On July 20, 2014, shortly after 7 a.m., there was a knock on the door of Stuart and Evie Steinberg's home in the Woodland Hills neighborhood of Los Angeles. They had no idea who would come to see them so early in the morning.
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"Evie opened the door, and I stood behind her. There were three men there, who identified themselves as representatives from the Israeli consulate. We didn't connect it to our son, because we were never in contact with any Israeli officials regarding his military service. Nor did we know that this was how the message is delivered. They said Max was killed in Gaza. We were shocked."
The late Sgt. Max Steinberg, a Golani Brigade fighter, was killed on the fourth day of the ground attack in Operation Protective Edge. He was in a clash in the Shujaiyya neighborhood in eastern Gaza, which saw an anti-tank missile hit an APC. He was 24 at the time. With him were Sgt. Oren Simcha Noah, Sgt. Daniel Pomerantz, Sgt. Oron Shaul, Sgt. Shachar Taaseh, Sergeant Ben Yitzhak Vanunu and Sgt. Sean Mondschein, who were also killed.
"It may be naivety or a lack of familiarity with the military, but we never imagined the possibility that he could be killed," Stewart says. "It wasn't even an obvious fear that crossed our minds. We knew that he was serving in the IDF for a year and a half on a tourist visa in Israel as someone who had not made aliyah, and we were glad that he was going through an experience that changed his life and that he wanted so much.
"Three months before the incident, he came to visit. We were amazed by the impressive change he went through, what a man he became, full of confidence, maturity and sensitivity. This is my last memory of him that I keep. Of us all together, the whole family, peaceful."
Max was buried on Mount Herzl, at a funeral attended by 30,000 people. When Evie and Stuart returned to the United States, they decided to strengthen ties with Israel. Stuart began volunteering at the Families of Lone Soldiers (FLS) organization, which was established in 2014 to support lone soldiers' parents. In 2015 he became the head of the association and then expanded its activities to build a community of families and assist them in maintaining contact with the IDF.
"Our story illustrates the need for such an organization, which will work for the families here," he says. "Before that knock on the door, we were completely cut off from Israel. It was a wake-up call. A situation like that must not happen again in which a family whose son serves in the IDF receives such terrible news, without having any contact with Israel or with the appropriate officials.
"We didn't take Max's service seriously enough. We were not there at ceremonies, nor did we witness with our own eyes his achievements while in uniform. We learned ourselves that it should not be like this, and we're trying to share the lessons we learned."
Max was born in 1989, the eldest son of Stuart and Evie. He has two siblings – Jake, 30, and Page, 28. "We are a secular Jewish family, but we held a special joint bar mitzvah ceremony for the two boys, who read the Torah together when Jake was 13 and Max was 15," says Stuart. "We also celebrated a bat mitzvah for Page."
The three children first visited Israel in June 2012, as part of the Taglit Birthright project. Then 22-year-old Max was the last to decide to join the journey, after Jake and Page had already signed up. At the end of the trip, Max and Page decided to stay in the country for another 10 days. When they returned home, Max was already determined to return to Israel and serve in the IDF.
Stewart: "We were very surprised, but we supported him from the first moment. His dream was to serve in Golani. During the trip with Taglit, he met soldiers who served in the brigade, but when he arrived at the induction center, he was not allowed to enlist in Golani because he did not know Hebrew well enough, and he refused to take an alternative placement. In the end, they delayed his recruitment by a month to improve his Hebrew, and he returned home and went to ulpan. During this time he also underwent abdominal hernia surgery. All of these things delayed his enlistment. Otherwise, he would have finished 18 months of service even before Operation Protective Edge. "
Max returned to Israel and enlisted in the 13th Golani Regiment. "He was older than his commanders, and of course other soldiers. He was also mature, and streetwise. He always knew how to get along and solve problems easily. It was part of his character."
Q: When did you last speak?
"The night before he was killed. I knew he was going to enter Gaza, and how determined he was and believed in the mission. The day before they went into action he was lightly injured in the back and ankle in an APC accident, and in fact he didn't have to go into battle. There were other soldiers who could fill his place. But that wasn't Max. He told us on the phone that there were some who came out more bruised from the same accident and were still going in, and that he had to be with his friends.
"As soon as we were informed that he had been killed, we wanted to fly his body to Los Angeles. But then the then consul, David Siegel, came to our house and talked to us about the value of burying a soldier in Israel. We learned from him about the respect for the fallen and about the entire system of support and commemoration in memorials and memorial days. In the US, Memorial Day for Americans who have fallen in the defense of the homeland is mostly a festive weekend of barbecue parties.
"A few hours after we talked to the consul, we decided that Max would be buried in Israel. The next day we were already on a plane to Israel. By his very choice to serve in the IDF, Max made the decision for us, and all we had left was to respect his path."
A large number of those present at the funeral did not know Max, but came to pay their last respects to the lone soldier. "I remember the warm weather and the smell of the pine wood from which the coffin was made, I will never forget it," Steinberg says emotionally. "We were introduced to the soldiers who carried his coffin, and it was a difficult situation. When we walked to the grave I saw more fresh graves of soldiers killed, and everywhere we went, there were people who accompanied us. I am proud of the courage we found, as a family from another country, who found themselves in this funeral procession and was required to share their intimate feelings of grief with others."
The family sat shiva in a hall at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Jerusalem, and alongside the thousands of Israelis who came to express their condolences were the then president, the late Shimon Peres, the wife of the Prime Minister, Sara Netanyahu, then-US Secretary of State John Kerry, and Miriam Peretz, who lost two of her sons, Uriel and Eliraz.
"Two years ago, we took up an IDF invitation, and we went to Poland to take part in the March of the Living. We received a Torah scroll with Max's name, and it was an extraordinary moment, to understand this thing that Israel continues to fight for after so many years. It was also the last time we were in the country, when we went up to his grave. Last year we didn't come because of the closed skies. But we learned the importance of commemoration, it was a lesson for us. We were embraced by the Israeli community in Los Angeles, and we felt that Max's testament was to preserve his heritage and the values that characterized him. "
According to data from the Families of Lone Soldiers organization, close to 3,000 lone soldiers whose families live abroad enlist in the IDF every year. Some make aliyah before their service, others serve as tourists. Almost half of them come from North America, sons of Israeli families abroad or American Jewish families with an affinity for the Holy Land.
In the United States, there are several organizations for lone soldiers. The most prominent of these is the Friends of the IDF organization, which raises tens of millions of dollars every year, donates to the IDF and runs ancillary organizations that focus on lone soldiers as a way to encourage aliyah. In Israel, too, there is assistance for lone soldiers – but families abroad are usually not included in this type of activity.
Unlike most of these organizations, the one headed by Stewart operates under the radar, and the news about it mostly spreads by word of mouth. "The association was founded by Eli Pitlovich, whose son and daughter served in the IDF, and Dr. Larry Platt, an American Jew whose son served in the IDF. I only knew them following Max's death, when they came to our house and asked who our military contacts were. We replied frankly that we did not know anyone.
"Together, we decided that we need to create an infrastructure that can help with a variety of issues – from simply explaining how things are going, to contacting the IDF in emergencies, and also offering a sympathetic ear in times of crisis.
"Still, there are challenges in reaching certain commanders and soldiers. It is true that the IDF maintains privacy, and treats soldiers as adults, and I respect that. But there's a need to change procedures so that they help more families who are far away abroad and are concerned about their children. Ultimately, our children live alone in another country, without a family by their side, and for us, the most important thing is to take care of their well-being.
"Recently, we have also been working on increasing our presence on social media, so that they can find us. So the families will see that they are not alone in the story."
Q: What type of requests do you get?
"There are soldiers who fail to get medical attention for small procedures like an appointment with a specialist, things that take time; there are soldiers who need psychological help because of crises, and there are all kinds of bureaucratic matters. We help them via members of our association, two of whom are in Israel, or through Larry, a doctor who also has connections. "
Q: Do you help families financially?
"We have money from donations, but we do not fund or distribute funds. There are some families who help us in some cases and donate on an on-the-spot basis, when we raise issues that involve financial costs. But that is not a major part of the association's activities."
I meet Stuart with a group of parents whose sons are serving or served in the IDF, at the home of Galit and Eyal Dahan. Both are 46, moved here as children with their families, grew up in Los Angeles and married in the city. They have five children: Joseph, 21, who is studying real estate at the University of Southern California; Daniel, 19, who serves in the paratroopers; Nathaniel, 17, who will enlist in August and also wants to get into the paratrooper commando unit; Linda, 14, and Eden, 10. The children attend Jewish schools, and the boys wear kippas. At home they speak Hebrew and English, and the family visits their relatives in Israel every summer.
"I have a video from one of the visits to Israel, when the children were still little, and we went to Galit's mother's grave in Herzliya," says Eyal. "As we passed the military plot, Daniel and our eldest son, Joseph, saluted the graves. I incorporated this segment in a video we prepared for Daniel's Bar Mitzvah.
"In the 11th grade, Daniel went with his high school on a trip to the death camps in Poland, and when he returned, he started talking about enlisting in the IDF. We thought he was just being enthusiastic, and that he would get over it. Until one day we received in the mail forms he filled out online for the Ministry of Defense's Mahal [foreign volunteers] program, without our knowledge. We talked to him, and we saw in his eyes that he was determined. But he still wanted our blessing.
"I admit that we were not in favor. We wanted him close to home. He insisted that was what he wanted, until we were convinced. It was selfish to prevent him from fulfilling his dream.
"He flew to Israel before being drafting, and even paid from his own pocket for combat fitness training. He was accepted to try out for the General Staff commando unit, but the dates were delayed last year because of the pandemic, so he went to the paratroopers. Now he is debating whether to become an officer. I obviously want him here by my side, but I will support him in any decision he makes. He does it from his soul. In retrospect, I hope all my children enlist. I see how much his vision has changed, he has matured, learned a lot.
"Just as Americans send the boy to college, we send the boy to the IDF. Galit accompanied him to the induction center. But unlike college, we don't hear anything from the IDF. At least from a college we get payment demands or tuition receipts. I felt as if I had dropped the boy off at the induction center and told him: 'Bon voyage, see you in three years'.
"Over the last year, during the pandemic, I'm actually very happy that he's in Israel. If he was here, he would probably just be stuck at home, spending time playing Fortnight and eating junk food. Daniel is a survivor, he knows how to manage, and in the army he thrives."
Q: Are there any crises?
"Of course. At the end of the day, the kids enlist at the peak of their motivation, but there are those who get slapped in the face by reality after a few months. They begin to understand where they are, and what an army really is. That is their first crisis point."
The parents mention the tragedy of the late Sgt. Michaela (Mika) Levitt, a member of an Israeli family from Miami, who took her own life in May 2019 when she was 20 – just six months after enlisting in the infantry combat school.
"The IDF has a lot of good professionals, the problem is at the lower levels of the young commanders, who do not understand how sensitive the situation is, and continue to push soldiers to the limit," says Ziv Canon, 53, a prominent activist whose son Niv completed service in the Nahal brigade a year and a half ago and returned to the US.
Canon, a native of Holon, moved to the United States in the early 1990s, after serving in the Intelligence Branch. Here he married Dorit, who came to the country as a child with her family, and set up a lighting business. Although his own private soldier has finished his service, he continues to be active in the association and in helping local families or lone soldiers in Israel, who contact him.
"The Levitt family lived in Los Angeles before moving to Miami, and I remember Mika as a smiling and kind-hearted girl. After her suicide, I visited Israel and talked to my military contact. I explained that our children think differently from the Sabras, that they don't always have the ability to withstand stress and have the same survivability as many in the country have.
"The children here grow up quietly, introverted, it is impossible to know when they are suffering or sinking into depression. And we, the Israeli parents, know both types of mentality. We recognize the difference. I said to the officers: 'Think as though you are sending your children to the Japanese army.' After all, they'll be outsiders there, they will not know the culture, the food, they will get lost. That's how it is for the lone soldiers.
"I think Mika's case has affected the military. In the last two years they have been more sensitive and cautious with lone soldiers, there is more awareness of their mental distress. I would still like more attention to soldiers from their commanders themselves. For example, let them know they should be allowed to leave earlier on weekends. Because a lone soldier has to take care of himself, there is no one waiting for him at home and cooking for him or doing laundry for him.
"There is also the issue of health insurance. Many families stop their son's insurance as soon as he begins serving in the IDF, and then, when he returns home for vacation, he has to be insured again for the short time he is in the United States. I would be happy to establish cooperation with an Israeli insurance company that will help us solve this problem.
"And I also want there to be an orderly framework for teens who live in the US and are planning to enlist. Prepare them already from here, because they do not receive a first draft notice, as in Israel. More preparatory work needs to be done with them, so that they will clearly understand what they are getting into.
"I have an idea for the IDF, of a 'big brother' for every lone soldier from the day he enlists - who is also a lone soldier from the same country, with a little more experience. Someone who will be available for him, meet with him, call every Friday to see that everything is fine, hear in his voice how he is, maybe he is in bad shape. Someone who will come to the swearing-in ceremony if the parents do not come from abroad. He may even visit the family of his 'trainee' when he himself comes to visit the United States.
"The military will never reach such a level of closeness with the family. And for the families it can mean the whole world. I promise you they will remember each other their whole lives."
Meir Abutbul, 52, a native of Kiryat Gat, moved to Los Angeles after serving in Golani. He works in graphics and printing. His son Noam, 20, enlisted in the IDF two years ago and serves in the armored forces.
"More than a desire to enlist, Noam knew what he didn't want to do: go to college," says the father. "He wanted a break from school. So we sent him to a pre-military preparatory school in Israel, to see if it suited him.
"True, we visit Israel every year, we have family and friends, and here he was in the Scouts and in a Jewish group for teenagers linked to our synagogue. But even after the preparatory program, he still hesitated and asked me my opinion. I told him: 'Serving in the army is the best mistake you can ever make.' My daughter, Shira, 18, will not follow in his footsteps. She wants to continue studying here."
Q: Do you believe Noam will return to the US?
"On his previous visit to the US he said this is his home. That with his friends here, he does not have to think before he begins to speak, because he knows the language. I'm sure he will return to live here after the army. "
Niv, Ziv's son, says that what made him enlist was his early acquaintance with Israel and the army. "When you grow up in a big American city in a good socio-economic situation, the default after high school is to go to college. But when you are from an Israeli family, you visit the country throughout childhood, and military service comes up as an option for you.
"I was a scout leader in Los Angeles and grew up with guys bigger than me, who traveled to Israel to enlist. You see pictures of them with weapons, and you realize that something different can be done than what most young people here do, and through it also contribute to society. If you're already enlisting, you only want combat. I went through basic and advanced training of the Nahal brigade, then I served on the Lebanese border, and then I took a platoon leader course. Throughout the service, I was a marksman. "
Q: Was the service difficult?
"Before I enlisted, I thought the difficulties would be physical, the treks and the exercises. But in the end, you realize that 90 percent of the time, the difficulty is social. You fight and live with 30 other men your age that you don't know. You have to think as part of a group, take care of the brother next to you. Many Americans do not have that character.
"The first thing to understand is that none of us is special. That when we succeed and get a compliment, it's a bonus, not something you are promised. We are all equal, and there is no reason to develop expectations of preferential treatment. There are lone soldiers who think they deserve more -- that's a mistake I've seen made. Whoever thinks he is better than others just because he came to the army by himself deserves to be put in his place."
Q: Did you feel like you belonged?
"In the pre-military preparatory course I did in Jerusalem for a month and a half, we were three guys from Los Angeles out of a group of 40, and we had the strongest connection to Israel. We understood Hebrew, the culture was not foreign to us. I met guys from the USA, France, Britain and other places, and there were those who had no idea about Israel."
Q: And despite everything, you came back to the US after completing your service.
"During the service, I thought of staying in Israel because I was considering doing the officer's course. But in the end, I decided to go back to my parents and start working in real estate."
Q: Do you miss Israel?
"I miss hummus and shawarma, but mostly the people. Everything is direct, real and without pretense and filters. When you talk to someone, what you see is what you get. You don't find that anywhere else."
Over a tray of pastries and slices of watermelon, the mothers tell of cases in which "angels," as they call them, helped their sons in Israel. A service representative from a cellular company personally delivered a SIM card to Daniel Dahan at his base, so that he could activate his smartphone after two weeks of being disconnected from the family. Noam Abutbul received financial assistance in purchasing a plane ticket home, and was able to be reunited with his family on Seder night, after not seeing them for more than a year due to pandemic restrictions. And Niv Canon received furniture for the apartment where he lived in Israel during his service - all thanks to a Facebook post.
"A year and a half ago, I visited Israel and met with IDF officials," says Ziv. "I explained to them the importance of strengthening ties with the families from the day the lone soldier enlists. There is not even a leaflet for them with a basic explanation in the language they speak.
"This is something that parents in Israel do not need, because everything is close and familiar, their soldier is two to three hours away from them. Families abroad need more - to understand where their children are actually going, who to contact in case of emergency. These are basic things. For example, they could send an encouraging message to the families of the lone soldiers ahead of Passover. This is not done."
Meanwhile, the soldiers and families continue to find Ziv by themselves. "They reach my phone number, send a message on Facebook. The most important thing I do is listen to them. Most of them speak Hebrew mixed in English, 'My mefaked told me I can not go to a special' [a vacation with family abroad]. I contact my liaison officer in the military, and she takes care of it, until there is a satisfactory answer.
"We are 12 people on the association's board, and they are all busy people, but there is no such thing as no time to speak. I am always there for them. Even during Israeli working hours there will always be someone available for them. We just want them to return home safely."
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