This is Israel—these are the people I live with: children who grow into soldiers and adults who once were soldiers themselves. I want to understand what becomes of these children, and what turns the adults around me into who they are. This snapshot provides a glimpse.
I drive down to an improvised IDF camp in southern Israel to visit my cousin. He is stationed there, and I’m giving his girlfriend, who’s traveling from Jerusalem, a lift from Tel Aviv. The temperature is soaring at 34 degrees Celsius (93°F), even as the sun begins to dip at 5:30 p.m.
The camp feels like a summer camp or a Scouts retreat. There are soldiers lounging under trees or green mesh tarps, talking, eating, and recharging. Parents proudly watch their children while, in the background, followers of Rabbi Nachman of Uman distribute popsicles to passing cars, blaring techno music. A man in flowing robes wanders the camp blowing a shofar.
I ask around about my cousin, and a soldier points us to a clearing where groups of soldiers are lounging on yoga mats. It looks more like a relaxed hangout than a military camp. Some soldiers are still awake, chatting and resting. Others playfully poke fun at each other, stretching, pulling equipment into rucksacks, or fiddling with gadgets. One soldier shows off an energy drink, while the rest eye it hungrily.
The sound of booms punctuates the atmosphere, but the soldiers, lounging in their heavy gear, appear unbothered. The smell of deodorant and the hum of conversation fill the air. Some soldiers wrestle or collect garbage; others settle down, rest, or nibble on Yemenite jachnun—typical downtime in Israel’s armed forces.
At the same time, there’s an undercurrent of deep seriousness. A soldier tells me, “We are doing a lot of damage there. We may be making it worse. But one week ago, they were shooting at us.” He speaks about the ongoing conflict and his ambivalence. “Every day that goes by – I’m different,” he says quietly, hinting at the heavy emotional toll the war has taken.
Across from me, a pair of soldiers—one with deep tan skin and blue eyes—are lying on the ground, in a quiet moment of respite. One is lying on his back, his head resting in the lap of the other. The soldier in his lap softly strokes his hair, a small gesture in the midst of the chaos, revealing the personal bonds that form even in the most challenging of circumstances.
In these moments of calm amidst the chaos of war, the soldiers appear as men caught between the innocence of youth and the harsh realities of conflict. Yet, their shared experiences of violence, loss, and resilience shape them into a new identity that they may never fully escape, even when peace seems a distant hope.
