The one where Harry chats with Shaul Mofaz

September 21, 2008 - 6:09 PM by Harry

Harry in the armyWell Shaul Mofaz lost the Kadima primary to Tzipi Livni who is now lined up to be our next prime minister. It’s not clear how long her tenure will be since its most likely new elections are just around the corner. It all depends on the strength of the coalition she can muster up. But that is not what I am here to talk about. I was hoping that Mofaz would win. Not because I support his agenda or anything like that but because you see, Mofaz and I go way back….

1998. My advanced tank training was held on the southern Golan Heights. We spent about 90 percent of our time out in the shetach (field). Upon returning to the base on Sunday we would drive our tanks through military only areas of the Golan, passing decimated and rusted Syrian tanks that are now used as target practice. Advanced tank training consists of obstacle courses spread over several kilometers. Each week, we would ship out to a different part of the Golan, training on different types of terrain. This week we happened to be near the city of Katzrin, the only city on the Golan Heights, sitting about 12 kilometers northeast of the Sea of Galilee. It was a good place to be, because we knew the chances of receiving an “after,” (free time) in the city was fairly high. Now, Katrzin isn’t a city per se, but it had a couple of cafes, mini-markets and shwarma joints. More than we had on the volcanic rock of the Golan where we spent most of our time.

On Wednesday morning we woke up shivering as usual, anxiously waiting for the sun to rise to rewarm our bodies. Our morning rituals of cold water shaving, eating crappy food, putting away our sleeping gear and preparing the tank for the days activities was done in silence. Everyone too tired from the previous night’s events. After breakfast we were told by our commanders that we’ll be having a special guest today – the new IDF Chief of Staff, Shaul Mofaz. It was his first week in his position and he was going around to random units to meet with the troops. He would be arriving at 11:30, so we’ll need to straighten up the area, put up some new flags and choose a representative to tell him about our unit.

Mofaz and his entourage of advisers, security and photographer arrived promptly. Eitan, a born leader who we chose earlier to speak about our unit spoke eloquently and intelligently about who we were and what we were doing. Mofaz then spoke briefly to our unit about the importance of the armored corp and upon completing his short speech asked if there were any questions. A few of the guys had some questions – though nothing too serious. Mofaz then said “Anyone else?”

I happen to be sitting dead center in the group and foolishly looked to my right and my left to see if anyone had their hands up. No one did. And that was my downfall.

Mofaz looks directly at me and says, “You there! The one looking around, please stand up.” I was so nervous that I thought my heart was going to explode through my chest and I immediately broke out in a heavy sweat.

There was a collective “Oh sh*t” among my commanders and the officers. The guys in my unit all tried to mask their smirks because they knew this conversation was going to be awesome.

I was a good soldier, but as you can imagine, a bit of a jokester. Now, this is the chief of staff of the IDF, so I wasn’t planning on messing around. But sometimes, things just happen. My Hebrew wasn’t all that great. Good enough to understand orders and converse with the boys but I couldn’t have a intellectual conversation about Kant’s categorical imperative. all my answers below are translated in English directly from the Hebrew I used.

I stood up and saluted the highest ranking officer in Israel.

“What is your name?” Mofaz asked.

“Harry Rubenstein” I answered with an intentionally strong accent.

“Ah a new immigrant? Where are you from Harry?” said Mofaz.

“Port Jefferson, New York”

“When did you come to Israel?”

“About eight months ago”

“How are you finding the army?”

“It’s difficult, but it’s going OK.”

“How old are you?”

“23?

Did you go to college?

“Yes, I studied at SUNY Albany.”

“What did you study?”

“History.”

“What kind of History?”

“Middle Eastern.”

“What do your parents do?”

“My father teaches Physics and mother helps people with speaking problems.” (I didn’t know how to say “Speech Therapist.)

“Are they happy with your decision?”

“Yes, they are very proud.”

“How did you end up in tanks?”

“I read Avigdor Kahalani’s book OZ 77 and wanted to be part of a unit with such a big history. Kahalani is a hero.”

“Yes, he is a hero.”

“Are you a lone soldier?”

“Yes”

“Where do you live?”

“Jerusalem”

“Do you receive invitations to any of the guys for Shabbat?”

“Yes, but I never go. I see them enough during the week, I like quiet on Shabbat.”

“Me too,” Mofaz says laughing.

Now there were other questions as well. We went back and forth for a good ten minutes or so. He was really into me for some reason and I just wanted it to end. Finally I heard the words that brought me relief.

“Good luck Harry” the Chief of Staff said effectively ending the conversation.

“Thank you. Good luck to you too in your new job” I said, not believing I just said GOOD LUCK IN YOUR NEW JOB to the freaking chief of staff of the army.

And with that I saluted and sat down relieved that the most high pressure conversation of military career was over. Mofaz and his entourage left and and all the hoopla died down. Many of my fellow soldiers came up to me and gave me praise and a few pats on the back, with a few telling me that I represented the unit with respect.

Now, we were still in training so at this point our Platoon commander has not spoken to anyone of us on an individual basis. He only addressed us as a group. He was totally intimidating and I avoided him at all costs. Interaction with him was just plain uncomfortable and unnecessary. He was one bad dude.

As I chatted with my friend Shachar, my Platoon commander barrels our way at top speed and stops short a few inches from my face, cracks a big smile and says, “Harry, is there anything else you’d like to share with the Chief of Staff?”

Tags: , , , • Category: Immigrant Moments, Israeliness, War 

Comments

5 Comments on The one where Harry chats with Shaul Mofaz

  1. QuietusLeo on Sun, Sep 21st 2008 10:28 PM

    2. I served in 188 (your northern neighbor) in the mid 80’s. Aren’t tanks wonderful? ;)
    Mofaz addressed our reserve unit just before we deployed in Gush Etzion in 2001.

  2. Nicky on Mon, Sep 22nd 2008 8:42 AM

    3. I wonder if he remembers you….

  3. harry on Mon, Sep 22nd 2008 10:50 AM

    4. @quietusleo I LOVE tanks. Can’t get enough of them

    @nicky We posed together for a photo and made it to Yediot the next time. Good times!

  4. Gliker on Mon, Sep 22nd 2008 4:19 PM

    5. Freaking hilarious.
    I was attached to the 401, but our job was “Mista-aravim” in the Shati and Jeblaya refugee camps.
    I had a similar exchange with Yom Tov Samiya when he was the head of the Gaza division in 1993.
    Not quite on your scale but the same conversation.

    Quick question: Was your platoon commander an Anglo immigrant?

    Regards

  5. harry on Mon, Sep 22nd 2008 6:27 PM

    6. @Gliker No, he was as Israeli as they come. Though my tank commander was an immigrant from Guatemala!

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