The call-up summons
The call-up summons
It was almost evening when I've returned home after an exhausting day of work. I thought of eating a light supper, changing and going out to have some fun. I switched on the TV out of curiosity, to know what programs I'm going to miss. I knew that missiles were launched from Gaza to our southern cities, and that just yesterday the ceasefire negotiations started; although we did not shoot back. Nevertheless I was convinced that all was over, and at our higher echelons there was talk of retaliation in due time. It's just like what Bashar Al Asad the Syrian president declared, after we've bombed his nuclear reactor. I thought rather cynically, while watching the TV screen that started to light up.
All of a sudden to my utter surprise I was watching a Gazan crowd clamor around a burning car, the car of the Hamas head of the military group. I was mesmerized to that hysterical scene, and I knew that I'm staying home tonight.
I must have dozed on my armchair in front of the lighted TV screen, when loud raps on my front door woke me up.
'Alright I'm coming,' I called out on my way to the front door. I opened it up and stood facing two young angry men.
'Yes what is it, whom are you looking for?' I asked them sure it's some kind of an error in locating the right address.
'You're Levi Cohen right?'
'Yes that's me,' I answered wondering what those two strangers want from me.
'That's your call-up summons,' one of them said handing me a sheet of paper. 'Sigh here please,' he added. 'You'll have to report in an hour time at your pick-up point.'
'It must be a mistake, do you know how old I'm?'
'No one asked you how old you're, that's your summons and you must obey it!' He retorted, turned his back to me and he and his companion were on their way back.
I was embarrassed and confused standing on my front door's threshold, watching the two strangers going farther and farther away from me, till I lost sight of them.
I read the call-up summons form absent mindedly, and realized where I have to report, and that I have no other choice but pack a few things and get there.
I've reached the pick-up point some fifty minutes after having received the call-up summons and met there several more citizens, much younger than me. But no one was surprised to see or wonder what I'm doing there; before we managed to exchange a word or two a bus arrived and we were asked to mount it. All along the ride the radio blared out patriotic songs through all the bus's loudspeaker, thus conversation was impossible and in quite a short while we reached our destination. We got off each one with his bag of private effects, and were ushered into a huge hall. Several dozens of men attired in civil cloths were already there, and then uniform, equipment, arms and ammunition were immediately delivered to each one of us. Without wasting time we got rid of our civilian cloths and we put on our uniform, our personal effects were staffed in our bags, were marked, collected by regular soldiers and were stored hell knows where; I didn't even cast a look to discern where exactly our kitbags were stored.
The feeling at these moments was like right after the first jump, when one folds his parachute on the ground right after landing safely. You know it's that kind of automatic urgency, without thinking, except doing the few operations one had to do in such a situation.
About half an hour after this phase was completed; several regular soldiers appeared and distributed pamphlets and aerial photographs. A senior officer appeared and stepped upon a small stage at the far end of that huge hall. He was talking to us but I couldn't hear a thing, I've just seen his lips move. It didn't matter much for I've read the pamphlet and a look or two at the aerial photograph, and didn't need at all that certain officer explanations.
It seemed that we've to land from the sea onto the city of Gaza. The aerial photograph depicted the streets through which we'll have to move, and hunt at night fall the missiles launchers; while the air force bombing would serve us in addition as aerial support. We were supposed of course to move in small crews in the empty streets, some distance from the bombed sites.
We were divided into groups of three, group commanders were assigned and right afterwards we mounted a bus and were on our way to the harbor of Haifa I guess, for I dozed off the moment the bus started to move.
At the harbor we landed on a naval landing craft and sailed out. It was terribly cold we could not touch any part of the craft with a bare hand, or sit on its floor. We stood on our feet crowded like herrings stuffed in a barrel and waited impatiently to the end of that disgusting cruise, which gave each one of us the feeling that he is going to throw any moment.
After two hours we were getting close to the shore. The operation commander raised a finger to his lips, ordering complete silence. We landed on the shore with much caution; every order was passed with mute hand signs. We dispersed right away and each crew moved to its destination. I moved along with my two comrades towards the street which we had to cross. The darkness was lighted time and again by explosions and deafening noises of those explosions and of jet engines filled the air. We moved along the side of the street, keeping close to the walls and the shadows for quite a while, we have almost crossed the entire width of the city; but suddenly then and there we discerned two types carrying a missile in their hands, we opened fire but we were fired upon in return right away from one of the houses. I was thrown back and something hit me at my lap, anxious thoughts rushed in my brain before I managed to stand up again on my feet.
I woke up in my armchair before the lighted TV screen with my Persian cat Ahmednijad lying in my lap, he must have jumped upon my lap the naughty cat.
© Haim Kadman November the 11th 2012 – all rights reserved.
