Some questions answered and Inktober 2023 day 15, 16 and 17

We had 4 rounds of rockets fired on Tel Aviv yesterday, the last one at 21:45. A 5-year-old girl that lives in the building cried hysterically all the way to the shelter, and then while we waited for 10 minutes in the shelter, and then all the back to her parents’ apartment, and then until midnight. I couldn’t blame her.

Today will likely be marked with a lot of attacks as President Biden is planning a visit tomorrow. We’ve already had a few rounds of rockets fired on Tel Aviv, two while I was writing this post.

I decided to answer a few questions here, some from the comments, some from questions I got from friends who live abroad.

About the rocket barrages

When there’s a rocket barrage there’s a notification in all the new channels, a notification and siren from the Home Front app, a notification in the Home Front Telegram channel, and air raid sirens. The sirens are loud but depending on where you live you might not hear them very well.

The Home Front app is something that you download from the App store/Google Play for free and then it uses GPS to send you location based alerts, or you can ask for alerts for a specific area. Everyone knows the name of the area they live in, but if you don’t you can write your address in the app and it finds it for you. Tel Aviv is a large city so it has several areas: south, central, east and north. Most cities have one or two areas.

The app is GPS based and there have been issues with GPS in Israel over the last few days — as part of the war here there are deliberate GPS scrambling periods, particularly in northern Israel, where Hizballah and Hamas have been firing missiles of various kinds on cities, villages, and military outposts along the border. That means that everyone had to add their location manually to the app to receive alerts.

Once an alert sounds you have between a minute and a minute and half (depending on where you live) to get to shelter. The sirens and notifications are loud (as are the rocket explosions), and ever since they started everyone is jumpy every time there’s any kind of loud noise. It’s more pronounced now as the city is completely quiet otherwise — very few cars, buses or people around. The ambulances have changed their siren sounds to be different than they usually are, so they’ll be distinct from the siren sounds.

NOTE: People in southern Israel have much less time to get to their shelter. Those next to the Gaza border have 0-30 seconds, those slightly further away have between 30 and 45 seconds, and these areas have received by far the most rocket barrages, several of them direct hits. If you want to know how that feels, lay down in your bed, and then start the stopwatch on your phone. How long does it take you to get up, put on some sort of footwear, and either get to a windowless internal room (that isn’t the bathroom as it’s full of glass and ceramics that will shatter on impact), to your basement or to a stairwell in your building? People get injured running to safe locations all the time in part because you often have very little time to react. If you have a dog you also need to grab it and take them with you.

As you only have a minute, a minute and a half to get to shelter, and as large gatherings have been forbidden, a lot of “normal life” has completely stopped. But more on that later.

My shelter is at the basement of my building. For many buildings in Tel Aviv it’s the stairwell — you go out of your apartment, and go down two stories and wait. Our stairwell is full of glass and open to the outside world and so is unsafe. The basement is on floor minus one, and I live on the first floor, so I normally don’t have problems getting there in a minute and a half. There are people in my building that are disabled and live on the fourth floor, and you’re not allowed to use the elevator during an attack, in case you get trapped there. They stay in their apartment and hope for the best 😦

In the basement I get to meet many my neighbors, their kids and dogs, and sometimes people that were outside in the area while there were sirens and were allowed into the building to take shelter. In the past we used to leave the doors to the building open for just such cases, but now with the possibility of terrorists still active in the area, people need to be buzzed into the building or have the door opened for them.

The kids thought that it was all a big adventure at first, but as the days go by and the number of attacks doesn’t fall, it’s affecting them more and more. The dogs too range from the hysterical to the apathetic.

I have two cats which I’m forced to leave behind as I go to take shelter. They hide under the bed and there’s no way I can stuff them into a carrier and bring them down with me in a minute and a half.

Once I’m in the basement, we wait for 10 minutes, listening for the “boom!” That indicates either a rocket hit or an Iron Dome missile hitting the rocket and it exploding in mid-air. It’s loud, sometimes loud enough to shake the entire building. During those 10 minutes everyone is on their phone, getting updates from everyone else, checking the news, various messaging groups, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Oftentimes the attacks come in waves, which means waiting 20-30 minutes in the shelter. Those who live in the south of Israel can sometimes spend hours in the shelter.

How everyday life looks like here

It’s rough. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis have been evacuated or displaced. Many of them have lost members of their family, their home, and all their belongings in a span of a few short hours. Imagine arriving at a hotel after being evacuated to it on an armored carrier, having had terrorists tear through your home, brutally murder your family and friends, kidnap people you knew and cared about, and burn houses and fields. You have nothing on you — no clothes, no toiletries, no medications, no food, no water, sometimes no phone. You likely can’t use your credit card because the terrorist have bother to stop their killing spree to steal it and then proceeded to buy stuff with it. You have been in a few short hours completely stripped of your identity, your faith in your country, your grasp of reality shattered.

If you lived in the south, in cities like Sderot, you couldn’t leave the house for a week. There were gun and grenade wielding terrorists in the streets, missiles fired constantly on you, and you only have a minute to get to shelter. You can’t go buy groceries, and you can’t get medications, and you don’t know when it will end.

In both cases volunteers came to your aid — getting into private cars and trucks with supplies donated by people from central Israel, and bringing them to you. Food, clothes, medication, baby food, diapers, tampons and sanity napkins, phone chargers, toys, etc. Not long after that companies started coming through with donations of their own.

If you’re a reserve soldier you’ve been drafted to a war zone in a few short hours, and likely had to make your own way there. Nobody is prepared for such an influx of soldiers, so there’s not enough food, shelter, equipment at first. You’re fighting, your family is worried, but you’re in the desert or in the mountains of the Galilee — there’s no place to charge your phone, and cell service isn’t great to say the least. My friend’s husband could only send her a single heart emoji once a day to let her know that he was alive. He hasn’t showered for 10 days, and the fighting has been non-stop. They got to talk in the weekend thanks to a guy with a generator and a truck, that rigged together a 100 charging outlets to it. He open sourced the design and a few other people did the same. Others organized carpooling services to soldiers to and from the army’s staging areas in the south and the north.

If you’re like me and live in central Israel, in a place like Tel Aviv, then this is how you’re life has changed so far:

  • If you have kids, they’re at home. No school, no kindergarten, no pre-school, not even if your kid is special needs. During the first week you’ve got zero help with them — not even remote learning. Many of the teachers have young kids, and partners that were reservists that were enlisted. Teaching the multiplication table is the last thing on their minds right now.
  • There’s no gym, no pools, no pilates or yoga classes, and most runners have stopped running outside or changed their runs to be very short running circuits near a shelter. You can’t go to the beach, swim or surf.
  • The first week was marked by extreme shortages of groceries — first because people bought stuff to send south, and then because they bought stuff to stock up due to a scare caused by the Home Front. Also, fresh produce is in shorter supply and of lesser quality as much of it comes from areas that are now an active war zone.
  • If you have pets, not only is taking your dog on a walk a risk, and having dogs or cats during missile attacks a challenge, you also have issues with pet supplies. The main supply centre for pet food is down south, and there are delays in supply imports.
  • The city has gone scarily quiet, except for helicopters, air raid sirens, and ambulance sirens.
  • You time your showers to hours where the Hamas is less likely to fire on you. You make them as quick as possible, to not get caught in one during an attack.
  • If you had an elective surgery, if you had a doctor’s appointment or a physiotherapy appointment it was likely cancelled or postponed.
  • Public transport is barely available, and if you have a car, you’re likely scared to use it, so you stay at home. Being caught out during a rocket attack in a car means leaving the car and laying down on the road, covering your head with your arms and hoping you won’t get hit.
  • If you’re a cancer patient and need to get to chemo or radiotherapy, your life has become much, much more difficult. Can you get to the treatment centre? Will there be anyone to escort you during treatments? Various cancer related charities have jumped in to help.
  • People are on the news sites, messaging apps or social media all day only talking about the war and nothing else.
  • I’m doom scrolling on news sites all the time.
  • There are phishing attacks, disinformation and fake news in WhatsApp and Telegram, and if you have a public facing anything you likely got messages hoping that you died and all jews were wiped off the face of the earth.
  • Restaurants, shops, coffee places are largely closed. Those that are open have much fewer things on the menu, and they close much earlier. Nighttime is when the rockets are fired. Everyone is at home.
  • Your “delightful” employer may require you to come to the office, despite the rocket risk and the fact that you can work from home. Mine hasn’t, but many of friend’s employers have.
  • Homeless people have moved to stay around the public bomb shelters.

What’s the biggest thing that global news media and social media aren’t telling us about the situation right now

The level of anger and distrust towards our terrible government are at an all time high. The pro-democracy activists are leading the relief and volunteer efforts, while the government disappoints us again and again. People feel rightfully betrayed, they feel like there’s a tremendous crisis of leadership and professionalism in our government, and that it’s up to us, the citizens, to take care of ourselves. That’s never happened to this degree ever before. Ministers and members of the (religious and right winged) ruling parties get literal objects thrown at them when they arrive to hospitals and evacuee centres. Netanyahu rigged his meeting with the families of those kidnapped so it would look like they embraced him and supported him. A growing majority want him and his government out, and despite having restrictions on large gatherings of people that prevent demonstrations now, there are small demonstrations next to ministers and the PMs houses.

What about the people of Gaza

I was sickened by the decision to cut off their electricity and water supply. There are tactical reasons to do so and I’ve heard them all and I disagree with them all.
While the number of dead there is also in the thousands, there is deliberately no split between Hamas terrorists and civilians killed, to give people the false sense that 100% of the dead in Gaza are civilians and zero Hamas terrorists were killed.

The call to evacuate the northern part of the strip is meant to prevent Hamas from using their favourite tactic of attacking from the midst of civilian populations, particularly schools, hospitals, mosques. If you think Hamas cares about the people of Gaza you haven’t seen them shoot Palestinian reporters who dared criticize them, or use UNRA schools to stash weapons, or steal aid and supplies from civilians for their own needs. Their leaders live and operate from Qatar, and their stated goal isn’t to better Palestinian lives, but to kill as many jews as possible. They attacked now so that they could stop the Saudis from affecting the area — even with our religious, ultra right wind government an agreement with the Suadis was going to include aid to Gaza and improve Palestinian lives. And cut off their best friends Iran from influencing the area.

I hate to see the destruction in Gaza. I hate that civilians there are trapped by Hamas in a war zone. Yes, there are many of them that support Hamas and enjoyed seeing babies and grandmas butchered in their beds. I still don’t think that we need to raze the place to the ground. And to be 100% clear, we won’t be razing Gaza to the ground. Those that say we will are clueless at best and spreading hatred and antisemitism at worst. Before this attack I believed in a two state solution and voted for leftist parties repeatedly. After this attack the Israeli sentiment is much more right wing than before, which in itself is a win for Hamas and their attempt to delegitimize the Palestinian authority and destabilize the area. I will still vote for leftist parties (and be called a traitor for it by many Israelis), and I still believe in a two state solution. I just don’t see a path to it now, which is another victory for the Hamas.

Here’s Inktober 15, 16 and 17.

No Inktober today

Feeling sick. Had more rocket attacks today.

I hate everything about this situation, including writing these posts. Including our current government and how it’s handling things. Including what civilian on both sides are going through. Including the ignoramus who posted a comment telling me to go home (I was born here, my parents were born here, and the rest of my family was murdered because we didn’t have a home). Including the two Pakistani guys who invited themselves into a closed professional group just to gloat about the dead babies and raped women and hope that we were all wiped out. Including the thundering silence or false equivalencies or bloodthirsty barbarism from people I thought I liked.

Watch this:

These are my least favourite posts.

Inktober 13 & 14 and rockets continue

I’ve been in shock at the beginning of the week, and then in survivor mode for the rest of it, so only today did it hit me, the depth of the horrors and hopelessness of our situation. It’s Gaza. The place that neither Jordan nor Egypt nor the Palestinian Authority want, because it’s Gaza. And we’re about to go into it again. Nobody wants that here, but there are hostages involved, and the attacks from Gaza (all of them deliberately targeting civilian population) continue non-stop, so we’re going in. That will mean many more wounded and dead, hails of rockets on Israeli cities and villages, and Gaza itself. The place where foreign aid money was turned into ammunition, booby traps and a maze of underground tunnels, instead of for any kind of benefit to the Palestinian people. The place where Hamas is even now doing everything possible to use civilians as human shields and cannon fodder.

So far there were two rocket barrages today. And lest anyone think that they didn’t do massive damage because the Hamas are like Stormtroopers who can’t hit anything, it’s only because of Iron Dome that the casualties here aren’t 10 times or more the already staggering 1,400 they currently are. These attacks are deliberately only targeting civilians, and they too are terrorist attacks (much like the Blitz was). I wish words could convey what it feels like to experience one of them.

I still have a low grade fever, but hopefully it will go away tomorrow. As my hands didn’t shake today, I made up for yesterday’s sketch and sketched another sketch today.

Day 7 of War Update and no Inktober today

I almost didn’t post an update today, but just in case anyone is reading, I decided to post one despite the way I feel. I woke up with a fever today, which is disturbing. I hope that it’s just a minor cold and not something else (something else being cancer relapse, as persistent low grade fever is one of the symptoms I need to look out for). For now I’m just monitoring the situation and hoping that it’s nothing.

I took some paracetamol and went to the local farmer’s market, to support the five farmer stalls that came there. More than half the farmers there are from the south and so didn’t come. One of them is a flower grower, and he lost one of his workers and a member of his kibbutz, a 17 year old boy who was murdered by Hamas as he went surfing with his friend on Saturday morning. The smily boy, Tal Keren, was there every week, waking at 3:00AM to help load flowers to the truck and then sell them every Friday in the market. The mind reels that he won’t ever be there again.

The rest of the farmers are either trying to salvage and save their fields that were burned and bombed, or currently drafted to the army as reservists. They all lost members of their kibbutz or village in an attack that has so far claimed 1,300 victims, 257 of which were soldiers, the rest civilians. Babies, children, teenagers, grandparents, men and women murdered for being Israeli. And no, not all of them were Jewish. Scores of Bedoin were killed in the rocket attacks on Saturday. A muslim doctor tried to attend to the wounded, was shot and captured by Hamas as he was treating one of their own, and had to be rescued by the army, one of a handful of hostages that were saved.

Deserted farmers’ market

The few farmers that made it, made it despite knowing that they wouldn’t be turning out a profit today. The market was deserted, with more sellers than buyers there. But people wanted to talk, to get out of the house, to get some semblance of normalcy.

We went to say hi to friends in Jaffa on the way home. The flea market was deserted. Normally a place where Israeli Jews and Arabs live together relatively peacefully, now it was a ghost town.

Friday is the busiest day there, and all the shops and stalls were closed:

More things were open during the Covid lockdowns than are open now. Basically only the local pharmacy was open, and one bakery opened for a few hours, serving a handful of locals.

Many of the shop owners live in the area, and they had a communal breakfast together. Joining them were three police bomb disposal experts, in heavy demand these days. They’re working non-stop and this short coffee break was a welcome change for them.

As my fever hasn’t gone away and my hands are shaking, there’s no Inktober today. I tried to sleep the fever off, but then we had a rocket siren, and I had to rush with everyone to the shelter. The two young kids with us were anxious to get back to their apartments, so we all helped distract them as we waited the requisite 10 minutes inside the shelter — an eon to four and and five year olds.

Many of my friends and colleagues have left Tel Aviv to seek shelter in less targeted places. One of them has a partner who’s a nurse, and was left to run alone to the shelter with a 6 week old baby and a hysterical dog. The couple moved to their parents in a more northern city the next day. I can’t blame them.

For now I’m here, and I’m hoping for better days ahead.

Shabat Shalom.

Day 6 of war and Inktober 2023 day 12

Today was marked by the rising toll of the dead (1,300) and the hostages (150-200). There are 800 dead that still need to be identified before they can be buried, a gruesome and harrowing ordeal as the bodies have been mutilated beyond recognition. Children are still at home, with remote learning starting only next week. The academic year has been postponed to the beginning of November. There were several rocket barrages aimed at the Ben Gurion airport and now more or less only El Al and Arkia, the Israeli flight carriers, are flying in. That also means that imports and purchases from abroad are significantly delayed. No Prime Day here.

The northern border is heating up, with several run ins with the Hizballah from Lebanon sending thousands of people up north into shelters for hours at a time. In the West Bank there were several terrorist attack attempts, and violent protests.

I went to get my Moderna Covid shot (as a cancer patient I need to keep up to date on all my shots) today, and one of the busiest thoroughfares in Tel Aviv was eerily deserted. Only in Yom Kippur, when there aren’t any cars around, have I seen it like this, and even then there are bikes and pedestrians.

Many bus drivers were drafted, and so the buses are running less frequently, and in some cases complete routes were cancelled. The result is that the normally packed bus lane is now completely free. Shops and restaurants are still largely closed. It’s scary to walk around, and I did the round trip to the clinic as fast as I possibly could, hoping that I won’t be caught outside when there was a rocket barrage.

Thankfully I wasn’t. Normally when there’s a chance of rocket fire, buildings leave their door open so pedestrians can take shelter inside if needed. But now there’s a chance that terrorists are roaming the streets, and people are hyper vigilant and suspicious. Doors are not only locked, they aren’t opened even during a rocket barrage. If you’re outside, you just lay down on the ground and cover your head, hoping for the best. Two friends were severely wounded today in Sderot in the south, as they were caught outside in their car and didn’t have time to get to shelter when rockets fell.

Today’s Inktober is lilies, which are in bloom along the coastline right now.

Here’s hoping for better days.

Day 5 of War and Inktober 2023 Day 11

After being cooped up at home since Saturday (apart from quick runs for supplies to the supermarket next door), my depression hit such a state that I decided I needed to walk outside for a bit, before my PTSD gets completely out of hand. The streets were deserted, the local pool dried out and closed, the marina abandoned.

The weather was perfect and the sea calm, but the beach was empty and no lifeguards were around.

The busy Independence Garden was deserted — no runners, no cyclers, the only person I saw was a grandpa walking his dog.

Empty paths

I’ve never seen it like this — there are people in this area at all times of day and night.

Today was marked by a lot of scares of attacks from Hizballah in the Lebanon, and a human error that sent all the country (including myself) to the shelters for several minutes as we thought that a swarm of explosive laden drones was about to crash land into buildings. These once sci-fi thriller scenarios are now our reality. The neighbors brought food and water into the shelter, and we had several nearby rocket falls (imagine a loud “boom!” and the building shaking around you).

I also learned that the 17-year-old boy that I regularly saw selling flowers at the local farmer’s market was murdered as he went surfing on Saturday with a friend. Just like the paramedic who chose to remain with the wounded in the kibbuz clinic instead of saving herself and was butchered, or the two middle-aged bike riders that were murdered because they couldn’t outride gunshots, or the children that were bound and shot point blank with their parents.

The number of dead is now at around the 1,200 mark, with hundreds more wounded, and hundreds taken hostage into Gaza. The morgues are overwhelmed with the number of the dead, doctors and nurses are overwhelmed with the number of the wounded, and everyone is bracing for what is yet to come.

Sketch of the empty Gordon Pool

I sketched the empty Gordon pool.

Inktober 2023 Day 10 and war update

It’s 21:00 here and Tel Aviv is dead quiet as everyone is waiting for the rocket barrage the Islamist Jihad promised at 21:00. We already had two rocket barrages today, and everybody’s nerves are starting to wear thin. The neighbors are nice and everyone is kind, and tries to remain calm and cheerful as there are little kids with us in the shelter, but you can see how tired everybody is. Nobody has slept well since Saturday morning, when this whole thing started.

Supermarket shelves are empty and there’s rationing. The issue is a terrible amalgamation of people buying supplies to send south, to where the fighting is going on, and the home front spokesman causing widespread panic when he told people to hoard 72 hours worth of food and water. Couple that with the fact that there aren’t enough delivery drivers and that produce isn’t coming in from the south anymore, and you get supermarkets with no dairy, eggs, fruits, vegetables, bottled water, etc.

People are still looking for ways to help, which means 1,500 stood in line for hours to donate blood in Tel Aviv today, and people are opening their homes to refugees and survivors from the attacks on the southern, (and now also the northern) border.

Everyone who can is working from home, shops and restaurants are closed, and school is still cancelled, though classes are resuming remotely, like they did in Covid times. Parents now also face the challenge of making sure their kids don’t see videos and pictures of the slaughter that happened in the south.

At work things have slowed to a crawl — a lot of people are on reserve duty, others are out helping the situation in every way they can, and the rest of us are finding it hard to concentrate on work when the torrent of bad news keeps pouring in: so many kidnapped, missing, wounded, dead. Entire kibbutzs wiped off the face of the earth in a few short hours. My mind still finds it hard to accept this new reality, and I find myself reviewing the events from Saturday onward again and again, trying to make sense of it all.

This is today’s sketch. It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.

Inktober 2023 Day 8 and 9 and war update

The bad news, the dead and the wounded keep piling up. Today also added the first shortages in groceries, medication rationing and another spike in wild rumours — and also in civic attempts to help each other out. There is still hope, there are still good people in the world.

Sketched these yesterday and today in between endlessly refreshing the news.

These are cosplayers from the local chapter of the 501st Legion cosplaying at the Icon convention last week. I sketched this to remember better days. (De Atramentis Document Ink Green Grey with a TWSBI ECO 1.1 nib)

Today’s was a bearded iris, sketched with my beat up Lamy 2000 and Diamine Safari ink.

Day two at war and no inktober post for today

Last night Hamas launched hundreds of rockets on Tel Aviv. One of them landed on a car 600 meters from my house, and the entire building shook from the impact. The same rocket barrage hit the building next door to my friend’s house and seriously damaged his apartment (shattered glass, torn concrete, debris everywhere). Thankfully he wasn’t there at the time.

Today was weird. I took care of my neighbours’ cats after they were stuck abroad and unable to return to the country because their flight back was cancelled and there weren’t any other flights. The streets were deserted and the city eerily quiet except for ambulance sirens and helicopters bringing in the wounded from the south to hospitals in the centre, and moving commanders from place to place. Shops and restaurants were closed, there were no buses as most of the drivers were recruited by the army to move soldiers around. You can feel war in the air, with the few people around glued to the news on their phones or messaging their friends and families.

I went with a friend to the local shopping mall, Dizengoff Centre, so that he could donate blood. The stores were all closed but the place was packed with hundreds of people waiting patiently in line (a tough challenge for Israelis) for over four hours to donate blood. We left because there wasn’t a chance that he could donate today, and we’ll try again later this week. On the way back we saw a large group of volunteers collecting food and supplies to send south to the soldiers and the families in the area who are largely under siege. We stopped at the local supermarket with dozens of people standing patiently in line, all buying supplies to send south through the volunteers outside. We bought 8 loaves of bread and added them to the growing pile of food, diapers, baby food, toiletries, phone chargers, toys, etc.

People waiting to donate blood
People waiting to donate blood. The line snakes onward.

The news throughout the day grew worse and worse. 700 dead. Thousands wounded. Over 100 kidnapped, including grandmas and grandpas, young children, whole families. The rave victims were butchered, as were people from kibbutz Nir Oz. Terrorist burnt down their houses while they were inside to force them out and shoot or kidnap them. The sights and stories are horrific. 

There was supposed to be an Inktober post today. There won’t be one. I can’t bring myself to draw right now. Go hug your loved ones while they’re there. 

What it feels like to live in Israel right now

At around 6:30 this morning I was getting ready to go to the pool for a swim, when my phone lit up with rocket alerts. I thought it was a mistake. It was Saturday morning on a holiday (Sukkot) and there had been none of the usual round of posturing and threats that precedes a rocket barrage. I live in Tel Aviv, Israel, and we have these rounds of rockets launched from Gaza onto the city every two years or so, and we always know when they’re coming.

I stared at my phone as more and more alerts poured in, and I started to hear the distant thunder of exploding rockets. This wasn’t a mistake. Then there was the dreaded rocket siren, rising and falling, loud and clear and I got another alert on the phone, this time for my area.

Now imagine that it’s 6:30 on a Saturday morning of a national holiday, and you have a minute and half, 90 seconds, to get out of bed, get some clothes and some sort of footwear on you, and reach the nearest shelter — which in our case is the building’s basement. 

I got there at the nick of time, and I was the only one there. The other people in the building didn’t get out of bed in time. The attack was perfectly planned to catch as many people as possible unprepared, and it succeeded. My parents were having an early swim in the sea when they were evicted and sent home. I stood alone in the basement, surrounded by dead cockroaches (we had exterminators come in a few weeks ago), and couldn’t reach my family by phone because they were too busy trying to get to safety to answer me. I was also wracked with guilt about leaving my cats back at the apartment (they hid under the bed and there was no way I was going to be able to get them into their cat carrier and down to the basement in time). I also had no idea what was going on. 

By the second rocket barrage, about an hour later, the terrible news had started to pile up. It was a surprise attack by Hamas, 50 years and a day after the surprise attack on 1973, and executed with deadly efficiency. Thousands to rockets were launched throughout the morning and noon, hundreds of terrorist crossed the border killing everyone that crossed their path, and taking civilians and soldiers hostage, transferring some of them to Gaza. Cities and kibutzes in the south were overrun by Hamas militants with automatic rifles, placing them under siege for hours. Some of them are still under siege as I write these lines. First aiders and firefighters trying to get to them to help were shot and killed, leaving people waiting for hours to be evacuated to the nearest hospital. 

The hospitals themselves were overrun, with close to a thousand wounded pouring in in a few short hours during a holiday weekend. Medical personnel were called in, everyone who could be discharged was discharged, and calls went out to people to donate blood. People rushed by their hundreds to donate, waiting for hours to give blood, some turned away once the donation places were overwhelmed. My faith in humanity started to get restored.

I have a bakery right below my apartment, and they had baked all night with plans to open for a busy day today. The closed down and instead of throwing out the baked goods, an ambulance stopped by on the way to the local hospital and they piled it up with food to give to the medical personnel and people donating blood. 

The house next door to a colleague’s house was hit by a rocket, as was the house next door to one of my friends. The occupants were in the safe rooms, and so weren’t hurt, and luckily nothing caught on fire. There isn’t enough information about what’s going on, so WhatsApp groups are filled with wild rumours and sci-fi like scenarios to a point where the army needs to issue a statement to get everyone to stop forwarding this junk.

The streets were empty all day, the few shops that are open during the weekend closed their doors, and everyone sat at their phones and refreshed to see the news or tried to find out if everyone they knew was OK. Groups organized to get people from the south to safer homes in the centre and up north, and other groups organized to help figure out who was missing. Masses of people were conscripted, and I saw most of the men in the synagogue next door leave the Simchat Tora prayers to drive (on a Shabbat, yes, religious people drove) to join the fighting in the south. 

The situation right now is bleak. There are over a hundred dead, and close to a thousand wounded. There are people missing, some of them kidnapped to Gaza. Hospitals are strained to the max, school has been cancelled throughout the country and nobody knows what tomorrow will look like — but tonight will likely include another wave of rockets, likely more than one.