From his concealed firing position, he began noticing anomalous activity inside a nearby building: lights switching on and off, a curtain moving without wind, and a red light rising and falling—a known indicator of optical or laser‑based targeting equipment used by Hezbollah spotters.
By Hezy Laing
Between the narrow alleys of the village of Qantara in southern Lebanon, at the height of Operation Lion’s Roar, Sergeant A. lay in his sniper post.
A., a fighter in the IDF’s multi‑dimensional “Ghosts” unit, had joined out of a desire to combine his scientific abilities with field combat. Over time he became an expert in technological threats and precision sniping.
A few kilometers behind him, in the unit’s intelligence operations room, his older sister, Lieutenant A., served as an intelligence officer in the same unit.
Their story sounds almost cinematic, yet for the soldiers in the field it was a matter of life and death.
During Operation Lion’s Roar in southern Lebanon, Sergeant A. was positioned as a sniper inside the village of Qantara, an area known for Hezbollah observation posts, anti‑tank squads, and booby‑trapped civilian structures.
From his concealed firing position, he began noticing anomalous activity inside a nearby building: lights switching on and off, a curtain moving without wind, and a red light rising and falling—a known indicator of optical or laser‑based targeting equipment used by Hezbollah spotters.
Recognizing that this pattern did not match civilian behavior, Sergeant A. established a second observation post to maintain continuous surveillance from a different angle. He monitored the suspicious movement for several hours, both day and night, documenting every change.
Understanding that Golani forces were scheduled to maneuver through the same sector, he realized the threat needed to reach intelligence immediately.
He contacted his older sister, Lieutenant B., who was serving simultaneously in the Ghosts unit’s intelligence operations room, only a few kilometers away.
He relayed real‑time visual descriptions, timing, angles, and building coordinates.
She remained awake through the night receiving updates, cross‑checking them with aerial feeds, signal intercepts, and previous mapping of Hezbollah positions.
Lieutenant B. then initiated a rapid verification cycle, comparing her brother’s observations with drone imagery and sensor data.
The pattern matched known Hezbollah preparations for anti‑tank ambushes and sniper targeting, including the use of red‑light optical devices to mark advancing IDF units.
Once confirmed, she escalated the intelligence to the Ghosts unit command and the Golani Brigade’s tactical operations center, warning that the building was being used as a hostile observation and targeting node.
Golani’s planned movement route was immediately adjusted, and the suspicious structure was flagged for pre‑entry neutralization.
Because of the siblings’ coordinated detection, verification, and rapid reporting, Golani soldiers did not enter the kill zone that Hezbollah had prepared.
The building was later examined and found to contain targeting equipment, validating the threat.
Their combined vigilance—one in the field, one in intelligence—prevented a likely ambush and protected the lives of the Golani fighters maneuvering into Qantara.
A. describes the moment from his perspective: “I thought to myself, how do I get this information intelligence as quickly as possible? So of course, I called my sister. I explained everything to her. I kept her on the line all night; she didn’t sleep because of me.”
The effort paid off. The precise information he relayed from the field reached the officers in command, launching a race against time to prevent the threat.
Lieutenant B says that serving together was a deeply personal closure that began long before Lebanon.
“Who imagined there would be a war, and who imagined I’d be in it with my brother? He’s been with me since the moment I enlisted, and long before. Even at Base 1, he trained me for the fitness test so I could pass everything.”
Serving in the same unit and sector created moments few siblings ever experience in war. She became a kind of “company mother” for A. and his friends.
“It’s the greatest privilege,” she says. “If I miss him, it takes a second to get permission, come in, give him a hug, or sit for tea—somehow he still manages to make tea even inside a jeep.”
A. agrees: “She takes care of everyone, and I’m definitely at the top of her list.”
For their parents in Tzur Hadassah, having both children at the heart of the fighting is not easy. But knowing they protect one another brings comfort.
“It gives parents peace of mind that we always look out for each other,” A. explains.
“Even if he doesn’t answer for days because he has no phone, I can reach him for a moment and tell Mom he just passed a test. It’s a connection we wouldn’t have had if we weren’t together.”
