Katz - Israel, a Nation of Warriors

Copyright 2012 - 2015 by Moshe Katz

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Israeli Krav Maga International

Maaleh Adumim, Israel

www.your-krav-maga-expert.com

Designed by Sue Schoenfeld

Cover photo by Arie Katz
Chapter icons: stringerphoto / Fotolia

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This book is dedicated to my nephew Arie Katz, asoldier of Israel, and his friends of the 101 paratroopers, whoserved in the Second Lebanon War.

To my brother Ethan Katz, a soldier of Israel, whoserved with an infantry combat unit, and battled terrorists.

To my dear father, Rabbi Paul M.Katz , of blessed memory, a soldierof Israel, who served in the Yom Kippur War and whose life wasdevoted to the people of Israel. His life and character will alwaysinspire us.

And to my dear mother, Mrs. Hannah K. Katz, A womanof valor who shall find (Proverbs), whose love has been thecornerstone of my life.

Blessed be God, my rock, who teaches my hands tobattle, my fingers for war.

Psalms

The world does not pity the slaughtered. It onlyrespects those who fight.

Menachem Begin , TheRevolt

Table ofContents

O ne day I was walking in myneighborhood. Walking through the hills of Maaleh Adumim in theJudean Desert of Israel I started humming, for no apparent reason,the tune to the Jewish PartisansSong , Do not say this is my last walk (accessed June30, 2015).

My thoughts turned to the forests of Poland andBelarus, 1941. I looked down at my feet and imagined for a momentthe feet of the partisans, their mud covered boots trekking throughthe forests, never knowing if today would in fact be their lastday, if this walk would be their last journey in this lifetime, orwho among their friends will not be with them tomorrow. In a way Iam continuing their walk; in a way I am living their dream.

My thoughts turned to all of themthe partisans,ghetto fighters, defenders of Masada and Jerusalem, cousin Willieat the Battle of the Bulge, Moses and Joshua, Phineas the Cohen,the Jewish Legion, soldiers in the wars of 1948, 56, 67, 70, 73,the Lebanon Wars, the Gaza Wars, counterterrorist units, Jabotinskyand Trumpeldor, King David and Samson.

My thoughts turned to all our people who over thecourse of our history slung a rifle over their shoulder, or a bowand arrow, or strapped a sword to their side, left their homes, andwent off to fight for our freedom. It is because of them that todayI can take a walk in my own landthe land where my forefatherswalked. I will never take this forgranted. This book is about these Jewish warriors.

Maaleh Adumim 7 kilometers (4.3 miles) east of Jerusalem,population approx. 40,000

I took a taxi in Long Island, New York, on my way toJFK Airport after teaching Krav Maga to a group of Americansoldiers. The driver, Hezi, was an Israeli. He had been living inthe United States for twenty-five years. As he helped me with myluggage, he noticed that one of my bagsa green military bag I usedwhile serving in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF)had numbers on it.He identified the numbers as my military ID and knew the year I hadserved. It turned out we were the same age. We became goodfriends.

There was an immediate bond. No longer passenger anddriver, we were united by a shared historywe both served;something unspoken took place. The bond goes back thousands ofyears to the ancient warriors of Israel who battled the Canaanites,the Greeks, and the Romans. This is Israel, a nation united by adream and a long shared history. Guns, swords or spears, the Tavorrifle, or the slingshot of young Davida warrior nation. We havespent thousands of years fighting to be free.

This book is not about governments. It is not aboutpolitical leaders. It is not about national policy or internationalrelations. It is not about strategy or questions such as whether ornot an attack or a war was justified.

It is about peopleordinary people, people who havebeen asked to do extraordinary things, and have done so.

The people of Israel have risen to the challenge,neither seeking a reward nor receiving one. Without questions,without hesitation, they left their happy lives and answered thecall to arms. And when the fighting subsided, they tried to returnto normal lives, with their scars and their traumas. But life inIsrael is anything but normal, for this is a nation at war, at warfor survival.

When the Jewish people, the people of Israel, begancoming home to the Land of Israel, they did not have war on theirminds. After being forcibly expelled and driven out of theirhomeland many centuries earlier, the wandering Jews, scatteredaround the world, kept dreaming of returning home, to the smallstrip of earth simply known as The Land, The Land of Israel.Individual Jews, small groups, sometimes entire communities, didmanage to return to The Land, but not until the 1880s was a moremassive return possible.

The Jews had dreams of utopia. They wanted tobefriend the Arabs and adapt to the Middle East. Many early photosshow Eastern European Jews dressed in Arab garb and riding oncamels; they wanted to fit in; they wanted peace. Reality was quitedifferent and the need for organized self-defense soon becameapparent. Reluctantly, the utopian Jewish farmers became fighters.It was either fight or be killed.

The symbol of the IDF is a sword (a symbol of war),an olive branch (symbolizing the Israeli desire for peace), and theStar of David (symbolizing Jewish history). Every government ofIsrael, since its establishment in 1948, has reached out for peace,but prepared for war. The long sought-after peace has provenelusive, perhaps impossible. As the prophet Ezekiel said so manyyears ago, Peace, peace but there is no peace (Ezekiel13) .

I recall when I was a young child, people would seemy dear mom with four young boys and they would say, Fourboysfour future soldiers. This angered my mother who would say toherself, Bite your tongue, by the time my boys are old enough toserve, there will be peace. So every mother hopes. Today, manyyears later, her grandchildren are serving in the army, in combatunits, and there is still no peace in sight.

Back in 1967, I was playing with my friend fromnext-door. His name was Edo, an Israeli born boy. I can picture theday like yesterday. I recall exactly where we stood in ourbeautiful backyard. We heard the sound of a plane and we bothlooked up to the sky. I looked up for just a moment, but Edo, hejust kept staring. I tried to get his attention, but Edos eyeswere glued to that plane. He watched it until it was totally gonefrom sight. What was that all about? I asked him.

Edo, only six years old, answered simply and to thepoint, words I still remember to this very day, words I shall neverforget, There was a time when everyone else had planes but we didnot. Now we too have planes.

The dispersion and exile and the return, theHolocaust and the rebirth of the State of Israel, thetransformation from perceived helplessness to warriors; this iswhat he was saying. A six-year-old Israeli boy understood it all;summarizing thousands of years of history in just a few words. AndI can still see that plane flying awayThere was a time wheneveryone else had planes but we did not