Five close Israeli friends, all in their 20s – Guy Azar, Moshe Saadyan, Ben Hasid, Raz Mordechai and Or Moshe – attended the Supernova music festival together this weekend, held near the Israel-Gaza border. The 3,000-person event celebrated “friends, love and infinite freedom.” But when Hamas terrorists attacked in the early hours of Saturday, at least 260 people were killed.
Ben was murdered. It is believed Guy was taken hostage in Gaza and later killed. Moshe remains missing.
Only Or and Raz survived and made it home. This is her story…
It could have been one of the best evenings of our lives.
We had been looking forward to the festival for months – great music, dancing, in the middle of a beautiful desert. What would be better?
Guy took a photo of us before we left: five best friends, full of life, good mood and happiness.
Five close Israeli friends – Guy Azar (top right), Moshe Saadyan (center), Ben Hasid (bottom left), Raz Mordechai (bottom right) and Or Moshe (top left) – attended the Supernova music festival together this weekend. At least 260 people were killed in the attack by Hamas terrorists in the early hours of Saturday. Ben was murdered. It is believed Guy was taken hostage in Gaza and later killed. Moshe remains missing. Only Or and Raz made it home.
And so it went on, all night long – until the sun rose on a completely different morning.
At around 6:30 a.m. the music stopped abruptly and everyone came back to their senses.
Voices boomed from the loudspeakers, telling us to leave immediately.
At first we assumed it was a routine rocket attack. Alarms like this are common in Israel.
Little did we know that when their paragliders hit the sand, heavily armed Hamas terrorists were already landing nearby, and others surrounded us on foot and in vehicles.
Then, at 7:30 a.m., the true horror of our situation began to unfold: Suddenly, police officers shouted for everyone to rush to their cars. The first terrorists had been spotted approaching with weapons pointed directly at the crowd.
Above us we could hear the roar of rockets tearing through the bright blue sky.
As we sat in our car, we realized the obvious problem: 3,000 people trying to leave all at once on the same street. Traffic came to a standstill almost immediately.
The people in front of them abandoned their cars and headed into the desert, some running in fear.
Confused, we decided to leave our car too and look around.
The noise of rockets and distant gunfire grew louder, but no one knew where to go, so we returned to the car and drove slowly.
Until we met a police car that blocked our way.
People started screaming. The shots rang louder – closer. It came quickly and quickly.
Just before and behind the police blockade, a black van full of terrorists stopped and opened fire. The police shot back.
Everything happened in a matter of seconds. And – fearful that we would be caught in the crossfire – we climbed out of the car before running away through the nearby bushland.
Bang bang bang.
We sprinted away from the road and then back again, with no idea which direction to go and no time to think.
We both managed to stay together, but before we knew it, Guy, Moshe and Ben were nowhere to be seen.
At 6:30 a.m. the music stopped abruptly. At first we assumed it was a routine rocket attack. Little did we know that heavily armed terrorists were already landing nearby when their gliders landed in the sand. (Pictured: survivors Ohr Moshe, left, and Raz Mordechai, right).
Above us we could hear the roar of rockets tearing through the bright blue sky. As we sat in our car, we realized the obvious problem: 3,000 people all trying to leave at once on the same street. Traffic came to a standstill almost immediately. (Pictured: Guy Azar is believed to have been taken hostage and murdered).
People abandoned their cars and headed into the desert, some running in fear. Confused, we decided to leave our car too. The noise of rockets and distant gunfire grew louder, but no one knew where to go, so we returned to the car and drove slowly. Until we met a police car that blocked our way. (Pictured: Ben Hasid was murdered on site).
Just before and behind the police blockade, a black van full of terrorists stopped and opened fire. The police shot back. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. And – fearful that we would be caught in the crossfire – we climbed out of the car before running away through the nearby bushland. Bang bang bang. (Pictured: Moshe Saadyan remains missing).
The crying became overwhelming; People were screaming into their cell phones, pleading for help.
The bullets dodged between the cars and got closer and closer, shooting past our legs and hands.
Then, as we turned toward the onslaught, we saw a sight we will never forget: terrorists, dozens of them, darting ahead and sprinting straight toward us.
And so we ran. We ran for our lives. No looking back, neither to the left nor to the right. I just hoped against hope that we wouldn’t lose each other, that we would both make it through.
RAZ: In our panic, Or and I somehow separated – and I ran back to the festival site, lost (I later discovered Or was doing the same).
Weak from exhaustion and on the verge of collapse, I managed to find one of the pop-up bars. I could hear terrorists right behind me, so I hid behind a refrigerator.
Seconds later, a gunman entered the bar. I sat there frozen, holding my breath and my heart pounding.
He sprayed the fridge with his machine gun for what seemed like minutes. But miraculously I wasn’t hit and he left – assuming I was dead.
Then I crawled to an open field – and there I luckily met Or again, who had been desperately trying to find me.
Together again we ran for cover… Up a slope we spotted a tank. Had the army arrived for us?
No, the tank was empty. But we found three police officers crouching nearby and joined them, along with about 15 other survivors.
A police car stopped to provide additional protection when a rocket-propelled grenade hit the ground. It didn’t explode.
Nevertheless, the terrorists advanced and threw more grenades while the police returned fire.
We sprinted away from the road and then back again, not knowing which direction to go. We both managed to stay together, but before we knew it, Guy, Moshe and Ben were nowhere to be seen. (Pictured: Cars stuck in massive traffic jam as festival-goers try to escape).
The crying became overwhelming. The bullets dodged between the cars and got closer and closer, shooting past our legs and hands. Then, as we turned toward the onslaught, we saw a sight we will never forget: terrorists, dozens of them, darting ahead and sprinting straight toward us. (Pictured: Police engage in gun battles with Hamas).
We ran for our lives. No looking back, neither to the left nor to the right. I just hoped against hope that we wouldn’t lose each other, that we would both make it through. (Pictured: Festival goers protect themselves from gunfire behind vehicles).
We were sure we were going to die. We had walked as far as we could.
A girl lying near us was screaming, blood streaming from bullet holes in her ribs and legs. (Or crawled over and applied pressure to her wounds.)
A bullet went straight through another girl’s cheek, soaking her face with blood.
A man was bleeding from his stomach and shoulder. The police shouted into their radios: “We are running out of ammunition, we need reinforcements.”
All we could do was lie there and wait. How long would it take? Would our families ever know what became of us?
Luckily the shooting eventually subsided, but we still had to stay put.
To make matters worse, it was scorching hot and only a tiny amount of water was enough to last 20 minutes. (Raz refused his share so that it could be given to the wounded. Or he drank from a water bottle he found nearby that was spattered with blood.)
We ended up waiting for three and a half hours until IDF reinforcements finally arrived to evacuate us.
However, Hamas had not disappeared. And as we ducked into an evacuation vehicle, we came under even more fire. We were crammed into the van and told to stay downstairs.
And then we drove off through a hellish landscape: countless corpses lay twisted on the broken road in pools of blood.
People had been burned alive and shot at close range in their vehicles. What had happened to our friends? It was unbearable.
We were taken to a police station in the nearby town of Ofakim. From there buses took the survivors on, but we stayed and hoped Guy, Moshe and Ben would arrive behind us.
We were still waiting when the air sirens sounded and we were forced to leave without learning their fate.
Later, the worst happened: Ben’s body was found in the desert.
Our wonderful young friend danced with us with joy – the next moment we were at his funeral (on Tuesday).
Tragedy piled on tragedy when Guy’s family learned late Wednesday that he was likely being held hostage somewhere in Gaza. On Thursday they received the shocking news that he too had probably been murdered.
As for Moshe, we have no news. All we can do is pray.
What we witnessed this weekend was unimaginable, unspeakable evil. And we are just two of millions of Israelis suffering from this depraved onslaught.
Hamas came full of weapons and hatred to murder innocent men, women and children as cruelly as possible, simply because we are Jews.
Some things can never be forgiven.
As for our message to the world: Israel cannot be safe until Hamas is eradicated.
We need your support to stop this evil and ensure our friends and families are freed from captivity.
Despite all odds, we survived. But how many others will not be so lucky with every second that passes until Hamas’s defeat?