I Swear

The alunkah. The stretcher. It is heavy, it digs into your shoulder, there is no comfortable way to hold it, and even if you are the one chosen to lay on it, you hate the way it makes you feel. For something that is meant for such good, you can't help but cringe when it's brought up. It was the end of our Masa Hashba'ah, the Swearing-In March, and after seven grinding kilometers, we now had the alunkah open for a final, extra one. When it ended, many long minutes later, we stood under the stretcher and lifted it high in the air a few times with a chant. Pretending it didn't hurt!

It was the night before our Tekes Hashba'ah, the Swearing-In Ceremony at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. We had been anxious all week to get to this night, to finish the masa, and to hopefully receive, as rumored, the tag of our unit, to wear on the shoulder of our dress uniforms. We lined up in formation, the entire unit, and were given a speech about the meaning of our accomplishment and how important the following day would be. And then, as hoped, we each received the first thing to identify us as Nahlawis.

The shoulder tag of the Nahal Infantry Brigade 

The next day started with a visit back to Har Herzl, although this time it was far more of an educational experience. We were spurred on by discussions as a unit rather than left to wonder on our own. It wasn't even as shocking when tourists would walk up and ask questions about the rifle I was wearing or why my English was so good! We toured the cemetery and talked about why certain people were buried there and others weren't. We learned about Theodor Herzl himself (the obvious source of the name of the place) at his grave and discussed the State of Israel, Zionism, and what has become of Mr. Herzl's vision. Most emotionally, we discussed three fallen Nahal soldiers who were all great friends and died in the same war. Their stories, and the story that binds them, I will never forget. 

Then it was off to the Western Wall, where we practiced... and practiced... and practiced.  This meant that I got to scream, "Ani Nishbah! Ani Nishbah! Ani Nishbah!" ("I Swear!") and sang Hatikvah ("The Hope" - Israel's anthem) more than just in the real ceremony, and each time it produced a lump in my throat and a wave of very strong emotions. Of all things in the army, it was this ceremony that I had always thought of the most. What it would be like to stand at a place so special, so central to Israel and the Jewish people, and pledge to defend it. I remembered singing Hatikvah at different points in my life, like some kind of evolution. There was the little boy that went to King David in South Africa who sang it on Friday mornings in assembly, the teenager who sometimes sang it and sometimes didn't have all of the energy on Florida mornings in middle and high school, and now the tiron (an Israeli soldier in basic training), who sings it as a kind of salute to the country he has just promised to protect. 

During the rehearsals, one of the guys in my citah (my immediate squad of twelve guys) tapped me and pointed outside of our closed-in area, where I spotted Brett looking in with a big grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile when I saw him. Every one of the guys in my unit had huge families coming to visit, to support, to bring them food, and cheer their name. I had much more. I had my brother, and coming later, my Garin, my mashakiot (the soldiers who lived with the Garin and helped with the army process) and the amazing family, even, of one of our mashakiot, who we have become close to. Even old friends from inside and outside of the country had said they would be there. A counsellor of mine from a school trip to Israel in twelfth grade called me and told me he had come to give me a hug and brought family members of his! I had no feeling of being left out. None at all. I felt lucky and completely blessed. 

The ceremony itself was mind-blowing. It went by in a blur. There were the fun chants that we did as a unit before it started, the speech by the chief rabbi of the army, and songs by the IDF band. Then it was a dash toward my commanding officer, a salute with a Torah and a Tavor (the rifle we are issued), and a flood of adrenaline. This time, for real, "Ani Nishbah! Ani Nishbah! Ani Nishbah!!!" Cue Hatikvah.

For me, swearing-in means that I have made this all that much more official. I was more nervous to scream those words than to board the plane to move here. In front of this whole country, I have proudly announced that I am ready to defend it. If there was a lump in my throat just practicing, it's easy to imagine me during the actual thing. Surrounded by friends, family, and lots of love and support, I went home proud and happy, humming the anthem as I went. 

            -    Darren