Трагедия в Израиле. История третья

Uninvented third story. The story of a girl named Shiromalot. Shiromalot, 22 years old, she is from Ashdod. I came to the festival in Kibbutz Re'im with my boy named Ron. Her story. We arrived at the festival at about 4 a.m. At about 6.40 a.m. a rocket fire began. I was just taking pictures in the background of the sunrise. We saw the rockets and ran straight to the camp. The security guards arrived. I managed to talk to one of them, he said that he came from Russia to Israel just three months ago. We were ordered to lie on the ground, and then they said to move to the cars. Ron said that we should wait a little while people leave, because there is a crazy crowd at the exit. Then there were screams. There are terrorists, there are terrorists. No one knew what to do. I was near the ambulance. A wounded girl named Bar was lying on the stretchers. The paramedic bandaged her and told her, Bar, stay with us, Bar, stay with us. An unarmed police officer was running next to her, screaming that she had two children at home. We were all open for shots. And the bar on the stretchers too. We had nowhere to run. We were just surrounded from all sides. Those who first came out to the cars were killed or wounded. At some point, we suddenly rushed to run back, towards the tents. We tore up the rubble, jumped over the fence and rushed outside. They were shooting from behind. We ran up to the cars and, like mice, ran between them, dodging the shots. I saw people falling, wounded, bleeding, corpses. We ran into the forest. And at some point we found a clearing with trees. There we hid and heard Allah-u-Akbar from everywhere, from everywhere. I see a man I know, he is a guard. He drags a body and shouts to us, help, and I don't know what to do. Whoever had a phone with a battery, called the police on number 100. We told them what was going on. They answered, don't move, don't move. We are sending help. We are two meters from you. We have been in the clearing for several hours. I say that I can't sit here anymore. And literally a few minutes later, a man with a Kalashnikov rifle appears two meters from us. He points a rifle at us and shoots. I close my ears and run back. Then I hear a terrible boom. The girl next to me is wounded. Blood flows from the ear. The guy is wounded in the mouth. And I, and I, I don't understand what's going on. We thought we would be saved. We were waiting for salvation here, and then a man with a rifle shoots. A second ago, you were sure that salvation would come, and in the next second you don't know how to save your life. Then the situation changed every two minutes. We ran, ran to some vada, went down to it, heard shots behind. We ran along the vada to its end, and shots from above, and I don't know whether to climb up or wait in the vada. If we wait in the vada, they will pass over us and shoot. They have already seen us, and if I go up, I can catch a bullet at the top. Some stayed in the vada. For three hours they were quietly hiding there, and I climbed up and ran. A few more people with me. Soon we saw the soldiers of the Sahala. They pointed a gun at us and shouted ID. Let's go explain to them that we all left everything at the festival. I didn't even take my bag, my phone fell somewhere. And we shout our names to them and run to them, and they tell us to run faster to the road. We ran another one and a half, two kilometers. We saw a tank behind which people were hiding, and shots were heard from everywhere. There were two connected terrorists with a bandana on their heads sitting on the ground and swearing, so creepy, scary, cruel. People behind the tank told me to lie down on the ground, lie down on the ground. An armored car of the Sahala drove up and said to get into the armored car only the wounded. People rushed here, all in panic, one on top of the other. They brought a man in a strap, his name was Matan. And above him was an officer, holding his head and saying, Matan, stay with us, Matan, stay with us. There was one girl with a bandage on her head. She recognized me and began to cry and say, Shir, don't look. She didn't want me to see what she saw. We got to the police station in Fakimi. I didn't feel safe there, there were a lot of sirens. A huge number of people gathered there. How did I manage to survive all this? It's very difficult to answer this question. We were together. I knew many who came to the festival. My phone fell somewhere and I couldn't talk to anyone. A lot of people have disappeared. People are looking for each other, they turn to me. I hope they will find each other, I hope so. I want to say that despite all the pain and all the grief, we must unite and allow the state and the army to do what they must do. And if we go emotionally, we will lose the war. Friends Shir, who came with her to the festival, also survived, except for one, the mother of two children, who disappeared without a trace.