It is the moment that the family of every soldier serving with the Israeli military dreads: the knock at the door by uniformed officers bearing the awful news that will change their lives for ever.
The heavy responsibility of revealing a death falls to a specialist unit, the IDF Casualties Division.
The JC has been given a rare glimpse into how they go about their solemn duties, from when the military receives notification of a death to the moment officers arrive at the family home, braced for whoever it might be to answer, and far beyond.
A military official tells the JC: “When we knock on the door, we don’t necessarily know who will open it.
“Sometimes it could be a teenage girl who is home alone, sees people in uniform, and has to wait for her parents to arrive.”
When Israeli troops entered Gaza in October 2023, they left behind thousands of anxious parents, partners and children, none of whom knew for certain whether their loved ones would come home.
One Israeli mother recalled how whenever she returned from shopping at the supermarket, she imagined seeing uniformed soldiers waiting outside her house, ready to deliver the news she dreaded most.
Should the worst occur, the officers in the specialist unit will be with a bereaved family at every step of the way.
The official explains: “The moment there is an incident involving casualties, the Casualties Division enters the family’s home, essentially knocks on the door.
“We have our casualty notification officers who deliver the terrible news. They notify the families, accompany them throughout the first week, what is known as the shiva, coordinate the funeral, and provide all the assistance the family needs during that week.
“At the end of the week, we transfer responsibility for the care to the casualty officers, who then accompany the family throughout all the stages and cycles of their lives.”
The senior military official explains the unit has a phrase to sum up the limitless commitment of its support to bereaved families: “We call it ‘until the end of days’.”
The IDF describes the specialist unit’s duties as “Delivering casualty/death notifications to families”. These comprise: supporting and accompanying bereaved families through the first stages of mourning; bringing the fallen soldier for burial and organising the funeral; supporting the family throughout the shiva; operating the 24/7 Casualties Situation Room, which receives and coordinates casualty information and directs the notification process; coordinating and dispatching casualty-notification officers around the country.
Then, after the initial mourning period, they continue to accompany and support bereaved families on a long-term basis; supporting children or other members of bereaved families who later enlist in the IDF; organising remembrance and memorial activities; and training casualty personnel and supporting their psychological resilience.
The unit’s members are carefully trained and prepared for all eventualities. Yet still their work takes its toll.
The official describes the burden of knowing a soldier is dead while his family is still going about their lives unaware. “I think the hardest parts for me are the moments when there is an incident in which soldiers have fallen and I know that their parents or their wives don’t know yet, and I’m holding information,” he says.
Sharing the emotion that inevitably arises from the work, the official says: “I’m not speaking slowly for no reason. This is genuinely hard for me.
“I suddenly enter some kind of maternal role where I say, I’ll pray, I’ll think, I’ll... until his parents know. That is the part that is personally difficult for me.”
When a casualty report arrives, trained staff begin building a picture of the family: where they live, who their relatives are and where family members work if the incident happens during the day.
Teams are positioned at nine locations around Israel. Once the casualty has been identified and the family located, notification officers are dispatched.
“If, for example, we know there is a woman with young children, we check and try to understand who is with her at home and who will help her in those moments.”
The unit members that arrive at the door are specially trained reservist casualty-notification officers who may have spent years in the role.
They will have undergone resilience assessment and received support both with groups and individual therapy, and are provided with opportunities to talk about their experiences of going about their duties.
“Someone who doesn’t come from a supportive home, from a supportive environment, will find it very, very difficult to serve as a casualty officer,” says the official. The biggest misconception about the department is the idea that any of its members might tell a family the news of a death, when in fact that is a task for only a specific limited number of personnel.
“When people meet the casualty staff, they think everyone knocks on the door. There are those who knock on the door and deliver the notification, there are casualty officers who accompany families over the years, and there are headquarters staff.
“All of us together form some kind of one large support system that sees the family from the moment the news is delivered until the end of days.”
British-born Sergeant Natan Rosenfeld z”l, was 21 years old when he died in Gaza in June 2025 while serving with the IDF’s 601st Combat Engineering Battalion.
Paying tribute at the time to the former Independent Jewish Day School pupil, Chief Rabbi Sir Ephraim Mirvis said: “Natan grew up in Hendon before making aliyah with his family – a decision rooted in deep love for Israel and the Jewish people.
“That he gave his life in defence of both is a source of immense pain, but also of lasting honour.”
Natan’s father Avi Rosenfeld recalls when members of the IDF Casualties Division told him and his wife Sam of their son’s death.
“Three of them appeared at our door – one woman and two men.
“She arrived in civilian clothes. My wife was at the door and she asked very gently if she was the mother of Natan. Only once she had confirmed that everything was correct did the two other men, who were wearing uniform, come up.
“From the minute they were with us, they were like three walking angels – and I mean it, three walking angels. They were pure heart, pure heart.
“They organised everything for us that needed to be organised. They took care of absolutely everything that was relevant to them – visits by people from the Knesset, generals in the army who wanted to come and visit, timings, anything that needed to be done regarding the funeral. Everything that had to do with Natan, they took care of.
“They spoke to us all the time in the gentlest tone. Gently, gently with us. It was like somebody was there soothing you, soothing the pain.”
The support was there exactly as far as the family needed it without ever being invasive, Avi remembers.
“I think the first three were actually surprised because they ended up being with a family who stood very strong. We were very strong that week. We weren’t the broken sort of family. The opposite – we stood upright and dealt with it with as much strength as we could. I think they actually felt for us, that somebody could be so positive in such darkness.
“They were with us throughout the shiva.
“They were there, but they were almost invisible. They only came and spoke to us when they needed to. They never disturbed us.
“They were there at the end of the day to say goodbye to us. They were there in the morning to say good morning. They were the most amazing individuals.”
The unit’s relationship with the family went beyond the shiva and remains ongoing, says Avi.
“Afterwards, we were given a lady called Galia. She’s a reservist and she is the person who looks after us in the long run. She has been absolutely phenomenal. I would call her almost part of the family — really, really part of the family.
“Anything we need help with to do with the army, anything she can help us with, she is there. She’s always been there for us. She will hold our hand. She will hold our hand through anything that we need.
“They are the most amazing, phenomenal unit. Everywhere I go, when I go to a shiva and I see these people, I personally go up to them, give them a hug, shake their hand and thank them. That’s all I can say.”
The commitment to “until the end of days” is heartfelt.
The department still receives calls from relatives of soldiers who died more than half a century ago, says the senior official.
“We even have families where only a nephew remains, and that nephew… is the nephew of someone who fell in the 1950s. He wants to hold a memorial service for him, so he calls us and we coordinate a memorial service with soldiers and a military cantor, and we honour the occasion.
“In addition to every procedure, that is what we bring: thought and heart.”
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