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August 22, 2003/Av 24 5763, Vol. 55, No. 52
Firsthand account of bombing
RABBI Y.A. KORFF
The Jewish Advocate
JERUSALEM - It was just two hours ago, on a warm but beautiful night here in Jerusalem, when we were standing in the courtyard of the Zvhiller Yeshiva on Shmuel Hanovi Street, at the edge of Meah Shearim on one side, and at the border of East Jerusalem on the other, bidding goodnight to family and colleagues.
This was our family yeshiva where I had studied years ago, like my father before me, who had studied here when Israel was still called Palestine, and where my three youngest children were, like last year, spending the summer in cheder.
The blast was deafening and unmistakable. We forgot to drop to the ground and instead turned to see the charred, mangled double-length bus, which had just turned the corner in front of us, enveloped in smoke with its roof ripped open, while the noise of the bomb explosion still rang in our ears.
Then began the screams, horrible screaming, followed instantaneously by the sound of sirens in the near distance. The smoke rose and cleared quickly, and we saw then the senseless murder on the street directly in front of us; blood, body parts, dead and wounded everywhere; a baby lying in the street with its stomach ripped open; children dripping with blood screaming in fear and pain; men and women of all ages in trauma.
I have been in war zones before, and have witnessed firsthand military action and bombings. I have also witnessed death, dying and traumatic injuries.
Yet nothing in these experiences can compare, or cushion the shock, of such a senseless act, shattering the beautiful still night of the holiness of Jerusalem with the tragedy of intentional murder such as this - at least 20 dead, including one entire family, and more than 100 wounded, all simple civilians going about their daily lives.
Amazingly, it was less than 90 seconds before the area was filled with police and military vehicles, ambulances and emergency workers. The helicopters, with their piercing white searchlights, flew overhead searching the general area, as floodlights were set up in the yeshiva courtyard and elsewhere to illuminate the night for security forces and emergency personnel. Bomb-sniffing dogs roamed the immediate area to protect against the pos-sibility that an accomplice might be lurking with a second bomb to target emergency workers and others who gathered in the wake of the explosion. Medics immediately began tending to the dying and wounded, helping them to ambulances to be rushed to nearby hospital emergency rooms.
At the same time, other volunteers began the solemn task of removing bodies, collecting spilled blood and scattered body parts, and identifying remains from what was left of some of the victims so they could be buried according to religious requirements with at least some dignity and respect. Their sad task would continue for many hours.
As horrific as it was, it was all part of what has become a routine. As Americans, we wouldn't stand still for this routine for one minute. The cell phone and telephone lines were immediately jammed as those living, visiting or traveling in the area made the now-routine calls to family to assure them that they were not among the victims - this time.
Rabbi Y. A. Korff is spiritual leader of the Zvhil-Mezbuz Beis Medrash in Jerusalem.
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