A Moving Tribute to Colonel Asaf Hamami, Commander of the IDF Southern Brigade

A moving tribute to Colonel Asaf Hamami, written by his friend Lt. Col. Ivri Elbaz, following the return of Asaf Hamami’s body to Israel this morning. Hamami was killed on the morning of October 7, 2023.

On the morning of October 7, 2023, when the skies were burning and cries for help came from every corner of the south,
Asaf was already on his way forward.
He didn’t wait for orders, didn’t ask for instructions, didn’t pause for a moment.
Asaf wasn’t the kind of man who talked about leadership — he was a leader.
Quietly, responsibly, with those shining eyes that always said: “I’m here. I’m with you.”

As commander of the Southern Brigade,
he was the first to understand that the country was under a full-scale attack.
Within minutes, he mobilized all his forces and went out to the field himself.
He was the first to declare war, the first to lead his men to defend the communities,
the first to stand in the storm — and try to stop it with his own body.

That was Asaf —
not a hero of words, but of actions.
A man who lived the values he spoke of,
a commander who led by example, not by fear.

That day, Asaf fell in battle and was taken into Gaza.
Since then, two long years have passed — years of hope, pain, and prayer.
This morning, after a long journey of silence and endless longing,
his body has come home — to the soil of Israel, to his family, to his soldiers, to all of us.

I’ve known Asaf for over twenty years.
He was my commander in basic training, when everything was still new and uncertain.
Even then, I saw that look in his eyes — calm, sharp, and fully present.
Over the years, our paths crossed again and again —
from our first unit to the most senior command roles.
Two commanders who walked shoulder to shoulder for nearly two decades,
through wars, drills, long nights of talks and hard decisions.
And every time, I could feel him beside me —
present, calm, precise, true.

Asaf was my personal anchor.
He was the one who called when you didn’t ask,
who knew when to stay silent,
who put a hand on your shoulder at exactly the right moment.
In a world of noise — he was quiet.
In a world of ego — he was humble.
In a world of slogans — he was pure truth.

He knew no fear.
Not of the enemy, not of the truth, not of the price.
He was brave not only in battle, but in life itself —
brave enough to listen, to change, to feel.
A commander who bore responsibility on his shoulders without complaint,
a man who truly believed in his people.
Not out of naïveté — but out of a deep conviction that this is our mission: to believe in others.

Asaf taught me that true leadership is measured not only in battle, but also in routine.
He didn’t need big words — a look, a smile, or a personal example were enough.
He showed that one can be tough and approachable, sharp and compassionate,
that you don’t have to shout to lead.
That the greatest strength comes from kindness, integrity, and responsibility.

We had countless talks — about command, about meaning, about life itself.
He was my mirror and my compass, my friend and my brother.
He knew when to ask and when to be silent,
when to encourage and when to demand.
And when everything around us shook — he was the rock.
The person you could lean on without saying a word.

And today, as he returns home, I think above all about what he left behind.
Not only a legacy of battle and leadership, but a legacy of humanity.
Of true brotherhood.
Of love for the land and love for people.
Asaf didn’t just talk about values — he was those values.
He didn’t write about courage — he was courage.
He never sought recognition — he simply acted, always.

My brother Asaf,
there’s no way to fill the space you leave behind.
But there is one way to go on —
to be like you.
To be a commander without pretension,
a friend without conditions,
and a person who believes in goodness even when the world is breaking.

You taught us what true greatness looks like:
not in shouting, but in silence.
Not in force, but in responsibility.
Not in words, but in deeds.

I love you with all my heart,
and I promise — we will continue for you, we will continue because of you.
Because each of us carries a part of you within us,
and that part will never die.

Rest, my commander, my brother.
Rest knowing that you led a generation of fighters and commanders who will follow your path.
Rest knowing that your light is stronger than the darkness.
Rest in peace, Asaf.