2th stop: 1956-1967
The Suez Crisis and the Formative Years
In 1956, war erupted between Israel and its southern neighbor, Egypt.
It was a preemptive strike initiated by Israel in coordination with international powers harboring their own local interests. For the Israeli government, the immediate triggers were repeated border incidents, infiltrations by militants into Israeli communities, and numerous civilian casualties.
The political leadership directed the IDF to launch a broad offensive deep into enemy territory—into the Sinai Peninsula and its vast desert expanse.
The operation was given the code name "Operation Kadesh," inspired by an ancient city in the desert mentioned in the Torah, the bedrock of the Jewish people. In international historical research, the conflict is known as the Suez Crisis.
Eight years after the establishment of the state, and for the first time since the founding of the Israel Defense Forces, its commanders faced the army of a large and powerful neighboring state. It was called an "operation," but it was a full-scale war. Still young and newly established, Israel entered the arena of regional powers and waged a full-scale campaign involving armored units, infantry, and air power.
The war ended after several weeks with the destruction of enemy infrastructure and the capture of the entire Sinai Peninsula—an area three times the size of Israel. The victory skyrocketed the prestige of the "People's Army," whose commanders and soldiers proved unexpected courage and capability on a complex stage.
The Nahal Band was there to salute the victory with the song "Mul Har Sinai" (Facing Mount Sinai).
Written and composed while Israeli forces were still deployed inside enemy territory. the lyrics invoke the biblical Mount Sinai and the Giving of the Torah. The songwriter draws a direct line between biblical events and Operation Kadesh, portraying IDF soldiers as the metaphorical descendants of the mighty Samson. The song became the war’s anthem, played on a loop on the radio.
The song “Facing Mount Sinai,” performed by the Nahal Band, 1956. The refrain: “This day will yet be told, my brothers, as the people return to the revelation at Sinai.”
To watch and listen to the song and lyrics on YouTube, click the link here.
Following Operation Kadesh, deadly infiltrations tapered off, security tensions eased, and Israelis felt a collective sense of relief.
The young nation’s economy began to show signs of life.
The government-mandated "Austerity" (Tzena) policy—essentially a strict rationing regime, was phased out; the mass immigration from across the Jewish world largely concluded, giving way to smaller immigration waves; and cramped transit camps known as "the ma'abarot" were being dismantled as the standard of living climbed.
Israelis—veterans and new immigrants alike—were finally finding homes, steady livelihoods, and a bit of well-earned leisure time. Those who did not attend the cinema or theater consumed generous portions of radio programming. The radio offered a steady diet of intellectual lectures, news reels, and current affairs. The musical slots were mostly filled with "heavy" classical music, patriotic "songs of the homeland," and Jewish tradition.
As broadcasting hours expanded, so did the "Light Entertainment" slots. The radio began offering songs and popular tunes categorized as “light music,” performed by local and international artists.
The middle class, now able to afford phonographs, began listening to their favorite songs on vinyl records sold in new shops popping up everywhere.
By 1958, there was reason to celebrate.
produced the Tenth Anniversary Celebrations, showcasing the achievements of the young state across all spheres of life. These accomplishments were attributed to the nation’s builders, fighters, and leaders. The celebrations were intended, among other goals, to strengthen the foundations of the emerging nation and to instill the Zionist legacy of the ruling leadership—the leadership that set the national agenda, defined its guiding ideals, shaped its language, education, and culture.
The climax began on the eve of the 10th Independence Day.
Entertainment stages were erected across the country. The stars of these stages were dance troupes, orchestras, and singers who led the crowds in the Hora and Hebrew songs. And, of course, the Military Bands. The bands were invited to take part, performing songs that had already become deeply familiar to the "veteran" citizens—those who had lived through the state’s formative years and absorbed its Zionist ideals.
That evening, the bands’ performance schedules were exceptionally dense. Each band traveled by truck from stage to stage—appearing at IDF bases and in central city squares alike.
As the festivities drew to a close, the Decade Committee organized a production titled “The Decade’s Song Parade.”
The prestige of this parade was captured on a record that included the Nahal Band’s "Kita Almonit" (The Anonymous Squad). Its sister bands—the other military ensembles—were not yet included in this prestigious selection of popular songs, but their alumni already were: young singers who had finished their service and become stars in their own right.
The "Those Were the Days: Decade Song Parade" show.
Listen on YouTube by clicking here
By the late 1950s, the military bands had already become a prominent fixture in the modest Israeli musical soundtrack of the era.
Each year they introduced new, original songs written especially for them by local lyricists. The list of creators was shifting; veteran writers like Haim Hefer were being joined by talented, native-born "Sabras" who grew up in the new Israeli reality. They began formulating a "New Hebrew Song"—music that emerged from military frameworks but wandered freely across the country—along its paths and landscapes, among young lovers, and through shared hopes and dreams that anyone could identify with.
These songs didn't replace the military lore; rather, they enriched the repertoire, giving every program and record a more colorful, diverse feel.
The standout among these new creators was Naomi Shemer. She brought a fresh Hebrew language to the military bands and, through them, to Israeli popular song at large. a language that moved away from from military rigidity and drabness toward something light and airy—a rich world of imagery that picked words from ancient sources, Hebrew literature, and Sabra slang alike. It was a language that spoke to every age.
"The Little Beard Song ", 1957. performed by the Northern Command Band | Lyrics: Dan Almagor | Music: Meir Noy.
A sharp satire mocking the "official" beard as a mandatory symbol of authority and status. The chorus features a clever pun on "growth": "A public servant without a beard won't sprout any good for the public." A playful jab at the self-importance of Israel's early political elite.
listen on YouTube here
“Because of a Small Nail” performed by the Northern Command Band. 1958.
Written and composed by Naomi Shemer, This is Shemer’s Hebrew adaptation of the English children’s song "For Want of a Nail", illustrating how a tiny failure—a missing nail—leads to the collapse of an entire system.
Listen on YouTube here
The Hebrew language played a vital role in the "Melting Pot" (nation-building) process, designed to forge Israelis into a single nation with a unified culture.
Hebrew was part of a broader package of Zionist symbols and ideals, alongside formative institutions such as youth movements, pioneering ethos, settlement, military service, and the defense of the homeland.
The core of this melting pot was the army.
The IDF absorbed young Sabras (native-born Israelis) alongside new immigrants from disparate communities worldwide—speakers of different languages with vastly different backgrounds. The moment they donned their uniforms, they were all 'under the same stretcher'—sharing the weight of service and fate. They stood in the same formations, saluted the same officers, shared guard duty, wore the same olive-drab fatigues, and ate from the same mess tins. And together, they watched the performance of a military band during a few hours' break from grueling training.
In the military schedule, between days and nights of drills, soldiers were given measured doses of of what was known as "The Israeli Spirit"—lectures on a wide range of subjects, field trips combining history and archaeology, books from mobile libraries, feature films and documentaries, and evenings of entertainment and informal cultural activity.
This "spiritual nourishment" was provided by the Chief Education Officer, whose programs were based on values, equality, the Hebrew language, and entertainment that broke down the barriers between soldiers.
This unique IDF "vibe" (Havai) leaked into civilian society.
The phrase "The whole nation is the army" became a lived reality. Israel was a tiny immigrant state surrounded by the "Green Line"—the long borders separating it from four hostile neighbors: Egypt, Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon. Within those borders lived about two million Jews, hundreds of thousands of whom had already served some form of military service, either in regular duty or in the reserves. Upon returning to civilian life, they handed back their gear but kept fragments of that military 'lore' and its memories tucked away in their minds.
The military bands remained a constant presence in civilian life.
The army began funding the production of records for for each new program performed by a military band, promoting them through public-relations efforts involving journalists invited to rehearsals and performances.
The bands’ songs were broadcast on the radio and played on records sold in shops and purchased for private homes across the country.
These songs resonated primarily with the mainstream of Israeli society—the secular stream that carried the Zionist legacy and oriented its cultural gaze toward the West. From there came both the economic support and the cultural framework that sustained this musical world.
A Hebrew-language newspaper review of the fifth program of the Central Command Band, Maariv, February 15, 1956.
From the review:
“The soldiers who attended the premiere performance, somewhere on a military base, received what was presented to them with great enjoyment and laughter… The members of the band do not take the ‘acting’ role too seriously and do not strive for ‘professionalism,’ and precisely for that reason their performance conveys a natural youthful charm…”
The aura surrounding the bands grew.
Competition to get in intensified, and education officers began to take the project far more seriously, tightening the selection criteria for new candidates drawn from incoming recruits.
By the mid-1960s, every band program had become highly professional. Rehearsals lasted months. Professional musical arrangers were brought in, and the traditional accordion was no longer the lone instrument; it was joined by drums, brass, and guitars.
The bands did not disappoint.
Hit songs continued to flow—once again with the Nahal Band leading the way, followed closely by the Central Command and Northern Command bands, and by a new ensemble established within the Armored Corps.
In 1962, for the first time, four IDF bands performed together on a civilian stage.
This unique event took place at the Levant Fair (Yarid HaMizrach)—a historic international exhibition designed to place Israel firmly on the global trade map. Commercial firms from across the globe participated, showcasing the latest industrial and technological innovations. Hundreds of thousands flocked to the Tel Aviv Fairgrounds, including thousands of foreign guests who could marvel at the economic vitality of the young state.
For these international visitors, a week-long cultural showcase was prepared, featuring the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra alongside prominent Israeli singers and entertainers. The highlight was a show titled "Tzahal Tzohel" (The IDF Rejoices), which brought together four military bands: the Nahal, the Armored Corps, the Northern Command, and the Central Command. Only one was missing—the Southern Command Band, which had since disbanded.
In 1966, the "Beit HaHayal" (Soldier’s House) complex was established in Tel Aviv to serve as a cultural and entertainment hub for soldiers on leave visiting the city.
At the heart of the complex stood a performance hall with seating for approximately 1,000 people, which quickly became a sought-after venue for entertainment and theatrical productions. While performances were open to the general public, a fixed allocation of seats was reserved for IDF soldiers, who enjoyed the "perk" of free admission.
Beit HaHayal gained another distinction: from its inception and for several years, it served as the “home venue” of the military bands. In this relatively vast hall, the bands performed full-length shows, held "premieres" for the new programs they launched annually, and appeared in large-scale productions alongside other leading entertainment stars.
Armored Corps Band, 1965
“First Night Without Mom”
A humorous look at a recruit's transition from "momma’s boy" to soldier, blending youthful vulnerability with army life.
Listen on YouTube here
Armored Corps Band, 1959 “Kan HaShiryonim” (“Here Are the Tankers").
A gritty anthem celebrating the dusty pride and stoic endurance of tank crews on Israel’s front lines.
listen on YouTube here
By the mid-60s, the military bands had reached a level of standardized perfection.
When the radio played a song, you knew instantly it was a military band, even without the announcer's introduction. The songs sounded as if they came from the same production line: a group of youngsters singing in perfect harmony—men with deep bass voices, women in soprano. They were three-minute rhymed songs with catchy choruses. The content was free and imaginative, provided it wasn't "demoralizing."
Even their appearance was standardized.
Onstage, in live performances, they appeared as if straight out of an IDF roll call—soldiers and female soldiers dressed in olive-green uniforms, standing to military standards. The men were clean-shaven, their hair cropped short, their uniforms neatly pressed. The women wore skirts or slim-cut trousers on fit bodies, usually with their hair tied back or braided, sometimes with bangs framing their foreheads. All members of the ensemble—men and women alike—had representative, healthy physiques: neither too thin nor too heavy.
They all looked like good kids.
Like the neighbors’ children from the third floor of an urban apartment building—teenagers who had only recently worn the blue uniform of high school, and now found themselves once again in uniform, this time a military one.
Yet, while the bands were becoming institutionalized and securing their place in Israeli culture, a completely different style was emerging on the radio and on vinyl: the rhythms of Rock 'n' Roll and the Twist. Songs driven by electric guitars and ear-splitting drums. These new sounds of the Sixties seeped into the ears of young Israelis, offering a musical product entirely foreign to what they were used to.
This imported music came with a radical new fashion: men with long hair and prominent sideburns, women with long, flowing hair, miniskirts, or faded jeans. This was the music of singers whose flamboyant photos were plastered across the pages of glossy Western magazines and trickled into the music columns of the Hebrew press.
The IDF bands were the polar opposite of this Rock 'n' Roll craze and its "noisy chaos."
They stood as the last bastion against the cultural wave threatening to conquer Israeli society. The military bands and their style signaled a clear line of Ideal Israeliness—one that fused civilian life and military service, and asserted its influence even within the realm of popular entertainment.
One particularly important arena of influence was the weekly Song Parade ("Mitz‘ad HaPizmonim"), broadcast on Israel’s two radio stations at the time: Kol Yisrael and Galei Tzahal.
Unlike Western charts based on record sales, the Israeli parade functioned as a kind of public opinion poll. Editors presented newly recorded songs and invited listeners to mail in postcards ranking their favorites. The results determined the weekly chart, and the selected songs were broadcast both during the parade itself and on other radio programs.
These song charts elevated the Hebrew song, transforming it into a musical product with artistic and social significance. The editors deliberately targeted a young audience—teenagers and conscripted soldiers—who were rapidly becoming the most influential segment of the music market. Their outlook oscillated between patriotism and Zionist values on one hand, and the artistic promise arriving from the West on the other: a promise of love and peace, freedom, democracy, and happy lives.
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And then, the biggest war of all broke out. A war that would change the face of the country and its culture, and launch the military bands to the absolute peak of the Israeli charts.
More on that in our next stop: "The Six-Day War and the Following Years."
This is a chapter from the musical monograph on Israel’s IDF military bands—an extraordinary cultural phenomenon that flourished between the wars and shaped the music and culture of Israel for over 40 years.
The full monograph spans eight separate chapters, including an introduction, summary, and table of contents. You can explore the complete series by clicking the link below:
Research, Writing, and Editing: Shlomi Rosenfeld
