Reflections from 2014

On this day 8 years ago, almost to the minute…

Our platoon took its first steps over the?border into Gaza, as some of the initial infantry actions in what would later be referred to as “Operation Protective Edge”.

Anyone who knows me has likely heard some retellings of my time inside Gaza, yet I rarely post about my experience. It’s difficult to write about, and even more challenging at this time of year when the memories resurface unbidden.?

I won’t write cliches about war (though some of them are true), nor will I turn this into a political or humanitarian post. Regardless of which side you’re on, war is ugly and brutal. Plain and simple. It’s very rarely like what you see in the movies, though there were some moments so immense that I can only describe them as surreal.?

Yet I don’t write this to relive events from nearly a decade ago. A part of me debates whether to get this out at all, but I feel it’s important.

Nor is it my aim to impart what war “felt like”, or what we “went through”. Unless you’ve been there, you can’t even begin to imagine- and that is a good thing. Those who were there know. Those who spent weeks searching fruitlessly for three mercilessly slain boys understand. Those who spent the next three weeks undergoing grueling tunnel and urban combat training can still feel the sun and sand and grit. We can still taste the sweat and feel the denial, the assumption despite all the training that at the last moment a large-scale infantry incursion would be called off, just as it was during Operation Pillar of Defense in 2012.?

And finally, the sinking feeling when we boarded the transports for the border, and they didn’t turn around. We were on our way to perform our sworn duty to protect innocent civilians from terrorist rockets, yet in that tiny moment all we could feel in the black night was determination and dread.?

When we alighted from the buses and did a final check on our gear, we were still a bit in shock. Our role as combat soldiers meant we were prepared for this moment, but the denial was still there- was this really happening?

Then suddenly a “red alert” siren rang out as mortars fell not far from us, and we snapped into reality. The next few hours were a blur- forming our fire teams, lining up, approaching the border at a stealthy creep.?

The one feeling that stood out to me, which I can still feel vividly to this day, was a profound sense of calm as we accepted our fates. Whatever was going to happen from here on out was out of our hands. We would do our best to survive, protect each other, and execute our missions, but there was such a massive element of unknown, that we just sort of… let go.?

As I said before, I won’t recount anything from inside Gaza in this post. But as I’m preparing to bring a child into this world and become a father, I’m reminded of the sacrifices that myself and so many others made in 2014. Some were killed, yet many more, including myself, emerged physically unscathed.?

Not all wounds are visible, however.?

I’ll end on a more positive note. Despite the exhaustion, the filth, the violence, the ravaging discomfort and the near constant danger, I am grateful to have come through such an experience. A part of me was left behind in Gaza, but a new part also formed. Coming to peace with that is an ongoing process.?

And I’m grateful for my wife, my family, and my friends who understand and have allowed me to share my burdens and not carry them alone since 2014.?

So, there’s no inspirational quote or aphorism here. Just me sharing a bit of my story, which is thankfully becoming more and more a bit of my history.?

Thanks for reading. Hateful comments will be deleted.