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.

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. 

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.