Uri Full of Light

by Holly Sortland

  Finally, the door opened, and a tall officer stood in the doorway and ushered Uri in. The officer looked to be in his mid-forties, not quite as old as Uri's father.

  As Uri walked into his office, the officer introduced himself as Captain Abrams. Another man, also an officer, rose to greet Uri.

  Captain Abrams spoke first. "Lieutenant Geller, thank you for making the trip up here today. This is Captain Edri. We both serve in the General Officer Command headquarters, or as you know it—the "Mazi."

  "Of course," said Uri anxiously. "I am glad to make the trip."

  "Lieutenant, you come highly recommended from your unit. Your file has been thoroughly reviewed and we must say that we are impressed with your technical skills and with your recognizance training."

  "Thank you," Uri replied to Captain Abrams. "I enjoy the army life and am proud to serve Israel."

  "We will cut to the chase," Captain Edri said.

  "We would like to place you in a highly elite operation involving the collection of intelligence from agents in Hamas and the jihad. The operation would take place mostly in the West Bank and Gaza. We're talking about daytime, covert operations and they need to be done quickly."

  The captains had Uri's full attention.

  "How is your Arabic?" Captain Edri asked.

  "It's good, but there's room for improvement," Uri answered honestly.

  "This operation must be developed and dispatched quickly. Our intelligence officers tell us there is a campaign among Hamas and the Palestinian Jihad to increase attacks within Israel," Captain Abrams further explained.

  "Suicide bombers?" Uri asked.

  "Yes," Captain Abrams responded. "And we are looking at a different demographic. It's not just young men who are willing to be martyrs. Hamas is very skilled in recruiting young boys and even women."

  "Women?" Uri repeated incredulously.

  "Girls, really, some as young as fourteen," answered Captain Edri. “And boys even younger. Kids, actually.”

  Sickened by the information, Uri’s stomach churned.

  "We think you are an ideal candidate for this operation, and we would like to expedite your classification status. If all goes well, you will be transferred to work under the auspice of the Border Police. There are a few psychological tests we would like you to take. You can start those this afternoon and finish tomorrow if necessary.

  “And as you know, because this operation is deeply classified, you will be required to sign and acknowledge the legal ramifications should you divulge any of the details about this operation, including to family members, your rabbi, and others,” Captain Edri ended his instructions.

  "I understand," Uri replied. His mind raced with questions, but he knew the captains would not provide additional information until he completed the additional psychological testing.

  Captain Edri handed Uri a piece of paper with a room number where he was to report for testing. "Once the testing is complete, we will be in touch about the next steps," he said as he handed Uri the instructions.

  "That is all. We will be in touch soon." Captain Abrams said curtly.

  "Thank you, Captains," Uri said as he stood up and made his way to the door. Before he opened it, he asked one more question.

  "Captains, if I may, can I ask the name of this unit?"

  The two men looked at Uri stoically.

  "As far as you and everyone else is concerned, this unit does not exist." Captain Abrams looked Uri square in his eyes, leaving him no doubt about the secretiveness of the operation.

  "Yes, sir," Uri replied as he left the room.

  He walked past the woman who greeted him in the office. She gave him a polite nod as the door buzzed and he exited the room. Outside sat the same unpleasant woman; she didn't bother to acknowledge him as he walked away.

  Uri looked at the piece of paper with instructions that he report to a room on an upper level. As he walked to the elevator, adrenaline rushed through his body. A sense of fear returned to him. Not for his own safety, but for what was to come to Israel, and his wife's wellbeing.

  My wife, he thought to himself. Again, he wondered if he had made a mistake for bringing Chana there. He accused himself of being selfish for staying in the military. They would be much safer in Bala Cynwyd.

  As he entered the elevator and the doors closed, he thought, I will insist that she return to the States if things get bad.

  Once again, he underestimated the stubbornness of Chana Geller.

  30

  Uri and Chana Geller argued for the first time on a September evening in 2000.

  Tired from the day's events and testing, Uri returned home wanting to take comfort in the arms of his wife, but that wasn't possible because she was in niddah.

  As he entered the apartment, the smell of seasoned chicken greeted him. Chana was in the kitchen putting together chicken and pitas.

  Chana also looked tired, and he imagined her day was hectic with making her way to the University and getting herself oriented in a new environment. He appreciated the fact that she took the time to prepare a meal.

  "Hello, my love!" she greeted him cheerfully, although he could sense she was drained.

  "You didn't have to cook, Chana, we could have ordered in," he said, wanting desperately to pull her into him for an embrace.

  "I know, but I don't know which places are good yet. This is hardly a three-course dinner,” she said.

  "This looks perfect, Chana," Uri said as he sat at the table and poured two glasses of wine.

  They prayed a blessing for the bread and began to eat.

  "You will never believe what I found out today," Chana said, seeming more energized. "I checked my email at the University today and I had a message from Faith. Guess who she is dating?”

  "Hmm. . .Greg Moorehouse?"

  "No! It's Daniel. She's dating Daniel Baker and I guess it's pretty serious."

  "Daniel Baker, the Jew?" Uri was genuinely surprised.

  "Yes! Remember when we ditched them at the movies? Maybe that's what got it all started. Our love must be contagious." Chana teasingly raised her eyebrows as she took a bite of her food.

  "I can't believe Daniel brought a Catholic girl home," Uri said, reminiscing on the short time he had spent with him in South Dakota.

  "Super Catholic," Chana reiterated. "I used to make her hide her crucifix necklaces from you."

  "Seriously? You must have really wanted to impress me," he grinned.

  "Well, it worked didn't it? I am fairly good at getting what I want,” Chana bragged.

  They enjoyed the quiet as they ate their meal.

  Uri knew it was time to tell her what weighed on him. He swallowed apprehensively.

  "Chana, I need to tell you something. I don't want to worry you, but it's serious."

  Concerned, Chana put down her wine glass.

  "What is it? Are you sick?"

  Growing up with a terminally ill parent, illness was always at the top of her worries.

  "No, I'm fine. Chana, I am worried that Israel is about to become a dangerous place."

  "What do you mean? The military here is among the best in the world," she said, perplexed.

  "Yes, it is. But we're facing a different kind of threat. There are some Palestinian extremists who are willing to make themselves martyrs—willing to die—to damage to the Israeli State."

  Chana played with her food, trying to absorb what Uri said.

  "You mean like the suicide bombers?" She finally asked. Uri felt her concern growing.

  "Yes, those and other possible threats."

  "But there were only a couple in Haifa last year and they didn't do any damage, really. Why are you so concerned now?"

  Uri looked her in the eyes but said nothing. Immediately, Chana understood.

  "This has to do with your new operation, doesn't it?"

  Again, Uri said nothing.

  "What, you're not even going to tell your wife? Are you in danger, Uri?"

  Uri sighed. "There
's a lot that I don't even know right now. And you're right—I am not and will not be allowed to tell you the details."

  "Are you going to have to leave? Are these long missions we're talking about?" Chana’s voice reflected her worry.

  "I don't know. It's likely I will be on missions, but I don't think they'll last long." Uri spoke gently, trying to ease the tension.

  "Do you have to do this, Uri? Why are you purposely putting your life at risk? I'm not naive, I know you're going to be doing some dangerous work."

  Uri hadn't seen Chana this agitated for quite some time. It reminded him that there was still a lot of Hannah in Chana, and he loved her for that.

  "Chana, I have worked really hard. I am one of the youngest to make my rank and the fact that I've been asked to be a part of this mission means that I have earned the trust of some of the highest-ranking commanders. I would think you would be proud of me."

  "I am proud of you. But we're just beginning to build our life here. I want babies with you; I want to grow old with you. Why are you willing to put all of that on the line?"

  Chana was shouting now. She stood up and slammed her dishes in the sink, cracking a plate.

  "Chana, I am a good soldier. I am skilled and I have a lot of common sense. Nothing will happen to me."

  "Can you promise me that?" She stood at the sink, looking deep into his brown, oval eyes.

  Uri didn't answer her. He couldn't lie to his wife.

  "Dammit, Uri!" she shouted at him as she stormed to their bedroom and slammed the door.

  He let her be for a few moments, hoping she would cool down. Eventually, he joined her in the bedroom and sat at the foot of the bed.

  "Chana, I didn't mean to make this about me. I brought it up because I am concerned about your safety. If Israel becomes too dangerous, you may want to return home."

  "Return home for what? To watch my father die? I've been watching him die my entire life, Uri!"

  Sitting up from the bed, she glared at him.

  "I will never leave you here alone. This is my home. Here with you." Her anger had melted into sadness, tears watered her eyes.

  "Chana, I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."

  "Now you know how I feel." She wiped her face with her sleeve, a familiar habit she had since he first met her. While some people thought it unseemly, Uri found it endearing.

  "We are in this together, Uri. I am not leaving."

  Uri reached for her hand.

  "Uri, I'm in niddah!" she said, quickly removing her hand.

  Uri grabbed it back. "I don't care. HaShem will forgive me. I need to touch you."

  Chana sighed and looked down at their hands. She remembered the first time she took his hand in the library years ago. That touch was forbidden, too.

  Uri pulled Chana into him, holding her in his arms.

  "Uri, what are you doing?" she asked, not bothering to pull away.

  "I am loving my wife. HaShem knows my heart. I am righteous," he said almost in a whisper.

  "Yes, you are," Chana replied softly. "I'm sorry for swearing."

  Uri smiled and kissed her head.

  "I'm not," he said. "That's the girl I fell in love with."

  "It's just that I am already losing my dad. I can't lose you, too."

  "I know, Chana. You won't lose me. I promise."

  He closed his eyes and prayed to HaShem for his protection over them.

  "I never knew," he said.

  "Never knew what?" Chana asked.

  "I never knew how much I could love someone. It's almost painful."

  Chana kissed his hand. They laid down together and Uri caressed her cheek.

  "We are terrible at keeping rules," Chana said. "Maybe we should become Conservative," she said half teasingly.

  "That would go over great with my mother," Uri chuckled. “If only Rabbi Weissman could see us.” They laughed.

  They laid together in the quiet; Uri held Chana until she fell asleep. Later, he cleaned the kitchen, did the dishes, and prayed.

  He opened the door to the terrace and lit a cigarette. It felt good to be in the cool September air. Despite the peaceful silence, thoughts and worries moved through his mind like a maze.

  He hadn't told Chana about the three Israeli soldiers killed a week ago in a nightmare scenario of friendly fire during an operation on the West Bank. But Chana was resourceful and well-informed. Soon enough, she would realize the danger he faced.

  He lit another cigarette and thought of simpler times. Closing his eyes, his mind wandered back to the first warm kiss he shared with Chana in an alley. It was hard for him to believe that she was now his Jewish wife, sleeping soundly only a few feet away.

  31

  September 28, 2000 marked the beginning of unrest and uncertainty in Jerusalem and throughout Israel.

  Trouble brewed in one of the holiest places in the world for Jews, Christians, and Muslims after Prime Ministerial candidate Ariel Sharon visited the Temple Mount.

  Anticipating ramifications from angry Muslims—the Israeli Defense Force, police, border patrol, and the secretive Jerusalem Ya’mas unit were called out in full force.

  Having quickly met the qualifications necessary for his enrollment in the Ya’mas unit, Uri was armed in full tactical gear. More seasoned members of the unit wore street clothes and posed as Muslims.

  A large group of Palestinian Muslims broke into a violent uproar. Considered to be one of the holiest places in the world to Muslims, Sharon’s visit to the Temple Mount was viewed as an insult and a threat to the Islamic religion. Angry rioters threw rocks, chairs, and Molotov cocktails at Israeli forces.

  Uri’s training served him well and he remained calm in the chaos. His initial assignment was to protect Sharon and his colleagues, but by the time Sharon left the Temple Mount, the Ya’mas unit was overwhelmed.

  Although Uri had yet to experience combat, the situation at the Temple Mount felt like a war zone. Tires were lit on fire, stones and objects thrown in every direction. Uri forcefully disarmed rioters and made arrests.

  It took the efforts of the IDF, the police, border security, and other units to get the area under control. For the first time, Uri used rubber bullets against civilians. His mind was well trained for the chaos. Good soldiers didn't have time to think or analyze, they needed a fast, precise reaction time, which was one of Uri's strongest assets.

  Chana watched the events unfold live on the local news. Terrified for Uri, she knew it was useless to try to reach him on his cell phone. She called Avigail who offered her words of comfort and assurance. They prayed for Uri’s safety. At 2:00am, Chana drifted into a light sleep on the couch.

  She awoke a few hours later to the ring of her cell phone. Uri’s voice greeted her on the line; he assured her that he was safe, asked her not to worry, and promised he would be home soon.

  Overwhelmed with relief, Chana fell back asleep, praying that Uri would be home when she woke up.

  She awoke to bright sun in the living room; she looked at the clock. It was 10:30am. Chana showered, cleaned the apartment, and went to the corner market, hoping to find Uri at home when she returned. Her impatience grew when she returned to their quiet, empty home.

  She watched the news and saw that while most of the rioting was under control, a large police presence attempted to stop recurring groups of protesters.

  Chana tried several times to call Uri’s number, but it went to voicemail. Still worried, she called Avigail who lived only a few blocks away.

  Soon Avigail arrived with her toddler, Shimon, a chubby boy with dark, curly locks and a happy disposition. The small child immediately cheered Chana up.

  “Do you mind?” Chana asked Avigail, as she reached to take Shimon from her arms.

  “Are you kidding? Please take him. He is eating so much and getting so heavy. My arms can use a break.” Avigail happily handed the chunky boy to Chana.

  Chana lit up as she held him. “How are you doing, Tinok?” she sp
oke sweetly to Shimon, using the Hebrew term of endearment for “baby.”

  “Should I make us some tea?” Avigail offered.

  “Sure, if you don’t mind,” Chana replied, glad to have Shimon as a distraction from her worries.

  “You know, Chana, I am sure his phone battery is dead. There’s been no news of fatalities of Israelis.”

  “I know,” Chana responded. “I hate that this is happening. Uri warned me that Israel is growing more dangerous.”

  “It’s always been dangerous, Chana. We are surrounded by enemies. But we’re still here. HaShem protects us. Cling to that.”

  Chana nodded and kissed Shimon. After tea, the three went on a short walk. They stopped in a grassy area and watched Shimon stumble as he picked up leaves and brought them to his Imma.

  “I can’t wait to have children,” Chana said, as she scooped up Shimon and kissed his little hands.

  “It changes you forever. I can’t remember what life was like before we had him,” Avigail smiled. “You and Uri will make wonderful parents.”

  “I hope so,” Chana said, beginning to tear up.

  “Hey, Uri is fine. I know he is. He loves you too much to let something happen to him.”

  “You think?”

  “I’ve known Uri since he was Shimon’s age. I have never seen him happier than when he is with you.” She put her arm around Chana. Avigail’s presence was comforting. She inherited the calming qualities of her mother, Mrs. Blum.

  Avigail and Shimon stayed for dinner; they prayed afterwards for Uri’s safety.

  After they left, Chana dialed Uri’s number one more time. Again, it went to voicemail. She changed into her nightgown and laid on the couch, leaving the terrace door open to the cool autumn air. She thought about how nice it would be to have a dog snuggling by her feet. Tempted to call her mother, she decided against it. She couldn’t stomach hearing troubling news about her father. The burden of worrying about Uri was enough.

  She tried to focus on something more pleasant, like her afternoon with little Shimon. Ideas of decorating a nursery slipped into her thoughts. She imagined Uri and their child walking on the beaches in Tel Aviv, investigating treasures in the sand. Soon, she thought to herself, before she drifted off to sleep.