Tuesday April 28th was remembrance day, a day when we remember and reflect upon our fallen soldiers and victims of terror. On this day cemeteries throughout Israel are full of bereaved families, friends,visitors, honour guards and ceremonies to commemorate the dead. I recently returned to live in Israel and this is the first time I have been in Israel on this day for Ni on ten years. For sure while living abroad I had acknowledged the day from afar, however I had forgotten the power within the day.
So on Monday I went to visit Jackie, or to be more accurate, I went to visit Jackie's grave in the military cemetery in Holon. Sadly it has been a long time since I last visited. First off, the rate of building in Israel has meant that just finding the cemetery took much longer than expected. The cemetery is now situated just off the Ayalon highway in what for me is a totally new road set up. I took me a while before I could actually find the place. Once there, again it took me some time before I actually found the grave. Alas the cemetery had grown somewhat since my last visit. So as a man (who of course tends not to ask for directions) even when talking about the location of a grave site, I decided to find the grave on my own. How hard could it be? Eventually I found Jackie's grave, but not before having passed and examined a good number of graves. Reading the names, ages, where and when these unfortunate souls perished, I was struck with emotion, for the terrible cost in human life which apparently comes with establishing and maintaining the Jewish state.
According to the head stone, Yaacov (Jackie) Saban died on August 14th 1982. This alone confused me, because I was pretty sure he had dies in September. Admittedly a great deal of time has passed since then, perhaps my memory fails me. He was shot between the eyes by sniper fire . I was with Jackie that day, we were soldiers in A company of the 50th Paratroop Battalion. I want to share one thing which has stuck in my mind for all those years. The morning of Jackie's death, I met him on his way down to our quarters. He had been guarding at Brigade headquarters. However an officer had noticed that Jackie had not shaved that morning. He ordered Jackie to return to his platoon as his appearance was unacceptable. When I asked Jackie what he was doing, he told me what had happened. He then turned to me and said "do you realise that I could be killed today just because I didn't shave this morning." By evening Jackie was dead. I will spare you the details. At the end of the day I reckon they will only mean something to those who were there and perhaps to Jackie's family, who lost their son all too early and were denied the opportunity to see him grow over the past twenty seven years.
As I arrived, the military cemetery, it was a hive of activity as the army prepared the site for the memorial service to take place the next day. Row by row, young soldiers, both boys and girls; laid flowers and planted a flag carefully upon each grave, making sure to stand for a moment and upon an order salute the grave before moving on to the next row of graves. Fortunately for me, the had also placed white plastic stools beside each and every grave, I suppose for family members who might want to sit a while with their loved ones. This afforded me the opportunity to sit with Jackie for a good while and silly as it sounds; have a conversation with him. As you can imagine it was somewhat of a one sided conversation. I am not sure what I had expected. Being there with Jackie after all those years was both cathartic and somewhat disturbing. I could not help but wonder where Jackie would be today had he lived. he was a vibrant energetic and funny guy. A charmer and big ladies man. What kind of life would he have had? Where would he be today? I then, in a somewhat self indulgent manner pondered my own life, asking myself and Jackie for that matter if, as one who had the opportunity to live his life; had I made the most of it? I won't bore you with the conclusions, however, sitting with Jackie also brought to mind two other army friends who died. Corrie Braga who was with me in basic training died a few weeks after excelling as best soldier in basic training. Oleg Abramov and I did officers school preparation together. Unfortunately we were both removed from the school
for being too new in the country. Both recent immigrants we did not have the necessary security clearance. We were both extremely disappointed at the time. Oleg was then killed in action in his first round of reserve duty.
Now I am just one guy who had a fairly ordinary army service, albeit in a combat infantry unit. But I have three dead friends all of whom I served with and one of whom I was with when he was killed. If I know three then others know three or more and when you add it all up, the fact is that all Israelis know people that have died. We are all closely connected to the fallen of the country who we remember on this day. That is what makes this day so powerful and meaningful day. These are not distant or detached images of other people fighting for us in distant foreign lands They are us. We are them. We all bear the scars and the pain of loss to some degree and sadly that is one of the wonders and the horrors of this country.
Remembrance day is immediately followed by Independence day. The seemingly implausible and impossible task of moving seamlessly from pain and mourning to joy and celebration happens. I am not quite sure how it happens but it does in what is for me a magical transformation.
For my part, Jackie has been a rather bizarre constant in my life. His memory and that of Corrie and Oleg as well as others who have died or have been wounded saddens me greatly, however I am glad to be back in touch.
