We were staying for a holiday duty at the Erez cargo outpost, next to the Zikim military base, on the northern border of the Gaza Strip. I woke up at 6:20 in the morning to the sounds of sirens and shooting above us, from Gaza towards the north. It was like waking up to a black morning, the whole sky was filled with rockets. At this point, we didn’t know the size of the event and we ran to a shelter in the outpost.
"We realized that there were terrorists in the outpost, and as we understood the situation we had to concentrate our forces and create a line of defense - and decide that the terrorists will not pass us."
On the radio, we heard that our Company’s Deputy Commander’s vehicle ran over a load and there was an injured person in the outpost’s tank, and the lookout soldiers let us know that 8 terrorists that had come from the ocean were making their way towards us. It was like going zero to 100, from routine to emergency. In an instant all us soldiers got all the equipment, and basically realized that we are at war for our very existence.
We realized that there were terrorists in the outpost, and as we understood the situation we had to concentrate our forces and create a line of defense - and decide that the terrorists will not pass us. We got ourselves organized professionally behind barriers. The firing was really close and we were fighting at short range.
At a certain point, Ofir Tzioni, may his memory be blessed, got hit twice through a slit in the side of his ceramic vest. He fell back and died and Dvir the company medic carried him back to be rescued, checking to see if there was anything he could do to help. I took his place and continued firing. At this point the terrorists were really close, maybe 30 meters in front of us. But I continued moving forward not because I am some big hero or something, but because all the hours and days of your army training boil down to this one distinct moment, which is the moment of combat and that's what happened.
Credit: Ynet
[A few minutes later I was hit by a bullet in the face] My whole jaw and front teeth flew into my mouth, with a lot of blood. It was really difficult to breathe. The terrorists immediately threw a grenade to ensure killing me. The grenade landed something like 10cm from my leg. I decided that this grenade would not kill me and I ran back. [In those moments] There are no feelings, no thoughts. The moment you get into fighting mode, you are like a machine. You respond to a situation without emotion. The adrenalin is really high and I still can’t feel the pain, but I know I don’t have a lot of time to keep breathing on my own. Looking back, my friends told me that they found me covered in blood, with remnants of my own teeth, and they looked for a way to evacuate me to a hospital.
"We continued waiting, and in the end, Yaakobi, the cook of the outpost, took off his shirt to stop the blood and said to me, “I have my private car here. Come, I will take you to the hospital."
We were in a Migunit [small, concrete doorless shelter] and called the ambulance but realized that it was not relevant. We continued waiting, and in the end, Yaakobi, the cook of the outpost, where this is the first time I am meeting him, took off his shirt to stop the blood and said to me, “I have my private car here. Come, I will take you to the hospital.” I realized that I was in a situation where I can’t trust my own judgment, so I took a picture of my injury and sent it to my brother who is a senior officer for an elite unit, to check if the offer of going to hospital independently in a civilian car is rational. He encouraged me that it was a good decision and in hindsight also saved my life.
During our drive out to Barzilai Medical Center in Ashkelon, we came across another convoy of terrorists that took one of our other company vehicles. During the incident, I did not return fire because they might think we were terrorists and I was afraid of two-sided shooting. I recognized the vehicle number and I was sure it was our guys because they were found in the place where our fighters were supposed to be during a raid into the area.
The cook who rescued me was hit in the back. He stopped the car and I yelled at him, “Either you keep driving or I'll take over!” So Yaakobi, the fantastic cook who saved my life, realized that he must continue driving and he brought me for first aid treatment in Ashkelon.
Rahamim S.
Credit: Ynet