Chapter 21
This was the final three month
course for me. Many of the others in our group would serve as tank commanders
for about a year and then go to the officers' school. The training in
Ramle was a relaxed affair in comparison to the previous three months.
I even enjoyed it quite often, especially when I had good instructors.
We now learned a lot about tactics and strategies and even though it
was 1953 and the Holocaust was still very fresh in our minds, it did
not deter us from drawing upon the experience of the German tank battles
during World War II, as well as upon the experiences of the Allied forces.
It was also during this period that I gained a good friend. Raphael
Yeshaya was a member of an old Jerusalem family. They had a nice house
in Beit Hakerem, a prestigious suburb. We performed many activities
together, including guard duty at night, which enabled us to have long
conversations about our past, as well as our hopes for the future. I
told him much about my ten years behind the Iron Curtain, while he told
me many stories about life in Jerusalem under siege during the War of
Liberation. Raphi and I remained friends even after our discharge, because
we happened to become neighbours in Jerusalem. Even after I left for
Canada we continued to correspond for several years.
In the fall of 1992
I received a phone call from Raphi in Montreal. It took me a while to
realize who the caller was, since I did not see him or speak to him
for thirty six years. He was in Montreal with his wife as an Israeli
tourist on a tight group schedule, so I invited him for supper and we
spent a couple of hours together. After all these years, there was a
lot to reminisce. He graduated from the Law faculty at the Hebrew University
and eventually opened his office in Ashdod. He was telling me what happened
to various people who were our mutual acquaintances. Most of the names
he mentioned I simply did not remember. He listed those who were killed
in the many wars in Israel, those who were maimed for life, those who
became important and famous. I felt uncomfortable, like a stranger in
my own house and maybe guilty for not having done my share in Israel.
He noticed a picture of the soldiers of our tank battalion (the two
of us included), and claimed that he did not have this picture any more.
I offered to make a copy and mail it to him. Several days later I mailed
a copy of the picture to his law firm in Ashdod, and had no reply since
then. A Romanian proverb says: Eyes which are not seen are forgotten.
In the tank school
we did a lot of target practice with the canon. Since the shells were
very expensive (we were repeatedly told that the cost was thirty five
US dollars, probably four hundred in today's money value), a small caliber
rifle was attached to the canon, so that the cost was reduced to pennies
instead of hundreds of dollars. However, the real thing had to be used
from time to time. With the progress of time, I had to do so more often,
eventually using heavier canons. Nobody even discussed the possibility
of damaging one's hearing. I do not know how many of us were affected,
but I was, and with aging, it becomes more acute. That is my permanent
souvenir from those days. Today they are wiser and they take precautions.
I should mention another
important event which happened during one of the three courses I took,
I do not remember exactly which one. The sergeant major ordered our
group to cease our activities, dress up in parade clothes, take spare
clothes, sleeping bags and our personal weapons and be ready to move
out of camp. Nobody knew what happened. Rumours started to spread about
some dignitaries coming to the country for a visit and that we would
serve as honour guard. We were trucked into the town of Rehovot and
deposited in a school which became our temporary quarters. About half
an hour later we were told to line up for inspection. Our garments had
to be well ironed and our boots polished like a mirror. Following the
inspection the officer on duty made a brief announcement: "Our
President, Dr. Chaim Weizmann passed away and we have the great privilege
to serve as an honour guard. There will be thousands of people flowing
by day and night for three days to pay their last respects. Not only
Israelis, but many visitors from abroad, many foreign V.I.Ps. and it
is your duty to follow my orders strictly. You will put to shame the
entire country if something goes wrong."
All of us felt sad,
because Weizmann was not just the first President of Israel, he was
a legend. He was the leader of the Zionist movement on the same pedestal
as Herzl, he was the voice of the Jewish people for many years. We knew
that he had been sick for the last few years, but just the same, his
death came as a shock. Our orders were to stand at ease on both sides
of the road leading up from the gates of Weizmann's estate to his beautiful
home, where he was lying in a coffin surrounded by four soldiers standing
at attention. They were from the infantry, air force, navy and armored
corps. These soldiers were replaced every hour in a special ceremonious
march. Since we were standing at ease and had to move to attention only
to salute a passing officer, we were replaced after two hours of duty.
In the afternoon, when we started our guard duty, there was indeed a
continuous flow of people, but as night fell, the numbers diminished.
Between midnight and five in the morning, very few visitors arrived
and our Sabras became very restless.
On either side of
the road on which we stood guard there were beautiful orange groves.
The oranges were ripe, so we broke rank and picked some oranges and
ate them. They were really delicious and juicy. We made sure to throw
away the peels, as far away as possible. Then someone had the bright
idea of playing ball with the oranges. We must have been quite absorbed
in our game, because by the time we noticed someone coming up the road
it was too late. That someone saw what happened. That someone was the
officer on duty. The punishment that followed was well deserved. Some
of us felt terribly ashamed, others were sorry to have been caught.
When our shift was finished, the officer gave us two hours of non-stop
exercises, mostly push ups, fast running and fast crawl. By the end
of the two hours our clothes were soaking wet, the backs of our shirts
were white with a crust of salt from our bodies. We were then ordered
to wash up, put on our parade uniform and go back for double duty (continuous
four hours). When I arrived back to the school, and to our quarters,
my knees were shaking with fatigue. The following day I had the honour
of standing guard near the coffin. I strove to erase the memory of the
previous night, by performing my duty to the very best of my ability.
The final phase of
the tank commander's course involved some substantial field exercises
in co-operation with the infantry, and some artillery. These field maneuvers,
with precise objectives, co-ordinated movements and attacks, using live
ammunition, were also a practical way of testing our achievements. I
don't remember anyone failing the test.
At the end of one
year of hard training I was a professional tank commander. I received
my traditional four days' vacation and spent one day in Givatayim visiting
my good friend Hana, the rest of the time I enjoyed being home in Natanya.
When I returned to the regiment eighty two, I was assigned my own tank
with my own crew. There was a great shortage of tank crews at the time
and the training was speeded up by allocating a section of the regiment's
camp as a tank school. I was ordered to be an instructor in the school
and I was promoted to the rank of sergeant (I now had three strips on
my sleeves). As a sergeant, my whole life changed drastically. I shared
a real room with another sergeant, much more comfortable than living
in a tent or in the open-faced hangar. I was served my food in the officers'
dining room, instead of standing in line with the mess tins and getting
all the food mixed in one dish. My laundry was done for me. I had more
freedom of movement, and more frequent furloughs. The soldiers had to
salute me and obey my orders. However, t resolved in my heart that I
would not apply the indiscriminate system of punishment so freely meted
out during my training time. I punished only for a good reason and for
serious infractions, especially those done intentionally or by disregarding
a clear warning.
The new group of soldiers,
who came to our regiment had arrived in the country very recently, spoke
Hebrew poorly, and were from a variety of backgrounds. Some had almost
no formal education and they were certainly not inspired by Zionist
ideals. They just completed their basic training, probably with great
difficulty and problems. Many members of the group had serious social
problems. Some were married with a wife and child left behind in some
miserable immigrant camp. There were also some with criminal tendencies,
even some drug problems. How does one mold such a mixture of human beings
into professional tank crews, well disciplined, ready to fight for Israel?
My determination to be just in punishment, to avoid punishments as much
as possible, sounded kind of hollow in the face of such terrific obstacles,
but not for long.
It was about a month
later that we were blessed with a new commanding officer. He was young,
charismatic, smart, calm under pressure and his name was Hertzel. He
organized very intensive Hebrew classes for our soldiers, he brought
in social workers who worked hard to alleviate the social problems with
which we were afflicted. He organized special entertainment, by inviting
various army groups. He taught the instructors how best to handle such
people, and above all, he served as a personal example. He was very
fair and firm and the soldiers felt that they mattered and that he cared.
One could feel the improvement almost on a daily basis. There were no
miraculous results. It still took a very long time to teach them the
intricacies of the machinery and weaponry of a tank, much more by doing
than by lecturing. There were many frustrating hours of work that seemed
to have had no positive results, but in the end most of them became
reasonably well integrated into the army milieu.
This was not an isolated
case. The country was full of newcomers. The army had to be much more
than a military organization, it had to be an absorption center for
a newly created Israeli society. The instructors, myself included, had
many stories related to the struggle of absorbing and integrating such
a variety of people. I remember teaching them about the communications
in the tank, the radio receiver and transmitter, the codes used in communicating
internally and externally. Because of the noise in the tank it was impossible
for the driver to be heard by the tank commander even if one shouted
the words. During an important exercise, our radio failed. My driver,
who was a simple man, and had a hard time learning his new profession,
was also a very practical person. He tied a cord to each of his shoulders,
handed the other ends to me and told me to handle the cords like the
reins of a team of horses. It worked. He eventually mastered his task
so well that whenever there was a malfunction he could just listen carefully
to the noises emanating from the moving tank and establish unerringly
where the defect was.
Unfortunately, he
had his bad moments as well. During a joint maneuver involving the infantry,
artillery, air force and the tanks, the radio communications of the
entire force were on the same channel. We could use the radio internally,
but not externally so as not to interfere with the communications of
the various commanding officers. According to a prearranged plan, my
battalion was to start the "attack" and my tank happened to
be the first to move out. We maintained absolute silence on the radio,
waiting for the signal to move out. When the signal came, our tank remained
standing, after a tense moment of delay, I heard my driver curse and
report to me: "Commander, I can't shove it in". He meant that
he could not shift into first gear. In his frustration he forgot to
switch the radio to the intercom, and the entire force heard his comments
to me. He became famous throughout Zahal, and the words: "I
can't shove it in" were related by many people in different forms
with an endless array of interpretations.
The unrest along the
borders of Egypt and Jordan continued to flare up time and again and
very often we were placed in a state of alert. That meant that we had
to be ready to move out in a matter of minutes. Sometimes, it was the
highest degree of alert, that meant that we actually moved out of the
camp to an assigned position along the border. During my service, however,
I never had the opportunity to be involved in a battle using our tanks,
but from time to time the sergeants and corporals in our regiment were
ordered to participate in retaliatory actions. The officers wanted the
better trained and the most motivated soldiers in order to insure success.
Before an action we were well instructed by performing the entire operation
many times under identical conditions to those in the field, so that
each of us knew exactly what to do. It seems to me now that I could
have done it blindfolded. Very soon someone in high command put a stop
to these activities; instead Zahal formed a specially trained
commando unit whose job was to take care of border infiltrations.
In my final half a
year of service, I was again involved in training and upgrading our
equipment and our skills. There was almost no opportunity for a four
day vacation every three months. Actually I accumulated almost a full
month of vacation days which I was not able to enjoy during my service.
I developed a very good relationship with my commanding officer and
he assured me that I will get my discharge four weeks earlier. That
suited me just fine since my intention was to continue my studies and
I hoped that by starting in December of 1954 I would be
able to salvage the
complete semester which started two months earlier. Unfortunately, my
application to the Technion in Haifa to the faculty of Engineering was
rejected, due to lack of space. I was told that there were seven applicants
for each place. I immediately applied for next year, but I also looked
around to do something else till then.
After some diligent
searching, I decided to spend the coming faculty year in Jerusalem at
the Teachers' Seminary. There was a shortage of teachers, because of
the large inflow of new immigrants, so that it was fairly easy to be
accepted, even with a two month delay. In order to graduate as an elementary
school teacher I needed to study only two years. My intention was to
spend only one year at the Seminary, but what if I would be rejected
again?
The Seminary had an
excellent reputation in the field of education. About half of our courses
were taught at the Hebrew University by top professors. Many of our
students continued their studies at the Hebrew University to obtain
higher degrees in education. So I made my decision and registered at
the Teachers' Seminary in Beit Hakerem, a suburb of Jerusalem, located
right next door to the beautiful home of my friend Raphael Yeshaya,
which was an advantage. Meanwhile, back in my regiment, my superior
began to apply various tactics of pressure to convince me to sign on
for another year or more. One attraction was to promote me to first
sergeant and a few months later to sergeant major, with better living
conditions, much better pay and more vacation time. The other offer
was to send me to the Officers' School. I was tempted to accept the
latter, and agreed to undergo a two-day psychological and physical evaluation
of ability and aptitude. The center for such an examination was located
near Tel-Aviv and I spent a pleasant couple of days undergoing a multitude
of tests and a lot of thinking about my future. I finally made up my
mind to be discharged when I complete my service and to study in Jerusalem.
Following my father's
advice, I eventually began considering another option: the possibility
of studying abroad.... I returned to my base and told my commanding
officer that my decision to study is firm and final.
During my last year
in the army, my parents made a big move. They managed to save up enough
money to buy their own apartment in Natanya, Gordon Street, No. 16.
Since I could only manage to come home for one day at a time and even
that was done seldom, I really did not have much of a chance to enjoy
the apartment. The apartment consisted of a master bedroom, a fairly
large living room (Salon - in Israel), a large entrance room, a well
arranged kitchen. There were two large balconies, one off the bedroom
and living room, facing the street, and the other off the kitchen. The
later was used to do the laundry and even to cook in the hot summer
days, while the one facing the street had some easy chairs and was the
place to spend a cool evening. My father made sure to buy a corner apartment
on the West North side, on the third floor. It had plenty of cross currents
and was always pleasantly cool. Since my father's arrest in 1940 by
the Russians, I really had no chance to live a normal family life, except
for the two years between 1950-1952 during which I completed my high
school studies. There would be another brief period of over one year,
in 1958-59, when I lived with my parents. That means that from the age
of nine on, I had to be on my own, most the time earning my own livelihood.
Even though during some of those years I lived with my mother only,
I was really the man of the house in the true sense of the word.
And now I was off
to Jerusalem in a hurry, since the school year already started. I made
arrangements to use the accommodations provided by the school. Most
students lived two or three to a room, but since I was the oldest and
the only student who already completed his army service I was given
a room to myself. The student dormitory also provided the meals in its
dining hall. My parents insisted on this arrangement so that I should
be worry free, concentrate on my studies and make up the missing two
months. The atmosphere was pleasant, cheerful in the school and in the
dormitory, but socially I felt out of place. I was twenty four in 1955,
while all the others were eighteen or nineteen years old. Because of
the need for teachers, practically all students had their army service
deferred, an attractive advantage for many bright young people.
I brought my bicycle
to Jerusalem and it served me well, since I had to travel daily to "Terra
Sancta" the main building of the Hebrew University, where half
of my lectures took place. There were only three or four boys among
the students, the rest were all girls, a fact which caused some envy
among my acquaintances and friends. I became very friendly with another
student named Adir Cohen, with Lea, from Kfar Yehezkel, and of course,
I had my good friend Raphi next door, who also attended Hebrew University.
During the first
two months I managed to catch up with my work, to adjust to my new life,
to acquaint myself with the various parts of Jerusalem, that is of West
Jerusalem only. There were dangerous sections that were best avoided.
One could see the Jordanian soldiers on the old city walls. Sometimes
they would snipe at people in the Western section, it was best not to
go too close to the border line. I also learned the hard way to avoid
the old quarter of Mea Shearim, inhabited by Ultra Orthodox Jews. Boys
and girls wearing short pants and short sleeved shirts were not welcome
on the streets of Mea Shearim. I found that out when Lea decided to
take me on a tour of the city, riding our bicycles. We happened to pass
by just when the children in their traditional dress were pouring out
of their Hadarim (schools). As soon as they saw us, they picked up pebbles
and threw them at us, spitting in our direction and shouting "shame,
shame." Well, we got out of there in a hurry.
About two months after
I started my studies, I received a call for reserve duty for forty five
days. I certainly did not expect such a surprise and I wondered what
effect it would have on my first year at the Seminary.