Chapter One

Jerusalem in 1973 was caressed by the gentle song of a sad Autumn breeze. The Holy City was silently mourning her youth.

The guns were now silent. The war was over. Only the mourning gasp of Mother Jerusalem rocking her orphans was heard throughout Jewish communities the world over. A harrowing litany, a humble prayer, tried to move the blue serene firmament which had remained unshaken on Yom Kippur, as millions of Jews, dressed in white, wrapped in taleisim (prayer shawls), swayed in prayer, imploring our Maker to be written and sealed in the Book of Life.

The Angel of Death, disturbed by the murderous hands of the treacherous foes, reluctantly gathered his crops of fathers and sons, leaving behind stupefied widows and innocent orphans trying to humbly to explain their plight.

The streets were silent, the tourists absent, many stores remained closed, their owners still in the frontline of the Golan Heights, or the Sinai border, or simply killed, missing or wounded in a hospital bed at Tel Hashomer or Hadassah, which were preforming miracles upon those young mutilated bodies and burnt faces.

Children who usually love playing cops and robbers, postman, or garbage man, were actually doing those hard responsible jobs to replace the missing men; overnight they had to become unripened adults.

Jerusalem 1973, gloomy and depressed, was indeed crying for her children. The holiness of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur and the joy of Succos had been overshadowed by the Yom Kippur War which had brought great suffering to Jewry. The enemy was only defeated at the great cost of thousands of precious lives.

In the rather shabby bedroom of a small flat in the Mea Shearim quarter, Dovid Meyer and his sister, Ruth, were still talking late at night. Their young sister, Yael, was fast asleep, thumb in mouth and one hand encircling her constant companion, a well-chewed teddy bear. Their father, Rabbi Moishe Meyer, had failed to return from a mission to the Golan Heights to bring words of spiritual courage and provisions to the soldiers engaged in bitter fighting with the Syrians. It was almost certain he was dead, as the lorry in which he was traveling had exploded, the result of a direct hit by a Syrian tank. But according to Halacha, or Jewish Law, the family was not able to mourn or recite Kaddish until it was proven beyond a shadow of doubt that the rabbi was, in fact, no longer alive.

Since they received word of the attack, the children had often been unable to fall asleep at night, trying so hard to make sense of the great tragedy that had befallen them.

Less than six months earlier, Dovid, the star pupil of his class, proudly celebrated his Bar Mitzvah. His parents glowed with joy and pride as he delivered his intricate Talmudic speech (drasha) faultlessly. Friends and neighbors crowded around him, congratulating his parents and predicting a brilliant future for him ..... Now, without warning, Rabbi Moishe Meyer had been suddenly, and cruelly, torn away. The children's mother, who always had a smile in her eyes and on her lips for her husband and children, had turned into a wan and lifeless person, with a drowned look on her pretty face, deep shadows under her eyes and a faraway look which seemed to ignore what was in front of her and to be seeking something which was not there.

"Ruth," whispered Dovid in order not to wake Yael. "Ruth, I can't just can't take it anymore. I must do something to help mamma." "But Dovid, how can you? You are only 13 and I'm only 11 and a half."

"Age doesn't mean anything. I'm gonna try to get some work. I can't just watch mamma being depressed and worried. You know she refuses to see any of her friends; she has locked herself in her room and hardly speaks to us. Let's face it, its hard enough for her to have always been poor, she never went on vacation, never received new clothes ..."

"And no lemonade on Shabbes, either," Ruth interjected.

"And now Daddy is gone forever; it's just too much to bear."

"Do you think he is really dead, Dovid?"

"He must be, otherwise he would have sent us news. People say that so many were killed in the Golan in the first days of the war, and their bodies have still not been found. Ruthie, I'll look for a job at night, anything to earn some money, to show mamma that she's not alone. And also to bring some comfort to Yael."

"Poor Yael, an orphan at five! We will always remember father and be proud of him. But Yael, no doubt, is going to forget she ever had a father pretty soon."

"And the baby mamma is expecting will be born into a world without a father. Don't you think I must grow up quickly for the little ones, to become the man of the house?"

"I know just how you feel and how good and kind you are, but come on Dovid, you can't grow up overnight! You were only recently a Bar Mitzvah boy. It will be years before you become a real man; each year has so many months and weeks and days ... It will be a very long time before you can replace father."

"That's true. It would be silly to say otherwise! But I can make a start by earning a little money and showing mamma that I'm willing to take responsibility, that she can rely on me to share the burden of bringing up the family. Tomorrow I will speak to Reb Yitzchak the tailor. Perhaps he will teach me to sew and let me work for him."

"But you must continue school, father always wanted you to become a great scholar in the yeshiva."

"Of course I will continue school. I just want to work in the afternoons, after school. I will even manage to do my homework by getting up early."

The door swung open. Mrs. Meyer tiptoed in. "Not yet sleeping, my treasures?" she said softly. "It's quite late. You must be up early for school."

"Please mamma, come and sit here for a minute," Ruth said. "We've been talking about our lives and the future."

"Yes, mamma I've decided that I'm going to work. At first, I'm only going to earn a little, but I will be so useful to old Yitzchak the tailor that he'll certainly pay me more. You know he's a good man. He knows us well and often told me stories of how hard life can be and what a great mitzvah it is to help a young man earn a decent living. He will surely help us because he was father's close friend."

Mrs. Meyer was proud of her son's selflessness. But she was also concerned with his future.

"Dovid'l, I don't want you to neglect your Torah studies, which are more precious than jewels and gold. I will never allow you to be distracted from your learning. Your father had one dream for you: to become a great Torah Scholar. Let's not disappoint him."

"But mamma," Dovid responded. "I'm not going to end my studies. I love the Torah and the Talmud. Now that father is gone, I've learned more hours than I ever had before. I only want to work for a little bit, a few hours every afternoon. I'll get up extra early if I have to."

"Oy Dovid'l, look at you. You're only thirteen. What type of mother would rob her son of his childhood by burdening him with responsibilities he's way too young to bear?"

"But we feel worse not being able to help ... Please, mamma, let me try. I promise to quit the job if my grades begin to suffer."

"You know, Dovid'l, you really are a great comfort to me at this terrible time. And the truth is my gut feeling is that father is dead." It was the first time Elisheva Meyer was coming to terms with her husband's fate. For a few moments all was silent. "All I want to do is to bring you up as if your father was still here, alive. I've thought about going back to teach again. With that salary and the government stipend we're supposed to receive, we'll be OK. We'll be able to cope just fine."

"But what about the new baby?" Ruth asked.

"We'll have to take one day at a time. But now, my darlings, it's almost midnight. Sleep well and don't worry yourselves. We're going through some pretty hard and trying times, but the Creator will surely help us somehow. We don't understand His way, but we must put our faith in Him," she said, kissing them gently, holding back her tears and pretending to be in control.

Elisheva Meyer returned to the dining room -- if you could call it that -- and sat on the folding bed opened for the night. And her tears finally burst forth. Her grief was harder to bear at night, when the children were asleep and loneliness pierced her soul.

Scenes of married life passed before her like episodes on a weekly drama. Sweet and gentle memories of a happy life brought to a brutal and premature end somewhere on the Golan Heights.

Her marriage 15 years ago to the brilliant yeshiva student, Moishe Meyer, in Mea Shearim ... The exuberant singing and dancing at the wedding feast. How proud she had been of their newly decorated apartment. It actually had two rooms plus a kitchen and a bathroom with a shiny new bath tub and shower. ... The first meal she'd cooked for her husband ... Moishe preparing his lectures after he was hired by one of Jerusalem's most prominent yeshivas; the large tomes of the Talmud and Shulchan Aruch (Judaism's constitution) gradually piling up on the table like fantastically shaped mountains ... The long evenings of sewing and darning or preparing her language lessons for the girls in the school where she taught in the mornings, while her husband and his study partner studied aloud, debating the fine points of Talmudic logic. ...She used to serve them steaming glasses of Russian tea, and she could still see their fingers clasped around the steaming glasses while they sipped the sweet hot liquid. ... She could imagine no happiness greater than this, listening to the dulcet voices recounting the ancient wisdom of the Torah; taking their place in the great chain that has transmitted the Creator's Words from generation to generation, since antiquity when Moses had taught the Torah to Jewry at Sinai on their way from Egypt to the Holy Land.

G-d willing, Moishe was to teach this very same Torah to their own children ... The birth of their first-born, Dovid, brought new life and laughter into their young, happy home. ... On Dovid's first day in cheder (elementary school), his father entrusted him to a kind, smiling rabbi. As Moishe made his way toward the door, Dovid'l immediately began to cry. The child's wailing pained him, but he didn't turn back. And sure enough, when he returned a few hours later, Moishe found his son beaming radiantly --- his little hands and mouth sticky from the candies thoughtfully provided by the rabbi for his precious first-time students.

Soon the apartment was filled with the sound of little Dovid'l practicing reading: "Kometz, Alef --- Oh, Kometz, Beis --- Boh, Kometz, Gimmel --- Go ..." delightful music in the ears of his proud parents. ... And little Ruth, born two years after Dovid, keeping her company while she did her cooking and housework ... Her father adored her blonde hair, her big blue eyes with long lashes. She was a real princess, so feminine, so pretty ... True they had not had that much money and she had to stop working after little Yael was born ... That baby had been very spoiled since she came after the birth of a stillborn. They had been so desperate, and her husband had found just the right words to explain death to children and herself; "We must accept from the Creator what seems to be bad to us in the same spirit as what is obviously good to us." Was his consolation message then also a foreshadowing of things to come? ... No, she was inconsolable now ... Loneliness ... Poverty ... The Meyers ate meat only on Shabbes (the Sabbath) and the Festivals and never went on vacation. Elisheva made most of her children's clothes by hand --- and without help. But thank Heaven they were never in debt or in want. The children growing up sturdy and healthy ... Lately, since they knew there would shortly be another baby, Moishe and she often calculated how they could manage to pay for an apartment with an additional room. Dovid, after all, was quickly maturing, getting too old to sleep in the same room with the girls, curtain separating them or not. ... Moishe, who many years before had been certified as a Sofer (religious scribe), had started selling mezzuzas he had written in his spare time, adding a little to the meager family income and raising their hopes of soon being able to afford the roomier apartment they'd dreamed of ...

Dovid's Bar Mitzvah, which turned out to be the last family occasion (simcha) they had celebrated as a whole and united family ... How proud they had been of their darling son, who had impressed all the prominent rabbinic figures listening to his discourse, who predicted Dovid would one day develop into a brilliant scholar. Moishe's face glowed with happiness at the praise bestowed from all sides. He told his wife that this moment justified all the hardships and sacrifices they made in their lives together. Truly, the pursuit of Torah was its own reward, much more to be preferred over material comforts, expensive vacations, fashionable, well-tailored clothing or exquisite furniture. And Elisheva agreed wholeheartedly with her husband.

They spoke, at the time, of Ruth, so pretty and helpful, quite a little mother to her sister, Yael. Elisheva remembered jokingly telling her husband: "You know, Moishe, you better start looking now for brilliant pupils in the Yeshiva. We only want the best mate for Ruth, when the time comes, that is." Moishe answered: "Time enough for that, G-d willing, we shall be proud of our children and grandchildren." Moved beyond words, the proud parents sat that Bar Mitzvah evening and offered wordless thanks to the Creator for His great bounty. ... All of this happened such a short time ago, it seems only yesterday. Oh, but what a gulf of sorrow, what a vale of tears separated the bleak present from the sunny and cloudless past ....

Just four weeks after Dovid's Bar Mitzvah, Moishe and his precious son had risen to go to shul for Selichos, the special pre-dawn prayers of forgiveness recited during the High Holiday season. In the religious quarters of Jerusalem, an exalted atmosphere reigned during these solemn days. The sounds of prayer and Torah study issued much more insistently from the many prayer houses and study halls in Mea Shearim's narrow streets. Residents gave less attention to everyday affairs and concentrated on preparing themselves for Rosh Hashana, when, according to Jewish tradition, each and every individual is judged On High regarding one's conduct on earth. Then it's decreed: "Who will live and who will die; who shall perish by fire, who by water; who by sword, who by wild beasts; who by hunger and who by thirst; who by earthquake and who by plague; who by strangling and who by stoning; who will have rest and who shall go wondering; Who shall be tranquil and who'll be harassed; Who'll become poor and who shall grow rich; Who will fall and who will be elevated ... But re-embracing the Torah, prayer and charity avert these severe decrees."

And so to Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year, the only day when no thought is paid to this world, its pleasures and cares; the day given exclusively to prayer and repentance.

The atmosphere of awe and solemnity at shul affected even the little children listening to the exotic and moving melodies sung only on this day. They watched the congregation, garbed in white gowns and wrapped in prayer shawls covering the eyes and faces of the worshipers ...

And then came the incredible wail of the sirens.

A shockwave ran through the assembly. What terrible disaster could have happened to disrupt their communion with the Creator? Immediately came the sound of heavy lorries rolling through the deserted streets, the screech of brakes outside the synagogue, the clutter of hobnailed boots. An army sergeant rushed in with a list in his hands, and called out names of young men who were told to immediately don their uniforms and rush to the northern borders of Israel to defend their country from attack.

Crowding around the soldier, they heard that during the night the Syrian and Egyptian armies had launched major attacks from both the north and the south. The hubbub was stilled as the shul's rabbi declared to his flock: When lives are in danger it is the duty of one and all to desecrate not only the Sabbath but even Yom Kippur in order to save their co-religionists.

"But let all of those who must stay behind, pray to the Creator with redoubled fervor to defeat our enemies," he thundered.

Moishe Meyer was not among those called into action. He suffered from a duodenal ulcer which made him unfit for military service ... The interrupted services were resumed with even greater devotion. Many tears were shed, many prayers offered for safe return of husbands, fathers, sons, brothers and friends. As Yom Kippur ended, the subdued congregation dispersed to their homes with heavy hearts.

The Meyers, like millions of heart-broken Jews the world over, immediately turned on their radio following that evening's Havdalah ceremony to hear the news. And they were shocked. The Syrians were steadily advancing on the Golan Heights, the Egyptians were crossing the Suez Canal and there were ongoing and bitter heavy fighting, tank battles and artillery duels. Worse, many of the Holy Land's soldiers were wounded and even more killed.

The next day, Moishe came home excited. "A group of our neighbors have been collecting warm clothing and thermoses, lulavim and esrogim for our soldiers. Succos, you know, starts Thursday and there is no reason why our boys should have to suffer any more than they have to. We've arranged that a lorry pick us up tomorrow so we can travel to the Golan Heights, and if the Creator wills it, we can be home as early as Tuesday morning."

Elisheva consented. But Moishe never returned on Tuesday morning or in the afternoon. The following day, an army officer accompanied by a social worker showed up at the Meyer's home and informed Elisheva that the lorry in which her husband was returning from the Golan Heights had been blown up by a direct hit from a Syrian shell. Out of a group of five, there were only two living survivors. Although true, her husband's body had yet been found, it must be presumed .... For the children and herself, Succos, the Festival of Joy, turned into Tisha B'Av, the national day of mourning. Elisheva's world collapsed.

As on so many nights since, Mrs. Meyer gave herself up to a storm of tears, but this brought no relief and it was only because of utter physical exhaustion that she finally fell into an uneasy slumber.