Dror Altun

Dror was born in the community of Tzurit, the son of Avi and Ruti, and the younger brother of Omri and Yuval.
A blond, curly-haired boy, always holding a hammer and nails in his hands — and a schnitzel in his mouth — from the time he was a toddler.

At age 12, he met Kalil, and already then decided she would be the one. They were together for more than half of their lives.

Dror was a one-of-a-kind partner — he wrote love letters, did everything to make his partner feel happy, independent, loved, and strong.

In March 2023, six months before he was killed, Dror and Kalil welcomed their firstborn son, Erez — a small copy of his father. Dror fell in love with him from the very first moment.

Dror knew how to love — with smiles, hugs, words, and actions. His heart had endless room for family and friends. He was both a driving force and a magnetic presence, leaving behind a huge void, but also a part of himself in everyone who knew him.

He served as an officer in the Combat Engineering Corps and in the 603rd Battalion. He traveled the world with Kalil, conquering Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Island Peak in Nepal, and every summit that crossed his path in China.

Later, Dror joined the Yamam (Israel’s elite counter-terrorism unit), becoming a bomb disposal specialist and deputy team commander.

On October 7, 2023, at 7:00 a.m., Dror kissed Kalil and their baby son Erez goodbye — as he did every morning — and headed out, once again risking his life as part of his daily duty.
He and his comrades raced toward Sderot, where they fought bravely and blocked dozens of terrorists until he fell in battle at the age of 29.

Eight of his fellow Yamam fighters fell alongside him.

In the handwriting samples his family shared for the memorial project, Dror’s letters captured his life — turning dreams into missions, recording his travels around the world, the experiences of Operation Protective Edge, soldiers’ leave requests, his beloved family recipes from his mother and grandmother, and the love notes that began as scribbles in class — right under the teacher’s nose — and became heartfelt letters of love.

May his memory be blessed.