!!!צנחנים

I'm in Tzanchanim!!! Paratroopers, here I come! (victory cigars) Starting tomorrow, Sunday, I report back to Tel Hashomer, that black hole of a base near Tel Aviv where time seems to stand still as getting anything done, from my Tzav Rishon to sitting around for hours on my first day of enlistment on December 15th, eludes everyone there. Once again I go to the Bakkum, the supply base at Tel Hashomer, will be issued (or reissued) military gear and apparel. It will, hopefully, be an opportunity for me to scavenge more things. I hear a major rule of thumb among soldiers in the IDF is that if you have the opportunity to gather extra gear, do it!

This was a short, final week at Mikveh. After our tekkes last Wednesday, we all left on Thursday, but the kravi (combat) soldiers had to report back on Sunday. Why? For forty-eight hours of shmirah, guard duty. Probably one of the stupidest uses of our time. Because Mikveh legally owned us for the entire week, they decided to stick us on guard duty, to protect the extremely secretive and strategically important goings-on at Mikveh Alon.

For me, my week started off with a visit to a moshav in the north. A moshav is like a more privatized kibbutz. If you want a full history on the socio-political workings of a kibbutz or a moshav, just go to Wikipedia. As I mentioned in my last post, I've been wanting to get out of Tel Aviv to live on my own for some time now, but the process can take a long time. The first thing to do is broach the idea of moving to your Mishakit Tash. What's that? The Mishakit Tash is essentially the social worker of the military. She's generally a young, very cute girl, assigned to a machlekah, whose job it is to make sure each soldier's needs are met...I'm talking about living arrangements, financial issues, personal things, etc. So I told my Mishakit Tash that I want to move to a kibbutz, and I mentioned a few specific places to her where some of my friends are staying. She got back to me at the end of the week and told me that the following Sunday, instead of returning to base, I would meet another Mishakit Tash at Afula bus station. That morning, we met in the bus station and waited for a man named Tsvika to pick us up and take us to the moshav. If you're a lone soldier coming to Israel, get to know Tsvika. He is unofficially the official "father" of lone soldiers. This man has so many connections throughout the country that it is often faster to get things done through him rather than the military (but no big surprise there, right?).

We went to a moshav, looked around, and met some of the people who make that place happen. I would be given my own apartment, with one bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. The moshav is located in a quiet low-lying area of the Galilee with a beautiful view of the surrounding hills and mountains. At the end of the visit, however, I decided the place wasn't for me. It was far removed from traffic hubs, which make it difficult to travel to Tel Aviv (where I still have lots of friends) or elsewhere. I went back to the Mishakit Tash that night and told her my thoughts. An hour before we left Mikveh for good on Tuesday, she came to me and said that I have the next available spot at one of two kibbutzim. Now I'm just waiting.

On the way back to base, the Mishakit Tash and I were waiting by the bus stop at Summit Golani when a car pulled up alongside us. The passenger window rolled down and who was the driver? The head of the entire freakin' base! He asked us if we wanted a lift back to Mikveh! We're always told before we leave for the weekends that we are not allowed to hitchhike (called tramping, in Israel). But I figured it was safe getting into his car, haha. It was nice to ride in a car and not an overcrowded bus. What a great (interesting) way to start the week!

I got back to base that afternoon and met up with the rest of my tzevet. The atmosphere was really relaxed for the two days we were there. Distance was broken between us and our commanders, we didn't have to run around places, we just had to go to our guard duty and report to different "classes" or for sports. For example, one day the MemMem of another machlekah taught our plugat how to read a map. The next day we watched an Israeli movie. Another time we had a few hours of Hebrew "class" where we just sat around and talked, in Hebrew, in English, it didn't really matter.

Monday night was a treat. I was one of a few English-speaking soldiers (but the only American) who were asked to say a few words before a group from Cleveland who came to Mikveh as they were interested in doing some English-tutoring volunteer work in the future. It was funny to hear everyone else introduce themselves in their heavily-accented English, say they're from this or that place in Israel, yada yada yada. "Hi, my name's Daniel, and I'm from Chicago." A few laughs followed as clearly they were not expecting an American, and we made short small talk about the Cubs, the snow, etc. It was fun. And it was funny that at the end my Hebrew learning, I spoke in English to a visiting group. Back in December, I did a similar thing, where I explained who I am, where I'm from, what I'm doing here, etc., but in Hebrew. Ironic. This also followed another "speaking appearance" I made a day before my tekkes to a group of Israeli boys studying in a yeshiva (a Jewish religious school). I was asked to say a few words about being religious in the army. It was fun and a great way for me to practice my Hebrew.

Sunday afternoon, before dinner, we were allowed to use the workout room! About time! It is a privilege reserved just for the commanders and officers. It felt real good to get back into a weight room; I haven't been in one since I left the US, instead I had been using the resistance bands I brought, doing pushups, sit-ups, and when in Tel Aviv, making use of their outdoor exercise areas along running paths. Monday afternoon we played soccer on one of the courts. Life was good.

It was during one of these Hebrew classes that my Mefakedet came up to me and told me to meet her outside for a minute. I had actually just discovered perhaps the most complex pen in the world. I was using my time to disassemble it, understand why it needed so many parts, and then reassemble it. I felt my time on this project was limited and extremely valuable, so I asked her if it could wait. 'No, come outside.' Of course, the pen then exploded and I, with ink all over my fingertips, went outside.

Now I'm not gonna lie: even after a few months of Hebrew, I really had no idea what my Mefakedet said. This could have been because I am nowhere near proficient, or it could have been that I stopped paying attention after she said that I passed Tzanchanim gibbush, and they want me in Paratroopers. B'hatzlachah! Hell YES! I didn't really know how to respond I was so pumped! She gave me an awkward high five and then told me who else got in. Of the eight guys in my machlekah who tried out, only four made it, all from my tzevet. In total, eleven soldiers from my plugat are invited into Tzanchanim. About eight guys from the other plugat (which speaks better Hebrew) passed the gibbush as well. I think about a third of those who tried out were invited into Tzanchanim.

So where did this desire to do Tzanchanim come from? I think it started last year on Birthright, when Ben, a former soldier and one of my friends here, told me that if I were to join the IDF, I should do Paratroopers. But that's probably not the serious beginning. When I signed with Mahal back in November, I was told that Tzanchanim is available for soldiers in Mahal, but that we'd have to sign on for more time than the eighteen month commitment I have right now. I was told I'd need to serve for two years. That time restraint dissuaded me from Paratroopers. During the last few months, both in and out of the army, I've thought about what life will be like for me if I do or don't join Tzanchanim. I initially signed up for the gibbush as a way to challenge myself. After completing the gibbush, and all the hurdles that came before it, becoming a part of Tzanchanim became much more real. In addition, a soldier in my tzevet commented that he had a buddy in Tzanchanim who was committed to only eighteen months. With that possibility now open, I went into the gibbush thinking that if I passed, then joining the unit would become a much more real possibility.

So why do I want Tzanchanim over the other options: Nahal, Givati or Golani? I'll first just say that I want it over Totchanim because I've always wanted to be in infantry. But I prefer it over the other three infantry divisions, and may be willing to spend more time in the IDF, because of Tzanchanim's history and prestige, even to this day. It is true that all four divisions pretty much do the same thing, just in different parts of the country (and they rotate territory every few years). The main differences between Paratroopers and the rest is that they have a gibbush (tryout) and they jump out of planes. Personally, I really want to join Tzanchanim for the masa koompta, literally "beret hike." At the end of the their training, every infantry division has a hike as a sort of culmination of their months of hard work. At the end, they are given their berets and have a tekkes as a formal acceptance into that particular infantry unit. For Tzanchanim, their masa koompta is well-known throughout the country. Because they were the ones who recaptured Jerusalem and the Old City from the Jordanians in 1967, Tzanchanim hike 75km (by far longer than any other unit's masa) and end up at the Western Wall, with all of the city out to welcome the conquering heroes.

There are other fashionable differences between Tzanchanim and other units, but I'll save that for later. One last thing that I want to mention is the photo of the Paratroopers at the Western Wall in 1967. For Israel, it is like the photo of the Marines hoisting the American flag over Iwo Jima during World War II. This photo, for me, captures a lot about why I am here. I have to do Tzanchanim.

After leaving Mikveh on Tuesday, I've had a few days off until I need to go to Tel Hashomer tomorrow morning. I've used this time to relax, watch some movies, have drinks with friends, meet up with old buddies. But I am really excited (even more so than in December) to start my service. I'm also excited to be going into Tzanchanim with some good buddies from Mikveh, although it is doubtful they will put English-speakers in the same tzevets. I'll just have to see. The weather was terrible since Tuesday; it was raining, cloud and cold. Today, however, is beautiful. One thing that I miss about this time in America is spring. David scoffed when I mentioned that earlier: "what are you talking about? Of course we get spring here!" To which I replied, "yeah, but with the heat today, for me it's like it's already summer." My point with spring is that after a (long) cold Chicago (or Champaign) winter, that first breeze from the south always brings tidings of good things to come. I would get excited about the possibilities for the summer. After months of applying to internships in Washington, D.C., with the idea of working there being nothing more than an abstract thought, the warmth in the atmosphere that accompanies the arrival of spring turns summer plans into a reality. Life is just better.

While I miss that breeze, I am warmed by finally becoming a (legitimate) part of the force that defends Israel. With Egypt down, Libya in flames, Iran on the rise, Lebanon teetering, and the Palestinian Authority more emboldened, Israel finds itself in a very precarious security situation. Did I come at the right time? I guess that depends on who's asking, haha! But I will say that--especially as a political science major, Arabic speaker, and Israeli advocate--I signed up without any disillusions about what Israel may be forced to do over the next few years. Damn, it feels good to be going to Tzanchanim!

(Some pretty cool news: my blog is now included on the Lone Soldier Center's forum [click]!)

1700

Four years and eight months. Sunday marked the 1700th day in a row that Hamas has held Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit (click HERE) captive in the Gaza Strip, without access to the International Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, or any other international aid organization. The last time proof of life was established, was on October 2, 2009, when Hamas released a short video. He was captured on June 25, 2006. At the time, he was nineteen years old.

I don't want to offend anyone, but if you would please allow a short prayer for the soldiers of Israel:

כל בית ישראל, הנתונים בצרה ובשבוה, העומדים בין בים וביון ביבשה, המקום ירחם עליהם ויוציאם מצרה לרוחה, ומאפלה לאורה, ומשעבוד לגאלה, השתא בצגלא ובזמן קריב. ונאמר: אמן

"Our brothers, the entire family of Israel, who are delivered into distress and captivity, whether they are on seas or dry land--may the Omnipresent One have mercy on them and remove them from distress to relief, from darkness to light, from subjugation to redemption--now, speedily, and soon--and let us say: Amen."

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

My last full week at Mikveh Alon. It first started with a trip to a base near Rishon LeTzion, a city just south of Tel Aviv. I've been trying to get my profile raised from a 72 so I can do infantry and that required getting an appointment with an IDF eye doctor. My appointment was for Sunday morning. I was able to get an extra hour of sleep, which is always appreciated, hopped on a bus packed with other soldiers, wandered around the enormous base for a while, trying to locate the right building, and finally had my appointment. I tried to b.s. my way through it, explaining that I only wear glasses at night, intentionally neglecting to tell him that I wear contacts all the time, but he inadvertently called my bluff when he told me to put my glasses on a read an eye chart. I had to say that I currently had contacts on, otherwise my sight would have been blurry out of control. That prompted the doctor to do a full eye examination, and at the end, he concluded that my eyes, in fact, have not dramatically improved over the past two months. Big shocker.

So I'm stuck with a 72. But that's ok, so far. On Monday, I go to the Tzanchanim gibbush (Paratroopers tryout). It's overnight and I won't find out how I did until a week or so later. On Tuesday this past week, officers from the Bakkum (the base where every soldier goes for their Tzav Rishon, then later to decide what units to go into, receive clothing and equipment, etc.) came to Mikveh and each soldier told an officer what units he requests. I put down Nahal, Totchanim, and Givati. Nahal and Givati are both infantry units. Technically I should not be allowed in because of my profile. However, as I am Mahal (volunteer from abroad), generally speaking if I request Nahal I go there (many refer to Mahal as Mahal-Nahal). If not, then hopefully Totchanim, the artillery unit. I threw in Givati just as another infantry unit in case. Still, we'll see how I do at the Tzanchanim gibbush, if I pass, and if I decide to do it, and also if I have to sign on for more time. But one step at a time. I need to complete the gibbush and be accepted.

Also, this week we had our final Hebrew exams. Once again, soldiers (cute girls) from the Bakkum came and tested us on our Ivrit. It was the same thing we all did at our Tzav Rishons. A few things. I have one of the best Hebrew language abilities in my machlekah. Also, I know that they are (most likely/hopefully) not going to make anyone "re-do" Mikveh. So, I wasn't really nervous about the test. It also helped that the girl who administered my first test was assigned to me this time. Being flirty is always a fun relief from army life. Long story short, the test was hard, but I made up for it by throwing in a lot of extraneous talking (in Hebrew). Whatever. I'm done with the Alon.

Later that day, we finished our Tzionut. It culminated in a fun and exhausting race around the base between three teams within the machlekah to find their team's color coordinated question about Israeli history, answer the question and sprint to the next location on base. Conveniently, each successive question was somewhere on the opposite side of the base. At the end, the entire machlekah was allowed to climb to the top of the massive water tower/observation post that is the iconic (or infamous?) symbol of Mikveh Alon. It rises about 150 feet and provides a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and valleys, cities and towns.

Thursday morning we had our "sport test." In true IDF style, it was at 5:15 in the morning. What a great time to see how physically fit our bodies are, especially after having cold muscles and tight limbs from, I don't know, sleeping! Remember we had one at the beginning of tironut? Same thing here. I honestly don't know how I didn't do less pushups or sit-ups than last time (87 and 70, respectively). I also ran a good 2k, about 8:05, which gives me confidence for the 2k I'll run at the gibbush. Afterwards, everyone changed into their Bet uniforms, except for me! I had a doctor's appointment to get to in Nahariyya. Afterwards, I was told to go home! Sweet! Home on Thursday! The best part, aside from not being on base, is that the next morning I wouldn't have to wake up at 3:30. Sometimes, life just works out.

This upcoming week is going to be busy, but also go by fast. I return to base on Sunday, as usual. However, on Monday, me and a bunch of other guys are going to the Tzanchanim gibbush. I'll return to Mikveh on Tuesday. On Wednesday is our "graduation" or "culmination" ceremony of officially completing Mikveh Alon. Then I return home on Thursday. Technically, Mikveh owns the soldiers going into kravi units until the following week, so I'm have to return the following week to Mikveh simply for shmirah duty. It kinda sucks, but won't be that big of a deal. The following Sunday or Monday, I go to wherever it is I will spend the rest of my time in the IDF.

On Wednesday, my machlekah gathered in a classroom for our weekly sum up of the week with our commanders. Michael, one of my friends in my tzevet, commented that Mikveh sapped him of his motivation to go into a kravi unit. Truth be told, I definitely agree with him. I am certainly pumped to finally go into the "real" army, to be with Israelis and become a legit soldier. But the past month and a half at Mikveh has lulled me into a sense of complacency about military life. I don't really consider my base to be actual military life for a number of reasons. First, the commanders are all girls. Hold on, I'm not sexist! The commanders in the army are all guys, even though I hear that girls teach soldiers specialties. Also, there are no Israelis (apart from the commanders/officers). Everyone is like me: a foreigner. Even if someone is legally Israeli, it's because he made aliyah recently. In addition, those of us at Mikveh Alon are at the bottom of the IDF barrel. Our time there certainly counts for my overall service time, but, for example, it doesn't count towards promotion time or being considered a "veteran" soldier. Bottom line, I am a soldier in the IDF, but don't feel like I'm in the IDF.

In addition, even after almost four months in Israel, and not for sight-seeing or some tourist program, but for joining its freakin' military, I definitely don't feel like an Israeli. But I'm also not expecting to feel like someone who's lived here for their whole life. I only bring it up because, for one reason or another, the topic of feeling like an Israeli has been discussed multiple time in different settings over the past week. My Mefakedet brought it up, as did my HaSammelot, and also a few friends. The army is perhaps the strongest influence in creating the Israeli identity and ethos. Everyone serves, everyone has stories, and everyone knows someone who's seen combat. In the IDF, teenagers grow up to become young men and women. While the same generation is going to college in America, Israelis are serving in the military. How can it not have anything but the strongest influence on a young Israeli's psyche? For better or for worse, the IDF shapes Israelis' mindset and consequently Israeli culture. This includes a great appreciation of time and learning to live for today (especially now that Iran is working towards a nuclear bomb, because tomorrow might not be here); impatience; respect for authority, but not blind respect like we often find around the world; and other traits which I will certainly discover over the next year.

(Last night, as I was talking with Kimberly, I finally watched "Don't Mess With the Zohan" on my computer. While it is certainly not one of the best movies ever made, I did laugh a lot because it definitely hit on a lot of stereotypes and comical things about Israel and Israeli culture. Kimberly couldn't believe that I didn't think it was the stupidest thing ever. Maybe I would have if I wasn't so "in tune" with Israeli life.)

What else shapes the Israeli mentality? How about rockets being fired from the Gaza Strip into Beersheva, a city in southern Israel? Yeah, I think that helps, too. On Wednesday, the Islamic Jihad, a terrorist group that operates in Gaza, fired two rockets into Israel. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, rightly, ordered the IDF to conduct a counter-strike and publicly stated that Israel will not stand for this, just like any other nation would never stand for the unprovoked attack on its cities. It is likely that Egypt's current political (and national) instability is opening the way for more arms to be smuggled into Gaza. In addition, in a show of force, Iran just sent two warships through the Suez Canal, the first time since the Islamic Republic took power in 1979, en route to Lebanon. The more instability in the Arab world, the greater influence Iran will wield across the region, or at least make a play for regional supremacy.

But at Mikveh, the world does not exist to us. Our Mefakedets still have us by the balls, but their grip is certainly loosening, both by their own accord and ours. We expect them to "break distance" with us in the next few days. They'll cut the commander-soldier relationship and re-assume their normal teenage girl personas when in uniform as they do, I'm sure, when out of uniform. They'll start treating us like equals. And I'm kinda curious to find out why my Mefakedet's Facebook network (yes, we found her on Facebook, as we found all our commanders) is from the high school twenty minutes from me back home.

But it already feels as distance has been broken, at least on our end. On Tuesday, my mefakedet left the base for whatever reason (as she has done often) and we had a replacement, the machlekah's MaMach (ממח). (I still haven't figured out what that position is exactly, but it's common for MaMach's to fill in for Mefakedets.) We've had this girl as a stand-in before. It is almost excruciating how painfully clear it is that she is green. She does not know how to properly command a tzevet, especially mine, with all of its difficult personalities. By "properly" I mean that she does not know/follow the method of ordering us everywhere. For example, our commanders tell us, in Hebrew of course, "You have seven minutes to go clean your room. Seven minutes, seven minutes, move!" Then we respond, "Yes, Mefakedet, seven minutes!" But this new girl, she'll just say, "You have seven minutes to clean." And we're left standing there, waiting for her to finish her command. At first, her "style" was off-putting. At this point, as we now expect this method, it's quite comical. And that obviously does not help her attempt to command our respect.

In addition, the MaMach decided to do something new with our tzevet. We gathered, as usual, before the flag in preparation for singing Hatikvah with the entire plugot. However, my tzevet showed up a good twenty minutes in advance. Why? Because, in her infinite wisdom (and experience) the MaMach ordered us to run into our rooms, put on our combat vests, and report back outside. She then proceeded to show us how to shoot our guns in the schiva (prone) position. What the &$%@! Seriously?! First off, we're done with tironut. We've BEEN done with tironut. Second, our Mefakedet showed us, seemingly to no end, how to fire in the three different positions. We don't need someone new to try to teach us. Also, the MaMach's teaching did not help her; she had nothing of the confidence required to show soldiers how to use their firearms. She was uncertain of proper positioning, stumbling over her words, not commanding our attention, etc. What's more, she decided to make us go through this pointless exercise on the day we were to have our Hebrew tests. At this point I was getting fed up with the MaMach's incompetence. I said to her how it was wrong for us to go through this worthless exercise, especially on the day of our exams, that our time would be better served practicing our Hebrew. It wasn't going to change anything, just to let her know what I thought of her decisions.

To end this on a positive note, we finally had another krav maga session! That's why we had our guns. And this is also stupid: we picked up our guns from the armory on Monday for a single session of krav maga on Tuesday and had the M-16s for the rest of the week. We needed our guns because we learned how to use them for krav maga. There might be times when we can't fire our guns. For example, we may be in a crowded place and Israeli soldiers don't fire indiscriminately into crowds; or we may be too close to the enemy to get off a shot; or there may be the risk that the 5.56 caliber round, if fired too close, could pass through the enemy, and, because of its rounded tip (as opposed to the bluntness of a handgun's bullet), be redirected and hit a civilian; or any other reason. We did some difficult and exhausting exercises, as is the custom at the beginning of krav maga, then learned the reasoning behind and practiced a few different moves; how to hold the gun properly and stabilize it with your arm, use a quick, snapping motion, and always be ready to advance for another blow or aim your gun if the enemy falls to the ground. I thoroughly enjoyed the session, but don't think it was worth getting our guns for the entire week. Anyway, that's army life.

I was on the bus today and behind me was a guy rocking out to Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" on his iPod, singing along and everything. Classic. Israeli.

Shabbat shalom.

Lebanon and Egypt

If you've turned on the news in the past two weeks, or really bothered to get out of bed for that matter, then it would look like the Middle East is in a complete chaos. Well, it certainly is. In fact, as I look out the window right now, I see cars obeying traffic signals, people walking in and out of stores as normal, kids going to school....What?! No chaos here?! Yep, Israel is a stable country, and has been so since 1948. So what's going on here? Is Egypt going to go to war with Israel? Is the IDF now on high alert? Am I being rushed through training and sent to Israel's borders? What the hell is going on?!?!

First, take a deep breath...in, out, in, out. Better? Now, I won't spend the time here going over everything that is happening in Egypt. Read a newspaper and you can get the scoop there. I'll give a broad brushstroke and then tell you how it affects me.

On January 25th, the Egyptian people started protesting in Cairo...and they haven't stopped. In the past few days its gotten violent, and President Hosni Mubarak, after valiantly offering to fall on his sword by way of vacating the presidency in a few months, will likely be out of the country in the next week. What was the immediate spark for the protests? I don't know. But these people are protesting thirty years of dissatisfaction with Mubarak's reign. I'm not talking about some small tax increases or slightly lowered standard of living. Rather, Egypt has been under a state of emergency for thirty years, and the people are angry about living in an autocratic state, rampant inflation of simple food prices, lack of economic opportunities and advancement, and also, likely, the fact that they see their leader as under the West's thumb. So, they protest.

It first started in Tunisia, now it's in Egypt. The wave of hostility is spreading to Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and the West Bank. On one hand, I am ready to cheer on any advocate for democracy. On the other hand, as was certainly evidenced by Iran circa 1979, revolutions can be a very dangerous thing and it is likely that it is not the people with the country's best interest in mind who will come to power, but rather those who can manipulate events and win the most popular support.

The biggest fear now in Egypt is that Mubarak's regime will fall and Islamists will take over, namely the Muslim Brotherhood. Although Mubarak himself will be out of power, that does not necessarily mean the government will fall too. For Israel, it is much better if the government does not implode and new people come in and take over. Why? Because Israel has enjoyed thirty years of peace and relative stability with the country that was once its most dangerous enemy. The current government has respected the peace that was established in 1979. Israel's primary concern is that whoever emerges as the leader of Egypt will not respect or recognize the peace treaty.

And it is likely that Egypt could fall to Islamists. It is the largest Arab state and a very religious one at that. Iran, after violently suppressing its own rebellions two years ago, thanks in part to the Obama administration staying mum as people were dying on the streets of Tehran, is using its influence in the Arab states to mobilize Islamic parties. The Muslim Brotherhood is one such party. So who are these guys? In short, they are a political organization that wants to Islamicize the world. They are the largest and most effective group in Egypt, despite being banned for the better part of thirty years. They are also a multi-national organization. They are in Lebanon, Syria and Jordan. They are also in Gaza, but there you know them as Hamas.

Anyway, long story short: Israel has fortunately not had to think about a war with Egypt for over thirty years. It has trained the IDF to fight in the north with Lebanon and Syria. Egypt's turmoil has raised some legitimate existential security concerns for Israel.

So what's the deal with Lebanon? Well, there is no "deal" currently, but there was a big deal five years ago during the Second Lebanese War. In 2006, Israel invaded southern Lebanon. Why? The immediate spark was the capture of two IDF soldiers. But a bigger issue was the growing strength of Hezbollah and its continuing insistence of firing rockets into civilian centers in northern Israel. Hmmm, seems to be a trend with terrorist organizations firing rockets into Israel, the world being silent, and then Israel finally, reluctantly taking action, only to be lambasted by the international community. (In case you didn't get the hint, I'm talking about Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, 2009-2010. And, by the way, these aren't a 'few' rockets, I'm talking about thousands over a few years.)

At Mikveh Alon, we talked a lot about the Second Lebanon War. It was the main focus this week of our Tzionut (Zionism). We talked about the war, its purpose, after-effects, etc., and also of the 1948 War of Independence. On Tuesday evening, my entire plugot gathered in an auditorium for a commemoration of the Second Lebanon War. Different soldiers had been selected throughout the week to do a short reading, or sing a song, or act out a battle, etc., for the show. The "battle" that was re-enacted is a famous story throughout Israel. During the war, a group of soldiers were clearing out buildings as part of a patrol. They start taking fire and have to hunker down in a room in one of the buildings. Suddenly, a grenade is thrown into the room. Without hesitating, Roi Klein cried out, "Shma Yisrael!" and leapt onto the grenade, just before it exploded. His decision was the supreme act of sacrifice and saved his soldiers. I encourage you to search him online and learn about his life and sacrifice.

The day after, Wednesday, we left base in the afternoon because Thursday was Yom Siddurim for lone soldiers. I gladly came back to Tel Aviv, and crashed from 7:30 pm to 6:30 am. It was glorious. I was able to finally also enjoy the city; I went out and did some shopping on Thursday and Friday. After three months of being here (yes, three months since November 3rd!), I finally bought a Hebrew-English dictionary. It was nice to pretend to live like a civilian again; usually when I get home on Fridays I take a few hour nap or just veg. Then on Saturday I am often (like this morning) nursing a hangover from a great night out on the town with some buddies from the army.

This was a nice long weekend, especially because I will now be on base for the next two weeks, straight. That's right, I'm not going to be home next weekend because my plugot is doing guard duty starting on Thursday. We have to stay and guard the base over the weekend. I'll let you know how that goes in a couple of weeks.

Just one bit of bad news: it does not look like I will be able to try-out for Tzanchanim, or do any infantry unit, like Nahal, with my 72 health profile. I contacted one of commanding officers where I had my tzav rishon and he said I need to raise my profile for infantry. I'm going to try and get that done this week, but, especially because my eyes are the issue, there is no way to fudge that for a doctor. But even still, I am going to continue to train for the gibbush. And, honestly, at the end of the day, because this is Israel, if you want something, generally you just push your way to getting what you want and good things can happen.

But, with whatever I do after Mikveh Alon, I'll be serving Israel, which is what I came to do. Don't be too concerned with events in Egypt. Actually, Egypt has proved very enlightening on another front. One thing I did not mention as the cause of the protests was the 'plight' of the Palestinian people. How odd, right? I mean, if you read anything that, say, Obama says you would think that the one underlying issue throughout the Middle East is the Palestinian issue. Surely, he believes, if you solve that issue then you can have peace and stability throughout the region! Finally, if the Wikileaks didn't already prove it, maybe the turmoil in Egypt and the rest of the Arab world demonstrates that these people aren't clamoring Palestinian statehood; they are demonstrating and dying just for economic opportunities, a voice in politics, and reasonable bread prices. Sure the Egyptian protesters have claimed that Mubarak is controlled by Israel, but they don't say, "give the Palestinians a state then we'll go home." It is one of the most absurd claims that Obama and others have made: solve the Palestinian issue and you can then address Iran and other issues of the region. The reality, as people familiar with the Middle East know, is the other way around; confront Iran to keep them in check and give the people freedoms, then the region will begin to look more democratic and safe.

Oh yeah, and I finally got paid by the IDF on February 1st. I'm a working man!!

Thanks for reading.

And the days go by...

Over halfway done with Mikveh Alon. The days are going by. This was, in a word, a fast week. I think that's mainly because I am used to the routine of each day. Oh, and of course because we learn Hebrew in a classroom as opposed to basic training activities. But in all seriousness, the daily grind isn't so much a grind anymore. The hardest part of each day is waking up. My "bed" sags and I feel the metal bar of the frame digging into my back as I lay in my sleeping bag. By time I wake up in the morning, my body aches and it often takes a while to loosen up. But we get dressed, brush up, shine our shoes, shave, report outside before the sun rises, and then clean our rooms.

Breakfast is always roughly around 7:30 in the morning. After that, often the morning is a crapshoot. For example, as I mentioned last week, one day the entire base gathered for observance of Tu Bishvat; another day we go straight to our classrooms to learn Hebrew; oftentimes we now gather as a machlekah to raise the flag and sing Hatikvah, the Israeli national anthem.

Our base is situated on a hill and it shares the area with supply depots for the army. One of these is an area lined with armored vehicles....at least we're almost positive they are armored vehicles but not certain because they're under tarps. One morning my machlekah went to this open area (the same location where we used the lasers for our rifles a few weeks back) and they demonstrated one of these vehicles. The driver drove around, picked up speed, made tight turns, climbed embankments. Someone mentioned that the vehicle is called a "Scorpion" in the US military, but that has not been either confirmed or denied. After ten minutes, the driver stopped and half of us went to check out the vehicle as he explained what it's used for, how many soldiers it seats, how many operators, etc. All I can say is, especially being over six feet, it does not look comfortable to sit in it, even as a transport. And add to that the sharp turns the caterpillar tracks can make and the jolting of the vehicle every time it hits a depression or embankment; needless to say, it would not make for a comfortable ride. But all in all, it was pretty cool.

They also had a few heavy guns on display, which they talked about, but didn't demonstrate. These guns were likely ones attached to tanks or other armored vehicles. They also had a sniper rifle. This was, I think, all thanks to the artillery unit that was spending the week on our base. Remember that's what I am likely able to join because of my profile.

But I am still considering Tzanchanim (Paratroopers). Truth be told, the initial glamour that came with thinking about the red boots and red beret, of being a paratrooper, wore off quickly this week. I admit I am starting to think critically about whether or not I want to try out for this elite unit. Can my body handle it? I'm 23, not old (at least in the real world), but certainly four or five years older than the Israeli soldiers. Do I want to put myself through a more rigorous basic training and service time? I'm not Rambo. I don't even know if I have what it takes inside to push myself to that higher level. Fortunately, when I come back to Tel Aviv on weekends, and just sit on the couch and watch TV, have a few (or more) beers, and check up on current events (as far as I am concerned, the world outside the base doesn't exist during the week), I become reinvigorated and excited to be a part of Israel's military. I have become lulled into a false sense of ease and sometimes become lackadaisical about my service while at Mikveh Alon. Life isn't hard. It's even becoming easier. I don't even consider it the "actual" IDF. It's still service time, but it's not with Israelis and we're learning Hebrew in a classroom! I might as well be back at Champaign! Anyway, I have friends who were in Tzanchanim and will learn more about what's in store for me if I decide to take the gibbush.

Anyway, we always have at least an hour or two of Hebrew before lunch, which is around 12:30. Then we often return to the classroom for four to five hours. One major part of our lives now is Tzionut, Zionism. My mefakedet spends about an hour a day with us going over the history of Israel, starting with the aliyahs of the 19th century. I have a confession here: I don't like Tzionut. Don't get me wrong though; I consider myself a Zionist, and a strong one at that (as if you couldn't tell that already). And I love learning about Israel, Jews, and our history. However, Tzionut often comes right before dinner or right before we have our break in the evening, and the concepts being discussed are very important and not understanding the language makes understanding them even more difficult. Personally, I've studied a lot of this and know exactly what the mefakedet is saying. But it also takes away from learning Hebrew.

However, on Wednesday, for our Tzionut, our mefakedet brought us to a classroom that had been converted into a pseudo-Holocaust museum, with a paper railroad taped the floor, candles lighting up the tracks, and pictures on the walls. We all sat down and she asked each of us how we felt. In my improved Hebrew, I mentioned how I had family who didn't make it through the war. Namely four of my grandmother's siblings (the fifth sibling is David's grandfather, remember?). I also said that it's good to be reminded of the Holocaust, to see pictures, because it reminds me of why I am in the IDF and it empowers me. (Also, Thursday was International Holocaust Remembrance Day.)

Each week of course Ivrit has a theme. Last week was Israeli music and this past week was the IDF. We learned about military terms, slang, and other phrases that will help us in the future. Next week is about important figures. And next week is a very good week. I report to base as usual tomorrow, but we go home Wednesday afternoon because Thursday is Yom Siddurim, a day for lone soldiers to take care of personal things. It's nice because the following week we'll be on base for nearly two straight weeks as my machlekah stays the weekend for guard duty.

I've written a lot more than I thought I could about this rather uneventful and quick week. One final thing: Egypt. It appears as if the government is going to be overthrown and President Hosni Mubarak will step down. Nothing certain yet, though. But there has been rioting for days now and the situation as reached a fever pitch. What does it mean for Israel? Many of the articles I have read do not point to a bright future. Mubarak has been in power ever since Anwar Sadat was assassinated for signing a peace treaty with Israel in 1979. The leaders and their backers of these riots do not have the nicest things to say about Israel. Some people think the peace treaty is doomed. While it's a great thing to see people trying to overthrow a dictatorial government (like in Tunisia the other week), the situation in Egypt does not mean good things for Israel.

As usual, thanks for reading. If anyone wants to hear more about any particular thing, just let leave a comment and I'll work it into the next post.

שטח Shetach: the End of the Beginning

Cold. Rainy. Windy. Chicago? Nope. New York? Uh-uh. London? Not at all, well, actually maybe yes. But those three words describe the weather for me in Israel this week. I could also add cloudy, tired, dirty, fun, different, exciting, adventurous, legit-military stuff, and so on. Not exactly the adjectives I would have used for the previous three weeks, right? So why was this week different than previous weeks? Because it was the climax of Mikveh Alon's tironut, basic training. For three days, the entire base went to the Golan Heights to train on a Golani base for a shetach, like military exercises. So what exactly did we do? Well, most of the time we did absolutely nothing. Like I wrote about in a previous post, we all enjoy this down time. It's a time to sit on our asses and do nothing; nobody telling us to run somewhere or form two lines or a chet; nobody yelling at us not to move or talk; nobody telling us what we can or can't do.

But let me start at the beginning.

I leisurely awoke on a quiet Monday morning at the pleasant time of 3:45 am. I had a spring in my step, a twinkle in my eye, and a bright moon waiting to greet me outside. As usual with every morning, it took us the better part of two hours to clean our room. Then we were told to get our Bet bags and clothing for our trip north. Every soldier has two sets of uniforms, with a corresponding bag: Aleph א and Bet ב (the first two letters of the Hebrew alphabet). The Aleph uniform is like a dress uniform, which is only worn off base. The Bet uniform is more like a combat uniform, is worn only when on base, and each base has their own stock of Bet uniforms and equipment. I received my Aleph uniform and bag on December 15th and will have it throughout my service; my Bet gear changes with each new base.

Anyway, we were told (many times each day over the previous week) that we were going to Golani and should prepare appropriate warm clothes. Sunday night we got our clothes in our Bet bag and were ready to go. The ride took about an hour; we arrived late morning, ran off the bus and into formation. The main purpose of the next three days would be to learn how to shoot and be introduced into life outdoors, military style. Three tzevets (units) comprise one machlakah (company). Each machlakah was assigned to a firing range. Now, don't be mistaken. These are ghetto ranges. They are positioned alongside each other on a hill, with high earthen embankments separating each one; essentially, the ranges are level depressions cut into the slope of the hill leading up to the Golani base. And, in true IDF style, the targets were anything but state-of-the-art: we hammered stakes into the ground at the 25 and 50 meter lines, used twine to attach wooden poles and then stuck the appropriate cardboard target onto the pole through precut lines. Clearly, truly an indication of one of the greatest armies in the world.

The first time I fired a gun was a year ago August, when Eric and I visited Kimberly in Los Angeles for a week. There, we fired a few handguns (including a .44 Magnum) and an M1 Garand rifle. But firing the M16A1 (M16) is a completely different animal. First manufactured by Colt in 1963, it made its way to Israel in 1973 and has been a staple of the IDF. It was originally 97 centimeters in length, although a newer model features a shorter barrel. The M16 weighs 3.5 kg (about 7.5 pounds) and fires a 5.56 mm NATO caliber bullet. The IDF sports a 29 round magazine while in the US and other militaries use 30 bullets. Why the difference? Because Israel reuses its magazines and recycles its bullet casings and, from what I understand, a magazine with 30 rounds fits too tight to make the mags reusable. The rifle has three safety settings: safe, semi-automatic, and automatic. For more information, see Wikipedia.

We had received intense and elaborate instructions on protocol for firing our weapons. We are only to point the gun at a certain direction, cannot put our fingers on the trigger until a commander says so, can only fire when told, and so on. We first fired from schiva (prone) position. Each soldier got down on his stomach and we had a commander walk us through each step, where to exactly place the gun, how to breath, where to aim, etc. I felt very comfortable for my first shot. I remember being nervous when Eric and I went to the gun range. We had never handled a gun before; after we selected which guns to fire, the guy at the counter pointed us to a different room and said "have fun." Needless to say, we had the guy walk us through how to actually fire a gun. In total, I had 30 seconds of actually holding a gun and learning how to fire before popping off my first rounds. Here, I've lived with the gun on my body for three straight weeks and feel very comfortable handling the assault rifle.

I slammed the magazine into the bottom of the gun, locking it in place, and pulled back on the charging handle, loading a single round into the chamber. I placed my hand firmly on the grip and with my thumb switched the safety to semi-automatic. I tried to slow my breathing to minimize involuntary bodily movement, but my heart, beating rapidly with excitement, negated any attempt at absolute stillness. I looked down the gun at the yellow sheet of paper twenty-five meters down range and aligned the rear and fore sights at a spot immediately below the black semi-circle at the top of the page. After holding that position for a few seconds, I curled my forefinger around the trigger, gave a quick smile, and fired.

In total over the three days, I fired about forty rounds over five or six sessions. I think we were going to shoot a lot more but the weather wasn't too cooperative. Either way, the first day we just practiced schiva. The second day we mixed in kria (crouching) and amidah (standing) positions. Sometimes we fired at a cardboard silhouette of a full person, or just the torso, during the day, or at night, from 25 or 50 meters; sometimes they loaded six bullets, but the third one was an empty casing or loaded backwards: we would fire the first two from amidah, when the gun intentionally jammed we quickly kneeled into kria, had to pull out the magazine, eject the extra bullets in the chamber, reload the magazine and fire the remaining few rounds. After each round of firing, we would run to our targets and a commander would come around and mark off our shots: how many we hit and their spread across the target. My first five shots were spread 6.5 centimeters across at 25 meters. I got that down to 3.5 centimeters distance the next round. Most of the time I didn't have any particular spot to aim, just a general area on the target (like I'd rather hit the torso or face of the target than the legs), so I didn't often concentrate on creating a tight circle of bullet holes.

Shooting at night was really fun, and difficult. We moved closer, to about 20 meters and were simply told to hit the targets. My last shots I fired were at night; out of a ten round clip, I hit all ten! Not bad for a guy with a health profile of 72 because of my eyesight! The row of twelve rifles being fired rapidly at night is quite a thing to see. The M16 has a flash suppressor at the end of its barrel, but still, inevitably, a small flame bursts out as the bullet is fired. It's so quick, in fact, that I didn't always notice the flame on my gun as I was concentrating on the target. But when I finished my clip, I looked to either side of me and marveled at the beautiful sight of small fireworks jumping out from the incredible machinery each soldier wielded.

Most of the rest of the time in Golani was spent repeatedly practicing getting into the three firing positions. When one tzevet was shooting, the other two were either on break or practicing. But the other purpose of our shetach was to learn how to be a soldier in the field. We learned eight different ways a soldier can stealthily approach an enemy. Most of it is obvious, like not leaving footprints, not using light and hiding reflective objects, wearing camoflouge, etc. We also went for a two hour hike one night where each tzevet was lead by its mefakedet in two lines. At random times, the mefakedet would pretend to spot a terrorist, assume the amidah firing position and we would go to kria, or kria and schiva, respectively. Other times she would shout "grenade!" and we would fall to the ground, cover our heads, and count a few seconds.

It's interesting to note, and I think this may be the case of perhaps only the IDF, that whenever we practice firing our guns or we when we went on the hike, there isn't any mention of "enemy soldier." Instead, what springs us into action is the shout of "terrorist!" And that, unfortunately, is true; Israel doesn't face the threat of war with any of its neighboring states. It has peace treaties with Egypt (1979) and Jordan (1994). The last time it fought Syria was in the Yom Kippur War in 1973 and since Israel invaded Lebanon in the 1980s, the only threat from its neighbor to the north has been Hezbollah, the terrorist organization that is currently running a state-within-a-state in southern Lebanon. True, Israel invaded Lebanon in 2006, but it wasn't to fight the Lebanese army; instead, it was to stop Hezbollah from continuing to fire rockets into civilian populations in northern Israel. In my opinion, Israel did the world a favor (although unsuccessfully) by trying to root out the parasitic group that currently creates amusement parks glorifying its victorious wars of resistance against Israel (and no, I'm not kidding, see my entry on November 15th, "One Month!!!"). Be that as it may, it's always a little unnerving, off-putting, and exciting/realistic to hear "terrorist" as opposed to "enemy."

A major element of my experience in the Golan was sleeping in a tent outside. Doesn't exactly sound like a big deal right? I'm sure plenty of you guys have been camping before, where you slept in tents, too. Haha, well, the similarities, my friend, end there as the differences in our experiences are enormous. These military tents are essentially two sheets of some heavy material, like leather but not leather (sorry couldn't be more helpful, haha), and we snap or button them together, hold it up by two slim pipes at the front and back, and drive stakes into the ground, using twine to connect at the corners and front and back. They are about four to five feet in width, three feet tall, and seven feet deep....for two people. And we're not sleeping on some soft forest floor, but rather the rocky and sandy top of a hill, unprotected on all sides from wind or rain. And it did rain. We went to sleep around 11 and my tent-mate and I had guard duty at 2 am. A mefakedet came to our tent, shined her flashlight through the flap and told us to wake up. We had to be in combat attire, complete with equipment vest and gun. Although our guard duty was only twenty minutes, it was in the middle of our sleeping time. We were sleeping by 2:45, and up again at 5:00 am.

At the end of our guard duty, it began to rain, and didn't stop for a few days. The rain wasn't constant, but it was hard. In fact, oftentimes it would rain heavily for a half hour, then the sky would completely clear for an hour, then back again. Other times, half of the sky would be as dark as the night with imposing rain clouds, and the other half would be sunny, with a rich blue sky. Only in Israel.

The shetach wrapped up the tironut. Overall, the shetach was fun. A little rough and unexpected because of the weather, but enjoyable. We had to sleep with our guns, constantly wear equipment vests where we carried our canteens and mags, and lots of layers of warm clothing. We got back to Mikveh Wednesday night and were told to dress in our Aleph uniforms the next day. We thought it was because our Bet outfits were completely dirty and/or soaked from the Golan. After lunch on Thursday, they told us we were going home. What an incredible feeling! I'm getting four straight nights in a legit bed, where I can go to sleep and wake up as I please. However, I hadn't planned on that, and wasn't exactly in the best hygienic state to return home. I showered Sunday morning before leaving Tel Aviv. My next shower was nearly five days later, Thursday night, after coming home. I'd say for sure the longest I've gone without a shower.

What's more is we already have a long weekend as it is. We're given Sunday off for a yom siddurim, a day for lone soldiers to take care of personal matters such as bank accounts, apartment contracts, etc. As I already have everything in order, it's a free day! This is real nice because there have been rumors on the base that we're going to have to stay next weekend for guard duty for the base. I hear everyone has to do it once a month, so its been about that long. On Tuesday night, we have a swearing-in ceremony where we take an oath of allegiance and are finally recognized as soldiers of the State of Israel in the Israel Defense Force! It's a relatively small ceremony taking place in Acko. There'll be a bigger, more important loyalty oath at the conclusion of the tironut of whatever combat unit I join beginning in March.

So, unless we get next weekend off, I'll write again in two weeks. From what I understand, as our basic training for Mikveh is now over, the main purpose of our time at this base now begins: the ulpan, Hebrew learning. Our days will become easier; we get to sleep for longer hours, maybe don't have to carry a gun around all the time (although that seems like wishful thinking), and I'll let you know more when I know more.

One final thing. On Thursday before leaving the base, all the lone soldiers were given care packages. (I've included a link to the provider company on the right, under SUPPORT THE IDF/LONE SOLDIERS.) Inside was warm clothing, chocolate bars, and letters from individuals around the world. Two are in English, and one in Portuguese (I think) and another in some script I've never seen, but turns out to be Ethiopian (it says so in Hebrew at the top of the page). "Dear Soldier, There would be no Israel without you, שנה טובה Happy New Year." I like to think that my time at Mikveh Alon is directly leading to the preservation of the country. Haha, a little wishful thinking right now!

The other English one is from an elderly woman: "Dear Soldier, My daughter told me that I could help send a package to an Israeli soldier and I wanted to let you know how much I admire you and wish you well. I am almost 88 years old and I had hoped that by now we would not have to be fighting for our Homeland. I remember when Israel was founded and I remember all the wars trying to annihilate Israel. I wish you could be home with your loved ones and not fighting. My prayers are with you and with Israel. Please be careful and be safe. May there be peace in my time."

Amen.

Fire and Rain

It's been another week in Israel. The impending date of my enlistment quickly approaches. Well, that isn't really correct. "Impending"? Hell no! My enlistment approaches and I welcome it with, to be honest, a bit of apprehension and nervousness, but also plenty of excitement. Part of the uncertainty comes from the ample time I've had to consider what I'm doing with my life for the next eighteen months.

After last week's tzav rishon I've had nothing to do, save wait for my appointment today to get an eye exam. Seem random? Not quite. I guess the IDF doctor at lishgat hagiyus didn't trust my optometrist's records, so I had to return to Tel Hashomer this morning for an eye exam. In short, by the end of the day I had completed my tzav rishon and received my medical form. A friend told me earlier that my account of last week's experience helped him out, so I will quickly recount the following experience.

When I walked into the doctor's office, I told him I was wearing contacts. He gave me an incredulous look and exclaimed, "you need to have your contacts out for twenty hours before this test!" My heart dropped. No way was I gonna be turned away and required to return tomorrow, after not wearing my contacts or glasses all day and then be required to navigate the bus system without my sight. Unbelievable. Pretty much, I acted like an Israeli and pushed until I got what I wanted. He used drops to dilate my eyes and I took the tests. Bottom line, they were the exact same tests my optometrist performed earlier this summer and the doctor here got the same results.

When it was all said and done, another doctor told me my health profile score is a 72. What does that mean? The highest health score is a 97. The next highest is an 82. After that is 72. According to the doc, I cannot score higher than 72 with a prescription below a -6.00 (my eyes are worse than that). She said that I am still kravi (combat). What can and can't I do? Don't know yet. I'll find out in the coming days and weeks and will fill you in.

But, today I did not want to talk too much about myself. My life outside of army stuff hasn't been too exciting the past week. My best friend from home, Ben, is here; he made aaliyah (despite already being Israeli) and is joining the IDF as well. Outside of our experiences, Israel is undergoing quite a lot these days: Chanukah and fires.

Chanukah is a time for a great celebration in Israel. As opposed to Christmas and New Year's break, students here have the week off for Chanukah. So what is Chanukah? Lighting candles and giving presents? Yes and...well, kinda. Chanukah is a remembrance of the Jewish experience in the second century BCE. After Alexander the Great conquered Judea, he allowed his subjects to freely practice their religion, customs, etc. This benevolent rule led to rampant assimilation among the Jewish population. A century later, Antiochus IV began oppressing and massacring Jews. Judah Maccabee led a revolt against the Greeks' oppression and assimilation. This culminated in the rededication of the Temple. So, where's the miracle? While a small force standing up to the largest empire the world had ever seen is no small feat, the miracle was when the Greeks left only a small amount of oil for the menorah, which is required to burn every night, but miraculously burned for eight straight nights. (Jews don't commemorate military victories. And as for presents? It's just a tradition started by Jews who lived near people celebrating Christmas. Here we go again with the assimilation...)

Unfortunately, Israel has had to cope with an extremely inordinate amount of fire and light. I am talking, if you don't already know, about the fire in Carmel, northern Israel. On Thursday, a fire was started in Carmel (near Haifa) that quickly grew out of control. When it threatened a prison, a bus full of extra security guards was brought in to help evacuate the prisoners, but the fire quickly spread 1500 meters in 3 minutes to engulf the bus, killing all forty onboard. The fire is a national emergency; experts say it will take forty years for the over 10,000 acres destroyed to regrow. The fire also exposed some serious flaws in Israel's fire and emergency management services.

Despite the devastation and horror, there are some bright spots to emerge from this disaster. For one thing, the international response has been extremely positive. As hoped, the United States, Britain, France and Russia have been forthcoming with supplies. An incredible, welcome surprise is the aid provided by Turkey, Egypt, Jordan, and even the PA. Of course there have been calls on Arab websites for Syria and Hamas to fire rockets, have the fires spread, and even incidents of Arabs in Israel throwing Molotov cocktails to spread the flames. But for some states--especially Turkey--to offer aid is a big positive step, especially after the flotilla this summer.

As of right now, the fire has been contained. Tel Aviv was never threatened; I was never in any danger, never even saw any smoke. Now Israel will work to recover from the damage and pay tribute to the brave men and women who fell trying to fight the flames. There is a lot of work to do to rebuild homes and lives.

So, there is quite a lot going on in Israel right now. In the world, as you know: Wikileaks. Great news for Israel: the entire Arab world's leaders want Iran stopped. Now the American public knows what America's leaders (should) know. Julian Assange, you are destroying the very thing you are trying to enhance: information. Stay in that bunker you've scurried to.

My next step is to wait to hear about my enlistment date being finalized. Until then, shalom and chag sameach!

Oh, and it rained today!