There should be Poppies —A Day in the Gaza Envelope

The “Gaza Envelope” is the name given to the collection of 50 or so Israeli communities located within 7 kilometres of Gaza. It is the area that was invaded by Hamas over 4 months ago, and subsequently evacuated.

A couple of weeks ago I had an opportunity to join a group going to the “envelope” to visit some of the sites of the October 7th attacks, and to volunteer at a barbecue for 350 soldiers at a nearby army base. Despite its close proximity to Gaza, I had no reservations about the barbecue at the base, but I did have some qualms about visiting sites of the Hamas attacks. Believe it or not, there is now a fair bit of tourism of this sort happening in the area, mostly by missions and groups from abroad, who are coming to bear witness to the atrocities of that day. But it was hard not to think of this as a kind of voyeurism, and that troubled me.

I muddled over this for a bit, but in the end, what tipped the balance was the chance to personally connect with the troops on the ground, (and a nudge from my friend Amy). We decided to go together.

It was a long day, and this is a long post (even for me). I have divided it into three parts: the Nova festival, Kibbutz Nirim, and the barbecue.

Re’im Forest (the Nova Festival) : Yossi

Had you been at the Nova festival at 6:00 on the morning of October 7th, you would have seen hundreds of little campsites like these scattered about the forest close to the main stage. I can’t help but be reminded of the hippie folk festivals of my youth. Peace, love and techno music.

At 6:30 the wailing of rocket sirens shattered the air, and the party was over. What came after is now well known, but bears repeating. Hamas terrorists stormed across fields towards a few thousand unsuspecting concert-goers, carrying AK 47 rifles and rocket propelled grenades. They came on foot, in trucks, and from overhead on gliders: a terrifying sight. Over 360 young people were brutally murdered that day, and another 40 taken hostage.

But when we visited, it was a glorious sunny day, a nearby field blanketed in lovely red and white wildflowers. This seemed wrong somehow. It should ever be dark and cold.

I took these these brilliant red flowers for poppies — how could I not in this context? Poppies for grief and remembrance. But they are actually anemones. They bloom briefly in the desert as they herald the upcoming spring, and are much beloved by Israelis who normally flock to the south to see them in February.

We were with Yossi, a ZAKA* first responder who talked of his own experiences on that never-ending day, pausing frequently as he looked away, overcome with emotion, even as he insisted that talking, sharing, and bearing witness was a kind of therapy for him. Some of what he saw, he could not bring himself to articulate — but from what he did say, you can be certain that the terrible reports of the atrocities you have read, or heard about, have not been exaggerated.

As if to emphasize the fearfulness of that day, his talk was punctuated by loud booms, which made us all a bit jittery. “Just artillery fire”, he said. “If you can hear it, it is ours. If it is theirs, you will hear sirens. Just drop to the ground. There is no time, and nowhere to run.”

After finishing the grim work of body recovery that ZAKA is best known for, Yossi has channeled his (considerable) energy into raising money and providing healthy food for the troops. He has personally organized and overseen 75 barbecues, funded by donors and prepared by volunteers (we were both); and every Friday afternoon he and his team send 4,000 Shabbat dinners into Gaza for the troops. When in the combat zone, soldiers eat only tinned food like tuna, chick peas and fruit, so the fresh cooked food that comes in is a boost for both health and morale.

This open area, the site of the concert stage, is now a memorial to those who were murdered and kidnapped. Here we said Kaddish together and quietly walked around.

Next we went to Kibbutz Nirim to meet Daniel, the “Ravshatz” (Coordinator of Community Security), and hear his story.

Kibbutz Nirim: Daniel

Kibbutz Nirim was founded in 1946, and the first thing we saw when we got there were two rusted out tanks from the 1948 War of Independence! A small piece of history. In that war, five Arab countries invaded Israel, and the fledgling community of Nirim was on the front line. Somehow Israel survived and so did they.

Nirim, one of the largest organic farms in Israel, is normally a pretty, pastoral place. Situated about a mile from the Gaza border, roughly parallel to Khan Younis, it was home to about 500 residents before October 7th. Now it is deserted; houses burned, ransacked and boarded up.

Daniel took us through to the edge of the kibbutz where the terrorists broke through what turned out to be a totally inadequate fence; and there he began to recount his experiences of that terrible day. Like most such accounts, it began with wave after wave of bomb warning sirens, followed by Whats App messages from other communities in the area, unanswered calls for help, and the sinking realization that the army was unable to come and defend them from the onslaught. They were on their own.

From inside his bomb shelter, crammed with family members, he went to retrieve his guns, gave one to his son, and tried to reach other members of his security team, also in their safe rooms, to see if any of them could access their weapons. In all, there were only four of them, lightly armed, to defend against what he had come to understand would be a full scale attack. He positioned them as strategically as he could on four different roofs, and said goodbye to his family and son, fully expecting he would not see them again.

Daniel: the most matter of fact, modest, hero you can possibly imagine.

The kibbutz was attacked by 60 elite Hamas Nukhba forces and dozens of Gazan civilians. The former were easily distinguishable by their green camouflage or black uniforms, and heavy weapons. Hamas concentrated on fighting, and the civilians on looting, destroying and kidnapping.

For several hours the four Kibbutzniks fought back, running down their supply of ammunition to a dangerous level, when suddenly Daniel’s phone rang. He looked down and did not recognize the number, but picked it up anyway. On the line was the pilot of a nearby IDF Apache helicopter. “Did he need help?”, the pilot wanted to know. (What a question.) A few minutes later two helicopters showed up and the tide was turned. Honestly, it would make a great movie script.

After another few hours, the army finally arrived and they went house to house, routing out the remaining terrorists, tending to the wounded, putting out fires, and evacuating the residents. Out of a community of five hundred, five members were killed and five taken hostage, a low toll by comparison to neighbouring communities. His son, his family and his fellow marksmen all survived. But for them, and a pair of pilots, it could have been so much worse.

“What will happen now?” we asked as we stood by the burned out youth residence looking across to the Gaza border. In the distance, we could see the characteristic dome and minarets of a large mosque. He told us they want to repair and restore their community, and that at least some of their members would return — maybe in July. The kibbutz is rebuildable, he thinks; but their hopes for a peaceful coexistence with their Gaza neighbours? Not so much.

Barbecue at the Base

Our most important destination, and also the final one, was an army base nearby. In addition to helping wth the barbecue, we were asked to bring candy, cigarettes, and most importantly letters, preferably from kids, and ideally, hand-written. I could do that.

Armed with a missive from my eight year old grandson Theo, who lives in Bermuda, I went looking for a soldier to give it to.

Note the action figures from left to right — Theo, IDF soldier, Hamas bad guy.

This letter was quite a big hit, and is now posted up by this soldier’s bunk, although I am not sure if I successfully explained what, and where, Bermuda is. In fact, since I was speaking Hebrew, I’m sure I didn’t.

Just next to where this photo was taken were three huge tanks. I could not help but notice how things have changed since the 1948 versions. A couple of the young women in our group got a VIP tour of this one. Not an item on my “to do” list.

And then there was the meat. Five hundred pounds of it. And five mid-size charcoal grills which are just being prepped in this picture. Missing from this photo are about a zillion hamburgers and hotdogs on another table, and more chicken and steak on the bench behind. We would have needed to stay there all night to cook everything, but thankfully by about 7:30 our shift was up and it was time to go back to Tel Aviv. It took me half an hour in the shower to get rid of the smoke in my hair.

Despite my early misgivings, what I took away from this visit was not the scale of destruction, or accounts of atrocities (of which I needed no convincing), but rather the strength of character of the individuals we met, and their willingness to share their stories. There were many such heroes on October 7th, and it was a privilege to meet a couple of them first hand. It is important that they not be forgotten.

This includes the soldiers, a very impressive cohort drawn from a wide range of Israeli communities. On the front line, they see first hand the incredible amount of weaponry amassed all over Gaza, not to mention its 400 mile tunnel network. They face urban warfare above and below ground, on an unprecedented scale, against an enemy hiding both within and underneath the civilian population. There are casualties; there are injuries.

Despite all this, they are resolute, positive, completely committed to the defence of their families and country — full of purpose and camaraderie. They may well be the most upbeat segment of Israeli society today, which seems counterintuitive given the risks they face every day.

We were supposed to be there to boost their morale. In truth I found the opposite to be true. They boosted ours.

*ZAKA , an acronym for Disaster Victim Identification, is an organization of highly trained volunteers, some 3,000 strong, who are spread across Israel, and on call 24/7. It was established initially in response to mass terror attacks like the bus bombings during the Intifadas. They have an international wing that flies to the sites of earthquakes and other disasters.