Compassion and Empathy 

It is 2 am. The telephone rings in a Tel Aviv suburb. A young woman answers, "I am on my way." Quickly she puts on her olive-drabs, and, so as not to awaken her husband and baby, quietly steals out of the house.

The call told of a car accident in the Negev; the driver, a corporal in Zahal (Israel Defense Forces), badly hurt, brought to the nearest hospital. The young woman who answered the call is Vered, an officer in Zahal. A member of the Israel Army Department for the Stricken -- a division of a military establishment whose mission is unique in the world -- she will appear in the hospital when the parents arrive, stand by them and comfort them while the soldier is being operated on.

Elsewhere, Vered, a lanky blonde with smooth skin and an easy smile, might have become a top executive or an actress. In Israel she chose a profession which offers comfort to the stricken. Within the army framework, Major Vered and her "right hand," Second Lieutenant Tal, are together responsible for listening and bringing solace and support to some 450 bereaved families within the scope of their section -- injured, sick or disabled soldiers in localities across the country from Metulla to Eilat. The 450 are a total to date of some 17,000 fallen soldiers in Israel's existential struggles, according to Colonel Yair Ben Shalom, the head of the army department. His officers, like Vered, are in contact with most of the families.

Vered's "clients" are as varied as Israel's population, for battle and terror know no distinction. They are the grieving families of victims of war and terror and accident, or of patients lying in hospital because of illness or of auto mishaps while serving in the Israeli army -- young men and women of Ashkenazi and Sephardi background, Druze or Bedouin, veteran Israelis and new immigrants.

Zahal is there to help, to offer the bereaved families -- parents, widows, siblings -- a shoulder to cry on as well as advice and concrete help for the rest of their lives. "I do not bring the terrible news of death to the family. We have specially-trained people for that. But I am there right on Day One in the home of the bereaved, together with the commander of the fallen soldier (to whom I sometimes offer tips on how to behave), often even before the funeral. But on that occasion, I am there only with my presence and maybe to give a hug. It is usually during the shiv'a that I meet the widow or parents, sit with them in a separate room and tell them who I am and what I can do for them." During the first year, visits to the family are once or twice monthly, beginning with shiv'a and shloshim. When the investigation the army conducts into the case is concluded, she brings the family the individual report of the cause of death.

Most of the time people are glad when Vered comes. “But,” she says, “in one case, for example, I came into a room where some 50 people sat shiv'a around the mother. As I entered, in my uniform, of course, the crowd parted like the Red Sea for the Children of Israel. I approached the woman, sitting on her low stool, but when she saw me, she covered her face with both her hands and began crying loudly and hysterically. 'Get out of here, she shouted. I don't want to see any uniforms.' I refrained from reacting, just moved to the side. When, after a few minutes, she drank water and quieted down, I went to her and just held her in a tight embrace. Without a word she returned my embrace. Afterward she apologized profusely and I have since been often to visit her."

The reactions to her visits are varied. She categorizes the bereaved roughly in two groups: those who are open and want to talk constantly about their loss, about the child whom they no longer have, and those whose reaction is to clam up. “I visited one family where the woman did not stop talking about her daughter,” she relates, “while the husband kept asking about practical matters: what help does the army give for an azkara (if so desired, a rabbi and transportation); does one get a monthly compensation? (yes, for the rest of the parents' lives). Not touching on the loss itself, escaping into practicalities, was a kind of self-defense ploy on the father's part, comments Vered, who holds a BA from Bar Ilan University in psychology and criminology. There developed a conflict between the parents' different reactions, each claiming her exclusive attention, to the point that Vered asked to see and listen to each separately. When the detailed death report was brought by her, only the father would look at it. His wife did not even want its presence in the house, and the document (a concrete witness of what happened) had to be removed.

Siblings have recently been added to the army's care. If, for instance, a younger brother is about to enter military service, they see to it that he makes a soft landing. If he does not want to carry a gun, for obvious reasons, he is helped to a non-combat role.

On Yom Hazikaron, the national Remembrance Day which commemorates all fallen soldiers, and which immediately precedes Independence Day, military cemeteries are alive with ceremonies and speeches. As part of the "bridge" between the army and the bereaved part of society, Vered, and other similar such representatives from different army corps, e.g. paratroops, armored corps, military police and others, are regular participants in the ceremonies. Vered adds that, in cases where the deceased is no longer survived by any of his family, a soldier (as well as a memorial candle placed there by the army) will stand at the grave.

Just before major holidays, a bereaved family can expect a home visit or at least a phone call from one of the department's officers or from one of the scores of reserve officers trained to deal with the bereaved.

One of the ways that the Israel Army shows it cares is by offering a respite for all bereaved who want to take time off and spend it with people like themselves. Comments Vered, "Sometimes a parent is reluctant to go off on vacation because of what his neighbors or his travel companions might think, ' Their son is dead barely a year, and they are already enjoying themselves!' In this way, at our recreation place, Givat Olga, on the sea, for a very small symbolic payment, they can enjoy a quiet time, in a program prepared by our cultural committee of lectures, entertainment and handicrafts." The well-appointed, well-equipped spot (used also as a place for regular soldiers on leave) is open to families on an annual basis for four days of relaxation from March to October.

Vered usually spends Sundays in the office, planning her program for the rest of the week by computer or telephone. During the other days she calls in on homes of families and visits wounded and sick soldiers in the country's hospitals. She manages about three visits a day and that often includes hours of traveling. She also attends frequent memorial commemorations on individual anniversary days of fallen soldiers.

The Army Division, which has been operating since 1975 (as a consequence of the Yom Kippur War), works in tandem with other institutions concerned with servicemen and women, like Yad Lebanim. In addition, it deals with the problems stemming from the disappearance of soldiers and the imprisonment of Israelis in Arab hands. There is a great deal of research involved in those cases and much support to be offered to desperate waiting families.

Officers are chosen for this kind of work based on a psychological test, both written and oral, feelings of empathy, a strong psyche, organizational and management skills and the ability to work independently. The army has a school offering courses on loss and bereavement. "All of us dealing with the bereaved meet once every two weeks, and for two hours we listen to one another and discuss our cases,” notes Vered. “In this way, I have a ‘telephone friend’ with whom I can consult any day or night about a difficult case. I do not want to burden my husband.”

Some families leave the room of the departed intact, untouched, just as it was on the last day their child occupied it. (In one case, a towel was hanging on the door, flung by the hurrying soldier; the same towel has been left hanging, and when the family moved, it was hung on a door of an unoccupied room in the new flat). Another woman added a separate dwelling to her house, named it for her dead daughter and makes it "alive" by using it as her art studio, painting her pictures there during the day and often having her grandchildren sleep in it at night. Elsewhere, the mutual loss of one couple, divorced before their tragedy, actually brought the bereaved parents together again.

All the families want to remember and have others remember their lost son or daughter. They find various ways to preserve the memory: a sefer torah presented to a synagogue, tzedakah given in memorium, a biographical booklet, a picture album, a record of music set to his or her poems, an annual outing by friends to the places he or she loved, a day of sports in his or her school, a mini-marathon with people dressed in t-shirts carrying the soldier's name, a motorcycle procession from the home to where he or she was killed, a scholarship given in his or her name. For a boy who was an enthusiastic diver, there is even an underwater sculpture in the Red Sea off Eilat for present and future divers to see and admire – and remember.

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