On Tuesday morning, only minutes before the ceasefire between Israel and Iran took effect, sirens sounded across Be’er Sheva. Two missiles were launched at the city—one was intercepted, the other made a direct hit. It was the fourth missile to do so.
According to a preliminary Home Front Command investigation, the missile penetrated the sixth floor of a six-story building and breached the protective envelope of two protected rooms (reinforced security rooms called mamadim), one of which collapsed completely. Four people were killed—believed to have been inside the mamadim—and 20 more were rescued from the scene.
The Building That Took a Direct Hit
The first to be hit was Soroka Medical Center, when a cluster warhead hit multiple areas across the city.
A missile struck directly within the hospital complex, causing severe damage to the surgical inpatient wing. The building, an older structure, had been preemptively evacuated as part of early preparedness. Thanks to that decision, no patients were inside at the time.
A Day Later – Another Missile
On Friday morning, 24 hours after the strike on Soroka, sirens sounded again. Another missile was launched at the city, was not intercepted, and directly hit a residential street near the Gav Yam high-tech park.
Hours Later – Yet Another Strike
By Friday afternoon, another barrage was fired toward the city, including a cluster warhead that dispersed 26 p’tzatzonim (bomblets) across a wide area. The unexploded ordnance detonated within hundreds of meters, causing significant damage to multiple city locations, including residential buildings, private courtyards, and vehicles.
The Worst Strike – Through the Eyes of the Residents
There was something chilling about walking down what used to be my street, now resembling a disaster zone.
The closer one got to the impact site, the more the missile’s power became clear: trees stripped of their leaves, entire buildings without windows or shutters, shattered glass everywhere, and silence. An eerie silence.
Hard to Describe the Destruction
The scenes resemble images from elsewhere, not here. The damage is everywhere—surrounded by dozens of people who once had homes or businesses, now trying to absorb their new reality. “It’s heartbreaking,” say the residents. Those whose homes were hit said there was no warning from Home Front Command before the siren, which made the experience even harder.“I’m functioning on autopilot. Every small noise makes me jump, and thinking about what happened in the neighboring building fills me with sorrow,” said one woman who lives near the impact zone. She showed me her building—the torn-out metal frames, the doors ripped from their hinges. The fear was real, the anxiety visible in her eyes.
Just a few dozen meters from the site, I spoke with an elderly woman who told me about a vase she had preserved for over 50 years—until the Iranian missile came. The vase is no more.
One business owner told me his home was completely destroyed. He lives across from the building that was hit, and the blast wave demolished everything inside. Yet despite the devastation, he chose to remain optimistic—and faithful. He showed me his shop, decorated with pictures of rabbis, and shared that though nearby shops were heavily damaged—not a single bottle in his store had fallen.
We Will Rebuild and Restore What Was Lost
Few were willing to talk, but all shared the same message: despite the devastation and destruction—we will rebuild.
The next day, I returned to the impact site, and the street already looked much better. It was lined with Israeli flags. Volunteers were everywhere, helping those in need. City workers had begun clearing debris, the street buzzed again, people were back, noise returned, even the buses resumed their routes. The restaurants were full, people were shopping and supporting local businesses. That is the beauty of the Israeli spirit. Despite heavy blows and painful losses, we rise again. We restore what was destroyed, remember those we lost, and always choose life.
