“Disconnect Your Emotions, Matan. We Are at War.” A First-Hand Account by Matan Angrest
On Hoshana Rabbah last year, the Jewish world united in joy as the last twenty hostages were released from Gaza. Among them was Matan Angrest, a tank driver who was the sole survivor of his four-man crew. After two years in captivity, we are now able to hear his account of that day firsthand. This testimony is adapted from an upcoming documentary about Captain Daniel Perez Hy”d, the commander of Matan’s tank, due to be released in 2027.
At 6:30 am, a little after the first sirens and impacts, Daniel and I were the first to wake up. We looked at each other as we heard not only sirens, but explosions right next to us. We immediately jumped out of bed, woke Tomer and Itay, and all four of us ran, already geared up, into the shelter, the protected space very close to our living quarters.
We waited there until we received an order. Daniel was on the phone, trying to get more information, trying to understand what to do. Do we jump into the tank? Do we stay in the shelter? Are we needed? And after a very short time, Daniel turned to us and said: “Guys. Come on. To the tanks!”
We left the shelter and ran as fast as we could with all our equipment. It’s not easy – helmets, vests, explosions all around you, people shooting. We got into the tank as quickly as possible, operated it in the fastest and most professional way we could, went out through the gate, and the battle began.
Matan Angrest being filmed for the upcoming documentary about Daniel Perez Hy”d.
At the beginning, we didn’t know the scale of what was happening. No one prepared us for something this big. We exited the gate and suddenly saw a white vehicle. We didn’t know if it was ours. We got closer and saw it had a Palestinian license plate. Very quickly we understood that something unusual was happening – a Palestinian vehicle inside Israeli territory is not something that occurs every day. We put away our phones. We said our goodbyes to our families. “We’ll talk later. Whatever will be, will be. We are actively engaged in an operation.” And then we simply began to act as a tank: running over cars, shooting at cars. The main thing was that there would be no living, moving threats in our area.
We did a lot of patrols. We went up to a position called Point 76, and on the way there was a small explosion in the tank. We thought it was a mine. I don’t know exactly what it was, but the side of the tank was slightly damaged. The terrorists were shooting at us a great deal with MAGs and M16s, with danger of sniping. As time went on, we began to understand that this was not a normal event.
When we entered the outpost, the first thing I saw was many bodies of dead terrorists. From that I understood there were probably more inside the base. Our main mission was to cover the observation operations room, and so we positioned ourselves with the cannon aimed toward it so no terrorists could emerge. There was a second tank, Yoni Golan’s. Daniel understood there was no reason for two tanks to remain in the same place. One would stay inside the outpost; the other would go out and carry out attacks, destroying enemies outside before they could reach it. We went out through the gate.
I will never forget what I saw next. Outside were three Golani soldiers lying still on the ground, their vests on, their weapons already taken. I said to Daniel and the team: “Look at this. How did this happen? Maybe they need help? What is happening here?” At that moment, reality truly hit me. I was shattered seeing our soldiers like that. You just want to get down, to help, to see if you can save someone, evacuate them. And then Daniel said to me: “Disconnect your emotions, Matan. We are at war right now.” In retrospect, I understood. If we had gone down to help them, there may well have been someone waiting there, ready to ambush us. There are considerations that go beyond what your eyes see. You have to think ahead. I agreed with that in retrospect, despite all the difficulty and sorrow in it.
Later we met an armored Namer vehicle. It had gone through its own battle, many of its soldiers killed, and those who remained didn’t really know how to operate or deal with it. Daniel said to them, without hesitation: “Come with us. Drive after me.” And the Namer joined us. There was a really special moment when we came down from the position and Daniel got out of the tank to hug Shilo from the Namer. I saw it through the rear camera. I accidentally switched to it and suddenly saw Daniel talking with him, embracing him. I even joked: “Okay, I have seniority, I’ll lead the team.” But what stayed with me was that Daniel took the Namer under his command. It wasn’t really his role, but he adopted them, supported them, gave them another angle and another set of eyes in the fighting.
Daniel speaking with Shilo outside of his tank. The photo is a screenshot from video footage taken on October 7th from army vehicles, used with permission from the soldiers’ families.
Then Daniel said something that, for me, was unbelievable. He told us that our mission was to prevent a kidnapping. At the time it really surprised me. I was a fighter, a tank driver, in combat. What did kidnapping have to do with any of this? But what is extraordinary, in retrospect, is how accurate he was. There were not just one but multiple kidnapping incidents that day. When I heard that radio recording after I returned – hearing him say our goal was to prevent a kidnapping event – I thought: how did he know? Seeing how things connected, and how precise his assessment had been, was incredible.
We went back up to Point 76. Itay, the gunner, saw terrorists near the fence and immediately alerted Daniel. And then suddenly Daniel told me: “Driver, reverse fast.” I thought: “What? Daniel, what are we doing? Are we driving toward them?” I was driving backward asking him what was happening, and he answered: “Yes. We’re going toward them.” There was some kind of charge. I drove as fast as I could, and meanwhile Daniel was encouraging us – “Good, good driver. Good. You’re all machines. Well done.” He knew we were in a difficult situation and needed everyone to stay sharp.
Of course there is always fear. But at that moment, I felt a sense of mission. I felt I was doing what my entire service had trained me for. There was a kind of floating feeling. On one hand, this was the engagement I had wanted my whole service to prepare me for – to prevent our enemies from entering the country. But at that moment, you put everything else aside. That minute, or even less, of the rush reflects the whole battle, understanding there is something bigger than yourself.
I passed between two trees through a narrow passage, Daniel guiding me. Then I turned left and saw tens of people, if not more. Many faces. Many people running. Some with weapons, some without, everything mixed together. As a tank, even alone, you have to look at all of them and act. I had to run over one, then move to the next and the next. Daniel was shooting, Itay was shooting. You needed to kill one and move on – it wasn’t enough to kill one or two, there were more and more. I remember being in a kind of ecstasy, a rage. Like nothing you did was ever enough. You needed to remove the threat, then another one, then another. Daniel was constantly directing me – “Right, see him, he’s here on the left.” There were bodies, and you needed to verify and eliminate the threat. A shell was fired from the tank. I remember seeing terrorists thrown into the air. It was a few minutes of pure madness, shifting from holding a position to suddenly being in direct physical contact, running people over, firing a shell at forty or fifty meters. These are things not everyone gets to experience.
Daniel’s decision to charge was the right one. The friction he created, I believe, prevented many terrorists from advancing further into the country. There were those we killed and those who fled back. The easiest thing would have been to say: “What can we do? Let’s wait for more forces.” But Daniel made the decision to engage the enemy. That is something I truly admire and respect. It was not obvious. I don’t think everyone would have been able to make such a decision.
Then, unexpectedly, the tank was hit. It started burning from the inside and outside. My eyes were closed and I was half dazed, not really aware of what was happening. I remember shouting: “Peretz, Peretz, Peretz!” No one answered…
When I returned after two years in captivity, I was not in good condition, quite thin and pale, with many treatments still ahead. They told me that Daniel’s funeral was taking place the next day. The fact that he returned on the same day as me is something I think is very special. Everyone told me not to go: my parents, the medical staff – they wanted to protect me, and said there would be another time when the family sat shiva. But something inside me, because of the special connection I had with Daniel, made it very important for me to be there. To show my presence. To support the family. To speak to Daniel personally. We had fought together, and beyond the fighting we were close friends. I told myself that if I didn’t go, I would regret it for the rest of my life.
When I went up to speak, I just felt something in my heart – this was my moment. I overcame myself and got up. My father asked: “Matan, should I come with you?” I said: “No, Dad, sit. It’s okay. I’m going.” I hadn’t prepared anything. Nothing was planned. I simply spoke from the heart. And thank G-d, I had the privilege to truly pay my final respects and to be there.
Matan speaking at Daniel’s funeral, the day after returning from captivity.
For me, Daniel Perez is a hero of Israel, placed among the greatest names of those who have done the most heroic things in this country. His command, his fighting spirit, and his character speak for themselves. He should be remembered as a real hero. What he did was extraordinary, and what his team accomplished under his command is truly worthy of admiration and appreciation.