“Smol, smol, smol, yamin, smol!” Left, left, left, right, left!” Groups of girls march in uniform past our tents, to the dining room and from every which way. As we waited for our commanding officers to arrive to our platoon for our morning gathering, I listened to the shouts at this base called “Machaney Shmonim” – literally translated to mean, “Camp 80” which is one of the biggest induction units in the North of Israel. We are near the small towns of Pardes Hana and Hadera, both of which are about 1.5 hours from Tel-Aviv. Groups of young women – 2 years younger than me, march in unison. Most of these girls have only finished High School a few months before and I am probably one of the oldest girls. I am twenty years old. The girls in my garin are unique in the sense that we have already been in the Israeli army for six months and what only stands between us and basic training was a 28 kilometer race. I’d never done such a race and I was filled with such anticipatory anxiety months before when I first heard about it.

“Smol, smol, smol, yamin, smol!” I turned my head and the shouts got louder. I had never seen so many soldiers at one base before.

From behind us were twelve huge tents with metal framed beds. We had stripped our beds earlier. Our sheets and thick woolen blankets now lay in one heap.

Suddenly, I heard, “Raooool! Oh, Raooool!”

It was Geraldine waving. “Raooool! Oh, Raooool!” Svetlana and I looked at each other and smirked. A couple of girls rolled their eyes. Laughter.

Raul and some of the guy members of our garin had just passed by. I could make out Yigal and Akiva smiling. How proud, calm and relaxed they looked to be doing basic training! Raul shouted, “I love you so much baby!”

As weird as it was to witness this “Romeo and Juillet” scene, their brief interaction neutralized some of the awkwardness I felt doing basic training so late in our service. I had gotten used to the free sort of lifestyle at the settlement with very little distance between our officers and felt myself resisting the authoritative voices of our officers. For a moment, I felt as if I was back on Ehsbal during those first few days. Eight weeks of basic training. Ugh. Could somebody please remind me why I decided to do this? Could I survive and thrive with these stupid Russians?

But then I realized that I was no longer “stuck” with the Russians. There were many other girls in our platoon and I appreciated the diversity. For the very first time, I would meet two other English speaking girls – Jessica from the States, Michelle from London and Karina Bender from Argentina. They were just three in a garin with no guys. Three in a garin! How could that be!? Lucky them! All this time, I had gotten used to the fact that I was the only English speaking soldier in our garin from our pre-army service on Kibbutz Sufa (shalat rishon) to army ulpan on Eshbal and finally, settlement work on Shitim.

The dynamics of the trio, whose “home” kibbutz was Kibbutz Ortal in the Golan Heights, was odd and yet, they were obviously very well connected which made me feel jealous. Why did I have to suffer with these stupid Russians who were wasting my time? For one, Jessica and Michelle were constantly talking in English and for me, this was very refreshing to hear. Jessica had very dark, thick and wide glasses – her uniform was always baggy looking and her dog tag was always half revealed. She was short and attractive looking with deep set brown eyes and uncombed brown hair. She had an American accent when she spoke Hebrew and she spoke it fluently. She gave the impression she was a bit ditzy because her hair was perennially messy and her glasses were foggy. Later, I would learn that this “ditzy” American would become accepted into an officer’s course and already had an Israeli boyfriend! Michelle could get by with basic Hebrew, which perhaps explained why Jessica and Michelle always talked in English. Lucky them!

Michelle liked to sing a lot. She would sing, “Let me take your hand and lead you through the streets of London,” and that became her signature song. I would never hear any other lyrics, just that. I never knew that was an actual hit song; I just thought she was making up the words to a tune because she felt homesick for London! Every time we would “bump” into each other, she would be singing these words.

Karina, the friendliest one, had no problem speaking English but it was clear that she was deferential to Jessica’s leadership. She liked to make fun of their accents when they spoke in English and in Hebrew. Because they were just three girls in a garin, they had no choice but to be socially cohesive and I was extremely jealous of them! My plan was to mentally note what worked in their garin and to use this information to help me readjust my expectations. There was a deep part of me that knew I didn’t have to have it so hard with the Russians – it was just my very bad luck. I knew I would be able to thrive if I was in Jessica’s garin. Maybe I took too much on myself and could find an easier way to deal with people I had nothing in common. I was determined though to show them otherwise.

Our platoon didn’t just have two garin olims, or “new immigrants” but a bunch of other female immigrants who didn’t belong to the Nahal division of the army as well as native born Israelis, which also helped balanced out some of the foreign mentality.

Like Eshbal, we all had to take turns to introduce our officers and would say, Hamachleka Titen Hachev L’mifakedet. Shtayim, Shalosh, Acshev! “The platoon will now pay attention to the commanding (female) officer – 2,3, Attention!” Unlike Eshbal, our commanding officers were female and we had to be careful not to use the male inflection form of the word “officer.” When my turn came to introduce our officers, I shouted with all my might embodying everything I knew about the military from watching American television and movies.

I would lower my hat just like the officers and would speak Hebrew as if I was a native Israeli. I had never introduced my officers before, so it was my first time assuming a “position” of authority. We were never “taught” how to introduce our officers and they assumed we could handle it. At that moment, all that anticipatory anxiety about basic training must have melted away because suddenly I felt so free and light hearted. I felt powerful because I was now standing where my officers would soon stand and “my” platoon was responding back to me by shouting, “Achshev – attention!” they carried a mean and hearty shout and I felt my efforts paying off. Take that – Vered, Eina and especially Geraldine and Svetlana! I thought. That’s what you get for doubting my ability to take the army seriously and thinking I was some kind of kooky American. I didn’t stop to take a look at their faces. Now I’ll show you! Part of me thought, Hey, I can do this, this is e-a-s-y! Why did I possibly think I couldn’t? During those very brief moments of power, I felt I had a voice. And others listened to me.

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Following three years of serving in the Israeli army as a career officer, Dorit Sasson completed her BA and MA degrees in education and English literature in Israel, and soon after, began teaching English to Israeli schoolchildren in development towns and at kibbutz schools. In 2007, she left with her family to the US where she currently resides in Pittsburgh. Dorit is the co-author of the book, Pebbles in the Pond: Transforming the World One Person at a Time and is currently writing her memoir. She has become a sought after motivational speaker. You can contact her for more details by clicking here .