Israel Mourns 73 Sons Killed in Air Crash

Beyond the flags at half-staff, the Knesset speeches and the national day of mourning, for scores of families, Israel’s worst army air disaster came down to this--a predawn knock at the door, followed by wrenching pain over the death of a son and a military funeral at dusk.

In the Oasis of Peace, as this Jewish-Arab community is called--and in cities, towns and kibbutzim across the country--hundreds of Israelis gathered on a cold Wednesday to bury one of the 73 soldiers killed in a midair helicopter collision the night before.

Soldiers in fatigues and the green berets of the Nahal infantry carried the flag-draped coffin of Sgt. Tom Kitain to its freshly dug grave by a grove of olive and cypress trees.

Kitain’s mother stared stonily at the damp earth shoveled so hastily over 20 years of love and worry. His little sister gripped a shoot of fuchsia bougainvillea and wailed. Neighbors shed tears at the loss of a friend and at the knowledge that this could have been their child lying at their feet--or may be next time.

Teenagers embraced in sorrow as Kitain’s fellow soldiers sucked in their breath.

In a country that sends most of its sons and daughters into the armed services and, more often than not, into battle, military funerals such as Kitain’s are a shared national experience. From the War of Independence in 1948 to the ongoing guerrilla war in southern Lebanon, most families have lost a member, or at least a close friend, in the Israel Defense Forces.

Morever, the impact of this single tragedy was magnified by the small size of Israel’s population--the loss of life would be proportionally equivalent to the death of more than 3,700 soldiers in one incident in the United States.

That may be why so many people wept when Yossi Sarid, representing the national parliament, said: “I did not know you personally, Tom, but I too love you very much. And I do know you, because we all know our beautiful, gifted and beloved boys. In you, we can see all of our children, and, in them, we can see you.”

Among the Israelis listening to his words was Nahum Barnea, the Yediot Aharonot newspaper columnist who a year ago stood over the grave of his own son, killed by a suicide bomber on a Jerusalem bus. Yonatan Barnea also was a soldier on his way back to base when he died.

Like all Israelis in military service, Kitain knew exactly how much time remained on his army clock. He left home Tuesday morning after telling his neighbors that he would return for good from his three-year duty in “five months, less five days.”

Kitain perished that evening when the CH-53 Sikorsky transport helicopter he was riding in collided with another and crashed on the way to Israeli outposts in occupied South Lebanon--Israel’s last active battlefront.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu declared a national day of mourning in memory of the 73 soldiers who died.

Theaters and movie houses closed, and the names of the dead were read on the radio, every hour on the hour.

As investigators picked through the wreckage for clues to the cause of the crash, the bodies that had been identified were returned to their families. The funerals began under slate gray skies.

But while Kitain’s burial belonged to a national tragedy, it was unique in at least one respect. His was the only military funeral with a significant number of Palestinians among those grieving over the death of an Israeli soldier.

Neve Shalom--or What al Salaam in Arabic--is a community of about 300 Jews and Arab citizens of Israel who have chosen to live together and work for peace between their peoples.

Founded in 1979, the young community has only three other people buried in its cemetery. It has sent just four of its children to the army so far, including Kitain and his younger brother. Kitain is its first military casualty, and his death seemed to unite the community even more.

“I don’t remember another day when we have all been together, all feeling the same thing,” said Adnan Mana, a Palestinian neighbor of the Kitains.

“Yet it is absurd,” he added, shaking his head. “My neighbor was a soldier. My friend went to fight against my people--Arabs. He was killed, and I am sad for him. This is the first time in my life that I am sad for an Israeli soldier who died.”

Shai Schwartz, a Jewish friend of the Kitains, said he realized the soldier’s death was difficult for his Palestinian neighbors.

“I am moved by the fact that they are here and hurt and identify with the family. I do not take it for granted,” Schwartz said.

Abdessalam Najar, who taught Kitain math, science and Arabic in the community’s bilingual grammar school, said he had discussed Israel’s obligatory army service with the Jewish youth: “For him, the army was important to emphasize his Jewish identity. He wanted to serve in the army. But he related to the other side too, as human beings. He saw how complex this situation was. He had Palestinian friends and classmates, and it was difficult for him.”

But while Kitain’s friends said he had made a decision not to serve in the occupied West Bank, he apparently had no objection to serving in southern Lebanon. It may be that, on this issue, he saw things from Schwartz’s point of view.

“Lebanon is a place where we feel we are defending our northern border. I don’t approve of our being inside Lebanon, and we have to come to a political solution there, but I know we are defending our border against terrorist attacks,” Schwartz said.

A national debate on the topic is certain to follow the deaths of the young men on their way to southern Lebanon.

A front-page commentary in Yediot Aharonot said: “There is no tool, no trick [that] the Israeli Defense Forces haven’t tried in order to reduce the losses of this war, but the war keeps winning.”

The newspaper was referring to the fact that the soldiers had been flown to southern Lebanon by helicopter--rather than being driven there--to avoid roadside bombs planted by the Shiite Muslim Hezbollah guerrillas, who are fighting to oust Israel from Lebanon.

Netanyahu responded that he will not change his policy.

“We are not going to be deterred, and we are not going to relent,” he said after touring the crash site. “We shall defend our country. We shall reduce the risks. Ultimately, we shall achieve peace too.”

Yet no one had the stomach for political battle on this funeral day.

Kitain’s shattered father, Boaz, told Israeli television that he had moved to the peace community of Neve Shalom “out of the hope that we could change things and make a difference.”

But, he added, “this wasn’t enough for us or for Tom. It couldn’t save him.”