5:00am: Shlomo wakes up. The sun still has not risen. He makes his way to the small kitchen set up in the temporary housing where he and other ZAKA volunteers are staying on blow-up mattresses and sleeping bags to stay closer to the South and makes a cup of black coffee. For a moment, he thinks of his wife and kids at home. Then he refocuses.
The volunteers pray together, and their prayer is solemn. For people who have seen so much death in so little time, the words of the prayers seem different.
6:00am: Shlomo and the van of volunteers arrive at a Southern town where they have been working for days. There is wreckage everywhere, children hidden in attics, and people shot in bushes.
Shlomo and the other volunteers carefully make their way through the wreckage for hours, gently removing bodies and placing them into bags. One is a baby. Shlomo cradles it in his arms as he lays it down into the bag. His heart wells with pain but he continues working.
7:30am: A barrage of missiles flies overhead. The ZAKA volunteers and accompanying soldiers duck down and cover their heads, wincing with each boom.
3pm: There is a problem. There are more bodies that need to be transported, but the truck is full. Shlomo waits by the road for hours with the bodies, waiting for the next truck to arrive. They need another one, badly. But a refrigerated ZAKA truck costs $150,000, far beyond the budget of any of the volunteers.
It is almost unfathomable to imagine what it would be like to be a ZAKA volunteer during this painful time. We can, however, join them. ZAKA officials have confirmed that they are urgently low on equipment.
To help ZAKA purchase a new refrigerated truck for transferring bodies, donate here.