KIRYAT SHMONA ⟩ The Israeli Town Enduring the Most Hezbollah Missile Attacks per Capita

The choice of meeting point was laden with symbolism. The junction sits atop Mount Megiddo, known in Hebrew as "Har," from which the term "Armageddon" is derived. According to biblical prophecy, this is where the final battle between the forces of good and evil is destined to unfold.

Today, however, the scene is far more mundane, with restaurants and a sprawling parking lot. As we transferred from our rental car to Ukolova's vehicle at this storied location, she cautioned us that navigating northern Israel could be "a bit tricky." I opened my navigation app, only to find myself—according to the map—in the heart of Amman, Jordan!

"That’s quite common," Ukolova said with a chuckle. "Just last week, we were living in Beirut." The major explained that this satellite confusion is deliberate, intended to complicate Lebanon’s ability to launch missiles and drones.

Unlike us, Major Ukolova is intimately familiar with the area and, despite the navigational challenges, managed to guide us safely to Kiryat Shmona. She chose this city for our report because its residents had been evacuated as soon as the war began, following intense bombardment. People living within five kilometers of the Lebanese border were asked to leave. Though the evacuation was voluntary, some refused, unwilling to abandon their homes. However, the majority left, and now these towns stand desolate.

Our guide in Kiryat Shmona was Ariel Frisch, the deputy commander of the IDF's local rapid response unit. This group is composed of reservists tasked with aiding the city's residents in emergencies.

We climbed into Frisch’s car as he gave us a tour of the city. In Kiryat Shmona today, it’s crucial to move swiftly and avoid lingering in open spaces to minimize the risk of a drone strike. This is why most of the city’s traffic lights now blink yellow.

“In the early days of the war, we had several cases where people were struck by drones while waiting at traffic lights,” Frisch explained. “Now, we don’t stop at intersections—it’s just too dangerous.”

Frisch noted that, in terms of missiles per capita, Kiryat Shmona is the most heavily attacked city in the world. Since 2015, Israeli intelligence had been aware of Hezbollah’s plans to seize Galilee, but at the time, these threats were dismissed as empty rhetoric.

“No one believed that terrorists would dare to attack and that such an attack could be successful. Everything changed after October 7th,” Frisch says.

We soon arrive at a kindergarten. Here, it’s safe to exit the vehicle and take a look around, as the school grounds are sheltered by dense trees. The walls of the kindergarten bear the scars of bombardment. “Residents left, taking their children with them. Who would send their child to a kindergarten that could be struck by a missile?” our escort asks rhetorically.

“Although Israel had no plans to evacuate the city, the mayor demanded an evacuation, and the government made that decision two weeks after the war broke out. Life has simply come to a standstill since then—no children, no adults, no cats. It’s a ghost town,” Frisch explains.

Now, the rapid response unit operates under a completely new protocol. This group was established to assist the residents who chose to remain in the city, taking refuge in shelters. They may need food, water, medicine, and much more.

“Now, both we and the local government must provide services to Kiryat Shmona residents who are scattered across Israel from Eilat to Haifa. They are living in three hundred hotels, which are quite far apart from each other. So our work has become more complicated,” the deputy commander states.

According to Frisch, the evacuation was prompted not only by the bombings but also by the serious fear of an incursion from Lebanon following Hamas's attack on Israel on October 7th last year.

“This was a significant victory for the terrorists, as they sowed fear. Fear fuels terrorist organizations,” Frisch admits. “They struck a civilian facility, instilling a deep-seated fear in families about returning home. Just imagine being that mother whose child was in that kindergarten!”

Frisch points to the holes in the kindergarten wall, caused by missiles and shrapnel. Many residential buildings throughout the city have also suffered damage. Signs of war are everywhere in Kiryat Shmona—craters, smoldering or charred remnants of homes, black smoke rising in the sky, and a pervasive odor. The scent of death is unmistakable.

All of this provides a stark picture of what life is like alongside terrorists. Missiles and drones also fly into cities that lie outside the five-kilometer evacuation zone.

On the day we were in Kiryat Shmona, several Israeli towns near the Lebanese border were bombarded again. In the first seconds of the siren, we dropped to the ground, covering our heads with our hands. We managed to leave the city unscathed, but our neighboring town, Tsfat, was soon struck by another barrage.

Tsfat lies beyond the five-kilometer evacuation zone, which means its residents must rush to shelters multiple times a day. On one street, we came across a once-grand and beautiful home that had sustained significant damage in the attack.

Near the house, we spoke with its owner, Avig. Remarkably, his entire family survived due to a fortunate twist of fate.

On Thursday, Avi and his wife decided to visit relatives in the central part of the country for the weekend (in Israel, weekends are Friday and Saturday). On Friday, while no one was home, a rocket struck their house. Now, Avi is gathering the necessary documents to claim compensation. Assessors need to determine the cost of the damage before he can begin rebuilding his home. But first, the shelling must stop.

The threat of incoming missiles persisted even as we drove south from Tsfat toward Tel Aviv. When the siren warns of an impending attack, it is imperative to exit the vehicle and take cover on the ground until the assault is over.

But how do you do this when cars are speeding past one another? The rule is simple: you must stop and, if possible, avoid colliding with other vehicles. It’s a complicated maneuver, yet this is a daily reality for Israelis.