We are driving along the winding mountain road through the Shi'ite town of Al-Adisa. The scenery is breathtaking, with clear skies unbroken by clouds. Yet the weather is deceptive—stepping out of the jeep, the chill of the Lebanese winter is immediately felt, piercing even through ceramic body armor.
The destruction here is absolute. According to satellite images analyzed by geo-analyst Ben-Zion Maklis, 80% of Al-Adisa's homes have been destroyed. No one remains in the town, but scattered remnants of the lives lived here can still be found: a school backpack with a blue elephant illustration, a child’s lone shoe, empty packaging for cellular equipment, a grocery store frozen in time.
Suddenly, by the roadside, we see his face: Hassan Nasrallah, his thick beard, black turban, and smug grin staring at us from a pierced banner made of tarpaulin. To his left is Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khamenei, and to his right, Imad Mughniyeh. This is just 430 yards from Kibbutz Misgav Am.
The night before, fighters from Golani Brigade’s 12th Battalion raided the town, which had been occupied just prior to the cease-fire. Their mission was to locate and destroy as much of Hezbollah's infrastructure and weaponry as possible before IDF withdrew from Lebanon. “Al-Adisa was supposed to serve as a launch point for the takeover of Misgav Am by a Radwan Force company,” explains the battalion commander, Lt. Col. Miran Altit, who oversees the Rami Ridge sector on both sides of the border. “Last night’s raid uncovered six crates of rockets, anti-tank missiles, IEDs, and RPGs in a residential home.”
Civilians and combat
Lieutenant Omer, a platoon commander in the battalion, describes how Hezbollah used civilians as shields. “In one of the villages, we entered a children’s room and found a toy car, a baby swing, and a blue barrel containing a combat vest and the father’s combat gear. Weapons are everywhere.”
This is the battalion’s sixth combat front since the war began. On October 7, they were urgently deployed to the Gaza border region and fought in its southern region; then they moved to maneuver combat in Gaza and Khan Younis. From there, they headed north to defend Mount Dov for over seven months. When the maneuver into Lebanon began, the battalion operated in both central and western sectors. “We carried out three large-scale raids under the 188th Armored Brigade’s battle team—in the towns of Yaroun, Aita ash-Shab, and on the Shiite ridge,” says Altit. Now, they are stationed at the peak that has loomed over the Galilee Panhandle for years.
We pass through the village of Kila, where one-third of the homes have been destroyed. Dozens of anti-tank missiles were fired from here at Metula since the start of the war. To the east rises Mount Hermon, its snowy peaks glistening. To the north stands the Beaufort Fortress. These valleys and dirt roads, I recognize from my own days as a soldier in the Security Zone 30 years ago.
Michael, a battalion fighter and the company commander’s radio operator, is from Metula. His parents are divorced—his father lives in the center of the country, and his mother, a special education teacher, resides in Metula. “On October 7, when we were deployed to the Gaza border region, they took our phones. Two weeks later, before we entered Gaza, they gave them back so we could update our families. That’s when I found out my family had been evacuated from Metula.”
Initially, they lived in a Tel Aviv hotel. After a few months, they moved to a rented apartment in the city center. “In recent weeks, when I’ve been on leave, I’ve been going back to our house in Metula to clean and organize. Of everyone in my family, our house suffered the least damage—just items knocked over by shockwaves, broken glassware, and overall neglect. My grandfather’s house was hit worse, and my uncle’s house was completely destroyed by an anti-tank missile.”
For Michael, fighting in Lebanon, just a stone’s throw from his home, feels like the closing of a circle. “Most of my friends in Metula are soldiers, and every one of them will tell you it’s been their dream since childhood. We’d see the houses in Kila, Al-Adisa, and Al-Khiam, and all we wanted was to one day go in there. It’s like a dream come true, seeing Metula from the other side of the border. I even got to see our house from inside Lebanon. I see it standing, relatively intact, and I see the destruction in the Lebanese villages from which they fired at us, and I think: ‘We’re winning.’ I hope we get to go home soon.”
“This is our ultimate mission,” says Lt. Col. Altit, “to create the conditions for the residents to return. I see farmers rehabilitating fields, chicken coops resuming operations, and residents beginning to renovate their homes. It highlights the importance of our task. My dream is that by Passover, all the residents will return, and I’ll still be here to celebrate the Seder with them.”
Altit, 32, lives in Haifa and is married to Talia, a medical student at the Technion. On October 7, he was still a trainee at the Command and Staff College. “The war caught us on our honeymoon. Two days before it started, we returned from South Africa.”
When asked if, as both a resident and a family man, he would return to Metula, Kiryat Shmona, or Misgav Am now, or wait, Altit responds: “It’s a tough question. The villages that threatened Metula and Misgav Am are destroyed, and there are no more terrorists here. I believe that thanks to the IDF’s work, the conditions for the residents’ return will soon be ripe.”
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Last week, journalist Nahum Barnea wrote that the deployment of the Lebanese Army in the area has been slower than expected, which could delay the IDF’s withdrawal beyond the 60 days agreed upon in the ceasefire. “That’s not my concern as a battalion commander,” says Altit. “We’re here until we receive other orders. There’s still work to do.”
Since the war began, 107 soldiers and commanders from the Golani Brigade have fallen, most from the 13th and 51st battalions, which were stationed in Gaza on October 7. The 12th Battalion has also suffered losses. “I personally lost 15 friends and acquaintances, most from the brigade,” says Lt. Omer. “Staff Sergeant Noam Israel Abdu was my radio operator. He fell in Gaza as a squad leader trainee on the anniversary of the October 7 attack. When we destroy a rocket launcher, we say: ‘This is for Noam.’”
Michael adds: “I want to honor two soldiers from my company who fell—Noam Abdu and Sergeant Maor Cohen Eizenkot. We think about them every day and honor them with flags, stickers, company evenings, and by staying connected with their families. When new recruits join the company after training, we tell them about Noam and Maor. We’re fighting here to continue their legacy.”