from the USA to the IDF: Arrested

View of an intersection leading to Shchem. The small
red sign is in Hebrew and warns Israelis that
they are officially leaving Israeli jurisdiction.

Do not worry! Yours truly is not in jail!

Instead, this was a week of arrests, physical and emotional. It was my first week back in Israel, and consequently back in the IDF. And it all started within minutes of arriving at Ben-Gurion Airport.

I was standing in line at customs, waiting for my turn to present my passport to the lady behind the glass and be allowed into the country. I turned on my Blackberry and saw a WhatsApp message from Adam, lone soldier from New Jersey, who returned from his month break a few days before me: "Dude don't come back here. Stay in chi town." Ummm, too late. But that's what greeted me as I touched down.

And what's more, as I waited among the throngs of people, I noticed that most of the arrivals were from various Birthright groups. Their eager, uncertain chatter as they made new friends and discussed what little they knew about Israel and the adventure that awaited them was in stark contrast to my mood. I remember feeling as they did on my Birthright trip two years ago, and again on my three week program at a yeshivah two summers ago, and again arriving last November for the adventure of a lifetime. But now, my fourth time arriving in Israel, I wasn't filled with so much anticipation and excitement. I missed home.

I was actually quite taken aback by how I felt at the airport. Israel is a land where any Jew is greeted with a "welcome home." But I already sorely missed my home in Chicago. And going back that Sunday to the army didn't make things easier. Adam and I immediately started commiserating together. We caught up, swapped stories about our amazing times with our friends, bemoaned the upcoming move to winter quarters, and looked forward to finishing our service, which for me, is coming sooner than I anticipated...

When I left Israel in December, I had told my commander that I wanted to go to Snipers Course and would be willing to sign more service time. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to take the leap and extend my service. I had a rough last few weeks before going home and knew I needed to take the much-needed time off and think about my options. Over the month, I thought long and hard and decided that I would be willing to sign up to six more months if it meant I could become a sniper. Lo and behold, I arrived on base on Sunday and discovered, for reasons unknown, that the IDF or the Snipers Course decided to change how they select soldiers to become snipers and, for now, no one is being sent to the course. End of discussion. My grandmother is very happy. I had gotten excited about the prospect of becoming a sniper, doing something significant on our next operational posting at the Lebanese border, and being able to do it all for just six more months of service. But alas, 'twas not to be. Now that means that I truly do, almost, not quite, just yet, barely see the light at the end of the tunnel. Looks like I will still be done in mid-June.

A brief note about people. It seems that anything to do with Israel can bring out the best (and maybe the worst) in interactions between people. When I was in Las Vegas, I thought I overheard Hebrew, but it sounded like the girls were speaking in a French accent, and I wasn't in the best shape (thanks to the previous evening) to discern exactly what language was being spoken. I went up to them and asked, in English, what language they were speaking. "Hebrew." And from that, I struck up a conversation with them, in Hebrew, about me joining the army, what they are doing at the Flamingo Hotel, and life. It was great meeting them.

On the bus ride towards Shechem, an elderly couple needed help getting some luggage onto their seats. They spoke English, were from Texas, and are now living in Israel. They offered to host me for Shabbat whenever I want.

Then when I was doing guard duty down the road from a checkpoint leading into Shchem, I heard on the radio a command to stop two bikers who were coming down the road towards me. I immediately saw them and ordered in Hebrew to stop. They responded in English that they have no idea what I'm saying. Ultimately, they were two guys from Italy doing a bike tour from Nazareth to Cairo, and the soldiers at the checkpoint saw them taking pictures of the checkpoint itself, which is not allowed. The border police were called over and I served as a translator between the English and Hebrew. The guys were innocent, we deleted the couple photos, and had a pleasant conversation about bicycling, hockey and why an American is in the IDF.

Now, there was still work to be done. And part of that work included an arrest. Finally!

To begin with, when I arrived back at base, I needed to sign for all new equipment: gun, vest, gear, everything. And after months of delay, I finally received an M-4 rifle. Typically, Tzanchanim uses M-16s for training and soldiers always switch to the M-4 after their masa kumtah. It wasn't so for my draft. Slowly, soldiers had received the new weapons, but I left for the States still with an M-16. On Sunday, I signed out an M-4 and the next day went to the range to line up the sights. And what a joy it is to shoot this gun! There are many advantages of the M-4 over the M-16: its muzzle is specially designed to suppress flashes from the bullet; its barrel has a cooling mechanism to keep it from overheating; its better suited for weapons attachments such as grenade launcher and special sights; and other perks. But, most noticeably, was how smooth the rifle shot, with such little recoil. And it was even better that my sights were completely not aligned when I received the gun, so I ended up popping off about forty or fifty rounds to line them up. It was good ol' fashion fun.

But back to the arrest.

We were to leave Shchem for good on Wednesday, and early Tuesday I found out I was part of a group that would carry out an arrest that evening. I come back from the States and literally within the last few hours of my time at Shchem, I finally do something I feel is somewhat significant. The hours of guarding were certainly important, but not exactly proactive. This was to be different.

Me and two other soldiers were to be in a unit with our MemMem, one of four that would carry out the arrest. Much to my amazement and surprise, it was to be our unit that would actually enter the house and arrest the suspects: two young adults from a village just outside Shchem. We spent the morning being briefed on the mission, its objective, logistics, and protocol. Then we dressed in our gear for a practice drill on how to surround and enter the house. Then the MemPay, the company commander and mission leader, stopped us halfway and informed my unit that in fact we would not be entering the house. That privilege was given to another unit. You gotta be sh***ing me! He gave some crap reason as to why, but the truth is that he doesn't trust my platoon commander. And for that, us soldiers get screwed as well.

But the mission was still a-go. It was scheduled for midnight, but that hour came and went. Finally at 1:30 in the morning, we were told to be ready to go by two. I was dressed in my combat vest, helmet, the works, including body armor and a bullet loaded in our guns. We drove in an armored truck out to the village, parked a few hundred meters from the house, stealthily made our way to the target and set ourselves up at different intersections and entrance points. It was quiet. Very quiet. Nothing stirred on the streets; not even a cat, which are as prevalent in Israel as squirrels are in the States, was around.

When everyone was set up, the order to enter the home was given. I heard banging on the door and "Jeish! Jeish!" Army! Army! in Arabic. The door opened and the two units, including the company commander and a soldier from my kitah (squad) who speaks fluent Arabic, entered. We stayed crouched at the intersection; my rifle was pointed down the street away from the house, protecting our rear flank if anyone were to come into view. Fifteen minutes later, out came the two suspects, hands zip-tied behind them. We made our way quickly back to the vehicle, the two suspects were handed over to Shabak, Israel's FBI, and we went back to base. We were de-briefed, then went to bed at 3:30. Job well done.

Snow in Israel?

Only to wake up at 5:00 to prepare to leave Shchem with the rest of the 202 battalion. I was on a bus that left around 8:00 and we arrived close to noon. That's how far north we are. Yes we made a couple stops along the way, but basically, we are minutes from the Lebanese border in the north, right by kibbutz Shamir, overlooking the northernmost city in Israel, Kiryat Shmonah. This base is out in the boondocks. Even in such a small country, we are in the middle of nowhere. Off to one side and down in a valley we see Kiryat Shmonah, off to another side is Mt. Hermon, the tallest mountain in Israel, and off to another are cows and pastures. I learned on my Birthright trip two years ago that the Golan is divided in thirds: residential, wildlife/forest preserve, and military. A lot of the Golan is pockmarked with barb-wired sections that warn of mines, remnants of Israel's two wars with Syria in 1967 and 1973. And on the other side of the wires are cows munching on grass.

Needless to say, the location of this new base arrested me psychologically. My company left base at 7:00 on Friday. I was there for roughly forty hours. It was cloudy for thirty-eight of those hours and rained for thirty-five. The rain is terrible. I am certainly used to rainy conditions from living in Chicago, but have always hated it because I played baseball. I always enjoy watching a good thunderstorm from the comfort of a nice, warm room. However, when we need to set up and organize our equipment, stand guard without shelter, and be constantly shuffling back and forth between buildings, the rain does not create the most hospitable conditions. In addition, once we start doing our training and exercises in the field, rain will make equipment much heavier and terrain difficult to traverse.

Shalom, Tomer.

These are not the conditions I needed coming back from the States. While the base itself is small and compact, with nice heated rooms, it has been difficult to adjust to the sense of being at the end of the country, in miserable conditions, with nothing ahead of us except for hard, long weeks of training to get through before the weather warms and life becomes....possible again.

One really good piece of news is that it appears I will be off base almost every weekend, similar to my schedule when I was at Mikveh Alon for the first three months of my service. But also like Mikveh Alon, it appears I will not leave base until Friday morning. And we are even further north than Mikveh.

We awoke yesterday morning at 5:30 to a sound I dreaded hearing: the plat plat-plat of rain falling heavily on the roof of our sleeping quarters. Ugh! Just what I did not want to have to deal with as we prepared to leave base. I groggily crawled out of bed and dressed in chetzi Aleph, half my Aleph uniform, not putting on the uniform top until we were ready for the buses after cleaning.

I dressed, shaved, and hadn't noticed but the dreaded noise had ceased. I opened the door and was shocked by what I saw. A quiet peacefulness had descended upon our base. What had been heavy, ugly raindrops had transformed into snowflakes, falling lazily from the heavens. It was the most incredible sight I had seen in my week back. I was immediately out in the walkway between the buildings, gazing upward, ecstatic at this winter spectacle. Snowfall in January. A pleasant and friendly reminder of Chicago and home. I stayed out under the snowflakes. The Israelis were shocked and bewildered; many knew of snow but few had actually seen it. They gingerly gazed out of the doorways, cameras and iPhones out, taking pictures and video as if we had landed on an alien planet. And there was that crazy American, shouting his head off, smiling, ecstatic to be in this strange new world.