A New Land

In 1980, dad was running his plumbing shop out in Hermosa.  I had been working for him since I had come back from college.  The company was doing fairly well and we had several employees working full time.  Dad would always read the morning paper at the coffee shop and would peruse the want ads and employment sections for fun.

Several times he would find ads stating that they could secure you a job overseas working in exotic places like Egypt or the Caribbean.  Once you called however, the voice on the other end always wanted you to send money to “get you on the list” Blaa blaa blaa.

One day however, he called on an ad and talked to a company who was doing work on some airbases in Israel.  After several call backs and an interview, he had accepted a position as a mechanical engineer.  Needless to say, we had to close the shop down.  Two weeks later, he was on his way.

The contract was “single status” but he could bring family over if he paid for the trip a place for the family members to live.  As it was, he had free food and lodging for himself on the airbase.  After several weeks and a lot of paperwork and Visa processing, dad had mom and I come over to live during his contract.  Why me?…glad you asked.

At the time, I was working for dad of course and had planned to go back to Taco Johns or River rafting when dad left.  After talking with him though, we decided that perhaps it would be a good idea if I tagged along and stayed with mom.  This way she would not be alone in an apartment in a new country.  I couldn’t pass up the opportunity so, after packing up the house and our belongings, off we went.

We arrived in Israel in June.  It was hot, it was muggy, it was sandy, and the sky was the same color as the sand with a thin gray line to separate the horizon.  The plane taxied to the end of the runway and was met by a bus.  We walked down the flight of portable stairs and into a line of people in front of us.  Here we were separated in to male and female and one by one, our bags were taken, emptied out on the pavement, and rummaged through by armed military.  Man was it hot.  After they rummaged, you picked it back up and stuffed it back in your bag, backpack, or purse.  This little episode lasted for approximately an hour…it was getting hotter.  The guy in front of me had on a big scarf type hat thingy hangy down cotton wrap on his head that would flip up and smack me in the face every so often when a gust of hot air would come up.  It became my little sweat wiper friend.  He never knew…heh heh heh.

Once inside, we shuffled down to the baggage area.  The same good ol’ boy treatment was given here.  We finally made our way to the exit doors and found dad waiting for us outside with his new foreman Elias.

Dad's Foreman...Eleish

We loaded into his car and headed out.  We had landed at the Tel-Aviv airport and now had to travel south to the Negev Desert airbase.  I don’t remember too much of the trip since we were pretty tired but I remember that the town was a pretty good size.  We passed through several smaller towns and camel caravans along the way also.

The landscape in this area was pretty barren and sandy.  In the distance however, you could plainly see the rough mountain terrain, which rose up sharply.  You could tell that these things would be pretty rough climb.

A couple of hours later we arrived at the main gates to the base.  When I say main gate, what I mean is a double chain link gate with razor wire on top, a small guard shack, twenty military police, a tank, and more weapons than you could shake a stick at.  If you ran down the road about half a mile you jump over the fence.

We stopped at the gate and let the guards on so they could check the bus.  One of the guards ran to the back of the bus, grabbed a small box which was up in the luggage area, and ran back out with a woman yelling after him.  Once off the bus, he ran a little ways, threw the box, and put sixty or so rounds of fully automatic shells through it.   It was officially dead now I guessed…poor box.  I assume that he must have thought it was a bomb or something.  We then proceeded.  Actually, later that month, they did find a box on the bus that blew up in the field when they shot it.  Makes you wonder.

Dad’s “Hooch” was pretty small.  It was a converted job site trailer basically.  It was eight feet wide and twenty feet long and was attached to similar “Hooches” like a train.  These sat in an area off the main building which was the commissary or eating area.  Other buildings dotted the area, which was roughly the size of half a football field. There was a generator room, a small nurse’s station, and even a small…I mean small, store where you could buy milk or soda and of course the biggest item…any type of booze you wanted.  In the distance you could see the actual project site with its cranes and construction vehicles running around.

Once on base, you were allowed to roam around the grounds.  The grounds was desert as far as the eye could see except for the distance mountains.  The base had some hills and mounds so it wasn’t too bad.  During the next few days, I walked around quite a bit just looking around in hopes of finding some ancient relic or trinket.  What dad or anyone failed to tell me at this point was that this area had once been the site of one of many battles between Israel and whoever.  The area was covered with old landmines and unexploded bombs.  Dad would even dig these up now and then during his workday and have to have them carted off to be detonated.  Very funny.

Mornings on base were fun.  The base had already been partially built and was operational to an extent by the time dad or we had arrived.  At 4:00, an alarm siren would sound, and 3 seconds later…no kidding…a sortie of F15 jets would come straight out of the ground in the distance, go vertical and disappear in a matter of seconds.

By the time we had gotten dressed and over to the commissary…around 5:00…the pilots of these F15’s would be coming in to the room to also eat breakfast.  They spoke pretty good English and would tell us about the mornings flight and how they made these guys out at the border run like ants as they came in and took target practice on their vehicles…then they would laugh and laugh.  Good times.

After breakfast, we would go to the hooch just in time to see the maid that cleaned the room for us.  Her name was Shuli and she’s the gal that started teaching me Hebrew.  It took her about an hour to do her thing in the hooch and during that time she would test me on words and phrases.  She spoke English ok but would not use it.  After 2 weeks I was getting pretty good at the basics.

 Shuli and I outside my "Hooch" in the Negev Desert