Nova Massacre Survivor Recalls Escape from Terror on October 7
Yoni Diller: ‘As Israel and the Jewish people, we must lead with humility, strength, and hope. No matter how dark the world becomes, we are the light that refuses to be extinguished.’
Editor’s Note: I first spoke with Yoni Diller early this year when he joined a group of Israeli survivors of the October 7 massacre on a tour of US college campuses. That, in itself, was an act of bravery, given the hostility to Jews and Israelis at universities across the country. He told me that there are people who will listen. “Hostile radicals who just want to shout aren’t worth engaging with,” he said. “Instead, focus on the 80 percent in the middle who are open to conversation because that’s where we can make a difference.” I was struck by his optimism despite the unspeakable events he endured and witnessed. I asked him if he would share some of his experiences with our readers on the one-year anniversary of the October 7 massacre. This piece is adapted from a speech he was scheduled to give on the evening of October 6 at the Jewish Federation of Greater New Orleans. — Howard Lovy
In Ra'anana, Israel, after a cozy Friday-night dinner, I was excited to head south with a friend for a festival. My family wasn't too sure about this dance party called Nova and we playfully argued about it.
The festival was supposed to be joyful, filled with music and dancing, attracting free-spirited people from all over. I was hanging out with a group, getting to know each other. At 6 a.m., I rushed everyone to the dance floor so we wouldn’t miss the sunrise. However, at 6:29 a.m., everything changed. Sirens blared, and we saw hundreds of missiles in the air coming from Gaza.
Sadly, this wasn’t new for us Israelis—we’ve been through this before and knew the drill.
We hurried back to our campsite, packed up, and tried to leave. The parking lot was chaotic, and I suggested taking a different route, heading south toward Re’im. This decision would change everything.
On the road, people urgently signaled for us to turn around. A strange car approached, riddled with bullet holes. Inside was Shani, a terrified girl with a severe leg injury. She had been one of the first to leave the area with her friends but encountered terrorists. She and her friends hid in a bomb shelter, but the terrorists threw grenades, killing everyone except Shani. With incredible courage, she managed to escape, driving back to the festival, where we met her.
As we helped Shani with her wound, we heard automatic gunfire in the distance.
As the situation became more frightening, we found ourselves in a valley for safety. Bullets flew over our heads; it was an incredibly tense and terrifying time. Gunfire echoed from the north, from the direction of Be'eri. In the distance, I saw terrorists arriving in white Toyota trucks with mounted machine guns, shooting at the festivalgoers as if they were targets at a firing range. Those few seconds are forever imprinted in my mind.
A short while later, mass shootings erupted in the Be'eri area, intensifying our fear. Having served in a combat unit, I immediately understood this was no friendly fire.
In the midst of the chaos, I checked my phone to assess our location. My friend answered his sister’s call, reassuring her that we would be okay. I yelled for everyone to get down, and we decided to head towards Patish, more than fifteen miles away.
Walking through the desert without food or water for almost five hours was exhausting. The fear and uncertainty made it even harder. At one point, nearly fainting, my friend found a single grapefruit, which gave us just enough energy to continue. Along the way, we heard more automatic gunfire and saw thick black smoke billowing in the distance—a chilling reminder of the danger we were fleeing.
Finally reaching Patish, we felt a sense of relief, though it was bittersweet. We encountered other survivors, and their stories were just as haunting as ours. One person recounted seeing his best friend shot in the head while he was hiding in the bushes, unable to do anything to save him.
Another girl cried as she shared that her best friend had been raped by two Hamas terrorists. She could only watch, too terrified to intervene and risk her own life.
A bus eventually took us to Be'er Sheva and then to Tel Aviv. I arrived home later that afternoon, hugging my family tightly and letting them know I was safe.
The sad reality is that four people I knew, including two high school friends, didn’t make it. Almog Sarusi, from my hometown of Ra'anana was among the six kidnapped along with Hersh. Tragically, he was shot to death, despite the hope that he would be released from Hamas captivity. That brings the count to five friends—five heroes—who are no longer with us.
Over 400 innocent people lost their lives in the festival attack by Hamas terrorists on October 7, 2023. Sharing this story is vital—not only to remember the fallen and support their families but also to honor Israel's resilience in the face of adversity. Telling this story keeps their memories alive and fosters a deeper understanding of the challenges our nation endures.
I stand here before you, not as a hero or a symbol, but as a simple guy from Israel—someone who happens to be half Italian and half American. Someone who happens to have ADHD and, for the past year, has been dealing with PTSD. As you listen to my story, I am deeply thankful to be alive and even more thankful that people still care to hear about what happened on that fateful day.
The events of October 7th, 2023, at the Nova music festival, changed my life forever. The trauma I experienced is indescribable, and yet, I am here—alive and speaking to you—because I believe there’s something we can all learn from these events. I’m not sharing this to shock you or nor to ask for sympathy. Instead, my purpose is to reflect on what we can take from this dark moment in history.
October 7th is a modern-day tragedy, a new version of the Holocaust inflicted upon the State of Israel. Today, the entire nation is in a collective state of trauma. But Israel is not alone in this fight. Jews around the world are contending with a 300% surge in antisemitism—on campuses, in the streets, across social media.
Some hide their faces under cloth, convinced they are peace activists, yet they spread hate and division. If they were truly proud of their cause, they wouldn’t need to conceal their identities.
Words like “apartheid” and “genocide” are recklessly thrown around by people who don’t understand the facts on the ground. Apartheid cannot exist in a place where Jews and Arabs share equal rights, living side by side in the same cities, working in the same hospitals, and serving in the same government institutions. And the claim of genocide? It falls apart under scrutiny. The Palestinian population has grown tenfold since the establishment of Israel—hardly the outcome of a supposed genocide.
In fact, when there are casualties, the IDF consistently maintains the lowest civilian-to-combatant casualty ratio in the history of urban warfare. Anyone can Google it. No other military in the world does more to protect innocent lives in conflict zones.
And then there are the people chanting, “From the river to the sea,” calling for the destruction of Israel, yet when you ask them which river or sea they're talking about, many of them don’t even know.
I’ve often said that if antisemitism were a stock, it would be the safest investment—it’s constantly rising. Today, that antisemitism has taken on a new face: anti-Zionism. But the difference is clear. It’s not just hatred of Jews, but hatred of our homeland and our right to exist.
And yet, despite everything, I know this for a fact: we, the Jewish people, are among the most resilient, innovative, and social-justice-minded people in the world. We have endured enough throughout history—the Exodus from Egypt, the pogroms, the Holocaust, wars against enemies who have sought to annihilate Zionism. But here we are, still standing. We cannot afford to lose this battle, because it is not just physical. It is a mental battle—a battle for our identity, our pride, our unity.
To the Jewish diaspora, I say this: We must stand together. We cannot let anyone dehumanize us or strip away our dignity. And to those who seek our destruction, I say: We are not afraid. Just as we have seen in the past year, those who tried to eliminate us—terror leaders like Nasrallah, and groups like Hamas, and Hezbollah—will meet their end. For them, losing human lives is a strategy. For us, it’s a tragedy.
We are an extraordinary tribe, but our peoplehood comes with a responsibility—a responsibility to partner with G-d to repair the world, a moral imperative known as tikkun olam. It’s not just about leading in technology, finance, or military power. It’s about leading in values, in compassion, and in unity.
There are people on the streets today who don’t even know who was behind 9/11. Of course, they wouldn’t know who orchestrated the attacks of October 7th either. But we know. And we must continue to stand firm.
Iran launched over 200 missiles at Israel in offense, spending $300 million, and yet managed not only to fail in killing a single Israeli civilian but instead killed five of its own Iranian people in the process. Oh, and they also tragically killed one Palestinian who didn’t take shelter, even though Israelis guided him to safety.
Despite this, we succeeded in eliminating the top commanders of Hezbollah, the world's largest terrorist organization. That week began with a successful operation where our intelligence caused the Israeli-made beepers, used by terrorists for years, to explode.
Israel will stand strong. The Jewish people in the diaspora will stand strong. We have won all our wars. And even when Iran and its proxies launch hundreds of rockets at us, we remain unshaken—because they know, deep down, that they cannot break us.
Let us not be misled by misinformation or hatred. Let us remain humble, despite knowing that we are a smart, successful, and resilient people. Antisemitism has deep roots in jealousy, but we must stay modest. Each one of us is connected, descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, bound by shared history and purpose. We are responsible for creating a better future.
We are more than just survivors. We are responsible for one another, and for shaping a better world. And that world cannot be built on hatred. As Israel and the Jewish people, we must lead with humility, strength, and hope. No matter how dark the world becomes, we are the light that refuses to be extinguished.
We also hold hope in our hearts that the innocent hostages, taken into the dark tunnels of Hamas, will return safely to their families. We will not rest until they are back home, embraced by love and the freedom they deserve.
Let us stand together to combat misinformation. Hold discussions. Learn the history. Seek meaning and truth, but most importantly, empower one another. Israel and the Jewish people have the responsibility to shape a future where unity, understanding, and hope triumph over ignorance, hatred, and division.
The people of Israel live. We will endure, we will rise, and together, we will build a better world. Am Yisrael Chai!
Yoni Diller is an Israeli activist and survivor of the October 7th Hamas massacre at the Nova party, where he narrowly escaped death. His extraordinary survival story has become a beacon of resilience and strength, driving his mission to fight global antisemitism and share his experiences with Jewish communities worldwide. Fluent in Italian, English, and Hebrew, Yoni speaks regularly at major universities and has been featured on international media outlets. Yoni is a former IDF commando and holds degrees in government and communication.
Five Delights
Sipping a warm cup of coffee or tea in the morning
Watching a beautiful sunset
Hearing a favorite song unexpectedly
Receiving a heartfelt compliment
Finding money in an old coat pocket
Five Jewish Delights
Lighting Shabbat candles on Friday evening
Sharing a freshly baked challah with family and friends
Hearing the shofar blown during Rosh Hashanah
Spinning a dreidel during Hanukkah
Participating in a lively Purim celebration
G-d bless him. Thx for sharing his story.
THAT WAS INCREDIBLY BEAUTIFUL. THANK YOU!