Joy and Pain
By Heidi J. Gleit

Joseph Luttenberg has paid a high price for the State of Israel. As well as being wounded in service to the State, he lost his son in the Yom Kippur War. But that's not going to stop him from celebrating Yom Ha'atzmaut. Thousands of disabled veterans and their families are expected to join the Yom Ha'atzmaut, or Independence Day, celebrations at Beit Halohem in Tel Aviv.

"We are very aware of the meaning of Yom Ha'atzmaut. For us it is not just theory," says Luttenberg, National Chairman of the Zahal Disabled Veterans Organization. "The history of all the state's wars is written on the bodies of our members."

Despite, or perhaps because of, the heavy price he has paid, Luttenberg intends to celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut fully at an event that will include musical performances, sports competitions, and rappelling. "I had the privilege to be among the founders of the State and therefore [Yom Ha'atzmaut] means a lot to me," says Luttenberg, who was wounded in a battle to keep the road to Jerusalem open days before the state was declared.

During Yom Ha'atzmaut and Remembrance Day for the Fallen of Israel's Wars, Luttenberg remembers that battle, his son Eitan who died in the Yom Kippur War, and his friends who were killed or wounded in the State's many wars. "What happened was painful and very difficult, but didn't lead me to change my opinions," Luttenberg says. "My parents came here in 1921... I was born here and for me there is no other place."

Many wounded soldiers continue to serve in the army and reach senior positions, he says, while others look on with pride when their children enter the army. "Children of disabled veterans go into the army like everyone else. I was the happiest father in the world when my son began the pilots' course," Luttenberg recalls.

Luttenberg notes that five of the 73 soldiers killed in the helicopter accident at She'ar Yashuv in 1997 were sons of disabled veterans. "War wounds are not the end of the world," he says. "You can still learn, get married, and have kids."

SHMUEL Carmeli is an associate professor of chemistry at Tel Aviv University. Nitzan Malka hopes to be a pediatrician one day. And Luttenberg is National Chairman of the Zahal Disabled Veterans Organization.

They are but three examples that life - after war casualties - goes on. Carmeli was 19-years-old when he was wounded. He fought in the Sinai, in the significant but costly battles that allowed the IDF to cross the canal and encircle part of the Egyptian Army.

Two battles after his arrival at the Suez Canal, only three of the 40 tanks with which he had come remained. During the second battle, in which his tank was hit, he dragged two of his injured comrades to safety. A week later, three tank shells hit his tank during the battle at Chinese Farm, and Carmeli was one of the injured.

He spent the next three years building up his shoulders, arms, and legs so that he was strong enough to walk with braces.

Though many people in his situation spend the rest of their lives in wheelchairs, the only time Carmeli trades his braces in for a wheelchair is when he plays basketball.

When he first arrived at Tel Aviv's Ichilov Hospital, "the doctor said I would walk again and so, with the naivete of youth, I decided I would... I thought it would take a few days," he recalls. His friends encouraged him, he says, taking him on hikes and outings. One of these friends was subsequently killed in the Lebanon War in 1982.

As a child, Carmeli would celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut by listening to stories about the Palmach and the War of Independence while sitting around a bonfire with his friends. He remembers these celebrations as fun and carefree, though he grew up in a neighborhood of paratroopers and would hear stories about people he knew, or their fathers, dying in war.

Today, Yom Ha'atzmaut is mixed with sadness because it comes immediately after his Memorial Day visits to the graves of comrades, he says.

Last Succot, when Carmeli and his comrades commemorated the 25th anniversary of the war by holding their first reunion, he understood the burden they all carry. "Even though we all live normal lives, it still is there underneath. Members of two tank units came to the reunion, and it was clear that every one of us felt the burden of lost friends and what we witnessed," says Carmeli.

Yet despite his experiences, Carmeli, 46, says he would not try to prevent his children from joining the army. "I'm a patriot. I want them to enlist in the army and contribute to the country."

YOUNG, good-looking, and full of energy, Nitzan Malka is confined to a wheelchair. Injured three years ago during a training exercise on the Egyptian border, Malka does not let his disability interfere with his desires and passions.

He also accepts his wounds as fate, saying he does not hold anyone or anything responsible for his transformation from an able-bodied person to being disabled.

"I love the army. I don't blame it and I'm not angry at it," he says, adding that he does his best to keep his injuries from interfering with his plans for the future.

He hopes to study medicine, saying he has wanted to be a pediatrician since he was a child.

Although he himself hasn't let his disability get to him, one of his brothers has. When his brother enlisted in the IDF two years ago, he chose to take a non-combat position instead of joining the paratroopers like Malka and their father. But, says Malka, their youngest brother, now in elementary school, very much wants to be a paratrooper.

It was 1997, Malka recalls, and he was riding in a jeep over difficult terrain when the driver suddenly lost control. Malka flew out of the jeep; the jeep capsized and he found himself trapped underneath it.

After spending several months in the hospital, Malka returned home in a wheelchair. He can walk with braces for short periods of time and hopes to increase this to longer periods.

Because his wounds are still relatively fresh, Yom Ha'atzmaut is a very emotional day for Malka. "It's very difficult to talk about Yom Ha'atzmaut and think about all the issues it brings up... whether it's worth it," he said in an interview last week.

Last year, he and his friends spent most of the holiday arguing about whether or not the IDF should be in Lebanon and thinking about a friend who was killed in the 1995 terror attack on soldiers at Beit Lid.

This year, Malka hoped to spend Yom Ha'atzmaut abroad. "I want to get out of here, away from all this," he said in an interview last week.

Temporarily, that is. Malka and his grandmother were hoping to go on a tour of Morocco for Yom Ha'atzmaut.

"I don't want to leave Israel," the 23-year-old war veteran says.

THERE'S "no place in the world" like Beit Halohem, says Luttenberg. The disabled veterans' organization, which represents nearly 50,000 people, serves two functions, Luttenberg explains.

It helps disabled veterans on a personal level, providing them with the support, encouragement and resources to recover and function. It is not only a place to come for physical therapy. It also offers a chance to take art and music classes, participate in sports, and meet other disabled veterans.

For instance, Carmeli, comes to Beit Halohem to play basketball for a team in the multi-tiered national league. Malka pumps iron at the fully-equipped gym.

The veterans also train for sports competitions all over the world, says Luttenberg. Two weeks ago, for example, two wheelchair dancers from Beit Halohem represented Israel at a competition in Holland.

The competitors are part of a much larger group that meets weekly at the Tel Aviv center. Though dancing in a wheelchair sounds impossible, Hora Galgalim (Hora Wheels) shows that it's eminently possible.

"There's no reason handicapped people can't enjoy dance," says choreographer and teacher Orly Ba'Or.

In fact, 14 members of the dance troupe will perform in Toronto and Montreal at the end of the month.

Israel will also be sending a delegation of 60 athletes to compete in the Olympics for the Disabled in Sydney, many of whom are disabled veterans.

Israel's disabled athletes consistently succeed at international events, returning home with gold and silver medals, Luttenberg says proudly, even though they often compete against people who have lived with disabilities and trained as athletes for much longer than the veterans. President Ezer Weizman once asked Luttenberg why the country's disabled athletes are so much more successful at international competitions than the non-disabled athletes. The answer is very simple, Luttenberg replies, "they are more motivated."

Luttenberg says the different activities offered at Beit Halohem offer the vets an opportunity to meet and help one another.

When a recently wounded soldier comes to Beit Halohem, he can get to know other people who were similarly wounded and who can show him how to enjoy life fully despite it, explains Luttenberg. For example, a blind veteran who became a university professor encouraged another blind veteran to leave a dead-end job as a telephone operator for a career as a social worker.

The disabled veterans organization also advocates its members' rights on the national level, pushing the Knesset to pass laws for their benefit. Luttenberg emphasizes that while the government agencies occasionally take actions that are detrimental to disabled veterans, he has no complaints about their policy.

Years ago, he told Golda Meir that "the leaders must always remember the price so many people are paying for our State."

He has found that the leaders do indeed remember this, noting that Prime Minister Ehud Barak recently promised him that the rehabilitation budget for soldiers would not be cut.

Facilities similar to Beit Halohem, which opened in 1974, are located in Jerusalem, Haifa and Naharia.

On Memorial Day, a ceremony dedicated to the fallen sons of disabled veterans was held at Beit Halohem.

Just as he learned to live with his injury, Luttenberg learned to live with the reality of his son's death.

He says he derives strength and satisfaction from seeing veterans who came to Beit Halohem broken and who now have homes and families and function fully in society.