NETANYA, Israel—The words were intended to be comforting, but never really calmed our nerves. “There’s no need to panic, but … ,” people kept telling my wife, Janelle, and me over and over again throughout the evening on Saturday when a threatened attack by Iran on Israel became a reality. “There’s no need to panic, but…”

When people keep telling you not to panic, but… it’s not really comforting, especially for an American, like myself, who is not acquainted with sirens, bomb shelters, safety rooms, and waiting 10 minutes to get the all-clear signal. I’m a sportswriter, not a war correspondent, at least I wasn’t until Saturday.

My wife and I traveled from our home near Miami to Israel earlier in the week to visit her parents, who recently moved to an assisted living facility about 20 minutes west of Netanya, which is about an hour north of Tel Aviv. The trip was planned after a scheduled visit in October was canceled due to the Oct. 7 Hamas terrorist attacks against Israel.

It had been a year since Janelle last saw her parents, and despite the ongoing war, our daily calls with family in Israel indicated it was safe enough to make the trip. Besides, we knew several friends, who had visited Israel since October so there was no need to be overly concerned.

That changed on Friday when news began to spread that Iran planned to attack Israel within 28-48 hours. It wasn’t a question of if, but when.

Our travel from South Florida to Israel was without complication except for trying to figure out how to start the rental car that needed a code for the key to activate the ignition. And the visit with the in-laws was going nicely until we heard things were escalating.

“There are a lot of threats from Iran right now and the army is expecting some sort of attack,” my brother-in-law, Glen, who lives in Israel, wrote me on WhatsApp. “I don’t mean to make you panic, but you should go home (to Netanya) and stay indoors and check what’s going on in the morning.

“In the worst case scenario, if there is an air raid siren you will definitely hear it and you should go into the shelter in the room right next to the apartment for 10 minutes. You have sufficient time to get to the room without panicking.”

There’s that word again.

Our emotions were already heightened by the stabbings earlier in the day in Sydney, Australia. That’s where my wife was born and raised. I’ve visited there several times and always make a point of going to the Westfield Shopping Center in Bondi Junction. It’s a fabulous mall with fabulous clothes and fabulous food. We spent much of the morning calling to make sure friends and family that still live there were safe. Fortunately, no one we knew was injured, but all were shaken by the harrowing attack. Hours later, the Australians were calling us to ask if we were safe.

We weren’t sure.

From the apartment where we were staying in Netanya, you could hear Israeli fighter jets crisscross the skies. The streets were empty. Every store and restaurant was closed.

We were told to download apps and check websites that would issue alerts and advised we would have 90 seconds to get to a safe room if a siren sounded in our area. The suspected targets of the Iranian drones would be in the northern region and near Negev in the South. Netanya will likely be safe, we were told. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t be hustled to a safe room. Drones could err, but mostly you shouldn’t panic.”

Ughh.

It was 11 p.m. when it was first announced the Iranian attack had begun with dozens of UAVs launched at Israel. The drones “will take hours to arrive,” the report said. The first sirens blared about 12:30 a.m. in northern Israel. Similar reports continued about every five minutes until 3 a.m.

Fortunately, there were no sirens and no signs of drones in Netanya, and while we suppressed the urge to panic it caused a strange uneasiness that continues today. I’ve experienced a couple of hurricanes and two earthquakes, but waiting to learn if a drone attack is coming your way is a different feeling altogether. To realize this is a way of life for the people who live here is almost unimaginable.

I guess that’s why they don’t panic.