The Fallen Soldiers of Israel -- Z"L

Today is Yom HaZikaron (Israel's Remembrance Day) and it feels different than any other Yom HaZikaron now that I am a soldier. It feels different because the people who I saw at the Haifa Military Cemetery were coming to commemorate me. Well, not exactly me, but rather young men and women who were in my exact same position and place in life yet did not get to grow up. It's hard seeing a mother and father standing by there son's grave; it goes against the natural progression of nature. In the Paratroopers Brigade, there is a tradition that on every Remembrance Day a paratrooper will stand beside the grave a fallen paratrooper. Yitzhak Berkowitz was born in 1950 and grew up on a Moshav near Haifa. He liked sports, especially soccer and table-tennis. He was a modest and loyal guy who gave his all in everything that he did. He got along with everybody he came in contact with. When he worked in the fields of his Moshav he also befriended many of the Arab workers. Yitzhak went to the army in 1968 and became a medic in the paratroopers. His cousin, who was at the ceremony today, told me that he was a real "gever" or "good guy" in colloquial terms. His cousin also told me that Yitzhak was always the first to volunteer and a leader, therefore explaining why he absorbed the brunt of the enemy's bullets when he and his fellow soldiers were ambushed by a group of terrorists. He was 19 when he was buried. Yitzhak's brother was at the memorial as well. He arrived at 10 am, about an hour before the ceremony started, with a tired look on his face. He's been mourning his brother's death for about 31 years now but it doesn't look like time has healed his scars. He shook my hand and I introduced myself and told him that I was the representative from the Paratroopers Brigade. He nodded and proceeded to put the flowers in the vase already sitting on the grave from years passed. He then opened up the bottled water and poured it in the vase in the most routine fashion as if he did this every week. I can't imagine what it would be like to have to bury your younger brother and then go back to his grave every year for the rest of your life. I looked around the cemetery to scope out the scene. There were a lot of soldiers who, like me, were there to stand by the graves of the fallen. The families there were a diverse mix of all ages and backgrounds. In the row behind me, 6 graves to the right, an elderly woman of probably about 75 sat on a stool, alone, with a sort of dazed and pained expression on her face. She looked like she hadn't slept well for many years. About 2 rows back and 3 graves to the left sat an elderly couple of about 80 who were crying and hugging each other. The closest description I could attribute to their cry was a cry of despair. I don't think they wanted to cry but there wasn't so much they could do when the familiar siren started wailing. Occasionally I saw kids and teenagers with their whole families gathered around the grave. For the most part, the families kept it together a little bit better than the lone mourners. Perhaps they kept it together because the parents don't want to give the impression to the kids that their family fell apart. People's reactions to the memorial were wide-ranging as well. Some people cried. Some people looked away. Some people tried to be emotionless while others embraced those around them and sobbed helplessly. After Hatikvah was sung and the ceremony ended, people started to leave. The skinny middle aged man at the beginning of the row I was standing in took out a Marlboro cigarette and lit it up as he made his way toward the exit. Yitzhak's cousin stayed a couple minutes to reminisce about his army days. The weeping elderly couple continued crying but started to gather their things to make their way home. On the way out things had more or less returned to their normal state and everyone was going about their lives as usual.

It's important to remember the people that were there today and the loss they have had to deal with. It puts my woes and miseries in perspective. Of course it's difficult when at 5 am I'm standing outside in shorts and a t-shirt waiting for my commander to come yell at us and then start our hassled and stressful morning routine. It's hard when we're on one of our marches and my shins are beginning to burn and my lower back feels like a car being crunched in a junkyard compressor. It's hard when I come home on Friday and I'm exhausted from the week's endless lessons and exercises but I have to take my laundry up to the laundry room and do groceries. But nothing is as hard as what Yitzhak's family and all the other fallen soldiers' families have to go through when they think about what a huge part of their family was taken from them and how he or she will never come back. All of the fallen soldiers that were honored today are the reason why their is a Jewish State that I and others can fight to defend and their sacrifice is holy. Zichronam Livrecha.

Life after Sayeret

So much to write yet so little time. It's 11:50 pm and I have to get up tomorrow at 5:10 am to catch the train down to Be'er Sheva so much to my dismay (I have a lot to tell) I will have to be brief in this entry. In my previous blog two weeks ago I was about to find out where I would be spending the rest of my service (that is to say, in which battalion). We got back to base and everyone was quite apprehensive to say the least. The "ceremony" in which everyone is sorted into their respective battalions is known in Hebrew as "Misdar D'maot" although it's formal name is "Misdar Haluka". Misdar D'maot can roughly be translated as the "tears ceremony" and Misdar Haluka as the "sorting or dividing ceremony". They call it the tears ceremony because a lot of soldiers who hoped or expected to get to the Special Units do not, to their surprise oftentimes, make it to those units. What follows after their name is called from one of the regular battalion's lists are usually tears, therefore giving the event its name. I, unfortunately, turned out to be one of the people who expected to get to the Special Forces and was caught unexpectedly when I heard my name under the 2nd platoon in the 202nd battalion. As I recall, I was fetching a tissue from my bag because my nose had just started to bleed when they called my name. It was a rather ominous occurrence and the next 2 days were tough. I questioned whether the army was worth it, and how I would explain to a lot of people that I did not get to Special Forces. I don't want to spend too much time dissecting the details of the outcome of the Gibush but for my peace of mind, indulge me. There were definitely some aspects of the Gibush where I was not the strongest in my group and even instances where I was among the weaker in my group. However, that being said, for the amount of people that got in to Special Forces from all the guys who finished I definitely should have been among them. I tormented myself for days after the Gibush with questions pertaining to my not being accepted. I've come to several conclusions. I think that the testers made a mistake my not taking me. My statement comes not out of emotion but rather out of logic. If they didn't take me because I wasn't good in some parts of the Gibush (perhaps the crawling), there were always guys worse than me and I more than made up for it in other physical areas. If they didn't take me because of the discussions and mental challenges well then they did not measure us accurately. Some mental drills simply became a yelling match between who could voice their opinion the loudest. This was not a rational way to test who is most "mentally" fit for SF. Also, I contributed some of the most insightful comments in the debates and demonstrated a wide-range of knowledge in the talks we had to give on a specific topic. There have also been some other reasons that have arisen in my head or that others have suggested as possible explanations for my not being accepted. It is possible that there is a "quota" of foreigners the army wants to take into SF and I did not make it this time. Another explanation that some have told me is that they also want to keep some quality guys in the battalion. In any case, the best thing to do at this point is to shake it off and be the best in the "gdud" or battalion.

The melancholy and anger expressed in the previous paragraph dissolved about 1.5 weeks ago. After a few days getting used to my new surroundings in the 202nd Battalion I realized that the stigmas about the battalions are not accurate. The guys in my squad are great guys and I get along with all of them really well. Most of them also seem to be fairly motivated and want to be there; after all, we still are in Tzanchanim (the paratroopers) and everyone here had to be accepted from a Gibush. In addition to the guys, my commanders and commanding officers are fantastic. My squad commander, Paz, is a quiet and friendly son of an agricultural worker and teacher from the North. He is patient yet expects a lot. Our staff sergeant is a complete bad-ass. He is probably about 6 foot 1 inches and weights between 200-240. He speaks to us only when he has to and he demands our attention whenever he does. The way he speaks is quite Tachlis (Hebrew for "straight to the point) yet it is always compact with meaning and tact. A few days ago he was telling us about what our experience is going to be like. It was more or less along the lines of, "I am going to destroy and break all of you. You will all suffer a lot. But you won't suffer without a purpose. I'm not going to break you down because I'm bored or anything like that. I'm doing it because I want you all to be the best soldiers that you can possible be." In addition, he straightened us out as to our present jolly feeling toward one another. "You all think you're buddy-buddy here on the base and that you get along great and are best of friends. The truth of the matter is that when you get out into the Shetach (wilderness) for training, there won't be any beds or showers or hot food or air-conditioning. That's when you'll see who your real friends are and that's where you'll be measured."

These past 2 weeks have truly measured my ability to adapt to Plan B. I think I succeeded. One of the most valuable things I've learned about myself from this let-down was that even after my SF dream was shot down and my ego was torn to shreds, I trekked on and it is still worth it.

Gibush 2

Since my last post I have moved from the comfortable confines of my base close to home in the North to the relatively luxurious base of the Tzanchanim (Paratroopers) in the South in Beer Sheva. The main topic of this week's blog is the Gibush for the Special Forces attached to the Paratroopers that I went through this past week.

Despite the fact that I'm getting better at the gibushes and I think I'm starting to understand the way they work, I never want to have to do one again. The intensity of Gibush is something that is not matched by any other thing in the army except for war. This may be simply naive since I have not experienced anything else in the army but I think I'm accurate in my stating so. The reason I say this is because although there are more physically challenging activities in basic training and so on, and drills and that are more difficult than those of the Gibush, you are never really competing with your friends in the rest of your service. Gibush is a cut-throat, every-man-for-himself kind of competition that, while you still manage to make friends, you are constantly on your toes. In this Gibush, we woke up at 3 a.m. on Tuesday morning (Monday night) and went out to start the Gibush. As expected, we crawled a lot, sprinted a lot, carried heavy loads up steep inclines, and were belittled and criticized by our commanders. They continued to destroy us during the day with petty breaks in between for small mental drills or to swallow water. I say "swallow" water because you would have literally open up your throat and let the water fall down in order to drink it all in the allotted time. The elbow pads and knee pads given to us only helped in the slightest and as the day grew older, the cuts on our elbows and knees grew wider. By dusk, I was not doing so well in one of the rounds of crawling and had to drag myself along the ground since it had become too difficult to use my legs in the drills. Currently there are several large, purple spots on my thighs as a result of the beating from the rocks on the ground during the crawling. At night we were actually granted a generous 8 hours of sleep only interrupted by 25 minutes of guard duty each. Of course, we were sleeping in 2-man pup tents outside so it wasn't that comfortable, but when you're that exhausted you can sleep just about anywhere. The second and last day was a little bit less challenging physically than the first day. This was because they could not abuse us to much or else there would be nobody left in the group. There were many more mental activities and group puzzles. That night (Wednesday night) we were left in suspense as to whether there would be more physical testing the following day and I actually remember dreaming that night that they woke us up and made us go on a forced march! Of course they didn't wake us up in the middle of the night and the next morning we packed up our tents and equipment, returned to base, and waited for our interviews. Although structurally similar to Gibush Matkal, Gibush Yachatiot (as it is called) was different and unique for several reasons. One reason is that it is only 2 days; the implication of its length is both negative and positive. The positive part is that it is only 2 days and that's not so bad. The negative is that it's only 2 days and that means the testers only have 2 days to break you down and cull the best of the group. Another difference is that Gibush Matkal was on sand and this Gibush was on hilly terrain with lots of dirt and rocks. Dirt and rocks are not a good surface to crawl on; trust me on this one. This gibush in my opinion was physically much harder than Gibush Matkal. Everybody trying out is already a soldier so the testers have a little more leeway in their drills and punishments.

As I said earlier, despite the fact that I never want to participate in other gibush, I have gotten better at them. In this gibush, I was not as timid with my Hebrew. More often than not I was offering advice on how to solve a problem, or offering up a topic for discussion. We had to give talks on something that interests us and I (naturally) gave a 2-minute talk on avocados. One of the testers at the end actually said he was very interested in my talk and I think I did right in picking this topic because it was completely out of the ordinary and nobody was expecting it. Physically I was also a lot better of this time. Despite the fact that I was sick before this gibush, I sort of threw caution to the wind. I was a lot more generous with enduring wounds and during crawling flung myself left and right like a madman despite the fact that it was bruising my legs and stomach and arms. My attitude of semi-indifference within the army proved effective in the gibush. In order to be a good soldier it is necessary to be somewhat of an automaton, listening to and doing everything your commanders say to you. My pain and agony in the gibush were no longer relevant. What was relevant was crawling and running toward where they instructed me. When you adopted this attitude everything becomes easier. Not whining or complaining to the other guys was also paramount. When you hear other guys making a fuss but you yourself stay quiet, it empowers you to a certain degree. On Monday we get the results of the gibush and then are divided up into our respective brigades or companies. Hopefully the news will be positive. Arielle came up this weekend and it was good to see her. Tomorrow I have a day off to go get my passport from the Interior Ministry and do not have to be back on base until 8 p.m. I'm looking forward to this week and to finally getting started with official basic training!

Army

This is a significant post because it is the first time I am writing as a soldier and not as a civilian. I came here to serve in the army and I am finally doing it; so let's talk about it. I just finished my 3rd week and tomorrow I go back to my base in the north for my final 2 days there. I am in a 3 week program for Hebrew-speakers that were not raised here (and are therefore lacking basic, cultural knowledge pertaining to the army). The base is near the town Carmiel and the Sea of Galilee in the North and is known as Mikhveh Alon after General Yigal Alon. On Monday, we have our ceremony and will then find out where we will be heading off to next. The army is everything I thought it would be: hard, tiring, and interesting. The point of this program has been to acclimate us to the army and its rigors and it has done an excellent job. They managed to fit a large portion of all the fun drills and routines of basic training into this short program without overloading us but at the same time challenging us. I feel that I will be very ready for the next stage.

One thing that I have come to learn from my experiences in Israel and before is that there will always be bumps in the road. It's a simple enough lesson that we tend to forget until we hit the next bump. Throughout my time here I have encountered obstacle after obstacle in reaching my goals and the main message I am taking home is not to get too excited by anything. That doesn't mean 'be dull' but rather just be more in the middle with relation to new events. You didn't get into Matkal? That's okay, there are plenty of other good units. You didn't get into that other good unit? That's okay, even in the other units you still find good guys and are serving Israel. The bed is disgusting and you can feel the metallic springs poking into your back? That's okay, you won't die and at least you're inside for the time being. A lot of the guys in my unit get very hyped up about a lot of things throughout the day and while it is important to be passionate in the army and try your hardest, I am now a firm believer in "taking it all with a grain of salt." It's a good attitude and despite the fact that I still get hyped up as well, I'm getting better at it every passing day. I like what the army is doing to me and I hope that I will be continue to be pleased with the outcome.

A bit of Judaism

I've been doing a lot of soul searching over the past year and a half, specifically on the topic of Israel and Judaism. The most common question I'm asked here is, "Why did you make Aliyah and decide to join the army?" It's a complicated answer that I'm not even sure I know the complete answer to. One thing I can say for sure is I had a gut feeling about it and that feeling was supported by several indicators that made it seem like a good idea. The most simple, general answer to the question is Zionism. The next level of the answer is that Judaism is important to me and I believe that without Israel, the Jewish homeland, Judaism cannot survive and thrive in a healthy and non-oppressed fashion. The Neturei Karta would have you believe that Judaism had been fine for 2000 years and that the real anti-Semitism started only after the inception of the Jewish State in 1948. They should be called Neturei Charta (Charta = bullshit in Hebrew). My grandparents and their parents and so on could attest to the fact that Judaism in the Diaspora was not treated kindly. So the next question that is more rarely asked is, "If you're making Aliyah because Judaism is important to you, then why do you not keep more religious?" Well, what can I say? I'm a fundamental moderate who believes in not leaning to far to either side. Judaism is important to me for multiple reasons but one thing that has always left me impressed with regards to my religion is the truth and wisdom in the Tanakh (the Torah, Prophets, and Writings).
I was thinking about something the other day and I think I struck a chord with one story. The story about Abraham offering up his son Isaac as a sacrifice often seemed savage and dogmatically blind to me. I think that when you look upon the story as a metaphor then you realize the true significance and depth of the story. What was Isaac to Abraham? He was his flesh and blood, his offspring, his genetic hope and future. So why would God or Judaism ask him to, so cruelly, sever his only line in the gene pool and kill his son? I think the two factors here are symbols. The God character in the story can be looked at more as Jewish morality. Not the Jewish morality that tells you not to put fish and meat on the same plate you eat off of, but rather the deeper stuff. Abraham and Isaac are humanity, the animal kingdom, evolution if you will. Is there a single healthy organism in the entire world that would sanely forfeit its genetic offspring just because? No; but we learn from this story that some things are more important than ourselves. In some areas we must not fall prey to our tendency toward evolution and furthering our link in the genetic pool. Our morals that are sometimes incongruent with evolutionary interests must be upheld despite the sacrifices we have to make to uphold them. That is what makes mankind different than other animals, whether it be God-given or an acquired evolutionary trait. That is what makes Judaism important to me.

The End of the Beginning

9 days until I am no longer a civilian. A week or two after the Gibush I went home for a brief 2 week visit and did not inform my mother of my return until I was home. Needless to say it was a great trip home and we all very much enjoyed what will be our last family thanksgiving for a while. I came back on December 9 and went back to work. I had an interview for the Egoz unit and although I thought the interview went rather successfully, I was not accepted to the unit. The worst part is, through all these interviews and tryouts they never let us know why we were not accepted. The let-down of the Gibush and then subsequently of the interview were upsetting but through it all I haven't broken down or anything like that. I've held up a good attitude that I guess comes in part from my family's way of "looking toward plan B". Anyway, I worked up until January 14 and then officially was unemployed. Since then I have been taking care of little things that I could not attend to while I was working. Last week I went to London and met my Dad there since London is equidistant from both of us and I have never been to Europe (except for shit-ass Poland in winter).
It's weird...I've been waiting for the day that is about to be upon me in a little over a week for a year and a half now and I don't quite know what to make of it at this point. I'm sure my feelings will change in the 9 days to come and I will begin to become more excited and nervous but at the moment I just feel like, "well it's about time." I think a year and a half of waiting has left me a bit over ripe but at least by this point my Hebrew is very good and I have a pretty good idea of how Israel works in a general sense. I wouldn't say that I'm bitter about having to wait so long but rather just very ready to go next week. It will be challenging to become a Chapash, or Chayal Pashut (Simple Soldier) where you don't receive any kudos and no one lauds your triumphs and your extraordinary efforts. This week I am going to buy some gear I need for the army with Dudi, take care of some last minute things, visit my girlfriend Arielle in Tel Aviv, and take advantage of the last few days of peace and quiet to maybe travel a little or just rest. That's all for now but I hope I'll be able to blog later this week. Email me and let me know how things are (it will be great to hear from everyone before the army).

Gibush Matkal

(Ami's blessing at 6:00 am before the Gibush on Sunday)

Lots to cover in this entry. Two days ago I got back from the most challenging (mentally and physically) thing I've ever done in my life. Gibush Matkal started on Sunday and ended 2 days ago (Thursday). I, unfortunately, was not accepted into Matkal, Shaldag, or 669 but the competition was fierce so it's not as if I feel cheated. Prior to the Gibush I thought I would be horribly disappointed if I did not get accepted but surprisingly I was not. I did, after all, give more than 100% and if that's enough than it is only fitting that I should not be in Matkal. Also, I was grateful that I at least got the chance to compete in this Gibush. About 3 weeks ago I went to a cardiologist in Nahariyya to get an extra heart check for the army. He said he found irregularities in the echo test and that I should not engage in demanding physical activity. Had I brought his letter to the army, they would have disqualified me without a doubt from any combat unit and I would be stuck as a jobnik or in intelligence -- both things that don't particularly interest me. Luckily, the Rahamims (my adopted family in Holon) are experts on bureaucracy in the Israeli army and we (with the help of my dad and others in DC) were able to get an appointment with one of the best cardiologists in Israel at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem. He cleared everything up and said that there is no problem with my heart (i.e. the previous doctor is an idiot and almost ruined my chances of being in a combat unit for nothing). The lesson learned here: socialized medicine sometimes sucks.

On Sunday, Gila drove me to the train station Ad Halom in between Ashdod and Ashquelon. We got there at 7:00 and at 7:30 the bus came to pick all of the "Gibushees" up and took us to the Nizzanim Base. I have to say that all the details of the week are still quite fuzzy in my head since when one is in a high stress situation he or she tends to focus on the now and the past and future tend to fade and become less important. I am still somewhat in "Gibush" mode so the details of times and drills might not be as accurate as they should be. We waited that day until about 4 pm until we actually did anything physical. After getting our equipment, suiting up (in uniform), and getting clearance from the doctor, we had about a 4 hour waiting period of sitting in the sun and doing nothing. During this time we were introduced to "Manot Krav" or combat meals. This actually became more delectable as the week progressed since food turned into one of the few spoils we could enjoy and also because we all grew slightly insane. The combat meal consisted of dry bread that barely slid down your throat, tuna, grape leaves or tuna salad (depending which MRE you got), olives, ketchup, mustard, and fruit. Needless to say, all of this was NOT fresh and came with heavy preservatives (very healthy stuff). At 4 pm, we all gathered and the Gibush administrator explained to us the "rules and regulations" of the Gibush. We then were divided into groups. There were about 450 of us and we were divided into groups of about 21 kids in each group. I was in group number 9 and my personal number was 6. We then set out with our equipment after our officers (about 6-8 of them) toward the sand dunes. We immediately started with intense sprinting exercises with our rifles in hand. About 5 sprints in I started to have trouble catching my breath and shortly thereafter regurgitated the canned-preserved grape leaves and pineapples that we had eaten earlier. I then went to the Mirpaah (clinic) to get checked out. Understandably I started to freak out a little bit and asked myself questions like, "Am I going home so early into the Gibush? Is this going to hurt my standing in my group?" I returned about 15 minutes later to my group after drinking lots of water and joined back in with the sprinting and the overexertion. After sprinting a lot with no breaks in between sprints, we went down to some sand dunes where there were a lot of other groups as well. There were about 20 dunes in this area and although we did not know it at the time, this was the torture chamber that we would be returning to about twice a day for the next four days to carry out strenuous drills that made Yom Sayarot look like some sort of relaxing dead sea spa treatment. At the dunes we did a number of other sprinting exercises and then moved on to "Zchilot" or crawling. While I am typing this my elbows and knees resemble roast beef more than they do body parts. Crawling was especially hard because I had not practiced this prior to the Gibush and it demands that you use every muscle in your body. After all these exercises we eventually returned to the base camp area, soaked in sweat and caked in sand, where we had to set up our tents for the night. That night, and the rest, we did not shower and went to sleep in our uniforms.

I don't remember exactly what the schedule was for the rest of the days but I can give a general idea of what went down. It is important to mention that it was extremely hard to keep track of time during the Gibush because watches and cellphones were banned. Every morning we woke up at about 3:30 or 4:00 and had 20 minutes to eat, drink, and get everything ready. At the end of the 20 minutes we had to be in order and awaiting our officers. We would then get checked to make sure we had everything in line such as water, efod (vest), shirt tucked in, and more. We then would go out to the "torture chamber" area where we would proceed to have our asses kicked (no beating, just drills until we dropped). The order of the drills went something like this: sprints, 15 minute break, another drill, 15 minute break, another drill, 15 minute break. These were not just any "soccer practice" running drills. The point of them was to exhaust you until you reach your breaking point and then keep going a little bit to see who is strong enough to trek on beyond their maximum. With this in mind, it should be clear that a 15 minute break was NOT enough to recover...just enough to not pass out or die or something. I remember one of the drills that they did that was especially brutal. It was called the "triathalon." Everyone lined up and dropped down (with all our gear and rifles), crawled about 30 meters, hoisted up 15 kg (33 lbs.) sandbags and ran around a certain point all the while uphill. We then dropped the sand bags off at the point that we picked them up and ran another lap (about 80 meters). The second lap (without the sandbag) ended at the line where we started crawling. This was considered one repetition. We did this for about 20-25 minutes and the goal was to do as many repetitions as possible. This was mostly how the physical exercises went for the entire week. The aspect that made this all hard was the mental stress we were under.

The mentality of every person going into the gibush is essentially to "win" or be accepted into Sayeret Matkal or any of the other units that are scouting. This means that although you make some good friends during the week (and I made a few) you are all the while competing with them, thus making you somewhat isolated the entire time. Also, from the very get-go the officers are not very "nice" to put it lightly. There tone is constantly harsh and ridiculing and their answers to our questions terse and condescending. This is obviously in no way their personality, rather their persona they take on in order to cull the best of the competition. Nonetheless, the stress piles on and it becomes very exhausting and difficult to manage. They constantly demanded things that were physically impossible just to see how we would handle it and to try to break us. For example, we had to run around a certain bush in 30 seconds. The total distance was probably 150 meters or maybe a little more. The trick is, we had just finished a brutal exercise, we had a total of about 20 pounds on us, we were running uphill on sand, and 30 seconds was expected even from the slowest in the group. That means that even if only one person doesn't make it we all get punished. Whenever we did not make it in time we would then have to do the same drill with the heavy jerrycans and stretchers. The hardest part psychologically about this drill is that you feel as if you're being punished all the time, even though the officers are just testing you and know that you cannot complete the track in the allotted time. The other kinds of mental testing were actually exercises that demanded thinking. One such example is when we had to draw maps of Israel. The point of this exercise is to make sure that you are capable of critical thinking and not lacking basic mental skills (i.e. they want to make sure you're not a dumbass). Periodically the officers would hand out a two-page article (different for each person) and you would have to read it and master its content whenever you had a free moment. This was especially difficult for me since Hebrew is obviously not my mother tongue (although I was still able to cope with the assignment). Another quality they tested for was leadership. They would give us a mission to complete in a certain amount of time (usually something ridiculous like 2 minutes) and only one person could talk and direct the group during each attempt. One mission was when there was a narrow and low-to-the-ground iron fence that all of us had to pass under along with a massive heavy log about 10 meters long. The parameters of the drill were that the we as well as the log could not touch the fence and the log could not touch the ground.

For me, there were several things that made the gibush especially challenging. Despite the fact that I speak the language fluently now, I still have a lack of confidence speaking under high pressure and that hindered my ability to lead the group. Although I no longer struggle with the language, it was just one more thing that I still was not comfortable with but the rest of the group was. Another challenge was that a lot of people either knew some kids going in to the gibush, or had brothers or fathers who had been in these units, or just more orientation towards this sort of thing in general. I came in only with the knowledge I had acquired online and the advice that Dudi (Ami and Gila's son) gave me. Overall, however, I don't think I can complain too much. It would have been great to have been accepted into one of those units, but considering the odds I didn't do half bad. About 450 started the gibush (and these were 450 quality guys), about 50 left by their own volition during the first 2 days, and on the third day 150-200 kids were booted out. 28 were accepted into Matkal (2-3 Americans), 12 to Shaldag, and about 50 to 669. I forgot to mention that kids were booted also on the third day essentially splitting the gibush into two parts. As I see it, I made it to the finals and although I did not get accepted it was a hell of an experience and I definitely learned a lot from it. The guys (or a lot of them) are really great people there and they have a lot to offer so I look forward to serving with them in whichever unit I end up in. The kids who finished but were not accepted to any units are given 3 possibilities. One of them is to go to a gibush for Hovlim (although only the mental part and not the physical part), the second is an interview with Egoz, and the third is an interview for Duvdevan. I do not want Hovlim although it is also an excellent unit. In order to get to the second option (Egoz) one must pass an interview although not a gibush and then he is accepted into the unit and spends his service there unless he gets kicked out during training. Egoz is a unit connected with Golani and is essentially a guerilla-warfare tactical unit that uses techniques like camouflage heavily. In order to get to Duvdevan one must pass the interview and then start basic training with the paratroopers. About 1-2 weeks into basic training there is a gibush for Duvdevan and then in that Gibush, the soldier who completed the Matkal Gibush will be looked upon in a better light to begin with since he already passed the Matkal Gibush. I am leaning toward the Duvdevan option but nothing is definite yet. As for when I would go to the army...well, as usual this is up in the air. For the Duvdevan track, there is a paratrooper gius (draft) in about 2 weeks or in another 3-4 months in March. I would prefer to be drafted in 2 weeks but then again it's not exactly up to me. Either way, it has been an interesting couple of weeks yet well-worth every second of it.