(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.

Always Drive Responsibly

April 10

They say good things come to those who wait and are patient and that everything happens for a reason. When my name was called as one of 14 people who would be moving out of the 75 in the platoon to a new one, of course I received that instant feeling of “new start” again. Even people who always seem confident would be lying if they don’t think about possible obstacles that come with new chapters in lives or journeys. After catching my breath, I told myself it was no big deal and to just wait.

In the end, I was moved with 13 others, many of whom are my best friends in the army up until now, and landed in a tank with two great people who I felt comfortable with and trusted and vice versa, not to mention the friendship thing. Already, I was feeling better. Next, another pleasant surprise – my tank and I were chosen as the number one rated tank in the new platoon, a very high honor and one that comes with large responsibility; however, it also comes with a psychological edge, always thinking, “Hey, I was chosen as the best so I have to be the best.” An extra motivational mechanism in my back pocket.

After getting again lucky and being able to come home to the kibbutz for Purim, an experience that trumps any Purim celebration I had ever partaken in, everyone was supposed to have a fun week of educational touring capped off with a hike up Masada for an addition to our uniform (which may not seem like a big deal, but au contraire…). As stated earlier, being in the tank I arrived to brings on more responsibility, so our staff was chosen to stay on base all week to guard. In addition, we also prepared our tank and moved many heavy objects to their respective tanks and I was (un)fortunate enough to clean the inside of a tank with the engine taken out for 3 ½ hours which was filled with mud up to one’s knees. Mostly sounds bad, but in the end it may have been the most helpful week of my service until now. I was able to work with my staff without other distractions and meet my new commander – a fellow lone soldier from the U.S.A. Not only did he instill confidence because of simply being in a similar situation, but also he had a great way of educating while at the same time giving us independent learning and self-discovery. I finally felt like I was receiving some adult treatment while also being taken under someone’s wings, a great combination. It was a very difficult week, but more than that it was satisfying.

Next, we had a shortened Shabbat coming back to the army Saturday night and were about to enter our first 3-week stint in the army without going home, usually the longest one stays in the army unless of a punishment or war (or elite units). It was filled with guarding, practicing emergency exercises in the tank, more guarding, but overall a lot of fun. As hard as it is, being in the tank with your friends makes it all worth it at the end of the tunnel. It’s called advanced training for a reason – it’s supposed to be more demanding. Every night essentially from now until July is either going to be out with the tanks or doing guarding somewhere. Harder, but becoming more practical and that’s also a nice feeling.

We are now celebrating Pesach, commemorating when the Jewish people became a free people from Egyptian rule and made this land, the land of Israel, their land. I can’t help but think of the connection between Pesach and what I’m doing now – I’m helping protect the same land and keep the Jewish people free. “Wow,” is one word that comes to my mind. Another is, “Pride.” Responsibility. Patience. Pride. Some lessons I’ve re-learned in the past month. All of these keep the experience at an enjoyable level. But most of all, we are free and I hope to make sure it stays that way. As we say at each Pesach, “Next year in Jerusalem. Amen.”

March Madness

March 5

“Here, David. Take this,” the general of our platoon said. “You were chosen to represent us on this march in this way.” He handed me a giant Israeli flag, one that I was supposed to raise and carry with me, with us, for our 22 kilometer march. This was the march of all marches for every fighter in the Israeli army – the march for the new beret.

Every soldier along their path starts with a pretty ugly beret the color of olive/throw-up green and at some point most earn a new color specific to their unit. It’s a very monumental moment for most fighters because it means (for everyone but the tanks unit) that they are finishing advanced training. For us, it meant we were about to move on to advanced training, and 22 kilometers was more than enough for me.

We all covered ourselves in war paint on our faces and were told this one was to be done with no help from lights (with no moon) and with the last five kilometers with someone on the stretcher. At this point one might be thinking the same thing I somewhat did at this moment: who wants to go and march (with a good amount of running) 22 kilometers, five of them being with a stretcher…all for a black beret?!? Well, for all of us, we somehow found the motivation, albeit the weather was 50 degrees with wind on the night of the masa (Hebrew for journey or march). Maybe it was brotherhood. Maybe it was friendship. Maybe it was Israel. No matter what it was, we found it and we were all going to do this together. It didn’t matter if we had stress fractures in our legs like yours truly or the flu – we were going to arrive back at the base ready to receive our new berets together.

As always for me, the beginnings of the marches are the hardest part. I don’t really know why, but there is a point in the march where the pain just goes away and you say to yourself, “I’ve already done this much what’s another 15 kilometers or so?” At each rest stop, I didn’t find myself searching for water but rather for a place to stretch my legs. It would be one thing if we just went for 22 kilometers – but you do it with a vest on, 116 bullets, helmet, water, one’s gun, and any extra additions (such as a flag, water jug, stretcher, and communication box). However, we arrived to the last stop with only the five kilometers of stretcher carrying remaining and I felt a second wind. That’s when I really knew that I wasn’t going to just finish, but do so in a vigorous style.

As we continuously screamed to re-motivate ourselves up the final hills, a smile filled my face. This was really one of the things the army is all about – coming together as a group to accomplish a task or mission. We were doing it, and when we arrived at the steps where the ceremony was taking place, we started yelling in song, proud of who we are, what we have become, and who we will be soon as a unit. We had done it, and it was reaffirmed that we really could do anything when it came down to it.

The weeks leading up to this big march were probably the hardest I had encountered so far in the army. One week saw most of the drivers leave to do guarding at a relatively nice tank base and finish their training while myself and three others were left to help run exercises in the fields for the shooters of the tanks. That meant sitting four hours straight in a tank one day and seven straight the next. It then was followed with a week filled with many hours of guarding in the middle of the night in fairly cold weather, something that causes you to become sick and think a lot. I like time to think, but sometimes this can make someone think negative thoughts, especially when one doesn’t feel well. This is when it takes some serious mental strength to make it through these times, knowing that just making it through that day may be a struggle but that a new day is on the horizon. And you know what? I did make it through and now I feel ready for situations like that in the future…and I am sure I will stumble upon them again.

The next step in my journey is advanced training, a very demanding and tiring three month stretch that includes many nights in the fields and sleeping even in the tanks. But in the meantime, my life is moving along nicely and I’m enjoying myself while accomplishing many things. I recently passed my Israeli driver’s license test and now can drive alongside the other crazy drivers in this country. In addition, along with finishing this part of the training, I received a tank driver’s license. This may sound odd but it is actually legitimate and I can drive the tank at my leisure if I so choose. That is something I would have never thought I would hold in my possession. But that is what makes this experience so great – it’s a wild ride with new opportunities that when put all together, it equals the education necessary to help defend this country and its people. In the end, that is what it comes down to, and that notion of the Jewish nation is worth continuing to strive for.

Gentlemen...START YOUR ENGINES!

February 7

Everyone remembers that first time they entered the driver’s seat of a car. Nerves. Power. Excitement. These are just a few feelings one possesses in those first moments behind the steering wheel. “What if I do something wrong?” one thinks. “How do I make this work correctly so that I have the best time while not endangering anyone else? This is a car I’m about to drive – I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” But once you turn the key and feel the engine roar, all the thoughts and fears go out the window because it’s you, the car, and go-time. You have to trust your instincts and possess self-confidence and the rest will follow course (a good life-lesson for every situation). Well, I was able to relive this experience with a multiplication of a very high power when I entered my tank for the first time two weeks ago.

The lead-up to driving for the first time was very difficult in a different form that one would expect in the army. The first seven weeks were physically challenging. These weeks had us sitting in classrooms for over ten hours a day learning the material necessary to drive or even get close to the tanks and work on them. We learned about the build of the tank, the engine, the transmission, the communication system, and the list goes on. I remember sitting through my toughest classes in high school and college and feeling confused but had the advantage of time to study and enough help from teachers. Now, I was sitting in classes spoken in a language I still don’t have a full grasp of, the teachers speaking extra fast (they’re instructed to) and having about an hour each day to review my notes and our textbook. Talk about pressure-packed learning.

In the army, they say there is no time, so everything is processed in turbo-speed. Within two weeks, they deemed us ready to enter the tanks. I felt ready in the sense that I wouldn’t have to sit in difficult classes but would actually get to use what I (tried to) learn in a practical manner. But I certainly didn’t see the logic in being handed the controls to a 70-ton vehicle that costs millions of dollars. But that’s when it hit me – they (the commanders) have confidence in me, so I must do so as well in myself, and every little thing will be alright. Trust myself, and success will follow – it sounds cliché but it works.

The commanders chose me to drive first and my heart skipped a beat. “Me?” I asked. “Are you sure you mean me?” They were sure. I put on my tank jumpsuit, vest, gloves, entered inside, closed the top, put on the helmet with the communication, and just waited for directions from the commander in the tank with me. “Start it up,” he said. I flipped the switch up and felt the huge thunder of the engine. Everything was good so far. Next it was time to release the brakes, not an easier-said-than-done task (I almost have to partially stand up to do this to get enough weight/pressure on the brakes). Done. Now it was time to go for a little spin in my tank.

The commander said full gas and I hesitated at first due to the fact that it’s very difficult to see when going forwards and impossible when going backwards. However, in the tank, you have to trust what the commander says and just do it. In a real mission, a second of movement one way or the other can make all of the difference in the world between success or failure. I decided, “What the heck, let’s give it a shot.” Pedal to the metal and off we went. “Turn hard left. Hard right. Stop. Backwards quickly,” were some of the commands I received, all while having limited to no vision. Here was the trust and confidence factor playing a role again. It isn’t a myth and it really does work. And then I realized – I was having a lot of fun.

I finished the course with one ride under my belt and a perfect score to show for it. I was proud of myself but I wanted to do it again and keep getting better. I have now driven five times moving on to the advanced course and love it every time, as difficult as it gets or as frustrating as the lessons are/were. Or how annoying it is to check a tank before/after very ride with crawling underneath and hammering like there is no tomorrow. Three more weeks to go and I’ll have a tank license. I will have finished the second part of my training, received a new beret (a big deal in the army), and be ready for advanced training. For now, I’m enjoying the ride. Learning new life lessons like that of trust and confidence are showing me that, up until this moment, this has been the right decision because I’m learning so much for the future, too. Trust in yourself and it equals success to those around you. Try it – it works.

I Swear...

January 9

“David Abraham.” My name had just been read by my commander out of my soon to be personal Tanach, the Jewish book containing the Torah, prophets, and writings – basically, the entire book being that of the Jewish people. All I had to say were two words and I would walk up, receive my personal gun, and I had then become a part of the Israeli army at the next level, ready to take the next step in defending the land that I love.

I reared back all of the energy I had in my body, ready to scream these words. This was a symbolic moment that I had been waiting for since thinking about the army. This was the bridge between finishing basic training and starting my classes on the tank. My heart started beating fast and then I belted out in full voice two words that meant I was giving my 110% to Israel. “אני נשבע! I SWEAR!”

These are two words that are never supposed to be used in vain. I was swearing on the words of G-d that I would protect his land and his people. I couldn’t help but smile as I saluted the general of our division of soldiers as he handed me my gun, my Tanach, and I placed them together over my heart. Chills and emotions filled my body – I really felt as though I had become more a part of the society of Israel, the army more specifically. Next, as we put our guns in a specific position, Hatikvah, the Israeli national anthem was played – my national anthem. I was overcome with pride and small tears came to my eyes. The army may be hard and even scary in the present and/or future, but I felt like I was in the right place at that moment and that is a super feeling. In addition, having friends and my sister there only made it that much more special.

It’s not a mystery that life in Israel, especially in the army, has changed over the last few weeks. It is even acceptable to say life has changed for Jews across the world. I don’t think I could have ever imagined anything like this happening within the beginning stages of my service. War is real and scary. I won’t be involved in that intense of a matter at least until I finish all of my training (hopefully it will never happen). However, at my swearing-in ceremony, I thought and decided I really am ready to give whatever is needed of me, even if that means entering into a war zone and putting my life on the line. It may not be my first choice, but Israel is, that’s my job and I’m going to do it as best as I can.

I have now finished basic training and have learned a lot about the army, Israel, and myself. I now know how to fight with a group of people, how to even lead a group like this, and how to fire a gun at night with fairly good accuracy. I am about to begin a new part of the process as I will be learning for about 15 hours a day on the tank, more specifically my job. I am going to learn how to drive a tank, another imaginable thing about to happen. But for now, I think about what I’ve accomplished up to this point and keep returning to the reasons of why I’m here, regardless if there is a war mere kilometers from me. I swear to be me and to try to learn as much as I can for this country. I swear to be the best soldier I can be. I swear to do all that I can to defend the Jewish homeland and the Jewish people. I swear.