Lebanon – the never-ending story

Thirty seven years ago, a slightly skinnier version of myself entered the Israeli Security Zone in South Lebanon with my Givati platoon.

We were all geared up with state-of-the-art tactical battle equipment of the day. Being the platoon’s combat-medic, in addition to my weapon, helmet, flak jacket, heavy tactical vest, ammunition and grenades, I had a lot of medical equipment, anti-mine shoes and a portable stretcher on my back.

Before we set out on our daily patrols and nightly anti-terrorist ambushes on the other side of the international border, whatever our mission briefing was, it always ended with the same mantra; “Our mission is to defend the northern settlements (from Hezbollah terrorists).”

My twenty-year-old self would have been incredulous to learn that I am in the same place, with the same mission statement, almost four decades later. Despite the intervening years, nothing seems to have changed.

It is a depressing situation. I see young men and women in my PALMAR medical extraction unit who are not much older than I was the first time I was in Lebanon. The thought that they will be there in another four decades is a grim one.

I would also not have thought when I “fought to fight”, to reenlist in the Israel Defence Forces after the October 7 massacre (thus becoming the oldest combat medic in the IDF) that I would still be serving on an emergency call up “Tzav Shmoneh” almost three years later, with Hamas still in power in (an albeit reduced area) in Gaza and the Hezbollah (despite being weakened) still calling the shots in Lebanon.

I distinctly remember the feeling of waiting on an ambush in Lebanon. It felt like a game of “Russian roulette”. Many thoughts went on in our heads as we lay for hours in enemy territory protecting our northern border, chief of which was “will it be our turn tonight to fight the Hezbollah terrorists attempting to infiltrate our homeland to leave trail of murder and destruction?”

In today’s Lebanon the troops have a similar feeling when wondering if they will encounter (the still unsolved problem of) fibre-optic FPV explosive drones.

I attended my first funeral during this time. I remember the sea of purple berets and the bereaved siblings, parents and grandparents as if it was yesterday. Psychologists refer to this as a “reverse-order death”. In a normal world, children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way round.

Nothing seems to have changed, as every week we are still losing our best. As Billy Joel famously observed, “Only the good die young.”

This is not even factoring the many wounded soldiers who my unit treats on an almost daily basis, whose lives will never be the same again. For what?

We never seem to be able to win a war. As Matti Friedman observed, a war needs to have a clear strategic goal to succeed. We are still fighting (a more technologically advanced) Hezbollah enemy, who are still entrenched in every element of Lebanese society. We don’t’ know what victory looks like.

The north has been largely abandoned since October 7. Tens of thousands of residents are still unable, or do not want, to return home. We face the grim reality that this war of attrition seems to be never ending.

Israel is the only county, that is not allowed (by our “allies”) win a war. We are still fighting the militant radical Islamic terrorist entity of Hezbollah, who are still hellbent on our destruction (having fired over 6000 missiles in the last year alone).

What is it all for, if we are not allowed to win this war?

Dr Tuvia Book is a combat medic, currently in his tenth reserve deployment since October 2023. He has served for hundreds for days in Palmar medical extraction unit.