The IDF: Nobody sings for us

On a drizzly, misty night, during my volunteer work mission to Israel, the dichotomy of the true essence of Judaism and Israel, juxtaposed against the global slander and defamation heaped upon the country, filled me with immense pride and deep despair.

We had started the day in the Negev, at Kibbutz Kevlar. Founded in 1943, ten pioneers, without water or any basics, started a community that now consists of over 400 people, a high school, and various economic activities. However, the community, situated very close to the border with Gaza, was one of many evacuated for safety after the Hamas massacres of October 7. My group’s project was to take advantage of the safety-related evacuation and to repaint and decorate the first community center, built many decades ago. Miraculously, we completed our painting in a little over three hours — and added some artistic touches.

Oddly, while we could hear the remains of fired rockets, and with the knowledge we were near the original massacre sites, none of us were fearful. As inane as it would assuredly appear, we all felt protected by an invisible force. 

From the kibbutz, we journeyed by bus to the Soroka Hospital in Beersheba (the largest city in the Negev), where we heard how the staff there processed and treated, on a chaotic October 8th — the day after Hamas’ bestial attacks — an emergency patient every 39 seconds! They accomplished this amazing feat by receiving one year’s worth of blood donations in a day, and with dedicated staff who worked for over 62 days straight without a break.

Afterwards, as night descended, we headed to the canteen of the “A” Team. A makeshift sort of open-air center, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, funded by Israeli taxpayers and the JNF. There, soldiers and officers can shower, have hot meals, pick up casual street clothes, and jam.

The ramshackle mismatched displays of foodstuffs and clothing looked like something out of an old war movie — vintage Coke mini fridges, steam ovens, and huge tin foil-covered food warmers.

In the midst of all the activity, with used cars and army vehicles streaming in and out, a group of obviously young people with disabilities provided the music to warm up the crowd. A diminutive female lead singer, reminiscent of Janis Joplin, led the band. These entertainers are called “Special in Uniform.” The “A Team’s” members with disabilities are actually members of the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF).

The Special in Uniform band members proudly wear their IDF uniforms and perform in them. IDF soldiers celebrate them and give them a feeling of inclusion, importance, and appreciation.

The IDF is comprised of Israel’s Army, Air Force, and Navy. Unlike here in America, where most Americans are far removed from its military, Israelis enjoy a far more interactive and immediate relationship with their military. Everyone, with a few religious exemptions, must serve. Israelis know the names of brave IDF leaders.

Following the Special in Uniform performance, a professional IDF duo — a male singer and horn player — took the makeshift stage. They had come to celebrate the Special in Uniform lead singer’s birthday. After serenading her, they became serious. They talked about the song: We are the world. 

They reminded the crowd, without self-pity, that “We are the World” was sung by international stars for other nations to find peace. But nobody was singing “We are the World” for Israel. So since nobody else was singing the song for Israel, they would sing it for themselves.

Image: Lynne Lechter