Byline: Bruce Brown

Operation Protective Edge, on Aug. 3, 2014. (photo from flickr.com/photos/idfonline)

Part 3 of a three-part series, in which the author shares his diaries from the homefront, providing a glimpse of daily life under missile threat during Operation Protective Edge in 2014. For Part 1, click here; for Part 2, click here. 

July 23

Day 16. Iron Dome success rate at 90%. Missiles still get through. Today, an errant rocket hit a house. No casualties. This prompted yet again another lecture from Dad to his kids. Don’t be over-confident and continue taking the Code Red alerts seriously.

Six hundred and sixteen dead in Gaza. Mostly civilians. Locked in a war zone. A human catastrophe. Simply put, as American Civil War general William Sherman put it, “War is hell.”

Hamas fighters seen emerging from their hideout in an ambulance. Balancing war aims with the desire to avoid collateral damage, the Israel Defence Forces decided against bombing the ambulance.

More missile action in Rehovot. Spoke with our son while huddled in our protective room. He was out with friends at a nearby café. They talked with us from under a table.

July 28

Huge uncertainty. Again that word. Shuffling from ceasefire to ceasefire. Meantime, my Code Red app doesn’t stop beeping.

What is sure? The death and devastation in Gaza is tragic. The continued threat to Israel from Hamas’s missiles and terror tunnels is unacceptable. Two ends of a very sharp sword that Hamas must sheathe to bring quiet.

Israel cannot rest until the Hamas threat is eradicated. Or at least severely beaten. In the past 12 months, more than 200 missiles have been fired at our southern communities. Another 200 rockets were fired at the same communities in the 10 days leading to our military offensive. Since the start of Operation Protective Edge, a staggering 2,500 rockets fired at Israel. Yikes!

Exceptionally telling was a picture in our morning paper. Israeli soldiers carrying a wounded bomb-sniffing dog in a stretcher to a waiting helicopter. Contrast to Hamas terrorists firing from behind women and children.

Returning from Tel Aviv with my wife and daughter, a Code Red sounded. A known routine. Pull over. Exit car. Crouch down on roadside. Cover heads with hands (!). My wife huddled over our daughter and I huddled over my wife. Double protection for my daughter. Unbeknownst to my daughter, while the Iron Dome chased and intercepted its target overhead, I managed a quick and loving grope of my wife. Nothing like some comic relief. Another Love Is moment.

July 31

Driving home from work as a missile barrage hit the south. Three people lightly injured by falling missile fragments. Text messages from my loving family:

Wife: “Where’s Dad?”

Son: “Think he’s at work. Tough luck for him – ha ha!”

My son inherited my dark and cynical sense of humour.

A country at war: 65,000 reservists now called up; 18,000 pending call-ups. Flags strung up along our main roads. War jingles on the radio. Billboards supporting our troops. Famous Israeli singers touring the front (which is one city over!). Patriotic teenagers waving flags and dancing at major intersections.

Nonstop beeping of the Code Red app. Heard everywhere. Movie theatres. Restaurants. Grocery stores.

Soldiers’ funerals attended by hundreds.

Solidarity with impacted businesses in the south, holding market days in major cities. Large public service campaign to buy “blue and white.”

Aug. 2

Sixty-three of our bravest boys killed. Three civilians killed. One soldier, Hadar Goldin, captured. Dead or alive?

U.S. President Barack Obama asked Hamas – one of the most barbaric terrorist movements in the world, who flagrantly have violated six humanitarian ceasefires, who hide behind innocent women and children, who plant arsenals and war rooms in hospitals, schools and mosques – to please set the soldier free. Pretty please. With sugar on top. Don’t think the president gets it.

Aug. 5

Three times I told my son to get up for work. Each time, he mumbled OK. Each time, he fell back asleep. Then, running to our safe room at 7:15 a.m. with Code Red apps blaring, he finally got out of bed.

Leaving home this morning, I told my daughter that today should be relatively quiet. Entering another ceasefire. “Ya, like Hamas will respect that,” my 12-year-old quipped.

A tough day yesterday. More than 85 rockets rained on Israel. Terror attacks in Jerusalem. Terror alerts in Tel Aviv. Entering a 72-hour truce, which will hopefully usher in … something.

Preparing for the inevitable “day after.” Fists clenched. Hearts palpitating. Brow sweating.

Aug. 6

Halfway into the truce. So far, quiet met with quiet. Yesterday, I woke to the sounds of missiles and my Code Rep buzzing. Today, I woke to the sounds of silence – well, actually, to the sounds of my kids arguing and my dog barking. Beautiful noise.

There’s an atmosphere of victory. Our soldiers – our children – are heroes. Hamas was dealt a severe and long-term blow. Is more isolated in the Arab world. Some strategic shifts in alliances per the dictum “My enemy’s enemy is my friend.”

Will not forget those who fell in our defence, as well as the few civilian casualties. Saddened by the death and destruction in Gaza. Pray that one day soon Gazans will rise above Hamas, save themselves.

Hope our enemies are deterred from other misadventures. Pray that peace will be upon us. Am Yisrael chai.

Aug. 11

A bit premature with my last entry. Suffering from wishful thinking. Looks like victory has not yet arrived. While Hamas took a severe beating and is largely isolated, they continue their disregard for a real truce.

Both sides met in Egypt to negotiate a settlement while the ceasefire took effect, but huge gaps. Not surprisingly, talks broke down. Hamas resumed their missile barrage. Israel reactivated our air defences and continues to pound Gaza.

International condemnation of Israel totally disproportionate. Fierce anti-Israel and antisemitic rallies throughout the world, especially in Europe. Jews surrounded in synagogues (France). Jew-free areas (United Kingdom). A rabbi killed on his way to synagogue (United States). Jewish kids bullied in schools (Australia).

Still feel safer in Israel than in Europe. Even now. Think the mass immigration of Arabs to European lands and poor absorption processes taking effect.

Going to Italy next week for a family vacation. Need to minimize our “Israeliness.” English will be our language of choice. A bit scary.

Amid a second three-day truce, am doubtful the truce will last.

Aug. 13

The truce ends at midnight. Lots of anxiety. What comes next?

Didn’t Netanyahu once say he would never negotiate with terrorists? The world looks different at the top, when the decision is yours.

Am working late tonight. If the truce ends early, I hope it lasts at least till I get home.

Aug. 17

Waiting on the outcome of an extended ceasefire. Expires midnight Monday.

The solid backing and relative discipline Netanyahu enjoyed from the government is starting to crack. Lots of conflicting postwar opinions, positions and plans. Two Jews, three opinions.

Heading to Italy for our long-awaited family respite.

Aug. 26

Back from Italy. Fiftieth day of Operation Protective Edge.

While away, we tried, as best we could, to unwind from the tensions of our little shtetl. You can never really escape the reality of your country being hit by missiles. Especially with the Code Red app going off when eating pizza in a town square, when visiting the Coliseum, when at the Vatican, when touring the medieval hamlets of Tuscany. Could have just turned off the app but, for a sense of identity, some twisted need to remain connected, didn’t.

After 50 days, Gaza is burning. Death and devastation are immense. But Hamas – like that Duracell rabbit – just keeps going.

In a Sisyphus-like manner, another ceasefire is in the making.

Israel is awash in the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Escapism of any kind, however temporary.

Aug. 29

Waited a few days before writing this entry. Wanted to be sure this ceasefire held. It has. But gaps remain wide. Hamas remains a wild card.

Discussions in Israel are intense. Significant introspection. If Netanyahu thought the Gaza battlefield was tough, here comes the national post-mortem. This soul-searching (self-flagellation?) is indicative of the Israeli psyche, our democracy. This constant search inwards may be the secret to our success as a people, as a country.

A contrast to the other side. Celebrating their “victory.” Dancing in the streets. Shooting in the air. Proclamations of battles won that never happened. A lack of critical introspection that will, unfortunately, keep our enemies from making any real progress in developing a strong, forward-looking society.

Former National Security Council head Ya’acov Amidror: “One of the main differences between Israeli and Palestinian societies is that, if Israel has a glass of water three-quarters full, it will complain about and search for the missing quarter. If the Palestinian glass is only one-quarter full, it will celebrate the one quarter and even imagine a second quarter.”

What was? What will be? I defer to our pundits and leaders. To hopefully bring, if not peace, at least quiet to this wonderful, ever-challenged, always robust, constantly developing and very happy country.

May peace be upon us. As-salumu alayna. Shalom.

Bruce Brown, a Canadian-Israeli, made aliyah 25 years ago. He works in high-tech and is happily married, with two kids. He is the winner of a 2019 American Jewish Press Association Simon Rockower Award for excellence in Jewish writing.

Weapons seized from terrorists who infiltrated Israel through an underground tunnel to carry out a massacre in an Israeli community. This photo was taken on July 19, 2014. (photo from flickr.com/photos/idfonline)

Part 2 of a three-part series, in which the author shares his diaries from the homefront, providing a glimpse of daily life under missile threat during Operation Protective Edge in 2014. For Part 1, click here; for Part 3, click here.

July 13, 2014

Day six. Woke up at 4 a.m. Browsed the headlines on my smartphone. Some talk about talk about considering talk about a truce. Fell back asleep. Rudely awoken at 6:11 – I angrily checked the time – by a siren. Incoming. So much for all the talk. My wife and I groggily made our way to our daughter’s room, our protective room.

Son Dor is enjoying Eilat. Returning by bus this evening. Maybe it makes more sense to take the afternoon bus. Think the skies are quieter in the daytime.

Sides still too far apart for a truce.

When Prime Minister Netanyahu talks about a long-term truce, what does he mean? With my son going into the army in two years, I don’t want another ceasefire like we had in 2008 and 2012, which allowed Hamas to rearm and wage new wars so soon after. Not acceptable. Our cabinet reconvenes today to further consider a ground offensive. What a job our prime minister has!

So much damage in Gaza. How can Hamas not cry uncle? Despite its macho threats, its salvos of rockets – more than 100 fired over the weekend – the impact to Israel is minimal. Largely due to a poor-quality arsenal. The constant pressures of our offensive. Our amazing Iron Dome. And the well-prepared and trained homefront (that’s us!).

July 15

Ceasefire to take effect at 9 a.m. Final terms to be agreed. Somewhat ass-backward. Shouldn’t terms be agreed first? What do I know? Hope it brings quiet. Peace.

Gazans needs new leadership. The classic choice of guns or butter, they need to decide if they want to continue being human shields in a war they cannot win.

My son returned from Eilat. Without incident. With a great tan and funny stories. But frustrated. Tossing the morning newspaper aside, he growled, “We’re crushing them. We need to continue until they are clearly defeated! This truce is bullshit. We’ll only face more missiles next year. You don’t stop when on the verge of victory. It allows your enemy to retrench and rebuild.” The rashness of youth has a point.

I left for work with a delicate sense of calm. Maybe I can worry less today. Alas, an hour into the ceasefire, missiles were again fired at Israel. Errant missiles? Or continued, self-defeating defiance by Hamas? Previous operations also had a number of false truces. Then there was quiet. To paraphrase from Sting, I only hope the Gazans love their children, too.

But another beat prevails. More and more missiles fired by Hamas since the ceasefire went into effect. The kids, alone at home, went scurrying to our safe room for a third time in the last hour.

From her Tel Aviv office, my wife sounds somewhat flustered. A mother’s distress. Loud booms heard overhead from the Fab in Kiryat Gat. My daughter called from the protective room. Safe. Frustrated. Not understanding what Hamas doesn’t understand about a ceasefire.

In the meantime, Israel is holding its fire. Hoping for the best. Preparing for the worst.

Anyway, I need to complete a report for work.

July 17

The war continues. The truce that wasn’t never took hold, despite Israel’s willingness. We’ve agreed to a five-hour unilateral, humanitarian ceasefire, to give Gazans a respite. Effective 10 a.m. today. We continue building our military reserve – 50,000 soldiers patiently await their orders.

We thwarted an infiltration. Thirteen terrorists heading towards a border community through an underground tunnel were stopped.

We continue rendering the Hamas war machine ineffective, while Hamas continues to subject Gaza to suffer Israel’s might. Uncertain where this leads.

Received a pretty frantic call from my wife and son. On their way to Tel Aviv, they witnessed an Iron Dome sound and light show – we shot down four missiles. They could almost feel the heat of the sky-high blasts. Scattering out of the car, they held each other as they ran for cover in a nearby shelter. Talking to me, their voices a mixture of exhilaration, excitement, fight. Then they continued their drive to work.

The true hero of this war is the Iron Dome. Probably one of the greatest military defence breakthroughs of the last hundred years. Can’t imagine the situation without it.

July 18

Fearful. Hopeful. Last night, at 10:38 p.m. (precisely), Israel embarked on a long-anticipated ground operation. For peace. I am fearful for our sons, brothers, fathers, some sisters, too. Trusting our nation will soon hammer Hamas’s swords back into plowshares (Isaiah 2:4).

We fell asleep around midnight, huddled in our den watching nonstop news. Reporting was spotty. Events happening very quickly. Full disclosure not a privilege. Lots of uncertainty – that word again – adding to fears and hopes.

Also concerned about our neighbours in Gaza, caught in the crosshairs of Hamas insanity. I like to think the majority of Gazans are innocent pawns, fiercely used by Hamas to terrorize Israel with crude and indiscriminate missile attacks. Israel makes a clear distinction: this war is with Hamas, not Gaza.

Hamas waited not a second after the humanitarian ceasefire ended to resume its barrage of missiles. They also fired a few during the ceasefire.

July 20

Updated my smartphone. Another brilliant Israeli application. Designed under extreme pressures. Called Code Red. Brilliant. Beeps with every missile attack, even advising the location. Seems everyone downloaded this app – the office can be quite noisy at times.

Went to Tel Aviv with the kids for lunch yesterday. Needed a break from our pressure-cooker existence. We hung out along Rothschild Boulevard. Lots of cool cafés and shops. With 50,000 reservists down south fighting for our security, quite a contrast.

There was a missile attack as I was leaving Rehovot this morning. I was outside the mall – running a quick errand – so sought cover in a doorway with five others. My daughter home alone. Called her. Asked if she wanted to come with me to work. “No, Dad, I’m fine. Be careful.” How quickly they mature.

My son is still going out evenings with his friends. I’d prefer he stay home, but teenagers will be teenagers, even in wartime.

July 21

Yesterday was a tragic day for Israel. Thirteen of our best, killed defending our country. Now 18 soldiers killed since the start of hostilities. A collective weeping. Each soldier someone’s child, sibling or parent. Taken from routine to defend life and country from this insanity from Gaza.

Again, Israel found Hamas terrorists attempting to infiltrate the country from their tunnels of hell. Intending to carry out a terrorist rampage in one of our border communities. Targets not soldiers, but innocent, unsuspecting families. Grandparents. Children.

Israel goes to great lengths to protect civilians in Gaza. When Israel targets terrorists hiding and firing from a civilian building, it first warns the local population by dropping leaflets, blaring the message on loud speakers, even making phone calls and sending text messages. Or, does a “knock on the door” – shoots small, precise, non-explosive ordinance at a roof to urge inhabitants to vacate before attacking. Israel aborts an attack if noncombatants are in harm’s way.

Hamas has different values. Not rational. Not humane. They urge and sometimes force Gazans into targeted areas. Hamas counters Israel’s pre-attack announcements by threatening retaliation, even execution, to those who heed the warnings. Hamas strategically locates command-and-control operations within hospitals, schools, mosques. This is their defensive shield. As our prime minister said, “They don’t give a whit about the Palestinian people.”

Our war is not against the people of Gaza, but against the terror organization ruling and subjugating Gaza – Hamas.

A mother was quoted today: “Knowing my son is entering this strip of land governed by such demons is frightening enough. Aware that he is doing so with a weapon in one hand and a law book in the other – representing the Israeli approach to asymmetrical warfare – is beyond my capacity as a mother to bear. Israeli parents, famous for over-protectiveness at the playground, must make their peace with such parental cognitive dissonance. It is a feat I wish on my enemies. Only then will there be hope of genuine coexistence.”

Bruce Brown, a Canadian-Israeli, made aliyah 25 years ago. He works in high-tech and is happily married, with two kids. He is the winner of a 2019 American Jewish Press Association Simon Rockower Award for excellence in Jewish writing.

Drivers take refuge from rockets in Tel Aviv, July 9, 2014. (photo from flickr.com/photos/idfonline)

Part 1 of a three-part series, in which the author shares his diaries from the homefront, providing a glimpse of daily life under missile threat during Operation Protective Edge in 2014. For Part 2, click here; for Part 3, click here.

July 8

Operation Cast Lead, 2008. Operation Pillar of Defence, 2012. Now, Operation Protective Edge, 2014.

Naïvely, I disassociate the unraveling events from the grisly murders of teenagers Gilad Sha’er, Eyal Yifrach, Naftali Fraenkel. Then the murder of teen Muhammad Abu Khdeir. Gripping the country in horror, fear and dismay. I hope a sense of normalcy will prevail.

It doesn’t. Last evening was disrupted by 15 rockets fired over Rehovot, my little shtetl. Our Iron Dome intercepted several of them. The rest missed their targets, falling into open land. Two hundred missiles fired at Israel over the past week.

The attack took us by surprise. Pizza ordered, my son just finished his shower, my daughter hanging in her room, which doubles as our reinforced shelter. The siren sounded. Together with our dog, we ran to join my daughter in her room. A bit invasive to a teen. But she forgave us.

I took a few extra seconds. I had 30, after all. Grabbed a large bottle of water, some chocolate, a few asthma inhalers. “Dad! Get your ass in here!” my son shouted as I was scouring the kitchen for more goodies.

Then. All clear. We left my daughter’s room. I mean, the protective room. The doorbell rang. Pizzas here.

Amazed the delivery boy was still doing his rounds. I admonished him for not seeking shelter. He says he waited out the attack in our stairwell (also a reinforced area). Quite impressed with his delivery skills, gave him a large tip. The pizza arrived in less than 30 minutes, as advertised. Great job.

Went to bed a few hours later. My daughter had a difficult night. Couldn’t fall asleep and came into our room a couple times. Did our best to comfort her. But what can we say? We were attacked with missiles.

We promised our daughter she wouldn’t have to stay home alone, that she could join me at work. Not sure this was a wise promise. My office is located more south. My big worry – the drive to work. Driving there, I imagine myself in an episode of Wagon Train.

Looks like we are moving into a major ground offensive. A pending call of up to 40,000 reservists. Imagine the impact this will have on our economy, on our society. Fortunately, my son’s army duty is two years away. Somewhat reassuring, but not much, as these operations tend to repeat themselves every couple of years.

July 9

Visited our safe room twice last night. Hamas fired missiles as far north as Tel Aviv. Even targeted our capital. Didn’t expect such a quick escalation. We responded. Pounded 150 targets inside Gaza. I pity the poor Gazans suffering the slings and arrows of their leaders.

Heard another siren while walking my dog this morning. Poncho and I ran to the nearest shelter, the stairwell of a neighbouring building. Waited the mandatory 10 minutes with a mother and her child. Adding to an already complicated situation the child had cynophobia – started panicking at the site of my dog. Poncho and I chivalrously moved one floor up.

Poncho also feels the stress. Waiting in the stairwell, amid the booms and sirens, he started crying, pawing me.

I think about my son and his friends, who have a trip to Eilat planned for tomorrow. They are debating whether to go. Tough call. My wife and I also are struggling with this. That dang security factor! But there is also the heroic, stoic pizza delivery guy message. Life in Israel.

July 10

Operation Cast Lead cost $50 million a day; total cost, one billion bucks. Pillar of Defence cost $2 billion. Where is this money coming from?

We’ve destroyed more targets in the last 36 hours than in all of Operation Pillar of Defence.

More than 90 missiles were fired at Israel yesterday. Thirty were struck down by the Iron Dome. Rehovot was pretty quiet, with only one evening siren. I was home alone while my wife and kids were at the mall, which they said was totally empty. So, why were they there? Great question. One I ask every time they’re at the mall. Missiles or not.

Yesterday, we received an automated call from our mayor. Rehovot, along with other southern municipalities, has declared a state of emergency. Not sure what this means. Think we need to stay within 90 seconds of a protected space. Try factoring that into your busy day!

Morning papers filled with instructions on how to stay safe. Definitely a well-prepared country with this sort of thing. Facts speak for themselves. No casualties, despite more than 300 missiles fired at us since hostilities broke out.

My gym routine at work was disrupted by a double siren (one after the other). While waiting in the protected area, I positioned myself for a dash to the bench press once the all clear was sounded. Priorities!

The situation was becoming routine. How quickly we adapt. Calling home, I asked the standard questions. What’s up? What are you doing? What’s for lunch? Any missiles? Reading your book? A totally ordinary conversation.

My son and his friends went to Eilat, which is outside the battle zone. So, in the meantime, just the regular parental worries for a vacationing teen.

On a patriotic note, I hung a flag on our balcony today. Nothing like a good war to bring out the blue and white in me.

That night, the 1970s comic strip Love Is came to mind. Discovered a new one – love is … being alone with your wife in a bomb shelter.

July 11

A siren went off this morning while I was driving to the supermarket. Always dreaded being in a car during a siren. Seems the least safe place. There I was at an intersection, a little jittery, looking for a place to pull over and exit the car – then run for fortified cover … or lie down with my hands over my head. Spotted a place just down the road. Reminded myself I had 90 seconds to get to relative safety.

The red light took forever to change. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Green! A car zoomed out from behind. Cut me off. Took my coveted spot. Dang! Most drivers stopped on the spot, like when the sirens sound on Remembrance Day, so I did the same. Then bolted from my car. Crouched down. Put my hands over my head and hoped for the best.

Crouching next to me was the guy who cut me off. He also didn’t get to “the spot” in time. He apologized. We exchanged pleasantries about the unpleasant situation. And then, moved on.

What’s with the covering our heads with our hands stuff? Will that protect us from burning debris falling from the sky? I told my daughter I’m going to start driving around with her bike helmet. Though not a bad idea, it was quickly nixed. If I did that, she warned, she’d never drive with me again. Too embarrassed I guess. Teens. Even during war. Go figure.

Yesterday afternoon, the Iron Dome intercepted several missiles over Rehovot. Parts of the Weizmann Institute of Science were covered with bomb fragments. Especially by the pool. The lifeguard had ensured the kids were out of the water and ushered to safety. A miracle no one was hurt. One panicked child ran back to reclaim his sandals. The lifeguard ran after him. Unable to drag him back in time, he covered the child with his body. Bomb fragments littered the ground around them. Another Israeli hero. Like the pizza delivery guy.

A missile was fired towards the Upper Galilee from Lebanon this morning. We fired back. Hope our Lebanese friends are deterred. Certainly prefer not to open another front.

The Israel Defence Forces also has struck 1,100 Hamas targets in Gaza: 210 targets over the last day, including 81 underground rocket launchers, 21 command and control centres, 15 attack tunnels, 10 training centres, seven administrative buildings. And a partridge in a pear tree.

July 12

Woke up this morning to find my daughter watching the news. Instead of her usual Saturday morning teen programs, she was actually watching the news. One of the first tragedies of war is innocence. On the positive side, we finally got our daughter interested in the news.

Another casualty of war? Certainty. We are no longer certain about so many things. Things that affect today, things that affect tomorrow, things that affect next year. Small things, large things. Lots of things. Not certain.

Two missile attacks on Rehovot today. Surreal. Scary.

Trying to keep a normal routine. Went to a matinée today. Still planning our summer vacation. Busy with work. Busy at home. Baking chocolate chip cookies. Watching Friends reruns. Doing everything with this horrendous situation in the background. Or the foreground.

A bit despondent today. Want this to end. But what’s the end? What about the economic fallout of a $2 billion bill? What about the political and diplomatic fallout? Waiting for some good news.

Bruce Brown, a Canadian-Israeli, made aliyah 25 years ago. He works in high-tech and is happily married, with two kids. He is the winner of a 2019 American Jewish Press Association Simon Rockower Award for excellence in Jewish writing.