On Simchat Torah morning, as red alert sirens wailed across southern Israel, 82-year-old Jacqueline Gliksman—a Holocaust survivor from Kibbutz Ein HaShlosha—took shelter in her home’s reinforced room. What followed was a nightmare that tested her strength, her wits, and her will to survive.
Jacqueline sat quietly in her safe room, phone and tablet in hand, waiting for calm. Moments later, she stepped into her kitchen to prepare breakfast when she heard the chilling cry of “Allahu Akbar” outside. She ran back to the safe room. Then came the sound of footsteps, the breaking of furniture. She thought it was the army. It wasn’t.
A terrorist opened the door. He stood there, armed, placed a finger on his lips, and signaled her to stay silent. He took her phone, searched her drawers, and left. But that wasn’t the end.
Shortly after, more terrorists appeared at her window, demanding money. She tried explaining that her belongings had already been taken. As she sat, bracing for what could come next, she made a split-second decision—to escape. With her house already set on fire, Jacqueline climbed up onto the window ledge and leapt out. She ran barefoot behind the burning houses of the kibbutz, hoping to find safety.
Through her tears and fear, she saw the emergency vehicle of the local security officer, destroyed. The officer, Rami, lay lifeless nearby. “It can’t be him,” she thought in disbelief.
Even then, she didn’t stop. On the ground, she found a phone—Marcelo’s, the deputy security officer—and ran door to door seeking help. Someone saw her through a window and let her in. When Marcelo arrived, he recognized the phone. She had unknowingly returned it to him, helping him reconnect with others during the chaos.
By the next day, Jacqueline’s home was completely destroyed. “Sixty years of my life burned in that house,” she said. Her dear friend Sylvia died in her home that same morning. Jacqueline’s children told her, “You did the right thing.”
The IDF’s investigation into the events of that day confirmed what many residents already knew: communication failures between army command centers left border communities dangerously exposed. In Ein HaShlosha, 15 terrorists breached the kibbutz during the first wave, followed by dozens more.
The kibbutz lost four lives that morning—a tragedy, but not the massacre seen in nearby towns. The kibbutz’s emergency squad was criticized in official reports, but the community pushed back. In a firm statement, they defended the team’s bravery: “They acted with courage, with few resources, and under impossible conditions. The responsibility lies with the defense establishment that failed to prepare us.”
Jacqueline’s story is not just one of survival—it is a living testimony of faith, presence of mind, and resilience. Even at 82, faced with terror, she chose life. Her courage and clarity helped save others. And in a time when evil tried to silence the Jewish spirit, her story shouted back: Am Yisrael Chai.
