Breaking Distance
“Because we understand that having to place your mimia [water-bottle] next to your foot isn’t so relevant for mevugarim like yourselves.” A seemingly innocuous comment laced with significance. Finally, some rationality introduced to the game. This was the beginning of the process known as ‘breaking distance’, a tumultuous period which has started in confusion but will finish in egalitarian fervour. For a mere three weeks, we were doing the army for real. Now, it’s more like sixteen year olds at summer camp, complete with almost unbelievably patronising lectures on the dangers of drugs. Allow me to explain.
On Monday, we finished the period known as tironout. We had the final examination – written and practical. Somehow, I passed the practical with flying colours. I slipped on my gas mask with ease; I bandaged my comrades with all manner of techniques; I showed my prowess at doing the ‘Indian Crawl’, a method of scrambling along the ground without letting your gun drop. Following the test, the entire pluga gathered together. Then, the samelet stepped forward to let us know the new rules of the game.
In one-on-one situations, we can address our mefakdot by their real names. Our mefakdot will no longer wear their hats. There will be far less running around. We will receive a generous amount of time from our superiors to get from one place to another. There will be no more press-ups. The atmosphere will be more relaxed, there will even be opportunities to laugh together. We will be able to use our mobiles during the break, and are finally permitted to enter the promised land of the shekem, a place to buy chocolate and ice cream from dour faced recruits.
So far, so good – that was our thinking. But it hasn’t been quite as cushy as it might seem. In place of press-ups, we were presented with a formal menu of punishments that we will receive if we do something wrong. Late for class? Work with the samelet after bed-time. Late returning to base after the weekend? A two hour delay on your departure the following week. Tempted to take a piss at three in the morning without taking your gun with you? The ubiquitous mefakdot will know – and your punishment will be severe. Try to think of your unloaded and thus impotent M-16 as an extension of yourself.
Most of this week has been spent in the classroom. We have had classes on the Declaration of Independence, Theodor Herzl, the various aliyot to the country, and the pre-state militias. There was even a visit from a Lechi man, a story I’ll save to the end of my service, when I’ll finally turn to the question of the politics of the IDF. We continued with krav maga and fitness training. And, each morning, there is a peer-led lecture. I’ve volunteered my services, and next week – somehow, someway – I’ll be giving a talk in Hebrew about Ahad Ha’am, the Cultural Zionist thinker.
Finally, we have some choice. Breakfast is served at 6.40, but if we prefer we can sleep in until 7.30. I cannot overestimate how much I have learned to appreciate this. As much as our time in hardcore tironout was condensed beyond belief, it has taught us to value time and freedom more than ever before. Seconds seem like minutes, minutes like hours, any time we get to ourselves is used to the fullest.
From here, the distance will be broken further. There is already occasional banter between us and the mefakdot, and far more two-way dialogue about how things are going. We had an amusing session on army slang. I learnt such gems as reach shel bakum – smell of the recruitment centre – a derisory term for new recruits such as myself. By the end of the course, we will be on first name terms with our mefakdot, and I will finally be able to understand why the IDF is known as the most informal army in the world.
But the next two weeks may just be the most intense yet. We are scheduled to complete our final hike, which will take place before our swearing-in ceremony. And then, next Friday, we are sent for a week of shmira – guarding – in as yet unspecified locations. For this, we will have another day of shooting; although this time we will do it out in the open, rather than in front of a target. And then we head off to defend the realm. And this time, we get bullets. In the meantime, I’m trying to ponder what I did with my mimia, and whether its absence will be noted when I return to base…
