USCGC Nathan Bruckenthal Docking at its homeport for the first time

By Ben Kane, Programs Assistant

A new Fast-Response Cutter (FRC) named after fallen servicemember DC3 Nathan Bruckenthal is set to be put into service in July 2018. The purpose of the FRC is to serve as a patrol vessel and carry out ship boardings, coastal security missions, search and rescue missions, and general national defense missions. The naming of this FCR after Bruckenthal continues the Coast Guard tradition of naming these ships after Coast Guard enlisted heroes. The naming of this particular cutter after Bruckenthal was announced by Admiral Robert Papp, the Commandant of the Coast Guard, on the 10th anniversary of Bruckenthal’s death.

Nathan was born on July 17, 1979 and grew up in Stony Brook, New York. After a period of service with the Ridgefield Connecticut Volunteer Fire Department following his high school graduation, he joined the Coast Guard in 1998, quickly demonstrating his talent and commitment to his country. In his spare time, Nathan volunteered for a variety of tasks to help the local Native American reservation where he was stationed. Nathan volunteered as a police officer, firefighter, EMT, and assistant high school football coach – demonstrating his love of the country, its citizens, and his willingness to serve and improve his community.  Following several years of commendable service while stationed in New York, Virginia and Washington State, he began serving in an elite tactical law enforcement program. In recognition of his talent during his service, Nathan Bruckenthal was among the first Coast Guardsmen chosen to be deployed to Iraq in 2003 during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

His responsibility during the conflict was to help patrol the North Arabian Gulf and conduct safety and security searches on vessels. The searches began as early as the morning after the initial naval bombardment of Iraq, when Bruckenthal and his team boarded a group of tugs who said they were stranded. The ships were found to contain a supply of automatic weapons and sea mines, and the Iraqi military personnel were arrested. After more patrols, boardings and trainings, Bruckenthal decided to remain in the Gulf for a second tour of duty.

One of Bruckenthal’s responsibilities was to instruct navy personnel on how to best conduct maritime operations. During a standard patrol of an important oil terminal in April 2004, several local fishing vessels approached and were turned away from the area by the U.S. forces. However, one vessel ignored the warnings, approached the oil terminal, and prompted servicemembers, including Bruckenthal, to board the ship. The insurgents aboard the ship, knowing they would not be able to proceed to their destination, detonated the explosives in the cargo bay of their ship, resulting in an explosion that fatally wounded Bruckenthal. Thus, Nathan Bruckenthal became not only one of the first Coast Guardsmen to serve in the Iraq war, but the only Coast Guardsman to die in the Iraq War or in any conflict since the Vietnam War. The actions of Bruckenthal and his men prevented the terrorists from approaching and harming the men on the nearby U.S.S. Firebolt, the oil platform and the oil terminal. As a result of his sacrifice, Bruckenthal was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star medal with Combat “V” for Valor, the Purple Heart, his second Combat Action Ribbon, and the Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary Medal.

As a testament to the respect and love that Nathan’s friends, family, and fellow servicemembers had for him, several other buildings, scholarships, and plaques have been named and placed in his honor. Among other honors, the barracks where he first served has been renamed in his honor, and a non-profit baby pantry was established to provide aid to military and civilian employees in Baltimore.  In addition, a fund, originally established to ensure his family would be cared for, has since been able to donate to causes like the Wounded Warrior Project, the Coast Guard Foundation, and Brooke Army Medical Center’s Center for the Intrepid.

Nathan Bruckenthal left behind a pregnant wife who gave birth to their daughter, Harper Natalie Bruckenthal, in November 2004. DC3 Bruckenthal’s sacrifice for the sake of the United States and in defense of his fellow countrymen serves as an example for all who choose to enter the armed services.  We invite all members of JWV to come to the USCGC Nathan Bruckenthal’s commissioning on July 25, 2018 in Alexandria, VA.  We hope to see you there.

Volume 72. Number 2. Summer 2018

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Recent Military Aviation Accidents Take One of Our Own

By Anna Selman, Programs and Public Relations Coordinator

On April 3, 2018, Marine Captain Samuel Schultz passed away in during a military aviation training accident in Southern California.  He was 28 years old.  A born and raised Philadelphia native, Capt. Schultz was described as “fearless” and “a driven individual”.  He joined the military 6 years ago – following in the footsteps of his family with that same fearless attitude.

His funeral was held in his hometown of Philadelphia, PA on April 15, 2018, and the Jewish War Veterans of the U.S.A. was there.  According to Post Commander Bruce Kanis, “1,100 people were at the Funeral Chapel ranging from a 4 Star USMC General Magnus to Admirals to Lance Corporals to many of his friends from both coasts.  We (JWV) provided a full JWV service along with another Gold Star Memorial Plaque from Post 215 to the family.  At the grave, I presented a full Veteran Detail of JWV, American Legion, Marine Leatherneck, and Warrior Watch members who gave proper salute and honors during the service in conjunction with a full Marine Honor and Firing Detail.”

However, questions on why and how this happened has overwhelmed military leadership.  Since training season began in the spring, at least 27 US service members have died in noncombat-related crashes of military aircraft and more injured.  It has plagued all the services – Army, Marines, Navy and Air Force alike.  So, the question is why is this happening and why now?

As in all military accidents, investigations into each individual accident started with each crash.  However, each individual investigation will not look into the magnitude of the situation.  As I am typing this, a proposal to create an independent national commission on military aviation safety, offered by HASC Ranking Member Adam Smith just passed the committee by a unanimous voice vote – meaning there will be a Congressional review of all military aviation accidents from 2013 to 2018.

Why 2013?  That is because 2013 is the year that the Sequestration started to ramp up.  According to a report by the Military Times, the Sequestration disproportionately affected maintenance and operations budgets – cutting the budget by 1 trillion dollars during its effect.  The military decided to cut flight hours, maintenance on heavy aircraft and to delay replacing old equipment.  Military personnel, such as ground maintenance crews, were let go, and we are now starting to see the effects of those decisions.

However, operational requirements did not change from 2012 to 2013, which means that pilots were flying the same amount of missions with a smaller amount of aircraft and a smaller group of pilots and maintenance crews.  In 2016, the problem started show itself.  The Air Force realized that it was facing a shortage of 700 fighter pilots and a shortage of 2,500 ground-maintenance workers.

The aircraft that Captain Schultz flew on April 3rd was a CH-53E Super Stallion helicopter.  The Marine Corps currently has 143 CH-53Es in its inventory, despite having a requirement for 200 heavy-lift helicopters. On average, only 37 percent of them are flyable at any given time. Difficulties in keeping the aircraft airworthy, in turn making it hard for pilots to get in adequate flying hours to remain proficient in the various tasks the helicopter performs, have undoubtedly contributed to a string of deadly accidents with the type.

In turn, we have seen deadly accidents coming from stateside training exercise increase the past couple of years.  We know service members sign up for the military knowing full well that they might die in combat, but what they do not sign up for is dying in a training accident.  The best way we can honor Captain Schultz’s memory is to make sure that our service members have proper equipment and training before we send them out to the field.

Volume 72. Number 2. Summer 2018

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Post Office to Be Named After Jewish Hero Peter Taub

By Ben Kane, Programs Assistant

After a servicemember dies, their families grieve and celebrate the life of their loved one in a variety of ways. Some choose not to publicize their grief, but some choose to go in the opposite direction. One of the ways that fallen servicemembers have been remembered is by the naming of buildings after them. Staff Sergeant Peter Taub is one such fallen servicemember to be given such posthumous recognition. SSgt Taub was killed by a suicide bomber while on tour in Afghanistan in December 2015. Here in the states, in the town of Wyncote, Pennsylvania, a way to remember him and celebrate his life has been made official. A post office has been officially slated to be renamed the “Staff Sergeant Peter Taub Post Office Building.”

The bill to authorize the renaming was put through the House of Representatives by Congressman Brendan Boyle (PA-13). “Staff Sergeant Peter Taub was a shining example of the best our country has to offer. In his service to our nation, he exemplified unwavering patriotism and heroic bravery. Renaming this post office in his home town is the least we can do to honor him; a small but important symbol of our eternal thanks,” Boyle said. SSgt Taub has received several posthumous medals, such as the Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Air Force Commendation Medal, and the Air Force Combat Action Medal.

Taub, married and with a second child on the way, planned to help run the family business- a beloved sandwich shop in downtown Washington D.C. called Bub and Pop’s, once he had returned from active duty. Sadly, Taub’s plans of a complete family and working in a place he loved were to be unfulfilled, and his family devastated by death. Eventually, time will help mend the wounds his loved ones have suffered. But until then, and long after, a small part of SSgt Taub’s legacy will exist for generations to come.

Volume 72. Number 2. Summer 2018

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Making a Difference for Jewish Service Members Coming Home

By Gavin Ellman, Post 112

Unsurprisingly, it was hot in Iraq the day I left. The first thing I felt when we landed back home was profound joy; the second was profound cold since I was standing outside in the middle of an Alaskan winter night. Thus began the first of many conflicting emotions.

Of course, returning home is wonderful. My first weeks home from my tours were times of happiness. There was so much I’d missed. From the little conveniences of just being in air conditioning, to the big celebrations of seeing the people I loved and missed so much. But there was also the struggle to adjust, which crept into my life as the excitement started to fade.

At first it was little things. I missed the convenience of free water bottles in every office or truck. I had to find an apartment and, occasionally, buy groceries. There were bills, chores, and all those little headaches of life. But there was also something big missing.

Overseas, and in the military in general, I knew what to do. I had a place and I had a purpose. I didn’t appreciate it fully when I was there, but I felt its absence more and more the longer I was home. 12-hour patrols were grueling, but they were familiar burdens. I knew who to count on and who counted on me.

After my first tour, the pressures of military life and the promise of the next tour meant I didn’t have to fully confront this uncomfortable absence for long. But when I finally did transition from active duty, there was no avoiding it: what was I going to do with this freedom I’d apparently been fighting for?

I left Fort Benning for the last time in August 2015 and in many ways, it was more difficult than redeploying from Iraq or Afghanistan. I was heading for Atlanta and a new life. I wasn’t coming back. After 10 years of active service, I hadn’t realized how comfortable I’d become in the Army. The thought that “this is my last paycheck” rattled me. What was I going to do? How would I fit back into a community where I’d always be “the Army guy”? For months, even my haircut still said I was in the Army. I did eventually give up the reflective belt, at least.

There are many resources out there to help, of course. The Army has its required classes. There are countless companies and organizations reaching out. But those didn’t help me feel any less alone. Classes and forms can’t help with that.

Only people could.

There was my wife, who was with me for every step of the journey. She believed in me and in our shared future. I knew I could count on her and, even better, I knew she counted on me.

And there were those that went before me to start new lives and careers outside the service. A retired chaplain introduced me to the Jewish community of Atlanta, where we now make our home. My former engineering instructor coached me through the painful process of applying to business school, where I met other veterans on similar paths. Beyond the practical help we could offer each other, just knowing there were others made all the difference.

And that’s why I believe in Jewish War Veterans. Not only are we connected by common service, we are connected by our shared faith, culture, and bond as a people. JWV brings together all branches and generations and can bridge the gap between those in service, those who have served, and the vibrant Jewish communities that exist throughout the country.

We know there’s much work to do. We need to build the bridges between the younger generation of Jewish American Warriors and the historical membership base of JWV. Our differences are real. We communicate in different ways, are at different phases of life, and perhaps expect different things from our local post. But I know that which binds us—our service and our Jewish identify—counts for far, far more.

With so many young Jewish veterans struggling as they come home, it’s time for JWV to come home and take its place at the intersection of Jewish military and civilian life.

Volume 72. Number 2. Summer 2018

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CPL Morris Meshulam: Coming Home After 67 Years

CPL Morris Meshulam’s name on the “Court of the Missing” at the Honolulu Memorial

By Anna Selman, Programs and Public Relations Coordinator

UPDATE WASHINGTON – On September 23, Army Cpl. Morris Meshulam remains were buried in Indianapolis. Meshulam died at the age of 19 in 1950 from malnutrition, frostbite and gangrene after being captured as a Prisoner of War (POW) during the Korean war.

UPDATE 9/14/2018 – JWV has been made aware that the ceremony will take place on Sunday, September 23rd at Etz Chaim Cemetery in Indianapolis, Indiana.  All those who wish to attend the ceremony should contact the Etz Chaim Synagogue ensure there is enough space.  JWV has ensured that a JWV member will be in attendance to be there for our battle buddy.  For any more questions, please email us at jwv@jwv.org.

WASHINGTON – On June 4, 2018, JWV received a notification from the U.S. Army that the remains of CPL Morris Meshulam had been identified.  CPL Meshulam, who died 67 years earlier, was born in Indianapolis, Indiana on July 11, 1931 to Sam and Pauline Meshulam.  His parents were founding members of the Etz Chaim Congregation, which is a small community of Sephardic Jews in Indianapolis.  According to the family, Moe dropped out of High School when he was 18 to sign up for the Army.

The little that we know of CPL Meshulam, or Moe as he liked to be called, comes from his surviving family – his sister Rose and his nephews Sam and Morris.  Rose was contact by Army a couple of weeks ago, and she was in “total shock” that her baby brother was finally found.  CPL Meshulam’s brother Jack and his twin sister Rae gave their DNA to DOD officials to 2006 to help identify Moe’s body.  Finally, Jack, Moe and Rae will finally be brought together in the family plot in Indianapolis later this year.

From what we do know about CPL Meshulam’s service, he completed basic training, and afterwards, he was sent to Korea to be part of Battery D of the 82nd Anti-Aircraft Battalion in the 2nd Infantry Regiment on July of 1950.  His first battle must have been on August 31st when the North Koreans attacked their position on the Nantong River Line, which resulted in a 16-day battle that ended up with the unit gaining more territory for United Nation forces.  It is likely that after this battle Meshulam was promoted to Corporal.

CPL Morris Meshulam in uniform.

His Division was within fifty miles of the Manchurian border when Chinese forces entered the fight, and during the Battle of the Ch’ongch’on River, his unit’s mission was to protect the rear and right flank of the Eighth Army as it retreated to the South.  After this battle, while surrounded and outgunned, CPL Meshulam’s Battery fought through what later was known as “The Gauntlet” – a valley where UN forces faced road blocks and heavy fire from Chinese forces.  His unit lost nearly one third of its remaining soldiers.  CPL Meshulam was captured in the Gaunlet near Kunu-ri on December 1, 1950 and taken as a Prisoner of War.  He later died in January 11th of 1951 either from severe malnutrition or injuries that he received during the battle.

The remains of soldiers that died in North Korea were returned by the North Koreans in two waves: one in 1954 (also known as Operation Glory) and another from 92-94.  It is estimated that out of the 4,219 bodies that were returned, 416 bodies were unable to be identified.  All unidentified soldiers were placed in the Punchbowl Cemetery in Honolulu, Hawaii.  The DoD has led a massive effort to identify the remains of these soldiers – about 90 military researchers are currently working at labs in Hawaii, Nebraska and Ohio to identify the bones of Americans as we speak.  The number varies from year to year, but they approximately identify around 30-50 remains a year through advanced DNA techniques.  Since CPL Meshulam’s remains have been accounted for, a rosette will be placed next to his name on the “Court of the Missing” at the Honolulu Memorial to mark that he now rests in a known gravesite.

JWV is grateful to the Department of Defense, the U.S. Army and the Korean War Project for ensuring that CPL Morris Meshulam can finally come home.  Although we do not have a date yet, we have been in contact with the family, and we have shared our sympathies and support for them.  We have been in contact with the Department Commander of Ohio, who has stated that they are committed to being at the funeral when it takes place.  Our goal at JWV is to ensure that each and every veteran is able to come home, and we are so glad that after 67 years, we can finally say that CPL Morris Meshulam is coming home.

Volume 72. Number 2. Summer 2018

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Coming Home

By Lance Allen Wang, Editor

This month’s issue is dedicated to the theme “Coming Home,” an important aspect of the wartime experience.   It is sometimes an occasion for celebration.   It is also sometimes its own devastating crucible.   I had the distinct honor and privilege of writing the Foreword to a book about my Uncle Julie’s experiences as a World War II B-17 navigator, “One of Thousands” (Lulu Publishing, 2015).   I recounted my experiences growing up in awe of this man, and he was perhaps the most important influence in my donning the uniform.   But I closed with these lines:

“… But equally, what I wanted to know from him coming home from Iraq was how to be a war vet.   Things change.   Perspectives change.   How do you wear something so much larger than yourself, those moments of fear, those moments of boredom in a foreign land, those ‘crowded hours,’ and incorporate them into who you are?   Perhaps I expected more of Uncle Julie in this regard than he could provide.   What did Uncle Julie do with his experiences of Europe?   Where does it all go?”

No one teaches you how to be a veteran.   My experience with redeployment programs found far more “check the block” than anything else (now, granted, things may have changed in the nearly 10 years since I left the Army).   They were simply mundane briefings to bored, fidgety soldiers who just wanted to go home.     Back in my Uncle Julie’s time, the decompression of redeployment was eased in some ways by extended journeys home on troop ships.   The culture shock of Vietnam veterans – “Two days before I was in Vietnam – then all of the sudden I was in a college classroom,” as one vet described it to me – was eased for World War II veterans by the shared experience of being on a troop ship with your comrades.    Technological progress in transportation created its own set of problems.

Part of my coming home was eased by my search for historical perspective on coming home.   Actually, the interviews that resulted in the book “One of Thousands” was part of that search – I’d developed my rapport anew with my Uncle while I was overseas.   He began a correspondence with me, drawing the parallels between the experiences I wrote about overseas with his own when he was stationed in Nuthampstead, England, home of his 602nd Squadron, 398th Bomb Group (Heavy).

My search for perspective was also to view the 1946 Best Picture winner, “The Best Years of Our Lives,” which I still consider one of the best pictures about returning service members and the new battles which begin when the uniform comes off.   Prior to this film, much of the return of the veteran was captured for the public in the famous idealized Saturday Evening Post Norman Rockwell covers such as 1919’s “When Johnny Comes Marching Home” and 1945’s “Homecoming GI” and “Homecoming Marine.”   “The Best Years of our Lives” was based on a book about returning service members which was actually written as an extended poem because the author felt that he couldn’t capture the topic in mere prose.   And the movie, which was brutal in its depiction of what the returnees faced, actually was cleaned up in some ways – the book showed the veteran Homer, who is missing his hands following the torpedoing of his ship in the Navy, as actually suffering from nervous spasticity.

The movie broke a number of taboos – it was the first to show alcoholism, infidelity, “combat fatigue” (as PTSD was known at the time), and those on the home front who profited from the war.   It showed veterans denied loans, and it showed civilians who called those who fought “suckers.”    It showed strained and broken marriages.   It showed the complete incompatibility of the wartime experience with “polite society.”

It is important to note that this movie takes place in the context of America’s first “total war” – with full mobilization of the nation’s industrial might and civilian population to support the war.   While there is a disconnect between the service member’s experience and that of the general population, it is not a complete disconnect.   Today’s wars, which are fought by a volunteer military made up of an insignificant proportion of the population, sadly results in a far more complete disconnect.   It is that disconnect which makes the struggle of the post-World War II veteran even more severe.

This makes the role of Veteran Service Organizations such as Jewish War Veterans more important in order to help the returnee find others with whom to share the burden of coming home, and it is incumbent on us to continue our outreach to our war veteran brothers and sisters, and continue to find more effective ways of doing so.

Volume 72. Number 2. Summer 2018

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Bridging the Divide: American and Israeli Veterans

By Lance Allen Wang, Editor

I have always felt comfortable in the company of fellow Jews, and likewise, I have felt equally comfortable in the company of fellow veterans.   Each time, it is much like a family reunion where I don’t necessarily know anyone, but feel the kinship and know I am among my own.   However, to be in the company of Jewish veterans is a place that is particularly special to me – a minority subgroup of a minority subgroup.   Indeed, it is why I find myself an active, participating member of Jewish War Veterans of the United States.

The ties that bind veterans together are close – sometimes even with veterans from opposing sides.   In Yehuda Avner’s book “The Prime Ministers,” the author describes a meeting between wounded veterans from opposing sides of the Yom Kippur War, and how the reconciliation was deeply affecting for all parties involved.

In Ken Burns’ recent “Vietnam” PBS mini-series, he showed interaction between former American and North Vietnamese adversaries, and again, the reconciliation seemed almost therapeutic.  The fact is, as the war veteran feels out of place in what might be called “polite society” due to his unique experiences, it is often with those who shared the battlefield with him, friend or foe, that he finds understanding.

Finally, in CBS reporter John Laurence’s book “The Cat from Hue,” a recollection of his many years reporting from the field in Vietnam, he describes an unusually close relationship that a Marine First Sergeant, a World War II Pacific veteran, develops with Laurence’s Japanese cameraman, who turns out to have been a former adversary of the Marine’s.   Close combat can be indescribable to anyone but the participants – however, that also can forge bonds between those that endure it, even sworn enemies.

So where does that leave Jewish American veterans?  Jewish veterans have dealt with the intensity of combat since the dawn of recorded history.   However, is there anything distinct about the experience of Jewish combatants?  Of course there is.  For instance, many Jews I met in the military had concerns about how they would be treated as a Jew if captured – whether by Nazis during World War II or Islamic extremists today.  Sometimes the experience of maintaining their religious obligations in the field was a point of discussion.   And of course – any Jew who has served in Southwest Asia must have sensed the presence of being near somewhere significant to their roots.

So how can relating to Israel’s veterans benefit America’s Jewish veterans?  To start with – there is the sense of kinship – we can consider Israeli vets “family which we’ve not yet met.”   Secondly, there is a sense of being able to share that which cannot be shared with the uninitiated civilian.  Most importantly, there is a sense of purpose.   We both serve democracies, yet we both serve democracies who find themselves enmeshed in controversy, politically and diplomatically.  These are turbulent times, both within and without our countries.  It is so often the fighting man who pays for these controversies – be it in their relationship with civil society, constraints such as excessively tight rules of engagement based upon political considerations, and because the services in the United States and Israel are often made up of a high percentage of non-careerists and citizen-soldiers, social rifts that take place in the society at large find their way into the uniformed services.

Some initial projects to explore the therapeutic value of having Israeli and American veterans meet have been successful.   In 2015, the American Heroes to Heroes Foundation and the Israeli Zahal Disabled Veterans Organization sponsored a 10-day meeting in Israel between American and Israeli veterans suffering both psychological and physical wounds from their battlefield experiences ranging from Vietnam to the West Bank, from Iraq to Lebanon, from Afghanistan to Gaza.   The Jerusalem Post reported one comment from a participant:   “Seeing them gives me strength… These are people who have gotten married, have jobs and children.   We have the same thoughts.   We only need to look into each other’s eyes to know that we already know everything.   I am sure I will keep in touch with them.    When I hear them talk about what happened to them, I feel like they are telling my story.”  The comments were from a battle scarred Israeli veteran, but could just as easily come from an American participant.

In a time where many in the diaspora find themselves at odds with political decisions made in Israel, increasing a rift between parts of our small American Jewish community and our equally small homeland, perhaps veterans reaching out as a means of salving their own souls can help bridge the divide.

Volume 72. Number 1. Spring 2018

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Creating Connections Between Yom HaZikaron and Memorial Day

By Liat Lisha, Shlicha of Northern Virginia

In July 2017, I began my training in Jerusalem in preparation for my role as the Shlicha (Hebrew meaning “Emissary”) at the Jewish Community Center of Northern Virginia. As part of my training, I was told that my goal was to engage the Northern Virginia community in learning about Israel and to share my personal story.  It was equally as important that upon returning to Israel, that I take the knowledge gained about American Jewry and share it with my community back home.

For the past few months, I have been producing a documentary that connects bereaved military families from Israel and bereaved military families from the United States (Virginia, Maryland, and Florida). These families lost sons and daughters in the IDF and in the U.S. Military. Filming took place in both countries so I could use the project as a way of bridging the two countries through their shared experiences. While this has been a powerful experience for the families, it has had a tremendous  impact on me. I was fortunate  to meet these amazing people who showed me the true meaning of bravery.

What led me to make this documentary? At the beginning of my shlichut, I developed a list of programs, celebrations, and remembrance days that I wanted to share with my new community. One that I was very interested in sharing was the Israeli Memorial Day that takes place this year on April 17th called Yom Hazikaron (Hebrew meaning “Memorial Day”). A National Remembrance Day observed in Israel for all Israeli military personnel who lost their lives in the struggle that led to the establishment of the State of Israel, and for those who have been killed subsequently while on active duty in Israel’s armed forces. As of Yom Hazikaron in 2017, that number was 23,544 and it includes the fallen soldiers of Israel and victims of terrorism.

Yom Hazikaron is a national day of mourning with flags flying at half-mast, restaurants and stores closed for the day, and most Israelis spending the evening at home listening to somber music played on the radio or watching TV broadcasts. A blaring siren can be heard all over Israel at 8pm and again at 11am the next morning. Every Israeli knows this sound all too well, having learned about and heard it since they were a child in school – a siren that all of us wished we didn’t need.

To provide a better understanding of Yom Hazikaron and relay the importance of this remembrance day in Israel, I wanted to create personal connections between the families by sharing their stories with our community.  Since bringing the families together for filming was challenging and the idea of doing a live chat not being a viable option due to time differences, I decided to make a movie. Having no experience in filmmaking, I reached out to a group of young people in Israel who agreed to volunteer and help me make the movie. Elad Gitelmakher, Shay Nechamia, and Hodaya Shtofblat are three young Israelis who chose to give their time while going to high-school or serving in the IDF.

When I was looking for Jewish military families to be a part of the movie, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew there were Jews who served in the military but I didn’t know how to get to them. When I was introduced to the National Museum of American Jewish Military History, I was surprised to learn that not only is there an organization focused on Jewish Americans who served in the armed forces, but they are also in touch with bereaved families, creating a sense of community, reminding me of similar types of communities in Israel. After meeting these families and listening to their stories, l was left speechless and even more convinced that these connections between Israeli and American military families needed to be made.

I invite you to join us for Yom Hazikaron on Tuesday, April 17th at the Jewish Community Center of Northern Virginia for the screening of this documentary. The movie will also be screened in Israel, showing that while 5,000 miles separate these families, their stories, shared experiences of grief and bravery are not that far apart. Someone once said – “life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it.” These courageous families showed me that life is 100% how you react and the way you deal with adversity is everything.

Volume 72. Number 1. Spring 2018

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JWV Confronts the “Big Lie” Once Again, But This Time from An Unusual Source

By PNC David Magidson, Post 243

In 1896, the Jewish War Veterans of the U.S.A. (JWV) was founded to refute the lie that Jews did not serve in the military during our Civil War.  We did in significant numbers – for both sides.

Now, 120 years later, the “Big Lie” came from the lips of an unusual source – The Deputy Foreign Minister of Israel, Tzipi Hotovely.  In an interview with 124 News in Israel, the Deputy Foreign Minister said that American Jews “never send their children to fight for their country.”

Once JWV and its leadership got over the initial disbelief, shock, and hurt of this statement, we surged into action.  Our National Commander put out a press release denouncing the comment.  He met with personnel of the Israeli Embassy.  Moreover, Embassy staff were invited and did attend a tour of our museum – The National Museum of American Jewish Military History in Washington, D.C.  There they saw proof of the honorable and sometimes heroic service of American Jews to this country.

But all American Jews and especially those who have served and their families deserve more.  On their behalf, we fought for a retraction and apology, and we received it!  On January 28, 2018, Minister Hotovely sent a letter to JWV where she apologized to Jewish American service members and veterans of all wars. “My words were shortsighted and not reflective of my beliefs, and I deeply apologize,” she said.

Silence and shirking duty are not characteristics of JWV.  In March 1933, two months after Hitler came to power, the Jewish War Veterans of the U.S.A. organized and carried out a protest march in New York City – despite the admonitions of various Jewish groups not to anger the new German Chancellor (a video of the march is on display at our National Museum).

Today, as we have done for over a century, JWV has responded to “The Big Lie.”  Over that period, we have earned respect and prestige in our Capitol and others.  The resultant apology is being communicated to all of you in memory of the 57 Jewish-American brothers and sisters killed in action in Afghanistan and Iraq.  Yes, American Jews do send their children to fight for their country, and sometimes their children pay the ultimate price.

If you wish to assist the Jewish War Veterans in carrying out its mission: (a) please consider joining our Posts as a member (if qualified) or a Patron; (b) generously provide an annual donation in support thereof; and/or (c) leave a legacy gift to JWV in your will, trust or life insurance policy.  Please remember that while we care for all Veterans, only JWV specifically speaks to the service and memory of the Jewish-American Veteran, his/her family and friends.

Volume 72. Number 1. Spring 2018

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Giving PTSD the Jewish Treatment, Not Just Matzo Ball Soup

By Anna Selman, Programs and Public Relations Coordinator

A recent study from the Department of Veterans’ Administration (VA) found that the daily number of American veterans who commit suicide has decreased from 22 to 20 a day- a small improvement, but a step in the right direction.  The leading cause of veteran suicide is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), a disorder where you have intense and sometimes disturbing thoughts about a traumatic event that can lead to severe psychological suffering.  It can be very common in veterans that have combat experience, and after almost two decades of fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, we have a lot of veterans with combat experience and many with PTSD.

In a shocking discovery, researchers have also found that only 30 percent of PTSD treatments are effective.  With such a low success rate, it might leave you wondering what else we can do for our veterans.

When someone brings up treating veterans with PTSD, it is unlikely that the first thing that comes to mind is to look to the Jewish community for how it helped treat Holocaust survivors.  However, for those of us that come from families of Holocaust survivors, we know that Jews have a long history of treating PTSD even before the term came into use.  In fact, according to some researchers, the prevalence of PTSD in Holocaust survivors is somewhere between 46 and 55 percent, which is really high.  To give some comparison, the prevalence of PTSD in combat veterans in Vietnam is much lower, between 2 and 17 percent, and only 15 to 20 percent of Iraq and Afghanistan veterans meet the criteria to be diagnosed with PTSD.

As Jews, our long and rich track record in treating PTSD provides us lessons for treating our veterans today.  Jewish scholars found that survivors deal with their PTSD in 3 ways – some victimize themselves, some become defensive, while others numb themselves so that they could feel protected.  These behaviors can be somewhat helpful during the trauma, but they can create problems down the road.

One of the leading scholars in treating survivors during the post-Holocaust period was Viktor Frankl, who famously wrote A Man’s Search for Meaning.  Just by looking at that title, Viktor’s approach to treating traumatic events was to give everything meaning (also called logotherapy) – even their painful trials.  He would often talk to survivors – helping them discover their own reasons to live.

Some survivors also found meaning in telling their stories – making sure that something like the Holocaust never happened again.  They did not tell their stories to their psychologist; they told their story to their family, their friends and their synagogue.  They went to schools and museums.  By telling their experiences, survivors’ experiences became a part of the Jewish experience.  We all have a shared experience of the Holocaust, which, in some way, makes them feel not as alone.

However, some survivors were reluctant to tell their stories, which might be because we did originally not want to hear their stories when they first got to America.  Survivors were told to move on, and they did.  They built families, found careers, and kept their experiences bottled up for a decade or more.    Meanwhile, they often experienced the nightmares and the intense flashbacks associated with PTSD, but once they did finally tell their family and friends, survivors reported a decreased number of symptoms and an increase in quality of life.

So what can be learned from the Jewish treatment of PTSD?  There are many veterans coming home who feel like no one wants to hear about their story, but we know that it is good for veterans to talk about what happened “over there.”  This is not only for our veterans.  We as Americans can bridge the military-civilian divide and make the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan a shared American experience.  In some ways, this can make our veterans feel less alone.

So, please invite your local veterans to come speak at your synagogue. Organizations, like the Jewish War Veterans of the U.S.A. or the JWB Jewish Chaplains Council, can help connect you with veterans in your area that can come speak to your synagogue, schools and other groups.  We owe it to our veterans to understand where they are coming from and to make them part of our community. Together, we can help them overcome their problems, and they can teach us about what it means to serve something greater than themselves.

Volume 71. Number 4. Winter 2017

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