Paula R. Stern – A Glimpse of the Life of a Soldier’s Mother
Three part story: A soldier’s life, I hate the army and A conversation that ended in tears.
A Soldier’s Life
Perhaps one of the greatest dangers in a soldier’s life is distraction, boredom, routine. You get used to the scenery, expect it to be what it is, and so you don’t notice a subtle change, a slight movement there in the distance. The army combats this in a number of ways, one of which is keeping soldiers on the move. Changing their schedule, the times they are on the line, what they are doing there.
Since David moved into a “combat” position, he’s done many things. Some frighten me. I’m not ready to have him out there, not that they asked me. But what overshadows all that he does, is who he is with. He has a group of amazing young men, all as dedicated to him as he is to them. They are his family, his brothers. The trust they put in each other boggles the mind.
A few weeks ago, an Arab women approached two of the soldiers in my son’s unit with a knife. The two stood, side by side, and met the threat. One was a Druze soldier; another a religious boy that I just found out comes from Maale Adumim (and why didn’t the boy tell me that weeks ago???). They stood side by side, these two because that’s what soldiers do – complete trust. You have my back; I have yours.
As for the boredom of routing, he goes back today after five days off. I’ve baked him cookies and brownies and filled three containers full. “If I don’t eat them all, there are plenty of guys I can share them with.”
And he will. He’ll share them with these guys who are his family away from us; brothers, at least for this period of his life. I cringe when he tells me a little of what they do. I don’t really want him out there. He tells me Arabic words that they have taught him. I’ve always believed language is a gift we give to our children. It’s such a shame that American children largely grow up only with English and then expect the world to understand…and yes, they usually do, but that isn’t the point.
My children all speak two languages; I wish they knew more. Speaking another language opens doors to another world but more, it teaches you that there are worlds beyond your borders. David told me that they caught several Arabs attempting to sneak into Israeli areas without permits. The why of why they are sneaking in could be for work or it could be for terror and so our soldiers are always vigilant. Luckily, these Arabs all were trying to enter Israeli cities for work and so they understood they’d been caught and the game was on.
The soldiers took them to one location; the police wrote down their details and then they were released back to Palestinian areas where again tomorrow, they will likely try to sneak in again. This time, one of the soldiers started speaking in Hebrew and the Arabs all said they didn’t understand. So the soldier said, “whoever speaks Hebrew can leave” – and suddenly, David told me with a laugh, “they all started speaking to the soldiers in Hebrew.”
But what is missing in the laugh is fear. I don’t want David to be afraid and truthfully, if I suggested that he might be, he would laugh again. What he is, is well trained and growing more certain and more confident with each day of experience he gets out there “on the line.
No, not for a minute is he afraid, but I am. These Arabs only wanted to work, to improve their lives and help their families. Why can’t we let them in and we’ll all benefit without permits and without having to check them? The answer to that exploded in Brussels, shot and murdered dozens in Paris, stabbed Hallel Ariel to death, rammed over 80 people to death in Nice.
Not every Arab is a terrorist – not by a long shot…but the vast majority of terrorists are Arabs, or, at very least, Muslim. Again – all Muslims are not terrorists. There is a growing contingent of amazing people who call themselves Muslim Zionists. Who love this land, love what we do here, and believe that Israel is not only an integral part of the world’s future, but a major force for good in this world. They are proud of our accomplishments and hope that other Muslims will learn to recognize the value of Israel, as well as the right of the Jews to this tiny homeland that is ours.
Not all Muslims. But yes, our children are taught to watch; our soldiers taught to be wary. And so they watch, they think.
They give up a piece of their childhood…just a bit, the last vestiges, just a bit too early. They grow up fast but smart. David is back on base, with boxes of cookies and brownies, back in that other world where time is measured in shifts, where to be on duty is to be alert, where he shares a room with a lot of other soldiers, but where they learn another definition of family.
I Hate the Army
No, I really don’t but sometimes…
So, today, on my way to a meeting, I decided that I’d take a detour and drive David to his base. It gives me an hour or so to be with him, especially since I won’t see him for another 16 days. We set off extra early…and about 30 minutes later, hit a HUGE traffic jam. We checked WAZE, which said he’d still get to his base 7 minutes early but he decided to send his commander a message just in case. We crawled to about 100 meters before the checkpoint (notice I’m not saying which one) and came to a complete and utter halt.
As traffic built up behind us, what we had there was a huge parking lot. People were getting out of their cars trying to figure out what was happening. From the distance, I could see that not a single car was making its way through the checkpoint.
David sent a message to his commanding officer, updating him, telling him that we were about 100 meters from the check point, that nothing was moving. We heard on the radio that there’d been an accident but to be honest, I doubt that was the reason. First, because of the length of time this “shut down” lasted and second because once we finally got past the checkpoint, there was no sign of any accident. There were some police speaking to a bunch of soldiers and all in all, it looked more suspicious. Had it really been an accident, we would have heard or seen ambulances (we didn’t) and minutes after a car accident, we would have seen wrecked cars (we didn’t). One bad enough to require closing the check point would have shown remnants – on the road, on the side of the road, something (there weren’t).
Whatever the reason for closing the checkpoint, it finally opened and we traveled the remaining 30 minutes or so to his base, only to find, having arrived at 2:20 p.m. (i.e. 20 minutes late), that they intend to punish him.
And what is the punishment they plan? A lost day of vacation…which ordinarily would be bad enough but now will mean losing a day up north with the family, a day to go kayaking on the river. It means a long trip by multiple buses instead of the comfort of family and an air-conditioned car. It means so much lost, all for 20 minutes that were completely unavoidable.
I hate the army sometimes. He did nothing wrong. He called his commander. We left on time.
I hate the army sometimes.
P.S. For probably the second or third time ever, I plan to call the commanding officer and speak to him…hold only good thoughts in your head for the next few hours, please…
A Conversation that Ended in Tears
Good tears…sort of.
Yesterday, I wrote, “I hate the army.” I qualified right away “not really” but I was upset. There was nothing reasonable that we could have done differently that would have resulted in David being on time. David told me not to call his commanding officers. The question now will be how upset he will be with me. But I did it.
I called his Platoon Commander. I really did. He was busy last night and said he couldn’t talk…he told me to call him this morning. And I did. I was afraid he’d be impatient – he was anything but. I was concerned he would tell me that David could handle this on his own – he sort of did.
I told him that David doesn’t know that I was calling…and he still doesn’t. I’m tempted to write to him to tell him “don’t kill me” but I won’t…yet.
I told him everything that my heart wanted to say. He’s a good soldier, I said, “I don’t know if you know him.”
“Of course, I know him and he is a good soldier.”
I told him we left on time yesterday, even early. I told him that Davidi sent his commander an SMS almost an hour before he was scheduled to be there to tell him that we’d hit a traffic jam. I told him and I told him.
At one point, the Platoon Commander (Mem-Pay) said David is a big boy and can speak for himself. But he won’t, I answered. He’ll take the punishment, but he shouldn’t. It isn’t just. This is the first time he was late in eight months, I answered. And yes, he’s a big boy. More, he’s a man, I told him. That’s what you did, you took my boy and you made a man. I won’t say thank you for that. He laughed and said, “it had to happen,”
And I felt better, relieved. I was talking to someone’s boy who had become a man the same way my boy did. “Yes, I know, but I don’t have to say thank you.”
I told him that I really don’t call my sons’ commanding officers. I’m not that kind of mother. But don’t ruin the soldier you have created. Don’t take his motivation away.
I told him how David considers the army his family, his brothers. I told him about the air conditioning going off on Shabbat and the Russian and the Druze turning it on for the others. Don’t punish him for something that wasn’t his fault.
And then he said, “we’ll look into it.” Progress.
“There were a lot of soldiers who were late yesterday,” he said.
And I answered – maybe it was all for the same reason. And if that’s true, there really was nothing they could have done. “We’ll look into it and we’ll be fair.”
I hung up and wanted to cry…did a little. Good tears. My son is part of a just army. I don’t know what they will decide to do. I hope they will reverse the punishment but I’ll accept whatever they give. I don’t know how other armies work. I only know how mine does.
And this one listened to a mother’s voice. I heard him laugh and I heard him ask without words for my trust and I gave it. He could have brushed me off, certainly he could have cut me off. He didn’t.
“We love our soldiers,” he told me at one point and I answered that I know they do and therefore I’m calling for “justice.” And to take a full day from a soldier for being late for 20 minutes…when that 20 minutes was completely not his fault…isn’t fair.
He told me they would be fair. That’s all I can ask but in many ways, that is everything.
