The American Reunion Tour

July 31

Fresh off of finishing our big training and being official fighters in the army, we knew we had about a month of random tasks and tidbits to take care of before the tank commander’s course would start. None of us really knew what this meant or what would be happening, but what we did know is that sitting around and doing nothing was not something we wanted to be doing. Becoming bored (among other things) in the army is an easy way to lower motivation and the drive that keeps soldiers wanting to give or fight because they feel somewhat insignificant. Thankfully, the five weeks weren’t all going to be a bore, but surely there would be many moments that would make us want to pull (the little amounts that are allowed of) our hair out.

The first week was taking place during an exercise of the entire brigade – all of the generals, commanders, hummer drivers, etc. Of course, what is an exercise if there is no enemy, which is where we came in to play. For the entire week, we wore old American uniforms and pretended to be Hezbollah and help the other soldiers practice what they needed to. This was actually a pretty cool experience being able to just sit out in the shetach by ourselves (with three people) for 24 hours straight and plan our own methods of attack with fake bullets and fireworks and things of that nature. Although it was tiring, it was also fun just sitting there with friends for hours on end and getting to do something that was like playing in a huge game of hide and seek.

After the week ended, I was fortunate enough that my parents came to visit me for the second time since I joined the army. This time was a little different than the first mainly that I wasn’t in the middle of training at the time so I wasn’t as tired as usual and I had many more things added on my uniform from when they saw me (well actually everything – my unit tag, my beret, pin on the beret, pin on my uniform, dog tag cover…you get the picture). And one other thing that I had with me when I met them at the airport was my gun, something that I was actually very proud to see them with because in my opinion that’s one of the things that shows that you’re a fighter in this army and shows the responsibility you have walking around with an actual firearm. Because from where most of us grow up, seeing anyone with a gun is a frightening sight…here, it is very regular to see the fighters with their guns and I was happy to finally be joining that honorable group. It was really great spending time with my parents on the beach in Tel Aviv and just feeling like I was on vacation and being able to see my friends at night.

During the weekend it dawned on me that the next four weeks before the course would start were going to end up being awfully dull and tedious and realized that by the time my course would end, it would almost be a year in the army, the amount of time in which I can use an allotted 30 days to travel to the U.S. to see friends and family. So I on a spur of the moment and relatively last minute, I flew to the U.S. for 15 days to see friends and family that I hadn’t seen over the span of a year – I like to think of it as a reunion tour of sorts. I wasn’t really sure what the feeling was going to be like to fly to America and be a tourist of sorts and to answer questions about what I do and also if I was going to miss being in Israel or realize that maybe America was a better place for me. That somewhat made me anxious because then I would have many mixed feelings about what I was doing in Israel. But, I decided it was definitely worth it to go through with the trip.

The first stop on this tour was the L.A. area where I ended up at Camp Ramah for the weekend, going there to surprise everyone and see the adults with special needs which I had worked with for a few summers because, to be honest, I missed them as much as anyone throughout my time in Israel. It was really excellent to see so many friends in one place and to be at a place where I wouldn’t hesitate to say has been one of my “secondary homes” throughout the years. On the way out of California, I visited my Uncle Danny and Aunt Helene in Oxnard and was able to spend a quality day with them. My next stop on my tour was to see the city which I grew up in – Albuquerque, New Mexico. I travelled to see my grandparents whom I hadn’t seen in a very long time and it was just so nice to sit with them and talk about life. After seeing them, I headed back to Tucson for the first time since last June. Besides seeing all of my family and friends, it was a weird but nice feeling to see the city which I had called home for seven years before moving to Israel (of course it is always better in every place when you have the feeling of vacation and are free of most responsibilities).

The time then came to make my way back here, back home. I had a really great time in America, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to be returning to Israel. When I was randomly placed next to an Israeli on the place from Tucson to Chicago, I realized how much I loved being Israeli, simply being able to talk in Hebrew when the opportunity popped up and be even more proud of the fact that I was Jewish than when I lived in America. As I boarded the plane from London to Tel Aviv, I began to gain a sense of satisfaction. This stemmed from the feeling that I had just travelled as an Israeli for the first time and almost carried myself as a messenger and liaison to show others how great Israelis are and how great the country is and the fact that it was me that had this awesome job. On Sunday, I begin a new chapter in my army experience and my path as an Israeli. It is going to be challenging but in the end I also know it will be rewarding. Because who would want to be bored anyways when instead you can get pushed to the limits both physically and mentally in order to become to best possible soldier in defending the country you love? I know I wouldn’t…and that’s why I’m happy to be back in this great country of Israel.

The End of the Beginning

June 24 – End of Advanced Training

When I left my house about a year ago, I really didn’t know what to expect with this army thing. I had convinced myself that I would be better off as a straight-up educator in the army instead of a combat soldier. Besides, I had experience in this and it would let my family and friends sleep easier at night. Slowly but surely, however, I convinced myself otherwise – if the country wanted me in a certain way, I would go with the flow. So when I arrived to the tanks unit seven months ago, I knew I would be in for a very new experience.

Now this day had arrived – the end of advanced training where I would officially become a "fighter" in the Israeli army. I would now be able to be called up in wars or missions, I would be moving up a rank, and I wouldn’t be completely looked down upon as a "young" soldier. These are the days when I look back and see how fast time really goes. One year from a 22 year old college graduate to a 23 year old fighter in the army of the country that I love.

The whole week was very celebratory, topping it off with something that we had been looking forward to for a while – breaking distance with our commanders. The tanks are notorious for having some of the highest discipline and they wait until the last day to put the commander/soldier thing on the side and make it more like a person to person relationship. Some get excited for this on that general level of evening the playing field; others have personal things to score. For example, I was finally able to speak in English with my American-Israeli commander. He really had become another role model for me, particularly because of the similarities and him being in the tanks unit (where there are less Americans than many infantry units).

We didn’t sleep the whole night before the ceremony and it felt great. We arrived at Latrun, the place of the ceremony, and all looked like zombies, but happy ones at that. We spent the whole day in the heat and humidity practicing, where in the end we would receive a pin of a tank for our uniforms. Again, like my swearing-in ceremony, I was very fortunate to have friends and family in attendance supporting me. This made it an even more meaningful day where I could show them what I had accomplished up until now.

As the ceremony started, we marched in and took our places. Some important people spoke, the "best soldiers" got certificates, and it was on to the pin giving. My general had told me that had there been a best soldier that the other soldiers and commanders choose (which there is occasionally), I would have received that honor. This man also just doesn’t say things stam (as Israelis say), he means them. He's the only one from the commanders/generals that had been with me from day one and always stuck with me. When I thought about moving to a different brigade of the tanks, he begged one of the head guys to keep me so he could turn me into a good soldier and convinced me to stay and try. This ended up being a great decision on many accounts – friends, experiences, knowledge, confidence, etc.

It is a tradition throughout the army that commanders and generals give their pins to soldiers rather than new ones as a sign of passing down the good work they had done. I thought maybe I might get my commander's pin. As he came around and I was one of the last ones without a pin, I saw he had already given his away. I knew he had given it to my new friend in the second staff of my commander, Iliya, so that made me happy because he had joined us late and was better than most at what he did. My commander said some very nice and significant words to me, asked me if I'd write about this in my blog (because it turns out he had been reading it the whole time), put the pin above the button on left pocket of the shirt, then gave me a few punches on the shoulder and chest, more like "love taps" in the army. A few seconds later, another commander, one who wasn’t even in my division inside of the platoon, came to me and started to take my new pin off and switch it for his. This man had really done a lot for me. He taught me many things I would have never known about the tank, always pushed me to give even more effort, and encouraged and helped progress my Hebrew learning. I like to think we became sort of friends through it all, even if commanders and soldiers in the tanks don’t do that until it's all said and done. As he finished giving me his pin, he also gave me a hit. However, it was in the stomach so as to surprise me – or maybe so that I'll never forget who gave me that pin.

Just like many ends, it was also sad to say bye to the guys. We are all going our separate ways to different "battle lines" in order to guard and be ready for anything that might happen. Also, a group of 10 or so out of every 40 is going to tank commander's course, a high honor that brings a difficult three months of learning all there is to know about the tank. As surprised as others may be just as I was, I was chosen to become a tank commander! I can’t even find the words to describe how wild it is to think that I will have to opportunity to command tanks when only one year ago I didn’t think combat and I would go together. The commanders know that the language is hard for me, but I suppose they see beyond that. It's also about responsibility, trust, organization, etc. I feel very honored that they saw some traits in me that led them to believe I could become a commander, as many deserving people (maybe even more deserving) weren’t offered. This whole ordeal proved another thing to me, too, for now and for the future – if you have a will, a purpose, for all that you do and always give it your best, good things will happen and you and others around will thrive. The country wants me to become even more of a leader and I am ready for the challenge. Because in the end, I'm doing what she needs from me, and doing so the best I can.

Interesting Birthday to Me

June 18

You know that feeling. The one you get when you've reached the end of something that had a defined finish line. You get jumpy, giddy – simply proud of your accomplishments. In the army, you add on the feeling of wanting to break that precious distance with the commanders and the end of training feeling is one of a kind. Although the army can be very unorganized sometimes and drawn out to be longer than it needs to be, it can still have its fun, challenging moments (even if it means having more intensive weeks because of something we may have missed). In addition, it was another three weeks straight without going home, meaning we had to be mentally ready for that, too.

Our tank had gone from the furthest advanced in training to the furthest behind in a span of a few weeks and we knew what lied ahead of us – make-up work. We had to do all of this while also doing the final tests as a staff. This didn’t just include tank driving and firing and things of that nature. It also included a test on how well we can recognize enemy tanks, how well we know the radio system, and first aide and things of that nature. Think of it as a final exam and it makes more sense. As a staff, we decided we weren’t going to do a 50% job, but rather give it our all and show why they chose us as the "best" so-to-speak from the get-go. It would take a lot of work, but it could also be fun.

The first week of the "21" as they call these three week stints was very tiring because of all of those tests, but much more preferred to doing only guarding or doing kitchen as well. We busted our butts and finished the week tabbed as either number one or 2 in the platoon (they didn't want to say who was first because of that competitive controversy stuff, like between brothers). But we also didn’t care, because we did the best that we could and on a personal level, I saw how much I had learned about the army, not just driving tanks. I had finished the necessary training to make it to the next level and I felt real good about that.

The Shabbat after, I found myself lying in bed throwing up which happened to many people as something was going around. I received my first ever IV and felt really weak. Many people tried to stretch out more sick days from this but I had made a pact with myself that I didn’t just come here for nothing and pushed myself. Plus, the next week was a fun one anyways; it was Hebrew ulpan week for all immigrants with less than perfect Hebrew. I really enjoyed this week and learned a lot. However, on one day, I got pulled out to help the platoon in the shetach since there was a lack of drivers, and although I didn’t want to do this at the time, it would pay its dividends shortly. Overall, it was a very fun week to say the least.

The reason it paid off to do the day of training is because the following week, nine people were chosen to go and do a special week-long training with the infantry forces of Givati and I was one of them. They were going to be doing their war simulation week and we were going to be joining them. We slept a lot less than usual and had less supplies, water, and food than usual, but I wouldn’t hesitate to say it was my most fun week of training I've done up to this point. The shetach was beautiful with boulders, flowers, trees, blue skies with clouds, and rolling hills of green for kilometers on end. Well, at least it was completely like that unitl I and the fellow drivers ran a lot of it over, including full trees. Yes, I'm guilty (and sorry) for contributing to destroying the environment.

The end of the week brought me to June 18 – my birthday. Usually before my birthday I feel it coming, some anticipation. For some reason, maybe the fact that time flies faster than usual here, it snuck up on me. Or maybe it was that it was the most different and interesting birthday I have ever had. I received beautiful and warm wishes from family and friends and at the end of the day my great adoptive family took me out for a nice steak dinner and my friends took me out to a club. But it was before that which made it so interesting. Waking up at 3 AM to drive a tank for about 10 kilometers and three hours of time was never something I dreamt of doing on my birthday.

It was then I realized how much I had become integrated into the army. And I thought how regular it had become to wake up and be in the army or after a weekend at home to travel back to the army and not feel completely depressed. I had felt like I had overcome the hardest (in my opinion) about the army – the mental aspect, not the physical one. At the beginning, it was extremely difficult to return or even think about the week that would be. Now, here I was at the (army-old) age of 23 and I felt like I had done it, I had overcome that. It may not have been a birthday I would have ever drawn up in my head, but it might have been the most influential in my life, at least considering where I am and what I am doing. I was now 23 and the training was coming to an end, but in essence it was really only beginning – because I realized different life lessons along the journey that is the Israeli army that will only help me from here on out.

A day of rest

May 29

Shabbat Shalom. This is a phrase that almost every Jew and several non-Jews say in Israel before the Sabbath starts on Friday evening, wishing people a peaceful and restful day. But when I think of how I’ve spent Shabbat in the past, I think of glamorous meals or visiting other homes or Mom’s matzah ball soup. I don’t think I ever imagined spending Shabbat the way I am right now, two weekends in a row.

As I write this in the middle of the night, I am gazing at a picturesque sky filled with stars that seem to be brighter than usual. They can be seen over a horizon line that has multiple armored vehicles of which I am guarding this weekend, while the previous weekend was the tanks. Although it’s really dirty here and extremely hot and there are enough flies to make you go psycho, it is also really peaceful to do Shabbat camping in the desert, the shetach as we call it, and that is what Shabbat is all about. It’s not like this is my first time guarding out here or certainly not spending a night either – trust me, I’ve done that a-plenty. But it’s different on Shabbat because I guess I have time to enjoy it.

The last two weeks were supposed to be a lot of tank training but they turned into a lot of waiting around for our turn. As I previously stated, being in the highest-rated tank isn’t always a good thing. We were far advanced so we had to let others practice to catch up, not to mention we received many new (and great) soldiers from other units that had to start from scratch. This gave me feelings of angst and impatience because I wanted to do the training (it’s much better than the kitchen, my least favorite thing that exists in the army). We waited our turn. And waited. Sometimes they would tease with us it seemed by bringing us to the shetach to the tanks but then wake up only to work on them mechanically rather than have fun and train on them. Let’s just say this is annoying, plain and simple. The first Shabbat through all of this I didn’t want to stay in the shetach. Wouldn’t you rather have air conditioning all day on base instead of 90 degree weather by the time 8 AM rolls around with a swarm of flies on the side? If you answered no, we can talk about that later. But it just felt so free to be lying there with only three other people overlooking a whole world that sounded silent, peaceful.

The second week of (non) training was even hotter – we had to stop because of the heat multiple times. Finally, at the end of the week, it was our turn to do a drill with the tank. I was ecstatic and we told ourselves we had to show everyone, especially the generals, how good we really were and that they were wasting our time, so to speak. This exercise was really fun – we did all sorts of situational firing and attacking, not to mention our first shell, with which our gunner, Mickey, hit the target. We were proud of ourselves and also relieved like all soldiers all – we had made it to Shabbat.

This time, I wanted to be here with my friends in the middle of nowhere making Shabbat rather than still having timed meals or checks that everyone is present. Of course I’d rather be home in the kibbutz, but this place is a good way to feel some freedom after a week of taking commands. I still have to guard, but it isn’t so bad. Shabbat is the day of rest and here, at 4:30 in the morning, I feel free and like I’m putting the hard work from the week behind me. I am a mere three and a half weeks from finishing all of the tank training, being called an official “tankist,” being comat ready, and from finishing something I never thought I’d do or remotely want to do. But it is something I want because even when I stare out and see nothing, I know the land is much more than that and depends on me and my fellow soldiers.

Do you believe in heroes?

May 22

I have no idea what a hero is. I have no clue what it means to be a positive role model either, and I don’t think there are many people that actually do. Those who do would be hard-pressed for words to describe their opinions as well. Yet there are some things about some people that just get us wrapped up in their stories, their lives. Some make instant impacts, others last a lifetime.

I can put my findger on plenty of people who I considered heroes, even if it was short lived or someone I’ll never meet. For example, any athlete who made me feel bliss and help me smile when I think back to the moment he helped my favorite team win. Or camp counselors who taught me things I didn’t realize were important until much later on. And of course there is always family. But at this point in my life, I find inspiration and heroism from someone who is no longer wih us yet would just be about my age today. I also know I’m not alone in this thought. They call him the Hero in Heaven. They call him Michael Levin.

Here’s a man who dared to risk it all just to fulfill his dreams, as he so famously said. That’s understandably respectable and an amazing attribute. But to take it even one step further and come back to fight in a war while on vacation (which I now know don’t happen too often in the army) knowing he was putting his life in danger, words can’t describe this. He ended up being killed in battle in Lebanon, but his legacy will always live on.

As I walked through Har Hertzl, the most famous military ceremony in Israel, in January as a newly sworn in soldier, I felt many new emotions that I hadn’t ever felt when visiting there. Proud to be a soldier, part of the everlasting family that is the Israel Defense Forces. Yet, I also felt fear and angst hoping (G-d forbid) nothing like this could ever happen to me. Thankfully, I don’t know anyone who has personally died in a batlle nor did I ever know the names of most of the people there (besides the likes of Hertzl and Rabin). Then towards the end of our tour through the cemetery, I saw the grave of Michael and stopped.

A Birthright trip was also standing there and being told the story of Michael. Although I had already heard this story, I was glued to it once again. As I stood there in uniform with my M-16 by my side, tears began to roll down my eyes. “What is happening?” I thought to myself. I didn’t even know the guy and there are plenty of other brave people who have also died for our country, but this one hit me, hard. Who knows what Michael might be doing today if he were still around. But what matters most is what he did then.

Moving here and doing this crazy army stint is a personal choice and only that. People can motivate you to do things or drive you to make decisions, but in the end you’re the final judge. Michael showed something that is important to every human being and that is you have to be willing to go all the way and put yourself out there for people as much as possible. The world doesn’t work on one person’s actions. It is a chain reaction of acts of kindness that make this world spin in a positive manner.

Would I do the same thing and leave my American family and friends in a time of war knowing what I’m getting myself into? Of course it’s hard to say since situations can differ, but at this point absolutely. Michael was willing to give his life for millions he never will know. Forget that, he was and we are doing this for Jewish generations to come. The least I can do is try to honor his beliefs and carry them out so this country and this people can thrive even further. I still don’t know what exactly defines a hero. But I can tell you that in any thought or conversation I have about heroism, I’ll think of Michael – we all should. They say you learn a lot from the past and those who have come before. Let us not forget the great message and values Michael taught us, or that he still teaches us atop Har Hertzl today.

(In)dependence

May 12

In every person’s army service here, at least once, the point comes where it’s that “make or break” moment. There is really nothing easy about what we do here. When we are training, for example, we eat a can of corn, sardines, three cans of tuna, a bar of halva, and a can of sliced peaches…for a whole day…for four people. Also when we are training these days, it’s always around 100 degrees without much shade, and it’s much hotter inside the tank with a lot of gear on. I am not even mentioning how little we get to see our homes, or in my case, my room. These are what cause these moments to happen where people just have had enough and start feeling depression. Thankfully, I had mine much earlier in my service (up until now at least), and now I can look back on it for minor motivation in passing hard moments. But for many others here, that not-so-good time has come.

Four weeks ago we were sitting in the shetach (the desert where we train) and were having a heated conversation about the people in the platoon, how to help the atmosphere, and things of that nature. It was really pissing me off what was taking place (in general). I stood up and spoke my mind. I explained that before I came I dreamed of seeing young men and women proud and motivated to defend their country. Not only was I embarrassed, but somewhat saddened. But you know what? It doesn’t matter…we are all eating it hard together, so we might as well do it and do it in a somewhat fun manner.

We’ve started working hard on attacking methods in the tank. It requires a lot of focus and, on my part, leg power on the brake. Even if it hurts at the end of the day, it’s still more fun than other things we sometimes do in between. For example, because of being in the top tank, just like I explained in a prior entry, means filling in the empty gaps. These include kitchen duty (which I despise) and more guarding (which gets annoying). But in between it all, there are still moments which stand out that will always be in my mind when I think back to my service. In this case, it was what I experienced leading up from Yom Ha’shoah to Yom Ha’zikaron finishing with Yom Ha’atzmaut.

As many know, a siren is sounded to commemorate a moment of silence for those who were murdered in the Holocaust and soldiers who fell in Israel’s battles throughout history. My view was picturesque as the clock was about to strike 10 on Yom Ha’shoah. All I saw was miles and miles of desert. And I, along with my friends and fellow tank staff members Mickey and Matan and my commander, stood on our tank waiting for the sound. I actually didn’t expect to hear anything. Then it started ringing. I can’t say that this was the most proper place to commemorate, but I felt something special. I always try that positive spin thing, and if those people who unrightfully lost their lives could see the land they dreamed of, and how strong she is, they would be more than proud. That made the rest of the week simply good.

Next, a week later, came the day to remember the soldiers and I was living it from the other side this time. I was going to be a soldier in a ceremony instead of taking in the day as a citizen or an American Jew. I felt very honored to be helping the families of fallen fellow tank brigade soldiers, but it didn’t feel like the day I remembered when I was here four years ago. I’ve never personally known someone who died in battle, nor do I ever want to encounter that. I know of heroes that I could only dream of meeting to show them what I’m doing for them and their country. I don’t even care if those people would remember my name, just that they saw that people still have the drive to keep this country alive.

Next we moved on to celebrate Israel’s independence, but it didn’t feel so independent in the army. We had a barbeque the night of the holiday which made us feel like a million bucks. Any time the army gives you something you don’t normally get (extra sleep, amazing food, time to talk on your cell phone), it causes you to feel like you won the lottery. However, the day after, instead of partying with the rest of the country, I was assigned to sit next to a gate at Latrun near nothing and nobody, being ready to open it if there was an emergency. Not exactly my idea of how I wanted to celebrate my first independence day as a new citizen. Unfortunately, that’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes in the army. At least what I was doing was letting others have a good time on the outside, or that’s how I tried to think of it at least.

There are still times when people feel that depression. It’s something that’s hard to combat in times of hard work, lack of sleep, and hot weather. But I think, or hope at least, that in the end, the guys and I will see what we worked so hard for and it will all be very worthwhile. We’ll celebrate those independence days and think that without the hardships we do, the country might not exist, and for that we must stay strong and keep on doing what we do.