October 7 > Gaza Border Communities > Testimony of Gili Y
I'm Gili Y., soon to be 23 years old, from Kibbutz Kfar Aza. On Friday, I was having dinner in our Sukkah with the family of my brother's partner.
Her whole family was with us, really, including her grandmother and uncles, all of them.
We had about 30 people in the Sukkah that evening, it was a very joyful evening having everyone together. On that same evening, I also had a conversation with my friends who I had plans to attend the Nova party with. They asked if I was going to join them, offering to pick me up. I was really debating whether to go to this party, but a strange gut feeling compelled me to stay at home.
Gili Y. (credit: Ben Cohen from "Edut Rishona")
That evening I also met with my friends from the kibbutz at a friend’s house. We stayed up late. After that I came home and went to bed. I was woken up by the first Red Alert [siren].
I ran to the safe room with my parents who were also at home. We ran to the safe room, all three of us. I immediately had a feeling that there was more to the situation than what we were witnessing.
Never in my life have I experienced this amount of sirens. Neither have I had such a bad gut feeling to the extent that I left the safe room to turn on the TV. Our house’s safe room is an extension of my parents' room. So I went to my parents' room to turn on the TV to see if there was anything on the news. I didn't see anything unusual [being reported].
I even wrote to a friend who was at the party telling her that something strange was happening, so that they knew that something was going on. In between the sirens I went to get my phone and charger from my room. And then again another siren echoed prompting us to get back inside the safe room.
“Suddenly at 07:30 am we started to hear fifty, sixty terrorists outside the house shouting in Arabic, talking loudly.
Then we started hearing really strange noises from outside, the sound of gunshots. Although I kind of figured out what I was hearing and what was going on, I asked my dad about the noise. He confirmed that it was indeed gunshots, so we tried to listen in to the noises beyond the walls. We were really quiet and alert. It was really early in the morning, I was up from 6:40 because of the sirens.
Suddenly at 07:30 am we started to hear fifty, sixty terrorists outside the house shouting in Arabic, talking loudly. We figured out on our own that these were terrorists. I immediately asked my father, 'Maybe we can run away? Or should we go get knives'. I also admitted to him that I hadn’t locked the house the night before.
Following our conversation, my father promptly went out to lock the door and came back inside. Luckily at that point nobody had entered the house yet.
He returned to the safe room and then we heard them approaching the house. It happens that we have a big garden behind the safe room, so we could hear that they were getting closer. As we realized they were entering the house, I held my dog's mouth shut so he wouldn't bark and expose us. I bid my parents farewell, saying that at least we would die together. I made sure to tell them how much I loved them.
They [the terrorists] entered and started shooting at everything in the house, they literally went through the entire house shooting... They started from the living room, from the main entrance, with the sounds of grenades and bombs. They just shot at everything that was possible to shoot at. Then they advanced to the safe room where my father was clutching the door handle, blocking the entry. We had nothing protecting us, only my father who was clutching the door handle tightly. Meanwhile, they shouted at us 'Jews, Jews' in Arabic and 'Allah Akbar' and all kinds of other things.
“My dad got shot in the hand at this point. Everything was dark”
They started shooting at the safe room, bullets penetrating inside. There was the door leading into the safe room, then opposite to it there was a window. We had a piano right under that window. My mother and I found ourselves pressed against the wall adjacent to the door, while my father was holding the handle.
There were [bullets] buzzing in front of my face, ringing in my ears and gunpowder all around. Meanwhile, we were just clinging to each other. My dad got shot in the hand at this point. Everything was dark. I just wanted to understand whether or not I was alive...
I had many thoughts going through my head, that I was the target and they were shooting at me. There was only a door separating me from them. Then there was a second of silence. My father heard that an explosive device was being attached to the door. He was also clinging to us while he was holding the door. He took the handle with both hands and used his whole body to resist the push.
And then there was the explosion: I saw my father propel through the air, his hands were blown up, blood gushing. He slid on the floor, he was burned a bit on the chest, he received a strong blow to the head, and he collapsed on the floor. Our first miracle was that the door slammed shut. This was because they loaded the device while he was holding the handle tight, which jammed the door. But then there was this hole in the door. Amidst the chaos, that moment I grasped that I was OK. It was like in the movies: there was a loud beeping in my ears, and I was covered in gunpowder and my father’s blood, which was splattered everywhere. I understood that from then on we were fighting for our lives and I was determined to save my father’s life. I quickly asked him what to do. We heard that the terrorists shot a little more inside [the house], but then they left. I did not think about it much more, I remember just focusing on rescuing my dad.
“I asked him what to do and he told me to apply a tourniquet [...] So I swiftly took my phone charger and used it to tie one of his hands”
They moved along. I don't know why, and even at that moment I wasn't too concerned with it, I was only worried about my father who had blood coming out of him in large quantities.. It was horrible.. I asked him what to do and he told me to apply a tourniquet. When I had gone to grab my phone, before the power went out, I had also brought the charger and plugged it into the wall. So I swiftly took my phone charger and used it to tie one of his hands. I looked for more cables in the safe room and managed to find another one.
We had this very old phone. I broke and disconnected the cables and tied his other hand.
At that point I sent everyone messages that my father was critically wounded, and that there were terrorists in Kfar Aza - thinking I was the one to break the news...
We entered the safe room because of the rocket sirens, we were not told anything else.
I had only entered the safe room because of the rockets, oblivious to the unfolding events.
I wrote messages to my family, to my brother, who was also in the kibbutz in the youth's apartment. I wrote to him that my father was seriously injured and that we needed an ambulance urgently, urgently, urgently. In our conversations I told him that I love him and that there were thirty terrorists at the house, and that I can still hear them from outside.
I wrote 'Dad is injured, just send troops here because I have to take care of him' - on my phone, my mother's phone, my father's phone. I just sent messages to everyone, endlessly.
“For two hours we tried to keep him conscious. I brought him water, talked to him, cried, assuring him that he saved our lives"
For two hours we tried to keep him conscious. I brought him water, talked to him, cried, assuring him that he saved our lives and that I was fine, and that he was going to stay with us - alive. After two hours I heard strange noises from outside. I opened the window and (it felt like it was after five minutes, they told me it was after two hours) I saw Golani's soldiers.
They were just outside the window of the safe room . They were passing by, I only saw them by chance. They were following the terrorists. I shouted at them, I screamed at them outside the window, because the door was slammed, so only through the window was the way,
I talked to all of them. I cried, begging them to come, saying my father was critically wounded, and that I need urgent, urgent help.
They approached and I remember - or I imagined - that they started speaking Arabic. Maybe they were, or maybe I just imagined it. And then I had this fear that maybe it wasn't soldiers, and I also remember that I took my mother aside, like “just a second!”.
Then suddenly I heard that they were calling each other by nicknames, last names, and I said okay, they must be soldiers. They came closer to the window, brought me a tourniquet, and I begged them to stay and take me away. They said they were engaged in a mission and had to really press ahead with their task.
And then, I also spotted this really important military figure from Kfar Aza, in an unusual sight, starting to explain to them what to do. He was assisting the soldiers, striving to make sense of the unfolding situation. I shouted for him to come to the window. He was shocked. I thought he was shocked because I told him there were terrorists in Kfar Aza and that my father was wounded. But afterwards, when I spoke with him on the phone, he said he was actually shocked because I was screaming outside the window while 200 terrorists were roaming around Kfar Aza, a lot of them right across from me. I said I was just screaming for someone to come help me save my father. He brought me a tourniquet and carried on [helping] the soldiers.
“He had a paramedic vest and was wearing a kippah. I also shouted for him to come to the window. He came in, and he skillfully applied a tourniquet to my father"
After two minutes I saw the first angel - someone from the Sa’ad Rapid Response Squad.
He had a paramedic vest and was wearing a kippah. I also shouted for him to come to the window. He came in, and he skillfully applied a tourniquet to my father. He had a weapon which gave me a sense of security. I had some reassurance that I could look after my father and my mother. He was armed, and he could also apply the tourniquet properly to my father. After him, two more members of Sa’ad's Rapid Response Squad entered: one of them was wounded, a bullet penetrated his cheeks, 6mm close to the main artery.
There was another one with an M16, also from Saad's Rapid Response Squad. They were wearing civilian [regular, not uniform] clothes. They came to Kfar Aza as they thought there were just people wounded there, from rockets not from terrorists, and they were now looking for a hiding place.
When they heard my screams, they rushed inside. At that moment, it was just us and the three of them when they finally disclosed to us what was happening in the kibbutz.
They had weapons, which provided me a sense of security, and we all acted so [unconcerned around each other]. I found myself peeing with them nearby, still in my pajamas, full of blood, it was such a weird situation. He was bleeding, my father was also wounded, it was a surreal situation. In the meantime I kept sending messages to everyone that my father was wounded, and that I needed soldiers and an ambulance as soon as possible. I was constantly on the phone with people, with the emergency service. They told me there was an ambulance on the way. At some point they called me and I asked them: "It's been two hours, where are you?” They then informed me that it was not possible to enter Kfar Aza.
I naively opened the gate, seemingly oblivious to the reasons why it was not possible to enter Kfar Aza. I was told no one could reach us. Armed forces were on their way to us, but they couldn’t make it because they were getting killed on the way.
From the second the terrorists first came to my house, my body was on high alert. My mind went blank. Later, as I revisited the correspondence with my brother, I read messages in which I wrote to him that there were noises outside, and that I heard terrorists, but it’s like I cannot even remember that. I was so focused on my father, who was in a very critical condition. I had already arranged for my brothers to talk to him on the phone, ensuring that no matter what happened, they wouldn't find themselves at his funeral without having had the chance to say their goodbyes. Every imaginable scenario raced through my mind during those tense moments.
At a certain point I became aware that there were armed forces en route to our location.
We heard a tank rumbling and I prompted my mother, 'Go out to them!'
The guys from Sa’ad told us, of course, not to go, that there are terrorists outside. But we said “No, no, we are going out.”
“When I went inside, I saw that the house was destroyed. I entered my bedroom to put some clothes on. I saw my whole closet, full of holes. I started shaking and almost passed out”.
My mother went out, she saw the tank, saw bodies nearby, came inside, then went back to the safe room . She walked right along the paths, which was very frightening. At some point I also went out of the window of the safe room, and got inside the house through my parents' balcony. I said that if they kidnap me, then at least I would not be in pajamas, full of blood. At minimum I'll change my clothes. One paramedic told me to bring sugar, to make him [my father] like a liquid infusion, and to bring straws, because we hadn’t managed to make him drink water properly.
When I went inside, I saw that the house was destroyed. I entered my bedroom to put some clothes on. I saw my whole closet, full of holes. I started shaking and almost passed out. And I remember talking to myself saying, 'Gili, put a shirt on, pants and go back to the safe room ’'. I was mostly talking to myself, trying to stay focused all the time, not to run away or pass out, and to stay as strong as possible.
So we went back inside. Luckily nobody was inside the house, or they didn’t catch anyone. I had no idea what they did in Kfar Aza, like, I wasn't scared at all.
I went back to the safe room, I kept talking to my father, we made sure he had ventilation, we brought him water. When he wanted to, we opened the window - they were keeping the window closed. We also brought the key to the car, so that we could drive him.
Then they told us, “You can't leave! There are three hundred terrorists here, there are bodies everywhere, you can't!” But we didn't understand. We could not comprehend: where was the army? How come no one was coming? How come the ambulance could not get to my house? It had been hours already.
We were constantly told that there were armed forces on their way to us, but that they were unable to reach us. I asked my father: “let me know once you cannot hold on any longer, so that I can say goodbye to you”. I kept telling my mother, “Stay with him! Stay with him! Take care of him in his last moments, I'm on the phone”. I still had reception, I kept sending everyone messages, locations, talking to doctors. I added: 'You must be with him in his last moments. Only if he feels he can no longer endure, then I'll say goodbye to him”.
I was not aware of what was happening in the other kibbutzim either, where all the soldiers were. [What was happening] in Nahal Oz, I didn't know anything. About the Gaza Division..
I just couldn’t understand where the army was. We kept asking: “where is the army?”
My father was going to die next to me. We had 30 terrorists in the house at a point. How come no one was coming? Where were all the armed forces? How come the ambulance couldn’t get to my house? It broke me.
But the whole time we just wanted to believe that eventually they would come. My dad even said at some point, 'I'll go out! Get me out of here! Lift me!'. He just couldn't [handle it]. He was saying: “Just let me go”. I just wanted to listen to my father's last words and fulfill his last request. Those from Sa’ad were saying “Absolutely not!” They had weapons with them, and that gave me this sense of security. If they weren’t there, we would have left, run away...We even got out and went inside the house. And we would have done something, because no one is coming to save us. For hours and hours.
“Then at one o'clock in the afternoon [...] he said that he could not hold on any longer, that these were his last ten minutes and he could not endure any longer. It broke me”
Then at one o'clock in the afternoon, after my father sat there injured since 7:50 am, he said that he could not hold on any longer, that these were his last ten minutes and he could not endure any longer. It broke me.
I just wanted to... I remember sitting above him, perched across his body. I held his legs, because he had no hands. His blood didn't stop flowing, as he also had a bullet wound.
It was harrowing. I found myself holding his legs, saturated with blood, crying and pleading with him to stay a little longer, hoping that someone would eventually come to save us.
Meanwhile, I was also talking to my family. Our neighbors were paramedics, they didn't answer us... We thought it was where the gunshots we heard at the beginning must have been. I also spoke with another family, who kept saying that they had armed forces at their place, and that they told them to get to us. I kept thinking that someone was on their way to us for something like two hours. I urged my father: “[Hold on] a little more! There is someone on the way, there are armed forces on the way to us,” then again “there are more armed forces on the way to us”. Like that for hours. Then he said “I cannot do this anymore”.
I heard it, then I lost it, I said that's it, I started screaming.
I did not care who came to the house, to the window, to the safe room All I knew was that I would do anything just so that he could hold on a little longer and that I would save his life.
Then I heard noises from outside.
“The small chance that there would be soldiers out there, it was what kept me going. I climbed up to the piano which was all perforated, I opened the window, started shouting”
I came to the window to open it and started shouting. The guys from Sa’ad warned me, “Don’t do that! There are terrorists! Don’t you understand what's going on here, you can't shout! They will hear us, they will come here”. I started to push back: “I don’t care! You can’t tell me what to do! This is my house”, that's how I tried to dissuade them.
“I'm calling them over now!” I said, just for that one small chance, I thought, this is death, so I told them, “My father is going to die, I'm going to die, everyone is going to die, it doesn't matter anymore”. The small chance that there would be soldiers out there, it was what kept me going. I climbed up to the piano which was all perforated, I opened the window, started shouting. I didn’t even know who I was shouting to, like, I didn’t see anyone. I was screaming, "Help, help! We're here, we're here, my father is going to die”. I was crying, tears streaming, I had an urge to shake the ground beneath me, just so that someone could hear me.
Then I heard people saying, “Hey, I hear the voice of an Israeli girl, come on” and then, and I'm like, “Yes! We are here! We are here”. It was at 1 pm in the afternoon when the Maglan unit arrived. It was a huge miracle that it was them and not the terrorists. One of the people from Sa’ad urged them: “Go to the house across the street”. He was aiming in that direction the whole time. He was constantly seeing strange movements there. I said: “No, no, no, no! You must come to our safe room!”, this is how I spoke with the officers, "You must enter, now, I don’t care, you are not going to any house to check, you are now coming to our safe room, these are his last moments!”
One soldier said he would disobey his order and come inside. I went outside - my mom had brought a ladder at some point, when we were going in and out through the window. So I went outside, leaving my phone behind. My mom went out after me. I remember there was one guy there with a senior rank, and he said, “Soldiers, take cover! What are you doing out here?” They pinned me to the wall of the safe room, then said, “No, no, it's not safe here”, and took me behind a tree, right next to the safe room .
In that moment I distinctly remember telling myself, I don’t want to witness how they take my father out, as in, I could not bear this being my last memory of him. If he falls, if he dies in their arms, if his arm falls. I did not want to see that.
I remember I did not turn around, I just saw his leg, at some point, on one side, while he was being lifted. Then they uttered the name of the family that I spoke to, the paramedics. I told them: “Yes, yes, I know where they live”. I told them that I would take them there. At first they wanted to leave me with the neighbors, they said there were two girls there. I told them that I didn't understand, I didn't understand who the neighbors were, and what was going on. I was just determined to save my father’s life. I was not too concerned with the fact that I was all covered in blood, that my phone was left in the safe room. The last messages I sent were that there were terrorists in the house and I was going to die, that I loved them all. My phone was there for three days, until they brought it to me.
“We were walking in an open area, at 1 pm in the afternoon. At that point there were 300 terrorists in Kfar Aza. It was like in an action movie”
And so I told them I would take them [to the paramedics]. We headed out to this family’s house with the soldiers, who were carrying my father, together with the three guys from Sa’ad, and my mother. We were walking in an open area, at 1 pm in the afternoon. At that point there were 300 terrorists in Kfar Aza. It was like in an action movie, walking through the bushes, and this huge grass. It was about a three minute walk, inside Kfar Aza, while terrorists were roaming around. I was only thinking about getting to that house safely, and hoping my father would remain conscious a little longer until we reached them.
[On our way out] We didn't see anything unusual. There were neither dead bodies or terrorists, which was quite a miracle.. I just heard noises all the time, endless gunshots, and also a red alert siren in the background, it was a weird scene. When we arrived at the house, the door of the house was locked. I said, “I am familiar with their house, there is a balcony”. We headed to the balcony, the entire balcony was broken, the glass doors were shattered. I noticed that the soldiers were grappling with the concern of ensuring the area was free of terrorists. I saw that there was a [moment of uncertainty] contemplating the next steps.
“I told them: “My dad is here, he is injured.” They ran into the living room to see my father. They tried to carry him gently to avoid any further injury from the shattered glass”
I said ”I'm going in, I don’t care." and went inside the house, venturing into the unknown. Unaware of who I might encounter, I made my way straight to the safe room. I was familiar with the house, it was my friends’ house, their family. I reached the safe room, knocked on the door, urging them, “Don't shoot at me! It's Gili, don't shoot at me” even though I knew they were just paramedics. They opened the door, and I told them: “My dad is here, he is injured.” They ran into the living room to see my father. They tried to carry him gently to avoid any further injury from the shattered glass. They laid him on the floor, and I went inside to their mother, collapsing in her arms. I cried, choking, for hours. We were at their house from 2 o’clock or something. The [soldiers] ran away, saying: “Gili, don't leave the safe room, so that you don't have to see these horrors anymore”, also “There are terrorists roaming around, stay in the safe room”. I was with the mother inside the safe room. The father and eldest son, the paramedics, went to treat my father in the living room. They brought another officer from Maglan who was critically wounded, and several more soldiers. They literally opened a medical center in their house, under war, under fire, without a minute of rest.
Then I stayed in the safe room, they brought me water and some wet wipes to clean all the blood that was all over me, and they tried to give my father a transfusion. There were no more veins in his hands. They said that there was a helicopter waiting at Sa’ad, a kibbutz in our vicinity.
When I heard this, I told my mother: “You're not leaving my father... you're not leaving him, I'm staying here, take the phone…”. When we escaped my mother took her phone, my dad’s phone and a charger. I wasn’t even thinking, I had just fought with the soldiers so that they wouldn't leave him; I had been so focused on this, to take them to this family, making sure they would not contemplate for a second to go anywhere else.
So I told her: “I will hold on to dad’s phone, you take yours, go with him, I'm staying here."
I knew there was no point for me to join them, there was no room in the helicopter. I knew there were other wounded people in the house, which also needed to be evacuated. My mother begged to get into the Hummer as well. In the end she said: “I'll take you to Sa’ad, I know where it is”.
She convinced them [the soldiers], so she got in. They took my father with them, along with the wounded officer, and the guy from Sa’ad with the bullet between his cheeks. The other two from Sa’ad, one being the paramedic, remained inside. The family from the house we sought refuge in, also stayed in.
“I didn't want to allow myself to be frightened. It was like I wasn't fully functioning. All I could think about was that I had to save my father, and that was my sole concern, nothing else mattered”
And that was it. I stayed in the safe room, using my father’s phone to access the sporadic reception available. My father is in the Tzachi team, a kibbutz rescue team, so I kept seeing correspondence on his WhatsApp asking where the terrorists are, saying that there are still terrorists in Kfar Aza, that people got killed, that houses were burnt.
It was only at that point that I realized that once we left the safe room, heading to this family, we were exposed to 300 terrorists. It was like I didn't really understand, I didn't grasp it. Firstly because I was not aware [of the full picture], but also I could not process this. I didn't want to allow myself to be frightened. It was like I wasn't fully functioning. All I could think about was that I had to save my father, and that was my sole concern, nothing else mattered. If I hadn't stepped out of the safe room and taken that chance, I wouldn't have been able to scream for help and bring over the soldiers. That's what it came down to.. I was ready [to take that chance].
So they drove off. During that time I was trying to talk to my mother, they were driving towards the gate of the kibbutz. A Hamas van was there. They were shooting at their vehicle. Two soldiers got hit by bullets, injured, murdered, but somehow not my mother, not my father, not the driver, nor the wounded people from Sa’ad.
“The driver, whose team mates were killed next to him, continued to drive without braking, without getting punctures in the wheels, despite the barrage of gunshots fired at the vehicle. They miraculously reached the gate of the kibbutz”
My father, who was still conscious at the time, and my mother both recall that after having been under fire at home, they found themselves once again amidst bullets flying everywhere - a horrific situation. The driver, whose team mates were killed next to him, continued to drive without braking, without getting punctures in the wheels, despite the barrage of gunshots fired at the vehicle. They miraculously reached the gate of the kibbutz. According to my mother, they only came to a halt when they spotted a lot of soldiers, and military personnel. The sight of the vehicle and the passengers emerging alive left them in shock. Even their evacuation was under gunfire. There wasn't a single second that we weren't being shot at.
My mother said there was one big mess there, that she saw others from Kfar Aza, including wounded members of the rapid response squad who survived. She wanted someone to escort her from the gate to the kibbutz Sa’ad itself. There was a mess there as well. In the end my father got on the helicopter. By the time they brought him in the helicopter, he had already lost consciousness. The efforts of 669 [unit] saved his life.
My mother got on another helicopter after half an hour, and she wrote to me to let me know this. My only certainty at that point was that, even though I did not know if my dad was going to survive or not, he was on a helicopter and that my mom was going with him. I got a message from my brother, that he was no longer in the youth apartments. I had no idea at all what he was going through. There were also terrorists at his place from 10 in the morning. I knew that he was aware my father was critically wounded, and that he did everything he could to ensure the armed forces got to us. I had no idea about the rest of the story. He only told me the next day, when I got to the hospital.
I knew he wasn't there, I also knew my little sister was at a party that evening, in the north, so she wasn't there either. Realizing that I was the only one remaining, I came to terms that I did everything I could. It seemed unlikely that anyone else was left in the kibbutz. My grandparents however were in the kibbutz, so was my aunt, in separate houses. No [intruders] came to them either, which was a miracle... God protected my entire family. I reconciled with the fact that I had done my part and I could die in peace. I spent 12 more hours in the safe room with the [paramedics] family. During that time, while I continued my sporadic correspondence using the limited phone reception, I learned that there were still terrorists around, they were still inside people’s homes. There were babies crying without parents, houses were burning. I found out the names of those who got murdered. My body just collapsed.
“I learned that there were still terrorists around, they were still inside people’s homes. There were babies crying without parents, houses were burning. I found out the names of those who got murdered. My body just collapsed.”
We stayed there for another 12 hours, from 2 pm in the afternoon until 2 in the morning. In the afternoon I found out that they were starting to evacuate the houses. I knew this would take time. But even during the evacuation, I heard gunshots, I heard Arabic. I could tell they reached the neighboring house. I could sense when the terrorists infiltrated their house also. We were just sitting quietly in the safe room. Someone every now and then grabbed and held the door handle strongly, and I was with… Both the father and the eldest son had guns, and also the guys from Sa’ad. So I said to myself that I was in the safest place, I was in the safe room, and that's it. I did everything I could, whatever happened from then on, whether the soldiers were coming, or the terrorists, I could die in peace.
Soldiers came to us again, at 10 pm in the evening. There is a bush across the door, where I heard people with weapons. We were wondering who they were. We wanted to make sure they were soldiers, and that we don’t end up with terrorists in the safe room. We had learned by then that there were also hostages in Kfar Aza. The panic attacks and suffocation kicked in. So the soldiers came in, they were inside the house with us, then they realized that there were terrorists outside and left. They came back at 2 in the morning, once again. I watched the hours pass, having no idea what was happening to my father. I only knew that he arrived in Tel Hashomer [hospital], that my mother was with him, as well as my sister, and that my brother was also on his way to Tel HaShomer.
They [soldiers] arrived at 2 in the morning, this time to evacuate us. I was crying hysterically, saying: “you have no idea what I went through! I just want to get my phone, and tell everyone that I'm alive”. We left our house open, broken into, and destroyed. I knew I wouldn't be able to see my home again. [The soldier] answered “That’s not possible”. I said “I know”. I just had one last request, to tell everyone that I was alive.
They took us by foot, they organized a bag for the family, and I was only with a bottle of water. They took us on foot to the gate of the kibbutz, where I experienced the smell of death, I saw broken and destroyed cars, smoke everywhere. I saw [army] forces running in every direction. I really remember saying to myself - it's going to sound terrible what I'm going to say now - but I thought to myself: “wow, I'm in the liberation of Auschwitz. Like, there was a little girl with a doll, so I'm a girl with a bottle of water in her hand, who cannot stop crying”. I felt alone, even though I had this amazing family who opened their home to me, they were with me for 12 hours in the safe room, and played a crucial role in saving my father's life. At some point when I was alone, I was near my grandparents' house in the kibbutz, I pleaded with the soldiers to go to them. I was aware that my aunt had been rescued and she was in Alonit Kfar Aza, waiting for my grandparents. Filled with concern for them, I implored the soldiers to go there and rescue them, emphasizing that they were elderly people, 87 years old. There had been no communication with them, so I was in the dark as to what had happened to them.
“It was 3:00 in the morning. The place was full of little babies, people in pajamas, I didn’t comprehend what was going on. I was just crying, rushing to my friends that I suddenly spotted”
I continued to Alonit where I saw the other people of Kfar Gaza for the first time. It was 3:00 in the morning. The place was full of little babies, people in pajamas, I didn’t comprehend what was going on. I was just crying, rushing to my friends that I suddenly spotted. I took a paper bag and filled it with a toothbrush, deodorant and some ointment. I didn't have anything, just this bag from Alonit. It was a surreal situation. From there I was evacuated to Ashkelon, along with a round of evacuees from some of the other houses. And that was it. Another aunt picked me up from there to Kibbutz Shoval. I told her that I couldn't stay with my aunt and wait for my grandparents, because if there was one more siren, if I heard something happened.. that was it. I could not stay in Kfar Aza one more second. So she told me: “Sure, take the bus, I'll pick you up from wherever they drop you off, and at most we'll take your grandparents in the next round”.
We just got there when I suddenly saw on the news the magnitude of the whole event. I took a shower, washed away all the blood, ate something small and drank water. I realized that my father was in intensive care, sedated and ventilated in a hospital. I remember that my body collapsed, that I passed out, to the extent that I was asleep for two hours. When I woke up in the morning, my grandparents were already at my aunt’s home in Kibbutz Shoval. My aunt was waiting to take me to see my father. On the way to Tel Hashomer, they sent a picture of my father waking up. I started to cry. I was so glad, I had been waiting for this the whole time - now it is making me cry again. I had been waiting to see him. I couldn’t believe that I was alive, that my mother was there with him, and that he woke up, like, how did it all happen.
I got there, I ran, crying, I hugged my brothers, my mother, my sister Yaheli. Through the entire ordeal, my sister had been in continuous contact with me. She had slept there on the first night, by father’s side. I went into intensive care to see my father. He was awake, terribly dazed from all the drugs, and he was all connected to [medical devices]... I just saw him, that he was alive, I cried, and I remember him saying to me, in the faint voice that came out of him, “Guli, why are you crying?” That was the sentence he uttered to me. I told him that I was glad to see him alive, and that I could not believe what was happening.
“We have established rules inside, refraining from talking about anything sad, prioritizing his [my father’s] health above everything else, following all the events in Kfar Aza.. Meanwhile I have been going from funeral to funeral”
And that was it. Since then, for the last month, we've been here, in Tel Hashomer. We are not leaving [my dad] alone. The whole family is here together, on shifts. He's fine, he's still struggling. He's conscious, and he will survive, but he's still fighting the pain in his hands. On his way here, in the helicopter they performed CPR on him, and they made intraosseous infusion, which is what brought him back to life, that's what saved him. Here they are treating his hands, and it's going to be a very, very long rehabilitation. He already had many surgeries, but he's strong, and there's an amazing [medical] department here, and everyone is roaming around my father. He continues to provide us with perspective, even as we pour out our grievances to him. He still fulfills his fatherly duties.. He is the one who wipes our tears. We have established rules inside, refraining from talking about anything sad, prioritizing his health above everything else, following all the events in Kfar Aza.. Meanwhile I have been going from funeral to funeral.
At first he [my dad] didn't know about them. Also when everyone was sending him messages, asking him about his well-being, he refrained from asking them in return, and that broke him. Now he knows, although it has been really hard to break the news to him. We did this very gently, not directly from the beginning while he was in intensive care. It was only after he arrived at the surgery department for his hands, once he was able to talk and even seemed to be walking a bit, that we began sharing the news with him gradually.. He isn’t processing it all yet. He is there for his friends, for the families of his friends, but he is seriously injured. He was in a critical condition, to the point that when we talked to the soldiers who were rescuing us, showing them how my father was doing, to thank them, they were shocked that he was alive. No one expected that... no way, like, it's incredible. He also had tourniquets for eight hours, on both hands. He fought. Seeing him fight, in the safe room, it gave me strength. He was trying to stay conscious the whole time, telling us what to do. He wanted to get out alone, he kept asking us, “Get me out , I will go”. Seeing him fight gave me the strength to fight for our lives, and not collapse, or break down. I faced the biggest horror that had ever happened to me, there were terrorists in the kibbutz, they were shooting at me .
And that's it, we're here, the whole family is strong together. We choose to concentrate on the present moment, because that's all we have, appreciating all the small victories. Every day, my father expresses his gratitude for these small victories, appreciating even the smallest accomplishments. For instance, today when he managed to walk alone, that’s what we focused on. From now on it's all about his health. Questions about where we will live, the future of Kfar Aza, the house, are not relevant at the moment. We are now focusing on his treatment and his recovery, watching him get stronger little by little. It's going to be a very long rehabilitation process, it will take a year.
They're working hard to rehabilitate, using surgeries, using all his other body parts to reconstruct his hands.. They're not giving up on him. What's next in life? I don't know, at all.
Gili Y.
Transcribed from a video testimony by Ben Cohen from "Edut Rishona"