#2 ~ The Gaza War of 2009 Through My Eyes
Day 2 ~ January 4, 2009
The sun rose over the Gaza Strip. After the long, cold night, I was immensely grateful for the pending warmth that the increasing sunlight promised. Gazing out at the Gaza Strip from an orchard, I began to survey my surroundings in the daylight. To the east and south of me were the beginnings of a Palestinian town; rectangular buildings reflecting typical Arabian architecture sat in front of me. To the west, the sparkling blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea lapped on the shore.
My fellow IDF soldiers and I remained in our foxholes waiting for the rest of the Israeli military forces to catch up. Late that morning, the cool air was punctured by a series of distant cracking sounds followed by low, dull buzzing noises similar to angry hornets flying around our heads.
It was sniper fire.
I dove back into my foxhole and cautiously peered over the edge with my M4 assault rifle and sharpshooter scope, trying to determine where the bullets were coming from. A nearby Israeli tank, however, identified the source of enemy fire before I did. A few well-placed tank shells fired into the building where he was hiding ended his relatively short-lived career as a Hamas sniper. He wasn’t the only sniper we faced, however, and we continued this pattern for most of the day.
Somewhere about lunchtime I began paying more attention to the orchard itself. The trees themselves were fruitless, but they were surrounded by greenery that I originally thought were merely weeds. In reality they were peas; nice, fresh peas in a pod. They were abandoned, forlorn, lonely… and delicious. So good friend and fellow soldier, Axl, and I spent the whole day sitting in a foxhole, taking fire from an occasional sniper and eating peas.
Then nightfall came. As soon as the sun set we made our way to a nearby make-shift logistics center to resupply. While refilling our water and food as well as finally dropping off the back-breaking missiles that we had been carrying, a burst of nearby gunfire split the night. The shots were followed by a commander from a sister platoon screaming and collapsing to the ground. I readied my rifle and scanned through my scope for the threat. But it wasn’t enemy fire; it was a freak accident. Somehow the 7.62 mm MAG machine gun mounted on an armored personnel carrier went off and hit the commander in the chest three times at point blank range. To my shock he survived. Miraculously his ceramic body armor stopped all three bullets. He suffered a few cracked ribs and a punctured lung; but he survived and he would eventually have a full recovery.
After being resupplied, we now assaulted the nearby Gazan town itself. Once again the bombardment began. Either it was even heavier than before, or, more likely, we were simply much closer to the falling shells and rockets. I particularly marveled at the ATG (air-to-ground) rockets fired from the IAF military choppers. The rockets emanated a strange, almost science-fiction noise as they descended from the sky. And there was nothing — and I mean nothing — like an incoming Hellfire missile.
No amount of television or video games could prepare me for the “show.” The phenomena of war was simply an overload of all my senses. I felt the rumbling from explosions throughout every corner of my body; my ears popped incessantly from the changes of air pressure; my nose wrinkled with the odious odors of stinging sulfur and burning flesh. In one house in particular several Hamas operatives vainly attempted to make a stand against us. One incendiary missile from a helicopter ended that endeavor. I remained crouched behind a half-destroyed building watching the flames lick the night sky and hearing the terrorists scream. The explosion itself apparently hadn’t immediately killed at least one of the Hamas men. He was now half-crushed and burning alive in the building as ominous, hellish flames licked higher and higher into the night sky; he had no hope of survival.
The forces of the IDF pressed forward. My fellow soldiers and I in the Paratroopers encountered little resistance. Hamas was unable to stand against the onslaught of the Israeli Air Force and our mortar platoons. We trudged forward as the night exploded around us, and we ultimately conquered a small neighborhood known for Hamas activity. Once again we had fought and moved all night and now it was near daybreak, so we entered the residence of a Hamas leader and fortified ourselves inside. As we again waited for dawn and the rest of the Israeli army to catch up, I then discovered that the plumbing in the house no longer worked. With over thirty soldiers from two platoons stationed in one house for a long period of time with no working toilets… it was a bad scene.
