As a recent volunteer (since our aliyah from Teaneck two years ago) with Grilling for Israel (grillingforisrael.com), an organization that has been providing barbecues for soldiers since 2020 (and has provided more than 150,000 meals at bases throughout the country, north to south and east from Kiryat Shemoneh to Shizafon near Eilat and Yesha, to infantry, Air Force, Navy, observers, border police, intelligence and tank units), I had a profound experience which I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
This event was at Machaneh Nahal Oz, the base that was overrun on October 7 by Hamas terrorists, along with nearby kibbutzim and other communities.
We were told to set up in an open space between some buildings. What we hadn’t realized at first was that this was the exact spot where the Hamas terrorists invaded, then proceeded to attack the building where the female observers (tatzpitaniot) of the Combat Intelligence Collection Corps (who had issued warnings of Hamas training) were located. Before we set up our grills and the tables that would soon be laden with food, we were asked if we wanted to go into the building, to see for ourselves the destruction that our enemies had brought upon us.
As we entered the bullet-ridden, burned-out building, we learned that in addition to killing with machine gun fire, some terrorists had climbed to the roof and proceeded to throw explosives and flammable liquid into the building, burning 15 of the 22 people alive.
As we entered through the darkness, we saw the melted furniture and computer stations, which are now covered with memorial candles and flowers left by others who had come to bear witness. In that room, we stood along with some Israeli visitors to say Kaddish.
On our way out we saw a small window that was used by a few that day to escape, only to be captured by the terrorists outside. We were then taken to the migunit (shelter) where more were killed (55 people on base overall), and the exact spot (where we had parked our cars) where 10 hostages were put into vehicles and taken into Gaza.
Pausing a moment, we then proceeded to set up our tables, filled with delicious food (hamburgers, steaks, brisket, veggie burgers, bourekas, fresh vegetables, salads, home-baked cookies and sweet treats). Our servers—volunteers, both “regulars” and a group who had come from the U.S. (this time a group of law professors and families)— stood ready to serve our brave chayalim/ot who had just come in from Gaza still armed, with helmets, flak jackets, boots covered with dust and sand. Many of them had not eaten all day, and others were about to go in, jeeps waiting for them. (We also sent them in with meals-to-go for those “inside.”)
They could not stop thanking us for everything, for both the food and our support, especially more than nine months after the war started, as in the beginning so many groups were coming, and now we were the only ones who came. They told us how much strength they derive from our support and how much it means to them.
As they were eating, I told them that we were there to thank them personally for all they do to protect us, the State of Israel, and the people of Israel. It is because of them that we sleep at night, knowing they are there to protect us. I wished them, on behalf of all of us, success in all their missions, health, and that they, and the hostages, should return in peace.
So from that place of destruction and horror we were reminded of the incredible resilience, strength and commitment of these brave soldiers, men and women, who are giving everything for us. (Every time I do these barbecues, I try to look carefully at their faces, praying that I will not be seeing them on the news as fallen heroes.)
As we left the base that night, with the images of what we had just seen, I felt even more committed to doing this work and continuing to share this story with others, so that they can join us, both in volunteering and providing resources, so we can continue to do what we do.
Besorot tovot.
Sara Rudich-Prager has been a Jewish day school administrator, an adult Jewish educator and a development director in Rockland County, Maryland, and Bergen County. She and her husband, Elliot Prager, came on aliyah from Teaneck and now live in Modi’in.
