Transferred!
Well, last time I left you all, I was freezing my tzitzit off way down low in the Negev desert's slowly encroaching winter. While I had thought that desert winters consist of boiling days mixed with glacial nights -- marked by a rapid transition from one to the next -- what I found was a distinct lack of boiling days. The subject of this post is how irrelevant these descriptions became, for we quickly left the desert: Boot camp over!
For advanced tank manouvers, we were transferred to the Golan Heights, a strecht of land extending from East of the Gallilee North to the Hermon mountain and Mt. Dov (Bear Mountain?). Elevation ranges from around 300m to 1100m above sea level, I am given to believe. We were around 650m, near Alika and Nafah on the Eastern border with Syria (a few miles away).
For advanced tank manouvers, we also left behind "random" pushup sessions, fun midnight runs around the barracks, and "white nights," which are like a kilayim of Shevuot and a Mr. Clean commercial ["I see a speck of dust behind your bed's wall-side under the mattress. Now you can take that mattress outside and whack it clean for 30 minutes in the glacial night. Do pushups if you're chilly, or run around the barracks. Heck, why not do pushups and run around the barracks anyway? At the same time."] Now we were no longer maggots. We were bona fide grunts, the highest of the low.
Discipline in the straight-laced Tank Corps is only on a high level relative to the rest of the Israeli army. Despite being the stuffy Britons of Tzahal, we no longer shouted "attention!" for our commanders, and saluting our officers became a fine joke. Soldiers start loosening their trousers to Marky Mark states of laxity, such that one's boxers are put on public display. [I have no idea why this particular form of brain-dead activity is popular, but 1 in 10 secular, male soldiers prefer it.]
Nevertheless, the biggest change is obviously the landscape. No more sand dunes and sand dunes, wishing futilely for at least a durned tumbleweed to break the monotony. We have trees galore in the Golan, grass and mud, a hefty amount of manure-producing animals, hills for them to graze upon, and sunsets to take your breath away. Mei Eden mineral water streams from the tap [really!]. There are little cottages dotting the landscape, such that I find Switzerland and Italy recalled to the mind.
Where's the Funny?
Well, after the first rains, 'terra firma' becomes a misnomer. There is mud, muddy water, and more mud. Ugh! It gets in the boots, in the socks, in your hair and beard. It also has the properties of quicksand, to about knee-height. Marky Mark soldiers can lose their pants, therein discovering The Funny.
Our rooms have heaters, and we are given full-body coats that allow us to keep all the heat in the same place: inside.
Instead of the six or seven hour ride to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, it's now only a four or five hour ordeal. With enough sleep deprivation the night before, these rides pass like a dream.
Because we're doing actual manouvers, it's harder to get time off. I have missed a wedding, two britot, and sheva brachot, as well as Y. Szyf's visit to the Holy Land, which I most certainly would have gotten time off for in boot camp, seeing how everything there is make-work anyway.
I think I'll return to the Small Post custom, so people might actually read the post. Exaunt Left
For advanced tank manouvers, we were transferred to the Golan Heights, a strecht of land extending from East of the Gallilee North to the Hermon mountain and Mt. Dov (Bear Mountain?). Elevation ranges from around 300m to 1100m above sea level, I am given to believe. We were around 650m, near Alika and Nafah on the Eastern border with Syria (a few miles away).
For advanced tank manouvers, we also left behind "random" pushup sessions, fun midnight runs around the barracks, and "white nights," which are like a kilayim of Shevuot and a Mr. Clean commercial ["I see a speck of dust behind your bed's wall-side under the mattress. Now you can take that mattress outside and whack it clean for 30 minutes in the glacial night. Do pushups if you're chilly, or run around the barracks. Heck, why not do pushups and run around the barracks anyway? At the same time."] Now we were no longer maggots. We were bona fide grunts, the highest of the low.
Discipline in the straight-laced Tank Corps is only on a high level relative to the rest of the Israeli army. Despite being the stuffy Britons of Tzahal, we no longer shouted "attention!" for our commanders, and saluting our officers became a fine joke. Soldiers start loosening their trousers to Marky Mark states of laxity, such that one's boxers are put on public display. [I have no idea why this particular form of brain-dead activity is popular, but 1 in 10 secular, male soldiers prefer it.]
Nevertheless, the biggest change is obviously the landscape. No more sand dunes and sand dunes, wishing futilely for at least a durned tumbleweed to break the monotony. We have trees galore in the Golan, grass and mud, a hefty amount of manure-producing animals, hills for them to graze upon, and sunsets to take your breath away. Mei Eden mineral water streams from the tap [really!]. There are little cottages dotting the landscape, such that I find Switzerland and Italy recalled to the mind.
Where's the Funny?
Well, after the first rains, 'terra firma' becomes a misnomer. There is mud, muddy water, and more mud. Ugh! It gets in the boots, in the socks, in your hair and beard. It also has the properties of quicksand, to about knee-height. Marky Mark soldiers can lose their pants, therein discovering The Funny.
Our rooms have heaters, and we are given full-body coats that allow us to keep all the heat in the same place: inside.
Instead of the six or seven hour ride to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, it's now only a four or five hour ordeal. With enough sleep deprivation the night before, these rides pass like a dream.
Because we're doing actual manouvers, it's harder to get time off. I have missed a wedding, two britot, and sheva brachot, as well as Y. Szyf's visit to the Holy Land, which I most certainly would have gotten time off for in boot camp, seeing how everything there is make-work anyway.
I think I'll return to the Small Post custom, so people might actually read the post. Exaunt Left
posted by Shlome at 3:28 PM
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