The clock stops, and time keeps running. That Saturday, I woke up at 9:00 A.M., one eye open, looking to the phone. More messages than usual. What's the schedule? Did something happen?
I opened my cell phone, read headlines, and realized it wasn't going to be another Saturday morning. I asked my wife the usual question: "Have you seen?" "Yes, I didn't understand," she replied. "I didn't understand," perhaps the phrase that best describes the Israeli reality since that morning. I didn't understand how such a thing could happen. I didn't understand how the pictures and videos that were circulated in the days after the massacre near Gaza were reality, and not some nightmare movie. I didn't get it.
"I'm going to the squadron," I told her. "That much?" she asked. "Yes," I told her. I gave her a kiss and went to get ready. I packed a small bag, put on overalls and drove to the squadron. Since then, I've been fighting.
IDF activity in the Gaza Strip, yesterday // Photo: IDF Spokesperson
Time in the squadron was running. Day connects to night. I don't remember how many sorties I made or how many airstrikes I carried out. Time flies, and now another day passes for him to fight. Time is running, so why do I feel like the clock is stopping?
The dead are still dead, the abductees are still kidnapped. Time is running, but we're all stuck on October 7th. There is not a moment to rest, we must continue to fight. Time is running, but after 10 days, why does it feel like we're still stuck that Saturday morning?
Time is running, but the State of Israel's clock has stopped. October 7, 2023, 6:30 a.m.
Time is running, but if you stop and look everyone in the eye, you see that the clock stops. You see pictures that will never come out of your head alive again. Names that from now on are said only with the suffix z"l. Feelings that cannot be described in words, because go explain that you hate and are angry and crying and anxious and nervous and drained from fatigue, but also happy for those who are still here and those who survived. The clock stopped, but time was running.
The destruction in the village of Gaza after the infiltration of Hamas terrorists, photo: Ilya Yegorov
In a few hours I return to fight for all those who fell, to protect those who survived and to return those who were taken. I'm not alone. There is an entire nation that has mobilized to fight for this country, regardless of religion or race.
Between hatred and violence, everyone has found in himself this thing that defines us, all of us, as a people. It is not the God we believe in or the commandments we observe, but what keeps us running even when the clock stops. A sense of togetherness, even when you are alone. This belonging to something that cannot be explained in words.
We are the people of Israel, and the people of Israel live.
IDF forces near the Gaza Strip, photo: AP
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