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.