Closing the Chapter of "Genesis"
From the beginning of 1945, there occurred a big change in my life. I was a regular member of the kibbutz and did a regular day's work. Finally, I was able to life a regular family life and spend time with Beba and my children. I worked usually in field crops or mispoh and after work, played with Dan and Yair. We would put them to sleep in the children's house. I liked the evenings in the kibbutz; the group singing and the circle dances until the sun came up.
This peaceful idyll did not last long. In the spring of 1945, with the end of the war, the Jewish Agency and the Chalutz Youth movements buckled down to the job of renewing their bond with the Diaspora, and this, even before sea travel to and from Eretz Yisrael was restored. The leadership of Netzach remembered that five years previously, I had taken part in a seminar for shlichim to English-speaking countries. They asked the kibbutz to release me, so that I could work as shaliach to Hechalutz and Habonim in England.
The request was brought up to the general assembly. I asked the kibbutz to turn the request down because, at that time, married men were sent on shlichut by themselves for one year, and only after that first year was the rest of the family sent to join him. I told the kibbutz that for years, I had been separated from my family, and only saw them on chofesh in Benyamina, and I wanted to live a normal life with my wife and children. Dan was now five years old and Yair, one year old, and just starting to know their father. The assembly heard what I had to say and then voted almost unanimously that I go. Considering the state of European Jewry after the war and the Holocaust, I could not have expected much else, and I think I was very sad, but not bitter.
Before the Jewish Agency was able to get a group of shlichim to Europe, I took part in two more seminars. The first was held at the Hebrew University on Mt. Scopus, and the level of the lectures and discussions was high. The meeting with tens of candidates for shlichut was also interesting and helpful. They were graduates (prior to the war) of the youth movements from many European countries. Following that there was another seminar run by the Histadrut, and this was held in Petach Tikvah. I happened to be placed in the same tent as Grisha Shenkman, from Kfar Giladi. In the course of the years, we worked together or crossed paths on a number of shlichuyot. I remained friends with Grisha until he passed away. I really admired Grisha; to me, he seemed a hero disguised as an ordinary individual. He was daring and inventive, and always found a way to get things done. While the seminar in Petach Tikvah was still in session, I also took private lessons in English in Tel Aviv. I had to refresh what I had learned in Afikim.
All these seminars restored my confidence in my ability to carry out the shlichut. That, together with all the experience I had had as a leader in the youth movement gave me the feeling that I was as prepared as one could be. My English was still not perfect, but I hoped it would improve with practice one I reached London.
Forward To The Unknown
Taking leave of my family was a pretty sad event, and for that reason, I do not have a clear memory of it. All those leaving on shlichut met in Tel Aviv, and a representative of the Jewish Agency gave us particulars of the complicated route we would take in order to get to Paris, and from there to each one's particular destination. The Jewish Agency managed to get tickets for us on the Gripsholm, a classy Swedish ship that the USA leased in order to return American nationals from the Middle East, who had been stranded there since before the war. We left Tel Aviv by train for Cairo, and from there to Alexandria. We boarded the ship there, and it was also supposed to pick up passengers in Athens, Naples and Marseille. From Marseille, we were to take a train to Paris.
I don't recall too much about Egypt; I think we hardly left the hotel. The trip on the Gripsholm I recall very well. It was a luxury liner; the cabins were comfortable; dining halls excellent, deck games, salons, etc. The passengers were far from first-class passengers, as most of them were refugees, and some middle-class travelers. Our group of kibbutznikim stuck out. The change from the kibbutz dining hall to the dining halls of these restaurants was enormous. The food was plentiful and delicious and a large number of waiters served us. Some brought the food, and others took the plates away, and special waiters poured the drinks. We kibbutznikim were so used to our ways, that we would stack our empty plates for the waiters to take. We did not get to know many of the passengers, but we did meet Mary Syrkin, a Jewish author from New York, and the daughter of that leader of Poalei Tzion, Nachman Syrkin. I mention this because when she heard that I was from Kfar Blum she grew quite excited. "How is Angie (Kolar) and Lami (Beitan)?" she asked. "I know them both from the Habonim movement," she continued,and asked that I tell her about Kfar Blum.
The passage to Athens, Naples and Marseille went smoothly. In Marseille, a shaliach of the Jewish Agency met us and put us on the night train for Paris. When we arrived at Paris, or group disbanded and I continued on to London.
I recall my arrival in London especially because of a humorous incident. I was met at Victoria Station by young fellows from Habonim. They called a cab and loaded my baggage. Then the driver turned and addressed something to me, but I couldn't understand one word of what he said. I thought he was speaking a foreign language or I had learnt the wrong language. The two fellows translated what he had said, and reassured me. "He spoke in Cockney dialect. You will catch on to that soon," they said.
These kids led me to a quiet street in Northwest London, to a three-storey house. They said that the house was close to an Underground station and not far from a main street where buses go by; and there are also stores in which to purchase whatever I need. I had a small room in an apartment occupied by the treasurer of the movement, Ina Kleinman, and an older couple also connected with Habonim who were soon to make aliya. I was glad to know that none of them could speak Hebrew. My teacher had told me to try to live only with those who speak English.
Landing in London
That is how I entered on this new phase of my life--shlichut in England. I was sad to be so far from my family and the kibbutz; I was worried about my limited knowledge of English, but I was full of curiosity and looked forward to the unknown. What awaited me in this huge city, in the Jewish community, in Habonim? Its members in my kibbutz only knew what there was from before the World War. It would be interesting to see the English in their own home, because in Israel, what we knew best was the not-so-likable English colonial bureaucrat, or colonial English policemen.
On the long trip to London, I tried to prepare myself for the challenges that awaited me. I would have to get to know Habonim and Hechalutz (Hechalutz encompassed all youth movements that sent pioneers to Israel). I would also have to become more familiar with the background, the Jewish community and its leaders. In a wider framework, I would have to see what the atmosphere of the country was like, one year after the end of the war, and how that affected Jewish youth.
The first morning, I traveled with Ina in the Underground to the Habonim offices. The offices were in a respectable quarter of London, not far from the well-known British Museum. On the other side of the street, were the offices of the Zionist Federation of Great Britain and of the Jewish Agency.
At the Habonim office, I met a bunch of young Habonim members, cheerful and lively. I warmed to them immediately. At the head of the bunch was Moggy Margolis, older than the others and soon to make aliya. He introduced them all to me. I asked a few questions. I did ask all those that could not speak Hebrew (most of them could), to speak English slowly and simply. I promised to improve my command of English as quickly as possible. In all, that first meeting went over very smoothly. I felt that we could have good rapport between us and I don't have to stand on the "pedistal" of a shaliach.
Moggy invited me to lunch and took me to a small restaurant in a quiet corner near the British Museum. This seemed to be rather typical of other restaurants in that quarter, but according to Moggy, it was a historic site. In this little restaurant, Karl Marx came to eat every day when he was writing "Das Kapital" in the library of the British Museum.
When I met Moggy, he did not have any definite position in the Habonim movement, but he had a part in everything that happened. He grew up in East London, a quarter whose inhabitants were mostly of the working class. This is where the first generation of Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe settled. Moggy was a member of Habonim from early youth; he grew up in the movement, where he was active and a leader; and while he was in agricultural training, helped broaden that base of the movement. Moggy represented Habonim in the Directorate of the Zionist Federation for many years.
During that first luncheon, Moggy told me about the movement, as he saw it, and what the situation was in England, Scotland and Wales. He told about the kibbutzim on hachshara in England since before the war, and what adjustments may have to be made regarding them. Moggy the East Londoner was not an intellectual, but he had wisdom, caught on quickly to a situation, and was realistic. He was very capable in making contact with people, whether it be members of the Habonim movement or the Zionist movement, or rich Jews of London society. They said that he was a good speaker. I saw him talking with Gestetner and with Ziv, and these men held Moggy in high esteem, and liked him. He helped me very much to get started in London until his aliya.
The leadership of Netzach chose three people to be shlichim in England: me and Balo (Gershon Amir, chaver Neot Mordechai) to work in the youth movement, and Shalom Barzilai to work with the kibbutzei hachshara. Balo had arrived in England about two months before me. He had gone first to Czechoslovakia to a youth convention, and from Prague came to London. Shalom arrived in London not long after I did.
When I arrived in London, Balo was not in town, and I met him about two weeks afterwards. We had first met at a camp of the movement in Czechoslovakia, before we made aliya. In Israel, we met on a number of occasions. He was a well-educated man and his special qualities were his well-mannered disposition and his honesty and straightforwardness. I was positive that we would be able to work well together. I met him in London at an apartment in Swiss Cottage that belonged to a friend of his. That evening, there were three young Israelis there, Uri Lubrani (the authority on Lebanon nowadays), Reuma (Ezer Weizman's wife) and Aviva, a member of Maagan Michael, I believe. The two girls were involved in some secret work for Israel, and I don't know what Lubrani did then.
Balo, who was in England before me, suggested how we divide the work between us. His base would be Manchester, and from there he would take care of North England (Manchester, Liverpool, Leeds, etc.); he would also take care of Glasgow and Edinburgh in Scotland. I would be in the national office of Habonim, and in the Hechalutz office with the shaliach of Hashomer Hatzair.
The first few months in London flew by very quickly. I tried my best to get to know the movement and my surroundings. I even made plans for the future. The Habonim movement in England impressed me as being strong and vital, and in some circles of English Jewry, was held in great respect. Some branches of the movement received financial support from the community in which it was active. I was told that during the war years, the movement had gained in strength, and a good number of immigrants/ refugees who were able to reach England, joined up. They, with their different cultural backgrounds, enriched the movement not only in number, but also in social and cultural content. When aliya carne from England after the war, we received a number of them in Kfar Blum. There was Martin Kleinman, may he rest in peace, and (lehavdil) Stefti, Gitah Benari, and Eric Feldshou, all of them from Germany or Austria.
with Shalom and Leah Barzilai and Ina and Martin Kleinman (1946)
I also visited the kibbutzei hachshara. As in the movement, the chaverim in the hachshara also made a good impression on me. During the war, England tried to increase its agricultural production. The farmers demanded more workers and the government constructed "barracks - buildings" to house them. The movement was able to get some of these for hachshara, and chaverim worked on the farms nearby as hired workers. Only one farm, the David Eder Farm, was independent. During this period of no aliya, the number of chavcrim on the hachsharot increased, but when I arrived on the scene, there already was a trickle of aliya, and the government-supported farm program was about to close. David Eder farm did not last much longer, either. We had to find alternative solutions for kibbutzei hachshara. I divided my time between the hachsharot and activity in the branches of the movement.
Meeting With Ben-Gurion
Everything was new to me and aroused my curiosity. There were many challenges; I felt more sure of myself, and I was interested in what I was doing. That sounds good, doesn't it? But I, like my fellow shlichim, felt a certain unease which rankled us. We were very worried by what was happening in Palestine.
Shortly after the end of the war, it became clear to the Yishuv in Palestine that the British Government was continuing its hostile policy as pronounced in the "White Paper" of 1939. The Sochnut Yehudit (Jewish Agency) and the Hagana decided on active opposition.
The "illegal aliya" (also known as Aliya Bet, both meaning secret aliya), played a major role in the struggle against the British policy. The Mosad LeAliya Bet (Institute for Illegal Aliya) and the Bricha Organization (a group of Jewish soldiers in, or recently dischaged from, the British Army) worked together to bring Jews to Palestine. The Bricha would organize the survivors of the Holocaust into groups, and bring them by devious ways to ports along the Mediterranean littoral; the Mosad would supply the ships and the men to get the refugees to Palestine. (This paragraph above is one of the most glorious chapters in Jewish history, and. not well-enough known to the general public. A.M.) The British decided to crush the opposition of the Yishuv with an iron fist. We saw this happening when we were still in Palestine; but here, on English soil and far from home, all this took on large and very threatening proportions. The idea of the tiny Jewish yishuv in Palestine doing battle with the British Empire (which was still an empire in those days), was frightening. Our feelings (of the shlichim) were obvious to others.
It so happened that Ben-Gurion was in London at that time. We asked to see him and he invited us for a discussion. I recall his words then, to this day. One of us told him how uneasy we were with the political situation, as it looked to us here in London. Ben-Gurion answered that he understood very well, because he, also, was very worried. He did not try to reassure us; on the contrary, he added a number of facts that we did not know. He emphasized that it would be foolish to minimize the hidden dangers. He summed it up this way, "Our chance lies in our being only one of Britain's problems of preserving her empire. For us, what happens in Eretz Yisrael is everything to us; for the British, it is just one problem among many. We have no choice, and under the present circumstances, that is a very important factor." If that is not an exact quote, it definitely was the jist of what he said. When we rehashed what Ben-Gurion had said amongst ourselves we agreed that maybe what he said was not new to us, but for some reason it did carry weight, and did have a reassuring effect.
In High Gear
I did not run into any special difficulties in my movement work. Once I got the hang of the style of the English movement, I decided to put more emphasis on scout activities, to get the kids out into nature and to improve the style of their summer camps. I thought that the summer camps played an important role in the life of the movement. They were an excellent opportunity to do vital educational work. Especially because I saw that the movement had achieved a good standard, it was important to add new elements. I did not have to convince the leaders of the movement. They were ready for any new idea or project. My English had by now improved a great deal, and I was able, together with Balo, to introduce more Israeli content in the seminars that we conducted.
I then had to start rebuilding kibbutzei hachshara and adjusting them to the situation in England after the war. For this, I needed funding. Moggy strongly suggested that I do not take my salary from the Zionist Federation, bccause that would limit and affect my standing adversely. I made a "deal" with the Sochnut, and received my salary from Jerusalem; but I did accept the responsibility of fundraising for the kibbutzei hachshara.
Before he made aliya, Moggy introduced me to Zigmund Gestetner and raised the problem of funds for the kibbutzei hachshara before him. Gestetner charmed me: he was a respected industrialist, not only in Jewish eyes. He was a proud Jew and Zionist, he was one of the few Jewish businessmen in England who wore their being Jewish as a badge of honor, and this served to gain him additional respect and influence. He caught onto things quickly, and suggested we form a small society of "friends of Hechalutz," who would donate money themselves and get others to donate also. Within a few weeks, he had completed the job, and gathered a group of friends and others in his home, and that is where the support group was formed. His agility forced us to act quickly also, and we had to find an alternative that would replace the existing David Eder farm. I tried to keep my visits to him in his impressive office as brief as possible, so not to bother him too much, although he told me to come any time I had a problem; and also told his secretary to be "lenient" with me.
Zigmund Gestetner was the son of a Hungarian immigrant who developed a factory that his father had built. He turned the factory for copying equipment into a world power in that field. He had an estate in South England where he spent weekends and holidays with his family. At one of the first meetings of the Friends of Hechalutz, he announced that he would give a house not far from his estate to a kibbutz hachshara. The name of this house was called "The Four Winds." He promised to find work for the chalutzim with the farmers in that area. So the Friends of Hechalutz started off well. His business affairs did not allow him much free time, so he found someone else to be chairman of the Society, but he continued to help financially. Within a year, we were able to find a nice farm in south England for a kibbutz hachshara.
The number of certificates that the Habonim received for aliya was very small. The number of chaverim waiting to make aliya grew all the time and it was urgent to see that some of them leave for Palestine soon or there would be a fall in morale. Balo and I agreed to turn to the Mosad for Aliya Bet to get some of our chaverim in England to Palestine. One of those who were active in the Mosad in Paris was Ehud Avriel, a member of Naot Mordechai, so Balo volunteered to contact him.
We knew that Balo was liable to fail in this task. The British had undercover agents and other means at their disposal, including the navy, to stymie all efforts of immigration; to attempt to do so from England itself was daring. Balo promised to be personally responsible, and to choose our candidates for immigration with care. We also added Avraham Vrotzlavsky, "Vrotz," to help Balo; he was older than most, born in Danzig, and a resourceful and trustworthy person. The head of the Mosad, Shaul Avigur, agreed to the plan, and Balo and Avraham got to work. The candidates were chosen carefully, and left the hachshara under all sorts of prefabricated excuses. They would then proceed to Paris as tourists, then to southern France, where they joined the maapilim (immigrants) in their camps, and boarded the underground Hagana ships for Palestine. I visited some of these camps and was pleased to see that many of our Habonim chaverim were helping the Hagana men in various jobs that had to be done in the camps.
Most of the English members of Kfar Blum who made aliya before the War of Independence, came to Israel via Aliya Bet. Almost all spent some time in the camps at Cyprus, where the British kept the "illegals" until the War of Independence. In Cyprus, they also made themselves useful to the Hagana in fulfilling various duties that had to be done.
I visited the kibbutzei hachshara fairly often. Each had a character of its own. David Eder was the oldest one, but the contact of the people there with the movement had weakened, and they were not so interested about what happened in the movement. Most of the chaverim there were from the East End of London, and they were a bit snobby in relation to the newer kibbutzei hachshara. Incidentally, the younger generation of the leaders came from these newer hachsharot. These younger leaders were a very united bunch and it was a pleasure to work with them.
Most of the active members of the movement were concentrated in London, and it was decided to set up a "Commune" of full-time moverment workers there. The initiative came from them and they decided to carry out their decision. Once they reached that decision, I said I also wanted to join. They rented a two-storey house with a basement and it also had a kitchen and large dining room. The house was in a modest section of the city and the rent was not too high. A housemother was brought from one of the kibbutzei hachshara.
Bet Habonim became a warm HOME for all of us. The atmosphere was nice. We could take in members of hachsharot when they came to the city, or older members who were traveling from one place to another through London. Israelis who were in London on some shlichut or other could stay over for a few days. They ate with us, or lectured to us, sang with us. No doubt, Bet Habonim had a positive effect on the whole movement. I felt very good there, and think it was good for my shlichut as well.
Once the summer camps started, I was active in the planning and visited camps in England and Scotland. One of my new projects was a wandering campsite. All the participants were divided into four groups. Each group was given a handwagon for kitchen and cooking utensils, a bicyle and food. We traveled by train to Wales, from there each group went on its own route for four days. On the fifth day they were to meet up and make one camp which would be the end of that trail.
I traveled with one of the groups. We walked from morning until noon. Each unit sent a "spy" out ahead on the bicycle, whose job it was to find a site to spend the evening and night. Usually that spot would be on some farmer's property for a small fee. The "spy" would purchase bread and milk and/or some other products for the evening meal. When the unit would reach that spot, pup tents would be erected and the kitchen set up. Dinner would be in a circle around the campfire. The evening would be spent in exchanging impressions of the day, but everyone went to sleep early, because the next day we would rise with the sun, and the kids were tired. Everyone reached the appointed meeting place tired, but in high spirits, and the joy of the meeting overcame the tiredness. The Welsh scenery was beautiful, the valley of the Wye terrific. I personally had a great time and felt years younger.
In December of 1946, the 22nd Zionist Congress was to take place in Basel. the first Congress after the Second World War and the Holocaust. These were the days of the struggle of the Yishuv for its future and the future of Zionism. The British rulers were determined to stamp out the organized opposition of the Yishuv, and arrested all its leaders. The British Government refused to accept the the suggestion of the Anglo-American committee, which was to allow the immigration of 100,000 Jews. The British suggested a conference of Jewish and Arab leaders. The 22nd Congress looked to be an important one.
The Sochnut gave me permission to attend the Congress, and I decided to take three movement members with me. I was able to take care of their travel expenses. We traveled via France and visited one of the maapilim camps.
The days of the Congress were an unforgettable experience for me and for my young friends. We sat for hours listening to the stormy debates. We heard the speeches of Chaim Weizman, David Ben-Gurion, Berl Katznelson, Yaakov Chazan, and the Americans, Rabbi Abba Hillel Silver and Emanuel Neuman. During a lull in the plenary meeting, Hartztfeld, as was his way, initiated the singing, and everyone joined in. The conclusion of the Congress was sad. By a large majority, it was decided not to participate in the meeting which the British had suggested and which Chaim Weizman supported. He resigned, and no one was chosen president in his place.
Beba and the Boys are Well Received
My first year was almost at an end, and I asked the Sochnut and the leadership of Netzach to speed up the coming of Beba and the boys. I also wrote to Abe Herman and he did his bit for me. I was finally informed exactly when Beba, Dan and Yair would arrive at Dover, on the English side of the Channel. I traveled by train to Dover to meet my dear ones. So happy that I cried, I kissed Beba, and the boys, who had grown and changed during that past year.
On the way to London, Beba told me of their long voyage to Marseille, and from there to Paris by train, and on to Calais. Beba had her hands full with the baggage and with keeping tabs on the two boys, who had to be watched every minute. She found herself in a country whose language was totally foreign to her, and all about her were those who only spoke French. They a hard night on a train that was very crowded, and in Paris, in the noisy train station, Beba almost lost the children. She put them in a carriage and went to get the baggage. Suddenly the train moved and took off. At wits' end and not knowing what to do, she stood there and saw that the train was coming back. It had only gone to hitch on more carriages. By the time we arrived in London, the troubles of the trip were over, and we entered the Bet Habonim in a good frame of mind. We were received with joy and warmth, and I think that from the first moment Beba and the boys captured the hearts of everyone in the house.
Beba and the children were absorbed into the framework of our life quickly and easily. She felt at ease in the Bet Habonim. She spent her free time learning English in a course for foreigners run by the city. The children were "adopted" by the chaverim in thc Bayit, especially the girls. If any of them could say something in Hebrew that the boys understood, they were happy.
But we had to find a kindergarten for Yair and a school for Dan. Not too far from the Bayit, the chaverim found a Gan Yeladim (pre-kindergarten) for Yair, which was religious, but not too fanatic, and Yair went willingly. The religious element in London was not too strong, and the atmosphere in the Gan was okay. When he came home the first Friday from the Gan, chaverim asked him what he had already learned in English, and he answered, "They taught me to say, GUT SHABES."
The process was more complicated with Dan; maybe that was our fault. We heard that a "modern" school was opened in the neighborhood by a Jewish couple. They taught in English, but the teachers knew Hebrew. The class was in a large room, and when we came in, all the children were busy with something. Dan did not want to be left by himself, so he returned home with me. The next day we went to the school, and as we approached, Dan burst into tears, and refused to enter. "Not today, just not today," he pleaded. I didn't have the heart to force him. We tried another tactic, and with the teachers' approval, Beba remained in the class with Dan. When a week had gone by and Dan still refused to stay without Beba in class, we gave up. Shortly afterwards we received a letter from the inspector for child education in which we were asked to inform them to which school we had registered our son. Bobby Buchler, the secretary of Habonim, suggested I go speak to the inspector, because failing to register a child for school was an offence. I met the inspector, who was a nice person and not so young. He listened to me patiently, and suggested that I take Dan to a big, regular school, which was a good one and not far away. And the headmaster was Jewish. The inspector was quite positive that Dan would find his place there. The headmaster took Dan when I came and put him in the classroom with a whole bunch of children. I told the teacher I would wait a while to see what happens. To my surprise, Dan stayed. When I came to take him home, he was happy and dirty, with a small cut on his knee. "We played soccer during the break and I was goalie," he reported. I asked him if he ate the sandwiches that Beba had prepared for him, and he said that he ate one and traded the other for another boy's sandwich. We were both happy, and I thought it worthwhile to send flowers to the headmaster.
Nechemia, Dan, Yair and Beba Levitan (London, 1947)
The summer months kept me busy witb the summer camps, hikes and seminars. I visited the kibbutzei hachshara frequently and also visited the machanot maapilim in southern France. During summer vacation, Beba took the boys to kibbutzei hachshara, where she also taught the girls who worked in the kitchen and other workstations. I remember an "incident" that happened when I visited Beba at a new kibbutz hachshara once. While riding on a wagon loaded with hay, the wagon overturned. I managed to hold on to the boys, and they were okay, but I fell and landed on my head. My wound wasn't so bad, so all in all everything came out okay.
That summer there were some less pleasant incidents, but I can console myself with the thought that I was able to get to know the English from real contact, and not only hearsay. During our first few weeks in London, before Dan could speak any English, he took sick and was taken to one of the big hospitals in London. We had to leave him in an adult ward. We taught him a few words, so that he could ask for a potty if he needed one, and returned home feeling very low. The next day we were very pleasantly surprised; we found Dan surrounded by adult patients, all of whom were trying to make him laugh, and amusing him with toys. Dan looked calm and even smiled... "What a nice kid," the patients remarked; "we wanted to help him a bit."
Nechemia, Dan, Beba and Yair in Kibbutz Hachshara in England
That summer, when Beba and the kids went to kibbutz hachshara and I remained in London, I came home one evening with bad pains in my stomach. I tried to ease the pain with a hot water bottle. But my temperature rose. A doctor was called and he diagnosed complications from an inflamed appendix. I was sent to hospital and there they operated almost immediately on arrival.
After the operation, I lay for two weeks in the hospital, which had existed for 800 years, but is located in a new, beautiful building. I was in a room with 10 other patients and felt there like "one of the gang." I told my neighbors that my home was a little village in the Upper Galilee of Palestine. Every day after the newspapers arrived, they would talk about horses, soccer and the price of cigarettes. One day, after the newspapers arrived there was a complete silence. I soon understood why; there on the front page was the photo of two sergeants, hanged in a woods near Natanya. "I'm tired, I think I'll have a nap," I said, and slid deep down under the covers. "He's asleep," my neighbor said, and then they talked among themselves; some of the things they said were not too pleasing. The one in the room who was most seriously injured, spoke up: "This sounds phony to me; I grew up in Stepney Green and knew many Jews; some of thcm were bastards, but I never heard of one that was a murderer."
One day we were in Hyde Park with Vrotz, where many people get up and make speeches, each one choosing his own topic. We listened to a speaker who spoke about the Anglo-Jewish problem in Palestine. When the speaker said he can't understand why the Jews insist on building a state ONLY in Palestine, Vrotz couldn't contain himself and called out, "What do you suggest?" "Choose anywhere in Africa," was his reply. "Who are you to suggest a place that that doesn't belong to you?" answered Vrotz. "And what if we choose Yorkshire?" The speaker kept his cool, "If you want Yorkshire, you can have it!" was his reply. Everyone had a good laugh.
We turned to leave when Vrotz saw that our bus was approaching. We ran to the bus stop but by the time we got there, the bus had already pulled out. We ran and were barely able to catch it and mount it on the run. In doing so we almost bumped into the conductor. I waited for his reaction, in the style of an Israeli ticket vendor: "Are you guys crazy, did you fall on your heads?" But this middle-aged Englishman asked coolly, "Where to, lads, the hospital or the cemetery?" My impression of the "ordinary" Englishman was a definitely positive one.
Life is not all roses, and I met other kinds of Englishmen also. After I recovered from the operation, they sent me to a nice little rest home in the midst of a pine forest in Surrey. I could barely manage to stay for a week. There was a peculiar atmosphere there and the boredom was oppressive. Every morning a woman would awaken me and bring a glass of tea to my bed. "Cup a'tea," she would declaim in a raucous voice as she entered the room. All the meals were served on a round table, with 6-8 guests sitting round. I did not know anyone who sat at my table, and not one of them introduced his or her self. Conversation was very limited and stuck to the weather mostly: "Nice day today," or "slightly cool," "I do hope the rain will stop," and that went on for four meals every day. On the last day, after I had already announced that I was leaving, an Australian couple joined our table. They spoke in a loud voice, they introduced themselves and tried to make conversation, but to no avail. I missed my neighbors in the hospital.
In 1947 the situtuation in Israel deteriorated, and British mandatory rule was shaky. The Yishuv declared its defiance of the policy of the British. The Hagana took up arms, and there was a measure of collaboration between the Hagana, the "Etzel" and the "'Lechi"(The Hagana was the official organ of resistance of the Zionist Organization. the Etzel was the organ of the Revisionist (Jabotinsky) Organization and the Lechi was an extreme right terrorist organization that broke off from the Etzel. The Hagana comprised the largest majority of these resistance groups, and was in essence the forerunner of TSAHAL, the Israeli Defense Forces. A.M) The British Navy attacked the ships of the Maapilim on the high seas and along the coastal waters. On the other hand, the USA and European countries looked for a way to find a solution that would ensure a home for the Jewish refugees, the survivors of the Holocaust. We, far from home, tensely followed all the developments.
When the British Government turned to the United Nations to discuss the future of Palestine, a committee was chosen with members from eleven countries. This committee suggested unanimously to abrogate the mandate of the British in Eretz Yisrael. By a majority of 7 - 4, the committee suggested dividing Palestine into two countries, Jewish and Arab, with a special international status for Jerusalem. The minority of the committee suggested a bi-national state. The general session of the UN was to decide on these issues.
While "in suspense," I visited some branches of the movement in south England. In the second half of November, I led a seminar of leaders in Liverpool. On the 29th of November, we were all sitting around the radio, listening to the voting. Tensely, we counted the ayes and nays, as they were announced. When they gave the final count: 33 for partition, 13 against, and 10 abstaining, we burst out in song and went out to the garden. Soon there was a fire going, and round it a lively hora (circle dance). A loud voice interupted us, "What's going on over there?" It was a tall policeman who peered over the fence. Everyone was silent until one of the young boys said, "Two thousand years we have not had our own state and today the UN has decided that a Jewish State shall arise in Palestine!" The policeman thought that over a moment and then declared, "So far as I'm concerned, that is alright with me, so long as you don't burn down Liverpool!" When I returned to London, Beba told me how the crowds of Jews celebrated the news there.
The euphoria of the 29th of November did not last long. We had many days of uncertainty and fear for our people. Immediately after the vote in the UN, the Palestinian Arab forces attacked many Jewish settlements all over the country, and attacked the roads, in order to disrupt communication and transport, and to isolate settlements. We received news from the Sochnut in London. The British papers published versions of the action that were very depressing. One would get the impression that the Arabs attacked and the Jews were hard-pressed to defend themselves. It took some time for us to hear that the forces of the Yishuv had mobilized and were carrying the fight to the enemy. What had started out in Israel as bloody rioting, turned quickly into a full-scale war.
I don't recall very much of the movement work that winter, but I recall vividly our feeling of depression over the situation in Israel. Our house is going up in flames and we are in a foreign land far away.
We decided that we had to return home, and I sent letters that our replacement be sent quickly. Some time went by until I was informed that Shaul Peer would replace me. There was, however, some difficulty in getting a visa for him and I was urged to "hold the fort" until he arrived. Then they agreed that I return on the condition that I, personally, deal with the problem of getting Shaul a visa.
On the 15th of May, Ben-Gurion declared the State of Israel, and the following day the Arab states invaded Israel on all fronts. The exitement and exhaltation turned to trepidation. We had come to a decisive point in the fight for independence (a war of survival from our point of view). In a matter of days we learned there were no more flights from London to Israel. I went to the Sochnut to find out how I could get back to Israel. There was a Czech airline that flew to Israel and I would first have to ascertain that I had that leg of the flight confirmed. All this was quite complicated and took time, and only by the first lull in the fighting (June 11th) I received confirmation of a flight on the 22nd of June, from Prague.
On the 18th of the month, we flew to Prague, and four days later we were on a plane to Israel. This was a two-engined Dakota, an American workhorse from the second world war. The plane was loaded and we made several stops en route. The last stop before Israel was Athens, where we were to stay the night. Those with legitimate visas landed and were taken to a hotel for the night. We had only temporary "laissez-passe" and were not allowed to get off the plane. We spent a very uncomfortable night inside.
On the 23rd of June we landed on a small airstrip near Haifa. When the plane came to a halt and the door opened, in walked a hostess, not in uniform, and with a tray of cups of wine on her arm, announced, "Welcome to the State of Israel." She walked along the aisles and handed out the wine. When each one had a cup, there was a loud "Lechaim." We all sat for a moment longer, to grasp the full meaning of the occasion, and then gathered our baggage and descended the steps from the plane.
The Kibbutz is Coming of Age
Although there was no fighting at that time, the city of Haifa was in a frenzy of activity. The Yishuv utilized the break in the fighting to reorganize. The defense forces were preparing for all eventualities. There was a serious lack of food and other essentials in many settlements. This was the situation when we arrived in Haifa, and it took some time to arrange our travel to Kfar Blum.
In the kibbutz we had a very unpleasant surprise. Even before the fighting broke out, there were several bitter battles in the Galil. During the lull in fighting it was decided to move the children to safer places. So as soon as we arrived in Kfar Blum, Beba and Dan and Yair got back onto the bus with the other women and children and were taken to Benyamina. The moshava had volunteered to take the children of the Anglo-Baltim, as they still called us. They gave the use of their school house to our children. Later, we heard how warmly they had been received by the moshavaniks.
I remained in Kfar Blum, and from the very first day I felt that it was a different kibbutz than the one I had known before leaving for England. In London we had already heard of the fighting that had gone on in the Galil and that there had been casualties. We knew that many of the chaverim were mobilized in the newly formed army. We heard that Ari Lashner, who had come with the chaverim we received from the USA had been shot and killed by Arab snipers of the village of Salhieh. Although I knew a lot, I urged the chaverim to tell me more. I heard from Efraim Livneh, who had been commander of a battalion, what had gone on in the fighting in our region. He described how, one night, all the Arab villages emptied of their inhabitants, who fled to Syria. He described the fighting in which our chaverim had taken part. He also described how the Syrians captured Mishmar Hayarden. Yosef Koren and Beka Spungin had taken part in its defense. Yosef came out unscathed, but Beka was taken prisoner by the Syrians. Our chaverim also took part in the defense of Ayelet Hashachar, which the Syrians tried to capture, but failed. I spoke with those active in kibbutz affairs, and I spoke with "stam" chaverim.
During the two years that I had been gone, the social composition of the kibbutz had changed a great deal. I found a number of chaverim I had known in London: Moggy and Sonia, Martin Kleinman, Menashe and Gita Benari.
Sara Biali, whom I did not know in England, arrived in Kfar Blum alone. Her husband, Moshe, was mobilized and sent, together with a group of immigrants, to Kibbutz Naan. In Naan they received a bit of training and were sent directly to the front at Latrun, where the Arab Legion (Jordan) blocked the road to Jerusalem. Our forces on that front suffered heavy losses. Moshe came out alive and visited Kfar Blum as soon as he got leave. He was then received as a candidate for membership in the kibbutz.
I had met Moshe in London when he came down from Leeds, where he lived. In Leeds he worked at his profession, was a leader in Habonim and taught Hebrew. He was born in a town near Bialystok, Poland, and had completed his studies in the Hebrew Gymnasium. His fairly well-to-do family sent him to England just before the outbreak of the war to study electrical engineering. During the war, he joined Habonim and became a leader. I had heard a lot of good things about him, and when I met him, I was not disappointed. The fellow was big and stocky, intelligent, and full of energy and optimism. He was the same as a member of Kfar Blum. I saw him as a link or bridge between the Baltic contingent and the English one. His command of Hebrew made his adjustment to the country and to the Kibbutz that much easier. He was soon appointed to important positions in the kibbutz and was at one time the secretary of the kibbutz, and later the treasurer.
In 1954, in Moscow, we were in shock when we received a telegram with the awful news that Moshe Biali and Moshe Niv had been killed in a car accident while on a business trip to Tel Aviv.
I also found Rita Naveh in Kfar Blum. She had made aliya before I arrived in London. I had once met Rita at a camp of Netzach and Habonim in Czechoslovakia. During the Second World War, Rita worked as secretary of Habonim in London. My impression was that the new Englishmen had adjusted quickly to the kibbutz. There were two other groups of olim that came to Kfar Blum These were Americans who came singly or in couples, and Baltics.
The American group consisted of old-timers of the Habonim movement, who had been in hachshara during the war, because of which they could not make aliya earlier. They started to arrive from 1946. Few came with certificates, many came by way of Aliya Bet, or as students. Charlie Zevi was one of the first. David Fendel came as a sailor on a Hagana ship. The families of Sasson, Halpern, Skiddell and Lashner brought the first children with them, and the Gelb family came in 1948 with three children. When I returned, I found that Akiva Skidell was mobilized as the Director of Machal (volunteers from the Diaspora).
The Remez family also belonged to that group. Aharon, Judy and their son Gideon. Aharon (son of David Remez, a leader of the workers party in Israel), was a pilot during the Second World War. While he was a shaliach of Habonim he married Judy, a member Habonim. When they arrived in Israel with their son, they joined the other Americans in. Kfar Blum. Aharon worked as a plumber until he was mobilized. When I came back from shlichut, Aharon was the Commander of the Air Force of Israel.
The new Baltic contingent was also from Netzach and other individuals joined them while they were on their long road to Israel. They had lived all through the war as refugees behind the Urals, after they had fled eastward, before the Nazi armies. Their life had been very difficult and each had a remarkable story to tell. After the war, they managed to get to Poland. From Poland they made their way to Germany and Austria, where shlichim from Israel took care of their aliya.
We also found Bella Abir and Lea Melnick on our return to Kfar Blum. Their husbands, Meir and Yoske, came separately from their wives on the legendary "Exodus." We found Sima Blaushild (Gamli was still stuck in Cyprus), and Musia and Pesach Kessel, with their baby, Shlomo. Chanan Shadmi's brothers came via a difficult route. Menashe, the youngest brother, was freed from Bergen Belsen concentration camp and made aliya from Germany, then took part in the War of Independence. Mordechai arrived in Kfar Blum a month after his brother. Chanan "discovered" them in Germany and then helped them get to Israel.
These groups arrived at a very difficult time for Israel and for the kibbutz. The Yishuv in Israel was fighting for its life on all fronts, South, East and North. Our kibbutz was just getting organized, with many of its members mobilized. The economic situation was unstable. We had to invest in building and we had to develop agricultural and other branches of the economy, and all this while the existing branches were still not able to make enough profit for expansion. We lacked housing for the growing population, and for the children. The houses we had built were barely enough for the veterans of the kibbutz. Bachelors and newer immigrants were housed in temporary shelters, and even in tents. In the summer it was very hot, and in the winter cold. As we had no cement paths, after a rain, one had to go about in rubber boots. These had to be well cared for; we received one pair of boots for the whole year!
It was under these conditions that we absorbed new immigrants. From those who already lived here there were no complaints. They had been toughened by the long and difficult road to Kfar Blum, via Benyamina, Metula and Givat Naame. The English adjusted not badly, the Baltics had lived as refugees in much worse conditions, so it was probably most difficult for the Americans. They had come from the comfortable conditions of the ordinary American to the harsh reality of Kfar Blum at that particular time.
The period of the lull in fighting we tried to utilize in getting Shaul off to shlichut in England. We had promised to do so, and Shaul was ready to go, but the transportation facilities were non-existent during the war, and it was well nigh impossible to get a visa to England. There were almost no flights of any kind from Israel. The solution came from an unexpected quarter. Aharon Remez heard of the problem and volunteered that Shaul and I travel to Prague on one of the Israel air force planes that make the trip from Israel to Prague empty and bring airplanes and weapons from Czechia to Israel. Perhaps the papers for Shaul could be arranged by the representatives of Israel in Prague.
Time flew, fighting resumed until the second truce twenty days later. The situation in the north had eased. The forces of Kaukagi had retreated from large areas and we had blocked the Syrian army. I figured that I would help Shaul get started in England and then I would return home.
I left first and several days later Shaul came. My flight was unusual. I came to Tel Aviv and was given an address on Pinsker Street. I found the plane crew there. The following day we left and headed south and came to some airstrip. The crew and I were led to a dark shack with windows shut and waited for some time. There was no conversation amongst the crew, and I hardly received a glance from them, it seems they were used to having unknown, mysterious passengers with them.
Suddenly there was the noise of motors, we looked out and saw two long rows of light flare up. A moment later a plane landed and the lights went out. All went black for a moment, and then there was the bustle and noise of trucks that came to the plane, were loaded and left. A short time later, the car that brought us from Tel Aviv took us to the plane and we entered. The plane was empty and there were no seats. Behind the pilot's cabin was a bench along each side of the fuselage, which was the obvious place for me to sit. I was urged to try to sleep a bit, but I don't think I slept much. When I did wake up, one of the crew came and sat opposite me. He told me something about the crew. The pilot was a Jew from St. Louis, USA, an experienced man who worked for TWA. He took a vacation from his regular job and volunteered to work for the new Israeli Air Force. The second pilot was a young Israeli, still in training, while the navigator was a hired blond Swede.
I landed in Czechia at a small airport, a young Israeli took my passport and said he would fix it and get the proper okay for the trip to London. He took care of everything and in the evening I was on a plane to London. Shaul had landed in Paris and it took two months before he was able to get to England. I think I spent about a month breaking him in and showing him his duties in London, but Shaul says it was only a couple of days. I am not sure, maybe my patience just ran out. By the time I returned to Israel things had cooled down. Israel, to the surprise of the world (and perhaps some of our own people), had held up to the Arab invasion, and was now a small and troubled independent state. Negotiations were about to begin between Israel and its neighbors.
Beba and the boys were now back in Kfar Blum, and what a pleasure that was for me. I worked on a tractor and marveled at the expanse of our fields. I spent all the time I could after work with Dan and Yair, and Saturdays and holidays. For me personally, that was a wonderful time, despite the fact that within the kibbutz, there were mixed feelings on several issues. In the months prior to my return, more new olim had come to the kibbutz, from the Baltic, and some Americans also. The number of children increased greatly. Some of the veterans complained to me, "The kibbutz isn't a kibbutz anymore, the value of equality is not preserved, and the value of physical labor is no longer a value," etc. I also heard criticism on the quality of the new olim, who were being absorbed with difficulty. I was the optimist among the veterans. Shortly before I started this book, Angie gave me something that she had found in the archives. These were some rhymes I had made up and read at one of the parties we had upon my return from England. In them I made fun of the doubters and critics. Of course, I added, criticism isn't a bad thing; exaggeration is.
I noticed how difficult it was for the newcomers to adjust. They were just getting used to our "strict regime." They had to adjust to the climate, to the food and to the hard work. It wasn't simple either for families with children to adjust to our system of child education with the children in the children's houses at night. To us veterans of Benyamina, where we all slept in tents, that seemed the best way, and the most natural.
To sum up, I was not infected by the disappointment and doubts that I heard here and there. I believed we would build a good kibbutz, that we would develop good branches of work, and that we would educate our children in the best way possible. With all that, it was obvious that the period of "Genesis," the "Beginning" had come to an end. The romantic and naive days of our youth were over--the days of Benyamina, Metula, Givat Naame and the beginning of our permanent settlement on the banks of the Jordan.