A nation of heroes: October 7 lionhearts share stories in Italy - opinion

The last time I left Milan there was a war in Israel, and I was returning with my children because my husband had already left a long time before to rejoin the army on October 8.

In spite of my trepidation and anxiety, I yearned to be back home – in my Jerusalem home, with my spouse, in my nation, and among my suffering, weeping, and wounded people, even though my pulse was pounding, I had tears in my eyes as the plane touched down, and the air was tense.

Six months later, I was sitting on an aircraft once again. As the El Al hostess asked me to straighten my seat as we were ready to land, I was filled with excitement. I was returning to Italy, my birth country, to my parents, as a hero, simply for being Israeli and having lived through those intense months of war. 

But I was bringing with me two real heroes who were going to tell their stories of courage and survival to a hungry crowd of Italian Jews who were longing to hear, see, hug, and listen to their testimonies.

The heroes of October 7

As the wheels of the plane touched Italian ground, I turned and looked at Rami Davidian sitting next to me, still not believing that he had come with me all the way to Milan to tell his story.

We had been planning an evening for quite some time with the Italian Jewish community and Chabad of Milan, who were collaborating together for this incredible event: “Am Echad, Lev Echad; one heart, one soul.” I could see the excitement building in Rami’s eyes. He was ready to share his story and show the world the strength and resilience of the Israeli people.

RAMI DAVIDIAN is a celebrity in Israel, and the moment I heard his story, I knew I wanted to meet him. I took my team and went to Patish, the moshav near the border of Gaza where he lives with his wife and children. A nice and cozy house full of light and warmth was going to be the setting for our interview.

As Rami and I started talking, I told the crew to let the camera roll all the time. I wanted to capture every emotion and every word.

Rami recounted that he was preparing to leave the house early on Oct. 7 in order to attend the memorial day for his father on Simchat Torah at the synagogue. His wife warned him not to leave because there were rockets in the sky as the sirens began to sound. Nevertheless, he left, and that day permanently altered his life. Rami found himself on a mission to save as many lives as he could, from that early hour in the morning until late at night.

Without realizing it, he became the hero after falling into a situation that he could never have imagined. Upon hearing that there was a man helping everyone who was waiting to find or find out about their children, parents, families, and loved ones from the Supernova party, Rami wanted this man’s phone number more than anything else.

He contacted his son-in-law in Moshav Patish, telling him to prepare residents to receive the influx of terrified, wounded, and distraught survivors from the party.

Rami Davidian’s heroic actions during the rescue mission were nothing short of extraordinary. His ability to leverage mobile location services, his fluency in Arabic, and his quick thinking under pressure saved many lives and prevented further tragedy.

The scenes of horror and brutality that Rami encountered during the rescue mission were traumatic, but his unwavering commitment to saving lives never wavered. His ability to remain calm and strategic under such harrowing circumstances speaks volumes about his character and strength.

THE SECOND hero who had joined our hasbara (PR) team in Milan was Mordechay Shenwald, a soldier who was wounded by the enemy in Gaza. His unit was one of the first ones to enter the Gaza Strip, and he had been shot and had 11 ribs broken. Mordechay was taken to the hospital, where he stayed for almost three months. 

During his stay, as soon as he could, he started playing his violin for everyone and became the “fiddler of the tank.” Mordechay’s uncle had been a fighter in the 2015 war known as the Knife Intifada. He was killed in action, and his nephew was hit and wounded in almost the same location, somewhere in Gaza. 

Everything about the evening we had planned was perfect. After a breathtaking video recounting their valiant stories, our heroes made their traditional on-stage entrance. Now that we were ready for the event, I was freaking out, even though I had imagined it all so many times in my head.

Our first destination in Milan was the delectable Carmel pizza restaurant, where we were greeted with such warmth, shown to our table, and given whatever we wanted from the entire menu for free! Mordechay got a nice pizza, and Rami had a real meal of spaghetti. Throughout our stay in Milan, meals for the heroes were provided by all the kosher establishments, such as Ba’ghetto, Denzel, and MyKafe, which is a commendable initiative.

I checked myself in the mirror shortly before going on stage and prayed that everything would go well. The auditorium was filling up, and peeking behind the scenes I noticed some friends and a good mix of Italians, Chabadniks, and Sephardi Jews. Everyone wanted to take part in this event.

THE CURTAINS opened, and I was seated on stage behind a desk, pretending to be writing on my computer while you could hear my thoughts running through my head played out loud in the hall. “It is freezing tonight. I wonder how the soldiers are doing in Gaza. What is that noise I hear? Should I be scared? What if I need to run? What if there’s a siren? What if they broke into my house and frightened my children?”

These are the questions that have plagued all of us throughout these trying times. The crowd remained silent. I was attempting to take them into the psyche of any woman currently living in Israel who has a husband in miluim (active reserve duty), children sleeping in their beds, and the fear of feeling so vulnerable and alone from the rest of the world.

I finished my scene and rushed backstage to change into my white jacket, check my lipstick, and return to the stage, ready to start the evening and greet everyone with a sense of unity and love. As the first video about Rami began, the silence in the large hall became unbearably loud. When his amazing story came to a close, it felt as if no one could breathe. I returned to the stage and presented Rami to the audience, who all rose to their feet and continued to praise him. He passed through the crowd; everyone wanted to see him.

Like the splitting of the Red Sea, he made his way through the middle and walked on stage, turned to the people, and started crying. I was holding my tears; I couldn’t speak. I walked Rami to the two chairs ready for us and tried to begin a small interview, asking him questions in Hebrew and translating them into Italian, but my voice trembled from emotion.

Mordechay then came on stage and played an amazing performance of the most dramatic passage from Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. He left to rousing applause from the audience, who did not yet know who he was other than a talented violinist. But then everyone was shown another video, this time about his amazing story. He returned to the stage, standing in front of the audience who now knew who their violinist was and still is: another hero.

This is who we are – a nation of heroes who feel for each other, even if we don’t know each other. The feeling of unity and love felt in that room at the moment was something I will never forget.

May Hashem keep protecting us and return the hostages to their families and keep our soldiers safe, and may we merit the final revelation of true godliness today.

Amen. 

The writer, originally from Italy, lives in Jerusalem with her husband and four children. She heads HadassahChen Productions and hosts a weekly talk show on Arutz Sheva.