A New Year, a New Me – Wounded Soldiers on the Path to Recovery

When the Swords of Iron War broke out, Lieutenant I., a 21-year-old in the IDF’s 7th Armored Brigade, had just completed his officers’ course. Along with his fellow graduates, he was immediately called into active duty. What followed was a ten month deployment and intense fighting.

It was a morning like any other in the outpost near Khan Yunis. No major operations were planned. I., like any commander, was preparing his soldiers for the day ahead.

From over 400 yards away, a sniper fired a .50-caliber sniper round. The massive bullet tore through the right thigh of one of I.’s soldiers, then exited and struck I. in the left leg, just below the knee.

“My first thought when it happened was just confusion. Did I just get shot?” I. recalls. “My second thought, when I looked down - phew, it’s just my leg. Then it was all about my soldiers. I was in total operational mode. I’m an officer, these are my soldiers, and I need to make sure they’re gonna be okay.”

Despite the pain, I. was conscious and alert. As his soldiers rushed to treat their injured comrade, he tied a tourniquet around his own leg. But the danger wasn’t over. More shots rang out, forcing him to drag himself behind a nearby tank for cover, where he continued administering self-aid.

After 45 harrowing minutes, both I. and his soldier were evacuated to Hadassah Ein Kerem Hospital in critical condition.

“When you get shot, your body can’t process it. The shock makes your entire body feel like it’s in pain.”

The sniper attack was, at first, shrouded in confusion. The soldiers couldn’t locate the shooter and even considered the possibility of friendly fire, since it is rare for Hamas operatives to use such high-caliber weaponry.

Two days later, the truth surfaced. Hamas had filmed the attack and released it as a propaganda video, falsely claiming they had killed two Israeli soldiers. I.’s unit saw the video and immediately recognized the scene. What the footage didn’t show was the truth. Hamas failed, and both men survived.

I.’s injuries were extensive. A two-hour emergency surgery saved his leg. “It was a miracle. One inch higher, and I would’ve lost my leg entirely.”

He spent the next five months as an inpatient, confined to a wheelchair. “At first, I couldn’t even lower my leg from the 90-degree angle it was held in. The pain was too much.”

The recovery was grueling. Multiple surgeries followed: The first to remove the bullet and stabilize the leg, the second and third to treat a persistent bone infection, and the fourth to finally tackle the remaining infection and address nerve pain.

Setbacks were frequent. Before the third surgery, I. had begun to put weight back on his leg and progress in walking, but when the doctors discovered the infection was still present and had to perform another surgery, they told him it would send him back a few months in his rehabilitation. 

“That was really hard. I had worked so hard to get to that stage of almost walking.”

I. has now been in daily rehabilitation for almost a year. He no longer has feeling in most of his leg. I. underwent what is hopefully his final surgery. He is expected to be discharged from rehab at the end of the month, though he remains cautiously optimistic.

“With these injuries, you learn not to trust that it’s really the last time. You hope, but you just never know.”

I. learned to set goals for himself to push him through his rehabilitation. One of those was walking down the aisle at his wedding. He was injured just three months before his planned wedding, which he was forced to postpone after the attack.

“The wedding became my mission. I needed to be able to walk towards my wife under the chuppah. That kept me going.” The couple waited until he could walk down the aisle and dance with his bride. And he did.

He also found strength in his community, connecting with fellow wounded soldiers. They formed a tight bond, often using dark humor to cope. “We laugh at each other. One’s missing a leg, another’s missing an arm. It’s dark, but it’s jokes at the end of the day. We pick one another up.”

“This war has been a tipping point for soldiers in rehabilitation,” I. says. “Soldiers who fought in wars decades ago have started speaking about their PTSD and rehab journeys, we’re being recognized more and more these days, which is so important.”

He’s also been inspired to help others, planning to become a clinical psychologist, to help as many people struggling with PTSD as he can. “I always thought about it, but after my experience, it assured me this is what I need to do.”

“You mostly hear about those who fall, and of course, that’s vital. But there are twice as many soldiers who are injured, physically, emotionally, and they matter too. Sharing my story helps me process it and raise awareness.”

He still lives with pain. But he has hope. Before his injury, I. had been climbing for two years and training in martial arts for ten. “I still can’t run or jump or walk very far. It hurts 24/7. But I have hope I’ll get back to it.”

Ahead of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, I. is reflective. “I’m just grateful to be alive this year. Unfortunately, that’s not a given for everyone in these times.”

He mentions an important message he has discovered this year. “I’ve learned to accept whatever comes my way. I was told at first it's only gonna take me six months to recover, yet here I am, over a year later and still awaiting another surgery, so you can’t have too many expectations.”

“But that’s okay, it's part of recovery. You gotta find the good in these situations, find ways to benefit. I do talks and raise awareness about something I’m so passionate about, and I wouldn’t have been privileged to do that if I wasn’t in this specific situation now.”

His resolutions are simple, but powerful: “To make more of an impact, raise more awareness for us Israelis in this war.” He also thinks about how far he’s come and how far he has yet to go.

“To myself last Rosh Hashanah, I’d say, hang on, it’s going to be okay. To myself next Rosh Hashanah, I want to say remember how bad you felt, and how good you are now. Always keep that in mind - it’ll remind you to stay optimistic and keep pushing.”

For Lieutenant I., survival isn’t just about staying alive, it’s about finding purpose, staying connected, and lifting others along the way. He plans on returning to reserve duty when he is able, saying he was “lucky enough to serve during such a meaningful time.”