"We will stick pens into the carotid artery": The story of the Southern Brigade operators
October 7, 2023, Southern Brigade war room at Re'im base. The operators who witnessed the start of the war reconstruct for the first time how they managed the battle while facing absolute fear of death, and their decision never to be taken alive.
On the morning of October 7, just before 6:29, they were four young operators talking about officer training, dreaming of post-army trips, and living a routine life at Re'im base, just five kilometers from the Gaza border. A moment later, they found themselves without a brigade commander or deputy, managing a battle, trying to deploy forces, and holding each other in a bubble of absolute, real fear of death. For three years they were silent. Now, finally, they have names, faces, and a shattering story that has not yet been heard. Tal Dahan, 22, from Yavne; Liel Gahari, 23, from Gedera; Lihie Moskovitz, 22, from Rishon LeZion; and Lieutenant H., 22, from Kiryat Gat — these are the women from the Southern Brigade war room of the Gaza Division, under the command of the late Colonel Asaf Hamami.
"We will not be kidnapped alive"
"There was a discussion in the war room that we would not be kidnapped alive under any circumstances, and if necessary, we would die together. And since we have no weapons, we will stick pens into the carotid artery," recalls Liel. Tal adds: "I remember everyone ducked, and I stood up, because I said, 'at least I will take the first bullet, so I won't see anyone else die.'"
The command war room, which can hold up to 15 people, became the place where these women managed the chaos that night. They saw everything on their screens: the fence breach, motorcycles, and kidnappings. "You see kidnappings," says Lihie, "dragging them as if they were a carpet, I remember a whole family on their knees." At some point, they realized that Colonel Hamami had fallen, while his six-year-old son, Alon, who was in the war room, was left without his father. "We brought him mandalas that we would color ourselves, and social workers sat with him," H. recounts.
Life after October 7
Even after the base was cleared of terrorists, the women continued to serve in the same place. "You go on shift, and already know that your friend, with whom you went to a party a week ago, is gone," Lihie shares. The post-trauma did not manifest immediately. "Only when I arrived at the new battalion did I understand the severity of my condition. I would go to sleep in clothes because every night I was sure they were going to kidnap me," she admits.
Today, they say they deserve recognition. "Most of our time in the army, they made us feel that we didn't go through anything, and therefore we had no legitimacy to break or go home," Lihie says. They are continuing their lives, each on her own path, but October 7 remains a daily war they fight to recover.
