This tragedy is almost impossible to digest. "In the end, he died from a nut allergy, from f***ing halva with nuts from the market," says Max Carmeli, 25, a close friend of the late Jordan Cooper, who fought alongside him in the IDF. "He was the strongest person I knew. He outlifted the best fighters in the Sayeret Matkal and the naval commandos, wasn't afraid of anything, led dangerous missions – and fell in the most unnecessary death imaginable."
Max isn't exaggerating at all. Cooper, who lost his life at just 25 years old, survived numerous daring operations, some classified, in the IDF, as well as fierce fighting alongside Ukrainians against the Russians. During his service, he escaped missiles, mines, and heavy bombardments, and even whizzing bullets couldn't touch him. He looked death in the eye, fearlessly, and always prevailed.
His story didn't leave Israelis indifferent. Thousands came last week to pay their final respects at the funeral, after his family – who could not make it to Israel due to flight cancellations – feared he would be buried alone. Many others, who didn't know Jordan in life, visited the family to offer comfort.
His parents, Ross, 65, and Marla ,64, say their son was a "fighter for the Jewish people" and that even as a young child in the United States, he dreamed of serving and protecting the State of Israel. Now they are heartbroken, struggling to understand how their hero son passed away in such circumstances, just as they had arrived to spend time with him in Israel.
"He always knew what to say to us, even in the midst of combat days," Ross said, "He always found something funny to tell us and gave us a feeling that everything was okay. We feel that now, after Jordan passed away, all of Israel is with us, and it really warms our hearts."
The most combat-ready there is
The scene is very unusual. Marla and Ross are sitting shiva in an apartment they rented on Geula St. in Tel Aviv. They came to visit their son along with his brother Ethan, 23, and 94-year-old grandfather Jerry. Until the tragedy struck, they had been on tours in the scorching August sun and enjoyed some rare family days. Now they are dressed in black, their faces downcast, and they present to the comforters the beautiful book they had prepared for Jordan while he was still alive, after his release from regular service.
Countless comforters arrive at the apartment, people they don't know. Strangers who heard about the family's appeal to attend the funeral and pay their last respects, and came by the thousands. One of them, for example, brought cooked food that would last a week. Others bring refreshments and drinks. A soldier who served with him cuts watermelon, others clear the table.
Marla recounts that Jordan knew from a very young age what he wanted to do when he grew up. "He always wanted to be a soldier, a Maccabee, a fighter for the Jewish people," she says, "We thought it was a cute childhood fantasy and that it would pass."
Ross nods with a sad smile from the nearby couch. "I read him passages from military history books before bedtime," he recalls, "That was the only way he would calm down and go to sleep. I told him about Israel's wars and World War II. It fascinated him and filled him with a sense of purpose."
"You have to understand," says Marla, "he didn't grow up in a military home, there were no weapons in the house. What he got from us was the immense love for the State of Israel and the desire to protect it and ensure its future."
His parents recount that as a child, Jordan used to attend Zionist summer camps in Pennsylvania where he grew up, and that one of the members of the Jewish community there enlisted in the IDF, became a fighter, and fell in the Second Lebanon War. As a result, the American soldier became Jordan's idol, and "he would read everything he could about him," they say.
At 17, the parents recount, Jordan announced to them that he wanted to move to Israel and enlist in the army. Ross explains that he tried to change his son's mind because it didn't seem like an integral part of an American teenager's life, but Jordan was determined.
At 18, he came to Israel through the Masa program, and here, in Kibbutz Mishmar HaSharon in the Hefer Valley, he met Max, who also came from the US. Two young Americans, 18 at the time, who came to experience Israel through agricultural work.
"We worked in the kibbutz's landscaping. We were a group of Americans, French, and South Americans and stayed there for a month, during which we also took trips around the country," Carmeli recalls, adding that Jordan told him he was planning to fly back to the US, study for a year in college, and then move to Israel.
Ross and Marla recount that Jordan promised them that he would try studying for a year in college before enlisting in the IDF. They hoped that the good life there would draw their son in and that he would abandon his idea of military service in the conflict-ridden Middle East. "The result was the opposite," Marla recounts in a tone of pride and sorrow, "What he heard and saw in college only convinced him more to want to enlist in the Israeli army."
And so, after a year in college, through the so-called Tzabar program, young Cooper left the US and moved to Israel, on a journey of acclimatization, learning Hebrew, and enlisting in the army. "He wanted to enlist in the Golani reconnaissance unit," says Marla, "He talked about nothing else. He didn't manage to pass the course due to language gaps, but he didn't give up. He fought to get into another reconnaissance unit – and succeeded."
Carmeli recounts that he was stunned when he accidentally met him on a lone soldiers event, after they hadn't met since their days at Mishmar HaSharon. "Suddenly I see Jordan among thousands of people," he recalls, "It was wow. We took a picture together, and I realized: he had kept his word and returned to Israel. Again we parted, and I didn't know when I would see him again. It was very important to him to do the most combat-oriented and meaningful military service he could. He fought for it, and one day he came to us, to the Nahal reconnaissance unit, and started advanced training with us."
Carmeli and Cooper became close friends. As fighters, they often faced real life-threatening situations. "Jordan was the strongest soldier I knew," Carmeli recounts, "He came to us and trained like a psycho, didn't stop running and working out. One day we were in a counter-terrorism course and fighters from Sayeret Matkal and the naval commandos also came. We had a weightlifting competition. Who won? Jordan. He lifted the most out of everyone."
Among other things, the two went through Operation Guardian of the Walls together, did a tour in the West Bank, and participated in many dangerous missions. "We were on an arrest operation in Tulkarm, and suddenly someone threw a Molotov cocktail from one of the houses," Carmeli recounts. "The bottle fell on Jordan's legs, and luckily it didn't explode because otherwise, he and all the soldiers around him would have been killed."
You have nothing to worry about
Cooper was highly motivated. He never complained that it was hard for him, and always went first. He also didn't tell the army about his nut allergy, but was very careful not to touch food when he didn't know exactly what its ingredients were.
"We would sometimes be in the field, and Jordan would simply stay starving because his Hebrew wasn't really good and he didn't know how to read all the ingredients of the food. He knew tuna was okay and corn too, but everything else, which was the significant component of our food, he didn't touch because he was protecting himself."
At some point, Cooper decided to sign on for career service, out of a desire to finish his service together with his team. He was discharged around March two and a half years ago, and immediately rushed to his new and exciting challenge.
"He decided he had to fly to Ukraine and fight there against the Russians," Carmeli recounts. "As always, he took it as seriously as possible. He bought ceramic vests, a tactical helmet, a winter coat, a special bag, shoes, everything with his own money. I had just returned from a trip around the world and met Jordan before he flew to Ukraine. He told me 'Max, I have to get there and fight. I want to tell my future children that I fought against the Russians too.'"
Cooper caught the first plane and landed straight with his team, to fight in the north. "He had lost almost all his friends in Ukraine, who were killed in front of his eyes," Carmeli recounts. "One day they encountered a minefield, and people there were killed one by one. Jordan managed to survive and cross to the other side. It was good for him to come here and be with his team. At first, they put us in some forest near Kiryat Shmona, but Jordan felt he wasn't doing enough in the north.
"All the time he was saying 'What am I doing sitting in some bush waiting for something from Hezbollah?' He wanted to use all his combat skills and do it inside Gaza, against the terrorists, but his team didn't agree with him and didn't want to give him up. He talked with our company commander, who was in Gaza, and wanted to get there."
It didn't happen. Cooper continued to fight in the north, and there he fought alongside Nir, whom we meet at the shiva. "I saw a bearded soldier with Ukrainian camouflage gear, Ukrainian unit insignia, and a Ukrainian vest," he recounts. "I didn't understand what a foreign soldier was doing with us until they explained to me what it was about."
Cooper specialized in drone warfare in Ukraine - an arena that has become increasingly complex and necessary in recent years. "He had tremendous experience in incorporating drones into combat," Nir recounts, "He also assisted in drone donations to our unit."
They did more than 200 days of reserve duty there until they were released home. Cooper had big plans. He decided to settle in Israel, to be accepted into the Border Police undercover unit as a career soldier and to build his life with his beloved Valeria. "The days after his release, when we met here in Israel, were magical," says Valeria, "It was a dream. We went to see antiquities in Caesarea, ate at restaurants. It's my first time in Israel and everything was so exciting."
Those who were very close to the family were Patty and Shlomo Asur from Moshav Segula in the south, who were essentially Jordan's adoptive family in Israel. Patty immigrated to Israel from the US 33 years ago, married Shlomo, and they have four children.
"We have a shared family history," she recounts, "Our mothers were very connected in the US, and when Jordan came to Israel we immediately connected with him. He was always invited to us on Fridays, on holidays, our home was open to him. He connected wonderfully with our children.
"We had many beautiful moments with him. We loved him very much. He would always tell me how good he felt in the country and how much he loved the army. We had three shared loves: love for family, for the country, and for food. We both love to eat very much. Whenever he came to us we made sure there was everything good – meat, fish, couscous, and other good food.
"On Friday, before he died, we all sat at their apartment. Marla prepared food and we brought challah and matbucha and Moroccan fish that Shlomo prepared. Jordan told Shlomo that the matbucha was amazing. The truth is that Marla hesitated this time about coming for a visit because of the Iranian threat, but in the end, they chose to come. They are a very connected family. On that Friday, when we were at their place, Marla as usual lit candles and blessed Jordan and Ethan who stood beside her.
"After Jordan died, she wanted us to come on Friday too. That moment, when she lit the candles and blessed only Ethan, was heartbreaking. We all cried. Afterwards we sang 'Shalom Aleichem' with Jordan's good friends who were with us too. It was very moving."
"The people of Israel are with us"
Carmeli recounts that Jordan and his family also went to Jerusalem, were at the Western Wall, and also went to the Mahane Yehuda market, where they bought halva. They were told it was without nuts. "From what I know, Jordan intended to fast on Tisha B'Av and before the fast ate from that halva," he says.
"It was nine in the evening," Valeria recounts, "I had just landed in the room when Jordan came in. He said he was having a severe allergic attack, he was all swollen, and asked me to find his syringe. I had never seen him like that. Within a few minutes, he could no longer stand.
"He asked me to look for more syringes that were in his room, and by the time I managed to find them he had already been evacuated to the hospital, and there was a nerve-wracking wait there. They asked us to wait and we were in tension and anxiety. A doctor came and asked us to accompany him to a certain room, and there they told us that Jordan had passed away."
The shock was absolute.
At the funeral, "we found ourselves in the midst of an unimaginable crowd that just wanted to hug, to say a good and comforting word," Marla recounts, "From the moment the shiva began, people we had never met before kept coming. We feel that all of Israel is with us."
We meet them a day before the end of the shiva. At the end of the mourning period, they flew back to the US, heartbroken. Marla says that "Jordan was brave and generous. He loved being a soldier and loved the country and its residents."
When she recounts how he raised money for his team commander in regular service, an officer who was recently wounded in Gaza and lost his leg below the knee, her strength fails her and she bursts into tears, "Who would have believed that after everything he went through on the battlefield, this is how it would end?"
