“I am the only officer in the Israel Police who has successfully served in all of the special and prestigious units of the Israel Police.” This is how retired Superintendent Eyal Dvir, now a lawyer, began the interview. From YAMAM to YAMAS, and from YAMAS to Unit 33 (Gideonim Unit). Unit 33 is a covert unit operating under Lahav 433, dealing with organized crime families. All recruitment processes for this unit are indirect and do not go through the recruitment office. After seven years of operational service in YAMAM and another five years in YAMAS units, it was impossible to join a surveillance unit due to being recognized as a police officer/warrior. However, with high capabilities in disguise, makeup, and field integration acquired over the years, I was able to join and serve in Unit 33. In doing so, I opened the door for other fighters who wanted to serve in it and were not allowed to. I showed that it is possible, despite being exposed. With positive and creative thinking, you can blend in, and no one will recognize you.
Eyal was born in Jerusalem, in the Pat neighborhood, a place where the strong survive. His childhood was very difficult, filled with violence, a non-ordinary home, a home that did not guide or build you. He finished high school without a diploma and initially planned to enlist in a non-combat role, as a driver or cook, to serve week on week off and work as a waiter during leaves to bring money home. His low scores at the recruitment office did not earn him an invitation to tryouts for elite units. Luck, a fleeting element one must chase, played a role on enlistment day when he mistakenly boarded the wrong bus and ended up at the Givati Brigade training base. Accepting the mistake, he decided to give his all. His active physical neighborhood life prepared him physically, and he had no home to miss due to its violence and disorder. Aware of his high abilities, he knew it was all in the mind. He excelled in the squad commanders’ course and stayed to instruct. His commanders, recognizing his high command and leadership potential, recommended him for officer training, but he failed the tests twice and was discharged with a sense of failure. Just before discharge, on a friend’s recommendation, he applied to several security agencies, highlighting his abilities, experience, and motivation in his CV, along with recommendations from his commanders. Out of 1,200 candidates invited to the initial screening for YAMAM, he passed successfully and was called for an interview, leaving with mixed feelings. A few days later, he received the call inviting him to the selection process.
In the selection, they find the best, and Eyal is one of the best. Here is Eyal’s YAMAM selection story, as written in his book “Locked on the Goal.”
Enjoy and share so that his story reaches more readers.
Locked on the Goal – Eyal Dvir’s Book
YAMAM Selection
The selection date arrived, and I reached the Yarkon District station in Tel Aviv. Carrying a small backpack with everything I thought I needed for a few days – clothes, utensils, underwear, vests, socks, shaving kit, journal, and pen. I approached the area where the candidates gathered and observed the guys who came for the selection. As usual, I watched, looked, and didn’t mingle immediately. When my turn came, I found myself standing in front of a guy organizing the groups. He was broad-shouldered and tall; I reached up to his head. He scanned my figure, face, and body structure, then asked in a deep voice, “Are you sure you came to the right place?” I nodded. “Did you see the guys who came here?” he continued to pester with questions. Of course, I saw, all were strong, two meters tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular as if they trained specifically for this selection. And me… well, you get the picture, 180 cm tall, weighing 70 kg, and quite thin. As I walked away, I heard him mutter to someone, “He’ll be eaten alive here…” It seemed he intended for me to hear. I understood. The selection starts right then. They try to see who breaks first, who shows signs of distress, inferiority, lack of confidence. I told myself I wouldn’t let them sift me out so quickly. Although not puffed up and ridden with doubts, I wouldn’t give them the pleasure of deflating me so fast. The bus drove to the youth camp in the coastal plain, where the selection would take place. 1,200 candidates started the process, and only 60 proceeded to the selection. It was clear not everyone would pass and be accepted into the course.
Upon arrival at the camp, we were ordered to embark on a stretcher march immediately, without time to prepare, meet each other, or organize. The march, challenging and grueling, ended, but of course, not everyone passed. Some candidates dropped out due to physical fitness issues and injuries. At the end of the march, we were ordered onto the bus, thinking we would return to the camp. Before boarding, we stretched to release muscle tension. Some showed early signs of breaking – in their desperate faces and bodies already exhausted. We boarded the bus, shirts soaked in sweat, shoes glued to feet with newly formed blisters, and the guys sprawled on seats, heads back, relaxing from the tension and effort, and the bus started moving. After about twenty-thirty meters, it stopped. A young officer boarded, looked at us seriously with no sign of empathy, and announced, “It’s not over until it’s over… everyone outside in 30 seconds, ready for another march!” Before we recovered from the surprise announcement, he turned and said, “And for those for whom this is too much at this stage – know the pleasure is just beginning!”
The guys looked at each other with wide eyes. It was unthinkable, just the thought of starting the nightmare anew. My left leg bone cracked, but there was no time to dwell on it, and I detached my mind from the pain. A shout came from below – “Fifteen seconds, move!” and within a moment, there was a buzz of movement on the bus. We retrieved our backpacks from the compartments, laced our shoes, and prepared mentally for a second march, likely to continue into the night. Not everyone got off the bus; at least ten guys decided YAMAM selection was over for them at that point. On the second bus, a similar number stayed seated, opting out of the “pleasure” as warned by the officer.
I got off, crushed, hurting, worn, cracked… but I got off. It was clear I would continue. We gathered below. The young officer stood near a senior officer. We gathered below. They examined us and exchanged words, perhaps betting on who would stay on the bus and who would continue… Then, after standing for a few minutes, the officer who announced the continued march approached us and said, “Okay, it was going like this – those who stayed on the bus are going home, you continue the selection, so gather by the bus, and by the way… there is no additional march, relax.” They didn’t even stay to watch our reactions. We were more shocked by this announcement than the first. In a moment, I understood that a significant part of the selection, and likely the course, is to test physical endurance but no less mental and psychological resilience. I realized they would try to break us, sometimes physically and sometimes mentally, until they refine from all the most determined and toughest. They were the essence chosen to serve in an elite unit. I promised myself to give my all, mentally and physically, to be worthy of joining the chosen ones.
The second day of the selection included team tasks aimed at assessing interpersonal communication, message delivery ability, cooperation among candidates, creative thinking, and more. Some tasks were initially unsolvable due to many restrictions gradually lifted by the assessors as the task progressed. In these tasks, I discovered another aspect of my personality: transferring a tire from one place to another under constraints of height, width, and prohibition of stepping on certain areas. The task allowed using ropes and several short sticks. Suddenly, I had an epiphany and thought of creating a human bridge over which the fighter with the tire would be transferred, without using the provided means that only led to mental fixation. The task succeeded so quickly that the assessors looked at each other and murmured, “We haven’t seen this before.” At the end of the tasks, we were required to change into sportswear for a timed pair run over three kilometers. It was explained that the first to finish within the pair would have a short rest until his partner arrived, and the next task would be to enter the hand-to-hand combat hall. We were paired beforehand, with one strong and the other weak, based on their impressions and collected data to create intentional time gaps. My partner was weaker and slower than me. After the starting signal, I ran as fast as I could, knowing I would need the recovery time between the run and the hand-to-hand combat stage. The task seemed like a physical strength task, but they wanted to see if we were ready for surprises and if we could switch from one state of readiness to another without preparation. I reached the hand-to-hand combat hall first, panting heavily, looking back to estimate my remaining rest time, but suddenly, without delay, they gave me protective gear and told me my combat partner was waiting in the hall. I realized I fell into a trap, with no time to let thoughts lead me. In the hall, a skilled unit fighter awaited me. I entered the fight exhausted, but he stood fresh and ready, equipped and prepared for a battle where I fought for my life against a professional. His half-smile showed a slight arrogance, knowing the advantage was in his hands. His sudden attack left me no time to adjust or protect myself, his punches swift and powerful, knocking the air out of me, dizzying me. He kicked me hard in the left thigh, pain paralyzing my movement. My body screamed in pain, but my mind forced me to fight on, defensive blocks interspersed with attempted counterattacks, relying on training and experience. Then, a moment of clarity – I saw a slight opening in his defense and launched a punch to his face with all my strength, surprising him and giving me a moment to catch my breath. With adrenaline pumping, I defended and attacked strategically, refusing to be knocked down again.
At the end of the fight, battered and bruised, I stood my ground, earning a nod from the assessors and the combatant. Pride surged within me – I proved my physical and mental endurance. The selection continued with more tests, pushing my limits. In the end, I stood among the few on the final day, learning I made it to the YAMAM course. The journey had just begun, but I knew I had what it took to be among the best.
Eyal’s Message to the Youth
“Life is one big book, from beginning to end. Everything that happens to us is like chapters, a chapter from the book. Some chapters are good, some are not so good. When a good chapter ends, know that another, better chapter might follow, or it might be less good. And if it’s not good, know that it will eventually end and something better can come along. It’s part of life; it’s not all of life. But throughout the entire book, maintain who you are, your beliefs, your determination, and your goals. If you have a goal, reach it with determination. People will always try to divert you from your goal,
Thank You
A special thank you and deep appreciation to Eyal Dvir for sharing his life story and his YAMAM selection chapter, proving that with self-control and management, the impossible can be made possible, even with less than stellar starting points. After seven challenging years in YAMAM, Eyal went on to complete an officer’s course with distinction. He served in various roles in special units and, during his service, graduated with honors in law studies. He became an investigator in the cyber unit of Lahav 433. Today, he runs a criminal and traffic law office. In his spare time, he meets with young people, shares his story, and serves as a source of inspiration and strength for them to continue facing life’s challenges despite the difficulties along the way.
To purchase Eyal Dvir’s book “Locked on the Goal,” you are welcome to contact him at mobile number 0505075797 or email Eyal.dvir.law@gmail.com.