Krav Maga: Special Forces Selection: Part 1
North London Krav Maga Instructor starts his journey to join the Israeli Special Forces
Returning to a high level of physical fitness was a long and painful journey for me. Many times my resolve was tested. After all, there was no certainty I would get into a top military unit no matter how far I had come. I was 24 years old where as everyone else trying was between 18-20. I also spoke less Hebrew, (the native language) than Manuel spoke English in Fawlty Towers, and I would be going up against guys that had long family histories in the Special Forces and had been training mentally and physically since they were old enough to understand that they would have to join the army one day. To put it into perspective, it was like average Joe training to join the Spartan Warriors of Thermopylae but they had no interest in accepting me. I was going to have to prove I was worthy as their standards never drop, just get better.
Before my enlistment I had to have a medical at an army base and speak with the base commander. He was a Sargent Major and was already making my life hell. I told him I wanted infantry to which he replied, “your too old, you’ll do six months training then that will be your service done in the army”. Not a chance this was happening, I had worked too hard and given up too much. He wasn’t about to just sweep me to the side like trash. I respectfully requested to speak with another officer. The next officer had the same sentiments as the last “sorry you don’t speak Hebrew and your too old…next”.
Little did they know this stubborn Brit wasn’t going to give up. Not a chance. I refused to leave his office until I could state my case fairly. The officer could see I wasn’t acting. I was granted an”interview” with a younger sergeant who would review my case. I’m man enough to admit, I pleaded with every ounce of sincerity I had that my service would be extended so that I could join basic infantry, let alone go one step further and be granted permission to try out for specials.
The sergeant wandered off, leaving me apprehensive to say the least. After what inevitably seemed like an eternity, he returned ushering me to enter the Sargent Majors office. “You will receive a letter shortly telling you how long your service will be and the results of your medical profile, thank you and good luck”
That was it?!?! I had to wait even longer to find out. I could of reached across the desk, pulled him by his uniform and told him what’s what. Luckily for me I didn’t. I did however give him a small piece of my mind. I told him that regardless what hat letter says, I’m going to infantry, trying out for specials and serving in Sayerat Golani.
Il never, until the day I die forget his response,
“Hahaha even if you do get to go to infantry, there’s no way you will be excepted into a Sayerat (specials)”
We shall about that……
Two weeks later I got a letter from the ministry of defense. My request to sign on more time and join an infantry unit was granted!!! To me it felt like an aspiring doctor who had been accepted into oxford university to study medicine. Epic victory! However, my excitement soon was drowned out by sorrow. Upon calling home to tell my family of the good news, I was informed that my grandfather, an ex boxer, navy vet and hero of mine, had passed away. It brought home the sacrifices I had made to come follow my dream, things you don’t even think about until they happen. If anything, it made my resolve even stronger. I WAS going to succeed, not just for me, now I would do it for him!
The day had come for my enlistment. Standing at an army base in tel aviv with hundreds of other new immigrants being signed up, I couldn’t feel more out of place. It was like the first day of school, but in the worst possible circumstances…..A foreign military instead!
Talk about a melting pot. 200 men from all over the world, all with different backgrounds and stories. Some interesting, some not so much, and some unsavory characters that you wouldn’t want to bump into….
We were all transported to a base called Michve Alon. Here we would learn basic training whilst learning military commands in Hebrew.
This base was something out of a horror movie. The buildings were run down with busted walls, rusty water pipes and toilets that looked like the secret passage to hell. I can’t speak for other soldier’s enlistment drafts but mine was like spending 3 long months in prison. I was 1 of 3 English lads, but it was wise to become friends with other English speakers, mainly Americans. In this environment you needed to form a protective group I guess you could say. There were some rough characters, some of the guys from Eastern Europe openly admitted leaving their native countries to escape criminal convictions or worse as they said. Great….let’s give them a rifle and let them bunk up with me.
Needless to say there were numerous fights that broke out. If you kept your head down and got on with it, you could keep beneath the radar of those looking for trouble. At the same time, it was wise to let people know you werent a soft target. I remember one happy chap from Russia who had a scar from one corner of his face to the other, was dis pleased with me finding his obscenities towards a female sergeant distasteful. He proceeded to get up in my face whilst muttering something under his breath. Naturally, I shoved him away and told him where to go, until officers rushed to get involved before it got ugly. Showing I wasn’t a weak target probably saved me from getting a lot of grief in the near future. Any more retaliation on my behalf would of resulted in me loosing my spot in an infantry unit or potentially worse. Finding a healthy balance in a not so healthy environment…..
At the end of the three long months, I was awarded “best soldier” and was allowed to join the Golani Brigade. One of Israel’s most decorative and respected infantry brigades. Only 8 out of all the soldiers in my draft at michve alon got to go to Golani. This is where it gets interesting ……
