Weathering the Storm

In the army, where as little as two hours can be polar opposites, I've just completed two of the most contrasting weeks of my life.

The first week began fairly unusually. For those of you who haven't kept up to date with the news, the weather in Israel was drastic. Rain fell torrentially, even leading to snow in many parts of the nation. The wind was brutal, making the climate difficult to handle.

Due to the strange and sudden change in the weather, our schedule was far from set, apart from the first two days: first aid. The classes were interesting, being led by a medic and a mashakit Aliya to assist with the Hebrew.

On Monday afternoon, as we completed with our classes, we were told we would be departing on a masa in the evening, the six kilometer. As we gathered before the masa, I was given the honor of being the radio man. For those who aren't familiar with the role, the radio man keeps pace with the commander at the front of the pack and relays orders to the rest of the group. When the commander wants to straighten out the two lines, for example, the radio man is responsible for sprinting to the back of the group and informing everyone of the order before running back to his spot. In addition to the difficulty of running throughout the entire masa, the weight of the radio is an unbalanced 9KG on top of all the other weight in the vest.

The masa began in the pouring rain and wind. Beside for the weather, everyone was mostly the same. Muscles in the shrir masa (hike muscles) screaming with every step and struggling to keep up with the pace. While the pace was difficult, I ran with rabak (spirit, adrenaline) and felt mostly okay. As we approached the halfway mark, I stepped in one of the many holes in the mud, falling beneath the weight of the vest and the radio.

I stood up, feeling fine and kept running, mostly ignoring the developing pain coming from my ankle. After about a kilometer, I was unable to step straight on my foot, each step twisting the ankle further and causing more pain. Unfortunately, it got to the point where I was taken out of the masa and driven off to wait for the combat medic.

While the pain itself was tough to deal with, worse than that was the frustration of being unable to finish, especially with the honor of the radio. Watching my friends complete the challenge with smiles on their faces while I sat there, unable to participate, was a gargantuan task to deal with mentally.

The trend continued for the remainder of the week. Struggling to deal with the language, the medic never came to examine me and as a result, I was unable to join my team doing the activities for the rest of the week. I felt one of the lowest lows of my life so far in the army, what's often known as shvizut (army sadness).

Towards the end of the week, we were given twenty minutes to pack for the shetach. It was known that we would be closing for the weekend and proceeding to the field the following week, so the immediate reaction was, “Oh great, we're closing Shabbat in the field...”

We rushed to pack, throwing in all of our gear and getting ready for a meeting with the company. As we all sat down, the company commander walked into the room. His first words: “I hope you're all ready to go home tomorrow.” A huge smile on my face as we found out we would actually be opening for the weekend, a precious chamshush no less, was a huge emotional swing for me, another common trend of the army.

While the week was difficult to fight through on one hand, it was an important experience to get over with on the other hand. I relaxed for the weekend and headed back to base on mekutzeret (returning on a Saturday night) for what would be a far improved week. More on that later!

-Brett