An American woman living on a kibbutz about a mile from the Gaza border said she’s had some close calls over the years – but Saturday’s surprise Hamas attack was on a completely different scale.

“Yesterday was terrifying,” said Deborah, who asked not to use her last name for safety reasons. “Terrorists running wild through the streets.” This was unlike a “regular war,” she added, where “you know the drill.”

The 46-year-old Chicago native spoke to The Post Sunday from her temporary hotel room in Jerusalem after an early-morning evacuation from her home on Kibbutz Zikim.

The mother of two described how they barricaded in a safe room amid the sound of bullets and constant rocket fire. “You don’t even know what side they’re coming from,” she said of the fusillade.

Her brother-in-law, armed and bulletproof vest-clad, protected the family as Deborah’s two girls, ages 6 and 8, scurried to the bathroom holding their breath.

Deborah “snuck the girls out one by one” about five to eight seconds after the siren sounds to get to safety.

“But even that’s dangerous,” she said.

During the day, terrorists entered through the Zikim beach, infiltrated Zikim’s army base before stealing IDF uniforms and tanks and trying to penetrate the kibbutz before being neutralized by security.

“It’s f–ked up – my poor girls,” she said, trying to shield them from the massacres that unfolded outside. “Sadly, this isn’t the kids’ first rodeo. Their normal should not be playing ‘Tzeva Adom’ with My Little Pony,” she said of the “Color Red” song all Israeli school children learn that mimics the rocket alert.

The girls hurriedly packed a suitcase filled with toys during their Sunday morning evacuation against the backdrop of Apache helicopters overhead. Deborah worries about the lasting trauma.

“They’re little, it’s exciting to be in a hotel – but they’re not stupid. They see their friends from the community here and they know why,” she said.

For Deborah, who moved to Israel in 2011, danger has become a fact of life.

“I used to have a corporate credit card and take clients out for drinks. Now I live on the Gaza border,” she said. “I’m one of two Americans on the kibbutz – and there are reasons for that. I’m the only crazy one.”

She figured that the occasional rocket attack would be at most an annoyance on life near the enemy.

“We have a war here at least every year,” Deborah said, recalling running to the safe room once an hour while she was pregnant with her older daughter during 2014’s Operation Protective Edge.

Living on the border means you’re always on edge. “We’re totally traumatized,” she admitted. “If we hear a car vroom by, we’re freaked out,” she said of her mostly quiet community.

Still, you can’t escape your fate. “You can say, ‘I can’t believe I live there.’ But you never know,” she said.

She doesn’t know when the family will return home.

“I’m just kind of numb now,” she said. “We’re talking about moving further north – it’s been on the table for the last year.”

But even moving away from the Gaza border doesn’t mean calm.

“Nothing in Israel is normal – ever,” she said. “There’s always some level of alert – but I’d like more than eight seconds’ time to run to a shelter to feel safe. Having a minute [further away] sounds like a dream.”