I was on medical leave for a total of 6 weeks, known as Ram 2. Everyone always says “How do I get Ram 2!” In theory, it is the dream. You are at home, not in the army, the days count as if you were in the army, and you get paid. In reality, it was a very difficult 6 weeks. For Israelis it may be easier, as they may have friends who serve close to home and go home everyday, but all my friends are in the army. Everyday I found myself looking for things to do to keep myself occupied. I watched a million movies and TV shows, slept a lot, but would basically wait until my friends in America would wake up, or my friends in the army would get their phones so I could talk to them. Most of my energy went into growing this masterpiece:
My pride and joy
I returned to the army, not yet able to return to training. I was given a temporary position, something along the lines of being in charge of logistics and cleanliness. I mostly tried to get back in shape. I truly did not do anything. I’m not even going to waste another sentence describing those four weeks.
It has been very tough watching my old tzevet continue their training without me. Every week I see pictures of everyone on top of some mountain after a ridiculous week. Every looks absolutely exhausted but ecstatic to have made it to the end, together. While I sit in my room and try to entertain myself, they are out, working hard, continuing to get better each day. The highlight of each week for me is on Thursday when they return to base from the field and I get to see them and hangout with them. I usually even help them clean their gear and sit in on things they do just because it makes me feel like I am still a part of the team. They will officially finish their training in two weeks, at which point I will likely cry that I am not with them at the end. It will also mean that they will not be in the same base as me anymore, and I won’t see them for a long time. It’s also hard to see all my lone-soldier friends planning their trips home, as I know I cannot fly until the end of the summer most likely.
Last week I officially joined my new tzevet. They drafted 4 months after me, so they have about 5 months left of training. They are an Orev tzevet, not Palchan, which in theory might not make sense for me to finish my training with them. However, most of the training is the same for all the different units within the Gadsar Nachal, with the exception of the specialty course (example: my explosives course), so it doesn’t matter if I finish with the Orev, rather than the next team of Palchan which are 8 months behind me, as opposed to 4. This was I can get back to my guys sooner. It has been very weird so far. My old tzevet was usually around 26 guys, this new tzevet is around 15. They also behave very differently from my old tzevet so I don’t feel as connected to them. Obviously I have only been with them for a week or so, but still something feels off. Hopefully as time passes this feeling will give way to strong friendships. I’m in a weird position because I am only supposed to finish my training with this tzevet, and then go back up to my old tzevet for my active duty. I already feel like I don’t have my heart totally in this new tzevet, but hopefully I can treat them like I would my guys. I am waiting for the doctor’s permission to begin training, at which point I will probably be sorry I wanted to continue training. I’m sure it is going to be unbelievably difficult, but I am looking forward to it.
Moving the focus away from me, the recent conflict with Hezbollah on the Lebanese border has hot close to me. Anytime you hear soldiers were killed, immediately you pray you don’t know them. When I heard the names, I was relieved, but of course still sad for the families that lost their sons. The next day I was wasting away on base when a friend from my tzevet showed up, and I asked what he was doing there. He told me he was on his way to the funeral of one of the soldiers, his friend. There are no words that can really help in that situation. Additionally there has been some tension in my grandparents kibbutz. They live along the Lebanese border, and last week there was suspicion of Hezbollah breaching the kibbutz. The residents were told to lock their doors and remain in their houses. My grandma said this was the first time she has locked the house in years; the key barely budged in the lock. Nearby kibbutzim claim that they can hear Hezbollah digging tunnels under their homes. I really hope this stuff doesn’t escalate into anything more serious.
Hopefully my next post will be a bit more juicy.
Shaul Armony 