“It was organized, it wasn’t chaos,” recalls Pvt. Shari Mendes.
She is speaking about the days after the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre as victims of the Hamas mega-atrocity were brought to Camp Shura, an IDF base near Ramle in central Israel.
We are sitting in a side room that has an industrial look but has been converted into a temporary place to sit, with a small table and a couch. “There was such respect, even though there was such a heavy load,” Mendes says.
From the room, we can see out to a larger open area resembling a kind of hangar, with a side open facing east. “There were trucks – more than the eye could see,” she recalls. “Bodies lined the halls.”
At that time, more than 1,000 people had been killed in the Hamas attack, and the bodies were brought to Camp Shura for identification and to be cleansed and shown to families before burial.
“There was an orderly process. It was our job to accompany the women victims. We are not doctors, but a woman’s body should be accompanied. We did all non-medical touching, we protected their modesty. There was a feeling of such respect. You had doctors, dentists, photographers [at Camp Shura]; they gave such respect to these women…
“It was an atmosphere of holiness,” she says.
Dealing with angels
I drove to Camp Shura in early December. The war in Gaza has been on for a year and two months.
This was a war Hamas started due to its brutal attack – the worst massacre of Jewish people since the Holocaust. It was among one of the worst massacres of people on a single day. On Oct. 7, Camp Shura had to deal with a massive number of incoming corpses – people who had suffered many different types of wounds – and process the fallen for burial.
This IDF unit performs functions that have religious as well as medical significance when identifying the fallen and preparing them for burial. St.-Sgt. Bentzi Mann is a member of the team here. He has a smile and cheerfulness that is important in a somber place like this.
Mann was born to American parents. He is also a trained rabbi and served in the UK before the war. He left the IDF in 2011 and has only done several days as a reservist over the last few years. On Oct. 7., he was in Rehovot.
By October 8, he was asked to come to Shura. “We began the identification process here. This is the IDF Rabbinate morgue,” he says, describing the surrounding area.
Israel had never faced this many dead at one time. There was no ability to separate the civilian dead from those of the IDF, police, and other security forces. Since there were so many bodies, including those of terrorists and Gazans who were intermixed with Israelis, the fallen were brought to Shura.
Mann refers to his work with the dead as “dealing with angels.” This is the only way he could deal with the mass of death that came through these gates – the gates of heaven. “Those who died [did so] sanctifying God’s name; that was the motivating factor, that’s what kept me going.”
We are sitting in the converted room just off the area that looks like a hangar. There are several white vans outside used for transporting the fallen. There is a line of stretchers along the concrete floor. It’s a reminder: in front of me are just a few stretchers. But what if there were 1,000 here? That’s what happened on Oct. 7. Mann describes unloading bodies from containers and refrigerated trucks.
All of this leads to post-trauma. He tells of one colleague who worked here with the dead. When the man now sees a refrigerated truck, like the kind that delivers ice cream, he can’t help thinking of Oct. 7 and the cold storage where bodies were kept. “This whole area was packed with bodies. You need the constant reminder. We are privileged to do this holy work,” Mann says.
The process here is complex and linked to both the latest technology and Jewish tradition. When the fallen were brought in, they had to be identified. “The IDF rabbis have a fingerprint scanner,” notes Mann.
We walk from the hangar-like room to a hallway and a rectangular-shaped room. At one end is a kind of loading dock. Several walls have small stations with machines to identify the incoming bodies. There is an area to analyze dental work, and four machines identify DNA.
Another way to identify a corpse is to have two witnesses come before a beit din (rabbinical court). But the process of identification after Oct. 7 was made harder because of the damage inflicted on the deceased, such as those who were burned. In addition, it was harder to find witnesses because there were so many dead.
Women’s Hevra Kadisha
Mendes is one of the group of women volunteers here. Her unit dates back to 2010 when women volunteered to be part of the chevra kadisha’s (burial society) work. In private life, Mendes is an architect.
“We trained once a year. We dealt with all the female soldiers because more and more women have been joining combat units,” she says, noting that there have been female fatalities among those serving in the security forces.
In Israel, the police are generally responsible for identifying civilians. However, Oct. 7 turned Camp Shura into the main collection point for the victims. There were many women soldiers killed on Oct. 7, including the IDF observers massacred at Nahal Oz. A large number of women were also killed at the Supernova music festival. Some had been soldiers.
Israel was lucky to have Camp Shura in place, ready to receive so many bodies. As I walk the halls with the soldiers, it’s clear that this new facility helped keep order amid the chaos of October 2023.
Israel was also lucky to have those like Mendes, whose unit became a reserve unit in 2023, with the volunteers officially becoming reserve soldiers. “We knew we should be prepared for a mass casualty event,” she says.
Mendes recalls the sirens of Oct. 7 and being called up on October 8. “It was unimaginable what was going on here,” she relates about her arrival.
Her unit dealt with the female victims, preparing them for burial. She talks with emotion and resilience about how important it was to treat them with respect – a respect she says the women didn’t receive when they were murdered.
“Sometimes, we would see them and they looked like they were still in pain; we took a moment to love them because they could be our daughters; because we are all the age of mothers… We understood that we were in a place of incredible holiness.”
Halacha at Camp Shura
Rabbi Binyamin Zimmerman is a captain in the IDF Rabbinate and serves in the Halacha department. This unit deals with all areas of the army, providing guidance on issues related to the rabbinate and Jewish law. Oct. 7 changed many things because the unit has had to deal with many unexpected questions that arose.
“Everyone wants to do everything perfectly. When it is a surprise, a lot of new things come out. We have to think forward. We want to think that we can do it better.”
The process of preparing bodies for burial is complex. After identification, the body is cleansed in accordance with Jewish custom and tahara (preparation for burial). Ritual water is poured over the body to prepare the deceased for the next world.
“Burial [is the body’s] entry into the next world and the resurrection of the dead. We give [the deceased] a tremendous amount of honor,” says Zimmerman. The goal is for the person to be buried at his or her best, like an “angel,” he says. They are clothed in white garments.
There are some differences in the preparation for burial of Jews who were killed because they were a Jew or in defense of the Jewish state. Soldiers may be buried in their blood-stained uniforms with a white garment over them. Druze soldiers are buried in new uniforms, per the custom of their community. The personal belongings of the fallen are returned to the families.
After Oct. 7, the unit here worked around the clock. Rulings from the rabbinate for what could be done on Shabbat were also put in place. “We worked and slept here,” recalls Mendes. Mann says he slept on the floor. Overall, in October 2023 around 1,500 bodies passed through this area.
The first days after Oct. 7 saw many incidents new to this holy place. For instance, there was concern that some bodies might have an explosive device on them, left by terrorists. People had to be cleared out so the bodies could be checked.
This was also traumatic for Mendes and her team, who didn’t want to leave the women victims alone during this process.
Extraordinary lengths
There is a pervading sense of sanctification here and much attention to detail. Everything is done to provide honor for the victims, such as rooms with doors and ways to separate each body and team from each other in 17 separate rooms as the bodies are prepared for burial. There is a hospital-like cleanliness and sterility to the facility. It’s almost hard to imagine what it must have been like in those early days of October 2023.
Zimmerman, Mann, and Mendes show me around, taking me from one room to another. There is a CT scan machine, which helps identify people via dental verification. It can also show where bullets might be lodged in the body.
In the days following Oct. 7, Mendes says the smells in this place assaulted the senses. The place was loud as well. Eventually, to help with the smell of the bodies and other horrors, the group received lavender-scented masks.
Washing the victims’ personal items was important. A washing machine was rigged in a way to preserve the blood so that it, too, could be buried with the bodies. The machine also used salt to retain the smell of the garments.
The unit went to extraordinary lengths to help families reunite with their loved ones and give them their cleaned personal possessions. Mann recalls using cotton swabs to remove blood from a shattered smartphone screen. The team also cleaned the blood from personal letters that were found on the victims.
After the ritual preparation and the use of water to prepare the body, the deceased is taken to a special room and laid on a table for viewing by the family.
There are differences in civilian and army burials. Soldiers are placed in a casket, while civilians are not. From a public parking area, the family is ushered into a family room, and then to a special room where they see the body of their loved one.
Everything is done with the honor, beauty, and quiet fitting for this somber occasion. For me, it felt almost like a violation to set foot in these places; I had not come to mourn.
Honorable, dignified parting
It is a marvel what the IDF has done here.
Zimmerman brings me into one of the rooms where a fallen loved one would be laid out. The family could come here to see the deceased and spend the last moments before transport for burial.
The lighting and setting are all attuned to the holiness of this place. It is subdued, almost dark, and very modern – not ornate but rather simple, with straight lines around where a body would be placed in the middle of the room.
“This gives them [the family] closure, and it’s important,” observes Zimmerman. He describes people coming here and sometimes singing a song or parting in other ways. The IDF also does everything possible so that the family can see the face of their loved one.
Zimmerman discusses the unique treatment the IDF provides for the fallen and what it means to be an IDF rabbi. “No one becomes a rabbi to deal with the fallen. You hope you won’t have to… You become a rabbi to deal with living soldiers. But that completely changed after Oct. 7.”
The rabbis on reserve duty came to do their part. They saw the horrors of what the enemy had been planning for the last two decades, Zimmerman says. “You realize you’re not fully ready, but people don’t turn back.”
There has been so much death since the Israel-Hamas war began that all the rabbis from the unit have taken care of the fallen – a testament to the horrors of more than a year of war.
But the rabbis soldier on because the units in the field now have special requests, as they realize the existential, historic struggle of the Jewish people today. Soldiers are asking the IDF rabbis for tzitzit to wear. They ask the rabbis “Why do they hate us?” referring to the enemy.
“My colleagues faced questions of people wanting to learn and have pride. That was important,” Zimmerman relates. He motions toward the rooms where the fallen are placed so that their families may see them one final time. “We want soldiers to know we will do everything for them to come back alive, and we won’t stop until they are brought back and given the honor of burial. That includes doing dangerous things. People know we won’t give up, even if they aren’t alive.”
Zimmerman says the Talmud compares the fallen to a burnt Torah scroll. He says the living soldiers and living Torah scrolls want our services.
“We don’t want to leave you with despair, so we want to show the brotherhood of the Jewish people. It’s what we show to solidarity missions – the larger Jewish family,” he says.
New mission
For Zimmerman, Mann, and Mendes, the past year has evolved since the horrors of Oct. 7. Now they are hosting people who want to learn about Camp Shura.
But a week after Oct. 7, Mendes recalls encountering people who denied that a massacre by Hamas had even occurred. There were still 15 to 20 refrigerated containers with bodies to be identified; nevertheless, international denial was already setting in.
“It became a full-time job to talk to the foreign journalists coming to Shura. Sometimes there was a lot of support at the beginning, but after a while it became confrontational, [with people] asking, ‘Did this really happen?’” she recounts. “I found that I was giving witness to what we saw.”
She encountered unfriendly voices throughout the past year. “It has been painful. I feel like a personal witness. A lot of people don’t feel they should talk about what we did here.
“I am a daughter of Holocaust survivors, and my uncle’s brother was in the Sonderkommando [Jews forced to work in the gas chambers and crematoria],” she shares. “I thought if he could do it, then we could do it. He was killed in the crematoria uprising [in Auschwitz].
“There was eyewitness testimony after Oct. 7. We had to open the containers to show people what was in them.” She compares those who deny what happened on Oct. 7 to Holocaust deniers.
THE TEAM here puts a priority on making sure the families receive news about their fallen loved ones.
Under normal circumstances, bodies are sent to Abu Kabir for forensic testing or via the civilian route for burial. But in the aftermath of Oct. 7, this did not occur.
The team is also dealing with the trauma of their work. Mann says part of the healing is receiving a virtual hug from people. “One woman says she prays for my health every day; it’s deeply warming to know people care. They care about the IDF Rabbinate, the Jewish people, and the Jewish state.”
Mendes agrees. “We are okay. We are strong, and [there are] people suffering more than us – those who don’t know what happened to their family members... Our resilience helps us, but our consolation will come when this is over.”
Mann looks around and notes the difficult setting and what this place has been through. “If the walls here could speak, they would be screaming.”
“People know that we are here to support greater Israel,” affirms Mendes.
Zimmerman is also proud of the work his team does here and in the field. Professionals from foreign militaries marvel at their work and the speed with which families get answers about their fallen loved ones, he notes.
“Israel is now teaching the US army these things. That level of dedication is part of the story of the rabbinate’s uniqueness. It will be a light unto the nations.”
He points out that this isn’t a morgue in the traditional sense; it’s inspirational as well. Remembers Mendes: “We took a moment to hug these [deceased] women. They were the age of our daughters. We knew we might be the last person to see them.”
Living Torah
After seeing the facility, Zimmerman takes me on a short walk up a hill to another room that reveals a special sight. Inside are rows of Torah scrolls stacked from the floor to the ceiling.
There must be hundreds; he estimates that there are 400 in all. “This is probably the largest collection of Torah scrolls,” he says.
He speaks of the “living Torah scrolls” here, contrasting them with the fallen, who are compared to burnt Torah scrolls. “The IDF needs a lot of Torah scrolls; [soldiers] take them in the field. They’re heavy, and you have to protect them,” he says, pointing out that these scrolls need to be repaired by Shura’s team of scribes.
“We view ourselves as representatives of generations. IDF units want to take them; they feel safe [with them]. They symbolize the eternity of the Jewish people. This is an appreciation of the Jewish people.”
He points to one scroll that was donated by a Holocaust survivor, who dedicated it at Auschwitz. It is read when IDF delegations go to the former concentration camp. “We are announcing that you can kill us as individuals, but we have outlived those who tried to annihilate us,” Zimmerman says, beaming with pride.
He shows another scroll linked to the Yom Kippur War. It was captured along with an IDF unit stationed on the Suez Canal during the war. Taken by the Egyptians, the scroll did not come back with the men when the POWs were released. The scroll was returned years later – but only half of it.
Zimmerman calls Oct. 7 “another pogrom” but notes that many people have found unity in the wake of the horror.
“We are all in this together. It doesn’t erase the pain; we live in difficult times. [But] we have worldwide unity.”
Amen.