I do not know what made me decide to come here. When the opportunity arose, I said yes without a second thought. But I do know what I am getting out of this experience. I have found my America. And I have discovered that I can never leave Israel. It sits inside of me, strengthens me and comforts me to the center of my soul.
As an embedded Israeli reporter with the troops, I have taken on the role of terrorism adviser. It comes with the territory, I suppose. These men have deep respect for the Israel Defense Force. When they discuss moving into built-up areas with large civilian populations, they tell me, “The Israelis are really good at that. You’ve done some incredible work over the years.”
When they discuss fighting against an army of terrorists, they bring up Israel’s experience and express amazement at our army’s successes and our people’s resilience.
There were several donkeys lining the road by Mussaib during a recent battle. A white Arabian stallion raced after us for a while. One morning, the battalion commander laughed, saying he would have liked to bring it back home to Fort Stewart, Ga.
I mentioned that the Palestinians have loaded bombs on donkey carts several times over the years and that several Israelis have been murdered by this tactic. He stopped laughing.
The officers and men could not hide their disgust and fury when they heard the Palestinians named a public square after the Iraqi who killed four soldiers from this battalion in the March 29 car bombing. The general response was summed up most succinctly by Specialist Jennings Roberts from West Virginia: “Well, maybe when we’re done here, we’ll just have to go home by way of the West Bank. You Israelis should take care of that for us.”
Company commander Capt. Rob Smith, from Cleveland, Ohio, normally a study in self-control, could barely contain his rage when he heard how his men’s killer was being honored. After pausing for a moment, he said, “They can put up all the monuments they like. We’ll have the best monument soon enough — Baghdad.”
Living with this battalion, I feel a pride in America that I have never felt before, even though America often makes me proud. But this is different. These men are all willing to fight and risk death to protect their freedom. In this and in the fact that these men from such different backgrounds, races and religions come together as one to serve a common purpose, they are living proof that America is upholding the promise of its founding.
And yet, remarkably, being here with them, I have never felt more Israeli or more attached to the land of Israel. Perhaps this attachment has always existed, but it is only now that I have come to realize it. I never understood what it means to miss Zion until I came to Babylon. I carry the land of Israel with me wherever I go.
I see an Iraqi date palm along the Euphrates and I think of Tel Aviv and the Yarkon. I see a shrub in the desert and try to remember if I saw the same type in the Negev. I walk through the marshlands and imagine the shade of eucalyptus trees in the Hula Valley. I smell the earth and I miss the Galilee.
But what is most striking is the light. The sunlight on the sand causes an almost physical longing for Jerusalem. I look at the light and think about how the Jerusalem stones change colors throughout the day as the Earth and the city revolve around the sun. The sand, the light and the sky all remind me of Jerusalem.