sudden you begin to take pleasure in things that you would have despised "Outside" - the quantities of sweets that you chew during night exercises, or idleness: you lie on your back along with the others and stare into the sky, without saying a word.
You see new comrades coming into the camp, smile about the "green recruits," feel like a veteran and give them the benefit of your advice.
And when you go into town after two weeks, it looks strange. You talk with friends and acquaintances and notice that there is some-thing separating you.
You have become a soldier.
On the streets we were followed by respectful looks. The state was still in the future. It was difficult to come to terms with carrying arms openly. And we - with proudly raised heads we strode along. Pride in the army and our weapons. But we had no song of joy on our lips. Thegreat, mov-ing song for this uplifting moment remained unwritten. For the first time I became aware that this great movement, this earthquake that gripped the youth, had not touched the intellectuals, the poets, or the writers. Those too who were known as the "young writers" stayed at home, as though nothing had happened. They did not join us on our road of suffering and endurance.
14 March 1948
Camp "Jonah"
Squad leader
The leader of a squad is the backbone of the army, as they say. The squad leader is the most pitiful command position. He has the pleas-ant duty at quarter to six in the morning of ripping the covers off the soldiers’ beds and rounding them up for morning gymnastics. He has to keep order in the hungry cutlery-clattering line at the mess. At ten in the evening he must supervise lights out, just at the moment when the men in the tents remember the hottest stories of the last week.
In brief, the squad leader is the direct superior. He is the recipient of the juiciest curses from the ordinary soldiers. But he has none of the status of an officer at all.