Sergeant Major Ben Kerido shares real time, first person updates from the front lines of Gaza during Operation Swords of Iron.
The Israel Defense Force Hummer convoy rumbled and bounced along a route near [redacted for security]. Our special forces battalion, and especially my Mobilized Infantry and Reconnaissance company, had been deployed not far from Gaza.
Farmland mingled with forests of acacia and eucalyptus trees. The once fertile hub of kibbutzim and moshavim (Jewish communities) and agricultural infrastructure now lay war-torn and desolate.
Cars lined the roads, windows shot out.
Other vehicles brought out of Gaza or stolen by Hamas terrorists lay smashed and charred.
The large mechanical gate of a kibbutz had been ripped off its track and tossed aside.
The ammunition-filled magazines for AK-47 rifles lay forlorn and scattered.
The parachute and motor from a paraglider device used by a Hamas terrorist to infiltrate Israel could be seen strewn across a set of shrubs.
Even hand grenades from Hamas militants could be found, abandoned by their now deceased owners.
In one area a motorcycle — a favorite mode of transportation by Hamas operatives — leaned against the wall of [redacted for security / vital IDF infrastructure], along with a collection of RPG anti-tank weapons.
The region was deserted of civilian life. All the Israeli Jews had been killed or evacuated. And all of the terrorists (hopefully) had been eliminated.
Sukkot (booths) still stood — lopsided and damaged — in the yards of many Jewish homes, a testimony to the murderous rampage that occurred on the final days of the recent Jewish holiday.
Gazan militants continued to launch missiles into Israel. Their fiery tales soared above me and a whooshing sound followed. The terrorists also fired mortars at military and civilian structures closer to Gaza, including our base. Incessantly the code “Purple rain” sounded over the loudspeakers. We only had a matter of seconds to get into the nearby bomb shelters.
Our own mortars platoon began a heavy barrage on [redacted for security] in Gaza. The mortar vehicles rocked with the deafening boom of the outgoing shells.
My platoon received a mission. We were to guard and protect the team tasked with processing the bodies of at least five dead terrorists.
It was gruesome; the stench was terrible. I did not envy in the slightest the IDF soldiers who had the unlucky job of pulling their rotting corpses out of the bushes and sand dunes.
Grimly, though, I considered us lucky. A sister unit had located and then been tasked to process two other bodies:
A Jewish mother and her five year-old child.
I continue to scan my sector of fire as the dilapidated corpses were processed.
One of my colleagues in arms, Sergeant Dan, addressed me.
“Keep the flies off of you,” he advised. “They are the same flies from the dead bodies.”
He then notified me that our sister platoon specializing in mortar warfare had successfully killed an enemy mortar squad of four terrorists inside of Gaza.
Good… this time Hamas could deal with their own corpses.
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