Heartbreak and Heroism: My Unforgettable Encounter With Wounded Israeli Soldiers

“If you ask all the soldiers here who have suffered terrible injuries like me, we would all tell you that if we could, we would return to serve on the front lines tomorrow.”

Israeli President Isaac Herzog (center right) and his wife (right) visit with an injured Israeli soldier. (photo: Isaac Herzog/X)

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Laura Cowan gets things done.

In 2017, when she and two other women entrepreneurs became aware of the needs of women as employees in Israel, they created the Israeli Women Entrepreneurs’ Network, which today has thousands of members.

Cowan designs high-end Judaica (Jewish ceremonial art). She trained in London as a silversmith and jewelry maker before making aliyah (immigrating to Israel).

Then, shortly after October 7th, as millions of we Israelis were still dealing with the shock of the Hamas-led massacres on the horrific Sabbath day, Cowan put together a grassroots volunteer group to assist Israeli soldiers and their families.

Part of this effort included recruiting volunteers to visit injured Israeli soldiers at Sheba Tel-HaShomer Medical Centre, about a 25-minute drive east of Tel Aviv.

Yesterday I went to Sheba with my aunt, who is visiting Israel from California; the experience was one of the most heart-wrenching of our lives.

First we stopped at a supermarket to buy $100 worth of snacks and sweets for the injured soldiers. Then, we drove to Sheba, which is practically a city within itself, sprawling with building after building, every medical specialty you could imagine. Indeed, Sheba is a top-10 medical center in the world, and where high-profile Israelis like the prime minister go to do their yearly checkups.

We drove through half of the massive complex before arriving to a geriatric rehabilitation center building, the second floor of which had been converted to accommodate injured soldiers and their loved ones.

We took the elevator up to the second floor, did not really see anyone, and then asked three of the nurses where the volunteers were. They said they did not really know, but that we were welcome to go room to room and meet with the injured soldiers, so we did.

The first young man we met was probably in his 20s, and we immediately recognized that one of his eyes was completely disjointed. There was an eyeball there but it did not move at all.

Turns out, he was not a soldier. When we introduced ourselves and offered him some snacks and sweets, he described himself in Hebrew as “an injured citizen” who lives on one of the kibbutzim (rural communities) near the Gaza Strip.

When the Hamas-led attacks began during the early morning of October 7th, this young man hurried into a safe room as rocket sirens blared across southern and central Israel. Palestinian terrorists eventually made it to this safe room, threw a grenade inside it, and this young man lost an eye and suffered other serious injuries as a result.

He has been in the hospital ever since October 7th, but was nonetheless in good spirits when we spoke with him, and very grateful that we brought him some snacks and sweets.

Then we made our way to the next room, where we met a soldier who had suffered first-degree burns on most of his body. He was lying in bed, large parts of his legs and arms covered in a tone of crimson red as his skin healed from the burns caused by an explosion.

His mother was seated next to him, and when my aunt said to him that we are so sorry that this happened to you, his mother immediately jumped up in her chair, enthusiastically, and interjected: “Sorry?! Why sorry? We are so happy that we are alive! No need to be sorry!” — as her son nodded in agreement with a modest smile.

There was also an Israeli soldier in full uniform seated on the edge of the small bed that the burned soldier was lying on. Before we understood why she was there, it seemed that she was his sister or cousin, based on the way she was interacting with the injured soldier and his mother. The “vibes” between them were incredibly warm and close-knit, including “inside jokes” we saw that they had.

In actuality, she was what is called in the IDF “an injured soldiers officer” responsible for establishing relationships with injured soldiers and their families as soon as they arrive to a hospital, and then visiting them on a regular basis for the entirety of their hospitalization.

Her story is also crazy — she was living in Cyprus on a university student exchange program and had planned to return to Israel for an ordinary visit on October 7th.

At 6:30 that morning, she boarded the flight from Cyprus to Ben Gurion Airport, right as the Hamas-led attacks began. She said that there was some vague news about something happening in Israel as she boarded the flight. But it was not totally clear so the flight took off and ended up making a few circles over Ben Gurion Airport before landing 30 minutes later than originally scheduled.

As soon as she got off the plane, she received a text message from her former commander in the army: “Hey, what are the chances that you are in Israel? I need you fast!” Needless to say, she left the student exchange program and has been in IDF reserves ever since.

While wrapping up our visit with the injured soldier, his mom, and this officer, an older man stormed into the room, quietly yelling in Hebrew: “Hummus! Shwarma! Who wants some?” He and his wife, who were also there to volunteer, brought a generous spread of food from a restaurant and were making food for the injured soldiers and their families.

As we made our way to other injured soldiers’ rooms, we saw a young injured soldier, more or less 20 years old, and his father sitting in the lobby, building a LEGO set. We had heard that it was recommended to bring LEGOs for the injured soldiers, but we did not understand why, so we approached this soldier and his father, who explained to us that intricately using your hands when playing with LEGOs helps repair hand-eye coordination and is a form of physical therapy (among others) as the soldiers recover.

Then we entered a room which had two soldiers in two different beds, with a curtain separating the two. The first soldier was injured in Gaza on Israel’s Independence Day (two weeks ago, on May 14th) during an operation in Rafah. In the room with him was his father and his IDF commander, who was in full uniform. The commander suffered light injuries during the operation, but was able to recover on his own and remained in active duty.

The commander and his injured soldier explained to us what happened during the operation — their command dogs started barking and an IED suddenly exploded — and then the commander, not the young injured soldier’s father, wheel-chaired him out of the room to one of the common areas. Because, at least by the looks of it, your brother in arms might just be a tad bit closer to you than your own father. It was a special sight to see.

In the other bed was a 20-year-old soldier named Gal who was injured in Gaza just a few days ago. He told us that his paratroopers unit’s exclusive goal is to search for and hopefully find hostages in the Strip. A day after he was injured and hospitalized, his unit inventively found four (dead) hostages — and when he told us this news, he was abundantly proud that it was his unit, his brothers, who accomplished this impressive feat.

And then he said something that shook my aunt and me to our core: “If you ask all the soldiers here who have suffered terrible injuries like me, we would all tell you that if we could, we would return to serve on the front lines tomorrow.”

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