Years ago, after graduating college, I walked by a US Navy recruiting station in Lower Manhattan. The eager recruiters convinced me to take a test to become a naval officer. I did quite well for never having studied the subject. The recruiters tried to sell me a book and begged me to study and return to take the test again.
On the subway ride home, I thought about the idea of being in the US Navy (was it really the place for this nice Jewish girl?), and I never revisited that recruiting process. But joining the military stayed on my bucket list.
This past August I celebrated my 65th birthday, and I found myself wondering what might have happened had I passed that test. I had fond memories of my teenage years at Camp Moshava, where they simulated army drill-style 3 a.m. 12-mile (20-km.) hikes and tested us on obstacle courses.
Flight, freeze, or fight!
Post-Oct. 7, realizing that the reaction to sirens, stress, and threats can be flight, freeze, or fight, I found myself in the latter group. When the siren goes off, I am ready to fight back. I applied for my firearms license, even though I hate guns and despise the thought of shooting, but I want to help protect my family and friends.
I began to entertain the idea of volunteering for the military, wondering if and how it could be done.
I contacted the Spokesperson’s Unit at the IDF. Determined to see what happens when I offer myself up – with a lifetime of solid experience in PR and journalism – I asked whether they could use my skills. My husband thought I was nuts (and didn’t relish the idea of single-parenting our children if they sent me to basic training), but I wanted to find a way to live my dream and serve.
My twin boys, 11 years old, had many arguments prepared to quash my senior soldier plans:
“You’re practically dead! Why would they choose you?” one scoffed. “If you’re trying to impress us and be cool... it’s not working,” said the other.
“The army is made for teenagers who can run and climb fences. These are the last years of your life. You should become a pensioner – not a soldier!”
I explained to them that it was something I always wanted to do, and I asked them to try to understand. But they were still decidedly unsupportive.
“You know how we hate being bossed around,” they reminded me. “Well, being in the army is 256 times worse than that. And anyway, you just keep getting older. You’re not army material.”
I pointed out that their friend’s dad serves regularly in the reserves.
“His dad is young,” they replied. “He’s got better chances than you. Ima, people die in the army. People experience horror. It’s like a zombie apocalypse!”
A 37-year-old nurse from my neighborhood recently enlisted in the reserves, but she didn’t sound too positive about my prospects of joining. She explained that she joined through a program that connects religious women who had previously chosen National Service or had never served in the IDF in any capacity and enlisted them into the reserves. The fact that she was part of the much-needed medical profession certainly upped her chances. She said doctors and nurses are encouraged to enlist – at any age. Then she added me to a busy WhatsApp group with over 650 women with various talents and skills who are trying to join the reserves.
I could hardly keep myself from jumping up and down when an IDF spokesperson named Shira offered to try to find some units that could use my unique talents and invited me to meet real-life army volunteers.
Sar-El – program for international volunteers
On October 6, 2024, almost one year after the war began, approximately 50 mostly aged 30+ English-speaking foreigners (mainly Americans) gathered around two young girls who called them to order in a loud sergeant-like voice that echoed through the upstairs halls of Ben-Gurion Airport. Each wore an army green T-shirt that read “Volunteer” and proceeded onto a waiting bus.
They were not being drafted as lone soldiers. In fact, most looked like they wouldn’t make it through an hour of basic training. They were old and young, from outside of Israel, and had come to volunteer through the NGO Sar-El, which in coordination with the army logistics team, assigns them to an army base where they stay and work for two to three weeks. The Sar-El program provides eager volunteers with any work that helps the army, such as painting barracks, fixing army bases, cleaning warehouses, preparing medical boxes, folding and organizing uniforms, and shipping rations to various units.
The Sar-El volunteers dress in army uniforms, sleep in comfortable on-base accommodations with lockers, bathrooms, and showers, and have a living room. They must abide by army rules (no Wi-Fi, separate sleeping quarters for men and women, and no drugs or alcohol). They are supervised by 19-year-old IDF soldiers. The young soldiers create activities for the groups that include how to speak Israeli slang, Krav Maga, Magen David Adom first-aid courses, tours, lectures, and even midnight drills to simulate the real army experience.
“The volunteers are never involved in combat,” explains St.-Sgt.-Maj. (res.) Moshe Livhar, a logistics officer who heads the Israeli volunteer sector of the IDF. “Volunteers work through the Logistics Corps of the IDF. The commander at an army base requests workers, and our division provides volunteers. We ensure the volunteers and take care of their everyday needs.”
Since its inception 42 years ago, Sar-El has brought in more than 240,000 volunteers, with over 36,000 just since Oct. 7, 2023. Twenty-five percent of the workers are not Jewish, and they have hailed from over 40 countries, such as France, Australia, Hungary, Brazil, the US, and the UK.
I visited the Tel Hashomer base, an entire “army city” tucked into a corner of Ramat Gan. One of the regular soldiers, Dalia, showed me around the vast warehouses and introduced me to some volunteers who were involved in going through boxes of medical equipment returned from the field, taking out expired medications and first-aid gear, and refurbishing the kits, bags, and backpacks so they could be sent back to the field units. I asked who would do this work if the volunteers weren’t around.
“Regular soldiers could do the work,” Dalia explained with a laugh. “But what volunteers accomplish in a day, regular soldiers would take weeks to do. Israelis work slower.”
Ingrid Stensland from Norway was one of the eager non-Jewish volunteers who, after Norway’s Foreign Minister Espen Barth Eide sent out some anti-Israel statements, decided to see for herself what was going on in Israel. She quit her job as a computer engineer and came to help. Her airline flights kept getting canceled, and she wasn’t sure if and when she would find a flight home. “There was so much hatred from our foreign minister,” she explained. “I went to memorials for hostages and watched Norwegians burn Israeli flags. I just had to be here and experience life in Israel for myself,” she said.
Bethany Dillon, a non-Jewish volunteer from northern England, had wanted to visit Israel for a long time. As an entertainer on a cruise ship, she was shocked by the abuse Israel received on social media and hoped to help counteract it by sharing her experience. Initially, she said, some of her social media “friends” did not like that she was going to Israel. “I’ve only been here one week, but already am planning to come back annually,” she said. “The room and the food here are actually better than they are on the cruise ship.”
She said her social media campaign has started to work. One friend with a military background changed his mind from “No way I’d ever visit Israel” to “I’d like to visit soon,” only 36 hours after seeing Dillon’s posts.
David Perez from Czechia is a Sar-El “regular,” who recently undertook his third tour with the program. “It’s my giveback as a Jew,” he explained. In Europe, he works in a kosher restaurant. Here, he has volunteered at a kibbutz, has laundered, sorted, and organized army uniforms, prepared pallets with fresh food and water for the distribution center that sends supplies to Gaza, and, the day I visited, was stocking medical kits at Tel Hashomer.
Yaakov, who lives outside of London and owns a music production company, explained, “No matter what you do, it always feels very important.” Although he has been to Israel 11 times, this was his first experience dealing with sirens and incoming rockets.
Joel from Miami chimed in about the missile alerts: “It was a good bonding experience.”
Some of the younger Sar-El volunteers decide to enlist as lone soldiers, and counselors are on hand to help them through the process. They start off cleaning bases, packing food, and organizing, and end up in basic training.
But the volunteer work isn’t just a recruitment tool. One soldier said that a 98-year-old volunteer recently came to work from Modi’in.
“He was in better shape than me,” he said.
How do Israelis volunteer?
While this was all well and good, it didn’t give me the satisfaction of knowing that I had achieved my dreams of “joining the military.”
The next time, it would be my turn to volunteer, the spokesperson promised me.
A few weeks later, I found myself at the entrance to another army base, this time in Rishon Lezion, around a labyrinth of army schools, new and old construction, barracks, and large warehouses. A sign with a quote from Psalms, “You open Your hand and satisfy every living thing,” hangs over the building.
Logistics officer Livhar said new volunteer programs are being created for people who specialize in certain disciplines, but as of yet no formal program has been launched. He mentioned a new website that is being created to inform the public about the various programs.
Since Oct. 7, more than 26,000 Israelis have volunteered, including 4,000 from high schools throughout the country.
“Mitnadvim im Pazam,” which means “veteran volunteers,” was printed on the T-shirts of the 60 or so volunteers, most well over the age of 60, who came on an IDF-provided bus to the base from Kfar Saba. Seated and standing, they were lined up along a conveyor belt. The mostly former veterans come together several times a week to support the IDF in various volunteer roles. That day, they were filling ration boxes with cans. Boxes slowly jiggled down the line as each person grabbed a can of corn, beans, peanuts, halva, pineapple chunks, or tuna and placed the can neatly in the box.
An adjacent, equally spacious warehouse was filled with young girls from an ulpana high school in the North. These students were pre-army or in National Service and were joyfully tossing can openers and chocolate bars into boxes. The boxes glided by at a much faster pace than the ones next door.
“Are you looking forward to eating this stuff when you’re a soldier?” I asked one of the young ladies. “No way,” she wrinkled her nose.
The students have come several times this school year to volunteer.
“They see it as a mission,” explained Avital, their teacher. “They know they want to do it again.”
The army representative explained that each day brings different schools with a myriad of students, often mixing different backgrounds, all over the age of 16. They eat breakfast and lunch at the base, and soldiers/managers assign them tasks. “It is a wonderful way to integrate people with haredi backgrounds into familiarizing with the army,” Livhar said. Two soldiers sift through the volunteer organizations and schools and take the requests from army bases asking for volunteers. They also bring in corporate volunteers and groups from not-for-profit organizations. “Every municipality has a person in charge of local volunteers. When the word is put out to their community, a Google sheet goes out and the volunteers sign on,” he added.
Livhar said entry-level soldiers are interviewed to assess their motivation and commitment. He also observes their team dynamics and participation in training. They put in voluminous hours, sifting through the needs of many army bases and matching up groups of volunteers. Hours vary, but they are also available after hours for emergencies.
Prior to Oct. 7, a volunteer program was in place for disabled and elderly people. After the war started, high schools began to volunteer in it as well.
Once upon a time, Pazam volunteer Rachel Fatal, a 67-year-old retired Air Force major, was responsible for budgeting, procuring components, and arranging repairs for Air Force jets.
“Most Israelis have served in the army in some capacity at some point,” she explained. As a career officer, Fatal also serves in a specialized group of retired army volunteers. She left her army post 10 years ago to go into hi-tech, but she eventually resigned and went back to school to obtain the credentials to teach high school-level economics.
With her wealth of background and experience, she joined the volunteer group, not because she relished the labor but because “I was so very happy to see older people enjoying the work on the assembly line from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. It was very gratifying to see and experience them.”
G.I. Judy: ‘You’re in the army now’
The Kfar Saba volunteers made room for me at the conveyor belt in between towers of boxes of canned corn. As the conveyor belt began to move – very slowly – a soldier stood in the middle, instructing volunteers where to put each can. I was told to place my corn in the lower left-hand corner of the box, atop a plastic bag. On the right were canned pineapple, beans, and a can of corn already in the box, thanks to my forerunners on the belt line.
Can – box, can – box... as the belt lumbered on, I developed a slow rhythm, challenging myself to juggle the cans from one to two hands and emptying the tower of cartons, one by one. The work is not challenging. It is mind-numbing. Mindless work has strange side effects. I pictured soldiers on the battlefields in Gaza or Lebanon running to open their boxes and exclaiming, “Ugh, beans? Corn? Tuna? Again? Do they really expect me to schlep all these heavy cans over the mountains of Lebanon in my backpack?”
Willing myself to stay positive, I redirected the soldiers’ dialogue in my head to “CORN! My favorite! Yo, dibs on the peanuts!”
Sometimes, the belt would stall completely – which gave me just enough time to scribble a few quick notes to the soldiers and stuff them in random boxes amid the cans.
“Dear soldier,” I wrote. “Apologies for all the canned rations. When you come back, be sure to stop by my house for a home-cooked meal! And thanks so much for your service. Judy of the Shomron.”
After an hour or so of “can-box,” I cannot tell a lie – I was feeling a little bored. This was definitely not what I had in mind when I wanted to bring my skills to bear for the IDF.
But as my daughter later shrugged, “Did you expect them to send you into Lebanon?”
The conveyor belt sped up, and the boxes got closer together. Suddenly I was juggling cans, pulling at cartons, and trying to keep up as boxes sailed past my station. Finally, a challenge! One of the young soldiers cranked up Israeli music as the boxes danced and skidded down the belt. Now I was in the spirit – having fun and helping my army all at the same time!
G.I. Judy’s firsthand impressions:
- The army is young. One older reserve officer, when asked what it’s like to be “bossed around” by a person 10 or 20 years younger said that at first it is strange, but ultimately you see yourselves as a team. Age doesn’t matter when everyone pulls together.
- The army is probably the largest employer in the country, and as such, it moves slowly. As one of Israel’s largest institutions, the logistics of so many divisions working together is complicated.
- While obviously there are many rules, there are exceptions to many rules.
- Like steering a cruise ship, you can’t expect rapid turnarounds in the army; and although it is not a labor union, there is a sense of “this is the way it’s done, and this is the way we’ve always done it, so that’s the way we will continue to do it.”
- That said, Israel is a small country – one big family, and every single Israeli citizen and friend of Israel is a potential cog in the master military wheel. When volunteering for the army, as mundane as any job may seem, if even one cog is broken or missing it will affect the entire machine. Whether we are at war or at peace, every Israeli and even foreigners can find a way to volunteer for the IDF.
As for my dream of joining the army, even though packing boxes was by far not the most exciting task I’ve ever done in my life, the group was great, I felt useful knowing that I was doing something to contribute to the greater good, and I will absolutely do it again!