Thoughts from the Bomb Shelter |
Here we are not used to long wars. Everything in Israel is expected to be quick and efficient, including warfare. Thus it was with the Six-Day War in 1967, and though the Yom Kippur War in 1973 took longer, it didn’t involve the constant bombing of civilian homes, so somehow it felt shorter. Since October 2023, we have learned to live with a different reality.
I was born in London at a time when the city was subjected to nightly bombing raids by German planes. Those were the times of the Blitz. People suffered and were killed, buildings were destroyed, yet life went on and the war was eventually won. That was the spirit of Blitz-time London, and we try to emulate that idea here in Israel today.
As of now, March 2026, the entire population of the country is subjected to daily and nightly bombing. At least most of the country now gets a preliminary alarm, set off when the missiles are fired from Iran, giving people a few minutes to get organized, collect children whether sleeping or awake, put on suitable clothes, pay a visit to the toilet if necessary, and make their way to the nearest bomb shelter.
In some cases this involves running across the road to the neighbours’ shelter. Or down several flights of stairs to the building’s shelter, or even to the nearby public shelter, all of which involve different levels of inconvenience. Some people seem to enjoy the chance for some sort of social life which the public shelters provide, while others find it annoying. I know I wouldn’t be happy if I had to go to a public shelter, and ‘enjoy’ (though enjoying is hardly the right expression) having to spend time with a group of strangers, as well as their children, dogs, cats and other assorted companions.
I am very appreciative of the fact that our house has its own private bomb shelter, with its reinforced space in our basement, built when the house was first constructed. We have managed to make the place relatively comfortable, with chairs and a heater. Now we even have a radio there so can continue listening to music while we wait for the all-clear signal. In a moment of whimsy, my OH installed the large painting shown here depicting two sad figures from her native Argentina painted by our friend, Susi Kaplan. We have dubbed them ‘Pedro and Graziella,’ and they give us something interesting to look at as we wait underground. We wonder what they think of their new environment and whether it compares favourably with their life in Argentina. Somehow, it’s not quite clear, as the misery of their lives is palpably evident in their demeanour and facial expressions. How cleverly Susi has depicted that with a few brush strokes!
The question now on everyone’s lips is ‘When is it going to end?’ Life has essentially come to a stop. Schools are closed, so children are stuck at home, public gatherings are potentially dangerous and therefore forbidden, so theatres and cinemas are closed. Concerts have been cancelled and while supermarkets and other shops remain open (people have got to buy food, after all), shoppers make sure they know where the nearest shelter is if they might have to make their way there when the siren sounds. People are constantly being urged to go there in an orderly fashion and not to run. More people have been injured while rushing to a shelter than as a result of the bombing.
So we hunker down and do our best to wait patiently for the situation to end. How long it will take and what the final outcome will be is anyone’s guess. All we can say is that we are here to stay, that Israel is determined to keep going and no amount of bombing will put an end to our existence on our land.