Alarming Alarms (Article# 104) 1/22/2009

We find ourselves listening to the radio a lot more lately. Not for the music or the talk; as we tread deeper and deeper into war we thirst for news and information, anything that lets us know our troops and our neighbors are safe. Each attack, each booby trap, even the sounds of gunfire entices a new sense of panic and worry. And we live miles from the warzone.

My sister called to let me know she had spoken to Yonatan at the front. As we spoke, she mentioned to me how noisy the phone call was. Apparently, there were a lot of staccato noises in the background, and it was only after she hung up the phone that she realized that what she was hearing was gunfire. It was only in the background because he was in the “safe zone” outside the border.

A tragedy is that we become immune to such things, especially when they do not happen to us. We express shock and dismay about the fact that there are cities, towns and communities that live under threat of fire many times each day – but it is near impossible to really relate to what this means. Yes, we see the pictures and read about the preschool children huddling in bomb shelters – but it doesn’t translate into something we can understand, even though we live here too.

On Wednesday afternoon, most of the Yeshiva staff was assembled (during the lunch break) in our office building. When I say building, I really mean a construction trailer directly in back of the Yeshiva’s building that was left behind by the contractors and now holds our administrative office. We were involved in various discussions and meetings when someone suddenly said, “HEY – is that an air raid siren?”

We all paused and sure enough, we could hear the warbling siren of multiple air raid sirens sounding over the city. We looked at each other dumbfounded. Could it be possible that Yerushalayim was under rocket attack? Within seconds we got a text message from the security services that alarms were sounding all over Israel (which was inaccurate – they only sounded in Yavneh, Yerushalayim, Bet Shemesh and Maale Adumim).

All over Israel? This really puzzled us. What kind of alert could this possibly be? One guy asked if maybe this was some kind of missile attack from Iran? Perhaps a major warhead of some type?

It turned out to be a false alarm. A rocket had indeed been fired, toward Yavne and since these other areas are on a straight line from Yavne, there was an error made and the alarm sounded. All this information was readily available within minutes.

The experience however, was quite harrowing. Chaim was on a tiyul to the North (more on that later) so he heard nothing. Chaya told us about girls running through her school panic struck and how she had helped secure the shelter blast windows. Aliza’s teacher did not believe the girls that there was a siren and refused to interrupt the lesson. Batya cried and Mordechai’s school seemed to be the most organized, with the teachers hurrying them along to their shelter.

All for a false alarm.

We talked about it at home that night and tried to get the kids to understand that the community of Sderot has lived like this FOR EIGHT YEARS! Several alerts a day. We wanted them to imagine what it was like to have this as a threat and why we were proud of our soldiers for going into Gaza and try to stop the rockets.

I am not sure if they got it. I am not sure if ANYONE not living in the rocket range can really get it.

As soon as you finish reading this paragraph, think about having to do the following…… Drop everything. In the following half minute, grab the kids (wake them up if they are sleeping) and run into a small reinforced room in your house. Sit there for no less than 5 minutes, all the while worrying about your family and wondering if the next thing you hear is the explosion of a rocket coming through your roof.

Now imaging having to do this several times a day. I know how I felt just the one time, which turned out to be a false alarm. I cannot fathom going through that several times daily. For 8 years.

We spent the rest of the week closely following the news. Visiting websites, listening to the radio, watching TV – anything that would connect us to what was happening. I was reminded of Israel the first time I visited (1982). In those days, when the news went on you could hear a pin drop – even on the bus. The bus drivers would raise the volume of the radio and everyone would listen to the latest update.

Nowadays you rarely see that. It is as if the news is not as crucial as it used to be.

The first war we faced here as Olim, the Second Lebanon War did not seem as tense as this one. The truth is that we were so new during that war and so excited to be here, that we may just not have had our fingers quite on the pulse of the nation yet. I think that the Lebanon War was also very vaguely conceived and carried out that our invincibility was shattered and no one wanted to really face that.

This time around we feel events much more strongly. We understand most of the news. And of course, we have our own family chayal, Yonatan – who was probably in Gaza more than he was out of it during the war. We notice when the news comes on, and we feel much more connected to reality.

I think the entire public is taking a different approach to this war as well. The Lebanon war started so quickly and (as we later found out) was so poorly managed that the message and goals of the country were not communicated to the populace. The lack of achievement also hurt. When you fail to achieve a single one of your stated goals, it is hard to feel positive about it.

I think the general public is much more supportive of this war. I don’t mean that they aren’t supportive of the troops. The soldiers are beloved here. The politicians are the problem.

We may not totally stop the rocket fire, but I doubt it can be considered a first option for the terrorists. We have definitely dealt them a beating that will take them a long time to recover from – and let us all hope that they never recover.

On Thursday, as I was getting ready to leave work, I got a call from Goldie. Chaim had called her that he was on the way to the hospital. His Yeshiva had been mountain biking on a tiyul near Teverya. Chaim lost control of his bike and had landed on its handle bars.

I had to run up to Haifa for the night, there was a concern that he may have needed surgery. Thankfully, he did not need surgery, did not break anything and after a night’s observation I was allowed to take him home. He has a lot of bruises and scratches but is otherwise OK.

Having already become an expert in the medical system here, especially in how to deal with doctors. Had it not been for my aggressiveness: i) we would still be waiting for an orthopedist to examine him (the squeaky wheel GOT the grease), ii) he wouldn’t have been given any pain medication, iii) they would have kept him through Sunday and iv) they wouldn’t have gotten paid.

As a (non-Israeli) student, Chaim’s status so confused the medical staff that they neglected to get billing information from us, even after I volunteered to submit it. Most students have private insurance; Chaim has Kupat Cholim (HMO coverage that is standard for Israelis). Most students’ parents are 6,000 miles away; Chaim’s father was at the emergency room in less than 2 hours. It took me 3 days to finally find someone willing to take our information and bill the insurance.