Rachel Kalin
Contributor
If you had asked me in 10th grade where I would see myself in 5 years, making Aliyah to draft to the Israel Defence Forces wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.
It’s been just over a year now since moving to Israel and my experience has been split into two; before October 7th and after October 7th.
Life before the 7th was almost too good to be true. I would wake up every morning for a sunrise hike, pick fresh fruit off the trees on my kibbutz and spend my free time learning Hebrew with the other new Olim in my Garin Tzabar group. I was excited to start a life in Israel and draft into the army with my new friends in a few weeks.
I remember the morning of October 7th like it was yesterday. It was a close friend’s birthday so we went on a surprise hike early in the morning. When we got back to the kibbutz around 8am, our staff pulled us aside and told us that terrorists had infiltrated the country. At that very moment, I lost my innocence. I remember sitting in the moadon (hall) with my friends. No one spoke or moved for two days. We sat glued to our phones. Our friends a year older, who had already begun their army service, were urgently being called back to base despite terrorists roaming the streets and no way of transportation. We hugged them goodbye as if it might be the last time we would see them, trying to comfort them as they would cry from fear. Those of us who had not yet drafted, sat in sadness but also in a state of restlessness. We had left our homes to serve and protect our country and in the moment they needed us most, we were helpless. We began to do what we could around the kibbutz. We donated blood, volunteered in the dining hall, worked with kids and animals, cleaned up unused houses and even gave up our rooms for displaced families. The entire experience, as difficult as it was, made me even more motivated to draft.
A few months later, I was finally drafted to the IDF and was enlisted in Michveh Alon (Hebrew course) where I improved my Hebrew and completed Basic Training. Shortly after, I was given my assignment: Madrichat Nihul Aish - an Artillery Instructor. The Basic Training and course process were both physically and mentally challenging. It was the most difficult, yet rewarding experience. Now I serve with reserve soldiers, teaching them new material and the most up-to-date technology. Since the field of Artillery is statistical long range shooting, it is constantly being upgraded. It is my job to ensure that every soldier who goes to fight is prepared.
Being a Chayelet Bodeda (lone soldier) means coming home after an exhausting week to an empty and quiet room, rushing to do laundry and grocery shopping before leaving back to base early Sunday morning. And yet, at the same time, it also means living with other lone soldiers who quickly become family, feeling a sense of pride every time you put on your uniform and being part of something bigger and more important than you could ever imagine. It means having your friends back at home look at you differently. Some understand and some don’t, but they nonetheless respect you for it. Learning to be part of a family that isn’t your own, but quickly understanding that everyone around you wants to help. Being a lone soldier is far from easy and I could not have done it without the love and support of my family and friends back home.
Every year on Rosh Hashana I look forward to when my grandmother recites the prayer for the apples and honey.
יְהִי רָצוֹן ...שֶׁתְּחַדֵּשׁ עָלֵנוּ שָׁנָה טוֹבָה וּמְתוּקָה
May it be Your will to renew us for a good and sweet year.
This prayer symbolizes happiness, positivity and unity. I hope that despite all the difficulties and hard times, we can find a way to stay hopeful and resilient. This year, I pray for a peaceful New Year, for the safety of our soldiers and for the return of the hostages.
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