Honorable Discharge

Adam, we be done!

And just like that, I am now, and forever will be: Sergeant Daniel Flesch (Ret.).

My Israel Defense Force service is complete.  What I set out to do a year and a half ago is over.

I joined the IDF, went through the mandatory ulpan to learn Hebrew, tried out for and joined Tzanchanim (Paratroopers), worked hard, pushed myself beyond limits I didn't even dream of, jumped out of a plane six times, completed tours in the West Bank and the Lebanese border, and finished strongly and with pride.

From the beginning of a soldier's service, he knows exactly the date of his eventual release.  For my brothers-in-arms who drafted with me on December 15th, 2010 starting a year and a half service, we finished on June 14th, 2012.

The night of the 12th I took a train north to meet Adam and his girlfriend, Steph, at their kibbutz outside of Acko.  On the 13th, we had to be back at our base on the Lebanese border.  Why the 13th and not the 14th?  Because June 14th was a Thursday, and all the jobnikim we are dependent upon to be released leave base.  Thus, we released a day early from the IDF.

It's a much shorter trip from their kibbutz as opposed to leaving from Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.  We got up at a decent hour in the morning, hopped on a couple buses, and made it to base by noon.

All we had to do was this: turn in our Aleph equipment, collect a few signatures, and cut our choger.  This whole process could take literally thirty or forty minutes.  But, like all things in the army, nothing is ever easy.

We searched for the first office to obtain a signature, found out they had left for lunch, and then waited the next hour and a half until all the jobnikim got back from the lunch room and into their air conditioned offices.  We went to the medic's office for them to sign off on our health records, had the social worker soldier sign our paper, had her translate a few words from our officer for a quick and meaningless interview to review our service, and a few other places.  The hardest thing was turning in our equipment.

The day we went on chofshash, Adam, Gidon, Matthew and myself turned in our combat (Bet) equipment.  Now we had to turn in our Aleph equipment.  These items were given to us on the very first day in the military.  Now simply two uniform tops and bottoms, belt, jacket, beret and duffel bag needed to be returned.  Well, I wanted to keep the only Aleph uniform I had worn since the day I was accepted into Tzanchanim.  The one I would come to put on my confats for being an accomplished paratrooper, put on my seicat lochem for being an accomplished fighter, and put on my dargot for being promoted to sergeant.  And my red beret?  The one I earned after I worked harder than ever before, sweated, bled, broke bones, jumped out planes and received after completing a seventy kilometer, fifteen hour hike to Jerusalem carrying a heavy machine gun and nearly fifty percent of my body weight?  Yeah, sorry Mr. Jobnik, but you can go &%@$ yourself, I am not turning that in!

Well, unfortunately, as Adam pointed out, these guys have all the power and they just want us to recognize that.  So instead of having me yell at them, Adam quietly and kindly apologized for us "losing" our uniforms and not having our berets.  This whole charade took most of the afternoon, but at the end, the guy in charge of logistics relented and we got his signature.  Finally, around 3:30, we returned to the first office, ready for the final moments.

I have been issued three different identification cards while in the military.  The first I received on my first day in the army.  It's called a "choger," and identifies me as an enlisted soldier.  The second identity card I received is called a "teudat lochem."  After two years in the army, all combat soldier receive this card.  As I do not do three years, I and my other volunteering friends received ours in the mail about a month ago...after months and months of requests and haggling.  This card identifies me as a combat soldier.  For those who stay in Israel, I hear it is beneficial to have for applying to jobs.  But really, for me, the main perk is now I can travel on buses and trains for free when not in uniform.  Finally, on my last day in the army, every soldier receives a "teudat shichrur," a fighter's identity card.  It is a yellow/golden card with השחחרר משירות חובה בכבוד, or "released from compulsory military service with honor."  AKA: honorable discharge.

Upon receiving my teudat shichrur, I had to cut up my choger.  It was an incredible feeling.  My ties to the IDF were symbolically, as well as officially, cut.  I was awarded my teudat shichrur.  I received two documents, one recognizing the end of my service, the second exempting me from reserve duty for the rest of my life.

Adam and I could not have been happier.  We were on Cloud 9 walking out of that base.  We hugged and made it straight for the exit.  We walked out the shin gimmel (gate) and, like always leaving a base, waited for the bus.

And waited.....and waited....and waited....

Turns out the bus didn't come until after six.  But that gave me some time to call my parents and tell them the great news.  Gave me some time to hear from my brother as he called me from his work.  Gave me some time to exchange texts with my sister from her work.  Gave me some time to sweat outside in the heat of the Israeli summer sun.  Gave me some time to have a celebratory cigarette (sorry Mom).  Eventually, Gidon and Matthew met up with us as they also finished the release process.

Signatures? Check!

On the bus, Adam and I were surprised by how incredible the day felt.  For one thing, we were completely wiped out.  It sounds silly, and definitely is, but so true that even such simple and quick tasks with the military can completely drain you.  We just kicked back in the cool air conditioned bus and reminisced for a few minutes.  We thought back to a year and a half ago, to Mikveh Alon.  We thought back to over a year ago, the Tzanchanim gibbush, drafting into the Paratroopers, the first times we started to hang out.  We talked about War Week and the final hike for the beret.  Then Shechem and going home over New Years for a month on our meuchedet.  Then coming back and jumping out of a plane again for the Tarchat and then the hardest four days of our lives in the Targad.  Adam recalled seeing me one day (really the whole thing was like one very long day), laying on the ground, my back propped up against my heavy machine gun, eyelids closing, trying to catch a few minutes of elusive, heavenly sleep, and suddenly being ordered back on our feet to continue moving.  According to Adam, I looked around me, not believing the order to be true and in that moment completely hating everyone and everything, for they prevented me from a quick few minutes nap.  These things will never leave us.

I finally arrived back in Tel Aviv at midnight.  The day was over.  From the tzav rishon to the draft to the Paratroopers and the training and kav and training and kav, and then the release.  The sun had set on my service in the IDF.

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

The guys: posin' before kayakin'

I traveled to Jerusalem the day after I left base on chofshash.  Spent a few days there then met up with Shmaya to spend Shabbat with Eliyahu and Jesse at Jesse's house in Rana'ana.  Since being released, Jesse has worked as a waiter at a restaurant on the beach in Herziliya.  I hadn't seen him in a few weeks and Eliyahu even longer than that.  Well, Eliyahu had returned to our unit from Commanders Course a few weeks before.  But I hadn't seen him in close to six months, so his presence still felt very fresh to us.  After the Shabbat, I bounced back and forth between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.

The great thing about having the teudat lochem was being able to travel in civilian clothes.  I definitely took advantage of that.  One day, a bunch of us decided to go kayaking on the Jordan River up near Kiryat Shemonah.  During winter training, I had to reconnect with my unit on Sunday mornings in Kiryat Shemonah.  It felt weird and amazingly awesome to take the same bus north and walk into the same beit hachayal (soldier's house) as I did just a few months before.  But this time, I was in shorts and flip-flops and not dreading freezing on guard duty or in the shetach for the week.  It was an awesome day, hung out with some guys I again hadn't seen in a long time, and truly relaxed and enjoyed being free from the army.

The next day I went north again to a kibbutz near Tiberias to spend the evening with Sam at his kibbutz.  This Sam is from Oregon and drafted a few months before me.  He's part of a program called Garin Tzabar in which the group made aliyah, came to live with a group of individuals, received ulpan Hebrew lessons, drafted into the army together, and serve for two years.  The kibbutz was alright; the view of the Kinneret was incredible (much different than in the winter, now it is brown), and they had a pool, which was fun to go in with some girls when not exactly sober.

The next day, he came down to Tel Aviv to stay with a friend, and we partied it up for the next three nights.  Finally being able to go out and drink, dance, talk with girls without having the army in the back of your head every waking second was liberating.  Staying up until six in the morning was no problem because I got nothin' to do!

Until I called the army the previous Monday to ask when we were supposed to come and go through the release process.  On Wednesday, we came, we saw, we released.

Tomer and I chillin' on the beach

Now I've just been chilling with David, Amy and the girls in Tel Aviv.  My service has come full circle.  I still have my apartment in Jerusalem, but enjoy being in Tel Aviv.  There's the beach, night life, family, beach, girls, beach, girls...you get the idea.  Yesterday I spent the day at the beach with Tomer, one of my favorite Israelis from my unit.  I spoke Hebrew consistently for the first time in a while.  Now I've been working on putting my resume together.  Boy do I have some interesting things to add!  The vacation continues as my life after the army looms ahead.  For now, I'm enjoying the sun and sand.  And "How I Met Your Mother."  I'm already on season four...after starting it less than a week ago.

I need something to do.

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

Adam and I had thought that the day we chofshashed would have been the most exciting because we were actually leaving our base.  We thought that the vacation we've been on the past couple weeks would have lessened the excitement of returning to base in our civilian clothes only to turn in a last few pieces of equipment.  But that wasn't the case.  We felt incredible.  A weight and burden and responsibility has been lifted from our shoulders.  It was an incredible thing to be able to call myself a soldier, a fighter and a paratrooper for Israel.  And I will always be that.  It may not be with a gun anymore.  But it will be with some new weapons.  I exchanged the assault rifle and machine gun for words and pens.  I will continue this fight.



Just as I will continue this blog.....

CHOFSHASH!!!

Me, Adam, Gidon and Matthew: first tastes of freedom!

חופש''ש!!!!!!!  Ok, let me try that one again: chofshash!!!!!  Alright, maybe one more time: release vacation!!!!!

One week ago yesterday (Monday, May 28th), Adam, Matthew, Gidon and myself turned in all of our combat equipment to the battalion, hopped on a bus, and left to begin the transition to civilian life.  This was a time I had been looking forward to for a long...loooong time.  Remember when I took a month vacation at home, had the time of my life, and returned in early January to begin winter training?  Yeah, it was about then that me, Adam and the others started to think about getting through the final months and making it to our chofshash.

And finally, it has come!

I returned to Nahariyya with the rest of my unit two weeks ago Sunday.  On the bus ride to base, I sat with one of my commanders from basic and advanced training, Chen.  He was one of the guys who punished me to no end when I would speak in English.  Well, he hasn't been my commander in a long time, and was just on a Birthright trip.  On the ride, he told me all about it.  I asked a lot of questions as it was really interesting to hear about the trip from an Israeli soldier's perspective.  His trip comprised of twenty-two to twenty-six year old, secular Canadians.  Things he took for granted as a Jew, even a non-religious one, living in Israel suddenly became extraordinary.  For example, he never thought of it as a choice whether or not to marry a Jewish girl.  But suddenly, he said, many of the participants had a Gentile for a significant others.  In Israel, I've come to realize, even secular (what we would call "cultural") Jews are more observant, or at least sensitive, than those in the States.  They do fast on Yom Kippur, spend Friday night meals with the family, keep kosher, maybe even occasionally wrap tefillin.  We talked some more.  And then got to base.

The last week on base went by like the previous two months.  I did mainly patrols of the border.  Sitting in the hummer for eight hours is never fun.  Sitting in it for twelve hours is definitely never fun.  From Wednesday to Sunday, like every weekend when the other platoons cycle to their weekend off base, I was in a hummer for half a day.  This time it was from noon to midnight.  The other time is better because you can drift off to sleep at any moment, wake up, and three hours have passed.  During the day, you feel every second of every minute of those twelve hours.  But it's nice to be able to take in the beautiful view as the sun sets.

For the last week of our service, the four of us knew that the Israelis would try to put us to work at kitchen duty or with the sarsap, pretty much the janitor of the base.  One day Matthew was at kitchen, another day it was Gidon.  For an afternoon I saw Adam there.  At the end of it all, I escaped unscathed.  On Sunday, I was done with patrols and had woken up early to guard from six to nine.  Instead of going back to sleep, I decided to work out with the few dumbbells we have on base.  Then I chatted with my brother and sister on Viber (thank you free technology!).  The minute I hung up the call, my commander saw me and told me I was in the kitchen.  Now, I love the kid.  He's a good commander and a great guy.  But I told him that I'm not gonna be stuck in the kitchen on my last day.  "Sorry, but that's not how I'm spending my last day in the IDF."  Ok then, he said, and went and found another American to throw in there.

Shmuel and Effy, rockin' out at Avicii

But earlier in the week, before the long patrols, I was scooped up to be the guy in the radio room's partner.  That shift was from midnight to six.  Wonderful.

No matter what I did that week, I did it with a smile on my face.  I went from counting down the months to the weeks to the days and finally to the hours.

D-Day for us came quickly on Monday.  Saturday evening to Sunday evening was the holiday of Shavuot.  That meant that the platoons that were home and usually return on Sunday didn't come until Monday.  That also meant that everyone who went home didn't get back until after lunch on Monday.  Which includes the jobniks who need to take in our equipment.

The night before, I guarded then had gathered together the last of my equipment.  The next morning I guarded again at six, Adam relieved me at nine, but I stayed a chilled with him for a couple hours.  We took off all the tape, cloths, bands, everything that we had put on our equipment to make it combat ready.  I traded my good equipment with guys for their bad equipment.  I gave them extra warm clothing and hand warmers that I would not need again.  A few of the guys gave me the traditional punch under the arm, then a big warm hug.

After lunch, the four of us made our way down to the battalion's base.  There, I turned in my bet/combat equipment: four uniform pants and four uniform tops, bet hat, two canteens, flashlight, gun strap, two long underwear tops and two long underwear bottoms, helmet and camouflouge cover, sleeping bag, knee pads, jacket, and the military bag.  Then we had to get signatures by the doctor, social worker, and a few other individuals.  Finally, we needed to turn in our guns.


I hate writing about this because it gets me angry even now.  The scenario was this: we all had M-4 rifles to turn in.  I also had my MAG heavy machine gun to sign over responsibility of it to another soldier in my platoon.  Well, the jerk-off 30 year old Russian dipshit who has no life and loves it when the eighteen year old girl soldiers give him the time of day is the only one in charge of the armory and would not let me turn in my M-4 until another soldier came to sign on the MAG.

Everyone else was waiting on me.  It was after five.  The bus left the base at quarter to six.  The next one: 8:30.  This guy was closing the armory at six for dinner and not opening it back up until the next day.  Basically, not until one of my Russian officers came over did anything get done.  Just the sheer frustration of the army threatened to keep me there for another day, screwing me out of my well-deserved chofshash time.

A beautiful day like this....?

But get off I did!  I turned in my M-4, collected my last signature on the document, ran back to the first office, turned it in, "so I'm on chofshash now?!  Whoohooooo!!!!"

The four of us took the bus back to Nahariyya...without our guns.  We had time to kill before the train going south, so we went to a nearby cafe and ordered a beer.  No one cared that we were in our uniforms.  We were done.  It was one of the best beers of my life.

Over the past week, I've split time between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.  Traveling is always free in a uniform with a military ID.  Now, I have an ID called a "teudat lochem," a fighter's ID.  It allows me to travel free in civilian clothes.  Israelis receive it after two years of service.  Us lone soldiers in Machal received ours a few weeks ago.  Mine was mailed to David and Amy's apartment in Tel Aviv.

I returned to my apartment in Jerusalem for the next day.  I met with a friend from a program to Israel I had gone on the summer before the I joined the army.  That evening was a small engagement party for one of my roommates.  The next day, I didn't get off the couch until five in the afternoon.  Not hungover, just no need to move.

On Thursday, I arrived in Tel Aviv to prepare for an incredible night.  A bunch of us had bought tickets to the Avicii concert as a celebration of ending our service.  He's a new dj with an awesome setlist.  The concert was near Tel Aviv University, a twenty minute walk from David and Amy's apartment.  It was a great show!  The sun was coming up as I walked home after.

For Shabbat, Eliyahu, Shmaya and myself went to Jesse's place in Rana'ana.  We stayed there until Sunday.  It was relaxing and refreshing, great to see Jesse and Eliyahu outside of the army, and was a new part of the country I had yet to visit.  There are many Americans and Canadians who live in this small city and is definitely one of the nicer parts of the county.  Sunday was spent traveling to Jerusalem and back to Tel Aviv.  Today I finally went to the beach for the afternoon.  I'll probably pay for my red skin tomorrow.

But what do I care?  It's not like I have to go back to the army anytime!!!

...obviously Shmaya and I are gonna take advantage!!

the end is nigh

Overlooking the border, with the sea to my right.

It's been a number of weeks since I last wrote about my life in the army.  This post will cover the previous four weeks.  But the beauty of being active on the Lebanese border is that I cannot disclose everything that I do.  I can paint broad brushstrokes of my work but am forbidden to go into specifics due to the sensitive nature of what I am describing.  Before every time we leave base for the weekend, our officers remind us to be careful what we say and where say it.  It's a bit of a "loose lips sink ships" situation.  They caution us to not talk on busses or trains about our base and the border.

Four weeks ago I took a train north from Tel Aviv to Nahariyya, a medium-sized city on the Mediterranean coast and a few miles south of Lebanon.  Like Beersheva for my training base, Ariel for Shechem, and Kiryat Shemonah for winter training, this was our meeting point for a bus to take us to our base.  I sewed on my sergeant's stripes and, with Adam, we got some japes about being sergeants and wearing the rank on our sleeves.  (Clarification required: clearly by "I" I mean my wonderful cousin Amy sewed them on.  Thanks so much!)  But it's all good, because it's just another marker towards the end of my service.

On Tuesday of that first week, we learned that our company had been assigned an extra section of fence to our west.  With this new section of the border came a small base to man.  My squad was assigned there for a full week.  It was the chillest time I've ever had in my service while in the army.  For one week, it was me and between seven and nine other guys.  We were there to protect the hummer border patrols as they came through our area.  It was almost no work at all.  My commander is a great kid; he speaks very good English, like all Ethiopans thinks he is a black gangster, and didn't really care what we did on that base when we weren't doing the necessary guard duty.  I read a full thousand-ish page book (thank you, Game of Thrones series), watched movies (thank you, iPhone) and worked out (thank you....me).

This tiny base was an, in some ways, an escape from the normal dealings of the IDF.  For example, I never shined my shoes or made my bed in the morning.  Ok, that may seem silly and trivial, but it has been such a normal and mandatory part of my mornings for the past year, that not doing it feels so good.  In addition, there was no logistical or kitchen work that we had to do.  We made our own food with supplies brought to us from the battalion's base, but we were on our own for what to cook, what to do and when, etc.

During that week, Israel observed and celebrated Yom Hazikaron and Yom Haatzmaut, Day of Remembrance and Independence Day, respectively.  Last year, I was off base in Tel Aviv for the back-to-back holidays.  You can read (or maybe re-read) what I wrote about the days last year.  For this year, I was on base, but we stood and bowed our heads in a respectful manner for when the siren sounded in the evening and the following morning of Yom Hazikaron.

My squad was replaced by a different one a week later.  We returned to our main base where the rest of the company is stationed.  Did some guard duty, a lot of nothing, and some more of I don't remember until Thursday morning.  We awoke at four in the morning.  It was still dark outside when we went for a four kilometer run carrying three stretchers.  We finished, stretched, showered, changed into our Aleph/dress uniforms, and left base around seven.  A bus took us back to Nahariyya, I got on a train to Tel Aviv, stopped at David and Amy's to do laundry, then travelled to my Jerusalem and ended at my apartment.

That evening, the newest draft of Tzanchanim was having their tekkes hashba'ah, swearing-in ceremony at the Western Wall.  These guys drafted just a few months ago, in March.  Sound familiar?  I drafted a year ago in March (to Tzanchanim, not the IDF).  They are exactly where I was one year ago.  I went with some friends to see the ceremony.  Some of the commanders were soldiers in my squad, platoon or company from March until October when they went off to commanders course.  I didn't really care to see the entire ceremony, and arriving late helped that, but it felt good to see a new group of guys go through exactly where I've been.  I'm starting to learn that about life: I'm more aware of the passage of time; I can look back at where I was a month or a year ago.  My blog also helps remind me; I get enjoyment a great sense of accomplishment looking back at what I have done, knowing that other guys are going through the very same thing, but I have done it.

The next day, I went around town for a few hours, bought a nice pair of sunglasses, then returned home and started the best part of my weekend: not leaving the apartment until Sunday morning.  It was a lazy weekend for me.  It was needed and felt great.  Shmaya came by a few times and we chilled.  I downloaded movies, started watching a new tv show (Shark Tank; I am going to start a business at some point in my life), and also thinking about jobs for after the army.

Two weeks ago on Sunday, I got up to leave with Shmuel from our apartment, but on the bus ride to the bus station, I didn't think I could make it.  At a random stop, I spotted a hostel, for some reason thrust my pita, hummus and turkey sandwich into Shmuel's hands, and sprinted off the bus, into the hostel and bee-lined it for the bathroom.  When I finished, I called my commander, told him what happened (but not in too much detail) and said I was gonna stay in Jerusalem for a few hours to make sure I don't have a recurring episode and have to time to feel better.  He was supposed to call our officer and get back to me, but I went to my apartment anyway, watched a few episodes of Shark Tank, and left mid-afternoon for base.  That started a full day trek to base, which I didn't arrive at until late at night.  (*My apologies for this story.  But it's more for me to remember an interesting and comical episode than to enlighten you, the reader, on the life of a lone soldier.  Thanks for bearing with me!)

The first few days on base were really slow.  I went for a run amidst the beautiful hills of northern Israel.  I worked out with a few of the weights my company has.  I had a lot of down time.  Then on Wednesday, half the company went home for the weekend.  That meant more work for the rest of us.

For me and my squad, it meant twelve hour patrols followed by twelve hours of rest then patrol then rest then patrol until Sunday.  For the week and a half, I went on seventy-two hours worth of patrol.  The best part of this schedule was the time: my patrols were from midnight to noon.  The next best part is that on my twelve hours of rest, my unit is the response unit for the base, which means we have to respond to any emergency within minutes.  In order to do that, you can't take off your boots.  So I didn't change my uniform or take off my boots for five days.  It was a great time.  I hated it.

In these hummers, there is almost zero space to fit your legs.  And I'm a tall guy.  Sitting in the back seat reminds me of a time when I was nine and my brother and I played on a traveling baseball team in Chicago.  One evening, my mom, brother and I drove with the team to Milwaukee County Stadium to watch the Brewers play the Seattle Mariners (they were still in the American League at that time).  At the end of the game, another parent drove us around as we tried to find our car.  I sat for nearly an hour in the back seat with my legs crossed indian style.  It was very very uncomfortable.  Sitting in the cramped confines of these hummers reminded me of that.  And now that I think about it, this pointless story actually revealed to me one thing: why did we go to Milwaukee instead of seeing a Cubs or, G-d forbid, a Sox game in Chicago?

In addition to time, sleep has become another thing that interests me.  I've taken a new perspective of it since in the army.  For those five days, I slept on the patrols if we were able to; I slept for an hour here or there in the middle of the afternoon if I could; I slept whenever possible.  I looked forward to the soothing motion of the hummer.  It lulled me to sleep.  I drifted off to thoughts of home, the past, and the future.  Over the past year and a half, I've come to love and hate my thoughts.  They can be my best friends and worst enemies.  Whether drifting off to sleep on a frigid night in the Golan Heights, standing guard duty for eight hours in Hebron, or staring out at Lebanon from inside a hummer, my thoughts are a constant companion.

During these past two weeks, I worked on figuring on when my chofshash starts.  Chofshash is a period at the end of a soldier's service that he spends at home.  A course is provided to him to learn about transitioning back into civilian life, educational opportunities, financial situations, etc.  Israelis receive month-long chofshash before their final release date.  My friends in Nahal, Golani, Givati and Kfir, all of whom have done a year and a half like myself are receiving three weeks, four weeks, or a full month.  My friends in the other two Tzanchanim battalions, 101 and 890, are receiving three weeks, four weeks, or a full month.  My buddies and I in 202 are getting two weeks.  Welcome to 202.

Tuesday was Nakba Day.  It is becoming an Arab tradition to disregard Israel's political sovereignty and right to exist, and deciding to walk from Lebanon and Syria to the border with Israel, protest, throw rocks and try to tear down the fence.  It is because of this day that the head commander of Tzanchanim wanted to be at the Lebanese border for six months.  We were supposed to be at Gaza.  At that kav assignment, there is action.  There is activity.  Things happen.  At Lebanon: nothing.  And this was supposed to be the day for something to happen.  And where was I?  Kitchen duty.  FML.  But, as it turned out, nothing ended up happening at our fence assignment.

I had been constantly asking my platoon officer about my chofshash.  He eventually got back to me on Wednesday evening with the final date: MAY 28th!!  A week from Monday!  That will be the last time I will be on base.  The two weeks are actually two weeks' worth of army days (weekends don't count).  Today is nine days.  Single digits!  SINGLE!  Down to nine.  The last nine days.  On Wednesday I had my last seicat machlekah, platoon discussion.  Later in the evening I had my last misdar men pay, an equipment presentation for my company commander.  On Thursday morning, I had my last night of three hours sleep before going home, waking up at three in the morning to guard, then go for the same four kilometer run at four in the morning, followed by a shower, change and bus to Nahariyya.

Thursday evening, after sleeping six hours for the previous two nights, Shmuel and I went to see the Avengers.  It was awesome, even though I definitely fell asleep for fifteen minutes or so in the middle.  Friday night I went to the monthly lone soldier meal provided by the Lone Soldier Center at the Jerusalem Great Synagogue.  Today was a lazy day and returning to base tomorrow.  This will be the last night I ever go to sleep dreading waking up the next morning.  It will be the last time I feel the terrible feeling in my stomach Sunday morning, hating waking up and having to go to base.