The Technion’s story has been intertwined with Israel’s for more than a century, from laying the foundations for a new nation to shaping its future.
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His story is not just one of bravery but of an unshakable sense of duty. It is a story of a young man who left behind everything to stand by his brothers-in-arms, a man whose spirit is forged in resilience and unyielding loyalty. N.S.’s journey — from a promising graduate student in the United States to the front lines of war, and now, back to academia at the Technion — embodies the very essence of heroism.
It was a Friday night, October 6, in Los Angeles, when N.’s world changed forever. As he casually planned an evening with a friend, he checked his phone and saw the devastating news coming out of Israel. In that moment, there was no hesitation. He packed a bag, made arrangements, and within days was on a plane, returning to fight for his homeland.
I left my car in the driveway, my clothes in the closet, everything behind,” he recalled. “A friend lent me $600 for a ticket, and I got on a plane. There was no decision to make — it was just what I had to do.”
Everyone tried to talk him out of it: his parents, brother, cousins, friends, even his unit commander. “My commander told me, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We have enough people. We’ll be in and out in days.’” As an Israeli student studying abroad, N., 32, was not obligated to serve. He had only two months left to complete his master’s degree in astronautical engineering. But for him, there was no choice.
Serving in the reserves of the Golani Brigade’s special combat unit, N. found himself in the heart of the conflict, first in the north, engaging with Hezbollah, and then in Gaza. Each day was a test of endurance, strategy, and survival. He described the intense engagements on the northern front: “We would sit in a bush, looking for the guy on the other side, also sitting in his bush, waiting for who would fire first.” In Gaza, the warfare was different but no less harrowing. “They would pop out of a tunnel, fire an RPG [rocket-propelled grenade] at us, and vanish before we could react.”
For eight months he fought. There were moments of exhaustion and questioning. When on leave for short periods, he contemplated the surreal contrast between men his age playing volleyball on Tel Aviv’s beaches and those on the battlefield.
You wonder — am I stupid for coming back? But then you realize, if I didn’t come, who would?”
When his unit was eventually discharged, N. faced another battle — one of reintegration. Though his parents were relieved, the transition was anything but easy. The war still raged, his friends were still deployed, and his heart remained with them. “I remember the fear, the exhaustion. And yet, I fought for the privilege to return,” he said.
Amid this internal struggle, the Technion extended a hand. N. earned his bachelor’s degree there. Recognizing the sacrifices of its students, the University welcomed him back with open arms. “They could have made me start over, but instead they accepted most of my credits. The faculty is constantly checking in, asking how they can help. They even offered subsidized dorms and free psychological support if I want it.”
His academic journey, interrupted by war, found new grounding at the Technion. Though he had to change his thesis topic and now faces at least a year to complete his degree, N. appreciated that the Technion not only provided a sense of stability but also reaffirmed his purpose. “They gave me the chance to rebuild, to move forward, even as I carry everything I’ve been through.”
As he balances academia and service, N.’s journey is a testament to the indomitable will of a soldier, a scholar, and a patriot. The Technion, through its unwavering support, has given him a bridge between these two worlds.
And the call of duty never truly fades. N. has recently rejoined his comrades in yet another tour of duty. “Somebody needs to watch their backs,” he said. Despite the hardships, the dangers, and the immense personal cost, he remains steadfast in his commitment to his country and his people.
“I don’t fully understand it myself,” he admitted. “But I knew I had to go back. Because if not me, then who?” Herein lies the heart of his story: a relentless devotion to something greater than oneself, a fire that no war, no hardship, and no distance can extinguish.