Peloni: Maddy-Weitzman reveals a very detailed telling of the unfolding tragedy of October 7 in just one of the communities targeted that day. It offers an important understanding of the many layers of tragedy which took place that day as the residents, defenders made their provided a credible defense against the oncoming slaughter that day.
The defenders of Kibbutz Alumim fought off Palestinian terror squads on Oct. 7 and saved their homes and families
Gil Cohen-Magen/AFP via Getty Images
The evening of Oct. 6 was especially festive at Kibbutz Alumim, one of the two religiously observant kibbutzim among the communities that dot the Gaza envelope, the part of Israel’s fertile northwestern Negev region adjacent to the Hamas-ruled Gaza Strip. Most of Alumim’s 500 residents and their guests had gathered at the kibbutz’s synagogue to celebrate with song and dance the start of the Simchat Torah holiday, one of the two most joyous days on the Jewish calendar. Many of them didn’t finally retire until after midnight.
Ordinarily they would have returned to the synagogue the next morning to continue the celebration. Instead, at 6:29 a.m., they were suddenly roused from their beds by a deafening cascade of rocket launches from a nearby Iron Dome anti-missile battery, and the resulting booms marking the interceptions of some of the thousands of missiles launched from Gaza, less than 4 kilometers away. The usual Color Red warning alarms were barely audible amid the deafening tumult. So many intercepts were being fired that it was as if the Iron Dome firing mechanism was somehow stuck in the “launch” position. After a few minutes, the firing stopped completely, apparently because all of the battery’s available missiles had been used.
After more than 15 years of intermittent attacks from their neighbors, Alumim’s residents ostensibly knew the drill: One had 30 seconds to scurry into reinforced rooms (mamadim) and remain there for 10 minutes, until the risk of being hit by rocket or mortar fire, or falling shrapnel from the interceptions, had passed. This time it was different. The unprecedented barrage of rockets and mortars was quickly followed by a sustained ground assault by thousands of heavily armed men at 30 different points along the border. Their mission, explicitly defined in documents later found on the dead bodies of their commanders and on computer files, was to kill as many people as possible, to take hostages, and wreak destruction on both civilian and military installations.
A map of Alumim found on the body of one of the Palestinian commanders showed two different lines of attack. The one carried out by the first squad was pointed toward the nerve center of the kibbutz—the nishkiya (armory), the secretariat, and the kibbutz’s “war room” (hamal), a below-ground, two-room complex monitoring the various security cameras spread around the kibbutz. A similarly detailed plan for neighboring Kibbutz Sa’ad described the location of the secretariat (“a significant source of information for our forces”), the dining hall (a place to gather hostages), and the animal feed factory (a suitable place for the forces to gather and replenish themselves). For whatever reason, however, the first wave of attackers at Alumim didn’t follow the plan, instead choosing to try and first secure the front gate and adjacent areas of Road 232, the north-south artery parallel to the Gaza border.
The blackest day in Israel’s history had begun. Alumim’s residents, like those in neighboring communities, would spend many harrowing hours closed up in rooms that proved to be safe from rocket attacks, but in most cases couldn’t even be locked from the inside. In some localities, they would prove to be death traps.
Fortunately for Alumim’s residents, they would be spared the worst of the horrors visited on neighboring kibbutzim, thanks to a combination of good fortune, apparent mistakes by the Hamas attackers, late arriving assistance from various security forces and, most of all, the courage and resourcefulness of its plucky defenders. Alumim’s 41 foreign workers—22 Thais and 19 Nepalis—on the other hand, were far less lucky, and paid a terrible price.
As elsewhere in Israel’s border areas, the first layer of Alumim’s defense rested on its 12-member security team (kitat konenut: KK), backstopped by three persons manning the kibbutz’s hamal. In recent years, the IDF had cut down the sizes of the KKs, viewing them as increasingly unnecessary in light of new technological and engineering measures that supposedly ensured the defense of the border, and even a nuisance. It had also imposed new restrictions upon members who wanted to keep their weapons in their homes, requiring the installation of heavy wall locks embedded in concrete to prevent thefts (in fact, the thefts mostly occurred at army bases). The weapons themselves had neither long-range scopes nor night-vision equipment. Hence, the size of the KK at Alumim, once 16, was now 12.
Most of the KK members ranged in age from mid-30s to late-40s. Some worked on the kibbutz, others outside: One was a lawyer, another a university professor in brain research, two others were engineers in large companies. Had the attack taken place during the week, and not on the holiday or Sabbath, some of them would not have been home, and the outcome would have been far worse. Eerily, a similar situation characterized the beginning of the October 1973 Arab-Israeli war exactly 50 years and one day earlier: The Egyptian and Syrian surprise attacks were launched on the Yom Kippur holiday, when nearly everyone in the country was at home, thus expediting the army’s ability to mobilize in the first critical hours and days.
Each KK member had considerable military experience. Nearly all were married, with three or more children. Most of their weapons, primarily M-16 rifles, were locked in the small nishkiya located in the center of the kibbutz not far from the hamal. The annual training exercise had been held a month earlier: The scenario that they practiced was one in which a few terrorists penetrated the kibbutz, took hostages and held them in a building. The KK’s role was to set up a thin line of defense, confront any attackers, and isolate the building in question, until nearby army units arrived, within the expected 15-20 minutes.
Eyal Rhein, 49, father of four, was the head (ravshatz) of the KK. His responsibilities included organizing the annual one- or two-day training exercise, mobilizing new members when needed, maintaining the necessary weapons and ammunition, and communicating with the IDF’s nearby Gaza Division during any emergencies and escalations. Realizing that the rocket fire was out of the ordinary, he quickly donned his Shabbat (Sabbath) pants and shoes, a simple protective vest, and the white shirt marking his status as ravshatz, grabbed his pistol, and went outside to have a look around, on an electric bike. At 6:52 a.m., while near the kibbutz’s back gate, he received a message from the army command to activate the KK. He quickly sent everyone a WhatsApp message to meet at the nishkiya, but not everyone would see it right away. Rhein was also told to close roads and gates in the fields immediately surrounding the kibbutz.
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