the end is nigh

Overlooking the border, with the sea to my right.

It's been a number of weeks since I last wrote about my life in the army.  This post will cover the previous four weeks.  But the beauty of being active on the Lebanese border is that I cannot disclose everything that I do.  I can paint broad brushstrokes of my work but am forbidden to go into specifics due to the sensitive nature of what I am describing.  Before every time we leave base for the weekend, our officers remind us to be careful what we say and where say it.  It's a bit of a "loose lips sink ships" situation.  They caution us to not talk on busses or trains about our base and the border.

Four weeks ago I took a train north from Tel Aviv to Nahariyya, a medium-sized city on the Mediterranean coast and a few miles south of Lebanon.  Like Beersheva for my training base, Ariel for Shechem, and Kiryat Shemonah for winter training, this was our meeting point for a bus to take us to our base.  I sewed on my sergeant's stripes and, with Adam, we got some japes about being sergeants and wearing the rank on our sleeves.  (Clarification required: clearly by "I" I mean my wonderful cousin Amy sewed them on.  Thanks so much!)  But it's all good, because it's just another marker towards the end of my service.

On Tuesday of that first week, we learned that our company had been assigned an extra section of fence to our west.  With this new section of the border came a small base to man.  My squad was assigned there for a full week.  It was the chillest time I've ever had in my service while in the army.  For one week, it was me and between seven and nine other guys.  We were there to protect the hummer border patrols as they came through our area.  It was almost no work at all.  My commander is a great kid; he speaks very good English, like all Ethiopans thinks he is a black gangster, and didn't really care what we did on that base when we weren't doing the necessary guard duty.  I read a full thousand-ish page book (thank you, Game of Thrones series), watched movies (thank you, iPhone) and worked out (thank you....me).

This tiny base was an, in some ways, an escape from the normal dealings of the IDF.  For example, I never shined my shoes or made my bed in the morning.  Ok, that may seem silly and trivial, but it has been such a normal and mandatory part of my mornings for the past year, that not doing it feels so good.  In addition, there was no logistical or kitchen work that we had to do.  We made our own food with supplies brought to us from the battalion's base, but we were on our own for what to cook, what to do and when, etc.

During that week, Israel observed and celebrated Yom Hazikaron and Yom Haatzmaut, Day of Remembrance and Independence Day, respectively.  Last year, I was off base in Tel Aviv for the back-to-back holidays.  You can read (or maybe re-read) what I wrote about the days last year.  For this year, I was on base, but we stood and bowed our heads in a respectful manner for when the siren sounded in the evening and the following morning of Yom Hazikaron.

My squad was replaced by a different one a week later.  We returned to our main base where the rest of the company is stationed.  Did some guard duty, a lot of nothing, and some more of I don't remember until Thursday morning.  We awoke at four in the morning.  It was still dark outside when we went for a four kilometer run carrying three stretchers.  We finished, stretched, showered, changed into our Aleph/dress uniforms, and left base around seven.  A bus took us back to Nahariyya, I got on a train to Tel Aviv, stopped at David and Amy's to do laundry, then travelled to my Jerusalem and ended at my apartment.

That evening, the newest draft of Tzanchanim was having their tekkes hashba'ah, swearing-in ceremony at the Western Wall.  These guys drafted just a few months ago, in March.  Sound familiar?  I drafted a year ago in March (to Tzanchanim, not the IDF).  They are exactly where I was one year ago.  I went with some friends to see the ceremony.  Some of the commanders were soldiers in my squad, platoon or company from March until October when they went off to commanders course.  I didn't really care to see the entire ceremony, and arriving late helped that, but it felt good to see a new group of guys go through exactly where I've been.  I'm starting to learn that about life: I'm more aware of the passage of time; I can look back at where I was a month or a year ago.  My blog also helps remind me; I get enjoyment a great sense of accomplishment looking back at what I have done, knowing that other guys are going through the very same thing, but I have done it.

The next day, I went around town for a few hours, bought a nice pair of sunglasses, then returned home and started the best part of my weekend: not leaving the apartment until Sunday morning.  It was a lazy weekend for me.  It was needed and felt great.  Shmaya came by a few times and we chilled.  I downloaded movies, started watching a new tv show (Shark Tank; I am going to start a business at some point in my life), and also thinking about jobs for after the army.

Two weeks ago on Sunday, I got up to leave with Shmuel from our apartment, but on the bus ride to the bus station, I didn't think I could make it.  At a random stop, I spotted a hostel, for some reason thrust my pita, hummus and turkey sandwich into Shmuel's hands, and sprinted off the bus, into the hostel and bee-lined it for the bathroom.  When I finished, I called my commander, told him what happened (but not in too much detail) and said I was gonna stay in Jerusalem for a few hours to make sure I don't have a recurring episode and have to time to feel better.  He was supposed to call our officer and get back to me, but I went to my apartment anyway, watched a few episodes of Shark Tank, and left mid-afternoon for base.  That started a full day trek to base, which I didn't arrive at until late at night.  (*My apologies for this story.  But it's more for me to remember an interesting and comical episode than to enlighten you, the reader, on the life of a lone soldier.  Thanks for bearing with me!)

The first few days on base were really slow.  I went for a run amidst the beautiful hills of northern Israel.  I worked out with a few of the weights my company has.  I had a lot of down time.  Then on Wednesday, half the company went home for the weekend.  That meant more work for the rest of us.

For me and my squad, it meant twelve hour patrols followed by twelve hours of rest then patrol then rest then patrol until Sunday.  For the week and a half, I went on seventy-two hours worth of patrol.  The best part of this schedule was the time: my patrols were from midnight to noon.  The next best part is that on my twelve hours of rest, my unit is the response unit for the base, which means we have to respond to any emergency within minutes.  In order to do that, you can't take off your boots.  So I didn't change my uniform or take off my boots for five days.  It was a great time.  I hated it.

In these hummers, there is almost zero space to fit your legs.  And I'm a tall guy.  Sitting in the back seat reminds me of a time when I was nine and my brother and I played on a traveling baseball team in Chicago.  One evening, my mom, brother and I drove with the team to Milwaukee County Stadium to watch the Brewers play the Seattle Mariners (they were still in the American League at that time).  At the end of the game, another parent drove us around as we tried to find our car.  I sat for nearly an hour in the back seat with my legs crossed indian style.  It was very very uncomfortable.  Sitting in the cramped confines of these hummers reminded me of that.  And now that I think about it, this pointless story actually revealed to me one thing: why did we go to Milwaukee instead of seeing a Cubs or, G-d forbid, a Sox game in Chicago?

In addition to time, sleep has become another thing that interests me.  I've taken a new perspective of it since in the army.  For those five days, I slept on the patrols if we were able to; I slept for an hour here or there in the middle of the afternoon if I could; I slept whenever possible.  I looked forward to the soothing motion of the hummer.  It lulled me to sleep.  I drifted off to thoughts of home, the past, and the future.  Over the past year and a half, I've come to love and hate my thoughts.  They can be my best friends and worst enemies.  Whether drifting off to sleep on a frigid night in the Golan Heights, standing guard duty for eight hours in Hebron, or staring out at Lebanon from inside a hummer, my thoughts are a constant companion.

During these past two weeks, I worked on figuring on when my chofshash starts.  Chofshash is a period at the end of a soldier's service that he spends at home.  A course is provided to him to learn about transitioning back into civilian life, educational opportunities, financial situations, etc.  Israelis receive month-long chofshash before their final release date.  My friends in Nahal, Golani, Givati and Kfir, all of whom have done a year and a half like myself are receiving three weeks, four weeks, or a full month.  My friends in the other two Tzanchanim battalions, 101 and 890, are receiving three weeks, four weeks, or a full month.  My buddies and I in 202 are getting two weeks.  Welcome to 202.

Tuesday was Nakba Day.  It is becoming an Arab tradition to disregard Israel's political sovereignty and right to exist, and deciding to walk from Lebanon and Syria to the border with Israel, protest, throw rocks and try to tear down the fence.  It is because of this day that the head commander of Tzanchanim wanted to be at the Lebanese border for six months.  We were supposed to be at Gaza.  At that kav assignment, there is action.  There is activity.  Things happen.  At Lebanon: nothing.  And this was supposed to be the day for something to happen.  And where was I?  Kitchen duty.  FML.  But, as it turned out, nothing ended up happening at our fence assignment.

I had been constantly asking my platoon officer about my chofshash.  He eventually got back to me on Wednesday evening with the final date: MAY 28th!!  A week from Monday!  That will be the last time I will be on base.  The two weeks are actually two weeks' worth of army days (weekends don't count).  Today is nine days.  Single digits!  SINGLE!  Down to nine.  The last nine days.  On Wednesday I had my last seicat machlekah, platoon discussion.  Later in the evening I had my last misdar men pay, an equipment presentation for my company commander.  On Thursday morning, I had my last night of three hours sleep before going home, waking up at three in the morning to guard, then go for the same four kilometer run at four in the morning, followed by a shower, change and bus to Nahariyya.

Thursday evening, after sleeping six hours for the previous two nights, Shmuel and I went to see the Avengers.  It was awesome, even though I definitely fell asleep for fifteen minutes or so in the middle.  Friday night I went to the monthly lone soldier meal provided by the Lone Soldier Center at the Jerusalem Great Synagogue.  Today was a lazy day and returning to base tomorrow.  This will be the last night I ever go to sleep dreading waking up the next morning.  It will be the last time I feel the terrible feeling in my stomach Sunday morning, hating waking up and having to go to base.

Finally, my parents have their say

We were apprehensive when Daniel told us he planned to join the IDF. Was he thinking clearly? After all, he graduated near the top of his class, interned in Washington, D.C., passed the Foreign Service exam, and enjoyed writing cogently about politics and current affairs. We suggested that he explore the opportunities open to him in the safety of the United States.

Daniel did not ask for our advice, and even if he had, there was not much we could give; neither of us knew anything about serving in the IDF, let alone as a lone soldier. Of course, as parents, we knew we had to do what we could to make sure that his decision was, at least, thoughtful. We advised him to consider not only the positives of IDF service, but also the negatives. We don’t know if he ever took our advice to heart.

Although our son would now likely be in harms way, our greatest concern when he left, was that shortly after enlisting, he would regret his decision. Perhaps somewhat oddly, we felt like parents who had sent our child to overnight camp, and were afraid that he might call in the middle of the night wanting to come home. Only the “camp director” in Israel would obviously have the authority to say “no.”

We are very proud of our paratrooper, and upon reflection, not at all surprised that he joined Tzanchanim. As a child, when our family visited amusement and water parks, Daniel was the one who rushed to the tallest rides and the fastest roller coasters. We chose to take pictures of him from ground level.

Daniel’s 1^st jump was a bit disconcerting for us. What if he got to the open door and decided it was something he couldn’t do, or what if, having jumped, his parachute failed to open? Daniel told us that if he hesitated, he would be pushed out of the plane; somehow that didn’t reassure us! Again trying to be helpful, we told him to make sure that he knew how to use his backup chute, and to remain calm throughout the jump. We were greatly relieved when he called the next day to say that the jump went fine and that he enjoyed the experience.

Our passion is long distance cycling on our tandem, and often, after being in the saddles all day, and with many miles still left to ride, we draw inspiration from our son, who has endured difficulties in order to pursue his passion. 

Daniel’s service ends in June.  We very much look forward to having our son home and sharing time together. Daniel left home a young man and he will return a proud soldier. We are very proud of him.

Sergeant Flesch

That is the most accurate depiction of what I do...now that I am a sergeant!

Or maybe this is more like it.  The whole semi-depressed part, not the losing legs part:

Ok, so that's not exactly me.  But I am now Sergeant Daniel Flesch.  For the rest of my days.  After eight months service, a private becomes a corporal.  After sixteen months, a corporal becomes a sergeant.  And then after eighteen months, this sergeant becomes a civilian.

Congrats to the new sergeants: Adam, Shmuel, Effy, Gidon, and Matthew.

Thanks to Amy for sewing on my sergeant's stripes!

Lebanon

The hummer bounced along the gravel path, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake.  The early morning sunshine pierced through the lush green canopy, showering the dust in bright, yellow light.  The slight breeze made the dust dance a slow accompaniment with the quiet, lazy tempo of the morning.  Everything was peaceful on this mid-summer's day.

A soldier inside the hummer tugged at his uniform collar in an effort to expand his chest beneath the stifling combination of the ceramic bullet-proof vest and combat vest.  Mercifully, he gulped down a large breath of air, a brief respite amidst the vehicle's stifling heat.  The hummers are known to collect two things: heat and dust.  He glanced to his right and saw his partner doing the same.  Looking past him, he gazed longingly at the pleasant rolling hills and short mountains that swept across the Israeli north from the sea to the Golan.  His eyes swept back to his left, and out his door he could see the terrain continue well into the north.  This truly is a beautiful place, a holy land, he thought to himself.  Just why must this fence be there, snaking a barbed-wire cut across these hills of green?  And why must Lebanon be on the other side?

At a near U-turn bend in the road, he could see the leading hummer, a few hundred meters in front of them, cross between shadow and sunlight and back again.  The MAG machine gun attached to the roof pointed off to the left, north, as if to remind them which way was the enemy.

Although they were just starting their eight-hour patrol, they were nearing the end of their assigned fence to patrol.  He closed his eyes, preparing to drift off into a slumber and think about..."how did it go with that girl this weekend?"  

He groggily turned his head and smiled, "Y'know, it went well.  I think we're dating now."  

"Really? You asked her?"  

"Haha, no not quite.  But she spent the night, so...." 

"Well done, bro.  But I do have to say, 'bout time for you two."  

His officer turned around from his position at the front seat, "this a new girl of yours?"  

"Yeah, met her a few months ago..." 

"And it took this long, haha," his partner leaned forward to include the guys in the front seat in the conversation.  "I mean, two months before 'being' with this girl, and she's gorgeous!  Honestly, some of us were starting to wonder about..."

BOOOOM!!! The sound of an explosion tore through the morning stillness, cutting him off mid-sentence.  All eyes whipped forward as they saw the first hummer spewing smoke and flames from its engine.  Suddenly, they heard the deep crack of a rocket-propelled grenade being shot.  A second later, it slammed into the side of the hummer, exploding and twisting the roof outward, as if a giant fist punched through it from the inside.  The doors slowly opened and the soldiers stumbled out, spewing blood and collapsing on the ground.

The officer shouted for the driver to move closer and for the soldier's partner to man the MAG machine gun on the roof.  As they sped towards their friends, he saw a flash of fire from the trees and a streak of smoke as an RPG zeroed in on their hummer.  "Swerve!!"  He felt the impact before hearing the RPG tear into their vehicle.  He felt the hummer being shoved violent to the left, and at the same time heard a scream being cut off.  He looked up and saw clear sky, the hatch having been blown off and his partner nowhere in sight.  

In a daze, he tried to open his door, giving pause for a second because he heard what he thought was raindrops.  Heavy raindrops hitting the hummer. Hitting the side of the hummer.  Hitting with such force that they ripped through the windows and doors...and through his officer in the front seat.

He finally fell out of the hummer, narrowly missing the machine gun fire that finished the job the RPG had started.  He crawled around the back and knelt into a firing position and shot at the trees where he thought the RPG had come from.  He could see the flash of the machine gun, and had to duck back as the large caliber bullets landed all around him.  He could see two other soldiers firing back from the first vehicle, until small red clouds appeared around one guy's chest and the other's helmet went flying.

He slumped against the back of the hummer, and just then realized that he was wounded.  Blood ran from wounds on his shoulder and leg.  He crawled to the far side and looked around to see some guys set a charge to the fence and blow it open.  They streamed through and ran towards the hummers.  They saw him lying in a pool of his own blood, but grabbed his arms and legs and threw him into a car and back across the border into Lebanon.

This dramatization took place on July 12, 2006. Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were taken hostage from those two hummers.  The rest of the Israeli soldiers were killed in the surprise attack.  Thus began the Second Lebanon War.

----------------------------------

Adam and Ravner demonstrating the Maklar,
the automatic grenade launcher

After the two days for Pesach, I returned to our transition base south of Haifa.  We had a couple more days of training before finally returning to life on kav, on the "line," at Lebanon.  We did some drills where we ran as a company with combat vests on and stretchers opened to carry a couple "injured" soldiers, followed by shooting drills.  Look at the video in a few previous posts for the shooting drill.  Finally, on Wednesday of that week, we packed up our equipment, boarded a bus, and drove north to Lebanon.

Now, we didn't actually enter Lebanon.  If we did, that would be the beginning of a war.  Instead, we are located on a base so close to the border that the only separation is a gravel and paved stretch of road that runs the entire length of the fence, from the Mediterranean Sea to the Syrian border on the Golan Heights.  The fence itself is fitted with electronic sensors that detect if pressure is applied to it.  In addition, the fence area features coils and coils or barbed wire as extra precaution.

The fence itself is actually not the true Israel-Lebanon border.  Instead, the Blue Line is the political boundary between the two countries.  It is the demarcation line of Israel's withdrawal in 2000.  In 1982, Israel involved itself in the Lebanese Civil War.  The First Lebanon War lasted until 1985, although Israel maintained a military presence in southern Lebanon as an effort to expunge the PLO from the country.  In 2000, Israel withdrew back across the border, and now UNIFIL, the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon, marked the true border and has small bases stationed between the two countries.

The fence itself largely hugs the Blue Line except when the topography of the land makes it impossible because of ravines or hills.  In this case, the fence cuts back into Israeli territory anywhere from ten to one hundred meters.  As I mentioned, a road runs the entire length of the fence.  And we patrol it.

My base is small; it holds my company, a unit from Sheriyon (tanks), Modi'in sadeh (field intelligence), and some other random soldiers.  Also, unlike every other base I've served on, including the one at Shchem, this one is a bunker.  There is one large building in the center of the base.  You walk inside and feel like it's some Cold War relic, or a place where the president would go if in danger...except not nearly as nice, I would imagine.  Our rooms are tiny: six guys sleep in a room half the size of my college dorm room.  Three guys share a three-level bunk bed.  We get nice and cozy in there at night.

Life on kav Lebanon is pretty chill.  It has been obvious that the hardest, physical challenges of my IDF service have been over for a while.  Now, things are easier.  There are not many responsibilities on this base.  We have patrols along the border, a couple guard posts on base, and then the regular tasks of army life, such as kitchen duty or base maintenance.

Because we are finally out of maslul (the newest company of the battalion), when we have down time, the commanders don't run around finding stupid crap things for us to do just for the purpose of not having us sit around doing nothing.  I've read the Game of Thrones series with a vengeance, in part because they're an easy and fun read, although incredibly long books, and in part because I have the time.  I work out with an equal vengeance.  And Adam and I tick off the days until we are done with the army.

On Tuesday of the second week on base, we received a surprise: instead of going home on Thursday as scheduled, my platoon would leave on Wednesday because of Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.  But first we had to wake up before dawn to go for a four kilometer run.  Then, on the bus ride to Nahariyya, we all slept.

I went to Tel Aviv for the weekend to spend the time with my cousins, David and Amy.

Shmuel demonstrating how a lone soldier dries his
laundry, in Shmaya's apartment

The next morning, I woke up, made myself some coffee, opened my computer, and sat at the table next to the window overlooking Tel Aviv and the Mediterranean.  At 10:00 am, a siren sounded, and the entire country froze.  People in the streets stopped what they were doing.  Cars stopped moving.  Even traffic on the highway sometimes comes to a standstill (look at clips on YouTube).  For two minutes, every soul in this little country remembered what happened to our nation over sixty years ago.  We remember, and we don't forget.  See my previous post.

That evening, a bunch of us lone soldiers met up at Shamaya's apartment in Givatayyim, right outside Tel Aviv, to celebrate Shmaya and Jesse being released from the army.  On Sunday, they had come to our base to turn in the last of their equipment, and they were done with our company and Tzanchanim.  On Wednesday, April 19th, they finished their fourteen month service in the IDF.  They served under the same program that I serve, Machal, but they did not do the three months ulpan (Hebrew learning) at the beginning of their service.  Basically, they started later and ended earlier.  We celebrated their freedom and 4/20.

Stayed the rest of the weekend in Tel Aviv.  Friday night was Tomer's birthday.  He's one of my best Israeli friends in the army.  Sarah and I met up with him and Yuval, another of my best Israeli friends, at a club near the sea.

And one more really awesome thing happened in the past few weeks.  But you'll have to wait for my next post, probably in a few days, to find out...

Yuval, me and Tomer