In the dark night that fell on the military cemetery in Jerusalem, the funerals of young Israeli soldiers massacred by Hamas followed one another in leaden silence, only broken by angry tears.
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The ocher earth of the Mount Herzl cemetery, named after the founder of political Zionism, has just been freshly dug by a miniature excavator. Between Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning, 11 young soldiers will be buried here, one after the other.
A few steps from the grave of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin assassinated in 1995 by an Israeli extremist, the brothers in arms of Noam Elimelekh Rottenberg, 20 years old, a gifted computer scientist and good comrade, carry him to the ground.
AFP
Alerted by a chain of messages on the social network WhatsApp, a thousand people, most of them unrelated or otherwise with the deceased, stood in charged silence. Their gazes are hard, their jaws are clenched, their faces are closed, everyone stands straight, struggling to suppress their tears.
“Noam, this war will be the last. We don’t want to live like this anymore. Your spilled blood will be avenged a hundredfold,” promises Colonel Nissim Yitzhaki, who commands the unit where Noam served.
Volunteers, usually ultra-Orthodox Jews, also rushed to help the workers digging the graves who were overwhelmed by their large numbers.
“A cowardly and cruel enemy”
After the surprise attack by Palestinian Islamists Hamas against Israel on Saturday at dawn, “difficult days await us facing this cowardly and cruel enemy,” added the officer in front of the soldier’s remains, placed at his feet.
None of his relatives agree to describe the circumstances of his death. Their pain is visible. It also mixes with their incomprehension in the face of such an attack, unprecedented since the creation of the country in 1948.
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“It suits you so badly to die, Noam,” chokes up Rabbi Yitzhak Revah, who heads the Talmudic school in the Galilee (north) where the young man studied.
He repeats his words, hammering them forcefully: “You died only because you were Jewish. Because you were Jewish. It’s intolerable. Just intolerable.”
Another rabbi, Yitzhak Neiman, speaks, his throat tight and his fist pounding angrily on the platform. “The last time I felt this anger was in front of the gate of Auschwitz,” he says, referring to the largest Nazi extermination camp in Poland.
In the sky, the rumble of a fighter bomber sends shivers through the crowd who have just been informed that in the event of a warning siren caused by a Hamas rocket attack, everyone must take shelter. or lie on the ground with both hands on your head.
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During this period, gatherings are high risk.
The kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead, rises in the night. The crowd dries its tears.
A few meters further on, the small excavator comes into action once again. Other holes must be dug to bury the dead of Hamas. The night will be long.
More than 1,000 people, mostly Israeli civilians, some soldiers and foreign workers, have been killed in Israel since Saturday morning.