As we
arrived in imun kayitz
(summer training), excitement was in the air. We were all finally
lochemim (warriors) of
Tzanchanim and despite
being loaded with all of the less-than-glamorous jobs due to our
status of Plugat Maslool,
we had “arrived.”
As
I touched upon briefly, the imun
is basically many weeks of shetach,
a refreshment course in the basics of war. The weeks, like on the
bach,
begin small with a simple week of excercises in the kita,
before building up to the notorious and dreaded Targad,
essentially a war week involving the entire brigade of 202.
To
rewind just a little bit, the masa
kumta
pushed everyone to the point of injury in some form or another,
whether it be muscle strains or something more severe. A few days
after the masa,
I found that I was taking longer than most of my peers to recover, a
nagging injury in my right foot being the culprit.
The
injury was not new to me, being one I hadn't been entirely
forthcoming about before from fear of missing the masa. What had changed was the pain, which was certainly worse now than it had ever been. With
all that in mind, I decided to see the doctor before the imun
and was told that I was suffering from a stress fracture in the foot
and that only time would heal it. I was placed on bettim
(army ordered exemptions from strenuous activity) until further
notice.
And
now to fast forward back to the imun:
Being
on bettim,
my days in the beginning of the imun
were fairly monotonous. Charged with watching equipment while the
rest of the soldiers were off training got very old fairly quickly.
After about three weeks of rest, I began to feel deeply shavuz.
Seeing
your friends return from the shetach,
despite being battered, bruised, and tired, while knowing you weren't
there to take the beating with them and further bond with them can
really affect you as a soldier. I was shocked by actually WANTING to
go back to the shetach.
Feeling
left out and mostly useless, I decided to give up on my bettim
and hope for the best. I returned to regular activity despite not
really knowing if my foot had healed or not. The first few weeks back
were difficult, to say the least. Constantly thinking and worrying
about my foot drove me insane. I went through odd phases of shvizut,
due to the fact that I was still not healthy and most likely further
injuring myself, though knowing that the alternative would be sitting
on the side, a glorified security guard.
A depression truly came some time into the imun
upon hearing the news that a good friend from the Garin
was rushed to the hospital from the army in very serious condition.
Times like these in the army are the most trying, when you wish you
could be anywhere but where you are at that very moment. When you
wish you could be there by the side of your loved ones. The
sacrifices we make to be here are often harsh, and this was another
clear sign of that.
Never one to argue with superiors or army authority, the circumstances had brought a totally different side out of me. For two weeks, I fought with commanders who refused to let me out to be by the side of a best friend. Trying times can bring upon our darkest of states and this was certainly true for me. The reason behind the rules keeping me on base just were not so reasonable to me. I became familiar with a side of me I had never known.
I've mentioned it before and I'll no doubt mention it many a time in the future; The biggest thing you gain from the army is seeing yourself in a thousand lights you've never been able to look at before. Thankfully, to their credit, the commanders understood that it was mostly brought on by distress and frustration and they were very patient with me.
Thankfully,
after two of the roughest weeks I've ever had, the news came down that my absolute warrior of a friend made a miraculous recovery. Feeling blessed and motivated, my spirits were lifted and
it was back to work.
Everything
seemed to be sorting out health-wise until the dreaded targad
finally arrived. The targad
is essentially the most expensive week for an infantry batallion,
with the gdud
usually exercising every resource at hand to make the week an
authentic simulation of war. Known to be harder than most “War
Weeks” in many cases, the targad
surely lives up to the reputation.
Walking
close to thirty kilometers per day, the difficulty of the task at
hand was gargantuan. After thirty-six hours, I was fully certain that
my injury was back and with a vengeance at that. At the end of each
walk, I found myself at least a kilometer behind, struggling to carry
along the equipment with all the weight on one foot. Letting nothing
in his sight go unnoticed, my officer sent me immediately along to
the doctor.
He glanced
at my face, his eyes quickly recognizing me. The discussion was short before soliciting the response, “If you
want to give yourself a decent chance of staying in this unit as a
fighter and being able to have normal use of the foot again in your life, I'm
ordering you to leave the targad
right now.” And that was it. That was the end of my imun.
With
a month-long visit home approved for the following week (more on that
later), I crossed my fingers that over thirty days of rest would allow me to
heal fully and return stronger than ever (spoiler alert: this story
has a happy ending).
I
understand this isn't exactly a post about the imun.
One can only write about the same weeks of shetach so many times
before the topic gets a bit jaded. Rather, this is a post about
injury and the struggles that can come along in the army when you least
expect them. Things aren't always as we plan them to be, but we play
the cards we're dealt.
More
posts to come.
-Brett
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