Eyewitness to Terror: A Letter From Jerusalem

Efrat, Israel, August 10, 2001 -- Erev Shabbat

Her eyes, I think, will stay with me forever. Imploring, beseeching, full of so much sadness. I think the shock of where and how she was was sinking in. I can't begin to describe all that was in those eyes.

Yesterday, Thursday, August 9th, the 20th of Av: On my way to work, I found myself walking down Yaffo street. Hungry, I decided to stop and grab a quick bite...at Sbarro's Pizza.

In the past 5 years I have frequented this establishment exactly twice.

Walking into Sbarro's, there is a larger area for sitting in the front, but the back looked a bit cooler and quieter, so I decided to grab a seat in the back. That decision saved my life.

Waiting on line, when they brought me the baked ziti I asked for, it was cold. So I asked the woman behind the counter if she'd mind warming it up.

No problem, she said with a smile. I will always wonder if that was her last smile on earth.

A couple of moments later, a fellow from behind the counter came to the back with my baked ziti. Then he started to speak to someone at one of the tables. That baked ziti saved his life.

At about 2 p.m., I both felt and heard a tremendous explosion, and day turned into night.

And then the screaming began. An awful, heart-rending sound; the sound of people coming to terms with a whole new reality, of people not wanting to comprehend that life has changed forever.

Those of us sitting in the back were spared, but I was afraid of panic, so I started yelling at everyone to quiet down; not to panic. The ceiling looked like it might cave in, but there is always the danger of a second explosion, detonated on purpose shortly after the first...

But then I smelled smoke, and was suddenly afraid the restaurant might be on fire. So we started climbing our way through the wreckage to the front.

Would there be another explosion? Would the roof collapse? Were we making the wrong decision, climbing through? There are moments that last a lifetime...

There are no words to describe what the front of Sbarro's Pizza looked like in the immediate aftermath of that explosion.

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