Israel North blog

Haifa, lady0_0 2006-08-15

Wed, 16 Aug 2006 13:25:33 GMT

Nalatia from Besedka: I would have been happy to be "yet another strategist" if it turned out that the [Israeli] government had a real strategic plan, it's just that they did not share it with us due to security concerns... like when I was a kid... I thought that the parents know something deep but are not telling me... no, not really...

from lady0_0:
These are precisely the thoughts I had during this month of war.
I have been waiting for the army to do something...
I don't know what.

When I was a kid I had this kind of attitude towards my father, I thought that he will always "think of something", that he knows better, etc.

I was cured from this in the army (it turned out that the healing was incomplete - now I "believe" in the army) - when I had to know better and do something that the others could not.

Just some thoughts...

I am removing the flag.

translated by aphar
original

Haifa, renfry, August 13, 2006

Sun, 13 Aug 2006 21:11:02 GMT

They went fucking nuts! Five rocket alarm sirens in less than half an hour. I will never be able to finish my cup of coffee...

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Haifa, sid75

Sun, 13 Aug 2006 19:01:54 GMT

sid75

GUARD ME, MY TALISMAN

Here is the "hero" of my story http://israelnorthblog.livejournal.com/41307.html

translated by muchnik
link to original post here

8.8.6, Haifa, blackqueen

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 17:18:10 GMT

Every morning, when I wake up by quiet music of my alarm-clock, but not by a siren, I do not remember war. Fresh morning breeze, sun is not too hot, birds chirping, urban noise died down – that`s usual early morning of a usual day… That`s all – till the first cannonade crash. Yes, that is usual early morning of a war time, it even has become a usual thing. Four weeks of firing. The sound of air-craft alarm runs in our blood, it is under our skin, it dissolves in our tissues. It can be heard everywhere – in ambulance sirens and car alarms, in brake chatter, in growling of a starting motocycle, in children`s toys and jackals howling. I expect it every moment, and every time having heard that low, quickly increasing sound, I give a start, and everything goes dark before my eyes.
Currently we are at the middle of the war. We are neither under the everlasting missiles rain, like in Quiryat-Shemona, Naharia, Tsefat and Ma`alot and other frontier towns, it seems, there they have no single safe building, and people become moss-grown in their bomb-shelters; nor we are at south or at the central districts, where life has not changed in general. It seemed to be a 10 days` lull, most of sirens howled not for us, but the day before yesterday we had six rockets with direct hit into living houses, with terrible shrapnel, flying on 100 meters, with three men killed and more than 200 hurt. Haifa has not recovered from that shock still. War rushed, grew up and seized our back with its teeth. We turned our backside to the war, we kind of teased it.

One can soon get used to any, or even to the most terrible conditions of life. Everything can become routine, first or last. The war became routine, too, we do not feel so painfully, so hard, so frightful. Soldiers and civilians are killed. Yes, there are only two or three men per day killed on average, it is not very much. But there are our children, our boys. Every boy – he is someone`s child, every boy has his own name. There are less of us, and every death toll – it`s too much, too insufferable. We are not Russia, Russia can throw dozens of thousand of its boys to a forced-march, without a trace, and then show off it`s care of poor Lebanon civilians – typical, lousy hypocrisy. All this hurts me badly, it is the first time the dying soldiers of the country I live makes me feel that. This country – MY country.
All that`s like a scuffle in a village: two are fighting, dozen of others are sitting on a fence and dangling; they are talking, who had started, and if he should give a black eye for that one, who lashed his balls; anyone shouts ‘ That`s wrong way” and demands to stop the scandal, because to fight - that`s not nice. They all try not to get close to the fighting men, it`s dangerous. One part of the lookers-on knits their noses – “ they do not know, how to fight, beat him from the left! Looser!”, other people are shocked – “ it`s unallowed thing! Stick the rules!” The friends stand behind two fighters, they wait for a backfall of one of them, for a moment when they are supposed to join. One can hear different advices from the neighbouring houses – to catch hold of them, to let them have a game of dominoes, and winner will be winner, success is never blamed; another screams, he`ll call police; people next door talk over last fight and make their game of this one.
So let them talk. These two continue fighting. The main thing is– not to disturb them. Because one of them started, and one of them certainly will win.

translation by fineto
original link is here

9.8.06, Nahariya, sestra_milo, Kein Schwein ruft mich an

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 17:14:39 GMT

Nobody loves me, none of the pigs will call me.
The kid has the return ticket on 28.08. I think over its changing for late. Yura and Nina tell me, he is quick to grasp German, they suggest that he will enter local school.
The kid learned the song on German “Nobody loves me, none of the pigs will call me.”
He has been not at home for 3 weeks. I has not cooked anything all this time.
I caught the perception of fear and fix it, fear, which I always drive to our district with. I look at our house – do we have a place to come back?
Accidentally I noticed, that the marks for the last exam appeared in the university site. I should call Ilya to his unit, get his password and check also his mark, but I`m afraid – what if he failed and I should tell him it? Later, when I called him and got to his voice mail, I understood suddenly, that it was not that thing I had to be afraid of. But he recalled soon, he got good mark, so my fear was vain.

translation by fineto
original link is here

Haifa, zhivaia_legenda, August 12, 2006

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 13:10:29 GMT

History of my userpic.

Lately, a lot of people ask me what is written on my new userpic.
Let me answer this question.

It’s in Hebrew, it’s pronounced “le miklat” and it means “to the bomb shelter”
Nowadays there are so many signs like this around my house.
My userpic is a picture of one of those signs.

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Haifa, zhivaia_legenda, August 11, 2006

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 13:04:06 GMT

Haifa. Beit Galim district. After siren alarm.

August 11, 2006

There was a hole in the ground here less than one day ago. Decorative trees cut with shrapnel, broken flowers, garbage, thrown away by the explosion waves and broken windshield glass
Only one day has passed - now only this flag reminds of the deadly rocket.
Municipal government of Haifa puts enormous effort in cleaning and restoration of the city. Wounded streets and squares are healed as fast as possible. And it feels extremely good.
Horrible hole in the ground is covered, wounded trees are cut and new flowers are already there.

Life goes on.

№1.

Cable TV Hot, local channel - everyday coverage...
Let's say colleagues...

№2.

№3.

On the way home - snack and Italian ice, lemon flavor. It's sacred!

№4.

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Haifa, renfry, August 11, 2006

Fri, 11 Aug 2006 19:55:27 GMT

Question

Friends, I posted this question in one community (for Russian-speaking Israelis) but they still have not published it yet :) But I want to know.

My question is – I want to donate blood. But I work during the days and it’s not really convenient for me to go searching for blood station in Haifa... Do you know any places where I can donate blood at night, let’s say after ten o’clock? Or tomorrow – I probably be in the center of the country during the day. Can I donate blood there (it will be Saturday)? And what does this procedure involve?
Thanks in advance :)

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Haifa, renfry, August 11, 2006

Fri, 11 Aug 2006 19:41:46 GMT

Continuation of the last post :)

OK, I went shopping on Wednesday morning – to buy food, to the bank, some other chores... I left my house shortly after ten o’clock in the morning... People from Haifa could already start laughing... I’ll explain it for out-of-towners :) there were three sirens during the hour when I was walking down Hanita Street :) By now I intimately know two storage places and one garbage area of the store :) :)))

However, I still managed to buy food. But I didn’t go to the bank – I met my neighbor and she told me that during the rocket attacks everyone is suppose to leave the bank building (!). I imagined what I would feel in a situation like that – and decided not to go to the bank ...

The smoke rises far away like a wavy cloud,
Khaiber(Iranian-made rocket) or “Katyusha”(Russian-made rocket) – it’s hard to see,
And planes started ascending in the sky...
Soon enemy will think of me :)

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Haifa, lorique, August 11, 2006

Fri, 11 Aug 2006 17:16:47 GMT

They get closer to us, every day and every hour. Today our small town (it was relatively quiet here) was hit in three different places.
I was at work at that time (as a matter of fact, our clinic is right halfway between the two spots where rockets exploded). Nothing unusual, routine procedure – we heard the siren on the radio, shouted “Siren” to warn customers and run to the bomb shelter. The explosion occurred immediately after that. It was so loud that we started yelling. It felt like the explosion was right behind the wall. Everyone reached for the cell phones, but there was no cellular service, and landline phones stopped functioning half an hour before the rocket attack. Of course, the radio didn’t tell the exact locations of the explosions (for security purposes) but very soon customers and personnel started calling friends and relatives and found out the places of rockets’ landings. My mother was able to reach me. Someone told her that the rocket exploded in the building on the main street. Our clinic is the newest building (only one month old) on the main street of town. I was lucky to call her before the lines were disconnected. Our cleaning lady was less fortunate. Her son called her and said “It landed very close to our house…” - and then the phone went dead. Poor woman immediately fainted.

News channels revealed the places of explosions only two hours later. Two rockets landed in open space, and in the third case – two wounded and several people in shock (the rockets hit a new house, fortunately not on the main street but two blocks away).

translation by lesoto
link to original post here

Major Roi Klein

Fri, 11 Aug 2006 09:49:02 GMT

The least we can do for the man, who sacrificed his life in such a heroic fashion, is to tell his story.

Major Roi Klein, the deputy batallion commander of 51th batallion of the Golany infantry brigade, from the Eli settlement, was the highest ranking officer between his soldiers in Beit Jbeil. During the combat, he noticed a hand grenade thrown at his men. Since there was no time to evade the effect of the upcoming explosion, he jumped at the grenade so as to block the shards and thus save his men. His sacrifice was succesful. His men, who thus survived the battle, told later that he cried out "Shma Israel" as he jumped at the grenade.

Roi Klein, a real hero in the age of anti-heroes worship, was burried at the day he turned 31.

It is told of him, that he was an excellent saxophone player and a brilliantly spiritual man, who completed cum laude his engineering degree. He hiked with friends in Afrika, he had a captivating laughter. All his friends say he was a quiet, gentle man. His widow wishes their children to grow up just like him.

May he rest in peace.

Instead of lighting a candle, please pass the story on. He deserves much more than that, but that's as much as we can do.

Translated by: dimrub
Original (n Hebrew) is making rounds.

Haifa, sulok, August 10, 2006

Thu, 10 Aug 2006 17:53:07 GMT

I went to Ulpan (language classes for new immigrants) with one of the fallen soldiers...
Another rocket attack in Haifa.
It looks like this horror has no end.

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Haifa, zhivaia_legenda, August 10, 2006

Thu, 10 Aug 2006 17:43:45 GMT

My ear is hurting.

The rocket was flying so close to me and her metallic noise was so utterly poisonous so human body became filled with tragedy. The tragedy that this silly pipe with a diameter of 122 millimeters (half of one inch) causes. Then we heard dry, impossible to tolerate noise and wailing of cars that were parked nearby. I immediately reached for my camera. I wanted to get out and respond to this with the meanest photoflash.
Hmm... And how many photoflashes I should put here in my journal so I could have responded adequately to every rocket that exploded on my land?
Thousands, and thousands, and thousands...
No, let those stupid pipes of hatred to rest in our sand and our swamps without signs of remembrance.
I like much more to photograph poisonous sea creatures: orange, green, white and pink ones...
Five attacks, destroyed house and several wounded, not counting my ear that is hurting from this war. By the way, if the left ear is going deaf temporarily - what does it mean?
This is our everyday life. It's nothing really interesting to talk about.

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Haifa, zhivaia_legenda, August 10, 2006

Thu, 10 Aug 2006 11:22:01 GMT

Our time.

Author: ella_la

I have never thought that the word "war" could become a part of my life.
We live in "quiet" Ashkelon but in the North where a lot of my beloved people live; deadly rockets are flying in the sky.
One story about our difficult time has warmed my soul and made me feel better.

Our close relative from Maalot (a small town very close to the border with Lebanon) finally agreed to move away from there. It's a dire situation with public transportation in that area, so I offered her to take a taxi and compensate her for the fare. It turned out that there's a posting on the wall in her apartment building offering a free ride to anyone who wants to leave the dangerous area. Later on we learned that there's a guy called Roman who drives elderly people for free away from the northern towns. Our aunt said she needed a ride only to Tel-Aviv (roughly half way from Maalot to Ashkelon) where I could have picked her up and drives her further south. But he insisted to drive her all the way to the doors of our house in Ashkelon. That time he also drove three other elderly people - to Kfar-Saba, Rishon-le-Tsion and Rehovot, all of them to their final destinations. At three o'clock at night. And he went to his work in Petah-Tikva at 7 o'clock in the morning (he works as a technician).
Next day I called him to express my gratitude and admire
- But I didn’t do anything extraordinary.
- But you help people. And you are a part of some sort of organization?
- No, I do it all by myself.
- Are you religious?
- No...

Sometime long ago I was visiting one of Tsefat's art galleries and couldn't take my eyes away from a picture of Moshe Raviv (he is the only student of Kandinsky). The picture was called "Stairway to Heaven", the image with lots of different interpretations. I thought that the picture was about the fact that not every ascend is necessary a way up. You can spend the whole life climbing stairway that goes down.
That is exactly what is happening with those who pay too much attention to overt expressions that are part of every religion.
Roman Goltsman from Petah-Tikva is a very religious person to me He does not need to wear a yarmulka, go to the temple to pray or express any religious attributes.
His religion is something unquestionably genuine. Or maybe need to help someone is going to be a religion of the future?

translation by lesoto

link to the original post here

Carmiel, fatlynx

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 19:31:45 GMT

ffffuck...

Why ain't I a crazy photographer or a maniac who never goes out without his camcorder?
Such a precious sight now will go undocumented and will perish for the posterity...
A bunshee (perhaps a twentieth that day) is whailing, the kid is in the shelter, me - ~~in a bow tie and an underwear~~ stuck at the balcony on a table - so what? The safest spot of them all. So that I can see you better, my child :-)

And I see it clear as daylight coming towards me. I can clearly hear the whistle of its flight. I realize that it flies straight at us. For some reason I freeze at the spot, can't move at all. No sense of danger whatsoever. And I see it land across the street (there are hostels there for the seniors). Thumps into the ground near a house - and just lays there without exploding.

Anyway, I couldn't have taken a picture. It takes time to tell the story, but in reality it all happened in no more than two seconds time.

Translated by: dimrub
Link to the original post: here

Nahariya, sestra_milo. 06.08

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 11:20:27 GMT

Insufferable cruelty

I watched video, which had been made by a crazy man, he was leaning out of the window during the siren howling. The siren was really insufferable. I made volume more and more. And again more, till I heard my husband`s tramping. He came from the balcony to take me to the bomb-shelter. He said – such a strange siren it was. He was eager to kill me, I think.

And here is requital. It is the first time that siren men me at the most inappropriate place – in WC. I hesitated for a moment and then decided to continue, I took the risk to pass away to the eternity with dirty bum. I heard a child was shouting loudly “Mummy”! My God, children had remained still? Our siren had shut up, but the neighbouring one was howling for a while. How we had to interpret that – had we already been allowed not to fear, or it just broke? By the way, I don`t remember the sirens to howl on Independence Day so artistically. It had another pitch and our emotions were not the reason.

The friend, who works at Rotshild`s (hospital), told me, that during the siren howling all their people rush to the parking to watch the missiles falling, instead of being to the bomb-shelter.

Another siren met us near the red light signal. A car raced without slowing down, and we also made a sudden turn, passed two red lights behind the houses. The town traffic lights are turned off at all.
We heard by the radio that missiles were in Haifa. The only number in Haifa, which responded, was Ilya`s, but the reason was – he was not at home, he was on draft, tsav 8 ( call-up paper). He said that he was safe, at the base, but I didn`t believу him, they all says the same.

Our neighbours from the 1st floor came back, a big family with a lot of children. They had been stuck in Beer-Sheva for a month.

My darling, forgive me for that pictures. May be, it is cruelly, but I believe you to want to see these pictures very much.

translation: fineto
original link:here

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 00:53:54 GMT

stellkind, 2006-08-06.
The day was wonderful. In the morning I got into the car and went to get new textbooks for the kid. Adar was crowded - in a peaceful, busy way appropriate for a shopping center.

Then I dropped at the marketplace. It's a relaxing a colorful view. We were desperately starving for fruits: for two weeks I sat glued to the computer working on my translation. I was lucky - they had plenty of fresh figs. Bright purple, with light green tails [pedicels], bright red and dripping sweet juice when torn. We had a discussion with an elderly Arab, why don't the "Russians" like figs, and that I am the first "Russians" to buy it from him. Filled the car up with onions, huge tomatoes, black eggplants, mushrooms, peppers.

Sellers behind their counters did their usual screaming for buyers and flirting and advertising. All the stress of the last weeks went away while I was discussing the right way to consume tomatoes (with olive oil and cumin).

I exchanged my modem for some sort of a super-duper one, walked by a pile of laced skirts to the school supplies store, got the textbooks, and went back to Carmel in my car, surrounded by the green and peachy smells.

People are craving for normal life. It is felt in the faces of the ladies, walking their disgusting little doggies. Taking a deep breath, I went into a barber shop. A fascinating feeling of normalcy: current events are being discussed in the best parliamentary style, clients in the armchairs, trying to guess how they will look like after the haircut. I realised that there was no escape, sat down and got my haircut. I made an appointment with a hairdresser named Jalal that I will bring the kid tomorrow. Across the barber shop there was a tailor shop, and a book store named "Peterburg". Everything is summer-like, vacation-style, and a blue surfing board with dolphins in my trunk.
There was an alarm in the evening. We sat in the shelter and listened for the falling rockets. Cats refused to go to the shelter.

Then the emergency vehicles screamed by. And again - it was just a summer evening. The smell of coffee and roasted meat from the nearest restaurant. I have some brioche and ciabbata with sweet pepper in my fridge. Finally it's dark outside.

Silence - till the morning comes.

translated aphar
link to the original here

Carmiel, sinantrop

Tue, 08 Aug 2006 19:48:16 GMT

From two weeks ago

I love to sleep.

I hate being woken up.

These were two weeks full of reasons for hatred.

The worst thing is the missile alarm. Enough to wake up the dead. Actually, no, not enough...

What drives you nuts is that usually it just whales away, but no explosion comes.

It means, that it flew off to somewhere else.

Explosions may fail to wake me up. They are rather hushed, especially when a house is hit.

Also, friends and relatives are calling. That's OK, that's actually nice. The first few days - the cell networks went down, could not cope with the load. Now it works fine. Those who live further south - call me to come over. I don't know how to explain, that I don't want to come. Just don't. There are lots like me. Many have left. That's understandable: children.

It's not as if there was work: many factories are shut down. Small businesses are going up in flames. No, not figuratively speaking. The stores are open, but for a few hours a day. Both the shop keepers and the buyers are mostly russian speaking. One can notice, how unnatural for them to speak of "Katyushas" (that's how all ground to ground rockets are dubbed here). Different connotations.
Too bad father's not here. We could have swapped impressions about being under fire. There's no fear, just the heart going up and down.

Granny's eyes lighten up during the alarms with a strange fire: "Just like in '41..."

The ethiopians are quite afraid. Run around in amok.

Went off for some cigarettes. Alarm went off. Behind the window there's an aged ethiopean woman in a custom dress. She's uncomfortable. The shop keeper: "are you here to buy or to watch?"

A rough native. Bad manners. But never fails to open up his little shop.

So does Tanya from the flowers shop.

No shell lands twice in a same spot - bullshit. 150 meters from my house, twice in a same spot - precisely between the golden age club and a kindergarden.

Appartments torn up by an explosion looks like horror.

A 18 year old Lesha can't be forced to stay put. Goes off for some basketball, and never fails to appease his curiosity as well. Recently visited a ruined house, reported back with lots of emotions: "They killed a cat, the bustards!" He's a very polite boy, and shys away from profanities...

Soon he will be drafted...

From the balcony one can see - the explosion site raises that kind of cigarette smoke.

The fires in the city are immediately put down.

If the forrest is hit - it takes much longer.

There go the places where we used to collect mushrooms during the winter.

It will grow back probably.

And the houses will be rebuilt.

There goes another one...

For your information: there are about 50,000 people in Carmiel

100 missiles landed in the city and its vicinity in 14 days.

Translated by: dimrub
Link to the original post: here

Haifa, sid75

Mon, 07 Aug 2006 22:17:06 GMT

sid75

The Joy And Fear Of Wartime

I don't know what today is going to be like for Haifa and for our entire Northern Israel, but yesterday was very grim. Many were killed, over 200 wounded.
But, as an old comic song says, there is a place for everything in life. Next to the evil, there is love, and there is good. The latter two just came to me from my friends in Odessa.

I had been in touch for three days with the young man who was delivering package, but he had never had a chance to find time to meet me. Finally, yesterday we agreed to meet not far from where I live.
By the time I had to leave home, Haifa had already been struck by rockets a few times that day. The news about the 10 killed reservists had already come too. The situation is tense, but what can you do?

I walk down and out to where we are supposed to meet. I stand about a minute away from my door - a few meters of sidewalk, a few stairs, and a corridor away from the stairway that goes down into the basement.
Three or four minutes before the meeting time, a siren howl sounds ominously. The three passer-bies that I could see speed up and disappear so quickly, I don't even notice where to.

I stay. The siren howls. I get a nasty feeling - it's as if I'm naked - but I cannot leave. If the young man comes and I am not here, it will be no good. So we are each minding our own business: I stand, it howls. The siren for some reason lasts very long. This usually happens when larger rockets are fired: they come from far away. I want to run already - I'm not scared, but somehow I'm feeling very awkward. But that would be embarrassing: he is right now behind the wheel of a car, driving down a steep Haifa hill along a tall supporting wall - driving for me, by the way - and he has no doors to hide behind.

I finally give up and head towards the house - not running, but walking fast. As soon as I reach the door, the siren stops. 10-15 seconds from then is usually when the explosions occur. I wait behind the door.
Silly! It's so weak it probably wouldn't stand a loud sneeze, let alone an explosion. Although psychologically, still...

But no explosions follow. The rockets must have fallen into the sea, and I jump outside at the same time as the car arrives. There is no doubt that this is the car I've been waiting for: for one, it is the only one out there; second, the young man driving it is smiling at me wide open. A handsome guy, very well mannered, by the way - instead of handing the package to over me through the window, which is what most would certainly have done even in normal times, he exits the car, walks around it, gives me the package, says "Hi" and gives a few words of encouragement with to regards the sirens, and then he leaves.

It turns out that some women's curiosity is greater than their sense of fear! I run much faster to unpack the present and look at it than I had just run from the siren. I flop into the armchair and open up the package impatiently... Oh beauty! In my hands I'm holding a tiny, 4 centimeters tall teapot, with fine golden lacing - a filigree enamel, my favorite! How could my friends have known what would bring me so much joy?
The teapot really is amazingly enjoyable and warm, and right away I turn to write a delightful thank you note, promising that this beauty would be placed in my sideboard aside some very nice company. But I fail to keep my word: I simply cannot part with this trinket. It sits next to my computer and I look at it all the time. Sometimes I put it in my hands and feel a tide of warmth and joyfulness coming. And when the siren howls, I grip the teapot in my fist and pray that it doesn't hit. Anyone.

translated by muchnik
link to original post here

Mon, 07 Aug 2006 03:15:59 GMT

lady0_0 2006-08-07

closing the circle, you would look back all of a sudden...[from Russian Rock]
I read the post http://chenai.livejournal.com/343339.html and I suddenly realized that I speak, read and write in the language [Russian] of my enemies. What a pity!
I am trying to imagine myself visiting the xUSSR countries and shaking hands of those who make weapons that rain onto my country.
I am trying to imagine what the tourists from Russia will feel here.
Yeah, I do make a distinction between a person and a country.
But this distinction crumbles when I read some LJ posts.
People, maybe I am reading the wrong stuff?
Maybe my classmates and friends in the xUSSR are still the same to me, and they are not calling only because it is too expensive?
Maybe maybe maybe ... it is time to grow up? :-(

translated by aphar
original here

Mon, 07 Aug 2006 03:13:17 GMT

olgabrook 2006-08-06
I lost count which day of war it is. For the last three weeks my family is not at home, and I am carrying all my belongings on myself at all times, like a snail, because it's a rare morning when I know where I will spend the next night. Actually, usually its the hospital - whether I am on duty or not. My family is already beyond despair, but there is no choice - getting back home now would be a stupid move. Irene [daughter] took the war in stride, to my surprise - she sees and hears everything, but she is not afraid. She just says that the alarm was too loud. And she keeps asking why we are being bombed. And she asks to be taken home - to her own crib, to her toys, to her day care center... Sasha [husband] is a hero, there is nothing else I can say here.
At work people are being called up to the army all the time, and the ranks close immediately - someone else takes his place...
I realized just now, during my last shift, that I am working at a military hospital in the fighting army. Yeah, I know, I am slow. It's just that before every wounded was a special event, and now it is just a routine job. Every minute, without a warning, a helicopter may arrive with 2-5-12 wounded. And, alas, they do come. I can only hope that it is not someone I know and they do not have any "interesting" wounds...

translated by aphar
original here

Haifa, yulen_ka, 3.08

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 20:05:15 GMT

Forgot to tell you!

Remember the photos of the balls, that make up the warheads of the missiles, that are falling on our heads? These small, toy-like balls, about half a santimeter in diameter. They go through a 8-mm metal sheet like nothing. Each missile has 40000 such balls. Forty thousand a piece. In each missile. In each...

And I got to hold such a ball in my hand. Do envy me!
Our friends from the Magen center brought such a ball, that hit their car, on Tuesday to the beith midrash. They keep it as a charm now, and they generously let us all touch it.

A second banshee in 10 minutes. Police says Haifa is now being targeted. We haven't been hit yet, but it seems to be coming. Acco scored a hit into a 5-stories appartment house. 3 dead, 4 heavily wounded. So far 8 people died today of missiles at the North. And 4 soldiers were killed today in Lebanon.

Translated by: dimrub
Link to the original post: here

Haifa, yulen_ka

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 19:55:49 GMT

Daniel Shiran, a son of a doctor from our hospital, Dr. Avinoam Shiran - a college of mine, has been killed tonight in Lebanon.
May his memory be blessed!

Translated by: dimrub
Link to the original post: here

Haifa, yulen_ka

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 19:53:33 GMT

A report containing photos of an aid cortage in Tel-Aviv, 4.08.2006

http://community.livejournal.com/samooborona/106655.html

For your information: Same thing goes on in Haifa: once the cortage from Haifa left for Kiryat Shmone with the collected stuff, Jenya and Rachel's flat (from the Magen center) is yet again stuffed with food, so that the next cortage is coming along.

Translated by: dimrub
Link to the original post: here

Haifa, yulen_ka

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 19:50:26 GMT

A heavy barrade in Haifa

Seven direct hits in different regions of the city, lots of wounded, several killed. Two houses collapsed, the rescue teams are trying to get to the people under the rubble.

Update: 1 killed, about 80 wounded, several - badly hurt.

New Update: 170 wounded by now! About 20 were pulled from under the ruins.

New new update: 3 killed already.

250 wounded. Most are in shock, but there are several badly hurt.

Translated by: dimrub
Link to the original post: here