I Shouldn't be Alive: Haim Ben Hamo and Moshav Tzohar

Haim Ben Hamo is the head of security for his small community, Moshav Tzohar in southern Israel. His responsibility is not abstract. It is practical and immediate. When danger comes, he is the one expected to respond.

On the morning of October 7th, just after 6:30 a.m., the sirens began. People ran toward bomb shelters, assuming this was another rocket attack. Haim immediately understood it was something more. He called his lieutenant and told him to grab his weapon. He was on his way.

At the same time, messages began appearing in their community WhatsApp group. A close friend from nearby Kibbutz Hulit reported something terrifying. He could see terrorists arriving on motorcycles. He needed help immediately, but his car was out of gas.

Haim did not stop to think. He drove to a gas station and then toward a major junction that connects seven different communities. That junction was full of people. Cars. Families. Ordinary life. It was also about to become a killing ground.

Four terrorists arrived and opened fire indiscriminately. Haim dropped to the ground and returned fire. Bullets passed just over his head. He later described feeling the air move as they missed him by inches. In that moment, he focused on one thing only. Stopping them from moving forward.

He managed to kill two of the terrorists and, just as importantly, blocked the rest from reaching the nearby communities. His actions prevented them from entering his village and others in the area.

He was wounded, but the situation was far from over. There was no response from the army. No one answering calls. Chaos everywhere. People fighting on their own to survive.

At one point, Haim returned home. He looked at his children and told them he loved them. He was certain he would not come back. This was not dramatic language. It was a calm acceptance of what he believed was inevitable.

He knew where the attacks were spreading. He knew about the Nova festival. He knew about other holy and civilian areas under assault. His instinct was clear. If someone needed help, he would go. He did not choose safety. He chose responsibility.

Later, he found himself sitting at the same junction where entire groups of people had been murdered. Where families had been wiped out. Where life had ended brutally and without warning. And yet, he was still alive.

He says this plainly. He knows he should be dead. He does not understand why he survived. He does not try to explain it away.

He calls himself a miracle.

This is why he connects his survival to Chanukah. Chanukah is not only about ancient oil lasting longer than expected. It is about light continuing when logic says it should be extinguished. It is about survival against overwhelming odds. It is about courage shown publicly, so others can see and remember.

The lights of Chanukah are meant to shine outward. They exist to publicize miracles. Not only ancient ones, but the miracles of courage, faith, and survival in every generation. Sigal’s story is one of those lights. A reminder that even after profound darkness, the Jewish people endure. That God’s care continues. Then, now, and always.

As we reflect on the heroism and inner strength of Haim, let's not forget all of the defenders of Israel and the Jewish people and all those who give of themselves everyday to protect others. Their stories deserve to be told and remembered.

Bring more light into the world. Share this story with others.

MORE STORIES

WITH GRATITUDE TO

ELLIOT AND DEBBIE GIBBER

WHOSE GENEROSITY BRINGS THESE STORIES TO LIGHT

Join the IDF Heroes Tehillim Circle

Honor the memory of a fallen soldier with a chapter of Tehillim.

How to Join

1. Download the free Abraham’s Legacy Tehillim app (iOS/Android).

2. Click here to join the IDF Heroes Circle → Join Now

3. Tap Start Reading — the app gives you the next chapter, no tracking needed.

   
   

Pray in Hebrew, English, Spanish, or French. Watch in real time as chapters and books are completed in the merit of our heroes.

Let us remember and honor those who have sacrificed so much. Together, we can keep their memories alive.