Leon Uris (28 page)

‘Now then,’ Abdul Kadar said, ‘the first moneys due us.’

‘It has been held up by some minor bureaucrats. Do not give it a second thought. I will take care of everything.’

‘T
HERE WILL BE NO
negotiations, no settlement, no recognition, no peace with the Jews. All solutions that do not give us Palestine in its entirety are rejected. Our policy issues will be settled at the point of a gun.’
Thus spoke the entire Arab world, which generally ended each new statement with a battle cry of the ancient Romans:
‘Perish Judaea!’

Arab Palestine mobbed and struck. In cities with mixed populations, accordions of barbed wire set up demarcations of communities. The British, neutral in theory but pointedly pro-Arab in reality and action, continued to blockade the Palestine coast. The country’s only large airport at Lydda was due to go into the Jewish state, but the British permitted a large buildup of Arab irregulars to control it, within range of their guns.

As in the past, it was the hit-and-run raid and ambush on the highways where the Arabs would have their best results. It began with the ambush of a Jewish bus near Lydda and the massacre of the passengers.

A sudden chilling, rapid, and unforeseen panic swept the Arab community. As they observed the Heusseinis and Kaukji preparing for war, a flash flood of fear raced through them. The wealthy and influential Arab families, the leaders of the community, recalled the days of the Mufti’s revolt. The militias had been the same two forces who had all but destroyed their brother Arabs a decade earlier. The Palestinian Arabs knew they were in for blackmail, extortion, and murder from Abdul Kadar and Kaukji.

By the dozens, hundreds, and thousands, the crème de la crème of Arab Palestine liquidated their holdings, withdrew their savings, and fled the country. The Arab community was suddenly stripped of its doctors, lawyers, landowners, social leaders, politicians, professors, principal merchants, bankers, manufacturers, intellectuals, and writers. Within weeks of the partition plan, some thirty thousand families, representing over a hundred thousand people, simply quit Palestine, opting to sit out the coming war in the more comfortable surroundings of Beirut, Cairo, or the European continent.

No warnings had been issued and no shots had been fired at them by the Jews, but they showed neither the desire nor the courage to enter the struggle to liberate Arab Palestine. They had no feeling whatsoever for a Palestinian nation, for there had never been one. They knew that an Arab victory would mean a state of chaos in which they would be victims rather than victors. This Palestinian Arab leadership simply abandoned its country in a self-serving manner, uncaring for the balance of the population.

Commerce, education, social and medical services, agricultural marketing, banking and communications halted, building stopped and factories suddenly closed, and ideology within the Arab community collapsed. This self-imposed exile of the rich and the important stripped those who remained of any kind of responsible leadership. Small wonder that the ordinary fellah and the little merchant were utterly devastated by their departure. Witnessing the desertion of almost every prominent and respected person in the community, other families began to simply drift out of the country. This was the opening chapter of a ripple effect that exploded into universal flight, a flight that resulted in a refugee problem that was to consume the Palestinian Arab.

A British patrol entered Tabah on a routine search. The lieutenant in command went into the café and ordered Farouk outside, beyond earshot of the others.

‘Fawzi Kabir is in Jaffa in his villa,’ the officer said. ‘He wants to see you as quickly as possible. When shall I say you will be there?’

‘I can come the day after the Sabbath.’

‘No one is to know, particularly your brother,’ the lieutenant said.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Will there be any suspicion?’

‘No no. I will simply tell Ibrahim that with the shortages building up I want to get to Jaffa for supplies.’

‘No one—repeat, no one—is to know who sent for you.’

‘I understand. But what does the Effendi want of me?’

The officer shrugged. ‘I only carry the message,’ he said.

Kabir’s people had been on the lookout for Farouk and spotted him the instant he debarked from a bus at the Clock Tower in the center of Jaffa. He was whisked off in a car with its curtains drawn.

Kabir’s villa was across from the Scotch House Hotel above the port. Farouk had been there on many occasions to pay the annual rents of Tabah, but never surreptitiously. Every time he was to see the Effendi, his nerves betrayed him. This secret summons had him in a hand-sweating, stomach-growling tizzy.

Farouk was welcomed with uncustomary warmth. This increased his suspicions.

‘How does it go in Tabah, brother?’ Kabir asked.

‘It is very tense.’

‘What is the general attitude of the men?’

‘We are coming under a great deal of pressure from Abdul Kadar to join his militia.’

‘Have any joined?’

‘Some have secretly pledged. They must wait until Haj Ibrahim gives them the blessing.’

‘And your brother. What does he have to say about this?’

‘Since he has returned from Damascus, he says very little. Of course he is enraged about all the wealthy families who have abandoned us.’

‘Yes, their flight has raised havoc with commerce. I will have a terrible problem getting my orange crop shipped out this year. We shall not forget the cowardly behavior of those who fled. When the war is over, there will be many new leaders in Palestine.’

Farouk bowed his head twice in agreement.

‘I understand there has been talk of evacuation among all the Arab villages of Ayalon,’ Kabir said.

‘Oh no, Effendi! We are prepared to fight to the last drop of blood.’

‘Tabah?’

‘Tabah will lead the fight.’

‘Suppose there are circumstances beyond your control that may force you to leave Tabah for a short time. Has Haj Ibrahim mentioned anything about that?’

‘No. As I said, he speaks very little but he ponders.’

‘What of the others in Tabah? The sheiks?’

‘We will fight to the end.’

Fawzi Effendi Kabir reached out and took Farouk’s hands in his and looked him directly in the eyes. Farouk was terribly uncomfortable, fearful.

‘As brave as your people are, I want you to tell me the real talk among them. Let me assure you that the truth is extremely important. It could mean a great deal to you.’ Farouk whined out a nervous sigh. The Effendi continued to grasp his hands. ‘The truth,’ Kabir repeated. ‘Try.’

‘Most of the talk is of evacuation. Everyone is frightened. The truth is that we are only waiting for word from Haj Ibrahim.’

‘Uh-huh. So what I tell you must be strictly between you and me. It is very secret information. Do you understand me, Farouk?’

‘Yes. Yes, indeed,’ he answered.

Kabir lowered his voice to his most confidential tone, a shade above a whisper. ‘Kaukji will cross the border soon with twenty to thirty thousand men. They will be led by regular officers of the Syrian and Egyptian armies. He will have airplanes.’

‘Airplanes? But who will fly them?’

‘Moslem pilots from India. He will have tanks, artillery, heavy machine guns, flamethrowers. The Arab Army of Liberation is loaded to here,’ he said, withdrawing his hands and pointing to his teeth. ‘Kaukji wants Tabah badly. You know why.’

‘But ... but ... but I had nothing to do with the burning of the fields. I am only the poor brother.’

‘For certain you are innocent and Field Marshal Kaukji owes me many favors. He will go as hard or as softly as I tell him.’

‘I was against the burning of the fields. It was a tactic of horror—brutal, inhumane. But you must remember, I only keep the village store.’

‘The generalissimo is aware of that. I have told him so.’

‘Thank you, Effendi. Thank you. May Allah insure your every step. May you live a thousand lifetimes in paradise.’

‘Farouk, my brother. I must tell you something else of a very confidential nature. I asked your brother to come to Damascus to coordinate a plan of action with Abdul Kadar and General Kaukji. Haj Ibrahim told us that there was no way Tabah could defend itself. He demanded the right to evacuate Tabah and all the other villages around.’

‘You are destroying me with pain,’ Farouk moaned.

‘No no, my brother. Listen. I do not wish to see Tabah fall, Allah forbid, to the Jews. As I said, Kaukji will do my bidding. I have a plan in mind.’

‘Yes?’

‘I have told you I have spoken to Kaukji about you. He assures me that you will be spared. You will be given advance warning if he is to attack.’

‘But if Tabah is evacuated?’

‘That is the point I am coming to. You will remain in Tabah when the others evacuate.’

‘Me? Remain? But how can I do that? Haj Ibrahim will be very suspicious.’

‘You will convince your brother that someone must remain in Tabah in order to establish future claims to the land. When he leaves, you and ten or twenty families must stay behind.’

‘But Haj Ibrahim is the muktar. He is the leader. If anyone is to remain in Tabah, he will be the one to take that responsibility.’

‘No. He must lead the flock. You know that he will not entrust anyone else to take the people to Gaza or Syria or wherever they will go. You will volunteer to remain.’

‘All right,’ Farouk said, ‘I would be safe from Kaukji, but what, Allah help us, if the Jews capture Tabah?’

‘So the Jews enter Tabah. Put up white flags and do not fight. If someone remains in the village, the Jews will not force you out. That is their weakness. Even if the Jews, Allah forbid, do capture Tabah, they will respect your presence. But let us look beyond. The Jews have taken Tabah. Not a great tragedy because in May of next year the regular Arab armies will liberate it. And when they do....’ Kabir handed a bank deposit book to Farouk. ‘Barclay’s Bank. Barclay’s will be in Palestine, no matter who is in Tabah. I have deposited four hundred pounds in your name.’

‘Four hundred pounds! But when the Arab armies liberate Tabah, Haj Ibrahim will return.’

‘I think not,’ Kabir said ominously.

Farouk paled. The passbook shook in his hand.

‘You have barked on all fours as your brother’s dog for long enough. You are the older, the wiser, the one who reads and writes, the one who keeps the village records, the one who is the spiritual leader. Ibrahim robbed you of your rightful place as muktar and he has lived like a prince from lands that should have been yours. This is the moment you no longer have to lick his feet and call him master. All you have to do is convince your brother you should stay behind with a few families.’

Kabir then applied the clincher. ‘After the war, I am laying claim to all the lands the Jews stole from me. That includes Shemesh Kibbutz. One third of their land will be turned over to you personally.’

‘One third of Shemesh Kibbutz!’

‘One third.’

‘If Haj Ibrahim ever learns about this, he will kill me.’

‘Those who flee will have no chance of returning. We want men of character to lead the new Palestine.’

‘Effendi, I do not wish to seem ungrateful, but what if the Arab regular armies are defeated?’

‘All the Arab armies defeated! It is not possible.’

‘I realize it is not possible, but suppose, by some very strange quirk, they ... lose?’

‘You are right, Farouk. One cannot be too careful. We must think of all possibilities. I have spoken to Ben-Gurion personally.’

‘Ben-Gurion!’

‘Ben-Gurion. He tells me that the Jews will do nothing to those Arab families who remain. If the terrible catastrophe of a Jewish victory happens, then you will still have Tabah. In such an unlikely event of a Jewish victory, you and I will split all the lands of Tabah fifty-fifty.’

Farouk thought about it. Fawzi Effendi Kabir had figured things out so that he was going to end up with something no matter who won or who lost. An Arab victory meant that he, Farouk, would end up as a great landholder and the muktar. Arab defeat meant that he, Farouk, would still end up as the muktar with half of Tabah’s profitable fields. All it hinged on was his telling his brother a small untruth. Either way, Haj Ibrahim would not be able to come back to Tabah. He broke out in perspiration. He could justify everything, for if he did not do what Kabir wanted, he would also be finished.

Farouk suddenly grabbed Kabir’s hands and kissed them and pocketed the bankbook. ‘I must leave and find supplies or otherwise there will be some suspicion.’

‘Just give me a list of the things you need,’ Kabir said. ‘I will have your supplies gathered by morning. Tonight I wish you to be my guest. I have planned some interesting entertainment for my new friend and ally.’

L
ATE IN THE AUTUMN
of 1947, Gideon Asch was assigned by Ben-Gurion to head a committee of Haganah commanders and Jewish Agency executives to formulate a number of alternate plans in the event of war. As each area commander reported in on his capabilities, a grim set of prospects piled up on his desk.

His daily time with Ben-Gurion usually came after normal working hours, often in the living room of the Old Man’s flat in Tel Aviv.

The central question was how much of Jewish Palestine could be defeated. What would be acceptable losses? Jerusalem was terribly vulnerable. What would the Arab villages along the Bab el Wad and near Latrun do? How to defend isolated settlements, such as those in the Negev Desert who would be facing the regular Egyptian Army?

Should the Yishuv plan to shrink back into their highly populated regions and fight from a more defensible line? Gideon leaned in that direction and had the Old Man’s ear. The Young Turks were brazen enough to believe that every Jewish settlement should fight to the end... concede nothing... evacuate no one.

As the various plans were refined, a moment of decision came to hand.

Even now the road to and from Jerusalem was becoming difficult to travel safely. It increased the problems of running the Jewish Agency tenfold. At last Ben-Gurion agreed to move many of the Agency’s offices to the greater safety of the all-Jewish city of Tel Aviv, which was on the coast and adjoined Arab Jaffa. A small turn-of-the-century house in a former German colony in Tel Aviv had become headquarters for Ben-Gurion and the military.