Over 1,400 Israelis Were Murdered

Act Now!

I text my Inbar that I love him and hold on. No blue check mark. No check mark.

06:30 Saturday morning. Heavy bombardments in the area. Kob and I jump out of bed and race to the kitchen…

I text my Inbar that I love him and hold on. No blue check mark. No check mark.

06:30 Saturday morning.

Heavy bombardments in the area. Kob and I jump out of bed and race to the kitchen window, surprised at the unusual amount of launches. We hear a strange sound coming from nearby. Snipers? We’re not sure.

Kob starts the coffee. “Here we go, another round.”

That’s what we thought was happening. Little did we know. We look out the window. A white pickup truck stops at the entrance to the neighborhood. Ten terrorists (maybe more), dressed in black, black masks and weapons, are jumping out.

They split up. Five are crossing the lawn towards our house. Five are running towards our beloved neighbor’s house.

I still don’t get it, I ask Kob: “What is this?” Kob doesn’t understand what he’s looking at either.

07:02 am,

I’m texting my Whatsapp group, Women of Kfar Aza, “There are armed men in black in the neighborhood, running around and shooting.”

Someone writes, “they’re our soldiers.” Another woman replies, “get inside the safe rooms.”

The terrorists are right next to the house. I see the white headbands on their heads.

Hamas.

Shouting.

“Itbah Al Yahud.” [Arabic for, “slay the Jews”]

“Allahu Akbar.”

We run to the safe room.

Someone texts, “Terrorist infiltration.” Someone answers, “Don’t scare us like that.”

These were our last two minutes living in an illusion, when we still knew nothing, sweet, inconceivable innocence. The life we knew is now over.

In no time, the WhatsApp filled with cries for help from every area of the kibbutz:

  • They are shooting at the house!
  • They are here!
  • They are in my house, help, please!
  • Heavy shooting on my house.
  • Mine too.
  • They are breaking into the house!!! Please help!!!

08:58 – A report of a wounded man near the complex. Needs urgent evacuation.

I text some emergency squad members- Man down near the complex, needs a tourniquet now.

  • They are trying to open the safe room, help!
  • Hold the handle tight.
  • Get to my parents, now!
  • Has anyone seen Gila Peled? Her family from the moshav is worried. [She was killed in cold blood].
  • Tamar K., Aviv’s mother, texts- No contact with Aviv K. and family, need help to check on them [Entire family was killed in cold blood].
  • Someone explains how to make a tourniquet.
  • Someone begs- Please go check on my parents.

For long, long hours, all my Whatsapp groups are flooded with calls for help, pleas, locations, directions. In one apartment, Ofir, Israel, and Itay, my grandson. In another, located in the Young Generation (area in the kibbutz), my Inbar and his partner Adi. Oriani is under the bed in our saferoom.

Don’t let them murder Kobi. Who would be my anchor? Don’t let them murder Orian, because I will die of sorrow.”

Bursts of gunfire in the neighborhood. Endless blasts, near, far, everywhere. I hear someone wounded screaming nearby. And then silence.

10:18

Inbar texts- Need rescue now. They are at our house. Please.

And that is it. Last contact with Inbar. Last contact with the Young Generation neighborhood.

I text Emily (Inbar’s classmate and next door neighbor). Nothing.

Itay screams, Ofir is begging for help, and I am helpless.

Kob is patrolling the house. A terrorist with a MAG is walking up the path toward the house.

The blinds are shut, the doors are locked.

Silence.

Don’t talk.

Don’t breathe.

They’re here.

Fire at the house. Bursts of gunfire from every direction. The windows shatter.

Inbar is not answering.

The Duvdevan Unit arrived at the kibbutz. I think: Okay, that’s it, it’s over.

It isn’t. This holocaust, this massacre, this heavy tragedy I’m not even beginning to comprehend, is not over.

“And all I can think is: my Inbar and Adi are gone.”

More elite units enter the kibbutz. Maglan, Duvdevan, Paratroopers, Commando, Giv’ati. More reports of wounded. More begging for immediate rescue. More, and more, and more.

Time goes by.

And all I can think is: my Inbar and Adi are gone.

Please don’t let them go into Ofir and Israel’s house. Please, if only Itay would stop crying. Please, if we just hang in there. Please don’t let them murder me. Who will care for the survivors if I’m gone? Don’t let them murder Kobi. Who would be my anchor? Don’t let them murder Orian, because I will die of sorrow.

Don’t let the night come. Just make this end. Our army is strong.

19:08

They are here again. The house is surrounded. Heavy fire at the house. Shouting in Arabic. Orian is under the bed. I am terrified. Kobi, my hero, Is trying to dismantle the safe room door handle from outside, to lock us in. It doesn’t work.

I see our lives run out.

23:00

Thank God, Israel, Ofir and Itay are rescued. I hold on to hope.

00:30

Terrorists on the roof. I text the Whatsapp groups-

  • Movement on our roof
  • Urgent, they’re trying to break in
  • They’re on the roof
  • Trying to get inside

Bangs on the walls from every direction, banging on the roof.

A few minutes later a Giv’ati squad gets to us. Fire exchanges, banging on our door. Kobi says: “Is it the army?” We try to listen through the safe room door. We can’t tell. Are they soldiers? Or terrorists trying to get inside?

They break a window and glass shatters. They’re at the safe room door, saying: “IDF, IDF!” Kobi whispers: “I’m going to open the door.” “Don’t!” I say. “They’re terrorists, don’t open.” Kob makes the decision. He opens the door that has been shut for 18 hours.

We see soldiers. It’s hard to believe our own eyes.

Two minutes to gather important belongings. We get into the Hummer. They are covering us from all directions. We go through the gate and get to the Alonit (grocery store). More of our people are there.

I can’t breathe.

I burst into tears. Someone holds me. A soldier gives us water to drink. My legs are not holding me up. I sit down on the sidewalk.

This horrific nightmare is not over, it is only beginning. More and more terrible news of beloved friends murdered in cold blood, missing. We pray for miracles.

How can we rise from this dreadful devastation? How do we go on from here? Where is my Inbar? Where is Adi? What if they’re hurt and no one can reach them? What if they were kidnapped? I text my Inbar that I love him and hold on.

No blue check mark.

No check mark.

Sunday, 12:30 PM

Unknown caller. It’s Adi: “Naomi, we were rescued, we’re okay.” I collapse.

They went through 30 hours of suffering and I have yet to write their incredible story of this inconceivable miracle.

Thank you everyone for your help and support, I’m sorry I don’t call and don’t really answer.

I’m still trying to breathe again.

Naomi H.