On Sunday morning I, along with two others from the garin, made our way to the meeting point. Along the journey we met a few others in their crisp-white mandatory tshirts and running shorts and we started to anticipate the details of the tests. After hanging around at the meeting point for some time we hopped on the army buses going to the unknown location for the gibbush.
As we arrived we were sent to register for the two days and were issued a number. This number was our identification for the duration of the two days; no names, just numbers. Mine was 33. Though I am not superstitious in the slightest, I began convincing myself that this particular number was a good omen. We had to then write our numbers on the front and back of our shirts.
After that, we were sent to the doctors for a last-minute check. With my heart rate quickly rising with adrenaline, the doctor said it was too high to continue to the tests. Oh Lord! Me and my bloody heart...I come all this way just to be turned around because of my heart rate! Anyway, she told me to step outside with the other umpteen over-eager guys and relax. I returned a few minutes later and she quickly pronounced me fit and ready to go. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Next came more standing around and waiting (for what, no one really knew), and then we had to fill out forms giving our preferences for the units' tryouts. Yom Sayarot could lead to tests for Sayeret Matkal, Shayetet 13 (Navy Seals) and Chovlim (Naval Commanders). These units are the best of the best, and it was an amazing opportunity just to try my hand at this first stage.
That afternoon we were meant to do the Bar-Or Test, a 2km run, push ups, and sit ups. However, on that day there was a heatwave, and so the commanders couldn't do it. Instead, we got the equipment ready and cleared the testing area of any twigs and wood. Looking up and seeing 500 people clearing tiny twigs from the area was a surreal sight. It felt like a huge time-waster (it probably was).
Next came dinner. Here was where I showed my true British heritage. The commanders decided that the best way to feed 500 guys was to unleash them all simultaneously onto 3 tables of food. Consequently, in all the balagan that ensued, I decided to patiently queue and wait for an opening to appear. It meant that I went slightly hungry that night. Legally, the army have to give you 7 hours sleep before the tests, which meant that we were given sleeping bags and sent to sleep at around 9pm.
Then the tests began. We were woken up at around 4am and divided into groups for the rest of the day. We collected our equipment (stretchers, shovels, sand bags, and jerrycans) and walked to the area we had cleared the day before. The area was of sand; soft and fine sand that dragged down every step you took. The first thing we did was to take our equipment and carry it up a sand dune. This dune was without a doubt the steepest I have ever seen. I wondered whether or not they really expected us to work on this particular part of the dune. My pondering was quickly (and painfully) answered. After a quick pee break, we carried the equipment back down the dune. Then we began. For the first hour, we did nothing but sprint up and down this dune. Each time, the commander would ask us whether or not we could improve our position in the group. Each time we would answer yes, and in turn he would reply "tze!" ("Go!") and we would again sprint up and down. By the end, my legs were burning and I was trying desperately to catch my breath. Every step in the sand drained your energy, and my shoes were so full of sand that my toes were hurting with the pressure. But I couldn't very well ask to stop and empty them. In this first part, quite a few people in my team dropped out, and I saw them sitting down and drinking water. No matter how attractive it looked, I kept reminding myself why I was there. No way was I going to give up. (Besides, if I did it wouldn't make for a very exciting blog).
After an hour or so we were given a short rest break to drink water. I made sure I was the one pouring the water for everyone. I decided at that point that I would take the day break by break. It wouldn't matter how tired I would get, I would just have to wait for that sip of water.
The next part was also sprinting, but this time with stretchers. We were told to sprint up and down the dune, and the first few down had to carry the stretcher and the jerrycans up the dune, whilst everyone else had to carry on with their dune sprints. I managed to carry the stretcher a couple of times, and the jerrycans a couple of times. After another hour came another welcomed water break, and after that came the third task; to build a hole. The order was clear; to dig a hole 1m x 1m x 1m. I decided to go about it tactically and ended up with what I thought was my best part of the day. The walls of my hole were almost 1m exactly, including it's height, and the walls were straight. For somebody with minimal DIY skills to say the least, I couldn't believe my luck. After about an hour of digging, the commanders came round to check and ask questions about the holes we had dug. One even said that I had done this task very well. That spurred me on.
After yet another water break, we started on the final and most difficult task. We filled up sandbags and placed them in a line at the base of the sand dune. We had to crawl towards the sand bags, put them on our shoulders, run up the dune, back down, drop them at the bottom, and run back to where the crawling began. This went on for about an hour. Each crawl took so much energy through the sand, and this was by far the hardest part. I was happy with my speed though, and I definitely felt like I had finished the day on a high. We then sat round in a half-circle and introduced ourselves to the group and the commanders. It turns out that one of the commanders happens to be a big fan of London, and loves West Hampstead (a funny word to hear in an Israeli accent).
Myself, Jacob, and Ari post-Yom Sayarot (before we found out our results)
We then returned back to the "base" and waited to hear our results, whether we were accepted to the units' tests or not. It was an anxious wait. One of the commanders read out the numbers of those who had got in and those who hadn't. My number was among those that hadn't. I was very dissappointed. I could not have worked harder than I did, and I pushed myself beyond the limits I thought I had. However, for one reason or another, I didn't make it through. But I guess that all is for the best, and if my personality or character is not suited to such units, then so be it. There are plenty of other amazing places in the army, and I will still push myself to the limit to give what I can give.
The next thing is to decide what my preferences are for units in the army, and to pass my Hebrew retake. So onwards and upwards.
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