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Five close Israeli friends all in their twenties – Guy Azar, Moshe Saadyan, Ben Hasid, Raz Mordechai and Or Moshe – attended the Supernova music festival together this weekend, held near the Israel-Gaza border. The 3,000-person event celebrated ‘friends, love, and infinite freedom’. But when Hamas terrorists attacked in the early hours of Saturday morning, at least 260 were left dead.

Ben was murdered. Guy is believed to have been taken hostage in Gaza and later killed. Moshe remains missing.

Only Or and Raz survived and made it home. This is their story…

It could have been one of the best nights of our lives.

We had been looking forward to the festival for months – great music, dancing, in the middle of a beautiful desert. What could be better?

Guy took a picture of us before we set off: five best friends, full of life, high spirits and happiness.

Five close Israeli friends – Guy Azar (top right), Moshe Saadyan (middle), Ben Hasid (bottom left), Raz Mordechai (bottom right) and Or Moshe (top left) – attended the Supernova music festival together this weekend. When Hamas terrorists attacked in the early hours of Saturday morning, at least 260 were left dead. Ben was murdered. Guy is believed to have been taken hostage in Gaza and later killed. Moshe remains missing. Only Or and Raz made it home.

And so it continued, all night long.

But the sun rose on a very different morning. At around 6.30am, the music stopped abruptly and everyone snapped to their senses.

Over the loudspeakers, voices boomed telling us to leave immediately.

At first, we assumed it was a routine rocket attack. Alarms like this are common in Israel.

Little did we know, heavily armed Hamas terrorists were already landing nearby as their paragliders touched down in the sand, and others surrounded us on foot and in vehicles.

Then, at 7.30am, the true horror of our situation began to unravel: Police officers suddenly shouted for everyone to hurry to their cars. The first terrorists, approaching with weapons aimed directly at the crowds, had been spotted. 

Overhead we could hear the roar of rockets, ripping through the brilliant blue sky.

Once in our car, we realized the obvious problem: 3000 people were all trying to leave at once along the same road. Traffic ground to a halt almost immediately.

People ahead abandoned their cars and headed into the desert, some running, terrified.

Confused, we decided to leave our car, too, and look around.

The sound of missiles and distant gunfire intensified, but no-one knew where to go, so we returned to the car and drove on slowly.

That was until we reached a police car blocking the way.

People started screaming. The gunfire sounded louder – closer. It came quick and fast. 

Just ahead and beyond the police blockade, a black van pulled up full of terrorists who opened fire. The police shot back. 

Everything happened in seconds. And – terrified that we would be caught in the crossfire – we scrambled out of the car before running away across the nearby scrubland.

Bang, bang, bang.

We sprinted away from the road, then back again, not knowing which direction to go and with no time to think.

The two of us managed to stay together but – before we knew it – Guy, Moshe and Ben were nowhere to be seen.

At 6.30am, the music stopped abruptly. At first, we assumed it was a routine rocket attack. Little did we know, heavily armed terrorists were already landing nearby as their paragliders touched down in the sand. (Pictured: Survivors Or Moshe, left, and Raz Mordechai, right).

Overhead we could hear the roar of rockets, ripping through the brilliant blue sky. Once in our car, we realized the obvious problem: 3000 people were all trying to leave at once along the same road. Traffic ground to a halt almost immediately. (Pictured: Guy Azar is believed to have been taken hostage and murdered).

People abandoned their cars and headed into the desert, some running, terrified. Confused, we decided to leave our car, too. The sound of missiles and distant gunfire intensified, but no-one knew where to go, so we returned to the car and drove on slowly. That was until we reached a police car blocking the way. (Pictured: Ben Hasid was murdered on site).

Just ahead and beyond the police blockade, a black van pulled up full of terrorists who opened fire. The police shot back. Everything happened in seconds. And – terrified that we would be caught in the crossfire – we scrambled out of the car before running away across the nearby scrubland. Bang, bang, bang. (Pictured: Moshe Saadyan remains missing).

The sound of crying became overwhelming; people were yelling into mobile phones begging for help.

Dodging between cars, the bullets came closer and closer, rushing past our legs, our hands.

Then, turning towards the onslaught we saw a sight we’ll never forget: terrorists, dozens of them, shooting ahead and running directly at us.

And so we ran. Ran for our lives. Not looking back, not to the left or right. Just hoping against hope we wouldn’t lose each other, that we would both make it out.

RAZ: In our panic, Or and I somehow became separated – and, lost, I ran back towards the festival site (later I would discover that Or did the same).

I managed to find one of the pop-up bars, weak with exhaustion, near collapse. I could hear terrorists right behind me, so I hid behind a refrigerator.

Seconds later, a gunman entered the bar. I crouched, frozen, holding my breath, my heart pounding.

He sprayed the refrigerator with his machine gun for what seemed like minutes. But miraculously, I wasn’t hit and the gunman left – assuming I was dead.

I then crawled towards an open field – and there, thankfully, I found Or, who had been desperately trying to find me.

Together again, we ran for cover… Up a slope we spotted a tank. Had the army arrived for us?

No, the tank was empty. And there we found three policemen, crouching beside it. We joined them, along with about 15 other survivors.

A police van pulled up to offer extra protection as a rocket-propelled grenade struck the ground. It didn’t explode.

Still, the terrorists were advancing, lobbing more grenades as the police returned fire.

We sprinted away from the road, then back again, not knowing which direction to go. The two of us managed to stay together but – before we knew it – Guy, Moshe and Ben were nowhere to be seen. (Pictured: Cars stuck in huge traffic jam as festival-goers attempt to flee).

The sound of crying became overwhelming. Dodging between cars, the bullets came closer and closer, rushing past our legs, our hands. Then, turning towards the onslaught we saw a sight we’ll never forget: terrorists, dozens of them, shooting ahead and running directly at us. (Pictured: Police exchange fire with Hamas).

We ran for our lives. Not looking back, not to the left or right. Just hoping against hope we wouldn’t lose each other, that we would both make it out. (Pictured: Festival-goers shelter from gunfire behind vehicles).

We felt sure we were about to die. We had run as far as we could.

A girl lying near us was screaming, blood coursing from bullet holes in her ribs and leg. (Or crawled over and applied pressure to her wounds.)

One bullet ripped past and straight through another girl’s cheek, drenching her face in blood.

A man was bleeding from his stomach and shoulder. The police were yelling into their radios: ‘We are running out of ammunition, we need reinforcements.’

All we could do was lie there and wait. How long would it last? Would our families ever know what became of us?

Eventually, blessedly, the shooting lessened – but we still had to stay put.

To make things worse, it was baking hot, with only tiny amount of water to go between twenty. (Raz refused his share so it could be given to the wounded. Or drank from a water bottle he found lying nearby that was spattered in blood).

In the end, we waited three and a half hours until, finally, IDF reinforcements arrived to evacuate us.

Hamas weren’t gone though. And as we ducked into an evacuation vehicle, we came under more fire. We were crammed into the van and told to keep down.

And then we drove off through a hellscape: countless bodies lay twisted in the broken road, where pools of blood formed.

People had been burned alive and shot point-blank in their vehicles. What had happened to our friends? It was unbearable.

We were taken to a police station in the nearby town of Ofakim. Buses were ferrying survivors on from there, but we stayed, hoping that Guy, Moshe and Ben would arrive behind us.

We were still waiting when the air sirens sounded and we were forced to leave without learning their fate.

Later, the worst came true: Ben’s body was found in the desert.

Our wonderful, young friend full of joy, dancing with us one moment – the next we were at his funeral (on Tuesday). 

Tragedy build on tragedy as Guy’s family heard late on Wednesday that he was likely being held hostage, somewhere in Gaza. On Thursday they received the shattering news that he too had probably been murdered. 

As for Moshe, we have no news. All we can do is pray.

What we witnessed this weekend was unimaginable, unspeakable evil. And we are just two of millions of Israelis suffering this depraved onslaught.

Hamas came, bristling with weapons and hate to murder innocent men, women and children as cruelly as possible, simply because we are Jewish.

Some things can never be forgiven.

As for our message to the world: Israel cannot be safe until Hamas is irradiated.

We need your backing to stop this evil, to see our friends and families released from capture.

Against the odds, we survived. But with every second that passes until Hamas’s defeat, how many others won’t be so lucky?

Source: | This article originally belongs to Dailymail.co.uk

Content source – www.soundhealthandlastingwealth.com

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