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.

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.

אני צה''ל I am IDF

"I hereby commit myself to remain loyal to the State of Israel, its constitution and official government and to accept unconditionally and unhesitantly the weight of responsibility of the Israeli Defense Forces, and to obey orders and commands given by my official commanders and to devote all my strength and even sacrifice my life in the defense of my homeland and the freedom of Israel."

I squint into the bright January sun. The cloudless blue sky over Acko is witness to an important day in the lives of two hundred young men and women. The oath is told over a loudspeaker and the new Israeli soldiers repeat each phrase at the top of their lungs. I do not understand all of the Hebrew, but had reviewed their meaning the day before and was prepared for this moment. After nearly a month in uniform, training with a gun, learning commands and how to obey orders, and living the life of a soldier, I finally committed myself to the defense of Israel. At the bakkum on my first day, I signed a paper that officially made me property of the Israeli government. Now, more importantly, I committed myself to the defense and security of the State of Israel.

The swearing-in ceremony signified a landmark in my IDF career: the conclusion of tironut, basic training. (Check last week's post for more information about tironut.) I have learned the bare-boned basics about how to be a soldier. Its culmination was the ceremony on Tuesday in Acko. Sunday was a day off for lone soldiers to clear up personal errands, such as bank accounts, apartment contracts, etc. It was great to have a four day week...although in many respects it still felt like a long week. But anyway, we arrived on base by eleven-thirty on Monday. The sleeping quarters were closed so each tzevet formed a chet outside. We welcomed our mefakedet, she said a few things, then gave us ten minutes to change into our Bet uniforms. While that is often more than enough time to change, we took our time and a few people ended up being late to report back to chet. Maybe they didn't have their shoe laces tied or forgot to change their shoulder tags to the new uniform. Consequently, our mefakedet was extremely displeased, to put it politely. She shouted and yelled, and gave us seven minutes to change BACK into our Aleph uniforms. Then again we had to change into our Bets, in seven minutes. What a way to start a week.

The rest of the day was uneventful (code for I can't really remember what we did) but that evening both plugots (remember: three tzevets (about 12-15 soldiers) in a machlekah, two machlekahs for a plugot) had tests on everything we learned during tironut. I forgot to mention last week, but right before we left early for the weekend, the mefakedets gave us written tests about the M-16, the radio, first aid, and the gas mask. By written, I mean my mefakedet asked me the questions and if I didn't exactly know the answer, she would help me out and mark it down as correct. But again, all this was in Hebrew. So, Monday night, we had to demonstrate that we knew how to handle each of the four equipment. I had to put the M-16 together after a previous soldier had taken it apart; I had to assume the amidah (standing) firing position and then crawl a few yards with the weapon; I had to put the radio together after changing a battery; I had to properly and quickly put on the gas mask and take it off; and I had to wrap my friend's arm with a field bandage. I passed the tests. Well done, soldier!

The next day we dressed in our Aleph uniforms because we were to leave the base that afternoon. However, before we left, the מ.מ. (Mem Mem [Mefaked HaMachlekah: head of the machlekah]- one above the HaSamelot, who is one above the mefakedet) gathered the machlekah in a classroom as we have done numerous times when he spoke to us about the shetach, the M-16, and other things. He spoke for a few minutes, clearing up some last items about our impending ceremony. Then he talked about something he, the HaSamelot, and the mefakedots had decided over the past few weeks: leading soldiers in each tzevet.

Dmitri, from Tzevet Echad. Congratulations. Moses, from Tzevet Echad. Aaaand, from my unit, Tzevet Sholosh: Sam! Congratulations. As each soldier's name was mentioned, he walked to the front of the room, saluted the Mem Mem, and their mefakedet would say a few words about why each soldier earned the recognition. After Sam sat down, the Mem Mem spoke one last time, about one final recognition: the מצטיין מחלקה- "Daniel Flesch." WOW! I stood up, said "קנ, הממ", walked to the front of the room and saluted. Then my mefakedot stood up and explained why I had been chosen. All of this was in Hebrew, so I didn't exactly understand all of it. The gist I got was that I was quiet when necessary, led by example, helped translate commands to English when my fellow soldiers didn't understand everything, and so on. For those who read this and are going to Mikveh Alon, I just say this: follow orders, keep time, and stay positive.

With the recognition, I received a letter with my name and ID number on it, and the statement stating that this award is given to a soldier who demonstrates heart and a willingness to help fellow soldiers without being asked, etc. Also, that evening, my mefakedet, who had taken my dog tags that morning, returned them to me, wrapped in interlacing black threads, designating me (and Sam, who received the same cover) as recognized leading soldiers. We also got one more recognition, to be mentioned shortly.

After the awards, we boarded buses to Acko. We stopped at the Acko Prison, where a famous prison break took place in the 1930s. A tour guide led us around the prison, everything in Hebrew, and we prepared for our ceremony. It was very exciting. First, we had received flaps to hang on our left shoulder epaulet that designate your place in the army. Ours is a white and blue flames on a green background: it denotes a position of education. An hour before our ceremony, we were all arranged in perfect rows according to our machlekah and we rehearsed the order of the ceremony. Before our ceremony, we had a half hour break. But first, we had to give our guns to the HaSammelot to put on a table in front of the machlekah. During the ceremony, we would "officially" receive our guns. We walked to the front and the HaSammelot spoke to us for a few minutes. I, conveniently, was the last person in my machlekah to receive my gun. The Sammelot talked about how I should not rest on my laurels; I need to become an even greater soldier. I responded with an affirmative, and walked to the other side of the table where the Mem Mem was waiting for me. And this was the final special item I received that day: the Mem Mem's gun. Incredible. But not for keeps. He had replaced my gun with his; as I had won the Mem Mem's award for the machlekah, I was given his gun (the tzevet winners were given their mefakedet's gun for the ceremony).

I stood at attention before him as he handed me the gun, which I snapped to my right shoulder. I then took the Tanach he offered and held it against the gun, holding it proudly as a sign of my belief in its word and value, willing to defend it with my weapon. He congratulated me profusely on earning the recognition and said some other things I didn't understand. Then I kissed the book, set it back on the table, and returned to my spot in line. Then we sang Hatikvah, Israel's national anthem and one of the most beautiful and meaningful songs I know.

After the ceremony, soldiers met up with their friends and families who had traveled to Acko to see them be sworn in. For perhaps the first time, I truly felt like a lone soldier. No one waiting for me, no one to take my picture, no one to congratulate me on realizing a dream that has dramatically changed my life. It's incredible having David and Amy here for me in Tel Aviv. But Acko wasn't the same without my parents, my sister, and my brother. After tironut for whichever unit I join after Mikveh, David/Amy will come to my swearing-in; it'll be a much bigger ceremony, and maybe my family?

But it's always good to come back to Tel Aviv and be able to hear English all weekend. It's a great relief to chill with Ben, my best friend from home, and just have a few beers and watch West Wing. (He also wants it known that he is a frequent editor and often the first one to read each new post.) Having a little bit of home with me provides some normalcy to my dramatically altered lifestyle.

That evening, we returned to base in a joyous mood. We had dinner and were ordered into sport clothes; no rest, even for the victorious. Back to business.

The next day, we started our ulpan, or course Ivrit. It was rough. Not in the difficult sense; we started with learning the bare boned basics: the letters of the Aleph-Bet. Somebody shoot me. On Thursday we started to learn some words, conjugation, etc. I know all this stuff, so it's kinda hard to pay attention and take it seriously. But I hear the pace will pick up. We're in class at least seven hours. The day is somewhat easier. We get a ten minute break every forty to fifty minutes. We still run everywhere, but now we're supposed to get at least seven hours of sleep at night, as opposed to six. In reality, we get much less.

Friday was going home day. We were told not to hitch-hike and not to drink and drive. If there's a war, we have to report to Mikveh Alon right away. I had never really thought about being a soldier off base before. The first time we got released for the weekend and I traveled home on the train then the walk back to my apartment in my uniform, I realized that I am a potential terrorist target. Obviously, what the hell do I know about anything in the IDF? Nothing. I can't do shit. But still, as Gilad Shalit's tragic and terrible situation demonstrates, IDF soldiers are targeted by terrorists. But I think I'm pretty safe in Tel Aviv.

So, if you read last week, you're probably wondering why I'm not on base this weekend. And you've probably been wondering why I didn't address this right away. Never mind the latter, but the former's reason is because I think my machlekah doesn't do guard duty until February. Sweet! I'll still be coming home for the weekends for the rest of the month.

And speaking of "month," check back on my blog entry list to November 15th. The title of that entry is "One Month!!!" Well, folks, it's been ONE MONTH SINCE I ENLISTED!!! One down, seventeen to go!!

In other matters: I want to thank everyone for reading this. And I'm not just talking about my friends and family (that means you Mom, Dad, Kimberly and Eric!!). I've received a few emails and there have been comments posted by complete strangers, which is wonderful. I'm glad that my writing has attracted so much interest and reached people who share an interest in my experiences. Many of these people have sons interested in joining the IDF, or already in the service. PLEASE: pass along my blog to your friends and families. I am encouraged by the responses I have received and will continue to try my hardest, both on my base and on my blog!

A final few words about Israel. What's going on in this country? Well for those of you who don't read the Jerusalem Post every day, and that includes me now, too, there are two things I want to point out. First, the government is currently deciding whether or not it wants to begin an investigation into Israeli human rights organizations. What's the big deal? In a nutshell: a report has recently surfaced that many of these organizations receive a large percentage (meaning over half) of their funding from European or Arab sources. So? Well, on a basic level, it indicates the leaning these groups take when evaluating Israel's treatment of Palestinians, human rights record, democracy, etc. No longer can many of these organizations (including B'Tselem) be considered "Israeli." With money flowing in from anti-Israel and anti-Semitic donors, the non-biased stance these organizations proclaim to take is clearly compromised. I used to laud Israel for having non-governmental groups that took a hard-line stance on many of the government's policies: it is a strong indicator of a free society, the only one in the Middle East. While on the outside my praise still remains true, it is clear that these organizations do not simply operate to keep the government in check; rather, they operate to delegitimize Israel's actions, and therefore compromise its security and standing in the world. (See: Caroline Glick's editorials in the Jerusalem Post.)

Finally, not all is peachy on Israel's borders. In fact, I mentioned that my officers told us what to do in case of war for a reason. First off, they mentioned the procedure for the first time since our first weekend off. Why? It's probably because the IDF is on alert in the north. What's going on there? Well, the UN is set to release its findings of an investigation into the 2005 assassination of Lebanon's prime minister. It is a well-known secret that Hezbollah murdered the popular leader. Now his son is prime minister and Hezbollah has warned him not to cooperate with the UN. That's the gist. Look online for more. My point here is that Hezbollah, who is already operating as a state-within-a-state in southern Lebanon, is a terrorist organization holding a legitimate government hostage. Hariri's coalition has disbanded. The future of Lebanon's freedom appears to be at risk. And the results could spill over into Israel.

So that's it for this week's post. Back to base tomorrow to learn more Hebrew. I'm starting to miss home a bit. Life's much different here, even outside of the military. It's sometimes hard to watch tv shows or movies; reminds me of home and makes me feel anxious. I'm really starting to enjoy myself at the base, though. The recognition/award was incredible; a real, definite high. Of course, there are times, like I've mentioned before, where we get knocked down a peg or two. Then we rebound later. I'm gelling with the guys real well. We enjoy our times on breaks, even if it's for ten minutes here or fifteen minutes there. Life is picking up now that we're going to learn Hebrew. It's fun, and also a little frustrating, learning Hebrew. I just have to make sure that I'm as proficient as possible by March 3rd. I have no doubt that I will be able to understand commands and survive in the IDF. But I want to be able to converse with the Israeli soldiers and have a good time with them, in Hebrew. Thinking about that sometimes gets me anxious to learn everything and I think we don't have enough time, that a month and a half isn't enough. But hopefully it is.

Until next week, thanks for reading!!