move, and fight as a squad, platoon, and company. We learned the fine art of combat in built-up urban areas, ambushes, first aid, helicopter use, fighting in armored vehicles, and demolitions. As combat engineers, we were also taught where the best places were to plant explosives on artillery pieces, defensive positions, buildings, tunnels, bridges, and even an old helicopter.
Throughout all of this grueling activity, not one member of the platoon dropped out. But that wasnât a surprise: in the Israeli army, you canât be placed in a unit without first meeting the appropriate physical standards. The testing is done well in advanceâthe logic being that you should not be placed in a combat unit if you have bad asthma, a bum knee, or are otherwise unable to deal with the challenges associated with being a lochem , or warrior. Indeed, there is a plethora of private clinics run by former Israeli special forces soldiers that cater to young men preparing for their conscription. Walk through any city, and you will often see cadres of high school students led by an older and very fit civilian. They are preparing for their Gibush , or official selection to the IDFâs many special forces and regular combat units.
We ran all kinds of assault-and-defend exercises, until they were second nature. Most of the training was under live fire. This not only prepares you for the sounds and smells of combat, it takes the shock and awe out of it, so that when you are in a real firefight, youâre not paralyzed by fear. That said, we usually had to make many dry runs on an exercise before going through with live ammunition.
During our combined forces exercises, we also got the opportunity to participate in mixed-unit drills that required coordination with tanks, aircraft, and other infantry units. The sight of so many different cogs co-operating to achieve the same objective was impressive. I was equally awed by the sheer firepower of Israelâs military. To this day, I am somewhat irked when the IDF is accused of being âheavy-handedâ in its response to some terror attack or another. If the IDF applied a significant fraction of its firepower to a Palestinian area, it would be reduced to ash in an instant.
The most impressive part of my experience in the IDF was the way our trainers made us understand our role. On Friday afternoons, before we would head home for weekend leave (if we got any), weâd congregate in an informal circle on the ochre ground in the shade of an olive tree and talk with our platoon commander and sergeants about the ethics of soldiering.
These were open and frank discussions about when to kill and when not to kill. The format was essentially Socratic, with Lieutenant Tal presenting a moral dilemma and the rest of us discussing the best way to solve it. Examples: âDo you shoot someone who is unarmed but possibly carrying a bomb?â âHow do you treat prisoners of war?â âWhat are the rules of engagement in such-and-such dangerous setting?â We were taught the IDFâs official doctrine, which stipulates that âservicemen and women will use their weapons and force only for the purpose of their mission, only to the necessary extent, and will maintain their humanity even during combat. IDF soldiers will not use their weapons and force to harm human beings who are not combatants or prisoners of war, and will do all in their power to avoid causing harm to their lives, bodies, dignity and property.â
Everyone took these lessons to heart. This fact helped explain a paradox Iâd noticed since joining the Israeli army. No other nation on earth is more dependent on its military for its survival, or has, in living memory, fought so many fierce wars on its own borders. Yet Israeli soldiers are, by my first-hand observation, less militaristic in that gung-ho Marine Corps âhoo-haâ way that often characterizes other Western armies. While service in the