Israel is preparing for a new front in the north: Reporter's notebook

SHTULA, ISRAEL -- Ora Hatan is gesturing out from her balcony toward the Lebanese border, where the Iranian-backed militant group is launching anti-tank missiles toward Israeli communities.

"Behind that wall is Hezbollah," she says over the constant sound of explosions.

There are intense exchanges of fire here every day. My conversation with Hatan is frequently interrupted by the thuds of outgoing and incoming fire.

This is happening as Israel escalates its offensive in Gaza following the Oct. 7 terrorist attack, with Hezbollah increasing its attacks on Israeli targets.

“We need to wipe out Hezbollah; we can’t live like this," she says, hugging her 10-year-old son, Ya’ir.

As we drive along the winding roads of Northern Israel’s roughly 80-mile border with Lebanon, we see empty house after empty house. These northern border communities are now ghost towns. Thousands of people fled in fear. Government officials have warned that the fighting may intensify, especially if the Israel Defense Forces launch a ground invasion into Gaza.

Hatan is one of the only residents left in her moshav of Shtula. Bikes and strollers are left in her neighbors’ driveways. People here left in a hurry. Just a few yards down the road from Hatan, we see a charred-out van, debris strewn across the road, a denim shirt and a pair of boots. A local farmer was killed, according to reservists we spoke to in the area. This is one of several daily border attacks.

We make our way further west to Shlomi, where the zig-zagging border war is blanketed in thick smoke, and you can just make out the glowing embers of a few smoldering fires. Moments ago, Israel took out several Hezbollah insurgency cells, according to the IDF.

The Israel Defense Forces says it's ready for battle. Makeshift military camps are being set up everywhere. We visited one, newly converted from a go-karting track, the arena still sign-posted, although piles of red and white tires now sit between rows of tanks.

"We have reinforced the border," Lt. Col Dotan Razili tells me. "We have the best equipment; we have the best soldiers, especially our reservists. We taught them, we trained them and we are ready."

He went on, "We have also reinforced our regular army with the reserve units that we planned ahead. Our hope is that we’re not going to need them, but we are preparing them."

After spending more than a week in Northern Israel, we also get a strong sense the IDF is sealing up the north. Everything is roadblocked and fortified, and there's little access to move around. Even the military is restricted. IDF camps and residential communities are unusually hesitant to let us in.

Back on Hatan’s balcony, where the rocket fire is growing more intense, I ask her son, "Aren’t you scared?"

"No. I have my mother to protect me," he says.

Hatan turns to him, gripping him a little tighter, and says, "But I don’t have guns; I can’t protect you, only with good words, with love."