tobealonesoldier II

It's good to be in Tzanchanim (for glossary of Israeli military jargon, click here).  Apparently, the city of Ramat Gan has adopted us and is more than willing to shower us with gifts and goodies.  For all of Tzanchanim, they gave us two workout shirts and a pair of shorts, complete with the Tzanchanim logo and the phrase "!אחרי לצנחנים"/"After the Paratroopers!"  Now, when we go for a run, everyone sports the red shirt and black shorts.  Unit pride and cohesion or effective uniformity and conformity?  For the lone soldiers, we got a little bit more.  There was a special lunch held for the lone soldiers with all of the top officers on base in attendance.  The food and decor was appropriate of a meal for the bigwigs, and not simple soldiers.  At the conclusion, the generous group from Ramat Gan gave us more presents.  We got a nice analog watch, a wallet, a thermos, a pocket knife set, all with the Tzanchanim logo, and a fleece.  The items are all fine and good, but what really matters to me, us, to the lone soldiers is that they show that there are people, Israelis, entire cities who care about the lone soldiers of the IDF.

A few days later, again the lone soldiers had another event.  This time, the head of the New Jersey chapter of Friends of the IDF came to visit his Tzanchanim brethren.  He read a letter from a former lone soldier on the difficulties of being a lone soldier compared to an Israeli soldier.  He told us that there are people all over the world thinking and praying for us.  "Even when you are by yourself, doing guard duty in the middle of the night, know that you are never alone.  We are always with you."

We also celebrated four soldiers' birthdays with cake and drink.  A few of us spoke before the group on how and why we came to be in the IDF.  A little while later, all of the lone soldiers on the base gathered in the auditorium to hear from the head of the base, the FIDF guys again, and were given a comforter and bed sheets.  One of my friends commented that we should quietly put our gifts into our lockers and not tell the other soldiers in our units about them because they may get jealous.  I think he's right in a way, but "jealous?  Do you think they think to take their conversations with their mothers, their families, their friends outside of the room so I don't hear because I may get jealous or upset that I can't do that because my life lives 6,000 miles away?"  But still, I put my presents away without fanfare.

The New Jersey man asked me at one point where I live: קיבוץ המעפיל Kibbutz HaMa'pil.  "You're a lucky soldier."  And he's right.  At this kibbutz, where I am right now, in the clubhouse, sitting in a comfortable sofa, my feet up on the coffee table and my computer in my lap, the lone soldiers are provided with so much.  We each get a large room with a double bed, table, television, large closet, mini kitchen station with utensils, cooking ware, refrigerator, microwave, and a bathroom.  It's essentially a fully furnished studio apartment.  Lunch is provided for us every Friday afternoon and we have time before Shabbat to take whatever food we need from a collection the kibbutz provides from a grocery store.  We do our own laundry.  And every Sunday morning at 6:30, a man drives us from the kibbutz to the Hadera train station.  As with most kibbutzim, it is difficult to get to places; there are few buses, and no direct line from here to the train.  The best way is by car, and usually that means "tramping" or hitch-hiking.  My commanders tell us every Friday not to tramp while in uniform, that it is very dangerous and could land us in a world of trouble.  (And they're not without reasons.  It's not safe to get into a car with a stranger while in uniform because in the past, terrorists, posing as peaceful Israelis, have captured soldiers who hitch-hike.)  But when leaving from inside the kibbutz, its ok to catch a tramp.

Which is what I did on Sunday.  Because of Pesach, we're given a lot of time off from the army, and I wanted to take the opportunity to see friends who I haven't seen in a while.  A lot of my friends from Mikveh Alon have moved to kibbutzes, and myself being at a kibbutz now, I don't see my friends who live in and around Tel Aviv so much anymore.  But like last week when I went back and forth between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, this time it was good to know people in the area to have rides and a place to stay.

First thing that happened Sunday morning, was my MemMem (platoon commander) came to my kibbutz to look into my living situation.  It's something that every soldier is subject to: either the Mefaked (commander) or the MemMem comes to make sure his soldier has proper living conditions.  I showed him my room and the clubhouse.  We sat down and had a nice conversation; I explained to him how I started to learn Hebrew, and even showed him the book I had dug out of my basement this past summer; it's from my Hebrew school I attended when I was ten or eleven and first starting to learn the Aleph-Bet.  Our conversation was, surprisingly, pleasant and casual and we even shook hands at the end of it.  As we walked back to his car, he even joked with me about how my childish Hebrew level is comparable to his childish English level when he went to the States to work for a year.  It still amazes me how different the "real" army is compared to Mikveh Alon; as Ben, my Israeli friend, commented, "in kravi, it's family."  In the combat units, there isn't the kind of distance between commanders and soldiers as there was at Mikveh, which is essentially a jobnik base.

After the meeting, I caught a tramp from inside the kibbutz to the train.  The man who drove me was real nice and talked about wanting to bring his kids one day to see the great wheat silo of the world: America's Midwest.  It was great to speak of home.  I took the train to Tel Aviv and went straight to David and Amy's apartment.  They were on vacation in London and I have a key to their place and am able to stay there whenever I need it.  It's another place I can always go if I can't make it back to my kibbutz or want to be able to sleep later and catch a train from Tel Aviv south to my base as opposed to Hedera, which is a good forty-five minutes north.

I met up with one of my best friends from Mikveh who I don't see anymore because he moved from Tel Aviv to a kibbutz and is Nahal, another infantry unit.  We ate, drank, and caught up on each other's lives. On Monday, I hung around the apartment and Sam, an Israeli friend, picked me up and we went to Netanya for dinner.  Then we went to Ben's family's place in Renanah for a Moroccan feast to end Pesach.  I slept in Ben's place in Herzliya and he drove me back to my kibbutz, where I am now.

My point with all of this is that life is certainly difficult, foreign and full of uncertainty as a lone soldier.  But when you have places around the country where you know people, living becomes easier.  I can always crash at David and Amy's in Tel Aviv.  I have a friend in Jerusalem where I can stay if need be.  Sam and Ben have been the greatest help in the world to me; whenever I meet their friends or family, they explain how we knew each other from Birthright, and since I've come to join the army.  Their proud to have me as their friend and I am more than thankful to know them and have them in my life.  From driving me places to giving me tips and equipment for the army, they have been the best.  Not to lessen the sophistication of this writing and my blog, but to quote Wedding Crashers, "people helping people.  It's power stuff."  I'll add, "it's a beautiful thing."

And now I am going to have a relaxing day before tomorrow.  I return in the morning to base and am there until the following weekend.  We are closing this Shabbat ('closing': we're on base, we don't go home) and then we spend the entire next week in the shetach (field).  Living, eating, sleeping, operating, learning, everything.  In the field.  It'll be hard, very hard, but I'm looking forward to it; it's like legit soldier stuff.  Living in a building with a locker and bed is great and all, well, really great, but, as I alluded to in my very first post a lifetime ago, it's not how soldiers throughout history have lived.  I am going to learn what they all know.  The military isn't supposed to be a place of comfort and ease because war never is.  My base is one of the nicest in the country.  But now we go forth into the wild, into the field, to learn how to be soldiers.

Be back in two weeks!

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."

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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.

the Israel Defense Force

My IDF service officially began!! It's been two weeks since my last post; I don't have my computer with me while on base. I get the weekends off (Friday morning to Sunday morning). This post will include what I started to write last week but didn't finish.

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I am currently in Tel Aviv. No, I am not done with the army. I was given the weekend off. I got up at 3:45am on Friday and need to report back at 10:15am on Sunday. Some weekend. The bus ride north from Tel Aviv to Carmiel will take about three hours. So tomorrow I will be getting up around 6:00, at the latest. The days are getting much longer.

On Wednesday, David drove me to the Lishgat Hagiyus in Tel Hashomer. I've been there so many times, I know the route by heart. We arrived at 8:00am, and by 9:00 my name was called over the loudspeaker, I boarded a bus with about twenty other guys, and we drove away...about three blocks to another location on the base. There we dropped off our bags, and were escorted into a building where we underwent a number of procedures. We had, essentially, mugshots taken, photos of our teeth and dental x-rays taken, blood drawn for DNA, and four vaccination shots. Next I met with two people, first to find out personal information such as bank account information, living conditions, etc., then another soldier to gauge my Hebrew level. Finally, we received our equipment. And wow, is it pretty awesome.

At Mikveh Alon, there are soldiers like me (Mahal) and those who made aliyah (Olim- Immigrants). Most are "jobniks"; they will serve the IDF in some clerical or menial position, like being a driver. Then there are others, like myself, who are "kravi"- combat. Both kinds of soldiers receive the same equipment except for a few items. We all get a uniform, with beret, belt, undershirts (white for jobniks, green for kravi), socks, dogtags, towel, shaving kit (a Gillette Mach 3, pretty awesome), and other smaller items. Kravi soldiers receive a nice large duffel bag, and jobniks get a smaller, tube-shaped one. Finally, and this is badass, kravi get heavy-duty red/brown boots that have previously only been given to elite units, namely the paratroopers. Jobniks get smaller black boots. The uniforms are simple, but sharp-looking. I'll post some pictures in the coming weeks.

After receiving our goods and dressing in our uniforms, we sat around for an hour, ate lunch, sat around some more, then finally boarded a bus to take us to Mikveh Alon. We arrived around nine at night, and were not done for the day. The next few hours was spent telling more soldiers the same information that we had already told so many people before; from the Tzav Rishon, to earlier in the day, to Mahal, etc. But now, they also asked different questions, such as "are you religious", "do you have any dietary restrictions", and others. The whole show is some big song and dance and would be much easier if they would put the information in the computer and one time and always be able to refer to it later. But then I guess many jobniks would be out of a job.

We were also organized into units, called tzevets. I am in tzeva shesh, unit six. We have a mefakedet, a commander. Most of the commanders are girls. Each unit is about fourteen soldiers; no differentiation between jobniks and kravi at Mikveh Alon, we're all in the same boat for now. Our basic order is called "chet," like the Hebrew letter. It is three sides of a rectangle, with three soldiers on either end and the rest in the middle. We also often have to form two perfect lines before moving locations. Regardless of our formation, we always stand at the same attention. Our legs together, toes pointed outward, forming about a 45 degree angle, hands overlapped on the middle of our backs. We are to be spaced one arm's distance from each other. There is virtually no saluting; when we want to get a commander's attention, we stop a few feet from them, stand at attention, and shout "Acshev, mefakadat!"

We didn't do much the first couple days. Mainly learning how to stand in line and walking all over base. We had to get up at 3:45 Friday morning to go home. But we didn't leave the base until close to 8. Why? Because we had to clean our rooms, leave it spotless, and keep our beds in perfect condition. I'll explain more later. That's about it for now. I had the weekend off, spent it with Ben in Rishon LeTziyon. Time for the first full week.

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What a grind this week was. First thing after getting back to the base (for which I had to wake up at 5:30 in the morning to get on multiple buses), was we were arranged in new tzevets, according to our Hebrew level, at least partially. I am now in Tzevet Sholosh, Unit Three. There are eleven people, four Americans, two British and five Russians. Russians are at Mikveh Alon largely against their will; their families emigrated from Russia or the Former Soviet Union to find a better life in Israel and their kids, as citizens, have to serve in the military like any Israeli. They don't like being there, and, to be honest, it shows. There's currently a big rift in our unit between the English speakers and the Russian speakers. It's mainly due to the language barrier. I hope it eases, because we have been doing a lot of running and pushups due to lack of coordination when forming into chets or lines.

The organization at Mikveh Alon is also starting to become clear. Each tzevet has between twelve and fifteen soldiers. Three tzevets make up a plugot, like three platoons making a company. There are six plugots at MA. The commander of each plugot is called the HaSamelot. She's a real ball-buster. Hard as rocks and completely unforgiving. Everything has to be perfect. When we form into a "chet gadol/big chet" for the plugot, she addresses us to tell us about something important or allow us to go to a meal. If someone moves without permission or talks without being spoken to, or even forgets to say "ken, HaSamelot/Yes, commander" then he is told to do ten or twenty pushups. If he says the wrong thing when trying to get back into formation, because he has to ask permission to get back in, he's sent to do another set of pushups.

Each day starts at about 4:30 or 5 in the morning. We wake up, change, organize our beds, put our bags and sleeping bag perfectly on the mattress, report outside at a specific time, and then the next hour is spent with our mefakedet giving us 5 minutes to run back inside, shave and shine our boots (which most have already done), then run back outside, then inside for another few minutes to mop the floor and dust the room, then inspection by the HaSamelot, who often undoes our folded sheets just because she can.

Throughout the day we run everywhere: "See that lightpost 30 yards away? 20 seconds, run to it, get into two perfect lines. MOVE!" We always have to count backwards from 10 (in Hebrew) whenever our allotted time is up. Or: "30 seconds to run to that space just past the dumpster, form a chet (ח, our basic formation), MOVE!" If we're not perfect, we often have to run back to the previous spot. Or we may get 10 seconds to get ourselves perfectly spaced. Other times, like Thursday, when the mefakedet was upset with our unit, we ran all over the base for over an hour. We would be in chet, then have to run and touch a building with our canteens and get back into formation in 20 seconds. If people don't make it, we would do it again. I'm one of the guys in the best shape, too. We had a test the other day: situps, pushups, running. I think I did 86, 60 and was 19th in running. 19th because i stayed back with some people to encourage other guys in our unit. The test didnt really count; I'll 'place' in top 5 when it actually does.

We also got guns....but no ammunition. We're given the M-16A1 assault rifle, made in the USA. We have to carry it everywhere: eating meals, running places, taking a shit, going to the shower, everywhere. I know the parts of the gun in Hebrew (at least working on it) and how to clean and disassemble the firing pin/mechanism. I know the positions to shoot (like standing, crouching, prone, or amidah, kria, and shivat in Hebrew) and the commands. They are very strict with gun safety: no pointing it at anyone, never raise the barrel, always keep it pointed at hte ground.

Most of the day is spent...I dont even know how. We learn about the gun, have done some Hebrew lessons, like learning Hatikvah, the national anthem, nothing too serious yet, and was introduced to the higher ranking commanders. Most of the time I guess is spent running around, almost for no reason. For example, there are about 200 guys here for the ulpan. So we're all brought into this auditorium to hear from the base's psychologist, or a commanding officer or something. Then my company is given 3 minutes to run outside and form a chet. That's for 40 guys, half of whom are Russian with limited English and us with no Russian comprehension. We often don't make it, so we do pushups. Then we run back inside to hear from another commander. No point to it. We could've just stayed in our seats.

The other night, after our hour break, we had to report back outside with the entire company for the commander to say a few things, but basically give us our 5 minute warning before lights out. We can show up in pj's outside. Well, this night, people were talking or late to formation, so we all had to get back into our uniforms (and I and others had already showered) to do running and pushups for a half hour.

Anyway, this experience right now certainly is interesting. Do I like it? Let's just say 'like' is not in the vocabulary right now. It's different. It's what I signed up for; the running/pushups we are doing are not strenuous, just tiring. One of my toes started to bleed the other day from chafing. Its rough. But its kinda fun. 'Playing' soldier. Walking around with a gun. The first week (really less than two days), was a lot of sitting around. I said to David that I kinda wanted to start doing things and was anxious. He told me that I would soon learn to relish our breaks...and I am. Any few minutes we have to just not do anything is wonderful.

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!