The day of our twenty eight kilometer march was scorching hot. Our “special” meal for the day consisted of the same old – eggs, cottage cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, bread, and hot tea – similar to kibbutz food. I ate an extra helping of each for extra energy. We loaded up our gear for the trek – canteens, guns, (lots of them) and our belt packs. My black boots were laced and my freshly pressed olive-green work uniform from the kibbutz laundry was ready for what I could feel, would be a sweaty and arduous day. I criss-crossed my two guns – an M16 and an Uzi – both of formidable sizes and annoying lengths unable to decide which one would suit me better. I hand the bulky Uzi to another girl and stick with the M-16 because it has a lighter body and frame. I still wasn’t able to find a way to avoid the ends from jabbing in my back so I decided to ignore it as much as possible.

We are led to one of the side entrances of the camp for our starting point. More than forty five girls and a dozen commanding officers are milling about in this open space. We were told to wait until called upon. In the meantime, I ran between Svetlana and Eina like a puppy. I had hoped that by now, Svetlana and Eina and Vered would see beyond my kookiness and realize that it was my eagerness that emerged. But Eina would always take her time warm-up to me. She kept on twisting the corners of her mouth when she knew something important was going to happen and so I stuck to Svetlana instead. Given the pace and the number of girls, it was clear that we were going to be here for a while. Eventually I sat down on a rock and listened to Jessica make small talk in Hebrew with some of other French girls while Karina and Michelle sat listening while pulling out grass from the dry and lumpy ground.

In every way, Jessica was so much more self-assured and competent than me. She took in this new experience with an easy, almost cavalier attitude that I found very assuring which also filled me with jealousy. Because we are all part of different garinim and we have gone through a lot socially, I didn’t ask anyone what to expect because of our nature, our “social” relationship as part of our service to the Nahal, has helped us weather some of the uncertainties. I figure we will get through it together and if there was any reason to feel I couldn’t finish, I knew our job was to work as a team, how we work under stress, and our level of commitment.

The last six weeks at Machaney Shmonim passed quickly, but the long days were filled with so much activity that it felt like I was there for a month.

We had to march twenty eight kilometers around the camp and its surrounding areas, which concluded our basic training. If I reach the end of it, I will be a fully trained “lieutenant” and will receive our green beret and Nahal tag. Even though we were not part of an elite unit, for women, a twenty eight kilometer march was the most rigorous of all the basic training types because of the requirements associated with the Nahal unit.

As part of the process of placing us in groups, I was separated from Jessica and the French girls and joined three of the Russians from my garin — Svetlana and Eina as well as Vered and eleven others. We were instructed to fill our “mimia” or canteens with water. I could not help but be surprised there was never any tension expressed in their faces even at this moment. Even after six months in the army, I was still thinking that somewhere down the line, there would be some commanding officer who would take advantage of our weakness and yell and abuse us having been brought up on American movies. I would always scan their faces and eyes to see if there was something that alluded to something different.

When our commanding officers ordered us to carry a stretcher, an “alunka” laden with equipment, I’m not sure how to react. Holding stretchers with equipment? Who knew? Suddenly, at that moment, I am not focusing on how their words are filled with empathy, but at the real task at hand.

 

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 .