Bootcamp

Back here. This place still doesn't feel like home. Probably never will. But it's mine (kind of), I can use the bathroom whenever I want for as long as I want, and my room is not shared with 21 other smelly armed teenagers in various stages of depression and social-Darwinistic manipulations.

The weather is completely horrible and makes any kind of positive look on things almost impossible. The base is located in a place that somehow forces extreme conditions: if it's "nice and warm" then it will be scorching hot, if there's a "light breeze" there will be chilling winds, if it's "partially clouded" we wont see the sun all day and if "some rain" is promised in various places of the country we will be drenched to the bones in our leaky tents, sleeping on wet beds in wet uniform without any dry clothes available anywhere in the vicinity. It was the freaking monsoon season for us.

I think I have finally learned to aim and scored max hits in the last test. Too bad there's only one left. But then again, on the 14th I get rid of the three-kilo and seven-years-in-jail Weapon Of A Thousand Apologies (already used about a hundred in public transport this Friday). I'm not even allowed to take it apart without supervision of my superiors. And I need to oil the POS. Screw it - I'm oiling it today, I don't need it to jam on the firing range.

Remember that radio they used to call napalm air strikes with, back in 'nam? Well, it's heavy. I'm not exactly in top shape, but I can tell you this: you can either charge, or carry the thing, but definitely not both. Very glad it was my responsibility for only a few days.

Granted, some things, like the weather, the army can't control, but for others it is solely responsible. For example, budgets and the level of competence of our commanders. And drafting people who I would never, ever, in a zillion years entrust with a pocket knife, much less an automatic weapon (yeah, it's illegal to switch it into fully automatic mode so you're only allowed to use it as a semi automatic. Doesn't help me to sleep at night.).

Thank god for our platoon commander, the cutest nineteen-year-old I've seen. Half of my squad want to marry her. She's competent enough for four and she tyrannizes our commanders mercilessly. At times she seems like the only good thing on that stinking base. If Gaza is the Gates of Hell (and according to the people who served there it is), I might be in love. Alas, it was never meant to be. Oh, the angst. ;-)

Some of the kids are halfway decent, but most are future truck drivers and in our obligatory "drugs are bad, mmmkay?" talk admitted to having first hand experience. Many a fun moment I had listening to them describing in vivid colors their latest dream about the blonde¹ commander from another platoon or how they would like to drop-kick the company commander (who is a bastard of a lieutenant that thinks him being able to court marshal us for being untidy or late makes him God. I'm sure the blonde commander sleeping with one of our commanders and not him makes it worse. No pity from here - May you be involved in a weapons accident, you fat pig. :-) ).

Well, it's only one week and a couple of days left, and I think I'll manage. You can eat the food when you're hungry enough and I just have to remember to bring lots of sweets to share with everyone so they remember to re-label be a "nice guy" every day.
Now I know who I can have a semi-intelligent conversation with and who can't see a difference between me and the Ukrainian drunk with his acid raves pounding in headphones ten feet away louder than some of my music through speakers because our first language is the same. It also happens that the people who are stupid and biased are hardly worthy conversationalists unless you want to discuss the finer points of faking an illness to get out of work. Not a big loss by any rate.

I guess you wouldn't be surprised how much some people's attitude changed when they found out I can fix their computers, but you could think that in a predominantly ethnically homogeneous country established to protect a people from racism there would be no internal racial squabbles. How wrong would you be.
Russians, Romanians, Poles, Checks, Argentineans, Moroccans, Iraqis, Ethiopians. Color, facial features, head and body hair, customs, foods, language. Combined with the usual disagreements between people who had to work at McDonald's to buy the cheapest Discman-clone and the people who's daddy bought them a brand new mid-high range car the day they got a driver's license and you can get a pretty tense atmosphere. Especially when everyone's trying to establish he's tough and should not be messed with. And when there isn't enough privacy to get off for two weeks (popular topic of conversation around the dinner table, btw).
I can't wait to get out and be in a more segregated-by-motivation-to-not-be-an-asshole environment. And idea I couldn't really express there and not be considered an elitist (a lost cause by now, I think).

My school principal also believed in integration. The idea is that putting all the nice guys together might produce a very productive group of nice guys, but all the not nice guys will be lost to society, so the two groups should be mixed and then at least some of the not nice will be inspired to move upwards rather than downwards and will get a decent job rather than get into drugs. This forces the nicer people to carry the extra weight of the no-work force until they're allowed to ditch the leg shackles and run straight into exclusive groups. Which turn into a joke like mensa, but that's another problem.
The problem I see in this is that although some pebbles might be polished, the diamonds are definitely dimmed², and it's a heavy loss. I saw it in school, I see it openly practiced in IDF policy and I see it in western society in general. I don't like it. This criticism does not mean I have a solution to propose, so consider it a rant. Probably an immature one at that.

I'm going to try and use the soldier discount in the movie theater this evening, because I need my TTT fix.

Thank you Lou for your letter. I might even be able to answer it.
Everybody — I am VERY sorry, but I have no time for anything. Please, email me, stay in touch. Tell me about your lives, what's going on in the scene, etc.

1 - keep in mind blondes are rare and sought after in these parts, at least by the oriental population, though the Ashkenazi are also at fault. What's with the Aryan complex? There are fine girls available with dominantly Semitic features.
2 - quote by Robert G. Ingersoll