There is a good deal of worry about our children. Children who once viewed our soldiers with reverence now see the soldier as an enemy who can readily throw them out of their homes. You can no longer trust a soldier, or a policeman, or a member of the Knesset, or a prime minister. Each engenders fear. One is left with a sense of helplessness.



Where has my beautiful, naive land gone? Once, I believed that the land of the Jews was true to me, protected me. Now, I am traumatized and my body shakes as I relive, every night, my expulsion by the Israeli army and the Israeli police.



Our religious young men see their lives in ruin, their beliefs shattered. There have been seven suicides among religious soldiers who participated in the expulsion. They could not live with their act, an act against their own people. The army has had to quietly inform soldiers that psychological help was available for soldiers still traumatized.



Many of our young men who were in officers training courses have walked away from careers in the army. Many of our youngsters are questioning whether to join the army at all. Perhaps, jail would be a better solution. Hundreds of reserve soldiers were whisked away one night to be placed in detention because they refused to respond to the pre-expulsion call-up. Now, they were being punished for their stand, even those who had sought and received permission from superior officers not to respond.



We have read for years that the secular elite that runs the State of Israel was concerned that too many of our religious youth were in the elite units, the bravest soldiers in combat, the most committed, the finest officers. They could not be tolerated and today are not wanted. And our religious young men are responding in kind.



Many of us no longer pick up hitch-hiking soldiers and police. One friend says she asks if the hitchhiker participated in the expulsion. A "yes" means no ride. Many people who maintain the round-the-clock Welcome Wagon for soldiers are today questioning their service and kindness to soldiers who might well forcefully evict them from their homes.



"They were so well trained, we fell under their spell," says one woman whose Gush Katif daughter, murdered by an Arab terrorist, was exhumed and reburied. "The officers were so kind that we did not get hysterical or 'make a scene' when we watched our daughter's coffin being brought out. Later, we heard them congratulating each other, exulting that the army, which had created their unit just for the Gush Katif expulsion, had decided to maintain the unit for further expulsions in Judea and Samaria. I had thought that they really cared about us. They had been so well trained, even down to crying with us. I was heartbroken all over again."



Young children weep and go into panic attacks at the sight of soldiers and police. In a road safety class, a teacher reported that her students refused to listen to the visiting traffic patrolman. Today, there is no warm smile for the kindly neighborhood policeman - only fear. Will that policeman come to take me and my family away, too?



The army and police were created to protect Israel's citizens. They were created to fight a deadly enemy. Today, over 100 days after the expulsion of Jews from Gush Katif and northern Samaria, we feel no pride or love for our army and police - only shame.