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Sunday, June 23, 2013

The Longest War Week(s) in History

Battered, blistered, bruised, and exhausted, three hundred other Paratroopers and I sat on the thorn-covered dirt as the magad (officer in charge of the base) spoke, “I hope you're all enjoying your Shabbat and resting well. Sleep tight tonight...War Week is far from over.”

No, it wasn't our first Shabbat in the field. It was weekend number two. It was day nine and we had just been informed that it was becoming the longest brigade level War Week in IDF history. Little did we know, we weren't even close to the end.

We arrived to base not knowing when and how War Week would be sprung upon us. Unique to the week, a culmination of everything learned in training, is the fact that the commanders and officers are also left out of the “know,” unlike other shetach weeks in training. With that in mind, our first week back was one of preparations for the impending hakpatzah (emergency call-up) to “war.” Filled with packing combat bags, checking equipment hundreds of times over, patching up all of the existing injuries from training, everyone was constantly on edge.

Thursday night came around and along with it came the idea that perhaps we'd be going home for the weekend after all, War Week only to come the following week...
...and then there was the hakpatzah.

Gathered in a chet, our commanders walked around with camouflage face paint. Delivering pump-up speeches along the lines of, “this is it, we're going to war...in two, three weeks, we'll stand here beaten-up but victorious after finishing this together,” they did their best to excite the soldiers. And it worked.

Although disappointed not to be heading home for the weekend, we hoisted our equipment on our backs, smiled and chanted the songs of our unit, warriors headed to “war.”

Of course, the excitement only lasted until our first long walk with the gear. With each of us carrying close to 60% of our body weight in equipment, the inclines, uneven surfaces, and long hours of the walks in the shetach all slowly chipped away at the initial good vibes.

The first week followed a very specific pattern: long walks ranging from eight to twenty-six kilometers with all of our gear, a company-wide combat exercise, repeat. And repeat again.

While we struggled with the abnormal distances covered on foot and the virtually non-existent hours of sleep, we did our best to keep our spirits up and laugh. We pushed forward, always assisting each other in fighting the urge to quit and fighting through the injuries until the second weekend, our time to recover.

We had to earn the second Shabbat, working tirelessly throughout the week which culminated in another jump. As I touched upon earlier, our fifth jump was scheduled for War Week and as the end of our first week came, we found ourselves sitting on the runway of an Air Force base once more, boarding the Hercules and launching ourselves out at 1200 feet in the pitch black of night.

While similar to the last jump, this time we jumped “commando style” (combat vests on us underneath our parachutes) and with all of our gear in the sak haze (equipment bag). When I say all of our gear, I'm not just talking about a gun and vest like the last time. This gear included everything we were carrying for two weeks; clothing, water, food, etcetera. The weight was unbearably painful to lift, and that was almost enough to make me want to throw myself out of the plane and into the weightlessness of thin air!

Another difference was the fact that the entire plane jumped in one go, as opposed to the pilot flying rounds. Once landed (safely with two feet together, thankfully!), we all gathered and began a nineteen kilometer walk over the sand dunes of the desert to our next combat exercise the following morning and finally Shabbat.

We slept, ate, prayed, and recovered on Shabbat. As quickly as it came, however, it ended and we were thrown right back into the grind of War Week. The ending of the second Shabbat was a personal low point for me during the week. It got to a point where we all knew no regular brigade had ever been in the field for so long during training. We had done everything we had been asked and we had absolutely no idea when we would be going home. Two weeks is a long time to go with no connection to the real world. I was close to breaking, but like the physical walls in the army (in War Week and in everything else), the mental walls have to be overcome.

After a few more days of the tiring routine, we were finally told that we had finished. It had been fourteen days and we were exhausted. Fourteen days of walking, fighting with tanks, helicopters, drones, and some other “secret” units. Fourteen days with little to no sleep and plenty of injuries. And then it finally ended.

I want to mention that while it was the most difficult thing any of us had ever done, it was also one of the most fun experiences for many of us in the army. Obviously we would be absolutely defeated throughout our days, but during those odd minutes of free time during the heat of the middle of the day or during Shabbat when the jokes came out, so did the smiles and we had no choice but to enjoy in the company of each other and our commanders. It was a unique experience.

True to our commanders' word, we arrived back to the chet two weeks later, beaten-up but proud. Nothing could take that away.

I wanted to mention that during the week, we dealt with our first truly “classified” activity, something that gave us a sense of accomplishment and advancement in the army. We've reached a new point where we are trusted to do things at a higher level than the simple trainees we were for the past seven months. While I'd obviously love to write about every experience as well, I hope you'll forgive me if I occasionally need to leave a thing or two out!

The end of War Week also marks the end of our training. We are now considered “warriors” by the army and if there is ever a conflict, we can now officially be sent in by the army, a bit of a crazy thought to consider.

Ending training also means that our time on the beautiful base we've called home for seven months is coming to a close. This coming week, we will be turning in all of our gear and preparing to move bases (something I'll touch upon in a later post). The only thing that remains is our grueling 60 kilometer Masa Kumta this coming week.

Sorry for the length of the post, doing my best to catch everyone up!
-Brett

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