My first time raising the flag on base at the very beginning of my time as a volunteer (10/21/2014).
The first time I raised the flag was my first Tuesday on my first base, and for something that is such an honor, it felt kind of anticlimactic. On that base, it was the responsibility of the volunteers to raise the flag without any soldiers or commanders present — I was surprised at how this activity seemed to be so not a big deal. After having only worked one full day at that point, when my madricha asked, “Who wants to raise the flag today?” I looked around and realized no one was volunteering, so I shrugged and said, “I’ll do it.”
I stepped forward to pull the rope that raises the flag; it was heavier than I expected, but a few tugs and it was done. I remember being a little disappointed: You only see flags in the movies waving majestically in the wind, but since there was no wind, the flag just kind of hung limp, the Jewish star barely visible. Still, though, I knew it was an important moment. I never thought I’d be able to say that I raised the Israeli flag on an IDF base. I was proud, but I thought, okay, this is an experience that I only really need to have once.
A month and a half later, on my third base, my madrichot called me out to raise the flag when I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t mind at all, of course, but I felt bad taking the opportunity away from a volunteer who hadn’t done it yet when I already had. This time felt completely different, though. There, flag-raising was also roll call, so every soldier on the base and their commander were are there, standing in formation as I stepped up to the platform.
A stereotypical army trumpet song — exactly like the movies — was coming out of speakers I couldn’t see as I raised the flag and saluted, a hundred eyes on me. Maybe it actually took longer to get the flag to the top of the pole here or maybe it was because I was standing in front of an entire unit of real soldiers, but this time, the seconds lasted forever and it seemed much more dramatic. When the trumpets ended, the instrumentals to the national anthem came on; I turned around and got back in place to sing Hatikva with the rest of the base, unable to stop smiling. That was what raising the Israeli flag was supposed to feel like.
Today I raised the flag one more time — the last day in Sar-El. There was no music, but the entire unit was behind me again, and I got to sing Hatikva with all the volunteers and soldiers one last time. After two months on army bases, this was the last thing I would do in a uniform. It was weird, the sense of finality as the flag got to the top… and this time, the inevitable feeling of pride came from the way that raising the flag wrapped up my entire nine weeks in Israel.
I know now that the reason the first flag-raising felt so anticlimactic was because I hadn’t done anything to deserve it; I was still practically fresh off the plane to Israel, I was too new. And to be honest, it still confuses me that volunteers get raise the flag when there are real soldiers who deserve it more. But today, with two months of volunteering behind me, I felt like I had earned it. At least a little bit.
My last day in Sar-El; just raised the flag for my third and final time (12/18/2014).
