A chance remark on television last night reminded me that my first reserve army duty was 43 years ago - June 1982, when I was 26 years old and released one year from the regular army. Although the intention was that I would serve reserve duty in the laboratory where I spent most of my regular service, the various paperwork and deals had not been completed. Thus my first reserve duty would be spent in the 'daughter' base, as a medical technician. This meant packing medical rucksacks: there was a rucksack for doctors and company medics and another rucksack for regular medics. For each type of rucksack, there was a list of items (drugs, bandages, syringes, etc) and what would go into each pouch. The soldiers were split into teams of four or five, where each team had a bay with all the items sorted. Each soldier would be reponsible for packing some number of items into each rucksack.
The first day of the service was probably a Tuesday, and we spent a few days desultorily preparing rucksacks and ensuring that each bay (or as I would call it now, each kanban) had sufficient stocks. As the base had no sleeping facilities, we would go home at around 5 pm each day and return the next day by 8 am. Soon the first weekend was upon us, and a certain number of soldiers had to stay and guard; I don't remember if there were also guards from my regular unit - I certainly guarded that base many times.
Of course, I was one of the soldiers who was 'picked' to stay the weekend; I don't recall now if we had sleeping and eating arrangements on that base. Anyway, I was doing the 6-10 am morning shift on the base's gate - this was always my favourite shift as I was a morning person and the world was quiet and cool. I was sitting in the small guard hut, almost certainly reading a book and possibly drinking tea, when cars started arriving between 7 - 8 am. I don't remember now whether there was a gate or similar that I had to open, but regardless, I was extremely surprised to see these cars, especially as they contained several career petty officers who were religious; there must be a very important reason for them to travel on a Shabbat. The date was 6 June 1982.
Soon the situation became clear: there had been an assasination attempt on the Israeli ambassador to Britain, Shlomo Argov, and in retaliation, Israel began what was originally called the 'Peace for the Galil operation' (מבצע שלום הגליל), then later became the Lebanese war and eventually the first Lebanese war. As a result, our work in the supply base suddenly became extremely important.
I don't remember what happened for the rest of day - whether I was still guarding, whether I was off duty or whether whoever was on the base started preparing more rucksacks. I don't remember if I even went home that Saturday night - quite probably not. I do remember that somewhere banks of telephones had been set up so that we could phone home to give updates.
From that day on, we worked from 8 am to 8 pm. One evening I was returning home (problematic at the time) and probably dozing in the bus, when the lady sitting next to me gave me a peach: her contribution to the war effort. The base still had to be guarded at night, and I remember that my number came up again on Thursday evening.
On Friday morning, the thorny question of who would stay the night to guard the base and who would go home (only to return the following morning) arose. As I had no way of getting home on a Friday evening nor returning the following morning, I volunteered even though I had stayed the previous night. I have a memory of sleeping in my 'sheet sleeping bag' on a grass verge although I don't recall from which night this was.
As a reward for my volunteering, I was sent home at about 4 pm on the Saturday afternoon, and managed to hitchhike home for a much needed shower and rest. More importantly, I was never called upon again to spend another night on the base. I don't recall what happened the next Saturday; probably I came in late. I do remember that one of our team was religious: he reported in on Saturday but sat on the side and read a prayerbook in lieu of packing rucksacks.
After two weeks of intensive work, the pace was reduced somewhat, and each team was allowed to release one member each day for a day off. This was already two and a half weeks into our four weeks' service, so the end came quite quickly. The reserve soldiers that we had replaced at the beginning of June came back to serve another few weeks on the first Sunday, so they effectively served nearly 60 continuous days.
That was the extent of my service in that war that brought a very troubled six months to Israel. The nadir of this period was the Sabra and Shatila massacre, which although was not purpetrated by Israel was at least allowed to happen. All through this period, defence minister Ariel Sharon basically lied to the Prime Minister, Menachem Begin, about the scope of the operation that became a war. A year later, Begin would resign - I may not have agreed with his policies but at least he was a decent human being and knew how to accept responsibility, unlike his successors who are driving Israel further and further into the mud with every passing day.
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