The calls came in a deluge. Desperate, pleading, screaming, chilling. They poured in from open fields, from lemon groves and potato farms, from locked closets in safe rooms, from shelters, from bullet-riddled vehicles, from injured first-responder teams, from military bases, from bushes, from ditches, from the heart of hell itself, under relentless gunfire, deep within the flames.
They also came from parents frantic with worry, from children orphaned in an instant, from a mother during her abduction, from people fleeing death in its most brutal form until it finally caught up with them.
"Magen David Adom in Israel's call center boasts some of the most advanced technologies in the world, enabling response times of up to three seconds even during high-pressure situations, and the ability to locate victims based on location sharing from the phone they're calling from," says MDA Director General Eli Bin, who is in charge of Israel's main emergency response medical organization.
"That day, MDA's dispatchers didn't just provide medical guidance over the phone. As you can hear in the calls, they exercised exceptional judgment, thought outside the box, and gave life-saving instructions like keeping quiet and arming themselves for protection.
"Moreover, the dispatchers maintained their composure and answered calls calmly despite the general sense of chaos that had overtaken the country, in order to provide some sense of security to people on the other end of the line. Their actions saved many lives on that cursed morning. The exceptional human capital and advanced technologies at the call center enabled continuous operation and prevented the system from collapsing even under the extraordinary call volume."
MDA data shows that on October 7, 315 emergency medical technicians and paramedics operated in the 101 emergency call centers across the country, answering 26,627 emergency calls. The average response time was five seconds.
These calls represent an enormous repository of real-time documentation of the monstrous reality that unfolded. They are tangible evidence that serves as an eternal auditory memorial to the atrocities. Here are some of them, exclusively revealed by Israel Hayom.
6:29
Yael arrives a bit early for her Saturday morning shift at the MDA call center. Usually, Saturdays are calmer than weekdays, especially on a holiday, but this Saturday the sirens caught her in the parking lot.
She rushes to open a station, expecting calls from Israeli who fell on their way to shelters. But the calls coming into the 101 emergency hotline in those minutes are different and become increasingly dramatic moment by moment. "MDA, hello, this is Roni," a dispatcher answers one of the calls.
"We're near the shower, we heard a siren and ran because of the sirens," reports the caller from Kiryat Gat in a stressed voice, describing that one family member was injured during the run. At the next station, another dispatcher answers a call: "MDA, Alexa."
"Hello, my water broke," says a caller in distress.
"Negev, Moshe," reports an MDA team member from the Negev region. "Talk fast," the dispatcher replies, already having to answer a new incoming call.
Yael sits at her station and immediately answers an incoming call. "MDA hello, this is Yael." On the worried end of the line is a man reporting that his house was hit by a rocket. "We're on our way, yes, get into the shelter." In the next call, a father from Yavne asks for advice on how to calm his child, who is having an anxiety attack. "First of all, I can send you an ambulance," she says. "You can sit with him, hug him, calm him down. It's really stressful."
6:47
"MDA, Esther," responds a dispatcher at another station. "This is from the police. I want to connect you to a call. A woman was hit by a rocket and she says her mother is dead." The police officer connects the caller to the dispatcher. Esther inquires about the address. "We have a high volume of calls," she updates the officer, "she's here with you on the line." "Our faces are burning, we can't breathe," the woman says in panic. "There's an ambulance on the way to you." "Urgent!" the woman pleads.
These calls represent an enormous repository of real-time documentation of the monstrous reality that unfolded. Tangible evidence that serves as an eternal auditory memorial to the atrocities. Here are some of them, in a document exclusively revealed by Israel Hayom.
Moment by moment, the calls become more difficult and frightening. "We all received unusual calls," dispatcher Yael Hadad says. "I looked to my right and left, we looked each other in the eyes and understood that we were all receiving calls that were beyond comprehension. It wasn't just my calls that were like this. You hang up a call, don't have time to put down the receiver, and already a new call is coming in. You don't dare take a break."
Pieces of horrifying information come in. Jarring sounds of screams, pain, gunfire, explosions, panic, alongside a jumble of words of comfort and life-saving instructions. Whispers, final gasps, silences, and shouts in Arabic are heard in some of the calls. Cries of anguish. A baby crying. Pieces of horror swirl and coalesce into a blurred picture of hell at the emergency centers and the national center of Magen David Adom.
7:08
Hezki the dispatcher answers a call: "MDA hello."
Caller: "Listen, they shot at us! My friend is dead in the car. We're both in a ditch. They're shooting here. Can you locate the phone and get here somehow?"
Hezki: "Yes. Stay with me on the line, brother."
Caller: "We left a party in the forest, there was an encounter, they shot at our car, my friend is dead."
Hezki asks the panicked young man to open WhatsApp and click on a link to send his location. The young man reports that in addition to the fatality in the car, his friend beside him in the ditch is wounded and bleeding from the shoulder. The dispatcher instructs him to apply pressure to the bleeding area.
Caller: "We need an ambulance now! Hurry! There are also explosions above us."
Hezki: "I understand. Tell me, are there casualties only in your car?" The young man reports on more vehicles hit in the area and begs for an ambulance to arrive: "Please! I've lost one friend, I can't lose the other one too!"
Hezki asks the young man to place a cloth to stop his friend's bleeding. "We don't want to move, we're in a dangerous place," the caller replies. "Locate us, brother! Send a helicopter." Hezki checks if the friend is conscious and explains to the caller that stopping the bleeding is the only option to save his life right now. "Be real with me, how long approximately (will it take for an ambulance)?" Hezki replies: "We're on our way, brother. There are mobile intensive care units on their way to you."
In the background, the calls keep coming in. From Kfar Aza, from bases hit in the south, from Route 232 and other communities where rockets fell. "Tell him to apply pressure so he doesn't lose blood," Hezki says to the young man who is meanwhile talking to his friend: "Brother, are you okay?" And the friend replies in a weak voice, "I'm cold, I'm starting to go into shock." The caller says to his friend "I'm with you" and shouts to the dispatcher: "Brother, are you coming?!?"
7:18
Yael receives a call reporting gunfire towards the gas station at the entrance to Kibbutz Kfar Aza. The information is already available in front of Yael's eyes. "Yes, we're on our way to the location, I understand there are many wounded there."
In the next call, there's a panicked female soldier on the line from one of the bases in the area. "I have a soldier who was shot at," she says. Yael: "Is he conscious?" The soldier confirms that the wounded soldier is talking to her. "Okay, listen, take a deep breath, we're on our way. Are there more wounded?" Yael finds herself instructing the soldier to stop the bleeding and realizes there are many attackers in the base.
In one call, there's a panicked female soldier on the line from one of the bases in the area. "I have a soldier who was shot at," she says. Yael: "Is he conscious?" The soldier confirms that the wounded soldier is talking to her. "Okay, listen, take a deep breath, we're on our way. Are there more wounded?" Yael finds herself instructing the soldier to stop the bleeding and realizes there are many attackers in the base.
"Please lock the door. I'm with you," she tries to give the soldier a sense of security. "You lock the door, crouch down, and make as little noise as possible." Yael inquires about the condition of the wounded. "He's conscious, thank God," the soldier answers, and Yael suggests she take his weapon. "You're a champion. Well done."
The soldier asks where the ambulance is, and Yael explains that they're trying to enter but there's active gunfire and currently they have no way to reach them.
At these moments, the activity at the national center and all the centers, which were staffed to the last station, is bustling. "MDA Shifra," the dispatcher answers. "It's urgent!" replies the voice from the other end.
Shifra: "What can you tell me? How many wounded are you?"
The caller speaks of eight or nine gunshot victims. "Sir, I'm with you, are they all conscious?" Shifra asks. The caller updates that two are unconscious. "This is a large attack, mass casualties," he explains.
Shifra: "You can save them. I know it's difficult. How many people do you see lying down?"
Caller: "Two aren't moving."
When she asks if he's also wounded, he replies: "I think I was shot in the head, but I'm more concerned about my friend. His leg is swollen. He's bleeding. A lot of blood."
Shifra instructs him to take a cloth. "Wow, wow!" she hears. Shifra asks if there's gunfire and instructs him: "Lie on your stomachs. Put your hands on your head. Be on the floor." Gunshots are heard in the background. Everyone is lying down. "When the shooting stops, make a tight tourniquet for your friend, do you hear?" After a few seconds, the young man answers again.
"Yes, I hear you."
Shifra: "Take a cloth, anything you have, a shirt, pants, sweater, anything. You tie it tightly on his leg. Hold him. Tell him 'You'll be okay,' say these words to him all the time, so he doesn't lose consciousness, so he keeps his eyes open. Tell him you're with him. If there's no active shooting, make sure everyone stops their bleeding. Stop everyone's bleeding. Apply direct, strong pressure on all the wounded."
"We're losing blood here. Hurry! Hurry!" he pleads. "What's happening with your friend?" Shifra asks. Caller: "He's conscious for now."
Shifra: "Talk to him. Tell him he's strong and that he'll survive this." Shouts are heard in the background. Shifra asks what happened.
Caller: "People here are stressed. Under pressure."
Shifra: "If there's shooting, you lie on your stomachs and don't move."
Caller: "Please, I'm begging! Please, God!"
Shifra: "Many forces are on the way."
Caller: "As fast as possible."
Omri Levy, National Dispatch Supervisor at MDA, arrives around seven o'clock at the national center. Within a short time, all of MDA's senior command will gather there to manage the most turbulent, chaotic, and horrifying day in the history of the State of Israel.
"A few minutes into the event, we understand that something unusual is happening," Omri recounts. "The instruction received is that no night shift is going home. We're reinforcing the dispatchers across the country, and during this time reports start coming in about shooting incidents in Sderot as well.
Moment by moment, the calls become more difficult and frightening. "We all received unusual calls," dispatcher Yael Hadad says. "I looked to my right and left, we looked each other in the eyes and understood that we were all receiving calls that were beyond comprehension. It wasn't just my calls that were like this. You hang up a call, don't have time to put down the receiver, and already a new call is coming in. You don't dare take a break."
"A few minutes later, one of our mobile intensive care units that went to treat a shooting incident in the Urim area was shot at an intersection. The ambulance driver was hit, and the paramedic reports convoys of motorcycles with attackers heading towards Ofakim. One of our on-call staff, who left home for that same incident, was murdered."
7:32
"MDA hello, this is Avi."
Young woman: "They're shooting at us. We're near Gaza."
Avi: "Where near Gaza?"
Young woman: "There are many wounded here, wow, wow, listen, I don't know. My boyfriend, he's severely wounded in the hand." Avi: "We're sending an ambulance to you. Is your boyfriend conscious? Is he talking?"
Young woman: "He's losing consciousness."
Avi: "I want you to apply pressure on the place where he's wounded. Press hard."
The young woman tries to say something, but the line is disrupted.
Avi: "I can't hear you. Were you also hit by gunfire?"
Young woman: "A little. There are many severely wounded here."
Avi: "How many people are you there?"
Young woman: "I don't know." The fear in her voice intensifies. "Send lots of ambulances."
Avi: "I want to know: Are you conscious? How many wounded?"
Young woman: "Two severely wounded. Are you sending someone meanwhile?"
Avi: "Yes." At this stage, Avi already knows that the IDF has blocked the roads, but prefers to leave the young woman with hope. Avi: "How many wounds does he have on his body?"
Young woman: "One on the hand, in the artery."
Avi: "I want you to press there on the wound."
Young woman: "I'm pressing, I'm pressing."
Avi asks the young woman for her name, asks how old the people with her are.
Young woman: "There are people here from age 26 to 30 and we're all slightly wounded. Listen, oh my God! Are you locating my position?"
Avi: "I think I've located it."
In the background, bursts of gunfire are heard. Avi: "I want to verify that the wounded person is conscious."
Young woman: "He's not conscious. They're shooting at us!!!"
Avi: "Are they still shooting there?"
Young woman: "Shooting! Can't you hear? They're shooting at us all the time! Oh my God!!! Come already!!!"
Her terrified words mingle with the gunfire and screams in Arabic. She sobs as quietly as possible, curling into herself on the ground like a wounded animal, surrounded by blood, terror, death, and countless hate-filled murderers, approaching her with shouts of hatred and bursts of gunfire.
"Ahhh," a flash of surprised pain is heard on the phone, involuntarily breaking out. "Ahhh." Her quick, frightened, sobbing breaths turn into three final gasps, followed by one weak one, and then silence.
In these horrifying moments, in the depths of hell, this young woman wasn't completely alone. She had a witness. There was someone who accompanied her until her last breath – and there's documentation of the murderous massacre in which her life was taken.
The next call comes in as soon as this one ends. The MDA dispatchers have no moment to process. Sometimes there's someone who breaks down and goes out for a few minutes break. The support teams that were called up are there to accompany them.
7:35 "Sir, you called me, I'm from MDA. Do you need help?" Yael asks the caller. "We have gunshot victims here," he replies, and Yael confirms: "Is this where the party was?"
"There are many cars here. The police told us to run away from there," he says. "Right," she answers, "there's shooting in the whole area. Can you send me a location? Did you get my WhatsApp message?"
The caller checks, and Yael asks to understand the scale of the party from which more and more calls are being received. "About 4,000 people." Yael keeps her composure and asks to know how many wounded are near him
"As far as I know, there's one gunshot victim."
Yael: "Where was she hit? Arm? Leg? Head?"
"Left leg, in the thigh area," the caller details and adds that there are people treating her and applying a tourniquet.
"Great, it's really important for me to hear that now," says Yael and explains that it will be difficult for an ambulance to reach the location. "Take care of yourselves."
"It was important for me to reflect the reality to them," Yael says this week. "For them to know that it's not just them. That it's many civilians. In one of the calls, a child from one of the kibbutzim called me and asked, 'When are you coming to help us? We have attackers here.' I tell him that everyone knows about his situation and wants to help him: 'There are many forces trying to reach you, and there are also many bad people in the kibbutz moving around.'
"It's hard to mediate this situation to a small child, and also to an adult. Everyone knows their lives are in immediate danger. Everyone understands there's a war even before it's been declared. You need to give tools to a person, even when they're helpless. To tell them 'Take the car and drive to the hospital,' when on a normal day it's 'Stop at the intersection, turn on your blinkers, and wait for an ambulance.' It's questions like 'Do you have a weapon? You don't have a weapon? Take one from someone who's wounded.' These are surreal things."
8:09
"MDA Noa."
In the background, terrified screams of young men and women are heard. Noa: "Sir, stay with me for a moment. Where are you? Where are you? Hello..."
Young man: "Ow!" In the background, terrible screams of pain, crying, and shouting.
Noa: "Where are you? Where are you located? In which city are you? Stay with me for a moment. Keep yourselves safe. Hide."
In the background, a young woman is heard screaming: "Nooooo, nooooo."
Young man: "They're shooting at us here."
Noa: "I know they're shooting at you. Where exactly are you located? Which kibbutz? Stay with me! Tell me exactly where you are."
Young man: "We're... please, please!"
Noa: "Stay with me. Where are you?"
Young man: "In Kibbutz xxx, outside the shelter."
Noa: "I understand. Stay safe. Do you have an option to go hide?"
Young man: "No, no, they're shooting at us non-stop. We're all bleeding here."
Noa: "Okay, tell me how many wounded are around you?"
Young man: "20 wounded."
Noa: "Listen to me for a moment. Are they still there? Still shooting?"
Young man: "Yes, yes, they're not stopping. Please come!!!"
Noa: "I understand. Listen for a moment, one second, we're trying to reach you. Which road are you on?"
Young man: "Which road are we on?" He asks someone next to him. "Please! They're shooting at us! Save us! Please!"
Noa: "Listen for a moment, dear, for those who are bleeding - take a shirt, take a cloth, stop the bleeding."
Young man: "There's nothing. There's nothing here. They're shooting at us."
Noa: "Stop your bleeding. Try to keep yourselves safe. Can you go to a safe place? Hello? Hello?..."
Young man: "We can't... we're bleeding to death here. Wow. Wow. Someone died!"
Noa: "What happened there? Who died? How many wounded are near you? Hello? Hello? Sir, stay with me, we want to understand what's happening there."
In the background, voices of approaching attackers are heard. "At this stage, we start receiving calls from all around the area and there are many incidents," recalls dispatcher Omri. "We decide to bring down armored ambulances from the Judea and Samaria region. We understand that it's also in Sderot, Ofakim, and Netivot, but we still don't understand that there are attackers with RPGs.
"There were treatment points that we started to deploy, ambulance concentration points in areas where there are roadblocks, to which we direct civilians and the military to evacuate the wounded. We're setting up treatment sites at MDA stations as well. Within all the events we're trying to deal with, we're receiving terrible calls from civilians who are in houses that are on fire, who are being kidnapped during the call and shot at during it.
"In our work, there's no call that's similar to the previous one. We always need to think outside the box. Even in routine events. We didn't think we'd need to teach civilians to put wet rags at the door to prevent smoke from entering. The thing that was hardest for the dispatchers was to hear that someone needs help and to know that the ambulances are blocked."
Avi Cohen, who woke up to the sound of sirens, arrived at the MDA national center in Kiryat Ono. In those days, he was being trained for the position he holds today – manager of the central region call center. He began to return calls from civilians and guide those who remained alive.
"We work on autopilot, without thinking," he says. "Even in routine, a 20-year-old dispatcher guides CPR on a baby. She doesn't stop and think about the situation and say 'Oh no, I can't do this.' Afterwards, at home, suddenly thoughts run and we try to process and understand, but at that moment I didn't have the emotional space to contain it. We were already in a sense of helplessness.
"In the whole sector, you hear about teams that were shot at and you can't reach them. It's talking to a person who says 'I ran and they shot at me,' and you can't get to me because Route 232 and all the roads around are blocked. And it's not one person who needs our help – it's dozens. It's a difficult feeling that you can't send ambulances. After all, this is our life: to jump on a vehicle and run, no matter in which area.
"Here, for the first time, we encountered a situation where there's an intensive amount of events, and you can't do anything except talk to them on the phone, try to help, encourage. In retrospect, this was the only spark of hope left for these people. And when I call them back, try to see what's happening with them, try to direct them to teams and then they don't answer, the sense of helplessness intensifies. We wanted to reach them, we couldn't, and here's the consequence. This was the main difficulty I had that day."
During this time, MDA teams are going out into the field amidst rocket fire and mortar shell impacts. "We're talking with the team in Sderot that was hit, and looking for a way to send them a team in an armored ambulance," Omri recalls. "A wounded person arrives at the station in Sderot and shooting begins towards the station and towards the pensioners' minibus, who were murdered right at the back of the station.
"The team runs back to the station. They lock themselves in. The ambulance remains running outside until they managed to leave again. This is a feeling of helplessness. In fact, our teams were no different from any other civilian – we couldn't provide a response for them either. Everything that's trivial from our perspective – there's a casualty, an ambulance arrives, they treat, transport to hospitals - this whole chain was broken.
"We certainly see that some of the attackers' targets were to hit MDA teams and they tried to reach the MDA station. They came to ambulances in communities, shot at the tires and burned them to disrupt the activity. This is the first time we dealt with the fact that we too are a target, and we can't move freely.
"In one of the cases, we had a team member inside a house, shot and waiting for us to arrive. We try to send military personnel to him and they say 'There's crazy shooting. We can't enter.' Eventually, contact was lost and he too was murdered."
9:00 Ronit Glaser, who arrived along with dozens of dispatchers to reinforce, arrives at her station. Already at the entrance, her colleagues at the center greeted her: "Get ready. You've never dealt with anything like this." "I've dealt with a lot. Attacks, wars. But I really didn't know what to expect," she recounts.
The first call was actually routine. The second already plunged her into the horror. On the line was Amit Man, an MDA paramedic, a resident of Be'eri who left immediately at the start of the attack with an on-call bag to save lives. "Hi Ronit, this is Amit from Be'eri. What's happening? When are you coming?"
"Let's see what I have here," says Ronit and tries to locate an available ambulance to reach Be'eri, but realizes it's impossible. "How do I tell her?" she asks aloud to her supervisor. "I have a paramedic in the clinic with wounded..."
Meanwhile, Amit is convincing one of the wounded not to leave the clinic. "I understand what you're saying, but wait, in a moment with God's help this will end," she tries to calm him.
"Amit, you're amazing," Ronit tells her and inquires about the condition of the wounded. "I have two wounded here, one in mild-to-moderate condition, one in moderate-to-severe condition, and one fatality," Amit reports and in the background active shooting can still be heard. "Stay strong," Ronit tells her, "I hope we can get there soon." The call disconnects.
"I had a call from someone very angry," Ronit recounts. He said, 'I don't understand what's going on with you, I've been in a hole in the ground for three hours, I have two dead friends and another friend with shrapnel who died in front of my eyes. When are you coming already? I've already sent you my location. What's the problem?'
"I ask him to try to keep quiet and explain that we're trying to reach him, but it's a battlefield. He said, 'I don't want to hear anything. Just come.'
"There was also a pleasant woman, an English speaker, from one of the kibbutzim in the area, who apologized for disturbing us when we're busy, but her husband was shot in the lower back and he's bleeding. I told her to press on the spot and try to stop the bleeding, and she told me, 'I know it will take you time to arrive. We're waiting patiently.'"
In the end, Ronit realized that this woman and her husband were also murdered.
"In another call, a pregnant woman told me her husband escaped from Nova and he's hiding. She asked me to try to talk to him. I hear a weak person, and a lot of shooting around. He doesn't know where he's hiding, he just knows there are attackers around him. I ask him to keep quiet and ask him 'Are you wounded?' He answers, 'There's something with my legs, but I'm not looking down. I can't.'"
Ronit asks him to think about his wife and the child that hasn't been born yet. "Do everything you can to stay alive and see her." He started sobbing on the phone and quickly faded away.
"There was also a pleasant woman, an English speaker, from one of the kibbutzim in the area, who apologized for disturbing us when we're busy, but her husband was shot in the lower back and he's bleeding. I told her to press on the spot and try to stop the bleeding, and she told me, 'I know it will take you time to arrive. We're waiting patiently.'"
In the end, Ronit realized that this woman and her husband were also murdered.
Another call from Amit reached Ronit a few hours later – asking for an update if there's an evacuation soon, updating on the situation, and when she hears from Ronit that they're still trying to reach but not succeeding, something in her voice changes: "I understand. Thank you."
"I hang up the call in frustration. How did I not help her? I'm a dispatcher. I'm supposed to send her an ambulance and in this case, I had nothing to do. This was a crazy emotional storm. We all work there from the heart and try to help as much as we can, that's why we're in MDA. But on that day, I didn't succeed from my perspective. It was like a band-aid on an amputation."
Another call comes in. "Roni MDA, hello."
On the other end of the line, someone is breathing heavily in stress. Roni asks: "What happened? Come, stay with me."
Caller: "I can't breathe. There are attackers near our house."
Roni asks to know in which city he lives, and the person replies: "We were in the living room, watching TV and then we heard shooting. We saw a car stop with attackers. I looked through the balcony and saw people with M-16s and keffiyehs."
Roni: "Okay, no problem. Listen for a second, can you listen to my instructions? Close all the blinds in the house, please turn off all the lights. Go to the innermost room. Is the house door locked? Good. Take a few knives with you just in case."
9:36
"MDA Ron."
Young man: "I'm in xxx. There are attackers in my house."
Ron: "Do you have a place to hide?"
Caller: "I'm in the safe room."
Ron: "Is it locked?"
Caller: "Yes, yes. Can you send someone urgently?"
Ron: "I'm sending someone."
Ron asks the caller to give her exact details about the location and asks for his name and the name of another family member who's with him in the room. In the background, approaching gunfire is heard, accompanied by shouts.
Caller: "There are attackers here trying to break down the door."
Ron: "Right now you hear that they opened the door?"
Caller, whispering: "Yes, they opened the door. They're in our house shouting in Arabic 'Open! Open!'"
Ron: "You're staying hidden."
Caller: "Of course, my brother is holding the door. Can you send soldiers here?"
Ron: "They're on their way to you."
Caller, whispering: "Should I send my location? They're breaking the door. They're trying to break the lock."
In the background, the strong knocking of the attackers on the door can be heard.
Ron: "Do you have a way to lock the shelter?"
Caller: "We don't have a way."
Ron: "How many people are in the house?"
Caller: "There are several attackers in the house, it's not just one."
Ron: "Do you hear them talking?"
Caller: "They told me 'Open, open', they're trying to open with a screwdriver, to break the door. Please, send someone!"
Ron: "We're coming to you. Do you have a place to hide?"
Caller: "We're in a small room. There's nowhere to hide. If they come in, we have no way..."
Ron: "Listen, does anyone there have a weapon? Stay with me on the line..."
The caller describes to Ron exactly where his house is located, and continues: "There's a smell of gunpowder. They're burning something in the house."
At that moment, a huge explosion is heard. "Aaahhhh!!! Aaahhhh!!!! They threw a grenade! I'm bleeding!!! I'm bleeding!!!" In the background, gunshots and screams of pain from the caller are heard. "Damn it, I'm bleeding!!! Ambulance!!! My whole back is blood!!! Ahhh!!!"
Ron tries to keep her composure: "Are you in the xxx neighborhood? How many attackers do you have in the house?"
Caller: "I have no idea. About three. They're still here."
Ron: "Don't speak loudly, speak quietly. Did they hit you?"
Caller: "In the back. They exploded... ahhh ... three grenades." The caller groans in pain. His breathing is rapid. "I have wounds in my lower back."
Ron: "Put a towel. Where were you hit in the back? Take a shirt or towel."
Strong knocking is heard in the background. Caller: "They're trying to break in with metal. Please come! They're trying to break the window! Please come!"
Silence falls. Ron tries to call to the caller. "I'm with you on the line," she tells him.
Caller: "I can't see anything, I'm inside the room. My brother is with me."
Ron: "Is there an attacker inside the house?"
Caller: "I don't know. I think they ran away. I'm wounded. They're still in the house. I need medical help. I need a doctor."
Ron: "Until the ambulance arrives, you're with me. On your back. Is the back bleeding from an explosion or gunfire?"
Caller: "From an explosion. I took a towel I'm against the wall. Trying to stop the bleeding."
Ron: "You're doing great. Excellent."
Caller: "It hurts."
Ron: "Is there another wounded person with you in the house?"
Caller: "My brother was lightly wounded in the leg. Light injury in the leg and arm. They're trying to break the safe room door. They've already entered the house. Please!"
The conversation continues in whispers and fear. At some point, the house catches fire. The brothers jump outside. Both were murdered that morning.
13:00
A 13-year-old girl calls from inside a safe room in Kibbutz Be'eri. Her father is next to her, and she's not sure if he's alive. He's wounded in the leg and bleeding, unconscious. Her mother was murdered, as was one of the siblings with her in the house. The house is dark and she's wounded too. Yael and the on-duty dispatcher guide her.
"That day I went through a disconnection," Yael recounts. "I was in my own zone at the station. I didn't hear anything around me. I felt that if I didn't answer this person, there was no one else who would. We didn't have much we could do. We understood that it was enough to provide security in all the uncertainty. To make them understand that there's a person beyond the line giving hope.
"Our goal was to guide them on how to hide well in the field, send a location, save someone else's life. This gives a bit of control and the conversation sounds different. From a panicked person who doesn't know what to do to one who suddenly mobilizes people, improvises and takes a belt or sweater to make a tourniquet.
"That girl, the 13-year-old, spoke with incredible composure," Yael recounts. "She really touched my heart. In the end, this call was also disconnected due to low battery. We thought she was the only one left, but a few days later we understood that she and her father, who lost a leg, were alive. This was one story that ended well, because many of the calls ended differently. She was like a ray of light. Something to hang hope on."
