Shmuel Krugman, of blessed memory
Painful and grievous news has reached us: our elder comrade Shmuel Krugman, aged 22, died at the "Hadassah" hospital in Jerusalem of a grave illness. The news was brief. In a few words his friends informed us of the disaster, but these words left a great impression in our hearts. Our comrade, who studied like us today in our gymnasium, has left us for the world beyond and wrapped us in sadness and grief. He received a Hebrew-national education within the walls of our school, and from then the love of the homeland settled and took root in his heart. We still remember the day he parted from us two and a half years ago: before the train we all gathered to see him off with our blessing: go up and succeed! We parted from him and he went up, went up to the Land of the Fathers to realise his ideal, in which he was educated and which he received from his educators and teachers. He went up there to stand on the front line of the builders of the homeland. He did this with great will and a brave heart. While still in exile he met many obstacles, but he persisted; the deciding weight was the homeland, it drew his heart; he felt himself a stranger in the streets of his small town Sharashov, his thoughts flew far, far away... to his desired haven. In body and blood he walked with us in the Diaspora, but his spirit and soul hovered far, far away in the Land of the Fathers. When he went up there he found himself and began a new life, a life of work, a life for the good of the community. For two and a half years the candle burned, for two and a half years this work continued. And suddenly the thread of his life was cut off in the midst of his work, in the prime of his youth; he died of a grave illness after hovering between life and death for three months. At times he felt the [unclear] that wanted to save him from death so that he could work in the field of the homeland. His sufferings were unbearable, but he shut his mouth and endured. He himself felt the pain and did not let it burst out and reach his friends' ears; "I feel quite well" — his lips murmured. He persisted and suffered and did not want to grieve his friends; he wanted to instil in them courage for new work and hope for a new life. The doctors marvelled at this, so brave was this young man, so great his will and so strong his spirit. Death did not spare him and brought an end to his life. How great is the sorrow for us, his young comrades, and how much greater still the sorrow for his bereaved family. We offer a drop of consolation to his parents, his sister and brother, who follow in his footsteps and are being educated at the gymnasium in the Hebrew-national spirit. It is hard to console you with even the loftiest words, but you will find consolation in understanding his spirit and keeping his path, which he chose and which thousands and tens of thousands of Jewish youths will choose after him. We value him and honour his memory. His memory will live always among us, as the memory of a young man who knew how to seek and find his right path in life, a path to realise a lofty ideal, for spiritual fulfilment and not only for material satisfaction. The soil of the homeland received his body, and the hard earth of the homeland's fields covered him. It is hard for us to find consolation. We shall not find it in words, but our deeds and our work for the homeland will soothe our grief.
We bow our heads in honour of the memory of our dear comrade Shmuel Krugman, of blessed memory.
Echad ["One"].