This Lone IDF Soldier Was Assaulted at DePaul and Is Still Speaking Out on Campus

When October 7 happened, IDF reservist and lone soldier Max Long was called up for duty.

He was set to go to DePaul University the next month, but he knew he probably wouldn’t make it back in time. He gave up the apartment he had leased in Chicago and served in the IDF’s explosives unit, which dealt with the explosives Hamas left behind in the kibbutzim.

“You’re always in danger of exploding because you’re in an area where Hamas was setting up booby-traps everywhere,” Max, who first moved to Israel to serve in the IDF in 2016, said. “You can do it with a robot from a distance, but occasionally, someone in our group had to go and check them.”

On one of his missions, Max and his unit had to locate bodies in the tunnels in Gaza.

“It was a slow process, just in case there were still people down there,” he said. “A tunnel we went into was booby trapped. It blew us all over. Two soldiers in my unit were killed, and three others were wounded. I watched my life flash before my eyes at that moment.”

After that incident, everyone felt defeated.

“We didn’t locate the bodies, and we lost two soldiers,” Max said. “And then, we got the news that the IDF accidentally killed our friend Alon Shamriz, who had been taken hostage. It broke us. I can’t even describe it.”

Following months of heartbreak fighting in Gaza, Max was released from his service in January of 2024. He flew back to America with a dog he rescued, a puppy who had his ears cut off by Palestinians in Gaza. He named the dog Ozzi, and was excited to start at DePaul, finally, with his new canine friend at his side.

He could not have anticipated what was to come.

The Attack at DePaul

As soon as Max arrived on campus, he saw pro-Palestinian encampments. He didn’t say a word; he just took in what was happening at his school.

“I was just getting out of this crazy war experience,” he said. “I walked by these encampments and heard what they were saying. They were yelling at everyone because they thought that if you weren’t with them, you were against them. They got closed down.”

Max got called up again in May to fight in Rafah and the Philadelphi corridor and wrapped up his semester remotely while on base. He would talk with his Israeli friends from his unit about what was going on with antisemitism in America and abroad.

“They asked me, ‘Why does the world hate us?’” Max said. “They don’t understand. It’s hard for Israelis.”

The lone soldier returned to campus in the fall of 2024. After seeing the encampments, as well as hearing about students – including Jews wearing custom yarmulkes that said, “Stop the Genocide” – holding a rally for the “martyrs,” the terrorists from October 7, he decided he needed to do something.

Before Rosh Hashanah, he gave out apples and honey to his fellow students and set up a table on campus. He put a sign up that said, “Come talk about Israel with an IDF soldier.”

At first, it was positive.

“I was just there to share my story,” Max said. “It was great.”

He went back a few times to table on campus and had mostly good interactions. But then, things started to turn.

The public safety officers on campus didn’t believe Max was a student, so they asked for his ID. They asked him to move onto the sidewalk, and since he didn’t want to cause any trouble, he did. He didn’t realize that now he was off campus property just by one foot and if anything happened to him, it wouldn’t be the school’s responsibility.

When Max moved to the sidewalk, he said a group of Arab students surrounded him to intimidate him, and the public safety officers didn’t help.

Then, one student came up to him looking very angry.

“I put my hand out and asked him, ‘Do you want apples and honey to celebrate the new year?’” Max said. “He looked at me and said, ‘Do I look like a Jew?’ I asked him, ‘What does a Jew look like? And he said, ‘Burn in hell.’”

The angry man had brought 15 friends with him; they started heckling Max, who just stood there.

“I told them, ‘If anyone wants to ask questions, it’s fine, but screaming at me won’t do anything,’” he said.

Max got away unscathed this day, but he wouldn’t be so lucky again.

He kept tabling throughout the fall semester, and in November, a guy with a t-shirt and ski mask came up to him. They started talking about Hamas and other terrorist factions in Gaza. Max mentioned the group Palestinian Islamic Jihad.

“He heard me saying that Islamic is a terrorist group,” Max said. “He then said, ‘This isn’t all Islamic.’ I told him, ‘You misunderstood. There is a terror group called Islamic Jihad.’ We talked for four minutes.”

While Max was in the middle of a sentence, this man’s friend came up from behind Max and suddenly struck him in the back of his head.

“I hit the ground and lost consciousness,” he said. “He started throwing punches. One person supposedly smashed a can over my head. They attacked my friend Michael, too. And then they both took off.”

The public safety officer who saw what happened didn’t do anything.

“Other students came up to me and told me I got what I deserved for killing babies in Gaza,” Max said. “The next morning, I was throwing up. I felt like I had been hit by a truck.”

When Max got back to school, he was targeted again.

“There was a sit-in on campus where a bunch of students called for my expulsion for participating in ‘genocide’ and accusing me of harassing Arab students,” he said. “There was a flyer going around that said, ‘The butcher is back on campus. DePaul students: Get f—ing dangerous.’”

Max (L) suffered a concussion, and his friend Michael Kaminsky had his arm broken

Turning a Negative into a Positive by Supporting Lone Soldiers

While Max is still getting threats, he’s staying on campus – he refuses to leave or be intimidated. He went to the local media to publicize what had happened and show he wasn’t afraid. He also hoped others would say something.

“I’m encouraging people to stand up and speak out,” he said.

Max also established an organization called Growing Wings Foundation, which is focused on providing affordable solutions for housing and mental health services as well as a supportive community for pre-draft, active, and post-service lone soldiers. This is crucial to Max, as he saw that these services were lacking when he was in the IDF from 2016 to 2018.

“Being a soldier in the army is a challenge, but being a foreigner in a foreign culture, there is a whole other layer to that challenge,” he said.

Passionate Zionist

Max came from a Zionist family; his grandmother, May Long, started Christians & Jews United for Israel, and when was younger, he would go to rallies with his cousins to support Israel. Though he went to public school – he was the only Jew in his friends’ group – he was so passionate about Israel because of his grandmother’s activism that he enrolled in the IDF right after high school.

“I felt there are tons of organizations and networks out there, but as the individual needing that help, I didn’t know where to turn to. My mission was: How can I ensure that there is a more holistic approach to supporting lone soldiers?”

Along with helping lone soldiers, Growing Wings Foundation has an ambassador program, which deploys speakers such as lone soldier reservists, injured IDF Soldiers, October 7th/Nova survivors, second-generation Holocaust survivors, and Jewish students who have faced antisemitism to speak in Jewish and non-Jewish communities across America.

“The goal is to humanize both the Israeli and Diaspora Jewish experiences and ensure these critical stories are heard,” said Max.

Now, Max is focused on his schooling and his foundation. He hopes that his story inspires others not only to keep fighting for what they believe in, but to also not be silent in the face of hate.

“We will be able to find a way to share the truth,” he said. “You don’t need to be shy when you’re telling the truth. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

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