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A minute later, at exactly 3am, Israeli pilots (who had already been flying for two hours) launched strikes against Iran’s atomic infrastructure, hitting Persian military commanders, air defences, physicists, and nuclear facilities. Iran has been threatening to destroy Israel for decades and, while developing its nuclear capabilities, built up a sophisticated ballistic missile stockpile to deter Israeli interference. Following October 7, when Iran began its final solution agenda via its agent in Gaza, Israel had no choice but to remove Iran’s offensive teeth.
The story is much more intricate than that, of course. But I’m not here to share what you already know from the media. I want to give you insight into life on the ground in the Holy Land.
Anticipating a mighty ballistic response after Israel’s strikes on Tehran, sirens were activated to send us all running for cover. We all thought it was another of the many Houthi missiles that have plagued us for the past year. But as we sat in the shelter waiting for the all clear to go back to bed, a neighbour read aloud from his phone: ‘We’ve hit the Iranians.’
Everyone in earshot understood that our lives were about to change.
With Iran’s high-ranking officers targeted in the first strike, no one with authority was available to order a response. We each went home silently, elated by the inevitable start of a battle that has been brewing for decades, afraid of the unknown implications, and pissed off that we’d been woken by sirens when no missiles had actually been launched against us.
Shelter
The first time Israel was attacked by ballistic missiles, in 1991, it became clear that regular shelters could be improved upon. Building standards were amended, requiring that all new apartments be built with their own reinforced ‘safe spaces’. Where I live, many buildings predate the change, and rushing downstairs is your only option.
The shelter under my building was constructed in the early 1960s and designed to protect against bombs dropped from airplanes. Following the news, a tenant upstairs who works for emergency services decided to prepare our shelter for the worst.
“This doesn’t meet legal standards. The Iranian threat is different from anything we’ve had till now. The bloody cat’s been sleeping in here - there’s cat fur everywhere! And why is there a ventilation opening in the wall?” I remember being told by one of the first residents in the building that, during the 1973 war, they had hidden behind sandbags. That was more than 50 years ago, and the bags were long gone. We went outside and looked for anything we could find to cover the opening.
Alerts
The Home Command app and the media instructed everyone not to stray far from protected spaces.
I was expecting guests for Friday dinner and was happy they didn’t cancel. Despite being Shabbat we all kept our phones on for emergency messages. As we settled down to the first course, all the phones started screeching simultaneously, and we jumped. Everyone had received a message that a siren would soon sound in our street. This was part of a new warning system that had just been activated.
Phone Notification:
Emergency alert: Extreme
In the next few minutes, sirens are expected in your area.
You must improve your location to be in the most protected space in your area.
In the event of a siren you must enter the protected space and stay there until further notice.
Home Command - following instructions saves lives
My guests all looked at each other, confused, trying to decide whether to take shelter. Then the neighbourhood air raid sounded. Keeping calm, we joined the stream of families in the stairwell going downstairs. The cleaned-up shelter now lacked ventilation, and the air was onerous. Parents cuddled their toddlers, and my dinner guests sang and played clapping games, blocking out the sounds of explosions above us.
Run For Your Life
The new alert system has been wonderful. Previously, one only had a maximum of 90 seconds from air raid siren to impact, the briefest opportunity to seek cover. Ballistic flying time from Iran to Israel is 12 minutes. In the days of mobile phones, however, personal updates are de rigueur. With real-time information, one now has time to have a pee before the neighbourhood siren sounds and you need to fly downstairs to the shelter.
Social Media Post:
My Dad: “The fact that we get an early warning and have a chance to pee without rushing before going to the bomb shelter is a game changer”
The extra 10-minute warning allows residents to walk calmly down the street to any local shelter of their choosing before the actual siren is heard. Everyone agrees it’s a game changer (pronounced in Hebrew, “Gem Chenjer”).
Above: Residents on their way to a communal shelter during a siren
Having all peed, everyone is so much more relaxed when they meet underground! Injuries from people falling in their rush to a shelter have been reduced significantly.
A medical friend from abroad called to give moral support.
“Please, if you need anything, I’m here. Just call”.
I appreciated his offer, but wondered what he could do in case of an emergency.
“I promise I’ll call”, I responded, “if I stub my toe while running downstairs”. We both giggled.
Social media post:
“A pilot gets up in the middle of the night, climbs into the cockpit of an F35, flies 2000 Km, and blows up a target within an accuracy of a few centimetres, while I get u in the middle of the night, go to the toilet 4 metres away, bump into the wall, stub my tie and pee on the floor”.
Community Bonding
Over the next few days, air raid sirens sounded thick and thin.
Fewer residents of my building have been appearing in our downstairs shelter.
Instead, they’ve been leveraging the extra few minutes warning to make their way to one of the large public shelters on the next street corner.
We decided to join them and were pleasantly surprised. Large spaces securely underground, they have toilets, internet and phone charging points. Whole families with children have been bringing sleeping equipment and camping out there at night.
I suddenly discovered a whole new social scene. One woman wandered around offering home-made sushi to all and sundry. Discussing the various shelter options, a young man living down the street from me recommended going to a different shelter from the one I had been attending. His reason had more to do with his stage of life.
“Oh buddy, there are these two gorgeous Yemenite women who go there.” I told him to keep safe.
At 2am the next morning, back in the large communal shelter, I saw a close friend. Having been roused from our erstwhile slumbers, everyone looked dreadful. She pointed to a man sitting on the floor quietly leaning against the wall and yawning. She leaned in towards me.
“Do you know who that is?” she asked. I didn’t and shook my head. I was curious what gossip she could impart. She gave me a cheeky smile.
“I don’t either, but I’m thinking of him for my daughter”.
On the way back home young students renting the flat above me suggested setting up a rating system for shelters, with a ranking for the best social scene.
Risking the shot
Ultimately, most people sit quietly and caress their children or pet dogs, or are glued to their phones for details of impact sites. Everyone awaits the ‘all clear’ signal to go home. Some adventurers stay outside, phone pointed upwards, trying to capture footage of the firework-like sight of a missile being hit by an interceptor from the Iron Dome anti-missile system.
One such film clip was aired on the TV news, just before a missile hit the street where the unlucky person filming was standing. The end of the clip, documenting the explosion and resulting damage, screams and flying debris, was enough to put me off trying a similar stunt.
Previously, with frequent alerts, people didn’t bother descending to underground shelters, retreating instead to internal stairwells during attacks for protection against shrapnel. But ballistic damage can’t compare, and proper shelter is now a must.
Fashion Over Function
Even sleep attire has to be carefully chosen. The first few nights, everyone was caught unaware. Floral, flowing pyjamas and underwear were on display everywhere. The lucky ones had a chance to put on a dressing gown or similar modest cover. Now, one goes to bed dressed to be seen. It actually makes the experience of shelter hopping much more comfortable. The comedy troupe Zehu-Ze broadcast a beautiful sketch of an elderly couple who, anticipating an air-raid siren, put on evening wear and make-up before going to bed.
https://youtu.be/gvu29M6VjUo?si=f68RubH8t49zoPPS
Calming Comedy
As always, the real fun is all the humorous material shared on social media – viewing and sharing funny memes about the war. For centuries we’ve been called the people of the book. But with all the comedic talent our culture has to offer, we could just as easily be called “the people of the stage”.
Social Media Posts:-
In a video posted on social media, a man ranks, from 1-5, the most convenient time to receive a missile alert.
https://www.facebook.com/share/v/15m9KQyUyS/
Another man was watching TV when he had to go to the toilet. While there, a missile hit his living room. When interviewed on the news, he excitedly declared that he was saved by a ‘Kaki’ (poop). The footage leaked, and a myriad of amusing memes and films spread on the net.
https://www.maariv.co.il/culture/tv/article-1205656
See also the following meme, set in the form of an “All Clear” notice from Home Command:
My Translation:-
Home Command
Now is a good time to poop
in your area
You can also wash your hair if you like
There are hundreds more just like those above.
Economy
The streets have been quiet for days, with a contemplative feeling akin to that of Yom Kippur. Workplaces have been closed, and gatherings have been banned to reduce mass casualty events. It’s not quite a lockdown, but Covid times come to mind. The economy is taking a hit. Grocery stores have been operating, but, with some exceptions, most other shops have not. As I stood at the self-check-out of a local supermarket, someone’s phone sounded an alert. I asked an Arab worker where the Miklat (safe room) was. He started looking on the shelves for an item branded ‘Miklat’. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Ditching him, I approached a Russian attendant. In passionate but halting Hebrew, she told me everything she knew about the war and Russian missile victims before pointing to the staff dining area as the safe room. Further enquiries showed that the alert I heard was for a city in the north.
I heard it estimated that every day that people stay home, the state loses an estimated 200 million shekels in VAT revenue. Today, workplaces reopened where safe spaces are available.
Reality
Ballistic missiles are massive. Despite suffering shrapnel from intercepted Iranian projectiles, my neighbourhood is relatively safe. But this war is no joke. The few missiles that dodged our defence systems have caused enormous damage to both property and life.
In the meantime, Israeli soldiers are still dying in their fight against Hamas in Gaza, and the Houthis are gearing up to increase their attacks from Yemen. We can only hope that by suffering a direct blow, Iran’s agents (Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis) will take a chill-pill and let the region move toward construction instead of destruction.
News reports are emerging at a dizzying rate. Today everyone is asking whether America will actively join in the fighting. If I don't upload this post now, things will change and my scribblings will no longer be of interest.
Together with all such developments, we must continue our struggle to rectify the unfortunate status quo: to release the 20 or so live hostages held captive, like animals, by Hamas, and to support those whose lives were upturned and families destroyed by injury in battle, or who escaped their homes and have had to rebuild their lives and families elsewhere from scratch.
War is nasty.
My Translation:-
Warning:
There are still people being held hostage
Above: Daily protest to release Israelis still held hostage by Hamas
