I will share my testimony of what we went through in the Kisufim operations room to clarify and propagate what happened. Questions like “Where were the military observers (combat intelligence collection corps)”? circulating online must stop.
It’s 4:00 am on Saturday morning. October 7th. I wake up for another shift.
It starts at 6:30 a.m. Missile alerts popping up on the detection system, red alert sirens blaring, and deafening booms. All within a few seconds.
Each one of us had at least three squads on different communication lines. Then it happened to me.
Dozens of terrorists, I couldn’t keep count.
Motorcycles, and a tractor tearing down the border fence, followed by pickup trucks.
It felt surreal, like a computer game. I thought, tomorrow I’ll wake up and tell everybody that I dreamt there was a raid.
I identify an explosion and am convinced that our Air Force is striking, that we’re in control. It took me two seconds to realize the explosion came from the terrorists bursting through the border fence.
The terrorists move on to the next destination – towards Kibbutz Kissufim. Towards us.
I waited for the cameras to show the Air Force bombing them, but that never happened. Then the camera stopped working, so I relied on the non-visual detection system. They’re here.
We abandon our positions and hide. Some girls faint, others pray. We find out that one of our friends is in the shelter. We are surrounded by Arabic shrieks, and we pray so hard.
We hear the heartbreaking cries of a baby who has not even celebrated his first birthday. Why is this world so cruel?
In retrospect, I understand that we were under God’s supervision. Our most important camera had been resurrected; it was working! I hear, “Prepare for a squad at…” and then, a UAV drops its bomb.
We are relatively in control and crawl out of our hiding places. The operations room looks like a bloody murder scene you see on the news but is censored because the sights are so difficult. The floor is covered in blood.
I try to stay calm and maintain my composure while helping the wounded. I answer the phones when we get a call from the operations room – it’s Adi! She’s hiding in the shelter area, and rescue forces will come for her soon. More phone calls come in from civilians looking for relatives and loved ones who were partying at Re’im.
Radio communications were down, so the combat soldiers with us in the operations room went to the main gate to gauge the situation. They were bombed and didn’t come back.
Seven of us were left. If backup doesn’t arrive soon, we’ll die.
The electricity goes out, the generator too. The electric door to the operations room opened. Terrorists were walking freely in the base, and the door was wide open.
We start barricading the entrance, and point our weapons at it, fingers on the trigger.
It’s completely dark. At 10:00 p.m., backup began to arrive, and we were rescued.
It was a 7-minute walk from the operations room to the buses. Tears streamed down my face, a swelling in my throat, passing bodies lying on the floor. Those 7 minutes felt like an eternity.
I’m at home with an aching heart, for my sister observers who didn’t make it, for all my friends that I will only see again in photographs. I can’t even imagine what the hostages are going through.
I can’t get these images out of my head. They are etched in my mind forever.
May they rest in peace.