Posted 30 July 2023
Towards the end of our basic training in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) in mid-March, 1959, all the cadets in Camp No.80, located near Pardes Hana (including the 12 South African male volunteers), began preparations for the official closing ceremony. This was climaxed with a grand march past of all the camp’s platoons and companies on the central parade ground of the camp in front of the Nahal (acronym for the Hebrew “Fighting Pioneer Youth) Battalion Commander, senior military staff and distinguished guests.
The major aspect of the “preparations” related to marching in large formations and undertaking correctly and promptly marching commands (“turn left, right, about turn, halt!”, etc.) and saluting while carrying one’s rifle.
So every afternoon the cadets in our company (divided into their respective squads and platoons) were gathered on the parade ground with their rifles (to which we were “married” and they never left our side!). The regimental sergeant-major was a short, squat and ferocious looking person with a typical lengthy moustache, giving him an almost venal appearance which brooked no nonsense!
So we began to learn the basic marching commands and how to correctly implement them on the parade ground. Not exactly rocket science but believe it or not, a number of cadets did not know their left from their right (which could have been a language problem as all orders and instructions were only given in Hebrew).
As fate would have it, I was permanently positioned in the front row, facing the “mighty midget” and getting a direct earful of his thundering commands.
After a few days of intensive marching practice with appropriate turns and halts, the cadets’ performance became quite proficient and skilled. There was alacrity in their reactions and rigid backs displayed pride and self-confidence. Saluting with cradled weapons was curt and snap and presentation of arms was accompanied with a satisfied smirk of professional accomplishment. The cadets were anticipating their final departure from that camp of sweat and tears and wanted to leave in style!
On the final day of marching practice, involving rapid orders of turns and halts, I was just starting to count the remaining minutes when the regimental sergeant-major approached me, slowly and deliberately. Facing me within spitting range, he barked at me in whispered tones, “Are you trying to start with me?” I had no idea what he was talking about and felt cold chills going down my spine. I considered myself a good and obedient soldier and certainly had no intension of antagonizing that mini-monster during my last remaining days of basic training.
His nose almost touching mine, he again hissed the question, “Soldier, I’m not your type so why are you trying to start with me! Suddenly it dawned on me what the situation could possibly be – and I froze in horror at this man’s crass misunderstanding of my self-guidance of left and right!
I can only wink with my left eye. So whenever I am given an order to turn left or right, I instinctively wink and this ensures my correct reaction. To this very day, this is the only method I employ and it is foolproof and serves me loyally! So, back to the parade ground: every turning order that was given, automatically resulted in a wink from me. And being in the front row, the sergeant-major became aware of my “winking” and interpreted this eye gesture as a gay “invitation”! How wrong could he be!
I tried to explain in my broken Hebrew that the winking was simply a directional sign for me with no other nefarious intention but he pushed me forcefully in the chest, shouting: “Be careful, soldier!”
Somehow, I managed to survive the few remaining marching exercises, maybe inserting myself within the ranks of the soldiers and not being so conspicuous in the front row.
The final march past on the central parade ground at the closing ceremony of our basic training proved a memorable success. The cadets proudly saluted the Brigade Commander and the VIP’s on the grand stand, while marching past the elevated platform, and so we bade a final “shalom” to Camp No. 80.
Whenever I hear the order to turn left or right, my mind goes back to that fearful day when my winking almost found me in a most embarrassing, frightening and appalling situation. Not easily forgotten. However, I cannot help it but I still instinctively wink to determine my left from my right!
Those were the days, my friend, the days that will never end in my memory.
Lennie Lurie (Personal IDF Number: 436240)