Care Packages to Gaza

by Simon Wolf, Aish.com

Saturday, January 10, 2009

January 6, 2009 - I live in Beit Shemesh, Israel. It's about 28 miles (45 kilometers) from Gaza as the crow flies. For now, Hamas has only reached 25 miles with their rockets, which puts us just out of range. For now.


Everyone here in Israel is doing whatever they can to help. Some of my neighbors are hosting families from the south who had to flee. For my part I called the Yad Eliezer to organization to see how I could help. One of their directors, Yossi Kaufman, told me they were putting together 2,500 care packages -- food, clothes and books -- to deliver to the soldiers, and offered me the opportunity to join a group traveling down to the Gaza front to distribute the packages. I told him, "Count me in."


The next day we drove south and came to a military base outside of Be'er Sheva, from where they control all the logistical aspects of the war. We were met by the commanders of the base who were very moved by the generosity of the donors and the volunteers. Then we went to work unloading the 2,500 packages into a gym from which the logistical engineers ensured they would reach the front lines. It was incredible to see the looks on the faces of the cadets who helped us unload the truck. They could not believe that people cared so much to bring what seemed to be an endless supply of packages.


As we were leaving the base, everyone started shouting: "Tzeva Adom -- Red Alert!" Tzeva Adom is the Israeli early warning system which allows you 15-30 seconds to take cover before an incoming missile strikes. We left our cars in the middle of the road and ran for cover behind a nearby concrete building. About 10 seconds later we heard the large boom of a rocket exploding. Thank God it wasn't near us.


We thought it was all clear, but then about 10 seconds later we heard a second rocket's impact.


We got back in the car and reached Be'eri, just a few hundred yards from the Gaza Strip. It's a closed military zone and the military police were not willing to let us enter the area. After much discussion and haggling, we were finally allowed 10 minutes in the area -- by foot -- to distribute our packages to the soldiers, and on condition that we took no photos while we were there.


Upon first entering the area, we were treated to a surreal scene: Some Breslover Chassidim had a van equipped with speakers on its roof blasting music, and the Chassidim were dancing with the soldiers. Only in Israel.


For our part, we began to distribute the packages to the soldiers who were resting before they had to reenter the war zone. We saw APC's coming out of Gaza with helmeted and sweating soldiers who were so excited to be greeted by our packages. The soldiers could not believe their eyes, and when we explained that we'd come to thank them for their efforts and boost their morale, they in turn thanked us profusely. They said it meant so much to them that people were actually thinking of them and were willing to make the trip out to deliver packages.


We ended up staying in the area for nearly 40 minutes, and the military police even allowed us to take pictures.


Hospital Visit


Our next stop was the Soroka Hospital in Be'er Sheva, the largest hospital in the south of Israel and the area's only trauma center. We came to the hospital with more care packages to distribute to the wounded soldiers. On the way, we passed the blood donor center where we saw an amazing scene of people lined up to donate blood to help all the wounded soldiers and civilians.


One of the members of our group was a rabbi from Atlantic Beach, New York. He had raised $100,000 in his community to fund Yad Eliezer's packages and to provide assistance to communities on the southern front. He had flown to Israel for a few days as an ambassador from his community to distribute the money they had raised. We also saw two high school girls at the hospital distributing chocolate bars to the injured soldiers. One woman began to cry while explaining to another woman what was transpiring. She was not religious, but she exclaimed over and over again, "Mi k'amcha Yisrael -- Who is like your nation, Israel." Her words are still reverberating through my head.


We visited a room that had injured soldiers. One had shrapnel wounds to his leg, another had been hit by a bullet, and another had suffered mortar injuries. We met another soldier sitting with his parents and family. His arm was in a sling, and told us that his platoon had been hit by a Hamas mortar shell, which had shattered the bones in his arm and currently left him with no ability to move his hand. The soldier had just undergone surgery and he hoped to regain use of his hand -- after a long recovery period including months, if not years, of therapy.


Next I met a father of one of the injured soldiers. He began to cry and asked me to give a blessing that his son should regain consciousness. In a choked voice, I prayed for God to send him a complete recovery. The father would not let go of my hand and asked me again to bless his son by name. Through his tears and broken voice, it took some time for me to get his son's exact name -- Hoshea Li'el ben Miriam HaKohen -- but he would not let go of my hand until I got it right. By this time we were both crying.


He explained to me that his son had just come out of surgery for a tracheostomy and was unconscious. His son was a member of an elite commando unit, one of the first to enter Gaza at the beginning of the ground war. The soldiers had fought for 11 hours straight in very difficult house-to-house combat. They made slow and difficult progress, managing to kill a few Hamas fighters. The commandos had to back off numerous times because many of the Hamas terrorists were wearing explosive belts, which made the soldiers unable to shoot in close proximity for fear of detonating the explosives.


As they entered the 12th hour of fighting, the soldiers had gained the upper hand, killing numerous terrorists and sending the remaining fleeing. While retreating, one of the Hamas fighters fired a rocket high in the air and the explosive landed 10 feet away from this man's son. The impact of the explosion sent him flying in the air. His son was wearing a flap jacket, helmet and radio and was carrying a gun, bullets, grenade launcher and grenades.


Despite all the protection, the explosion cut into his son's head and left him unconscious. Miraculously, none of his equipment detonated. Equally miraculously was that he landed 25 feet from a doctor. The doctor was able to intubate him on the spot, which likely saved his life. But he never regained consciousness. At the hospital, he had just undergone surgery to drain the blood away from his brain and to reduce the pressure on his skull. Doctors had also given him a tracheal oxygen apparatus to ease his breathing.


At this point, the only thing the father wanted was hope that his son could recover despite the oxygen deprivation at the time of the injury. Before I left, he implored me again to pray for his son's recovery, and introduced me to his son's wife. They were married only 15 months ago.


As I sit to write this account of my day in the south, the emotions are still raw and I know I will never be the same again.


Today I went to Yad Eliezer with my wife and children to help assemble another 3,000 packages for the next shipment to the soldiers.


The most amazing thing of all is that despite their discomfort and pain, each one of the soldiers and their families was thankful and appreciative of the visit and the packages. Yet in truth, all the thanks really go to these brave and courageous young men, may the Almighty help them and protect them.