October 7th still hurts like it was yesterday
Certain events get stuck in people’s brains. They are so significant that people remember what took place, where they were, and the first thought they had when they learned the news.
Significant events in that category include the Kennedy Assassination, the Moon Landing, and Sept. 11th.
A year ago, on Oct. 7th, 2023, another event was added to that category of significant events, a horrendous terrorist attack against Israel. The attack was so heinous it will be forever ingrained in the minds of anyone old enough to understand. Like Sept. 11th, this terrorist depravity will be forever known by its date and month, Oct. 7th.
On Oct. 7th, Hamas terrorists exploded through the Gaza border with Israel, breaking an existing cease-fire and murdering around 1,200 people; over 250 people were kidnapped. However, the raw numbers don’t tell the story of what happened.
The terrorists’ murders included unspeakable horrors carried out against people of all ages, even babies. Mothers were murdered in front of children old enough to understand. After mom, the kids were shot in their heads, babies were brutally attacked and burned to death in front of their mothers before the mothers were raped and murdered, men were found dead with limbs cut off, and entire families were found with bullet holes in their heads, their murdered bodies lying next to each other. These were just some examples of heart-wrenching slaughter so disgusting it is hard to believe it was conducted by human beings.
On this first anniversary of Oct. 7th, most articles discuss how and why the attack happened, what the Israeli government did right and wrong, the rebuilding of kibbutzim, and the reputation of the IDF and the government; they include interviews with the bereaved and the families of those who are still being held by the terrorists.
This column takes a different approach. It features Herut members explaining where they were and/or the first thoughts crossing their minds and ingrained in their souls when they first heard news of the Oct. 7th massacre.
You may find some of their comments reassuring, because their reaction may be similar to yours.
Brian Pikelny
My first reaction was to contact my family in Israel to see if they were okay. Most of them live on a kibbutz in the center of the country near Rehovot. But one cousin, who just had a baby, lives in Kibbutz Dorot near Sderot. I was frantic to contact her, and when I heard her kibbutz wasn’t attacked and she and her family were okay, I felt a huge sense of relief.
After the massacre and close to 12 months later, I can only reflect on how this could have happened. After the war is over, as in the Yom Kippur War, there will be an investigation, and hopefully, changes will be made to prevent anything like this from ever happening again. But my first thought is giving land concessions to an enemy that wants to destroy you should never occur again.
As Jews, we pray three times a day, yearning for peace. Peace must come on our terms with guaranteed security for all the people of Israel.
Sarah Martynov
I woke up in my new apartment in Herzliya around 10 am. Groggily, I noticed my phone was on the floor, away from my bed, which was odd. When I picked it up, I was hit with a barrage of notifications about rocket sirens, including some in my area. Confusion and anxiety immediately set in as I scrolled through the English headlines on i24, trying to make sense of what was happening. Messages from friends in the US poured in, checking on my safety, and it became clear that something terrible was unfolding.
I woke up my roommate, who, like me, had slept through the rockets. Initially, she laughed off my concern about finding the bomb shelter, assuming I was overreacting as a worried American. But once she checked her phone, the gravity of the situation hit her, too. We spent the day in stunned silence, glued to the news, while every siren afterward sent me running to the stairwell, shaking in fear of this terrifying new reality.
As we sat on the balcony, watching the news, every passing car made me panic, fearing it could be Hamas advancing further north. Reports from Telegram channels heightened our anxiety as we heard they might be moving closer.
That evening, we both left to stay with others, seeking comfort and safety, but my mind was in turmoil, struggling to process the unfolding horror. Panic, shock, and disbelief consumed me, and it took days before the magnitude of the tragedy fully sank in, allowing me to finally break down and cry. I couldn’t believe something of this scale was happening. Even after Hamas was pushed out of our territory, my thoughts were constantly with the southern residents as more videos and stories of devastation emerged.
Sandra Kessler
It was an idyllic first week of October. We were in the Catskills, in a little house in the woods. I woke up ahead of my husband, made the coffee, settled in at the dining table, and opened my iPad.
The news from Israel hit me in the face like nothing I have ever experienced, not even on 9/11.
Not one to stay paralyzed in a moment of utter shock, I went right to the Herut What’s App convo. What’s going on?
Shabbat was pretty much over in Israel, so my dear Herut family was posting whatever information they already had. One of the first messages I saw was from Yonatan Herzfeld, our very own Lone Soldier Paratrooper Hero, letting everyone know that though he had been in the States and South America enjoying traveling with his family and on his own, he was flying to Miami to catch a flight for reservists to head back to Israel. My heart swelled with both fear and pride.
The rest of the day passed in a bit of a fog. I just kept watching the news from Israel and posts from Herut. We left early Sunday to drive back to the city. I spent the trip doing the same.
Then I saw the horrifying examples of Israel haters in NYC and all over the major cities of the world, holding celebratory mob actions to congratulate Hamas. I was not totally surprised. Certainly not shocked. I was already very aware of who our haters are, and sadly, I know too many of them personally. I had already become someone who did not hide my beliefs lest someone not like me. The following weeks and months only made me stronger and more defiant in defending my people.
Miriam Fischer
Because we are observant, we were still celebrating the holiday of Simchat Torah, until the evening of the 8th. After the Yom Tov ended, my husband received a phone call from a friend of his, who is a Reform rabbi. She had told him there was an attack in Israel, and it was pretty bad. But at that time, I did not know the scale or the severity of the matter.
I turned on the television, to i24, and that is when I started getting a better idea about what happened. It took a while for me to understand the depth and the depravity of what happened. Also, I’m the kind of person that takes some time for me to mentally and emotionally digest a situation.
Once I fully comprehended everything that had happened initially, I felt a combination of anger and sadness. I was angry at the depravity. I was angry at the loss of life. I was angry because there were people who were just out to dance, and they lost their lives or were tortured, and some are still in captivity to this day.
I’m still at a loss for words for what happened and because it’s harder for me to completely grasp Oct. 7th since I don’t live in Israel. However, I still feel the sadness of missing our people. I feel anger about how we could let this happen. Part of me has this damn everything, let’s destroy them all attitude, but then we would be no better than the terrorists.
So now I do my best to tell people what’s going on, what’s happening, how we feel as the Jewish people, and how we’re dealing with the incredible upsurge and antisemitism that has occurred since Oct. 7th.
Jeff Dunetz
Suffering from a debilitating disorder that has since been diagnosed and treated, Baruch HaShem, I was sleeping long into the afternoon on Oct. 7th when my wife woke me up crying, “It’s horrible, it’s horrible.”
She explained that there was a terrible terrorist attack in Israel. Kids at an outdoor concert were slaughtered, terrorists rampaged through the parts of Israel bordering Gaza, and in some places it was still going on.
Well into the night, and for the next few days, I kept flipping through cable news channels and browsing through internet news sites. That’s when I first noticed the secular outlets call the terrorists “militants.” I wondered, at the time, if they would have called other terrorists, the ones that were killing people other than Jews, militants.
I don’t remember when I first heard the confirmed report of terrorists setting some babies and young children on fire, causing them to die a horrible, painful death. Others were “mercifully” shot in the head before they were set on fire. That’s when I broke down and started to cry. “Babies, Babies,” aren’t any of these terrorist animals, fathers?
Years from now, when I look back on Oct.7th, my first thought will be those little babies set on fire by soulless creatures.
Oct. 7th was one year ago, but it still hurts like it was yesterday.
A version of article was published in the newsletter of Herut North America, an international movement for Zionist pride and education dedicated to the ideals of pre-WWII Zionist leader Ze’ev Jabotinsky [HerutNA.org]. Jeff Dunetz, longtime columnist for The Jewish Star, publishes The Lid at LidBlog.com.
