The film of the massacre 44 minutes of horror War

The film of the massacre, 44 minutes of horror War in the Middle East Ansa.it

A film of 43 minutes and 44 seconds, an endless amount of time for those who see it, and yet only a selection of at least “a few terabytes of raw material collected so far”. The Israeli army has decided to show foreign media, including ANSA, a selection of videos of the October 7 massacre, which contain “hundreds of hours” from the body cameras found on the bodies of the killed terrorists and from the cell phones of the Victims were filmed by their rescuers, from social media, from car dash cams, from the private video surveillance of kibbutzim.

Reporter cameras and cell phones are prohibited in the Elias and Lila Kalimian Idf Hall, the screening room of the Glilot military base. Israel does not want these images to reach family members or survivors. “We count on your understanding,” the military explain. Journalists can only watch, be horrified and take notes.
“We thought for a long time whether we should show it to you or not. We decided to do this because we ourselves need to understand why we are fighting in Gaza. We must grasp the significance of this crime against humanity and create something “a collective memory for the future,” explains army spokesman Daniel Hagari before the screening and warns: “This is not a film.” And in fact it is not, it is a Punch in the gut.

The video follows a more or less chronological order: It begins with Hamas men entering Israel in pickup trucks, cheering with ferocity. “It was a long-planned attack. They had precise orders: kill, maim, rape and kidnap civilians. Not the soldiers, the civilians. “They had to cause as much pain as possible,” emphasizes Hagari.

At first light they reach the gate of Kibbutz Beeri. They shoot a man in a car, once, twice, three times, while the car keeps moving. The commando goes from house to house and shoots anything that moves, including a dog that came towards them cheering. They set fire to tents and houses with lighters. In the video you see dozens of charred corpses, including newborns. Other groups of attackers, including armed civilians, block cars on main streets with Kalashnikov fire, approach the window and shoot, shoot, shoot. By the time they are sure they have killed everyone inside, many of the children returning from the music festival in Reim are the ones whose bodies are dragged out and piled up on the side of the road.

Most of the videos have no sound. But you can feel it all in the scene of a father who, alarmed by the shots, takes his two children, still in their underwear, for the night and tries to hide them in a shelter. The terrorists find her, throw a grenade at her, the father dies. The journalists in the room are horrified, some sobbing at the images of the two frightened children covered in blood. The two little ones run into the house and lock themselves in the kitchen. “Dad is dead!” screams the youngest, about 8 years old, in tears. “I know. I think we’re going to die,” replies the adult who is worried about his little brother: “Can you see from that eye?”, “No!”.

The child turns towards the camera at home for a moment; there is a black hole in place of the eye. A militiaman comes in and gets something to drink. “Do you want some water?” the terrorist asks the child. “No, I want my mother! Why am I alive? Why am I alive?”. The fate of the two children is unknown.

The horror continues. A terrorist tries to behead a man with a spade, fails, and tries again. A newborn baby in his colorful onesie has a dented skull and his brain is visible.
Bodies of decapitated soldiers. A man in the fields appears to be already dead; he is shot again. We don’t see rape scenes, but rather the corpse of a half-dressed woman, a deep wound on her thigh. Another is hiding under a table, they look for her, they find her, they shoot her. Rags in mouth, hands tied behind back. The young people at the festival hide, desperate with fear, they hear them coming, a boy chattering his teeth with his eyes wide open and a grimace of pure fear.

The black flag of IS appears in more than one picture: “Hamas and Daesh have the same goal, Islam has nothing to do with it,” explains Hagari. One of them calls the family in Gaza: “Dad, I’m in Mefalsim! I killed 10! With my own hands! 10, Dad! Look on WhatsApp and see what your son has done!” shouts the voice on the phone. “God bless you,” the father replies. “Give me courage, mom. Mom, your son is a hero,” shouts the woman on the other end of the line. “Come home!” he begs, perhaps realizing that he has raised a tormentor.

The blitz will soon be over, but not the torment. Hamas loads their hostages into pickup trucks, they drag them by their hair, some are injured, they continue to beat them. Someone will arrive in Gaza alive, someone will die on the streets. The film ends, the room remains petrified.

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