Daniel Gordis:Meet Captain ‘B’—the first Israeli Arab woman in an IAF airborne unit She speaks about the danger of people in her Israeli Arab village finding out what she does, about growing up in an Arab “Zionist” home, and what she’d do if she fell into Hamas captivity.
Here are some select portions of the rather lengthy article, translated:
Captain ‘B’s clothing closet at the Palmachim Air Base is where she hides the greatest secret of her life. Captain ‘B’, in her twenties, is the first female Arab flight mechanic in the history of the IDF, and in fact, the first female airborne service person from the Arab community. Except for a few close family members and the members of her squad, no one knows.
Captain ‘B’ lives in an Arab village, which includes a militant population, who, to put matters mildly, are not among the “lovers of Zion.” Thus, for the five years that she has served in a variety of positions in the Air Force, she’s never gone home wearing a uniform. “In my clothes closet at the base,” she says, “there are more civilian clothes than uniforms. And when I get to the base in civvies, I go straight to the room, change clothes, and then head out to the squadron. And vice-versa: before I go home, I change into civilian clothing. You wouldn’t believe how careful we have to be at home. In the winter and in the summer, we launder the uniforms and they go straight into the dryer—we would never hang them outside to dry.”
And that’s because why? What would happen if people in the village knew what you do?
Someone would get attacked. That’s for sure.
From your family?
Yes.
And they’d have to be taken out of the village [for their safety]?
I don’t think there’d be anyone to take out after that.
Really? To that extent?
I think so.
And then, when we leave the office and head to the landing strip of the Black Hawks of Squadron 123, where she is now serves, she’s transformed. Captain ‘B’ stands tall, doesn’t stop smiling. Wearing her flight jumpsuit and her helmet and visor that cover her face, she hops quickly onto one of the helicopters to be photographed. It’s evident that here, among the flying machines that come in and out of Gaza, she’s more comfortable in her own skin than she is in the streets of the village where she was born and raised.
How long are you really going to be able to keep this secret from the people in your village?
There’s been an escalation in my village of late. Violent incidents, grenades, shootings. My own motto is “it’s good to die for our land” [DG – a famous quote commonly attributed to the early Zionist icon Yosef Trumpeldor], and I don’t care if they kill me, but the thought that they might do something to my family, and even worse, because of me? I couldn’t live with that. My priorities in life are first God, then my family, then the army.
…
When the highly talented young Arab woman finished high school, with very high grades, everyone in the mixed village (Muslims and Christians) assumed that within half a year at the most, she’d be in medical school. But ‘B’ decided to enlist in the army. “I’m a person who does things fully. I grew up in a Zionist house and was always taught to love our country, which has given to us, so we also have to give back. I knew that I wanted to enlist and to be among those who work on our security. I could easily have gone to medical school. But after 12th grade, instead of going to the university, I went to the Draft Office.
[She then went to a technical school, studied electronics and electrical engineering, for several years as part of an IDF training program.]
I assume that there, in the technical school, you were also the only Arab?
Yup. When I got to the technical school for the first time, it was a year of lots of terror attacks. I was afraid that people would look at me suspiciously, but the truth is that they accepted me warmly.
That’s got to have been a huge change in your life. You came from a traditional home to a mixed [gender] class of young Jews.
The truth is, if you grew up in a home with values, it doesn’t matter where they toss you, you’re going to be true to those values. In our community, for example, a girl isn’t allowed to smoke, and you can’t have sex until you’re married. Obviously, I could do whatever I want and my parents would never know, but it’s something that I grew up with in my home, so I honor it. To this very day, I’ve never touched a cigarette, even though they’re always trying to tempt me, she smiles and says.
…
During her electronics studies, B’ began to hear about an elite group of flight mechanics who are on flight crews, wear flight jumpsuits, are considered part of the flight team, and are responsible for an array of operations: emergency repairs in the field, running the cabin in case of evacuating wounded soldiers from the battlefield, and including permissions for landing and take off. … When it comes to the Black Hawk squadron, it’s mostly evacuating wounded soldiers as part of Unit 669 [DG – Israel’s elite search and rescue unit] or getting troops deep into enemy territory.
…
She tells that even after she finished the electronics degrees with high marks, the IDF still didn’t want to draft her.
So what did you do?
One day, Gadi Eizenkott, who was then the Chief of Staff, came for a tour of the academy [where she was studying electronics], and they introduced him to the only Arab in the program. I told him that the army wasn’t willing to draft me. A week and a half later, I had a draft date. …. He [later] asked to meet my parents, and he said to them, “When I saw your daughter standing in front of me at the graduation ceremony, I had goosebumps and tears in my eyes.” I told him that to my parents, that comment meant more than my degree.
…
After switching from planes to helicopters, a major shift, she was assigned to Squadron 123 at the Palmachim Air Base. Three months before the end of her training, she was at home. It was October 7.
“My mother woke me up and said, ‘Get up, Hamas has invaded.’ I mumbled, ‘What are you talking about, Hamas has invaded?’”
But she turned on the TV, and as soon as she understood what was happened, she texted her commander and told him that even though she was still in training, she was heading to the base. She was there by 10:30 am.
…
A lot of young Israeli Arabs define themselves first and foremost as Palestinians. How would you define your own identity?
First of all, I don’t think there is any such thing as an Israeli who is also a Palestinian. I also have no idea why they define themselves that way … but whatever. I define myself as a Christian-Israeli who speaks Arabic. ….
Would you be willing to marry a Jew?
I wouldn’t have a problem marrying a Jew. I’m not religious. But I wouldn’t convert. Everyone should live with their own religion.
And what does your family think about that?
I won’t lie. My parents are already pressuring me to be in a relationship. But I was always focused on a career and doing whatever I was doing as well as I could. So being in a relationship was always a lower priority. In the meantime, I enjoy being with my pets.
….
As for the fact that she’ll soon be going deep into Gaza …
“I’m a bit nervous,” she admits. “Soon I’ll be part of significant missions, evacuating wounded soldiers and safeguarding the lives of the combat units—and that’s a huge privilege.”
Do you have relatives in Gaza?
No, luckily.
How frightening is it to go into Gaza in the middle of a war?
I’ll tell you. I’m a person who’s not afraid of anything. Really. I really, truly believe that I could die at any minute. I could trip getting on a helicopter, break my neck or have a heart attack. So no scenario frightens me.
…
What are you most afraid of?
The most frightening is the thought of losing a member of my family. Other than that, nothing. Really.
…
There’s also the possible scenario of you falling into captivity. If that happens, you’re in triple danger: you’re part of an air crew, you’re a woman, and you’re an Arab who’s serving the army they believe to be the enemy.
Captivity is a painful thought. I know it could happen to me, but I can live in the shadow of fear. I’m not afraid. I’d fight with everything I have. And then, if it happens? I’d take off the jumpsuit and act like an Arab from Gaza. Or I’d kill myself before it happened. As I said, fear doesn’t interest me. Nothing is going to break me. Even my mother thinks that way.
What way?
I spoke with my mother about the possibility of my falling into captivity. I asked her, “If I was held there, how would you feel?” She said, “It would pain me deeply, but to get you out of there, I wouldn’t be willing to have 20 other people die.” That’s my mother.
When you get to Gaza, you’re likely to see painful sights, people who the army calls “noncombatants” from among your own people. That’s not going to be easy.
True, but it seems to me that there’s nothing to do other than to get there and to see it with my own eyes. It used to be hard for me to hear about Gazans who were dying, because they’re not all Hamas. But then I saw a video about how they train their twelve year old kids to use weapons, and how to load the weapon with their feet because they’re not yet strong enough to do it with their hands. And you understand that they don’t value life.
They are really raised to die. It’s horrible. It’s painful. There are people there who don’t deserve to die, but in the end they pay the price. Just like our own citizens, and anyone hit by a rocket.
[She explains why she doesn’t want to become a pilot, and wants to stay a flight engineer.]
“Did you see the exhibit of the helicopters?” she asks, pointing to some old helicopters that are placed on the base as a historical exhibit.
Yes, what about it?
So I told them that when I finish reserve duty, I’m going to keep coming here until they kick me out by force. And after I die, I want them to bury me under an exhibition of helicopters.
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