Sarah 11

I roll my legs outa bed, slide my feet into slippers. My next bed neighbor, Indira, already standing, ruffles my hair, "that's the spirit, today they release us, let's get a move on."
"Why the rush?"
"Need I remind you how ugly and dirty the mess grill gets, for late risers. Let's go while it's still clean, cleanish I mean."
"Yeah I hear you, tired of sick people food."
Indira pulls a face, "glop, gloop, like stuff in baby food jars. Now back to the real world, with real chow, sort of, real coffee, sort of and cigs."
As I dress I think, yes it's been a real bonding experience. Both deathly ill with flu at first, just enough energy to lie there. As we got a bit better, we talked some. Her parents originated from India, part of the Jewish community in Mumbai (formerly Bombay). They emigrated to Guyana arriving shortly before she was born.
Upon becoming an adult, she made Aliyah.
As we set out on the walk to the mess, she asks, "these sabras, why they all so clannish? Yes people be respectful, curious how Judaism be there, but no one ever your friend. Only American Jews. You be the first real Israeli."
I laugh drily, "they will tell you I ain't a real Israeli."
Over earnest tone, "but how they all know, I mean just like that, spot you? You's white."
"First, gene pools, the real Israelis and Haredim are two totally separate gene pools. They, mix of everything, sabra look. Us, still look like East European shtetl. Then overall we spend much more time indoors, paler. Then our Hebrew is accented."
"Oh. So why you Air Assault people hafta meet ten am check in, pods don't go til after dark? Lotta top secret briefings?"
I laugh easily, "unlikely, we been floating the Negev so long we don't need maps anymore. It's meant to cover sin. Say you only needed to arrive an hour before lift off. Then what happens if someone's bus is delayed or detoured by terrorism? Always supplies to load, always some minor last minute repair item."
"I like you, you're honest. Lotta people woulda just pretended to be super important."
"So, how's the pay function going?"
"This century or any other, Indians always do well as government clerks."
She's in the food line ahead of me. Now I truly understand what she means by respect. See I'm used to the food slopped on the plate.
The server pauses, searches out the perfectly done sausages, the best looking toast and eggs. Places, not slops, them on her plate. Yes, guess it's how she says, people respect those who are so committed to Judaism that they travel long distances to live it.
I'm totally shocked at what happens next. The server's eye falls on my logo, "34th Air Assault." His expression becomes awe, reverence. He spends thrice as long seeking out the perfect food items for me.
As Indira and I sit, I remark, "wonder what that was about? Ain't like I'm Queen of Beauty."
"Hero worship, obvious it is."
Two tables over, a crowd of male Air Assault whisper, snicker, obviously talking about me. But they too have that look of reverence, of total mind boggling awe.
I push any questions aside, as Indira's American friends start to show, join us. Here's my big chance, I've always liked Americans.
After a long conversation, Indira innocently remarks, "that's funny. Three crews of female Air Assault hafta make morning check in, yet no one is taking the free breakfast."
This sends the Americans into wild gales of laughter. I never do discover why as they then rush off to their jobs.
I've just about decided to head for the library, when finally someone shows. Sarge goes through the food line. Curious, she gets the same sloppy service as ever. Why? She wears the same badge as me, the same badge that affected the server.
Sarge sits, "So how was sick bay?"
"Least I'm ready and healthy for tonight."
She looks at me oddly, drawls, "check in could be light on the ground today."
"How so?"
She gasps, "you didn't hear? Oh right, sick bay never gets the rumors. You and me friend, is all that is left. Some, dishonorable discharge. Others, busted to peasant outfits."
"Why?"
"Just after you fell ill. I wasn't around, off with boyfriend. Everyone else, including the rest of the Sgt's, went on a mega pi**up."
"Trouble with MPs?"
"You ain't whistling Dixie. Got totally stinko, stole lumber, busted up a gay bar and everyone therein."
I laugh, she joins in.
Then, more serious tone, "the Knesset is in a total uproar, Human Rights and all that. Only one thing saved their asses, fact of being women. If men had done the same, would be prison time for sure."
"So ah?"
"You and I friend have joined the ranks of them with loads of free time."
"What do we do?"
"Target practice, lots of it, at the range. If we get really good, maybe the lads will take mercy on us, invite us to the party."
"Party?"
She leans forward, whispers, "you are outa touch, no TV in the sick bay. Lebanon is front and center, the Hezbollah has invited us to the prom."
A male Air Assault detaches himself from his table. Facing me, ignoring Sarge, respectful tone, "please, just one question. Get away under your own steam or did they let you off?"
I smile inscrutably.
Ear to ear grin, "ah, Three Monkeys, nuff said. Sometimes it does pay to be Haredi."