Before dawn's first light, terrorists tore through the Gaza fence, pouring across fields with gunfire and rockets, plunging border communities into chaos. Families awakened to shattering windows and the roar of engines as the calm of the night was ripped away.
In Kibbutz Be'eri, Nahal Oz, and Kerem Shalom, families were torn from their slumber by deafening blasts and the staccato rattle of gunfire. Parents raced to sealed safe rooms clutching children; neighbors banged on doors, warning of the onslaught.
We woke to the sound of explosions. At first, I thought it was another rocket attack, but then we heard gunfire—much closer than we'd ever heard before. My husband looked outside and just said, "They're here." We grabbed our children and ran to the safe room.
By the time the first sirens finally cut through the chaos, the tranquil dawn had been transformed into a scene of terror and disbelief—an indelible scar on the morning's calm.