Maj. Tal Cohen, 30: Sayeret Matkal commander and ‘the proudest father’
Killed battling Hamas terrorists in Kibbutz Kfar Aza on October 7
Maj. Tal Cohen, 30, a commander in the Sayeret Matkal unit from Ganei Tal in central Israel, was killed on October 7 while battling Hamas terrorists in Kibbutz Kfar Aza.
With the start of the Hamas onslaught, Tal immediately headed to the front lines without waiting to be called, and met up with a number of other soldiers from his elite Sayeret Matkal unit. Nine of them headed to Kibbutz Kfar Aza, which was overrun with Hamas gunmen.
Tal — known to his friends as “TalCo” — and three others, Cpt. Hadar Kama, Maj. Ilay Zisser and Cpt. Amir Zur were slain in the massive firefight between the outnumbered soldiers and the terrorists.
He was buried on October 10 at the Mount Herzl military cemetery in Jerusalem. He is survived by his wife, Natali, their four children, Tzur, Ivri and Dror and Re’em — who was born five months after her father was killed. He is also survived by his parents, Rivka and Benzion, and his seven siblings Efrat, Eliraz, Doron, Gil, Hila, Yonatan and Nuriel.
Tzur, his oldest son, was born blind, and Tal’s name and memorial were written in braille in the National Memorial Hall on Mount Herzl to make it accessible.
At his funeral, his brother Eliraz noted that “every one of us had a job at home, that’s what it’s like when you grow up in a house with eight siblings.”
“You were the glue,” he said. “When are we meeting at Mom and Dad’s, when are we having a barbecue, when are we going for a trip? You knew better than anyone to be quiet when the rest of us were talking, to calm us when we were stressed, to laugh when we didn’t know about what, to offer praise when we were quiet.”
Tal’s older sister Efrat wrote on Instagram ahead of Memorial Day that it was hard to connect him to “all this sadness. You — you’re connected to happiness.”
“After all, you don’t need more than one look to plan the next joke, you were the best partner for a good and healthy argument, the best friend, the funniest brother, the most embracing son, the proudest father and the most loving husband,” she wrote.
In the past, she wrote, “Memorial Day for you was a day for introspection, you had a hard time with how the pain and the sadness took over this day, for you it was a holy day” to remember those who were lost. “For seven months we are hearing, seeing, knowing and understanding how much your presence, your path, your actions were and still are meaningful to so many people.”
“Like a good commander, you left behind tasks for when you’re not here, and we are trying to be good soldiers and live up to your standards.”
Efrat shared a message that Tal sent to his own soldiers on Memorial Day two years earlier: “Memorial Day is primarily a day of reckoning. My soul-searching as a person, as a warrior, as a commander. How much have I really fulfilled my duty, my responsibility, how dedicated I am to the task and to the people… Those who have fought, those who have lost friends in battle, those who have led commandos in riots and risked their lives — they know that the commander is obligated to his men to bring them home safely.”
On such a day, he wrote, “When I see those who are no longer here, the question always arises: Could things have been different?”