Yom Kippur War Quotes

A friend of mine tells a story about some Israeli students who were called up in the 1973 Yom Kippur War. As soon as they were notified, they went back to their rooms at University, and each packed his gear, a rifle, and a book of Yehuda Amichai’s poems.

despair threatened to overwhelm a young Israeli soldier who had lost both his legs in the Yom Kippur War. He was drowning in depression and contemplating suicide. One day a friend noticed that his outlook had changed to hopeful serenity. The soldier attributed his transformation to reading Man’s Search for Meaning. When he was told about the soldier, Frankl wondered whether “there may be such a thing as autobibliotherapy—healing through reading.” Frankl’s

-You give her a three, he said... -That three was entirely fitting, I said. It was complete garbage. Not the kind of thing I expect the students to hand in... In addition to the Second World War, I also deal with a large part of the history that came afterwards,’ I interrupted again. Korea, Vietnam, Kuwait, the Middle East and Israel, the Six-Day War, the Yom Kippur War, the Palestinians. I deal with all of that during my classes. So then you can’t expect to turn in a paper about the state of Israel in which people mostly pick oranges and dance in sandals around a campfire. Cheerful, happy people everywhere, and all that horseshit about the desert where flowers blossom again. I mean, people are shot and killed there every day, buses are blown up. What’s this all about? -She came in here crying, Paul. -I’d cry too if I turned in garbage like that.

I soon had an occasion to apply what I had learned from Feller. The Yom Kippur War broke out in 1973, and my only significant contribution to the war effort was to advise high officers in the Israeli Air Force to stop an investigation. The air war initially went quite badly for Israel, because of the unexpectedly good performance of Egyptian ground-to-air missiles. Losses were high, and they appeared to be unevenly distributed. I was told of two squadrons flying from the same base, one of which had lost four planes while the other had lost none. An inquiry was initiated in the hope of learning what it was that the unfortunate squadron was doing wrong. There was no prior reason to believe that one of the squadrons was more effective than the other, and no operational differences were found, but of course the lives of the pilots differed in many random ways, including, as I recall, how often they went home between missions and something about the conduct of debriefings. My advice was that the command should accept that the different outcomes were due to blind luck, and that the interviewing of the pilots should stop. I reasoned that luck was the most likely answer, that a random search for a nonobvious cause was hopeless, and that in the meantime the pilots in the squadron that had sustained losses did not need the extra burden of being made to feel that they and their dead friends were at fault.

Everything’s awful,” said Jessie, picking at a corner of her bedroom wallpaper that was peeling. She explained to her grandmother about the trial yesterday and the basketball game and Scott kicking the ball into the swamp. She told her how Evan had to hunt for the ball for half an hour before finally finding it, and how he told all his friends to just go home, he’d find it himself, just go home. So they did. And how Evan and Jessie were left to look for the ball, and how Evan didn’t talk the whole time they did. “And today he’s not even eating, or anything,” said Jessie. “Did you know that it’s Yom Kippur?” “Yom Kippur, is that the one where the kids dress up?” asked Jessie’s grandmother. “No, that’s Purim.” Grandma was always mixing up things like that, things that sounded kind of the same, but were different. During their last phone call, she was talking with Jessie about the sequoia trees in California, but she kept using the word sequester instead. “Yom Kippur is the day when the Jewish people ask for forgiveness and they don’t eat.” “Is Evan Jewish now?” asked Grandma. “No, but he’s not eating. He says he’s not hungry,” said Jessie. “Sometimes that happens to me,” Grandma said. “I practically forget to eat.” “But Evan’s always hungry,” said Jessie. “Mom says he’s a bottomless pit.” “He’ll eat when he’s ready,” said Grandma. “Let it go.” Jessie hated it when her grandmother said that. She was always telling Jessie to let it go and be the tree. Crazy yoga grandma. How could anyone be a tree? “But

conversations

The capital P has no bearing on the PTSD of Israel. The dread of extinction is the white noise the people continuously try to ignore – continuously, because the dread of extinction is punctually refreshed. Following the Holocaust, within three years of the Holocaust, what starts to happen? Independence Day was proclaimed on May 15, 1948, and on May 16, 1948, five Arab armies launched what was avowedly a Vernichtungskrieg, a war of annihilation (its failure was the original Arab nakba – ‘catastrophe’). The same applied in June 1967 (the Six Day War) and in October 1973 (the Yom Kippur War)…In January 1991 the existential threat came from Saddam Hussein; during the first Gulf War, Tel Aviv was bombarded by Iraqi missiles, and Israeli families sat in sealed rooms with German-made gas masks covering their faces. In March 2002, with the Second Intifada, the threat came from the Palestinians. Now the threat comes from Gaza, and from the overarching prospect of nuclear weapons in Iran… To understate the obvious, this is not a formula for radiant mental health. And if there’s a scintilla of truth in the notion that countries are like people, then it is vain to expect Israel to behave normatively or even rationally. The question is not, How can you expect it, after all that? The question is, After all that, why do you expect it?

The passage of fourteen years had led to another significant change in the international environment. As I told Bush 43 and Condi Rice on more than one occasion, when I had been in government before, problems or crises more often than not would arise, be dealt with, and go away. The Yom Kippur War in October 1973, a serious crisis that risked confrontation with the Soviet Union, was over in a few days. Even the Iranian hostage crisis, as painful and protracted as it was, ended in 444 days. Now hardly any issue or problem could be resolved and put aside; instead problems accumulated.

I had known Mubarak and his wife, Suzanne, for nearly twenty years. He was a career Air Force officer who had risen through the ranks to become Vice President under Anwar Sadat, the Egyptian ruler who fought the Yom Kippur War with Israel in 1973 and later signed the Camp David Accords. Mubarak was injured in the extremist attack that assassinated Sadat in 1981, but he survived, became President, and cracked down hard on Islamists and other dissidents. He ruled Egypt like a pharaoh with nearly absolute power for the next three decades.

THERE IS YET ANOTHER factor that both communities must recall. Even in the moments during which the relationship is most strained, they need to remember one of the central lessons of Jewish history: the unpredictability of survival. Most national traditions celebrate great victories, and monuments are created to commemorate triumphs. They range from the glorious (Paris’s Arc de Triomphe, for example) to the grand (the Arch of Titus in Rome) to the foolish (such as Cairo’s October War Panorama, which portrays the Yom Kippur War as a great Egyptian victory). Jews have long had a different take on history. The Jewish calendar is replete with dates that mark near-catastrophe or actual destruction. The holiday of Purim marks the close call of the Jews’ narrow escape when Haman tried to convince the king to kill all the Jews in his kingdom. There is a fast day to commemorate the beginning of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem. Another marks the breaching of the city’s walls. And a more major fast (the aforementioned Ninth of Av) mourns the destruction of both Temples. In a similar vein, Israel is dotted with thousands of monuments, almost all of them to fallen soldiers in one war or another. Tellingly, there is hardly a single monument to an Israeli victory, of which there have been many.

This craggy political landscape was the kind of terrain in which Kissinger moved with the deftness of an Indian scout.