The war may have faded from headlines and daily briefings, but for many of Israel’s wounded veterans, it never truly ended.

I think often of the men and women who returned home not to parades or closure, but to wheelchairs, hospital corridors, and long, uncertain days of rehabilitation. They fought with courage beyond words, absorbed injuries meant for the rest of the nation, and now live with bodies and minds permanently altered by their service.

Israel has always known how to rally in moments of crisis. Its deeper test comes afterward – in the quieter months and years – when resilience is measured not by battlefield victories, but by how faithfully it stands beside those who paid the highest personal price for the nation’s survival.

I have long admired the Israeli Defense Forces not only for their operational brilliance, ingenuity, and courage, but for something even more profound: the moral covenant they represent between the state and those who defend it.

Israel asks much of its sons and daughters. In return, it owes them more than medals, ceremonies, or eloquent speeches; it owes them lifelong care, dignity, and unwavering support.

That is why the latest figures emerging from Israel’s rehabilitation system have left me with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I am full of admiration for the Defense Ministry’s Rehabilitation Department – its scale, its professionalism, its genuine effort to adapt to a catastrophe unlike anything Israel has faced before.

On the other hand, I cannot shake a quiet disappointment, even unease, that for all the budgets, committees, and conferences, Israel is still failing too many of  its wounded and mentally challenged veterans – especially those confined to wheelchairs, many classified with 100% disability, and those carrying invisible wounds that do not heal with time.

More than 22,000 wounded........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)