Shivering in the Shetach: Shavua Sadaut

As I indicated in my previous post, I returned to base three weeks ago on a Saturday night to prepare for what's typically known as the most difficult week of basic training: Shavua Sadaut.

While I had already experienced the shetach (field) once before, Shavua Sadaut (week in the shetach) was an entirely different experience. Trekking out on Sunday morning after packing the night before, we prepared mentally for what would be an ultimately grueling experience.

Designed to educate soldiers about life in the shetach as fighters, the week was actually an intriguing experience. From day one, we learned a wide range of things, from walking in formation in the middle of the night to telling the direction using the stars. Most of the week was spent walking in silence at some distance from the soldier in front of you, patiently waiting for his hand signal to indicate the next action and for you to pass on the order to those behind you.

Camouflaged, we learned the most common signs of a human in the field and how to avoid being noticed. Manot Krav (combat rations) of canned tuna and stuffed grape leaves quickly became close to intolerable, although hunger reigns supreme during the ten minute lunch breaks and the food was always put down fairly quickly.

Physically, the week was not overly difficult. While we also extensively practiced marching with the alunkah (stretcher) and crawling (did I mention how much I hate crawling?!), the most grueling bit was not the physical aspect at all. The hardest moments during the week came courtesy of the beautiful desert's weather.

While I touched on it briefly in the last post, the weather changes are drastic in the desert. Paired with the lack of sleep, it's almost impossible to stay fully healthy, making every other challenge that much harder. Each night, after given a few minutes to dig as big a hole as possible to sleep in, we bundled up and attempted to shield ourselves from the fierce, chilling wind and prayed that the rain wouldn't fall that night (thankfully, it didn't). As the sun came up, the heat became unbearable, the ultimate body confusion.

Halfway through the week, I crawled into my sleeping bag and prepared for my last night as a teenager, the night before my birthday. Staring up at the sky, completely clear and brightly lit by the moon and the stars, I couldn't help but think what a fitting transition the night was from one year of life to the next. Last year, I prepared to join the army, a vision still far in the future. Waiting on the arrival of the next year, I lay shielding myself from the cold, covered in camouflage getting ready to sleep with a rifle at my side.

The following day, while standing in a pluga (all of November draft to 202) lesson in the field, I suddenly heard, “Where is Brett?” from the instructors. Cautiously, I edged through the crowd of 110 to the the instructors. Before I knew it, I was being hoisted in the air, the entire pluga singing happy birthday. While it was an unconventional day, it was entirely memorable, and I look back on it as well as the week fondly.

The last bit I wanted to talk about was the apparent turning point in the dynamic of my kita (class, team of soldiers) during the week. While usually, activities are done in the setting of a machlaka (three classes together), Shavua Sadaut was done entirely with just the kita. Having to look out for each other at every point of every day, sharing food and keeping close to fend off hypothermia, creates an unusual bond. As I look back on the week, I can't help but think that the current dynamic in the team, the closeness between myself and the other soldiers, was created entirely in the field.

-Brett