I walked into that hospital expecting to see wounded soldiers.

I did not expect to see the soul of Israel.

The air was heavy with the sound of machines doing the work that young bodies could no longer do on their own. Monitors blinked softly, holding fragile lines between life and death. These were not just patients. These were sons. Daughters. Entire futures interrupted in an instant.

I met IDF soldiers who were Jewish. I met IDF soldiers who were Muslim. I met soldiers of different faiths and backgrounds. Different prayers. Different names. Different stories.

But they wore the same uniform.

They carried the same wounds.

They had made the same decision — to stand between their people and those who sought their destruction.

This is the truth the world refuses to........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)