After finishing our Passover weekend
on base, we were given Sunday and Monday to relax as the holiday drew
to a close. This was fantastic. We had gone weeks now without any
serious work...a weekend and a half of relaxing in bed, our bodies
turning to mush. What could go wrong?
Before we could even come to grasps
with it, Monday night came around, and with it came the Masa Mem
Mem (march led by the platoon
commander). After recovering from the initial shock that we'd be
headed out on a masa,
we were all actually rather excited to be getting back into the swing
of things. As the night grew later and later, the weather starting to
take a dip and a case of the yawns starting to set in, the excitement
faded a bit, but nonetheless we prepared ourselves for the long night
ahead.
It
was revealed to us before we left that the platoon commander was
injured and would not be joining us for the masa.
Instead, our samal
would be leading us once more. Great, this was going to be masa samal number two. Furthermore,
since the samal would
be leading the group with his radio man, my commander filled in to
close the group and needed to choose a radio man for himself.
“Brett,
put the radio in your vest. You're coming with me.”
Great,
more weight on top of everything else. Plenty of running to be had.
Last time I sprained my ankle!
I
heaved the outdated radio onto my back and as we lined up ready to
go, I knew it would be a long night. The first hour, as per usual,
was unbearably painful. Muscles that you never knew you had scream at
you as powerfully as they can. While that faded after some time, the
unbearable pace of the samal
and the sprints up and down being ordered my commander stayed very
constant.
Hours
later, we had lost soldiers due to injury along the way, covered the
most difficult terrain to date, and saw the lights of the base in the
distance. Only four more kilometers to go.
At that point, one of my closest friends, the heavy machine gunner,
was struggling to finish under the weight of all his equipment. Doing
what was necessary for him to catch up to the group, I took the
mammoth weapon off of his shoulders and placed it on mine, beginning
the most difficult hour of any masa
to date.
I
hobbled along, the weight of the radio, my weapon and the heavy
machine gun attempting to will me down until the end. As with
everything in the army, the masa ended
and I had reached a personal high along the way. As a reward for
finishing the grueling challenge (over six times the length of our
first masa, and only
about a third of what's to come in our hike for the beret!), we
received the coveted fighters pins for our berets, a symbol that
shows we are warriors.
As
quite the opposite of a reward, we were told that we would not be
sleeping and would be trekking down to the shetach
the following day for activities as a kita.
Exhausted, we prepared our bags for the rest of the week in the
field, grumpy but motivated.
The
following day dragged on in classes until we were ready to move down
the field. This week, unlike any to date, was entirely operational.
That mostly meant for us carrying much heavier weight in much bigger
bags down to the activity areas. The week itself was difficult,
though not as bad as the previous week in the field.
With
very few hours of sleep on the week, our bodies fatigued to the
fullest extent, we found ourselves back on the base on Thursday,
ready to relax at home for a much overdue free weekend.
-Brett
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