescue rope. Nonetheless, he possessed a powerful attraction with whomever he came into contact with. He had friends in every place, wherever he passed, work, guarded or plain roamed around. Not only between the Jews but also between the British and the Arabs whom he served with. He had friendly contacts in the police, border patrol and guards. He knew Arabic and their customs and was known in many villages where he was always welcomed with respect and admiration, whether during the riots or during peaceful times. He knew to take advantage of the above contacts, mainly during tribulations, for the sake of security for the colonies which he was in charge of.

And now, dedicating a page in his memory instead to praise his way of life and glorify his death, it is better to say, in a simple way without exaggeration and overdoing, that he lived his life as a pioneer and fell like a soldier in combat.

[Pages 130-131]

In the battle for Sharona against the enemy and foe, he fell together with his comrade, Aryeh Keselman, of blessed memory. They were the vanguards of the Tel-Aviv armoured battalion.

“During the stormy battles in Israel, when the time had come to establish an emblem for the battalion”, the commander of the battalion, Tzvi Tzur, who is at present Chief of staff, wrote to his parents: “Our battalion, which is now battalion n°54 which at first was the Tel-Aviv armour unit in which Shraga and Aryeh served, of blessed memory. Your sons and colleagues have served”. Shraga and Aryeh were the first in the battalion that fell in action which began in Sharona against the British rulers. It reached later to the prairie of the Negev and bigger and regular armies of the Arab countries. When we were about to establish the emblem of the battalion, we decided to erect a memorial to the image and spirit of our first holy victims, our comrades, and we inserted into the emblem on top, the word “Har” in memory of Shraga and at the bottom, “Aryeh” in memory of Aryeh, of blessed memory. The soldiers of this battalion were wearing the emblem with pride, to perpetuate the dear colleague that are no more with them”.

Between the villages of “Kochav” and “Cheletz” at the 74^th kilometre before Beer Sheva, there is a 10ft tall monument which attract the eyes of the passer-by. “As you descend to the Negev, remember us”. That is what is engraved on the foundation of the monument and on two bronze plaques on either side of the foundation the names of the casualties are engraved of the famous 54^th “Givati” battalion – the brigade that wrote brilliant pages in the history of the war for Israel's independence beginning with Sharona, against the British rulers and ending in the action called “Yoav” where the Egyptian enemy was beaten in the south with a final blow. The way for the Israeli army was opened all the way to Beer Sheva and Eilat.

Shraga Har and Aryeh Keselman were the first casualties in this brigade which originated from the first Tel-Aviv armoured battalion.

Who was Shraga Har? How was this image seen in the eyes that knew him? One of his colleagues wrote:

“He was one from the ranks. Modest, hidden inwardly, whose name popped up suddenly one morning adorned in a black frame on the front page of a newspaper. He was clever and courageous. He knew where he was going. He went into a Lions' den with a clear conscious that there was no way back … He was a man with an obligation. A man with great belief and from the moment he reported into the ranks of fighters, he gave himself entirely to action.

A man with obligation and a man with belief. He acquired this obligation when he joined the “Hagana” at the age of 14. As a pupil of the “Max Fein” trade school, he soon became a specialist in his profession. A metal worker, a welder and a specialist of pumps but also a specialist in various weapons and the ability of fast repair damage or stoppage when it happened. His knowledge of weapons attracted his officers who moved him from one position to another. Oftentimes he disappeared from regular activity in his unit and upon return, he did not say anything. According to rumours and what people had heard that had participated with him in the action and liked to brag about it, it was understood that he was somewhere in a dugout where he welded a new cache of weapons or a mysterious vehicle was outfitted to carry arms.

He outstood not only with the above-mentioned attributes but he was simply a good soldier and in an extraordinary way, was able to withstand hardships. During the training with his unit, he jumped on the hillocks like a child and merrily mocked the boys who limped because of blisters on their feet, telling them: “if you had toured the country like I did, you would not have developed blisters and be limping”.

Indeed, when he was young, Shraga belonged to a scout group, both active and instructing others during tours and excursions in the country. When he became a pump specialist after graduating from “Max Fein” trade school, he used to travel on behalf of the factory where he worked, installing pumps in every part of the country. During his travels he befriended Arabs, got to know their customs and jokes. He was interested in many things and later reported important intelligence information which he had collected during his work.

And how was Shraga's behaviour in school? And here is what the teacher had talked about him. He was an outstanding student at work and study. He was a fine example of a devoted and diligent student. He showed a special and deep interest in fundamental practical technique. During his work, he demonstrated special understanding to do precise work, done with love and tastefulness. His devotion to the school especially stood out in the period when the building was not finished. His colleagues and he, carried sand and tiles to the second floor at a time when the school could not afford to hire qualified workers. Shraga suggested that his father should do the tiling in order that completion of the building should not be stalled.

His mother has said that Shraga's sense of responsibility and devotion began to develop when he was 4 years old. At this age, his father emigrated from Lancut to Eretz Israel alone and left him, his mother and a six-month old little brother in Lancut. It took two years until the family were reunited. At that time, his sense of care-taking and obligation was as though he was a mature person. The little Shraga helped at home, watched his little brother, did all the hard work just to make it easier for his mother.

He graduated with flying colours and had a strong desire to continue studying in technicum, but he understood the critical situation in the family, so he went to work with the hope that when the situation would improve, he would continue with his studies. “Mother” he said. “The father is weak and you work so hard. I have to help you to carry the burden of making a living”. And that is what he did. He worked daytime in the “Sinaiver” factory and studied in the evening. He went to work early in the morning and sat late at night in front of his books. “Just be patient, I will catch up”, he consoled his parents.

In the meantime, the war and riots had begun and he was drawn more and more into the “Hagana” actions, like a disciplined soldier, whose fulfilment of his obligation was a matter of fact. He went from one course to another, distributed “Hagana” flyers in Arab coffee houses in Jaffa, trained recruits, and at the same time, being a mechanic, welded arm caches until he joined and finished a saboteur course and was nominated the leader of a saboteur group in the second company of the armoured unit. The members of his group admired him for his role as a fearless leader. He had a talent to find solutions during critical situations and able to make quick decisions.

When the bitter day of the attack on the British soldiers had arrived in Sharona, it was on the day when his parents were getting ready to celebrate their 25^th wedding anniversary. He was getting ready to leave the house as though nothing was about to happen. “On such a day, you are leaving the house?” His mother asked him. “I have to. It is my obligation”. He responded during tear-filled kisses and goodbyes. The mother expressed hope that she would merit to see him back unharmed, to which he responded with a whisper and an unsure voice: “I hope so too” … But to his colleagues he said, before he left for action: “Comrades! I am not coming back from this action!” There was no sign of tension on the expression of his face, he was mentally ready for a disaster that was bound to happen.

In the Sharona action, Shraga was selected for a break through. With extraordinary bravery and as head of the saboteur group, he assaulted the protective camouflage fences on top of the tanks which were supposed to be destroyed, and this action led to his death.

Shraga was not created for war but for quiet and productive work. Will all his devotion to the “Hagana” and his clinging on to his duty, characteristically his response was once, when asked by his mother if he was looking for a military career as an officer after the war would be over. With a surprised look in his eyes and a wave off his arms, he forcefully negated the idea. “I am not a warrior, mother. I belong to the “Hagana” because it is my duty, but I will never choose the army as a profession”. With the perception of the sons of the land and the young generation which grew up in that period, he was cognizant of the necessity to “work with one hand and hold a sword in the other”. He strove for life of labour and peace. The realization of his youthful dreams, namely, complete studying of engineering in technicum.

However, the destiny of the establishment of the State of Israel wanted it differently. Shraga, the new type of a young generation that grew up in Israel, was buried and the monument on the road to the Negev, remembers his name engraved on the emblem of the brigade that he served. Shraga, in his faultless way of life, who did whatever was trusted upon him to do with devotion and efficiency, who was loyal to his fatherland with an inner love for the nation, the land and the ideology of work and creation. As such, he remained in the heart to all who knew him. He took upon himself personal obligations, knowing the danger it involved, with good spirit and without asking for a reward.

And indeed, because of Shraga and others like him, our generation merited an independent state, a free nation that gathers and absorbs the Diaspora.

[Page 132]

He was born in Lancut on May 22, 1919. He grew up in Germany in a religious family and attended a “Talmud Torah” and later in a middle school.

In 1934, he emigrated to Eretz Israel and loved the land wholeheartedly. In 1936, he enlisted in the super-numerary police and guarded Chanita. In 1940, he enlisted in the regular army, explaining to his mother the enlistment with the following words: “It is the duty of every Jew to fight the Nazi, the enemy of our nation”. He was happy when the establishment of a Jewish division was announced. “Finally, we have a chance to fight under our own flag”, he said.

He had an honest and good soul and a hearty smile. He never offended anyone. He was beloved by everyone who knew him. He had a gentle humour, was a good sportsman and a fearless soldier.

In the meantime, he was active in the “Hagana” and acquiring, hiding and taking care of weapons. He also belonged to an exclusive secret saboteur group. He graduated from a group leader course and an armoured unit. He was accepted in the permanent staff of the “Hagana” and became an officer of a youth battalion. After he graduated from a course of intelligence officers, he served as such in the Haifa district. In 1947, he passed the entrance exams and was accepted in the Haifa Technicum at the same time, he was an instructor in an officer course. Once again, he was forced to interrupt his studies in order to join the fighters. He knew to keep a secret not only where security was concerned but also on ascending to higher military ranks.

At the start of the war of independence, he was one of the first students to be mobilized and assigned as an officer of an armoury battalion in Haifa. He served fully understanding and the ability to assume the hard role of defending Haifa and securing the roads leading to the city. He carried out special saboteur missions in western Galicia. Because of the threatening danger from the British, he took part in the planning of the conquest of Haifa when the time would come. He was in command of the preparations for the conquest of the eastern part of the city while executing the mission he fell in a factory in Haifa on April 22^nd, two hours before the conquest of the city. The following day, he was brought to rest in the cemetery in Haifa. On October 30th, the military camp near Haifa was named after Captain David Keshtecher. By order of the general military headquarters, his rank was upgraded to captain.

From the “Yizkor” book (the 5^th of the month Tisrei, 5716, p.729).

[Page 133]

He participated in lectures and discussions on subjects connected with the Borochow theory and founded a branch of the “Jewish National Fund” and a branch of the “Hechalutz” organization in his city.

Tzvi was not only a nice preacher but he also carried out what he preached to others. He began his carrier by joining the kibbutz “Tel Josef”. He later moved to Tel-Aviv and opened a shoe repair shop. Even in Tel-Aviv, he was not just immersed in his work but he also became active in two other areas. He became a professional organizer and was active in the “Hagana”. He was a devoted son of his new fatherland and a good citizen to the state that was on its way to being created.

As a representative of the craftsmen association, he was elected to the “Committee of the United Industry”. For this public activity, he devoted the best of his free time. He organized a compensation fund, housing, a credit bank and was a member on the board of “Craftsmen Bank”. He was successful in organizing the professional shoe repair association in which he became a member of its committee.

With the same enthusiasm and devotion mentioned above, Tzvi joined the ranks of the “Hagana”. Thanks to his propagating talent, many of his colleagues joined the ranks. One of his latest actions was the establishment of a cooperative house in the Craftsmen Association named after the famous community leader in the Warsaw ghetto, Cherniakow, who committed suicide in protest of the murderous Nazi decrees in Warsaw.

During the riots of 1936-39, he volunteered to guard the borders between Tel-Aviv and Yafo. At the outbreak of the war for Israeli independence, he was fully mobilized and sent to the Jerusalem front.

He took part in the battle for Abu Tur, Katamon and Mount Zion. He fell on October 18, 1948 in Abu Tur from a sharpshooter's bullet. He was buried in the “Nachlat Yitzhak” cemetery on October 21, 1948 at the age of 40. He left a wife and two children. May his memory be blessed.

According to the “Yizkor” book (5716, p.161).

[Pages 134-140]

On the 7^th month Tamuz, 5677, (1917), a son was born to me and I named him Yeshayahu Yitzhak after my great-grandfather, Reb Yitzhak, the Shochet in Lancut.

Even though, in this matter, a father is disqualified to be a witness on behalf of his son, I must declare that anybody who saw the child was astonished about his charm.

The boy grew and his cleverness grew with him. He showed independence and knew the proper response to those who wanted to tease him, as habitually Jews liked to do in little shtetls.

When the Rabbi, while strolling in front of his house, saw him bareheaded with his bright curls flowing down his forehead and shoulders, the Rabbi asked: “Itche! What happened? Without a head cover”? The child responded: “Nish zorg Itche” (do not worry about Itche). He was not three years old at the time.

The salesman in the cooperative that we founded after the war, could never lie to him and offered him salt to lick instead of sugar, which he liked to do. From the expression of the sales person's fae, he knew that he was lying. At age three, he enrolled in “Cheder” as it was the custom and at the age of six, he went to the elementary school. He grasped everything and was beloved by everyone. I always wondered: how could gentiles love a typical Jewish boy like him? If we encountered in the morning on our way to the synagogue, the principal of the school or the priest, they would caress him and smile lovingly at him. “Itchke, what is happening?” Here, in this country, his cleverness stood by him in school. He successfully completed the school year and when he brought home the passing report car, we stood in amazement: “How did you pass the exams when you were not so good in geography?” Itche replied: “When I am called to the board, I immediately point to Danzig and speak only about that city where I feel like at home”.

At home he was a pedant, clean and quiet. Immaculate in his clothing, fancied brown suits, velvet suits or woollen which was very becoming on him. He kept excelling in his studies. In the afternoons he took the religious books under his arms and went to “Cheder” where he stayed until dusk in the summer and a few hours into the night during winter. Before going to bed he folded his clothes and put it on a chair, stuck the socks into his shoes and placed them near the bed. No trouble, no rush, everything was in its proper place. Proper, like his world that was in his heart.

A child's life flows straight. If it is true what people say that the “name” is a factor, then he inherited all the attributes from Reb Yitzhak Shochet, after whom he was named.

Reb Nachum from Shtefinhesht, son of Rabbi Israel from Rizin, used to take the Shochet from Lancut with him when he travelled to the resort places in Czechoslovakia. That is why the world was inserted in his heart and his world outlook was like a person who saw the world. Town people would talk about this old man's cleverness and honesty many years after his departure and, therefore, many people named their sons after him. Before he died, he called over his son and requested from him the following:

“Please remember, do not make me a false passport”. “What do you mean”, the son asked his father.” I want that the following should be written on my gravestone: Here rests Yeshayahu Yitzhak, the son of Mordechai and the date of my passage, and nothing else. A person arrives into the other world, to the world of truth and he suffers from many troubles because of a false passport, they hang on him after his death”.

Like grandfather, like grandson, he was honest and without conceit. An indecent word never came out from his mouth. No cursing and no outbursts and best of all, he was not greedy. He had no desire for money. He did not touch it. There was a cashbox in our house, shared with my in-law and the other Shochet. The box was open without it ever being counted at a time when it was said that children in the Diaspora were born with their palms up. This boy never thought about touching the cashbox. Once, he found a hundred marks in the street. He came home and said: “Here it is. I found it!” And that is how he was seen by the principal in school, a gentile who hated Jews. About 20% of the children in school were Jewish and when they established a saving tradition for the students, the students would bring their pennies, each week, to put into a Postal savings bank, Yitzhak was made to be the trustee over the deposits and withdrawals.

As the season integrated and spring with the start of summer had come without anyone paying any attention to it, suddenly, in our vision, appeared on the first day of Passover, that the boy had grown up and became a “young man”. The coat that was presented to him at his Bar Mitzvah was short and his suit was also short and tight. Reb Janci, our neighbour asked: “Who is this young man that went with you in the morning to the services?” He stood in the Kloiz near the table and from behind the worshipers, pointed their fingers and wondered who this young man was.

In the meantime, he finished elementary school, enrolled in a bookkeeping course and successfully graduated. In the evenings, he attended the “Yavneh” Hebrew school and learned Hebrew. All day long he kept busy with our shoe business. Everything was his responsibility. He did the bookkeeping, checked the inventory reserve and paid attention when the seasons changed to have the type of shoes needed. He travelled to Tarnow and Jaslo, picked the new styles he liked and replenished the needed sizes. He paid for the merchandise and brought them home. Nothing was missing. He was like a mature person in the entire business. Agents who came from Warsaw, Radom and Krakow were stunned by his expertise in the business. No one believed that this “routinely mature person” was only 14 years old.

At home he would see Zionists from every political persuasion? He would hear Zionist talk from my mouth, the mouth of his sister and her friends from the “Akiva” organization. Sometimes he would drag after me to the “Hashachar” club to take part in a lecture about “crossroads” which I delivered into the ears of the young Zionists until he decided, at the end of the summer, to travel to Poronin, in the Carpathian Mountains, to the “Hashomer Hadati” summer camp. Upon his return, he talked only about the group that he had met there and about the devotion of Rabbi Avigdor. From his colleagues he found out that they used him equally as they used everyone else, for every duty. He chopped wood, stood guard and slept on the floor like everyone else.

Coming home, he did not relax. If someone stated that only the general Zionists had pioneers, he reacted saying that we too shared and had a stake in Eretz Israel. He felt that it was time to establish a branch of the “Hashomer Hadati” in Lancut. He went out and gathered a few young boys and took them to the other room of the “Mizrachi”. He took part in lectures of the “Tzirey Mizrachi” and passed on the teaching of the Mizrachi chairman to the “Shomrim”. One member brought another one and so the branch grew in size. Like little chickens clinging to their mother, so did the youngsters follow him in the branch. They gazed into his eyes and followed his orders.

In order that the youngsters should see how the vision on how “Torah Vaavodah” was being materialized, he decided that it would pay to bring to the city a “Hashomer Hadati” preparatory kibbutz. He heard in the summer camp that there was a split in the nearby Rzeszow kibbutz. He went and moved part of the kibbutz to Lancut. He rented two rooms and settled the kibbutz there. His happiness was indescribable. Something happened in his city. Fine young men and women came, good idealists, everyone ready to do all kinds of work at home and in the fields. The problem was that there weren't any factories in Lancut, nor were there Jewish farmers in the area. If there were such, it would not have been a problem to take care of them. But it was the task for this Jewish young man to find work and livelihood for the kibbutz members.

They came on Thursday and until Sunday, everything was fine. For them, it was a long Sabbath. His father's home was well supplied. They normally cooked and prepared for the Sabbath, baking cakes and making “Tchulent”. So, what was bad? Mother would bake an extra cake and she would add more spell to the “Tchulent” as well as a nice portion of meat and the kibbutz members would eat until satiated.

When the kibbutz arrived, they had all the resources and willingness to work. But we had to find work for them, establish a budget and credit in a grocery store until time would “improve”. There was the need to straighten things out between the landlord who rented the apartment and the members who sang and danced at night. But there was a reward for his action. He arranged a nice opening on Sabbath eve and invited the elite of the city and its Zionist. “See the difference between the sons of Laban. During the week, they work exactly like the “Hashomer Hatzayir” kibbutz but come the Sabbath, it is something else”. The reality itself brought satisfaction and joy. Chana and Elijah were a pair since creation. They cut firewood in one of the yards. Yosel worked in the small paint factory of Polner. “Please, father, go and see how Raphael Altman, the son of Velvel Altman, head of the Jewish community in Glogow, chopped the ice off the sidewalks”. “See how much this Raphael enjoys the simplicity and the warmth”.

Who could have predicted that one destiny and one burial grave would be dug for both? Since he was observing the precepts of “Torah Vaavodah', he did not read research or philosophical books. He was not attracted to them. The days were short for them. What is the use for a person to search? He loved the Bible, loved songs, most of all humorous writings especially the writings of Kipnis in the “Haint” newspaper. It was the alcohol for his bones.

One wintery afternoon, we were both in the store when suddenly: “Dad! I am bored with all the figures. Hence, I will anyway wind up in Eretz Israel and work physically. I would prefer to become a mechanic. The wife of Lazarowich, who is our customer and with her intervention, maybe her husband will accept me in his workshop to learn the trade? But Lazarowich and his friends hate Jews. You should ask Trothenger, the cabinet maker who does work for the Kloiz and he seems to be a better person. Maybe you can persuade him to accept me as an apprentice. He is a first-class furniture maker and I might learn the trade in his workshop. Please, talk to him today?”

I listened to the boy and thought to myself: “What future can the boy expect in his father's store? Not only this, but business of late is not so good anyway and I don't see a blessing in my toil”. A few days later, Yitzhak went into cabinet making and began boasting about his work. In the marketplace, he was seen loading lumber of to a truck and delivering furniture to customers to which the residents of the city were not accustomed to seeing. For them, it was revolutionary entirely. Storekeepers were standing in doors of their stores and gaping. The grandson of the Shochet became a cabinet maker. But the boy? He was busy. He did not have time to explain. The job demands devotion and after a day's work, he took professional evening courses which an apprentice was required to do if they intended receiving, after completing apprenticeship, a master's diploma. He did not neglect his activity in the “Hashomer Hadati” branch either. Sounds of Eretz Israel songs were heard from the Kloiz at dusk during the Sabbath third meals and the pioneers' shirts and ties had added colour to the parties, Zionist meetings and welcoming guests from Zion.

The founders of the kibbutz “Hashomer Hadati” Sitting from right: Eliyahu Langsam, Chana and Raphael Altman Standing from right: Joseph Friedman and Yitzhak Katz Kislev 5695 (1935)

A conversation developed between Rabbi, Yitzhak and his mother on the subject of shortcomings on emigration to Eretz Israel. The guest had wondered. What? Reb Anshel wants to emigrate? On Passover he would be the guest at my table. The young people that were in the house knew that Rabbi Fishman was the leader of the movement and had the power to act. They moved the furniture to one side and began dancing the Hora. The chairman is emigrating! The chairman is emigrating! (Meaning Reb Anshel Katz).

The visit of Rabi Maimon in Lancut. Reb Anshel Katz sits to the left of the guest

Realization was a far cry from the promise. On Passover 1935, we still ate matzo and bitter herbs at our table in Lancut. The plans which Rabbi Fishman promised fell apart in Eretz Israel and in the Diaspora. Yitzhak, in the meantime, passed the age that would prevent him from traveling with his father as a minor and we were still in the same place. I liquidated my business, paid my debts and taxes. The summer was gone and my hopes had faded.

On a rainy day at the end of the month Shvat 1936, whilst the snow thawed, I received a letter from the World Centre of the Mizrachi in Jerusalem that there was a chance for me to receive an emigration certificate as a Zionist veteran and I would have to leave the Diaspora in a week. By April 1^st, I had to be on my way with the permit that I would receive. Everything had to be arranged in a hurry and discreetly before the date of departure. Hitler had poisoned Poland and the rulers of the land and their servants, who were anyway hostile to Jews, brought the poison in their offices and when a Jew needed them, they blackened his face like the bottom of a pot, especially if he tried to avoid the law, he was in danger of being imprisoned for many years, and here I had the problem on how would I get Yitzhak out of the lion's den?

Mr Ebner, the registrar of birth certificates in Lancut, had a plan. He secretly arranged that two sextons who would be witnesses and testify before the district ruler, that they remembered that a son was born to me at the end of 1918 which I named Yitzhak. The two witnesses were happy when they left the office realizing that they had done a great mitzvah by ransoming a captive, Yitzhak on the basis of their testimony. Yitzhak was issued a birth certificate that he was 17 years old.

The city secretary did not catch up to ask what had happened with the Yitzhak who had registered for the army purposes last year? If he had asked, we were ready to tell him that the Yizhak who had registered last year, had left the country a long time ago and now lived in Tel-Chai. That he went there illegally. That is the how in which our “papers” were arranged at the emigration office in the district and in the Capital offices. Yitzhak had an “old-new” name, Yitzhak, until I received the permit to put his name on my certificate.

Because of the secrecy, no one in town suspected that Yizhak was leaving with me. Even his colleagues who helped us packing, did not know even though his things were in the luggage that was packed. The night, at the railroad station, when we were leaving, the young people danced the Hora and Yitzhak danced with them. When a few of Yitzhak's friends boarded the train to escort us to the nearest stations and saw that Yitzhak was not leaving, they still did not suspect anything. They thought that he was traveling with me to Raymno to say goodbye to my relatives there. When we were left alone, we then realized we were on our way to the land of Israel.

In the evening of the 14^th of the month of Nisan 1936, we disembarked in the port of Haifa and at noon on Passover Eve, we arrived in Jerusalem. We did not have a chance to enjoy the beauty of Jerusalem because of a riot outbreak. From the streets, shots were heard and the entire city was at a standstill. The clerk at the Jewish Agency regretted that he could not find a job for Yitzhak. “In the tumult that the city was in during the riots, who would order furniture? Who would build homes at a time like this?” When Yitzhak found a job at the Dead Sea to make wooden boxes, the job lasted a week. In Jerusalem, on St. Paul Street, a bomb was thrown just where Yitzhak was working in a cabinet workshop for which the owner agreed to pay him “ten groschen a day even though there was not too much work”. During the curfew, he did not come home. He remained at his working place because of the street disturbances and because of the bomb. With the sweat of his body, he earned his bread. Who can forget the bloody summer in the unruly Jerusalem? There wasn't a minute without an attack and not a day without a victim.

Of course, one does not write home about those things. We avoided mentioning the riots which would have worried the family at home in the Diaspora. We described our impressions of Jerusalem, the eye-catching views and the joy of the Sabbath nights which gladdened mother's heart. Yitzhak went to a course in Kiryat Anavim and from there, he too wrote letters filled with humour and inner joy. That is how the summer passed in a besieged city and in distress.

The summer had passed with the horrible riots, however, during that summer, I found out the love in Yitzhak's heart for me. I had not seen nor read in books about such a burning love from a son to his father. A good-for-nothing father, but he accepted everything with love, quietly starving and everything the idle father did was good for the son.

Such love cannot be expressed in words. His glowing eyes, his sparkling eyes were warming and consoling. From all the promises made to us, something was bound to come out and times would improve, as they were before. Someday, we will have our own address in Jerusalem.

With his mouth, he was a Jerusalemite but his heart was with his unforgettable “colleagues”. In Jerusalem, chances were to be a labourer all your life, heaving your mind only about bread and work. Was a person created only for this? His soul yearned for “company”. To see the young newcomers that just arrived and hear about the chances of realization of his dreams in the nearest future. Was there a shortage of realizers in Israel? Yes, at present the roads were unsafe because of the riots – so what? The Arabs were not the owners of the land. On the intermediate Sukkoth holiday, Yitzhak travelled to Tel-Aviv and came back with a smiling face. He had heard good news which made his heart sing. He had heard about the establishment of a kibbutz or a group in Sharon or in the Negev.

The day he returned from Tel-Aviv was a day of good tidings. In the afternoon, his sister arrived from the Diaspora and in the evening, he was accepted to work permanently in cabinet making workshop. Days of worrying about bread and wandering to restaurants were over.

The silver candelabra that our new immigrant brought with her had spread a thread of kindness in our room and angels of peace were hovering in our room on Sabbath eves. After getting permanent work, Yitzhak's home became crowded for him. He mentioned, in not too many words: “And I thought when father would have a job, I would join a group. But how can I leave Jerusalem before the entire family is here?”

Rosh Hashana Eve, 1938. My family arrived in Jerusalem and after the holidays, Yitzhak immediately told his mother about his decision, even though she was pretending that she was reproaching him by saying: “We just came and we have not had a chance to have a decent conversation. Was your staying in Jerusalem only temporary?” But he insisted. At night he was a guard and at daytime he was working, but his mind was with the commune.

Sometimes, in a stormy night, he would leave home during a horrible storm in the “Schunat Kerem” where we lived. The sheet metal roofs were making a terrible noise. Sheets were torn off from roofs and carried away by the wind, and when the mother asked him: “When are you coming back?” “I don't know. May I will not come back tonight”. There are guards all over town. South of Talpiyot near Ramat Rachel, that is where Yitzhak's guard post was. In horrible weather such as this, who knew what could happen to him? He left home again during the intermediate days of the Passover holiday. He came back in order to join the Abraham commune group. Soon the holiday would end.

During the first few days it was hard without him and when the longing for him increased, we went to visit the group. Yitzhak met us between Karkur and Kfar Pines. He wore a faded and crumpled straw hat, patched up shirt and pants and his face was tanned like a gypsy. He stood there and looked at us. He waited. What will his city dwelling parents say? Seeing that their son had changed his character and had become a peasant.

The heart was pinched. Is this the pedant, the always immaculate dresser? It was deducted by us that he had left the comfortable way, all for the sake of the commune group. I personally had no idea about this form of life. From my first visit on Shabbath Hanukkah 1940, and article was preserved in my files about the Abraham Commune, as follows:

“Friday noon-time. I wander around in Kfar Pines. The cooperative store is already closed. It is quiet and serene everywhere in the village. Tranquillity has spread out over the two rows of the white houses. That is how the spiritual courage stood by our brothers, to escape from the Diaspora darkness a dozen years ago, to build for themselves a peasant life, enjoying the fruit of their toil”.

The Shabbath was approaching. It climbed and ascended between the commune barracks which rests on a low hillock. The members who are working outside the commune are returning home. They are returning from different directions: from Givat Adah and Pardes Chana. They are like bees that are returning to their beehives. Some members descend the slope between the barracks to the showers. Half-naked, with clean underwear under their arms. Here and there, members are finishing their work in the vegetable garden. One is correcting the grooves; another is weeding the carrots and maybe is also picking up a nice head of cabbage for the Shabbath.

Entering the spacious dining room which serves also as a prayer house, there are already a few early birds who already welcome the Shabbath. In a corner, a member is humming a Ziditchow melody: “Come my friend into the field and we will stay overnight in the vineyards … plentiful fruit at our doors, old and new ones”.

On a table near the holy ark, there is the commentary book on the tractate “Kilayim”. Soon the bell will be ringing and the entire working group will gather to sanctify the Sabbath queen that brings on her wings' rest for the weary. Reciting the beginning of the Friday night service: “God's redeemed will say, we were redeemed from the foe and gathered from the lands, East, West, North and South”.

Tens of mouths followed the leader of the prayers. Who, of this group, did not leave parents and relatives under the paws of Nazi occupants? They don't know how their Shabbaths are there? Who encourages their beloved? Who holds on to them during troubles? The prayers continue. “The arrivals by ship, they are the ones who saw God's work”.

This group had gathered here from every corner of the world. They came from Eastern Galicia and from the west, from Czechoslovakia and Congressional Poland. Some by foot, some illegally. They all saw God's work and his strong arm when they were redeemed from the countries of the Diaspora, and were brought to his land to rest on the Shabbaths after weary working days. With a melodic sound, the prayer leader began to sing: “Lecha Dodi” and the walls of the diner sang with him. They invited the crown prince to inspire the “Shechina” to hover that night among the commune members. Everyone is happy. From a few mouths, a Hassidic melody was heard and some visualized their shtetl that they had left:

– “Shalom Aleychem, Malachey Hashalom”.

Customary melodies of Galician big Rabbis was heard; melodies permeated with Diaspora pain and with yearnings of redemption. The Shabbath was spent with prayers and songs, sanctified and heightened with the songs they chose to sing and after consoling the yearning heart, they separate themselves from the Shabbath with the songs during the third meal when the purple sky blanket disappears into the sea.

Saturday night there was a Hanukkah party. One member played a mouth harmonica and the members danced. There was Shalom T. who, in Galicia, had put in motion, the movement. Always worried about a complete kibbutz life which kept him preaching. He seemed to be taller here, leaner. He had found respite here. He did not go to the central offices seeking leadership. It did not fascinate him. He was a private soldier now, carrying containers of tomatoes and carrots on his shoulder for the kitchen. He knew that the communal life was based on three things: enough bread (which, thanks God we have, he declares, while patting the back of a visitor); a chapter of the Bible to be studied before reciting grace after the meal, and a dance after a good meal. A real dance that arouses enthusiasm. This was the way he danced during conventions somewhere in distant places in the Diaspora where hundreds of young people waited for his arrival to hear his speeches. Here, he would dance the same way after he merited to become a plan and ordinary member.

I found Yitzhak happy during every visit of ours – joyful, enjoying life, and that is how I saw him the next day after he was married in the middle of the month Adar 1, 1944 during the paving of a path to his tent that was assigned to him on the slope of the hillock. Dressed in a white shirt and a world of tranquillity on his head. He had not missed a thing. No home, no dishes, no job and no clerical position. No livelihood and not a chance to have one soon. He had a white tent, a white skin, modest, young and a good- looking woman. So, who was to equal him?

When the group ascended to Kfar Etzion, Yitzhak was among the first ten ascendants. It was an isolated wasteland that needed constant, high professional guarding, and Yitzhak, as a veteran “guard”, had put on a policeman's uniform and was guarding the place. His colleagues considered him to be a Jerusalemite which meant he would be able to visit his home often, but in reality, we had to do a lot of begging to come home and celebrate a holiday with us in Jerusalem. To every invitation, his standard response was as follows:

“You consider the commune only as a working place?” Sometimes his friends from the Diaspora who had settled nicely in the city, some in an office, some in business kept asking: “He has not left the commune yet?”

They pointed out to people who were in a kibbutz and had left. “You will see. Yitzhak too will soon leave the kibbutz”. Was their prediction? His reaction was “so far no one has yet invited me to a house-warming party. But me? Look how many homes I have built in Kfar Etzion?” Everyone pointed out to the rocks and said: “These rocks will not feed you and your children”. Hundreds of people came from all over the country. They ate and drank, improved their health and then went back home. At home, they were full of praise about Kfar Etzion. Moshe Shertok came back from the United States and on his way to Jerusalem, decided to stop by and see the great wonder. He stated: “I heard about you, wonders of wonders, and I wanted to see it with my own eyes. To see your achievements that deserved such praise”.

No! Yitzhak did not leave. He was not one of those who ran away from the battlefront. His carpentry workshop thrived and it gave me a chance to put roots into the rocks. To make them blossom and get bread out of them for the worker and the small children.

After several postponements by the United Nationals on deciding on Eretz Israel, rumours had it that this Saturday, a decision would finally be made. And here, Yitzhak had come with a laughter on his lips. I knew that there was a lot of work in his carpenter's workshop in Kfar Etzion and he would not leave the place just for fun, or just to see his parents. “How are you?” “Shalom!” “What is the reason of your coming?” “To arrange a few things that the commune needs”. I thought to myself, they probably need some tools or equipment, and he, the trusted person to do this, took the task upon himself. I did not ask any questions. In the afternoon he was supposed to return. I always would accompany him to the bus station on Geula Street. We came to the station just was the bus started to leave, which was at the end of the street and turn into Straus Street.

“Daddy, if you don't mind, let us walk to the ‘Eged’ station?” “Good, let's go”. After a few steps, he turned to me: “For several years, I keep hiding in my heart a question that I wanted to ask you. Maybe now the time has come to ask?” “Do you remember? A year before we emigrated to Eretz Israel, on Tisha Beav, you taught me about the destruction of our land and the Holy Temple. At the end, when we reached the verse: “the person who started the fire should pay for it”. And the holy One said: “I will have to pay because I started it. I started the fire in Zion and will rebuild it with fire”. “At this point, you began to cry and could not stop! You continued crying until we stopped the conversation. What provoked you to cry?”

“I am not ashamed to say. It was a moment when my belief had weakened. I considered it a vain consolation. That God started the fire and he would rebuild it with fire. He only said it in order to strengthen us in the Diaspora. Who knows? For many generations we read it, we believed it until we fell asleep with our troubles and travail. But we, the poor generation of nowadays, will merit to see that God rebuilds Zion with fire?”

“I understood then, and that is what I am asking you now. A devoted believer like you, how come you had suddenly caught such weakness?” “I have told you. I was overtaken by the angel of doubt”. “Right now, can you tell me what is going to happen to us? I am sure that after all the difficulties and postponements, we will be given a state, in spite of everything. But what will happen to us in Kfar Etzion? Hence, we are still outside. We are surrounded by Arabs in an Arabic state. What kind of redemption can the United Nation's decision bring for us?”

“In my opinion, it is not such a simple matter. The generational burden rests on our shoulders. The previous generations had delayed this problem. They did not have the strength in their hearts to get immersed knee-deep in blood, the way those who foresaw the redemption in earlier generations. And then Asmodeus came and annihilated half of our nation but now, when the footsteps of redemption are heard, we should not despair. The burden was entrusted upon our generation and it a sure thing that we will merit to be consoled. And as far as Kfar Etzion is concerned, I think that the Arabs, wanting to show to the world the absurdity of dividing up the land, will make an effort to welcome the Jews that have settled in their part of the land. If there will be no choice, it is clear we will make an exchange. Instead, Kfar Etzion we will give them a village in our part”.

In the meantime, while this “light” conversation went on, we arrived at the Eged bus station. Who could have guessed that this would be our last conversation?

We, in besieged Jerusalem, had received many letters from the besieged Kfar Etzion and the more we worried about him, the more he worried about us. He used every means for his letters to reach us; by plane to Tel-Aviv and from there, with a returning convoy. Normally, who saves letters? He was still alive and would probably have kept on sending us more letters. Albeit, two of his two letters did survive, and here they are:

Praise God, Kfar Etzion, tenth of Nisan, 1948.

Peace to you dearest! Friday, I received your letter. I was pleased with grandfather's praise for his grandchildren. Needless to say, that I envy you that you can see them and I cannot. I imagine Amos with his special facial grimaces and from Yerucham, what I hear I am only being informed. I am glad with your joy. It is hard to imagine that he will begin to pronounce words.

You probably received a package from Yaacov Israel from Tel-Aviv which I asked him to send. For him it is easy to do. But yesterday, he wrote to me that is unsure if it is worthwhile because a package that weighs a kilogram costs fifteen grosz to send. I asked him to write directly to you and ask you what you needed. I hope that you responded. Did his package help you? Chaya wrote me that she was also preparing to send a package to you. Has the shortage subsided?

With me, there is nothing new. I am very, very busy. (He was the store manager of the besieged). On the one hand it is good because, being busy, a person has less time to think about his small world; on the other hand, the scope of the business takes away my best time to organize the work and put it on the right track. Lately, I was given two more employees; the bookkeeper from Rabadim and a general labourer from Masuot, but there is still plenty of work left for me for which the days and weeks are too short.

Generally speaking, nothing has changed here. If you don't read about us in the newspaper, it is a good sign for us.

I wish you the best for the Passover Holiday and we shall merit to be completely free on “Pesach Sheni”.

A joyous and kosher holiday. Shalom.

Shalom Tzipi. I am not writing this time separately to you because I have nothing special to write. I wrote yesterday and the day before yesterday. You have probably already received the letters. Many kisses from everyone. I presume that Amos will be asking the four questions, and rightly so.

Yours, Yitzhak.

Blessed be He. The fourth day of the intermediate Passover Holiday.

Peace to you, Dearest!

I received your letter and I am wondering why you have not received the package from Yaacov Israel with the commodities that you need.

It appears that I should not have worried about the danger for you, being in the Shneller fire line …

With me? You get the news from the main source, as they say. I don't divulge much and I am hiding very little.

In any case, you know what is happening with us.

I am very busy with my new job. The responsibility has increased and the conditions are not easy. But this is the duty that they trusted upon me, and it seems that I will have to shlep it until victory.

And what do you think about my picture? How do you like me? Very simple. We were attacked by a craze and decided to grow beards. Someone told me that I looked like my father.

Write to me more often about everything that is going on with you. Why hasn't Tzila added a few words?

Wasn't she home? What else is new?

Shalom.

And God disappeared from me.
It happens when the heart prophesies before certain matters happen. Many things came up in night dreams, but when Kfar Etzion was besieged, it was like a fog had covered my eyes and to this day, there is still a fog that divides between what happened and the murmurs of the heart.
If I will complain, who will respond? If I will lament, who will console me?
He will not meet me with laughter anymore.
His eyes will not sparkle while saying “Abba”.
What do I have in common with the world now?
And what do I have on the big earth?
Jerusalem, Iyar-Sivan, 1950.

[Page 140]

Died 16th day of Tamuz, 5721. (June 30^th, 1961).
Young lion, one of the young fatherland lions,
Whose axis of their lives moves
Between the sword and the plough.

The legend of his short life had begun to weave since his childhood. The slogan of his upbringing: “Be ready”, he had realized in practice, either as a military man or as a farmer. You might have encountered him as a galloping officer of a security unit in the open spaces of the Negev, armed from top to bottom, holding his confident hand on the trigger of a loaded machine gun.

Modest, keeping to himself, immersed entirely on the task given to him to inspire confidence in the heart of the people under his command. Israel Har was not a person seeking careerism as a garland for his head, because his education and upbringing were directed only to readiness. The Sinai campaign had ended and the Israeli Army was returning victoriously from the battlefield. He just took off his fatigues and you immediately could have met him dressed in sweat overalls. From the Negev desert fields, to the fields of Dan which is at the edge of Israel in the North.

Here he was, sitting on top of a tractor, his face radiant with youthful gladness and happiness. His plough inserted into the rocky ground which he would break open and awaken to a new life. A mutual friendship existed between him and the kibbutz with whom he made a covenant for life and death. And while he was still weaving in his heart charming dreams, bitter destiny had reached him.

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