Saturday, February 18, 2012

Warrior

Eleven months ago I donned my uniform for the very first time. It was a clean olive drab uniform with a green beret. Since then, through sweat, blood, and tears, I've added some things to the uniform. A unit tag, a gun, a beret corps pin, wings, a red beret and now finally a warrior pin. Although training was over when I got my red beret, we continued in our "maslul" until yesterday. Maslul is a path or a route, and once you are finished you get put in another plugah in the battalion with the older guys. Last night the tekes for finishing maslul took place at Beit Lid, the administrative base of Tzanchanim, and we got our warrior pins. This is the final tekes and the final addition to my uniform. It's sort of sad that this is the last tekes, but for me it also means I am nearing the end of my service. My discharge date is June 1 so the end is near.

The view of the Hermon from our base
Like I mentioned, we are now stationed in the cold north and spending a lot of time in the shetach. So far we have spent 2 weeks there but it didn't quite go as planned. The first time we went out it started raining hard so we went into the tents. But predictably, the tents had holes in them and let water in. People started to get really wet and cold until the staff decided to pack everything up and go sleep on a nearby base to regroup and sleep. The next days we slept there and went into the shetach to do our stuff. Luckily some days the weather was decent and it didn't rain. These two weeks weren't particularly hard but next week definitely will be. The first two were more chilled and next week will be operational. Between them though we had a sof maslul trip, which was more like an education week and at the end a tekes. Normally the trip is a fun week. In the past they have gone kayaking. For some reason this year was different. We mostly visited religious sites of other religions. One of the more interesting places was a Druze village where we visited the memorial of a high ranking Druze general who was killed. Amazingly enough, but also sadly for us, Druze enlist a higher percentage of young men into the army than Jews do, 80% versus 70%. I won't start ranting about politics, but it is the Haredim and the leftist secular Jews we have to thank for that low number.

Next week is the Targad. It will likely be the hardest week any of us have experienced so far in the army. We've heard the first thing we are going to do is walk 22km with our heavy bags. That's really scary! Usually we do about 10. 22 is just crazy. Somehow though we'll make it through like we always do.

Some of the lone soldiers

My Mem-Pay 





During the trip


Friday, February 10, 2012

How NOT to Jump Out of a Plane






A lot has happened since my last post. About two weeks ago we handed over responsibility of Shechem to our rivals Golani. From there we drove to our new base near the Syrian border in the Golan. It's a very new base, only 1-2 years old so the conditions are great: rooms for 6, new heaters, and clean. The heaters are very necessary as the temperature dips to around freezing, occasionally even bringing snow (The Israelis went crazy when they saw snow, some seeing it for the first time). Being Canadian, I thought the cold wouldn't bother me but it does. In addition to the cold there is the rain. Sometimes it rains for days. We are very close to Mount Hermon, but I've only seen it twice because of the heavy and constant fog.

So we arrived at our new base on a Wednesday night, settled in, and by Friday morning we were already heading home despite the snow. Instead of returning to the north on Sunday, we instead headed to jump school for a refresher on jump techniques. Why? Because for the first time in 15 years, the entire Tzanchanim Brigade would be jumping together. That's about 1200 paratroopers!! Not only was the size of the event remarkable, the whole exercise would be operational. I'll explain soon what that means. After a few hours of rolling in the sand, we slept through a four hour bus ride back to the north. The jump wasn't until Tuesday night, so on Monday all we did was prepare bags, which for jumping, aren't so simple. Well before sunrise on Tuesday morning we drove down to Nevatim Air Force Base where the Hercules planes were waiting for us. The general feeling amongst the troops was probably a mix of fear and annoyance of having to go through yet another jump. Most didn't even want to jump. I enjoy it though so I was looking forward. Because the exercise was operational, the jump would be at night with all of our equipment on us. Our vests we wore under our parachutes, but our guns and backpacks were tied up in a bag that hangs from the harness and straps to our leg (so that it doesn't fly up during the jump). Some people were carrying up to 60kg in their bags! The jumping order was such that we were in the 19/20 plane so we waited a while before getting our equipment on and being checked. Instead of being with my regular guys, I had been volunteered to jump with the medical team attached to the plugah in order to help them carry some of the equipment. I don't remember exactly what time the plane rolled up but it must have been close to 21:00. Shortly thereafter we were led into the plane where we were stuffed in like sardines. I was the second person to walk onto the plane on my side of the plane, so I would be the second last person to leave. The crew does a few procedures, and the plane takes off a few minutes later. As soon as we we had reached the jumping height of 400m or 1200 feet we all stood up and got ready for the checks. The whole process was extremely rushed as it was an operational jump and we would all be jumping at the same go. In fact, I don't think they even had us do our own checks (but they did theirs). After a couple minutes of standing the weight of the bag was starting to get burdensome and I was dying to just jump. As the plane neared the drop zone, the doors were opened and the red light went on. Then green. Kfotz! Kfotz! 24 people after that it was me. I quickly hopped to the door after the guy in front of me and jumped. 21! 22! Ouch! 23! And it was open. The descent went well and so did the landing. But my eye hurt a little bit once I landed. I put my hand to it and felt a little blood. What I think happened was that I didn't put my head down on the exit, and during a little accidental spin, the parachute opened in my face and the strap caught some of my eyebrow. In the end it wasn't anything more than a cut and a bruise, but because it was nighttime and I didn't have a mirror,   I had no idea what it looked like. So if you ever find yourself jumping out of a plane, keep your head down! Again, because it was operational, the gathering point was not lit up. Well it was, but only to people who have night vision. I do not have so I had to find people on the ground who did have and walk back with them to that point. I found someone from my medical team and together we walked for hours back to the point through sand dunes. The two parachutes together weigh 20kg, the backpack 30kg, and all the other stuff like vest and gun add up to a total of probably close to my weight. That trip from the landing to the meeting point... I just wanted to die. But eventually we made it. Just in time for the next hike, which lasted through the night! (Again on sand dunes). The next day we rested nearby ready to set up a sort of field hospital while the rest of the brigade did exercises. A few hours later we were back on our feet and except for a stop for dinner, walked through the night towards our final destination. We arrived at an Arab town about an hour before dawn. This is not a real Arab village though. It is only a replica. But it feels eerily real. Even the mosques project prayers. When we got there, we were some of the last to come, so there was major gunfire coming from inside the village. Once the sun came up we headed in and set up a hospital in a captured building and started accepting wounded. This went on for 4-5 hours as the village is quite large. Eventually though it did end and the whole brigade gathered for a little ceremony and a well-deserved proper meal. Then came the real reward: a 5 hour bus ride. It may seem odd, but if you're not a combat soldier you won't understand. Rarely do we just get to sit and sleep. We did stop on the way though and while my friend and I were buying food, the most unusual thing happened. As we were in line to buy our food, still dirty and sweaty from the Tarchat, the man in front of us suddenly grabs the food, swipes it with his purchases and buys it. We had no idea what to say. He did it so quickly that we couldn't even protest.  Thank you whoever you are!