I REMEMBER

                                           Фото: Соня Крас

 I REMEMBER

I remember what a torment that hospital of 1954 was. Night. I can’t fall asleep from the pain. A light flares up in the corridor. The wheels of a gurney creak—they’re bringing in a new patient. And the voice of the doctor on duty: “Put this one in the ward, the weak one into the corridor.”

“The weak one” was me. Without a word, they carry me out into the drafty corridor, straight on the bed. I remember that from the anguish of the soul even the physical pain grew duller.

From then on I lived in Russia with a constant feeling of alienation, defenselessness, and danger.

Our settlement is located not far from Gaza. On the “black Saturday” of October 7, I suddenly remembered that hospital and those fears. A lot has happened in three decades of life in Israel: the intifada, children in the IDF, the frequent wail of air-raid sirens—but this had never happened before. In childhood and in old age people are defenseless; yet after the despair and terror there appeared something that had not existed before: anger, hatred, a clear understanding of the causes of what had happened, and a complete conviction—in our protection and in retribution.

Kindness, tolerance, compromise—all this is punished by those who live by envy and hatred toward you and your people. We begin to understand this only when we ourselves become victims of our own nature, forever seeking calm and peace.

But what saved me on that terrible day was not these reflections, but simple action. There was a large vehicle, my son-in-law at the wheel. We began to drive wherever we were called. Military bases, reservists, cargo… They try to push me aside, but I force my way in as a helper, hauling boxes of something or other. This is my country and my war. I am certain that in those days the feeling of unity and of inevitable victory merged into a single whole.

Another page has been turned in the tragic history of the Jewish people. Will it ever become different, as long as the evil of envy, hatred, and cruelty exists in our world? I don’t think so… I just very much do not want to relive again that memory of childhood grief—of despair and defenselessness.

Arkady Krasilshchikov