I found my boulder and start shooting at an imaginary enemy on the hill in front of us. Then there was a big boom, I dropped my weapon and held my ears, they were full of loud ringing like the sound of a train's horn. On the next few hours and months it grew quieter. I had to decide that life was worth living anyway, it was not easy at first, but I decided I do want to even though the annoying ringing in my right ear would probably never go away. Luckily we have a brain that ignores unimportant messages, and mine learned how to ignore it most of the time.
A minute before this big boom changed my life forever we were 8 or 9 young soldiers crowded into our nagmash, an armored vehicle, waiting for the order to attack. It was a simulation of a battle and a part of our officer training. We were supposed to conquer the hill in front of us. The rustling, whistling and movement of the nagmash, the sleep deprivation, the darken interior probably lilted me into dosing. When the order "attack" was given I was still trying to get my bearings as we all run out from the darkness of the interior to the bright sun, looking for cover and shooting positions behind large boulders.
Our Kibbutz life was in a way a constant reminder that one day we are going to join the army and do our duty. It was always in the background. The knowledge that we have a country and it needs defending, and when our turn comes to fulfill this duty we would obviously obey this ingrained knowledge, that we have it to do, there is no other way.
The first 6 months of my army training I was in basic training, eating highly suspicious food prepared by who knows whom. What kind of a person would join the army to become an army chef at age 18?! It was suspicious, the army chefs were considers a lower cast, the "jobniks" we called them, those people who join the army but do not really serve, just doing a menial job of some sort. We were the fighters, the real thing. I became a jobnick myself later, but that is another story.
Army food is the theme of many jokes, you come to the army base dining room and the soldier in charge asks you: "would you like a fresh bread, baked today?" To which you eagerly reply "YES" (being that in the army you never get fresh bread), and the soldier replies: "Come tomorrow then"
Basic training was challenging to say the least. We were about 240 soldiers, 60 soldiers in each of the 4 barracks, people you have never met before and now they supposed to be your army buddies. You sleep on bunks bed. I had the "luck" of sharing the same bunk bed with a large body kleptomaniac slob. Things would disappear, and although we knew quite well who the culprit probably was, we could not prove a thing. Each one of us came from such a different background.
The first thing that vanished from my large army duffle bug was my cherished electrical shaver. There is no much you can do about it. You just had to go to the base canteen and buy cheap shaving blades; I had never used this kind before.
Everything was routinely inspected by our superiors, our commanders, who happened to be few months older than we were, but being in the army that much longer turns you into a completely different character.
Inspection is a daily routine, including the way you are shaved. Is your gun clean enough? Does it have "elephants" (small dust particles) in its barrel? Are your blankets appropriately folded in an army way? Is your army uniform properly ironed? Does your army hat placed properly over your head? Your bed made the right way? It was an endless minute details discipline, day in and day out, after all who would like to stay over in the base, because of some ambiguous infringement. When Friday comes and everyone changes to the more fancy formal uniforms to go back home, back into the warm of family and civil life, would you like to be the one who stayed behind to guard the base maybe? Oh no, that would be the end of all hopes, a total separation from normal life for another 3 weeks perhaps, the ultimate punishment and banishment.
In basic training you are always pushed or pushing yourself against your physical limits. Running, fulfilling orders, cleaning, studying weapons, practicing assembling and disassembling your gun as fast as possible, shooting practice, marching drills, running around the block because your weapon was not clean enough or just because.., going down for a specified number of pushups, there was something in our young bodies and spirits that loved the challenge even though it had been demeaning at times, but the feeling of "I have made it" and "nothing is too difficult for this young fit body", was thrilling at times.
I remember pushing myself to the end of my endurance many times, feeling I could prevail, I can climb this hill, fully loaded, and conquer an imaginary enemy, not a bad deal for adrenaline filled 18 years old motivated boy.
Carrying a mock wounded soldier on a stretcher we would fall asleep on long sleepless endless army walks on moonless dark nights, exhausted as we all were, all we had to do was the next step, and then the next and then the next. Numbness would come to the heart sometimes on these endless trainings, jumping, running, marching, climbing, attacking, studying and fighting sleep listening to long boring lectures . In 6 months we became soldiers ready to fight. Thank God I had never had to actually fight in a real battle.
All in all serving in the army is an empowering experience. You have given your share to the greater effort of protecting the land, you have been counted. You have done something for the greater good.
Boaz Pnini
Bridges 2 Israel founder
PS. Please do not think I glorify war. War is one of the most disgusting, atrocious and terrible thing we can inflict upon each other. I totally abhor war. I wish all wars to end now and forever.
Greetings,
No comments:
Post a Comment