Live from Sar-El - Somewhere in the Negev

Day is dawning on our second full day on the army base.  Our students remain asleep after a long day of work that ended with a night of excitement.

The army base, located somewhere in the Negev, is as it described in the Volunteers for Israel information booklet; Spartan at best.  We occupy army barracks; each room with four very basic spring frame twin beds covered with a razor thin foam mattresses.  This blue paper film covers the windows in lieu of curtains.  On our first day, the students and I were given very used but clean army fatigues, threadbare sheets and army surplus sleeping bags. 

After breakfast, we joined the soldiers on the base at the flag raising ceremony.  We learned the Hebrew commands for “attention” and “at ease” and our students followed diligently.  I sang along quietly with a recorded rendition of Hatikvah. 

Our group was broken into two with each group given a different work assignment.  My group spent the day clearing, cleaning and re-shelving supply huts.  Tables, boxes of rations, jerry cans (which the Israelis called “Jerrykanim”) and a broad assortment of supplies were hauled from shelves, wiped down and either moved to other shelves or to another location.  It was, in essence, cleaning the garage, an activity I avoid at all costs in America.  Of course, the difference was that we were organizing and rearranging articles required to effectively make war, and given our admiration and care for Israeli soldiers and the Israeli army, there was a far greater sense of seriousness to our efforts.  Among the items we moved were boxes of army rations, automatic rifle cartridges and camouflage netting for tanks.  Clearly the need to access these items quickly during a conflict is of great urgency.

We worked alongside two Israelis one in his twenties and the other quite older and we communicated through my profoundly limited Hebrew, hand gestures and two or three English words; “okay”, “good”.  

Last night, at 1:00 a.m., our students were woken up from deep slumber by Yael our group supervisor (minahelet).  A bit of framing is called for: Nineteen years old, Yael is approximately 4 ft. 10 inches and I’d be surprised if she breaks 90 pounds.  Yet at 1:00 a.m., Yael assumed the fierceness of a hardened drill sergeant.  And as she barked at the students to wake up, don uniforms and get in line, I found myself cowering (even though I knew this activity was coming).  The student lined up outside and Yael ordered them to come to attention and roughly chided them for taking so long.  She warned them not to talk or laugh.  I anxiously awaited cries of protests or students storming back to their room in anger or tears; however our students, these American young men and women, most from affluent American homes, accustomed to a sheltered and comfortable life all complied, stood at attention, ran through the midnight air and crawled through bushes.  And when it was all done, with Israeli marshal music playing on her mobile device, Yael formally inducted them as Sar El volunteers and placed blue ribbons in their epilates. Each student got a light punch on the shoulder as an initiation. And to my further surprise, and to my great delight, every one of them, even the non-Jewish students were honored and proud.

We learned many things on the army base: We learned that chocolate milk served in a plastic bag is quite yummy but has a tendency to spill all over the table if left unattended.  We learned that Israelis treat paper napkins like we treat precious jewels – they are handed out sparingly and with great reluctance.  After much practice, Pat learned to say “At yafa me-od” (You are very pretty) – and then proceeded to say it to every female soldier he encountered and, additionally, to Yael’s mother on the phone.  We learned that Israeli soldiers were just like us: teens and young adults who listen to rap music, hang out in groups and flirt almost endlessly.

But perhaps the greatest lesson was the humanness of soldiers; the above mentioned adolescence of most soldiers; but also the genuine warmth and good humor of officers who treated our students with such kindness and thoughtfulness.  We spent time with Yosef who is studying business administration at a local community college and Eli, a non-commissioned officer who, at the approximate age of 60 worked harder and lifted heavier objects than new recruits 1/3 his age.  And we all came to love the diminutive and delightful Yael with her sweetness balanced by the steel of an Israeli soldier.  This is perhaps the greatest value of the Sar El experience; human connection; human warmth negates objectification.  Our students will no longer see Israelis and the Israel army as faceless soldiers who can be subject to broad and inaccurate generalizations.  They will always see them as Yosef, Eli, Yonatan and, of course, Yael.