War correspondent Trey Yingst recounts the horrors of October 7th and its aftermath

Rockets were occasionally fired from the northern Gaza Strip. This was a real shootout.

During a live report on Morning with MariaI held the microphone in one hand and my ear in the other. In May, I stood too close to an Iron Dome battery as it fired an interceptor. This and the fact that I had not worn adequate hearing protection during the Tulkarem raid in September had damaged the hearing in my right ear. I went to the doctor in Jerusalem and was told it could only be temporary.

Now I reported, “The military tells us today that more than three thousand targets have been hit since Saturday morning.” I'm going to get out of the way here and just show you what it looks like while this shelling is taking place.” We panned to soldiers in the distance, marching in a straight line, training for their upcoming mission. The chyron read: “Israel is preparing for a ground invasion of Gaza.”

“Fields have been converted into bases, dirt roads have become arteries for the army to deliver supplies and weapons to its fighters, because it is not a question of whether Israel will invade Gaza, but rather a question of when.” I have reported.

Before our hits for Fox & friendsWe met Lieutenant Colonel Richard Hecht, the military's international spokesman, and his team on the side of the road. Hecht and I had a good relationship and I thought this would be a good opportunity to interview him live.

“How is the preparation currently going? It appears that the Israelis are planning an invasion of Gaza.”

“So before I talk about Gaza,” Richard replied, “I'm here again, you're here to see what happened here.” We're close and with the communities. Yesterday I came to Kfar Aza with journalists to show the world what happened there, and it was ISIS carnage, even worse than ISIS carnage. Corpses, decapitated people. Terrible.

“And we are preparing now,” he said. “We are now attacking Gaza from the air and all future options are on the table. We are primarily focused on bases in Gaza and it is currently a very, very heavy attack to take out their capabilities.”

The sound of the departing artillery.

“In Kfar Aza,” I said, “we learned that there were mutilated corpses. Beheaded women and children. Is that true?” I had seen the reports but was skeptical – I needed to investigate the claims further. “Yes. We spoke to soldiers. It wasn't me who spoke.

We went in there, there were Israeli reserve paratroopers there. And they told the stories. They told the stories. And again, I'm still recovering from that day. I even get emotional thinking about it.”

After the interview, I spoke with Keren Hajioff, a long-time contact and friend of my friend Ariel, who was now in reserve duty. Keren is the former spokesman for Prime Minister Naftali Bennett. “You’re coming, aren’t you?” she said.

She spoke about Kibbutz Be'eri.

Be'eri was founded in 1946 in the northwest of the Negev Desert and was known for its art gallery. And the small farming community with just over 1,000 inhabitants looked like a painting itself. Rolling hills lead to lush fields. A small printing press employed many of its residents, and like many kibbutzim on the Gaza border, the community maintained good relations with Palestinians and was home to many peace activists. However, its proximity to Gaza, just three miles from the border, left it vulnerable to frequent mortar and rocket attacks.

Families in Be'eri knew the drill. Mortars or rockets came a few times a year. If there were sirens, you entered your bomb shelter, known in Israel as “a.” mamaand waited for the all-clear. In 2023, the red alert iPhone app, which served as a further warning of fire warnings, was as common as the calculator app. The attacks were never a big problem.

On the night of October 6, residents had gathered in the dining room to celebrate the 77th anniversary since the kibbutz was founded. It was Shabbat and the wine was flowing freely as the neighbors gathered for a small party. It was also the last day of the week-long holiday of Sukkot. The clear October evening turned into a cool night. Like most communities in the Negev Desert, the lack of light pollution allowed residents to get a clear view of the stars on the way home. It was quiet. It was peaceful.

Everything changed early Saturday morning.

Loud explosions pierced the air of Kibbutz Be'eri as Qassam rockets were intercepted overhead in this first barrage at 6:29 a.m. The sound of missile sirens echoed through the streets. “Zeva Adom, Zeva Adom”: Red alert. That was an alarm clock for the residents of Be'eri. They woke up and rushed to their safe rooms.

Meanwhile, Yasmin and Tal, fleeing from the Nova Music Festival, had seen the militants in the bomb shelter, fled, got into a traffic jam and made a U-turn. Now they arrived in Be'eri. Yasmin knew the community as one of Israel's wealthier kibbutzim, a sheltered and safe place. With rockets flying, they drove to the yellow sliding gate behind another car that opened the gate.

A few hundred feet below they encountered the Be'eri security team responding to the missile alert. “Hello, we’re from the party,” Yasmin said to them. “There was a terrorist Migunit (Outdoor bomb shelter). Please help us!”

They were told to get out of the car and get into one of the be'eri miguniots.

They did, but at the entrance to the kibbutz what would become an hours-long nightmare for Be'eri – and for Yasmin and Tal – began.

CCTV video shows the start of the attack on the kibbutz:

At 6:55 a.m., two Hamas fighters with Kalashnikovs in hand approach the yellow sliding gate at the entrance to Be'eri.