The three years of military service did not contribute to the development of the fiery killer. On the other hand, it is also not certain that Killer contributed to the defense army's development. The band did not really exist in these shitty conditions of non-coordination between our departure times on Saturdays or vacations, and often jealousy or frustration stole in the face of other bands whose members did not bother to enlist in the military. Every weekend when I got home from the Wild South (so it was a grueling 4-5 hour story) I made sure to meet with anyone who also managed to get home. Sometimes I played with Yaron Magen (guitar), sometimes with Yaron Dekel (drums), sometimes with Shlomo Rosinger (keyboards). We almost never got to play all of us together. The military service, however, contributed to the punk tapping within me. Also because I met with strata of the population who scratched the bottom, and also because I saw with my own eyes the hypocrisy and lies that the system consists of. Everyone cheated on everyone, they all warmed up, everyone only cared about themselves and their private ass covers.
One of the soldiers I became friends with was Emmanuel. A very intelligent guy who emerged from the Beersheba slum. He was sturdy and strong and had a Semi-criminal appearance, and to some extent he served as my bodyguard. He was the one who accompanied me to make a hole in my left ear (a man with an earring then and there considered homo out of this world), he was the one who prevented me from joining the world of the dead (when you last fired a barrel of a rifle aimed at me by the hurricane soldier who wanted to shut me down), And he's the one who taught me a thing or two in business. We came from completely different backgrounds, but we formed a strong friendship.
Emanuel was then a soldier, plus-minus twenty, but he already had several businesses in town. In two of them, I was involved - a lighthouse discotheque in the infamous D district, and a buffet at a commercial center that kissed on the main street of Bash.
The buffet had two large windows open to the public, one facing the street and the other facing the interior of the mall. Sometimes I came to help him, and then each of us would have a different window, and we would fight the buyers and compete with each other. If a buyer came to Emmanuel's window to buy a pack of cigarettes, I immediately signaled to him for my window that he would receive a substantial discount. The buyer would pass on to me, and then a moment before the purchase was made, Emanuel would entice him to return it, because he would also receive 100 grams of black kernels bonus. As soon as the buyer returned enthusiastically, I braked his outstretched hand and urged him to come back to me, because at this very moment I announce Operation Coke + Nucleus + Cigarettes at the price of one pack, and so it goes back, until the confused buyer would come out of one of us packed with no good Divorced one from his pocket. And all this, when it's really unclear why we are competing at all, since we are both in the same buffet.
But it was just fun. On Thursdays, I loved joining Emmanuel in his goddamn discotheque. While disco music was not my style, I didn't suffer from it either - mother builders, Village Peeple, Gloria Gaynor. In my honor, he would have instructed the DJ to also play floppy discs by Blondie, Gary Newman and such. The so-called New Wave.