a reminder of WHY WE FIGHT

Six million.

Can we comprehend that number?  Can we understand how large it is?  How many?  How bountiful?  How tragic?

In different contexts, a number with seven digits can inspire hope, or horror.  In a salary, it can mean the start of a very successful career decision.  In baseball, it is watching the Chicago Cubs play 37,037 seasons.  In time, it is seventy days worth of seconds.  In people, it is a number far too large for our minds to wrap around.

Six million Jews were murdered in the Holocaust.

An entire people who had lived for centuries in Europe were virtually wiped out.  People, families, villages, generations, histories.  In Judaism, taking a life is akin to destroying a generation; six million lives is more than a nation can bear.

On Thursday, April 18th, Israel honored the memory of those who perished and those whose lives were destroyed by the Holocaust.  A ceremony was held the previous evening in Jerusalem, at Yad Vashem.  Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu spoke about the dangers of ignoring Iran's rhetoric and actions.

I woke up in David and Amy's apartment in Tel Aviv around nine in the morning.  I was sitting by the window when, at 10:00 AM, a siren pierced the warm, clear morning.  Its shrill call stopped the country.  Cars came to a halt.  People got out and stood.  For two minutes, everyone in Israel bowed their heads and remembered the six million people of our family, our nation, who were killed simply because they were Jewish.  A state remembers the story of its people, of its nation.

We say "never again," but we always balk at the implications of pointing out atrocities and calling it a holocaust or genocide.  People hide behind these words, choosing to use it out-of-hand to call attention to injustice and death, knowing that what the world witnesses in its darkest places today pales in comparison to Europe sixty years ago.  Unfortunately, the responsibility that would ensue after calling the systematic murder and evil intentions in this world a genocide is more than any nation is willing to assume.  Let's not kid ourselves: there is evil in this world.  However, diligence ends at words and speeches, at world organizations' summits and conferences, at good intentions of common individuals without power and ambitious personal agendas of politicians with power.

Not anymore.  Now, there's a way for people to fight back, to take up arms in defense of our fathers and mothers, our brothers and sisters.  It's called the Israeli Defense Force.  The IDF has made the Jewish nation a people who will not be cowered or intimidated and forced to rely on others for aid.

Now there's a way for every Jew to be a part of this great Jewish army.  There's a program called Mahal and young Jewish men and women who want to fight for Israel can join.  People like Adam, Shmaya, and Jesse.  People from Jersey, Brooklyn, Toronto.  Shmuel, Effy, and Eliyahu.  Australia, England, South Africa, every corner of the globe.

We come to fight for and defend our right to live.

And this week we did....Pesach?

This past week found me at a base near Haifa as my unit prepares to take up a new "kav" assignment on the Lebanese border.  Before every kav, a week or two is taken to train a unit on the specifics of their new operational assignment.  We did the same thing before going to Shchem in October.  So, for Tzanchanim's six month assignment on the border with Lebanon, what exactly does the IDF do to prepare us?

Honestly: I.  Don't.  Know.

We arrived at base on Sunday afternoon.  (We had been given a few extra hours to return because we came home so late on Friday.)  From that evening until Thursday afternoon, we did the following:

-a buchan plugah, company test: ran two kilometers with combat vests and guns, then another kilometer with stretchers, then a shooting test (see video)
-a buchan tzefa, battalion test: ran three kilometers, then a shooting test
-zeroed in our rifle sights
-short workout circuit one evening involving pushups, sit-ups, calf raises, etc.
-lessons to learn about mines and other anti-personnel weapons; first aid; and anti-missile detection systems
-the regiment commander toasted the lone soldiers and thanked us for our service and gave us Pesach gifts of a 250 shekel gift card
-discussed what happened in 2006 that precipitated the Second Lebanese War, as we are going to be at the same base where the soldiers that came under attack and were captured
-practiced responding to an attack on our base

(Video: we run two hundred meters, crawl ten meters, then run back 190 meters.  Then shoot six bullets, three in kneeling and three in prone, at a head target forty meters away.  All of this is two minutes and forty-five seconds.  Not very difficult.  It was fun to do it with my sleeves rolled past my elbows; I cut up my arms and elbows a bit when I crawled.  It's good to feel some pain everyone now and then; never good to become to comfortable.)

It may seem like a lot, but considering we had four full days for all of this, there was a lot of standing around doing nothing.  In many ways, this was a frustrating week to be in the army.  There was such a case of "rosh katan" (small head) that it became frustrating.  This refers to the stupid and silly things we do on almost a daily basis.  For example, for our next kav assignment, they want everyone to know how to shoot the MAG, the heavy machine gun.  It's been my weapon for the past eight months.  Everyone was to take five shots with it.  They wanted me to shoot as well.  Why?  Because they had to check everyone off a list as saying they shot.  I've shot literally thousands of rounds.  Why five more?  Just because.

On Thursday, every lone soldier in the gdud (battalion) was getting off early to clean their apartment before Pesach.  Every lone soldier, that is, except for the ones in my company.  Why?  Again, no reason.  It was frustrating because I live with four religious guys and we had to clean our apartment, sell our chametz (non-kosher for Pesach food) and do this all before Friday.  And I was gonna be with just one other roommate, Shmuel, before he left for his seder on Friday morning.  It was a whole big megillah to get off just a few hours early.  We had to fight for the right to leave when really our commanders should have been happy to let us go before everyone else.  They go home to a house where their mothers or fathers have cleaned everything, sold their chametz, and they can just chill and have a good time.  Lone soldiers return to an empty apartment, need to clean, buy food for however long their stay will be, and then, if there's time, to rest.  It was a fight to get off, but me, Shmuel, and Jesse were able to leave a few hours early.

For Pesach, I had seder by Shmaya's place.  His parents were in town and he was happy to have me, as I had no place else to go.  Unfortunately, he's Chabad orthodox, so we didn't start our seder until about eight in the evening, and finished around 1:30 in the morning.  Fortunately, it was a great experience.  Shmuel and I returned the next day for lunch.  (Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Krinsky!)

Then today I had off as well.  In the Diaspora, Jews keep a two day chag (holiday) for the first days of Passover.  I was given this day off as I follow the customs of my country, and I have not made aliyah, so I am still 100% American (hell ya!).  I came to Tel Aviv and enjoyed a few hours on the beach.  Going to iChat with my parents in a few hours and return to base tomorrow morning.

Shmaya and Jesse are out of the army now.  A few weeks before the end of a soldier's service, he is released from his unit to spend the time at home.  Then he is officially released from the military.  This period is called "chofshash."  Shmaya and Jesse, as they are serving fourteen months, are already in chofshash before they "mishtachere" (release) from the army on April 19th.  It's the beginning of the end. They are the first to go, then go Shai and Aaron (two lone soldiers in a different company), then me and Adam.  My time here is almost up.

Beit Chicago

Resting inside a nagmash

Finally, winter training is over!  Finally, traveling to within kilometers of the Lebanese-Syrian-Israeli border will be no more.  Finally, I will not train in snow, freezing rain, and depressing cold.  Finally, my service begins to near its end.

Two weeks ago was the last week of winter training.  There were numerous exercises that tested the capabilities of my machlekah (platoon) and plugah (company).  The Sunday we arrived back at our base near Kiryat Shemonah, we prepared our equipment for a night exercise.  We had learned weeks ago that we were to conduct an urban conflict exercise.  My friends and I were excited by this prospect: not only is urban combat a change of pace from the usual field battles, but we were to go to a famous base for this week....or so we thought.  The same model city where we ended our Tarchat is where combat units in training work on their urban conflict capabilities.  Unfortunately, we went nowhere near that base.  Instead, the extent of our urban combat training was limited to about three hours late at night in a location somewhere near the Lebanese border (or maybe the Syrian border).  We were so close to the border, our commanders told us, that we were not allowed to use live ammunition lest something unfortunate should occur.

We boarded a military bus that drove us for a short while from our base, dropped us off among some fields, and we hiked to the "urban" area, merely a few hollowed out buildings.  I was actually quite pleased that I was not with the MAG for this exercise.  Shmaya was the designated MAGist.  He, too, completed MAG week back in basic training and can be assigned the machine gun.  For me, it meant that I just carried my M-4 and its ammo.  Nothing difficult at all.

And the exercise went smoothly enough.  It really wasn't anything difficult and was more of a test for the commanders than the soldiers.  We shouted "aish aish! fire fire!" when storming the buildings.  Once inside, we manned the windows and the Israelis kept shouting, as if there were real enemies.  They laughed and joked.  It was all a game to them.  But if we go to Gaza...

At the end of the exercise, we had to wait for two hours for the bus to pick us back up.  Everyone froze.  It wasn't fun.

We returned late in the evening, or early in the morning, and was allowed to wake up in the early afternoon.  I don't recall what the rest of the day was spent doing, but the next day we prepared for a buchan plugah, a company test.

The view of Mt. Hermon as my platoon
prepares for a discussion

This was to be a one day, overnight exercise.  And for this, I was with my MAG.  As with most field weeks, I am in the covering fire unit, called retik.  When we had our briefing in the afternoon, the officer who led the discussion called on people occasionally and asked them questions about their role in the exercise.  This gentleman was a retired major.  He called out, in Hebrew, "who's the MAGist in retik?"  I raised my hand.  He asked me, from what I think I understood, where I was to be located on the battlefield...upon which all of the Israelis in my platoon shouted out how I don't understand Hebrew.  Thanks guys.  The major asked my name, where I was from, then asked the question again in English, but not before commenting how it's good to see lone soldiers in the army.  As we ate dinner, the major came by and sat with us lone soldiers.  He's a great guy and spoke perfect English.  He had just returned from living in Australia for three years helping people make aliyah.  While the Israelis were probably a bit intimidated by the insignia of his rank, it felt good to have a decent, honest conversation with someone who understands chayalim bodedim (lone soldiers).

People come from all over the
world to see the Western Wall

Anyway, we set out the evening again on buses, and then climbed a mountain, with the steepest grade ever.  At the top, my unit was deployed off to one side to prepare to blast the far side of another hill a few hundred meters away with machine gun and grenade fire.  Shmaya was my MAG partner for this exercise. There were also two other guys from the company with us.  They are almost done with their three year service and couldn't care less about what they have to do.  They didn't bring full ammunition for their MAG and of what they did bring, they wanted me to fire it.  Their rationale?  They didn't want to spend the time to clean the MAG the next day.  I can appreciate that: the weapon really is a bitch to clean.  But I gladly accepted the extra drum.  As we went through the dry-run of the exercise, Shmaya and I were busy connecting all of my bullets into one long belt.  Instead of drums of 125, we connected all of my ammunition into one chain of about 600 bullets.  I let it fly at the targets, popping off a few hundred within thirty seconds.  Then I switched with Shmaya and let him fire the rest of the ammunition.  At the end, the barrel of the MAG shone white-hot.  It could easily give someone a third-degree burn, but quickly cooled in the frigid night air.

After the exercise was completed, the company gathered into a column and went off on a hike that was supposed to be about ten kilometers but turned into eighteen or twenty.  There was another urban combat drill at the end, in which I did absolutely nothing, then we returned to base, again on foot.  Everyone met up in the shooting range outside the fence around eight in the morning for a shooting test: run two hundred meters out, then back, crawl ten meters, then shoot six bullets, three in kneeling position and three in prone position, at a head target twenty-five meters away in about two and a half minutes.  Here's a video of Jesse doing it at a different location a few weeks ago:

Then that was it for the company test.  We cleaned our guns and went to bed for the day.  We woke up late, had dinner, did a workout, then went to bed, again.  The next day, we did some last-minute cleaning up stuff around the base, including cleaning the armored personnel carriers, called Nagmashim.  We also went out to the field, sat around and had a lengthy discussion as a platoon.  Then we went for a run.

That evening, we left Kala, my winter training base, mid-afternoon.  I will never see that base again.  Baruch Hashem.

But we didn't go home.  Instead, there was a celebration for the end of winter training for all of Tzanchanim.  Held in a concert hall in Haifa, this was a ceremony for all three battalions in the brigade, as well as special forces.  It was pretty cool.  Rami Kleinstein, a judge for the Israeli version of The Voice and a famous singer, put on a concert.  Then there were awards handed out for excellence in different weapons, commanders and battalions.  It was exciting.  Tzanchanim sure does know how to put on a good show and pat themselves on the back.  But it was fun to be a part of it.  And then, best of all, we went home that evening!

I came back to stay with David and Amy in Tel Aviv.  The next day I met up with Sarah and spent 1000 shekel gift card lone soldiers received as a Hanukkah gift.  Thank you Renuar for the nice new shirts!  That evening, I had drinks with Big Mike, a good friend from Mikveh Alon who has been in Golani.  Haven't seen him in a while.  Then Saturday evening, Sarah and I went back to Jerusalem because there was a lone soldier bar crawl.  Haven't been on a bar crawl since college.  Although this was nothing like those wonderful, wonderful...wonderful days, it was still fun.  And Eliyahu, who has been at Commanders Course for the past few months, was able to meet up with us and then crashed at my place.

On Sunday, we were to start Shavuah Nofesh, R&R week, in Ashkelon.  I received a text from a soldier on Saturday night saying that instead of being in Ashkelon at eleven in the morning, we had to be there at five in the afternoon!  I had the entire day to chill!  Sarah and I went walking around the Old City, met people visiting from the States, and made a day out of it.  In the morning, I received a call from my platoon officer asking if I was home for the day.  I was, and he told me that he wanted to do a bikor beit, a home check.  I told him I already had that done a few weeks ago, but he responded by saying that he was in Jerusalem and I'm his soldier, so he wanted, especially as a lone soldier, to make sure everything was good on my home front.  What a guy.  He came over and we spent an hour chilling and talking, half in Hebrew half in English.  Then we went to Ashkelon together.

About once a year, generally at the end of winter training, soldiers are given a week of rest and relaxation.  It is usually held at this base/camp/complex in Ashkelon donated by the FIDF.  My building was called Beit Chicago, Chicago House, how perfect is that?  For four days, we were able to swim in a pool, play soccer, lift weights (finally!), and just chill.  One day we had Yom Sport, Sports Day.  I competed for my company in volleyball and tug of war, placing in second and first, respectively.  Another day, we took a silly and worthless hike on a trail near Jerusalem for the entire day.  But overall, it was relaxing.  We walked around in civilian clothes, without our guns, and enjoyed the sun.  We couldn't go to the beach, but one morning the entire gdud (battalion) went for a run on the beach.  Was definitely not as much fun as it sounds.

One of the best moments of the week, and to be honest perhaps of my entire service, was one evening after dinner.  Binkovich, Israeli and a great guy, took grape soda that we (the lone soldiers) had swiped from dinner.  He killed the bottle.  We then proceeded to do a "yom huledet" on him.  This requires some explaining.  Yom huledet means birthday.  The guys in my plugah, since last March, have initiated every birthday boy with a certain song, where in the words pretty much say how "the birthday is a celebration for children, and comes with arms and legs," at which point you hit the unfortunate birthday boy with your hands and kick him with your feet. It's all in good fun, but such an Israeli thing.  About four of us did this to Binkovich...twice.

Later in the evening, I was trying to get back into the building when some Israelis who were outside smoking stopped me, said they heard about what we did to Binkovich, then proceeded to try and hold me while they shouted for their friends.  I threw them off and ran back to my friends.  Clearly, a war had started.

We went back into the building a little while later and congregated in a room, thinking of a plan.  Suddenly, a whole rush of Israelis run into the room and a brawl ensues, Israelis on one side and lone soldiers on the other.  Beds were split apart, chairs knocked over, clothing pulled....fun times.  We all ended with smiles and slaps on the back.  The Israelis left.

Myself, Sean, Shmaya and Adam (l to r), chilling

But we weren't done.  Me, Sean, Shmaya, Jesse and Adam took our shirts off and ran back into the room of Israelis, shouting yom huledets like crazy people, jumping on Israelis, hitting them, kicking them.  And the Israelis fought back.  I was in the middle of picking up the biggest kid in the company when someone else jumped on my back and wrapped his limps around me, bringing me crashing to the floor.  I was getting pummeled by all sides, but managed to get myself on my feet and jump on others.  Again, we all ended clapping our hands.

The beach: so close yet so far

Binkovich came to us the next day and said that none of the Israelis were expecting us to do that, much less with our shirts off.  The lone soldiers gained a lot of respect that evening.

The next day we were supposed to leave Ashkelon at seven in the morning.  However, thanks to crazy anti-Israel (and likely anti-Semitic) Arabs and activists, there was a ban on anyone leaving the army for home.  It ended up that we went from Ashkelon to a training base just south of Haifa to be ready to be called to defend Israel if need be.  Against what?  People marching to the borders on the Global March to Jerusalem.  Thank you very much for this silly political stunt.  It was mixed in with Land Day, supposedly another political hoax where the Arabs protest land "taken" from them by Israel.  If you read the news this past weekend, you know what I'm talking about.  When the dust had settled, we were not needed and left base early afternoon.

In the aftermath, I read that Hamas had savagely beaten its own people to prevent them from reaching the fence separating Gaza from Israel.  There were riots in the West Bank with some possible casualties, but nothing too serious.  They think they are winning international brownie points.  From my point of view, they prevented me and my friends from being able to return home to our families and friends.

The absolute best part of these past two weeks?  I bought a plane ticket home!  July 1st, I leave Israel to return to my true Beit Chicago.