#army stuff

Me:

⁽ᵍᶤᶠ⁾ - Young Forever - BTS

– ver. 2

@vanilladadmare @strawberrydadmare @trickster-dadmare @skull-kid-dadmare

Overall, this was an amazing experience. As a person in general, but especially for me as a religious woman who had almost no irl contact with non-religious people until enlisting.

Here is something I wrote during my last ever shift:

It is my very last shift. Night shift, alone. We are not supposed to do shifts alone--I am not supposed to be here at all--but there aren't enough girls.

The Medicinal War Room girl is sleeping in the other room. We're not supposed to sleep, but it's 2:19 AM. No one will see her, and I won't tell.

A few minutes ago, I opened the daily report for today, October 3. It struck me that it would be the last time. Everything I do now is the last time. I just hung up with the Gaza DCL to hear how many trucks crossed the border for the last time.

It's such a mess of emotions. I'm excited for everything my future has in store: I'm starting school, I'll move out in a few years, etc. I'm relieved to get some peace of mind, finally not be in the south, not scared of missiles, not woken up in the middle of the night to because of some terror attack. I can make plans with my friends for two weeks from now with consulting intelligence.

And I'm...full of longing. For the girls who serve with me, for the intensity of the war room which may have taken serenity from me but also gave me so much, for the south. The map I learned by heart, even though I had never been to this border before my service. I love my sector. I love the civilians under my jurisdiction. I will miss serving them so much.

And also, I won't. I can regain peace of mind.

But how can I do that? How am I going to be able to hear about rocket fired on the border and not wonder who it really was who shot it, if we're retaliating, if the war room is fully staffed, waiting for the decision from the Security Cabinet?

It's been a mess of emotions serving here, so being discharged should be no different.

When you're a soldier, and you hear and see firsthand and secondhand terrorists whose only goal is to kill you and Jewish children (like you a short while ago, like your brothers now), it is impossible to feel pity. Only anger at them and at the media that sides with them and the citizens of your own country too.

And then you see teenagers risk their lives crossing the border and they tell forces you dispatched that they'd rather live in your prisons than die in Gaza, and parents who just want clean water for the children, and little kids on the border being used by terrorist organizations, and you can't not hurt. You feel pain and sorrow and pity.

You're Jewish, so you've known your whole life that the world is all grey area, but you never knew how much, and just how ugly shades of grey can be.

I learned I'm an excellent shot, but not before crying when I was given a gun. It was so overwhelmingly terrifying. My commander took us to a quiet place outside, sat us all down, and said we were going to learn about the weapon.

"It can be very scary for some people to hold a gun," she said, and she sounded so kind and gentle and understanding. "We learn about the different parts of the weapon, how it's built, so that we don't need to be scared."

And she was right. It did help. I wasn't scared anymore. And during shooting practice, I even had fun.

A lot of girls didn't. They shook with fear even after all the lessons, even with the commanders helping them. And a lot of girls from the south started crying when we started to shoot. It sounded too much like missiles to them.

I was the first religious person a lot of these girls met. I remember their questions.

"Do your parents work?"

"Do you know when you're getting married? How many kids you'll have?"

"Are you allowed to be in the army?"

"Were your parents angry when you told them you were enlisting?"

I was always patient, but secretly very upset. When you're a minority growing up in a community of people like you, you don't feel like a minority. There's no reason to feel other. So I was not used to being treated as such--at least, not for my faith. I'm a very private person, too, so I hated the most common question very much: "Why did you enlist?"

I met non-religious people for the first time. It's true, what they say, that we have more similarities than differences. I love these girls with all my heart. Girls whose family came from the Soviet Union and have no connection to Judaism as a faith, girls whose families have been here for ages and vote far left and have never crossed over to the West Bank, girls who believe in God with the same strength I do and yet don't keep Shabbos.

I did not come out to any friends, but I did to every female commander I had. Some before I knew anything about them. Five women in all. One is queer herself, even.

Did not come out to any friends, as I said, but they were all (almost comically) surprised to learn how accepting of queer people I am. I'd smile to myself every time; my own little joke.

There's just so much to say. I have been through so much. Miserably frightening days with sirens going off, or losing soldiers and civilians under my jurisdiction. Arguing with the divisions under my command how many special forces are being allocated to them. Pestering the Air Force about helicopters scheduled to land on my bases.Video Chat, who are in charge of connecting people and war rooms through the army's version of Skype, are all very kind. Iron Dome are endearingly annoying. And General Command, Division 143, and Division 80 are the worst in their own way, but they're also my girls. The superiors and subordinates to Southern Command 65, my unit.

---

I’m finishing up this ramble of post on the evening of the sixth. I’ll schedule it for the tenth.

I cannot believe I am going to be a civilian. No commanders. No war room.

I’m relieved my parents managed to convince me to start university this year. I don’t have a very long break, but I don’t know what I’d do if I had to just...wonder what was next.

I was a big sister my whole life. Then a soldier. I’m scared of not knowing what I am other than student. But I’m excited too.

It was an experience. I would be a different person today without it. 

US Army