!!!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]!)

Life speeds up; Life slows down

I've taken the train from Tel Aviv, on the coast in the center of the country, north to Acko a dozen times over the past month. I travel from the middle to the northern part of the country in less than an hour and a half. I've always noticed the remarkable smallness of Israel, but for whatever reason, it became more than apparent this weekend. In the same time it takes to cover half the length of the country (and virtually the entire length of habitable Israel, considering half of the country's land is uninhabitable desert), I could hop on a train from my home in suburban Chicago to the center of the city; barely any measurable distance when compared to the entirety of the length of the United States. From the relative plains of warm, coastal Tel Aviv, to the cooler temperatures of the elevated Galilee valleys in the foothills of the Golan, Israel has perhaps the most diverse topography of any country in world, especially given its size.

Every Friday morning, I wake up at 3:30 am to come home and every Sunday morning I return to my base in the north. I join the throngs of Israelis traveling to work. I join the hundreds of soldiers who pack the trains to continue their military service. Nothing unusual about seeing soldiers milling about the cities. Any other place in the world, and you would think the country is at war. But not in Israel. Everyone is, was, or will be a soldier.

This week was the first full week of "course Ivrit," aka ulpan. We are now completely into learning Hebrew mode and out of basic training. So what does that mean for us on a daily and weekly basis? Well, we no longer run everywhere, we are "supposed" to get longer hours to sleep, and there's certainly an overall sense of ease and comfort; dare I even say "relaxation"? In addition, on Sunday evening, our machlekah gathered in a classroom, as we often do, and our sammelot told us about some policy changes that are now in effect: improved privileges and harsher sanctions. One on the one hand we are allowed to visit the "shekem" on certain breaks, a store where guys buy mainly cigarettes, but also candy, drinks, etc.; we can run around the base at night for exercise, and most recently, we no longer have to clean our rooms in the morning in four, five or six minute sets. However, on the other hand, if we are late to reporting to base on Sunday, we stay two hours on Friday plus the time you were late; if you're late to chet for more than 30 seconds throughout the week, you stay extra on Friday; ultimately, getting a "shabbat" has now become easier. I honestly never thought the word "shabbat" would ever fill me with such dread and unease. But the army can chalk that one up as a success.

This was a fun week, although it began with a feeling of trepidation. To begin with, it rained all Sunday afternoon and evening. What a way to begin the week. Then I started to get into it with some of the Russians. I don't want to get into scuffles with these guys, but we clearly don't like each other. It's no big deal, sometime just some pushing, a couple stare downs, but then life goes on. It's not worth getting into a fight with them: a) this is Mikveh Alon, hardly the real army; and b) I'm here to learn Hebrew, not focus on petty, immature bullshit, especially in a language I can't understand, and especially especially after being recognized by the Mem Mem as the leading soldier of the unit. Bottom line, it's clear that our tzevet is divided by the Iron Curtain.

But then an amazingly odd and wonderful thing began to take shape. Come Friday morning, the English speakers and Russian speakers in our machlekah began gelling as never before. Things aren't great, but it's certainly a turn-around from where I thought we were heading just a few days before. How'd this miracle happen? From perhaps the stupidest game every invented, one that I had played when I was in elementary school. You make a circle with your finger and thumb and try to get someone to look at it. If they do, you get to punch them in the arm. This silly, immature game has helped the soldiers begin to actualize Reagan's plea: "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" We'll see how this next week begins.

The tension within my tsevet made certain periods of the day seem to drag on. But overall, the day moves pretty quickly. We get up, clean our rooms for over an hour, eat breakfast, have Hebrew class, sometimes other activities for the entire machlekah, lunch, more Hebrew, Tzironut (learning about Zionism), dinner, time to work on "homework", free time, bed. Sun comes up (after already being up for over an hour) and the sun goes down (then we go to sleep three to four hours later). Somehow, the day begins and is over before I realize it.

Also each day we have, what the commanders call, "sport." Basically, it's exercise. One day, it's a 2 km run at five in the morning followed by pushups and situps; another day, it's three or four stations involving lunges, various pushups, wall sits, etc.; and one evening we learned Krav Maga. Hell yes! What is krav maga? It's the IDF's martial art; it literally means "fight" and "touch," sort of like hand-to-hand combat. No joke, the hour krav maga session we had was the hardest workout I've had in the army yet, but that's honestly not saying much. A madrich (leader) from the Golani base where we had our shetach was our instructor. To begin with, he spoke (in Hebrew) about the basics and the purpose behind krav maga. From the little I learned the other night (and I will learn a lot more once I join a unit in March), this fighting technique is intended solely to disarm and end your opponent, eliminate him as a threat, not merely to end the fight and leave, as is the focus of some martial arts techniques.

We all sat in a semi-circle around him and he pointed at me to stand up beside him and be his victim as he demonstrated the basics. Let me tell you, this fighting style works. The first thing he mentioned was why our hair is kept short: so you're enemy can't grab your hair and control your head and hence your body. The next critical spot on the head is the eyes: poke them, pry at them, anything. Then your nose. While a blow to the nose won't cripple your enemy, it will certainly disorient them. In addition, he placed his index finger on my upper lip and told me to walk forward. I tried, as hard as I could, but couldn't budge. Pretty effective. Then he focused on my throat. Knock it, punch it, grab it, rip it out; any of those are effective. Next was the back of my head, just above my brain stem. If you knock someone back there, it's surprisingly effective at making them disoriented. Finally, you can always go for the family jewels.

After this exciting demonstration (maybe not necessarily so for me), we were instructed to run in a ten meter by ten meter square. Upon his command, we would either jump to the ground and do a pushup or a situp or jump in the air. It gets tiring pretty quickly. Then we did שש ושש six and six: sprint to a line and back three times. Then again, and again. Then we did pushups, but ones where he would count "one" and we would lower ourselves as close to the ground as possible, and hold it until he said "two," then raise back up. Pain and exhaustion, he told us, is all mental. Finally, we hit something. Ok, it was a sleeping bag, not too exhilarating, but still something. He showed us how to punch, kick, and smash your enemy's head on your knee. Not bad for a short krav maga introduction!

One day, during one of our "sport" workouts, we saw (and heard) a pair of jet fighters practicing air sorties and dog fights in the area. Now I don't mean off in the distance, over unpopulated open areas. Not a chance. Instead, these guys flew low and they flew fast, darting between hillsides and villages, soaring straight up into the sky, twisting and turning, inverting their planes in large majestic loops, inspiring awe in each of us, and making us completely ignorant of our commanders' orders to continue our workouts. Right then and there I was ready to say goodbye to Mikveh Alon and sign up for the Israeli Air Force!

It might seem that the days are exactly the same. While this is true compared to tironut, where we never really knew what we were doing at any moment on any given day, each day has not been the same. One day I was pulled from my tsevet in the morning and handed over to a commander in charge of cleaning the base. Glorious work. For the next nine hours, four of us picked up trash, swept leaves and replaced garbage bags. The work frustrated me. Most of the time we had breaks. In total, I worked less than two hours, but it took me the entire day and into the evening. During tironut I would have been thrilled to do this work; but during Hebrew learning, I would much rather be in the classroom. I wish I could have been told at the beginning all of the work I would have to do for the day, complete it, then return to class. But no such luck; unfortunately, the army isn't always interested in efficiency and how to put its soldiers to the best use.

Thursday was the Jewish holiday of Tu Bishvat. It's a lesser known but very important day in the Jewish calendar. In short, it's a festival for the trees and to begin the planting season. It's a day when Israelis go out of their homes and into nature, to help plant trees and preserve the environment. Especially in light of the Carmel fire just a few months ago, this holiday was very important for rebuilding the forests, towns, and lives destroyed by the flames. (Quick and fun Jewish fact: in Jewish law, it is forbidden to unnecessarily destroy trees during war.) That morning, the entire base gathered in the center of the complex in observation of the holiday and to hear a few words from the base's commander. After an hour of not understanding what was said, we went back to our classrooms to learn Hebrew.

But I am learning Hebrew. My comprehension of orders and conversation I overhear is noticeable better than even a few weeks ago. While I am not always able to speak fluidly and maintain a conversation, I can understand the gist of what is said. The Hebrew course will certainly not make me fluent in about five weeks. I have no doubt that I will be able to understand orders and commands. What I still am not sure of is my ability to have a meaningful conversation with my fellow Israeli soldiers. However, I just recently found out that it is common for non-Hebrew speakers to continue learning well into their tironut. That's certainly promising for my language skills.

Finally, one last, and BIG, bit of information: I am strongly considering trying out for צנחנים "Tzanchanim," or Paratroopers. Yes, paratroopers. Where did this come from?! Well, in short, it's something that I've known is an option for Mahal soldiers. To begin with, I've known that Mahal can go into Nahal (which most often the case), Golani, Givati and Tzanchanim, although to do the paratroopers requires a commitment of two years. On Monday, my mefakedet asked our tsevet who was interested in gibbush (tryout) for Tzanchanim. They are not going to be held for a couple months, but I raised my hand and have thought about it for the past week. I found out that I may be able to serve only the eighteen months even in Tzanchanim. It's also an all-volunteer, more elite unit. Do they jump out of planes? Well, yes and no. "Yes" because they wouldn't be called paratroopers if they didn't paratroop. And "No" because from all I hear, the only jumping they do is a few ceremonial ones during training; parachuting isn't necessarily needed or used in the Israeli military arsenal. I've read online from other guys' blogs who have done the gibbush what it is like. It seems real intense, though not impossible. There are a handful of us who are interested in Tzanchanim. Together, we've started to train to get back into shape. Yes, get "back" into shape. But it's the army! Shouldn't they be sculpting my body? Yes, but not now. I was working out consistently before December 15th, and now especially that tironut is over, we're not running as much or being punished with pushups as often. We do more "sports", and the krav maga was intense, but with all the food we can eat at meals and the lack of constant physical exercise, my strength has definitely diminished from what it was just over a month ago. I need to again bust my ass to get prepared and ready for an extended, intense tironut. And this would be even longer and more challenging and demanding if I did Tzanchanim. One of the things I need to consider over the next month is if I am ready and willing to do a service that is more intense than the norm.

So life on a daily basis has slowed down. Routine has set in. The pace is steady and the day plods along. But it goes relatively smoothly and the days, at least this past week, advanced steadily and in quick secession. We'll see about this week.

I think there was something else I wanted to discuss in this post, but can't recall right now. I'm tired, and it's only 9:30 on Saturday night. I need to catch an early train back north to go back to base. Let Operation Look Forward to the Weekend begin!

Oh, and the picture: it's me burning my beret. All new recruits take their berets, burn off the fuzz, shave the excess, tri-fold it and place it in water over night, then unfold it and keep it under a heavy object for a day to give it the proper look and shape.

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.

Happy (?) New Year!

2011!! New Year's resolutions? Survive? Thrive? Get through basic training at Mikveh Alon? Normal stuff. I actually rang in 2010 in Israel. I was in Jerusalem on Birthright. The new year celebration here isn't as elaborate, or even recognized, as much as in America. I miss that about home. I always liked watching the ball drop in New York at 11:00 my time in Chicago. In Jerusalem last year, we asked the dj of the club if he was going to let us know when it was almost midnight. Even though there was just our group in the club, he still wouldn't do it. At least this year, the bartender turned off the music and counted down the last ten seconds. New Year's for Jerusalem is really Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Secular Tel Aviv, it turns out, recognizes the new year.

It was a fun night, a good way to relax and enjoy myself after a long week. Days starting at 4:30 in the morning, running everywhere (we are only allowed to walk on our breaks), doing pushups for seemingly no reason, standing at attention for hours, not understanding most of what the commanders say...what a wonderful life I've got right now. It's at least nice to get the weekends off, even if I have to get up every Friday at 3:30 am, clean our rooms, get yelled at, do some pushups, leave the base at 6:00, bus to the Acko train station, train to Tel Aviv, 20 minute walk back to the apartment, in comfortable clothes, vegging on the couch by 9:00.

We will only stay on the base on Shabbat for guard duty, but that requires us knowing how to shoot a gun, which we are yet to do. But not for long! I return to base tomorrow morning and on Monday, we are going to the Golan to train with Golani, an intense infantry unit. We're going to be outdoors for three days, sleeping in tents, learning to shoot, training, don't really know exactly what just yet. I'm excited. It'll be a hard three days, the first of many, I'm sure, but it's what I signed up for.

The days at Mikveh Alon, miraculously, go by. They are long, but you look forward to certain moments, such as meals, when we have ten minutes to eat, but can stay longer because we have the next twenty or thirty minutes to ourselves for a break. We also get a fifteen minute break every hour or two. We can go to the bathroom then, there's generally bread and jelly available to eat, and, of course, we bitch about everything. It's a great de-stressor, allows us to get through the day. We begin to realize how young our commanders are. Granted many of the guys are 18-20, and there are many, like myself, who are early to mid-20s, but all our officers are in their late teens. They try to discipline us. While most of the English speakers (Americans, Brits, South Africans, Australians, etc) are already disciplined, the Russians are anything but. The officers try to discipline, and it's been working more and more as the days go by. But as it began to sink in with all of us that a lot of the shit we do we'll do no matter what (running, pushups, mindless cleaning), it becomes more of a joke and we laugh about it. Just the other day, as we're standing at attention outside the dining hall, waiting for permission to go in, the guy next to me moved. When I say "moved," I don't mean jumping around or drinking from his canteen. I mean he scratched his face or shifted his weight. One of the roving commanders came by, got in his face and asked, in Hebrew, if he moved without permission. The guy doesn't speak any Hebrew, knew what was coming, and just laughed to himself and said, "yeah, I'll just go do ten pushups now."

So, Daniel, what did you learn this week? Well, we learned how to operate a military radio, how to use a gas mask and what to do in the event of a atomic, biological or chemical attack, and first aid, like what to do if I get a cut or a limb blown off. It's cool to learn these things. Maybe not thinking about losing arms or legs, but the sort of things I will learn in the military are, basically, cool things. On Monday, a company came in and attached laser sights to the end of our M16 rifles and we practiced shooting in prone position (lying down). It was the first legit step to shooting the gun we've taken. Actually, it was the only thing we've done with the rifles except carry them around everywhere.

The time away from the army is great. Relaxing, enjoyable, mindless. Usually I feel like I have to always be doing something productive, but now I just enjoyed sitting on the couch this morning with cousins, nursing a hangover, and watching hours of Entourage. Next week I'll write a little more about what's going on in Israel, because there have been some incredible developments, like discovering a massive reservoir of natural gas off the coast of Haifa.

So, do I 'like' or am I 'happy' with my time so far at Mikveh? Don't really know if those words are the most appropriate. I enjoy serving. I am extremely honored to wear an Israeli uniform. I still have to ask myself often למה אני פה why am I here? I remind myself with the kippah on my head. I remind myself by looking around at the beautiful scenery around the base. I see the sunrise every morning and the sunset every evening. Life will improve, become more exciting. For now, I often keep telling myself the reasons I decided to make my body and my life property of the Israeli government for the next eighteen months. Why nineteen year old girls yell at me in a foreign language. For now, life is bearable. I often go from feeling great about myself and my situation to feeling like crap. But we survive and endure and look forward to the weekends.

Oh, and December 27th was my one year anniversary of my first time in Israel! How my life has changed in the last twelve months...