“As you know, the Council established a volunteer ‘Arab Liberation Army’ with a Syrian general leading it earlier this year. While harassing the Jewish militias at times, the effort has been ineffective on both sides of the partitioned territory.”
“And the UN failed their promise to send in a peacekeeping force to take over as the British left,” Adnan added.
“Right. So the Arab League Council committed to send troops to help us. This Arab Legion made up of troops from other countries has started to fight the militias. But there is a problem.”
“Just one?” an overweight man in a kaffiyeh sneered.
“The one I’m referring to is the Jordanian King Abdullah. He is playing both sides as the Supreme Commander of the Legion of soldiers from several Arab countries. He has been negotiating behind the scenes with Ben Gurion to take over the Palestinian allotted territory including East Jerusalem. So the land we are left with will be controlled by him, by Transjordan. It will be the west bank of the river so he will control both sides, east and west. He has bet on victory for our persecutors.” He raised his hands. “What can we do?”
“And he is directing the Arab Legion at the same time,” Adnan shrugged. “I think the fox is ruling the hen house.”
“It’s beginning to look that way. Also Britain and France have put an arms embargo on all of us while the Jewish militias can skirt it going to the Soviets and Eastern Europe. That coupled with long supply lines and lack of coordination, I don’t hold out much hope that the Legion will be able to rescue us.”
Adnan grimaced. “Mr. Chairman, would you tell us which countries are sending troops?”
“All right. Egypt claims to have ten thousand men, volunteers who want to restore Arab rights. But they decided only two days before the Mandate ended, and their forces have little training.
“The Syrians are a bit better trained, but a young country after the French left. They have moved into the land portioned to us and expelled a few Jewish settlements there. They don’t plan to go further to help us in the Jewish allotted area. “The Lebanese are hopeless, not even crossing the border, but staying on it to defend their land.”
“What about Iraq?” someone inquired, a person Adnan didn’t know.
“Nothing to count on. They are several thousand men, but have been ordered by their government to not attack the Jewish state, but to help Jordan hold what they now call the ‘West Bank.’”
It sounded to Adnan that if the weak and disorganized Arab states could do anything, it would be to hold onto the West Bank for Jordan. They seemed to have no stomach to take on the militias in the Jewish allotted area now called Israel. There would be no help from the other countries of the United Nations. They seem to have forgotten their own resolution to protect each side from the other. They talk big, but act weak.
Adnan folded his arms gazing at the far wall not paying attention to the question from the back of the room that he couldn’t hear. He suspected the Hagana would continue to cleanse the coastal area from Tel Aviv to Haifa. Tantura was right in their way. He had heard that attacks have exploded from north to south in the Israeli territory to add to the estimated 250,000 Arabs already killed or displaced. Many villages had been completely destroyed since the Israelis trumpeted cleansing Deir Yassin.
Adnan walked home with weary steps. He couldn’t imagine how Tantura could escape the onslaught Arabs had no power to stop. But the Hagana intelligence officers had assured them of by-passing Tantura.
***
Caleb strolled through the orange groves with Sabria, enjoying the May sunshine. The days seemed slow, now the 21st of the month. His classes had finished in Haifa so there was nothing to go back for, and his slight guilt at leaving school evaporated. It had been for a good cause. He would take incompletes on his academic record that had otherwise been stellar.
He gazed at Sabria as they walked, she in a yellow western dress, a half smile on her face, cheeks glowing in the sunshine. Her long black hair flying in the soft breeze. This should not end. He realized more than ever that he loved her, and knew she felt the same about him. But the times, so uncertain, so dangerous for her. What should he do?
His mind turned to the conversation with his parents that had shocked them. He hoped his mother would be okay. He could return to a safe place, but his heart would be in Tantura. And he would not fit in to his parents’ thinking, or to their church anymore. He loved to read about Jesus in the land he called home. But he never said a word about the land itself or an exclusive right of the Jewish tribe to rule the other. He spoke of the nations and sent his friends out to tell the good news of his coming to all the world, not just one group of special people.
Sabria walked slowly with Caleb through the soft grass between the rows of citrus trees, some bearing green fruit as yet unripe. They kept going, each deep in thought. He did not realize they had crossed the boundary into Ilias’ grove until they surprised Jamal examining an orange.
“Trespassers!” he shouted, then broke up laughing. “What are you doing on my property?”
“We just came to check on your work,” Sabria deadpanned.
“Well, you said we were supposed to love our enemies, so I guess I better invite you home for a cool orange drink.”
The three trudged through the trees until they reached a patio shaded by a grape arbor, and Caleb and Sabria sat on wooden chairs as their friend disappeared into the house. “I like Jamal,” Caleb mused. “He has more in him than I understood from you.”
“He surprised me, Caleb. When he left for Jaffa, I realized that he had a deep core of care for his people, for all of us. He is a fun guy as you Americans say, but has some new determination in his heart.”
“He’s grown up. I think I’m jealous. Maybe you love him,” Caleb remarked with wink.
Sabria laughed. “I do, but not in the way you think. We played together as children, and became teens together going to school and have had good times since. But he is like a brother to me. Never anything romantic. Just good friends. But I have a new admiration for him since Jaffa.”
On his return with their orange drinks, Jamal asked about Caleb. He wanted to know about his home and family.
“Well, I just had a telephone conversation with my parents yesterday evening.”
“And how are they without you?”
“Jamal, they were fine until I argued with them.”
Their host looked serious. “You mean something you said disturbed them?”
“Yes. My mother felt light-headed. My father had to hang up quickly to tend to her.”
“So you still don’t know how she is doing?”
“Not really. But she’s felt like that before. It’s just Mom. I think she’s fine now.”
“So what did you say that upset her?”
“I just told them what is going on here with you all.”
“Haven’t they been reading about this in their papers or listening on the radio?”
“No. We hardly know there are native Palestinians, let alone that you Arabs are undergoing another Holocaust. We know only that the Jewish people finally have their own homeland, their own state. There is lots of celebration going on at home.”
“So the United States of America is not neutral. You favor the Jewish side only.”
“I’m afraid so, Jamal. At least a large portion of the country. I’ve learned a lot recently from the BBC on the radio, and some American newspapers. Palestinians have no voice, except perhaps in the State Department. There, some wanted an equal partition of Palestine, with a UN peacekeeping force to negotiate a fair settlement over several years preventing war. But our President disagreed and recognized Israel immediately at the end of the mandate. So you end up with fighting, killing, eviction, and obliteration of your homes.”
Jamal looked at the patio tiles and remained speechless, nodding. Finally, “It looks like we are doomed.”
Chapter 40
Eldad sat across the kitchen table from Valerie whom h
e noticed had strangely become upset when he mentioned his birthday. Why would she do that? He pondered the odd situation, here a Jewish lady, had sheltered Arab families, against all he had given his life to do in making the Zionist dream come true. He couldn’t understand why she loved Arabs? Or why was she kind to him who had fought for what she hated? And what was this about his birthday that caused the tears that flowed down her cheeks?
He felt awkward, out of place, clueless about how he got here and now what caused her to be so emotional. He wanted to leave but seemed glued to his seat. She had been so kind to him for some reason. But she did the same for Arabs as well. It didn’t matter. She must be just a kind Jewish lady.
He began to wish that someone had brought him up like that. It might have made his whole life different. He wouldn’t have been such an angry man. He seemed alone in the world. Girlfriends never wanted to stay with him, and his men, while respecting him, didn’t seem to like him. Friendships proved hard to come by, and when they did, quickly disappeared. Something must be wrong with him.
He looked up and saw Valerie smiling at him through her tears. He couldn’t understand what had happened. His old habits of wanting to get away from some uncomfortable personal situation kicked in. He had to get out of there. He couldn’t decide what to say. His heart had deceived him. Confusing. He must go to his room alone and sort all this out despite his loss of recent memory.
“I have to go,” he blurted out. Eldad almost ran around the corner and into his room, shut the door and flopped onto the bed. Disturbed and exhausted, he tried to sort out what Valerie had said, but had a hard time remembering it. He closed his eyes as thoughts turned into dreams. He saw himself as a little boy crying for his mother who slipped away from him. He ran after her as fast as he could run, but she disappeared.
***
He wakened in the dark and stillness, thinking. At three o’clock in the morning his memory and strength seemed to be returning. Eldad could now recall the sniper and his attempts to find him, vaulting the courtyard wall and crouching. That was it. The next thing he recalled was that woman. She baffled him. Then yesterday in the kitchen watching her cry. It didn’t make sense. He should get back his normal life, to the militia.
Eldad rose, tiptoed out into the hall. He suddenly realized he didn’t have his rifle. Where did it go? How could he find it in the dark? He hadn’t seen it at all. Finally accepting that he would have to leave unarmed, he felt vulnerable. He silently made his way to the front door into the darkness outside. No lights on the street, but he could now remember advancing down it with his militia. Where had they gone? They would have their lieutenant to lead them. Good riddance. Eldad couldn’t care about them. He’d find another unit.
***
The Commander, looking at the map and other papers on his desk in the Tel Aviv Hagana headquarters room, spoke to his lieutenant sitting across from him. “It’s now May twenty-first and the orders say that the Alexandroni Brigade will ‘attack and cleanse Tirat Haifa, Ayn Gazal, Ijzim, Kafar, Lam, Jaba, Any Hawd and Mazar.’” Studying the map, he explored his thoughts to himself. He had the idea, but the villages mentioned were not in the line that he planned. He would take the overall intent and attack the villages in order geographically from Tel Aviv to Haifa, in a rectangle one hundred kilometers long and up to twenty kilometers wide, sixty-four villages. Several of these had already been cleansed and occupied. One problem remained, Tantura. The Hagana had agreed to spare it as long as it didn’t harbor terrorists. But he had not been a part of those negotiations. It was like a “bone in the throat,” disrupting his plans for a total expulsion and takeover of the entire coastal plain now that Haifa had been largely cleansed and occupied. No, he would not be bound by a non-aggression pact that he did not make or agree with.
His decision firm, he turned to his lieutenant who obviously wanted to talk. “Your turn. You have a message for me?”
“Yes sir. I think you met a Captain Eldad Cohen at one of the Consultancy meetings.”
The Commander nodded. “Yes, I remember the young man.”
“He has finished his work west of Jerusalem, and wants to join us. Called this morning on the radio.”
“Good. We can use him. From what I know, he’s tough. Tell him to come.”
***
After a restless sleep, Valerie lay in bed thinking about last night. Why did Eldad suddenly leave the kitchen table and shut his bedroom door. She stared at the wall thinking. Here sat the son she had discovered after twenty-eight years. She had wanted to tell him that she was his mother that he never knew. She longed to hold him in her arms if he would allow her, and love him, and help him understand that there is a better way. That we can live with the other, that we don’t have to fight and kill and occupy their land. She daydreamed of his quitting the militia unit and learning to live at peace with himself and others. He probably had never experienced love in his relationships.
She got up, put on her robe and tiptoed down the hall to find Eldad’s bedroom door open. The bedclothes put back in place. He had left sometime during the night. Valerie stopped, staring into the room. Tears came and she didn’t know why. Should she be glad he left? Had she been in danger? Or did she weep because she could never hold in her arms the son she had abandoned.
As she heated water for her morning coffee, Valerie realized she would soon be alone. The Arab family would be leaving in a couple of hours, and with the town now purged of Arabs, there would be no one to take their place. No one to love. By herself with intermittent electricity, telephone still dead, food and water scarce, why should she stay in Qatamon? Her house would be spared. She’d leave a Star of David flag in the window to make sure of that.
She would find a place to call or telegraph Sabria in Tantura. Her close friends Liana in the north and Noor in a village near Deir Yassin would have no place for her to stay. But Sabria, whom she had hosted, before leaving, had suggested Valerie come for a visit to Tantura. With the buses still running, and being Jewish, she felt safe to travel to the coast.
Chapter 41
Valerie hadn’t realized how tired she had become. Part of it was the days she had worked so hard to provide a place for refugee families. And then not seeing her friends and being alone again didn’t help. She sighed. Her thoughts turned to Eldad, her son with his sad life and how when she thought they could acknowledge each other, he fled.
And then the uncertainty of traveling on buses in a war zone, long lines of refugees with elderly, women, and children all fleeing. The coastal villages some in smoking ruins.
Anxiety for herself and her country abated when she was warmly welcomed by Sabria and her family in Tantura. So peaceful, so lovely with its garden surrounded by orange groves. She gazed out the window at the blue sea with the occasional cumulus cloud in an azure sky above. It did feel wonderful to lie down in such restful surroundings. Sabria had said she could see fatigue in Valerie’s eyes and that she should rest before the evening meal.
At dinner, the family and Caleb plied Valerie with questions about the Jerusalem area and what was happening in Qatamon and elsewhere. She explained her own experiences, but left out Eldad.
Sabria turned to Valerie with a warm smile. “I want you all to know what this Jewish woman has done for her Arab neighbors in Qatamon.” Sabria went on to tell of her caring for Liana and Noor as well as the refugees.
Adnan rose, lifting his glass and spoke for the family: “I would propose a toast to this brave woman who acted out of concerns for others without fear of reprisals from her own people. This is what loving your neighbor looks like. God bless you, Valerie.”
Afterward, Sabria led Valerie to the veranda and a balmy evening where they could talk privately. The stars glittered over the sea surrounding a small crescent moon in the western sky. “Sit down, Valerie.” She gestured to a padded chair. “Tell me what happened. You hinted to me on arrival that you had something to say about Eldad.”
“Yes I did. But first I want to know
if you have any idea where the slip with my name and phone number came from.”
Sabria smiled. “I did a risky thing.” She told the whole story of her trip to Haifa with Eldad in his jeep. I realized afterward that it could have been bad and endangered you. I’m so glad it didn’t. But tell me what happened.”
“The slip actually helped me to realize Eldad is my long lost son.” Valarie told the story of her discovery of an unconscious militia soldier in her courtyard and the follow-up events including Eldad’s sudden leaving.
“So you and he understood that the slip of paper with your name and phone number was really you, and that putting everything together including resemblance indicated that he is most likely your son.”
“I’m quite sure he did not understand. I did. And I’m still certain of it, confirmed by his date of birth. The realization hit and turned out to be very emotional for me. But he sat silently for a bit and then left the kitchen without a word. When I collected myself he had gone to his room, closed the door, and that was it.”
“You mean you never saw him after that?”
“Right. He left sometime in the night. I slept fitfully but I didn’t hear him go. I had put his loaded rifle in the shed in back. He didn’t know where it was and of course, it’s still there.”
Sabria stared off into space. “And you don’t know where he went?”
“No. His troops were long gone and no one came back to look for their Captain. So I have no idea where he is. I presume he is with a militia somewhere.”
“With no leads, we have no idea where he is or how we might contact him,” Sabria mused out loud.
“You’re right. As hard as it is to say it, I have given up trying to find my son. I hope he survives the fighting. Maybe someday . . . ” her voice trailed off as the tears came.
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