'You bet I'm going on this march'

August 8, 2007

2210 hours

Somewhere in the north of Israel

I only have time for a short post because in a few minutes we'll be leaving for another night-march preceding the grand finale of all we've been doing here this week, the battalion exercise. Besides getting my kit together, there's a great deal of psychological preparation involved.

For the first time since I've been doing miluim, I've suddenly become an old-timer. Most of the veterans have left, dozens of twenty-somethings have joined the company and I'm not sure I like the new state of affairs. I'm shown a certain degree of respect ? I don't get asked to do certain onerous tasks and it's a given that I get a better rifle and kitbag. But no-one really enjoys being considered old at the age of 34.

Which brings me to tonight's excursion. My legs are killing me, I'm chafed in all sorts of unpleasant places that of whose existence normally I'm not usually aware, and I'm dying for a decent night's sleep.

Training has taken its toll and a number of us, mainly in my age bracket, are staying on base tonight. No-one seems to think it strange. I planned to stay too, and had already taken off my uniform and had a shower.

But then something made me get up, smear cream on my raw parts and get dressed.

I know it's idiotic. I have nothing to prove to anyone. It's not like I haven't done my share of marches over the years, and this one won't make me a better soldier or prepare me in any way for war if and when it comes.

Maybe I'm fighting against feeling like a pathetic old bloke who's already begun sliding into the abyss of middle age. Maybe I'm scrabbling to hold on to a youth that suddenly seems distant.

Maybe, but you bet I'm going on this march.

Previous entries:August 7, 2007: Training for the war that won't be<August 5, 2007: 'The real change is that we're training at all'<August 5, 2007: Olmert's own heritage is no excuse<