Roni's Victory

Five years ago, Border Police Roni Gozlan was badly wounded in the terrorist bombing at the French Hill Junction in Jerusalem. He became a national hero, much like Natan Sandaka (and here). Unfortunately, so many other brave young men, such as Tomer Mordechai were not so lucky.
The terrorist blew himself up killing six people and injuring 45. Gozlan lost both his legs in the attack, but managed to overcome his physical and mental trauma. He has now decided to make a fresh start: he has just asked his young girlfriend Mali to marry him. He will "break the glass" on June 19th, exactly five years after the deadly attack that would have been a lot deadlier had Roni not blocked the terrorist with his own body. "There was no doubt in my mind that this happiest event in my life had to be celebrated on my second birthday, the day the gift of life was given to me a second time."

On June 19th 2002, Cpl. Roni (Aharon) Gozlan of the Jerusalem Border Police became a national hero. It was 7 p.m. Roni and his fellow policemen were returning from a well-deserved vacation in Eilat. As he got off the bus at the French Hill bus-stop, another young man got out of a white Mercedes that continued on its way to Ramallah. The young man walked along the concrete wall to escape the watchful eyes of the Israeli soldiers, but started running like crazy as he approached the bus-stop (also a hitchhike post) packed with commuters. Roni spotted him. Without a second thought he ran towards the attacker to intercept him. The terrorist detonated the bomb as Roni came close to him. Seven people died in the explosion, 45 were injured. Roni, whose heroism saved the lives of many, lost both legs in the attack, along with his normal life. "I stood 1.84 m tall and had no problem climbing and jumping on Old City rooftops".
Roni remembers every single detail of the event that turned his life around forever. "My fellow officers and I were on our way back from a short vacation in Eilat, where we were supposed to get away from the routine of deadly suicide bombings that had shaken Jerusalem during the second intifadah. But you can never get away for real, so news of the deadly attack on bus no.32 reached us even in Eilat. As a policeman, I was there at the scene of almost every attack, and as soon as I heard the news I felt that my vacation was over and that I had to get back to Jerusalem without delay, but our CO decided that we should stay one more day. As we approached Jerusalem, I phoned my brother to come pick me up at the French Hill bus-stop. When I got off the bus I spotted this very suspicious looking young man – I remember him to this very day: dark oriental type, with a very large bag on his back, dressed in a red shirt and blue-grey jeans. I was puzzled by the fact that he was holding his cell-phone upside down – the antenna was pointing downwards. He was only pretending to be talking on the phone."
Roni's well-trained policeman's instincts took over and he switched to anti-terror mode: "In moments like these you stop thinking about your own life. I had trained and drilled for this situation so I was able to act on instinct. I grabbed for my pouch to get my gun. But there was no time for that. I had to act quickly. I forget if I managed to shout "terrorist" – there was no time to think or organize some kind of defense. I stormed him, pinned him to the wall, and kicked him hard in the back."
At that very moment the terrorist detonated the charge and blew himself to pieces. The blast was so powerful that Roni was sent flying through the air and landed hard on the sidewalk. "The quiet – whoever was involved in a terrorist bombing knows what kind of quiet I am talking about – is practically impossible to describe. Even in the quietest room one cannot hear that kind of absolute silence. I looked down and saw my left leg was badly mangled. My right leg was hanging on a piece of tissue. I looked to the left and saw an elderly lady with blood gushing out of her neck arteries. Instinctively I stretched out my hand and stopped the bleeding. With the other hand I improvised some kind of tourniquet for my leg."
Rescue teams rushed to the scene, as did Roni's two brothers – Motti, his twin, who serves with the Jerusalem police force, and Avi, a firefighter from a nearby station. Next Roni remembers the ambulance ride to the hospital: "I was arguing with the ambulance doctor whether I needed a catheter or not." As a trained combat medic, Roni knew by then that his legs were lost. For a week and a half he lay unconscious, swinging between life and death. When he regained consciousness, he was gazing at an entirely different world.
Last week he decided to write a new chapter in his life – he proposed to Mali, his girlfriend for the past five years: "When I proposed to Mali I already knew that this happiest day of my life would have to be celebrated on June 19th, my second birthday. Five years to the day I conquered death and the gift of life was bestowed on me for the second time. It's like coming full circle for me."
Roni went through a very long, tedious and frustrating rehab period. He had to take huge amounts of painkillers and other medication. In the beginning his doctors were certain that they could save his legs. After one year and eight months of hospitalization, however, his doctors advised him to consider amputation because he had developed RSD (a neurological complication) and because he was confined to a wheelchair anyway.
"From the scene of the terrorist attack I was taken straight to Hadassah Mount Scopus hospital, and then I was transferred to Tel-Hashomer, where I am still being treated. The rehab process throughout all this time has been long and difficult. I have been through a physical and mental earthquake. Nothing in my life is what it used to be. I am sure I would not have made it without Mali, my parents and my friends to support me."
Roni is a 34-year-old divorced father of four. Still a combat soldier at heart, he decided not to give in or up. Before consenting to the surgery that would take away his legs, he consulted specialists in Israel and abroad: "I didn't want to leave any stone unturned. I even traveled to the US. Of the 12 specialists I consulted, 11 recommended amputation. The only doctor who was against amputation told me that I would have to be on painkillers for the rest of my life. I did not want to become addicted."
Even before his return to Israel, Roni notified the Hadassah Ein-Karem hospital that he had decided to go ahead with the surgery – a complex 14-hour long procedure. "People don’t really know what it's like to live without one's legs. I slipped deep into depression and lost the will to live. I began crying and mourning and feeling sorry for myself."
Mali, the driving force behind Roni's rehabilitation, was only 18 years old at the time of the attack. She has stood by him since the very first day, pushing and urging him to fight hard for his recovery. She pulled him out of his depression and practically forced him to enroll in the amputee rehabilitation program. The riding lessons have become an enjoyable part of Roni's life. He is less happy with his behind-the-desk-job he is doing for the police. He is even less happy when bureaucracy raises its ugly head between him and his rights for which he paid a terrible price (this is one of the cruelest faults of Israeli law, and the sooner it is solved, the better. Take for instance a very dear friend of mine, whose husband sustained a severe penetrating head injury in the 32 bus bombing, that's right, the day before Roni lost his legs. The National Insurance Institute insensitive clerk was reluctant to return his taxi fares - "What's his problem? Why can't he take the bus? - until my friend retorted - Well, you see, his problem is that he was blown up in a bloody bus and there's still a piece of shrapnel stuck in his brain, that's why he can't take the bus!" By the way, my friend's husband is doing not so bad, considering, he has returned to his former job - part time - and several months ago this beautiful couple and their sons were blessed with their first little girl.)
Bittersweet victory - we choose life!

(excerpts from Ma'ariv, February 23, 2007, Yif'at Reuven)