tobealonesoldier III

What little I saw of the All-Star Game at a bar in Tel Aviv.

A week's break is a precious thing and something not to be wasted.  That's why I've spent this week in Tel Aviv with other lone soldiers, going to the beach or walking around during the day, napping in the early evening, then meeting again for a night out until two or three in the morning, somehow finding my way back to my apartment, and talking with friends until five or six.  Go to sleep.  And repeat.

My bank account sure has taken a strong hit.  But you have to live it up while you can, right?  And by 'it' I mean freedom.  Sometime during my sixteen years of schooling, I learned that one of the biggest difficulties an inmate can face following his release is not finding a job or place to live.  Instead, it is the simple reality of being free that can prove so challenging.  I certainly feel a little of that.  But on the other hand, I feel there is so much to do in so little time, or rather there is just enough to do in the proper amount of time but I misuse my time and hence it seems like such little time.  I want to write a post here and for my Jerusalem Post blog, talk with family and friends, attempt to catch up on national (Israeli and American) and international news, and just spend time doing nothing except vegging in front of the tv or the computer catching up on shows.

I finally received my mom's Blackberry!  Wow, this was an ordeal.  Pretty much, because she had declared it of value in the event it was lost in the mail and it was made out to my cousin's name and not mine, I couldn't get it from the central post office in Tel Aviv.  And then there was a time crunch because David, Amy and the family were leaving for the States (definitely jealous) for the summer.  Anyway, between this and that, it took literally weeks for me to get a simple phone out of the post office.  But now I have it and, just like my buddy Bear from South Africa, it has become my Crackberry, meaning I'm addicted.  But now it's a lot easier to keep in touch with friends from home, which is sorely missed.

Israel has a surplus of jellyfish.  I'm not talking about ones in zoos.  For a few weeks to a few months every summer, these guys invade the coastline.  You walk along the beach and can see them washed up on the shore.  They're just a pile of cloudy white, without any discernible features, sometimes a tentacle or two strewn out to one side.  You can wade into the surf and tread cautiously.  Or you can go for a swim with your buddies and get stung on the ankle.  The choice is yours.  I opted for the last.  And after about ten minutes chilling with my friends in the water, I felt a sensation like needles on my ankle.  Didn't really hurt, but felt odd and continuous.  Then a few others felt the same thing.  And we left the water, with a red mark the only testament that I was stung by one of the oddest creatures on this earth.

Another quick story took place during huliah week, my last week in the shetach.  (See my last blog entry for more about this week.)  This was quite an experience and I want to take note of it for its uniqueness and to remember it.  We had just woken up from our afternoon slumber when the Chopel (Medic) arrived with a few other officers.  He was carrying a bag of bandages and I figured he was going to review with us the proper way to administer first aid in the field.  He pointed at a few of us and said "פצוע/wounded."  I was included and lay down on the ground.  He came around to me and said that I had been hit in my right upper leg, left arm and my nose (the last for no reason other than I had broken my nose a few weeks before).  Shimon, an Israeli buddy of mine in my kitah (class/squad), opted to be the one to bandage me up.

He went through the steps of checking my consciousness and assessing the damage.  As the wound was on my upper leg, he needed to take my pants off.  So far, so good...?  Then he took a bandage cloth and proceeded to wrap my upper leg.  The particular bandaging he was applying required a stiff object to wrap and twist to ensure enough pressure.  A metal stake was lying on the ground.  Why not right?  My pants are around my ankles, my boxers are soaked in sweat because of the searing heat, dozens of people are watching, so why not throw in some rusted metal to the equation?

He twisted the metal and the bandage tightened.  After a turn or two, I looked at him pleadingly and said, "Shimon, that's really enough."  Now, the Samech Mem Pay (the assistant to the Company Commander) was watching our little play-acting and decided, in his ever intense and serious persona, that the bandage wasn't tight enough.  So he jumped in (and I do mean "jumped"), grabbed the stake in both hands, and gave it another complete turn.  I felt my blood pounding against the bandage.  I couldn't wiggle my toes.

Next Shimon moved on to my arm.  For this he used a rubber strip that you wrap above the wound to staunch the blood flow.  The particular bandages used in this exercises mimicked if the wounded has a missing limb.  So everything needed to be tight.  Shimon tried to go easy on me and not pull the rubber too tightly around my bicep.  But my Mefaked (commander) didn't think his work was up to snuff so he grabbed the rubber strap and went to town on it, pulling as hard as he could on each wrap.  I could barely control myself with the pain between my arm and leg.  And we had to wait until the Chopel could come around and make sure I had no pulse.  I couldn't bend my fingers.

After writing on my arm, chest and forehead with permanent marker the time of the bandage, and ensuring that I had no pulse in my arm, the Chopel told Shimon it was ok to take off my arm bandage, but to keep my leg tourniquet intact.  Then it was time to "evacuate" me. They brought a stretcher, slid me on, strapped a helmet on my head, then went trouncing and bouncing and jogging off up a hill and back down.  Finally, after twenty minutes, I could relieve the pressure on my leg.  What an experience.  Lesson learned?  It is very painful to be wounded!

During our Education Week, I had asked the Mem Mem (platoon commander) why he thought Israel allows non-citizens to join its armed forces.  We were in the middle of an open session where us soldiers could ask our commanders any question about the military and our daily lives.  I have my own beliefs, but wanted to know my commanders' opinions.  To my knowledge, Israel is the only country in the world (now with 193 nations, congratulations to South Sudan!) that allows non-citizens to join the military and serve in combat roles.

He identified three reasons: first, Israel needs the manpower and anyone willing to come from overseas and help fight for this country is welcome because he provides an extra body; second, this is a Jewish country and Jews have a right to fight to defend it; and third, it's a way to connect to the Jewish Diaspora.

I believe the first reason is really neither here nor there and possibly inconsequential.  While there is a universal draft, there are many segments of the populations (primarily the ultra-orthodox [Haredi] Jews and the Arabs) who are not forced into military service.  If Israel was truly desperate for manpower, then it could easily cut back on some of the ways people evade service (often by feigning religious piety).  In addition, in Operation Cast Lead (the 2008-2009 war in Gaza), over 100% of the reservists that were called up reported.  That means that there were volunteers.  While the standing army may lack sufficient numbers, Israel has no shortage when it comes to fighting its enemies.

Me with a friend from high school who made aliyah.

If I said I do not strongly agree with my Commander's second reason, then I would undercut the very reasons I am here.  I am here as a Jew, not as an immigrant.  This land is Jewish land and I want to defend it from its enemies.  Anything more need to be said?

Finally, I chuckle at his final reason, because at the same time it is so close to and far from reality.  There is nothing in Israel that creates the "Israeli identity" more than military service.  The Israeli ethos is molded during three years of hard, difficult work to defend this nation.  And this is no more true than in combat versus non-combat roles.  This is also a reason I am here; as I likely will make aliyah (immigrate) later in my life, I want to have paid my dues and served this country like every Israeli does.  I don't want to receive the benefits of citizenship without giving something back.  Now, that might sound noble, but the army isn't for everyone, and that's where my Commander's idea runs a bit off track.  While the military might be the best way, it is certainly not the only path to becoming "Israeli."  In addition, and this is a concern my dad expressed way back in my previous life when I was considering joining, what if the volunteer or new immigrant was wounded or even killed?  How would that influence relations between Israel and the mother country, between Jews and non-Jews?  In the event of something happening to me or another soldier from the States, how would it affect relations between the two countries?  Food for thought.

A street in Jerusalem during the party.

I went to Jerusalem yesterday to meet up with a friend from my Birthright trip from a year and a half ago.  In the center of the city, there was this festival/party.  It's like the Taste of Chicago but without the food.  Pretty much, there was beer to drink, music to listen to, and people to mingle with.  But from two to four in the afternoon, as is the daily societal custom in Jerusalem, the loud music suddenly quieted.  But it didn't die.  So where did it go?  Into wireless headphones you could rent for 10 shekels ($3).  On the outside, things were relatively quiet, with the usual noise hundreds of people generate from talking, walking, doing whatever.  But with the headphones, a whole new world filled with heavy, dancing beats opened up to you.  It was really quite cool.  It reminded me of my freshman year in college during finals, myself and a few friends put on headphones and had our own dance party.  We went up and down the hallways, visiting friends and inviting them to partake in our little party.  You could never hear a thing from the outside; we were quiet and respectful.  But our heads and bodies were filled with music.

On the way home, as I took the 480 bus from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, free while wearing my uniform,  I gazed at the surrounding hills.  Rows of apartment complexes and winding streets faced the biblical Mt. Moriah, the current city of Jerusalem.  The late afternoon sunlight bathed the buildings in a golden aura, making the Jerusalem stone bricks glow and radiate.  I thought of the hundreds of families preparing for Shabbat, a day of spiritual holiness and fulfillment for many, and a day to spend with your family for all.  In the waning hours before sunset on Fridays, Israel prepares for the Sabbath.  It is in many respects a literal, physical preparation.  And here I was, leaving my friends in Jerusalem to return to Tel Aviv to an empty apartment.  For the first time in a while I felt alone and disconnected...from everything.

My one week break is at an end.  I return to base tomorrow to begin advanced training...