Introduction I'd like to start out by bringing our new readers up to speed especially those who have not yet browsed our past issues Nazgul Killer... If you could my friend give us a run down on who you are to the TWC forums, where you've been most active among them; as well as the reason and or decision which lead to the event of your departure.
- Armatus
Who am I? Well... The TWC-me is much less interesting than the ''real'' me, but I'll give you a run-down of both.
Some of you may know me already, I've started off as an enthusiastic M2TW player, asking questions and answering questions. I've gained a reputation for myself around the M2TW forums as somewhat of a good player but more so as a confident one (A nice advice for you lot: Confidence gets you far. Even when it border-lines vanity). Starting off as a simple M2TW player here at these forums, I've decided that I'd like to expand my horizons further. I've always taken a keen interest in writing yet never had a proper floor to present said writings... So I've started writing for the Tale of the Week contest for quite a while, and I've gained some attention there as well.
I've started writing my guide of M2TW, taking some ideas and theories I've had for quite a while and implementing them to see if they work, in hope that my guide would help people. I think it has. It took me several months to work on that guide and I'm proud of it, to be honest.
Soon enough, my dear Pontifex offered me to become a Librarian in the Scriptorium, and I took the job with good interest. It seemed like something I'd love to do, and indeed it was. It was a good opportunity for me to hone my writing skills by reading other people's works and helped me with my other ''job'' at the time: During said period I also took a job with the Critic's Quill which offered me a writing space I've wanted for quite a while in creating critiques of AARs, from the amount of PMs I got during that period I would think I got quite a reputation for myself for one sole reason: I spared no words. I simply said what I thought, brutal honesty... Now, you could ask: "Who the hell made you an expert?" No one, that's who. And I've mentioned that several times, that I'm no expert, I'm just expressing my opinion of the stories written as a story reader and writer, nothing more. Most writers took my critiques with a smile and accepted them, to be honest I can't recall one who took it badly. Which surprised me because my editor at the time, Junius, had to ask me to edit my critiques sometimes as they were too harsh... 
I took up work at the Silver Shield also, under my good friends Y2Day and Armatus, who offered me one thing I really wanted and lacked at the Critic's Quill... Absolute freedom. They simply asked for one thing; Write. Nothing more. No subject, nothing. Just write about whatever you want. It took me a while to adjust to this new frame of work... But I got so addicted to it that I eventually simply quit the Critic's Quill because of the fact that the Silver Shield offered me all that I wanted to begin with. I honed my writing skills there more than I did anywhere else, and to be honest? It helped me in real life as well. Quite a lot I might add.
After about 9 months at the Librarian job, I applied to become a Citizen (Under his patronage, of course) and was accepted (The second time around, one should point out). Three months later I quit the job due to lack of time. I tried during that time to become active around the political sections of the forums... And it was fun for a while. Until I realized that political debates in a forum is just useless.
Partying and studying (The former more than the latter to be honest) took my time then, I had little time for TWC anymore, especially with the army coming up just around the corner. I had a lot to do. I finished High-School at June 20th, and just a month later I was already drafted. So, I had a lot to do as you might guess.
During that time around I was most active around the Thema Devia, for the sole reason of its hilarity. I had very little time for anything else, exactly the same as now.
So... Here I am. I found myself, at the 24th of July, ready for the army. Two days before that I had returned from a trip around England (From Newcastle to London via Whitby (Unplanned, but amazing), Leeds, Manchester, Nottingham and Cambridge), a day before that I had confessed before the woman I loved that I do love her, having been shot down in a heart-shattering fashion. But I was ready to start anew. In the army. I somehow know that the army will be good for me... Maybe it was because I was ready for life in the army since I was just a young boy... Maybe it was because I fantasized about it. But I was right.
I was drafted, the initial shock of the military system came immediately, physical training, disciplinary training... It was rough, but I loved it and took it in good spirit. I made new, good, friends immediately. We were the best company in the platoon. Our NCOs were the toughest, meanest sons of s I've ever seen, our sergeant was the greatest, most ingenious man I've ever seen. He was tough, very tough to please and had extremely high expectations. He had us write 20 location-lists (A list which contains the location of all 35 members of our company, their exact locations) in three minutes while getting into uniform, which meant that some had to cloth others while they wrote the lists. It was tough, hard but we did it. In two minutes and a half. We were the best.
Two weeks later, pre-bootcamp was over. And we were demolished. Our perfect company had been broken apart, 80% went into platoon A, whilst 20% remained in platoon B (I'm not allowed to explain the differences, sorry). And even those who were in the same platoon were separated into different companies... Until from 35 people together... I found myself with just one more individual from my company in my new company. I was devastated. People I had gotten to know in two weeks more than I knew friends that I had known for years... Separated from me for who-knows how long...
But the difficulties did not stop there. During intensive training, I had broken four ribs and was sent home for two weeks for recovery with a pack of Morphine tablets (Army-made) and tons of pain-killers. Naturally, that didn't help me assimilate into my new company, and I had to sit at home for two weeks when all I wanted was to go back to my base, 5 hours drive away. I was visited by my sergeant, and I urged him to take me back only to have him explain to me how much he wants but can't.
Eventually I returned, and for around a month I felt out of place, distant... But that didn't discourage me. My motivation was never higher, I wanted to prove myself. And I did. What I missed in two weeks, I caught up very quickly, and what people managed to do in a month and a half in the company, I managed to catch up and do more in just two weeks. I became my personal-CO's favorite and became one of the most highly appreciated soldiers in the platoon, the only one the platoon-leader has ever smiled at even (I'll explain why that's important), the one who all the NCOs, officers and sergeants treated with a gentle hand and a smiling face.
Now, this is important to say because of a certain thing that's called "Distance". Emotional distance. Meaning that the NCOs, officers and sergeants share no emotions with us. Be it laughter, anger, joy, disappointment... Nothing. Total emotional disconnection. As the training went on, the emotional disconnection dissipated more and more (And it keeps dissipating) as they get to know you, pull you through your darkest hours (I'll expand on that) and see you weep like a teenage girl during her period. But they still have to keep that emotional distance from you, their job is impossible otherwise.
One of my darkest hours was our "War-week". A week in which we slept outside, in war-like conditions, digging a foxhole for ourselves (As we have), eating battle rations, never been given a moment's rest, even during night time. During night time we had several ''attacks'' performed on us by our commanding figures, to which we had to respond in force. Be it our platoon leader trying to steal our weapons at night or be it our sergeant throwing fake grenades at us and screaming "ATTACK!" and performing actions as if our enemy would. During said war-week we had to sleep in our uniforms with full battle gear (Vest, helmet and all things included in them) and be ready at all times. Even in the freezing desert nights. We rarely had more than 2 hours of sleep each night.
One day I simply shattered. During our 'lunch' (Battle rations, after all), our sergeant started throwing fake grenades at us, meaning we had to run away and duck for cover. The 15 minutes we had to eat shrank to a minute, and I couldn't bare it. The first time it was just annoying. The second time it was irritating. The third time it was angering. The fourth time it was frustrating. The fifth it was mind-shattering. The sixth... I snapped. Forget the fact that it was the first time I had a chance to eat in a day and a half. It was just frustrating. And I couldn't help but snap emotionally. My personal NCO (Our commander during war week) took my to the side and talked to me. I told him how hard all this was for me, especially as it was a week without phones so I couldn't even call home, something that kept me alive during bootcamp. He calmed me down and pulled me through war week, and he's the sole reason I pulled through it. And I did it all for him.
We kept on going... And bootcamp was over. With treks that started off as 2 kilometers at a pace of 4 KM/H at the beginning of bootcamp, and continued to 30 kilometers at a pace of 6 KM/H, one each week. With full battle gear on, at the freezing nights... Without stopping. In absolute night-discipline (Absolute silence). These treks could take up to 7 hours (Every 60 minutes of walking, there's a mandatory 15 minutes stop for drinking so we don't die ). During all this time, at days, we were in full bootcamp training and discipline, standing still in threes, perfectly so. Not allowed to move without permission, talk, scratch, sneeze, cough... Nothing. Perfect discipline. And I loved it.
My commanding officer (Company leader) called me "The Perfect Soldier" for the sole reason that I loved the discipline and never disobeyed it. Not for one second. Because what is an army without discipline?
One thing they taught us from the beginning was the spirit of the IDF which contains the main principles of it: "Defense of the Country and its inhabitants", "The love of the motherland and loyalty to it", "Human respect". Along these, stand comradeship, trustworthiness, responsibility, aspiration to victory and sticking to the mission at all costs, personal example, human lives, purity of the weapon and proper use of force, professionalism, the mission and discipline.
If one would implement just three of these things he would be a great soldier and a much better individual.
We continued into advanced training, and the discipline reduced somewhat. After a while it became really moderate rather than truly strict... And now, just two weeks away from finishing training, advanced training and everything... It's almost non-existent. Along with the emotional distance. We went through a lot. Most of which I'm not allowed to tell you, but I can tell you that I've made friends during these 6 months that I've gotten to know better than I know my own brother. People whom I'll never forget and never want to forget. People who are truly my brothers in arms. I've went through Hell with them and back again. And I'd do it again. Gladly.
I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. I'm in a unit that's considered very highly classified, and I've only told you things that I'm allowed. If I were to tell you my full story it would take me around 1000 pages and it would reveal quite a few secrets.
That's the story of a combat-trained IDF soldier who just completed his 7-months training. Wish me luck in the front lines.
An addition after finishing my training: I wanted to add something, without changing anything beforehand, as to keep the genuineness of my feelings before finishing training... So, here goes.
Yesterday (February 10th 2011), I finished my advanced and high training and got my "Warrior's Pin" after a very tough trek, 10 KM long trek, with an addition of 7 KM with an open stretcher, on which we put someone who weighs at least 100 KG with all his equipment... Tough to say the least. My shoulders are all black and blue from the damn thing .
I can't begin to explain the excitement of getting my warrior's pin from my NCO, my best friend, I radiated with excitement and I smiled like I never smiled in my entire life. 7 long months, a lot of sweat and quite a bit of blood... Just for this small thing... And it means so much to me. The past two weeks were filled with laughter and jokes with our NCOs and officers, retrieving and giving back our equipment to the base (Work uniform, battle gear and all that) as we are no longer assigned to that unit and base. It's all over.
So... We're done. It's all over. The other day we broke the emotional distance with our NCOs and Officers, and we talked like old-time friends, people whom I've gotten used to seeing every day I may see only once a month or so... It's really hard to be honest. My family and friends came to see the ceremony in which we got our warrior's pin, and took me home after that... A 4 hour drive... It was emotional to say the least. I looked back at my former base and all I could think of was how much I wanted to go back there. Back to the place I once called "Hell"... Back to where I became a man, a soldier and a warrior. I can't even begin to explain how weird it is to add them to Facebook as your friends now, how weird it is to look back and smile while feeling you want to burst into tears of joy and sadness together. It's all over.
Right now I have a lump in my throat that refuses to let go, each time I look at my Facebook page and see all the people I used to call "Sir" and now I call by their personal names... I just want to go back there, I want to go to Hell again, just to see them again. And heck, I'm not afraid to say that I love each and every one of them, I love them so much that I would die for them right now. I just want to see them again, I miss them more than I miss my girlfriend, and it's not because I don't love her... It's because you simply cannot explain the bond that is made between warriors when they are in their darkest hours. It's all over.
If this is how I feel after a 7 month training course, I'm scared to think how I would feel after a war or a few months with my new combat team. But there's nothing you can do, you can't take the wheel back and turn time back, you can just enjoy the time you had and make sure you keep in touch with these people for as long as possible, and do the best you can to see them again. The people who I like to call my friends. The people who I like to call my brothers. The people who I love like I've never loved before. It's all over... And oh my I wish it wasn't... But I leave with a smile on my face and expectations of new experiences... I'll never forget. I'll forever love, and I'll never, ever give away these memories. I wish for all of you to find people whom they love this much, it's... I just can't explain how wonderful it is. It's all over.
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