Life on the Kav

-Wake up at 7:00 A.M.

-Prepare breakfast

-Wash dishes, begin preparing lunch.

-More dishes. Dinner preparations.

-Even more dishes.

-Clean the kitchen, wash the bathrooms, take out the trash.

-Bed at 11:00 P.M.

-Spend the rest of the week guarding 3-6 (3 hours on duty, 6 hours of rest).

-Repeat.

And so went week one of my deployment, kav Hermon. A typical week on the kav can be mentally draining, compensating for the often lacking physical involvement. The guard duties are mindless and while there are plenty of hours to sleep most days, there are never more than five in a row.

The tasks can vary greatly, but each week usually consists of the following: kitchen duty, guard duty, emergency response team, and the occasional operation (more on that later). Between the many menial hours of guard duty, the quality of life is actually much improved on kav to anything I've experienced before in my service.

:'( Another kitchen duty, how sad.

Exhaustion during another guard duty.

Living on a base with far fewer soldiers (one company or less) means better food, better relations with commanders and officers, and generally a less rigorous “army” lifestyle. Walking around in civilian t-shirts, having phones on us whenever we'd like, more free time during off-hours and a generally more relaxed demeanor are a few of the more pleasant changes we got used to.

Some friends and I catching up on some smiles during free time.

Going from being screamed at endlessly for months during training, having every minute of our days planned for us, literally being given one hour of free time to use cellphones a night, and the general kader (pointless physical work), to the lifestyle of the hapash (simple soldier) on the deployment is a huge change, but certainly not an unwelcomed one.

Being the new platoon in the vatikot also means receiving lots of slots to different courses. These can include commander school, sniper school, medic school, or a variety of other shorter courses. It means saying goodbye to plenty of friends and can also mean lots of dissapointment in not receiving a specific slot you were expecting.

Something of a “turning point” in my as well as the other Americans' service came in the form of one of these dissapointments. I was informed that I was going to be sent to sniper school, something I had always been interested in and was thrilled to have received. Another American and I happily stood during standard equipment checks before our leave from base to the course when our lieutenant summoned us to his office.

After over a year in the army, it's easy to sense when bad news is coming and this was one of those moments. “I'm thrilled to have chosen you two to become our snipers. You two are exactly the type of soldiers I want in this position and I'm glad you're so eager to go,” he began. “The thing is...” oh, the ever-present catch, “I can't send either of you unless you sign an extra six months onto your service.”

While not entirely surprised at receiving bad news, I was certainly gutted. I'd never heard of this happening in any other unit in the army. In fact, friends from the garin had left to sniper school that very month from Nachal and previously from Kfir. “There is no way to go around this. It's not just sniper school. In Tzanchanim, a decision has been reached that we can't send the Americans to any courses unless they sign on extra time. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I hope you strongly consider signing.”

Surprisingly enough, even to myself, I considered the options. I offered to sign on two months (the time of the course) and was turned down. In the end, I couldn't bring myself to sign an extra six months of my life for a two month course, effectively bringing an end to dreams of commander school or really any life other than that of the hapash.

And so began the disillusionment of the Americans in our unit. To us, it simply did not seem fair. Leaving our entire lives at home to join the unit, working the hardest of everyone with determination each and every day, quite literally carrying the platoon on our backs on many an occasion, and then this. We are bombarded with requests for donations and to recruit Americans to the unit, we oblige, and then this. After all we give to the unit, we are told that unless we sign more of our lives away, we can never aspire to be anything other than a hapash.

Unfortunately, it was a breaking point for many of the Americans (myself included) and things simply have not been the same since. While many of us drafted for idealistic reasons, ones we still hold closely and dearly, it's exceptionally difficult to give the same quality of work with the same perseverance when you are receiving no recognition or thanks in reward. You receive nothing in return while soldiers who deserve it far less are being rewarded and advancing in the army. It's a massive pill to swallow and quite frankly, it still hasn't gone down easy.

It took a lot for us to get used to the idea that this would be our lives until the end of our service, but in time we got there. The deployment was mostly eventful (I'll touch on it a bit more later) and there were good days to be had as well. I hope I haven't given too harsh an account of things here, just trying to be as honest as possible with myself and with you, the readers.

Things don't always go the way we plan, but we adjust. We don't throw in the towel. Like every dark night, there is always hope for a brighter morning.

More to come!

-Brett

Welcome to the Vatikot

“Hey, where is guard station 'blue'?” I asked a fellow soldier. Looking at me, he simply pointed, no response. Frustrated, I continued walking, before stopping another soldier, one I've never met, “Can you tell me how to get to 'blue'?” He pointed at a sign on the wall, but a word. We were the new tzairim (youngsters) in the vatikot, and the older soldiers had started their games.

Rewinding just a bit, I'd to like to explain the process of being absorbed into a new company after training. As I explained quite briefly, once training on the bach is finished, the entire draft moves together into what's known as the plugat maslool (training company). This company is considered the youngest of the warriors and spends a period of four months learning on the job, so to speak.

After the four months are over, the company is broken up and each soldier is absorbed into one of the vatikot, a new company with a specific specialty, made up of soldiers from a few different drafts. There, he will remain for the rest of his service.

After our Tekes Sof Maslool (a brief ceremony recognizing the end of your first year in the army), I, along with half of my pluga (company), were assigned our new pluga. Each platoon in the company has a specific task and needs to go through a course learning this specialty accordingly. I won't disclose the nature of my new company nor what we do, but after a short course learning the basics of our specialty, we joined the rest of the company on our new border.

We arrived to our border rotation, the Hermon mountains in the north, as the youngsters of the company. While we had to deal with the unique operational challenges of watching arguably the hottest border of Israel, we also quickly found out that each company has it's own traditions of seniority and games. After being essentially ignored for the first couple of weeks on our border, we understood entirely what was happening.

While the severity of these games differs everywhere and can sometimes cross the line in certain units, it can also be a fun aspect to the service, passing the time between mundane mindless tasks.

As youngsters, we were tasked with kitchen duties and the worst guard duties, essentially pulling triple our weight for our new company. Whenever there is work to do, it immediately falls on the shoulders of the tzairim, considering the vatikim (old soldiers) have already done their fair share. While it can sound unfair, the workload is certainly not unbearable and each platoon, old or young, still executes a large number of tasks. The youngsters simply receive the less appealing ones.

After some frustrating interactions, I found the “blue” station and finished one of my many guard duties to start my time as a deployed warrior. We understood why exactly we were being ignored. In the eyes of the vatikim, we had yet to truly sacrifice or “sweat” for the company, and therefore were not worthy of joining the family yet.

The sacrifice came soon after, during our masa aliya. Yes, another masa. After being entirely convinced I was done with the dreadful, torturous task known as the masa, we were told we needed to do one more, this time to earn our way into our new family.

And so it began. We arrived at the lowest point of a Hermon peak selected by the company, and up we climbed. We climbed and we climbed, exhausted, until we reached the top with our base in sight. Smiling, I exclaimed to a friend, “very hard, but we're done!” I was wrong yet again.

The officer in charge of the company arrived and led us to the ski lift. “Everyone on the ski lift, you're going back down.” We were shocked, but mostly amused. We rode the ski lift to the bottom, smiles on our faces due to the absurd change in course.

Still in good spirits riding the ski lift.

Up we went again, this time starting with three stretchers. We huffed and puffed, exhausted as we climbed, finding yet another stretcher. 

Before finding eight stretchers!

We continued, finding another along the path, then another, until we were up to eight stretchers. Everyone carried and no one could switch, we simply did not have enough people.

Our shoulders searing with pain and the legitimate thought on our minds that they may break, we persevered, once more climbing the mountain and edging closer to our base. As we were within a short run's distance, we noticed fire leading our way, our companies name spelled out in flames.

Then came the smoke grenades. Before we knew it, the vatikim, who had until this point been ignoring us, came running out, singing songs of the company and pushing us to the finish line, congratulating us as we went and hugging us as we finished. We had paid our first dues. We had been welcomed into the family.

-Brett

"Lonely" No More

Until this past October, I had the trying experience of being a chayal boded, a lone soldier. As I've touched upon more than once throughout the duration of this blog, being a chayal boded, despite the perks, is incredibly challenging. Whether it's after what can be considered an “easy” week in the army or after two weeks of being in the field, seeing the Israeli soldiers go home to their parents, home cooked food and already-done laundry, can make the perks pale in comparison

As of October, I am happy to announce, I am no longer a chayal boded. My mother has made aliyah. While her reasons are plenty, both common and unique to all new immigrants, she has settled into her new life with her partner rather quickly and the past few months with them have been incredible.

Understandably, most of the readers of this blog will be interested in how this massive and wonderful change will affect my service as a soldier, so I will do my best to keep on topic.

Gone are the double salary, the money each month for groceries, and the stipend for rent. I've also lost my right to a mandatory yom siddurim (errand day) each month. Considering my father still lives overseas, however, I've retained the right to fly once a year, albeit for twenty-one days instead of thirty.

Losing what were admittedly major benefits has been but a small price to pay. My quality of life has increased ten-fold. Being able to come home and hug my mother after a brutal stretch in the army, kick my shoes off and relax, used to be somewhat of a dream for me. All of that has certainly become a reality and I couldn't be happier.

While the benefits have dissapeared, so have the usual challenges I used to face on my typical weekend off: making it to the grocery store before it closes for shabbat, battling with twenty other soldiers for the use of the laundry machines, finding time and the energy to make food over the weekend, and just generally spending the entire time off trying to get by rather than recovering from the army.

I understand that until this point, my blog has been a story told through the eyes of a “lone soldier,” something some of you may have considered pursuing. While the story is now one of an American living with his brother AND a parent in Israel, it is still an entirely unique perspective, one I hope will be interesting and relatable to many of you. There are still many ups and downs to be had, and many challenges to be overcome.

The adjustment has been huge and I think it will reflect as such on the blog. The changes until now have only been for the better, however, and the difficulties of an army service will certainly be far more bearable as a result.

More posts coming soon!

-Brett

Coming Home

From the foggy airplane window, I gazed at the skyscrapers as they kissed the New York skyline, still half sure that I was dreaming. As the wheels scraped down on the tarmac, my heart skipped a beat. After ten grueling months, I had finally arrived home for my first approved visit.

The trip started as perfectly as I could have hoped, being that the ticket was paid for by the army! A short domestic flight later and I was back in Florida. It all seemed unreal. I was starting my month of freedom at home with friends and family. No commanders, no masaot, no guard duty, just being a civilian.

I would be lying if I said things weren't strange for me in the beginning. For the first few days, simply waking up on my own with no schedule planned for the day was an adjustment. More than that, however, was noticing that life at home had moved on despite my absence.

I'm sure anyone who's ever lived overseas can relate, but it's completely odd and slightly disconcerting to see how everyone's lives have simply gone on without you. It was certainly awkward for me to try and insert myself back into life at home, especially with the knowledge that I'd soon be leaving it once more.

After the initial shaky few days, however, I realized just how easy it was to slide right back into the swing of things. My best friends are still my best friends, my favorite restaurants still make my favorite dishes the same way, my dog still shakes when it rains. Everything was different, yet exactly the same, and I found my way back into life at home painlessly.

A visit to college definitely gave me a pang of nostalgia and a pesky case of the “what ifs,” but not regrets. I often entertain thoughts and daydreams about coming back to school, partaking full time in the life I experienced during my trip; studying the classes I'd like to study, partying with best friends, living on my own and making my own decisions. The visit undoubtedly made me run through these thoughts all over again, but never for one second have I regretted my decision.

While I had the time of my life living the “college experience,” it was plainly clear to me that my obligation right now is finishing my service, the meaningful commitment I've made to this country. College will always be there, but it's safe to say what I'm doing right now is a time sensitive, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Time was also made on my trip for family and friends at home, as well as an unbelievable vacation cruise to Mexico. This was the complete opposite of the army and was everything I needed to reset myself before coming back and jumping right back into the grind that is my combat service.

My only regret from my month off was not maximizing my time to see everyone and do everything as planned during my ten months in the army. So I took a couple of vacation days to sit at home and do absolutely nothing, who can blame me?

In true closing cliché fashion, all things good must come to an end. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the flight back to Tel Aviv. While I had expected it to be an upsetting flight, I actually came back with excitement and a bit of a spring in my step. I came back excited to see friends and resume my life (even the army). Most exciting, however, was the massive news that my mother would be arriving the following day, after making the huge decision to live in Israel, something I'll touch upon extensively in the next post.

The month off afforded to lone soldiers is simply indescribable. It's both desperately needed and entirely earned. I am constantly amazed at the rights afforded to those who give up their lives at home to serve the army. These are the things that keep us going.

Until next time!

-Brett

A Sincere Apology

This post will not be one about experiences over the past couple of months in the army, but rather an apology to the readers of this blog.

I understand that the usual excuses for not writing on a timely fashion (being unusually busy, no access to computers, etc) are tired and not entirely valid, so I'm going to refrain from those. Rather, I'd like to do my best to justify my absence to my readers, and myself if possible, in the most honest and sincere way I know how.

The army, as I've tried to touch on previously, is an experience full of ups and downs. As a combat soldier, you physically and mentally exert yourself to the fullest on a daily basis and can experience the highest of highs as well as the lowest of lows. Your perspective on life and everything in it can change two hundred times over the span of one day, or even over the span of a two hour guard duty.

My point in mentioning this is that you can often find yourself in a place you've never found yourself before. You can learn things about yourself that quite frankly, you never wanted to learn. This can and usually does cause many issues, notably a significant decline in motivation, in the army as well as other areas of your life.

I've found myself in somewhat of a rough patch over the past few months.... Okay, in the spirit of being honest with myself and my readers, there have been periods of time over the past few months in which my shvizut (army sadness), and general outlook on things have reached extremes and there's no shame in admitting that at times, it's caused a bit of depression. Any combat soldier who has spent months cooped up in an outpost on a remote border doing static guard duty all day with no sleep can relate to this. If he can't, he's usually lying.

With this has come, as I've mentioned, a big lack of motivation which reflects both in my army work and how I feel about it when I come home for the always welcomed weekend off. I've been generally reluctant to discuss the army with family and friends, as thinking about it has just spurred on the negative feelings that I've been having. Over the past few months, I've seen my time at home as a complete break from everything and any army talk has been pushed far out of the equation. Regretfully, that has included writing about my experiences, despite this journal being followed by friends, family, and strangers alike at home.

I've thought about this issue quite a bit recently. With the ever-changing perspectives that come with my army experience, I've learned from these difficult lessons and moved forward a stronger person. I understand that from darkness comes light and in true army roller coaster fashion, much better experiences have emerged as a result of the negative ones. I'm continuing to learn and grow as a soldier and a man.

While I regret that this blog has fallen by the wayside, I've decided to revive it to the best of my ability for any of the readers still out there. The good andthe bad, the sadness and the elation, I will be documenting the rest of my service as honestly as I can. As a blogger, it's important not only to earn back the trust of my readers, but also rely on these posts once again as a form of therapeutic reflection for myself as well.

I have to apologize one last time, this time for the very negative tone of this post. I assure you since the last time I've posted, there have been plenty of joyous occasions and I will be filling in all of the blanks.

Wishing a perfect start of the summer to all of my readers and looking forward to a new start.

-Brett