In a powerful interview conducted just hours after his second surgery, Hatzolah volunteer Yanky Super shares his extraordinary firsthand account of the Bondi Beach Chanukah attack that claimed 16 lives. The interview was hosted by the Inspiration for the Nation podcast.

Speaking from his ICU bed, Yanky recounts the miracles that saved him: the bullet stopped by his radio, the high-vis vest he forgot to wear, fellow responders who rushed in under live gunfire, and the off-duty Jewish doctor who arrived just in time.

For the past four years, the Bondi Beach Chanukah celebration has been Yanky Super’s post. As a dedicated Hatzolah volunteer, he has made the event “his thing,” ensuring the safety of the thousands of Jews who gather to celebrate.

This past Sunday, the event was scheduled to start at 5:00 PM. Yanky arrived early, around 4:40 PM, to park his car and set up his medical equipment in a fenced-off area. He selected a vantage point right by the entrance, a strategic spot where he could survey the entire crowd and respond instantly if anything went wrong.

He spent the first few minutes walking the grounds, doing his rounds. Two minutes before the shooting began, he spotted a fellow Hatzolah volunteer attending with his family. Yanky walked over, said hello, and then spotted the Shliach, Rabbi Eli Schlanger. They spoke briefly behind the stage; Rabbi Eli thanked him for being there to protect the community. Yanky told him he was heading back to his spot to watch the Menorah lighting.

He walked back to the entrance. Less than five minutes later, everything changed.

“I Just Felt Like a Zap”

“I didn’t even hear gunshots,” Yanky recalls. “I just felt like a zap in my body and just fell to the ground.”

Yanky believes he was one of the first people hit. The impact was silent but immediate. As he lay on the pavement, he looked to his left and right and saw people falling everywhere. The realization hit him instantly: this was a terror attack.

His training kicked in immediately. He reached for the speaker mic clipped to his shoulder to radio dispatch. It wasn’t there.

“The Button’s Not There…”

In a moment of distinct Hashgacha Pratis, Yanky realized his shoulder mic had been shot off. The bullet intended for his chest had hit the radio equipment instead. The button was gone; the casing was shattered.

“I reached for my radio… I felt nothing,” he said.

With the wire still plugged in, the damaged mic was picking up audio interference. Acting on instinct, Yanky quickly unscrewed the broken mic, grabbed the physical radio body from his belt, and hit the duress alarm.

“Shots at Bondi Beach,” he screamed into the device. “I need backup. I’ve been hit. Multiple casualties. I need backup urgently.”

“Where’s Yanky?”

The shooting continued for ten agonizing minutes. But amidst the chaos, another miracle became apparent. Usually, when on standby, Hatzolah members wear high-visibility vests to be easily identifiable in a crowd. For reasons Yanky cannot explain, he had forgotten to put his vest on that afternoon. He was wearing only his Hatzolah shirt.

“If I had the high-vis, I probably would have been a much easier target for the terrorists,” he noted. Standing near the entrance where the gunmen were, a neon vest would have made him a focal point. His forgetfulness likely saved his life.

The Hatzolah dispatch was immediate. While active gunfire was still echoing through Bondi, a fellow Hatzolah member drove his car directly into the scene.

“He jumped out of the car under live fire,” Yanky recounted. “I heard him screaming, ‘Where’s Yanky? Where’s Yanky?'”

Because Yanky wasn’t wearing his vest, the responder couldn’t spot him immediately. Yanky tried to call out, but the bullet had passed through his back and collapsed his lung. He could barely breathe, let alone shout. Eventually, the responder found him, rolled him over, and applied pressure to the wound.

“Guys, I’ve Been Shot”

The responder gave Yanky’s car keys to someone else, saying, “There are people dying, I’m going to go help them. Yanky’s stable. Drive him to the hospital.”

The driver sped Yanky out of the danger zone. As they exited, they saw the ambulances arriving. The car stopped, and Yanky, running on pure adrenaline, jumped out and ran toward the paramedics. He works with these paramedics every day; they know him by first name. Seeing a Hatzolah member running toward them, they assumed he was coming to help them triage the wounded.

“They didn’t realize I was shot,” Yanky said. “I’m running towards them… I said, ‘Guys, I’ve been shot, I’ve been shot.'”

One of the paramedics, who is also a Hatzolah member on shift, grabbed him, laid him on the ground, and began treatment before rushing him to the hospital under police escort.

“My Name is Levi Yitzchak”

Yanky remained conscious through the ambulance ride, listening to the chatter on his radio, hearing the devastation unfolding behind him. Upon arrival at the hospital, he was wheeled straight into surgery.

As he lay on the gurney, the surgeon looked down at him.

“What’s your name?” the doctor asked.

“My name, my name’s Yanky,” he replied.

The doctor looked him in the eye. “My name is Levi Yitzchak.”

Dr. Levi Yitzchak was not on duty. He wasn’t on shift. He wasn’t even on call. He is a Jewish doctor living in Bondi who heard about the shooting. Assuming Jewish patients would be rushing to his hospital, he got in his car and drove straight there to help his brothers.

“A Jewish, off-duty doctor saved my life,” Yanky said.

“With the Rebbe’s Brachos, We Will Be Okay”

Tragically, Yanky learned upon waking that Rabbi Eli Schlanger—the Shliach he had spoken to just minutes before the attack—did not survive.

Despite the pain and the loss of 15 Kedoshim, Yanky’s message from the ICU is one of unshakeable faith.

“I was standing right by the entrance, I was one of the closest people to the shooters,” he reflected. “The first shot, which would have likely been fatal, was taken by my radio.”

“The Aibershter is watching over all of us,” Yanky said. “We have to just remember that we’re Yidden, children of the Aibershter, and with the Rebbe’s brachos, we will be okay. We have to not be despondent. People were killed, people were injured, including myself. But the Aibershter is looking out for us.”

Please continue to daven for a Refuah Shleimah for Yaakov Dov ben Penina and all the wounded. Click here for the updated Tehillim list.

A campaign has been launched to support the families of the Kedoshim.

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