Chapter 79, War and More
October 7th, 1973 is a date I will never forget. It was my 7th day at the air force. It took a whole week of tests and interviews for them to finally figured out that my place should be at the lab we visited when I was at the air force academy. I was sent home early on Friday with a note to take with me to the lab on Sunday.
It was the eve of Yom Kippur, most of the soldiers were dismissed early to spend time with their family or at the synagogue. After the special dinner, I walked to Efri’s house and we hung out at the park next to him with the rest of the moppet riders. Of course, they didn’t ride their bikes, we don’t ride or drive on Yom Kippur. It is the only day when the street and highways are emptied of cars. Except for emergency vehicles which are rare on that day too. We talked about joining the army and how Efri didn’t join yet, even though he was older than me, he decided to continue his education. He wanted to study to be a mechanical associate before joining the military, it will give him an advantage. So, he postponed his military service.
“Hey,” he said, “I will be going to Shulamite tomorrow and her cousin from Tiberias will be there. Want to come?”
“The one who likes Hava Alberstein?” I asked, “I don’t get it, how can she like this fun killer singer. I can never understand her words or music. I’ll be there, lucky it is Yom Kippur, she won’t be playing that music.”
I slept late that morning while Dad went to the synagogue like most parents in Israel. There was no breakfast – it’s a day of fast. Some don’t even brush their teeth, I had to, can’t stay with that night dry mouth. I arrived at Shulamite’s house by noon. To my surprise, Efri was there already. Also, surprisingly, the music was playing, low – not to offend the neighbors, but it was on. Rocket Man by Elton John was playing when Shulamite’s mom opened the door. She was a very friendly schoolteacher. I never met Shulamite’s father. I never asked about him it was always Shulamite, her young brother and their mother. Shulamite and her cousin were setting the monopoly board game when I walked in. Efri was eating a cooky.
“I feel comfortable here.” I said, “no one fasts here.”
“I do,” said Shulamite, “for now anyway.”
“Me too,” said Shulamite’s cousin.
We started playing and before we knew it, it was 2:00PM. Shulamite picked up a red apple, wiped it and exclaimed: “I can’t do it anymore. I am going to eat.” She opened her mouth and gave a big bight. The moment she swallowed she almost spit it out. The sound of the siren outside caught us all in surprise. We didn’t hear that kind of sirens for many years. The on and off siren meant we had to find a bomb shelter.
“It scares me, I thought it was God trying to tell me not to eat the apple.” Said Shulamite when the alarm stopped, “what do you think it is?
“War,” I said, “what else could that be?”
“Yeah, what are you going to do? Efri was very serious. “Do you want me to drive you home?” Maybe they called you (we finally got a phone) I will drive you to your post.” Efri finally received his driving license, he was eager to drive anywhere. His father had a “Sussita,” an Israeli made car. It had a ford engine and a fiberglass body. It looked boxy yet, roomy, not to fast but much stronger than my dad’s car. We walked to his house and from there drove to my house. Dad was looking out of the balcony; I could see he was getting upset.
“I can’t believe you went in a car on Yom Kippur!”
“Dad, It’s a war. Did anybody call from the air force? Do they want me to come in?”
“No calls and nobody asked about you.”
The streets were getting busy, for the first time in Israel’s history. Many soldiers were leaving their homes and rushing to their bases and posts. It felt like I was the only soldier not going to his post. But, really, where would I go? Who will I see? What will I do? All I had is a note for me to be at the lab at 10AM Sunday.
All the hitch-hiking stations were packed with soldiers. Buses were picking up soldiers to drive them to the front line. The MP at the gate directed me to the lab. Everyone was busy doing their job and I could see people carrying parts from one room to the other. At the front desk sat a girl with long reddish hair and messy military outfit. She looked at me without saying a word. I showed her my note.
“Oy!” she almost whispered. “Wait, everyone is busy I am not sure what they are going to do with you.”
“What do you mean? I sounded a little frustrated. “I am here to work; it is a war out there.”
“We know that, but everyone is busy, we don’t even have anyone free to set you with a room.
She picked up the phone.
“Major Sela?”
The door behind her opened and an older officer waved me in.
“Move up soldier, we don’t have all day.”
Without a word I walked into his office. He looked at my papers, looked up at me and said: “Gyroscopic department, second floor first door on the left. See lieutenant Zohar.”
“We don’t have anybody to show you or teach you.” Said Lieutenant Zohar, “unfortunately for you, you will have to do simple chores. We don’t have a room assignment for you, you can get your blankets from the base’s warehouse but you will have to sleep here in the lab until this is over. Well, no one will be really sleeping, we have to make sure whatever was damaged is repaired and sent back to the plains.”
“Whatever is needed, I need to do my part, my friends are in the front line.” I said with pride in my voice. Hmm, really? Pride? My job was to make sure the lab is always clean.
I was given a pair of slip covers for my shoes – galoshes, a light blue medical robe, and a big floor waxing machine. My main job for the next 20 days was to wax the floor of all the labs in the building. Sometimes I was sent to pick a part or deliver a repaired part to the plane. All the fighter planes had to be ready for active duty. When a plane was on the ground – AOG because of a broken part and there was no replacement for it, the part would be delivered to the lab with a red AOG tag. During this war, every repair had to be treated as AOG. We had to work 24 hours per day to make sure there are no AOGs. It wasn’t an easy task. Our Egyptian and Syrian enemies were well prepared this time for us. They started this war on our holiest day. We weren’t expecting it. The soldiers in the front line were in the middle of a fast or prayer, away from their tanks or guns. We had many casualties on the first day of the war.
On the front line besides the tanks and assault vehicles many of the Egyptian foot soldiers had a shoulder antiaircraft mistle launcher. The mistle was designed to hit the plane’s heat source – the jet exhaust. We lost many fighter jets. Specially the Skyhawk who were designed to fly low and were the easiest target for those mistles. We had to come up with a fast solution to save those planes. Lucky for us our pilots were exceptional and managed to land most of the damaged panes without a tail. The solution was so simple that it was almost dismissed. We extended the tail of the plane. We added a long tube to the jet exhaust and when the mistle would hit, it would only damage the extra-long pipe.
Meanwhile I got upset for being an errant boy, cleaning boy while my friends were fighting and risking their lives. When I expressed it to lieutenant Zohar, he reminded me that my silly job was just as important, it freed other technicians to do their repairs without interruptions. His explanation comforted me for a short time, at least until the war was over. Unfortunately, after the war, which luckily none of my friends got hurt, I was still on garbage duty or cleaning duty and because I was the youngest and the last of my class to enlist, I was always picked for the remedial work. They would show me one procedure and before I had time to practice it, I would be sent to a guard duty. Two weeks of 6 hours (either from 6:00PM to midnight or from midnight to 6:00AM) watch duty and yard work or garbage collecting during the day. This repeated itself every four months when in between we got kitchen duties for two weeks long, two other weeks working for the camp master sergeant cleaning the grounds and collecting all the garbage around the base. Oh, and once a week we had an on-duty soldier to clean up the building at the end of the day.
As soon as the war was over, I was finally assigned my bunk with all the rest of the low rank soldiers. Six soldiers per room in a barrack of about five rooms. The latrines were in the back and shared by four barracks. All of us worked at the special labs, but I was the newest and was doomed to have more duties and chores than anyone.
When I finally got to go home 45 days after enlisting the first thing I did, even before I got home, I walked to Efri’s house and made sure I know when and where is the next party. Everyone was there, Doron – Efri’s new classmate with his new girlfriend Ofra. Buchbinder or as we called him Buch, Toshko, the DJ who no one liked, Nuriel the talented photographer with his girlfriend Rakefet the curly blond, Dubi who looked like Charles Bronson. Both Nuriel and Dubi were in a special commando team in the military. I was happy to see them both healthy and safe. This last war was not like previous wars. We lost many soldiers, we were caught unprepared, Israel can’t afford losing to its enemies. This time we almost did. Udi was also there, and he as usual, didn’t stop talking. Of course, Shulamit was there too and a few other girls I have never seen before. At most parties that would usually take place in the living room of the host, the chairs would be set around close to the walls and the center would be emptied and lately following my suggestion sprinkled with a bit of baby powder. It makes it easier to clean after so many shoes’ scuffs.
The base cords of the song “Get Ready” by Rare Earth made us all jump to the center. It was the long version – almost half an hour long. One at a time, people were dropping off until it was me and a small girl I have never seen before. We kept dancing with so much energy, everyone got up and circled around us clapping and cheering to the beat. Toshko, who liked oldies put the song “Only You” by the Platters right after. The new girl reached and grabbed my hand. She pulled me closer and wrapped her arms around me, dancing to the slow music.
“Miriam,” she said, “my name is Miriam.”
“Tibi,” I answered, “everyone calls me Tibi.”
“Nice to meet you, I mean, dancing with you!”
“You are a good dancer; do you take any lessons?”
“Naa, I took some ballet when I was a little girl with Sarah Yochai but stopped. I love dancing and dance only in parties.
“You look so young, how old are you?”
“I am a senior in high school, 18. Want to walk me home? I need to be there early”
“Love to.” I whispered; “can I pick you up tomorrow for some stroll in town?”
“Sure, 7:30?”
Saturday night we walked around town and stopped at Pundak HaYam for a coke and fries. After long talks getting to know each other, I had to take her home early again, this time because I had to get ready to return to the lab early morning. Miriam’s mother was at the door and was very polite and smiled at me very welcoming. I said my polite goodbye and Miriam reached over and gave me a kiss on the chick.
“See you in three weeks,” I said.
“Write to me!”
As expected, I was assigned to guard duty. Six hours from 6:pm to midnight guarding the canteen. Really? The canteen? I joined the military to be the best technician and so far, all I have been doing is remedial duties. Is that what I signed for? Watching at night over the canteen just gave me time to write long letters to Miriam. Very long letters, explicitly describing my feelings and sexual desires, a prostitute would bush reading it. During the day I was assigned to the master sergeant for cleaning duties.
“Does any of you have a driving license? Asked the Master Sergeant, “I mean a truck driving license.”
I was the only one who raised his hand.
“Your it!” Said the master sergeant, “What’s your name?”
“Tibi”
“Show me the driver’s license!”
I handed it to him.
“See that garbage truck?”
I nodded.
“You drive it around the campgrounds while towing this other wagon.” I nodded as he continued pointing to two other soldiers, “you two will sit in the back and load the truck and wagon with the garbage you collect from everywhere. When the truck and wagon are full, you will dump it all out at the dump at the edge of our base.”
This wasn’t a fun job, it was cold and some days were rainy, but the garbage had to be collected. The two soldiers were beginning to resent me. I was the driver, staying dry while they were picking up the garbage and at the dump scraping the garbage off the wagon and truck’s bed.
The dump was a big hole in the ground. We had to get closer to the edge of the hole and the two soldiers used rakes and pitch forks to empty the wagon and truck bed.
“Are you going to come help us?” Yelled one of the soldiers.
I walked out of the truck and approached them at the end of the wagon as they were struggling to drag the garbage over the edge.
“I need your promise to keep whatever I am about to do between us,” I said, “and I will need your help.” They both nodded. “Get off and stand on both sides of the wagon as close to the edge of this pit. I will back up and dump the stuff myself, all I need of you is to raise your hands when the front wheels of the wagon reach the edge.”
I pulled forward making sure the truck and wagon are in perfect line. I backed up slowly until the wagon was almost to the edge of the pit. I stopped, looked back at my two new friends and reminded them to give me the signal. I put the truck in reverse again and now pushed the wagon over the edge. They didn’t need to raise their hands. I saw the wagon tipping over the pit and the front wheels are still on top. All the garbage slid off in less than two seconds. I put the gear in first and through the clutch. The trucked sprang forward and pulled the empty wagon up.
“Now I need you to unhinge the wagon. I want to try one more thing.”
As soon as they disconnected the wagon, I asked them again, to stand on both sides of the truck but this time 3 feet away from the edge. I drove forward about three length of the truck and put the gear in reverse. I looked back one more time and released the clutch pressed the gas and picked up speed as soon as I saw the soldiers close to the back of the truck, I slammed the breaks. Almost all the garbage slid back into the pit. Smiling, the soldiers jumped on and cleared the rest. Within five minutes the truck bed was clean.
“We need to stay here a while,” said one of my new friends. “We don’t want the Master Sargent to suspect anything.
Miriam opened the door when I stopped at her house that Friday after my watch duties.
“I can’t see you anymore.” She said without even letting me in.
“Why? Is it my letters?”
“Oh, no, I liked your letters.”
“You did? Hmm… then why?”
“My mom, she doesn’t want me to go out with a Yemenite.”
To say that I was surprised will be a lie, but I was definitely disappointed. Her mom didn’t seem against it when we met. But it is the façade most of the Ashkenazi people kept. They treated us as the lower class we are to them; “be nice to them and they will not revolt.”
When I arrived home, Mom had a message for me from Roni from my lab. He invited me to spend Friday night at his house after a party and wanted to go to Tel-Aviv the next day.
The party at Noiman’s (one more soldier from the lab) who turned 20 was fun. We were mostly the people of the lab, but it was fun anyway. The food was good, and his mother made a nice cake yet, nothing compare to what I was served the next morning. Roni’s parents are from Iraq. They still had the heavy accent when they spoke Hebrew.
“Breakfast!” Roni’s mom called when she knocked on the bedroom door.
On the long dining room table was a spread of small plates. In each plate was a different salad, vegetable, egg preparation, or bread. A lot of the recipes in this book are inspired by that table. It was the best breakfast I ever had. There were, fried omelets, scrambled eggs, sunny side up, hard boiled eggs, fried sliced eggplants eggplant salad with parsley, tabouleh, humus, Israeli salad, sliced tomatoes, pickles, Iraqi pitas, plain pitas, bread toast and so many more I can’t remember. All that for Roni’s parents, his little sister, Roni and me. We sat, talked and ate for about three hours. Roni’s mom was a great cook, I think this was the main reason Roni skipped out almost every night out of the camp. I don’t know how he did it, you needed a signed and stamped pass to be able to leave at the gate and to come back.
Monday was Roni’s turn to be on duty and clean the lab.
“Will you cover for me today?” Roni asked me. “I will swop with you; I saw that your turn is tomorrow.”
“Sure, I don’t have any plans today, say hi to your parents.”
On Tuesday I had a busy day at the lab, I was tired, so I went to my room early, took a long shower and went to bed early. I didn’t even have the chance to close my eyes when Noiman came looking for me.
“Hey Tibi, have you forgotten?” He said, “you are on duty today.”
“No, I am not!”
“Your name is on the board.”
“I know, I swopped with Roni Shemesh.”
Noiman left and returned in about 15 minutes.
“Roni is nowhere to be found, you have to come and clean the lab.”
“Come on, I am not getting up now, I am tired, I just did it yesterday.”
Noiman left but 5 minutes later Yossi Cohen came.
“Tibi! Major Selah commands you to come and clean the lab.”
Now I was convinced, it was a joke. Major Sela never gets involved in these petty chores.
“You tell Major Selah that that I refuse to come.”
Three minutes later Noiman showed up again.
“Tibi, you are in deep trouble. Major Selah is really upset. We have an inspection tomorrow and the place is a mess.”
Lieutenant Zohar was waiting for me at the entrance to the building.
“Follow me.” He didn’t even wait for me to answer and walked toward Major Selah’s office. His secretary looked at me, saying nothing.
“I can’t charge him and judge him,” said Major Selah. “I need you to fill the charges, Lieutenant.”
“What charges?”
“Disobeying an order.”
Lieutenant Zohar filled up the papers while I was standing there and left the room.
“Where were you last night? Yelled Major Selah.
“In my room.”
“Don’t give me this BS. I sent for you a few times.”
“Sorry, Major, if you would have come, you would have found me in my bed.”
“It was your turn to be on duty, and you skipped out of the base.”
“Correct, it was my turn, but I switched with a friend of mine and took his place on Monday. So, I was tired and went to sleep.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Sir, you sent two people to get me 4 times, I am sure they could verify I was in my room.”
“They told me, you refused to come.”
“Correct again, I was sure they were pulling my leg.”
“Five days in jail!” He picked up the phone. “Lieutenant!”
Lieutenant Zohar walked in.
“Take that bum to the camp’s jail. “He will serve five days for disobeying an order.”
The jail in the base was for people with small misdemeanors, like not brushing their shoes of not shaving. People with bigger crimes were sent to a real jail. Our jail was a group of tents surrounded by barb wire and a metal gate. The only things I was allowed to bring with me were my wash kit, spare underwear, and a second set of class B uniform. We were supplied with a big cotton hat. Inmates were allowed to roam through the camp to do chores like working in the kitchen or picking up small garbage and collecting it in a barrel with wheels. I was assigned one of those odd-looking barrels on wheels and a big broom. For some reason every day after lunch when all the inmates ate together after the rest of the camp finished, the garbage led me to my real bunk where I took a nice long nap.
At night after dinner was the time for the jailer to torment us with odd chores.
“I want to start growing vegetables,” said the jailer “Each one of you, pick up a pitchfork and line up at the far end of our little camp.”
“Here we go again,” said the inmate to my right.”
“what are you here for?” I asked.
“No talking!” Yelled the Jailer. “Turn the ground over so we can plant something in this god forsaken place.”
“Disobeying an order,” whispered the inmate.
“Me too.” I said with surprise, most people who disobey an order get much more severe punishment.
“He is a pilot,” whispered the inmate on my left. “He landed and saved his plain even when he was ordered to abandon it.”
“Orders are orders…,” said the pilot.
I felt so embarrassed for even trying to compare our predicament. Pilots were the most respected officers in our country. They were the heroes of the 6 days war and saved our country from the war of Yom Kippur. Every woman wants to marry a pilot or at least date one. I was in jail next to a hero.
The next night the Jailer didn’t like the way the ground looks, He made us flip the ground over again. And move a pile of rocks from one corner of the jail grounds to the other.
I never went to stay at Roni’s home again. The lab passed a new rule, no more swopping duties without the permission of an officer.
The first “Afternoon Pass” I received I decided to go visit my grandmothers in Be’er Sheva. I promised my mom that I would visit my grandmothers at least once a month. I not only visited them, I also visited all my relatives. At least 2 other relatives each time I came to Be’er Sheva.
Meme July in section “Gimel” of Be’er Sheva, across the street from her was the park Nono built. After losing her husband Meme was very depressed and except for shopping she never left her house.
“When you go to Meme July”, Mom said, “make her do things for you. She feels useless since Nono passed away. Your cousins also do the same. Ask her to make dinner for you.”
I did visit her many times even when I was at the military academy. Unfortunately, she was getting worse and finally decided to move to an old age home.
Meme Milli lived on the other side of town, in section Daled. If I take the bus or hitch hike, it is the first stop as you get into town. I loved walking that last ½ mile toward her small house. It was a part of a low 4 units connected in a row forming a street of those “train” houses with a small yard in the front and a bigger backyard where Meme had a few fruit trees and a wash tub full of Na’na – middle eastern mint. She would make me a sweet cup of tea with Na’na every time I get there. While I would drink the hot tea, she would cut her famous salad of tomatoes and cucumbers with a little too much rough salt, olive oil and fresh lemon juice. If it was Tuesday (most of my “after passes” were on Tuesdays) she would also serve the couscous she prepared on the last Friday. For Tunisian couscous was almost holy food. You eat it on Shabat and on Tuesday because God saw twice that it was good.
While I am talking about good, Meme Milli was the best woman I have ever met. She was good to everyone. She loved each of her grandkids no matter what they do or how they behave. Even the ones who stole money from her. Unfortunately, she was illiterate and poor, but it didn’t stop her from giving whatever little she had. And every time I came to visit, after she fed me, we would walk and visit Meme July. When it was time for me to leave, somehow, I would find some money in my pocket. I loved those days when I went to visit her. You could find me singing at the corridors of our building, just because I was about to visit my Meme.
Lieutenant Avramovitz was our newest engineer. Part of his duties was to make sure we do our chores. He heard about my jail incident and of course put me on his “to watch list”. Singing was not one of his favorite pass time. You know me by now, I love to sing and as on Tuesdays I sing even more. I am not sure what was the reason he stormed out of his lab and slammed the door behind him. Unlucky me, I was the first thing he saw, or should I say, heard?
“Shut your mouth!” Lieutenant Avramovitz yelled at me.
“I wasn’t speaking.”
“Don’t answer me! You are singing.”
“Sorry, It’s almost an instinct for me.”
“I said, don’t answer me! if I catch you singing one more time you will get a few more days at your little summer camp.”
On my lunch break I rushed to the infirmary and asked to see the doctor.
“How can I help you, first private?”
“Doctor,” I started “I feel suicidal.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t continue like that, not enough that I am not doing what I was meant to do as a soldier, or what I was trained for, I am not even allowed to do the only thing that makes me happy.”
“And what is that? Pray tell.”
“Singing.”
“What do you mean, performing? Not everyone gets to be in the performing troop.”
“No, just singing in general.”
“Unless you are on guard duty at night, no one should stop you from singing.”
“Well, that’s the thing; I was not allowed to sing. I was threatened to be sent to jail if I do. Can you give me a note? I will kill myself if I can’t sing.”
Smiling, the doctor pulled his pad and wrote: “First private Tibi must sing to keep his sanity while in the military service.”
Do I have to tell you about the look at Lieutenant Avramovitz’s face the next time he caught me singing? Or what he said when he saw my Doctor’s note…
***
Tabouleh
Middle eastern green salad with a healthy grain and a lot of greens.
Ingredients:
1 Cup Quinoa or Bulgur
2 Bunches Parsley
1 Bunch Cilantro
4 Scallions
1 TBSP Chopped Mint
½ Cup Lemon
¼ Cup Olive Oil
1 tsp Salt
Preparation:
Soak the bulgur or cook the quinoa. Chop the onion, parsley, scallion and mint. Mix with lemon, salt and olive oil and let sit for 1 hour before serving.
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