Today is two weeks and one day later, and I’m thinking about those moments on October 7, Saturday, 6:31 in the morning.
We woke up to the red alert sirens and heavy firing. Uri (my partner) received a message about someone with a gunshot wound, (due to) terrorists. We heard heavy firing in the kibbutz. Uri got dressed, took out his weapon, and told me to get dressed quickly. We started thinking about how to move our Mika from her apartment, which was a few dozen meters away, to ours. In the meantime, Uri got a phone call with a plea for help. He set off in the direction of the call and found himself in a shootout with a group of terrorists. He saw Doron, a soldier who is the son of someone at the kibbutz. They took cover and agreed that Doron would get his weapon, and rejoin Uri. Together, they rescued Mika under fire, and brought her to the safe room in our house.
"We kept getting horrifying messages from friends saying that terrorists had entered their homes, that they were being kidnapped"
Uri and Doron set themselves up in the pergola on the second floor of our house. The pergola is covered with branches from a big tree, and faces a main road in the kibbutz. They both had weapons. A group of terrorists approached and they [Uri and Doron] killed them. More terrorists came, another battle. And so on. Minutes/hours went by, and then another group of terrorists arrived, this one with a pickup truck to take us back in. Heroically, without helmets or bulletproof vests, Uri and Doron managed to kill them, and damaged the truck’s tires, which not only immobilized the truck, but also blocked the road for other vehicles.
Time passed, and no help came. They were alone on the pergola, and in the background were bursts of gunshots and shouting in Arabic. Mika and I were in the safe room, and we heard bullets hitting the metal window, the ceiling, everywhere outside the safe room. There were seconds of silence between shootouts, and I was sure that the worst had happened. Seconds that felt like hours, and then I got a thumbs up emoji from Uri. I could breathe again.
Uri later told us that Doron, the soldier, had been out of ammunition, and that they had left the pergola while covering each other using Doron’s last bullet, taken Kalashnikovs and ammunition from the dead terrorists, and continued fighting from the pergola. Mika and I, still in the safe room, played Eretz Ir [a Hebrew game like Categories] by the light of a little lamp. She beat me easily. Most of the time, we were in the dark. I held a bottle of perfume and two iron lamps in my hands. If they came, Mika and I would fight. We were focused. Not stressed. Determined.
"Those were the terrorists who had come to kill or kidnap us, and all of the people in the nearby apartments."
At around 16:00, Uri and our neighbor, who had fought while wounded, joined forces. Together with soldiers who had arrived, they took us, under fire, to the neighbor’s safe room. On our way out, we saw seven terrorists who had been killed by Uri and Doron, and the immobilized pickup truck with the driver dead inside. Those were the terrorists who had come to kill or kidnap us, and all of the people in the nearby apartments. In our neighbor’s safe room were his wife, his five children and his brave dog, Chips. Mika read the children stories. We chatted on whatsapp with Itzik Ozeri, who’s a professional clown. The children were happy to hear his voice in the message he sent.
All this time, we kept getting horrifying messages from friends saying that terrorists had entered their homes, that they were being kidnapped, shot at, that their houses were being burnt, they were suffocating, and on, and on. At around 18:00, it was decided that we should be evacuated from the safe room.
They took us out carefully. A row of soldiers on the right, another row the left, and we ran with the children on our backs. On the way, we saw sights I cannot write about. There was a red alert siren and we heard a loud bang. In the gathering area at the entrance of the kibbutz, Mika and I waited to be taken in an ambulance. We saw many injured people along the way.
"It was only because her father was a brave fighter, who happened to meet a very brave young soldier, that we survived."
We got on the bus and were taken to the center [of the country]. Uri stayed in the gathering area, where he helped treat the injured people who were arriving. Yes, Uri is a fighter who also treats the injured. On the way, we saw horrifying sights that I won’t write about. We arrived in Tel Aviv and our Aloni was waiting for us, with a worried, loving embrace.
I recharged my cell phone, and spoke with our Shoval, I tried to calm the child, who had been sure that she was going to lose her family. And it was only because her father was a brave fighter, who happened to meet a very brave young soldier, that we survived.
After three days, we started understanding the magnitude of the disaster. Today, two weeks later, the extent of the disaster is still being revealed. It is an ongoing disaster. Every day, we get a message about someone who has been confirmed dead after being missing, every day, there are funerals. Dozens of friends, children. Babies and entire families were murdered. And all of them, I knew all of them. Many of them I knew personally, we worked together, ate together, exercised together, lived together in a wonderful and beautiful kibbutz which was ruined by vicious, crazy murderers.
Shavit B.