Journey into the Horrors of October 7th, Part 1

B I N J A M I N  ( B E N )  C A S E Y

Recently, Your Jerusalem’s Binjamin Casey visited the devastated communities of the Gaza Envelope to see the destruction – as well as the hope and rebirth – for himself. In part 1 of this two-part series, Ben tells of his trip to the Erez Crossing and Sderot, and of the lasting impact that it had on him.

For part 2, click here.

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A few weeks ago, I decided to join the Bear Witness Tour, a group that was organized in Katzrin in the Golan Heights for those who wanted to visit some of the war-ravaged communities in the South of Israel. I admit that I had serious doubts about going, because I had read a newspaper article stating that some of the residents of the Gaza Envelope communities felt that their privacy was being invaded by such visits.

To my credit, I had no macabre desires in wanting to go: I’d seen more than my fair share of death throughout my many years working in Africa. What finally convinced me to take the trip was that, only a short three months after the atrocities of October 7th, there were those who were denying that it had ever happened, despite the huge amount of audiovisual evidence and personal testimonies from first-hand witnesses, as well as ample evidence from the perpetrators themselves. I realized that I needed to see, and to feel, the atmosphere of these towns and villages for myself, and to hear from those people whose lives had been changed forever.

I realized that I needed to see, and to feel, the atmosphere of these towns and villages for myself, and to hear from those people whose lives had been changed forever.

Our tour started on a cold and rainy morning in the north of Israel. As we descended from the Golan Heights into the Jordan Valley and then past the Sea of Galilee, the rain stopped, perhaps auguring better days ahead for Israel. Traveling south on Route 6, we passed the Arab city of Tulkarm, a hotbed of Palestinian terror activity in the western Shomron (Samaria). We noticed a very high protective fence along this section of the highway, built to stop terrorists from firing onto passing motorists. Tulkarm and nearby Qalqilya are in Area A, the areas designated in the Oslo Accords’ framework as being under the direct control of the Palestinian Authority.

A few hours later we were already in the southern coastal city of Ashkelon, not far from Gaza, where we met Eliyahu McClean, our group’s guide for the day. Accompanied by Eliyahu, we continued south to the Erez Crossing, one of the border crossings between Israel proper and the Gaza Strip. As we passed the army base on the approach road to Erez, we noticed a concrete wall, approximately 6 meters high, pockmarked with bullet holes. The base’s watchtowers still had bullet holes in their glass windows.

Soon we arrived at the entrance plaza to the crossing, which looks eerily similar to that of Ben Gurion airport (not surprising, since they were both designed and built by the same company.) Before the war, around 6,000 Gazans would travel back and forth across the Erez Crossing each day, coming to work in Israel proper in the morning and returning home at night (and earning around 10 times the wage they could garner in Gaza.) Now, it is known that many of these same workers were actively involved in spying on the communities in which they were employed. They sought out vital information: who owned guns, how many people lived in each house, what their ages were and whether or not they owned dogs. All of this intelligence was gathered for planning purposes, to help make the job of the terrorists more efficient on that fateful day in October.

Passing the crossing itself, we saw a number of Israeli civilian vehicles that had been destroyed in the October 7th attack. Riddled with bullet holes and half burned out, they were a stark reminder of how those who were desperate to escape the murderous rampage were gunned down or incinerated in their own cars.

We left the crossing and made a small detour to the former Arab village of Deir Sneed, located on the ancient Via Maris (believed to be the “Road of the Land of the Philistines” of Exodus 13:17). Remains of the village’s railroad station and bridge were hidden among a grove of Sabra cacti, which made them a bit difficult to hike to. Nonetheless, we felt compelled to see them since they hold an historical significance: the “Palestinians” claim that this was one of the forced assembly points of what they call the “Nakba” (Arabic for “catastrophe”), the mass expulsion of “Palestinians” during the 1948 Arab-Israeli war.

From Deir Sneed we set out southwards towards the city of Sderot. Founded in 1951 as a transit camp for 80 Jewish families from Kurdistan and Iran, it grew steadily, and in 1996 was granted official status as a city by the government of Israel. Today, it is a thriving commercial hub in the south of Israel with a diverse citizenry of 30,000, including immigrants from North Africa, the former Soviet Union and Ethiopia – this despite being targeted by around 9,000 rockets and 5,000 mortar shells between the years 2000 and 2013.

By comparison, the nearby town of Al-Shati in the northern Gaza strip is still officially designated as a refugee camp, has no thriving economy, and survives only by receiving massive funding from the U.N., U.S.A. and E.U. Home to some 90,000 Arabs, it also “boasts” a branch of ​​Al-Quds University, a fine institution of higher learning where future terrorists are indoctrinated into lifelong hatred against Israel, as well as many, many miles of terror tunnels.

Driving towards Sderot along the road abutting the railway tracks, Eliyahu pointed out that the earthen banks and carefully planted trees separating the road from Gaza were set up as a screen to help protect passing vehicles from RPG attacks.

Soon we were in Sderot. Sderot is a small but pretty city which was given its name by Israel’s first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion, for the majestic eucalyptus trees that line its main avenue. (“Sderot” is Hebrew for “boulevard”.) Like many other southern Israeli cities, Sderot’s bus shelters are built to serve also as bomb shelters. However, one thing that is unique to Sderot is the roof of its train station: it is also bomb-proof and designed to withstand the impact of incoming missiles, the only such roof in the world. Sadly, also unique to Sderot are the fortified playgrounds featuring giant concrete play equipment in the form of caterpillars or, as the locals call them, “snakes”, built to be used as makeshift bomb shelters for the children playing in the park in case of an incoming rocket or mortar shell.

Sadly, also unique to Sderot are the fortified playgrounds featuring giant concrete play equipment in the form of caterpillars or, as the locals call them, “snakes”, built to be used as makeshift bomb shelters for the children playing in the park.

Due to its proximity to Gaza, running to bomb shelters has been a part of daily life in Sderot for many years. As a growing town with a young populace, Sderot has developed a vibrant music scene (traffic circles are decorated with poetic and musical themes), and many of the city’s musicians and poets boast that they honed their skills while being forced to take refuge in the shelters.

Inside the town, we passed the place where a group of elderly tourists were gunned down on October 7th after their minibus became stranded with a flat tire. We saw the remains of the Sderot police station, which Hamas terrorists gained control of, murdering some 20 police officers. (After a fierce firefight, the IDF and Sderot police regained control of the station with the aid of bulldozers and tanks.) The building has since been completely demolished and a memorial menorah has been set up on the site. Well-wishers from all over the world leave flags and other memorabilia around its base, a testament to the overwhelming support that Israel has, despite appearances in the press to the contrary. A beautiful mural adorns the wall of the adjacent building, a depiction of the flag of Israel, the Israel Police and the IDF. In one section of the mural, a tank is shown firing at the station; above the tank is a Torah scroll with Hebrew letters flying heavenward, representing the holy souls of the people murdered there on October 7th.

As we continued driving around town, we noticed that, although still very quiet, Sderot is slowly coming back to life: children were playing in the parks and stores were reopened for business. We passed the Chabad House in the center of town (and more caterpillar bomb shelters), and arrived at the Hesder yeshiva, the largest Talmudic military institution in all of Israel. It houses around 800 students who defiantly returned to their studies on 8 January 2024, despite the ongoing conflict in nearby Gaza City. From the rooftop of the yeshiva, we saw a beautiful panoramic view of the entire city. In clear view was a stark reminder of the ongoing attacks against Israel since the start of the Second Intifada in 2000: a magnificent Hanukkah menorah constructed from the spent casings of Qassam rockets, whose candle holders were designed in the shapes of the trails that those same Qassam rockets make in the sky as they fly from Gaza to Israel. Mesmerized by the menorah, I contemplated all the myriad challenges that the people of Sderot have had to face over the years. I also contemplated their unwavering resilience. On the roof of the yeshiva, mirroring this sentiment, was a “tree of life”, also made from rocket casings.

We left the yeshiva and drove to the Givat Kobi overlook on the outskirts of town. From this vantage point, we could see the Erez checkpoint off to our right, the Arab city of Jabalia straight ahead of us and the entirety of Gaza City off to our left. Suddenly, we heard a huge explosion! It was a terrorist tunnel being eradicated by the IDF. This was followed by a massive plume of thick smoke billowing into the sky. Standing there, I could not help but feel absolutely no sympathy for the people of Gaza, soldiers or otherwise. It is now known that many civilians streamed into Israel on October 7th on motorbike, bicycle and even foot, following their Hamas overlords into the nearby Jewish communities and gleefully participating in the slaughter, rape and looting of their populations. Sympathy should be reserved for the victims, not the perpetrators.

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At 6:30 AM on October 7, 2023, Sderot was invaded by approximately 200 Gazan terrorists. Fifty Jewish civilians were massacred in the streets, shops and marketplaces of the city, and twenty police officers were killed in their police station. This attack on the communities of the south was deliberately timed to take place almost exactly 50 years, to the day, from the start of the Yom Kippur war. Just as on that fateful day half a century earlier, Israel will never be the same after October 7, 2023. But, just as after the Yom Kippur War, Israel will pick up the pieces, Israel will continue onwards and upwards, and Israel will never stop going from strength to strength. Seeing Sderot with my own eyes, perhaps more than anything else, reminded me of this eternal truth.

As we left the city, we made one more stop: the bomb shelter where 22-year-old British-Israeli IDF Staff Sergeant Aner Elyakim Shapiro saved the lives of 7 people on October 7th by catching seven grenades tossed into the shelter and throwing them back outside to the terrorists. The eighth grenade blew up in his face and killed him. Driving away from this site, I could not get the thought out of my mind that, with heroes like this, there is no doubt that, despite all the horrors of October 7th, Israel’s future is indeed bright.

Stay tuned for part 2, in which Ben visits Kibbutz Alumim, the site of the Supernova festival and the October 7th car graveyard near Netivot.

Binjamin (Ben) Casey lives in the Golan Heights with his wife Ariella, their shepherd dog, Simcha, and their beloved black cat, Buzz. Ben worked as a flight engineer for many years, traveling around the world as part of material transport and aid distribution missions until he was shot during a break-in at his home in Entebbe, Uganda. He and Ariella made aliya to Israel in 2019.

Ben Casey may be contacted at caseyscab@gmail.com.