Crawling to the Next Step: Gibbush Tzanchanim

Just over one eventful week ago, I participated in the gibbush for Tzanchanim, the paratroopers of the Israel Defense Forces. While I had completed a gibbush previously, Yom Sayerot, this one was a completely different animal.

After years of waiting for this very day, I arrived at Tel Hashomer, believing that this tryout would be far easier than the last, as I had been told. The wakeup call slowly arrived. After hours of extensive paperwork, we were divided into small teams. Fortunately, I was assigned to the same team as Darren and another friend from our Garin.

The teams went through the usual logistical tasks: signing in, being examined by the doctor, and receiving uniforms. We were led to the cafeteria and given lunch, far tastier than anything given to us at the previous tryout! Eagerly awaiting the Bar-Or test, we continued on to our tents and set down our belongings and uniforms on cots, another huge improvement over Yom Sayerot. The improvements, unfortunately, would stop there.

Before embarking out onto our run, we were instructed to drink our entire one-liter canteens at once, before turning them and holding them over our heads when finished. This would become a recurring theme. As we approached the run sight, we were told to sit and wait. Another recurring theme.

Finally, as the sun set and the night drew closer, my group prepared for the run. When the word came, we were off again. Another gibbush, another two-kilometer run. This one followed a hilly track, the sand remaining in the air from the previous groups. On the narrow trail, returning runners from the last group collided with us as we attempted to pass, while each one of my group struggled to get himself ahead.

Pushing ourselves until the very end, we reached the finished line. As we all waited in line at the end for our numbers to be taken down, each runner placed his head and hands on the back and shoulders of the person in front of him. Struggling to catch my breath, I saw this as a shining example of brotherhood only found in Israel. Despite competing with one another for the few spots left in the unit, each participant assisted another in recovering.

We were put to bed, once again at 8:00 P.M. due the early morning wakeup. At 3:00 A.M., we were up and divided into new teams. Somehow, I ended up in a team with Darren again, a comfort in the face of a very long day ahead. The twenty-five of us in the group were given numbers and had a short warmup before heading out to the field behind our commander.

Slowly we arrived at a long, narrow trail. As expected, our commander gave us the order to sprint to a point up the trail and back. “Tzeh.” My favorite word....

We sprinted and sprinted some more. This was not unexpected, though it lasted far longer than the previous tryout's sprints and far longer than I ever could have imagined it would. At the end of each sprint, another round without breaks. After about forty minutes, our numbers started dropping and four of our guys had left. It was only the beginning.

We continued the routine for some time longer, completely reduced to rubble by the end. When our commander finally showed some mercy and allowed us to stop, he gave us about two minutes to drink our canteens before starting again. More sprints, this time with stretchers.

At each round of sprints, I exerted myself much more than I did at my first tryout. It's been my dream to be a Paratrooper since I made the decision to make Aliyah, and my way of proving that was giving everything I had. While certainly not in the top few physically, I gave it my all through each sprint and earned a place under the stretcher a few times.

After what must have been an hour, we set down the stretchers and caught our breath for a minute. The commander, his face bearing the mischievous grin of the plan he had devised, instructed us to walk to the other end of the trail. When we arrived, he looked us all over, our uniforms dark with sweat, and instructed us to lay on our stomachs. “Crawl to the finish line and sprint back. First three people will have their numbers written down.”

I honestly cannot put into words how difficult army-style crawling is, especially in the capacity of a race. Whether it's the feet kicking into your shoulders and face, the sand caking your teeth and stinging your eyes, the muscles in your torso screaming to rest, or the rock and glass on the trail piercing your arms and legs, I was ready to quit by round two. But I persevered, and although finishing near the bottom each round, I gave everything I had to drag my body an extra few inches and move along.

After an eternity, the crawls were finished and we gathered in a chet (open rectangle) for a group game. We were instructed to come up with a few reasons for why women should or shouldn't serve in the army. After the discussion, we were given orders to navigate a small obstacle, getting our entire team from one point to another through a puzzle. These activities were especially difficult for me, given the language barrier. While the commanders were looking for the leader who stepped up to calm the team down, I could never have competed with an Israeli's mother tongue understanding of the language.

We continued the group games (albeit with punishment each time we made mistakes), and designed a map of Israel using only items found around the trail. I'm sure this one can go down as a failure for my group in the commanders' books, our map looking more like the state of Texas than anything else.

Then, at long last, our final exercise: the masa (hike). We gathered our equipment, including the stretcher, shovels and jerrycans, and proceeded on to a hike back to the base. Parts of it were jogging, parts walking, parts uphill and parts down, and by the end of the three kilometers, I was exhausted.

We were told that we had completed the physical section, about five hours after we had begun, and given some time to shower before the interviews. Lines for the shower were out the door, leading many to use the sinks as a substitute (never a dull moment). Nonetheless, when I was finished I proceeded to my interview and waited.

When my name was finally called, I had already prepared myself. I sat down and fielded the usual questions: where did I come from, why did I move to Israel, etcetera. When they asked me why I wanted to be in Tzanchanim, I was ready. I had been ready to respond to that very question for three years.

I spoke to the two stone-faced interviewers with passion in my voice, determination and desire in my words. I described how long I had dreamed of that very interview and just how much the history of the unit, being able to participate in the tryout, and the volunteer nature of Tzanchanim meant to me. By the time I had finished, they were both smiling. It was exactly the interview I had always dreamed about.

A few days later, I received word that I had been accepted into and will be drafting to Tzanchanim!

So what does it mean?

For starters, I've always wanted to be in Tzanchanim. I've really started to feel like I've realized my dream now, earning a spot in the unit. It's still surreal to me!

The history of the unit is unbelievable, most notably being the unit to capture the Kotel during the Six-Day War in 1967. Due to its impressive history, Tzanchanim has received a lot of money in donations over the years, leading to its relative wealth among the combat units. Because of this, training facilities and conditions are generally quite a bit nicer, something I'll touch upon in the very near future.

For a soldier in Tzanchanim (as well as the other infantry units), training is eight months long. Unique to the Paratroopers are the jumps which come in advanced training, something I've looking forward to for years. The unit is also unique in the uniform its soldiers wear, the shirt being untucked with a different design.

Then, of course, training culminates in a ceremony to receive the famous red beret, something given to Tzanchanim and the elite units of the IDF at the end of a grueling masa, also something I'll discuss in the near future.

Because of an issue with my Hebrew score, something Darren touched upon very briefly in the last post, I was unsure of whether or not I would be drafting now or in March. Thanks to the incredible hard work by my mashakiot, however, an appeal of my Michve Alon (army Hebrew course) assignment was successful and I will be drafting to Tzanchanim this Thursday, the 22^nd of the month.

My last few days as a civilian will be spent relaxing and watching movies, anxiously looking forward to the days ahead...

On a very serious note, a big thank you to everyone who has checked in with me and given me words of support due to the escalation of the situation with Gaza. I appreciate the fact that so many stand with Israel and are aware of the seriousness of the issue developing on the border. I think I speak for everyone who has served, is currently serving, or will be in the very near future when I say, we will defend Jewish lives, whatever the cost. We cannot live under the constant threat of rocket fire and danger to the lives of our brothers and sisters.

Anyways, I apologize for the length of the post! I had a lot to update.

Until next time, most likely the night before my life as a soldier begins!

-Brett

On My Way to the IDF

I should first apologize for my very inconsistent blogging habits over the last month or so. There really have been many moments that would be worth writing about, but it has been difficult to find the time to get it done! Whenever I would read blogs of lone soldiers in the IDF, I would always wonder why it took them as long as it did to update, promising myself to never be that way... well, I finally understand it. I will do my best not to fall into the trap in the future! Usually, I have written (and will write) posts about specific moments and topics in our journey, but this time, I hope you will forgive me for doing more of a "catch-up" entry.

A couple short months ago, I went for my "Tzav Rishon" or "First Notice" at the IDF draft office in Tiberias. It was a day I had waited years for (yes, a running theme on Brothers in Israel) and had been told about, in detail. It was never lost on me that this day would be extremely important in determining the rest of my army service!  After many long hours, random interviews, tests, and a medical check-up... I was free to go home, with my medical profile a perfect 97 (the highest you can get), pending the results of an eye exam I would, much to my dismay, have to come back for at a later date.

A few days later, I was informed that I was one of many in my Garin who would not be eligible to draft directly into my regular unit in November, because of my Hebrew level. While it wasn't a totally unexpected development, it was still disappointing, given how ready and eager I was to "get started" in the army. The score I got, rumored to be a 5 out of 10 (you need a six), meant that I would draft in December and do three months of army ulpan at Michve Alon as the first part of my service. However, we were also told that there would be an opportunity for the few of us who were very close to passing to re-test in November. Despite our pessimism that we would improve enough, it was something we agreed to work toward.

The next few weeks in our Garin were hectic and very busy, with everyone attending to different things the army needed them to do, sandwiched in-between Garin trips and events for all of Garin Tzabar. For example, there were "Gibushim," tryouts for specific jobs in the army, interviews, and other appointments. For my part, there was my eye exam at a completely different draft office (go figure), where I wasn't even tested, just asked about my medical history with my eyes for a few minutes. The doctor himself was infatuated with the city I came from in America, so we chatted about that, and his granddaughter (who he insisted he introduce me to), and then sent me on my way.

As the critical Hebrew re-test drew near, and our nerves escalated, we had a trip in the South, where we were able to spend some final quality time with all of the people we had been with every single day in our Garin, now getting prepared to head off to their jobs in the army. It is well-understood that, especially for the guys, many weeks can go by before we have the same time off and see one another. It was a valuable time to reflect on some of the incredible relationships we have built over our time there. At that point, not knowing where I would be going in the army (nor where many of my friends would be going), I wondered who I would see the most, and how different life was going to be in a few weeks.

Finally, the day arrived for the Hebrew test and so did my now third trip to the draft office, this time back in Tiberias. Butterflies in my stomach, I took every opportunity I could to show the girl interviewing me that I did know how to speak. On the written "fill-in-the-blank" style sentences, I must have written paragraphs, not caring whether or not I made mistakes, just trying to throw everything I knew onto that paper. With a little bit of luck, my score improved, and I was told that I would not have to go to Michve Alon after all.

This point is where a roller coaster of a week started for us... for some reason, Brett's score remained the same and he was told that he would still have to go to Michve Alon. I can't begin to describe the mix of emotions I had at hearing the news... for so long, we envisioned our paths in the army to run parallel, that even though we would more than likely be in different units, we could relate to the point in our time in the army that we were sharing. Even more disappointing was that he certainly did not deserve to stay at the same level as his first exam. We began to think of solutions and Brett started to work on them (which I'm sure he will detail), but nevertheless, on the ride home, we both sat in shock, trying to wrap our minds around what had happened. I would be drafting in two weeks now, to the unit I would spend the rest of my time in the army with, while he would be drafting in December, to Michve Alon. To make everything far more interesting, the very next day we had "Gibush Tzanchanim," the tryout for the Paratroopers.

I will save the details of the gibush for a separate post, but I will say that it was, so far, the most physically and mentally challenging experience of my life. I feel completely privileged to have taken part in it, and even had Brett in my team, against all odds, the whole way through. This meant that through sprinting and crawling the hours away, I had him to look toward for motivation and encouragement. We both had the honor of finishing, and that night boarded a plane back to the States for a pre-draft visit.

Because I only tested out of Michve Alon so late in the game, I never had the opportunity to fill out my preferences for where I wanted to go in the army. This is a standard thing that everyone does, listing their choices and hoping for the best. Garin Tzabar is well-known for ensuring that many people get their first or second choices. For me, all of my top choices were infantry units, even though there were some that I ranked higher than others. Passing the tryout for Paratroopers would have meant that I would automatically gone there, while if I didn't, I would hopefully end up in my first or at least second choice in my preference list (called a "Manila" in Israeli slang). While in America, though, I was told that due to how late I had to submit my choices, the likelihood was that I would not be able to draft into an infantry job. I will be the first person to advocate for the importance of every job in the army, but I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that my dream of being a combat soldier in the IDF's renowned infantry was all-but-faded. Things just weren't going the way we had expected, as we have always been told is the case with the army.

After a few very long days of reflecting on the situation, I came to terms with the fact that wherever I would go, I would have a meaningful service, giving all of myself, and taking everything possible I could from the job I would have. Not going into an infantry job would not mean less of a fulfillment of my dream to be a soldier in the IDF. I researched all of the things I had chosen after infantry, enthusiastic about my future, no matter what. Then, just as it all became more than okay, I was told that I did get my first choice! The happiness I felt was overwhelming, a sudden upturn on the ride we had been on, and a very-much renewed appreciation for just how much I wanted to go to the place I had been assigned.

To top it all, against all odds, Brett is no longer required to go to Michve Alon and will be drafting one day after me.

So where am I going?

The Nachal Infantry Brigade 

I will report to my draft in six short days to join a unit that I am really excited about. It is known for being a welcome home to lone soldiers and for having great people among its ranks, in addition to its military history. 

It would weigh heavily on me if I didn't take the opportunity to urge anyone reading to keep Israel in your hearts and minds today and in the days ahead, due to the ongoing operation in the South and the constant terror from Gaza. Any loss of life is totally regretful, and Israel did not ask to be in the position it is in, but something has to be done for our citizens who live under constant attack. 

I promise a TIMELY update after my upcoming enlistment. Wishing a successful and easy draft to all of my friends over the next week or so! 

          -   Darren 

Yom Sayerot

At the beginning of the last month, I participated in a tryout for the elite special forces units of the Israel Defense Forces, a day known as Yom Sayerot.

Taking place over the course of twenty-four hours, the tryout is said to be one of the most difficult a draftee will participate in before drafting officially. A participant who completes the tryout is eligible to receive an invitation to a later tryout in one of three units: HaYechida ("The Unit"-also known as Sayeret Matkal), Shayetet 13 (the Israeli equivalent of the Navy SEALs), and Chovlim (ship captains). From there, the participant can succeed in the later tryout and proceed onto the training for the aforementioned units, or can be dropped into a number of other special forces units.

For my purposes, I've always maintained a desire to draft into Tzanchanim (paratroopers), so Yom Sayerot was never really in my plans. After some persuasion from the Mashakiot, I decided to attend for the experience with a desire to complete it.

As I arrived at the Wingate Institute, a premier sports facility located near the beaches of Netanya, I proceeded on a long walk with a few others from the Garin to the Gibbush site. We checked in, received our numbers and marked them boldly on the front and back of our t-shirts, before having a final check with the medical staff.

Being in the first sixty people to arrive, I was sent to do the Bar-Or (fitness assessment) first. Generally consisting of a 2000 meter run and as many push-ups and sit-ups as one can do, our Bar-Or only included the run. I lined up along fifty-nine other eager draftees awaiting the word to move, and once it came, we were off. The nerves and excitement to begin quickly fade as the sand from below is kicked in the air and the elbows find their ways to your ribs by those jostling to be first. My time was slightly below-average for me, unfortunately, but was still acceptable enough to move on to the rest of the tryout (a portion of people were cut for their run times).

We were put to bed, 300 kids in one tent laying shoulder to shoulder on the floor, at 8:00 P.M., as the army is required to give us seven hours of sleep in the tryouts. Yes, we were woken up at 3:00 A.M.! After some light group stretches, we were divided into teams of about eighteen and headed out to the sand dunes. For those of you who aren't familiar with the Wingate Institute, the tryout takes place on large, steep sand dunes, overlooking the gorgeous blues of the Mediterranean.

After carrying our entire load of equipment (backpacks, stretchers, jerrycans, shovels) to the top of a dune under the watch of three commanders from the elite units, we began the test. The bald, stone-faced commander with the aviator sunglasses casually pointed to the bottom of the sand dune. He looked us all over, followed by a quiet order, “Twenty seconds to the bottom of the dune and back. Line up in threes when you return. Tzeh (go)!” And off we went.

Naturally, no one can finish the sprint in twenty seconds. “Tzeh.” Off we went again...and again. The exercise lasted for about forty minutes, each sprint more tiring than the last. My goal for the day was to finish the tryout, something that become increasingly more difficult with each passing minute and the sight of many giving in to the desire to leave.

After the first exercise finally came to end, we were instructed to drink. Apparently, our jerrycan had been previously used to transport oil, so our water was tainted in the beginning. While many became instantly sick from the taste and texture, it proved to be a blessing as we were given permission to tap into the exercise jerrycans, meaning we wouldn't carry them on our later runs!

The next exercise was much like the first; sprinting to the bottom and back. This time, the first four back would hoist the stretcher onto their shoulders, lugging it down beneath the weight of many sandbags to the bottom and back. Those who weren't in the first four continued sprinting until the stretcher returned.

“Just finish,” I thought at the end of each sprint, wearily glancing at the commander, “Please don't say it again.”

“Tzeh.” … “Tzeh.” … “Tzeh.”

 

“....just finish.”

After another forty minutes of the stretcher sprints, we were given somewhat of a break from the grueling portion, as our next assignment was to simply each dig a whole with a meter in length, width, and height. I quite enjoyed the activity and when the commanders came around to ask my strategy when digging the whole, I think they were pleased with my makeshift Hebrew response!

Our final exercise was walking up and down the dune with a sandbag on our shoulders, an exercise more in honesty than physical capacity. The commanders claimed not to be watching us, as it was our responsibility to let them know how many turns we completed.

As we finished and threw the sandbags to the ground, lumbering down the mountain, our commander looked at us with his first smile of the day, “You've completed the physical portion of the tryout. Kol Hakavod (all the respect).” A smile formed on my face, my goal completed.

The remaining 150 or so participants who completed the tryout were all gathered eventually as the numbers of those who would be receiving a tryout were read. The first group, HaYechida, was read, then Shayetet, and finally Chovlim. I was in the fourth group, the group who completed the tryout but wouldn't be receiving an invitation to one of the special forces tryouts. While I was slightly disappointed, I refused to let it take away from the feeling of completing the tryout, a lofty goal I never thought I'd achieve.

All in all, Yom Sayerot proved to be a worthwhile experience, one I'm glad I took part in. Since the tryout, I've also participated in Gibbush Tzanchanim (the Paratroopers tryout) and received information about when I will be drafting with regards to my Hebrew level. I will describe both in length in the coming posts!

Exciting days ahead!

-Brett