October 7 > Gaza Border Communities > Testimony of Yoed K
The alarm that sounded in Kibbutz Be’eri early in the morning on the Jewish holiday of Simchat Torah put us all into a quick lockdown and on alert for the entry of terrorists. No one could have ever imagined what would unfold.
I locked myself in the housing unit (a small living room and a bomb shelter). I quickly arranged the room to make it appear empty, as if no one was there. Like everyone else, I hid under the bed, waiting for what was to come.
Powerful gunshots increased within seconds all over the kibbutz, along with shouts in Arabic of "Allah Akbar" ("Allah is the greatest"). I understood that it was not a single terrorist squad that had infiltrated the kibbutz, but crowds of terrorists who were searching everywhere to harm people. They were trying to conquer the kibbutz!
On top of all that, the smell of heavy smoke filled the air; they were burning everything and setting houses on fire.
The fear that terrorists would enter my room grew. The front door was a regular door, and in one kick, they could break it open and get to me. My parents were texting me, trying to comfort me. It turns out that not much more could be done. I asked myself: "Where were the military forces that would come and rescue us all?"
At about 10:30 a.m, the terrorists arrived and tried to enter while shouting and shooting. The fear was paralyzing, especially as I had no weapons to defend myself or fight. Every second felt like an eternity. I stayed still, not moving a millimeter; it was the least I could do to protect myself. I prepared myself for the worst.
"Hamas terrorists returned and shot at the room, this time from the window of the bomb shelter"
And somehow, a great miracle happened. I don't have a reasonable explanation. After a few long minutes, the terrorists "gave up" and didn’t enter.
I don't know; maybe, my late grandfather David, who had passed away about a year ago, came down and watched over me. (Grandfather David and his grandfather Shlomo Zvi Kahat, bless their memory, after whom I am named Yoed-Shlomo).
The whole time, which felt endless, I was looking at my grandfather's pictures, praying.
My father sent me a clip of the blessing of the "Angel Savior" told by children in real-time from the synagogue. It was the morning of ‘Simchat Torah’ where children say this blessing under a shared tallit (a shawl with fringed corners worn over the head or shoulders by Jewish men) after reading the Torah. The truth is that I really have no explanation other than this was a miracle.
Later, a very close family member comforted me, telling me that rescue forces were on their way and I would be rescued. He had received information and also tried to calm me down.
Again, Hamas terrorists returned and shot at the room, this time from the window of the bomb shelter, a barrage of fire and shouts of conquest. This was pure horror and fear. It takes so much strength to keep holding on amid such chaos!
Who would have believed that we’d find ourselves in such an absurd situation? I didn't even have a weapon. Lying without moving an inch for many hours was maddening, and my body was filled with excruciating pain. Again, they gave up and moved on.
At about 6:00 p.m, my phone connection was cut off, and the network went down; I was totally disconnected. I sent a location, hoping they would recognize it. There is no doubt that the situation was screwed up from all directions.
At about 10:30 a.m, the terrorists arrived and tried to enter while shouting and shooting. The fear was paralyzing, especially as I had no weapons to defend myself or fight. Every second felt like an eternity. I stayed still, not moving a millimeter; it was the least I could do to protect myself. I prepared myself for the worst.
I worried about the students I was teaching, afraid for their families, agonizing over the members of the kibbutz and their fate. Veterans and adults, children and babies. My heart was filled with worry and hurt, and I had no way to help.
At about 10:00 p.m, I started hearing noises getting closer and closer to the room. After a few minutes of fearing that it was terrorists trying to sound like soldiers, I realized that they were from the special operations 'Diamond' unit of the IDF.
As I moved out from hiding, I saw them standing in the doorway to the room, pointing their weapons at me. They too wanted to be sure that I wasn't disguised as a terrorist. "We came to rescue you, Yoed."
I felt exhausted, with no more strength. The soldiers took me out and asked me to look after a lady who was hiding in another apartment. Obviously, that's what I did, without a weapon. She was lucky that she wasn't hurt. She was an elderly woman, probably with dementia, and didn't understand at all what was happening, and maybe that's what saved her.
After two hours of endless shootings, explosions, and a bloody battle throughout the farm area, more soldiers arrived to collect and rescue us again. The 'Diamond' and '504' units took us and several other families out of this holocaust.
And there are no words to describe the horror that happened at my second home, Kibbutz Be’eri, which is special to my heart.
Unfortunately, I lost 7 students who were killed, and another 7 are "missing."
And no, it's not about numbers. The numbers are not the point at all; it's about each and every one who was murdered and slaughtered. Each one is a world unto themselves.
The destruction that happened and the pogrom they carried out is no less than what they did to us 80 years ago. There’s one major difference though: at that time, we were in exile and didn’t have a country, and didn’t have the IDF (Israel Defence Forces). And now the horror has happened here in the State of Israel.
Kibbutz Be’eri was completely wiped out - almost every second house was burned down, and almost every family lost someone.
Enough... I am out of words.
"And maybe... these things never happened."
Love you all.
Yoed K.