Shortly before 8:00pm on Thursday evening, we formed rows of six, donned our berets on our heads, rolled our sleeves down (something kravi [combat] soldiers never do, we're tough guys so our sleeves are always rolled up past our elbows, no matter the weather), and started to stamp our feet in unison before marching forward. I passed the entrance of the tunnel and a rush of cool air and the cheers and camera flashes from hundreds of people hit me. Our marching led us out onto the huge plaza in front of the Western Wall and into a sectioned off area for the ceremony. As we marched, I looked around for people I knew were coming to see me: David and Amy and their three girls; Sam and Ben, my Israeli friends; and Ami, a friend from Chicago who is studying at the same yeshivah where I spent three weeks last summer. I couldn't find them, but knew they were somewhere in the crowd.
As I stood there as important generals and colonels made speeches about the history of Tzanchanim and the Kotel (Western Wall), about the loyalty Israelis show to their country by serving in the armed forces, about the journey ahead of us, I couldn't believe that a year ago I was standing at a different ceremony: my college graduation. The past year has been one of the craziest of my life, if not the most insane! I'm so proud to be here; during the speeches, I found myself thinking, "a hundred meters to my right is the reason that I am here; when it comes down to it, I am here simply because I want to be between the Wall and anyone that wants to destroy it."
This ceremony was incredibly more powerful and important than the one I had at Mikveh Alon. Actually, I think I'll just stop talking about Mikveh and you can always assume that everything I do is incomparably superior to that base. Instead of repeating lines of an oath of loyalty, one of the high ranking generals said some words and then everyone shouted in unison: "אני נשבע Ani Nishba I SWEAR!" Silence for a second, then the entire plaza erupted with cheers and applause. We were officially sworn in as soldiers of the IDF.
A week and a half before, my gdud (battalion) earned our tekkes hashba'ah (swearing-in ceremony). We had another masa (hike): seven plus one. Daniel, that's eight kilometers, why don't you just say 'eight?' Thank you for asking, interested and slightly confused reader! We say 'seven plus one' because the last kilometer is traveled while carrying someone on the stretcher. This masa was called the 'masa hashba'ah' because at the end, we were to receive our paratrooper tags (to be explained in a little bit). It was going to be a hike with our entire gdud: MemMem, MemPay, the works. For this, I decided to step up and take the pack of water on my bag. Every masa, each citah (squad) has to have a man on the radio, another carrying the stretcher, and a third with the water. The guy with the radio is at the front of the column with the commander; generally he doesn't do much with the radio itself and is just there to run up and down the column relaying orders from the commander. However, this time, because of the large group, our MemMem (company commander) was at the front of the machlekah (company) and he used the radio quite often to communicate with the front of the gdud. The guy with the water is carrying a lot more weight. In addition to our combat vest, helmet and rifle, he carries an extra pack with about twenty liters of water. I was that guy. An advantage to carrying the water is that you stand at the head of the column, right next to the commander. At first, because we had three citahs in the column, I was behind another 'water guy.' But he couldn't keep up with the MemMem, and would walk a few paces then run to catch up, walk then run, walk then run. I knew the masa would be significantly harder if I kept that up because I was behind him. After the first two kilometers, I grabbed his arm, told him to switch with me, and then was able to keep pace with the Mefaked Machlekah for the rest of the hike.
And this masa wasn't easy. We went up a sloping hill, then up a steep climb; we caught our breath for five minutes at the top, then went down the other side, in the dark, with rocks and boulders, pits and sloping surfaces, enough to twist ankles and throw off your balance. By the end of the masa, especially after carrying the stretcher for the last kilometer, I was tired, but not beat. All three machlekahs gathered in a chet formation and the MemPay, who led the masa, stood in the middle, shouting at us, and each time he shouted we raised our stretchers up. They lit a fire that spelled our gdud's name and number: 202 צפא (tzefa: python). Then we received our tags.
If you come to Israel and see all the soldiers, you'll notice a few things. First off, everyone has different colored berets for their different units. Tzanchanim is red, Golani is brown, Nachal is light green, Modi'in (intelligence) is dark green, Totchanim (artillery) is blue, and so on. You can learn what each kumta (beret) is as there are only about a dozen different ones. In addition, each soldier has a tag on their left shoulder, but these you cannot know all because there are dozens and dozens. You can learn to recognize the major fighting units' tags, but there are also so many more that are specific to different jobnik positions or even within combat.
The Tzanchanim tag has a green snake with white and black wings against a red backdrop. All of the gduds are named after different snakes (check out the Tzanchanim website link on the right for more, and specific, information!). I think I read somewhere (probably on that website) that Tzanchanim are like snakes because we can attack quickly and viciously. We can infiltrate through the air and carry out a mission that would otherwise be impossible because it can't be accessed by land. The wings are for that, for being a tzanchan-- a paratrooper. You see that tag, you know the soldier is in Tzanchanim. Receiving it is one more official step to becoming an accomplished Israeli soldier; it is another piece of hardware that proves your experience.
One good thing about guard duty, and this is very particular, is if you guard at the front gate. It's better for many reasons, the main one is that you are with someone else. Not another soldier, but a commander; either your Mefaked, Sammal, or MemMem. The time goes by faster because you can talk with each other, or at least attempt to. The first hour of my shift I was with the commander who punishes me whenever I speak English. While there is some distance between the soldiers and our commanders, it is certainly nothing like at Mikveh, and it will go down because distance isn't good when you're going to battle together. Anyway, we had a great conversation for an hour, and in Hebrew, mind you. The next hour, he switched out with the Sammal (sergeant) and lets just say that talking was kept to a minimum and there was plenty of distance--literally, he moved to stand on the other side of the road and was on the phone most of the time. But it was all good, the time still passed.
As I look back on the last week, I do realize that I've learned quite a bit. We had an intense day or two of learning first aid: what to do if you come upon a soldier lying on the ground; how to treat his wounds; the different kinds of treatment; pretty much everything that a soldier who is not the medic needs to know and do to help his buddy. It was actually during a break in one of these lessons that the commander heard me talking English to the other Americans and pulled me out of class. I then did sprints for ten minutes, including shouting to a rock, in Hebrew, and in full view of a citah passing by, "I will not speak English again! I will not speak English again!" and then sprinting back to make it in the twenty seconds. Fun stuff.
We also learned about the different pachals, the specific weapon assignments each soldier will receive. These include everything from being the radio man to a sharpshooter, carrying anti-tank missiles to light machine guns. I'll talk more about that in my next post. We're supposed to get our assignments in the next two or three weeks. 890 already has theirs; just another indication that it really seems like 202 is behind.
On Thursday morning, I woke up at 5:30 after four hours of sleep and we practiced our marching in preparation for the tekkes that evening. We spent the next several hours cleaning our rooms and bathroom. Tedious, unnecessary work. I ate breakfast in seven minutes. We boarded buses around eleven to head to Jerusalem. We arrived two hours later and stopped at a high vantage point on Mount Scopus, next to Hebrew University. Our MemMem gave us a lecture on what Tzanchanim encountered as they battled the Jordanians on their way to retaking the Old City and the Kotel in the Six Day War. The next several hours were spent walking that path. And this was pretty cool. We would stop every kilometer or so for an update on what battle or skirmish took place at that location. There would also be a small memorial or monument to the soldiers who fell in that location or from the specific unit that fought there.
The path took us deep into East Jerusalem, the Arab part of the city. All of us are in our Aleph uniforms with our guns strapped on our shoulders and a double magazine holding fifty-eight bullets on our belts. Some of the looks we got from the locals were anything but friends. I heard awkward, uncomfortable laughs as we passed by food stands. One time when we stopped for an update, I saw two young boys, probably seven or eight, one of which had a rusted piece of metal that happened to form the shape of a gun, pointing it at us and pretending to jab us as he ran by. A friend of mine told me over drinks last night that he narrowly missed being hit by a rock thrown by another child. I felt pretty safe the entire time, but I could also tell there was tension in the air, especially after the Nakba Day turmoil. But one of the bright spots was passing the U.S. Consulate! Oh it was great to be on American soil, or the steps, for even ten seconds. But it was also during this time that I spoke a sentence in English to a South African friend who asked if I liked being home. Another Mefaked heard me, asked me how many English words I spoke ('9), and how many pushups per word ('don't know'), ok then you owe me ninety push-ups. Ummm, rain check, please?We finally got to the Kotel around four in the afternoon and set our bags aside along a wall. We were given twenty minutes free time to pray, use the bathroom, whatever. There was certainly a buzz among the tourists as they saw a bunch of soldiers with guns show up. Especially coming from the States, you'd think there was some sort of national security issue. But this is Israel; there are always soldiers with guns. I heard one man talking, in English, with his yeshivah students and wondering what was going on. He came up to me and asked in Hebrew, 'what time is your ceremony tonight?' To which I replied in English. Hell yeah I want him to know that I ain't Israeli! He was shocked and eventually asked for my picture! What a celebrity I am, haha! But honestly, he was excited to hear about there being non-Israelis in the IDF.
At five thirty, all of the lone soldiers had to gather because we had a dinner to attend. Instead of eating plain sandwiches, the lone soldiers and their families who came were treated to a very nice meal at a restaurant near the Kotel that I've passed by a hundred times but don't have the funds to eat at. At the end, we received more gifts, this time clothes like socks, boxers, undershirts, etc. And also letters from people around the world expressing their gratitude for our service. It's the same company that is the link on the right: Lone Soldier Care Packages.
We finished the meal with about forty-five minutes until our tekkes. I put my gift in my bag, gave my gun to a commander who put it on the rack for the ceremony, and rejoined my brothers in the tunnel. Enjoy this little snippet I took on my phone:
There were people on the sides taking photos and videos, enjoying every minute of being part of something very Israeli. As a twenty-three year-old college graduate, I appreciate the vow I have taken much more, I'm sure, than the eighteen and nineteen year-old soldiers in my unit. This was a conscious decision I made to uproot and move out here. I gave it a lot of thought and consideration about what it means to pledge myself to a cause, to another country.
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| Reliving old times, Sam (l) and Ben? |
Of course now the best thing to come out of the whole tekkes is that I get to take my gun home on weekends. It's sitting in the apartment, and I can take it apart, play with it, admire it, whatever, anytime I want. Even though I don't yet have the red Tzanchanim kumta, I do have a gun with my on the train.
It's been a great חמשוש chamshoosh, or when you get off from the army on Thursday as opposed to Friday. I was able to hang out with friends, have some drinks, check out some new bars in Tel Aviv and Herziliya. Tonight is Lag B'Omer, thirty-three days after Pesach and a celebration where we light fires. See Wikipedia for more. I return tomorrow and will spend another week in the shetach (field). Then next Shabbat my gdud is going to Hebron for guard duty! I'm really pumped for this. I don't really know what to expect, but it's off base, it's in Hebron, and it's the first legitimate defending of something in Israel that I will do. Two weeks until I'm back...again. But I'm getting used to this. The days and weeks are going by and they certain move faster if I'm on base more often. Until then, thanks for reading!
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