Be strong, be unified: What I learned from fighting in Gaza

Gaza is a place of contradictions, an area blessed with natural beauty, with stunning sand dunes and a turquoise-blue sea, yet cursed by the hatred that has turned it into a warzone.

The first week of our deployment, we uncovered a Hamas tunnel. Stretching miles underground, these are designed for one purpose: terror. They are stocked with weapons, explosives, and even medical supplies for those terrorists who aim to survive after carrying out attacks.

As a military, we made every effort to avoid harming civilians. We dropped leaflets, broadcast warnings, and begged the residents to evacuate the combat zones. But Hamas prevented them from leaving, using them as human shields, knowing that the presence of civilians would make our mission infinitely harder.

We often delayed missions to give civilians time to evacuate, even though it meant risking our lives and allowing Hamas to prepare. My soldiers questioned this approach, but we knew that to truly defeat our enemies, we had to uphold a higher moral standard. This commitment to our values is what set us apart in the face of adversity.

In one of our missions in the Rimal neighborhood, after days of intense fighting, we approached a house suspected of harboring terrorists. Just as the platoon was about to enter, we noticed hands signalling for us not to shoot.

Despite the fear and the knowledge that similar situations had ended in deadly ambushes, we decided to hold fire and allow the residents to exit. Inside, we found a terrified family who had been trapped in the combat zone. We let them cross and evacuate toward central Gaza. Moments later, Hamas exploited our restraint, opening fire from a nearby media building.

In another Rimal operation, our unit heard what sounded like crying children inside a house. Fearing they might be our hostages, we rushed to enter, only to discover that Hamas had planted loudspeakers to drag us in. Inside, the house was rigged with explosives, set to explode upon our entry. This is the reality we face: compassion met with calculated cruelty.

We witnessed the depths of human depravity. In every house, we searched for weapons and we found them anywhere, even in babies’ playpen. While searching for weapons, we found houses filled with sex toys and costumes used by pious religious leaders.

The oppression of women was evident in every corner. Wedding albums where brides never smiled, clothes clearly never intended for the women who lived there. All the while, my thoughts were consumed by the fate of the Israeli hostages held by Hamas. What horrors were they enduring? What acts of cruelty were being inflicted upon them? The urgency to end this war, to rescue the abducted, became my driving force.

In one particularly harrowing incident, we were securing an area near a terror tunnel in Zeitoun neighborhood. Hours later, Hamas targeted us with mortar fire. Nine soldiers were wounded, and two of my men were killed, including Omar Smadga, the son of Israeli Olympic medalist Oren Smadga and Saadia Derai, the son of Laly Derai who immigrated to Israel from France in order to fulfill the Jewish dream of settling in Israel.

As a 28-year-old commander, it fell to me to inform their families. It is a task that no training can prepare you for: to look a mother or father in the eye and tell them that their son, their pride and joy, was killed in the line of duty. Yet, even in the face of this unbearable loss, we had to continue. Like the phoenix, we rose from the ashes and carried on the fight against the evil that threatened our home.

That event was the toughest leadership test I’ve ever faced. Despite my youth, my soldiers trusted me to guide and protect them. I saw the devastating impact of losing comrades, the pain that leaves scars for life and the resolve to fight evil. My soldiers shared their nightmares and grief with me, and I knew I had to lead by example.

An IDF reservist sits with fellow troops at kibbutz Kfar Aza where dozens of civilians were killed days earlier near the border with Gaza, on October 10, 2023 in Kfar Aza, Israel. Israel has sealed off Gaza and conducted airstrikes on sits Palestinian territory after the Hamas attack killed hundreds and took over nearly hostages. On October 7, the Palestinian militant group Hamas launched a surprise attack on Israel from Gaza by land, sea, and air, killing over 700 people and wounding more than 2000. Israeli soldiers and civilians have also been taken hostage by Hamas and moved into Gaza. The attack prompted a declaration of war by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, and ongoing retaliatory strikes by Israel on Gaza killing hundreds. (Photo by Alexi J. Rosenfeld/Getty Images)Getty Images

Even in the face of overwhelming loss, I pushed forward, knowing that our mission was crucial. The intensity of hand-to-hand combat with terrorists solidified my understanding of the vital role an officer plays. It was in those moments that I felt the true weight and responsibility of leadership.

As a commander, I knew that leading by example was crucial. If I wasn’t the first to take a risk, how could I expect my soldiers to trust me? I quickly realized that by putting myself first on the line, I earned their trust and respect.

It struck me then: the stark difference between our leadership and that of Hamas. Our senior commanders stand at the forefront, sharing the dangers of the battlefield. In contrast, Hamas leaders hide deep within tunnels, pushing civilians into harm’s way while they remain protected.

Yet, amid all this, I could not help but feel a deep sorrow for the Palestinian people. They are trapped under the rule of a leadership that embodies all that is evil: corrupt, violent, and utterly indifferent to their people’s suffering. I saw the fear in their eyes, not of us, but of Hamas. Tragically, Hamas has succeeded in forcing the civilians of Gaza to participate in this war.

Every house bore signs of allegiance: Hamas flags, Fatah banners, pictures of martyrs. They have turned their homes into fortresses of hate, their lives into a battlefield. My dream of peace, once fragile but still alive, was buried in the rubble of Gaza. Yet I hold onto the hope that one day a Palestinian leader will emerge who can reignite the dream of peace for both our peoples.

Even as I write these words, after nearly eight months of fighting, I know that our struggle is far from over. The personal sacrifice of so many fighters, those who lost jobs during this time, those who stopped their college, people who lost their friends or loved ones on October 7, must be worth it.

The war has tested our nation’s resilience like never before. As an Israeli soldier, I call on our leaders to take decisive action to secure our future. We must bolster our military, ensuring that every community in Israel plays a role in our defence.

It’s crucial to increase our domestic weapons production and reduce reliance on foreign arms, but at the same time strengthening our diplomatic ties is essential for ensuring Israel’s security on the global stage. Together, we can face these challenges and safeguard our nation’s future.

Most importantly, we need to restore our unity as a people. The terrorists have tried to break our spirit, to make us look like a divided, unstable nation. But they have failed. Despite the war, I got married, completed my degree, moved into a new home. My friends have done the same. This is the essence of the Jewish people: our resilience, our love for life, our refusal to be defeated.

We will continue to dance, to celebrate, to build. We will live. And to our enemies, I say this: you may try to destroy us, but you will never succeed. The people of Israel choose life, and that is our greatest strength.

The war launched by terrorist organisations against Israel on October 7 is not merely a conflict over land. It is a clash of cultures. This battle threatens the very values that the founding figures of western democracies have championed, values of freedom, justice and respect for human dignity. These principles are now under siege from forces that propagate hatred, oppression, and extremism.

Growing up in Israel, I was deeply aware of the importance of our people’s survival. From a young age, I understood that the security of the Jewish state is not just a priority, it’s a necessity.

Surrounded by threats, we were constantly reminded that without a strong defence, our survival would be at risk, just as it was during the Holocaust.

In school, we learned about the early Zionists who established Israel against all odds, the Holocaust survivors who defended our land during the War of Independence and the military triumphs of the Six Day War, which reaffirmed our connection to this land. We also studied the lessons of the Yom Kippur War, which pushed us to build one of the world’s most advanced intelligence networks.

These stories taught me that love of the land, joy of life, and the will to succeed are what bind us together as a people. But on October 7, everything I had believed in was shaken to its core. The morning after Simchat Torah, usually a time of joy, I was jolted awake at 6:30am by sirens. Living in the centre of the country, far from conflict zones, this was alarming.

I sensed something was terribly wrong. I hurried to my parents’ home with an instinct to protect them. But nothing could have prepared me for the horror that unfolded.

Ahead of the Battle of Britain in 1940, Winston Churchill warned that if Britain were to fall to the Nazis, “the whole world, including the United States… will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age.” While this war may have begun with Israel, its implications are global.

The same ideologies threatening Israel today are poised to challenge Europe, the United States and beyond. It is clear today that Israel underestimated the jihadi threat, funded by the Iranian regime, which proclaims “death to Israel, death to America, death to the West”.

We must preserve and protect the culture that our ancestors fought so hard to build. Defending Israel is not just about safeguarding a nation, it’s about upholding the ideals that form the bedrock of our shared heritage.

Stand with Israel, stand for the principles that have shaped our western world.