The Ying and Yang

The weather is starting to change here in Israel. The unbearable heat of summer is finally giving way to the cool beginning of the fall. This past week was spent in Sde Boker, a kibbutz in the southern part of Israel whose claim to fame is the former resident Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion. We were there for Gadna: a weeklong “simulation” and exploration of army life. For the duration of his life, Ben-Gurion chose to live in Sde Boker, because he believed that Jews should also live in the desert, “suffer a little” I believe is how he put it. His memorial site is a five-minute walk from the base, surrounding it are vast canyons of sun bleached sand and rock. The climate is dry and relentless. Hot during the day, cold at night. However in that first hour, none of us really knew what to expect. However after the four and a half hour bus ride from the Kibbutz it seemed like a more than fitting spot to start my army experience.

We stepped off the bus, finding ourselves staring down at 19-20 year old soldiers that were about to become our commanders for the next four days. After being split up into groups, we were introduced to a few new things. First, how to stand properly—at attention. Second, to say yes, sir, (In Hebrew obviously) after everything that is ordered.

For most Israeli’s, Gadna is something that is done in the 11^th grade as a sort of introduction to the army, to try and get people prepared for what the army is going to be like. For us, about two months before we enlist, it was a bit different. However one thing that Gadna is famous for is the fact that after two days of lessons and training, the cadets are taken to a shooting range to shoot exactly 11 rounds of live M-16 ammunition out of the same guns some of us will carry during our army service. For a lot of people this is the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, for Gadna. That is why they suffer through all the dreadfully boring lessons and activities so that on the last full day at Gadna they can hold that M-16 in their hand and squeeze off the first rounds of their army career. For me it was quite the opposite. I had/have absolutely no interest in shooting the gun, and it was not something I was particularly looking forward to. This, however, just like everything in Gadna; is not a request but a requirement.

After going through the motions and getting into position on the weapon, resting it against my cheek, the butt of the gun in my shoulder, the magazine in, the gun cocked. I laid there, prone to the ground looking at targets that had been laid out 25 meters ahead. They were human shaped: Heads, bodies and legs. All with paper targets taped to them. As the commander of the shooting range commanded me to shoot off the first round, I hesitated. She repeatedly said to me, “Esh esh” (in Hebrew this means Fire! Fire!). Eventually I squeezed off the first round and felt the gun recoil as the gunpower exploded and bullet rushed out of the gun. Ten more times I did this, each time in my mind I thought, that is someone’s flesh I’m shooting through. Someone’s body I could, with each one of these bullets; be taking a hand, a foot a life. For that reason, I did not particularly enjoy the shooting. I have come to realize that it is naïve to think that we can get rid of all the weapons in the world and just live in peace. I guess I just never thought I would have to be the one doing the dirty work. After the shooting was over, I found myself thinking, why is it that people are so excited to shoot these guns. I know that no human being wishes to take another’s life, but for me this is the only thought I have when I am shooting off rounds.

As I sit today in the kibbutz, on this beautiful Shabbat afternoon I realize that the calm I feel around me has been made possible by the use of these weapons, and the sacrifice the people have Israel have made, to carry weapons and keep this country safe. I have not yet fully decided how I feel about having these weapons, but I do realize one thing now—without these weapons this life of calm and safety would not be possible.

The third night at Gadna my Mefakedet (Commander) told me in our closing formation that she would like to speak to me after lights out. We sat near the obstacle course, on two telephone poles that had been out in place as make-shift benches. She asked me to tell her why I was in Israel, why did I come here to join the army, and where did I want to go in the army. I told her everything. I am here for the little children in Haifa that smiled at me at the Bahaii Gardens—their adorable faces and eyes glimmering in the warm daylight. I am here for my parents and everyone else I know who loves this country and what it stands for. I am here for Gilad Shallit, his family and all the other soldiers and families that have sacrificed so much to keep this country, and this idea alive. I told her I was here to do the best I possibly can, to give all of what I am capable of to this cause. Commanders in Gadna are trained to be firm, never smile and act like army commanders at all times. For some reason however when I explained to her, in my slightly broken Hebrew about the beautiful children at the Bahii gardens and my dreams for my children to someday be like that. Her mouth squeezed into an incredibly beautiful smile. Her eyes were glinting in the moonlight. I’m not exactly sure what it was that she was thinking about at that moment but it was clear that I had touched something special in her life.

That was the best part of Gadna for me, to finally be able to share with an Israeli in the army why I am here. To be able to not only communicate it, but to finally know that why I am here has finally become clear in my own mind. For that I only have one thing to say, “Toda le’Elohim.” Thank you god.

The second night we were in Gadna, there was a Pigua (a terrorist attack). Militants presumably Hamas ambushed a car with Talia and Yitzhak Ames, along with Avishai Schindler and Kochaca Even-Haim. The car was shot off the road and after the terrorists exited their own car, all the victims were shot repeatedly at close range. Talia Ames was the mother of seven children, all of whom are now orphans.

I have two waves of feelings about this massacre. First of all I want to understand why. Why would someone do that to another human being, what could persuade someone so strongly to massacre four civilians, two mothers; one of whom was pregnant. The other is to find those murderers and make them suffer for what they did. However as I write those words, it does not feel right. Something inside me just says that making them suffer wont do anything.

This week was Ying and Yang for me. I had civilian life and army life. Safety and terror, hot and cold. For me this week was about choices. As my mom always told me, “there are no bad decisions, just different consequences.” What happens to the terrorists will depend on our choices. My decision of what to do in the army will depend on what end result I desire and what choices/sacrifices I am willing to make to get there. In my heart this week, are the wonderful children of Haifa and the children of the Amnes and Even-Haim families, may their minds and hearts be blessed with all the love and prayers from the people of Israel.

All the love in the world,

אנדרו