The German Professor

By Moshe Feiglin

11 Av, 5770
July 22, '10

Translated from Ma'ariv's NRG website

Editor's note: Moshe Feiglin wrote this article last Sat. night. Since then, his son David has opened his eyes once.

Yafim lives near our house. As a young soldier in the Golani brigade during the Six Day War, Yafim fought in the intense battle of Tel Fachar in an open half-track. He somehow made it through that terrible battle, but immediately after the war, his jeep drove over a land mine. Yafim was severely wounded.

Every Shabbat, I visit Yafim with my son, David. They have become good friends. I thought that I had already heard everything there is to hear from Yafim. But Yafim came to visit me in the hospital where my son is still in intensive care with a story I had never heard:

"I had shrapnel in my head and was unconscious for a month," Yafim told me. "My brother did not leave my bedside. He got a large needle from the professor, and pricked me daily in all parts of my body. There was no response. A Syrian pilot was in the bed next to me. He was seriously injured in his head and the professor cared for both of us with the same dedication. The military police stationed a guard next to the Syrian, but he was unconscious and the guard would help my brother care for me. At that time, the doctors in Israel did not know how to care for severe head wounds and they brought in an expert professor - from Germany."

"You mean a German Jew," I said to Yafim.

"Not at all. Professor X was a doctor in the German army in World War II and had plenty of experience with severe head wounds," Yafim answered.

I was shocked. 22 years after the Holocaust, the IDF brought a German professor who had served in the Nazi army to care for the wounded of the army of the Jews.

"And how did he treat you?" I skeptically asked Yafim.

"Great," he answered. "A month after my injury I woke up and began to function."
"What about the Syrian pilot?"

"He didn't make it."

"And what happened to the German professor afterwards? Did he return to Germany?"

"No, he stayed in Israel. Today, his son is the head of _____ Hospital."

G-d's ways are truly wondrous. I am not certain of the significance of this story, but it can surely be the basis for a captivating historical novel.

The novel has a sequel. Thirty years later, Yafim's son Tzviki - a decorated officer in the IDF - got an order to stop a car of terrorists that was leaving one of the Arab villages on its way to perpetrate a terror attack in one of Israel' cities. At the entrance to the village, Tzviki encountered a demonstration that blocked his way. He understood that the Arabs there were simply buying time to allow the terrorist vehicle to escape. Tzviki shot his gun in the air and in a strange twist of events found himself in jail. To protest the travesty of justice, Yafim sat outside army headquarters in Tel Aviv with a large sign. I visited him there with David.

*

I am writing this article in the wee hours between Sat. night and Sunday, next to David's bed. David is still unconscious. A number of days after the accident David blinked his eyes once. It is hard to describe how happy we were and how much we thanked G-d for that one, heavy blink of the eye. We are learning how much we have to thank G-d every day for all the millions of blinks that we just take for granted. Afterwards, the doctors closed David's beautiful eyes with pressure bandages and we do not know what is going on underneath them.

The blessings that we recite every morning have a new significance for me. 'Blessed are You, G-d, Who opens the eyes of the blind.' 'Blessed are You, G-d, Who liberates the imprisoned.' 'I offer thanks before you, living and eternal King, for You have mercifully restored my soul within me; Your faithfulness is great.'

Please, G-d, restore with mercy and in completion the soul of my son, David.