Making a Personal Contribution to Israel's Defense

by Mark Werner

Why do thousands of people from around the world volunteer to spend their vacations on Israeli military bases?

I am the child of a Holocaust survivor. I grew up on a New Jersey chicken farm in a community made up mostly of Holocaust survivors, listening to my father’s stories of the murder of our family and of the exploits of a group of Jews who fought back. During World War II, my father led a Jewish resistance force in occupied Poland. His unit emerged from the forests at the end of the war with 400 fighters and another 400 Jews under their protection. My father’s stories gave me a unique perspective on why the survival of world Jewry is tied to the survival of Israel.

We have to support Israel – but how?

Although I had visited Israel twice, until 2001 my support was mainly financial. After the 9/11 attacks and the beginning of the second intifada I was determined to do something more personal than writing checks. I decided to use three weeks of my vacation to volunteer on an Israeli military base in a program called Sar-el, Volunteers For Israel.

I was far from alone. Each year, between 4,000 and 5,000 people make the commitment to work with the Israel Defense Forces. These volunteers from all over the globe, including a large contingent of American Jews, make an important contribution to the Israeli military. They repair equipment, pack food and medical supplies, assemble and pack combat gear, and attend to maintenance duties around the base. On one base I learned how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble the M16 rifles and Uzi submachine guns used by the base sentries.

Our presence had a powerful effect on the Israeli soldiers, who were delighted to see the support of an international army of volunteers. The boost to their morale probably outweighed the value of all the work we performed. One burly paratrooper sergeant, just back from the Second Lebanon War, said, “Seeing you volunteers here to support us is sweeter than breathing the air.”

It was a thrill for me to don Israeli army fatigues, no matter how grease- or paint-spattered they were. Living with soldiers in their barracks and eating in army mess halls was no picnic, but working together on a military base fostered a sense of camaraderie among both the soldiers and the volunteers.

I have returned every year to volunteer for two or three weeks at a time.

Living and working with the young soldiers, we heard some of their stories. Raz, a tall, broad-shouldered 19-year-old from the port city of Ashdod, talked about why he became a combat soldier. When he was 16, he happened to sit in the back of a Jerusalem bus that was blown up by a suicide bomber. The Palestinian bomber sat in the front seat, so Raz survived the bombing, but 12 people died, including two sitting three seats in front of him. Raz suffered glass cuts to his arm, which still bears the scars, and was deeply affected by seeing people torn apart in front of him. When Raz entered the army he asked to be assigned to a combat unit.

Members of a combat unit spend more time together than apart, entrusting their lives to each other and to their unit commander. The running joke is that once you join a combat unit, your unit commander becomes your mother and father and your rifle becomes your girlfriend. In fact, two months into basic training, Raz’s girlfriend dropped him because he couldn’t find time for her.

Raz proudly passed around his unit’s pin, which he received in a special ceremony at Masada. He and his friends cried when they received them.

As we got to know the new recruits, we were all struck by how young and vulnerable they were. Most are 18 to 20 years old. Without their uniforms and weapons, they easily could be mistaken for high school seniors. They kid around like teenagers, dress like teenagers, and socialize like teenagers. Many of the volunteers had children older than these youngsters. And for that reason we felt very protective toward them, even though they were the ones with the guns.

My volunteer stints happened to occur during some of the tensest times in recent Israeli history. I was working on a navy base near Haifa when the Israeli communities in the Gaza Strip were evacuated. Sitting together, the base soldiers and the volunteers watched the news as the evacuations began. The experience drove home the day’s sadness, whether you agreed with the evacuation or not. The news broadcast pictures of emotionally overwrought Gaza residents. Some wept as they were forced out of their homes, and others screamed. Some of the mothers expressed their opposition to the evacuation by sending their children to stand in front of their homes. Although the young soldiers carried out their duties like professionals, the work took an enormous toll on them. At some point many broke down in tears. The Jerusalem Post carried photos of soldiers hugging and consoling residents as they were led away, as well as pictures of visibly shaken soldiers hugging each other.

We also got to share moments of elation with the soldiers, who included native Israelis and recent immigrants from many lands. Paulina was one of the madrichot, as the soliders in charge of the volunteers were called. Three years earlier she had come to Israel from Russia. Because she came without her parents, she was in the Lone Soldier program, created to help soldiers like her without family in Israel.

At the annual Sar-el gathering, Paulina was called to the podium to receive an award. Because her parents were not there, the official handed her a cell phone so she could talk to her father. Embarrassed, standing in front of a crowd, she put the phone to her ear, spoke a few words to her father, and said, “He can’t hear me. It’s a bad connection.” The official said, “Then why not turn around?” Paulina turned around and her father walked on stage. He had never been to Israel before; the IDF secretly arranged for him to get there to watch his daughter be honored. Paulina grabbed her father, started crying, and hugged him for a long time, unwilling to let him go. There wasn’t a dry eye in the audience as she finally led him off the stage, tightly clutching his hand with both of hers.

As tough as Israelis have to be to survive in the Middle East, they are visibly appreciative for the support the volunteers have provided their soldiers. On a Friday morning visit to Jerusalem, I checked to see whether my favorite stamp store was still at the base of Ben Yehuda Street on Zion Square. Its windows had been blown out several times when the square was bombed. Mrs. Ross, the kindly old lady behind the counter, remembered me. Her daughter, standing next to her, asked me what I was doing in Israel. Skeptical about my claim that the army would allow volunteers to do serious work, she asked me exactly what I did. “Well,” I said, “yesterday I worked on rebuilding helmets used by the tank crews.” Her skepticism melted into a smile as she replied, “In that case, I give you double thanks – one from me and one from my son in the tank corps. He has never complained about your helmets.”

The volunteers received many thank-yous, but for me this was by far the sweetest.

Would I recommend this experience to others? Definitely not to everyone. But for people who do not require five-star hotels and gourmet meals, are reasonably fit, and can live like Boy Scouts, Sar-el provides an unforgettable experience. You do need patience and a sense of humor. Remember, this is an army experience, and the bureaucracy of the Israeli army is no different than the bureaucracy in other armies.

This remarkable program takes you out of your comfort zone, and it satisfies valuable needs for both Israel and the volunteers. As for me, my time on Israeli military bases has been thoroughly rewarding; it has expanded my horizons and further strengthened my connection with Israel.

In the course of making this contribution, I developed a connection to Israel that makes me feel at home whenever I am there. I also developed enduring friendships with fellow volunteers. When you work and sweat together, derive satisfaction from your efforts together, suffer inconvenience together, and laugh over it together, you build a durable connection to a community of volunteers. The common bond of experience made us feel part of a special family – a worldwide family of support for Israel.