One evening I was preparing to see a movie with my girlfriend. Just as we were heading out the door, the phone rang. I didn’t want to get it, but girlfriend said it might be important. I answered the phone. “Goldman,” the voice on the other line said. It was my commander in the Israeli Defense Force. “Goldman, report to my house in one hour. Bring all your socks.” And that was it. I began packing socks.
“Are we seeing the movie?” asked my girlfriend.
“No,” I answered.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
”When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.”
After a pause, “Who is she?”
I found a few other men from my elite unit at our commander’s house. He showed us a map of Ethiopia and explained the precarious political and humanitarian conditions there. He finished with “The Jews are Ethiopia have been living separate from their brothers for thousands of years. It’s time to bring them home.” Uh-oh.
Ethiopians told a legend that 12 angels would come from the sky and deliver them to redemption. When the migratory storks would fly through their villages they would cry, “Stork, bring us good news from Jerusalem!” They thought they were the only Jews left in the world. As I parachuted down with my 12 men at dawn, I began to realize the significance of this mission. We could see tiny huts, and one big hut. On its roof was a Star of David! We were not met warmly. We had the good fortune of bringing an Ethiopian translator with us, and we slowly tried to explain our mission: we’re going to take all of you to Israel. They had never heard of Israel, but their big Ethiopian eyes lit up when we said Jerusalem. We made some headway, though. Life is bad here. Yes. We come from Jerusalem. Jerusalem! We will take you there. No.
Our mission was to take 400 people out of this village, but we could see that the children had to go first. Their little Ethiopian bellies were starting to swell, and flies were landing around their big Ethiopian eyes. After three days, the elders of the village allowed us to take 400 of their children. On the day we were to leave, the elders brought me into the main hut, and they told me I would partake of the transmission ceremony. I had no idea that each parent would come to me, shake my hand, and kiss me on both cheeks. I stood there for hours as each parent spoke jibberish to me, and I thought something would start growing on my face. I am 25 years old. I am not married, and I have 400 children. All of them are black, and I don’t know any of their names. We promised to bring the parents as soon as possible.
We went to the landing strip to be taken out. It was destroyed. The nearest airport was very far away, in Sudan. Our orders were to walk. So we walked. We left on the fist night of Passover, with a full moon. We climbed down cliffs and across the desert eat night, and each day they slept. I did not sleep because I had to take my turn guarding. Like manna from heaven, our food was parachuted to us.
The thing about full moons is that they quickly wane into new moons. On the night of the new moon, we were covered in darkness. And we were surrounded by hyenas. I could not see immediately in front of my face, but I could see their glowing eyes. If we made a sound, we were likely to be discovered. I faced these hyenas, and 400 scared children cowered silently behind me. I shot the leader of the pack, and the other hyenas took a hint. But because of the delay, we had to be 10 kilometers away in just a few hours, before daybreak. I told the oldest children to feel the earth, to feel the heart of Jerusalem. And we ran. The older ones carried the younger ones, and the younger ones carried the youngest ones. We ran in complete darkness for hours, not making a sound. Not one child complained.
Another night, we came upon four Ethiopian soldiers. We heard them open beer after beer after beer, as we lay crouched in the grass just a few feet away. Four hundred children sat like that- no crying, no talking, no farting. One soldier came towards us to take a leak. I don’t speak any Ethiopian languages, but I’m pretty sure he called to his comrades, “I’m drunk, but I’m not that drunk. There’s 400 children here!” In a moment he and the others were gone. We hid the remains of their truck.
We reached the airport in Sudan 17 days later. George H. W. Bush had secured a plane for us. Now it was only a matter of hours until we reached Israel. But 400 Ethiopian children had never seen a plane. Four hundred Ethiopian children did not want to get into a giant metal bird. Luckily, we had anticipated this. I made a trail of M&M’s into the plane. Those greedy bastards at them all and then went back outside! We reminded them of their saying: “On the wings of eagles he shall carry you to Jerusalem.” The oldest ones went on first, and the younger ones followed them.
The mission was named Operation Moses.
When I got home 3 weeks later, my girlfriend was not mad at me. She told me there is no way any woman would tolerate the way I stank.
The LA Times ran an article about the mission a few days later, and we were unable to rescue the parents. Operation Solomon was delayed by 7 years.
I was forbidden from speaking about the operation until recently. Years later, when I was a teacher, I took my students to the first kosher McDonalds, and there was a stunning Ethiopian girl. We looked at each other, and she floated over to me. The whole restaurant fell silent as they watched this incredible girl come up to me and say “We were many, you were one.”
There are now 100,000 Ethiopian Jews living in Israel.
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This is a retelling of an account given by a soldier on Operation Moses that I heard a few months ago. I cannot account for its factual accuracy or its adherence to its original telling. The 100,000 figure is a combination of wikipedia’s 127,000 and IAEJ’s 85,000. Also on the internet were figures of 36,000, 50,000, 65,000, 70,000, and 80,000, 100,000, and 110,000. The story of the Beta Israel is the most inspiring story I have ever heard, and I have a fascination with Ethiopians that sometimes brings me to tears if I think about it too much.
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