Op-Ed: Jessica Costescu: Sleeping in a bomb shelter helped me understand Israelis' resilience

In Israel, the night offers no solace — only the tense anticipation of sirens signaling Iranian ballistic missiles and drones. Each attempt to sleep became an internal battle: should I drift into vulnerable slumber or stay awake, bracing for the siren’s wail that could shatter the darkness before dawn?

Earlier this spring I was thrilled to join a delegation of journalists and media professionals set to travel to Israel in June on a trip sponsored by the Foundation for Defense of Democracies (FDD), a think tank dedicated to advancing American national security. Since Hamas’s October 7 attack, I’ve investigated anti-Semitism in American higher education, and this trip promised to deepen my understanding of the conflict’s complexities.

Last week, our group of about two dozen arrived in Tel Aviv, stepping into a nation at war on multiple fronts for nearly two years. By chance — or by fate — we landed the afternoon before the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) launched its strikes on Iran. After settling into our Jerusalem hotel, we savored a dinner overlooking the Old City, a sacred mosaic of Jewish, Christian, and Muslim heritage. Jet-lagged from the 11-hour flight, we retired early, eager for our packed seven-day itinerary.

At 3 a.m. on June 13, a piercing siren shattered my sleep, urging us to seek shelter. Half-dazed, I stumbled into the hotel stairwell, having forgotten the bomb shelter’s location. I wasn’t alone — others, in pajamas, bathrobes, or barefoot, joined me in a surreal procession. We knew this was possible: Israel remained locked in conflict with terrorist groups, and 53 hostages, living and dead, still languished in Gaza. Eventually, a few of us found the underground bunker. Unbeknownst to us, the siren was precautionary, triggered by Israel’s strike on Iran. Adrenaline fading, we returned to our rooms, chasing elusive sleep.

The next day, I clung to naive optimism. The IDF’s precision strike — targeting Iran’s generals, nuclear scientists, and missile launchers — seemed a decisive blow. Surely, the worst was over. Confined to our hotel for safety, we absorbed briefings from FDD experts, the hours crawling by.

But that night, the sirens returned — not precautionary, but urgent. Three times they blared, driving us to the bunker for 45-minute stretches. Iran had unleashed 250 missiles and drones.

Inside the shelter, Israel’s spirit shone. A boy strummed his guitar, young travelers sang in a circle, and others watched a Jackie Chan movie on a flickering TV. Strangers swapped stories, forging fleeting bonds. I marveled at their resilience — how do parents summon the strength to rouse their children for shelter in the dead of night? The thought was unbearable.

For two more nights, the sirens persisted, their relentless wail eroding our stamina. By the fourth night, some of us slept on the bunker’s cold floor, too weary to shuttle between rooms. The constant threat of another alarm bred paranoia, anger, and fleeting despair. I stayed awake until 5 a.m., wrestling with my powerlessness.

The FDD team worked tirelessly to adapt. By day three, it became clear our itinerary was unsalvageable. With Israeli airspace closed, crossing into Jordan — 30 minutes by bus from Jerusalem — became our escape route. At 7 a.m. on day five, we boarded a bus to the Allenby Bridge crossing.

Though grateful for Jordan’s refuge, I witnessed stark anti-Semitism at the crossing. Two colleagues faced a cruel ultimatum for menorahs purchased in Jerusalem: pay a $140 fine or surrender them for destruction. A Jewish boy in line similarly had his Torah and other sacred books confiscated. Imagine the outcry if Israel seized a Quran. The double standard stung. We spent one night in Amman, after which we chartered a plane to Athens, from where we took a flight back to the United States.

Now back in Washington, D.C., I’m struck by profound admiration for Israelis’ endurance. They persevere because history has left them no alternative — a truth any student of the past knows well. No sirens disrupt my sleep here, a privilege that fills me with gratitude for American security and sorrow for Israelis denied the same. I pray for Israel’s triumph over Iran’s genocidal regime and hope to return one day, under brighter skies.

Jessica Costescu is a staff writer for the Washington Free Beacon.