The Transition

I stared down at the dim green glow of my watch through the fogged lenses of an old gas mask. “2:32 A.M.” Will this week ever end? My legs begrudgingly churned up an uneven hill under the weight of the stretcher. This was the perfect end to the hardest week of my life.

At the beginning of the week, instead of arriving on base, I was told to arrive at a synagogue in Jerusalem for a lone soldier event. Not one to complain about a later than usual Sunday wake up time, I began the week with a smile on my face, completely oblivious to what awaited us.

The lone soldier event, like all, was not short of food and jokes with English-speaking friends. This event was different, however. In attendance were the three paratroopers from the famous image of the unit staring up at the newly captured Kotel in 1967. I stood in awe, in disbelief that the subjects of the image I had come to know so well were there in my presence. The most well-known contributors to the most well-known contribution in Tzanchanim history were standing in front of me. I was inspired.

With reignited motivation, I returned to base late that night, prepared for a week in the shetach. We woke up the next morning and immediately went to lessons about the tear gas tent, something I had been personally dreading for weeks. When the moment finally came to walk to enter the tent, I suppose I was as ready as I could have been.

After some sprints and push-ups (a measure to make sure we breathed in the gas!!!), I entered the tent. Immediately, despite the straps of the gas mask tight around my head, my face began to sting. This wasn't supposed to happen until AFTER I took my mask off. I did my very best in half-choking, limited Hebrew to explain to the instructor that gas had entered the mask. I took it off upon her order and stood there for the requisite time, naturally forgetting to close my eyes. After finally being told to leave, I ran out, choking and unable to open my eyes once I shut them.

It's difficult to explain the pain of tear gas exactly, but suffice it to say, it's a truly awful substance. The training and experience made me realize how unpleasant and dangerous potential chemical weapons are, if nothing else. Certainly a scary concept to think about.

Despite the uncomfortable morning, we were told that we would be leaving on our Masa Samal (sergeant's march) that evening. From what I had heard, this masa specifically is one of the hardest a soldier will do in his training, being that it's led by the stone-faced, disciplinary sergeant. I can confidently say it lived up to it's notoriety.

The first kilometer was done without the samal in a pace slightly faster than usual. We arrived to the top of an incline about one kilometer later, already out of breath. Suddenly, a smoke grenade went off, blocking our view. The samal appeared through the thick, white cloud, staring us down. “You've all annoyed me this week. When you go home this weekend limping and your mothers ask you what happened, feel free to tell them that you pissed off your sergeant so he broke your legs.” On that pleasant note, he ran off into distance, leaving us to catch up to him.

The pace was almost unbearable. Despite being short on numbers and almost all of us carrying an extra item on our backs, we finished the first six kilometers in a blazing forty minutes (the usual pace for six kilometers being an hour). The speed simply did not let up, even after arriving back to the base after fourteen torturous kilometers and hearing the samal inform us, “We're back at base. We're not done. Open the stretchers, we have another three kilometers to go.” And out we went into the shetach once more before finally finishing later that evening.

Crawling into bed was a gift, even with the knowledge that we would be heading into the shetach for combat exercises the following morning. When we woke up, we lugged all the equipment on our backs and trekked out on foot into the shetach for the first time (having exited on shuttles all previous times).

The week itself was fairly difficult, the commanders taking every opportunity to make someone “fall injured” and be carried around the entire day by the rest of the team. Though difficult, it was tolerable until the final night. We crawled into our sleeping bags after a long day of work, exhausted and ready to return to base. And then there was the hakpatzah.

A hakpatzah (emergency wake-up) is a soldiers worst pre-sleep nightmare. The idea is to go from a state of being completely unprepared (sleeping) to being ready for battle in a matter of seconds. This time was different, the commanders throwing in the lovely addition of gas masks. For the next hour, we crawled over rocks, ran up mountains with stretchers, and sprinted, all with masks restricting our breathing and vision, making things nearly impossible.

“2:32 A.M.” Forcing my body to continue up the hill one last time to get to our sleeping bags and finally go back to sleep. Struggling for breath and strength, carrying an “injured” friend on my shoulders without being able to see the rocks bushes waiting for me in my path. I've heard that advanced training is difficult and the first week of it proved to me that I had heard an understatement.

I left the base the following day, after a painful trip back carrying roughly 60% of my body weight, to begin an early regila. A regila is a week-long vacation given to combat soldiers twice a year. Volunteers were needed to take the week early and miss the education week in order to watch over the company once everyone else was gone. I volunteered and enjoyed every minute of my week at home, doing my very best to re-energize for what lies ahead.

I've just completed another guarding and toranim (base errands) week and am home on a Yom Siddurim, despite the fact that I am closing a 21 at the moment. When I return to base tomorrow, I will be one of only nine at the company, the schedule being mostly non-existent making for a very relaxing week.

As I mentioned before, we are now finished with tironut (basic training) and have moved on to advanced training. We will mostly be in the shetach, doing unbearably difficult things, though we are now really being groomed as fighters ready for battle. They say advanced training turns a soldier into a warrior and it's certainly not going to be an easy transformation.

-Brett