Sarah 9

Now that the ice is broken, the crew is friendly and relaxed to deal with. They're curious about Haredim, yet mostly avoid any controversial topic. Soon they hit on the idea of talking Yiddish literature. After all, all are at least a little curious and I have five years of experience.
"So lemme ask you," Karen starts, "seems almost every novel is set either in the East European shtetl or in the Jewish experience in New York. Why is that?"
"Books aren't really made for libraries. They're written and published with the cash buyer in mind. Almost no one here in Israel who reads Yiddish can afford to buy books. So, publishers concentrate on what American fans want. Thank heavens the Americans are generous enough to donate used books."
"Funny people the Americans," Lily asserts, "so modern in all other regards. Anything to do with Israel or Judaism, stuck in the past. They come here, expect to ride a donkey cart away from the airport."
Everyone laughs.
"Hold on," I protest, "jokes aside, let's not trash Americans. Did I ever tell how they donated 80 boxes of books?"
Sarge ruffles my hair, "several times by now. Resta you, listen up. Guess who bought this pod. Comes outa the multi billion dollar equipment voucher, mil aid. Without American generosity, there would not be a country left to defend anymore. So, I'm with Sarah, no trashing of Americans."
Nods.
As we file outa the galley, Sarge and I are last to leave. Smile, "word of advice, start English courses during that downtime on base."
"Yeah Sarge, I know by now. So many jobs need it."
"Not just that my friend. Our Air Assault is a lot more professional than anyone else's. As a matter of courtesy, a thank you to the Americans, we regularly loan them instructors. At any one time, there are a dozen or more Israelis over there, helping with their program."
"Officers or Sgt's?"
"Bout half of each. So, learn English and upgrade to complete high school."
So Ruth was right. First time Sarge has ever blatantly come out and admitted what she is up to. After all, none of that stuff would happen during my draftee hitch.
Whether or not I agree with Sarge, I soon see I have little choice. Out on patrol, social life is good, time passes. On base, oy! These people don't know me from Eve.
Take Ruth for example. Yes, she's a good friend. No sooner than we've arrived back and she vanishes with that boyfriend. Rest, it's the same, gone to boyfriend or parental house all the time.
Yes there is some group drinking but very little. During the draft hitch, you don't get a real salary, just pocket money. Salary starts if you rejoin, on a career basis.
With nowhere to go, no money to spend and no one left on base; time drags like molasses at the North Pole in January.
Upgrading programs are flexible, in modules, can work around any duty schedule. Tutoring is one on one or small group.
By the end of a year patrolling the Negev, I've passed high school equivalency and made huge progress on English. I'm now good enough at it, I check out English books to take on patrol.
I'm also not the crew rookie anymore. Several finish, go home; new people arrive.
And now I'm Sarge's shadow. She insists I follow her around, learn every detail of control room, everything from supply order to duty roster.
"You see, it's like this. When it comes to the real thing, you get one chance, two if you're lucky. Let's say you're on a raid of Hezbollah HQ in Lebanon. If flops because you forgot to order one or more supply items. Just guess what your career looks like after that."
"Not pretty?"
Laugh, "understatement of the year, my friend. You end up in some flea bitten outpost in the Negev, shining flashlights at pods and watching porn."
"You mean ah?"
"Of course, whole lotta them there, it's disciplinary. Sgt, well some day I'll tell you the story of the two raids he was on."
It dawns on me, "you were there?"
She unbuttons her shirt, I see the huge scar, "oh yes, verdict is lucky to be alive."
I protest, "thought there were no mixed crews."
"Not anymore, too much hotdogging and showing off, now it's segregated crews. So when you gonna find a boyfriend? That Intel Captain is giving you the eye."
"Sa-arge, come on, he could not spell the word Palestinians, much less figger what they'll do next."
Mock sniff, "we-ell, if you're gonna get fussy, actually demand brains, expect a long drought."
We both laugh.
"Seriously kid, in case it's escaped your attention. Them in shortage, not us. Them who can afford to be fussy, not us."
"You seem to have done ok."
"He may look good, but he ain't all there, mentally vacant. Still, makes it easier to deal with him."