In memory of Major Roey Chapell z"l
photos and stroies about Roey
From childhood and forever
At the end of the training course, he walked the final kilometer of the beret march hand in hand with his mother — as a company commander.
“Roey brought me so much calm, laughter, and perspective during some really difficult days. Every time we spoke, I came away with a bigger smile than I had going in.”
"Since the moment I started working with him I knew he was one of the best guys"
"Thanks to Roey, I graduated from the pre-military boarding school."
“Chapell knew how to be the funniest guy, the best commander, and the best friend.
It was clear to all of us that he was destined to become the Orev company commander.
From the moment he got the role, I felt proud to say that the Orev company commander was my friend.”
“When Roey and Yuval moved in together in Jaffa, the only thing that mattered to him was that the dining table be made of thick wood with six or more chairs, so he could host everyone for meals.”
Shahar Yerimi, a platoon commander under Roey at the IDF training base in August 2021:
“I found a short video that, in my eyes, perfectly captures who Roey was —
Roey was a top-tier professional who always placed front-line leadership at the center.
He was a role model to his soldiers and his commanders alike.
Until the very last moment, he was the first to charge forward,
and I can’t imagine him doing anything differently.”
(You can click the speaker icon in the bottom right corner of the video to hear Roey’s voice.)
In his role as a company commander of new recruits, during the beret ceremony following the completion of their final march, Roey presented his own beret to Dan Herrera, a lone soldier from Argentina.
Dan shares his memory of Roey:
“Our story is short, but it means the world to me. During basic training, I was really struggling and felt like giving up — but you never left me. I remember one early morning, during a training session ahead of the final march, we started running with stretchers. Suddenly, I collapsed and said, ‘This is as far as I go.’ You came back to help me and said, ‘You’re finishing this with me. You’re not leaving my side.’
We kept going together with what little strength I had left, and you told me, ‘See? You can do it!’
The most meaningful moment of my life was when you gave me your beret.
Thank you for everything. I miss you every day.”
Roey Gil
I was a team commander when Chapell was the deputy company commander in the reconnaissance unit, and later I replaced him in that role. He was also the team commander of the squad I grew up in (August 2017) during our combat training.
The name and figure of Roey Chapell — he is one of the most meaningful people from my military service.
He led with eye-level leadership, had a unique ability to make every person feel truly heard, and naturally gained the affection, love, and even admiration of his soldiers.
No ego, no authority play, no use of the power that came with his rank.
Just pure leadership through humanity, professionalism, and a personality that simply drew you in.
A true leader.
When I was appointed to replace him, I felt like I was stepping into the biggest shoes imaginable — after all, he was the most well-known and respected figure in the unit.
Who was I to fill that role? How would I ever live up to his standards?
Even then, he supported me and guided me in the best possible way. I couldn’t have asked for more.
On October 7th, I was in New Zealand. A few hours before the horrific surprise attack, Roey happened to message me on WhatsApp about his upcoming trip with Yuval.
He was asking some technical questions and looking for recommendations.
The last message he sent me, at 2:44 AM — just four hours before everything started — took on a completely different meaning after he was tragically killed.
It’s important to me, as his family, that you know:
Roey was already a legend in his lifetime. He touched the lives of so many people.
I have the deepest respect for the person he was and the way he lived.
May his memory be a blessing.
Tomer Erez
I met Roey during our military service. I was a team commander and deputy company commander in the Nahal Reconnaissance Unit when Yuval was the training officer. Yuval and I were good friends at the time she and Roey started dating.
We used to joke that the only female officer in the unit — the one everyone had a crush on at some point — ended up with a cadet from Officer School.
He had to be someone special.
The first time we met was on a jeep trip in Ben Shemen Forest — it was me, my partner Yuval, Roey, and Yuval.
I remember that trip clearly because it kicked off a period full of fun and adventures.
From the very first moment, it was obvious that Roey was just one of those great guys — the kind you can’t help but love. Supportive, always smiling, funny, and full of confidence. The kind of guy who immediately makes you feel like a close friend. A real man’s man.
Since then, we hiked together in the Jerusalem hills and in the desert. On one trip, Roey had car trouble, so we changed our plans, drove to his sister Shahar’s place in Be’er Sheva for some advice and lunch, and then decided to head down to the Dead Sea and spend the night at Metzoke Dragot. Barbecue in the evening, shakshuka in the morning, a hike near the Dead Sea, and back home. Pure joy.
When Roey finished Officer School, I was a deputy commander in the recon platoon. Roey was assigned as a team commander for combat soldiers — as his first role. That never happens.
You have to understand — being a combat team commander is the crown jewel of officer roles in the unit. Everyone dreams of it, but it usually takes a long road to get there. You’re supposed to take a fresh, eager officer and introduce him to the real world. Combat soldiers aren’t led by commands from Officer School — they follow leaders who’ve earned it on the ground. That’s why this position isn’t usually given to new officers.
More than that — if you ask a cadet what his dream first role is, he’ll usually say a basic training team commander or a training course commander. Combat team commander isn’t even on the list — because it’s simply not an option.
But with Roey — it happened.
And of course, it was a success story.
At the time, the commander of the Orev company was Groves — we were in close contact. I remember asking him in one conversation, “How can it be that a brand-new officer gets to be a combat team commander?” He told me he wanted to bring in strong, capable people to raise the company’s level — and it was clear to him Roey was the right one.
When Roey continued on to the company commanders’ course, there was no doubt he would command the Orev.
If we said that being a combat team commander is the cherry on top of officer roles, then being a company commanderin the Orev is the chocolate syrup poured on the cherry.
The company commanders are the unit. They set the pace, values, and professionalism — and very few make it there.
After that role, there’s nowhere to go but down — which is why Roey had planned to leave the army after finishing it.
On October 7, 2023, in the afternoon, I was called up for reserve duty.
On my way to the base, in my naïveté, I messaged Roey to ask about a friend’s son who was serving in the Orev and hadn’t been in contact. I was sure Roey was fine — that I’d get a reply soon. Because he was one of those people who couldn’t possibly be touched by something like this.
When I was informed of his death, it hit me like a truck. I couldn’t believe it.
Over the past year or two, unfortunately, our contact had slowed down. I’d been discharged, and Roey was serving in intense roles.
Still, Roey was a true friend — the kind of person I knew that no matter when I called or messaged, he’d answer with a smile and love, like we had just spoken yesterday.
I admired the fact that Roey knew what he loved and what made him happy — and he made sure to keep those things in his life. Whether it was travel, food, friends, love — he was the best at it all.
The best driver, the best foodie, the best friend, the best partner.
I will always remember Chapell as a true friend.
The guy who actually managed to get Yuval Zaushnitzer to take a shower.
A photo of us at the Dead Sea from the trip that didn’t go as planned is attached.
Nadav Cohen Skli, Platoon Sergeant of Trainees 931
My first impression of Chapell was that he was a bit chubby, so during our first run I was amazed to discover he was one of the fastest people I’ve ever met in my life. Our real first encounter wasn’t the most pleasant, to say the least: before the August 21 trainees arrived at the base, we were preparing the roster, during which there was a weapon check. The company commander had to go somewhere, so he entrusted me with a weapon, and I handed it over to the person who collected all the weapons for the armory. After the check, all weapons were returned, but I forgot about the extra weapon I was responsible for and didn’t collect it. About two hours later, I remembered, went to the rooms and the armory, but didn’t find the weapon. I reported to the platoon commander, and everyone dropped everything to search for the weapon, which was found under one of the beds in a room. Although the incident ended without damage, I still had left a weapon unattended and was called for a talk with Chapell. I was so stressed. Up to that moment, I had never received any punishment in the army, I was afraid of Fridays and didn’t want to disappoint my girlfriend.
When I entered the talk with Chapell, he asked me to describe exactly what happened, and I answered honestly. To my surprise, he didn’t punish me but was satisfied that I understood the severity of the act. From that moment, I promised myself I wouldn’t disappoint him again: when the soldiers finally arrived, I constantly emphasized to them the importance of staying with their weapons, and I tried to be a good commander who leads through dialogue and learning rather than punishment. At the end of the training, I received from Chapell the title “Outstanding Commander.” In hindsight, I think he saw me inside (as he saw many people around him) and understood that punishing me would only bring me down, whereas giving me a chance would make me loyal.
Another story comes from the camouflage week: camouflage week is one of the hardest weeks for a platoon sergeant: for the vast majority of the time, the platoon sergeant is alone with the soldiers—teaching them camouflage content, detection factors, and navigation, as well as leading them on marches and carrying them under stretchers. So I was surprised that when moving to the last stage of the week—from Yatir Forest to the base—Chapell transferred command over the soldiers to the sergeants and took all the platoon sergeants to relieve stress at Nahal Bukek for several hours before returning to finish the week. To me, this shows two qualities of Roey: first, his love of nature, and second, his ability to assess the state of the force—knowing when to push and demand, and when to stop, relax, and gather strength for what’s next.
Chapell was my favorite platoon commander and one of the people I respected most in my military service.
I will never forget him.
Itay, soldier 931
I’ve been wanting to tell you a story for a while now, and I feel this is the right time. I know you’re already aware of how much of a hero your son was, I know you’re aware of the huge heart he had and the impact he had on everyone he touched along the way. But I have a story that illustrates that in the best possible way.
My name is Itay, I enlisted in August 21 to Battalion 931, Roey was my platoon commander during training, and then I continued with him for another four months in the battalion—so basically for a year and a month and a half of my service, he was my commander, half of my entire service.
I have many amazing stories with him; he was the reason I went to the fighters’ course, he always pushed me and strengthened me. But this story surpasses all:
One month after enlisting, as a terrified recruit, just one month into the army, not yet knowing who is who, not even understanding where I was. We went for a week in the field. Five minutes before leaving, my shirt ripped in two. All the gear was already ready, the buses were already in the parking lot, and I was left holding half a shirt.
I started crying, scared of what I’d done to myself, what now? Surely I would be punished, I was afraid to approach the platoon commander. I sat on a bench and had a panic attack, when suddenly Roey saw me and came over to ask what happened. At that point, I was sure I was going to get stuck (confined duty), the platoon commander himself was approaching me and I had a torn shirt and was late for the platoon’s schedule. I explained what happened and that I was sorry and didn’t know what to do. Without hesitation, he asked me to wait on the bench and went into his office. All possible scenarios ran through my head, but one scenario I never imagined happened.
He went into his office, took off his own shirt, and came out to me, holding his spare shirt, half in uniform. He gave it to me, patted me on the shoulder, and said, “Come on, hurry up, you’re late.”
A great man, a great personality.
May his memory be blessed.
Tamir, father of a recruit who served under Roey in 931:
Recently, I heard a particularly impressive story about an exceptional example of leadership by personal example.
The battalion commander divided tasks among the platoon commanders. Each platoon received a task: one platoon was assigned to conduct a light endurance test (Bar’Or test), another platoon was tasked with various combat drills, and another platoon was assigned the combat route test (Bachmas).
The platoon commander of that platoon, known for his outstanding combat skills, repeatedly failed to get over the wall—while his recruits watched him.
After several attempts, the platoon commander finally succeeded in climbing over the wall and completed the route test fully without giving up. The recruits wondered how it could be that their platoon commander struggled so much to get over the wall and finish the course.
Later, they found out that the platoon commander had started the route test with a dislocated shoulder, and the repeated attempts to get over the wall were made with that dislocated shoulder—doing it despite considerable pain!!! All of this to demonstrate what personal example means, showing “watch me, this is how it’s done.”
This story was told to me by my son, who was a recruit under Roey, a true Israeli hero, who throughout his service was highly principled and served as a shining example to those around him.
Shaked Yeshurun
I grew up with Chapell at the military boarding school. We were in the same squad (Squad 2), and overall, we were very close friends during that time.
I still haven’t fully processed the reality of it — in my mind, Chapell is still alive, because that’s how I’ve always remembered him: alive and laughing.
Even though my memory isn’t the best and I can’t recall specific moments, the feeling Chapell gave me is something I’ll never forget.
I’m originally from Eilat, so traveling and distance were a big deal for me.
He always made me feel like I was his little sister — like I always had someone to turn to and talk to.
He was the glue in our squad — between the boys and girls, between the quiet ones and the loud ones. Always joking, always smiling, always there for everyone.
Even as a kid with a lot on his mind, he never let that affect his relationships with others. He was open and genuine with every single person he met.
When I came to the shiva (mourning gathering), I suddenly remembered how we once went to Roey’s house to help renovate the pergola and paint. I hadn’t remembered it until that moment, when I stepped onto his street and it all came flooding back. I remember how natural it felt for all of us to be there — because Roey’s home was also our home.
It always felt like Chapell did everything wholeheartedly — laughed wholeheartedly, loved wholeheartedly, livedwholeheartedly.
And that’s why I don’t think I’ll ever truly grasp that he’s gone — because he’s still so alive in my mind.
I wish for myself to live life the way Chapell did — because I’m sure he didn’t miss a single second and lived every moment to the fullest.
That’s the main thing I’ve taken with me since that Saturday…
To try to live with the same intensity he did — even though he was truly one of a kind.
Photographed at Ze'elim training facility. Roey decided to take a flower and start modeling.
I met Roey Chapell in a theater class in eighth grade. There were too few of us students for all the roles in the musical, so the teacher decided to bring in the best seventh graders. Roey was one of them.
It didn’t bother him that he was younger than everyone else, nor that he joined a close-knit group where everyone already knew each other.
From the very first moment, he already belonged. Chapell was always the first to offer help carrying or organizing equipment, and he always did it with a big smile. When we were tired and cranky, he was there to lighten the mood with his special sense of humor.
Behind the scenes, when I was afraid to sing in front of the whole school, he was always there to offer a hug or a massage, to make funny faces and tell jokes until I calmed down.
That’s the Roey I knew in 2011. A magical kid with a heart of gold and incredible sensitivity. Someone who really makes you feel seen.
The Roey I knew was a rare child, and from the stories I’ve heard about him, he grew up to be an equally rare man.
He was and remains one of the very best.
.jpg)
Maya Ben Nun, a friend from middle school:
At age 14, some friends threw me a surprise party, and Chapell kept telling me he had a huge surprise for my birthday.
He asked all of us to go outside. We stepped to the beginning of the street, then he placed something on the road, lit it, and a real firework soared into the sky.
When I say firework, I mean a real one, like on Independence Day. There was a huge boom, neighbors came out, my parents were in total shock, but it was just so funny, so surprising, and so Chapell…
Even today, that’s how my parents remember him — the sweet little deer-like boy who put on a real fireworks show for my 14th birthday.
Artillery Officer, Nahal Reconnaissance Unit
Roey was truly a role model for me. When I first started my position in the unit, I couldn’t understand why everyone kept talking about this “Chapell” guy — what was it about him that made him so special?
And then you meet him — and you understand everything.
His ability to make you feel like the center of his world, to make you feel like he genuinely cares — all within just a few moments — was incredible.
The ease with which he did it was astonishing.
He was cool-headed, sharp as a razor, and always knew exactly what to say.
Like everyone around him, I was drawn to him — he had that magnetic charm and could wrap you around his finger anytime he wanted. Because that’s just who Chapell was — and let’s be honest, who wouldn’t do anything for him?
I have so much admiration for him, and so much of what I learned during my military service came through him and the example he set.
I can’t think about him without smiling — and that’s exactly how I’ll always remember him.
Dana, Assistant to the Battalion Commander, Nahal Reconnaissance Unit:
How can I choose just one story when every moment with Chapell is etched in my memory?
I go through our WhatsApp conversations, listen to his voice notes — and my eyes fill with tears, from both crying and laughing.
He was the funniest person I’ve ever met — and at the same time, the most professional.
He had a way of lightening even the toughest situations, lifting people up when things were hard, and spreading encouragement everywhere he went.
He drew everyone in — it was impossible to say no to him.
If he asked to reschedule something, I always agreed.
If he needed a favor — even if it had nothing to do with me, or even after he’d already left the unit — I kept helping him without a second thought.
He was one of those rare people who simply made my service better.
He made me laugh, helped me see the army and life through a lens of humor, always saw the good in others, and fought for every single soldier.
Sometimes he’d say he’d only come to a meeting if there was food, or he’d slide paperwork under my door with some ridiculous note attached.
He’d reply to my most serious or exaggerated messages with laughter, jokes, and of course — stickers.
I’ve never met a combat officer who was admired by everyone — and I mean everyone.
Because above his rank and role, first and foremost — he was simply a person.
Chapell found his way into my heart (and I’m sure into the heart of everyone who ever met him) from the very first moment.
Posted at Jenin line.
The communication officer and I visit the outpost for the first time since Chapell became the platoon commander.
We arrive at his office, expecting to see him working frantically on some arrest or operation—
but he’s not in the office.
We go out and ask one of the fighters if he’s seen Chapell, and he points to the area behind the office.
We walk over and see Chapell with a hoe, shaping some bush and picking the plants.
We asked him, “Bro, what are you doing?? Go work on last night’s arrest,”
and Chapell, calm as ever, said:
“There’s a day to clean the old lady (the outpost), and as long as my fighters are cleaning, I clean with them.”
At that moment, we understood he was someone special.
Shani, a childhood friend from elementary school:
“Roey was my first boyfriend, and from a very young age he was everything he always remained — a true gentleman, funny, and sociable. My mom always adored him and couldn’t stop talking about how sweet he was.
He would open doors for me wherever we went — at school, at friends’ houses, even the gate at home. He used to buy me small symbolic gifts, like tiny, lovely perfume bottles he brought back from a trip abroad, and a half-heart necklace — one for him, one for me.
Once, my parents organized a surprise birthday party for me. They invited all the girls in our class — and Roey. He was the only boy brave enough, even at that young age, to show up at a party full of 20 girls — and still be the life of the evening.”
Alon, August ’18 Company, Orev Nahal
Chapell was my deputy company commander during my regular service.
One of the things I loved most about him was that, despite being the deputy, there was never any distance. He spoke to us at eye level, always down to earth.
I swear, every soldier in the company was crazy about him. We loved him. How could you not?
He was a top-notch pro. Top-level! He knew everything and stayed unbelievably calm during missions and operations.
I felt safer with him than with any other commander. And he was a real friend to everyone.
A few months before my discharge, I got injured and was sent home to recover.
Not long after, they wanted to bring me back before I was fully healed and I was still in pain.
When I arrived at the base, Chapell saw me and couldn’t understand why I was there.
After I explained the situation, he said:
“Alon, I’m going into a meeting now. If you’re still here when I get back, I’m going to have words with you.”
Then he added: “I’ll talk to the company commander. I’ll take care of it. Go home, rest, and come back when you’re feeling better.”
That was Chapell.
He may have been the deputy commander, but in this case, he cared for me more than my personal officer did. That was the level of his compassion.
I loved him deeply, I miss him, and I think about him every single day.
There’s no other commander like him.
He was one of a kind — truly something rare.
Daniel Perziger, Commander 931
I still remember the first words you said about yourself during staff preparation.
You told us that although you came from the world of military boarding school, and the things you learned in the Platoon Commanders Course were tasks you had already done in high school, with all your military background and knowing the army is an important place, if its whole purpose was only to defend the country — maybe serving as a regular officer would have been enough for you to feel you did your part, and then you could be discharged and move on.
“So why did I continue being a platoon commander? For many reasons… but also because the army is not just a place that protects the country’s security. It’s also a place that develops better citizens, a place of education, a place that builds people and makes them better.”
And you said if the mission here is both national defense and making better citizens and people — then it’s worth being a platoon commander and staying in the army for many years.
And now, two years later, you were so close to being discharged…
You were killed while defending the country, while saving Sufa, Holit, Nir Yitzhak, and many more. Who knows what would have happened if you weren’t there…
The story of your last battle is a story of heroism in combat, heroism in defending the country. But I want you to know — I won’t let your death be only the fulfillment of one part of the mission you saw in the army service. I won’t let it be only the fulfillment of defending the country, but also the fulfillment of educating people to be better.
Because I, who was a commander under you, am a better person because of you. What I learned from you still walks with me. And I know this is true for the friends who served with me, and I’m sure it’s true for so many people who met you along the way.
You are present in every heart you encountered.
And so, even if you are no longer here, the world continues — better.
My name is Sela Brokstein, 28, from Moshav Be’er Tuvia, and I am one of those who had the privilege to serve in the Nahal ‘Orev’ unit alongside Roey Chapell, your dear son.
I first met Roey in March 2019 when it was decided he would replace me as the team commander of August 17 in Orev, which at the time was already a team in the combat company of Orev. Roey came to command the team straight from Officer Training School, having just completed the course. This is uncommon because to be a combat team commander, one must prove themselves in a prior role since command and leading fighters requires experience and strong character.
Despite that, once the need arose, there was no question that Roey was worthy of the role. The decision-makers then found it right to appoint him as combat team commander because they saw in him the qualities and abilities required to succeed. The results proved them right—big time.
Roey came with little experience but with determination, excellence, and above all—humility and modesty. He entered with confidence in himself and in the commanders who trusted him but was always willing to listen and learn from those around him, both his commanders and subordinates, with a desire to improve and be the best, most professional commander and person he could be.
I accompanied him as the deputy commander of the Orev company for nine months. I saw how within weeks the team forgot about me and almost fell in love with Roey. Both from observation and conversations with the fighters, I saw how they listened to him, learned from him, respected him, and most importantly, built themselves as a team that ultimately would follow Roey, their commander, with closed eyes and full confidence because he was the best fit for the mission.
After I was discharged, I kept hearing about Roey, and I always heard the same thing: he was simply a champ and professional, principled and inclusive, and always excelled in every role he fulfilled, until earning the right to be the commander of the Nahal Orev unit. As someone who hesitated about going to the reconnaissance course, I can say this as a fact: every officer who goes to the reconnaissance course from Orev does so to get the role of Orev commander, but of course, not everyone gets it. Only the very best. Roey was one of those very best.
When I heard on that cursed Saturday that the Nahal Brigade took over the Gaza line, I trusted them to do the defense and combat work in the best way possible, but I also feared the possible outcomes. Sadly, they did come. Still, it did not surprise me at all to hear that Roey fell in battle defending the border while leading his fighters with determination and strength until his last breath. That’s who he was: a true commander at the front.
When I heard he fell, I remembered we met by chance at a party in Tel Aviv — me, him, and Yuval — and we made up for lost time. He told me he was about to be discharged and that they were going to New Zealand. He asked if it was worth starting studies at the Open University and even invited me to a party Yuval was organizing on New Year’s Eve. Remembering this, I also remembered what a zest for life he had, and I took that longing for a rich life full of experiences and values from him as a command for my own path, both in this difficult time and going forward.
Dear family, you raised and educated a model son, principled, Zionist, a friend who always saw the other, who was willing to give everything for his ideal—and that’s what he did.
I want to strengthen you and share in your sorrow. From now on, willingly or not, you are an inseparable part of the Nahal Orev family, and I allow myself to speak on behalf of the entire Nahal Orev family — we are with you and beside you now and forever in anything you need. Don’t hesitate to reach out to me or to the Nahal Orev association because we have decided to be one big family of all the fighters, commanders, fallen, and their families.
I wish you better times ahead, that we will grow together from this difficult period and be strong and united in a secure and good future.
With much love and always here,
Sela
Eili Friedman, Roey’s company commander in 931:
“Chapell was like a father to me, like an older brother, and like a commander in the army, because that’s just who he was. He knew when to give praise, and he knew when to put you in your place—always with grace and with the wish that only good would come, never with ill intent.
After a tough week of work, he could say to me, ‘Freidi, come on, let’s eat—I’m starving,’ or tease me for being too sensitive because I told him he had to go to sleep early before driving in the morning and going home. And from time to time, he’d joke about the Reali school and Haifa (I also went to Reali) and all those little things I always felt were just ours.
I don’t think I can say that about any other person in the world—that I was lucky to know, to gain wisdom from, and to be under his command. I learned so many things from him that I never thought about before I met him.
All the time in the army, I spoke with our recruits who didn’t understand why he was tough and how his punishments could be harsh. I always described him as the best commander they could ever dream of all their lives. And most importantly, unlike all the other commanders, he was first and foremost a human being, and only then a commander.
The biggest thing I learned from him is, above all else, to be first and foremost a human being.”
Shira Cohen:
I studied with Roey from 6th grade. I don’t have many specific stories or incidents I remember, but I do remember he was the king of laughter and always made everyone laugh with his huge kindness and attention to the kids who struggled more. He always wanted to include them, connect them, notice them.
With a special gentleness, he was funny, considerate, and inclusive of everyone. I remember one day I was sad, and he asked me, ‘What’s wrong, Shira? Why have your eyes fallen? Lift your eyes,’ or something like that, and it really made me laugh when I was totally down…
With such special sensitivity, he always saw the people around him. His compassion was real, and he brought joy and laughter from his hands!
Do you have another story about Roey?
We would be happy if you could share it with us.
