Major Benji Hillman. Photo: provided.

Exactly eight years ago, on July 21, 2006, Major Benji Hillman, 27, of Raanana was buried in the middle of the Second Lebanon War.

Benji, the son of one of my childhood friends, was killed along with five of his soldiers as they battled Hezbollah in the village of Maran al-Ras on the Lebanese side of the border. Benji, a commander in the elite Egoz unit of the Golani brigade, had been married three weeks before he was killed.

The war kicked off after Hezbollah kidnapped two soldiers and killed eight others. For weeks during the war, Hezbollah rockets rained down on Israel’s northern communities.

Yesterday, eight years to the day since Benji and his soldiers fell, 13 Golani soldiers were killed in Gaza, fighting Hamas.

Two of those who died were lone soldiers from the U.S, fighting in an army thousands of miles away from immediate family. One like Benji, lived in Raanana.

Benji’s funeral, which took place exactly eight years ago, was an excruciating event. I described it here:

“Thousands turned out to escort Benji on his last journey. His coffin arrived at the cemetery in an olive green army vehicle. An honor guard of soldiers from his beloved Golani brigade led the way to his grave as hundreds of other soldiers and friends hugged each other and wiped their eyes.

The eulogies were exquisitely painful. Each one reflected on Benji’s modest but strong character and his strong Zionist convictions. Judy winced as one of the rabbis read a paragraph of a letter Benji had written four years ago to the parents of his friend, Ari Weiss, z”tl, who was killed fighting terrorists. Benji wrote that Ari had died as a hero and would always be remembered that way. Benji promised that he would carry on the struggle for Israel’s safety and security.

Benjy’s father, Danny, thanked Benji for bringing so much honor to the family.

Shimon, himself a handsome, tall, proud IDF officer, addressed his older brother for the last time. “You fought in so many battles,” Shimon said quietly. “But you never told us any of the details.” One of the things they did discuss, Shimon said, was what their lives would have been like had their parents not decided to make aliya. “You could have been a carefree student, but you were so grateful to be living in the Jewish homeland, so glad that we had the chance to appreciate the importance of the land, the Torah and defending the people of Israel.”

During the hour-long funeral service, the honor guard stood motionless at attention in the mid-day sun. Every ten minutes or so, their commander came up behind each one of them with a squeeze of the shoulder, a whispered word of concern, offering a bottle of water.

It took hours for the huge crowd to pass in front of Benji’s grave and offer their condolences to Benji’s family.

From now on, when you sing the “Bo-ee Kallah” verse of the Lecha Dodi prayer that welcomes the Shabbat bride, think of Benji and Ayala and the price they and their families have paid for their commitment to the land of Israel.

And keep in mind all our soldiers who are on the front lines of the fight against terror as they defend the people of Israel.”

Later today or tomorrow, similar painful scenes will be played out again in Raanana and many other communities all over the country, and the parents of Benji and others who fell will be forced to relive the trauma.

Tomorrow night, on his 8th yahrzeit, Benji’s family and friends will gather at the Bayit Shel Benji, a magnificent residence and center for Lone Soldiers in Raanana that perpetuates Benji’s love and concern for those who serve the country of Israel without family support. We will honor and remember Benji and all those who died to protect and preserve the Jewish State.

On the way home, we’ll listen to the radio reports of Operation Protective Edge. We are never allowed to forget that the fight for our existence goes on.