On October 7, 2023, during the Sabbath of Simchat Torah, unending sirens shook the State of Israel. I tried to convince myself it was a dream, but my wife dragged me to the bomb shelter. When I realized that reality had merged with the dream, I turned on the television, the computer, every possible source of information. The news flowed in: rocket fire, infiltrations, enemies on all fronts – a heavy and surreal event beyond anything we had ever experienced.
8:45 AM – I’m already on my way to the base. The soldiers in my team – from the Galilee to Eilat – arrived within an hour. No one asked, “Should I report?”; everyone was just waiting for the green light from me. We signed out weapons, organized equipment, went on alert, and headed south. On the way, I assigned tasks, we discussed scenarios out loud – to arrive as prepared as possible for the unknown.
Moran Schneider
During training in our special forces unit, they had taught us to “turn the dial” from zero to a hundred in a fraction of a second. Now, at the end of the Sukkot holiday and the beginning of Simchat Torah, we found ourselves fighting an enemy that had invaded our home – the communities of the Gaza periphery. We moved from community to community, from front to front, from family to family.
In an instant, we abandoned studies, businesses, vacations, even the loving embrace of our own families – to become a protective wall. We had one goal: Save lives.
For three days, we fought without sleep, without prior preparation, on our land. Three days completely disconnected from the homes we left behind. Only after regaining control of the Gaza periphery communities could we breathe a sigh of relief, and prepare for long-term combat – a fight that continues to this day.
At that moment, I looked around and saw the beauty of our nation: The camaraderie, mutual responsibility, one heart. We all lost someone – a family member, a friend.
I lost many friends. And I choose to remember and mention Asaf Hamami, who shaped me as an officer during his time as a commander in the Givati Brigade. Hamami, as commander of the Southern Brigade, fell while defending Nir Oz and left behind a wife and three children. Asaf was the perfect commander in my eyes: 50% professionalism, 50% humanity – 100% inspiration.
On Memorial Day, when the siren pierces the silence and we hold our breath, we bring the fallen back into our hearts and promise that they will not disappear from the pages of our history. And precisely in that heavy moment, the bell of hope begins to ring: Independence Day.
The fireworks that cut through the night sky do not cancel the tears – they illuminate them. They remind us that the freedom we achieved is not a gift, but a testament; that the blood spilled has become a banner; that the fallen have become a foundation, and upon them we continue to build floors of life, dreams, and faith. And so, between a minute of silence and the singing of “Hatikvah,” we say to the world and to ourselves: We will remember – so that we can live; We will celebrate – to ensure that their memory will never be lost. This is our resilience, this is their legacy, and this is the secret of the pain and pride that carry us forward.
Am Israel Chai! – The People of Israel live!
