Young mother Sarit Kurtzman, 28, has lived on Kibbutz Alumim, just a short distance from the Gaza border, for seven years. Two weeks ago, her largely peaceful existence was shattered when her kibbutz came under attack by Hamas terrorists, forcing her, along with her husband, Yonatan, and their 14-month-old daughter, Zohar, to hide in their bomb shelter for 26 hours while scenes of horror unfolded all around.
She recently recounted her story for the Magazine in a harrowing interview.
After completing her army service, Sarit spent a year working as the leader of a mechina (pre-army) program on Kibbutz Alumim. It was during that time that she fell in love with the place and met Yonatan, who lived there.
She then studied for a BA in communications and radio at Sapir College in the nearby city of Sderot. “I felt the need to do something about hasbara Israeli [advocacy for Israel], to speak up and let the world hear our voice so they could understand what’s really going on,” she told me earnestly. “I see it as my duty – it has to be said.”
Her voice, and others like hers, are needed now more than ever, as many have already started “shifting the story,” as Avi Mayer, editor-in-chief of The Jerusalem Post, recently tweeted, adding: “They’re making this about Gaza, hoping you’ll forget what happened just one week ago.”
A horrific attack from Gaza like no other
Sarit, who’s become used to the constant rounds of fighting that have blighted their lives in Sderot over many years, recounted what happened on the morning of the October 7 attack – and why she and her husband knew almost immediately that this time, it was different.
“It all started at 6:29 a.m. when I was awoken by the familiar noise of the Iron Dome targeting rockets that are aimed at us. Even before we had a siren, [we heard] the sound of the Iron Dome intercepting the missiles.
“I ran to my daughter’s room, picked her up from her bed, and brought her to the bomb shelter.”
THEY WERE then joined by Yonatan.
“I, my husband, and my daughter were in the shelter. It just felt a little different this time,” she said.
“There are noises that we’re very used to. We’re used to hearing the missiles, and we’re used to hearing helicopters, and we’re used to hearing planes and explosions. There are a lot of noises that we’re aware of and can recognize, but this time it was very different.
“It was about a half-hour attack nonstop. Nonstop missiles coming out. I and my husband, who were both in the military, looked at each other and said, ‘Something is different; something big is happening.’ It was a shock.”
Sarit then explained how kibbutz members are forewarned when trouble is looming, but this time there was nothing. “Sometimes, we are told to be careful or to watch out when things are heating up – but this time there was no information before, so we knew something was going on.”
She took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“That was at 6:30,” she said.
“At around 7:30, we got a message that there are terrorists on the kibbutz… We have to lock our doors, lock the shelter, close the windows, and not leave the bomb shelter for any reason.” A huge feat in itself with a young child.
“So, we were in the bomb shelter – I, my husband, and my daughter. Suddenly, we heard noises that we weren’t used to hearing. Gunshots which we weren’t used to hearing. We were [both] in the military, but these didn’t come from guns we know.
“It sounded very close, so we right away wrote to the emergency team on the kibbutz.”
After a brief pause, Sarit continued. “We were in the bomb shelter for 26 hours, and during those 26 hours we [only] left twice to get a bottle of water and diapers for my daughter and to get her a little something to eat from the fridge; but besides that, we didn’t leave,” she recounted. “Not for the bathroom, not for anything else.”
ALTHOUGH SARIT and her family are religious and don’t use their phones on Shabbat, that morning, she said, they had no choice. “When this all started, we immediately took our phones and turned them on… trying to figure out what was going on.
“Some of my [religious] family members also started texting me. When I [realized] what was going on, I sent them my location on my phone and I said, ‘Just so you have it. Just so you know, if something happens to me, this is my location. I’ll make sure to hide my phone somewhere so you can know where I am at all times.’”
Unarmed and afraid for their lives, Sarit made the decision to arm herself as best she could when the opportunity presented itself, “During one of those times when I went to get a bottle of water, I got a very big kitchen knife. That’s all I had. We don’t have a gun at home, so I thought I’d bring in a knife just so we have something.”
Not only did the young family have the ongoing nightmare of knowing that at any moment they could find themselves at the mercy of the terrorists who were marauding their kibbutz, but they also had another, more immediate, problem to contend with.
“At 12 noon we lost electricity and the bomb shelter was pretty stuffy – there’s not a lot of air in there. So once the air conditioning went off, we had to, once in a while, open the bomb shelter door [to let in some oxygen], which was not really allowed.”
Knowing their plight, Sarit’s friends sent chilling messages of advice: “Make sure you put clothing around the door so if they try to burn your bomb shelter, smoke won’t come in and you guys won’t suffocate.”
Sarit and her husband tried to remain calm for the sake of their daughter: “We were just trying to stay calm. I didn’t want my daughter to feel what was going on,” she said, adding that singing Tehilim (Psalms) was very effective for her.
Before long, the couple learned of the horrors taking place around them from watching the news on their phones. “We saw what was happening on the news. We saw people’s houses were being burned, and we saw terrorists taking people hostage and people being shot. My husband and I looked at each other – we didn’t know if we were going to get out of this alive.”
Sarit also managed to keep abreast of developments by staying in touch with the kibbutz emergency team, comprising “eight men – regular people with regular jobs who volunteer [for] this emergency unit which makes sure the kibbutz stays safe until the army comes.”
Her husband, who’s a reservist, offered to join the team; however, there weren’t enough guns to go around, so he remained with his family in the shelter.
Other kibbutz members, including soldiers who had just completed their army service, as well as those who had their own handguns, were able to join the emergency team.
While the team’s heroic efforts saved the lives of many of the kibbutz members – they are “the reason I’m alive,” said Sarit – others were not so fortunate.
As the Kurtzmans’ 26-hour nightmare neared its end, Sarit received a message that anyone who wanted to leave should be at the gate of the kibbutz at 8:30 a.m. “When we got out of the gate of the kibbutz, it was like a war zone from a video game or an action movie where one side of the street is on fire, and the other has cars flipped over with bullet holes in them…” However, they were still unaware of the full extent of the atrocities that had taken place on their doorstep: “At 8.30 in the morning, we still didn’t understand how big this event was.”
ALTHOUGH SOME confusion surrounding the events of that day still remains, Kibbutz Alumim elder Stanley Kaye, who has lived there for decades, gives the following account, which draws together some of the strands in Sarit’s account.
“The day began with a volley of rockets, commencing at 6:29 in the morning. Subsequently, groups of terrorists entered our kibbutz from various directions, with eight separate incursions during the day. A group of 13 armed kibbutz members acted as an impromptu defense squad and held off the terrorists for five or six hours until the arrival of significant military reinforcements.
“Tragically, terrorists infiltrated the kibbutz through the back gate and encountered foreign workers, primarily Thai and Nepali nationals. Regrettably, 16 individuals lost their lives, and others were wounded. Approximately four people are also missing and presumed to have been taken hostage in Gaza.”
IN THE aftermath, Sarit, who ideally would have liked to carry out her duty as a reservist in the army, felt compelled to stay home with her daughter – “I felt she needed me” – while her husband took up his post as the commander of a platoon.
Instead, Sarit feels that sharing her story is her way of doing something meaningful. “For me, it’s a different kind of reserve duty.” She would like people to hear about the heroes, as well as the horrors, of her story.
Most kibbutz members are now living in two hotels in Netanya, where despite it all, “the spirit is really high and lifted,” she said, as many people are trying to help them. “The hotel is filled with boxes, and food, and clothing… it’s really amazing to see how everyone is getting together to help out.”
Members of the kibbutz have already started fundraising in order to repair the damage and rebuild their home.
“One of the messages that our community is interested in getting out there is that, just like the Jewish nation has been doing for [thousands] of years, we survive and we fight and we win.”
While Sarit tries to remain positive, she’s been left with this troubling thought: “Am I going to be a survivor of October 7? Am I going to go around schools and tell my story like my grandfather, the Holocaust survivor, did?”
Nevertheless, her faith is still strong. “Our faith is what makes us different from our enemy. The fact that we believe in living… When the missiles are coming at us, we want to live.” ■
The Jerusalem Post and OneFamily are working together to help support the victims of the Hamas massacre and the soldiers of Israel who have been drafted to ensure that it never happens again.