Chapter 72, Boot Camp

It has been six months since we started at the academy. We were about to start our specialty courses. But before we take those courses, we had to go to boot camp. Interestingly enough, I was looking forward to it. This is what makes the soldiers strong and brave, I was told. The only drawback was that it was happening in July, when all my friends were spending time on the beach and having parties during their summer vacation, and I was here playing tough soldier. We left our cramped room and were told to leave all our possessions at home. After the boot camp we would move to a newer building with only 6 cadets per room.

The campground was at the edge of our base, far from the school or the dorms. We were put in a few tents 10 kids per tent. Our class was joined by other groups and together we formed a 6 tents platoon. 

“You have 30 seconds to line up in perfect triplets!” we heard the sergeant yell before we were even settled in our tents.

We dropped everything and ran outside except for Zalman who was complaining that he didn’t finish setting his stuff.

“It took you way too long!” yelled the sergeant. “Wait a moment, someone is missing.”

“ZALMAN!” someone yelled, and we could see poor Zalman peeking out of the tent.

“I am not ready yet,” Zalman whined. It seems Zalman was a popular Ashkenazi name – remember Zalman from the supermarket? Well, this Zalman was different; he was a little overweight and weak. His skin was way too white, like he’s never been to the sun, and he had to have everything in its place and clean.

“You weren’t ready on time, so we need to teach you how it is done.” Said Sergeant quietly. “See that tree on top of this hill?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “you have 1 minute to line up in triplets in front of it, MOVE! You too Zalman.”

Of course, we didn’t make it on time, so we had to do it again and again and yet, again. Poor Zalman was always the last one to line up. Yet, by the sixth time we were able to line up next to the tree in 55 sec including Zalman who was pulled by Ariye.

“Not bad!” Exclaimed the sergeant, “now we are going to get you your personal weapons”.

A “Mouser”, six and a half kilos Czechoslovakian gun from World War Two. It loads six 6mm bullets and even has a bayonet. It is an accurate gun for up to one mile. But it has a very strong recoil which I found out later the hard way, in no time. We received a special girdle-vest with pockets for the ammunition and a big American helmet. One interesting item we received was a poncho that converts to half a tent when you connect it with another poncho. And of course, we received a water canteen that hooks up to our belt/vest. And don’t forget the backpack with a folding shovel, and the tools for cleaning the gun.

The platoon was very noisy when everyone was carrying, some even dragging, the new gear. When we finally arrived back to our tents, we were given a half hour to set everything next to our beds and line up with our guns before marching to the dining room.

“Your gun is your wife!” Yelled the sergeant at Dani Mualem who came out of the tent without the gun. “You take it with you everywhere, it never leaves your site. You sleep with it, eat with it, even go to the bathroom with it. You keep it clean and well-greased and always ready to use. Now, forward march!”

We barely finished lunch and as soon as we walked back to our tents, the sergeant commanded us to pick up all our gear and line up in triplets in front of the flag.

“What do you mean, everything?” Asked Dani Mualem “Our duffle bag too?”

“Your duffle bag too, and the next person who ask another stupid question will have to bring that too.”

Everyone gave Dani hateful looks and ran to our tents to pack everything and bring it back to the front. 

“You have 60 seconds to take your duffle bags back to the tents and return here.” 

We broke into small groups, and we started taking our guns apart and clean them. We practiced taking it apart and putting it together with our eyes closed. Finally, we started to get ready for the big hike the next morning. 

“Fifteen miles each way, is easy,” I said to Dani Mualem. “I love walking, I hiked all my life, we walked everywhere. You get to enjoy the landscape, so much more than when you are in a fast-moving car.”

“Nice, I hope we all like it. Pack some extra socks.”

Early next morning at 5:00AM we were all ready with our gear, blankets in the backpack, our half tent poncho, a tent pole, extra underwear, socks, and of course the rest of the weapons and accessories. We even had a small cardboard box with our combat ration for the next two days in the backpack.

As soon as we were in formation, a young officer with an M16 hanging on his neck and a water canteen on his belt appeared in front of us.

“Let’s go!” were the only words he said and started walking fast toward the gate of the camp. We barely had the chance to pick our guns on our shoulder and started to follow him. 

   “Move it!” yelled the sergeant, “Close the gap!”

The officer was moving very fast, I never had to walk at that pace. Not to mention all the gear on our back, in no time we were all sweating. I don’t even remember how we arrived at the hills, we had to pass through a few roads and some industrial parks. We were moving so fast I didn’t even look at the sites. At the bottom of the hills Zalman started to make odd noises. His breath started to sound like a broken squeaky engine: “bahhaanggg Bbbaaahhnnggh bhang” Zalman fell to the floor next to me and kept on squeaking. “I can’t breathe he tried to say and collapsed. 

“No one is left behind!” I heard the officer yelling while he kept on walking even faster, it seemed.

“You!” Pointed the sergeant at Dani Mualem “take his gear, and you and you” he pointed at me and Menachem the orthodox, “help him up and catch up with the rest of us.”

Zalman kept breathing heavily and struggled walking while both Menachem and I helped him on each side. The sun was getting hotter and the time for breakfast was passing. I could see the platoon up the hill sitting on the floor getting ready to eat. We didn’t have much time, we needed to arrive to our destination before 10:00AM before the sun gets really hot. By the time we got to the top of the hill everyone was already packing to move on. I put my hand in my backpack and pulled 2 pieces of bread and gave one to Zalman. Menachem pulled one of his bags and we continued walking with everyone. Dragging Poor Zalman at the back of the group.

By the time we made it to our destination I realized that my boots weren’t really the right size for me, and that the wooly socks were not helping much. I took the boots and socks off and looked at my bleeding feet from the popped blisters. Each one of us had a little first aid kit, so I pulled a few bandages and borrowed one from Zalman who was still heavily breathing “bhangh bhangh bhangh.”

“You! Bang bang! Come over here!” Yelled the Sergeant. Zalman looked a little confused for his new name, yet, dragged himself to the sergeant. I am not sure what exactly went on there, but I saw Zalman doing some breathing exercises and in a few moment later he walked back to our spot. Him and Menachem the Orthodox were pared together and started to set up their tent. I was pared with Dany Mualem. They gave us 2 hours to build our tents, set our gear inside. Clean the clearing and mark a perimeter around the camp with rocks. We were on top of a high hill above the kibbutz Yagur. The view of the valley below was breathtaking. Even being the middle of the summer, the farmlands below were colorful and simply beautiful.

“Lunch time is over!” We heard the sergeant yelling “30 seconds to assemble under that tree!” As we were standing there, we were instructed to break into small groups. Each group were practicing how to take the gun apart, how to jump into positions, crawl roll, or “Krav Maga” the Israeli martial art. When evening came, we were taught to take advantage of the darkness and how the sounds carry more at night. The last thing we all hated was the stretchers hike. Each group had to carry one of our teammates on a stretcher. We had to carry Zalman who wasn’t the lightest, yet he was really the one that needed to be carried. 

“I wish we got carry you.” Said Menachem the Orthodox to me. “You are the smallest person in our platoon.” That was the first time I was happy to be the smallest person.

The next morning, we had to pack all our gear, clean the clearing (carry all the garbage with us) and start walking toward Acko. Again, we hoped to get there before the day gets hot. It was a little easier this time, since we were walking downhill and Zalman didn’t need any help. Just before the city Acko was a firing range. We had a day of target shooting planned for us. We were handed paper targets in the size of a human bust, and we were instructed to put them at the end of the field and get back to our places.

“Right now, since you don’t know your guns all you need to do is to be able to shoot in one cluster. You don’t have to hit the bull’s eye. We will learn how to compensate for the drift of each gun. Each one of you will get 6 bullets for your Mauser and after you done shooting, we will bring the targets for evaluation.” The officer finished his speech and moved aside. “At your convenience, fire!”

I held the heavy gun close to my shoulder as close as possible, just like we were instructed.  I was lying on the floor aiming at the target. The first shot hit me by surprise. No, I wasn’t shot at, the gun recoiled so hard it hit my shoulder so har it actually pushed me back ward a foot. The gun was too heavy for me and when I held it, I couldn’t keep it straight. My arms and hand were shaking like a branch in the wind. When we got to check the targets, mine was empty but the 2 targets next to me had a few extra holes. We had a few more tries but I didn’t get much better. The gun was way too heavy for me, and I couldn’t hold it straight. Finally, I did manage to get all the six shots on my target but not even close to the bull’s eye. No sharp shooting career for me.

Lunch time came and this time we had food delivered from our academy “shoe leather” beef, humus, and some other vegetable. There was something odd about the humus I didn’t like. so, I didn’t eat it. Yet, many of my friends unfortunately did eat it. It didn’t take long, and almost everyone was running to the bathroom. Two cadets had to be rushed to the hospital because they were dehydrated and lost conscience. Our training on the “Uzi” assaults weapon had to be postponed to the following week. That evening only half of our platoon was actually training. Everyone else were either in the bathroom or on the way there. In fact, it took 2 days for all of us to recover. Meanwhile we were learning to take the Uzi apart, clean it and put it together again. 

“You know,” I said to the group next to me “I just saw an article in the ‘BaMachaneh Magazine’ about a new assault rifle called Galil. It has a tripod as a part of the gun, and it even acts as a fence cutter”.

“A Plier Gun?” Laughed David the Cadet on duty. “Really? What else are you going to tell us, a flying tank?”

“That’s it, from now on we will call you Plier Gun.” Said Assaf Greenberg. And that name stuck with me for the rest of the boot camp training. 

We had one more chance to practice shooting but this time it was with the Uzi, and I did a lot better. The Uzi was a lot lighter and had much less of a recoil. I was even able to hit the bulls eye a few times. 

To celebrate our success in the target practice we were allowed to have an afternoon pass. 

“The 120 club,” suggested Assaf, “it’s the best night club in the area, some say it is the best in the country.”

“What about the Clockwork Orange movie?” I asked.

“Oh, who cares about a movie, Plier Gun?” Continues Assaf. “There are girls at the club.”

“We’ll have to be back by midnight,” David reminded us.

The night club 120 was in an old underground war shelter at the top of mount Carmel in the middle of a park overlooking the harbor below. The club didn’t open until 9:00PM so we had some chance to walk downtown Haifa. Independence Avenue is a long stretch next to the harbor. Along the Avenue are many stores of peddlers who sell import goods from around the world. Most of the goods were bought directly from sailors who came to Haifa from the ships docked at the port. That stretch was infamous for the oldest trait in the world. In every other corner you could find a half-naked woman or two. I was checking out a new wrangler ‘s jeans when David and Dani Mualem were talking to some fake blonde with a very short skirt.

“Time to go,” yelled Assaf, “the club is about to open in 10 minutes. You too Plier Gun, Get moving!”

“Heh, hey, I feel alright, one time; Hu!” The voice of James brown was screaming over the speakers. I was in the center of the dance floor, when a pretty girl approached me and just as James Brown was yelling “Sex machine” she said with heavy American accent “can I join you?”  We danced to that recording for about 30-minute, and then we continued to the beat of “Get Ready” for another 20 minutes. Before you know it, it was time for us to leave. I had to button up my shirt and regretfully say goodbye to the girl who wrote her address on a napkin. Write to me she said and shoved that paper in my shirt’s pocket. By the time we got to our camp we were so tires and remembering that in a little more than four hours we will have to get up for more training. I put my cloths in the laundry pile, forgetting the note inside my shirt.

“Up, up, up, you - sleeping beauties! We heard the voice of the of the sergeant. “60 seconds, under the tree!” I don’t know how I managed; I clipped my belt just as we arrived in an odd formation under the tree. (What is it about the trees? they always find a tree for us to stand in formation next to.)

“I see, three of you forgot your wives in the tent”, continued the sergeant. “I have a good exercise for you, it will teach all of you never to leave the gun behind.”

As soon as the cadet picked up their guns and rejoined our formation, the sergeant commanded us to squat down and hold our heavy rifles over our heads and start marching like ducks.

“Keep the formation! Zalman, you too!”

It didn’t take long before we started to fall, one after the other. Assaf Greenberg fell forward behind me pushing me toward Dani Mualem knocking him down over Zalman who was having hard time breathing again. 

“Sorry Bangbang, Plier Gun pushed me.”

“On your feet! You, broken toolbox!” and keep the formation!” The sergeant was getting angry. “Not a sound, keep on walking and keep the rifle above your head. All the way to the flag post.”

We fell a few more times before we got to the flagpole. The next day and a few days after that we kept on falling until about a week later, we finally were able to hold our guns over our heads and walk like ducks for that long stretch from the tree to the flagpole. I am still not sure what was that skill helpful for, but no one ever forgot his rifle at the tent again.

We had one day left before the end of the bootcamp. Our task was to clean the camp and bring it back to the same condition we received it at the beginning of our training. We received paint and brushes to paint the surrounding rocks in white. Hoes and rakes to clear the wild weed. Brooms to sweep the grounds, and even jet fuel for cleaning the command car. My task was to clear the dry brush and weed and dump it in a big dumpster. Zalman and Dani Mualem had the task of cleaning the command car. They had a bucket full of jet fuel, brushes and rags. Yossi Cohen and Assaf were painting the rocks of the perimeters with white paint. David the Cadet on duty was walking around and yelling commands like; “you forgot this spot!” Or “dump this pile of junk on the dumpster,” and so on. He was smoking his cigarette and enjoying his last day of being in “command.” Looking at Dani Mualem he yelled: When you finish with the rags – dump them in the garbage.” Not realizing that Dani just did that on top of the grass and derby I piled inside before heading toward the dining room. David Started a new cigarette with the bud in his mouth and flicked the bud into the dumper. In one second the grass ignited, and fire started in the dumpster. Assaf who wasn’t too far picked up the first bucket he saw next to him and poured it on top of the fire. Unfortunately, it was not water. It was the bucket Dani was using to clean the command car’s engine – it was jet fuel. The fire exploded and in less than a second Assaf was engulfed, and he was burning. I don’t know what made me do it or why – all I was thinking was “Run” instead of running to help I was running toward the dining room. In the corner of my eyes, I could see how Yossi Cohen who was the closest to Assaf, pushed him down and rolled him on the grown. In no time the burning clothes were quenched but Assaf was badly burned. On the way to the dining room was the medical building. I entered and yelled for a medic. 

Assaf Greenberg fainted by the time the ambulance came and took him to the hospital. He never wasn’t able to attend our sad graduation ceremony the next day. On my way home I didn’t look at the Odd-looking Arab village – “Jasser el Zarka” and forgot to hold my breath when we passed the stinking “Hadera River”. All I was thinking was, how was I going to tell my friend Efri of what happened when we meet at the dance party.

 

***

 

Kofta Kabab

 

A very popular dish in the middle east. Could be served on a plate, in a pita or a wrap.

 

Ingredients:

1Lb. Ground Beef

1Lb. Ground Turkey 

1 Onion chopped very small 

3 Crushed Garlic Cloves 

1 TBSP Crushed Ginger 

½ Cup Oatmeal 

½ Bunch of Parsley - Chopped

1 tsp Salt

1 Egg

¼ tsp Black Pepper

½ tsp Paprika

 

Mix all ingredients, let sit for an hour in the fridge. Make long shapes and put on skewer and grill.

 

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