No Time for Tears

by Cynthia Freeman

  Absalom’s Bedouin guide promptly turned his camel north and went off as fast as the beast would take him.

  Absalom and Nachman fell to the ground, took up their rifles and tried holding off the attackers, but it was futile.

  Absalom was hit and lay still as the blood came from his mouth. Nachman tried crawling to his side, and Absalom tried to motion to him to get away, save himself. And then Absalom’s head rolled to one side … and he was still. Very still.

  Nachman did try to run but a bullet tore through his right shoulder, he fell and lost consciousness….

  In the morning when Nachman came around, he found himself in the back of a truck on his way to a British military hospital. He’d been picked up, luckily, by one of the Australian patrols in the area.

  When they finally arrived in Alexandria, Nachman prayed that Aaron had managed to work out the plan he’d had when he left for Berlin, from which he would try to get to Alexandria via London. He could not even allow himself to think of failure … especially not after what had happened to Absalom. Nachman asked the Australians to please make inquiries, try to locate Aaron. He could only hope Aaron’s news would be better than his….

  Aaron did make it to Alexandria from London, but Lieutenant Wooly, who had been so receptive to Dovid, had been captured by the Turks, and now a Captain Lawrence was his replacement.

  Lawrence treated Aaron with a remote indifference. In fact, he refused to see him for several weeks. When Aaron was finally summoned … yes, that was the word for it… he was left to sit for hours before being ushered into Lawrence’s office.

  Lawrence, tall, ascetic, didn’t greet Aaron, rather he barely tolerated his foreign presence. Aaron, of course, already despised him, beyond which he viewed him with considerable suspicion, since it was well known that Captain Lawrence was distinctly pro-Arab. In fact, he had endeared himself so to the Arabs that he became known as Lawrence of Arabia. Aaron was not foolish enough to disregard the fact that Lawrence was also an anti-Semite. He got from Lawrence just what he expected—nothing….

  But at least if Lawrence had not kept him waiting when he had first arrived Absalom wouldn’t now be dead. That awful intelligence had come to him in his hotel room only hours after Lawrence had dismissed him. He had immediately come to this Australian hospital, at least grateful to find Nachman alive.

  For seven days he sat Shiva and said the Kaddish.

  After the mourning period was over he demanded and got an audience with the highest authorities of British military intelligence.

  He stood before them now, barely able to control his rage. “I have been through many things in my life, encountered many people, but I have never been treated as I have in the months that I’ve been here. Your Captain Lawrence has put one obstacle after another in my way while I have sat here with vital information. Instead of showing interest in this information, let alone trying to understand it, he saw fit to question me about my geographic knowledge of the Sinai. Good God! Instead of all this insane waste of time, if he at least had allowed me to send a signal, Absalom Feinberg would still be alive. Yes … I stand here accusing you of the most unforgivable negligence. When Absalom Feinberg came to you, did you listen to him? No, you discredited him, and now he lies buried in the sands of the Sinai, because he tried to get the word to you how Palestine could be invaded. His death is on your hands. And as for your Captain Lawrence, it isn’t important that he has personally tried to humiliate me. What is important is that by refusing to recognize a certain competence and reputation that scientists in this country and others have seen fit to acknowledge, he and you and us have been hurt in our common effort. Now I say that either you take my people and me seriously, or we will refuse to go on with this travesty.”

  The British were finally impressed. A plan of operation was immediately discussed. The main problem was how to create a real link between the British headquarters in Egypt, and the men at Athlit. A link that would work, be reliable.

  “Contact,” said Aaron, “will obviously have to be made by ship. To camouflage our activities the ship will use a code name … I suggest Menagem. On board will be Chaim Barash. He will be the signalman from NILI. The crew should consist of three sailors from Tyre, who, as you know, have worked for British intelligence and are familiar with the coast. I would suggest that your intelligence officer, Ian M. Smith, participate and go over the reports from Athlit as soon as they are received on board. Our NILI people will help in the decoding and translating of messages. Is that acceptable to you gentlemen?”

  Captain Trevor-Brown, not missing Aaron’s bitter undertone, nodded. “It’s fine.” He shook hands with Aaron, smiled. “Welcome aboard, sir. It’s damned good having you on our side.”

  On February 19 the Menagem left Port Said for Athlit.

  Aaron was aboard.

  At midnight it lay at anchor and signaled.

  Dovid, who had been stretched out on the cold ground amid the tall grass could not believe what he had seen. At first he thought his eyes deceived him, but the ship signaled once again.

  My God, Aaron had done it. Half-frozen, bone-tired, he signaled back, according to the agreement made before Aaron had left Athlit.

  When Dovid finally saw Aaron standing in front of him, soaking wet, the effect was tremendous … unashamed, he put his arms around Aaron. “Thank God you’re safe and back—”

  “Yes, I’m back, but not, I’m afraid, for long. Come, I must see Sarah…”

  When he entered the small room where she slept he pulled up a chair and just watched her for a while.

  When she woke up she could hardly believe her eyes. And of course her first concern was for news about Absalom. It was this moment he’d tried to steel himself for. And, of course, had not succeeded. No words would comfort her, Aaron knew, but still, that was why he had come back … “Sarah … this is the moment of your greatest testing. I ask you to try to be strong … Absalom is dead.”

  She made not a sound. What she had heard she had expected. What she felt she could not express. Absalom, buried under the sands of the Sinai. Not even their love could stop him from going. He had, she realized, an even greater love, and he’d died for it. Well, she told herself, at least she would try not to dishonor his sacrifice by an unseemly outburst of self-pity. Her private losses … first her sister Rivka, her failed marriage and now the man who truly was the love of her life… they would stay private…

  Aaron helped. Take Absalom’s courage as a legacy, he said. Carry on his work, the mission he laid down his life for. Let your strength be a monument to his name. Help make sure he did not die in vain…

  Finally Sarah brought herself to ask, “What happened to his body?”

  “No one knows… a patrol was sent out, he wasn’t found.”

  She still would not cry. “He’s buried somewhere underneath the sands of the Sinai … well, the Canaan desert is where our people came from … Absalom has returned to our land after all.” Sleep well, my Absalom, sleep well, my beloved….

  Aaron remained only a few days longer. The night before he left he said, “Sarah, I’m sorry, but you must understand that no one is to know about Absalom. This must be a secret as well guarded as NILI itself. If the truth were to come out it would inevitably weaken the will of the rest of NILI’s men. Absalom was that important and influential. He was our fire, our spirit. Above all, if the news of his death fell into the hands of the Turks it would compromise our whole mission.”

  She looked at Aaron. “His disappearance will eventually be questioned.”

  Dovid, who had been standing by, took over.

  “You must say that Absalom left to go to London and train as a pilot. We want no mystery surrounding his absence to be questioned. It could affect the inner relationships of the factions we work with.” He didn’t add how much he wished that he, not Absalom, had gone on this mission. Absalom’s very assets—his language abilities, knack for impersonation—also tended to make him too brave, to take fewer precauti
ons than someone without his special abilities. His advantages had also been his undoing…

  Sarah nodded her agreement with Dovid’s words.

  At midnight, she and Dovid silently watched Aaron depart. Who knew which of them would be in the greater danger? No place, or mission, was safe, or for the weak of heart…

  The NILI-British operation continued between Port Said and Athlit in the months of February and March. Specific nights were designated for contact so that the men at Athlit knew beforehand of the ship’s arrival. But as the seasons changed the operation could not always be carried out. At times powerful waves prevented the unloading of the boat and its safe way to the shore.

  Over half the trips ended in nothing. Each failure depressed NILI’s men, waiting as they were obliged to do for so many hours on the beach, hiding from the Turkish guard, freezing in cold during the winter nights or suffering mosquito bites during the summer nights. They could not shut an eye after a day’s work, and above all else worried that an accident of some sort had happened to the ship.

  Menagem could operate only on moonless nights. Coordination between the ship and the group was made by light signals that were changed from time to time to prevent suspicion. On its arrival from Port Said, Menagem would first pass to Zichron Yaakov and Athlit during daytime. From aboard the ship, with the help of binoculars, a certain small house in the vineyard could be clearly seen. If the shutters were open, it meant the way to Athlit was safe, and if a white sheet was hanging from the railing, it meant the NILI people would be waiting and it was safe to come down to the shore. For the encounter on the shore, they decided on a password.

  Sarah asked that it be “Absalom.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IN SPITE OF ALL the hazards, the difficulties, Aaron and Dovid felt that at long last their work with the British had succeeded. The success, though, was achieved at great cost

  During the second disorderly retreat of the Turkish forces from the Suez Canal zone, thousands of Jews died of starvation and disease. On March 26, 1917, the British offensive on Gaza began. Two days later the elders and notable people, Jews and non-Jews, were summoned to the “Soraya” in Jaffa to hear the Pasha’s word: “All Jaffa citizens must vacate the area of Jaffa, leave their homes and move to any other part of the country, except Jerusalem and Haifa.” Only the Arab peasants and the Jewish grove-owners were allowed to remain after many appeals, but without their families.

  Nine thousand Jews from Jaffa and Tel Aviv had to go into exile. The Yishuv was lost; where would they get carts to wheel the old ones, the women and children? What would happen to property?

  Still, the tide continued. The British were working against time to build a railway line up the coast to carry heavy cannon, and from the Nile a pipeline was being laid to supply water to the troops. Hashomer and other groups began storing arms, as more and more men began joining the ranks of NILI. In Tel Aviv they gathered to make further plans, when suddenly a burst of cannon was heard. Bedlam was in the streets as people ran in all directions. But Dovid remained sitting, he’d anticipated what was about to happen. He even smiled when he heard the explosion. The ironworks had been hit. He knew that now what they had all worked so hard for was, at last, showing some results.

  Not surprisingly such results of NILI resulted in the Turks becoming extremely nervous. Restrictions more brutal than before were imposed, the cities were left near starvation. Especially the Jews in Jerusalem. At the Jaffa gate, every day hundreds of people sat and pleaded for alms. By evening a government cart passed among them to pick up the dead.

  Chavala waited for the food that Dovid had been sending every week, but now she had received nothing for over two weeks. She did not question this, it was only too apparent that the food had been stolen on the way. Dovid would never leave his family in want. She contracted Samuel Guri, a Shomer who she knew worked with Dovid even before the war, to get a note to Dovid at Athlit.

  She waited for two days. When Samuel Guri came back with the news that Dovid was not at Athlit she became frantic. But fear quickly turned into an iron determination. Once before she’d summoned up the courage to kill a man to survive … well, she’d heard that a shipment had been sent by the Jews from America, and one way or another she would come back to her family with a sack of wheat…

  Taking Chia and Reuven by the hand she hurried to Mea Shearim. Quickly she walked up the cracked wooden steps to Raizel’s small apartment.

  In spite of her pregnancy, Raizel seemed a shadow of herself. Her eyes were hollow, her cheeks sunken.

  By God, Chavala thought, she would not stand by and see her family starve.

  “Raizel, I want Lazarus to come with me … I must go to Jaffa.”

  “When?”

  “Right now… today.”

  “Oh, Chavala… today is Saturday.”

  Chavala was about to ask what that had to do with it when she remembered it was Shabbes. What was Raizel’s husband praying for today? For God to send manna from heaven? “I’m sorry, with all that’s happening I seem to have forgotten the holy Sabbath … I’ll go alone, then. Chia and Reuven will stay with you.”

  Raizel’s eyes filled with tears. “You mustn’t go alone, Chavala. It’s much too dangerous, especially for a woman.”

  Starvation can also be dangerous, Chavala thought “Don’t worry, I’ll find someone to go with me,” she lied.

  As she looked up from the bottom of the stairs and saw Raizel with her black sheitel on her head, slightly askew, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. That ridiculous custom of shaving a woman’s head before marriage so that she would remain chaste … better her husband should have worked harder and prayed less so that his wife would be able to eat. The irreverent thought fled, replaced by her devout hope that she would not arrive too late in Jaffa.

  From Raizel’s house she went down to the cobblestone alley, where she knew her diminutive Sephardic friend would also be praying to God for the same reasons as her brother-in-law. But since women were not permitted downstairs in the men’s section, she waited for God to intervene. Her prayers were answered as a yeshiva boychik almost collided with her. He was three minutes late, and God might strike him deaf, dumb and blind. Since it was also forbidden to touch a woman, even by accident, he flushed and mumbled something under his breath. As he was about to enter the shul Chavala said, “I would never ask Shimon Halevi to interrupt his davening on the Sabbath, but as you know it is permitted in cases of life and death.” The boy nodded, remembering what the Midrash said. “Well,” Chavala said with a faint quiver in her voice, “this is a matter of death. Please tell him I am waiting outside.”

  Soon the diminutive Halevi was standing in front of her, holding his heart. “Someone died?”

  “A great many will … if I don’t get your horse and wagon.”

  This was the Sabbath and it would be a sin to be angry before sundown, so he said quietly, “For my horse and wagon you took me from shul?”

  “Please. While you are talking people are dying.”

  “Go take the horse, already. I shouldn’t even be thinking such things, much less saying them, but you will have to put the saddle on and hitch it to the wagon.”

  “God will forgive you, and bless you.” And if He doesn’t, she added to herself, I will.

  When she arrived in Jaffa she found bedlam. Crowds were waiting, clamoring, screaming, fighting their way to get to the Jewish Agency.

  Chavala’s size was her ally. Finding an opening, she wove her way through the throngs. When she found that she needed a ration card she refused to allow that to defeat her. She learned the grain was stored in the adjacent building.

  Quickly she got back into the wagon and led it to the side of the entrance. She stood to one side of the door and watched the men heaping the sacks up one on the other. If it were possible to steal she would have no qualms, but the sacks were too heavy. To lie was her only hope, her instincts all she could depend on.

  Carefully she scrutin
ized each man. Who would most likely respond to her? The older ones would probably be less taken in. More likely the young chalutzim would be more receptive to a young, vulnerable “widow.”

  She approached a young, blond chalutz. “Please … you must help me … I beg you. I have lost my card and they won’t give me another.”

  The chalutz looked at her. Chavala’s pleas didn’t exactly impress him. If he was to listen to every hysterical woman who begged there would be nothing left in the warehouse. He’d forgotten how many had tried the same tactics this very day. “Go back and wait like the others, you’ll get a card.”

  “Please … you must believe me … I have tried but they said I had already received my allotment, but on my mother’s name, I swear it’s not so.”

  He looked at her suspiciously; a woman would do anything to get what she wanted. “I can’t help you.”

  “Why? You don’t own the flour, it wouldn’t cost you anything and I’m a widow with two starving children …” Taking the money out of her pocket, she said, “Here, take this. It’s yours—”

  “Please, don’t bother me, I’m busy—”

  “If anything happens to my children the curse will be on you. Do you hear? For the rest of your life you’ll be cursed.”

  Before he could answer, Chavala fell to the ground in a heap. It was a convincing act.

  He quickly picked her up in his arms and lay her down on a sack, then stood listening to her shallow breathing.

  Chavala counted slowly to thirty. Her eyes fluttered, and when she opened them tears started.

  The tears helped, as well as the feel of her in his arms when he’d picked her up. She was beautiful … a young widow … what did he have to lose if he gave her the flour? On the other hand, what did he have to gain?

  His thoughts were interrupted as Chavala said, barely above a whisper, “Please … help me up. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She stood feebly before him. “Thank you, now I must go to my children.”