Golani 12

Yesterday morning my 21-year old cousin, Yonatan, a commander in the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) or Tzahal (the acronym by which it is commonly known as here), picked me up from Neve Michael and took me to spend the morning at his army base. He is in the Golani brigade, one of the oldest and most highly decorated in the IDF, and their training base is close by on the other side of the Green Line.

To get there we drove through country roads, slightly off the beaten track, until we slowly began to ascend a hill and as we came to the top, I was awe struck by two things which consumed my field of vision. To my left, an enormous campus of buildings, satellites and army vans protected on all sides by barbed fences and electric gates. Straight ahead, the Arab village of Kvar Qar’ia which is more densely populated with buildings and mosques than anything I have seen since arriving in Israel.

Growing up, I am sure my girlfriends from home will agree, there is something very alluring about Israeli soldiers. I still remember Gil – the soldier that accompanied our tour group around Israel when I was 16. But ten years later (it is actually nine and a large fraction), this mystique has evaporated, now that these young men are mostly 18, 19 or 20 and appear to be big boys playing with guns that just happen to be real.

In this recently built base, soldiers sleep 16 to a room on metal bunks with thin mattresses. I smiled wryly when some of the older soldiers (24 year olds) said that the new soldiers had it too easy because they remembered when they had to sleep in tents with rain pouring through in the winter.

Yonatan’s VIP tour included the firing ranges where the newest recruits were being trained and tested on their shooting skills. Standing behind eight machine guns all being fired simultaneously is an experience which I won’t forget in a long time. Even with ear plugs and knowing what was about to happen, I still found it terrifying.

While I was there, I felt incredibly sheltered and naïve, surrounded by soldiers who have endured some of the toughest army training in the world, survived on a couple hours of sleep a night for three years and who have seen and done things which I can’t even bring myself to imagine never mind write about. No amount of qualifications or career promotions can make me feel anything other than totally inadequate in front of these (mainly) guys who have given up three or more years to protect Israel on the frontline.

I also met Yonatan’s officer. At 23, he is “professional solidier” who decided to stay on after his military service. He is responsible for 125 soldiers and is a real sweetie. We had a lovely chat and he was telling me how badly paid soldiers are. New soldiers get paid 350 NIS (£437) a month and once they've finished their basic training this goes up to 700 NIS a month (£875). For those soldiers from immigrant families where they are the only breadwinners this is especially difficult.

I hear that army food isn’t too bad (it is a Jewish army after all), but in solidarity with the IDF soldiers, Yonatan made me try Loof. I think this is the kosher equivalent to spam and it is part of the provisions soldiers are given when they go out to the field. It’s the sort of thing that can survive anything and just so you know, it tastes like the inside of cheap sausages and has an absolutely revolting aftertaste.

I must admit that I left the base with an overwhelming sense of pride in what these young men were doing and with a strengthened sense of Zionism and purpose here. These feelings weren’t embedded in any political views one way or the other, but rather in the fact that this army which I had dipped into for just a morning, was a tangible experience of a Jewish state. Like Israeli stamps and the Israeli flag, it makes you feel patriotic and protective of what has been created and fought for in the last 58 years.

Me and Yonatan

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Other news: Last weekend I left the dizzy lights of Pardes Channah and went to live it up for a few days in Herzlyia Pituach. Sandra and I passed the time very leisurely…breakfast on the beach with lots of good looking men running past…tried the latest steak restaurant in the trendy industrial zone (- it’s called Meat & Wine Co. and was very good)…and went to Neve Tzedek, the picturesque artisan quarter of Tel Aviv, for a spot of shopping and an ice cream. Pretty perfect really.

On Sunday night I went to Mod’in, for a party for the brit of my cousins Elodie and Laurent’s new baby. For those of you who know them, here’s a picture of baby Uriel Meir and his mummy:


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Tomorrow I’ll say goodbye to the children at Neve Michael before I leave for Tel Aviv on Friday. The plan is to be back in Jerusalem to watch the football on Sunday: Come on England!