Shiri Silberman-Bibas, 30, was at her home in Kibbutz Nir Oz with her sons Ariel, 4, and nine-month-old Kfir, when terrorists arrived. A few hours later a video was posted by Hamas of her clutching both children to her chest while being kidnapped. Here, her cousin Yifat Zailer, 37, recounts how it unfolded.

On that awful Saturday, we woke to the sound of sirens going off in Tel Aviv. My husband and I grabbed our two-year-old and our seven-month-old baby and stood in the corridor of our home, as we don’t have a safe room. Straight away, I texted my first cousin Shiri and her older sister Dana, who live in the south of Israel, on our group chat, saying, “Hope you guys are OK. Are you in the safe room? Lock the doors. You can always come here to Tel Aviv and we’ll do a slumber party.”

Dana answered, “We’re fine, don’t worry.” Shiri simply responded with a heart emoji.

We’re a very close, small family.

I turned on the television at 9am and saw footage of the terrorists in Sderot, a town near where my family lives. I started calling my cousins, aunt and uncle. Their phones were on but no one was answering. Then Dana suddenly called back and told me she was in the safe room with her children and husband, and she had just seen something. “I can’t tell you what it is because the kids are with me and I don’t want to cry,” she said, “but please, Yifat, help me find my parents.”

‘I froze when I saw the video of Shiri looking terrified holding her children’

As we ended the call, I received a video from a friend saying, “Isn’t this your cousin?” It was a video of Shiri looking terrified, holding her two red-headed children covered in a blanket, surrounded by terrorists with blood on their clothes. I froze. My hands shook. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

I started calling everyone I knew in the army and police so that someone could go in there, but of course, we didn’t realise the magnitude of the horror. It was only around 11pm, when the army cleared the Kibbutz of the terrorists and went through the houses, that we realised that my aunt, uncle and Shiri’s husband, Yarden, were also missing.

For two days we heard nothing. Then we saw a photo of Yarden in the French media. He seemed to have a head injury, and was being driven into Gaza on a motorcycle, surrounded by terrorists.

Day after day I talked to the press and embassies, trying to find news, fighting to bring back my small family. I couldn’t sleep, because every time I closed my eyes I thought of Shiri and her babies.

Since I was a child, we’d go to their kibbutz every holiday, Jewish festival and summer break. It was practically my second home. And when Dana, Shiri and I all became mothers, it was so beautiful to see the next generation playing together in the same place we used to play.

Shiri and I gave birth just two months apart and we used to spend our maternity leave texting each other, sending photos and complaining about the lack of sleep or feeding problems. I wish we could go back to the days when those were our only worries.

‘I’m so proud of her for being the fierce, protective mother she is’

Shiri is an amazing mum, and as a kindergarten teacher, she’s patient and so playful. She was always anxious that her boys would fall or hurt themselves, so I can’t even imagine what she’s going through now.

I see her in the photo holding both her boys in her arms and they must be so heavy, but people say when a mother feels danger, she becomes so powerful. I’m so proud of her for being the fierce, protective mother she is.

Ariel is a redhead like her and when he enters the room, he’s a fireball. No one can miss him. But he’s also like any other four-year-old and loves watching Cocomelon and Peppa Pig.

Last Friday, after 13 days of no news, the army found my aunt and uncle’s bodies on the border of Gaza. We buried them two days ago and I gave myself a day to mourn before I was back campaigning for Shiri’s return. We need a happy ending, but we’ve received no sign of life. It’s two and a half weeks with two little ones in unbearable conditions.

If I could say something to Shiri now, I’d tell her ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s taking so long.’”

As told to Lauren Libbert

Yuli Ben Ami, 27, was hiding with her boyfriend at their home in Kibbutz Be’eri when her mother, Raz, 54, and father, Ohad, 57, were taken. She has since seen images posted on the messaging service Telegram of them being kidnapped by Hamas terrorists – but she has no idea whether they are alive.

On that Saturday morning, I was woken by my phone alarm at 6.20am and 10 minutes later I got a message from a kibbutz member that some terrorists were getting in. At first I thought it must have been just one or two terrorists, and my boyfriend, Roberto, and I stayed quiet in our bedroom, which was the safe room of our two-room apartment.

But then we started to hear screaming in Arabic, shooting and the sound of loud cars and motorcycles. I messaged my parents, who live nearby on the same kibbutz, asking them how they were and were they in the safe room. My mum messaged to say there were terrorists outside their house, trying to get in. She was scared.

I tried to call the police for help, but no one answered. Then, at 7.20am, another message came through from Mum. The terrorists had come into their house and were breaking everything. They’d also tried to shoot my father but didn’t get him. At 10.08am, my father wrote that the terrorists had got into the safe room and were taking them.

I couldn’t believe it. I just prayed they wouldn’t be killed.

At the same time, I could hear terrorists outside our home, yelling and shooting. A rock came through our window and there was hammering on our door. We held our breath and didn’t move.

An hour later, we were still in the safe room when a picture of my father appeared on Telegram. He was in Gaza with two terrorists holding him. I was relieved he was alive but petrified about what would happen next.

We stayed in the safe room all day, until 8.42pm, when IDF soldiers came to rescue us. Even then, terrorists tried to shoot at us as we made our escape, but after three hours we eventually got away.

Thankfully, my sisters Ella and Natalie, who live nearby, were safe.

As our homes have been destroyed and burnt, we are now staying at a hotel in the north. We’ve had six funerals a day – more than 85 dead from our community – and there are more people still missing. But we’re all supporting each other and just waiting and hoping.

A few days after we came north, I saw a video on Facebook of my mum being taken away by terrorists. She didn’t have blood on her and it was a relief to see her alive. But she has an illness that requires daily medication, and I don’t know if she has it. I’m so scared for her.

Mum and Dad are such loving, amazing people. They’ve been married 28 years and every day, he says to Mum, “Will you marry me again?” and she giggles and says, “Of course, I love you.”

Now when I close my eyes, I just think of hugging them. I want to tell them I love them and that we’re OK and strong – and we’re just waiting for them to come home.

As told to Lauren Libbert

Noa Argamani, 26, caught the world’s attention after a Hamas video appeared online of her screaming, “Don’t kill me!”, as she was wrenched apart from her boyfriend. Here, two of her childhood friends, who both escaped the Supernova festival, describe that fateful morning and their anguish for her release.

I had been counting down the days to Supernova – I love trance music and festivals like this are a chance to experience the sheer joy of being alive. By 6am on October 7 we had been dancing all night and were on a high. So when the red siren went off to warn us that rockets were coming from Gaza, we weren’t too frightened: Noa and I grew up in the southern city of Be’er Sheva and were used to this. Nobody suspected that there were gunmen on the ground.

We were in the desert without any shelter, so we knew we needed to get to our cars quickly. At the parking lot, I ran into Noa. We smoked a cigarette and quickly caught up on the last few months of our lives. She seemed calm but the bombs were getting louder and she spotted her boyfriend, so we hugged goodbye and went our separate ways.

From then on, everything was terrifying. As my three friends and I drove off, people surrounded the car screaming, “They’re here!”, so we got out and ran as fast as we could away from the gunfire.

We lost each other in the process. At one point I was running next to a beautiful young woman; we turned to look at each other and in that moment she was hit in the back by a bullet and fell to the ground. I knew I could die at any time, so I called my best friend, who I had lost as we escaped. He told me he was hiding in a bathroom stall and I said he should get out as the gunmen would find him there. Over the phone, I could hear his breathing getting louder and the Hamas shouts getting closer, so I said I loved him and hung up. The next day, they found his body.

With a few strangers, I found an overgrown bush and we dug into the ground and buried ourselves underneath it. For four hours we heard the sound of bullets whistling overhead, until eventually an Israeli voice shouted that we could come out. As we stumbled to safety, I saw the bodies of young people strewn across the ground.

It was only later that evening when I was home with my parents that I saw the video of Noa being captured. I got goosebumps across my entire body and I still can’t talk about what she is going through without crying. Noa is a genuinely good, kind person who makes the world brighter and better. I wake up every day and pray to God that she will come back.

When I was first sent a video of my friend Noa on the back of a motorcycle, pleading with her Hamas captors not to kill her, I thought it couldn’t be real. Having escaped the Supernova festival myself, I thought that Noa would also somehow leave. But we’ve seen nothing more of her since that terrifying video and another of her drinking water. We’re in the dark.

Noa and I are from the same city and both attend Ben-Gurion University – she studies information systems engineering. She’s such a positive person; always smiling and very accepting. She’s open-hearted and open-minded, and has friends from everywhere she’s been.

As well as the shock of Noa’s capture along with her boyfriend, Avinatan, I am still dealing with what I saw at the festival. By sheer luck, I had begun my journey home with a friend before the terrorists arrived, but even as we tried to drive away, we could tell that this was not an ordinary Hamas attack. We could hear gunshots constantly, and the main road out was sprayed with bullet holes. We realised that terrorists were on the road, so we ran out of the car into some nearby farmland and hid for 20 minutes until we heard people speaking Hebrew. They told us that an attack was underway and to get as far away as we could. The situation was completely crazy.

In some ways, having so many friends in common with Noa, who turned 26 while in captivity, is a comfort. But it also means that all we can do is talk about her: what might be happening, and whether she’s safe. We can only hope that she, and that every innocent person taken hostage, will be OK.

As told to Melissa Twigg and Charlotte Lytton

Maayan Zin’s two daughters, Dafna, 15, and Ella, eight, were staying at their father Noam Elyakim’s house in Nahal Oz, with his partner, Dikla, and son Tomer, 16, when terrorists stormed in. Noam, Dikla and Tomer’s bodies were later found. Dafna and Ella are presumed to be alive, as an unverified photo of them in Gaza has appeared on a Telegram channel. Maayan shares what it’s like as a mother to watch, powerless, from afar.

Every day is getting harder and harder. But focusing on getting my children back is what’s getting me through.

The morning it happened, I was in Tel Aviv and was woken by the sirens. I put the TV on and saw the red alert in Nahal Oz, so I called my ex-husband Noam and asked him if everything was OK and if the girls were in the shelter. I checked if my little one, Ella, was stressed by the alarms – she’s only eight – but he reassured me that she was feeling OK.

That was 9.16am. It was the last I heard from them.

After that, everything was chaos and I couldn’t get hold of anyone. Then I saw the film. It showed Hamas storming the house – the terrorists streamed it live on Facebook. What can anyone say to that?

‘I don’t know what I’ll say to my daughters when we’re reunited – they will be coming back from Hell’

Someone then showed me a photo of Dafna and Ella sitting on a mattress in Gaza, dressed in Arabic clothing. One moment I have hope I’ll see them again, the next minute I don't. No one is telling the families anything. But we all feel each other’s pain.

Dafna and Ella are so sweet – good girls with good hearts, and lots of friends. Boys fancy Dafna because she is beautiful. She likes to do her nails and post TikToks – she also sings beautifully. Ella loves dancing and does hip-hop after school. Both of them are just so lovely. They’ve done nothing wrong. They went to sleep in their beds one night and woke up to hell.

I want to tell the world to bring my children back – and all the hostages, the soldiers, everyone. I think about what I will say to my girls when I see them, but I don’t know…

It won’t be like coming back from holiday, they will be coming back from Hell.

As told to Natalie Lisbona

Doron Asher and her two daughters, Aviv, three, and Raz, five, and mother-in-law Efrat Katz, were kidnapped by Hamas from Kibbutz Nir Oz. A video appears to show them being taken into Gaza. Today, Yoni Asher is desperately awaiting news of his wife and two daughters.

Since this interview took place, Efrat has been confirmed among the dead.

I just want the world to take a good hard look at my family photos and realise that these two women and my two baby girls are right now, at this moment, being held by terrorists. You cannot imagine what is going through my mind. Your imagination can take you to very dark places – but I can only hope and pray.

I was at home in central Israel when it happened. Doron had taken our two kids to see their grandma during the Jewish festivals. Doron’s mother, Efrat, and her partner Gadi live on Kibbutz Nir Oz. Then, on Saturday morning I received a call from Doron saying Palestinans were firing rockets and there was an invasion.

‘I saw my wife with her head covered with a cloth by Hamas and I recognised my kids.’

My wife was whispering and told me the house was surrounded by terrorists and they were locked inside the bomb shelter. We decided to hang up as I didn’t want the talking to put them in danger… That was the last I ever heard from her.

Apparently Gadi had tried to negotiate with the terrorists and offered himself up in exchange for the children, but they took him too.

Later on that day, I received a nine-second clip from TikTok showing that they had abducted them. I saw my wife with her head covered with a cloth by Hamas and I recognised my kids. They were all on some kind of cart and you can hear the terrorists chanting “Allahu Akbar”. My neighbour and I decided to see if we could trace Doron’s phone on the laptop and we watched as they were being taken into Khan Younis, which is inside Gaza. The GPS showed us the exact route the terrorists took. With the phone tracking and that video, I am 100 per cent sure that they’ve been kidnapped. And now I am just desperately waiting for their homecoming.

As told to Natalie Lisbona

Chaim Peri, 79, was at Kibbutz Nir Oz when Hamas attacked, abducting and killing around 100 residents. Here, his son Lior, who hasn’t seen or heard from him since, shares his fears.

When my father and his wife, Osnat, heard the first siren, they ran to their safe room. They managed to hold the door from the inside to stop intruders entering, but when the attackers came back with reinforcements, my father told Osnat to hide behind the sofa and, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold the door again, went outside, sacrificing himself.

She hid inside for nearly five hours before the police arrived. He saved her life.

The night before, our entire family – my father’s five children and 13 grandchildren – was gathered at my sister’s house and he was telling us about the Yom Kippur War. He had been a soldier then, exactly 50 years ago, and his time in conflict led him to become a peace activist, volunteering for a charity that drives people from the Gaza Strip to hospitals in Israel to get better medical care.

It felt like a miracle that our big family was all together that night, listening to his stories. Now, more than two weeks after we last saw or heard from him, I can only hope we will soon be together again.

Early the next morning, Hamas terrorists entered Nir Oz, the kibbutz where my father has lived for 60 years, and began killing people and destroying their homes. Since then, we have been completely in the dark. Many others with families who live on the kibbutz, where I was raised and lived until I was 20, are experiencing the same thing – it is a small community of around 350 people, a third of whom were killed or abducted on October 7.

That same day, my half-brother Danny, a British citizen who had been visiting from his home in Berlin, was killed at the kibbutz – he’d decided at the last minute to spend an extra day there and had been planning to come to stay with us in Tel Aviv.

My father is an amazing person, so cheerful and youthful, always riding his bike through the kibbutz. He and his friend built it up from nothing in the mid-1960s. He opened a gallery where artists from the whole country could exhibit their work, and he created a vineyard that produces fantastic wine – to the amazement of us all, as the area was believed not to have the right conditions for growing grapes.

He may be 79, but sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s old enough to be a grandfather. My girls, aged 10 and 13, love to hang out with him; he is a cool grandpa, taking them out in the pick-up truck when they visit the kibbutz to pick oranges from the trees. It’s been hard to talk to them about what’s happening, especially trying to explain that the same people who killed their Uncle Danny are now responsible for keeping their grandfather safe.

Dad is strong, and I know he will be doing his best to survive. But I can’t imagine what might be happening to him, or make sense of why the attackers would take more than 20 people who are over the age of 70 as hostages – they are on daily medication, and we are running out of time.

We’ve spent weeks feeling so helpless. But after two elderly women from his kibbutz were freed, it has given us hope that this nightmare may soon be over.

As told to Charlotte Lytton

Siblings Maya Regev, 21, and Itay, 18, were at the Supernova festival when the terrorists struck. Amid the chaos they called their parents, Mirit and Ilan, who listened helplessly as they heard gunfire. “We are dead. They shot us. I love you,” Maya can be heard screaming in a recording of that telephone call. A few hours later, a Hamas video appeared on social media of the siblings bound and tied on the back of a truck, giving their parents hope that their children were still alive.

They want the world to hear their story and to help campaign for their children’s release, but when The Telegraph was due to speak to Mirit, she was “too heartbroken” to speak. Instead, in this video appeal, recorded earlier, Mirit and Ilan describe their desperation for their children to come home.