(Ninth in the Salt of the Earth series about the lives of IDF soldiers who fell in the Swords of Iron War)

Ariel Hy”d’s mother, Rochel (we called her Cheli and everyone still does) was my student decades ago, when I ran the Mathematics Department in Chorev High School and she was a pert Jerusalem teen from a distinguished “Chorev family”. Being from a “Chorev family” was once a typological term indicating that a student descends from the stalwart, cultured, German Jews, bastions of discipline, ethics and propriety, who founded and were once the mainstay of the prestigious Chorev religious schools in Jerusalem.

As followers of the tenets of Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsch, these families established schools that combined Rabbi Hirsch’s “Torah im Derech Eretz” philosophy leading to high standards in both Torah study and academics, with the ideals of Religious Zionism. Today Ulpenat Chorev is filled with every possible variation of Religious Zionist Israeli young women and is a magnet for religious immigrants, while the children of the “Chorev families” are indistinguishable from the others, in school, youth groups, National Service and beyond.

However, one of the things that still marks this unique group of European Jewry in Israel – the religious “yekkes” - is that they raise their children to “do what has to be done”, to choose to do the proper thing no matter how difficult, and to go on from there, with their heads held high.

Ariel Mordechai Wolfstal Hy”d unconsciously showed his antecedents and upbringing when he became known among the soldiers he commanded for the phrase “we do what has to be done!” The young IDF fighters mourning the loss of the beloved commander told his family how those words inspired them during the fighting before and after he fell in Gaza on the 12th of Shvat, last year.

The soldiers in his unit put those words (in Hebrew) on the wall at Kissufim base where they had been stationed when Ariel fell.

Believing in that credo, however, doesn’t and cannot prepare a mother for the loss of her beloved firstborn son, only 28 years of age, a smiling and handsome young man who, friends told me, volunteered as a Bnai Akiva counselor in his hometown during high school and taught those words to those in his youth group.

Cheli remembers Ariel saying those words of unflinching leadership as she tries to pick up the pieces of her own life. “I come to the davening on Shabbat, I want to do what I did before, but I can’t stop crying” she said the last time I saw her at shul in Elazar. But still - she finds the strength to come. Elazar, a small, friendly town in Gush Etzion, named for one of the Maccabees who fought and died nearby, lost eight of its young people in the Swords of Iron War, some of whom were raised there, some who had chosen to make it their homes. Ariel’s first yahrzeit and azkara (memorial) took place just a few days before this article was written, and it seemed as though the entire town stood silently at his graveside again, heard the words of those memorializing a stalwart, brave young man filled with love for others cut down in his prime by a barbaric terrorist raised to hate.

“He was the eldest and I relied on him,” says his sister Chaya sadly. “Now I am the eldest, but I can’t take his place. I could tell him everything and he always listened attentively and helped me solve my problems.” Chaya’s two younger brothers are married and a younger sister is in an Ulpena in Arad, meaning Cheli is alone at home all week. She and her husband divorced several years ago.

Cheli smiles as she remembers how she was always being called to the Asei Chayil school Ariel attended in Efrat, where they lived when he was a child, because her eldest son was a free spirit who had no patience for organized, frontal education. He thought out of the box, was mischievous, curious and hated homework. Even as a toddler, he jumped from fences fearlessly and you couldn’t turn your back for a minute, she recalls. In fact, he disappeared with a friend at the age of two and a half and was later found playing happily in the park after the entire community had searched for him frantically.

Ariel’s parents sent him to Gush Etzion’s Derech Avot yeshiva high school, part of the Ohr Torah network, where he passed his matriculation exams and earned a high school diploma– although he rarely studied, continuing on to the pre-army Torah academy in Yatir where he was outstanding as part of a leadership program.

The truth is that Ariel’s forte was in interpersonal relations. He loved people, cared about them, making him a popular, much loved Bnai Akiva counselor during high school, and later, a stellar, respected IDF captain and tank commander during his army years. In line with his oft-repeated credo that “we do what has to be done”, he knew how to inspire his soldiers but they said that he also how to turn commands from higher echelons which sometimes were resented into challenges or jokes – while making sure they were fulfilled.

After that, he served as a reservist tank commander (Seren beMiluim) in Battalion 9206, 205th (Iron Fist) Armored Brigade and discovered a love for economics and business management, was accepted to those faculties in Ariel University where he did well because he had not only matured and realized how crucial education was, but because he had found his metier. He still disliked long lectures, Cheli said, avoiding them by finding teachers who would teach him the coursework in a few hours, and studying with friends.

He found time for long talks with those friends, doing difficult puzzles , trekking and camping, cooking as an outlet for his enjoyment of good food – and he would also travel to snowy Europe because he loved to ski.

And somehow, whether in college or on vacation, he also found, unbelievably, the time to phone each reservist soldier under his command once a month to know how they were doing, to be part of their lives and let them know that he was there for them.

Ariel graduated from college the summer prior to the war and began work as an investment counselor in a Tel Aviv firm, combining his interpersonal skills with his knowledge of the financial world. For example, he found the stock market reactions to world events fascinating, and once told his mother: “Isn’t it remarkable? We bomb the Houthis and the stock market plummets in Australia.”

Cheli misses their hour-long conversations each week, the long talks with her that took place without fail no matter where Ariel was. He had a schedule every Friday that kept him in contact with those he loved: first his grandparents and father, then that long talk with Cheli, followed by a chat with each sibling. Aunts, uncles and friends also heard from him regularly, though not each week. During the shiva, Cheli recalls, the family found out just how many people Ariel had touched with his personal, caring attention.

All this ended forever when an integrated force of tank, infantry and engineering corps fighters based in the Kissufim command center went about 600 meters into Gaza to demolish buildings, this in order to create a buffer zone aimed at protecting Israeli homes near the Gazan border so that the residents could return to them. In what is known as the “building disaster,” a terrorist emerged from a tunnel and launched an RPG at the two buildings being rigged with explosives, causing them to collapse, killing 19 soldiers and then at the tank that secured the forces. Two of those in the tank, Ariel and Yuval, his gunner, were killed instantly by the RPG, while two other fighters in the tank survived. The survivors said that Ariel had seen the terrorists and was turning the tank turret towards them, a quick action that showed where the terrorists were coming from, so that soldiers nearby eliminated them.

Cheli heard the news of the disaster and the report about the collapsed buildings. Shocked and saddened like everyone in Israel, she nevertheless, thought Ariel was alright since the announcer did not mention a tank.

Then there was a knock at the door…