============================================================================Chapter 2 – I join the Army

One of the major goals I had set for myself in life had been achieved. I was Jewish according to orthodox Jewish law. Now it was time to become an Israeli citizen and join the IDF.

I left Yavne and went to Kibbutz Alumim, (http://www.alumim.co.il) which needed workers. Here I applied for Israeli citizenship and got my identity booklet. About a month later I received an induction notice.

At my first interview the recruiter asked me when I wanted to be inducted. "Yesterday," I said, so he set me the earliest date possible, January 1977. My first assignment, even before basic training, was to a Hebrew course. Here I met for the first time the underclass of Israeli society, the Jews from Arab countries who could barely speak Hebrew. They were rather short on Zionism. "Never mind," I thought to myself, "The quality will improve once I get into a combat unit." After a month we were sent to the great Base of Receiving and Distribution at Tel HaShomer, near Tel Aviv. After being assigned to tents our routine was as follows: After getting up in the morning and having breakfast all the new recruits went to a central area where we were divided into work crews to do crap work on the base, from painting to cleaning toilets to digging ditches. This was known as the “slave market.” After several days of this we were finally able to tell the selection officer what units we wanted to join. I volunteered for Paratroopers, but because of my extremely myopic sight, had to settle for Golani. They put us on a truck and shipped us out.

We arrived at camp Bezek in Samaria for six months of basic training. We were given a bag of chocolate milk and a banana upon our arrival then went in for a welcome talk with the Battalion Commander.

At this talk I noticed several of the new recruits whose demeanor was either a ghastly pallor, or a sickly tinge of green. One of them finally timidly raised his hand.

“Sir,” he asked, “we are supposed to be in the communications unit, why are we here?”

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot,” the Battalion Commander answered jovially. “Communications doesn’t have its own basic training, so they send their recruits to us for the first part of basic training. After that you’ll be shipped out to Base of Instruction 3 for your communications training.”

The demeanor of the communications recruits did not improve. “Well, sir,” the recruit asked, “can we possibly have an officer from communications in charge of us?”

“No need for that,” the Battalion Commander replied. “We have plenty of officers of our own to train you.”

After this greeting we were turned over to our corporals, who immediately expressed their displeasure with our behavior during the assembly.

“You guys are smoking cigarettes, doing anything you want during the C.O’s meeting,” they said. “You have a lot to learn and we will teach you.

For a few days we did nothing but crap work around the base while waiting for the rest of the recruits to show up. Finally the formal basic training began.

Our Company Commander, Lieutenant Uri Feinstein, gave an opening talk to the Company. Fienstein looked like a character from a Hitler cartoon with his thick lips, jet black beard and low forehead. He had been in the Yom Kippur War and never ceased to remind us of that fact. Sometimes, instead of a Galil rifle, he would carry the Kalashnikov he got off of an Arab he had killed

“Now, in this basic training most of the time we will use punishments to get the behavior we want from you. Rarely will we use rewards, but mostly punishments.”

On that cheery note, we began the process of being issued personal combat equipment, which consisted of the following:

Each soldier was equipped with a Galil 5.76 caliber assault rifle. With this came 8 30 round magazines. The magazines were carried in a field jacket, a harness with pouches for the magazines, two fragmentation grenades, two canteens and other sundry equipment. Fully loaded the weight of the field jacket was not inconsiderable.

Our helmet at that time was the old WWII model steel helmet with a plastic liner. The strap was modern, and went completely around the head and it always had to be tightened. The helmet was covered with burlap and camouflage netting secured with round strips of rubber from a tire inner tube. The whole thing was then blackened with shoe polish.

Each soldier carried two personal bandages and "pocket accessories" consisting of a pack of matches wrapped with plastic and sealed with black tape, the whole thing wrapped with an extra shoelace. A razor blade with one half-wrapped in tape was inserted into this package and an additional one into the rubber in the helmet. Finally, our Geneva ID card was sealed in plastic and tape and placed in the pocked of the BDU's. Our dog tags consisted of one perforated piece of metal. It had to be covered with camouflage cloth, and the chain inserted into a shoelace. Two additional dog tags were provided, to be inserted into special slots in your IDF boots. This was because in the Yom Kippur war, many Israeli tank commanders had had their heads shot off by enemy tanks (Israeli tank commanders always fight with their head out of the tank in order to see better, and the enemy always aimed too high, it would seem.). The dog tags of these headless KIA had been lost and it was difficult to identify the body, hence the additional boot dog tags. This was long before DNA testing was common.

We were issued this equipment and worked far into the night preparing it according to the corporal’s instructions. We were checked and re-checked, and they always found something wrong. Finally, after many hours of work, the equipment distribution was finished and the training began.

Now it became clear what the CO had meant by punishments. Infractions in behavior on our part were met with the following punishments:

Writing punishment. Straight out of elementary school, if you committed an infraction you would have to write a line a specified number of times. For instance, if you forgot to say “Yes, Sir,” you would be required to write “It is necessary to say ‘Yes, Sir,’ and ‘No, Sir.’ 100 times. Some repeat offenders would have to write 1000 lines, and would not be allowed to sleep until they finished them.

“To the rear, jump.” Upon receiving this command, we were forced to jump up in the air, spin around 180º, and come down facing the opposite direction from when we had begun. This seems stupid and ridiculous, but it shocks feet and a body that are already tired.

“Fall on your asses.” Upon receiving this command at the word “Ap” you were supposed to fall straight-legged on your bottom, in effect spanking yourself. In reality most people lowered themselves to a sitting position as quickly as they could. You then were told to get up again immediately. This could get very annoying if repeated often.

Encumbering: This simply was being required to carry specified equipment, usually helmet, weapon, field jacket, and, if the infraction was serious, two duffel bags (the “war duffel bag” and “peace duffel bag” each had different equipment in them). You had to perform all of the activities wearing this equipment, increasing the effort during runs, etc. “Another minute you are here, field jacket, weapon, helmet, two DUF-ul bags on you,” the corporals would chant gleefully when administering this punishment.

Running. Usually a collective punishment, a target, such as the garage or PX was selected, and we were given a certain number of seconds to run around it, when one soldier called out the time every five seconds in order to increase the pressure. If we failed to complete the run on time, the slowest among us would be declared “wounded” and we would have to carry him and run again.

Wounded: We were taught early on how to raise another soldier across our backs and carry him. Since the IDF doesn’t leave dead or wounded behind there was practicality to this punishment. Depending on the size of the carried soldier, this could be difficult.

Cancellation of liberty Most frequently administered to those who slept during guard duty, this meant giving up your free weekend and having to stay on the base. Since getting away from the base was the only way to avoid the relentless pressure, this was a devastating punishment.

Stockade From 7 to 28 days in the base lockup. You are forced to wear the ridiculous prisoner’s uniform, a parody of the regular uniform, consisting of unbloused pants, the old kind of field jacket, unbelted, with empty, dangling pouches, and a helmet devoid of the usual camouflage wrapping. The prisoner’s “weapon” consists of that ubiquitous Israeli device known as the “squiiegee”, consisting of a broomstick with a crosspiece of wood at the end with a strip of rubber embedded in it, used to move water around a floor. On this is hung a jerry can, and the prisoners march from the lockups to the latrines to clean the toilets. The squeegee soon smells like s---, and is the constant companion of the arrested soldier.

Prison A sentence of 35 or more days in one of the Army prisons. What life was like there I don’t know, as I was never sent to one.

This was a list of the most common punishments, but by no means all of them, as the continuation of the narrative will show.

Our emphasis was not on becoming killing machines, as in the Marines, but on technical solutions to tactical infantry problems. Sleep depravation was one of the aspects of the training, when a war starts the Israeli soldier must fight without sleep until the end of the war, there are not enough units available to pull one back for rest while the others fight. So we didn't get much sleep. One day we were in the lecture hall listening to a lecture on military regulations given by the company commander, a first lieutenant. Of course several guys began to doze off. When the CC noticed this the following exchange would take place:

CC: "Wake that man, slap him."

(Whack!)

CC: (To sleeper) “You are a toilet person, now go climb to the roof of the toilet."

Now, in order to understand the ordeal of these unfortunate soldiers, it is necessary to describe the type of toilet facilities we had at camp Bezek. Bezek was a captured Jordanian camp. The toilets (for the enlisted men, at least) were on the Arab model. It was no sit-down commode as we are accustomed to in the west, but merely a ceramic hole with two raised ceramic places to put your feet. It was intended that you squat down and defecate into the hole. Now an Arab can do this and score a bulls' eye in the hole every time, but a Jewish soldier could not, with the result that the feces went everywhere except into the hole. The flushing system was inadequate, so the feces just dried up around the hole. On a warm winter's day, the smell of them wafted up until it was about two meters above the roof of the toilet. So you can picture the soldiers who nodded off in the lecture standing on the roof of the toilet with horrible grimaces on their faces as they tried to hold their breaths or breathe as shallowly as possible in a futile attempt to avoid inhaling the awful stench.

Great emphasis was placed on having your equipment in proper order. After a day of lessons on how to prepare our equipment properly, we were told to make sure our equipment was in order, and then go to bed. We retired, but about an hour later we were woken up for a "battle preparedness inspection." First, you have seven minutes to get up, get dressed and assemble outside the barracks with all your equipment, in full battle dress. This night, Phinehas Avizuz was late, and was told to stand to the side by the platoon leader, a second lieutenant, who than began to inspect our equipment. More and more soldiers were told to stand with Avizuz as they were found to be lacking water in canteens, lacking bullets in magazines, lacking

cardboard between the magazines in the pouches (to prevent them from rattling against each other and making noise), and other reasons. Finally, only myself, Yoav Zeeman, and Gueita were left.

"These are the only soldiers I would want to go into combat with," the PL said, indicating us. "You guys go back to sleep."

We went into the barracks to go to sleep, but the ordeal of those who were not prepared was just beginning. First of all they had to take out two beds (big heavy metal beds) from the barracks, and onto the beds went Phinehas Avizuz and another soldier who had arrived late. The beds were hoisted onto the shoulders of the rest of the platoon. Then the corporal began asking questions about battle preparedness that the soldiers had to answer. Finally, carrying the beds and their lazy cargo, the platoon started trooping up the hill towards the water tower, so that "those that have no water in their canteens can fill them," the corporal said.

One of the first ceremonial things we had to do after getting our equipment in order was to go on our “Swearing In March.” This is the famous march where, at the end of the march, you receive (ceremoniously) your rifle and a bible. The Paratroopers end their march at Masada, Golani ends their march at “Golani Junction,” site of a battle involving Golani during the War of Independence.

We were trucked off somewhere and dumped, and began the march. Our Platoon Leader led us and set a relentless pace. Every few miles we would stop and do stretches, then start marching again. We were marching around the base of Mt. Tabor, and soon left the road and were marching overland. Many soldiers were coughing and wheezing with the unaccustomed effort, especially the soldiers from Communications.

Finally we reached “Golani Junction” and prepared for the swearing in ceremony. It was getting dark, so torches were lit. We assembled and heard speeches from several high ranking officers, then were administered “the oath,” I don’t recall the words. Then we went to a table where we had previously turned in our rifles and received them back, along with a cheap Bible. We were now “officially” Israeli soldiers, but we still had a long course of training ahead of us.

==========================================================================Chapter 3 - 1st Platoon Cast of Characters

It has been more than 30 years since I went through 6 months of basic training in Golani brigade, yet I remember the faces and mannerisms of my comrades in arms as if it were yesterday.

Below can be seen a picture of my basic training company, C Company.

My platoon, Platoon 1, is pictured on the last two rows of the upper picture. Although it is hard to make out the details, I will refer to this picture as I continue to tell my tale. Now, however, let us meet the more colorful characters in the platoon.

Uri Ben Anush, or "Arise, Son of Mankind" as his name would be translated to English, was a tall, rich Ashkenazi from North Tel Aviv. He apparently had been put into Golani because he was big, Golani, at that time, was not a volunteer unit, though more and more Israelis were volunteering for it. Son of Mankind made no bones about his not being a volunteer, he had wanted to be a driver and would complain petulantly in a loud, high pitched, whining voice which belied his size about how he hated being in this chickens*** unit.

David Speigel was the other American in the platoon, a Jew from New York City. He was a short, wiry guy who resembled a chimpanzee; indeed he would give us a very amusing imitation of a chimpanzee when the mood took him.

Yoel Yaish was a Yemminite Jew who looked like central castings answer to Amos 'n Andy. He tried hard to be a good soldier but he was so spaced out that he never succeeded. Sometimes after taps I would see him sitting on his bed (which was next to mine) staring into space. "Yaish, why don't you go to sleep," I said, as sleep was a premium for us. "No, I'm thinking deep thoughts,” he said with a bemused grin on his face.

Nisim Dayan had a facial structure like his famous namesake but there the resemblance ended. Another unfortunate assigned to Golani against his will, this Jerusalemite was always late, disappeared from formations, and was always drifting off to sleep.

Nimrod Lipsker was a rich Ashkenazi Jew who had volunteered. His high pitched, pansy like voce belied his strength of character. He wanted to excel.

Jacob Gueita was a tough Sephardic Jew from Hatikva slum in Tel Aviv. He was also a volunteer and seemed to enjoy the hard training.

Phinehas Avizuz arrived to basic training after it had started, claiming he had been assigned to Armor but wanted something tougher. We later learned that it was a case of no other unit wanting him. Central casting’s answer to the psychotic soldier; he would immediately attack anyone he thought was swearing at him.

Fredia Gershon was a moshavnick of Russian descent, a big strong guy, and a volunteer.

Saul Aberbuk, a blonde Ashkanazi, was a volunteer with a mouth on him that was going to get him into a world of trouble.

Odious Nessim was a shrimpy Sephardic Jew who wanted no part of Golani

A word on our two corporals. Coporal Lion was an ugly bucked tooth fellow from the town of Afula. He was blustering and threatening, and his bark was worse than his bite. Corporal Peretz was a handsome guy who had won the "outstanding soldier" award when he had done basic training. He was quiet, and his bite was definitely worse than his bark.

The Company Master sergeant's name was Michael Peres, and in the picture he is in the group of five pictures above the sword, second from the left. He was a devoutly religious Jew but this didn't keep him from putting the screws to us if he deemed it necessary. He was mainly responsible for seeing to food and equipment distribution, but he also had a habit of patrolling around at night. He would sometimes surprise us by appearing in the middle of the night wearing athletic shoes, sweatpants and an army windbreaker.

Now, the barracks were some distance from the showers and latrines, so most soldiers, if they had to urinate in the middle of the night, simply went outside the barracks and urinated on the ground… until one night Peres caught someone doing this. "Stand in your puddle of urine," he ordered the unfortunate soldier. "Don't move until I give you permission." The soldier stood in the puddle of urine from about 2:00 am until morning came. Flies began buzzing around the urine and the soldier standing in it and the urine began to stink as the sun shone on it. Peres came back and brought the soldier breakfast in a messtin. Finally Peres made the soldier bring a shovel and turn up the ground where he had urinated until the urine was buried.

The most significant character in our platoon was our platoon sergeant, Israel Hasson. In the picture he is in the second from the bottom row, ninth from the left. He was in charge of the discipline of the platoon. We never say his eyes; he wore his dark glasses day and night, rain or shine. Our first introduction to him came on the morning we were to go to the rifle range for the first time…

Having learned how to take care of our equipment, if not by way of our heads, than by way of our feet, and having learned the functioning of the Galil rifle and how to take it apart in classes on the base, we were now scheduled to go to the rifle range to learn how to fire our weapons. The day dawned sunny and clear after a night of rain. After reveille we were getting our equipment in order before eating breakfast when six of us, including me, were taken for KP duty in the dining room. I left my equipment in a state of disarray on the bed, as did the others. After breakfast we marched straight out to the rifle range.

Upon arriving there we found the sergeant in a foul mood. "Everyone lie down on your stomachs." He said. We lay down in the mud. "Now, roll over on your backs," commanded the sergeant. We obediently rolled

over. "If you leave your room looking like pigs, I'll make you look like pigs in the field. You left your barracks a mess today, so tonight we'll talk about it more."

We spent a long day shooting and zeroing in our rifles. At about 9:00 pm we ended the day's activities, and assembled outside the barracks where the sergeant was waiting for us.

"What happens now…" he began, "what happens now" (he was in the habit of repeating himself) "is like this. We are going to do an American inspection. Take out everything from the barracks, beds, duffel bags, all the equipment, march it up the hill to the parade ground, and assemble it there." (Where he got the idea that this is how Americans do inspections I don't know). Groaning, we began lifting the heavy metal beds, two soldiers to a bed, and carrying them up the hill to the parade ground opposite the warehouse. The sharp edges of the beds cut into our hands, and the weight of the beds, with the duffel bags loaded onto them, caused a burning pain in our shoulders. Some slackers stood to the side and watched us work, refusing to help, so the rest of us had to carry more than two beds. Finally we got everything assembled at the parade ground.

"Now,” the sergeant said, "when you clean the barracks you don't just dribble a little water on the floor and say you've cleaned it, I don't want to see any mud or dirt on the floor. Now take these 20 liter jerry cans and flood the floor with water."

Our torture was repeated as we carried the heavy jerry cans all the way from the showers to the barracks multiple times until the floor had been flooded clean. Then, we had to carry the heavy beds back down from the parade ground into the barracks. At about 1:00 am we had finished.

"Now, I expect you to know how I want to see the barracks every morning," the sergeant said. "If you won't learn by way of your heads, you'll learn by way of your feet." We posted our guards and went to sleep. Reveille was scheduled for 5:00 am.============================================================================Chapter 4 - Spiegel and Odious Nessim

In the picture, David Spiegel is in the second from bottom row, 11th from left. He was the other American in the platoon, and at 27 years was considerably older than most of the recruits in the platoon. He behaved as if he were in a war movie made in WWII.

The day after our "American Inspection" dawned bright and clear after another night of rain. We had reveille at 5:00. After assembling, we had what was called "morning run," a short run and some calisthenics. Then we were supposed to go in and start working on morning inspection. Some soldiers tried to take this time to go back to sleep, but invariably a corporal would make an inspection, catch them sleeping, and encumber them with helmet, field jacket, weapon and two duffel bags, then would take them out and run them all around. Soon even the laziest soldier learned not to try to sleep after reveille

At about 6:00 we were marched to breakfast. This may have consisted of hard boiled eggs, some bread and jam, perhaps tomatoes and cucumbers. Served with this was a holdover from the days of British control of Israel, British army tea made by pouring a 1 kg bag of tea into a 48 liter pot followed by a 1 kg bag of sugar, then letting it boil and boil and boil until it reached a thick consistency like syrup. Needless to say this warmed you up and woke you up, but it tasted terrible. Rarely did we get coffee.

After breakfast we had morning inspection at 7:00, where our weapons were checked for cleanliness, the shine of our shoes was checked, those who had no beards had their shave checked, finally, the cleanliness of the barracks was checked. No one ever passed morning inspection, everyone failed for one reason or another. Although we were told we would have an additional inspection later on, we never had time for this.

This particular day we would be going back to the rifle range, as we would for the next two weeks, learning not only how to fire our rifles, but how to fire the machine guns and throw grenades as well. We had to take

targets and other equipment out to the range. We were told to pick up a piece of equipment and to make it to the range by 8:00.

Spiegel seemed bright eyed and bushy tailed despite the fact that we had gotten only 4 hours of sleep the night before. Perhaps the fact that he only had to serve 1 1/2 years was the reason for his energy, he didn't have to hold anything back for the other 1 1/2 years. He joked around that it was "Spiegel's day to rest," and picked up only one stick used to mount a target on. When we complained, he said "the corporal said for everyone to take one piece of equipment, and this is mine." He thought himself extremely funny.

We made our way out to the range. Most of us moved quickly, but others, including Spiegel, Odious Nessim and Saul Aberbuk, strolled gaily along engaging in the Israelis constant propensity to chatter incessantly about anything under the sun. The result was that when the majority of us made it to the range by 8:00, six or seven soldiers were late and were ordered by the Platoon Leader to stand next to a berm of dirt. He then began to run them from one berm of dirt to another, giving them 30 seconds to complete the transit.

Odious Nessim refused to run.

He had made no bones about his refusal to have any part of Golani, so he deliberately strolled along at a walk, with the result that the group of late soldiers did not make it to the mound of dirt on time, and the PL made them repeat the exercise.

Some of us watching realized what was happening. "Saul,” they shouted to Aberbuk, "It's Odious, he's not running." Saul picked up on what was happening and begin to run behind Odious, pushing him and saying "Run, run you $#%&^&#!." It did no good, Odious refused to run. So the PL declared him "wounded." This meant that we had to pick him up and carry him.

A wounded soldier is carried simply by slinging the man belly down over your shoulders, as long as he does not have a stomach wound. Carry a man with a stomach wound like this his intestines would fall out.

Spiegel had been among the late soldiers forced to run. What he did next was inevitable. He walked over and scooped Odious up and slung him over his shoulders. He then walked over and stood next to a puddle of wet mud. Odious realized what was going to happen and begin to wiggle around trying to get down. "Hey, whatcha doing, stop wiggling, stop wig…," and with a mighty heave Spiegel hurled Odious off his shoulders and down into the mud puddle.

Odious tried to break his fall with his hand, but the mud was too slippery and he went face full into the mud. His face and entire body was covered with it. Bawling like a baby he got up and started to walk back to camp.

"Hey, who dismissed you?" the PL demanded. "Pick him up," he ordered us.

No one wanted to pick up the muddy Odious, so three of us gingerly picked him up the way you would pick up someone with a stomach wound, two under each leg and one under his bottom. We held the sobbing Odious this way all day long, relieving each other periodically. Whatever strain we felt holding him up was nothing compared to the humiliation of Odious.

We finally went back to camp for dinner, and then prepared to go out again for night shooting. Odious refused to go out and went into hysterics when he was ordered to march out. "Odious, your actions will have consequences," the sergeant told him.

As for Spiegel, after that day he could do no wrong in the eyes of the Platoon Leader, and became his "pet." For Odious it was the beginning of the end.

============================================================================Chapter 5 – Thursdayfriday

As the weekend approached we looked forward with anticipation to our Sabbath liberty. The corporals got wind of this and made it clear to us that we would have to earn our liberty. "Perhaps you didn't know, " they told us, "that there are only six days a week in the army: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursdayfriday, and Saturday. You will get up Thursday morning and you will not sleep until Friday night.”

Wednesday evening occurred an event of some significance. We were waiting to go into the dining hall for supper, when we heard a detonation in a barracks building some 15 meters from the dining hall. Black smoke was pouring out of one of the rooms in the barracks. I started to run towards the smoke but was called back into line by my corporal. We went in for supper. Later that night the entire company had an formation and the battalion commander came to speak to us. "Gentlemen," he said, "in this training you always have to pay attention to what you are doing. Today one of the soldiers in phase B of the training was careless with a grenade and got killed. Pay attention; keep your minds open so this doesn't happen to you."

That is all well and fine, but we soon found out that the battalion commander was not telling us the true story. The soldier had not been careless with the grenade; he had deliberately held it to his head, pulled the pin and let it explode. You see he had just finished phase A of basic training, the first three months, and could not face the thought of doing phase B. For us, who had just started phase A, this certainly made an impression on us.

Later, I inspected the room where the soldier had committed suicide. A big red splat mark shaped like a fan was on the wall.

Thursday we trained on the shooting range, then had a grueling physical training run through the neighboring Arab village of Zababdeh, then back to the base and up the hill to the water tower, than down again. The company commander looked on and was not impressed. "You're not working hard, to hell with you,” he shouted at us as we ran by. Finally the PT was over and we began preparing for an all night Commanding Officer's Inspection. Every piece of equipment had to be cleaned and put in order. The corporals came in from time to time to instruct us on exactly how they wanted to see the equipment laid out, and to make sure no one was sleeping. At one time corporal Peretz came in and I don't know what happened, but he told me to go stand outside, then he went into the barracks off the next squad, and a few seconds later the whole squad came running out. Apparently I had been smiling or something, and the other squad had laughed at something when Peretz came in. He told them to pick me up wounded, and I weighed 180 at the time, definitely one of the larger soldiers in the platoon, He ran us around from here to there and it was a definitely unpleasant perspective to be up in the air observing everything and bounding around on someone's back. Finally he stopped. "You guys are altogether too happy tonight,” he said. "You had better get serious and stick to your work."

All night we worked taking apart our guns and cleaning them, taking apart the magazines and cleaning them, cleaning our mess tins and cleaning our silverware. As morning came the platoon leader came to check on us, then finally the Company Commander. He inspected each soldier and found something wrong with everyone. He came to me and checked my magazines, they were OK. He checked my gun, it was clean. He checked the shine on my shoes, he could see his face. He checked my fork, and found some food in between the prongs. "AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGG!" I said. "Write it on the list," the company commander said to the corporal.

We were made to understand that until we completed the inspection in a satisfactory way we would not be going home. Corporal Lion delighted in torturing us mentally. "If you guys aren't ready to go," he said, "I will go anyway, sitting in the bus, I will laugh at you as the bus leaves the base." He told us to report for the battalion sergeant major’s inspection, and when we were late he said "See here, first platoon, I see you don't want to go home at all today." Just then a bus, which had come to the base to take us home, started its

engine. It was just moving from one place to another but Lion said "I hear the sound of a bus engine starting; looks like you guys are going to be left behind."

We were all basket cases when we finally assembled in front of the warehouse and stowed our duffel bags. We were in dress uniforms; the battalion sergeant major inspected us, and pronounced us ready to go. We were given instructions on how alerts would be issued to call us back in the event of an emergency. We were instructed by corporal Peretz to be careful with our weapons when we were in civilian areas. Just as we were ready to go the Company commander arrived and called out the names of six or seven soldiers. One of them was Odious Nessim. One by one the commander listed their sins by heart, for instance, "Odious Nessim refused to run the other day. Since he is in such ill health I have decided he will stay at the base this weekend. So and so slept at guard duty the other night, so he will stay here this weekend and get extra practice at guard duty," etc. etc. The six soldiers stood in front of us with sickly grins on their faces as if someone had cut their livers out and fed them to rats as they stood and observed. Finally the rest of us were given the OK to get on the busses and go home. The relief of tension as the bus passed the gate of the camp was palpable.

============================================================================Chapter 6 - Passover in Basic Training

I was still going back to Kibbutz Alumim for liberty. I had been adopted by the family of Tsviki Porat, younger brother of Hanan Porat of Gush Emunim fame and subsequent MK.

I can think of no better way of recharging the batteries than observing an orthodox Sabbath. I would reach Alumim late Friday afternoon, shower and change to my Sunday best, and go to the Synagogue to pray. Then I would go to Tsviki's house. Tsviki was kind of short, his wife Yael was very tall and skinny. At that time they had three sons, AmiHi, AdYeal, and Noam. Noam was just a tiny baby.

Tsviki would make kiddush in his house, then we would go to the dining hall for a delicious dinner of roast chicken, roast potatoes and side dishes. After that I was ready to go to bed.

I did not sleep in very late Saturday but went to morning service. I then joined Tsviki's family in the dining hall for dinner. It consisted of the traditional cholent with stuffed intestines inside. After this I went to take a long nap. When I woke up I went to Tsviki's house again for havdallah. Saturday night a movie was usually shown at the kibbutz.

Sunday morning I caught a public bus to Tel Aviv, where I met the rest of my unit next to the stadium. There we were already beginning to sit around dejectedly, anticipating the return to training. One of the soldiers from the other company had procured a bottle of kiddush wine, which he began to drink. When we got to the base he was drunk as a skunk, and had to be carried to his bed to sleep it off. He was later placed under arrest

Passover 1977

I had begun my basic training in Golani in February 1977, and already two months had passed. Our training routine was interrupted as Passover approached, because the Israeli army keeps strict kosher, and we, as Jews all over the world, had to make everything ready for Passover. This meant a whole week of fatigue work.

Our company master sergeant was religious, and he had a store of special Passover dishes that was taken out of storage and cleaned, then set aside. We then went to work in the kitchen, boiling any dishes that could be made kosher for Passover by boiling. We were then put to work cleaning every nook and cranny of the kitchen and dining rooms under the supervision of an army Rabbi. Meanwhile the other two companies were weeding the base and cleaning and painting all the buildings. They also had to clean the toilets, which have previously been described. In short everything was cleaned and cleaned again.

As the weekend approached, we were aware that we had just had liberty the weekend before so our situation was as follows: We knew that one of the other companies was definitely going out on liberty unless there was a full scale war. The other company was definitely staying to guard the base and for "battle preparedness." We were in limbo. Depending on the state of alert we would either go out or stay. In reality this uncertainty was worse than if we knew we were staying, we were on edge all week.

Finally, after a hard week of work, the buses came again and we lined up for inspection. The other company got on busses and left. We stood there. We were told we were going. We were told we were staying. Finally the word came down, high alert, we were staying. With sick feelings in our stomachs we saw the busses rev up their engines and leave empty. We went back to our barracks to mope around.

At about 3:00 pm that afternoon the Company Executive Officer, who was staying with us on the base when the CO went home, called a formation. He told us that several soldiers had gone AWOL already and that it was our responsibility to see that no one else did. He said that everyone that left made more work for us who stayed. We listened to him, secretly envying those who had run off.

The first day of Passover and the Sabbath were back to back that year, and I don't remember which came first, but I do remember the night of the Seder. We took all the food to the lecture hall as the dining room was not big enough for all of us. The dinner was very good, roast beef, roast chicken, boneless chicken breasts called schnitzel, rice and potatoes. We began the Seder under the direction of a visiting rabbi. As we drank the four cups of wineDayan began to drink another and another. Soon he was drunk as a skunk. The XO noticed and he and corporal Lion carried him back to the barracks. We then began the hallel. It was too early for me, I hadn't finished eating.

We went back to the barracks to find Dayan snoring away. We all got ready for bed too. Then Dayan woke up and vomited on the floor next to his bed. Nimrod Lipsker was bunking next to him. "Now, comrades," he said in his pleading pansy gay voice, "someone be a gentleman and clean that up." No one took him up on the offer. With disgust he went outside, found a piece of cardboard, put it over the vomit and went to bed.

The next day the Platoon Leader forbade us to drink any wine. We did the usual base activities on a holiday or Sabbath, guard duty, some light KP in the dining hall. We rested as much as possible. Next week was going to be more difficult than anything we had experienced so far.============================================================================Chapter 7 - The Ordeals of Aberbuk Saul

Let us digress for a moment and examine the persona of Aberbuk Saul. Despite his Sephardic sounding name, this blond fellow was Ashkanazi. He was thought by the corporals to have some leadership qualities. He was made "recruit helper" (this is the nearest translation I can come up with for the Israeli term chanik toran) and his job was to see to it that the corporals' orders were followed. For example, if we were to assemble at a certain place at a certain time, Saul was expected to make sure that we got there. If we were given the command to run around a building in 30 seconds, Saul was expected to yell out the time every five seconds, e.g. "five….. ten…. Fifteen……" in order to increase the pressure on us and make sure we did the run on time.

Unfortunately, this went to his head. He began to goof off and attempted to become entirely too chummy with the corporals and sergeant, who would not have any part of it. More and more he was punished, for example, if we were having a lesson and he mouthed off he would be taken outside by one of the corporals who would argue with him for a little while before encumbering him with full battle dress and two duffel bags and making him run. He would then rejoin the lesson, still encumbered with the battle gear. He would smoke during formations, and would be forced to pick up 500 cigarette buts before he was allowed to go to sleep. One time he was late for a formation because he had been buying goodies at the PX. He ran into the barracks and threw his goodies on his bed before running outside and joining the formation. The sergeant went into the barracks, came out with Saul's goodies and systematically opened each package and bottle and threw them in the trash.

One day during a lesson he became so smart-assed that he was ordered by corporal Peretz to bring all his equipment from the barracks and set it up next to where we were having our lesson. He had to make several trips carrying the bed, mattress, kitbags and sleeping bag and setting it all up. Meanwhile, Arise, Son of Mankind had got into trouble also and was given the same punishment. He went to the barracks, took his bed outside, loaded all the equipment onto it, then dragged it to the class area with an insolent look on his face.

At about this time the corporals instituted what was called the “night patrol” or “night commandos.” These were those recruits who had screwed up during the day, anything from mouthing off, to dozing off during lessons, chewing gum or smoking when it wasn’t allowed. The night patrol worked like this. , About a half and hour after taps, the corporal in charge (Peretz in particular delighted in doing this) woke up those who they had determined would be honored by being members of the “night patrol.” These soldiers were told to encumber themselves with full battle gear and two duffel bags. They would then begin their “patrol,” running from here to there around the base. One time they even went to the lesson area and had a lesson on the M.A.G machine gun because Corporal Peretz had not been satisfied with their behavior during the day’s lesson.

Aberbuk Saul was a regular member of the “night patrol;” in fact, he was “recruit helper” for the night patrol, in charge of calling out times for the rest of the patrol as they ran from place to place. Unfortunately for him this additional training did not put a stop to his smart mouth or swelled head

This behavior reached a peak on another Thursdayfriday. Yet again we had an American inspection, ordered by the Company Commander. We bore our beds up to the parade ground (it gets easier every time you do it) and sat around waiting for the inspection. Suddenly the Company Commander appears, in a rage, and shouts "Where is Aberbuk?" He was nowhere to be found "Find Aberbuk!" he roared. We ran all over the base like chickens with our heads cut off looking for him but we couldn't find him. Hours went buy. We finished the American inspection and put our beds back. We had been told by the XO that we were going to sleep, but the Platoon Leader had other ideas, namely a stretcher march. This is a long hike carrying two stretchers on which were placed the two smallest soldiers in the platoon. This is a grueling exercise as you take your place on a stretcher and carry it as long as you can before asking someone to relieve you. Just as we were about to depart Saul shows up. Seems he had been watching TV in the infirmary with the girl-soldier medics. The Company Commander boiled with rage. "Full battle gear and two duffel bags!" he bellowed. When Saul returned he began running him all around. "30 seconds to the Garage!" he yelled. Saul ran to the garage. "Tell him he has 30 seconds to get back here," he told the recruit-helper. "Saul, 30 seconds you're here," the helper yelled at the top of his lungs. Saul, who realized by now that he was in big trouble, came running back. He was still being run from place to place by the company commander as we departed on our stretcher march.

On the march the PL demanded "night discipline," or absolute silence. He took off at a slow jog, expecting us to follow him with the stretchers. We yelled and cursed, making him angry. "Don't run," said Nimrod Lipsker. "Who talked?" demanded the PL. Lipsker raised his hand. "Get onto the stretcher," he said grimly to Nimrod. Now, with two "wounded" on the stretcher our bleats of protest grew even louder, so the PL took us to the rifle range and made us carry the stretcher on our knees. Finally about 4:00 am our torture ended and we made our way back to the base.

Saul was standing in front of the company office. He had been standing their since 2:00 am and he would continue to stand there, in full battle gear and two duffel bags, until 11:00 am in the morning.

The rest of us prepared morning inspection, went through the usual mental torture prior to departure to liberty, put on our dress uniforms and prepared to go out. Saul did not yet know his fate, if he would be allowed to depart or not, and the mental torture no doubt exceeded his physical agony, to stand for hours in front of the office not knowing your fate and imagining all kinds of things. Finally the Company Commander appeared and rendered judgment. "Aberbuk, your liberty is revoked, you stay here this weekend, report to Sergeant Cohen of A company (which was remaining on the base) at each meal." As the buses departed we saw Saul moving zombie like to the barracks.

No doubt because of all this pressure Saul began to develop the peptic ulcer that was to be his undoing as we moved into the next phase of training.

===========================================================================Chapter 8 - Son of Mankind's bad night

The day after Passover we were to go into the field for "field training" where we would learn camouflage, how to defend and attack positions, how to spy on Arab villages, and night activities. But first we had to learn how to make the jawpack. This consisted of one large pack and one small pack that attached to the top of it. In the large bottom pack went your extra boots, clothing, and 1/2 of a pup tent with 1 set of poles and stakes. In the top pack went your mess tin and toiletries. Finally your sleeping bag was held by two thin straps to the bottom. When the whole thing was assembled it looked like a jaw, hence the name. It was extremely difficult to put together. It was hard to work the straps of the small pack into the buckles of the large pack. The corporals showed us what to do and left us to work on them for awhile then came back to check our work. Corporal Lion would lift one jawpack, shake it vigorously, and it would fall apart. "That's terrible," he mocked. "Do it over." We worked on the jaw packs beginning after Passover ended at sundown, far into the night. At about 1:00 am the Company Commander did an inspection. He checked Spiegel's jawpack, it was tight as a drum. "You like Golani, don't you Spiegel?" the Company Commander asked him. Spiegel was bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual, the man never seemed to get tired. Finally we were allowed to go to sleep for a couple hours.

The next morning was spent loading the trucks with our field kitchen and food. In the afternoon we moved out. One of the soldiers from the communications unit named Miracles could not carry his jawpack. I could easily understand why. Miracles was skin and bones, about 5’ 4”, with a wispy beard, the quintessential yeshiva student. Finally his corporal ordered two strong soldiers to carry the jawpack for him. We went no more than a mile from the camp on a dirt road to a narrow valley between two mountains. Even though I was exhausted I was aware of the beauty of the Samarian countryside around us. We stopped and corporal Peretz addressed us:

"See here, platoon, we are starting field training, which is the ABC's of soldering, nay, it is the AAA of soldiering. What you learn these two weeks will be the basis of all of your training and education. I will not tolerate any goofing off. You see how many mountains there are around here, I can run you as much as I want."

On that cheery note we climbed up the side of one of the mountains. It was cultivated, as most of the hills of Samaria are, by terraces and olive trees. We were told to pitch our pup tents and dig foxholes. The ground was rocky and extremely hard to dig in. Then we pitched the tents. Each soldier had 1/2 of a tent, they were snapped together and pitched with poles, held up by stakes. Two soldiers slept to a tent, and all the equipment had to be stuffed in as well. We then went down the mountain to supper. The food was strictly rationed and generally inadequate. After dinner we went on another stretcher march. Once again the Platoon Leader found cause to place two men on the stretcher, with the result that it tore. The PL made us get one on one, "wounded," half the platoon carried on the backs of the other half. "Who tore the stretcher?" he demanded. Arise, Son of Mankind began to sob. Whack! The PL slapped him in the face. "You dare to cry, G-d help you if you cry on me.," he said. "It's hard for me!" Son of Mankind wailed. We made our way back to our hillside camp and went to sleep, we thought.

Soon we were awakened for a "battle preparedness" inspection. We cursed and stumbled around in the darkness trying to find the assembly point. Everyone except Nir Paz arrived late. "Everyone who was late stand over there," Corporal Lion said. Most of us stood where he indicated, but Arise, Son of Mankind stood next to Nir Paz. "Son of Mankind, you were late, go stand over there," corporal Lion said.

"But SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRR! I was on time," (and there was righteous indignation in his voice as Son of Mankind said "I.")

"No, you were not on time, go stand among those who were not on time."

Son of Mankind's high pitched whining wail pierced the black night. "SIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRR! I was standing right here when you shouted 'Attention.' I was on time, SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"Son of Mankind,“ said corporal Peretz in a sepulcher voice. "You most certainly were not on time, go stand among those who were not on time."

Son of Mankind continued pleading and whining. Finally Peretz said "See here, Son of Mankind, being on time means not only being at the place by the time designated, but being there in full battle gear and with your shoes tied." He indicated the untied state of Son of Mankind's boots. "Now, everyone run down the mountain and meet on the road there in two minutes."

With horrible cursing that I cannot commit to print here, Son of Mankind joined the rest of us as we descended the rocky treacherous mountain in the dark. We assembled on the road nowhere near on time and were told to go one on one "wounded" again.

"Well, you still haven't learned," corporal Peretz lectured us again. "We'll keep drilling you until you are on time. Two minutes up the mountain and back in the camp!"

Cursing, we ran back up the mountain, and were placed in "wounded" position by corporal Lion waiting on the top. He continued lecturing us as corporal Peretz joined him. Finally, Phinehas Avizuz broke and yelled "What about us? What about us, huh?"

"Oh, OK, now you can all go back to sleep," corporal Peretz said, "BUT… Son of Mankind guards the camp, and Phinehas Avizuz guards at headquarters."

We stumbled back to our pup tents for the remaining 1 3/4 hours left until reveille. Thus ended our first day in the field.

===========================================================================Chapter 9 - Training in the Field

The next day dawned a warm spring day. Despite the ordeal of the night before we were in high spirits as we ate our breakfast than went up to the head of the valley for the Company Commander's lecture. We were laughing and talking and not really paying attention to our sergeants or corporals, so the Company Commander made us run with "wounded" on our backs. This still didn't quiet us down so Sergeant Marrick of 2nd Platoon addressed us:

"Does everyone identify that mountain yonder?" he asked. "Sure, it's beautiful," we answered cheerily. "Nadav," he indicated a large blonde kibbutz nick from 3rd Platoon, "You're recruit helper. See that everyone is standing on the top of that mountain in five minutes."

We started climbing rapidly up the mountain, leaping over terraces and moving through the bushes. When we all go to the top Nadav shouted "Attention." Well, not all of us were at the top. Several soldiers, among them Phinehas Avizuz, had decided they were not going to climb the mountain. They were hiding behind the terraces and trees on the slopes of the mountain. Corporal Peretz climbed up the mountain, flushed them out one by one, and sent them down to the Company Commander. We then saw him talking to them, then they got down on their bellies and began to crawl. Then we saw half of them lie on the other half and they crawled carrying each other. Then we saw sergeant Marrick signal us to come down.

When we got down and assembled the CC began his lecture. "You will be trained how to prepare your equipment so it doesn't stand out in the field," he said. "You have already been told to cover your watches with camouflage cloth or special leather watchbands." He noticed several soldiers wearing shiny watches and confiscated them. "Now, you will go back to your camp and blacken your packs with shoe polish, and cover all the buckles with black tape. Today you will practice setting up an observation post in enemy territory. Then you will learn tactics for combat in open terrain."

"If you come under fire from close range you immediately charge the target, bringing your rifle up and sighting as you run forward. If you come under fire from medium range you hit the dirt, crawl or roll toward a place of concealment, from which you return fire, then get up and run toward the next place of concealment, aiming and firing as you run, until you reach close range, when you charge the target. You will be trained on how to do this and drilled all week and next week with dry runs."

We were dismissed to go back to our base and blacken our gear. We were then assembled to move out but Phinehas Avizuz didn't want to come, and remained in his tent with his shoes off. Seems that since he had been punished by the Company Commander he thought he could rest for the remainder of the day. Corporal Rafi, who was on loan to us from 2nd Platoon, asked for "two strong men" to come with him and they carried Avizuz to the assembly. The Platoon Leader talked to him. "If you think you are sick we can talk about it, but you don't just decide on your own not to come. Get your shoes on and prepare to move out."

We moved to the training area, a field covered with rocks and thorny weeds, where we were drilled on the proper way to "hit the dirt." "When I say AP, hit the dirt," the sergeant said. "AP, no not fast enough, everyone get up. AP! Still not good enough! I'll keep drilling you until you do it right. AP!" When the sergeant was satisfied with our "hitting the dirt," he taught us the three ways to crawl.

"The first way is the regular 'Indian Crawl' like you see in war movies. The second way is 1 on 1 crawling, in which you move so slowly you only move 10 meters in 1 hour. This is used for sneaking up on enemy positions. Finally, there is the side crawl, used when you are moving under an obstacle and don't want your canteens to snag." We practiced crawling over the thorny rocky field all afternoon. That evening the Platoon Leader built a bonfire on the top of a hill and told us to use what we had learned to sneak up on him. After that we went to bed.

The next morning we started off on a hike before breakfast. As we went down the valley and out into the Sanur Valley I thought it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. An Arab village, gleaming white in the dawn, was on a low hill in the middle of the valley. I thought I would like to live here some day, but at that time there were no Jewish settlements to be seen. We reached another small valley and climbed up the side of the mountain to establish "observation posts." Son of Mankind and me found a nice little nook in the bushes. We settled in there to nap but soon Corporal Peretz called out "Son of Mankind and Curtiss, good morning, how's your nap?" I moved some branches to prove we weren't sleeping. Then Corporal Peretz saw that Son of Mankind had removed his field jacket. "Son of Mankind, did you remove your field jacket?" he asked. "But Sir, its too cramped in here," Son of Mankind protested. Corporal Peretz was unimpressed. "You're encumbered with it," he said, meaning Son of Mankind had to wear his field jacket everywhere. Son of Mankind whined in protest to no avail.

We ended our exercise and went back to camp for breakfast, than begin learning about combat in open terrain, individual soldier level. We practiced hitting the dirt, crawling to a boulder, simulating shooting by saying "bang! bang!” and running towards the target. Spiegel was amazing. He would run between the boulders like a mountain goat, yelling "bang bang bang bang bang bang" and trample the target down when he reached it. The PL was extremely delighted by him.

As the end of the week came upon us we knew we would be going home, as we had stayed behind on Passover. On Thursday night we would take our 35 kilometer march, the first big march of the training.

============================================================================Chapter 10 - Dayan's shovel

Wednesday morning we had an equipment check. The Sergeant noticed that Dayan had no shovel. "Where is your shovel, Dayan?' asked the sergeant. "I must of left it in the field the other day when we practiced observations," Dayan replied. The sergeant became apoplectic. "What, you left your shovel in the field?" the sergeant said, grinning maliciously. "That will cost you a great expense."

That night after we were finished training the sergeant gathered us together. "Dayan left his shovel in the field, so now we'll go back and look for it," he said. "Dayan, wounded in the air." We picked Dayan up

wounded and hiked at a rapid pace back to where we had done the observation exercise. As we hiked the sergeant ordered us to shout "We left a shovel in the field" over and over again. When we got to the place where we had done the observation exercise the sergeant ordered us to spread out. "Now, when I say 'AP!', hit the dirt!" he ordered. "AP!" We all hit the dirt. "Now, everybody crawls across the mountain and looks for Dayan's shovel," the sergeant ordered.

Groaning and cursing we began crawling across the rocky, thorny slope looking for Dayan's shovel. We did not find it, of course, the Arabs had got it long ago. The sergeant still made us cross the field at a crawl many times until the hour was late and we were all sore. Finally he let us get up and go back to the road.

"Now, pick up Dayan as if he had a stomach wound," the sergeant ordered. This meant one man under each of Dayan's shoulders, and one under his feet. It was if he was being crucified horizontally, and he squirmed with discomfort as we began to carry him back. Finally halfway through the hike he couldn't stand it anymore. "Put me down!" he shouted. "Keep carrying him," the sergeant ordered. We carried the moaning Dayan all the way back to the camp. "I'll see the cost of the shovel is deducted from your pay," the sergeant told Dayan.

Thursday evening finally arrived and we prepared to go on our 35-kilometer hike. It was still Passover, we couldn’t' eat bread so they gave us beans for dinner instead. Then we started the march. We went out to the main road and through the village of Az-Zababida. We initially were in high spirits, singing and imitating the sergeant's favorite sayings like "I heard you," or "That doesn't interest me." As night fell the PL ordered "night discipline." As the kilometers fell behind us the toll of the march began to tell. The PL was going at a pace just short of a run. We were marching on an old Roman road, you could still see the cobblestones and rain gutters 2000 years after it had been built, probably by Hebrew slaves. I remember exactly what day this was because it was the first time Israel's Macabbi Tel Aviv was to win the European Basketball Championship. The PL wanted to get to the base and see the game. More and more soldiers began to fall behind only to be herded up to the PL again by the sergeant and Corporal Lion.

In the distance red tracers were seen going up in the night. The PL called on the walki-talkie to try to see who was firing them but got no response. We kept marching, going behind a mountain. One of the soldiers began to sob, and the PL angrily told him to march 50 meters in front of the main column. Finally, one of the soldiers, a dark skinned Yeminite named Danny Naggar, (Spiegel called him "nigger") stopped and said he couldn't go further. Just then the company commander drove up in his jeep. "Are you sure you can't continue?" he asked Naggar. "No," Naggar said.

The Company Commander addressed us. "This is what you have been training for, now you will break out the stretcher and carry Naggar back to the base." He went on about the virtues of tough training and how we never leave wounded behind and how important it was to train hard. He went on for so long, in fact, that Naggar got his second wind and by the time the Company Commander was done with his speech Naggar was ready to continue.

The PL heard on the walkie-talkie that Macabbi Tel Aviv had won and told Spiegel to tell everyone (Spiegel was, of course, strolling along like he was taking a walk in Central Park, keeping the pace with no effort at all.) The PL became angrier and angrier as more people began to wail and complain and move more slowly. We finally saw the gates of the base ahead. The PL marched up to the gates, then turned 90 degrees and began walking down the road toward Kalkiliayh. The wails and complaints and cursing reached a tumultuous crescendo. Several soldiers refused to follow the PL and tried to go into the base, forcing Corporal Lion to chase them and drive them back to the road. Finally the PL saw we were not going to follow him. He assembled us inside the base.

"You are a bunch of weakly wimps," he told us. "You do not deserve to shout 'Up, to battle'" (which we always did at the end of a long hike). Abraham Ascapa misunderstood him and led us in a resounding "Up, to battle," shouted three times. "Shut up, already," the PL shouted angrily. He made clear his disgust for us and left.

We were told to organize our equipment before going to bed, and were dismissed to the barracks. As I was working on getting my equipment organized I saw that Spiegel had stripped to his underwear and was already sleeping like a baby in his sleeping bag. The next occurrence I am about to relate happened all in one fluid motion. Corporal Peretz came into the barracks, immediately noticed Spiegel sleeping, as his bed was right next to the door, reached down, grabbed the bed and dumped Spiegel onto the cold, damp floor. Spiegel jumped up and wound up his fist to give Peretz the big punch. Peretz reached over and grabbed his fist and said "Oh ho, you're going to punch your corporal, are you?" Spiegel lowered his fist.

"Sir, I didn't notice it was you, but why'd you dump me out of bed?"

"You know you're not allowed to sleep until taps, Spiegel, why aren't you organizing your equipment like everyone else?"

"Sir, I understood that we were to go to bed!"

"Grandmother tales!" replied Peretz.

As Peretz and Spiegel continued arguing, I lost interest and went back to getting my equipment ready. Finally we were called out for taps and posting of the guard. The guard roster was read by the "recruit helper."

"From 12:00 to 1:00, Moshe and Spiegel. From 1:00 to 2:00 Aaron and Spiegel. From 2:00 to 3:00 Jacob and Spiegel, from 3:00 to 4:00 Issac and Jacob, from 4:00 to 5:00 Guieta and Suissa.

So Spiegel paid for his nap with 3 hours of guard duty.

The next day we went through our usual inspections and the buses came. We got on them and they rolled out of the camp. Tina Charles was singing "Rendezvous" on the radio. Everyone was laughing and joking, Spiegel stood in the aisle, strumming his rifle as if it were a guitar. Finally everyone wound down. Spiegel sat down and was soon fast asleep, his head bouncing against the window of the bus as it traveled the rough Samarian road. Most everyone else was sleeping also but I loved to look at the countryside as we drove through it. Samaria was so much more beautiful that the coastal plain or the Negev. Finally the bus reached Tel Aviv, and we went our separate ways, knowing we would see each other again come Sunday.

============================================================================Chapter 11 - We lose three soldiers

We came back from liberty and began training hard in the field again. Odious Nessim was refusing to cooperate as usual. One morning Corporal Lion told him to crawl as punishment. He laid down in the field and wouldn't move, just lay there. Corporal Lion made us shout "Odious, start crawling," but he still wouldn't crawl. Gabbi Ami went over and wanted to drag him but Corporal Lion wouldn't let him.

The next day I had KP in the morning. Odious Nessim was also working KP in full battle gear. Later that morning he disappeared. We never saw him again.

The rigors of the field training began to tell on Aberbuk Saul. His ulcer pained him more and more. One night he was serving as recruit helper, he failed to get us into formation in time. "Gershon, take over, I have to go to the medic," he said, holding his stomach in pain. "Aberbuk Saul, you haven't been relieved, take your position, everyone one on one wounded!" corporal Peretz said. Had Saul not been such a smart-ass since the beginning of training he may have garnered more sympathy. As it was he was sobbing in pain before he was released to visit the medic. "Amnon, please do something," he said, writhing in pain. "Saul, I have no medicine here, just tough it out," our Company Medic Amnon said. He soon finally realized Saul was not fibbing and an ambulance was summoned. We could hear Saul sobbing in pain over the noise of the siren as the ambulance went back to base.

After Saul's ulcer was treated he was humiliated by being assigned to the PX. We would go there and say "Saul, give me a bag of potato chips and a coke," or "Saul, give me a chocolate bar and a pack of cigarettes," etc. "Well, Saul," our corporals would taunt as they went into the PX to get their snacks, "How does it feel to be commander of the goodies?"

Saul eventually recovered from his ulcer and rejoined the next class of recruits for phase B. I was to encounter him again in non-commissioned officer's course.

One day the Company Commander saw us passing by and asked us how much sleep we had gotten the night before. "Two hours," someone said. Soon the sergeant gathered us together.

"Well, in my opinion you don't deserve it, but it seems you are gong to make up several hours of sleep now," the sergeant said. He told us to go to our pup tents, post guards and sleep for four hours. Most soldiers were joyful but me and several others smelled a rat. Our suspicions were further aroused when Corporal Peretz came around and checked in each tent to see if we were undressed. "You, there, get undressed and into your sleeping bag," he ordered someone. After he left I told the guard "keep your eyes on the commanders and tell us what they are doing."

"They're all standing at the junction talking," he said. I began to get dressed. After about ten minutes the guard said "OK, guys the jig is up, he's going to call an alert." Suddenly we heard the sound of the Company Commander's rifle being discharged into the air. I was already dressed and ran out to the assembly point with all my gear. Soon others joined me. After seven minutes the Company Commander stopped anyone who arrived and told them to stand aside. Miracles the little communications soldier could be seen on the hill desperately trying to organize his gear. “Just tell that man to stay where he is,” the CC said in disgust. “There is no need for him to even come down here.” When everyone else had arrived he addressed us.

"Now, you have not yet become proficient in battle preparedness exercises, as not all of you have arrived on time. It is very important that you learn to be up, dressed and in formation in seven minutes. I will keep drilling you on this even if I have to do it during the day. Now all of you who arrived on time are dismissed, those of you who did not will be drilled by me."

We stood and watched as the Company Commander ran the latecomers, encumbered with their Jawpacks, from hill to hill. We then continued training.

The next day the Company Commander was giving one of his innumerable lectures when three Arabs and a donkey came down the road. "Now, go bring me those Arabs and the donkey," the CC ordered us.

Using no strategy we simply charged toward the Arabs. They did what any self-respecting Arab would do if he saw a company of Israeli soldiers coming toward him, they turned and fled. God, they ran fast! We only caught two of them, a small boy and his older brother. We dragged them sobbing toward the CC. He spoke to them in Arabic for several minutes and then released them. The left with whatever dignity they could muster. "That’s not nice what the CC did to those Arabs," said Nimrod Lipsker in his high gay pansy voice.

During our training in the field it was still cold, so Thursday night when the sergeant asked who couldn't go on a stretcher march there was no shortage of volunteers. Arise, Son of Mankind was serving as recruit helper. He complained that he was sick. The sergeant addressed us.

"Perhaps some of you don't know that your sergeant has a throat infection and 103 fever," he said to us, "still, I am leading you on this march. Put your recruit helper on the stretcher and let's move out."

On the march the sergeant became delirious and began to order us to do zany things like stand outside an Arab house and yell "PAR!" I don't know what that means. He would randomly tell us to "hit the dirt," or to run around rocks and trees that he happened to see. We finally reached the base and as we were going to stay there that weekend, we were allowed to go to sleep.

Friday night we had a big Sabbath dinner, the Company Master Sergeant ordered us to sing glad songs, and the Company Commander gave a talk. He told us what was good about our field training and where he wanted improvement. "Now, I see some of you have lost your field caps, and every Arab in Zababdeh is wearing an IDF work cap. If you lose your work cap, you wear your dress beret, and if you lose that you wear your helmet. I will fine you and you will pay for everything you lose, do you hear me Dayan Nissim.? Dayan looked uncomfortable.

"Also, you will learn to obey my orders. If I tell you to bring me three Arabs and a donkey don't bring me just two Arabs and smile at me."

Finally the CC said, "I have begun to weed out the toilet people from the company. Odious Nissim has been sentenced to 72 days in prison for his refusal to train. Now 35 days in prison is possible to bear but 72 days is very depressing. So all the toilet people will go to prison, and the good soldiers will remain here."

After the lecture we had a good Sabbath meal.

The next day we had base service, consisting of KP in the kitchen and base guard duty. We had a formation and Danny Nagger was missing. "Where is Nagger?" corporal Peretz asked." Spiegel spoke up.

"Moshe and I were guarding at the gate, he came up and said he was going AWOL. We wouldn't let him leave. We last saw him going toward the unguarded side gate."

"He must have run off," someone said.

"See here, 1st Platoon, this is your fault," said Corporal Peretz. "When you think someone is going to run off you stick to him like glue and don't let him do this." We couldn't figure out why this was our fault. In any case, three soldiers less we finished our Sabbath rest and got ready for the next phase of training.

============================================================================Chapter 12 - IDF Colloquialisms

In order to understand the continuation of my narrative we must examine peculiar jargon used by soldiers in the IDF. Most of this jargon involves references to the male reproductive organ, and many are somewhat difficult to translate. I will begin with the easiest and work up to the hardest.

My penis is broken: This is easy to translate; it means "I am fed up with this," e.g. "My penis is broken from this running" means "I am fed up with this running." The usual response from the corporals is "Put a cast on it."

To have intercourse with one's mind: Or the more vulgar "To f*** the mind,” This can be translated "To deliberately engage in a course of action designed to cause mental anguish to someone."

To put penis on someone or something: This concept is difficult to translate. In general it means to give less than 100% effort while performing some duty or task, or towards someone who has ordered such a task. For example, when Odious Nessim refused to run between the mounds of dirt, thus forcing the others to keep running indefinitely, the PL turned to us and said "That man [Odious] is putting penis on all of you," meaning he, by not giving 100% effort, was causing the rest of us difficulty. Therefore this term is best translated as "to slack off and give less than 100% effort."

Swearing and cursing: Swearing and cursing in the IDF and in Israel in general is done on the Arab model and usually in the Arabic language, referring to the intimate body parts of the female (rarely male) relatives of those who you are swearing at. It is dangerous to do this around a Bedouin, as they are likely to pull out their knife and gut you.

Resuming our story, in most armies of the world the new recruits first learn close order drill. Up until now we had not learned this, but Memorial Day was coming up, so we had to learn it as we were slated to be honor guards at a Military Cemetery. The sergeant was in the infirmary with his infected throat, so Corporal Lion tutored us. He taught us marching, left and right face, bringing our weapons to present arms, etc. "That's terrible," he would say gleefully as we screwed up the drill. "If you guys don't start getting this right you'll spend Independence Day in the Kitchen cleaning the 48 liter pot. Remember, 1948 was also an important war."

After a time the Company Master Sergeant took over and drilled the whole company far into the night. By Memorial Day we were ready and taken to Afula cemetery for the ceremonies. We were issued blank rounds for the salute. Then we were bunked in a local school house for the 24 hour guard on the cemetery.

One soldier by the name of Patrick Duab lived in Afula, so he sneaked out to the town center to hang with his friends. Duab had wanted to be a mechanic, and in fact had been an apprentice when he was drafted. He told the Battalion Commander that Golani was too hard for him and he wanted to work in the Garage. "Do what you can, and we'll talk about it when basic training is over," the Battalion Commander said. So Duab had trained with us and managed to keep up quite well.

On his outing to downtown Afula who should Duab meet but Corporal Lion, who was also from Afula. He returned to us very red faced.

After Memorial Day was over we got to take Independence Day off. Before we got onto the bus the PL announced who's liberty was cancelled for disciplinary reasons. Duab was the last person he called. "Duab, you're staying here, right?" he asked. "In case you don’t' know," he addressed us, "Duab went home last night." Duab looked crestfallen, but later told us he had waited until everyone else left, then hitched a ride on a truck to Afula, and hidden in his house all day for fear of meeting Corporal Lion again.

The truck took us to Afula, where I caught a bus to Tel-Aviv. As we passed the Diamond Exchange the windows were lit up to create a large "29,” Israel had been in existence 29 years.

============================================================================Chapter 13 - Preparing for Phase B

We were now finished with Phase A of the basic training. Some soldiers of the communications unit which had (to their horror) been attached to us for Phase A of the training left us now forever to go to the communications school at Base of Instruction 3. We were left with nothing but Golani now.

The first thing we had to do was draw our platoon special weapons. The platoon was divided into two squads, each commanded by a corporal. The sergeant was second in command of the platoon, and the Platoon Leader, a second lieutenant, was in command. There were three platoons in Company C, which was commanded by a 1st Lieutenant. Another 1st Lieutenant was Executive Officer. Three companies made up the Recruit Battalion under the command of a Major, with a Captain as executive officer.

Each squad of the platoon was outfitted as follows:

1 M.A.G. .30 Machine Gun by Fabrique National

1 mortar, .52mm

1 pack of 3 disposable American Light Antitank Weapons (LAW)

1 RPG 7 Russian bazooka

Someone outfitted with grenades that could be fired by the rifle.

The M.A.G. machine gunner was the most prestigious weapon to have in the platoon and was given to a large reliable solider. Fredia Gershon got one squad machine gun. Yoav Zeeman got the other. Each machine gunner carried 250 rounds of 30 caliber ammunition on his back.

Backing up the machine gunner was the assistant, who carried 500 rounds of 30 caliber ammunition plus an extra barrel for the M.A.G. This was by far the heaviest pack and was given to a large stupid soldier. Moshe Vahaba and Gabbi Ami got these packs. This was the most important weapon in the platoon, as it provided covering fire during assaults at medium and long range.

I believe we only had 1 mortar for the entire platoon, and it was given to Spiegel. He also carried a pack with 8 high explosive rounds on his back, and removed one canteen and carried two illumination rounds in his canteen holder (this will become significant later in the story). The only aiming device on the mortar was a white line painted down the barrel from the muzzle to the base. You had to take sighting shots in order to aim accurately.

2 other soldiers backed up the mortar man. Guieta carried 8 rounds of smoke, and someone else carried 8 rounds of illumination rounds, I don't remember who.

I think Suissa got 1 RPG, and carried 3 missiles on his back. Abraham Ascapa got the other. The RPG was a superior Russian bazooka with very accurate aiming optics. All of them were captured war booty and ammunition was in short supply. There was a special training round that it could fire.

Nimrod Lipsker got a pack of LAW's, I don't remember who got the other. This disposable American bazooka was less highly regarded than the RPG and not considered as accurate.

Arise, Son of Mankind got the walkie-talkie equipped with different kinds of antennas and other accessories. He now had something new to whine about, and every time he picked it up he would say "#$%#$^ #$^#% %$#@ %$# ^^%&$%& & this Walkie Talkie, it's heavy!"

I got the stretcher, a collapsible one on a carrying rack. Someone else got a 10 liter gerry can filled with water, also on the same type of generic carrying rack.

The shrimpiest soldier in the platoon got the helicopter landing pack, a pack containing some empty ration cans, burlap, a canteen of diesel fuel, and some flares. It was in case we had to summon a helicopter at night.

We all stood proudly with our packs when they were assembled. The original assignment of packs was to change as the training continued.============================================================================Chapter 14 - The Long Stretcher March

During this week we were learning how to organize our new packs and use our new equipment as much as possible given the limitations of the base environment. This did not mean we were exempt from night activity. One night we were informed that we were going on a stretcher march.

We started out with two stretchers onto which we had loaded our smallest soldiers. There were approximately nine men to a stretcher. Four soldiers carry the stretcher as long as they can then request relief. The ones who are not carrying the stretcher are expected to relieve them. Someone always tries to welsh but the corporals watch everyone like hawks to make sure everyone takes his turn. We left the base some 10 minutes after 2nd platoon. Our PL saw us off. "God help you if you don't pass them" he said.

Commanding the march was the sergeant, recovered from his illness, and the two corporals brought up the rear. The sergeant started in the direction of Kabatiya at a brisk pace. We soon fell behind him and had to run constantly to keep up. During the march one is usually concentrating on what one is doing and not one one's surroundings, but I knew we were passing through the village of Kabatiya and a sickening feeling began to arise in me as I realized we weren't turning back. 1 km after the village the night was pieced with

the sound of screaming. I made out the corporal of 2nd platoon struggling with one of his soldiers. 2 stretchers were standing on the road, at first I thought they were ours. "Pass them, pass them," corporal Lion shouted. "My God," I thought, "it's 2nd platoon, we've caught them." 2nd platoon's 2 stationary stretchers fell away to the rear. At last we reached the turning point.

There is a major road which runs from Jenin to Nabulas, and this intersects with the road running to Tubas at a junction called "Tank Junction" because of the burned out Jordanian tank which resides there. It is 11 km away from Camp Bezek. We stopped and our sergeant addressed us.

"Every class of recruits in Golani has to do the 22 km stretcher march, and tonight it's you're turn. If you work as a team it will be much easier on you. Now everyone take turns holding the stretcher, resting and drinking water for 5 minutes, then we start back."

We started back the way we had come, and met 2nd Platoon staggering toward the turning point. We passed again through Kabatiya. Arabs sitting in the coffeehouses watched up impassively. The aroma of their spiced Turkish coffee smelled delicious, and I wished I could stop for a cup. But no rest for the wicked! Mostly at a run, we reached the base with a time of 2 hours 25 minutes.

"That's not good enough," the PL complained when he met us upon our return.

"What," Gershon protested, "we certainly whipped 2nd Platoon's butt. Isn't that good enough for you?"

"I don't care what those failures do," the PL replied. "All I care about is your time, and you have to do better than that." He let us shout "Up, to battle," then we did warm down exercises, and drank a full canteen of water and went to bed. Some 30 minutes after our arrival 2nd Platoon limped in.

We were going home on liberty on Friday. The Company Commander gave his usual lecture before we left. He told us 4 soldiers from 2nd Platoon were under arrest for refusal to carry the stretcher. The CC explained that the Israeli Army does not leave wounded men in the field and therefore training like this is necessary.

As the bus departed the base I saw one of the arrested soldiers wearing the ridiculous prisoners' outfits consisting of a helmet with no covering, an old fashioned field jacket consisting of a web belt and harness with empty magazine pouches, and unbloused trousers, weeding outside the Master Sergeant's office..

============================================================================Chapter 15 - Son of Mankind and the Sergeant

We next spent a week on a base south of Nahariyya, the "home base" of Golani, though no one ever stayed there, it was deserted. It was also full of meter high weeds which we were expected to remove. This base is located just opposite of Kibbutz Ghetto Fighters, and one evening we had a tour there. We also had PT in the evenings and at lunchtime. The sergeant took us out to the railroad tracks and told us when he did basic training at the base if someone was found with rust on their weapons they had to remove a meter of rust from the railroad tracks.

One night we got to go on liberty in Nahariyya, I saw the movie "Savage Sisters (http://us.imdb.com/Details?0072115). After this week of work we spent Shabbat at the base.

Now that our platoon weapons were issued we went back to the field for live fire exercises on personal behavior of a soldier in the field. This would take a whole week and included night and day training. We went out of beautiful Samaria to the wilderness east of the mountains. It was much more barren and had little shade. Opposite the camp to the north on the other side of the Tubas road was a rocky mountain. Every evening 2nd Platoon had to climb up the mountain and dig foxholes. We called it 2nd platoon's mountain.

The training was done by the PL, who accompanied each soldier on a dry run while the rest of us waited. Then you did it with live fire. You were expected to hit the dirt, crawl behind a rock and return fire. Then you scouted your next position. You got up, ran quickly toward the next position while bringing your rifle up to your eyes to shoot through the sights. Shooting from the hip was strictly taboo, as was firing automatic. When you reached your next place of concealment you hit the dirt, sighted and directed fire at the target, found your next place of concealment and ran toward it, repeating the procedure. When you got between 10 and 20 meters from the target you changed magazines, than ran forward toward the target. When you reached point blank range you could lower your weapon to the hip and overrun the target, firing all the time.

When one guy was training the others had little to do but wait. Sometimes we were drilled in changing magazines or other sundry subjects. One night we went out to train. When the one soldier was training, the rest of us just lay on the ground. After the training was over we all went back to our camp, all of us, that is, except the sergeant, who had fallen asleep on the ground. The next morning he came into camp and said he had slept all night out in the field.

Now, Arise, Son of Mankind had made no bones about his dislike of Golani and the fact that he wasn't a volunteer, and of course the sergeant had picked up on this and took every opportunity to torment him. As we were in the field we got to the place where we were to begin training and the sergeant told us to sit down. Arise, Son of Mankind didn't sit immediately.

"Sit down, Arise, sit down right there," the sergeant said.

"I can't," Arise replied.

"Why not?" the sergeant asked.

"There is a mouse here," Arise informed him.

"Bring it to me," the sergeant ordered.

Arise lifted a small tumbleweed gingerly but the mouse was not there. The sergeant came over.

"What happens now…. What happens now is like this," he informed us. "All of you get down on your bellies and crawl across this field, and look for the mouse."

We started to crawl. "Arise, find that mouse," Gershon said in exasperation. We crawled over the field several times but of course no mouse could be found.

Arise was then called for his turn at training. Apparently he said something to anger the Pl, because he was turned over to the sergeant when his training was done. "Tie that man to a stretcher and set him on that rock outcropping to dry out," the sergeant ordered.

Arise was tied to the stretcher, his arms pinioned so he couldn't move, and set on a rock outcropping.

"Water him," ordered the sergeant.

"I don't want any water," Son of Mankind said defiantly, glaring at the sergeant.

The sergeant went over and squatted next to the stretcher. "Arise, why do you have such a bad attitude (or words to that effect)?" the sergeant asked.

Arise glared at him, so the sergeant flipped the stretcher over onto the sharp flinty rocks.

The final insult came after the sergeant let Arise off the stretcher, and Arise lit a cigarette in order to try to relax after this horrible punishment, and the sergeant bummed a cigarette off him.

You would have thought that Arise hated the sergeant because of a relationship like this, but soon after something happened that forever indebted Arise to the sergeant.

Arise had a leather toilet kit similar to that owned by many men, in which he kept his shaving supplies and toothbrush. One time we came back from liberty and Arise couldn't find his toilet kit in his kitbag. Such a crescendo of whining and complaining you never heard in all you life! At every opportunity Son of Mankind would start complaining about the loss of his toilet kit and it seemed he would never stop, as in morning inspection:

Sergeant: Arise, why are you unshaven?

Arise: I lost my toilet kit, and now I can't shave or brush my teeth or shower or do anything! Pee! You can't leave anything at this base before it gets stolen, $#*@#$&*#%#$&#%(@# toilet kit @*#@*%&@#&.

Sergeant: Alright, I heard you!

Arise: @(#&&@$#% whine whine Toilet Kit #**"&#$*&@#2 whine whine.

Sergeant: Didn't you lock your kitbag?

Arise: I had to break the lock because I lost the key, &#@*&#*&% key whine whine &#*@*&$ toilet kit whine whine.

Sergeant: Never mind, borrow shaving equipment from someone else.

Arise: @(#&&@$#% whine whine Toilet Kit #**"&#$*&@#2 whine whine.

Sergeant: Arise, you have 30 seconds to run around the PX!

Arise: (Runs and returns) whine whine Toilet kit @*#*&@%$* chickenshit outfit @&#@&$%# I didn’t' volunteer whine whine whine toliet kit

And on and on…

This went on for several days and finally the sergeant couldn't take it anymore. He went to talk to the quartermaster; they moved some equipment around and finally found Arise's toilet kit under a pile of belts. The sergeant returned it to him.

After this incident the sergeant could do no wrong in Son of Mankind's eyes. "The sergeant may punish me all the time," Arise would say, "but by God he found my toilet kit….."

============================================================================Chapter 16 - The Night of the Dead

All week we trained night and day. One day we were waiting while someone was training and Patrick Duab and myself were lying on the ground with our hands behind our heads. The sergeant saw us.

"Timmy and Patrick," he said, "Put your hands on your head and run between those two rocks and shout 'I am a prisoner.'"

We had no choice other than to do as he said.

"Now, keep running but lower your hands and shout 'I am not a prisoner,'" the sergeant ordered.

"I am not a prisoner, I am not a prisoner," we shouted as we ran between the two rocks.

"Now shout 'I am a soldier in the IDF,'" he ordered.

We did as we were told, and after a while he let us sit down.

Sometime this week changes were made with the pack assignments. Somehow I ended up with the 500 pack. Vahaba had received an exemption from carrying it from a kindly reserve doctor. Then he took over the M.A.G. machine gun from Gershon, who had some kind of medical problem. Funny, he never complained about carrying that.

Thursday night arrived and an ominous atmosphere settled onto the platoon. What would the night hold in store for us?

We had dinner and went out to night training. Then we came back. It was already around 10:00 PM. The sergeant addressed us.

"What happens now…. What happens now is like this. All week we have been to busy training and I couldn't punish you for all your f**** (f***im in Hebrew). Well, tonight I'll pay you back for all your misbehavior this week."

"Yoav," he said to Yoav Zeeman, a moshavnick from somewhere on the coastal plain. "You're recruit helper." The sergeant pointed toward 2nd Platoon's mountain. "Do you see that flat area way, WAY up there? No, not there, further up, that place way, WAY up there. Take two diesel torches, everyone, all the equipment, all the sick and wounded, all their equipment, climb to that flat area way, WAY up there and build me a camp, with your pup tents. Place the two diesel torches on either side of the flat area. and light them. Now, to work. Good night, 1st Platoon," the sergeant ended sarcastically.

Groaning and cursing we dismantled our pup tents and put them and all of our equipment into our kitbags, then put on our packs and kitbags and begin a laborious trek up the rocky, steep mountain. Burdened by the heavy equipment we could only take one painful step after another. Halfway up the mountain Arise, Son of Mankind stopped and started yelling in his whining voice "Who'll help me? Who'll help me." No one offered him succor, everyone was too burdened with their own stuff. Finally "Pee, #^Y&@&^#&%#*@ so and so's don’t' want to help me &#^@^#@%#$#@." Son of Mankind continued up the mountain.

At the indicated place Yoav had lit the diesel torches, consisting of two large empty ration cans, probably of the jam "Apple Jam, Strawberry flavor," that we had on our bread for breakfast, and sometimes for dinner, every day. Into the empty can was placed a large piece of burlap, and then the whole thing was filled with fine dirt. Diesel fuel was then poured into the can until the dirt was soaked. The burlap acted as a wick and was lit. The torch produced a smoky, smelly flame. It's lurid light was insufficient as we stumbled around in the dark trying to set up our pup tents. Finally everyone got their tents set up. I was paired with Fredia Gershon. We climbed into the tents and went to sleep. Yoav remained outside.

"OK, now fold up the tents and come down," the sergeant ordered from the foot of the mountain.

No one complied.

"Hey," Yoav said, "The sergeant said to break camp and come back down."

No one acknowledged him. We may have heard him at the edge of our consciousness, but the will to act was completely gone from us.

"OK, Don't say I didn't tell you," Yoav said resignedly.

We slept soundly for about ten minutes. Then the sergeant was among us like a whirlwind. Cursing, kicking down tents, kicking us out of our sleeping bags.

"Oh, so now you refuse an order?" the sergeant said. "One on one wounded! You have thirty seconds to run around that rock."

The sergeant ran us to and fro, then made us crawl on our bellies over the sharp rocks and weeds. Then..

"Everyone assume a position of frog walking," he ordered.

"Now, walk like frogs between that tree there and that one over there."

If you have never tried frog walking try it and see how long you can do it. Looking ridiculous we frog walked between the two trees. Some soldiers started to jump.

"No jumping," the sergeant ordered. Then more running with wounded and crawling.

The diesel torches cast an eerie, hellish glow as the sergeant, his anger unassuaged, continued to punish us for the unspeakable sin of refusing an order. The scene of us carrying each other around in the smoky flickering light could have been taken straight out of Dante's Inferno. Adding to the surreal hellishness of the night, we could hear 3rd Platoon yelling from somewhere across the valley "We are whores, we have been whores, we will be friends," over and over again.

Dawn was breaking in the east when the sergeant finally called us to assembly and let us lower the "wounded." "See here, 1st Platoon," he said, "This is, it would seem, your last chance. Take all of your equipment down the mountain and pile it where your tents were pitched."

We carried our equipment down the mountain and had breakfast. 2nd platoon was waiting for us in the mess tent. "We conquered 2nd Platoon's mountain," I informed them. We never learned where 2nd platoon was that night. Whenever you asked one of them their faces would grow pale and they clammed up and wouldn't talk about it.

After breakfast we went out to meet the PL, who was bright eyed and bushy tailed after a refreshing night of sleeping like a baby. "Good morning, platoon," he said cheerily. "We will now do a 22km forced march back to the base. You will wear full battle gear and of course carry your packs. Put your kit bags on the truck and let's move out."

Like zombies we loaded our gear onto the truck then quickly broke into a run to catch up with the PL.

Now the road we were on was that which runs through Tubas to the River Jordan, and we were on the east side of the watershed, which meant of course that we were going uphill. Panting, without even the strength to curse or groan, we ran after the PL. We started the march about 10km east of Tubas. Corporal Lion brought up the rear. Corporal Peretz's father had died, and he was on bereavement leave of 7 days.

We got to a steep hill and struggled to the top. "That's the last hill," corporal Lion informed us helpfully.

"No, it's not, there are 12 more hills," the PL said.

The truck with our gear passed, and the sergeant was sitting in the back.

"1st Platoon, I don't know what your problem is," he mocked us, "you are, after all, just walking,"

We reached the village of Tubas. "This is a town that hates Jews," corporal Lion said, "so no stragglers."

We went through Tubas. I will never understand how, but we managed to keep up a respectable pace until we were one km east of Zababdeh. Here we stopped to drink from our canteens.

"Sir," someone said, "This man is asleep while walking."

The soldier in question was none other than Yoel Yaish. The PL went over to him and peeled back his closed eyelid. He saw only white.

"Break out the stretcher, we gotta carry this man," he said. The stretcher was unfolded and manned and we resumed our march. I don't know how we did it but we managed to carry the stretcher effectively and organize the relief in a fair manner. Finally we reached the base. We formed up and the PL addressed us.

"This is the first time I am even remotely satisfied with you," he said. "The other platoons put their wounded on the truck, but you carried yours, and you kept up with me. Now, you may shout 'Up, to battle' three times.”

We managed to shout and we were dismissed by the PL, only to be accosted by the sergeant immediately.

"You refused an order last night," he said, "and that will cost you dearly when the Sabbath ends."

============================================================================Chapter 17 - Sergeant Hasson’s Revenge

The sergeant’s promise did not dampen our spirits at the time, the end of Sabbath was far away, but at least we would get the chance to rest. First, however, we had base duty. Although theoretically we were in Phase B, we still had to do these chores because the Phase A class had not yet been qualified on weapons, and could not do guard duty. They got to go home when we stayed and guarded.

Guard duty for the base was three four-hour shifts of six guards. Two guarded the gate, two the ammunition bunker at the opposite side of the base, and two on parameter patrol. Shifts were from 7:00 to 11:00, 11:00 to 3:00, and 3:00 to 7:00. This particular Sabbath eve I drew first shift, which is good, with Spiegel, which was bad. Spiegel was determined to sleep on guard duty. We were on patrol.

“Last time I had patrol it was great,” Spiegel said. We found a place to sleep and corked off. When we woke up and the corporal asked us where we were, we just said we were waking up the relief shift.”

“But you were on middle shift that time,” I replied. This is first shift, there is more danger of being discovered.”

“Oh, you’re just a goody two shoes,” Spiegel said. “I’m going to sleep.”

We started the patrol and Spiegel chose as his napping place none other than a bench outside the officer’s and sergeant’s quarters. He was spotted immediately by the master chef.

“Ho, there, Spiegel’s napping on guard duty,” the chef shouted.

Sergeant Marick of 2nd platoon came to his second story window. “That is not at all appropriate behavior for you, Spiegel,” Marick said.

Grumbling, Spiegel got up and we began our boring patrol. Spiegel tried to nap again and was caught by our sergeant, who was awake and checking the guard duty.

“You don’t want to endanger your furlough by putting penis on guard duty,” the sergeant told Spiegel.

Not only was Spiegel causing trouble on guard duty, Arise, Son of Mankind and Gabbi Ami were guarding at the gate, and both had fallen asleep. This was of particular concern to the sergeant. Before, Camp Bezek had been used for noncommissioned officer’s course at the time that the sergeant had done the course. While he was there two guards at the gate had fallen asleep. An Arab vehicle happened to pass by and the driver noticed the two sleeping guards. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the driver had exited his vehicle with a straight razor and slit the guards’ throats from ear to ear. This incident had made a great impression on that particular class of noncommissioned officer’s school.

We finished our guard duty and the rest of the Sabbath and the dreaded “End of Sabbath” arrived. First we were allowed to see the movie “Le Mans” with Steve McQueen. Then we had a talk with our platoon leader. After the talk was over we asked if we could go to bed.

“No, I believe you have an account to settle with the sergeant,” he said.

“No, we already paid that,” Moshe Eastern said.

The platoon leader ignored him and left. Then the sergeant came and immediately ordered us one on one “wounded.”

“You so and so’s DARED to refuse an order Thursday night,” he said. “Everyone shout ‘On Thursday night 1st Platoon refused an order.’”

We began chanting as he had ordered and continued for several minutes.

“And if that’s not enough,” the sergeant said, “Arise and Gabbi slept at the gate, just like those two guys who got their throats cut when I did noncommissioned officer’s course here. Now,” the sergeant said to Arise, Son of Mankind, “lift Gabbi Ami wounded and both of you shout ‘We broke guard duty and slept at the gate.’ The rest of you keep shouting.”

Our disharmonious din disturbed the Saturday night peace of the base as we continued shouting about the refusal of an order while Arise and Gabbi confessed their sin of sleeping while on guard duty.

Finally the sergeant silenced us. “What happens now… what happens now is like this,” he said, “Take all your equipment to the parade grounds and set up your pup tent camp there. When you have everything set up come and tell me. “

So we went to the barracks and got our kitbags, packs and equipment and humped everything to the parade ground and set up our camp there. Then Gershon went to tell the sergeant. A few minutes later he came back.

“He just said to put everything away and get ready for taps.” Gershon said.

So we dragged everything back to the barracks and went to sleep, hoping our account with the sergeant was clear.

============================================================================Chapter 18 - The Great Mutiny

When we awoke Sunday we were told we were going to Base of Instruction 3 outside of Nabulus, to learn about M-113 Armored Personnel Carriers, which we would use when we finished Basic Training and went to a Battalion. We also would, we were told, have extensive field training on them later. For now it was a week of pretty cushy classroom instruction, and we were told we would be going on our week long furlough on Thursday.

Arise, Son of Mankind finally found something he liked to do. He had a driver’s license so he was selected for driver’s training on the M-113. He loved this and looked forward to doing it in the field.

The M-113 is shaped like a box. It has (the Israeli version anyway) mounting positions for a .50 Machine Gun for the commander, and two .30 machine guns (one of which is the M.A.G.) on the wings. Inside are places to store ammunition, a large radio, benches for the crew, and places for first aid and food. The whole backside comes down to let the crew out. It is intended mainly as transportation, it cannot stand up to a bazooka, and even some rifles can hole it. We learned about the radios and how to maintain it, which is quite a job, doing the “weekly maintenance” involves cleaning the whole thing out and greasing it.

We also had a personnel change this week. Corporal Peretz, who was on bereavement leave, and then slated for Officer’s Training Class, was replaced by Corporal Ron, a chunky soft spoken fellow from the Commandoes.

Thursday came and we went back to the base. We were all prepared to go on furlough and we waited and waited. An ominous atmosphere settled over the base. Finally we were told that there was an alert, we could not go out. Gloomily we returned to the barracks. Then the Executive Officer of the company used us as mules to take our Phase B ammunition out of the main base bunker and put it in a small company bunker. He took us out of dinner after only 7 minutes; some guys didn’t get a chance to eat.

After the ammunition detail we are moping around the barracks and the new Corporal Ron shows up. He wants us to do an inspection with our packs, so giving him dirty looks we take our packs out and line up.

“Now, because of your bad attitude, everyone run around the PX… with all the equipment,” he added as an afterthought. We picked up the equipment and ran around.

“Now, because you left the barracks dirty this morning, move all the beds outside and clean it,” he said. “Inspection in 20 minutes.” He walked off.

This was too much. Our furlough gets cancelled, we don’t get to eat, now this new corporal, who no one respects, orders us to take out the beds, Spontaneously, without any incitement from anyone, we refused. No one made any moves to take out the beds.

“Let’s complain,” someone said.

“Who should we complain to?” the response.

“The Sergeant,” someone suggested.

“Are you kidding, you remember what happened last time we refused?”

“How about the executive officer?” someone asked.

As everyone continued arguing and discussing the problem I tried to get someone to help me take a bed outside but no one was interested. The arguments and discussions continued for about a half an hour until someone noticed Corporal Lion looking at us from the side, looking at us the way you would look at a bunch of squirming maggots in a garbage can.

“Attention!” someone shouted.

Everyone stood rigid.

In a Dirty Harry voice Corporal Lion said “Another 5 minutes all the beds outside.”

You would have seen nothing but blurs moving, and in three minutes the beds were outside, all the time Corporal Lion regards us with disgust.

“Attention!” someone shouts again.

Corporal Lion addressed us.

“See here, 1st Platoon, if the new corporal Ron tells you to take out the beds, you had better do it. And if I discover the man who incited this platoon to mutiny he will remember me for three years.”

“But sir,” someone said in a small voice, “we didn’t get a chance to eat dinner.”

“The Army only has to give you seven minutes to eat,” Corporal Lion said. “Those seven minutes you got and you don’t have a right to complain. However, put your beds back inside and let me see what I can do.”

He departed in the direction of the mess hall as we manhandled the beds back inside. Soon he returned with three big jars of chocolate spread and several loaves of brown bread.

“See here, 1st Platoon, a platoon is lucky if it gets 1 jar of chocolate spread, here’s three. So you eat it and go to sleep, and I’d better never see a mutiny here again.”

He departed and we went to sleep, those of us who were not guarding the ammunition.

============================================================================Chapter 19 - Ascapa's Inspection

Earlier in the day we had had our regular morning inspection. The new corporal Ron had determined that Abraham Ascapa and several other soldiers had rust on their weapons. They were ordered to prepare a complete commanding officer’s inspection to be checked at 2:00 am in the morning.

Now Ascapa was a conscientious soldier who always obeyed orders to the letter. When he got the orders to prepare the inspection Corporal Lion told him:

“When you are finished come to the corporal’s quarters and wake me, but DON’T YOU DARE come up the steps. Stand at the bottom of the steps and call me. I will be awake in a few seconds.”

That evening, not only did we have to guard our barracks, but also the ammunition we had drawn for Phase B training. This meant long guard shifts of two hours for everyone. I was assigned to guard the ammunition from 1 until 3. The ammunition was stored in a small locked bunker. I was awakened and put on my equipment and went to the ammunition room. There was a convenient bench there so I sat down and promptly fell asleep.

Around 2:00 am I was awakened by someone yelling somewhere. Gradually I realized that what I was hearing was Ascapa calling Corporal Lion.

“Corporal Lion! Corporal Lion!” he called. I now remembered that he had a commanding officer’s inspection and that he had to call Corporal Lion to come and inspect it. The mystery solved, I promptly fell asleep again.

45 minutes later I awoke again. To my surprise and amusement, I could still hear Ascapa shouting “Corporal Lion!.” Despite his boastfulness, Corporal Lion had not woke up “in a few seconds,” he was still sleeping, oblivious to Ascapa’s calls, and Ascapa was so straight laced he would not ascend to the Corporal’s Quarters to shake Corporal Lion awake. I imagine that when Ascapa finally did succeed in wakening Corporal Lion Corporal Lion simply told him to fold up the inspection and go to bed. In any case my shift was finally coming to and, so I woke my relief and went to sleep for the two hours remaining until reveille at 0500..

============================================================================ Chapter 20 - Spiegel’s Blanket Party

One Saturday night Spiegel was the “honored guest” at a blanket party, and the circumstances of it are rather bizarre, so let us examine the details of this, the only blanket party for our platoon during the entire basic training.

It was the Shabbat after our furlough had been canceled, after the Great Mutiny. Saturday morning we had no guard duty or other tasks, another Platoon was doing it. Around 11:00 Corporal Lion called an “attendance assembly” to make sure no one had gone AWOL.

Now, on the Sabbath everyone wore their work uniform and carried their rifle. Spiegel shows up to the assembly wearing athletic shorts and shoes, no shirt, but at least carrying his gun.

“Spiegel, what are you doing?” Corporal Lion shouted at him. “Go put on your uniform and come back to the assembly!”

“No, I don’t want to wear my uniform, and I don’t want to attend the assembly,” Spiegel said. “I want to nap.”

“I’ll make sure that you don’t nap,” Corporal Lion told him in an ominous voice. “I’ll put you deep, deep in jail, and then drum you out of the army entirely. Pick him up wounded,” he ordered us.

I went over to him. “Dave, let me pick you up wounded,” I said.

“Get away from me, Timmy, or I’ll punch you,” Spiegel warned.

I shrugged and went back into the line.

“Go stand on that slab of cement over there,” Corporal Lion ordered Spiegel.

Spiegel complied.

Now, this being the Sabbath, Corporal Lion could not punish us by making us carry each other “wounded,” or make us carry kitbags or packs, or make us crawl. Ordering us to pick up Spiegel was treading a fine line, and he probably should not have done it. What he could do, however, is keep us in formation and talk to us as long as he wanted to.

He began to talk about anything that came into his head. By and by he asked “Who knows what the rate of fire of the M.A.G. is?”

“Forbidden,” Yoav Zeeman and Fredia Gershon yelled together, “Forbidden to study on the Sabbath!”

“Go stand on the slab of cement next to Spiegel,” Corporal Lion ordered them. He did not repeat the question, however.

“Last week a paratroop company boarded a helicopter for training on the Golan,” Corporal Lion continued. “That helicopter crashed and they all died. That is one of the prices we have to pay to keep our country free. Now, the pilot of that helicopter was just about to complete his service and be discharged blah blah blah,” Corporal Lion continued.

Now, one of the soldiers I have not mentioned up until now was Jacob Willbloom (Yifrach). He was a quiet, soft spoken, rather small soldier and devoutly religious. He was also one of the best soldiers in the Platoon. I could see he was getting uncharacteristically angry as Corporal Lion continued to lecture us. Finally lunchtime came and we were told to report to the mess hall for our Sabbath dinner. After diner we were allowed to rest all afternoon, except that Spiegel was assigned to gate guard duty. The end of Sabbath came, I don’t remember what we did, we went to sleep and I slept all night. The next morning, Sunday morning, we get up for morning assembly. It appeared that during the night someone or ones had put a blanket on Spiegel and beaten him. He looked none the worse for wear, not even a bruise on him.

“How about you, Timmy, were you one of the guys that jumped me last night?” Spiegel asked me.

“I slept though the whole thing,” I told him, “but why would someone want to blanket you?”

“I think you organized it,” Spiegel accused Willbloom.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Willbloom replied, but his expression belied his words.

What had happened was bizarre. Willbloom had held Spiegel responsible for ruining his Sabbath, so had organized the blanket party for him. The fact is that Corporal Lion probably would have held the assembly even without the misbehavior of Spiegel. Spiegel may have done a lot of things that deserved the blanket, but his antics on that Sabbath were not one of them.

It became clear to the noncoms and officers what had happened to Spiegel. “Spiegel, did you get blanketed?” the PL asked him.

Spiegel was magnanimous and did not rat. “It’s OK,” he said. “Everyone is uptight because our furlough was cancelled.”

“Everyone will get a chance to go on furlough,” the PL told us.

Willbloom did not get off entirely for his part in the blanket party. The next Sabbath, when everyone got to stay on the base. Willbloom stayed in the wilderness guarding the tent camp under the hot sun.

============================================================================Chapter 21 – The Tour of Jerusalem..

We finally went out to the field again for “chain training.” A chain is a formation of three soldiers. Now the genius of Israeli infantry tactics became clear. When a chain of soldiers assault a position from intermediate range, two soldiers take up covering positions, the third identifies a place of concealment closer to the target, and runs toward it, bringing his rifle up and sighting and firing using the gun sights. He hits the dirt next to his place of concealment, takes cover and engages the target while one of his buddies then repeats the procedure. When you are all within 10 meters of the target someone throws a grenade, then you all get up and rush the target, engaging it point blank and firing from the hip. Now the soldier who is running toward a new place of concealment is most vulnerable to return enemy fire, but with two people covering him his chances of not being hit are much better. Hence the genius of the infantry tactics.

Our camp was in the wilderness of Samaria, that is, the eastern part beyond the watershed. It was now late spring, June 1977, and starting to get hot. One day saw us sitting under camouflage netting after breakfast listening to the Company Commander in his low, droning voice, giving a lecture on movement of a chain of soldiers in enemy terrain.

“When moving in enemy terrain and you reach a required crossing like a river or canyon ford, leave two soldiers in covering positions while the third slowly advances,” etc. drone drone drone.

Several soldiers begin to drift off to sleep, lulled by the warmth and the CC’s droning voice. Suddenly,

“Wake that man. Slap him.”

(Whack)

“Stand,” the Company Commander ordered the dozing soldier. He then continued his lecture.

“To give hand signals to a soldier to take up a covering position, point to him and indicate,” (demonstrates with hands) “you, that soldier, take up a covering positing in that direction drone drone drone…”

Someone else inevitably falls asleep.

“Wake that man. Slap him.”

(Whack)

“Stand with two duffel bags on you.”

The unfortunate soldier retrieves two duffel bags and returns to the lecture carrying them over his shoulders. The lecture continues. Many of us amuse ourselves by taking small pebbles, looking for people who are starting to doze, and pelting them awake. The Company Commander notices this and says with a smile

“Everyone stop waking up your friends. Everyone worry only about yourselves. As I was saying drone drone drone…Wake that man. Slap him.”

(Whack)

“You are a toilet person, now take yourself, weapon, helmet, field jacket, two duffel bags, and climb to the top of that mountain.”

The soldier in question is none other than Yoel Yaish, who has fallen asleep with a dreamy grin on his face as usual. Resignedly he takes the equipment and begins his long trek up the mountain. By and by the Company Commander finishes his lecture and we prepare to move out to practice in the field. Yaish is summoned from the top of the mountain and comes down to rejoin us.

Now, we are short on commanders. Corporal Lion has gone to join Corporal Peretz in Officer’s Training Class. Our Platoon Leader has become ill with a serious disease. So we are commanded by the sergeant, but the Company Executive Officer has to come along because we can’t train with live fire without an officer.

In the picture the company executive officer is in the middle of the group of people just above the sword. He was a blonde clean cut officer and a self declared ardent Zionist. He told us he didn’t like to punish, but was good at it. We gave him cause to punish us and were told to fall on our butts. Everyone did except Moses Eastern, who kneeled. So the XO put a jerry can on him and the stretcher and made him move all over the place while kneeling. Thus opened an account between Moses Eastern and the XO.

We continued training in chains of soldiers, including live fire. Then we trained with squads. Since we had only Corporal Ron, we had to enlist the aid of the Compay Medic, Amnon. A squad is simply two chains of soldiers attacking, with the added benefit of the M.A.G. machine gun providing covering fire. With that covering you you feel safe as houses when you attack! The mortar was used mainly for long range attacks. For a long range attack the M.A.G. and mortar are left on a hill to provide covering fire when the rest of the squad makes a long flanking march to get within medium or close range (depending on the terrain) then attacks normally. The mortar puts down smoke on the target so the enemy can’t see what you’re doing, then adds some high explosive to make them nervous. White Phosphorous is also fun to shell with, the burning phosphorous floats down into the enemy foxholes, and water won’t put it out as it begins to burn into you flesh. You have to dig it out with a knife. Naturally, when you are doing this you can’t shoot, so it’s very effective.

We finished squad training and moved to platoon training, consisting of two squads attacking together. Next would come the final Company sized exercise, which would be attended by the Battalion commander. But first we were told we were having a tour of Jerusalem, one entire Thursday.

The day before the tour Eastern had been guarding the camp, and had asked the XO if he could guard from the ammunition bunker tunnel because it was too hot to stand in the sun. He was given permission to guard there, but the XO discovered him dozing there instead of guarding, so he was assigned to guard the camp while we were on the tour.

The morning of the tour dawned and after morning inspection we milled around waiting for the bus, and waiting, and waiting. “Therefore, and as a direct consequence thereof,” someone said, imitating the CC’s favorite expression, “the tour is cancelled because of reasons of battle preparedness.” This proved to be untrue, however, as the buses finally arrived and we started out, waving goodbye to Eastern as we left.

We went down into the Jordan River valley and turned south toward Jerusalem. In Jericho we stopped at the Mount of Temptations, hiked to the top, and were treated to a tour of the monastery by a Greek Orthodox monk who showed us the rock shaped like bread and explained that Jesus had fasted 40 days. The religious Jews did not enter the monastery.

We were acting like tourists on this trip, the Israelis were strolling along chatting amicably with each other, so Sergeant Hasson made us run around the buses when we got down. We then resumed our trip toward Jerusalem.

In Jerusalem, we met our guide, a very cute girl soldier, and began to tour the city. We toured the old city and ammunition hill, where the CC took over and told us the whole story of the conquest of Jerusalem and Ammunition Hill. All during the tour we were strolling along without a care in the world. After the tour we were given a two hour liberty to eat dinner, as they didn’t want to feed us. We got on the bus and made our way back to our camp. When the bus arrived at our camp everyone was asleep.

“Everyone wake up! Everyone wake up!” the company Master Sergeant said. “In another minute this bus is empty of all your equipment.”

We emptied the bus and went to sleep, for tomorrow was the big company exercise..

============================================================================Chapter 22 - Our first operation

Friday morning we had our big company exercise. First, of course, we did a dry run with no live fire. Basically, the CC left the M.A.G.’s from three platoons (six in all) on a hillside along with the three 52 mm mortars. The XO commanded this covering force, assisted by one of the sergeants. Then the CC led the rest of the company on a flanking maneuver to come within medium range of the target. Then we began to advance on the target as we had been trained. Finally, we were within range and attacked.

The live fire exercise went well, with the M.A.G.’s providing a rain of constant fie on the simulated enemy position, and the three mortars covering the target with smoke, then high explosive. When the flanking force (of which I was a part of) got within range the mortar fire ceased. The M.A.G’s gradually shifted their fire away from us as we closed on the target. When we threw grenades to assault, the M.A.G. fire ceased and we all ran forward firing.

The exercise completed, we all gathered on the hill where the covering force had been set up and the CC addressed us. He talked about what was good in the exercise and what we had to improve. Then he finished

“Al in all, I would have no hesitation taking you to battle on the Golan. You have completed this phase of the training very well. Now, we are going on an operation this Sabbath, and only this fact prevented me from punishing you all night last night because of the slovenly carefree way you conducted yourselves on the tour, and I will think twice, and three times, and four times before allowing you to go on any tours in the future.”

The “operation” was for 1st and 2nd Platoon to assist in the guard duty at Kibbutz Hagoshrim, while 3rd Platoon went to some god forsaken place in the Jordan River valley to guard the border. We arrived at HaGoshrim, a large secular Kibbutz in northern Israel, Friday afternoon. There was a large pool there but I didn’t have a bathing suit, and I demurred swimming nude, although there was no shortage of non-Jewish girl volunteers doing so. So I showered and caught a nap before Sabbath dinner.

We were a mix of 1st and 2nd Platoon guarding here, accompanied by the Company Master Sergeant, who was devoutly religious. We went to the dining hall and sat down at a table to ourselves and the server, a girl volunteer Valkyrie seemingly from somewhere in Scandinavia, wearing a skimpy European bikini top that covered only her nipples and cutoff jeans short enough to be a belt, brought us the Sabbath dinner, potatoes and a cut of mystery meat. This was white with a bone in it and looked suspiciously like a pork chop. “Do

you have a vegetarian selection?” the Master Sergeant asked. “Sure, soldier, I’ll bring it to you” the volunteer said. She walked off, her partially exposed buttocks swaying back and forth enticingly, and soon returned with a heaping plate of vegetables for the Master Sergeant. I pretended the mystery meat was veal and ate it with relish.

Friday night I had no guard duty so got a good night’s sleep. Saturday I had lunch (something that looked and tasted like sweet and sour pork) then guarded from 12 to 6 at the gate. This was incredibly boring, and my relief from the kibbutz members didn’t come until 7. Then I had to guard again from midnight until 6:00 am with a shrimpy soldier from 2nd platoon by the name of Albert Vaknin. We guarded in a tower in a corner of the kibbutz. The tower had a spotlight, but we soon tired of playing with it.

“Vaknin, are you awake,” I ask.

“No, why should I be awake?”

Every so often a motorized patrol would go by and I would have to signal with the spotlight so they would know we were awake. I should have beaten on Vaknin to make him stay awake, but I was not aggressive at that time. Finally after six hours of abject boredom we were relieved, and had breakfast in the kibbutz dining hall. We then went back out to the field to continue training.

Now, we would spend a week or two learning “Warfare against prepared positions.” The position we would learn on was a Jordanian prepared position, a mock up of which had been constructed in the field. This consisted of trenches radiating out from a central point with twists and turns in the trenches, which terminated in a branch with two firing positions.

To assault the position you first must run and jump into a portion of it. You then make your way down the trench taking advantage of the areas of concealment in the trench, firing as you go. If you run out of ammo you shout “ammo” and the soldier behind you replaces you and moves in front. The M.A.G. can provide covering fire from a position farther back in the trench. When you reach the end of the trench you throw a grenade into the firing position, shouting “you go left and I’ll go right” indicating that the soldier behind you clears the left position and you clear the right. This type of warfare is necessarily much more dangerous than Warfare in Open Terrain, because you are one behind the other.

One morning we got up and were preparing morning inspection. Jacob Guieta decided to sit on my 500 pack, which it may be recalled, I had ended up with.

“Here now,” I said, “don’t sit on my 500 pack, it is not a stool.”

“I’ll sit on it if I want,” Guieta said. “Why do you give me a hard time?”

I, being an American, had no qualms about complaining to the sergeant. I found him next to the commanders’ tents, talking to the XO.

“Sir,” I said, “could you talk to Guieta about not sitting on the 500 pack? Even when I ask him nicely he insists on sitting on it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” the sergeant said.

I returned to our tents, and a few minutes later the sergeant comes over to lead us out to training.

“Oh, before I forget,” he drawled to Guieta, “you exchange packs with Timmy. He gets your mortar pack, and you get to carry the 500 pack.”

“You said something to him, didn’t you?” said Guieta as he picked up the 500 pack with a doleful expression on his face.

As we set out toward the training ground I snuck up behind Guieta and pressed down gradually on the 500 pack until he noticed me. He spun around to slug me but I danced nimbly away, and he, burdened as he was with the pack, could not pursue. I did this again, again he tried to slug me, and again I danced nimbly away. He finally gave up, so I walked next to him, put my arm around his shoulders and “Now, you can sit on the pack as much as you want. It’s yours now.”

@#$@%@$#$@# said Guieta.

“Remember, Guieta,” I continued, “if you take care of 500 pack, 500 pack will take care of you.”

“Curtiss,” said Guieta, “we are going to train in warfare in prepared positions. It’s dangerous. Accidents can happen.”

We continued all day with the training. We got a new Corporal, Corporal Mordecai, a chunky Yemenite. On our way back to camp we enjoyed making airs to him and pretending we couldn’t move quickly, and he kept telling us to catch up to the sergeant. Now that we had two new corporals we were always comparing them unfavorably with the old.

That night as we prepared for bed Abraham Ascapa begin screaming.

“Oh, my God, look at the size of that scorpion! It’s huge! Where did it go?”

Several of us joined him in searching for the elusive scorpion, which was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m not sleeping on the ground tonight,” declared Ascapa. He went and got a stretcher, unfolded it, and proceeded to sleep on it until the sergeant noticed some hours later and woke everyone up.

“Can someone explain to me,” the sergeant asked, “can someone explain to me why this man is sleeping on a stretcher?”

“But sir, there was a scorpion,” Ascapa said.

“This is no big deal,” the sergeant said. “If you have a problem, shake out your blanket and put it back. No one is allowed to sleep on the stretcher.”

So Ascapa had to sleep on the ground like the rest of us.

The next morning Guieta comes to me with a smug look on his face. “The sergeant said we were to switch back packs,” he said, handing me the 500 pack. Resignedly I shouldered it and we moved out..

============================================================================Chapter 23 - Naggar and other toilet people

Well, we finally got to go on our delayed furlough. Spiegel and I had to stay behind with a skeleton crew to guard the base. This was around the holiday of Shavout. Then I was working in the kitchen, didn’t drink enough, and got dehydrated. I was put in the infirmary and infused, and not released until the evening of the holiday.

The Commander of the Guard was one of the Platoon leaders from A Company. He was joined by his voluptuous girlfriend wearing jeans so tight you could see the dates of coins in her pickets. She was at least a 38DD and I thought to myself “we can sleep peacefully at guard duty tonight.”

After the holiday everyone came back from furlough and Spiegel and I got to go out. That means we missed the grueling 50km march. I came back from furlough on time, but Spiegel went AWOL.

We were now engaged in learning how to fight using our M-113 Armored Personnel Carriers. First we had

to learn to maintain them, doing the infamous “weekly service.” This involved cleaning and greasing the machine, opening the floor and cleaning the bilges, and other sundry tasks. Then we learned tactics on them.

The M-113 has a large ramp in the back which comes down. Each squad got one APC. We had to learn to run down the ramp when the APC was moving and deploy in skirmish lines on either side when attacking a position. For long range attacks the APC, with its weapons of one .50 machine gun, one wing .30 machine gun, and the squad M.A.G on the other wing, provide cover. The motorman descends and fires the mortar from the ground. The rest of the squad does a flanking attack.

The M-113 is good cover from artillery fire, if you button up inside. It can deflect a Kalashnikov bullet, or a Galil bullet, but not an M-16 bullet. It will melt if hit by any kind of anti-Tank round, as future experience was to prove to me. If attacked from the air everyone but the soldiers operating the machine guns descends and scatters, firing on the airplanes with their rifles.

That night at guard duty I was slated to wake up Suissa and Danny Nagger, who had returned from 35 days in the stockade for his previous AWOL. I want to awaken Naggar.

“Naggar, wake up, it’s your turn to guard.” I then went to awaken Suissa, who begin to get dressed. I went back to Nagger. He had not moved.

“Naggar, wake up, its your turn to guard,” I shook him.

“@#@%@#%#, leave me alone.”

“Alone, nothing, you have to guard,.” I insisted.

“Go away you @#@#$%@#$.”

“I’ll get the corporal. You know I have no hesitation about doing this,” I threatened.

“Go ahead” he said.

I went and found Corporal Ron’s tent.

“Sir, wake up,” I shouted at him. “Naggar doesn’t want to get up to guard.”

Corporal Ron’s eyes remained tightly closed. “Which Naggar, Phinehas Naggar or Danny Naggar,” he mumbled.

I was flabbergasted. Phinehas Naggar, although a notorious toilet person, was in 3rd Platoon.

“Danny Naggar, of course,” I replied.

“Open up the intervals, Naggar in the middle,” Corporal Ron ordered, his eyes still tightly shut.

“Jeeze,” I thought to myself. “This guy is worse than Naggar.”

I gave up and went back to our tents. Suissa was already up. “Go to sleep, I’ll guard for both of us,” he said.

The next day when we went out to training Nagger said something which displeased the XO. Chances are, anything Nagger said would have displeased him.

“Do you see that mountain over there?” the XO asked Naggar. “I desire that you be an antenna on the top of that mountain, standing tall.”

Naggar went off in the direction of the mountain. We never saw him again.

The next night it was our platoon’s job to guard the entire camp. Six men per shift, two hour shifts. Arise, Son of Mankind was on the shift with me. Finally we woke up our relief and wanted to go to bed, but we had to awaken Corporal Ron, as he was the sergeant of the guard, so he could oversee the relief and check our weapons. You see, normally we went around with weapons unloaded, no magazine in the rifle. When we guarded we inserted a magazine into the rifle, but did not load a bullet into the firing chamber. A great to do was made by the corporals that someone always check our weapons after we had had the magazine inserted, implying that we were only recruits and not trustworthy enough to do this ourselves.

So Arise tries to wake Corporal Ron, who, with his eyes tightly shut, says “Exercise them yourselves.” He was obviously not awake but Arise, who had little patience with such nonsense, didn’t ask twice.

“OK, I’ll exercise them!” he said, with emphasis on “I”. “Weapons at 60 degrees! Weapons cleared for inspection!” He made a show of going down the line and checking everyone, and then we all went to bed.

Spiegel and a bunch of other guys came back from being AWOL and were placed on KP duty pending “clarification” by the CC. As he was washing dishes I went over to talk to him.

“Hey, Spiegel, you’re going to look cute in that ridiculous prisoner’s outfit,” I mocked him.

“No, I talked to the CC,” he said, “I’m loose like a goose.” Apparently he had told some sob story.

The rest of the soldiers were not so fortunate. The Company Master Sergeant took a roll of barbed wire, stretched it out, and anchored it on four sides with metal fence posts so it formed a square. He covered it with camouflage netting and made a cheery sign that said “Arrest Cell, Company C” with a picture of a Golani tree on it. Those under arrest had to crawl on their bellies into the arrest cell and could not stand up while they were inside. Of course they were encumbered with full battle gear. The truth of the matter is they didn’t spend much time in the cell; the Master Sergeant was always taking them out and finding work for them to do, such as picking up fist size rocks, making orderly rows around the tents with them, and then whitewashing them. The result was a nice natty appearance to the camp. There was also the endless KP duty, digging latrines, in fact the Master Sergeant was a genius for finding camp work that had to be done and kept the prisoners busy 20 hours a day. The other four hours they slept in their cell.

Well, perhaps they were the lucky ones. The rest of us were destined for an epic march that we would remember for a long time…

============================================================================Chapter 24 - Spiegel and the Illumination Round

The company now had a contingent of fresh new corporals. Only Corporal Rafi from 2nd Platoon was a holdover from the beginning of the basic training class. So the Company Commander decided to test the skills and leadership abilities of the new corporals with a friendly competition.

The competition would take the form of a navigation march with full equipment. One of the skills learned in Non-Commissioned Officer’s course is topography and navigation with compass. The corporals were required to memorize a route drawn by the CC. We then would leave at staggered intervals, and the squad which had the shortest time would win a prize of a special liberty.

We left one night after finishing our night training. I was in Corporal Ron’s squad, Spiegel was with Corporal Mordecai. The first part of the march was easy, as it was along a clearly marked road. There was a settlement of Pioneer Youth (Nahal) called Nahal Roi along the route which was populated by soldiers and girl-soldiers. Then we stopped, and Phinehas Avizuz thought that Ascapa was swearing at him and immediately attacked him. The fight was broken up and we continued. Then things begin to go wrong.

Corporal Ron left the road and led us up into the hills. Soon we encountered the other squads. It seemed that the corporals were lost, no one knew the way. I became separated from Ron’s squad and ended up in one of 3rd Platoon’s squads.

“Well, a child is born unto us,” their corporal said sarcastically. “What squad are you in,” he asked me.

“Corporal Ron’s squad,” I answered.

“Ron,” he shouted across the valley, “your solider is with me.”

We continued wandering in the hills. At last we made it back to the camp and I joined Ron’s squad again.

“I think we have as much chance of winning as anyone,” he said in his whispering, mumbling voice.

Yeah, right! Corporal Judah was the only one who had memorized the course and took it flawlessly. His squad made the trip in 1 ½ hours and they were already asleep. We went to bed too. We didn’t notice at the time but Corporal Mordecai’s squad was nowhere to be seen.

What happened next I learned later. The CC and the rest of his staff went out in the jeep to try to find Corporal Mordecai. Corporal Mordecai, for his part, led his squad far into the hills. He finally told Spiegel to take one of the illumination rounds out of his canteen holder, and fire it. The CC saw it and drove over to where Corporal Mordecai was, and told him how to get back to the camp. They arrived at about 3:00 am. In the meantime the CC came back to the camp and found everyone fast asleep with no guards posted. He walked into the middle of the camp and fired an entire magazine into the air at full automatic setting. Needless to say that woke everyone up.

The next day Shalomo Shabtain refused to go out to training. He had been in Corporal Mordecai’s squad. He might have gotten away with one day, but the next day he refused to go out as well, incurring the wrath of the XO, who was still leading our platoon.

A week later there was a battle preparedness inspection. The sergeant noticed that Spiegel was missing an illumination round from his canteen holder.

“Spiegel, where is your other illumination round?” the sergeant asked.

“Oh, I had to fire it in the air when Corporal Mordecai got lost,” Spiegel answered.

Corporal Mordecai’s face turned red.

“OK, I’ll draw you another from the bunker,” the sergeant said, and some time later came back with a fresh round which he gave to Spiegel.

About a week later we had another “battle preparedness” inspection, this time done by the XO. Spiegel stood to inspection with only one illumination round in his canteen pocket.

“Spiegel, where is your second illumination round?” the XO demanded.

“Sir, do you remember when we went on that navigation march, and Corporal Mordecai got lost? I had to fire it off so we would be found.”

Corporal Mordecai started and stared at Spiegel intently.

“OK, never mind, I’ll draw you another one from the bunker,” the XO said. He was as good as his word and soon returned with a new illumination round for Spiegel. Spiegel took it in his hand, but I noticed he didn’t put it in his canteen pocket.

A few days later I was working all day KP with the Master Sergeant. I went into the mess tent and encountered an enormous second lieutenant who was eating a late meal provided to him by the company Secretary. This guy was central casting’s answer to Frankenstein’s Monster. In addition to his enormous stature his face was as square as a block of wood. He was wearing red boots, an indication he had gone to Paratrooper’s course, and we later learned he was on medical disability from the commandos. In the picture he is in the second from bottom row, 8th from the left. I got a bad feeling about this, as the only reason a new Second Lieutenant would arrive now would be to be our new Platoon Leader. My suspicions were confirmed when I finished KP that night and joined the platoon in formation. The new PL, whose name was Arik, was checking weapons. He checked, one, then another, then another, and then stopped.

“Platoon, I don’t’ know what’s the matter with you, I tell you to oil your weapons, and no one has done so,” he said.

“I told you we should have oiled the weapons,” someone muttered.

“You will be punished,” Arik said. He noticed me standing at the side. “Put that man on a stretcher, and everyone put on full battle gear.”

Everyone made a collective moan. I am not a small person. “Jeeze,” I said.

“Curtiss, that’s the last time I hear you mention the name of Jesus,” the devoutly religious Corporal Mordecai said.

I was placed on the stretcher and lifted.

“This is going to be short and hard,” Arik said. “Everyone keep up with me.” He took off at a dead run, his long legs eating up the distance. The Platoon struggled to keep up with him over the rocky uneven field. They begin to fall behind.

“Keep up with the PL,” Corporal Mordecai, who was along, said, “or he’ll go farther.”

The new PL kept running until the platoon caught up with him, then turned and ran back to the camp. Panting, the platoon arrived and I was lowered.

“Now, let this be a lesson to you,” the new PL Arik said. “If I give an order, you had better obey.”

The next day PL Arik made a battle preparedness inspection. Spiegel was missing an illumination round from his canteen holder.

“Spiegel, why do you only have one illumination round in your canteen holder,” Arik asked. “You’re supposed to have two.”

“Sir, a month ago we went on a navigation march, and Corporal Mordecai got lost and took us far into the hills. He went so far he had me fire an illumination round so the CC would find us and tell us how to get back.”

Corporal Mordecai’s face turned purple, and the veins stood out on his neck. “Grandmother Tales!” he sputtered. “The XO already replaced that round at the last inspection!”

A newborn babe does not have an expression on its face as innocent than that of Spiegel as he protested “No, sir, it was never replaced. Ever since you got lost in the hills on that march and we were wandering around until 3:00 am in the morning and fired one of my rounds, I have been one short.”

Corporal Mordecai sputtered with indignation. “Never mind,” PL Arik said, “I’ll draw a replacement from the ammunition bunker.” Spiegel’s round was replaced again.

About a month later the CC made a battle preparedness inspection. Spiegel stood to inspection with only one illumination round. Luckily for him Corporal Mordecai and the rest of the staff was not present or paying attention, otherwise his number might have been up.

“Spiegel, where is your other illumination round?” the CC asked.

“Sir, do you remember that night we went on the navigation march, and Corporal Mordecai got lost and took us way out in the hills? I had to fire an illumination round so you would see where we were and come and get us.”

“Yes, I remember that,” the CC chuckled. “But someone should have replaced the round immediately after you expended it. I’ll get you another from the ammunition bunker.”

Once again Spiegel’s round was replaced.

At the end of the basic training, when we turned our “battle equipment” into the warehouse, Spiegel had a kitbag full of illumination rounds. Corporal Mordecai saw this but by then there was nothing he could do, Spiegel had his orders to report to Hebrew School and was beyond justice.

==========================================================================Chapter 25 - Merciful’s Birthday Party

No sooner had the new PL Arik took over than he had to leave for a while. It came about as the result of a training accident.

A demonstration was given by the officers and noncoms on an attack using M-113 Armored Personnel Carriers. Arik was the driver of one APC. The attack commenced; the machine guns on the M-113 opened fire, the M-113 hit a dip and bounced, the M.A.G. fired down into the driver’s area, the bullet hit a periscope, shattering it, the shrapnel hit PL Arik in the mouth. Before he was taken to the hospital PL Arik addressed us:

“Platoon, I am still alive,” he said. “I caught this in the mouth.” He showed us a large piece of glass from the periscope. “I’m going to the hospital now but I’ll be back on Sunday.” This was on Thursday, so ThursdayFriday we would be under the tender mercies of the sergeant.

Thursday night the sergeant took us on a stretcher march. We had two stretchers for the platoon, and started up a high hill, on the top of which was an advanced radar listening post pointing toward Jordan. By this time we were experienced with stretcher marches and relieved each other at regular intervals. We also kept up with the sergeant. When we reached the top of the mountain the sergeant let us piss and drink water, but he didn’t let us put the stretchers down. He chatted with the guards at the gate of the listening post, then we started down and reached our camp. We then sat around waiting for what was next.

“There’s going to be some hideous punishment,” I told Nimrod Lipsker.

“Nonsense,“ he replied. “We’ll just go to bed. “

“No way!” I said. “I’ll bet you 100 pounds we have a really hard punishment.”

“You’re on,” Nimrod said.

Just then the sergeant appeared and called a formation. When we were all standing in rows he addressed one of the soldiers in the Platoon by the name of Merciful (Rachmani).

“Merciful, you had a birthday today, did you not?” the sergeant asked.

“Yes, sir,” Merciful answered.

“You didn’t think I’d let your birthday go by without a PARTY, did you?” said the sergeant with an evil chuckle. We were told to put on full battle gear.

He then ordered 5 “toilet people” front and center. These were people who had screwed up during the week, one of whom was Sholomo Shabtai, who had refused to go out to training two days in a row after the infamous navigation march. Shabtai was ordered to lift Merciful up on his shoulders (in a sitting position, not “wounded”), the other four toilet people were told to get a stretcher and follow the sergeant. They soon returned with a huge 48 liter pot of the horrible strong tea, and a dish with a huge coffee cake in it, on the stretcher. The sergeant had had the cake baked special at the base and trucked out to the field.

Sitting on Shabtai’s shoulders, Rahmani ladled out a cup of tea for each of us, then cut the cake and distributed it. After we had finished our refreshment the “games” begin.

“Everyone get one on one wounded,” the sergeant ordered. We complied.

“Now, everyone walk around Merciful and sing Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” we sang as we circled Merciful carrying our “wounded.”

After we finished the song the sergeant ordered us to crawl across the parade ground, then duck walk back.

“Sir, we’re done duck walking,” we said.

“Oh, you are, are you?” the sergeant said. “OK, then organize the guard posting and get ready for bed.”

“Well, at least that was an interesting punishment,” said Nimrod Lipsker in his high, gay pansy voice.

“Here now, fork over the IP100,” I said to him.

“Timmy, go away,” he replied. I have always thought he was dishonorable not paying his bet.

The next day we were scheduled to go home on liberty. Now, I have alluded to Joel Yaish and his propensity to not be able to concentrate on what he was doing, so let us examine his personality more closely.

Yaish was a Yemenite Jew, like the sergeant. He wanted to excel but found it hard to concentrate on anything. The sergeant picked up on this and delighted in tormenting him.

“Everyone in the Platoon is going out on liberty except Sholomo Shabtai,” the sergeant informed us. “Shabtai, put on a walkie talkie and go stand in the guard position. You are staying here this weekend. Yes,” the sergeant continued, “even Spiegel, who went AWOL, is going home. Even Yaish who is always dreaming, is going home.”

The sergeant examined Yaish closely. “Yaish, where is your belt, and where is your beret,” he asked.

“I lost them,” Yaish confessed.

“You have one minutes to find them, or borrow from someone who is staying behind this weekend,” the sergeant said. “or your leave will be cancelled. Call out the time,” he ordered the recruit-helper.

“5…. 10…. 15…” the recruit helper called as Yaish frantically went to the other platoons to borrow a belt and beret from someone who’s leave had been cancelled.

“45…. 50… “ We could see that Yaish had succeeded and was running back to our platoon, but was not yet

wearing the belt.

“55… 60.. Ten-HUT,” the recruit helper called. Yaish stood there like an idiot, with the belt half on and half off.

“That is what happens to a man…. “ the sergeant said, indicating Yaish, “that is what happens to a man when you have mercy on him.”

The sergeant continued to torment Yaish until he was a mental basket case. The buses came and we got on them to go on liberty, then Shalomo Shabtai ran over with the walkie talkie and a message from headquarters, leave cancelled. We had to gather our kit bags and put them on the bus, we were going to the base for battle preparedness.

We got to the base and were told the alert was cancelled. We stowed our gear and went out, even though it was getting late.

============================================================================Chapter 26 - 2nd Platoon's penis

On Sunday Platoon Leader Arik returned as promised looking none the worse for wear. He was so big it would have taken a lot to bring him down.

We went back to the trenches for more training on “warfare against fortified positions.”

“Spiegel, it’s your turn to train,” Arik told Spiegel.

“I have no motivation to train,” Spiegel replied, looking gloomy.

“Spiegel, stand at attention! Attention, before your commanding officer,” Arik shouted at him. “How dare you feel sorry for yourself? The welfare officer is working on your problem. Even the Battalion Executive Officer is working on your problem. So you have no right to feel sorry for yourself. Get into the trench and train!”

Spiegel’s “problem,” was that he had been evicted from his apartment in Holon. Of course it was impossible for him to pay rent with his recruit’s salary, so he had been evicted. That is why he had gone AWOL, and why he was so depressed.

His problem was soon solved, however, as the Battalion XO found him a home with a family in a seaside moshav. Spiegel was very happy there, every time he got liberty he would lounge at the beach.

Arik continued to punish us for our lack of motivation. One night after training was done he brought his boom box over to where our tents were pitched and tuned it to a radio station playing easy listening songs.

“Platoon, you will be punished again,” he said. “Form up in two squads, and squad one run 100 meters and stand next to the ammunition foxhole.”

We did as he ordered. “Now, shout ‘We are not working hard enough’,” he ordered.

We began to chant as he had ordered. After a few minutes of this he told us to stop.

“Now, shout ‘We are undisciplined’” Arik ordered.

We shouted this a few times. “Now shout ‘We want to climb on hills’,” Arik ordered.

“We don’t want to climb on hills,” we shouted. Arik stopped us.

“Now, first squad, take this small diesel torch, run to the foot of that mountain over there, and light it. The rest of you come over here and listen to the radio.” Arik ordered.

The first squad ran about a half a mile to the foot of a large mountain, placed the torch, and lit it. Meanwhile we all listened to the radio. The first squad returned.

“Now, the second squad will run out to the torch and extinguish it,” Arik ordered.

We did as he ordered, came back, and were finally allowed to go to sleep.

The next day we went to the field for more APC training. Arik was still not very satisfied with us. As we lounged on the side of a hill in a small valley he told us “Platoon, your not disciplined. Now go over to that slope and write ‘Discipline is a wonderful thing’ with rocks.”

Groaning and complaining we went over to the slope and begin to form fist sized rocks into the Hebrew letters that would spell out the required sentence.

Meanwhile, 2nd platoon had showed up and stopped next to us. They seemed to have received a similar punishment, as they climbed up the slope next to us and begin to work. We finished our writing and came back down the slope to the valley.

“Platoon, that’s pathetic,” PL Arik commented on our weak scrawled effort. Meanwhile, we watched what 2nd Platoon was doing. They had formed a human chain and were moving rocks the size of a man’s head into some sort of pattern on the hillside.

“What are they doing?” someone asked.

“They’re definitely not writing anything,” someone offered.

“Wait a minute… I think that’s…. No, it couldn’t be,” someone said.

Slowly the pattern took shape and we broke into raucous guffaws. Taking shape on the hillside was the outline of an enormous penis, complete with a testicle sack hanging down. The penis was about 12 feet long, and it was completely filled in with boulders. When it was finished, Life Daggah, one of the most notorious toilet people of 2nd platoon, kneeled in front of it with his buttocks facing it, and the rest of 2nd platoon stood alongside the penis and pretended to rub it, all in unison.

Now, the writing that we did was probably washed away with the first rain, but the penis of 2nd Platoon is no doubt still there on the hillside more than 30 years later.

“That’s not nice what they did with that penis,” said Nimrod Lipsker in his high, gay, pansy voice.

============================================================================Chapter 27 - Colorful characters from other Platoons

In this narrative I have focused mainly on the adventures of my own Platoon, 1st platoon, because I was more intimately acquainted with its day to day activities. We slept in the same barracks and trained together, after all. But there were certainly interesting characters in other platoons. Let us meet some of them now.

2nd Platoon was gaining the reputation as a problem platoon. When we went on the great navigation march one of 2nd Platoon’s squads (commanded by Corporal Rafi) simply arrived at Nahal Roi and sat there flirting with the girl soldiers until the CC came and told them to move on. As a consequence they were required to perform the navigation march a second time. By then the route had become well known and they completed the march with no problems.

We have already become acquainted with Life Daggah, recipient of the simulated reaming by the giant rock p**s. A Sephardic Jew, he sported a handlebar mustache which made him resemble a Mexican Bandito. On the tour to Jerusalem Daggah had purchased one of those clay drums sold in the old city, and he found an old WWI style brimmed helmet and a pair of rock star glasses. He sat in this outfit playing his drum and singing weird Moroccan songs until the Company Master Sergeant said to him “Life, if you don’t remove that ridiculous gear I’ll encumber you with full battle gear.”

One week we spent practicing helicopter landing exercises and preparation for boarding a large troop transport helicopter. It was planned to go for an exercise in which we would actually ride in a helicopter at night. The night before I had been guarding the tents and sitting on a duffel bag. Corporal Ron came up behind me and threw a grenade simulator, claiming that I had been asleep when guarding. The next morning I was told I wasn’t going on the helicopter exercise because I was asleep at guard duty, I would stay in the desert to guard the tents.

“I was not sleeping,” I protested, “I was sitting on a duffel bag.”

“Too bad,” the sergeant said, “you’re not allowed to sit while on guard duty. You stay, Spiegel goes.”

“Ha, Ha, I’m going on the training, you’re staying here,” Spiegel mocked me.

The sergeant noticed Spiegel had no helmet. “Where is your helmet, Spiegel?” he asked. “You can’t go on the training without a helmet.”

“Timmy, lend me your helmet,” Spiegel asked me.

“No way, after you danced on my grave,” I told him. Spiegel went to borrow a helmet from someone else.

Then something very strange happened. All of us who had been selected to stay behind were called to assembly, and the CC addressed us. “You and you and you are not staying here,“ he said, indicating me and two other soldiers. “You are returning to the base with the master sergeant. Daggah, you are a toilet person, you are staying here to guard the camp.”

“What did I do?” asked Daggah.

“You refused an order, you are a toilet person,” the CC answered.

“I refused an order? I refused an order?” Daggah asked incredulously, than burst into tears. “Boo Hoo, you’ve broken me, I didn’t refuse any order.”

“Take his weapon away,” the CC ordered.

But after the CC had left for the training 2nd Platoon’s platoon leader, Lieutenant Sefi, came to Daggah and said “Life, you didn’t refuse an order, you were chosen by lottery. You can go to the base if you wish.” I really didn’t understand what was going on here, why the CC hated Daggah so much that he had made up the part about him refusing an order. It was probably because of Daggah’s goofy behavior. The battalion executive officer was visiting and as he was leaving he asked Daggah if he wanted to go back to the base. Apparently he knew Daggah from somewhere.

“No, sir, I’ll stay here with the fellows,” Daggah answered. He then proceeded to try to act as chef and prepared some ghastly concoction made up mostly of water, colored with tomato sauce with horrible slices of canned spam (loof) added in. I passed on this hideous soup and bought a candy bar from our field PX, run by the Master Sergeant. Then we went back to the base.

Krickly Miravi

Krickly Miravi was an enormous Georgian at least 7 feet tall. He had a volatile, hair trigger temper. He was

the M.A.G. machine gunner of one squad of 2nd Platoon. His counterpart was a huge Moroccan named Etach Miracles.

One day during a particularly hard training session, Miravi’s temper exploded. He threw down the machine gun and stormed back to camp, and was placed under arrest by the company Master Sergeant. Now Etach did not have a bad temper like Miravi, he, in fact, usually had a stupid grin on his face, which became so annoying that Lt. Sefi told him one night he was going to run him around a mountain in full battle gear until he stopped smiling. On this day, however, shortly after Miravi snapped, Etach snapped as well, threw down his machine gun and stormed back to the camp, to be placed under arrest as well. Both Miravi and Etach occupied the “cell of arrest,” and there wasn’t much room left in it with those two big fellows inside.

That night the CC held court marshals. “Miravi, you started out well, but you broke; now you are a toilet person. You are sentenced to seven days hard labor.” Etach got off with probation. Miravi was shipped back to the camp to do his time, but so intimidated the jailers that they let him be an apprentice jailer, and he didn’t have to wear the ridiculous prison outfit or clean toilets.

The task of being the machine gunner fell to Jerry Goodman, the American in 2nd platoon. He had been M.A. G. backup, carrying a 500 pack (funny how they always got the Americans to carry this. In 3rd platoon the 500 pack was carried by Barry, from South Africa.) Goodman was older, as was Spiegel, but was not such a goof off. He began having nightmares that the M.A.G. was chasing him, asking to be oiled.

One Sabbath at the base Jerry’s girlfriend, an attractive Israeli girl with dark hair who had been his Hebrew teacher of all things, came to visit him. Corporal Rafi called an attendance formation and Gerry and his girlfriend came. His girlfriend went to sit off to the side. Corporal Rafi noticed her.

“OK, Jerry, you’re excused, but make sure you and your guest report to the mess hall for lunch at 12. The rest of you guys stay here, I have a lot of things to tell you.” There were a lot of whistles and catcalls as Gerry and his girlfriend walked hand in hand back to the barracks.

Another member of 2nd platoon was Eitan, a black Yemenite with a big white smile. He was not spaced out like Yoel Yaish, but still loved to goof off. One day his PL, Sefi, became so annoyed with him that he made Eitan put on full battle gear, the 500 pack, the M.A.G., the RPG and the mortar. I happened to walk by as he stood next to the flagpole.

“What are you, a one man army?” I asked. He burst out laughing.

I guess Eitan was the original “Army of One.”

As the basic training continued, some guys became tougher, and some broke. Me, I was just trying to hold my own, I really didn’t have the athleticism needed for this type of combat unit. I was very good at keeping my equipment in order, including the 500 pack.

One of the guys who broke was Moses Cohen. One night he refused to carry a stretcher during a stretcher march, and the next day we heard about it from the CC.

“All of the toilet people like Son of Mankind will be punished constantly,” the CC said. “Now, Son of Mankind, every time I come around you are to run to the top of the nearest mountain and stand there with your rifle held over your head. Now run to the top of that hill and stand there with your rifle held over your head.”

Son of Mankind went to the top of the hill, found a boulder there, and sat down on it. He then glared at the CC.

“Excuse me, Uri,” Sergeant Marrick of 2nd platoon asked the CC, “is that what you intended?”

“No, it is not,” the CC said. Son of Mankind stood up, but did not hold his rifle over his head. The CC let it

pass, and continued talking about “toilet people.”

“Last night 2nd Platoon went on a stretcher march, and Moses Cohen refused to carry the stretcher, even though his comrades begged and pleaded with him to help. Moses Cohen, your liberty is cancelled until the end of basic training, and every time I see you I want to see you with full battle gear.”

That night 2nd Platoon went out on a “makeup” stretcher march with Moses Cohen as the “wounded” on the stretcher. This was the second “makeup” exercise 2nd platoon had been on. Corporal Rafi’s squad had had to do a “makeup” navigation march, because on the first one Rafi had taken them to Nahal Ro’i and they had just stayed there talking to the girl soldiers until the CC came up in his jeep and ordered them to move out. By then Rafi had learned the route and they did it quickly without any problems.

Moses Cohen was sent to work with the Master Sergeant. He became more and more depressed. One day I encountered him sitting dejectedly on a box of ammo wearing full battle gear. The Master Sergeant came up and put his hand on Cohen’s shoulder. “Get up, you have work to do,” the Master Sergeant ordered him.

Every time we went on liberty Cohen would hopefully stand with us at assembly, until the CC ordered him to take his kitbags and stand next to the flagpole. So he went AWOL, came back and was put under arrest for 7 days, cleaning toilets. When he came back to the company he was still depressed. He went back to working with the Master Sergeant.

“Gather up rocks, put them in rows around the tents, and paint them white,” the Master Sergeant ordered him.

“My p**s is broken from rocks,” Cohen complained.

“Oh, you have gained a measure of security by working closely with the Master Sergeant, have you,” Master Sergeant Peres asked. “Well, I’ll remove that security from you. Another minute you’re here with helmet, field jacket, and weapon.” Cohen ran to get the equipment. When he returned the Master Sergeant told him “Another minute you’re here with nothing.” That was the Master Sergeant’s favorite punishment, to make you come with gear, then make you run back, remove it, and run back with nothing. He made Cohen do this several times. There was no escape for you if you screwed up, just endless punishment and depression.

Nadav Doron

Nadav Doron was a kibbutznik from somewhere in the north. Tall, square jawed and blonde, he looked like central casting’s answer to Ari Ben Canaan. In the picture he is on the left, fifth row down on the far left side. He was one of the machine gunners of 3rd platoon, of course. One night I was guarding and saw him sitting next to a campfire he had lit, vigorously cleaning his M.A.G.

“Nadav, what are you doing?” I asked.

“Oh, the M.A.G. was dirty at morning inspection, so I was given the punishment to stay up all night and clean it.” He offered me some of the coffee he was brewing.

“We have big plans for you, Nadav,” the commanders would tell him. “You will, of course, receive the Battalion Best Soldier Award. Then you will go to noncommissioned officers course straight out of basic training. Then, probably officer’s training course.”

“I don’t want to go to noncommissioned officer’s course,” Nadav answered them. “I want to go to commandos.”

“Maybe later,” he was told.

He tried to figure out how to get out of going to noncommissioned officer’s course. “I know,” he thought to himself, “I will go AWOL.”

Nadav chose to go AWOL when we were doing Urban Warfare training at a camp in the Jordan valley. He went out to the road and started to hitchhike. Ben Sheetrit saw him and came out to the road to join him.

“Sheetrit, what are you doing here?” asked Nadav. “Go back to the platoon.”

“Nadav, I can’t take it anymore, I have to go AWOL.” So the two of them hitched a ride to Jerusalem.

In Jerusalem, Nadav intended to visit the Hebrew University, wherein were studying two American Jewish girls who had worked on his kibbutz as volunteers, and who were planning to visit his kibbutz on the weekend. Nadav walked up to the university gate wearing his combat fatigues, his magazine inserted into his weapon.

“Here now, young soldier,” the elderly guard accosted him, “remove your magazine from your weapon.”

Nadav complied, only to re-insert the magazine after he passed the gate, putting his hand behind his back to where his weapon was slung and clicking it in without even looking.

Nadav found his two female acquaintances and escorted them back to his kibbutz, laying his head in the lap of one and thinking “it’s great to go AWOL.”

Meanwhile, Nadav’s AWOL had caused quite a stir back at our camp. “Nadav’s gone AWOL, Nadav’s gone AWOL,” everyone said excitedly to each other. Thursday afternoon we broke camp. Lt. Nava of 3rd platoon put the whole platoon in a truck, and he said to the CC

“I’ll run by Nadav’s kibbutz and pick him up.” The CC assented.

Meanwhile, back at his kibbutz, Nadav had taken leave of his American friends and gone into the arms of his Israeli girlfriend. They went for a romantic tryst in Nadav’s room. Just as he was about to mount her BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! came a loud knocking at his door.

“Who the h--- is it?” Nadav asked.

“Nadav, get your butt out here, it’s Lt. Nava, we’re going back to the base.”

Nadav wrapped a towel around his loins and went to the door.

“Get dressed and let’s go,” Lt. Nava ordered him.

“Nava, this is my home, I’ll do what I want to,” Nadav told him. He closed the door, went back to the bed, fornicated with his girlfriend, got dressed and went outside. Lt. Nava was waiting patiently, smoking a cigarette. Nadav got on the truck.

As soon as they got back to the base, Nadav was, of course, encumbered with full battle gear and kit bags, and “hung out to dry” in front of the company office, awaiting court marshal. Sheetrit arrived back at the base, and soon joined him. It was there I encountered them as I happened to walk by. I was not aware of the story until I asked Nadav how he came to be standing outside the company office encumbered. After Nadav related the story I said

“Well, you will certainly be court marshaled, no question about it.”

Court marshaled he was, and received 7 days hard labor cleaning toilets. He made the unforgivable mistake of shouting “its fun to be under arrest” as the Battalion commander passed by, so the jailer was ordered to further punish everyone by taking them on a stretcher march within the camp.

Well, Nadav didn’t get sent to noncommissioned officer’s course, but his trials were not yet over, but that’s another story

============================================================================Chapter 28 - The 72 km March

The time came for our 72 kilometer march. It would be on Thursday night, of course. I went to the PX and bought a brand new pair of socks. Then we got on a bus and were driven far to the north, to the Galilee.

It was a beautiful, warm summer evening. The CC gathered us together and gave a lecture about his philosophy of marches.

“There are three types of marchers. The first are the ants. They are OK, they just keep going and generally keep up with me. Then there are the toilet people, like Son of Mankind, who always lag behind and complain. Then there are the Lions. Their job is to push the toilet people from the back to the front of the column and make sure they are affixed to my backside. But Lions, don’t just hitch a ride on a toilet person, walking with him and pretending you’re pushing him. Push him to the front, then go back and get another toilet person.”

While he was talking I changed into my new socks. Best move I ever made, as I was able to complete the march in comfort. On this light march we would only carry rifle and field jacket, no helmet or packs. A piece of cake.

Before we begin the march PL Arik called us to assembly. “Now, you know who is waiting for us back at the base?” he asked.

“A liberty pass,” someone volunteered timidly.

“NO, the new crazy Sergeant Major Pinto,” Arik said. “He will inspect you meticulously, and if he finds one button not buttoned he not only will cancel your liberty, he’ll throw you in the stockade.”

On that cheery note we began the march. I don’t remember exactly where they dumped us, but soon we were going next to some huge airbase where jets were taking off and landing constantly. I had bought a few of those melted chocolate candy sticks so I had something to energize me. Soon I was walking asleep, until the CC woke me up and shouted ‘Curtiss, can’t you keep up?” He asked everyone who showed up behind me. Then our water trailer, towed by a command car, got stuck in the mud. Try as we might, we couldn’t free it.

“Everyone drink, than fill your canteens and let’s move out,” the CC ordered. Then we continued moving through the night. Dawn found us on the outskirts of Jenin. “Your rear is 1000 meters from your front,” the battalion commander informed the CC by walkie talkie, which was being carried by Moses Cohen. So the CC stopped in a vegetable field next to Jenin and we lay on the ground around him, waiting for the rear to catch up. It took them a long time. When the company was together the CC addressed us.

“Now we are not moving fast, because I know you can’t move fast, but everyone keep together.” As we moved through Jenin some of the soldiers bought food from the Arabs until the CC angrily told then to stop buying. We started to go up into the hills. I had gotten my second wind, so I began to carry stragglers “wounded’ up to the CC, until I became dizzy and had to stop. We got to the top of the hills, and there, below us, was the shooting range and the base.

When we got back to the base Sergeant Marrick, who was acting as Company Master Sergeant because Peres was on discharge furlough, told us to shower. But there was no water for some reason. So we put on our dress uniforms.

“Master Sergeant Pinto wants you to weed around your warehouse,” Marrick told us.

Shouts of protest erupted until Sergeant Marrick said “to the rear, jump, everyone!” We jumped up, spun 180 degrees, and came down on our feet. Then we resignedly took hoes and began to remove the weeds around the warehouse. When they were gone we were assembled for the horrible Pinto’s inspection. We saw him coming from a distance, his arrogant stride unmistakable.

David Spiegel was a pathetic sight. He had stuffed his dress uniform into his kitbags without folding it when he came back to base from the last liberty, and not one square inch of the 100% cotton uniform was not wrinkled. He had lost his beret and belt, and his shoes were so scuffed it was impossible to tell if they were black or not.

“Dave, get away from here,” I told him in English. Pinto was getting closer.

“Sir, I have to find some shoe polish,” Spiegel said to Sgt. Marrick.

“Dave for the love of God, get away,” I pleaded with him. Pinto was only 100 meters away!

“Spiegel, go over behind those warehouses over there and don’t come out until I tell you,” Sgt. Marrick ordered him.

“Pinto’s coming! Pinto’s coming,” we squealed, then “Ten-HUT!” We all went rigid like telephone poles.

Pinto came and went up and down the line, inspecting us. He singled out several soldiers and told them to stand at the front of the company.

“Why are you wearing American boots and not Israeli boots?” he asked the soldiers.

“You see, sir,“ one of them said, “our feet are too big for the Israeli boots, that is, they don’t make them our size, so we have to wear American boots.”

Pinto nodded and dismissed them. “Ok, liberty approved,” he said, and marched arrogantly off.

Spiegel emerged from his hiding place; we boarded the buses and left the base.

Next week would be our second to last week of basic training. We would learn urban warfare training and witness the fall of Phinehas Avizuz..

============================================================================Chapter 29 - Urban Warfare

Upon returning from liberty we were bussed to Urban Warfare training. This was an abandoned Jordanian base in the Jordan Valley. Next to the base was a mountain dubbed “Hero’s Mountain.” This peak had about a 60° grade and was a perfect cone shape. Its name had come about because of a legend in the Army that Moshe Dayan had said that a man was not a hero unless, during his army service, he was sent to prison. The only reason Dayan had said this is because his worthless son Assi had spent most of his army service in prison. Anyone who was a “hero” or “tough guy” and was disrespectful to the commanders would have to scale “Hero’s Mountain” in full battle gear plus pack or kit bags.

The base where this training was done was located at the very bottom of the Jordan River Valley and at this time of year it was extremely hot and dry. As there were no shower facilities, after a couple of days the staff decided to let us take a field trip to a natural spring swimming hole in the Jezreal valley. This was a nice garden spot with many swimming holes and lots of female bikini clad European volunteers and Israeli girls. All in all we were allowed two trips to this place. By now I had a pair of swimming trunks and was able to enjoy my swim.

Urban Warfare, or house-to-house combat, is one of the most difficult and dangerous things we would

learn, so a lot of time was spent on dry runs. The individual soldier tactic is directly opposite of what you see in the movies, when the soldier enters a room, stands in the doorway, and blazes away. The idea is NOT to stand in the doorway, because that is where the enemy will instinctively shoot. When you enter a room you throw your foot against the base of the doorway opposite and push yourself out of the doorway and take a position to the side of the doorway. As you are doing this you are pointing your rifle from the hip in the same direction you are entering from. You open fire on full automatic and move the barrel in an arc from one side of the room to another.

Once you have mastered the tactic as an individual soldier, you form chains of three soldiers which is the basic unit in urban warfare. When approaching a room one soldier covers at the window to prevent the enemy from firing from it. The two other soldiers position themselves on opposite sides of the door. A grenade is thrown into the room. When it explodes the soldiers enter the room as described above, one after the other, each beginning to fire on an opposite corner of the room entered. When this is done properly the room is totally sprayed with lead and anyone in it is killed. The heavy weapons of the platoon come into play as providing cover as the chains move between buildings. Needless to say, from the complexity of the description above you can understand that this is an extremely difficult tactic to master and necessitated hour after hour of training..

Or sergeant, Hasson, had gone on discharge furlough. PL Arik appointed Corporal Mordecai as sergeant. He immediately inflated and began taking on airs. We did not hesitate to complain about him. Arise, Son of Mankind was particularly disgusted with him. At one assembly Arise told PL Arik “Sir, I complained to Corporal Mordecai about my toothache, and he said it interests his left testicle.” There was righteous indignation in Arise’s voice when he said this.

For my part, I was disgusted with Corporal Ron and his inability to get up at night. One morning found us at morning inspection.

“You have rust on your weapon,” Corporal Ron told me.

“What, rust?” Arik said. “Timothy, you have a Commanding Officer’s inspection at 3:00 am.”

“There is no rust on my weapon,” I said to Corporal Ron. “You are blind and confused.”

“Get down and give me 30,” Ron ordered.

“No, go to the sergeant,” Arik said.

I walked over to where “Sergeant” Mordecai was standing, and said “Good morning, sir, the PL…”

“Go and get your kitbags,” he told me.

Just then, Dayan came out, rubbing his eyes sleepily, totally late for morning inspection.

“Dayan, go to the sergeant,” Arik told him. He was instructed to bring kit bags also.

Corporal Mordecai began to run us around various landmarks next to the large two story barracks that we were using to sleep in. Although it was early in the morning, the sun had come up and the sweat soon began to run from between our legs.

“Well, how about it, gentlemen?” Corporal Mordecai finally asked us.

“I don’t understand why I am being punished,” I said self righteously. “I simply disagree that I have rust on my rifle.”

“No, you idiot,” Corporal Mordecai told me, “you are being punished because you smart-mouthed your Corporal.”

“I certainly didn’t intend to do so, and I am sorry with all my heart,” I said.

“Is that so? Go run around that pile of cement,” Corporal Mordecai said.

He finally felt we had enough, and told us to put our kit bags back, but bring our packs with us to training.

“I don’t believe I have rust on my rifle,” I told PL Arik.

He took the rifle, inspected it and found a microscopic dot of rust. “Timothy, you have a commanding officer’s inspection at 3:00 am,” he told me. Moshe Eastern also had rust and shared my fate.

All day we trained at the difficult tactics.

Now comes to the tale of the fall of Phinehas Avizuz. As you will recall he came to the basic training late, because no other unit wanted him, apparently he had a criminal record or some such thing. During the middle of the basic training he seemed to do OK, but after PL Arik came he begin to experience difficulty. One night he was ordered, along with Moses Eastern, to climb to the top of a mountain, pitch a pup tent there, and sleep there all night. Phinehas and Eastern went only to the foot of the mountain and pitched the tent there. Even when the sergeant went out to them and told them to move to the top of the mountain they did not move. So the next day PL Arik ordered them to climb up the mountain and pitch their tent. They went up the mountain. When they got to the top PL Arik shouted at them to come down, but they didn’t hear him because it was too windy. The wind caught their tent as they tried to put it up, unfurling it like a flag. They did not come down until the tent had been erected.

Somehow, and I don’t know until this day what the reason was, but Phinehas angered the Company XO. One night he was ordered to climb “Hero’s Mountain” in full battle gear plus kitbags. He went off in the direction of the mountain and disappeared. The fact of the matter is he was afraid of the dark.

After taps Moshe Eastern and myself, who were supposed to prepare Commanding Officer’s inspections, were instead told to help try and find Phinehas Avizuz . It was a ridiculous assignment; we would have had to search every house. “Avizuz, Phinehas Avizuz,” Eastern called over and over, as the XO played a spotlight over the face of “Hero’s Mountain.” Finally after an hour of this nonsense we were allowed to go to bed.

Avizuz came back the next day and was put on the roof of one of the buildings with the walkie talkie on his back, on guard duty. When we got back to camp he was sentenced to seven days in the stockade.

We only had one week of basic training left. 2 days in water obstacle training in Ashkelon, and the grand finale training mission, ambush of vehicles.

============================================================================Chapter 30 - Final Training

The Friday after the Urban Warfare training our CC called us together to say good-bye. He was going on discharge furlough.

“Now it is time for me to leave the army and pursue other activities,” he told us. “You have been a good group of recruits and you may shout ‘Up, to battle.’” We shouted and he took his leave. The XO took over command of the company.

Sunday saw us at the Water Obstacle Training Base near Ashkelon. At this base could be found mock-ups of every water obstacle the IDF was likely to encounter, as well as instructors who would train us on how to cross the water obstacles. But before we began training the XO addressed us:

“No, in contrast to what has occurred up until now, I expect you to work hard during this training and not to

goof off. Especially 2nd Platoon. You are a problem platoon. 1st and 3rd Platoons, you’re OK. Now Nadav thinks he was smart to go AWOL, but he is not smart, not only will he not go to noncommissioned officer’s course, but we will tell the battalion he is assigned to what he did, and he will continue to be punished after the basic training is over. Now, you say you want a party at the end of the basic training, have you given thought to WHERE you are going to have that party?”

“Madison Square Garden,” I suggested.

“What,” the XO exclaimed.

“No,” said Spiegel. “It’s in New York, but it’s not a good place.”

“We can use the rec hall at my farm,” Yoav suggested.

“Very well, talk to Master Sergeant Marrack to make the arrangements,” the XO

We then begin the training. First, we were given a life jacket, and told to float in the water to get used to them. We put the life jackets on over our battle gear and entered the water and floated lazily about. Since it was summer we had no problem with this. Since we had arrived at the base in the afternoon this was all we had time for that day.

“Now, everyone oil your weapons thickly,” PL Arik told us.

Our “camp” simply consisted of throwing our sleeping bags on the beach. We posted guards, and some of the guys built a huge bonfire and started a party. I was guarding second, but I left my post to join the party. Gershon chased me away. “Timmy, get back to your post,” he told me. So I went back. Moshe Vahaba was my relief. Because we had been in the water and our clothes were soaked, we were guarding only with skivvies and our rifles.

“Vahaba, wake up.” I shook Vahaba in his sleeping bag.

“OK, I’m awake,” Vahaba said.

“Vahaba, rise to your feet,” I told him, imitating the CC’s voice.

“Is this good enough for you?” said Vahaba, rising to his knees.

“Vahaba, rise to your feet!” I repeated.

“OK, OK,” said Vahaba, getting to his feet.

I was tired by then and went to sleep on the soft sand.

The next day w learned how to construct a bridge that could be used to cross the Jordan. The sergeant and corporals had a new toy to punish us with, as they made us run carrying sections of the bridge. We bridged the “Jordan River” and crossed it at a run.

Then it was time to break for lunch. We started back, singing “Another week, another week, basic training’s on our p**s.” For some reason this angered Corporal Ron and he began to punish us. He tried to make us crawl through the sand, but of course this is not difficult, and only amused us. Then he made us carry each other wounded. We didn’t care. “Another week, another week, Ron Carmi’s on our p**s,” we sang cheerily. Finally Corporal Ron gave up and let us eat lunch.

Next, we would learn how to cross the Suez Canal. For this we used the ubiquitous rubber boat known as the Zodiac. Now the corporals and sergeant amused themselves by placing someone in the boat and having the rest of us run around carrying it. It was very heavy. Finally, we were ordered to take the boat down to

the “Suez Canal.” We boarded it and began to paddle across. Suissa fell out of the boat, drawing upon himself the wrath of “sergeant” Mordecai. Finally we got the hang of paddling and crossed the “Suez Canal” in a respectable manner.

It was evening as we boarded the buses for our trip back to base. When we reached the base it was dark, and we took off all our equipment from the bus. Yaish was moving dreamily slowly as usual until the XO grabbed his ear and pulled him from the bus.

“Hey, why are you grabbing my ear,” shouted Yaish.

“Because you’re slowing me, and the company, down,” the XO replied.

It was clear to us that the XO was up tight for some reason.

The next day we began the training for the Ambush of Vehicles exercise. In the lecture hall the PL explained how this was to be done. First, two land mines would be placed in the road. Next, a 20 liter can of gasoline would be placed against a slope running next to the road. This ambush has to take place at an area where the road runs alongside a hill, or it won’t work. The can of gasoline is laid on the slope and a large amount of explosive is attached to the can facing the road. When the explosive goes off, the burning gasoline bounces off the slope and showers the road. The RPG bazooka is used on the last vehicle of the convoy. Most of the Platoon is facing the road and fires on the vehicles. A three man chain, including one M.A.G., guards the rear of the platoon.

As we listened to the lecture in the lecture hall I nodded off. The PL woke me up. “Go to the sergeant,” he said.

I went to corporal Mordecai. “Hello, sir,” I said. “The PL asked me to report to you.”

“Why?” corporal Mordecai asked.

“I fell asleep,” I replied.

“Oh, oh, oh!” corporal Mordecai said. “Why did you fall asleep?”

“Sir, I have no idea,” I said. “I slept well last night, I have no excuse.”

“Go to the shower and drench your head with cold water.” Corporal Mordecai ordered.

I did as he told and rejoined the lecture. The PL had an elaborate chart showing what each soldier would be carrying and what his position would be in the ambush. We then went back to the barracks to prepare the equipment for the exercise.

As the end of basic training neared, everyone became disrespectful to Corporal Mordecai. Son of Mankind and Gabbi Ami were particularly disrespectful to him, so he took him to a part of the base that had meter high thorny weeds and made them crawl through them. They didn’t care. “They’re putting pressure on us,” Son of Mankind and Gabbi sang as they crawled through the weeds. Corporal Mordecai finally prepared court-marshal papers against Gabbi Ami.

Then Corporal Lion washed out of officer training class and came back to visit us. Son of Mankind greeted him as if he were an old friend.

“Now, Peretz and I both intended to wash out,” he told us. “but as soon as he got there Peretz began to study hard and take the course seriously. One night I came back to our room and he was studying some manual. So he’s still there.”

“So, are you coming back as a corporal for the August class?” asked Son of Mankind.

“No, I’m coming back as a Sergeant to the August class,” Corporal Lion said.

Son of Mankind gave him a high-5.

That evening we loaded up in a truck and went off toward the exercise area. About 5km away, we left the truck and begin marching toward the place where several empty oil drums had been set up to simulate vehicles. After a couple of kilometers Vahaba came up behind me and whispered to me

“Timmy, I can’t hold it anymore, I have to take a crap. Tell the PL to stop!”

Who was in front of me, no other than Abraham Ascapa. “Ascapa,” I whispered, “pass it down to the PL, Vahaba has to take a crap, stop for five minutes.”

“Keep moving,” Ascapa growled.

“You don’t understand,” I said in exasperation, “Vahaba has to take a crap, we have to stop for a bit.”

“Keeeeeeeeeep moving,” Ascapa said.

Vahaba was getting so desperate he fell out of line and began to look for a place to take a crap.

“Vahaba, what are you doing,” corporal Mordecai whispered to him. “Get back into line.”

I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I believe we kept moving and Vahaba had to hold it in.

We finally reached the exercise area and set up. The PL carefully attached the explosives to the can of gasoline, and Yaish buried the phony landmines. We took up our positions on the hillside. The Battalion XO was there to observe the exercise and confirmed that everything was in order. “Here come the vehicles,” he yelled.

Whoom! The PL detonated the explosives and the burning gasoline bounced off the slope and blew the drums off the road into the adjoining field. We opened up on full automatic and filled the drums with holes. The RPG was fired, hitting the drums simulating the rear vehicles and blowing them away. “Cease fire,” the Battalion XO ordered.

The oil drums which had simulated the vehicles were totally destroyed. “You have one wounded,” the Battalion XO determined, indicating a soldier. “Break out a stretcher and carry him.”

We broke out the stretcher and carried the “wounded” soldier a couple of kilometers to the pickup area. Our truck awaited us there and we boarded it and went back to the base.

The next activity was our final 100 km march, but I did not get a chance to participate in this because I had a stress fracture in my foot. So when everybody came back we begin to take our equipment apart so we could check it back into the warehouse. Suddenly PL Arik came in and said “Everyone stop taking your equipment apart! There’s a battle alert. Some terrorists have crossed the Jordan. Company A is going to look for them, B and C are in reserve.

So we waited around a couple of hours, then Company A came back on some truck.

“What happened?” I asked one of their American soldiers.

“We killed one, and took two,” he said, “but all the fighting was done by the Battalion CO. Gee, that fat guy can really move! He smashed into the house where they were hiding, shot one and grabbed the two others and bashed their heads together. All we did was watch.”

We turned in our equipment, then prepared to go on a one week furlough, however, we had interviews scheduled with our new Battalion Commander who would be at the Soldiers Resort with his battalion in the coming week. For the last time, we boarded the buses and left Camp Bezek. Basic training was over. Now the real war would begin.

Service at the front

After a week of furlough I reported to my new assignment. Golani brigade has 3 battalions, 12th, 13th and 51st. I was assigned to 51st Battalion, Company C, 3rd Platoon, along with Gershon, Yoel Yaish, Nadav Doron, and a few other guys I have mentioned. .

Son of Mankind got the assignment he wanted, the special weapons battalion. Here, he would drive an Armored Personnel Carrier with a huge mortar in the back to provide close artillery support to the rifle battalions. Most of the other fellows were sent to rifle battalions.

I found the platoon at the garden springs of Banias. The “camp” was just sleeping bags spread around the trees. We stayed there a couple of days before getting on a bus and going to our outpost on Mt. Dov. This was a spur of the Hermon, overlooking Lebanon. High on the mountain was a UN post. Spread before us, facing in a western direction, were the Christian controlled villages of Mar Jayon and El Mira, and the PLO controlled village of Rashi-el-Fahar. Ominously looming on a large hill on the other side of the Litani River was the PLO Occupied crusader castle of Beaufort. On a clear day you could see all the way to Tyre, on the Mediterranean coast.

Aside from the obvious duty of guarding the fortress, two patrols were sent out from the base each day. Dawn patrol patrolled a section of the security fence north and south of the base. This consisted of two patrols, one for north of the base, and one for south of the base. The patrols consisted of a halftrack manned by a driver, 2nd lieutenant, a machine gunner, and a medical orderly. In front on foot went a Bedouin tracker, a soldier with a walkie-talkie, and a soldier with a grenade launched from a rifle. Our job was to patrol the fence and see if anyone had crossed it during the night. If it appeared that someone had crossed the border, a pursuit group took over the chase. Our duty was just to guard the border.

The Bedouins were experts on reading the footprints in the soft dirt that ran parallel to the fence. One time, it is said, a dawn patrol found a single set of footprints crossing the dirt. “Three men crossed here,” the tracker said. Sure enough, the pursuit group soon encountered and destroyed a chain of three terrorists. Seems they had crossed the dirt standing on the shoulders of one guy.

Afternoon patrol was called the dustoff. This was also two patrols, one north and one south. It consisted of a halftrack with a driver and two wing machine gunners, commanded by a noncom. The halftrack dragged a large rake along the dirt, smoothing it out so any footprints would be readily discernable.

The civil war had been raging in Lebanon for quite a while, but this was 1977, and Israel had yet to make a large scale intervention. Every night, if you were on guard duty at the observation post, you could see artillery exchanges between the Christians and PLO. Sometimes our artillery would intervene in favor of the Christians.

About 4 km from the border was a small village populated by refugees who had fled from the fighting. Since they had no doctor, we set up a clinic in the village every Sunday and Thursday. One halftrack went as an escort, and one medical equipped one provided the clinic. Sometimes we would offer candy to the children, but this time of year it was Ramadan, so the children declined to eat.

Another operation was to send a patrol to a certain hill within Lebanon. The force would arrive at 1900 hours and relieve the force that was already there. The hill provided an excellent view of the battle zone.

The evening of the Jewish New Year, 1977, found me on this hill with 12 other soldiers. I had carried an apple and some C-ration honey to make the blessing for a sweet year. During my watch, from 12:00 to 2

am the New Year’s Party began. The PLO opened up on the Christian village of Mar Joyoun with heavy machine guns and katushys and the Falange Malitia replied with .50 browning machine guns. You could see the tracers flashing back and fourth between the opposing forces. Then our artillery, located on the border, opened up. High Explosive and spectacular White Phosphorous rounds were fired on the enemy. By this time the terrorists were firing from Rashi-el-fahar, a mere 3 kilometers from our lookout post, towards the Christian village of El Miri. The crack of our 155mm guns echoed through the hills, and the wash as the shells arched over our heads sounded like a freight train passing by. When my watch ended, I curled up on the rocks, and despite the din, went to sleep.

During the day, a bird which sounded exactly like an RPG missile round would swoop from rock to rock, causing much alarm. Also, large Pikas (a kind of rodent) could be seen sunning themselves on the rocks.

On September 17th, 1977, Saturday night, we received an order from battalion headquarters to send all 8 of our APC’s to battalion headquarters, with drivers. This could only mean they were going to be used for war. At the same time a force of 10 men, (myself included) were sent into Lebanon in halftracks to the village of Shuba, some 4 kms over the border. Our mission was to prevent the PLO from entering the village. During the night we had orders to open fire on all vehicles coming from Rashi-el-fahar. I drew guard duty with Joel Yaish in the middle of the night. It was getting cold, and Yaish was constantly saying “Timmy, I’m cold.”

“Shut up, Yaish” I told him. I wanted to hear if the enemy was sneaking up on us.

“Timmy, I’m cold,” he repeated. I finally gave up. After one of the longest nights in my life we we’re finally relieved at daybreak.

During the day cars were stopped and searched. No cars came at night. The next day the halftracks were exchanged for APC’s. The rest of the APC’s, we learned, had taken a force of paratroopers into Mar Jayon to support the Falangists, which was launching an offensive. We were relieved on the 21st, which was Yom Kippur. I did dawn patrol and fasted the rest of the day.

During all this activity, the observation post on hill 108 had been occupied by a force of Golani Commando Trainees. Because of the necessity of sending forces into Lebanon, it was impossible to relieve them. They ate up all their rations. Then they began to starve. They kept begging to be relieved, and then silence. When we finally got to them, expecting the worse, they seemed well fed and in good spirits. They departed in the direction of the Israeli border and we took up positions on the hill. Then we found it. A standard issue army pitcher, the interior crusted with blood. It became crystal clear what had happened. The starving commandos had shot rock pikas, put them in the pitcher, cooked them and eaten them.

The last Israeli forces left Lebanon (for the time being) on September 26, 1977, when a cease fire went into effect. It was Succot and I was released on Liberty and returned to Kibhutz Alumim.

Nadav and the Penis of Bezek

Nadav Doron was in my platoon once we got to the battalion. After things died down on the war front, we went back to our day to day routine. This included various miscellaneous work around the fortress. Since Nadav had a driver’s license, he was always expected to drive a command car on various errands.

Now, our old XO in basic training made no bones about his disgust with Nadav for going AWOL. He had promised Nadav that the incident would not be forgotten once Nadav reached the battalion, and made it a point to tell the battalion CO about Nadav’s going AWOL. One time Nadav was driving the command car from our fortress high on the Hermon down to battalion headquarters in the upper Galilee valley. The CO of the battalion came on the radio.

“What is your position?” he asked.

“I am at checkpoint 4,” answered Nadav.

Soon afterward the CO came on the radio again. “What is your position?”

I am at checkpoint 2,” Nadav answered.

“You are driving too fast,” the CO informed Nadav on the radio. “Report to my office when you get here, whoever needs to get it will get it.”

Upon reaching headquarters Nadav was placed under arrest. “Arrest,” at battalion meant you went around with your rifle and just waited. Soon Nadav was court marshaled and received a fine. Thus the penis of basic training camp Bezek followed him even after basic training was over.

============================================================================I go to Squad Leader’s course

In November 1977 I and several others were selected for Squad Leader’s course. This would be a three month course ending in the rank of corporal. I was eager to go because I was tired of KP and wanted to be commander of the dust-off.