The Brazilian-Israeli Who Was Sent to the Front, Captured, and Returned in a Syrian Uniform

The story of the prisoner of war, Julio Friedman, whose picture was identified by his family as part of the National Library’s 'Naming the Soldiers' project

“This is a picture that we, the family, didn’t know about,” says Clarinia, the sister of Julio Friedman, who appears in the center of the picture. When we told her about the National Library’s ‘Naming the Soldiers’ project in honor of Israel’s 71st Independence Day, we could hear the excitement in her voice. Her voice would break more than once throughout the course of our conversation as she relived those distant, unpleasant days.

Clarinia begins the story in 1970. This was the year she (then married with a child and a second on the way) immigrated to Israel with her brother, Julio. Julio first worked picking bananas (“he was a big, strong man”) while he learned Hebrew in an ulpan, a Hebrew-language school for new immigrants (olim). After he was able to save up a bit of money, he bought a Volkswagen van and used it to drive around a troupe of flamenco dancers he had met. He also found work as a technician at Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI).

Julio, Clarinia, and many others who emigrated from Brazil to Israel found it difficult to master the new language of Hebrew. This fact would prove to play a crucial role when Julio joined the IDF.

After two and a half years in Israel, Julio, who was 26 when he immigrated to Israel, was called up to serve a shortened military service that was compulsory for olim – six months of service. He would not, however, even have the opportunity to complete the three-month basic training. Less than two and a half months after his enlistment, the Yom Kippur War broke out. Julio was dispatched to the northern front – the embattled Golan Heights.

On the second day of the war, Clarinia felt something was wrong. The day before, she and her friends were baffled by a siren going off on Yom Kippur and what the illogical sentences crackling out of the radio meant. It was not until Golda Meir herself broadcast a dramatic announcement over the airwaves that the members of the Brazilian immigrant community in Herzliya understood that something serious had occurred. Thanks to a neighbor who decoded the Hebrew message by translating it into her mother tongue, Romanian (“Portuguese and Romanian are both Latin languages, so we managed to understand a little”), the members of the small community of Brazilian-Israelis understood that a war had broken out over the High Holiday.

Only several hours after getting her bad feeling, uniformed soldiers knocked on Clarinia’s door. They explained that since Julio had left basic training a few days prior, they thought it was best to return a package that Clarinia had previously sent to her brother. The soldiers did not know to which base Julio had been dispatched. They had only come to return the package out of courtesy. At that very moment, no one in the IDF knew that Julio had already been captured by Syrian forces, and was apparently being taken by his captors to the Syrian capital. Over the next two weeks, he would undergo a series of interrogations and mistreatment. Afterwards, he and other Israeli prisoners of war would be held in the Al-Mezzeh prison, overlooking Damascus

Through a family friend, Clarinia and her husband discovered that Julio’s most likely last known location – or, more precisely, the location of an Israeli soldier of Brazilian origin – was in a bunker in the north of the country. Their attempt to track down the last person to see Julio alive led them to a soldier who was healing from an ear injury at a base in Acre. This was all the information that Clarinia and her husband had to go on. They did not know the name of the soldier or what he looked like. The couple traveled to the base in search of information and answers.

When they arrived, Clarinia and her husband received confirmation that a soldier who was recovering from an ear injury and had been in a bunker in the north was indeed assigned to the base. But, he had received a weekend pass and had already left the base. The couple spoke with the base commander, but he did not know the name of the soldier in question. The commander only knew that he was of Indian origin and lived in Lod.

Clarinia and her husband tracked down the soldier at the cinema in Lod, and he was able to confirm that the missing Brazilian soldier who was with him and two other soldiers in the bunker was indeed Julio. He explained that the situation in the bunker had been dire. Except for Julio, all of the soldiers in the bunker had been wounded. Supplies were running dangerously low, so Julio volunteered to venture out of the safety of the bunker in search of water. “We heard words in Arabic and we did not know what happened after that,” the soldier explained to Clarinia and her husband. It was only after his return from captivity that Julio told his sister that he thought that the Syrian soldiers he heard were speaking in Hebrew, which led him to approach them for help.

“We informed Julio’s direct superior of what we had learned. Three or four IDF commanders showed up with maps in their hands, to tell us what they thought had happened.” Then, Clarinia repeated a sentence that is burned painfully in her mind to this day, a sentence uttered by one of the commanders. “Do not think too much about it. In the first few days of a war, you do not take prisoners.”

The war that had broken out on October 6, 1973 was officially ended with a ceasefire on October 24. Although the ceasefire had officially gone into effect, Israelis and Syrians would continue to exchange fire along the border into 1974. It was in February, 1974, that US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger was able to obtain the full list of Israeli prisoners from the Syrian government. On the night the list was released to the public, another military delegation knocked on Clarinia’s door. “This time, it was a sweet young female soldier who informed us that Julio was on the list of prisoners. Until that moment, we still did not know what had happened to him.” It was only then that Clarinia phoned her mother, who had stayed behind in Brazil, to inform her of her brother’s situation. This was the first time that she had told their mother that anything was wrong.

Kissinger’s list paved the way for the Red Cross to become involved in the conflict, and a connection between the prisoners in Syria and their home country was established. “That’s how we saw him for the first time, in a photo sent by the Red Cross. He very thin, but alive.”

Julio Friedman and other prisoners return from Syrian captivity. June 6, 1974. From the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

The return of the prisoners, which was planned for May, was postponed to June 6, 1974. David Avaky spent the eight months of captivity as Julio’s cellmate. In the conversation we held with David, he told us about the moment the prisoners realized that they were returning to Israel. “We had one jailer who treated us very well…He spoke with us on a human level…One day he came in to visit a wounded soldier and asked him to collect all his personal effects and come with him. We were used to the Syrians taking us away for short periods of time. But, having the soldier take his things with him was something new. Half an hour later, he returned and spoke with us about the history of the region, about Israel and Syria. He told us that all the wounded were being returned to Israel and that he was going on holiday. ‘Inshallah, we will not meet again when I return.’ Indeed, a week later, we returned to Israel. In the days following his visit, we felt the relationship begin to change. But, the biggest change was the day before we were released. They brought us sports clothes and took us out to exercise. Representatives of the Red Cross were there, and they informed any prisoners who were still in the dark about our planned return home. We remained skeptical the entire trip south to the border.”

Julio Friedman, together with other Israelis held in captivity, are hosted by the Jewish community in Switzerland. 1976 (Julio is standing in the back, on the left side of the picture, sporting an impressive mustache)

Clarinia remembered the day that the prisoners returned to Israel. At the welcoming ceremony, the IDF placed the families behind a barrier. In front of the barrier was a platform for Prime Minister Golda Meir and Defense Minister Moshe Dayan, who were supposed to meet the prisoners first. “As soon as the blue plane with the Red Cross touched down on the tarmac, there was no barrier that could hold us back.”

Among the last of the prisoners to disembark the plane was Julio. He could not walk. When Clarinia finally saw Julio’s smiling face, she saw that he was missing his two front teeth. This was the first sign of the horrors that he had endured. “Were you wounded in the leg?” asked his worried sister. Her brother explained that he was not, but that he had been given shoes three sizes too small. And why was he the only soldier dressed in Syrian army uniform? “I did not believe it. I refused to take off my prison uniform until my feet stood on Israeli soil.”

Julio talked with his sister about his captivity for three days and nights. It was during this release of emotions that he revealed to Clarinia the atrocities he had endured in Syria. After the three days, he never spoke of his captivity again. Julio died in 2008 after a long struggle with cancer, a disease that the IDF later recognized as a result of Julio’s coping with his time in captivity. His two children knew almost nothing of this period of his life. It was only at their father’s shiva that Clarinia told them the story that Julio had revealed during the first three days after his return.

At the end of our conversation with Clarinia, we asked about the man he was. Who was the man who had experienced these terrible things at the hands of his captors? Who was the man who had told her everything over three days and never spoke of it again? He later married, adopted two children, and raised a family. Did his captivity change his character? Clarinia says no. Julio was an easy-going character. He allowed troubles to pass by him, all the while remaining stable and unchanging. “That’s the only way he got through it,” she said, adding that there was one thing Julio was not able to overcome, “Only the noise of keys, that was the only noise that bothered him.”

Julio’s wife, Bella Friedman, identified the picture of her husband returning from captivity in a post that we published. The couple, who first met in the Hashomer Hatzair youth movement in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, met again in Israel in 1974. In February 1975 they married. Bella was also the one who recommended we speak to Clarinia and David Avaki.

•Julio and Bella Friedman — Julio and Bella Friedman

We would like to thank Bella, Clarinia, and David for sharing Julio’s story with us, as well as their own memories, and especially for opening their hearts to us.

If you liked this story, try these:

Naming the Soldiers: A Special Joint Project by the National Library and Facebook

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The Mother Who Stayed Behind to Defend Her Home During Israel’s War of Independence

Eliezer Ben Yehuda Writes from Prison

"My heart tells me, my hope is strong, that the judges themselves will realize that this is just a false plot made up by those who hate me, and will set me free"

The National Library of Israel | 15.07.19

Just before Hanukah, 1893, Shlomo Naftali Hertz Jonas published an article in the newspaper “HaTzvi” titled “Commandments Require Intent” in which, in the spirit of the burgeoning Zionist idea, he called for the celebration of Hanukah as a holiday of Jewish strength. Jonas, Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s father-in-law, closed the article with the words: “gather strength to move forward” (לאסוף חיל ללכת קדימה). Ben Yehuda’s detractors from the Ultra-Orthodox community used this sentence as an excuse to inform on him to the Turkish authorities. The Ultra-Orthodox translated the word חיל (strength) as “army” and the phrase ללכת קדימה (to move forward) as “to conquer the east”. Thus, this innocent remark was interpreted as a plot to revolt against the Turks. This was the climax of the feud between the “Old Yishuv” in Jerusalem and Eliezer Ben Yehuda, the driving spirit behind the revival of the Hebrew language. Eliezer Ben Yehuda, the editor of the “Hatzvi”, was arrested as a traitor to the crown and was sentenced to a year in prison.

Portrait of Eliezer Ben Yehuda, Moscow, circa 1885

Portair of Hemda Ben Yehuda, Mogilev, Russia, 1904

When he was informed he was going to be sent to prison, Eliezer Ben Yehuda wrote a letter to his son, Itamar.

Exactly 120 years later, while organizing an archive that was received by the National Library, the original letter was discovered:

“Ben Zion, my son, they summoned me to court next Wednesday, apparently regarding the article about the police. Maybe we should confer together about what to do, or maybe it is better, in any case, that you should not be there during the judgment? I am confused. I didn’t know what to do. Your Father”.

Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s letter to his son Itamar

Ben Yehuda’s letter to his son set his release in motion. He was released during the Hanukah holiday.

During his incarceration, which lasted about two weeks, Eliezer Ben Yehuda wrote a letter to his second wife, Hemda. This letter is also preserved at the National Library:

“My Hemda, my wife, life of my soul and spirit, tomorrow is judgment day. My heart tells me, my hope is strong, that the judges themselves will realize that this is just a false plot made up by those who hate me, and will set me free. I feel like this is my last night in prison, and that by this time tomorrow we will be together in our house. How I will hug you, my dear girl, how I will kiss you my sweet wife! How pleasant is the prison to me this night, how dear is my prison cell, as I hope to be together with you tomorrow! However, my wife, my dear Hemda, no man can know what tomorrow might bring. The smallest incident could bring about some confusion, some slight delay, and that will be enough to return me to my cell for a few days. We must always anticipate the worst, and be ready to accept the bad bravely, as is fitting for people like ourselves; as is fitting for a woman like you. Therefore, my dear Hemda, with all our hope they we will see each other tomorrow at our house, we should be prepared and ready for the bad. Let our hearts not fall, we will strengthen ourselves with the knowledge that it is due to our regard and labor for our people and for the good of progress that those who hate us blamed us and told falsehoods about us. This knowledge will be sufficient for us to carry and suffer everything with brave hearts and spirits. Therefore, my precious wife, be strong and of a good courage, and know that in your serenity I will also find serenity and in knowing that you will overcome this trouble that has come upon us and that you are healthy, I will also find strength to suffer so that afterwards we will be able to be together and return to our great work for the good of progress like we did before. I will hug you, my lovely girl, and I will kiss you”.

Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s letter to his wife Hemda

16 years after his release, on 18.12.1908, Eliezer Ben Yehuda wrote in “HaTzvi” about the Hanukah holiday:

“Hanukah, the holiday of the Hasmoneans. For the first time in 16 years I utter these words without fear and trembling… lo, the sun of freedom is shining on us in all its glory! Hurrah!… to you, Freedom! Everything is yours! For only in you man is man! You, You my Goddess, our heroes, whose names I feared to mention for over 15 years, have served. In Your name they fought, and in Your name they performed acts of bravery that astounded all the nations of the world, in Your name they were victorious and in Your name they expelled the foreigners from the land, and shook off the yoke of the strangers from the neck of their fellows, and in Your name they gave us this sweet holiday so that I can now call without fear and terror: Hanukah, Hanukah, Hanukah!”

A Glimpse of 19th Century Jerusalem

Rare pictures: This is what Jerusalem looked like 150 years ago

Gil Weissblei | 02.06.19

The Jaffa Gate, towards the end of the 19th-century, photo: Félix Bonfils

What did Jerusalem look like 150 years ago? It seems we are the first generation to be able to answer this question with any degree of certainty, thanks to prints that have been preserved in the National Library, from the early days of photography in the Land of Israel.

The last few decades of the 19^th century saw large surges of visiting tourists, researchers and pilgrims who explored the Holy Land as part of a predetermined route of tourist sites in the Near East. Most did not have cameras, which were heavy and cumbersome devices in those days. The Orient and the spirit of the Bible which they wished to absorb are clearly visible in the pictures produced by the few professional photographers who worked here. The most famous of these was Félix Bonfils.

The landscapes are vast and empty, perhaps because of the difficulties involved in photographing passers-by. Cameras of the period used special glass plates, which were coated with light-sensitive chemicals, a technique that required long exposure. In certain cases, when the composition demanded it, 19th-century citizens of Jerusalem can indeed be spotted in the pictures, resembling extras on an elaborate and majestic movie set.

HaGai Street, with a view of "The Rich Man's House", photo: Félix Bonfils, around 1860. Click to enlarge. — HaGai Street, with a view of “The Rich Man’s House”, photo: Félix Bonfils, around 1860. Click to enlarge.

The entrance to the city: Jaffa Gate, photo: Bonfils House, around 1899. This was taken shortly after the filling of a ditch, which enabled horse-driven carts to access the city. Click to enlarge.

The Jaffa Gate, towards the end of the 19th-century, photo: Bonfils House — The Jaffa Gate, towards the end of the 19^th-century, photo: Bonfils House

The Citadel of David and the commerce square in front of the Jaffa Gate, around 1870, photo: Félix Bonfils. Click to enlarge.

A view of the Christian Quarter from the Citadel of David, photo: Luigi Fiorillo, around 1875. Click to enlarge.

A street in the Christian Quarter, photo: Félix Bonfils, around 1870. Click to enlarge.

Jews praying at the Western Wall, photo: Félix Bonfils, around 1880. Click to enlarge.

Damascus Gate, photo: Bruno Hentschel, 1900. Click to enlarge.

A group of German tourists visiting the Temple Mount, 1903. Click to enlarge.

Hezekiah's Pool, photo: Félix Bonfils, around 1865. Click to enlarge. — Hezekiah’s Pool, photo: Félix Bonfils, around 1865. Click to enlarge.

A view of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, photo: Frank Mason Good, 1875. Click to enlarge.

The eastern wall and the Golden Gate, photo: Frank Mason Good, 1875. Click to enlarge.

The Opposition to the First “Jerusalem Reunification Day”

The objections surrounding the creation of “Jerusalem Day” as a national Israeli holiday

Dr. Hezi Amiur | 02.06.19

On the way to the Western Wall, 1967, the Bitmuna Collections

“Jerusalem Day,” or “Jerusalem Reunification Day,” is an officially recognized national holiday in Israel which enjoys broad acceptance in the country today. But, it has not always been so. In the year following the reunification of Jerusalem in the Six-Day War, the Prime Minister of Israel and the mayor of Jerusalem openly objected to the creation of the holiday. It was only after the public itself made its opinion clear in favor of a new national holiday that the municipal and governmental institutions followed suit.

Following Israel’s War of Independence in 1948, Jerusalem was a divided city. For 19 years, West Jerusalem belonged to Israel, while East Jerusalem was held by Jordan. It was only in 1967, or more precisely, on the third day of the Six-Day War, that the soldiers of the IDF Paratroopers Brigade, commanded by Col. Motta Gur (a future Chief of Staff), broke through the Jordanian defenses and took the Old City and East Jerusalem. The reunification of Jerusalem was completed with Motta Gur’s now famous declaration “The Temple Mount is in our hands!”

Mordechai "Motta" Gur was the IDF officer who declared "The Temple Mount is in our hands!". Pictured here as a Brigadier General during Jerusalem Day celebrations in 1969. Photo by Jacob Elbaz, the Dan Hadani Collection at the National Library — Mordechai “Motta” Gur was the IDF officer who declared “The Temple Mount is in our hands!” Pictured here as a Brigadier General during Jerusalem Day celebrations in 1969. Photo by Jacob Elbaz, the Dan Hadani Collection at the National Library

Following the war, a desire emerged to establish a special day dedicated to the unified city of Jerusalem, the capital of the State of Israel. The first initiative came from the Chief Rabbinate on the first anniversary of the city’s reunification. The heads of the Rabbinate sought to establish the 28th day of the Hebrew month of Iyar as a day of thanksgiving for the miracles that resulted in the city’s unification under Israeli control.

The Jerusalem Municipality followed up on the rabbinical initiative, announcing its celebrations to mark the new Jerusalem Day holiday, but the Israeli government immediately attempted to have the decision cancelled, refusing to offer any funding for the ceremonies being planned.

Even the mayor of Jerusalem, Teddy Kollek, requested that his own municipal authorities cancel their plans for fear that the festivities would offend the Arab population of East Jerusalem. Prime Minister Levi Eshkol was also reluctant to hold the ceremony in its intended format. The Office of the Prime Minister released a statement that Eshkol would decline the “honorary citizenship” that the Jerusalem Municipality intended to award him at the ceremony.

Jerusalem's legendary mayor Teddy Kollek was originally against the new holiday, but later came around. Here he is seen during the 1975 ceremonies. Photo by Paula Rubin, the Dan Hadani Collection at the National Library — The mayor of Jerusalem Teddy Kollek was originally against the new holiday, but later came around. Here he is seen (on the right) during the 1980 ceremonies. Photo by Paula Rubin, the Dan Hadani Collection at the National Library

Despite the reluctance shown by Levi Eshkol and Teddy Kollek, the municipal authorities decided to move forward with the ceremony.

A great sense of national joy served as the driving force behind the festivities, which were, in the end, held as planned, including the awarding of an honorary citizenship to the Prime Minister. Jerusalem was illuminated and decorated with an exuberance that rivalled that of the famously uninhibited Independence Day celebrations.

Israeli Prime Minister Levi Eshkol with his wife Miriam, 1968. Photo by Dan Hadani, the Dan Hadani Collection at the National Library

However, unlike Independence Day, the first Jerusalem Day celebration took on a more spontaneous character. Aside from the municipality, one of the only official bodies involved in the preparations was the Chief Rabbinate, which organized a mass prayer at the Western Wall.

Thousands gather at the western wall during Jerusalem Day celebrations in 1969. Photo by Jacob ELbaz, the Dan Hadani Collection at the National Library — Thousands gather at the Western Wall during Jerusalem Day celebrations in 1969. Photo by Jacob Elbaz, the Dan Hadani Collection at the National Library

Various delegations converged on the capital city, including groups of students from Bar-Ilan University and Haifa’s Technion institute, who tried in vain to sweep up the local students of the Hebrew University in their excitement. A wide variety of grassroots events were held throughout the city: marches, public assemblies, school activities, as well as “ordinary” excited crowds who came streaming into the capital. There were also a number of memorial events for fallen soldiers.

The headline reads: “100 Thousand Flocked to the Western Wall”

It was only a full four months later that the Israeli government finally agreed to declare the 28^th of Iyar as “Jerusalem Day”, with the Knesset, the Israeli parliament, adding its approval even later still.

Today, Jerusalem Day is a national holiday. It is marked by celebrations in cities throughout Israel, in schools, in the media, and in Jerusalem itself. Few are aware of the resistance that preceded the first celebration of the holiday, and that its marking should not be taken for granted.