300 Days in Uniform: A Father’s Reflection on His Sons’ Service

The past week has brought yet another chapter in the saga of sacrifice and resilience that defines this nation. My two sons are both carving their own path in life. One is pursuing dual degrees at Hebrew University. The other is a rabbi at a yeshiva in Acco, husband to a devoted wife, and father to five young children. They have both been called up for their fourth round of reserve duty since the Massacre of October 7, 2023. For 90 days, they will don their uniforms, shoulder their rifles, and step into the breach once more, joining the ranks of thousands of others who embody the unbreakable spirit of Israel. One will be leading an infantry platoon, and the other will be serving in the Operations Room. By the end of this tour, they will have served over 300 days in uniform since that dark day when the nation was shaken to its core. Yet, despite the weight of this burden, their resolve remains unshaken, their morale sky-high, and their conviction absolute: This is a just war, one we must win.

The Israeli media, with its penchant for narratives that all too often stray from the ground truth, might suggest otherwise, painting a picture of reservist fatigue and low turnout. An article in Haaretz claims that prolonged service has led to declining morale among reservists. Similarly, a Ynet report highlighted cases of reservists suffering from “burnout,” struggling to report due to economic pressures. But my sons tell a different story, one rooted in the reality of their units. Nearly 100% of their comrades reported for duty, answering the call without hesitation. This is not a statistic; it is a testament to the soul of a nation that refuses to bow. These are not conscripts dragged unwillingly from their lives; they are scholars, professionals, fathers, and sons who understand what is at stake. They are the embodiment of a people who, time and again, have faced existential threats and emerged stronger.

The Israel Defense Forces (IDF), acutely aware of the toll that prolonged service takes on its reservists, has shown remarkable foresight in balancing the demands of duty with the needs of civilian life. My sons’ schedules – seven days on, seven days off – reflect a military that values its people as much as its mission. This flexibility allows my son, the student, to keep pace with his studies at Hebrew University, attending lectures and submitting assignments during his days off. For my rabbi son, it means time to guide his yeshiva students, to be a husband, and to tuck his children into bed. These are not mere conveniences; they are lifelines that tether these men to the lives they are fighting to protect. The IDF’s approach ensures that its reservists can serve without sacrificing their futures, a pragmatic recognition that a soldier’s strength is drawn not only from training but from the family and community waiting at home.

Their missions, too, are tailored with precision, designed to maximize personal time while maintaining the ironclad security that Israel demands. This is no small feat in a war where every moment carries the weight of survival. Yet, the IDF’s ability to adapt reflects a deeper truth: Israel’s military is not just a fighting force but a reflection of its people – resilient, innovative, and fiercely committed to both the present and the future. My sons describe their tasks with a clarity that cuts through the fog of war: patrols, checkpoints, and operations that secure the nation while allowing them to return to their families with their sense of purpose intact.

What shines through most, however, is their morale. In the face of 300 days of service, with the end of this war still far from certain, my sons and their comrades remain steadfast. They speak not of exhaustion but of conviction, not of doubt but of clarity. “This is a just war,” my rabbi son told me, his voice steady with the weight of his responsibilities as a spiritual leader to young men who will soon be serving in the IDF themselves. “We are fighting for our home, for our children, for our right to exist.” My student son, ever the analyst, echoes this sentiment, framing the conflict in terms of history and survival: “Every generation has its fight. This is ours, and we will win it.” Their words are not bravado but a quiet, unshakable belief in the righteousness of their cause.

This conviction is the bedrock of Israel’s strength. It is why, despite the challenges, Israel will emerge victorious. The resilience of its people – students, rabbis, parents, professionals – fuels a nation that has faced relentless threats since its founding. The war that began on October 7 was a brutal reminder of the cost of a Jewish State, but it also revealed the depth of Israel’s resolve. My sons, like so many others, carry the weight of this moment not as a burden but as a badge of honor. They are part of a generation that understands the stakes, that knows the price of complacency, and that refuses to yield.

As I reflect on their service, I am reminded of the words of David Ben-Gurion:

My sons, and the thousands like them, are the embodiment of that miracle, a nation of ordinary people doing extraordinary things as they return to the land of their forefathers. They study, they teach, they raise families, and they fight, all with the same unwavering commitment. Their story is Israel’s story: one of sacrifice, resilience, and an unyielding belief in a future worth fighting for. As my sons march into their fourth round of duty, I know that their spirit, and the spirit of this nation, will carry us to victory.

Good things,

Ari Sacher