Chronicles of a Patriot

2006-08-01T00:00:00.000+03:00

The author and the cadet are two different people.

You may contact the authors at patriotchronicles@gmail.com

PART V: What I learnt from the army and why I think everyone should do boot camp

2005-08-06T18:51:00.000+03:00

Memoirs from boot camp

They say the army teaches discipline and that cadets enter as soft slackers and leave as strong mature men. The army may not have added much toughness to my person, but I sure learnt other things that greatly influenced the way I think and act.

Firstly, the service was a great means of gathering Lebanese youths of most religious, social, and political backgrounds. It is an exposure that no one can get anywhere else, not even at university.

Sure, I have seen and interacted with people of different religions and socio-economic strata before. But this time was different; I was living and spending all of my time with them. We were wearing the same uniform, eating the same food, and being subjected to the same hardships. Basically, we were going through the same ordeal and to be able to survive it, we had to unite and cooperate no matter what.

Religion? Well, some people used to go pray on the roof, others were satisfied with the personal space provided by their mattress. We even had a pastor among us! Apparently he entered the clergy late so he was not exempted.

My military tour overlapped with the Holy month of Ramadan where the Moslems fast from dawn to dusk. This exposed our religions outright and separated us for a small period of time every day. At lunch, the Moslems would take a break while the Christians ate. And at Iftar, the Moslems would leave class to eat. After the Iftar, the Moslems would continue the remainder of their class while the Christians had dinner.

I did not like this separation, though short, because it emphasized the Moslem-Christian divide. But it did not take long before Ramadan was over and we were back to our normal unified schedule.

At camp, I also discovered how big a difference there was between the calibers of the different universities in Lebanon. Sure, we were all engineers and architects and doctors, but there was a difference in the levels of the universities and that was apparent on their graduates. I did not feel all the cadets were qualified engineers or architects or doctors. In saying this, I, being a graduate of a top university, may sound elitist, but one notices.

One cadet kept talking about Tomahawk and Cruise missiles and how certain he was that these were Tom Cruise missiles! He seemed so convinced to the extent that no one was able to reason with him and explain that Tomahawk and Cruise were two different sorts of missiles and that calling them Tom Cruise would make them one. He was so paranoid and full of conspiracies.

There were two types of courses at camp and the occasional lectures. Combat lessons included shooting (only three times), marching, walking through thorny bushes, and crawling in mud. Theory classes took place in class and included: army law, military correspondence, weapons theory (types and history), structure and hierarchy of the army, topography and map reading, law enforcement, and a course I like to call “Psychology of Leadership,” since we were supposed to graduate with the rank of lieutenant.

The lectures, which were usually given by a visiting ranking officer, were on life, ambition, culture and the like. Many of the times, the officer would tell us stories about his life, his adventures as a young officer, and his training and how our training is much less physically demanding yet we still moan and grumble about it.

I used to like these lectures. I classified them as “sharing of experiences.” These were more beneficial, I thought. I enjoyed the lectures more than the other courses.

We liked our superiors, especially at the end of tour when we became friends with them.
With the exception of one or two who were rude, the supervising officers were generally good. Sometimes they were very harsh, but that was their job. They were “building officers” after all. They said that we should be given a lot of orders so as we would be able to give out orders. In the end, we were to graduate as lieutenants who are usually responsible of a number of soldiers. So we had to be prepared to give out orders.

In the army, I learnt to appreciate things I used to take for granted, or merely things I had not had the chance to appreciate before. We used to tidy our own beds every morning and clean our units and the toilets regularly. I had never done this before and now I understand how hard and demeaning it is to scrub the toilets and sanitize the washbasin. Now I look up to the cleaning lady, who comes to our house every week, with respect and gratitude.

On a much happier note, I have also learnt to appreciate the environment and the sky. Since our camp was in a mountain area, we did not have many surrounding lights at night, so we could clearly see the sky and the stars. I got some really cool photos of some stars and the moon. I even saw a real falling star for the first time in my life.
Also, standing at attention at sunrise, I could actually see the sun rise and spread its light over the surrounding land. I later realized I never woke up and enjoyed sunrise at the start of a new day before. I used to stay up studying or having fun, and sunrise always signaled the end of the day and not the start of the day.

PART IV: Getting used to the routine and other stuff

2005-08-04T18:16:00.000+03:00

Memoirs from boot camp

Getting used to the routine went out pretty well. The trick is taking the whole thing like one long day dream, sometimes a bad one. The down side is that I could feel my brain going numb and losing sharpness day on day.

As for the “civilian life” or al-Hayat al Madania as we called the outside world at camp, it was not the same. Marwan Hamadeh would survive the injuries sustained from an assassination attempt, Arafat was dying, Bush won, Sheikh Zayed died, and Beirut has less speed bumps!

We got to watch the news every night at the Cadets’ Shelter. The shelter’s vendor kept the remote control with him, so he decided what TV channel we watched. Sometimes it was TéléLiban and sometimes it was LBC.

The week was divided between classes, lectures, exercises, combat lessons, day trips, cleaning, and meals. Everyday we woke up at sunrise. An hour later, we would be standing in formation at the main square. On Mondays we would sing the national anthem. Then the day would continue according to our schedule. At sunset we would all be enjoying leisure time.

There is much food of little variety and average quality at the canteen. Our main meal was lunch, for which we got any combination of beans, potatoes, and rice. One day it is lentils and rice with mashed potatoes, the other it is potato stew with lentil soup, and so on.

Breakfast was made up of olives with any of jam, halawa, mortadelle, and processed cheese (a brand called Meer which I have never seen or heard of before). Dinner was boiled eggs or mashed potatoes with some of the left over main course from lunch. Sometimes, tasteless tea is also served.

When I had the time and the energy to queue, I got some cans of tuna, corn, fruit salad, or even Nestle cream from the shop. The pastry shop (not the canteen) was closed after 50 cases of food poisoning surfaced due to their éclair. An investigation was opened and it was still ongoing when we left camp.

One thing we got a lot of was apples and I loved that. Every year, the army buys whatever apples Lebanese farmers produce and could not sell and these used to end up in our cafeteria. On average, I used to eat 5 apples per day. At that rate I was bound to never see the doctor anymore in my life!

Sleeping conditions were generally bearable; having the top bed meant that I could see Beirut and the sea, or whatever appeared through the smog from my position.

Of course I had to make my own bed and keep my stuff packed every day. As the days went by I got better at it. To avoid washing my tray at every meal, I used to cover it with disposable aluminum foil. I also used plastic forks and spoons for the same reason. Not very eco-friendly, I know, but the environment was not particularly heavy on my conscience at that moment.

One thing I learnt to live without was warm water!! We got really cold water and all the hot water we wanted at the camp. But most showers had broken mixers, so one had to make a choice to shower with water either at 10 degrees Celsius or at 80 degrees!

The bed shook a lot whenever my neighbor rolled over in his sleep. I did not get very much sleep so I used to compensate for that by spending most of my combat classes, which took place outdoors, sleeping or just lying on my back staring at the surrounding pines and olive trees and listening to the sound of the water flow in the nearby river. It is very relaxing and peaceful in a feng shui kind of way. Of course, getting caught asleep in class meant punishment!

One can be punished for many reasons, including but not limited to: noise in class, late for a meeting, late for class, dirt on boots (my specialty), boots too shiny, improper outfit, not wearing the beret outdoors, improperly addressing a superior officer, unenthusiastic singing, smoking, sluggish performance in class, sports, or marches, and low grades on exams. The supervising officer has the right to invent a new reason to punish a cadet whenever he thinks it appropriate.

Punished people are detained for some time on vacations, which is very unfortunate because we would be eagerly waiting the moment we are “released” from camp to go on vacation. More severe misdemeanors could get the perpetrator thrown in prison.

Another punishment is of a much more “sporty” nature. First of all, note that our backpacks weigh around 4Kg and each of our two blankets weighs 3Kg. A helmet weighs 1.5Kg and the boots weigh 2Kg. Here’s how the punishment goes: every day at an assigned time, usually 2130 hours, the punished meet up with the officer on duty in the yard. They are wearing full combat gear (all of the above stated items), and he is upset they are wasting his very precious sleeping time. He makes them jog, sprint, crawl, roll, parade, march, chant, and even do tens of push ups.

Most of the guys lose all feeling in their legs for the next few hours and get severe cramps that last several days. As I think about it now, I am surprised I made it through one of those punishment sessions (Yes, I was caught asleep!). I remember I kept massaging my legs and could barely walk for around 20 minutes.

So we trained, marched, paraded, studied, ate, and cared for our hygiene, beds, and beards. We took turns at cleaning the rooms, halls, corridors, and even the bathrooms and showers.

Well, I guess the worst parts in random order are: not-enough sleep, waking up at sunrise, queuing to eat, shave, shower, drink, and buy stuff from the local shop, and general hygiene problems resulting from 400 guys sharing 17 showers (actually 18 showers but at least one is always out of order), 20 sinks, 20 toilets, and 12 sleeping halls.
The stress varies, but it all boils down to how one takes it all. It sucks! But it only makes you stronger, plus I was getting fit. I managed to lose 12 kg in only 21 days. I knew my tummy would be flat by the end of tour.

PART III: My first day at army camp

2005-08-03T09:23:00.000+03:00

Memoirs from boot camp

Before I knew it, the start of tour was upon me. I was supposed to present myself early in the morning, however, I was told by a few friends that it did not matter when I arrived and that the center keeps on receiving cadets throughout the day.

So I arrived at 4 in the afternoon. The center was crowded with the recruits and their families who came to see them off. It was a bit awkward to see some men joined by their extended family members engaging in a prolonged farewell bid as if they were off to battle and the chances of survival were slim. Some mothers were in tears.

Fearing they might do the same, I had arranged a farewell sort of party at home the day before and asked my parents to drop me off at the center. They had to settle with a brief hug and one kiss.

I carried one really big bag on my back. The first twenty-four days of the tour were continuous without any break, so I had to be prepared for that. My bag contained 12 underpants and undershirts; 12 pairs of socks; 10 plain green and plain beige T-shirts; two sports outfits; trainers, flip-flops, and boots; 3 towels; 2 plain white bed sheets; pajamas; my shaving kit; a shower kit which consists of a bar of soap, shampoo, and a loofah; the whole Dettol family of products which consists of wet wipes, sterilizing spray, rubbing alcohol, and the classic bottle; latex gloves; a 50-piece bag of plastic forks and knives; and finally aluminum foil.

I also carried a small bag containing money (mostly coins for vending machine and payphone), a bottle of prescription medicine, and of course, a notepad and pen.

It was crowded and there was a long queue of men waiting to have their bags searched. The officers were emptying all the contents of the bags in frenzy searching for contraband items such as cigarettes and food. Suspicious items are sent back home.

I stood at the table helplessly watching the officer brutally ransack my bag which I had taken good care at packing. Each item had been placed in a specific position which allowed me to quickly locate it. Now all of my stuff was spread on the table.

The officer took my medicine bottle and placed it in a plastic zip lock bag. He said that it would be given back to me after the medical unit approves it.

After I was proclaimed “clean,” I was ordered to pack my bag quickly and move on. Next, I was given a pile of forms to fill. Everything I had filled out before in terms of personal details, contact information, and medical history I had to fill again. It seems in the army, you have to declare things dozens of times. I wonder if there is any wisdom behind this.

After a tedious hour filling the forms, I proceeded to the academy depot to receive my army kit. I was given one brown T-shirt, one navy blue sports T-shirt, one extra-tight navy blue shorts which I had to do without (I wore my own shorts), a helmet, a beret, a gourde that smelt like urine (never used it, yuck!), one new army uniform and another used one (I wonder whose it was. I hope he was not killed or something!), trainers which were very loose and of poor quality (many of the guys used them as slippers), and army boots which were distributed on a one size doesn’t fit all basis (I wore my own). I was also given a stainless steal tray, spoon, fork, and knife and two bags one called “sac-marin,” and the other called “sac-à-dos” which I later found on my bed.

I was instructed to empty my bags, which are also known as civilian bags and fill all my belongings in both of the supplied sacs. My bag and any stuff that did not fit into the sacs were later returned to my parents. Some cadets stashed their excess belongings in cavities they found in the rooms so as they would not have to return them home. These guys used to get nightmares of being caught and punished.

In the evening we were given a tour of the facility, our weekly schedule, a lecture on diligence and hygiene, and assigned to a sleeping unit and bed. Dinner was optional.

In the main square, a bed was brought out and two sergeants showed us how it should be made and how the blankets should be folded. The mattress was thin but sturdy and had a bump on one end that acted as a pillow. At first I used to fold one of the sheets to increase the size of the “pillow” but later I got used to sleeping on the bump. Of course, I had to use the extra blanket elsewhere when the weather got colder!

The bedroom had an elongated shape with an aisle in the middle and a set of double-decker (or bunks) beds on both sides. I was given the top bed. I felt lucky at first, but soon I realized that it was more a curse rather than a blessing. Every time the guy down stairs moved in his sleep, the bed shook and I was awakened.

The water closet scene that night was a bit awkward. I was doing my stuff around complete strangers and some of the locks did not work properly. I was not used to that kind of openness but then I thought everyone of the guys was in the same situation.

Back in the bedroom, the lights were turned off at around 11 PM but that did not mean the end of the night. We got acquainted to each other and several conversations were started. I do not remember how I recognized my new friends the next morning for it was dark that night, but what was important is that the ice was breaking and we were bonding. For the first time that day I felt at ease.

PART II: My first encounter with the army, signing up, and preparing

2005-08-02T10:00:00.000+03:00

Memoirs from boot camp

After an exhausting three weeks of examinations, university was finally over. Late June was graduation time where I received my degree and swore the Engineer’s Oath. I spent most of July celebrating and receiving congratulations. I also filled my time with sun bathing at the beach and long stays at my parents’ country home in my ancestral hometown in the south.

In mid-August I found myself at the Army Mobilization Directorate in Fayadiyeh standing in line waiting to hand in my papers and sign up. There were three queues: one for postponement, the other for exemption (only male children with no male siblings qualify for exemption plus those who are deemed medically unfit), and the last queue for signing up.

The center was not too crowded and it did not take me much to reach the head of the queue. The clerk at the desk took my military booklet which all Lebanese males between the ages of 18 and 29 hold, my ID, a certified copy of my degree, and some passport photos. He then coldly told me to go and come back in exactly three hours.

It was then when I felt the “araf” began! What was I supposed to do in Fayadiyeh for 3 hours? I can’t go home and come back. With the midday traffic, the roundtrip alone would take that much time!

I found a nearby coffee house and as I entered I came across a few of my friends from university who were also going through the same ordeal. We entertained ourselves and quickly the three hours were over.

Back at the center, I waited until they called out my name. When my turn came, the clerk returned all of my documents to me. My military booklet contained a memo informing me of my early morning appointment with the army general physician the next day.

The following morning, I woke up early, showered up quickly, and arrived at the military center in Warwar at exactly 7:25 in the morning. They gave me a number and some forms in which I should fill my medical history in detail. Then I had my weight and height taken.

One moment I was sitting in the waiting room minding my own business, the other I was standing in a room stripped down to my underpants with some stranger posing as a doctor examining every part of my body!

The general physician would inspect stitches, surgery areas, and other abnormalities, particularly at the joints, that may hinder the performance of a person during training. He would then refer the patient to a specialized physician should there be a reason.

If the specialized physician finds a man not perfectly fit but able to perform his duties, he is given a “logistical” classification. Men with this classification perform the same duties as the other cadets but at a less intense level.

If the physician decides a man is unfit and unable to perform his duties, he is exempted from the army altogether. “Unfit and unable” includes obesity. One man I know who weighed 155kg was told that according to his height, if he managed to increase his weight to 170kg he would be considered obese and thus be exempted. He actually managed to reach 170kg in one month and was exempted from his military service. Sadly however, now after around a year he is still unable to reduce his weight back to its original level.

After I finished my medical tests and got the approval, I was instructed to go to Fayadiyeh to finalize the procedure.

In spite of the traffic jams, I managed to arrive at the Mobilization Directorate at midday. As I did the day before, I waited in line and handed the clerk the same documents I gave him last time. This time, my military booklet boasted an “APPROVED” stamp on it. Again the clerk coldly told me to wait but this time the wait was indefinite.

I do not know if that is true, but I was later told by one of my friends that the reason for the delays is that the supervising officer runs a “busy” schedule drinking coffee and socializing that he only signs documents twice per day and at pre-specified times.

Well, I only waited for one hour. The clerk gave back my military booklet which had inscribed in it the details of my service and when and where it would start. Depending on his mood, the clerk may give the men a list of what to bring. I was among the unfortunate ones and had to photocopy the list from someone.

The list contained all the items that we should bring from the number of underwear and socks all the way to the shaving kit and camouflage makeup. There are several shops in Beirut and Baabda that specialize in army equipment and are frequently visited by prospective cadets. The army Co-Op in Badaro also has a special section that provides simple and useful items such as a sewing kit as well as weird stuff that will not be used such as a full body bullet proof vest or flak jacket.

I only had three weeks left before the start of the military tour and I made it a point of going out clubbing and the like every night. Basically, I was making use of the last few days of freedom I had left. Soon, I will start a new chapter in my life where there will no longer be any fun. At least that was my understanding. I thought that that point will be the official end of university life, the official end of boyhood.

Part I: Why I decided to do my military service

2005-08-01T13:00:00.000+03:00

Memoirs from boot camp

It did not take me much to decide what I wanted to do right after I graduate from University: I wanted to fulfill the obligatory military service.

A lot of my friends were trying their best to avoid the military service. Taking advantage of a new law that exempted Lebanese nationals who live abroad for a period of five consecutive years, many of my friends were going to pursue graduate degrees outside Lebanon. Many others were desperately searching for jobs in the Arabian Gulf or the United States or Europe. The less fortunate ones had to settle with postponing their military service by continuing their education in Lebanon hoping that some day compulsory military service would be waived.

The remaining few had to join the army because of one of two reasons. The first reason emanates from the fact that their families depended on them and had been sustaining a lot of financial undertakings for a long period of time and now it was time for them to start helping their parents money-wise. And the second because they were neither accepted at a college nor offered a job abroad.

I, like a handful others, decided to join the army willfully. I did not want to pursue a master’s degree because I thought it was not convenient for me at the time. “I should have some sort of work experience,” I thought. Plus, I had never had a full-time job with a monthly wage before and the idea of receiving a salary, however miniscule, was enticing.

I could have worked somewhere overseas for five years and got exempted from military service, however, I was a proud Lebanese, and nobody could make me leave my country. Why do I have to flee my country just because I have to do something many people did not like? It makes sense to do something you have to do. Besides, I had been studying for the last 23 years and there was nothing better than a compulsory one year paid break! I thought of it as a period of contemplation and thought where I will decide what course I shall choose for my life. It was something like the gap year.

From what I have heard from other men who have finished their compulsory military service, the service is generally uncomfortable especially for people who are used to the city and its spoils. Furthermore, many people said that it was a waste of time particularly the second part of the service where the lieutenants, fresh out of the Military Academy, would be distributed over the largely nonfunctional divisions of the army.

“Working in the army divisions is nonsense,” they said, “there is no work, no activity.”

Three of my classmates who joined the army in July, right after we graduated from university told me that they were enjoying army camp. Initially, they were shocked at the strict and demanding lifestyle. They had recently graduated and they were in desperate need of a break, away from their studies and responsibilities. At boot camp, there was no freedom. Nevertheless, they encouraged me to go for it. They said it was a great experience.

A few people I know who are currently working, told me that it was better to finish the compulsory military service before taking up permanent employment. They said that it would be bad for my career to interrupt it for a whole year.

Oddly enough, my parents too encouraged me to join the army. They said that it would help build my character and that it was practical to finish it and thus be free to work or study whenever I wished or deemed appropriate. I think they encouraged me to join the army so as I would not travel. It was sort of another way of telling me that they did not want me to leave Lebanon. Who could blame them? They are parents, and they cannot bear being separated from their children.

Unlike my parents, my older brother, who has finished his military service and is currently working in the prosperous Gulf emirate of Dubai, advised me not to sign up. Just like the rest of the people, he said it was a waste of time. He encouraged me to seek employment outside Lebanon. “You are going to leave anyway,” he said, citing the fact that there are higher paying jobs and better employers outside Lebanon.

Actually, there were interesting job opportunities outside Lebanon which I looked into. They were tempting; however, I did not want to leave Lebanon and not be able to come back before the end of the five year period. The law allows such people to come to Lebanon before the end of the five year period but they are restricted to short visits and each visit should be at a one year interval. What if something bad happened and I needed to come back to Lebanon urgently? What if I did not like my job and wanted to return? I did not want anyone to control my access to my country.

In the end, I did not even apply to any of these jobs.

So, my mind was set. I was going to finish the service no matter what it took and no matter how exhausting. It was a unique opportunity for an exceptional experience that I may never go through in my life and I was adamant at getting the most out of it.