Nani Haim Tibi

Airforce Academy

    The first thing I remember and probably will remember forever what the horrible smell we woke up to. The Airforce Academy was located next to the industrial complex to the north of Haifa. It was one of the most, if not the most polluted area in the country. In the middle of the complex, you can see the two huge oil distiller stacks. Surrounded with so many chemical plants, they defiled the “Kishon” river. There were no fish in that river, nothing could live in this water. Even at the estuary and deeper to the sea the water had a dark green color, you couldn’t see the bottom.

    Up, up, up! Cadettes! On your feet! The corporal yelled at us. You have 30 minutes to be ready in triplets outside the building. There were 24 of us boys. We were all 16 years old and most of us were on that prep program except for two whom had very high grades in Math and Physics to start with. As soon as we arrived on the train the day before the corporal was waiting for us at the gate. We were the only kids with civilian clothing, it was easy to spot us.
 “Corporal Levy is how you call me; I will call you Cadettes. First thing first, haircut. This is where you will be visiting every 2 weeks, to make sure you have a prober military haircut. If you miss a haircut and your hair grows longer that the rules you will get court marshaled and be confined to camp for the weekend.” Corporal Levy was very firm and loud.

    At the supply building we each received three blankets, two big towels, a pair of shoes, 6 pair of high wool socks, 6 cotton under shirts, 6 under pants, a pair of high boots, 2 military grade “B” olive outfits. 2 grade “A” kaki summer outfit and one pretty blue winter grade “A” outfit.
 “We have a back order on the winter coats for now,” Said Corporal Levi. “We should get it by next week. Everything you receive here you will have to sign for. This way before you leave you will have to return all except your underwear and socks.”

    Our room where we were cramped in, had 12 bunk beds arranged in two rows. Each bed had a plywood under a foam matrass.
“We have a weekly laundry service. They will iron and starch your summer outfit, but you are in charge of the winter suite,” Corporal explained. At the far end of your room, you will find an ironing board and an iron. Make sure you’re “A” grade outfit are always ironed and clean before we send you home on weekends. Except when we have a special program, you will be going home every Friday early afternoon, that is if you pass the weekly test.”
 “What if we don’t pass?” asked Yossi Cohen.
 “You will also have to pass the inspection on Friday morning before the exam. If you fail, you will be staying over the weekend for extra studying and will take the test over on Sunday morning.”
 “What if you fail that one too?” asked Menachem the orthodox kid.
 “You will have three chances, either you will have to retake the whole course or leave the track. You might even be kicked out of the program.”

    Every morning we got up at 5:30am, Cleaned our room, set our bed just like we were taught and stand up for inspection next to our beds. Corporal Levi would walk around us and make sure we were all shaved (I didn’t shave yet – lucky me), our shoes were polished shiny so he can see himself like in a mirror. He would smack our beds to make sure there is no dust coming up. Check the windowsills for dirt and the glass for smudges. Next, we would line up in triplets and march to the dining room.

    The only problem we had was ironing the outfit. We had only one iron and we had to line up and hope to be able to iron the outfit before the inspection. I don’t have to tell you what kind of a mess when 24 boys are trying to fight over their turn. I hate fights or any kind of conflicts, so I had to come up with a way to avoid this mess and still have my outfit ironed. To my delight I remembered that we had a plywood under our matrass. I stretched my pants and jacket straight on the plywood being careful to have the seam in the right place and placed the matrass on top of it. In the morning I lifted the matrass and pulled my outfit from underneath and it was perfectly ironed.

    As we entered the dining room the smell of the hot cereal with the sugar and cinnamon overpowered the stench from outside. I made my usual tomato, cucumber and hard-boiled egg sandwiches and save 2 in my side bag with my books.

    The first course we took was “General Mechanics”. I liked that class, we learned about the 2-stroke motor and the 4-stroke motors. (for me it was not new because I learned about it at Shfeya). As a final test we had to take apart a 10 cylinder round engine from an old airplane. Each one of us had one engine to rebuild without having any left-over screws. As I mentioned, I loved it and did very well. I put the engine together and kept my tools clean and in nice order. That first weekend was an exciting one; I got to go home wearing my new uniform. I could see people looking at me wondering how old I was to be dressed in military uniform. My mom cried and gave me a hug. I didn’t take the uniform of even when I went to the party with Efri that evening.

    “Tibi!” Corporal Levi called. As soon as I returned to school on Sunday morning, I insisted that my name will be pronounced as it was intended to.
 “I heard you sing the other day, from now on you will be the one calling the steps. You will not need to line up in the triplets, you will walk to the back left and make sure everyone is on the correct foot and keep the beat, like a metronome.”
 “Left, right, left, right left …” Everywhere we went, to the dining room, to class, to our bunks and so forth. At 10:00am we had a 20-minute break to get some snack at the canteen. Not having much pocket money, I would eat my sandwiches and buy a dark chocolate covered waffle for dessert. “Metzupe” simply translated to “covered” for the chocolate cover. It was a non-descript kind, you couldn’t by it anywhere, only at the military canteens. Everyone who went to the military knows this treat more than any other food served or sold in the army. There was even a popular song written about it.

    After learning general mechanics, we learned general electric and at the end of that course we were called for a meeting.
 “We were watching you guys early in your prep class,” said some high-ranking officer we never met. “In fact, we had plans for you, you are going to be the first class who will be studying Data Supply.”
 “Data what? Asked Erik the guy from Arad, he is the one who didn’t need to take the prep class. “We signed up for electronics and we have been passing all the test with high marks.”
  “This is a breach of contract!” Yelled Menachem, adjusting his head cap.
 “Not exactly,” said the officer. “You will learn electronics but not the exact same curriculum. You will skip some of the courses. And instead, you will take some new courses.”
 “No, no, no!” Dani Muallem broke in. “I want to learn how to fix communication equipment and radars, not some stupid data supply.”
 “I tell you what, tomorrow we will be going on a field trip. I will take you to a lab in an air force base. You will see what is planned for you and you will have to make up your mind. If you decide not to continue, you will have the option to leave the school or go on a 4-month waiting period for the next electronic class. We will give you the rest of the week to think about it.”

    The lab was something we didn’t expect. It was like walking into a science fiction movie. There were different labs in one large building. In each one they worked on different equipment. But the bottom floor had a “Clean Lab”. A room where you had to wear special cloths and go through a dry shower and almost everything had to be under big magnifying glasses, for the parts were very small and delicate. I was impressed and I think most of my classmate were too. All of us except one who took the option of waiting 4 months, agreed to stay and take that special course. In short, our task was to learn everything that had to do with auto pilot and navigation systems for combat aircrafts.

   Kitchen duty was one of the not so popular at our school. As you recall, I had some experience in that department. This time, in between courses we had either a week vacation or a week of camp duties. We would help cleaning the dining room, help prepare the food and even serve the tables. A whole week morning to evening.

    On one of these occasions when you finally about to finish and you couldn’t wait to go home, sometimes, you don’t really think before you act. Friday morning after serving breakfast and cleaning up the dining room I was planning to catch up the train right after serving lunch. I didn’t have much time to go to my room and change. So, I decided to dress up with my “A” class outfit before going back to the kitchen. The pretty blue, the only one we had. I was sure I will manage it without getting dirty. I didn’t get dirty the whole week, so why should I get dirty now. Sure enough, I helped prepare the dining room and dish out the food.
 “Tibi!” The head chef called me, “I will let you leave early today, just do me one more favor. I am running out of meatballs; can you go back to the kitchen and bring me that big pot?”
 “Sure, thanks chef!”
I picked up the heavy pot carefully not to spill it and placed it on the cart. The cart was a tall narrow cart, designed for carrying pots across the room. I stood behind it and carefully pushed it toward the door to the dining room. Suddenly one of the wheels split and fell off. The cart tumbled forward and me right behind it. All the meatballs fell to the floor the oily sauce spilled all over and I fell face forward into the big mess. The pretty class “A” outfit was soiled all over with oily sauce. Trying to get up I slipped back into the mess. I had to crawl out of it before getting up. At the kitchen we had a big sack of rough salt. I walked toward it and literally rolled in the salt making sure all my outfit was covered with salt and walked to my room. I missed my train and had to hitch hike home, dressed in class “B” outfit, and carrying my dirty salty suit in a plastic bag.

    The way home by car was a lot different from the direct rout the train took. I had to walk to the main rout – the infamous X rated district and try to catch a ride toward the southern side of Haifa to the “Independence Street” where the sailors were selling the goods they smuggled of the port and the prostitutes were spread on each corner. From there hitch on another ride south. The fast shore highway was stretched literally on the shore and you can see the sea on one side and the farms lands on the other. I loved looking at that view. Right under Haifa passing the David camp we could see “Atlit” a small hill with an old port where I was toled the Navy Seals were training. Passing that we saw the bottom of the Carmel Mountain and the prehistoric caves. A very crowded small Arab village was located on the “Crocodile River” next to the shore was an odd place where two small Arab tribes were living for a few generations. They were “lower class” tribe and no other tribe wanted to intermarry with them. Unfortunately, this village was marrying their kids to their family and many genetic problems were developing there. Kibbutz Ma’agan Michael came next with all the fish farms and next to it my old school’s fields where I worked the year before. An old Roman port Caesaria came next and then I had to hold my breath for almost a minute. The “Hadera River”, a stream of stinking water from all the factories around running into the sea. The smell was worse than the smell we had to wake up to at our dorms. Once we drove up the hill the smell passed, and we could see the Alexander River and Netanya at the distance. My ride dropped me at the entrance to town and I walked home from there.

 “Very smart of you.” Mom complemented me, when I got home. “The salt soaked all the oil and now all I have to do is throw this in the washing machine.”
Sure enough, I was lucky, there was no stain on my outfit.

   Efri was waiting for me in his house that evening before going to the party.
 “Look what I got!” He pointed out from his balcony above.
 “What?” I yelled looking up at him.
 “Look at the entrance.”
 “A Tustus?” A nice and shiny scooter was parked in the entrance. “When did you get your riding license?”
 “Three days ago, my Dad surprised me with it when I got back from school. Like it?”
 “I love it! When are we going on a ride?”
 “Wait, I am coming down, we will ride and then go to the party.”
 “Great! I can’t wait to tell you what happened to me today.”

***

 

Boot Camp

   It’s been six months since we started at the academy. We are about to start our specialty courses. But before we take those courses, we had to go to boot camp. Interestingly enough, I was looking forward to it. This is what makes the soldiers strong and brave, I was told. The only drawback was that it was in July, when all my friends were spending time on the beach and having parties during their summer vacation and I was here playing tough soldier. We left our cramped room and had to leave all our possessions at home. After the boot camp we would move to a newer building with only 6 cadets per room.

   The campground was at the edge of our base. We were put in a few tents 10 kids per tent. Our class was joined by other groups and together we formed a 6 tents platoon.

    “You have 30 seconds to line up in perfect triplets!” we heard the sergeant yell before we were even settled in our tents.
We dropped everything and ran outside except for Zalman who was complaining that he didn’t finish setting his stuff.
 “It took you way too long!” yelled the sergeant. “Wait a moment, someone is missing.”
 “ZALMAN!” someone yelled, and we could see poor Zalman peeking out of the tent.
 “I am not ready yet,” Zalman whined. It seems Zalman was a popular Ashkenazi name – remember Zalman from the supermarket? Well, this Zalman was different; he was a little overweight and weak. His skin was way too white, like he’s never been to the sun, and he had to have everything in its place and clean.
 “You weren’t ready on time, so we need to teach you how it is done.” Said Sergeant quietly. “See that tree on top of this hill?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “you have 1 minute to line up in triplets in front of it, MOVE! You too Zalman.”
Of course, we didn’t make it on time, so we had to do it again and again and again. Poor Zalman was always the last one to line up. Yet, by the sixth time we were able to line up next to the tree in 55 sec including Zalman who was pulled by Ariye.
“Not bad!” Exclaimed the sergeant, we are going to get you your personal weapons.

    A “Mouser”, six and a half kilos Czechoslovakian gun from World War Two. It loads six 6mm bullets and even has a bayonet. It is an accurate gun up to one mile. But it has a very strong recoil which I would learn the hard way, in no time. We received a special vest with pockets for the ammunition and a big American helmet. One interesting item we received was a poncho that converts to half a tent when you connect it with another poncho. And of course, we received a water canteen that hooks up to our belt/vest. And don’t forget the backpack with a folding shovel, and the tools for cleaning the gun.

    The platoon was very noisy when everyone was carrying, some even dragging, the new gear. When we finally arrived back to our tents, we were given half hour to set everything next to our beds and line up with our guns before marching to the dining room.
 “Your gun is your wife!” Yelled the sergeant at Dani Mualem who came out of the tent without the gun. “You take it with you everywhere, it never leaves your site. You sleep with it, eat with it, even go to the bathroom with it. You keep it clean and well-greased and always ready to use. Now, forward march!”

    We barely finished lunch and as soon as we walked back to our tents the sergeant commanded us to pick up all our gear and line up in triplets in front of the flag.
 “What do you mean, everything?” Asked Dani Mualem “Our duffle bag too?”
 “Your duffle bag too, and the next person who ask another stupid question will have to bring that too.”
Everyone gave Dani hateful looks and ran to our tents to pack everything and bring it back to the front.
 “You have 60 seconds to take your duffle bags back to the tents and return here.”

    We broke into small groups, and we started taking our guns apart and clean them. We practiced taking it apart and putting it together with our eyes closed. Finally, we started to get ready for the big hike the next morning.

    “Fifteen miles each way, is easy,” I said to Dani Mualem. “I love walking, I hiked all my life, we walked everywhere. You get to enjoy the landscape, so much more than when you are in a fast-moving car.”
 “Nice, I hope we all like it. Pack some extra socks.”

    Early next morning at 5:00AM we were all ready with our gear, blankets in the backpack, our half tent poncho, a tent pole, extra underwear, socks, and of course the rest of the weapons and accessories. We even had a small cardboard box with our combat ration for the next two days in the backpack.

    As soon as we were all in formation, a young officer with an M16 hanging on his neck and a water canteen on his belt appeared in front of us.
   “Let’s go!” were the only words he said and started walking fast toward the gate of the camp. We barely had the chance to pick our guns on our shoulder and started to follow him.
   “Move it!” yelled the sergeant, “Close the gap!”
The officer was moving very fast, I never had to walk at that pace. Not to mention all the gear on our back, in no time we were all sweating. I don’t even remember how we arrived at the hills, we had to pass through a few roads and some industrial parks. We were moving so fast I didn’t even look at the sites. At the bottom of the hills Zalman started to make odd noises. His breath started to sound like a broken squeaky engine: “bahhaanggg Bbbaaahhnnggh bhang” Zalman fell to the floor next to me and kept on squeaking. “I can’t breathe he tried to say and collapsed.
 “No one is left behind!” I heard the officer yelling while he kept on walking even faster, it seemed.
 “You!” Pointed the sergeant at Dani Mualem “take his gear, and you and you” he pointed at me and Menachem the orthodox, “help him up and catch up with the rest of us.”
Zalman kept breathing heavily and struggled walking while both Menachem and I helped him on each side. The sun was getting hotter and the time for breakfast was passing. I could see the platoon up the hill sitting on the floor getting ready to eat. We didn’t have much time, we needed to arrive to our destination before 10:00AM before the sun gets really hot. By the time we got to the top of the hill everyone was already packing to move on. I put my hand in my backpack and pulled 2 pieces of bread and gave one to Zalman. Menachem pulled one of his bags and we continued walking with everyone. Dragging Poor Zalman at the back of the group.

    By the time we made it to our destination I realized that my boots weren’t really the right size for me, and that the wooly socks were not helping much. I took the boots and socks off and looked at my bleeding feet from the popped blisters. Each one of us had a little first aid kit, so I pulled a few bandages and borrowed one from Zalman who was still heavily breathing “bhangh bhangh bhangh.”
 “You! Bang bang! Come over here!” Yelled the Sergeant. Zalman looked a little confused for his new name, yet, dragged himself to the sergeant. I am not sure what exactly went on there, but I saw Zalman doing some breathing exercises and in a few moment later he walked back to our spot. Him and Menachem the Orthodox were pared together and started to set up their tent. I was pared with Dany Mualem. They gave us 2 hours to build our tents, set our gear inside. Clean the clearing and mark a perimeter around the cam with rocks. We were on top of a high hill above the kibbutz Yagur. The view of the valley below was breathtaking. Even being the middle of the summer, the farmlands below were colorful and simply beautiful.

    “Lunch time is over!” We heard the sergeant yelling “30 seconds to assemble under that tree!” As we were all standing there we were instructed to break into small groups. Each group were practicing how to take the gun apart, how to jump into positions, crawl roll, or “Krav Maga” the Israeli martial art. When evening came, we were taught to take advantage of the darkness and how the sounds carry more at night. And the last thing we all hated was the stretchers hike. Each group had to carry one of our teammates on a stretcher. We had to carry Zalman who wasn’t the lightest, yet he was really the one that needed to be carried.
 “I wish we got carry you.” Said Menachem the Orthodox to me. “You are the smallest person in our platoon.” That was the first time I was happy to be the smallest person.

    The next morning, we had to pack all our gear, clean the clearing (carry all the garbage with us) and start walking toward Acko. Again, we hoped to get there before the day gets hot. It was a little easier this time, since we were walking downhill and Zalman didn’t need any help. Just before the city Acko was a targeting field. We had a day of target shooting planned for us. We were handed target papers in the size of a human bust and we were instructed to put them at the end of the field and get back to our places.

     “Right now, since you don’t know your guns all you need to do is to be able to shoot in one cluster. You don’t have to hit the bull’s eye. We will learn how to compensate for the drift of each gun. You each will get 6 bullets for your Mauser and after you done shooting, we will bring the targets for evaluation.” The officer finished his speech and moved aside. “At your convenience, fire!”

    I held the gun close to my shoulder as close as possible, just like we were instructed.  I was lying on the floor aiming at the target. The first shot hit me by surprise. No, I wasn’t shot at, the gun recoiled so hard it hit my shoulder so har it actually pushed me back ward a foot. The gun was heavy and when I held it, I couldn’t keep it straight. My arms and hand were shaking like a branch in the wind. When we got to check the targets, mine was empty but the 2 targets next to me had a few extra holes. We had a few more tries but I didn’t get much better. The gun was way too heavy for me, and I couldn’t hold it straight. I did manage to get all the six shots on my target but not even close to the bull’s eye.

    Lunch time came and this time we had food delivered from our academy “shoe leather” beef, humus and some other vegetable. There was something about the humus I didn’t like. so, I didn’t eat it. Yet, many of my friends unfortunately did eat it. It didn’t take long, and everyone was running to the bathroom. Two cadets had to be rushed to the hospital because they lost a lot of fluids and lost conscience. Our training on the “Uzi” assaults weapon had to be postponed to the following week. That evening only half of our platoon was actually training. Everyone else were either in the bathroom or on the way there. In fact, it took 2 days for all to recover. Meanwhile we were learning to take the Uzi apart, clean it and put it together again.

    “You know,” I said to the group next to me “I just saw an article in the ‘BaMachaneh Magazine’ about a new assault rifle called Galil. It has a tripod as a part of the gun, and it even acts as a fence cutter”.
 “A Plier Gun?” Laughed David the Cadet on duty. “Really? What else are you going to tell us, a flying tank?”
 “That’s it, from now on we will call you Plier Gun.” Said Assaf Greenberg. And that name stuck with me for the rest of the boot camp training.

    We had one more chance to practice shooting but this time it was with the Uzi, and I did a lot better. The Uzi was a lot lighter and had much less of a recoil. I was able to hit the bulls eye a few times.

    To celebrate our success in the target practice we were allowed to have an afternoon pass.
 “The 120 club,” suggested Assaf, “it’s the best night club in the area, some say it is the best in the country.”
 “What about the Clockwork Orange movie?” I asked.
 “Oh, who cares about a movie, Plier Gun?” Continues Assaf. “There are girls at the club.”
 “We’ll have to be back by midnight,” David reminded us.
The night club 120 was in an old underground war shelter at the top of mount Carmel in the middle of a park overlooking the bay below. The club didn’t open until 9:00PM so we had some chance to walk downtown Haifa. Independence Avenue is a long stretch next to the harbor. Along the Avenue are many stores of peddlers who sell import goods from around the world. Most of the goods were bought directly from sailors who came to Haifa from the ships docked at the port. That stretch was infamous for the oldest trait in the world. In every other corner you could find a half-naked woman or two. I was checking out a new wrangler ‘s jeans when David and Dani Mualem were talking to some fake blonde with a very short skirt.
 “Time to go,” yelled Assaf, “the club is about to open in 10 minutes. You too Plier Gun, Get moving!”

    “Heh, hey, I feel alright, one time; Hu!” The voice of James brown was screaming over the speakers. I was in the center of the dance floor, when a pretty girl approached me and just as James Brown was yelling “Sex machine” she said with heavy American accent “can I join you?”  We danced to that recording for about 30-minute, and then we continued to the beat of “Get Ready” for another 20 minutes. Before you know it, it was time for us to leave. I had to button up my shirt and regretfully say goodbye to the girl who wrote her address on a napkin. Write to me she said and shoved that paper in my shirt’s pocket. By the time we got to our camp we were so tires and remembering that in a little more than four hours we will have to get up for more training. I put my cloths in the laundry pile, forgetting the note inside my shirt.

    “Up, up, up, you - sleeping beauties! We heard the voice of the of the sergeant. “60 seconds, under the tree!” I don’t know how I managed; I clipped my belt just as we arrived in an odd formation under the tree. (What is it about the trees? they always find a tree for us to stand in formation next to.)
 “I see, three of you forgot your wives in the tent”, continued the sergeant. “I have a good exercise for you, it will teach all of you never to leave the gun behind.”
As soon as the cadet picked up their guns and rejoined our formation, the sergeant commanded us to squat down and hold our heavy rifles over our heads and start marching like ducks.
 “Keep the formation! Zalman, you too!”
It didn’t take long before we started to fall, one after the other. Assaf Greenberg fell forward behind me pushing me toward Dani Mualem knocking him down over Zalman who was having hard time breathing again.
 “Sorry Bangbang, Plier Gun pushed me.”
 “On your feet! You, broken toolbox!” and keep the formation!” The sergeant was getting angry. “Not a sound, keep on walking and keep the rifle above your head. All the way to the flag post.”
We fell a few more times before we got to the flagpole. The next day and a few days after that we kept on falling until about a week later, we finally were able to hold our guns over our heads and walk like ducks for that long stretch from the tree to the flagpole. I am still not sure what was that skill helpful for, but no one ever forgot his rifle at the tent again.

    We had one day left before the end of the bootcamp. Our task was to clean the camp and bring it back to the same condition we received it at the beginning of our training. We received paint and brushes to paint the surrounding rocks in white. Hoes and rakes to clear the wild weed. Brooms to sweep the grounds, and even jet fuel for cleaning the command car. My task was to clear the dry brush and weed and dump it in a big dumpster. Zalman and Dani Mualem had the task of cleaning the command car. They had a bucket full of jet fuel, brushes and rags. Yossi Cohen and Assaf were painting the rocks of the perimeters with white paint. David the Cadet on duty was walking around and yelling commands like; “you forgot this spot!” Or “Dump this pile of junk on the dumpster,” and so on. He was smoking his cigarette and enjoying his last day of being in “command.” Looking at Dani Mualem he yelled: When you finish with the rags – dump them in the garbage.” Not realizing that Dani just did that on top of the grass and derby I piled inside before heading toward the dining room. David Started a new cigarette with the bud in his mouth and flicked the bud into the dumper. In one second the grass ignited, and fire started in the dumpster. Assaf who wasn’t too far picked up the first bucket he saw next to him and poured it on top of the fire. Unfortunately, it was not water. It was the bucket Dani was using to clean the command car’s engine – it was jet fuel. The fire exploded and in less than a second Assaf was engulfed, and he was burning. I don’t know what made me do it or why – all I was thinking was “Run” instead of running to help I was running toward the dining room. In the corner of my eyes, I could see how Yossi Cohen who was the closest to Assaf, pushed him down and rolled him on the grown. In no time the burning clothes were quenched but Assaf was badly burned. On the way to the dining room was the medical building. I entered and yelled for a medic.

    Assaf Greenberg fainted by the time the ambulance came and took him to the hospital. He never wasn’t able to attend our sad graduation ceremony the next day. On my way home I didn’t look at the Odd-looking Arab village – “Jasser el Zarka” and forgot to hold my breath when we passed the stinking “Hadera River”. All I was thinking was how was I going to tell my friend Efri of what happened when we meet at the dance party.
 
***

Graduating
 
    We received two weeks’ vacation after boot camp. David, Yossi Cohen, Dani Mualem, Roni Nachum and I were on our way to eastern Sinai. Since military personnel were riding free on the train and getting a big discount on public transportation, we met at the Tel-Aviv train station. We took the train to Be’er-Sheva, and from there a bus to Eilat. Eilat, the “Mecca” of all the young adults. It is hot all year round in Eilat. The red sea is calm, clear, and full of colorful fish. There were fancy hotels but most of the young people were camping on the beach.

   On the way down the bus stopped at Kibbutz Yotveta – remember? I was there just two years ago in the GADNA. We had some time to grab some food and of course I bought some dates and a few bags of “Choco” the best chocolate drink in the world came in small plastic bags. It was evening when we finally arrived to Eilat. We found a spot on the beach and settled down. Our plan was to take the first bus next morning to drive south to Sinai. Our destination was the “Fjord”. In the north east side of Sinai is a very deep and bay surrounded by high rocks. Just like the fjords in Norway except that the water was much warmer in Sinai. And if we are talking about warm water, just a few steps north of the fjord was the “Sun Pool” a small pond that the water there is very hot. The deeper you go in the hotter it gets, the center it is almost boiling. Those two places were our next destination, about an hour bus ride south.

    “There are naked tourist girls there” reminded us David.
 “Is that the only reason you want to go there? I asked.
 “Oh, shut up, Plier Gun!” David answered and continued to whisper in Yossi Cohen’s who whispered in his ear; “You know, I Saw an article on TV two days ago, he was right all that time, they did make that plier gun, the Galil, it is an awesome rifle.”
Of course, he never apologized to me, but he stopped calling me plier gun.

   The first bus of the day took us to the fjord before anyone else. I was wearing the first blue jeans I ever bought from a friend of mine and I managed to sow a yellow ribbon in the fashion of the American revolution soldiers. On my back I had my dad’s old army rucksack with extra cloths, a towel, a light blanket, a tent sheet and two folding poles. In a paper bag I had some bread, a can of tuna, a few vegetables and fruit. I had a water canteen and even coffee and sugar. The military folding Mess kit was ready to be used and of course a box of matches. I was ready too. And of course, the most important, my guitar.

    The bus took the turn around the rocky hills where the view was amazing. I have never seen such blue combination of clear water with the sunrise reflection. I wish I had a camera handy to capture that scene for ever, but I guess it is printed in my mine to these days.

    We set our gear at the center of the beach facing east overlooking the water. I took my clothes off and put on my bathing suit on. As I was about to plunge in, I realized what was so special of the color in the water. Right under the surface were thousands of pink round jelly fish. They were smaller than my hand. Perfectly round and pink. Nothing was about to ruin my vacation; I am not sure what made me do it, but I had to make sure the jelly fish were safe and not poisonous. We all knew that the top of the jelly fish doesn’t sting so I reached to the water and picked one of them holding the top. I took a deep breath and gently touched the bottom of the jelly fish. The tentacles were soft and did not sting me at all. I picked another one and one more, they were all safe. Without another though I plunged into the water.

    “Medusas!” Yelled David. “You are surrounded by medusas!”
I didn’t bother answering, I picked one out and threw it at him. He dogged it but I picked another one and threw it to where he just moved to. It hit him right in the face. He started running around waving his hands in the air and yelled “I got medusa on my face, I got medusa on my face, there goes my soft skin…” but then he stopped and touched his face and realized it didn’t hurt. He walked to the beach and looked at me playing with all the jelly fish. I was picking them up and throwing them over my head letting them fall right back in the water around me. The sensation was amazing – I was swimming in the middle of a jelly bowl.

    When the second bus arrived, we were all in the water playing with the jelly fish. We didn’t pay attention but slowly the jelly fishes were diminishing and by the time the people were settling in their spots on the beach the jelly fish have almost disappeared. They swam to the sea far from the beach. I looked at the beach to where our stuff was and saw 3 pairs of skinny legs practically tangled with each other very close to our stretched beach towels. They were two young women wearing bikinis and a very skinny and tall man wearing even smaller bikini.

    “Bon jour!” Said one of the women, as we walked toward our towels.
 “Bon jour to you too!” Said David with a little too much enthusiasm.
 “How did you get here?” I asked in French. “I didn’t see you coming of the bus.”
 “We took a taxi, and it will come back for us in a few hours.” Unsewered the skinny man.
 “How cold is the water” Asked the other woman.
 “Not cold at all. I am about to get back in in a few moments if you want to join me.
 “Aren’t there still jelly fish in the water?”
 “They are harmless, in fact, they are kind of fun, but they are mostly gone.”
 “Oh, in that case, we will join you.”

    We ran back to the water with our new friends and got to play catch with a few jelly fish flying above our heads. More than once one or the other women rubbed against me. I am almost sure it was on purpose.
 “There is the Sun Pool,” I said to one of them, “want to come with me and see it?”
 “I would come with you,” said the tall skinny man.
 “Yes, why don’t you take him with you,” the other woman said. “He has been a little too clingy today.”   

    There go my hope to score with a pretty, sexy woman. (Forget the fact that I didn’t turn 17 yet.) I suggested to the guy to put his shoes on because of the rocks on the way. I walked barefoot – I was used to walk barefoot in Netanya whenever I went to the beach. We walked slowly maneuvering between the rocks almost to the opening to the sea. We walked toward the water when I stood on top of a rock overlooking the water below maybe 10 or 15 over the water. Yet, I could see the ground 30 feet below the water. Suddenly the skinny tall man approached me and extended his hand and touched my crutch.
 “Sorry, that is not my style,” I said as I moved sideways almost falling to the water below.
 “Sorry, this will not happen again,” he said.
 “You will have to walk back on your own,” I said as I dove into the water and yelled; “I am swimming back.”

    By the time I reached the shore, I saw the old man trying to run through the rocks toward his friends who were waiting for him on the road next to the taxicab.
 “What happened?” asked Dani Mualem.
 “I don’t want to talk about it.”
 “The girls asked if we are planning to go back to town.” Said Yossi Cohen.
 “Not I,” I said. “I thought we were going to camp here, that was part of the plan.”
 “Yes,” said Roni Nahum. “But there is nothing here, there is so much more to do in town, we will be taking the next bus. We will return tomorrow morning; we didn’t get to see the rest of this place.”
 
    Alone, I don’t think I was ever alone in a foreign place with no civilizations for miles. No electricity, water supply or people around. I wasn’t sure whether to worry or relax and enjoy the new experience. I put up the half tent. I looked around for wood around the beach and found a few dry pieces that were dumped by the sea. I piled a few in front of my tent and started a small fire. When the fire diminished, I put a small pot with water from my canteen, a teaspoon of coffee and a spoon of sugar on top of the coals. I pulled my guitar out of the case and practiced a few tunes. I stayed up a little after dark, playing and singing some songs new songs I just picked up. Before you know it, the fire was off and the stars in the sky were brighter than ever. I crawled in my sleeping bag and fell asleep on my back looking up counting stars.

    I woke up to the sound of distance footsteps. I sat up and looked to the right. A man dressed in a blue striped long dress called Gallabiyah, and sandals. But on his shoulder was hanging the tallest rifle I have ever seen. He was walking slowly toward me as if I wasn’t there. I ran to the water and washed my face. I set the fire on with the last few pieces of wood I had left. I put some water in the pot with the coffee and sugar and placed it on the coals.
When the man arrived, I stood up and welcomed him in Arabic “slamu aleikum!”
 “Aleikum salam!” he answered. I invited him to coffee. He graciously accepted and sat next to the fire in front of me. I am not sure where from, he produced a large pita and a few dates. We sat there and talked about his place about a mile in toward the dessert where his wives and kids are waiting for him in his tent. And I told him about the town I lived and about the other Bedouin I met years ago. He showed me his gun, an old British gun from World War two. He uses it to hunt for mountain goats.

    Before the first bus arrived, the Bedouin said goodbye and left. The Pink jelly fish were back, and I was having fun swimming amongst them. Off the bus came all my deserting friends and walked toward my little camp.
 “They asked for you,” said David.
 “Who’s they?”
 “The French people,” said Yossi Cohen.
 “The man or the women?”
 “One of the women, the blonde one.” Said Roni Nahum.
 “Good!”
 “What do you mean good? You were here, you missed an opportunity.” Said David.
 “Well, I am glad it isn’t the man. He tried to grab my balls yesterday.”
 “What?” They all said in unison.
 “I don’t want to talk about it.”
 “You just did,” said Dani Mualem. “Tell us what happened.”
 “He just tried to grab my balls, so I jumped to the water and swam back. Meanwhile you missed the fun here.”
 “What fun? You were here alone all night.” Said David. “You could have spent the night with the blonde.”
 “It’s beautiful hear at night. No lights around except for the stars. And this morning I had a visit from a Bedouin, we drank coffee together. He had a huge gun.”
 “An Arab with a gun?” Said David “Did he try to grab your balls too?”
I didn’t bother answering. I know David likes to bully and talk down to people. No matter what I would say, he would find something to make it look bad. We spent the rest of the day walking to the sun pool where I was too scared to get in. I didn’t want to get cooked like the frog experiment when it doesn’t realize it is getting cooked. We swam a little more at the fjord and took the afternoon bus back to town. And of course, all the way back home David didn’t stop talking about my balls.

    Sunday, early in the morning I was on the train to the academy all excited about the new track we were going to study. All about the new navigation system for the newest jet plain or the instrument panel of the helicopter. We also were moved to the new lodging; only 6 cadets per room and much cleaner bathrooms. Still the public Chinese stalls but much cleaner showers. Every Friday before the exam, we had a room inspection by the department head. Our room had 2 floors. The bottom floor had 3 desks with 2 chairs next to each one. The top floor had 3 bunk beds. Each floor had a big window overlooking the runway. We decided to divide the tasks. My task was to clean the windows. Yossi Cohen had the floor washing of the first floor. Roni was washing the second floor. David was to dust the shelves and the rest of the tasks were divided with the rest of the roommates.

    Having hard time reading dry information; I realized I had easier time with schematics than reading the manuals. Yet the schematics were getting more complicated and some with many long wiring lines. It was hard to follow from one side of the wires to the end of it without losing my way. The next time I went home I stopped at an office supply store and bought a set of colored markers. Every Thursday evening, after dinner I would clean the windows using my towel before putting it in the wash pile. That took me about ten minutes. I took my spot on one of the desks and started coloring the lines on the schematics, each wire a different color. I went to the showers and went to sleep early. When I got up in the middle of the night my roommates were still studying the systems and all kind of troubleshooting to memorize. Next morning after the inspection, we went to take the exams. I finished before everyone and got a perfect “A”. You see, because I colored the wires, I didn’t have to memorize anything. When I was presented with a problem, I just followed the colored lines of the schematics. – it was the only thing we were allowed to bring to the test.

  Every Tuesday we received the afternoon off to go home or just have fun and relax. Sometimes I would get a ride with one of the instructors all the way home and back early next morning. Most of the time I would go and hang out with Efri or just go home to play with my young brother.

    “Meet my classmate Meir,” said Efri when I got in. “He is a dancer, and he likes to sing too.”
 “Nice meeting you!” I said with a smile.
 “I hear you like dancing too,” he said. “I have been taking dance classes at studio Bash twice a week. Want to join me?”
 “I am not sure; I am at a military school. I get only one afternoon off per week.
 “Well, you don’t have to come twice a week, you may come once a week. In fact, we have a new guest teacher next week – Joukie Arkin, I hear he is a very good teacher.”
 “The mime?”
 “Yes, I think so.”
 “I am definitely coming; I know this guy. He went to my school.”

    The following Tuesday I made it right on time to the studio. Mrs. Bash was at the door when Meir and I walked in. Another dance teacher was just finishing a ballet class. She was short and skinny, her black hair was pulled and twisted tight above her head.
 “As soon as Sarah Yochai clears the room, we will let you in to the studio,” said Mrs. Bash.
Behind Sarah Yochai was a very pretty, even smaller dancer. She walked to Mrs. Bash and asked: “I’d like to stay for the jazz class. I hear He is a good teacher.”
 “Sure, Nurit, the more classes you take the better you will become.”
 
   Nurit stood right next to me during the class which was pretty easy for me as well as for her. We followed Joukie like mirrors. I enjoyed the class and was looking forward for the next one.
 “Mrs. Bash Was watching you the whole time,” said Meir when we walked out of the class.
 “Oh oh!” I said, “I hope she isn’t that kind of a woman.”
 “I don’t know, see you next week?”
 “Sure, I hope Nurit comes too.”

    Nurit did come to the dance class, I was getting a little brave and even spoke with her a few words but when the class was over Mrs. Bash approached me and took me to the side.
 “You are such a good dancer!” she said while holding my hand with one of her hands and caressing my soldier with the other.
 “Thanks!” I answered.
 “Hope to see you again next week, I will even give you a stipend if you have hard time paying.”
It felt very uncomfortable, I wasn’t sure if she wanted me for my body or for my dance skills. I was new at the dance scene. I decided never to come back. And even after Meir was telling me every time we met, how much she wanted me back or how many times she asked him to tell me so. I had other things on my mind. I had the electronic systems to learn. and paint the schematics. My roommates would spend hours every Thursday night practicing scenarios and troubleshooting, while I was coloring the lines on the schematics and going to bed early.
Every week I repeated the same routine for 6 months until our graduation. I never failed not even one exam, in fact I Aced them.

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