The Battle of Tel Saki: 'The Syrian Soldier Aimed and Fired at Me'

"Their goal was to conquer our settlements in the Golan Heights — places like Ramat Magshimim, Chispin, and Katzrin. They seemed unstoppable; while we ran out of ammunition and had only a few tanks, they came with hundreds. I heard them shouting, 'Tel Aviv, enough, enough Tel Aviv,' yet here we are, and the State of Israel is alive and well," declares Itzhak Negraker passionately. A fighter in the Yom Kippur War with the 188th Armored Brigade, Negraker was captured by the Syrians while attempting to save soldiers hiding in a bunker at Tel Saki in the Golan Heights. "We were under heavy fire when the commander of the Tel Saki outpost ordered, 'Anyone who can go out and say we surrender, go.' No one could stand; everyone was wounded, so I simply stepped out of the bunker," he recalls.

Disastrous Conditions

Negraker's war story begins much earlier. "We were with the 188th Brigade, responsible for the Golan Territory, rarely getting leave — maybe every two or three months, just for weekends. Right before Rosh Hashanah 5734, we were finally sent home, but were called back due to mounting tensions. We saw signs — bulldozers digging positions, their tanks ready — indicating they were preparing. Our intelligence reported hundreds of Syrian tanks heading for the southern Golan. Though skilled, we doubted we could handle such forces. Yet, we reassured each other, 'We'll soon be discharged.' But when the war broke out, we were trapped in catastrophic circumstances, surrounded by fire, believing survival was impossible.

On October 7, 1973, while at the Tel Saki bunker, Negraker was captured. "Our tank engine was hit by an RPG and was incapacitated. Commanded to evacuate to the bunker, though reluctant, we entered. Inside, we treated the wounded. I bandaged a severely injured comrade. Unfortunately, our beloved commander Yoav Yakir, who fought bravely from the tank's turret, lay lifeless."

'I Surrendered'

"Inside the bunker, scenes of death and injured were overwhelming," continues Negraker. "Menachem Ansebach, the commander, wounded but calm, read Psalms aloud, everyone joining in. He promised, 'When the war is over, we’ll celebrate in Tel Aviv.' Suddenly, a Syrian grenade exploded at the entrance. The only one left standing, I realized many were hurt. Ansebach called out, 'Anyone who can go, tell them we surrender.' I placed my weapon down and exited, arms raised, encountering Syrian soldiers with guns aimed at me. As I moved towards them, I dodged their bullets, eventually indicating only 'three soldiers left inside' — a deliberate underestimation to protect those still in the bunker. Taken prisoner, I joined two other Israelis in their APC. Mistaken for a pilot due to my protective suit, I endured captivity suffering a shattered ankle and the relentless repetition of 'Israel is no more', yet gave nothing away during interrogations, blanketed by disbelief of a surviving Israel.

Returning Home

After two and a half months in harsh captivity, we had our first shower. Weeks later, seeing the prison rooms cleaned, our spirits lifted, anticipating release. Though we doubted a new prisoner, a familiar face reassured us— he was the tankist I bandaged at Tel Saki. Yet, his news of 'everyone dead' darkened my hopes. Next day, Red Cross representatives brought postcards to send loved ones, yet ‘Israel non-existent’ weighed heavily on my mind. Surprisingly, during inspection, I overheard the Syrian liaison affirm, 'IDF is just 36 kilometers from Damascus.' Gradually, conditions improved, leading to an unexpected announcement: 'You’re going home'. My anxiety peaked — would I face trial for defying orders? Upon returning, despite my fears, I was embraced by Israel, greeted with joy and warmth by friends who survived thanks to my actions.

The Great 'Celebration'

At Ben Gurion Airport, I was ushered into an interrogation room by an Israeli officer, then reunited with my family. A familiar figure from Tel Saki emerged, dispelling my fears: my comrades lived, celebrating our survival. Arriving home, they rushed to envelop me with embraces, a tearful yet joyful reunion. Contrary to punishment, I visited Tel Saki survivors, reverently honoring fallen comrades. Just a month and a half later, I married Ilana, who treated injured soldiers during the Sinai battles, naming our first son Yoav after our esteemed commander. Embracing life anew in Katzrin, I share my story widely, inspiring with accounts of survival against tremendous odds, bolstered by unwavering belief in our strength and future victories.