Throughout
the days leading up to the masa kumta,
it was easy to notice the different attitude around the base. Smiles
and laughter helped us through even the most tedious tasks of
scrubbing down our company's rooms, knowing full well that at the
same time the following week, we would be fully-fledged fighters in
our unit. We would no longer be trainees. We would be warriors with
the famous red berets and the elation was contagious.
Finally,
the day arrived after a restless night sleep. We gathered our
equipment and bid our farewells to the base we had served faithfully
for eight months. We boarded the busses and departed to the starting
point of the masa.
There
we stood, ready to begin the sixty last kilometers of training. The
culmination of eight of the most grueling months of our lives. The
test of all tests. Our final masa.
We
began at 7:30 P.M., our spirits at an unusual high. Smiles were wide
and laughter filled the air. We all knew what we were doing and we
all felt entirely invincible.
Carrying
the stretcher on my back, I proceeded along with my peers, noticing
ahead the mountain I feared would be ours to climb. I was proven
right and up we went, our eighteen first kilometers digging deep
within ourselves to force our bodies up the incline. The smiles
quickly disappeared. The sky grew dark, the muscles tired, and the
weather chilly.
While
it's not unusual for muscles to cramp, they usually only do so
towards the thirtieth or fortieth kilometer. Due to the incline and
weight on my back, my calves chose to do so after kilometer eight.
Physically shattered already, I was in worse shape mentally,
wondering just how I would be able to walk over fifty more kilometers
with cramped legs. I worried that even after the torturous eighteen
kilometers, we still wouldn't be anywhere close to finishing. With no
other option, I clenched my teeth and pushed forward, forcing myself
not to think about. After only a few hours, it had already become the
most difficult thing I've ever done in my life.
Throughout
the black of the night, the trend for everyone seemed to be just
trying to make it another kilometer and not think about the
unbearable pain in all parts of the body. When the sun came out, the
mood shifted a bit.
We
battled our injuries and moved ourselves forwards and up and down
until we finally spotted the hills of Jerusalem in the distance.
While we had been desperately dragging ourselves forward until this
point, the end was in sight and it gave everyone a major boost in
needed motivation.
A few
hours later, we finally reached the entrance of the city. We marched
forward, cars honking their support and civilians clapping as they
marched alongside us. This was a special finish to an unbearably
difficult sixteen hours.
The
memory of arriving to Ammunition Hill, the location of our impending
beret ceremony, is a bit of a blur to me, the exhaustion taking it's
toll. The memory of hugging my peers a short few moments later to
celebrate, however, is absolutely vivid.
We
finally sat down, our legs screaming for rest, closed our eyes for a
long overdue nap and simply waited until finally being called for the
ceremony to begin.
I
limped gingerly into place, not really knowing if I was still
dreaming or if I was actually standing to receive my red beret, the
realization of the very same dream. I looked out into the crowd and
spotted my family and friends from the garin.
The ceremony began and my tears welled in my eyes. Somehow, after
years of imagining this very moment, I was standing
shoulder-to-shoulder with the greatest individuals I know, ready to
receive the beret of the Israeli Paratroopers.
When
the kumta was finally
placed on my head by my commanding officer, the shock and disbelief
were replaced with a pride and emotion I've never known on such a
scale. As the ceremony ended, I ran (well...limped at snails pace, I
should say) to my guests, the smile still fixed upon my face. This
was it, everything I have ever dreamed about, and it's something I
will never forget.
I'd
like to finish this post in mentioning the lessons reinforced once
again by the masa.
Despite the seeming impossibility of a task based on its sheer
difficulty, the mind time and time again proves to be more powerful
than the body. Friendship and teamwork prove to be more powerful than
over-independence. The belief in something proves to be more powerful
than the fear of the unknown. And the pride felt as you realize that
you've learned one of these lessons is simply indescribable. After
eight months of training, these are the things I will take with me
for the rest of my life.
The
next post will detail the next step in my army service, exactly what
I've been doing since the ceremony and the end of training. Sorry for
the delay, I've been very busy, but more on that in about two weeks.
Signing
off for the first time in red!
-Brett
