Strong of Heart

By: Yoel Schmidt

“Do you have a strong heart? A very strong heart? What we’re about to do is very, very dangerous. Extremely dangerous. Look around you, do you see the fires over there? The smoke over there? Those are all from Katyushas. Can you hear the booms? Those are Katyushas too. We’ll be performing a great mitzvah but you must be aware of the dangers involved.”

I will never forget these words hurriedly spoken by the Rabbi Yigal Tzipori, the Chabad Representative to Kiryat Shemona, Israel’s northernmost city. He had just picked me up from the main bus station and we were rushing to IDF artillery units stationed on the Lebanese border. Hezbollah rockets were falling around us but we were on a mission to distribute refreshments, sandwiches, tefilat haderechs, and most important of all, moral support and encouragement.

Rabbi Tzipori warned me that Hezbollah was specifically after military targets such as this and so there was a higher overall danger. He reiterated that the entire north of Israel was a danger zone, that the Kiryat Shemona region was the most dangerous part of the North, and that this military base was the most dangerous part of the Kiryat Shemona region. In other words I would have been a lot safer back in Brooklyn.

Yet from the second I arrived at the base I knew that my visit was a purposeful and meaningful one. I will never forget the memory of going from unit to unit chatting up the soldiers. I spoke in English and told them I had come from New York to give them chizuk, encouragement, and to thank them for fighting this battle. I told them that they were not only fighting this war for the people of the State of Israel but for all the Jews the world over. How happy they were to see a friendly face. How happy they were to hear the support and encouragement. Sometimes they were in tears, sometimes I was in tears. Being with them, I knew that this was a time I would cherish forever.

I had departed to Kiryat Shemona from Afula where I entered an electronics store near the bus station in search of a new battery for my cellular phone. Suddenly the air raid sirens sounded and, by the time I had composed myself, the entire street was empty. Everyone had immediately sought shelter. I remembered that the sirens only provided warning time of between 30 to 50 seconds before the rockets would begin landing. Luckily, I had the frame of mind to run into the bus station and made it into the bomb shelter there just as they were shutting the doors. A moment later we heard a thudding boom and a moment after that the radio reported that a Fajr5 long range missile had landed nearby.

It was Wednesday August 9, 2006, the third week of Israel’s war with Hezbollah. I was on day five of an eight day mission of support and solidarity to Israel’s north. For the past three weeks, Northern Israel had been bombarded by hundreds of rockets a day. And while the entire area has been affected, no city had been at the receiving end of more rockets than Kiryat Shemona. Over 500 rockets had already landed in Kiryat Shemona alone and more were landing every day. I later learned that more rockets had fallen on the region on the day I arrived in Kiryat Shemona than during any other day in the conflict so far.

It was also late in the afternoon before Tisha B’Av, and we had to head back to Kiryat Shemona. Words cannot describe what it means to be in a city that has been at the receiving end of over 500 rockets, a city in which the air raid sirens are constantly sounding. A city in which every five to ten seconds one hears deafening explosions, either outgoing IDF artillery or incoming rockets, and one hopes that whatever that was it isn’t headed in your direction. How does one describe the feeling of breaking ones fast after Tisha B’A’v and knowing that at any second a rocket could come crashing through the dining room? How does one describe the feeling of being cooped up in a bomb shelter? How does one describe the feeling of putting life at risk with every step into the street?

That night was the first time in the fourteen year history of Chabad of Kiryat Shemonah that there was no minyan for the reading of Eichah. There were only five of us. It was simply too dangerous to venture out of the bomb shelters. While we were reading Eichah to ourselves, the air raid sirens were sounding on and off now and we heard the deafening explosions of Katyusha rockets landing around. It was non-stop, at least one every five to ten seconds. The next morning a rocket landed no less than 300 feet from where we were standing and miraculously no one was hurt.

Truth be told, I was already familiar with some of the dangers involved. The first four days of my visit, I was part of the solidarity mission led by Assemblyman Dov Hikind and was in the company of 17 other New Yorkers, including NYC Councilman David Weprin. We were the only ‘tourists’ in all of the north of Israel and we were astonished at what we saw. We all knew that many residents had evacuated for safer parts but none of us were prepared for the sight of seeing one ghost town after another. Most of the time, our tour bus was the only vehicle on the road.

Nevertheless we visited and provided chizuk to those still left in Chaifa, Nahariya, Maalot, Karmiel, Miron, Tsfat, Rosh Pina, Chatzor, Teverya and Metullah. In each city, we met with the mayor or other elected officials and then visited and heard from those hurt by the rocket attacks.

While in Metullah, we went to the border staging area and met and interacted with the troops preparing to enter Lebanon. They disembarked from their tanks and momentarily stopped loading the mortar shells to see for themselves these "crazy" Americans who have come all the way to the Lebanese border to offer their support. How lucky we were to hold an impromptu minyan for Mincha with these wonderful troops.

Every town we visited was devoid of any signs of human life. The population still left was by and large still holed up in bomb shelters. We met injured soldiers in Chaifa's Rambam Hospital and were impressed with their resilience and resolve to get back to the front lines as soon as possible.

One of the Hatzolah members in Tzfat, who's family was in Jerusalem for safety purposes, walked up to our group and only had this to say "Seeing you I'm proud to be a Jew.” The Head of Tsfat Hatzolah, Nachi Klein, remarked how in battle every soldier knows that should he be injured a group of medics and other personnel will be his 'backup' to attend to his emergency needs. He went on to say that until today the people of Tsfat felt alone but seeing us they now know that they too have ‘backup.’

What an honor and privilege it was to be part of this ‘backup.’ As A Jew I felt I belonged nowhere else.