Small white stones against dark, almost black, earth and pebbles. On the stones are single names in Hebrew. Hogen: May 24, 2024. Jaber: May 14, 2024. Ivan: April 24, 2024. Each was killed in Operation Swords of Iron, the war forced upon Israel by the Hamas massacre of Oct. 7.
Since that dark day, hundreds of thousands of Israelis have been sent to fight Hamas in Gaza and other border areas. Among them are members of the elite Oketz (Sting) Unit, who work with dogs to fight terrorists, find booby traps that contain explosives, and investigate Hamas tunnels.
The canines have played a key role in this war. They have also suffered high casualties. Twenty-nine dogs were killed by mid-July. Of those dogs, nine remains were never brought back from Gaza.
The dogs and their soldier handlers form a unique bond. Each dog is paired with a soldier, and they train together. The loss of the dog is a heavy loss for the soldiers, as well as for the army.
Honoring the IDF’s fallen dogs
Israel commemorates the fallen dogs in a designated cemetery in an army base not far from central Israel. The site is accessed by a winding road, which I drive down on July 17. It is late afternoon, just before sunset, when the landscape takes on a kind of golden appearance, and the shadows grow long.
When I arrive at the cemetery, which has been expanded and renovated, there are only a few soldiers. I walk among the small white stones, laid out in rows and in a large semi-circle. These bear the names of some 200 dogs killed since Israel first began using K-9s in this unit decades ago. The current war has taken the heaviest toll in a short period of time.
The loss of dogs whose remains were never found is especially painful. To ease the pain and provide closure and to honor the sacrifice, the army held its first ceremony for the dogs whose did not come home.
A major in the unit provides some of the background for today’s difficult commemoration. He describes how the unit was founded in 1974 to help confront Palestinian terrorist groups that were taking hostages. It is a reminder that the enemy has not changed. “We wanted a unit that can counter those situations. We established it for hostage rescues, and then added [more] capabilities,” he says.
One of the first dogs Israel lost in battle was killed in 1980 in a rescue operation in Misgav Am.
DOGS HAVE singular abilities that go beyond what technology can provide. They can detect explosives, for instance. This helps to save the lives of soldiers in places like Gaza where the enemy has booby-trapped buildings with improvised explosive devices. The unit these days is coed, with female soldiers working with the dogs as well. It also has dogs trained for search and rescue operations.
For the soldiers here, the work with the dogs begins after a complex selection process to reach this elite unit. The fighters go through physical tests, and then a multi-month course similar to that of the paratroopers and commandos. Only then do they spend eight months with their dog to form a bond.
This begins with friendship and building connections between human and animal. The dog becomes the best friend of the soldier, even more than the cliché.
In many cases, the Oketz fighters are sent to work with other elite units such as Shayetet or Sayeret Matkal, or to be in a base with infantry, such as Golani. A soldier and his dog may be the only Oketz members sent to be with these units and assist them in operations, so the soldier won’t necessarily have human friends in the unit he is sent with, but he has his canine comrade.
“There are two situations: either they are training with the dog or fighting. We have no time to rest. Every minute the dogs are in Gaza, they are getting tired and then returning to train. Every dog that is not in Gaza means another soldier could be killed,” says the major, whose name could not be used for security reasons.
He gives an example of how important this work is, noting that his company within the unit found 262 IEDs (improvised explosive devices), mines, and anti-personnel mines. “Each of those mines could be four soldiers dead.”
THE MAJOR has been in his position for a year and a half. “I fell in love with the unit and the purpose of saving lives. You don’t see other units like this in terms of the connection between the dog and their handler,” he says.
He also describes the difficult situations in which these fighters find themselves. They must send the dogs into dangerous situations. “Some people may think we don’t care if they get hurt, but the trainers here have trained the dogs since they are one year old. To train a dog with our standard, it takes a long time. If a dog is killed, it is a huge loss for the unit and trainers.”
The major, like many in Israel, has been fighting since Oct. 7. On that morning, just after 6:30, he received a call from the IDF post at Nahal Oz, a base that sits on the Gaza border near the kibbutz of the same name. He heard that the base was under heavy attack, that it would be overrun within the hour, and that many of the soldiers there – including numerous IDF female lookouts – would be massacred and some kidnapped. He didn’t know this at the time, but sensing the dire situation, he drove south toward the post.
There was an Oketz member there who wanted to help. However, the major soon received a call to go directly to the unit. The size of the attack required more men. The major ended up leading the second group of Oketz fighters to be sent south. He arrived with 22 soldiers, and they helped fight at Nahal Oz and along the border to stem the tide of the Hamas invasion. Dogs and handlers were sent out with various responding units such as Givati, Shayetet, and Maglan.
They fought for days and saved numerous lives. One soldier from the unit, Maj. Aryeh Ziering, 27, was killed on the first day of the war.
The unit then fought in the ground operation that began on Oct. 7. As the IDF discovered the depth and length of the Hamas underground empire of tunnels in Gaza, stretching hundreds of miles, the dogs played a key role in battles in places like Jabalya, Shejaia, and Khan Yunis.
In one case, a dog named Max was sent into a house, and he caught the scent of an explosive device. “All the walls exploded. Some soldiers had parts of the house fall on them. I saw the dog handler and pulled him out,” remembers the major. The handler immediately asked where Max was. The major tried to find the dog, but he was gone.
“We started rescuing soldiers, and there was another IED.” The soldier had lost his best friend in the explosions. As the major tells it, “The soldier knows he is alive because of the dog. After that, the soldiers hugged us.”
Soldiers who return without their dogs suffer in numerous ways. Some of them are also wounded and undergo rehabilitation for months. Sometimes they could receive a new dog, but oftentimes not. They have trained so long with their best friend, it’s not a process that can be repeated easily.
EVERY YEAR, Oketz has a ceremony for the dogs who fell that year. Soldiers who lost their dogs are given the honor of burying them. On July 17, there were two ceremonies. One of them was for Staff-Sgt. David Sasson, a member of Oketz who was killed in southern Gaza in March. His dog, Sitka, was also killed. While Sasson was buried months ago, members of his family have come to bury his dog on the day I am there.
This year was the first in which Oketz had a ceremony for the dogs that did not return and whose are lost in war. As I am waiting, speaking to the major about the dogs, the training, and the war, an area overlooking the cemetery begins to fill up with soldiers.
During the ceremony, soldiers reflect on the difficulty of burying dogs left behind in Gaza. They speak about their four-legged friends who defend Israel and the close connections they feel.
Several soldiers talk about Sitka, the dog killed in Khan Yunis. “He always had energy and loved people,” remembers one fighter. “He was a good dog and more than that, he had a good soul, and I won’t forget him.”
They remember other dogs who had been killed in action and lost in Gaza: Gandhi, Edi, Rico, Charlie, Toy, Juki. One dog was killed in an eight-story building; now his handler has come to close the circle.
He speaks, sobbing, about the pride he felt in the dog. “All that we did together, I knew you were a hero, and we waited for that moment… I’m proud of you.”
Another dog was lost in Khan Yunis. The unit came under attack by anti-tank missile fire and had to leave the area in their Namer armored personnel carrier.
The sun begins to set. There is a small statue at the cemetery that depicts a handler and a dog. As the sun sets, the statue turns from white to orange with the glow of the last rays.
This is a heartfelt ceremony, full of sadness. It ends with more words from the soldiers and officers about the special bond between the dogs and their handlers and the sadness of leaving nine of their behind in Gaza. Then the ceremony is over. Sitka has been buried and a wreath has been laid, along with a photo of the dog and his handler.
Soldiers walk among the tombstones and discuss the dogs and the names emblazoned on their gravestones. Darkness has fallen.
In the distance, barking can be heard from the dogs that are out training with the new generation of handlers. As I drive back along the winding road, I see the trainers with their canines, walking on the road, barely visible against the fading light, continuing to bond as darkness descends.
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