I recently had the privilege of attending my son’s “end of combat ceremony” for his reserve battalion, marking the completion of 116 days in active combat duty and 84 days and nights on maneuvers in the Gaza Strip.
I am fortunate to have been to many kinds of graduations and army ceremonies. But this event was completely different.
Invitations were checked at the door and a hot buffet was festively laid out. Walking in, it almost seemed like a wedding – almost, except for the fact that most attendees were carrying M-16 rifles. Even the occasional Negev machine gun was weighing down a guest’s shoulders.
But it wasn’t a regular army ceremony either with clean-shaven 18-year-olds in dress uniforms, with perfectly placed berets. The guests, some middle-aged, had beards, wool hats, tactical clothes, and muddy boots. With the parents and spouses in attendance, it didn’t have the vibe of an army meal in the field, either.
With the food came the mingling. This felt like a company event except for the weapons. I was introduced to reserve fighters with advanced degrees working in hi-tech, who have not seen a line of code in almost four months. I met an architect who has now blown up more buildings than he has designed.
These types of events often artificially attempt to instill a feeling in the crowd to “rally the troops.” This time the crowd was the source of the energy. Consider a high school graduation when in the middle of all the celebration, the principal announces, “Next year you are probably all going back to 12th grade.” Here, a senior officer acknowledging that the war is far from over, and that he may be leading the platoon back into battle in the future, did not elicit a single groan. Just hope.
Leadership and heroism
The brigade commander spoke about leadership and heroism to a battalion of men, young and less young, who had spent nearly four months away from their families in life-threatening combat situations. The officers also thanked the wives and families for their tremendous and meaningful support. Three wives and mothers were invited to address the crowded hall, representing the support of the women on the home front. It was definitely not the lineup of speakers we usually hear at an army event.
In the only moments of absolute silence in the evening, the battalion rabbi read the “Yizkor” prayer for the three dear and brave members of the battalion who were killed in battle in Gaza. Singing the closing “Hatikva” anthem together with the reservist combat soldiers and officers who have been fighting an existential war, was quite emotional. The 150-year-old verses suddenly seemed more real and more relevant.
Walking out there was no lockbox to leave gifts. In any case, there is certainly no Hallmark greeting card that would go with the check, and no real way for us to cover the debt we owe these brave men.
The writer is the father of two combat reserve soldiers, father-in-law of a third, and uncle of a fourth.