“I dreamed my mother and your mother had a terrible fight. My mother cried, and my father stepped in – which is so unlike him.”
“Are you okay? You sound sad.”
“In my dream, your mother, who was at our place, got up and stormed out, and after that I didn’t hear from you either – you disappeared.”
“Lily, I’m with you.”
“I know, it was a dream, a bad dream. I felt lost. You left and weren’t coming back to me. I was angry at my mother too, so angry I ran away.”
“And now?”
“Wait a second. I felt the images in the dream mixing together. One dream came, another went, and the logic broke down. All I remember is the feeling of rage, loss, and pain.”
“That’s all?”
“Isn’t that enough for you?”
“My Lily. I love you, and you know it.”
“You’re with me? Right? You’re mine? Right?” she sounded afraid.
“I’m yours forever,” I told her. “Only yours!”
“My man, I know.”
Chapter 32
Graduation Ceremony
The officer training course graduation ceremony was held the day before discharge. Families were invited to the event, and the excitement before their arrival soared.
Lily arrived at the base early with Serge, and my parents came just a few minutes before the ceremony began. As I marched across the parade ground, I tried to imagine what my parents, Holocaust survivors, must have been thinking about their son, who was about to become an officer in the IDF.
The graduation ceremony was impressive, and Lily’s overnight stay on base only heightened the excitement for the next day, when each cadet was to receive their graduation certificate.
Based on my grades throughout the course, it was almost a given that I would receive the top mark, A-B. Beyond the honor, that grade meant I could choose what unit I would serve in. The question that remained was whether to select a unit close to where we would live, so I could be near Lily and available to help her if needed, or to request combat duty. Combat duty had been my dream since high school. But I also knew home leaves were infrequent and that would make things difficult for Lily. In the end, after much deliberation – partly on my own and partly with Lily – we agreed that I would go into combat. She trusted her family to support her, as they had before I came into her life.
The cries of “A-B!” from the guys outside the room where the company commanders were sitting, only intensified the anticipation. When my turn came, I went in. The look on my platoon commander’s face left no doubt that something was wrong. He avoided eye contact, his eyes downcast. Anothercommander handed me the certificate. “I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his gaze as well.
I looked at him, at the certificate, back at him, and again at the certificate, like someone who couldn’t process what he was seeing. Then my brain caught up with my eyes: the grade was B-C. The realization that I couldn’t choose where to serve – and especially that I wouldn’t be able to request a combat unit – hit me hard. Tears welled in my eyes, and an unexpected surge of anger overtook me.
“I’m sorry,” my own platoon commander now said, still not meeting my eye. “Up till this morning, I knew you were an A-B, but the company commander decided otherwise. Last night, he changed your grade to B-C. Nothing I said could change his mind. I’m sorry. To me, you were an A-B.”
At that moment, I made a decision: my calling, my vision of dedicating my life as a doctor to the state, the army, and society – I was setting it aside, at least for the moment. From now on, I would focus all my efforts on my home and on caring for my Lily.
Years later, I ran into my course commander by chance. By then, we were both lieutenant colonels, and I thought I had put the experience behind me. But when he told me what had really happened, the anger and frustration returned. Before graduation, we cadets were asked to submit anonymous evaluations of our instructors. Naively, I wrote my honest opinion, believing that was the whole point of feedback – to improve things, not flatter those in charge.
“The company commander went over the ‘anonymous’ evaluations,” my former instructor told me.
“Apparently they weren’t so anonymous,” I said bitterly.
He collected the ones that weren’t flattering, including yours. And the night before the certificates were handed out, he went into the base commander’s secretary’s office and, withoutauthorization, changed the final grades of several cadets. Yours went from A-B to B-C.”
“Not surprising,” I replied. “That’s exactly why I wrote what I wrote.”
Many years later, I saw my personal file. Sure enough, on the line about my officer course evaluation, the letter A and the dash had been whited out with correction fluid. Next to the B, someone had scribbled a dash and the letter C, in blue ink. I left the room where the certificates were being handed out in tears. My friends crowded around the door and couldn’t believe what they heard when I whispered, “B-C.” They understood, but they couldn’t believe it.
Lily and David immediately came to my side and taught me a lesson in acceptance. I hugged Lily and whispered, I’m happy I have you.
