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Golda's Stories of the Holocaust Part III - Elevation Section 3 – Israel Chapter A – The village Kfar-Yeheskel My crate saves the
village from an Arabs' attack I sailed to Israel on the ship
"Kedma". The officials form the Jewish Agency
in the ship asked me if I have relatives there. I answered: "I have a remote uncle
in the village Kfar-Yeheskel. They convinced me to go to him. They planned for me a temporary
arrangement. I didn't have to, but they suggested:
"You have an uncle in Kfar-Yeheskel, so go to your uncle" I did not object. I arrived from the ship to
Kiryat-Shmuel near Haifa, to a new immigrants' lodge. I lodged there two nights. In the morning of the third day
arrived an ironclad bus. The bus traveled until Beit-Sha'an. Some people went
up. My luggage's crate was loaded on it. In Cyprus we received from a Jewish philanthropic
organization few clothes, and I collected all sorts of clothes. I had also
several other vital things that I collected, since I was left without anything.
I made for the things a big crate in
the length of about one meter, from lumber which I found. I was told that in
Israel there is a shortage of wood. Therefore I thought that I will prepare a table
or a closet from the crate. The driver dropped the crate by the roadside,
in the station of Kfar-Yeheskel, and said ridiculously: "Go down here. You
see, here, on the hill, is Kfar-Yeheskel". I went down alone from the bus, with
a huge crate, and did not know what to do. He said "On the hill", and
I did not know if to go the long distance. I stood in the desolated junction,
waiting for as ten minutes, thinking what to do, how to leave the crate and go. I stood and contemplated, and
suddenly I saw on the main road a big truck approaching from a distance. There were soldiers on it. They wore
red cylindrical hats. I knew that these are Arab soldiers'
uniforms. I was afraid and I hid myself by
lying in the field by the roadside. From my hiding place, I saw on the
truck about twenty soldiers. They sat with their rifles aiming at the roadsides. The truck slowed down in the
junction, and began to make turns back and forth near the crate, as if its
commander hesitates if to stop and examine it. I wanted to be away from the
soldiers and started to crawl on my belly toward the hill. I arrived exhausted to the first
house of the village. The owner, Mr. Katz, became later my friend. I knocked on the door and he opened.
Without any introduction, I told him
straight: "Hear me sir. I am from the Jewish Agency. I came here by bus, because
I said that I have an uncle here. But my crate is still on the roadside. I
crawled to here because I saw Arabs. I don't feel good. You see, I am dirty,
and my clothes are torn. I am afraid and hardly alive". He understood the severity of the
situation. He harnessed a horse to a wagon, and we both hurried to my uncle Tzvi
Berman, who arrived to Israel together with Ben-Gurion. Immediately I told my uncle that
there are on the road Arabs soldiers on a truck. The uncle informed a neighbor about
it. They were sure that this is a
dangerous situation and rang the village's bell. The entire village gathered in the
square alongside the community center and was updated. An alert was announced. Some courageous guys who defended
the village were quickly organized, and drove with their rifles to see what happens.
The Arab soldiers saw them and fled.
One of the guys returned after a short
while with the crate. Afterward the whole
affair was examined, and the question why the truck went back and forth near
the crate was solved. My crate saved us,
me and the entire village. The Arab soldiers
planned to attack the village. They saw the crate on the roadside, suspected that
this is a bomb and feared to approach it. This was the only
reason they did not attack. Miraculously everything ended at peace. |