There are no politics in Israel today - no left and no right. There is no Opposition and no Coalition. There is no religious strife. There are no differences between religious and non-religious, between Jew, Arab, Druse and Christian. We are all one, united. We grieve together. There are not 73 families in mourning. We are all in mourning.
For those who haven’t heard the details - on Tuesday night, probably the coldest night of the year, two Yasour helicopters crashed over Shaar Yishuv, a settlement in northern Israel. All 73 soldiers aboard the two craft were killed outright - soldiers on their way to outposts on the Lebanese border and their airforce crew. There were no survivors. By some strange twist of luck, the falling debris fell on Shaar Yishuv houses that were unoccupied. No civilians were killed. Rescue crews arrived immediately at the site. There was no one alive to rescue.
For thousands of families - Tuesday was the worst nightmare. Would the phone ring, with one's son calling to say he was alright. Or would there be the dreaded knock on the door? Usually in the case of a military tragedy, there is no major announcement until all the families have been notified. This time was different - as civilian were involved, but not injured.
Israel mourns. We sit listening to the radio and watching the television, as name after name is announced. Young boys, barely 19, 20 years old. They never had a life. Never had a chance. Television channels cancel their regular shows - as we become involved in an endless newscast, an endless report of the tragedy.
There is no one to blame. There is no one on whom we can take out our anger, our frustrations. There have been military accidents before, including one that caused the lives of over 50 soldiers in a Yasour helicopter crash in 1977. But, this was the worst of all.
Flags have been lowered to half mast. The cinemas are closed; the streets are empty. Sad music is played on the radio. Schools hold memorial services. Psychologists are called in to ease the fears of the young. Hotlines are set up for information. And the funerals begin. 73 coffins carried by soldiers. The funerals are so similar - even though the stories of the families are so different. The ceremonies are emotional, but nothing can change what has come to be.
The national day of mourning will end at seven p.m. today, Thursday, February 6th. For most of us, not personally knowing the victims, life will go back to normal. Back to the day-to-day struggles, frustrations, joys. But for some, life will never be the same.