Pablo Dulitzky had long planned where he would hide if terrorists ever attacked. Since a previous warning about an infiltration, he had a spot in mind, much like his colleague, Rafi Litwak. "I planned to hide in the electrical closet," Rafi, 38, from Be’er Sheva, shared.
The two men work at Microgil, a quarry plant adjacent to Kibbutz Nir Oz. On the morning of the attack, Pablo, 61, the only worker at the plant that day, found himself hiding for hours. Rafi, who had just finished his shift, had left five minutes before the terrorists arrived.
"My shift started at 6 p.m. on Friday," Rafi recalled from the control room, where security camera feeds monitor the plant. "At 4 a.m., I felt tired and went up to the roof to get some air. It was a quiet night, peaceful and even a bit boring. Pablo arrived at 5 a.m., as usual, for coffee and a chat. We hugged, exchanged shifts and I said, 'See you tomorrow.'
“Then, just minutes later, I heard explosions and interceptors in the sky, like fireworks. Normally, I’d pull over and lie down, but this time there was an alarm in Be’er Sheva, so I decided to drive straight home to my wife and kids. That saved my life. Just minutes later, at the Meon Junction, terrorists killed a family driving there. By 7 a.m., I reached home, only to hear that terrorists had breached Nir Oz. I called Pablo, but he didn’t answer. I feared the worst."
"When Rafi left," Pablo described, "I sat in the control room, preparing for the day. Suddenly, 'Boom-boom-boom,' and a Red Alert siren. I ran outside, and bullets rained down on me like it was pouring rain," he said in his thick Argentine accent.
"I ran back to the control room and saw through the cameras that dozens of terrorists were entering Nir Oz. I called Yossi Vahav, the plant manager, and said, 'Yossi, there are terrorists in the kibbutz.' He thought I was joking. I sent him a video."
Moments later, Pablo watched in horror as four terrorists breached the plant's gate. "One of them stole my motorcycle. I shut off all the machines to keep quiet and watched as they brutally killed people at the gate of Nir Oz. I saw my death right in front of me. But I didn’t feel fear. My adrenaline kicked in, and I was laser-focused. I just stared at the stone crusher machine."
Between iron chains and conveyor belts
Lying between iron chains and conveyor belts that moved stones, Dulitzky listened as terrorists looted the plant and shouted "Allahu Akbar," knowing that stepping out would mean death.
"I climbed inside the machine, and for hours I saw the terrorists and heard everything, but they didn’t see me," he recalled. "They stole everything that wasn’t bolted down, even throwing a forklift against the gate. I knew I couldn’t leave."
As the attack unfolded, Dulitzky texted his daughter, an IDF officer, who was on her way to her base when the alarms sounded. Plant managers had contacted the military, and friends spoke to the police, all telling him to wait.
Dulitzky, without food or water, took refuge inside the machine. Twice, when the terrorists weren’t nearby, he ventured out to grab two cucumbers and a small bottle of water, which he refilled from a toilet tank and drank sparingly.
By 6 p.m., terrorists reentered the plant, looting and firing their weapons calmly, as Dulitzky's phone battery miraculously held on. "I just kept thinking about getting out to my family," he said. Rescue finally came around midnight, after nearly 12 hours in hiding.
"One of the managers told me the forces were on their way," Dulitzky said. "I told him, ‘If they don’t say exactly, “Pablo, IDF, come out now” in that order, I’m not coming out.’ They called and said it just like that, and I knew they were at the gate."
When asked if he was injured, Dulitzky replied, "No, just get me out of here." Though safe, he continued to hear gunfire in his head for days after the ordeal.
Back to work
From the rooftop of their plant, Pablo and Rafi stood silently, gazing toward Gaza. Two months after the October 7 terrorist attack, the longtime colleagues reunited for the first time, following Dulitzky’s trip to Argentina.
“When I returned, I felt the weight of everything on me,” said Dulitzky. “I realized I needed help because I wasn’t feeling well. Talking to someone helps a lot.” Litwak had resumed work earlier.
“We met again during a shift change,” Litwak recalled. “We made coffee, just like we did the morning of October 7. But this time, we talked, each sharing our story, and couldn’t believe we survived. I think about how I made it out by minutes, and how he was stuck here but made it through.”
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