November 24, 2023

In the wake of Hamas’ attack on Israel October 7, numerous shocking and tragic stories, as well as tales of resilience and heroism have come to light. Ariel Ein-Gal, a 26-year-old survivor of the Zikim Beach massacre, was in Los Angeles to share his remarkable account of being rescued by young commanders at the Zikim base.

Ein-Gal, a computer science and linguistics student at Be’er Sheva University, along with 20 friends from the Mileva bar in Be’er Sheva, decided to organize a team-building evening at Zikim Beach near the Gaza border. Coordinating the event took some time, but eventually, they settled on October 6 for the gathering.

“It was a great party. We celebrated until 6 a.m., then went to sleep. At 6:30 a.m., the chaos began.”
– Ariel Ein-Gal

In an interview with the Jewish Journal, Ein-Gal said the evening started with music, good food and was a lot of fun.  “When we arrived at the beach, our initial plan was to settle on a designated area where, later, Hamas had massacred everyone who was there. However, at the last moment, we opted for another section of the beach. We brought along wicks, generators, food, drinks, and we had a DJ who played good music. It was a great party. We celebrated until 6 a.m. then went to sleep. At 6:30 a.m., the chaos began.”

On Saturday morning, the group awoke to the unsettling call of “Code Red” and the sound of gunfire. In videos captured by some of them on their phones, they initially struggled to grasp the gravity of the situation. It dawned on them quickly.

“We initially took refuge between the containers on the beach, where fishermen store their equipment. We hid there for about 20 to 30 minutes, fervently hoping that a rocket wouldn’t strike us. Dozens of rockets landed roughly 100 meters away. Simultaneously, boats began approaching from the shore carrying terrorists. At first we were confused what they were doing there but it became evident that those are terrorists when they started firing at us from the sea. Meanwhile, the Israeli navy retaliated. We knew we couldn’t stay put and started to run east towards the nearby Zikim [IDF] base Once we reached the gate, we started knocking on it, begging to get in.” 

The soldier on duty, a recent recruit in the army for just a month and a half, initially hesitated, citing the absence of a permit. “We begged her and said we are barefoot, we just escaped from the shore and the terrorist infiltration.” 

Their pleas worked and she let them in. “We went into the shelter and hid there. I knew that because she is only a cadet, it would be better for me to take the rifle. This also took some convincing. She refused at first, but then called her commander, who gave me permission to take the weapon. I covered for my friends for about 40 minutes, and all the while on the beach, the terrorists massacred everyone who was there. Later I found out that 35 people had been murdered.”

In the meantime, three fighters arrived to rescue them. Much has been written about the heroic battle that took place there. At the time, 90 recruits who had just enlisted in the IDF were on the base. One of the commanders sent the recruits to take cover and he along with about a dozen soldiers fought about 50 terrorists. During the battle, which lasted until 10 a.m., seven fighters were killed, including Lieutenant Yannai Kaminka, 20.

“He was amazing,” Ein-Gal recalled, “briefing us and letting us feel that the IDF had come to rescue us. He explained to us exactly what to do and kept his composure even though he had just arrived from encounters with terrorists. He was a really special guy. Then he left us there to go help his friends and was killed.”

Ein-Gal found himself as the sole armed man among his friends, accompanied by another sergeant. Despite the sergeant’s efforts to call for reinforcements, they received no response. In a desperate bid for help, Ein-Gal and his friends attempted to contact the police, fire brigade, MDA and anyone they could think of. Their calls went unanswered. Faced with a grim reality, some began crafting farewell texts to their parents, while others made heartbreaking goodbye calls. The end loomed ominously.

To spare his parents unnecessary anguish, Ein-Gal, decided not to call or text farewell. “I didn’t want to do that to my parents. I thought that if I died, they would eventually find out anyway, and if I didn’t die, then why should they be anxious in vain?”

The group faced a constant barrage of gunfire from all sides. They had to make a challenging dilemma: To stay and risk a terrorist takeover of the base or flee, potentially encountering terrorists on the way or falling victim to gunfire and bombs. Ultimately, they opted to run. At 8:30 a.m., they sprinted towards the base and their parked cars.

As they approached their cars, a terrorist emerged from the bushes, opening fire. Fortunately, the sergeant with them reacted, and shot the terrorist in the head.

There were four cars, each holding five people. In the car with Ein-Gal, were two Bedouins who were apart of the group, the DJ, and a girl. They sped away, without a clear direction, the primary goal to distance themselves from the base and the terrorists. However, the road they chose led them inadvertently towards Gaza. They realized their error as they approached a sniper wall, and made a U-turn.

Not long after, they saw a police vehicle with a figure laying on the ground seemingly wearing police uniforms. As they slowed down, the lifeless body suddenly rose, brandishing a Kalashnikov toward them. The terrorists had laid an ambush. “More terrorists emerged from the bushes, unleashing precise gunfire on us. At that point, I was sure I’m going to die. Our driver simply accelerated and went around them. They kept shooting at us but only five bullets struck the car. The girl who was with us sustained injuries to her finger and shoulder, one bullet flew just over her head.”

The car behind them was also ambushed. The terrorists fired at them, hitting the oil tank and the leg of one of the passengers. “After driving another 500 meters, the vehicle got on fire and everyone got out and ran towards an abandoned building, our friend who got hit, was limping and losing a lot of blood but didn’t have a choice. They were hiding there for about half an hour until they heard a vehicle approaching and left. It was a force of “Maglan” [unit of IDF] fighters who evacuated them from there.”

Ein-Gal and his friends managed to call the others and warn them about the ambush. Their friends quickly turned around.

Most of the group managed to get out of this ordeal almost unscathed, but one wasn’t so lucky. “[Singer] Mor Gabay was with us from the beginning of the night, drank and ate with us, and at 6:10 a.m. she decided to go visit her mother, who lives in Netivot. On the way, when the alarm sounded, she entered a shelter on the side of the road. She managed to issue dozens of warning calls to friends. After 20 minutes in the shelter, she thought it was safe to get back on the road and started driving, but the terrorists were already everywhere and fired dozens of bullets at her. At first, we were sure she was kidnapped, until they found her body.”

Ein-Gal decided to get a tattoo in Mor’s memory. “I got a 21/20 tattoo. We were 21 friends and returned 20. I tattooed the number on my arm, where Holocaust survivors from Auschwitz have a number. For me, this tattoo means: Never again is now.”

A few days after the event, Ein-Gal enlisted in the reserves of the Northern Command, but the events of that day returned to him with greater intensity and he was released. Some of the Mileva staff returned to work a few days later “to clear their heads, drink beer and talk,” Ein-Gal explained. “The bar also arranged psychologists for all the employees to sit with all us in a circle and they talk with us for three hours about everything we went through. In addition, each of us received a psychologist individually.”

After telling his incredible story on Instagram, he was invited by the Israeli American Council to talk at their November 7th event at the Saban Theater. After talking in front of a full house, he decided to tell his story at UC campuses and arranged for meetings at USC and UCLA.

Asked if he is thinking about leaving the country and moving to the United States, he said: “In the past I always had the thought that I wanted to relocate for a few years, but to leave the country? Not at all. It’s like giving Hamas the victory, it’s my country and my home.”

Although he does not define himself as a believer, Ein-Gal went to synagogue to recite Birkat Hagomel, a Jewish prayer of gratitude after surviving a dangerous experience. “I feel that I received the gift of life and it is appropriate to say thank you to the one who is sitting there, whether his name is God or Allah.”

On Thursday, November 9, a group of five teenagers from Kibbutz Magen and Ein Habsur in the Gaza Envelope flew from Ben Gurion airport to Los Angeles. It was there, by the moving walkway in Tel Aviv, that they saw the display of pictures of the kidnapped Israelis by Hamas, and among them a picture of their 17-year-old friend, Noam Or. One of them discovered there that his former elementary teacher was kidnapped as well. The five teens (two of them siblings) have already lost a few friends who were murdered by Hamas, saw the rockets fall and were able to escape unharmed. 

“Just last week, they learned about another friend who was declared dead after being identified by his teeth. His body was completely burnt,” said their host, Liat Moshe. “It’s unimaginable what they are going through, they are only children and some of their friends were kidnapped and murdered. Their parents decided to put them on a plane and send them here to get away from it all.”

Moshe is one member of a group of Israeli women in Los Angeles who decided to help families who had left Israel following the war. They arrived from all over: The Gaza envelope and the north, center and south in Israel. The constant rocket attacks and lack of bomb shelters in their homes brought them here. 

Dikla Egozi, one of the women who volunteered to help, said that she kept seeing messages on Facebook from people who were looking for accommodation. 

“I realized that there are dozens of families who arrive here and have nowhere to go. I called my mom who lives in a kibbutz in Israel and told her she has to come here and help me. She used to be a kindergarten teacher and once the war started, she went back to being a teacher for all the kids from the Gaza Envelope who had moved to her Kibbutz. My mom agreed and is here with us now. She told me that her flight was full with families and children who had left Israel following the war.”

The list of families seeking help from the Israeli community in L.A. grew rapidly. Many of these families have young children and are seeking a sense of normalcy without having to take refuge in shelters every day. Having left everything behind, they face uncertainties about the duration of their stay and how they’ll manage financially.

The Israeli women leading the assistance efforts also acknowledge the challenges they face and are reaching out for support. Liat Franco, a mother of four with a doctorate in law, expressed her commitment to helping approximately 100 Israeli families. 

“Those families don’t have enough resources to rent a car, an apartment and pay for an extended stay. Therefore, we are asking families who have a guest house, or a room to help them out. They also need rental cars, but those are extremely expensive. The insurance alone costs $1,700, and they can’t afford it.”

The local Israeli women also helped the families with enrolling their children at Jewish schools such as Ilan Ramon in Agoura Hills, which has offered a generous discount. They arrange for children activities, toys and clothing and twice a week gather them all for a communal breakfast at one of the volunteer homes.

“I put everything now at hold, I don’t work on my research or writing; this can wait, but these families need help right now,” Franco said. “When I opened the group we were four women and I didn’t know it’s going to be so consuming, but I can’t ignore them. These people stopped working and still need to pay their rent in Israel and still need to buy food. They desperately need help.”

Alongside two other volunteers, Liat Lehavi and Meital Bosani, these women organize communal breakfasts twice a week. Tamar, a resident of Northridge, graciously opened her home on Thursday for one of these breakfast gatherings. Spread across the spacious kitchen counter is a lavish array of burekas, shakshuka, bagels and cheese, vegetable salad and egg salad, all in abundance.

In the backyard, numerous kids are immersed in various activities, providing a lively atmosphere. Meanwhile, their parents take a brief respite to unwind and relax, yet the weight of uncertainty about the future lingers heavily on them.

Ofir Bar and Or Tzoref, both 17, flew to Los Angeles by themselves, uncertain about the duration of their stay and the possibility of returning home. Their families had been evacuated due to the war. Tzoref’s family was sent to a kibbutz in the Dead Sea. His father and two brothers are getting ready to join IDF forces and his mother is working in a Health Clinic. The two friends were spending Friday night at a friends’ house in a nearby village, Yated and went to sleep only at 5 a.m. 

“We were eight friends there,” recalled Bar. “An hour-and-a-half after we went to sleep we awoke to the sound of rockets. Still, we weren’t too afraid, we are used to those. We went outside to watch and take pictures, but then we saw they are coming every couple of seconds and understood it’s serious. We hurried back to one of the neighbor’s house. There was an electricity shortage so we needed to be careful and save our phone batteries. We needed to call our family and make sure they are fine.” 

Each time they needed to charge their phone batteries, they hurried outside to one of the cars, started it and charged it quickly, knowing that at any moment Hamas members can storm in or a rocket will fall of them. Those kept coming frequently.

“At that time we didn’t completely grasped how bad the situation is,” he said.

The realization of how lucky they were came hours later when they saw a picture of one of one of their good friends who was kidnapped by Hamas. 

“We saw his picture along with all the Thai workers,” he said. “They were full of blood and our friend was sitting there with the gun pointed at him. This photo is etched in our minds. Later we discovered we had lost a few friends. Ofir and I went to five funerals of friends and parents of friends. We know many people who were affected by what happened and either were murdered, kidnapped or injured. We all go to the same area school so we know many students from Be’eri.”

Tzoref’s kibbutz fought a large group of Hamas terrorists who broke in their gated community. 

“Because the Bedouins in the area kept breaking into our village and stole cars and trucks, we had a standby squad who were always patrolling the neighborhood,” he said. “When the rockets kept falling, my uncle went to see what’s going on and noticed a few jeeps driving toward us. He hurried to alert the rest of the people and they fought against Hamas. I think there were maybe 50 of them, they kept coming more and more, but my uncles, father and others in Magen kept shooting at them.”

The local heroes were able to hold Hamas back, but one of the residents, Avi Fleischer, was killed and the security coordinator was injured. A four of the dozen people fighting there are members of Tzoref’s family. 

“It’s still hard to grasp what had happened here,” Bar said. “Noam Mor, the kid who was kidnapped from Be’eri, is such a sweet child and a very good friend of ours. We keep thinking of him all the time. What do they do to him? How does he manage there?”

When asked if they would want to go back home after the war, they are conflicted. 

Tzoref said, “I would go back but it won’t be the same. Most of our friends are from Be’eri and it will take at least a year or two to rebuild, so they are not going to be back and even the landscape had changed.”

Bar added: “The problem is that half of the people I used to hang out with won’t want to go back or don’t have a home to go back to, so it will never be the same again.  We were very connected to Be’eri we spent all our time with our friends there and now there is nothing left there.”

Three days prior to the terror attack, the friends went to a Bruno Mars concert. They were looking forward to their school trip to Auschwitz Poland that was planned for October 19, and to a big music festival in the area where the Nova music festival took place.

“One minute we were all happy and celebrating my 17th birthday and making plans for the future. And then it all ended.”
– Or Tzoref

“It’s hard to believe how our lives had changed so drastically,” said Tzoref. “One minute we were all happy and celebrating my 17th birthday and making plans for the future. And then it all ended.”

The Roar Social app enables users to change the world, one tap at a time.

Founded by pioneering technologist and entrepreneur Robert Weiss, the Roar Social app gamifies social giving. It replaces the “like” button with the “give,” and even rewards users – and their causes – for watching other people’s social content. 

“Most content creators now will take their video and put it on several platforms: Reels, Instagram, TikTok,” Weiss told the Journal. “All we’re asking people is to take that 30 extra seconds and put their video on Roar Social.”

The difference: people can donate as little as pennies to support the videos on Roar social. Roar calls it “posting with purpose.”

“When people like the content, they show their support by donating,” said Weiss. “It’s the same content you’re going to find on TIKTok and Reels: it’s entertaining, it’s fun, it’s whimsical.”

After signing up for the app, users choose a hero cause, which is like an impact fund. Roar’s hero causes range from racial equality and homelessness to animal welfare and cancer research. Users can change their hero cause whenever they want. They can post videos — “Maybe 5% of the content is directly related to the cause,” Weiss said — or just enjoy what others post. 

So when Weiss’ niece posts videos of her cat on Roar Social, she raises money for climate change. And even people who don’t donate or even post can still contribute. 

“If you’re the most passive user, which means you’re not doing any donating and you’re not posting any videos, we reward you for your attention span with the Roar Score,” Weise said. 

Whether you are scrolling and watching, commenting, etc., your score goes up. Then on Sundays, the accumulated Roar Scores for each cause are ranked on the Roar-A-Thon leaderboard and receive donations from Roar’s brand partners.

For instance, if your hero cause of cancer research got a $5,000 grant, you’re part of it simply by being on the platform.

“I remember when I was a little kid in Hebrew school and we would collect money for charity,” Weiss said. “It was nickels and dimes and quarters, and would all add up to a lot more money. I saw how a little bit of money … can make a big difference.” 

You do not need to be wealthy to be a philanthropist. “At our core, humans are a deeply altruistic and cooperative species. It’s easy to forget that in this deeply troubling moment — especially when conflict drives news coverage, and our leaders fail to lead,” Weiss said. “But this is actually when we need to remember it the most.”

“When the world is falling apart around us, Roar Social aims to be a place that is eternally constructive — where people are focused on solutions, not divisions.” -Robert Weiss

He adds, “When the world is falling apart around us, Roar Social aims to be a place that is eternally constructive — where people are focused on solutions, not divisions.”

While some of the legacy social media companies chose profit over everything, and use their platforms to divide rather than unite, Weiss saw an opening to create a more positive social experience. 

“My big vision for the company was influenced by the values instilled into me by my parents, my grandparents and my great grandparents,” Weiss told the Journal.  

Weiss’s parents were both public servants: His mom was a special education teacher, his dad was a professor. They volunteered a lot, and were both very involved in their temple. “They set this example of altruism,” he said. 

As a kid, Weiss was obsessed with technology; he taught himself how to program computers and was always taking things apart. At 12 years old, he announced to his parents that he was going to build some kind of technology tool that would allow people to be more philanthropic. 

Now 58, he has done just that. 

“Thanksgiving is an opportunity to practice gratitude, and to reflect on what we all have in common,” he said. “I built Roar Social as a way to use technology to bring us together.“ He adds, ”Giving feels good. Only when we appreciate how many blessings we have in our own lives, and are mindful of the fact that we have all our immediate needs met, can we then shift our focus to helping others. We can unclench our fists and extend an open hand. We can strive to be a part of the solution.”

Roar Social launched in the Apple store on August 1, and has “several thousand” registered users, and made thousands of dollars in donations. An Android version is expected at the earliest toward the end of next year. While their target audience is ages 16 to 36, anyone who loves social content will enjoy the platform. Go to RoarSocial.com to join the VIP wait list.