On Saturday, at a quarter to six in the morning, everything was quiet in our seat, Netiv HaTeen. The air was clear and cool, the first rays of sun coming out of the clouds. I went out to photograph the sunrise and planned to go to Zikim Beach as well. As I was walking to the car, I met my neighbor, Security Officer Amnon Ziv, who had gone for a walk with the dog. Everything was pastoral.
"I drove to the secondary gate of the moshav, but for some reason it was stuck. I couldn't open it through the app or by dialing the phone. Suddenly, a rain of mortar shells and rockets began. I have never encountered such a flood. I jumped out of the car and went into the shelter, occasionally sticking my head out to film the launches.
"Then I heard a noise like a drone flying low. I lifted my head, and above me were two paragliders. For a moment I felt sorry for them, thinking they were Israelis who wanted to see the view from above and got caught fire. I went back into the shelter, and maybe half a minute later I heard bursts of small arms. At that moment I realized that it was a raid and that I couldn't go back to the moshav. I knew the terrorists could have easily eliminated me from above."
Testimonies from the horror: Residents of the Gaza envelope recount the moments of terror // Photo: Yoni Rikner
These anxious moments Ronen Avisror of Netiv HaTen will not forget for the rest of his life. The moshav, which has so far lost 21 residents, is the closest to the border. Only 100 meters separate it from Gaza, and life in the Beit Hanoun and Beit Lahia neighborhoods is presented to residents without binoculars. Recently, they also witnessed the training of Hamas' special units.
On Saturday morning, some 35 terrorists infiltrated the enrichment lane. Six of them with paragliders, the rest in cars through the breached fence. "They went on a killing spree and carried out a massacre in the surrounding communities," says Amnon Ziv, security officer of the Hof Ashkelon Regional Council and a resident of Netiv Ha'asara, who he and Ronen were apparently the first Israelis to encounter terrorists.
His voice is hoarse from lack of sleep, and the load on him is unimaginable. He is responsible for 21 communities, six of them near the Gaza Strip. At the same time, he was also part of the local alert squad that eliminated one terrorist and captured five others.
"Noise like a drone." Paragliding terrorist, photo: Ronen Avisror
"An event of this magnitude was in our scenarios," he says in frustration. "Those who were supposed to protect us failed – the government, the army, intelligence. We have the ability to locate a terrorist in the middle of the casbah in Jenin, so there was no intelligence about 1,000 terrorists planning to massacre Jews?
"In my worst nightmares, I never believed we would face this situation alone. We, in our vehicles, evacuated the bodies of our friends and neighbors. Some of them I covered myself with plastic bags. Quite a few injured people died because there was no medical assistance."
"Suddenly, a rain of mortars and rockets." The shooting at the community, photo: Ronen Avisror
The army reached Netiv Ha'enrich only in the afternoon, after six hours of fighting the residents against the murderous terrorist attack. "Our alert squad was like a wall in shape, like David versus Goliath," says Nir Erez, a carpentry shop owner in the moshav, who fought the terrorists' attempt to enter the safe room in his home. "Had it not been for the squad fighters, our fate might have been like that of Kibbutz Kfar Gaza, which was occupied by Hamas and many of its members were murdered or kidnapped."
"I felt full of confidence"
Established in 1973 and home to about 1,000 residents, Netiv HaTen now looks like a ghost town. Not even the chirping of birds was heard, only the deathly silence of blood stains, houses razed to the ground, entire families buried beneath them, and burnt cars under them. Only Security Officer Amnon and a few members of the alert squad remained. The two words "Israeli resilience" clearly describe the place, which was crushed for an unknown time and its inhabitants scarred for life.
The small, fence-adjacent moshav is the southernmost of the Ashkelon Beach Council settlements. Many of the residents earn their living from agricultural yields of flowers, fruits and vegetables, some are engaged in the development of special varieties of tomatoes and peppers. You can also find livestock farms in the moshav, which attract many visitors and tourists who come especially to be photographed against the background of the concrete slabs of the separation fence, on which the large inscription "Path to Peace" is written in Hebrew, alongside the same sentence in English and Arabic. Despite the desire for coexistence, since the disengagement in 2005, Netiv Ha'enrichment has become an easy target for rockets, mortars and small arms.
Striving for peace. The sign on the separation fence near the moshav, photo: Ronen Avisror
"I chose this place 25 years ago and discovered that the DNA of the residents is unique," Ronen, 56, explains of his decision to live so close to Gaza. "There is mutual responsibility here, ideals and real action for the state, society and the community. The value 'Love your neighbor as yourself' is a guiding light for the residents. This is where my three children were born and where they were educated."
At no point were you afraid?
"Not only was I not afraid, I felt confident. A year and a half ago I experienced a neurological event and since then I have been photographing and documenting everything as part of my walking routine in the morning and evening. I also filmed on the fence more than once, very close to the border. I felt safe with the army and knew there was someone watching over me and my family.
"There is an unwritten alliance between us and the soldiers. We hosted them for Shabbat meals, did their laundry, took care of their food. It was absolute solidarity. My children grew up with these values. The eldest, Omri, was a commander in the Golani; The other, Yali, was discharged five months ago after serving as an observer in Kissufim; High school student Shira will also continue on their way."
"I screamed at the CSOs on the radio"
On Saturday, Ronen went on his routine trip, and his wife and young daughter stayed at home. The two older ones were outside the seat. When he realized that there was a terrorist raid and that he had no way to leave the moshav or return home, he crossed through the area until he reached a shelter next to a flower packing house.
At the same time, Amnon saw the terrorists with paragliders. While Ronen thought for a moment that they were Israelis, the experienced security officer immediately understood who it was. He is the father of a daughter and two sons, as well as a retired police officer with the rank of second lieutenant, who served in a variety of operational positions for which he received many certificates of appreciation. "This morning was supposed to be completely different," he says. "At eight o'clock there was supposed to be a local market for food and clothes, and I planned to go to a biker meeting at Yad Mordechai. I had just removed the cover of the motorcycle when I heard the sound of an engine above me.
"I looked up and saw a structure of three paragliders. Twenty seconds later, rocket fire began. I managed to see that the three had split up, ran home to get the radios and screamed over the radio that there was a combined attack. That's how I notified the CSOs in my sector, and they raised the alert squads. At the time of the report, I opened the safe in the house and took out the rifle. I gave my youngest son the gun and told him to watch over Mom. Luckily, my eldest daughter was abroad. The middle son, who is a soldier in a special unit, announced that he was traveling from his home towards Sderot with a friend from the unit.
"It was a killing field." Amnon Ziv,
"When I went outside, I saw two of the alert squad approaching one of the terrorists who had managed to shoot several neighbors. Both were also hit. I ran to them looking for the terrorist, but I couldn't find him. At the same time, the phone did not stop ringing. People were screaming that they were fighting terrorists inside the house.
"The conversations were difficult and heartbreaking. I heard mothers I know crying out for help, and I knew I had no way to help all the houses, because I was searching for the terrorists together with the alert squad. As I do this, I'm on the radio and realize that Zikim and Yad Mordechai's CSOs heard me and managed to organize and defend themselves. In retrospect, it turned out that thanks to this, no civilian among them was killed or kidnapped."
While Amnon and the alert squad searched the moshav for the terrorists and were exposed to the extent of the horror, Ronen was alone in the shelter for an hour and a half. "I corresponded with my wife, and there were communication problems all the time," he says. "My eyes were on WhatsApp, and I waited every time to see the blue V. When the sign lingered, my heart dropped.
"Suddenly, I heard someone calling me. It was a friend from the moshav who saw my car next to the shelter and was looking for me. I went into the safe room in the packing house and we were besieged there, together with Thai workers, unable to stick our noses out.
"On the moshav's WhatsApp there were a lot of pleas from people for help, and in the background we heard cries of 'Allahu Akbar.' I kept praying that my family was okay. There was barely any communication, and I didn't dare call them for fear that the terrorists would hear the bell. They kept walking around my house knocking on the windows. It is an indescribable helplessness. I texted everyone I could—friends, people I knew from the army, begging for help. I asked them to call the air force and say that mothers with children are being slaughtered here."
"Five terrorists inside the house"
One of Ronen and Amnon's neighbors, Nir Erez (59), was sure he was ending his life there. He was at home with his wife, Chani, when he woke up when he heard the rocket fire. "We ran to the safe room, and there we received Amnon's message that there were terrorists in the community and that everyone would enter the safe rooms," he describes. "We were there for hours, without electricity or internet. From time to time, we managed to send messages to friends and family asking them to save us.
"Around 12:30 p.m. there was a huge explosion. Five terrorists managed to enter the house, and one of the neighbors reported to the alert squad. The terrorists went on a rampage, destroyed, stole money and took the keys to our two cars. We heard the safe room talking in Arabic, it was scared to death. I felt like in the Holocaust when the Jews hid from the Nazis who came looking for them. We realized we were going to die and planned our moves. I texted the kids that I loved them."
"I thought that was it." Nir Erez,
The messages Nir sent to his children and sister are chilling and heartbreaking. "This is the end. They came to me. Honey, sorry for everything. Take care of the kids. Kisses to Mommy," he wrote to his sister.
To his daughter, Ofir, he wrote that she and her brother Tomer are his whole world. "Everything I've done in my life, I've done for you (except for trips abroad when I traveled and enjoyed myself). It's important for me to know that I'm not scared and completely calm. Just worrying about you, having a good life. Tomer received administrative orders, and from you I ask that you maintain excellent contact at all times, including mine (Hani's daughter). Take care of her forever." When he finished typing, he heard the terrorists approaching the safe room after they had finished looting.
"Take care of the kids." Nir's message to his sister Tali,
"Keep in great touch." The message to Bat Ophir,
"I held the door handle and fought their attempt to get in," his voice cracked. "It was a struggle for many minutes, and then suddenly they let go for a moment and apparently another terrorist tried to open the door. I told Chani to go into the closet to save herself, and she refused. She said she would die with me, that she wouldn't live with the trauma of being murdered in front of her eyes. I told her we had children, and she replied that they were grown up and would get along. I kept fighting with the handle, and I felt like I was going to faint and lose consciousness. I thought that's it, we're dead in ten seconds.
"Then I hear voices in Hebrew. The alert squad arrived at the house, fought the terrorists and caught them. There were Amnon, Chief Superintendent Ziv Wolk and Itai Levy from the community. They are my heroes. They called me, but I was afraid to go out. Only later did we find out what damage the terrorists had caused in the house. They took knives from the kitchen, and if the alert squad had arrived a few seconds later, they would have entered the safe room, slaughtered us and beheaded us.
"We got into the car of the alert squad until we got to another family. On the way, I saw four terrorists who had been caught. I knew they were at my house, because they told me they had found a bag with my car keys inside. The fifth terrorist managed to escape with Hani's car, and apparently also with jewelry and 20,<> shekels in cash that he stole from us. I hope he's already dead."
Will you go back to live in the teen lane?
"I always knew that there were quality people here, but I didn't know that they were such fighters who stood alone, a few, against dozens of terrorists. However, I am not going back there. It was our dream house, and the terrorists desecrated it. It's not my home anymore."
"Live from one day to the next"
Minutes after Nir was taken out of his house, the IDF arrived at the moshav and the soldiers rescued Ronen a long time later. "I think I was in the packing house for at least four hours until we heard combat helicopters in the air and the rate of gunfire gradually dropped.
"It wasn't until we got out of there that I began to internalize what we went through. Hearing people shouting on WhatsApp that they are about to be murdered is terrifying, frustrating, utterly helpless. You hear your friends screaming for help and you have no ability to save. It was Kristallnacht of the teen lane, even worse. This is our country, our land, not Germany.
"On Saturday we were like a floor rag that no one came to help. We have an atomic reactor, intelligence, magnificent technologies - how did we find ourselves alone? The enrichment lane became the vest of the state. It does not envelop Gaza, but hijacks Gaza. We were the terrorists' punching bag and got knockout."
"Where will I go back?" Ronen Avisror, Photo: Epsidrit
On his way home, Ronen noticed paragliders near the entrance to his yard. "I saw the bodies of my neighbors, my friends. Lots of blood all around. It is a sight that will never be erased. Not far from us, I saw a house that the terrorists had burned with its occupants. These are people who were the salt of the earth, and we lost them for nothing. We lost them for the incompetence of the state."
How do you feel after you came out of the inferno?
"Overwhelmed, pained, frustrated. I'm with friends who some call anarchists, but they're the salt of the earth.
"Physically we got out safely, but we'll get the mental reckoning later. The scars will be in the whole family. After meeting my wife and daughter, we called the other children. Omri found out that his best friend had lost both his parents, and he was with him. Yali was with my mother in Ashkelon and I thought she was safe, but the house was hit by a missile. We'll see how the state treats us now. We were left homeless and post-traumatized.
"I know the Israeli bureaucracy. They will exhaust and humiliate us. Go explain to them that all day you dig into WhatsApp, correspondence with friends who won't come back. These are people who served in special units, and the state turned its back on them at the moments when they needed it most, just because of the arrogance and smugness of the high officials. History will judge these people and whoever heads the country."
Will you return to the path of enrichment?
"Where will I go back? What, am I cannon fodder? Should I return to a place that was a battlefield and the state abandoned me? Going back home means hurting myself. In my estimation, I will come to collect personal things and download the questionnaire. I don't have answers right now for anything in the future. I live from one day to the next, here and now. I am a father of three children, who has to start life from scratch and depends on the mercy of social security and property taxes."
Have you thought about leaving the country?
"I'd be a liar if I said the thought didn't cross my mind, but my roots are here. I try to be a little optimistic and say that the fact that we survived is a privilege. We will make lemonade from this lemon. From now on, I will help anyone in need. I've always tried to do nothing but good, but now I'll be better."
"Need to keep going"
What happened in the small community has already been featured in a Wikipedia article under the name "The Ten Path Massacre". This description will accompany him for generations, and around it will be woven stories of heroism. One of them will probably revolve around Amnon's son, a soldier in a special unit who was wounded in battle with terrorists and shot in the chest. He was evacuated to the hospital in stable condition, underwent surgery, and in the evening asked to be discharged and return to the unit. While the scene burned and terrorists continued to penetrate through gaps in the fences, his father Amnon himself released him from the hospital.
"The first line of defense just collapsed," Amnon said on Tuesday, as his walkie-talkie continued to rattle in the background. "For long hours we were just an alert squad split into small teams.
When the army arrived, I joined them and directed them to houses from which there were screams for help. Along the way, dead and wounded people lay on the ground, and no one came to evacuate. It was a killing field. We went house-to-house and saw children killed."
Have you been abandoned to your fate?
"Absolutely. The state and the army saw Hamas' training on the other side of the fence, how did they leave us like that? Their fighters have been training for such an event for 20 years. The state has failed to protect us. The government cannot say that it deters Hamas when you see that they did not count us from a meter. People sacrificed their lives to fight for the path of enrichment."
Will you continue in your role as Security Officer after the war?
"Yes. After all the drama and tragedy, we have to move on. The terrorists will not discourage me. What the CSOs and the alert squads are doing is sacred work. Every life we have saved and will save is a whole world. I also intend to continue living in Netiv Ha'Asura, and believe that more residents will return when the war is over."
Can you digest the last few days?
"I still don't understand what we've been through. Maybe it will happen at funerals or after."
tala@israelhayom.co.il
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