Machla Abramovitz
The scene was surreal. It was early evening on October 7, 2023, and Givati Special Forces Captain Erez Masud, with 25 young men under his command serving as medical personnel, was speeding down the highway toward Kibbutz Kfar Aza, nearly two miles from the Gaza Strip border. The highway was covered in blood, while burning Israeli tanks and bodies littered the roads and along the shoulders. Were these bodies of Israelis, terrorists, dead, or alive? Masud and his group did not know and could not stop to find out or help. Their instructions were clear: go to Kfar Aza and assist the forces fighting there. They therefore forced themselves to disconnect emotionally from the horrors around them and kept racing northward.
“Our only goal was to storm Kfar Aza, evacuate people, and offer medical assistance. But we had no idea who these [IDF] forces were or where they were fighting,” he says.
Finding our forces proved far more challenging than anticipated. On entering Kfar Aza, and after a long period of eerie quiet, chaos erupted. Bullets flew at Masud and his men from every direction, and they returned fire blindly. Being hit by enemy fire and friendly fire was a very real possibility. Two of Masud’s men, Uriel Cohen and Netanel Harush, later succumbed to their wounds from friendly fire.
Kfar Aza
In all, 62 Kfar Aza residents and 18 security personnel were killed on October 7, and 19 civilians were taken hostage. Still, given the bedlam and the fact that the Israeli soldiers were ill-equipped to fight – they had only received shrapnel-proof, not bullet-proof, vests, and their rifles were not zeroed, meaning their accuracy was off – the results could have been even more disastrous.
Captain Masud hesitates to use the word “miracle” to describe what happened that night. “However, it’s hard to explain in any other way all the bullets that flew beside us and didn’t hit.”
Even now, his memories of that day and the days that followed are blurred. Not only was he psychologically catapulted from joyfully dancing hakafot in his hometown of Kiryat Arba into the fray of battle, but he was also clueless as to what he would be up against. It was at the Sde Teiman military base in the Negev where he learned that this assignment was significantly different from his previous Gaza deployments in 2012 and 2014. The venue, they said, had shifted dramatically from Gaza to Israeli territory. But, other than that, he knew nothing about the magnitude of the conflict confronting him.
What he learned since was that Kfar Aza was one of the most brutally hit communities and had been under attack since 6:30am that Simchat Torah morning. Gaza terrorists had breached the security fence between Gaza and Israel. At 8:33am, Golani’s 13th Battalion entered the kibbutz. By 10:45am, additional forces from the IDF’s Maglan unit, the Golani Brigade, and Israeli police joined the battle. However, there was no coordination among the Israeli fighters as the IDF’s traditional chain of command and control was broken. It would take the IDF three days to clear the area of terrorists: In all, the IDF killed 101 terrorists inside the community and 50 outside, the latter gunned down by the IAF and drones.
Profound Personal Changes
Looking back, the 34-year-old captain acknowledges that the 450 days he spent on active reserve duty in and around Gaza have profoundly changed the way he sees life and death, and the nature of evil itself. He confronted evil first hand, seeing it’s perpetration by Hamas and how it is inculcated into the minds of young Gazans. This newfound awareness is fuelling his civilian work, especially his commitment to the expansion and development of the Beit Lechem (Bethlehem) Jewish community, including its Benei Rachel Yeshiva, where he serves as Executive Director.
“We must maintain our connection to our historical past to better understand who we are, and to enable us to build a better future,” Masud says. “When we don’t bring beauty, light, and honor to the land of the Torah, October 7 can happen again and continue to give rise to the kind of evil we found in Gaza.”
Erez Masud’s Background
Captain Masud has an excellent command of English, with no trace of an Israeli accent, thanks to his mother, who hails from Baltimore. She married Erez’s Israeli father, whose family is from Tunis. His father grew up in Tzfat, after the family immigrated to Israel.
Although Masud’s family was not observant, the 6’4” commander attended Ateret Cohanim’s pre-army yeshiva, where he studied Torah, became a chozer be’teshuva, and met Rabbi Eliyahu ElKaslasi, who relocated Masud and his classmates to the Benei Rachel Yeshiva in Beit Lechem. They were the first yeshiva students to study there. Erez Masud is now helping to develop the community.
Even though Masud had dreamed of pursuing a military career as a young soldier, his early marriage to Inna at age twenty and the birth of his two oldest daughters curtailed that dream. Nonetheless, despite never completing officer training courses, he became team commander of the Givati Brigade medical platoon at age 24, a position he has held ever since.
Givati Brigade Medical Team
The Givati Brigade isone of the IDF’s five infantry brigades. It is also one of the two infantry brigades under the Southern Command that have distinguished themselves in counterterrorism and in defending Israel’s borders. Masud’s medical team can build a fully functioning hospital in 48 minutes. However, given Gaza’s proximity to Israeli hospitals, doing so here was unnecessary. Subsequently, the team took on other assignments: escorting secure convoys in and out of the Gaza Strip and serving as a medical emergency evacuation team.
On October 7, Masud commanded a new group of soldiers from Sayeret Givati, who were called into reserve duty for the first time. Not only were the soldiers fresh and inexperienced, but so were the mid-ranked commanders running the show. It, therefore, took time for them to understand how to use the troops to the best advantage. For six weeks they retrained, preparing to go into Gaza, and every day, commanders delayed their entrance for yet another 24 hours.
Many now say that Israel wrote the book on urban warfare – how to fight in such a dense environment where buildings are booby-trapped and with underground terror tunnels. What did the training look like?
“We trained for what we always train for. We know how to infiltrate properly, navigate, how to give emergency medical assistance, evacuate, connect with different forces,” Masud explains. “That said, not in any way, shape, or form did this prepare us for what we had to do at the end of the day. We learned on the go, to do things nobody had done before. Because the Americans were cutting us off, we had to invent innovative ways to address the threats we faced. Still, what our people did was amazing. Not because of their upbringing. Our soldiers grew up in different parts of the world. Rather, doing so was a necessity. We understood that this is the only way for our nation to survive, thrive, and prosper. The war brought out the best in many of us.”
Stress and a Sense and a of Purpose
Consequently, Masud was stressed 24/7. He constantly worried for his soldiers’ well-being as well as his own. Each one felt as if the fate of the Jewish nation was lying on their shoulders. “We felt personally responsible for the hostages, for October 7, and for changing the situation.”
In mid-November, Masud’s team finally entered Gaza. With each sunrise, the team brought in food, supplies, gas, or explosives, and at dusk they escorted out everything that needed bringing out: captured terrorists, equipment, and intelligence.
These were psychologically challenging times. It was hard dealing with the emotions that transporting terrorists elicited. “Knowing what they did, watching them express pain is enraging and triggering. However, you must keep it together and know that you are not the one executing their punishment, but instead, [you must] stay alert [and committed] to the actual mission to secure the convoy.”
Masud’s team members could not contact their families for fear that the terrorists were tracking their whereabouts through their cell phones. Later, when this was no longer a problem, they brought with them phones, but there was no reception. WhatsApp groups updated families about their loved ones’ welfare.
As Jabalya, Beit Hanun, Khan Yunis, and Rafah fell to IDF forces, Masud and his team moved out of their armored vehicles into abandoned apartments with no electricity or running water. The experience was surreal. They were living in people’s homes, trying to act “normally” while under the constant threat of death from terrorists jumping out of underground tunnels or from sniper fire.
What Gazans Valued
They also saw firsthand how the Gazans lived, and what they valued, and were sickened by what they saw.
“We found weapons in every Gaza home. Moreover, they educate their children to hate Jews from early on. A 12-year-old filled a scrapbook with photos of his heroes – Hitler, Ahmadinejad. Another youngster wrote an essay, graded by a teacher, about Adolph Hitler and his success in annihilating Jews. Every soldier encountered similar artifacts.”
These anti-Semitic “artifacts” represented only a fraction of the evil they encountered. How Hamas fights and their disdain for life lies in marked contrast to the values of the IDF: The principle of never leaving anyone behind and protecting their second-in-command is deeply rooted in IDF tactics.
Hamas, on the contrary, did anything and everything to get results, even at the risk of their own lives and those of their comrades. Masud witnessed this sick ideology in action. His team had neutralized three terrorists who had shot a shoulder-launched missile at them. Hamas later distributed a video of the three terrorists shooting the missile, videotaped by the terrorists themselves, despite the rocket missing its mark, and Israel killing the terrorists. “Hamas published the video as a win because merely shooting at us was a win to them.”
In fact, Israel treated the lives of Gaza civilians with more reverence than Hamas did. Gaza apparently has more “hospitals” or “humanitarian” centers per square foot than NYC. These facilities also serve as Hamas military strongholds.
IDF Reverence for Life
“Only the IDF is careful not to hit these designated areas, while Hamas held Israelis and Gazans hostage there so they could fight out of them and create a scene when we retaliate,” Masud explains.
Even when backed against a wall, Masud points out, IDF soldiers’ reverence for the sanctity of life always won out, whether they were dati or not. Most of Masud’s team is not religious, but after working closely with them over these two years, he has observed them mature, religiously, and otherwise. “Facing death daily can’t help but strengthen our appreciation of life. We want to live life to the fullest and enjoy our families. Make religious experiences special. My soldiers all wear tzizit, even if they aren’t religious. Many have become more spiritual, more connected to Gd. They understand that there is something bigger and greater than themselves.”
In the context of war, spiritual awareness and practices change definitively. Days and weeks blur together, making it hard to keep track of Shabbat and Yom Tov. Last Rosh Hashanah, Masud blew the shofar for his men while driving his Namer Tank with a phone ringing in his pocket. “You understand the depths of meaning in being a tokeiah be’shofar during an actual war while protecting the Jewish nation. The practice becomes more profoundly meaningful.”
Psychological Toll
That said, Israel is only beginning to understand the psychological implications of October 7 on Israeli society. Soldiers suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is not uncommon: Many watched comrades die, others lost limbs, while others underwent the breakup of businesses and marriages.
Moreover, many of their war experiences are impossible to share with their spouses. Subsequently, they turn to one another for support and healing. “Even strong, tough soldiers need to heal,” Masud says. “Expressing our feelings to one another helps us alleviate loneliness, which is a catalyst for trauma and war-related mental illnesses.”
However, those soldiers who best understood what they were fighting for – that this war isn’t a battle between Jews and Arabs, about religion or land, but between good and evil – that they are standing on the frontlines of over 3,000 years of Jewish history, those soldiers, Masud claims, pull through these experiences more psychologically intact.
Captain Masud’s Vision
Captain Masud now divides his time between reserve duty and helping expand the Jewish presence in Beit Lechem, which was nonexistent before 2002, and which is presently a hub of Islamic terrorism. Currently, 100 Jews live about 30 feet from Kever Rochel, surrounded by 30,000 Arabs.
The planned expansion of the Benei Rachel Yeshiva, founded by Rabbis Chanan Porat and Benny Alon in 2009, will increase the yeshiva’s capacity from 60 to 300 students and the community’s size from 12 to 35 families, thereby forcing the IDF to expand its buffer zone parameters. There is a waiting list for these new apartments.
A visitors’ center, restaurant, shul, simcha hall, and other amenities to accommodate young families will complete this exciting new project, which will cover 100,000 square feet. A walk-around plaza next to Kever Rachel is almost finished.
“Expanding the Jewish presence in Beit Lechem will not only benefit this community but the public at large,” Masud says. “We now have a real opportunity to build a Torah community where terrorists can’t live.”


