A Shabbat on the Battlefield That Saved My Life
By Shmuel Gurewicz
In 1960, I married an Israeli girl and, in 1964, we settled in Israel. I was conscripted to the Israeli army in 1965 and was assigned to the reserve troops.
In May of 1967, the Egyptians amassed troops in the Sinai Desert, close to the Israeli border, and closed the Straits of Tiran to shipping. Israel regarded this as a declaration of war.
While the diplomats were running between Washington, London, Paris and Tel Aviv, the Israeli public was preparing for war, expecting the worst. The Arab leaders were violently inciting their populations with dramatic promises to "push the Jews into the sea."
In Israel, the army started a general mobilization. First, the pilots and armored corps were called up. Then, more and more reserves were called to duty.
The Jewish burial society of Tel Aviv alone dug fifteen thousand graves, ready for civilian casualties. The threat was real. More and more homes were left without parents and siblings. People were frightened, concerned for the future of Israel and their families.
Israel was outnumbered one hundred to one. The Egyptians had German scientists developing missiles and the Russians supplying them with tanks and combat jet planes. The French, who supplied Israel with Mirage fighter planes, declared an embargo on supplies to Israel with the excuse that they do not supply arms to a combat zone.
The threat was real.
I was called on May 25th to report for duty the following day, Friday, the 26th. My regiment organized themselves by Sunday, where we were moved to a hill, 500 feet from a Jordanian village called Budrus.
Prior to the next Shabbat, the commanding officer, Victor, announced that ten percent of the soldiers could go home for Shabbat, a twenty-four-hour leave. We
