Chapter 73
The Joshua Corps encampment
Jason Gotkin was late for Shabbos with the Joshua Corps, but it wasn’t his fault. Morris had asked him to drop by headquarters first for a brief chat, but once he’d gotten there, he was told that the general had been called away on an important errand. Apparently, that important errand was lying to his rabbi.
For there General Roth stood, alongside Colonels Shalit, Schiff, and Zelikovich, all dressed in tallis prayer shawls. Brigadier Higgins and Gretchen Richter were there as well. Standing beside them were Isaac, Oana Dalca, and Devorah Bayer. Alongside them were other members of the medical staff and officers of the Sunrise that Jason recognized by their faces but not their names. Alongside them were the other priests and pastors from all the other faiths that had journeyed with the Sunrise into Transylvania.
“Attention!” Colonel Shalit shouted as soon as he saw Jason. The entire Joshua Corps, standing in tight blocks in the field nearby, snapped to attention.
“What’s…what’s all this?” Jason asked.
Morris stepped forward. “Rabbi Gotkin, for performing a valorous and life-risking deed in the service of the Joshua Corps, I wish to award you with our first service medal: the Sunrise Medal of Courage.”
Morris held his hand forward and opened it. A small red ribbon, attached to a silver rising sun, lay in his palm.
“This is technically an up-time service metal that the Israeli Defense Force awarded its soldiers,” Morris said, shooting a glance at Colonel Shalit. “But the medal itself has been modified to make it more appropriate to our time and situation. I hope you don’t mind.”
Jason dared to reach out and touch it. The silver was clean, smooth, and well-crafted. He worked to hold back his tears. “Thank you, General. I’m honored. But”—he looked at Jeff Higgins—“it was the Silesians who saved the Joshua Corps. Not me. If they hadn’t arrived—”
“We did our part,” Jeff said, stepping forward, “but it was you, Jason, you who turned it around. Without you, the corps would have collapsed before we got there.”
“As long as I have lived,” Colonel Shalit said, stepping forward, “I have never experienced the bravery that you showed on that day, Rabbi. You brought honor to yourself, to me, to the Joshua Corps, to every Jewish man, woman, and child alive today. You ensured that we did not break in the eyes of the enemy. You made sure that we found the courage in ourselves to stand, as Joshua did himself, against our enemies, and word of your courage will spread. And it will make a profound impact on who we are and what we are trying to do here in the Sunrise.
“You are a most righteous man, Rabbi Jason Gotkin. Rak Chazak Amats!”
The chant was repeated among the nearby ranks of Ashkenazi as Morris pinned the medal to Jason’s prayer shawl.
It felt like a dream, like he had fallen asleep, and soon, he’d awake and it would all be gone. The praise and the award were much appreciated, but in truth, merely secondary. If they had just given him a quick “hurrah!” and a pat on the back, he would have been content. As far as he was concerned, he had done his duty for God.
What mattered the most to him was how his actions had affected the men. They seemed ecstatic, nearly giddy with excitement and pride. That was what mattered: that whatever he had done to save the corps would be turned into a drive and a strong, cultural sense of purpose for these young soldiers. That they would wear their yarmulkes in public places and not be afraid of doing so. That they would just simply be happy to be Jewish.
Soldiers came forward, hoisted him up, and paraded him around to their continued chanting of Rak Chazak Amats. Jason felt uncomfortable on their rough shoulders, but if it meant that, in time, Morris Roth’s dream would be realized, then so be it. Jason would be that vessel through which God’s glory worked through the Grand Army of the Sunrise.
No Rabbi worth his salt could do any less.