L.A. Student Got Firsthand Experience of War

Scott Lasensky is a typical college senior.

The 20-year-old former Irvine resident lives with a roommate to help make ends meet, juggles a full class load with a part-time job and is not quite sure what life after graduation from UCLA will hold for him.

But the familiar-sounding lifestyle, the comfortable Southern California routine that Lasensky enjoys, is a far cry from the life he lived a year ago.

One of a handful of participants in the University of California’s Education Abroad Program who stayed in Jerusalem when the Persian Gulf War started last January, Lasensky found himself getting on-the-job training in the ultimate in political solutions: war.

Lasensky’s political science studies in Jerusalem were interspersed with lessons on how to wear a gas mask, inject himself with antidotes in case of a chemical attack and prepare a gas-proof “safe room” in his dormitory.

It was an experience he will never forget, he said, a surreal period of his young life that was at once both heady and unnerving. But today, Lasensky admitted, sometimes the adventure seems so distant.

“It’s funny talking to you and thinking about it again,” said Lasensky, a political science and history major who took a break from classes at the Westwood campus to reminisce about his experiences. “It’s almost like an episode that is closed in my life.”

Lasensky, a devout Jew who has long been fascinated with Mideast politics and Israel, spoke matter-of-factly about the constant air raids, the unceasing news reports that kept the entire city of Jerusalem glued to radios and televisions, and the occasional Scud missile attacks.

For months, he said, the exchange students who had arrived at Hebrew University in July, 1990, talked nervously about the possibility of war. The consensus on the streets of cosmopolitan Jerusalem was that President Bush would not order an attack on Iraq.

“Even they know about Vietnam,” said Lasensky, who grew up in Irvine and is a former University High School honor student. His parents still reside in Orange County.

Then, the bombs began to fall in Baghdad. Lasensky was sound asleep in his dormitory when a friend ran into his room and shook him out of his deep slumber.

“The war started!” his friend shouted.

Lasensky bolted upright, hastily dressed and headed for the Israeli Press Office, where the government was coordinating international coverage. For the next day, the young press office intern helped field phone calls and directed the hordes of reporters to the right sources, he said.

“It was like a zoo for a while,” Lasensky recalled. “I had never seen so many reporters in my life.”

In the rush and exhilaration of the first few days of the air war, Lasensky was forced to postpone his 20th-birthday celebration on Jan. 19. There was simply too much to do and too few exchange students left at school.

The war eventually became part of everyday life. The panic that set in whenever the air raid sirens went off subsided. The sirens became as commonplace as the reports of stabbings and scuffles between Jews and Palestinians that have filled the local newspapers for years.

“Things mellowed out,” Lasensky said. “It got to the point that there would be an alarm and nobody hardly noticed it. They went out, they went shopping. Life was pretty normal.”

Lasensky became more animated when he talked about how the war changed people in Jerusalem, how it paradoxically pulled them apart and brought them closer together at the same time.

During the war, especially when Iraqi Scud missiles were reported en route to Jerusalem, Lasensky said some Palestinians climbed on their rooftops and began dancing.

The assaults and murders seemed to increase, wearing thin the nerves of many citizens of the city.

Lasensky recalled that one time, he was on a bus when he dropped a set of keys on the floor. The metallic jingle jangle of the keys as they hit the floorboard startled many riders, who jumped in their seats and turned around.

“It was a weird city at the time,” he said.

But, he added, the war made many realize the fruitlessness of violence. He said that a large segment of the city’s Jewish population has taken a political middle-ground perspective to the Israeli-Palestinian issue.

“Most people realize that two peoples live together in the same place, and they have to come to some sort of accommodation,” Lasensky said.

The violence there is also more understandable than the sort Southern Californians experience. “It’s not the random type of violence like in L.A.,” he said. “I wouldn’t be mugged for my money. But if I was in an Arab market, I could get stabbed for political reasons.

“It’s strange, but you get used to it,” he continued. “You get numbed by the tenseness.”

When classes resumed while the war raged on, only half of those who left the country on or before the fighting started returned to class. Those who did studied intensely the political ramifications of the war and the effects it will have on Mideast politics.

“It (the war) got to be the defining factor for the whole year I was there,” he said.

Shortly before the war ended, Lasensky’s mother, Barbara, arrived in Israel to offer her services for a month as a volunteer nurse. The night she arrived, three Scud missiles landed in Jerusalem, she said.

“I thought, ‘What am I doing here?’ ” Barbara Lasensky said. But luckily, that was the last attack on the city. The cease-fire was called by Bush two days later.

Scott Lasensky stayed in Jerusalem until July 1, coming back to the United States with a suitcase full of mementos and a head full of tales.

Now, however, he finds a certain ennui in all the questions. “They always ask, ‘What was it like?’ ” he said. “I’m getting real sick of that question. I can’t even stand hearing the word Scud anymore.”

His return was also the first time he encountered the yellow ribbons, the bumper stickers, the T-shirts that showed support during the war. It seemed odd to him, as if “there was no connection to the ‘Go America’ thing. As an American, I feel proud about everything, but a lot of it seems kind of silly now.”

Lasensky is still mulling over his options. He has been dabbling in journalism, writing columns for the school newspaper, and is considering law school, although he is not sure he wants to become a practicing lawyer.

One thing is for certain: He will go back to Israel soon, possibly this summer as a tour guide for American high school students. He feels he is uniquely qualified.

“I want to do it now for the pure pleasure of it and to share my knowledge with the kids,” he said. “I feel like there’s a lot I can offer.”