Facing incoming in Sderot

Editor's Note: In our Behind the Scenes series, CNN correspondents share their experiences in covering news and analyze the stories behind the events. International correspondent Ben Wedeman offers a look at his work covering the violence between Israel and militants in Gaza.

SDEROT, Israel (CNN) -- At first I didn't even notice it, a tinny, droning voice broadcast over a public address system.

"It's a red alert," Jerusalem producer Izzy Lemberg told me matter-of-factly. "A rocket will land within 10 seconds to 15 seconds." And sure enough, in less than 50 seconds, we heard a dull thud in the distance. A rocket had landed.

We were shooting what is called a "look-live," a recorded news update replayed on air later. But a red alert -- a possible rocket barrage -- seemed a good reason to cut short the universally despised "look-live."

It was 10:30 on a sunny, spring morning in the southern Israeli town of Sderot, just outside Gaza. We had been there for an hour and a half, and it was pretty quiet. Watch Wedeman's "look-live" interrupted »

The day before a rocket had killed a 47-year-old Israeli student at the Sapir College on the outskirts of Sderot, and overnight the Israeli air force had launched almost 10 strikes on targets in Gaza. The death toll in Gaza was mounting by the hour.

An escalation in the dizzying cycle of attack and counterattack between Israel and militants in Gaza looked -- indeed looks -- certain. And in Sderot the calculations about what is coming next are pretty straightforward.

You just need to follow the news. On Wednesday morning, Israeli aircraft hit a minivan carrying five militants who Israeli sources said had recently returned from either Syria or Iran. A response from the militants was inevitable, their importance confirmed by the fact that two factions claimed responsibility hours later for the rocket barrage that killed the Israeli student.

These two incidents were a solid indication that more was on the way.

But in our business, it's taken for granted that if you go to the effort of going where you think there will be news, there won't be.

"We're going to Sderot tomorrow," I told my colleague, Atika Shubert, on Wednesday afternoon, "which means absolutely nothing will happen."

The first red alert Thursday morning told me I might be wrong. The second red alert, around noon, confirmed I was wrong. The third red alert, at 1:30 PM, convinced me my news judgment was way off.

It came just minutes into a broadband live shot. I started off by telling the anchor in our London studio Sderot was quiet compared to the day before ... and then there was that tinny, weak voice.

"Red alert," Izzy told me. I tried to explain that to the anchor in London, until an Israeli police officer came up behind me and told me in no uncertain terms that I should run to the shelter.

I said, "OK, OK," explained to the anchor what I was doing and then ducked down between two cars. I wasn't hiding from the rockets. I was hiding from the policeman, who conveyed the distinct impression that not obeying his command was not an option.

But he had already gone to the shelter, so I waited a moment and emerged from between the cars.

All the while veteran Jerusalem cameraman Yuda Chemel was shooting the whole thing. Yuda, like Izzy, like our sound technician Uri Bazaglo, had seen enough "balagan" -- Hebrew for mess, chaos -- that this sort of thing didn't seem to bother them at all. E-mail to a friend