On the morning of October 7, Lieutenant R was disoriented and bleeding from a bullet wound to her head. But even in those first seconds, her focus wasn’t on the wound or the chaos unfolding around her – it was on the rookies looking to her for direction.
Most of them had barely two months of basic training when they suddenly found themselves at the center of a full-scale Hamas assault on the IDF’s Search and Rescue brigade training base in Zikim, situated at the northern tip of the Gaza Strip.
But 20-year-old Lt. R., whose full name cannot be published under the army’s security guidelines, understood immediately that their survival depended on her ability to stay calm, stay conscious, and lead.
“If I don’t respond, if I don’t fight, my soldiers won’t survive – and neither will I,” she told The Jerusalem Report in a recent interview.
The attack on Zikim was one of several assaults launched across Israel’s South that morning. At 6:30 a.m., more than 1,000 rockets targeted military installations, and within minutes Hamas terrorists were moving toward the coastline adjacent to the basic training base.
In the hours that followed, seven soldiers from Lt. R’s company were killed, and dozens more were wounded. The attack caught the base at its most vulnerable point: It was staffed largely by recruits who had been in uniform for only a number of weeks.
Today, R is entering the final role of her service before being released. What remains sharp in her mind is not the timeline or the tactics of that morning but what it revealed about leadership – and what it exposed about the long-held assumptions surrounding women in combat.
“I will take a role only if I know I can bring everyone back safely,” she said, describing how that day reshaped the way she views leadership. “I’m sharper. I think much more before making decisions.”
Her story is not only about surviving an unprecedented attack. It is about a young woman who led under fire, carried her soldiers through the most terrifying moments of their lives, and dismantled gendered assumptions in the process.
In 2015, the ratio of women to men in combat forces was 7% women vs. 93% men. New data show that the proportion of women serving in combat roles has risen in the last decade almost three times as much to 20%.
Becoming a leader
Long before she wore an officer’s pin, R knew she wanted to serve meaningfully.
“I grew up in a military home,” she told the Report. “My father was a career soldier for 30 years. From the time we were young, he pushed us toward meaningful service.”
R began preparing for her service years before enlisting: physical training, combat courses, leadership workshops – a deliberate path toward the roles she hoped to one day hold.
She already knew that she wanted to be an officer.
“I even signed on for 2.8 years, even though women don’t have to,” she said. “The real effort was the commitment itself.”
In high school, she volunteered at Magen David Adom for three years, driven by a desire “to save lives,” she said.
Her dream was simple: to contribute to protecting her country. Not prestige. Not rank.
“My soldiers see me as a role model,” she said, “and I know I have something to give.”
The ultimate test
On October 7, at 6:30 a.m., when the sirens sounded across the base, R assumed it was another barrage like so many others before. But within an hour, she was exchanging gunfire with Hamas terrorists. The company commander, Maj. Adir Abudi, had ordered the command staff to replace the recruits from their guard posts.
R was stationed at the entrance gate. At 8:13 a.m., according to records of the attack on the Zikim base, an RPG (rocket-propelled grenade) was fired, and multiple grenades were thrown toward her position. Four soldiers were killed in the clash.
“I was wounded – a bullet struck me in the head – and even then, I didn’t really understand what was happening,” she recalled. It was only when she encountered her sergeant, Noa Zeevi, severely wounded, that the full weight of the situation registered.
“I was in shock. I thought she was dead,” R said. “Only at that moment did it hit me that this was a full-scale attack.”
Clarity came to her quickly. It was war, and she had no time to process the shock. If she didn’t get control of herself, her rookies wouldn’t survive. She gathered herself not because she felt ready but because she had no other choice.
“There were gunshots, rockets, explosions. I was wounded. I thought my friend was dead. And I told myself: ‘If I don’t respond, if I don’t fight, my soldiers won’t survive. And neither will I,’” she said.
Stigma meets reality
What unfolded at Zikim that morning was more than a battle. It was the negation of a narrative that has shadowed women in combat roles for years – the idea that they are less capable, less suited, or less reliable under pressure.
“It’s all stigma, complete nonsense,” R said, pointing out that women don’t just serve in her battalion, they form the majority.
One of the draws for women, say those serving, is that it is not just about training in combat but also about helping people in crisis. The Search and Rescue Brigade operates from disaster sites and is trained to respond to atomic, biological, and chemical warfare.
“This brigade brings with it, beyond combat, the value of life,” said Ahinoam Durani, a reservist in the unit who was a part of rescue operations during the recent war.
When company commander Maj. Adir Abudi fell, it was the female deputy company commander who stepped in to take command. It was the female platoon commanders who took charge. It was the women who coordinated the response.
“The women led,” she said, emphasizing: “We can do anything.”
R doesn’t ignore the physical differences between men and women; she simply refuses to accept that they define operational capability.
“Yes, there are physical differences like equipment and weight,” she said. “But operationally? If I can shoot a terrorist, if I can see clearly, react, multi-task – that’s what matters.”
Not one of her fellow commanders, mostly women, “hesitated to run toward terrorists,” she said. “Many were wounded – not because they were weak but because they risked their lives.”
The events of that morning did not just challenge gender assumptions; they obliterated them.
Leading after loss
Two years on, Lt. R’s leadership is shaped as much by what happened that day as by the responsibilities she continues to hold.
“I’m still in psychological treatment today in order to keep doing my job,” she said.
The pressure she now feels as a commander is measured not in fear but in a profound sense of duty.
She worries constantly about the lives of those under her command.
“I care so much more about my soldiers now,” she said. “I’m terrified of ever facing a parent and saying, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t protect your child.’”
When she thinks about the future, her ambition is clear: “I want to carry the spirit of my fallen soldiers,” she said. “I want to teach the next generation things I didn’t know – things that could have helped me in combat.”
Outside the army, she envisions a quieter life: studying, raising a family, and focusing on her recovery. But she also wants to continue speaking publicly about what happened on that day, to keep the memory of her fallen comrades alive.
“Sharing the story helps me and helps others,” Lt. R. concluded. “Sometimes it’s hard. But if I don’t tell the story, who will?”■
In memory of Maj. Adir Abudi; Capt. Or Moses; Lt. Yannai Kaminka; Lt. Adar Ben Simon; Staff Sgt. Eden Alon Levy; Staff Sgt. Omri Niv Firshtein; and Cpl. Neria Aharon Nagari.