A Mother's Right to Say No

Soldiers are trained, from the moment they are drafted, to follow orders. There is an element of morality that is certainly included in a morale army (which definitely includes Israel). Our sons are taught that the IDF has a clear set of rules of engagement (which most of the mothers don't really like).

Again and again, our sons are taught to risk their lives rather than step over predefined boundaries. They have no right to say "no" when it comes to training. They are, quite literally, told how to jump, when to jump, how high to jump, and more. What they eat, where they eat, when they eat. When they sleep, when they rise. All predetermined by their commanding officers.

But...

What about the mother's of the army? Don't we have rights? Put that way, the answer is pretty much...no.

In ten years as an "army" mother, I have rarely felt the need to say "no" and never have I wanted to say it as loudly as I do now. There was that pivotal moment when I knew that Elie was headed into war and the only question was which war...what area of the country. It ended up being Gaza...two times. And both times, though there were many tears, I never thought I had the right to say, "no."

But I want that right now. I want to say, "no...just no...seriously no." Listen to me, dammit. This time, I'm serious.

We were driving to my parent's house. I sat in the back with my younger daughter, leaving David to sit beside his father in the front seat. I guess my husband and Davidi were talking about the army. At one point, I began to tune into what he was saying. The army wants to send David to a course that will teach him how to blow open doors.

And all kidding aside, I simply responded, "No...NO...NO...and NO!" I think my husband and David were amused. But somehow, they are missing the point that I'm not kidding.

I really, really, really don't want him to learn how to do that. Ten years as a soldier's mother and I still have not absorbed the concept that it is not within my rights to dictate things to the army. They didn't ask my opinion and yet there are very few things of "oh, my God, I don't want him to do that" more than explosives (and jumping out of a plane). I don't want him approaching a door, not knowing what is on the other side. I don't want him setting explosives - I have no clue how a door is blown or even if it is blown open. Maybe the door opener is a guy with a really big hammer...or crow bar.

I don't know. I just know that I don't want David doing it. And, of course, that is selfish and silly. My son is a part of a greater whole. The army is a family and all branches work together.

I learned this long ago during a war - each section has its role and works to protect the other. One of the stories involved Artillery and Givati (Elie's division and Davidi's division). They worked together, coordinating and then at the end of the war, the Givati division leader was so impressed with the assistance they had received from Artillery...he offered to give each soldier in the Artillery division the purple beret of the Givati unit.

I know they have to work together. I know someone has to knock that door down and I know that there isn't a mother in Israel who WANTS her son to be the one to knock it down. But what is funny is that in the past, I was able to listen and smile enough that they would never see the cracks, the heart breaking inside. I smiled and continued talking when Elie told me they had moved south near Gaza in preparation for the war we know was coming. Only when I closed the phone, did the tears and sobs come.

I listened when Elie told me that he couldn't come home because the army had put them on alert. He didn't tell me it had something to do with blowing something up in Syria and that they were waiting for an attack to come and a war to start, but I knew something was happening. I listened; we talked. I hung up the phone and sat for hours in front of my computer, refreshing the browser, searching for what was happening, tears in my eyes most of the time until I read a news alert about Syria.

After 10 years, I would expect myself to be better...but I"m actually worse. The closer we come to the end, the less able I am to cope. I can't even bring myself to write how many more months David has in the army. It's as if it will bring him bad luck and so I wait. I have many months left...but it can finally be counted in months and not years.

Until then, I'll try to hold my "NO!" inside...though I didn't do very well the last time.

Meanwhile, in recent weeks I've found that there are amazing videos on YouTube...and here are a few related to the topic of blowing up doors...and no, I don't want David to do any of these!

 And another:

 

 Now do you see why I want to say NO!?!