A boat amid waves and birds hovering overhead at sunset. Thus, in the depths of Syrian captivity, Yossi Tor imagined and painted freedom. During the Yom Kippur War, he fell into enemy hands at the Hermon outpost, which was unexpectedly captured by Syrian commandos. He painted the painting on makeshift cardboard, with pencil and charcoal collected from the remains of a campfire, in May 1974, after seven months behind bars. The title given by the imprisoned artist to his work, in beautifully arranged square handwriting, was: "Freedom - When Will I See You Again?!"
Yossi was released two weeks later, in June 1974, along with 64 other Israeli soldiers captured on the Syrian front. In doing so, they joined 232 IDF fighters who were released earlier from Egyptian captivity.
Yossi's pastoral dream of sailing on the high seas is about to come true soon, 50 years after his freedom was stolen from him. This will happen in a historic flotilla of which he himself is one of the organizers. On October 8, 2023, the passenger ship "Chamomila" will anchor and depart Haifa Port for the Mediterranean Sea. Its yellow bow will stand out between the blue of the sea and the blue of the sky. A Navy SEAL will accompany the ship, which will carry about 350 passengers, including 160 prisoners of war from the Yom Kippur War, from the Egyptian and Syrian fronts, and their spouses.
50 years later: Prisoners of the Yom Kippur War will embark on a flotilla in Sinai and the Suez Canal // Photo: Erez Association and Cities at Night
50 years later: Prisoners of the Yom Kippur War will embark on a flotilla in Sinai and the Suez Canal // Photo: Erez Association and Cities at Night
The flotilla, which will be held in coordination with the Israeli Air Force and Navy, will travel south along the shores of Israel and Sinai, to the mouth of the Suez Canal. The ship will sail along the canal, and the prisoners from Egypt will pass in front of the chain of outposts where they fought the enemy fiercely - until they were captured in October 1973. Passage through the Suez Canal will involve paying taxes as is customary, but so far, the Egyptian authorities are not aware that the passengers are former prisoners of war.
"We will also hold a memorial ceremony in the canal, after all we left many friends there," explains Uri Ehrenfeld, 70, a social entrepreneur from Har Adar, one of the flotilla organizers and the author of the book "Captive by Order," about his capture on the Egyptian front. "From there we will circle the Sinai Peninsula through the Red Sea, to Eilat. From Eilat we will fly in the Air Force Hercules, which will look to the Syrian border, for the benefit of the prisoners who left Syria, like Yossi, who cannot make a journey similar to the one on the Egyptian front. We will land at Ben Gurion Airport, where a reception ceremony will be held for the prisoners of the Yom Kippur War in the presence of the Chief of Staff and the Minister of Defense, or senior officials on their behalf.
"As far as we are concerned, this is a correction for what they did to us then, the very unpleasant welcome, to say the least, that we received when we returned from captivity. The idea of going on a journey on a passenger ship - I wouldn't say prestigious, but certainly respectable - stems from the fact that then we returned like bags of potatoes. The State of Israel did not initiate this trip, nor does it organize it, and certainly does not fund it, but fortunately it is at least joining it."
From right: Yigal Kohlani, Shlomo Erdinast and Uri Ehrenfeld. Photographed in black and white: Uri and Shlomo with the Israeli flag on the day the pier post fell, October 1973, photo: Naama Stern
"When I heard about this flotilla, I was very, very excited," says Yossi, 70, now a Judaica artist in wood and silver and a resident of Netanya. "It's been 50 years, but the scars are still painful, and to some extent even passed on to the next generation. I am redeemed from the Syrian front, but I am very excited to go on a journey with the fighters on the Egyptian front, who will see with their own eyes the places where they fought.
"It's closure for people who are a disappearing generation. This is my personal closure, that of someone who painted freedom as sailing on the open sea. Every day, more prisoners who did not make it to this flotilla die. The current ceremony of acceptance for prisoners in Israel is a correction of what was done to us then, and in the twilight of our days it is a belated justice that will be done. This whole journey is being carried out thanks to the mobilization of the general public and good and generous people who are opening and will open their hearts."
Those behind the historic journey, which cost NIS 6.5 million, are volunteers from Erez and Awake at Night, who have been working for months to organize it. As of now, they have managed to raise about a million and a half shekels from donors, and they believe that within three months they will be able to raise the rest, including from crowdfunding sites, and have already ordered the ship from an Italian company.
The meeting between the two associations took place in the landscapes of distant Nepal. Uri, one of the founders of Cities at Night, an NGO that brings together some 300 prisoners of captivity, embarked in 2019 on a journey by Erez, in which volunteers from the alpinist unit carry a group of disabled IDF soldiers and disabled children on roller skates to the heights of Annapurna in the Himalayas. One evening, Uri lectured the participants about his experiences in Egyptian captivity and his traumatic return to Israel, which included two weeks of detention and interrogations at a military facility in Zichron Yaakov.
Map of the planned journey,
The one who listened attentively was Shimon Pariente, the founder of the Erez Association, who conceived the idea of correcting the historical injustice and inventing a cure for the wounds that have not yet healed, in the form of a flotilla and a renewed welcome ceremony for those redeemed from captivity - exactly fifty years after the war.
The secret box didn't work
I meet Uri in Ein Hemed, at the warm and cozy home of his girlfriend, Rachel Ben-Shahar. Attorneys Shlomo Erdinast (71) from Petach Tikva and Yigal Kohlani (69) from Hod Hasharon, both prisoners of captivity and founders of Awake at Night, also arrive there. Yossi couldn't attend the meeting due to a medical examination, and I completed the conversation with him on the phone. A brotherly alliance is evident between the three retired prisoners, expressed in the special language, thunderous laughter and black humor that a stranger will not understand.
"I'm the organizer of the flotilla, Yigal the producer, and Shlomo the financier," laughs Uri. "Yigal and Shlomo are the exceptions among the captives, who are happily married to one woman to this day. It's because I got divorced twice – for them, too."
"I believe that this journey will not only be the correction of a historical injustice, but will have something rehabilitative," says Shlomo, who was then in the position of company commander and has one of the most commanding authority to this day. "There are guys who have been very closed all these years, and in a situation like this, when you pass in front of the posts, people open up and start talking. I say this from experience. Sometimes you need a match to light them.
"I've personally been to the dock post in the canal four times. Twice after the war, with delegations whose goal was to bring fallen soldiers to Israel's grave, and twice more, to a film about the war in which I participated. But I am the exception. There are many captives who have not been there until now, and I believe that this journey will develop them and be part of their healing."
Painting "Freedom" painted by Yossi Tor while in Syrian captivity. Use the charcoal of campfire remnants,
After the jokes and mutual bites, Yigal, Uri and Shlomo remove the layer of cynicism and open up. They go back to the days of the war.
"I grew up in Tel Aviv. At the age of 18 I enlisted in Golani, and then I was sent to a contact course for combat fighters," Yigal says. "In February 1973, we were taken down for a large exercise in Sinai. I agreed to stay in Sinai, because those who served in the strongholds received a 'candy' – a week off at home for every two weeks of service. I was stationed in a clutch stronghold, 800 meters from the Great Bitter Lake, in the central sector of the canal. I was one of the few soldiers in the regular army, most of the soldiers at the post were reservists. We had a crazy life there. It was heaven."
At the beginning of September 1973, the calm was disturbed when hundreds of soldiers were added to the Egyptian post opposite them. "I reported everything over the radio, and by the end of September we had already reported on the heavy vehicles that had arrived, hundreds of trucks and armored personnel carriers, anti-tank missiles and heavy machine guns. A week before the war, two of our intelligence personnel arrived on civilians. They told me: 'What are you excited about two tanks, you and the connections are warming up the sector with all your reports.' When two more senior and more experienced than me say it's nothing, then who am I, a 19-year-old kid and a big ruffian, to say anything?"
A week before the outbreak of the war, the Egyptians began to exert psychological pressure on the soldiers of the strongholds, directing loudspeakers in their direction with propaganda broadcasts by Voice of Thunder radio from Cairo. "You are an Israeli soldier, you will die in the sands here, your government abandoned you, your friend betrayed you," Yigal imitates the Egyptian narrator. The mischievous Israeli soldier did not have to, took a small megaphone and answered the Egyptians with a variety of curses and humiliations, which he learned especially for them from his Egyptian-born mother. "When that wasn't enough, I would also show off my buttocks to show the Egyptians what they were worth to me," he laughs with a playfulness that remains intense even today.
On Yom Kippur in the morning, at 8:00 A.M., a jeep arrived at the base looking for Yigal. He went out to the searchers in flip-flops and shorts. "It was an officer who asked me where the yellow boxes were supposed to pump fuel into the Suez Canal and set it on fire. I took it to boxes, which were full of sand and unusable. It was a military secret that I was in charge of, and a few weeks before the box that was supposed to activate the automatic mechanism fell down, and then I discovered that it was not connected to wires at all.
"I warned about it, but no one came to deal with it. There was one big neglect in the strongholds. Why am I telling this story? Because that officer already knew that war would break out. He saw that no one in the stronghold was prepared for battle, but he didn't warn us. I searched for him for years. If I had found him, I would have killed him."
In the morning, soldiers from the post were asked to patrol on foot from the north and south. At 13:00 P.M., when everything was his around, Yigal retired for lunch in one of the bunkers that had become his private sense. "I woke up at a quarter to two to the sound of noise. I thought it was a prank, that someone was throwing a page grenade. But this continued, and the ceiling of the bunker began to sink and sand trickled between the stones.
"I stuck my head out and saw seven mortar shells in the radio trench that didn't explode. I put on my uniform and went outside. Everything blows up on you, it's indescribable. I ran between the bombs and reached the central war room. I realized that there was a terrible mess in all the outposts."
"Everything was dripping with fire"
For three days, the few soldiers at the outpost, first 17 men and then 33 (after engineering soldiers and fighters fleeing from burning tanks joined), managed to repel the Egyptian attacks. They fought against tanks with small arms and mortars, and called for reinforcements. On 8 October, two Egyptian tanks managed to penetrate the outpost, but the few fighters drove them away, setting one on fire.
By that time, one had been placed in space, and three others had been wounded. "Among the soldiers there were a lot of maintenance or kitchen personnel who didn't know how to fight, so out of 33 people only 17 actually fought," Yigal recalls. "As a Golani soldier, I knew how to fight, and as the youngest young man, who doesn't have a wife or children, I also didn't know fear. When the connection stopped working, I would count 40 seconds between shells and run between positions. On 9 October, the Egyptians were on the fences of the post. We had almost no magazines left. The commander of the post understood that there was no point in the soldiers staying outside. He decided to go for the tactic of 'fire on his stronghold'.
Yigal Kohlani (small: as a soldier). "We shouldn't have been there at all", photo: Naama Stern
"The intention is to gather all the fighters in the central bunker, which is durable, allow the Egyptians to move around the trenches of the outpost, and then ask our forces over the radio to shell the outpost – and thus the exposed Egyptians are harmed. At one point they say 'cease fire,' and then they come out of the bunker and attack the Egyptians by surprise.
"The Egyptians came in and started looting the outpost. We smelled the smell of the omelette they made from 300 eggs we had. They were hungry. We heard them dancing and rejoicing. Then an Egyptian soldier approached the entrance to the bunker, and one of us shot him. He was injured and started screaming, and they realized that the post had not been abandoned. A battle broke out over the openings of the bunker. It's a battle where you shoot each other from a meter away. The Egyptians threw smoke grenades, spray and phosphorus at us. Everything was dripping with heat and fire.
"The stupid contact, which was me, asks on the radio: 'Fire on our stronghold' – and they don't answer. Asks again - and again do not answer. I try on several devices, and all of them are quiet on the other side. To this day, we are waiting for them to answer us."
In the end, the commander of the post realized that he would no longer save the State of Israel, and that it was better to save the lives of the fighters. After negotiations with an Egyptian officer, who promised to preserve their lives, the Israeli force surrendered. The fighters came out one by one without weapons and with their hands raised.
"אני עוד התעכבתי בפנים כדי לעקור את החוטים של הקשר ולהשמיד כל מה שאפשר. כשבאתי לצאת, בטעות פניתי ימינה ולא שמאלה. הזדקפתי בתוך התעלה, ואני רואה מעלי עשרות חיילים מצרים רוקדים, אחד מהם ממש קרוב אלי בתוך התעלה. פתאום הוא הסתובב באימה, ואז מישהו נתן לי מכה בפנים באת חפירה. עד היום אני שומע איך העצמות של האף שלי נשברות.
"התנדנדתי, ואז המצרי שהיכה אותי הגן עלי וחיבק אותי, ולא נתן לחבריו להרוג אותי. הקצין שלהם באמת שמר עלינו שלא יהרגו אותנו, אבל מכות קיבלנו בלי סוף. המכות האיומות נמשכו חודש וחצי, לאורך כל השבי. זה חוץ מהחקירות ומהעינויים. השומרים בכלא המצרי התעללו בנו יום ולילה".
"יריתי, והמים הפכו אדומים"
ארדינסט ואהרנפלד לחמו יחד בגזרה הדרומית של התעלה. שלמה גדל בבני ברק, שאז עוד היתה מעוז של הציונות הדתית, והתגייס לנח"ל. הוא הספיק להילחם במחבלי פת"ח בלבנון, יצא במהרה לקצונה, וכסגן צעיר בן 21 מונה, כמ"פ, למפקד הגזרה הדרומית - שלושה חודשים לפני פרוץ המלחמה. תחת פיקודו היו שלושה מעוזים על פני 14 קילומטרים: מפצח, הכפר והמזח.
קצין מצרי (מימין) עם ארדינסט וחייליו ביום השבי,
אורי הירושלמי, בוגר בני עקיבא שהתרחק מהדת בגיל צעיר, שירת כצנחן בגדוד 50 בנח"ל המוצנח. הוא נשלח לסיני מהגולן והגיע כמה שעות לפני פרוץ המלחמה למוצב המזח, הדרומי שבין המוצבים, מול העיר סואץ, ממש מעל שפך התעלה למפרץ. "הגעתי למוצב ב־4 לפנות בוקר. רוב החיילים היו בצום כיפור, ולאף אחד לא היה כוח לקבל את פניי. עשיתי לעצמי סיור והתמקמתי", הוא מתאר.
"ב־13:55 הופגז מוצב המזח באש פגזים כבדה. הייתי אז בש"ג, עם סנדלים ונשק. ביקשתי בקשר שמישהו יבוא להחליף אותי כדי שאוכל להתארגן ללחימה. לבשתי את כל הציוד ועליתי לעמדת התצפית, שבה היה הנוף הכי יפה, עמדה ששלטה על התעלה. את רוב המלחמה עשיתי בה. עברתי שם דברים קשים. בשבת בערב לוחם לידי קיבל כדור בין העיניים ונהרג במקום. נלחמתי שם בטירוף. לא היה איפה לתפוס מחסה. בהתחלה נלחמתי רק עם נשק קל, ואחר כך ביקשתי נשק מחלקתי, ושלמה שלח אלי מאג.
"בכל פעם שסירה של המצרים ניסתה לחצות את התעלה לכיוון שלנו, יריתי בה והכרזתי בקשר: 'מים אדומים', כי המים באמת הפכו אדומים. תוך כדי הלחימה נפצעתי שלוש פעמים. הלכתי לתאג"ד, אבל היה שם ריח של מוות והרופא היה עמוס בטיפול בפצועים שהיו במצב אנוש, אז המשכתי להילחם.
"מעל עמדת התצפית היה תורן עם דגל ישראל גדול, וכל הזמן הסתכלתי עליו וזה נתן לי כוח. מאז יש לי שריטה לדגל. אני לוקח איתי דגל ישראל לכל מקום ומצטלם איתו בכל מקום, אפילו תוך כדי צניחה חופשית.
"אומרים שאין גיבורים במלחמות, אבל בעיניי הגיבור של המלחמה הוא הטבח שלנו, מושון, שאחרי כמה ימים שלא אכלנו עזב את העמדה לידי והלך למטבח, שהיה הרוס לגמרי מכל ההפצצות, הכין צ'יפס למוצב - וחילק אותו בין כל הלוחמים. זה היה אחרי ימים שלא אכלנו".
מוצב המזח הצליח להחזיק מעמד שבוע, הודות ללחימה עיקשת במיוחד, והיה אחרון המוצבים שנכנעו. "בהתחלה לא הסכמתי להיכנע", מספר שלמה, "ידעתי שאנחנו העיניים של האזור, האחרונים שלא נכנעו, וכל זמן שסירות מצריות לא הצליחו לחצות את התעלה חשבתי שנוכל להמשיך להילחם. אבל הבעיה היתה שטנקים מצריים שכבר חצו את התעלה יכלו להגיע אלינו. היינו נצורים, אבל החזקנו מעמד והסבנו נזקים רבים לאויב.
"בהמשך נודע לנו ממפקד מצרי שהרגנו להם 160 לוחמים, וכל זאת בזמן שאצלנו במוצב היו כעשרה לוחמים שנלחמו בפועל, כי רבים היו פצועים.
שלמה ארדינסט (בקטן: כחייל). "הקרבנו ונלחמנו כמו אריות", צילום: נעמה שטרן
"העוצמה היתה האדם. המוכנות להקריב הכל ולהילחם כאריות. חיכינו לכוח חילוץ. ב־11 באוקטובר, בלילה שבין חמישי לשישי, היה אמור להגיע כוח קומנדו של השייטת, אבל הם התגלו ונאלצו לסגת. ואז אמרו לי בקשר שרוצים לדבר איתי ב־1 בלילה עם מערבל תדרים. שאלו למצבי. אמרתי שיש לנו חמישה הרוגים ושכמעט כולם פצועים, שנותר מעט נשק ושאם תהיה התקפה רצינית לא נחזיק מעמד.
"אמרו לי, 'אם כך, תיכנע'. עניתי שזה לא בא בחשבון ושנדבר בעוד 12 שעות - וניתקתי להם. אחרי 12 שעות שוב יצרתי קשר, ושוב אמרו לי 'תיכנע'. התייעצתי עם רופא התאג"ד שהיה איתנו במוצב. הוא אמר לי שיש פצוע אנוש שיכול בכל רגע למות לנו, ושאין אפילו מורפיום כדי לטפל בו. התייעצתי עם עוד לוחמים, גם עם אורי".
אורי: "אני אמרתי לו - 'שלמה, יש לי פה שני רימונים, אחד אזרוק על המצרים שמולם תיכנע, ואחד אשאיר בשביל עצמי. חי לשבי אני לא הולך'".
שלמה: "האנשים במוצב לא היו מוכנים להיכנע, אבל הבנתי שאם אומרים לי להיכנע, כנראה המשימה שלנו לא חשובה - ועדיף לשמור על חיי החיילים. הבהרתי בקשר שאני מוכן להיכנע בתנאי שיביאו את הצלב האדום וצלמי טלוויזיה. גלגלו את זה בדרג המדיני, וקיבלתי הודעה שהשיגו את הצלב האדום. בשבת בבוקר, ביום השמיני למלחמה, שאלתי שוב אם אני חייב להיכנע, ואמרו לי: 'כן, זו פקודה'".
אורי: "שלמה שכנע אותנו שזאת הפקודה, והתחלנו להתארגן לכניעה. שרפנו נשקים והשמדנו ציוד, ואז ברגע האחרון העבירו לנו מסר משר הביטחון שהפקודה מלמעלה מבוטלת, ושנחליט לבד אם להיכנע או לא. זו היתה פשלה גדולה וביזיון גדול. שר הביטחון לא רצה לקבל אחריות לכניעה הזו ונתן לבחור בן 21 להחליט לבד. בושה".
אורי אהרנפלד (בקטן: כחייל). "המצרים ראו, ולא האמינו", צילום: נעמה שטרן
ב־13 באוקטובר הגיע הצלב האדום למוצב המזח, ו־37 החיילים הישראלים ששהו בו הועלו על סירות והורדו בנמל תאופיק שבעיר סואץ.
אורי: "ישבנו על הארץ, ואז יצא גנרל מצרי ולקח את שלמה, חייל נוסף ואותי. העלו אותנו לסירה והחזירו אותנו למוצב. הם רצו שנחפש עוד לוחמים שם, כי לא האמינו שכוח קטן כל כך נלחם בהם בכזו עוצמה. בתוך הבונקרים היו חיילים מצרים שכיוונו עלינו רובים ממרחק של חמישה מטרים. זה היה פחד.
"הגנרל הביא אותנו מתחת לדגל ישראל בעמדת התצפית, אותו דגל שהחזיק אותי בלחימה. הוא היה קרוע מהפצצות. מול מצלמות הטלוויזיה הזרות הכריחו אותי להניף על התורן את הדגל המצרי, ואז דחפו לנו קלצ'ניקוב לגב, כדי שנצדיע לו. התמונה הזו הפכה לסמל של הנפילה בשבי. עכשיו את מבינה למה יש לי אובססיה לדגל ישראל?"
שלמה: "אני סיכמתי עם מושל סואץ שאת גופות החללים ואת ספר התורה של המוצב נעביר לצלב האדום. עטפנו את חמש הגופות ומסרנו אותן. אגב, המצרים לא העבירו את הגופות לצלב האדום, לכן נאלצנו אחרי המלחמה לנסוע פעמיים לחפש אותן. את ספר התורה ביקש הלל אונסדורפר ז"ל שניקח איתנו. התלבטתי, ולבסוף הסכמתי. חשבתי שאולי המצרים, כמוסלמים, יכבדו את הדת שלנו ואולי יאפשרו לנו להתפלל. עוד לא ידענו מה זה שבי. הלל חיבק את הספר - וכך יצאנו בתמונה שנצרבה בתודעה. את הספר המצרים לקחו וזרקו לרצפה".
משם נלקחו בחזרה אל יתר השבויים. כל אחד מהם נכלא בתא אחר, עם ידיים קשורות ועיניים מכוסות. במשך חודש וחצי עברו עינויים קשים עד אובדן הכרה, ובין החקירות סבלו מהזנחה רפואית חמורה, מרעב ומצמא, וספגו מכות עזות מהסוהרים בכל שעות היום והלילה.
יגאל מדפדף בנייד שלו ומציג איור של אדם תלוי ברגליו ובידיו. "לזה אנחנו קוראים 'התנוחה הידועה'. רוב השבויים שקיבלו מכות בכפות הרגליים היו תלויים ככה", הוא מסביר.
שלמה: "המכות לא היו הדבר הכי קשה בשבי. כי אתה אומר 'עברתי את זה שלשום ואתמול - ושרדתי'. הפחד הוא מפני הבלתי נודע, כשאתה שומע את הצעקות בתאים וזה מתקרב אליך. אלה הרגעים המפחידים. אבל מה שהכי הרג אותי בשבי היה השאלה אם ההחלטה שנאלצתי לקבל על הכניעה היתה נכונה. ידעתי שאני המפקד שבסוף קיבל אחריות, ושאני לא יכול להאשים אף אחד אחר. חששתי שאעמוד למשפט כשאחזור ארצה".
יגאל: "לי היו 20 שנה נקיפות מצפון. היו כאלה שהאשימו אותי שבגלל כל הבעיות שהיו בקשר נפלנו בשבי. אבל אחרי 20 שנה הבנתי שהבעיה לא היתה בתפקוד שלנו, אלא של הדרג המדיני ושל הדרג הצבאי הבכיר, שהיה מנותק מהשטח ונתן פקודות לא הגיוניות".
אורי: "הפשלה המרכזית היא שלא היינו צריכים להיות שם בכלל, במוצבים. התוכנית הצה"לית המקורית היתה לפנות את המוצבים אם תפרוץ מלחמה. המוצבים הוקמו לצורכי מודיעין ולהפגנת נוכחות של צה"ל, אבל קו ההגנה הראשון היה שמונה ק"מ פנימה. שנים לא התעסקנו בפשלות של המלחמה. מה שהעסיק אותנו היה תחושת הבושה בחזרה הביתה".
זריקה לכולם מאותו המזרק
מקץ כשישה שבועות בשבי, כשהועלו בקבוצות קטנות על מטוסים, לא האמינו השבויים שהם אכן חוזרים סוף־סוף הביתה. "עד שהיינו מעל קפריסין לא העזנו לדבר, כי אלף פעמים אמרו לנו קודם שאנחנו חוזרים, ובסוף זה לא קרה. ואז, כשהבנו שהפעם זה אמיתי, היה פרץ היסטרי של רגשות, שמחה ושירה ומה לא. הייתי בטוח שההורים שלי יחכו לי בשדה התעופה, אבל לא נתנו להם להגיע".
שלמה: "לאבא שלי דווקא נתנו להגיע עד למדרגות המטוס, אבל זה באמת היה חריג".
אורי: "היו הרבה אנשים בשדה התעופה שקיבלנו אותנו, אבל לא בני המשפחות. הייתי בטוח שבארץ יעזרו לי לחבר את החלקים שהתפרקו בי במהלך השבי, ושאחגוג את החופש. אבל אז באה מונית והורידה אותי בבית, בשבת אחר הצהריים. קצינת הנפגעים שליוותה אותי הודיעה לי שלמחרת בבוקר, ב־8, היא תבוא לקחת אותי לבית הבראה.
"The next morning, after seeing my family for only a few hours, I arrived at the Mivtachim facility in Zichron Yaakov. There was military police at the door, and the place was surrounded by barbed wire. No one cared about our poor medical condition, certainly not our mental state. In less than 24 hours, I was back in jail. Later, they took us to Beit Nissan in Netanya, and an idiot army psychiatrist injected us with sodium pantotal (known as Sam Emet). It's an injection that keeps you fully conscious, but you have no protection, you answer everything you ask like a robot.
"I was interrogated about the war and captivity. Ask what, how, and why you told. Go explain that I was hanged with my arms and legs, that I hadn't eaten or drunk for weeks, that I defecated in my pants, that I was wounded with shrapnel in my chest, that my face was broken by blows, and that I had gangrene in my legs from shrapnel. Only once in captivity did we receive medical treatment. They took us outside to the yard and lined up all the wounded. Then an Egyptian doctor came and injected us all with penicillin into the buttocks, from the same syringe. This is the only medical treatment I received in captivity. A lot of guys got jaundice from it, but it helped me."
Israeli prisoners in the Yom Kippur War upon their return to Israel, 1974. "We came back like bags of potatoes", photo: Shlomo Arad
After the interrogations in Zichron Yaakov, the prisoners were sent home, and many of them received a note in their personal file that marked them and warned against their military advancement. "We were warned not to talk to each other, and not to talk about the war at all. For 25 years, each of us coped alone," Uri describes. "Someone who was physically wounded could have submitted recognition of him like any other combatant in the IDF, but we couldn't submit post-traumatic stress disorder."
"There was no awareness then"
Many of the redeemed found it difficult to move on as usual with their lives, and were unable to learn a trade and earn a proper living. As a result of the challenges, families broke up, some became homeless, and quite a few children experienced violence at the hands of their shell-shocked and captive fathers.
Uri: "In 1974 I asked to talk to someone. I was sent to a psychiatrist who, after a half-hour conversation, wrote to the Defense Ministry that I had nothing. And that's it, that's the end of the treatment."
Yigal: "At the time, there was no awareness in Israel of post-trauma in general, and especially of complex post-trauma – from which most prisoners suffer. Only when American prisoners returned from the Vietnam War did studies on the subject begin, and then awareness rose in Israel as well."
"Thanks also to the redeemed women"
The recognition of post-traumatic stress disorder among prisoners of the Yom Kippur War began in 1999, following the activities of the "Cities at Night" association, established a year earlier. "At the beginning of the organization's existence, my wife and I moved house-to-house," Yigal recalls, "I would tell every redeemed person in captivity that we had established an association that would work for the prisoners, and most of the redeemed would slam the door and refuse to talk to me. My wife was smarter, and she would say, 'We're waiting for you fifteen minutes downstairs.' Then the wife of the redemptive would come down to us and describe the predicament of her husband, who is dysfunctional and unaware of his condition.
"That's how we started. They spat at us and swore at us, but in the end they joined us. We went, representatives of the prisoners, to a meeting with the deputy defense minister at the time, Ephraim Sneh, who understood that the situation had to be changed and established a special committee that opened the door to the prisoners of the Yom Kippur War - and anyone who wanted could file a lawsuit. We encouraged people to do it.
"164 people were recognized as disabled people in need who were unable to support their families at all. That's half of the prisoners. For us, it was a hard blow to realize how hurt and discarded people had been for two and a half decades. The rest received 30 percent disability or more, all depending on the diagnoses each underwent. It was a window of opportunity, and the Ministry of Defense functioned great. They were really enlightened."
Uri: "And those who did not file a lawsuit at the time, for all sorts of reasons, went through a long ordeal in the years that followed until they were recognized, if at all. Now we are helping an 80-year-old captive who did not file a lawsuit at the time and now suffers from dementia. We have a sense of obligation to him – and to the country. I'm still doing reserves. Yigal volunteered for years in the police. Shlomo is still doing reserve duty. Over the years, he became a lieutenant colonel. The three of us fought in the First Lebanon War.
"Understand that it's burning in our bones. We feel that we must protect the country, we must contribute to it, because nothing can be taken for granted. Now, in preparation for the flotilla, I call every prisoner, and everyone is so excited about the idea of the journey. People who throughout the years did not want to be in contact and distanced themselves from the organization's activities also signed up for the flotilla. Anyone whose medical condition allows him to do so wants to come, because everyone understands how historic this event of correction is. An event whose goal is to bring us home, and this time properly. Because to this day we haven't really come home."
Yossi: "This journey also places special emphasis on the wives of those redeemed from captivity. There is a dimension here of a desire to be grateful to the women who accompany the prisoners of captivity, and who for years have stood by them even in difficult moments. Like many POWs, my first marriage experienced a crisis, and 15 years ago I remarried."
The Italian ship Chamomila, which will be used for the flotilla, photo: Wikimedia
"Worthy of being treated like heroes"
Unlike the relatively short captivity on the Egyptian front, the captivity on the Syrian front lasted about eight months, five of which, during which no authoritative information was received about their capture, the prisoners were declared missing.
Yossi was taken prisoner seven days after the capture of the Hermon outpost. "It was already during Sukkot. We hid for seven days in the burrows of the outpost, which had 100 Syrian commandos. We were only caught during an escape attempt. We were four Israeli soldiers. Two wanted to commit suicide, and I convinced them through superhuman efforts not to.
"In war, you usually have very little time to make a decision about whether you go into captivity or shoot yourself. We went through seven days like that. We had one candy, and ate food scraps of cucumber peels. At one point, I crawled, risking my life, to fetch a box of apricots, opened by the Syrians, and a box of biscuits.
"On the seventh day, the four of us tried to escape – and we were caught. Fortunately, the Syrians didn't kill us the way they killed others who tried to escape. In the days before the escape attempt, I made myself a cover story, because I knew they shouldn't know I was an intelligence officer. Moreover, I had a pilot brother at the time, and I was briefly in Sayeret Matkal. It was clear to me that I would have to hide it so as not to return in a coffin.
"I didn't tell the Syrians I was a lookout, and instead I said I was a map storekeeper. I stuck to this version and claimed that as a warehouseman I knew very little. In any case, they scream at you during interrogations that you are a liar and a cheat. I got beaten anyway, but at some point that attitude was firmly established by my interrogators. The torture continued for several weeks. I got electric shocks more than a few times. My friends had nail extractions. I, fortunately, didn't go through it."
Yossi describes how he tried to keep morale high, and claims that what kept him going was faith. On Hanukkah, he created a dreidel out of bar soap, then wrote the Shema and the eighteenth prayer on food packages, with charcoal and black soot collected from the sides of the toilets, which in winter lit a bonfire nearby. Later, towards the end of his captivity, the prisoners were already given pencils - and thus he completed his drawing of freedom.
"We returned to Israel on Thursday, June 6, 1974. I arrived at Kibbutz Tirat Tzvi in the afternoon. There were parties and great receptions of the whole valley that welcomed me. It was incredibly exciting, and it spilled over into Friday as well. Then there was Shabbat with the family, a total of 24 hours together.
Yossi Tor (small: as a soldier). "We were treated almost despicable", photo: Naama Stern
"Already on Sunday we were asked, or rather forced, to come to the healing facility in Zichron Yaakov. We call it 'Interrogation Facility No. 2.' It was one big disgrace. As someone who experienced humiliation, physical and mental torture in Syria, suddenly you are cruelly and threateningly cut off from your family and taken away for further interrogations. We felt that we were treated with humiliation, as if we were traitors and spies.
"For years we have carried on our backs all the failures of Defense Minister Moshe Dayan and Prime Minister Golda Meir. Instead of taking responsibility and drawing conclusions, they dropped the case on the little soldier. After the suffering we endured in Syria, it was fitting that they should come to us in silk gloves, to carry us on our shoulders as heroes who will represent the country as best they can. Instead, they threw slime and blame on us. It was a disgrace like no other.
"In my view, the almost despicable attitude towards us was not only in Zichron Yaakov, but continued for years and years. We were like the last of the thieves who had to beg and describe what we went through in captivity in order to obtain our rights. It took years for our basic and fundamental rights to be recognized. All Israeli governments committed the same original sin, and to this day do not recognize our special situation as redeemers of captivity. They don't give us the full treatment and rights. Zichron Yaakov is a bad and terrible memory, and I believe and hope that it will fade away thanks to the current flotilla, which we named 'Homecoming.'"
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