when I finished high school...

...I decided I wanted to defer university and take a year off, to go and work on a kibbutz.

The reason for this was that my older brother had done the same thing and he was always raving on about how great it was. I was a bit naive about believing everything my brother said...not that he was lying or anything, but I didn't think about how just because he liked it didn't mean that I'd like it. I didn't think of a lot of obvious problems like I hate the outdoors, I certainly hate physical outdoor labour, and so on.

The only thing I can think is that my brother must have lost his repulsive virginity at one of these places. Nothing else would explain his belief that there was something fun about ekeing a living from the barren Middle Eastern earth. And explaining that I came from Australia, land of koalas and sunshine, rather than Austria, land of thinly-veiled anti-Semitism, lost its novelty pretty quickly too. Also, the food was not just shite, but was universally tinned, packaged, or otherwise unconnected to the fresh vegetables that I could have sworn we were sweating over.

Anyway, being fairly unhappy and also a bit immature, I got into quite an emotional state thinking about all the money (of my own) that I'd wasted ,stupid fuckin desert wastin my time here working all day etc etc. It got to the point where one of the other foreigners said "hey you are the only one who haff no sunglasses" and my response was to burst into tears and say "it's not my fault I forgot". In hindsight I think he was going to offer me a spare one, but anyway. Such behaviour didn't endear me to anyone either.

So, one day the guy [bit of a technical kibbutz term there, the guy in charge of the foreigners is called 'the guy'. No actually I forget] called me in and said that I have some mail from the government. I opened it, and it was a draft notice...I took it to 'the guy' and he said it's obviously a mistake. Technically they can draft you, in fact they don't, just go down there and sort it out...he basically organised an appointment for me, in hindsight I think because he realised I was too useless to do it myself.

But then I got thinking, well, it can't be any worse than this.

So, when I got there, 'the guy' [Israeli army titles are similar to those used on kibbutzes] told me yes, sorry, it was our mistake, you don't have to do anything, very sorry. And then, to my shame (now, not then) I made a speech about how I feel that it's my duty to help defend the country, and I don't want to get any special treatment.

Oh dear, I cringe to think about this. The guy shook my hand, he was overcome with emotion - I wish the young people were like you, you are a brave young man, and so on. I just felt smug about having gotten out of hoeing.

But, I hadn't considered the fact that I'd have to actually be in the Army.

And so off I went.

At first (training) it was pretty awesome. There were enough Eastern European immigrants that my dodgy Hebrew didn't stand out. I was a bit older than most of the recruits, but close enough that they thought I was cool rather than old, and I actually wanted to hang out with them. Actually my immaturity might have had a bit to do with this. Everyone thought I was English, I think on the grounds that first language English but isn't American = English. But this was OK, they quite like the stiff-upper-lip English type. Someone actually said "you're just like Giles" [off 'Buffy', which everyone watched at the time], and that was my nickname. Also the story of my volunteering had gotten around, so the instructors etc thought I was the bee's knees. And of course this Army has girls. Ah, I could tell you many a story - although unless it was a story about me being terrified of girls, not necessarily a true one. I got to be the equivalent of corporal, which in the Israeli Army is the equivalent of 'teachers pet' basically.

And then training ended, and it started getting a bit real. We had to go to guard a checkpoint, basically checking Arabs going in and out, making sure they had the right papers etc. Not a complicated job, and not even a dangerous job really, but it was so stressful, because they drill into you that you are the thin green line protecting the country, once on this very checkpoint this guy just waved someone through and that was a suicide bomber who killed 100 people...quite probably made up now that I think about it, but at the time I completely believed it. I wasn't actually very worried about being in any danger, but I was terrified of the thought of something going wrong and it being totally my fault...

I actually got on pretty well with the Arabs. A lot of them have relatives in 'Australie', and I think I was a bit more polite than the average soldier (there's a joke that Israelis tell about themselves: an American, a Russian and an Israeli are in a cafe, and the waitress says "sorry, there's a shortage of meat". The American says 'what does shortage mean?'. The Russian says 'what does meat mean?'. And the Israeli says 'what does sorry mean?'. And they're quite proud of themselves).

And then one fateful day...off we go to our barren spot of nothing as usual.

"Er...where's Sergeant Such-and-such?"
"He's sick Corporal"
"So...who's got rank here?"
"Er...you do Corporal"
"Hyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhhhhh. Right. Right. OK. Hang on, I'm going to phone HQ".

So, they're going to send someone, he should be there by now, isn't he there by now? No. There's a whole crowd of people that we're not letting through...

You again? Isn't he there by now? Well, he should be...and so on.

Eventually I thought all right, bugger it, stiff upper lip etc etc, this isn't brain surgery, I can just check their passes and let people through, I just need to remember the manual.

So, I say "right, we're going to start letting people through".

Anyway one old guy, who was a 'regular', and spoke English, said to me (in English)

"You know Corporal, you could've just made us wait"
"Yeah"
"No, it was very kind of you."
"Well, thanks."
"No, listen, I will give you something in return."

OK, I think he's probably going to give me some vegetables or something...

"Come over here. I don't want the others to hear."

This made me feel a bit worried, but I did what he said.

"Listen" he said, and he was kind of half-whispering.

"You know the Copacobana Bar? The one all the soldiers go to?"
"Yeah, of course. What about it?"
"This weekend, don't go there."
"What? Why not? What's going to happen?". I'm very quickly starting to lose it, and my voice starts getting louder.
"is there going to be a bomb?"

"No. It's just that the drinks are really expensive".

No, only joking. I've actually never been in the Army. What was the question again?
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 24 Mar 2006, 13:43, Reply)