Wake up an Israeli tank commander in the middle of the night and flash a picture of a BMP-1 APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) at a distance of 5 kilometers, when it appears to be little more than a speck in the distance, and he will instantly recognize it as a Soviet- made troop carrier that fires armor-piercing Sagger anti-tank missiles. He will also be able to rattle off to you their effective range, and threat capacity (the amount of time it takes to aim and fire, as well as which Israeli tanks will effectively pierce). He will also know instantly that this carrier is most likely to be seen in the Syrian theater of war.
The Israeli army takes the topic of enemy weaponry very seriously, and has a variety of often-sadistic methods for ensuring that its commanders become extremely proficient in this particular expertise. I remember vividly the oft-repeated ritual of testing on this topic that took place every Friday morning during Tank Officer’s Course, particularly as we were about to leave the base for our eagerly awaited weekend pass.
They would line us up for inspection in our dress uniforms, with our gear packed and the bus waiting to take us back to civilization, sometimes even letting the bus engines rev up so we could practically smell freedom, and then herd us into a side room for the dreaded exam.
Anyone not scoring a near-perfect score would be forced to stay behind to re-take the exam on Sunday morning. It is hard to describe the horrible depression that would descend on any cadet who failed this rigorous exam, as he was forced to watch everyone else board the bus for freedom while he stayed behind for a weekend of guard duty and kitchen detail. But it was hard to argue with the necessity for the perfection that was demanded; if you are in combat and the speck of a helicopter rises above a distant hilltop, you only have seconds to decide whether it is an Israeli Cobra, or a Syrian Gazelle (tank-killer), and mistakes or even hesitation in such a situation is what gets men killed.
A case in point was the terrible story of the tanks and men of Tank Officer’s Course who served together as an armored battalion in the Lebanon war: seeing an approaching column of enemy tanks advancing through the dust clouds of the tank treads, the leading company commander opened fire and a pitched tank battle ensued.
Amidst the screams of the dying, one of the officers realized that both units were actually Israeli, and, unable to contact the unit opposite while ordering his own tanks to cease fire, he watched helplessly as his comrades continued to fire on his own men. Finally, one of the men disconnected his radio helmet, threw down his gun and ran, under fire, to the opposite leading tank.
Jumping up on top of the tank he grabbed the radio- helmet off the head of the startled tank commander and screamed into the other unit’s frequency:
“Chadal! Atem horgim otanu’!” “Cease fire! You’re killing us!”
Years later, I met one of the men from this infamous tank battle, who still carried the scars of that terrible afternoon.
How do we live with the consequences of the mistakes we have made in life? Who among us does not occasionally look back and wish we had another chance to rectify the mistakes we made, and the paths we wish we had not traveled? If only we hadn’t done this or tried that, how different life would be….
And yet, is that really so? If G-d really runs the world, then wasn’t it all just part of the plan? Is there anything that has ever happened that wasn’t just ‘meant to be’?
This week’s portion,