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Katie Freeman
Los Angeles native Katie Freeman, 29, could be called up for military service at any time – not to the U.S. Army, but a fighting force more than 7,500 miles away.
She is one of thousands of so-called lone soldiers, members of the Jewish diaspora who voluntarily enlist in the Israeli army.
Today, there are more than 1,000 Americans and as many as 4,600 other non-Israelis fighting for the Israeli army in the current conflict, according to the Jerusalem-based Lone Soldier Center, a nonprofit created by former foreign fighters to offer housing and other support.
While Israeli men and women are required to serve three and two years respectively, these lone soldiers are volunteers. Many arrive in Israel with broken Hebrew and no nearby family or friends, and the dangers for them are real.
Earlier this month, two Americans, Max Steinberg, 24, and Nissim Sean Carmeli, 21, were killed while fighting for the Israel's army. Tens of thousands of Israelis attended their funerals.
Why do they fight for Israel? And what's the American experience in this faraway conflict? America Tonight turned to two families for answers.
Freeman says she's proud and thankful to be an American. "I wouldn't trade that for anything," she explained.
Her brother, a former U.S. Marine, served in Afghanistan. But Freeman’s call to serve came from the other side of the world.
"When you're in Israel, it's this feeling of belonging. It's home,” she said, “And of course…if your home was attacked, you'd do anything that you could to protect it."
Freeman first visited Israel when she was 16 and says she immediately fell in love with the country, both “the good parts of it and the bad parts of it.”
"You walk down the street and it's like you know everybody. It's this connection that you have and you don't get that anywhere in the world."
So at 19, she enlisted, one of only a few women to make the grade for an elite K-9 unit.
“My mom flipped out, obviously,” she said.
But there was nothing her mother could say. Freeman had already signed up. She was being drafted.
Freeman was in a dog-handler unit, and her role was to check houses and cars at checkpoints for explosives. At one point, she said, her bomb-sniffing dog identified an explosive device at a checkpoint.
"To actually go on to find something, it's like a wakeup call, like this is a real threat, this is why I’m doing what I’m doing," she said. "Because it's not always the best feeling to go and have to check all these people, because most of them are regular persons."
Freeman served two and a half years, a year longer than required for overseas volunteers. And for the last four years, she's been in the reserves – ready for duty at any time. Sixty thousand reservists have been called up since the beginning of the current crisis.
With a 10-month child now, returning now would be hard for Freeman. She recognizes that she would be putting her life on the line. But she talks to her friends from her old squad every day, and said she wishes she was there..
"People are doing everything that they can to be a part of it and to help, and that really to me is what Israel is, and a part of me breaks [that] I'm here right now and I'm not there to help," she said.
Watching from afar, every casualty hits close to home.
"I just pray for everybody to be safe, the same thing for the citizens in Gaza," she explained. "I can't imagine, being a mom, to think about having to lose a child. I don't know how one goes through that."
Elena Lukoff has thought about losing her child a lot. Her 23-year-old son Dylan Lukoff Coren finished one tour in the Israeli Army and is waiting to find out whether he'll be deployed again.
Max Steinberg, one of the lone soldiers who was killed last week, was from her community, Woodland Hills in Los Angeles. Lukoff attended his vigil.
“We all worry for each other,” she said.
Lukoff’s son joined the Israeli Army in 2009 through the group Garin Tzabar, which has helped hundreds of Americans enlist as lone soldiers. Once in Israel, the young men and women where they are adopted by Israel Scouts and live in a "hosting kibbutz," their "home away from home," according to the group. Lukoff is extremely proud.
"I think he feels a strong connection to his religion, to his family, to Holocaust survivors," Lukoff explained. "Our families immigrated from Russia and from Poland, and many of them did not get out of Poland. And I think that he feels a very strong sense to defend the state of Israel."
Lukoff’s son spent six months serving on the dangerous frontlines near Gaza, transporting the so-called mini machine gun, a 60-pound firearm, to strategic points.
"It's terrifying,” his mother admitted. "It's really terrifying when those days go by and you don't get to talk to him, sometimes it's more than a day. And there are times that 21 days go by and you don't know."
Currently on leave in Southeast Asia, Lukoff’s son is waiting to find out whether he'll be called up again.
"It's really making him crazy," his mother said. "It's agonizing. He feels disconnected from everything that's going on and he feels it's his responsibility to be there."
And as the conflict rages on, lone soldiers around the world are watching, some, like Freeman, with mixed emotions.
“There's a lot of pain already that's there. There's a lot of hatred,” she said. “To break down those walls, is it possible? I want to believe yes. How we'll get there, I don't know."
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