ALEXANDRONI BRIGADE, 31ST BATTALION
When I returned to Oxford after World War II, I became President of the Zionist Society. An additional tie to Palestine was forged when my brother married Datia Kaplan, the elder daughter of the Jewish Agency’s Treasurer Eliezer Kaplan who later became Israel’s first finance minister. I saw as my main task the organization of a group of volunteers to fight in the impending War of Liberation. Eight of us from Oxford went: besides me, the group included David and Dan Samuel (grandsons of Viscount Samuel, first British High Commissioner of Mandated Palestine); ‘Sandy’ Jacobs, sadly killed in the 1956 War and my closest friend, the son of the senior Jewish civil servant under the Mandate who was killed in the Etzel attack on the King David Hotel; Ze’ev Swift (Suffot), wounded in the war and cited for an award, and also our first ambassador in China; Moshe Eliash, son of the first minister of our legation in London; Asher Wallfish, a founder of Kibbutz Kfar HaNassi and later on the staff of the Palestine Post; and Shlomo Fishman (Dagoni) of Kibbutz Kfar Blum.
On April 8th I took the train to Marseilles and from there contacted the underground at the large Displaced Persons camp, Grande Arénas.
After some training we boarded a Romanian cattle ship, “The Transylvania.” I had brought my officer’s kit bag and bedroll as I had been asked to do so in London. I was told to leave one of these behind with my uniform, with the assurance that it would be returned to me within a week or so. It was due to lack of space, I was told.
In fact, eight or nine months later a circular informed all Machal men that they could put in a claim for lost luggage for up to five Palestine pounds. I claimed and was duly paid. What annoyed me, however, was that when I expressed my regret at losing things of sentimental value to me, the officer laughed and said, “Surely you did not believe that you would see them again?” I certainly did! However, it was decided that I did have room for the mine-laying and mine-clearing manuals of a Dutch volunteer, Lt. Col. Van Hasselt.
We slept in bunks four-deep, built into the hold of the ship. Our food consisted almost entirely of brown bread, white cheese and black olives. On board were a few dozen men of the “Exodus” who had been shipped back to Germany. As security officer of British Headquarters there, I had witnessed them being dragged off the ship in Hamburg onto the hated German soil.
As the British authorities were concerned with the fighting still going on in Haifa, it was easy getting through customs on that date, May 1st, 1948. We were taken to the Technion, where representatives of the Haganah would process us. Lt. Col. Van Hasselt announced, “These officers are with me,” and I was fortunate to be included in the sweep of his arm. A car was put at our disposal, and we reached Tel Aviv by a very circuitous route because the road was blocked by several Arab villages.
I was told that the 3rd Brigade “Alexandroni” had a number of Jewish Brigade officers and had been set up on the British Army model, so I would feel at home there.
Together with a South African volunteer, Julian Schragenheim, I was given a jeep with maps showing our destination, Camp Dora, south of Netanya. Schragenheim had come to South Africa in 1933 from Germany, fought in the South African army from 1940 to 1945 in North Africa and Italy. He was part of my company, but later transferred to the 89th Commando Battalion. He was a very brave soldier, and much later on worked with Simon Weisenthal tracing German war criminals.
Turning off the main road to Netanya, with only a smattering of Hebrew between us, we were held up at a Haganah roadblock. Luckily, the duty officer, Major Hershkovici, was known to me from the Jewish Brigade. The roadblock commander had taken us for British CID men looking for Etzel people who a little while before had shot up an RAF truck.
I was sent to Givat Olga to join the 31st Battalion, its deputy commander being another friend from the Brigade, Danny Kornfeld. I turned down the offer to be training officer, because of my lack of Hebrew and knowledge of the terrain, and also because I knew the men to be trained. My suggestion was to be a company commander with an interpreter.
My first battle was the capture of Kafr Qaria, to relieve the pressure on Kibbutz Mishmar Ha’Emek; I acted as officer advisor to Danny, but actually as observer. Three companies participated, one from each of Battalions 31, 32 and 34. We then advanced on Ara. The final objective was not clear and after suffering casualties we were ordered to withdraw. I was amazed and impressed with the morale of our soldiers. There was no blaming of commanders for mistakes made, despite heavy casualties. The soldiers sang as if they had not a care in the world.
On May 13th, as an observer I visited our troops attacking Arab Kfar Saba (Kalkilya), again meeting friends from the Jewish Brigade. I remember the welcome shout of Ami Perlin (“Mac Moishe”). The pattern was similar. Their counterattack inflicted heavy casualties on our forces, particularly on the ground cut-off on the road from Kalkilya.
On Friday, May 14th, the day of the Declaration of Independence, I joined a company of the 31st Battalion as shadow commander. Our tactics were still based on platoon strength, and there was no intelligence about regular Arab forces concerning our objective, the town of Tira. My first company had an assortment of rifles requiring different caliber ammunition, one French Chateau light machine gun and a dozen Sten guns.
Our enemy were well-trained Arab Legion troops with armored car support. We had to withdraw, but in doing so directed fire onto the armored cars, and halted their counterattack, which enabled us to set up P.I.A.T anti-tank weapon positions around Kibbutz Ramat Hakovesh, even though we eventually got only one P.I.A.T.
After sunset we heard that Israel had declared its independence.
I was now given command of “A” Company of the 31st Battalion, with barely enough manpower to form two platoons. They only had two out of three infantry companies that had the minimum of battle training.
Our 34th Battalion, having suffered heavy casualties at Latrun on May 24th when attached to the 7th Brigade, was even in a worse state. The 33rd Battalion had been concentrated for the Tantura Operation on May 22nd, so that left the 34th Battalion, which was in support, and the 35th Battalion made up of Etzel fighters, and the 37th Battalion which had only joined the Brigade on May 14th, ,all strung out guarding the front, opposite Tulkarm.
My company went out on several fighting patrols, and because of the manpower shortage, one got the feeling that it was the same people who fought, over and over, reducing the chances of survival.
For the second attack on Tira, we had two vintage 65mm guns as support, half of Israel’s artillery pieces at the time. Our battalion commander, Jackie Lichtenstein, informed us that we could take Tira without any casualties. The plan was reasonable, but one company under a commander, generally a brave soldier, deciding that the artillery would be enough, simply could not get his company moving and reported that his men were pinned down, and asked for permission to withdraw. My company, cut off between Tira and Kalkilya, was ordered to cover their withdrawal. We moved forward in leaps and bounds towards the village, and our fire became increasingly effective with Schragenheim having a great time with the Chateau machine gun. My suggestion to attack was turned down. By this time the commander was happy to extricate our men without further losses. My company being in the best shape, we went in and pulled out our wounded, using an armored car which made the evacuation simpler.
After the Latrun battle of May 26th, the remainder of my company joined the remnants of Yitzhak Moda’i’s company of the 32nd. Battalion and he became my second-in-command. He was an excellent officer in every way. We were re-inforced by some Gadna youth, mainly from Netanya and Hadera, 15- and 16-year-olds who made fine soldiers. After his first action, one 14-year-old asked to go home and we let him. I enlisted other reinforcements by placing notices in Tel Aviv hotels: “Anyone wishing to join a fighting unit please contact me, Captain St. George Rosenberg of the Gordon Highlanders.” Around ten volunteers responded, three from England: two are still my good friends, Cyril Kern and Norman Crow; the third was a non-Jewish ex-sergeant major from the First Paratrooper Division in Germany. There were also some Belgians and Danes, including Pundak, later editor of an important Danish paper and of the Hebrew daily Davar, and the future chief rabbi of Denmark.
There were neither ranks nor insignias until August. Everyone got the same pay, £3 per month. Until August, everyone ate in the same mess with officers and sergeants together, and that is how I met my future wife.
When we moved into Camp no. 21, near Kfar Sirkin, it was amazing to see to what lengths the British went in order to be sure that we would not benefit from the camp facilities. They destroyed everything, even the benches and the marble tabletops.
The day after we got there, I drove in my jeep to find suitable training areas. There were a few barrels blocking the road to Ramle, so I drove past them without giving the matter another thought. On my return, my platoon commanders looked at me as if I were mad. The barrels were there to demarcate our front lines, and I had driven into enemy territory. The platoon commanders were a good lot – Samuel Karniel of Zichron, wounded later in the same minute that I was wounded in Kula; Chaim Levy, also wounded during an Iraqi counterattack at Migdal Zedek; Matti Shoham, who saved my life at Kula by carrying me on his back for two or three kilometers; and Arye, our reserve platoon commander, killed at Rosh Ha’ayin.
One night in early June, I got back from an evening in Tel Aviv to find the duty officer, the Battalion Adjutant Rudi, from Givat Ada, drunk and quite helpless. Intelligence had reported that an Iraqi battalion had moved into the Rosh Ha’ayin area. My company was also on leave and there was no one to stop the Iraqis moving west and cutting off the road to Kfar Saba. But we did have some trucks. I ordered the drivers to drive west to the main road with their lights on, then north and east again, along the road to Ras-el-Eyn. Then I ordered them to drive back with their lights off, and then repeat the exercise. We heard later that the Iraqis went into high alert. I then took a few soldiers with me in the same way and we advanced towards the Iraqis as safely as we could, sniping at every sign of life.
On June 9th the Arabs attacked Yehudia near Lydda Airport and recaptured it from the Etzel, who had allowed many of their men to return home. I could not convince the local regional unit of older men that as we held commanding ground, there was no need to withdraw, as such a move would endanger Petach-Tikva. Together with the Etzel commanders, we received permission for a combined attack on Yehudia, and recaptured it. Soon afterwards, U.N. Observer jeeps arrived, claiming that we had attacked Yehudia after the truce had come into force. Then, we still took the U.N. seriously, and we were ordered to withdraw.
The truce was a godsend as we had a chance to train, but above all we received weapons. Before it ended every soldier had a standard personal weapon – the Czech-manufactured Mauser rifle, and we now had a number of Spandau light machine guns, also Czech-made.
Then came the Altalena incident, as it lay anchored off Kfar Vitkin on June 22nd. The 35th Battalion was withdrawn from the lines and came to cover the landing. I was given orders to stop the Etzel passing through Netanya. I was not well, but my deputy Yitzhak Moda’i had been in Etzel, so I felt I should take over command. I placed roadblocks at the entrance to Netanya from Kfar Vitkin and also at the Beit Lid Junction. Dayan, who was in command, to my annoyance removed one of the roadblocks leading to the beach. Moda’i also refused to give the order to open fire and allowed the Etzel to pass through. I hastened to reach my last roadblock. They had dug in, but the Machal volunteers said they had not come to Israel to fight Jews. I told them they did not have the option of disobeying legal orders.
The Etzel approached in buses, with a jeep in front. To my surprise and good fortune, their commander was my friend, Yishai. We were deadlocked, and while looking for a way out, news came that fighting had started and there were casualties. Yaacov Meridor, the Etzel commander, had been tricked into coming to Camp Dora, and was arrested when he got there.
The tension was growing; fortunately, Yishai and I had been comrades-in- arms only 12 days earlier, so we reached an agreement. I allowed them through on condition that they surrendered their weapons, except for the side-arms of the officers.
Less than a month later I was lying wounded in Hadassah Hospital in Tel Aviv. In the next bed was a young man who had been shot while swimming ashore from the Altalena in Tel Aviv, and we talked a lot. His parents came to visit him . I felt that now that he was in hospital his condition could only improve, but I was wrong. After a few days he underwent surgery and died.
The first truce had now ended, and the 34th prepared to capture Migdal Zedek, with my company having the mission to storm the village. Morale was high: we had rested, trained and received new weapons. Everyone had a personal weapon. Above all, we could plan the attack carefully, with time for reconnaissance and we reaped the benefit of receiving good aerial photos.
The Iraqi army had moved into the village in company strength, reinforcing the villagers, and Petah Tikva was now threatened. In Rosh Ha’ayin there were about 50 Iraqi soldiers with some armored cars. The main Iraqi forces, with armor and artillery, were based around Kfar Kassem.
With support of the newly recruited “B”‘ Company in cut-off positions northwest of the village on the roads to Rosh Ha’ayin and Beit Jaballa, “D” Company led the advance, snaking along in single file. They were to capture some houses above the quarries and high ground, from which they could cover any attack on the village itself. We would have the element of surprise on our side, as the Iraqis had only prepared defensive positions on the western edges of the village. We carried out a deep outflanking movement and attacked from the east. Unfortunately – or fortunately – at about 00:30 hours a soldier tripped and let off a burst of automatic fire. The enemy lit up the sky with flares and saw the long spread-out line advancing on them. They opened heavy fire, but it was ineffective. I think many panicked, so the loss of surprise was worth it.
At 04:15 hours one of my platoons met relatively high resistance when it stormed the school, after firing a couple of P.I.A.T. projectiles and raking it with machine gun fire. It turned out to be the enemy’s headquarters, and we found useful arms, ammunition and webbing equipment, as well as a Boys anti-tank rifle.
By dawn the whole village was in our hands and “C” Company took additional ground from which they could give us enfilade cover fire. Some Iraqi armored cars entered Rosh Ha’ayin, directing their fire against efforts to supply us. We were reinforced by the 120 mm mortars from the 34th Support Battalion which neutralized them. At 07:30 hours we came under fire from 25-pounders; there was also movement of armored vehicles and I suspected infantry was against us, too. I called for aircraft support and after some time a solitary Piper Cub buzzed its way towards us from the direction of Tel Aviv. From the opened door a few hand grenades were thrown out. The enemy firing stopped. I think they were dumb-founded at the sheer “chutzpa.” Anyhow, if it was a counterattack, it was halted.
We advanced and found that the Iraqis had blown up the power station and a petrol tank. I left the Platoon of “B” Company to guard our rear as we combed the area, but the Iraqis had left. I went up the water pump tower to survey the situation and allowed the soldiers to strip and cool down in the pool of water. Then I told them they could rest in the shade of the olive grove. The Iraqi artillery started to shell us. I saw the bracketing explosions and immediately ordered the company to spread out. As the order had to be transmitted by my interpreter, it did not reach all the soldiers before the shells struck us. Arye, who had taken Chaim’s place as platoon commander, had just asked me if it was alright to be in the position he was in. I said, “Yes,” when another shell exploded and he was lying with one leg just hanging on. Another boy next to him was screaming with pain: two large pieces of shrapnel had hit him in the stomach. Arye was calming him: ‘Don’t shout, save your strength,” and to me he said, “Shaul, get me to the hospital quickly.” I got them to the hospital, where they both died. I was luckier. A piece of shrapnel hit the metal binoculars hanging around my neck and twisted them into a surrealistic shape. I came away with only superficial damage. In all, the shell killed four and wounded several more. I ordered the soldiers to sing, and it helped.
On July 15th “C” Company relieved “B” Company of the 33rd Battalion in Kula, south of Migdal Zedek. The ridge of Migdal Zedek – El Mazeira, Kula, Tira, Deir Tarif and Beit Neballa — was important, guarding the flank of our forces engaged in Operation “Danny,” the conquest of Lydda and Ramle. Moshe Dayan’s 89th Battalion swept through Lydda and back. (I commanded the 89th in the 1956 Sinai Campaign.)
On the same day “C” Company was sent from Migdal Zedek to relieve “B” Company in Kula, and they were informed that all was quiet. With dawn the Arab Legion overran one of our platoons with armored cars and wiped it out. A second platoon sent to relieve suffered heavy casualties. Encountering difficulties, the company commander extricated what was left of his men and withdrew to Wilhelmina under enemy fire. It was a sad spectacle.
My company and “B” Company of the 33rd Battalion, now under our battalion’s command, and the 82nd Battalion of the legendary Yitzhak Sadeh’s 8th Brigade, had been rushed to take up positions west of the railway line to block any further Legion advance. Our morale went up for two reasons – two Cromwell Tanks brought to the IDF by two British deserters appeared, and we found ourselves in a field of ripe watermelons. Unfortunately, the tanks soon left us.
Late in the afternoon I was called to Wilhemina to Battalion Headquarters, where I met Yitzhak Sadeh. “With a courageous attack we will turn the reverse to our forces into a great victory, and you are in command of the operation,” he told me with enthusiasm. There was no time for reconnaissance. “B”‘ Company of the 33rd Battalion would also be under my command. I would meet up with them in El Mureira which, with the support of two light Hotchkiss tanks and some half-tracks, as well as artillery that had been captured. The Legion withdrew to positions from which they could continue to fire at our forces.
I arrived with my company at El Mureira at 03:00 hours on July 17th. Here I met with the commander of “B” Company of the 33rd Battalion, and informed him that he was under my command, and we were to attack immediately. I was also joined by an anti-tank gun commanded by an ex-Russian corporal. We made hasty plans and set out shortly before dawn.
“B” Company entered Kula village without opposition and took up positions to the east of it. I moved with two of my platoons to higher ground covering the road to Ramallah. My third platoon was our direct contact with “B” Company and was moving towards its designated positions southeast of us. Suddenly, heavy mortar fire was opened on it and the positions it was attempting to reach. The rocky terrain precluded any possibility of digging in Five Legion armored cars and a towed gun were moving westwards towards us from the direction of Ramallah, three of their armored cars firing their guns and medium machine guns and occupying empty positions, as two moved to the south of our advancing platoon which now found itself in cross fire. I ordered our anti-tank gun to a position by a lone tree from which they could engage the armored cars. The message was conveyed to him by my “battle adjutant” Joe Sussman. Soon Joe returned: the gunner had told him that if his commander wanted him to move his gun, he should come in person. This was said in very aggressive Yiddish. I sent Joe back again, though we too were by now under fire, to tell the gunner that if he did not move as ordered, I would indeed pay him a visit and put a couple of bullets into him. He did not like the idea, so he moved his gun; unfortunately he decided to move in the wrong direction and did not stop running until he got to Kfar Sirkin. I was told that at my request, he was court-martialed. I sent for Sergeant Harber, a South African Machalnik, to attack the armored cars with his P.I.A.T. He ran towards the closest one in short bursts to get within range (maximum P.I.A.T.range is 100 metres). It was a hit or near miss, as the armored car withdrew. From the position Matti Shoham’s platoon was holding, he nevertheless asked for permission to withdraw which I did not grant.
Meanwhile a major problem developed: I lost contact with “B” Company. Platoons east of the village reported that they were under heavy fire. Matti reported to the battalion that both our companies were now under heavy attack. He did not believe that we could hold and he would be outflanked and threatened with the same fate as had befallen “C” Company the previous day. I do not know if he got permission or not. From where I was, it looked like an uncontrolled flight. Matti again asked for permission to withdraw and I again denied it. I had some mortars and artillery under my command and directed their fire against the enemy. The fire was accurate but did not silence the enemy, nor did it halt its advance to the east and west of us, now that “B” Company had left the scene of battle. I now felt that a certain withdrawal was necessary to avoid being surrounded, and ordered the platoons to new positions, covering each other’s retreat. When they had passed me, I got up to follow them and was immediately hit. It felt like being hit with a red-hot poker. Actually, it was just a little bullet. It smashed the top of the tibia and fibula bones and lodged in the knee joint. I couldn’t get up so I called Matti to help me. He came back and carried me on his back for over a kilometer till he found a truck that could take me to a hospital. I owe him my life. Before I left I had time to transfer the command of the company to Yitzhak Moda’i. I knew it was in good hands.
Before the next dawn Yitzhak Sadeh sent in a force commanded by the second in command of the 33rd Battalion to take Kula for the third time. It included “C” Company of the 33rd Battalion, a company formed from the section commanders’ course of Alexandroni; a company of tanks including the two Cromwells; and a battery of 75mm field guns: a formidable force, well able to take care of any Jordanian counterattack. It took Kula with no opposition.
I got to Hadassah Hospital in Tel Aviv. After a week’s fighting, the doctors were falling off their feet. My leg looked a mess, which it was, and I gathered they decided my leg should be amputated. I did not like the idea and decided it was time to use “proteksia.” I told them that my brother was married to Eliezer Kaplan’s daughter, and that I was not to be touched till they had informed him or his wife Dr. Devora Kaplan, a pediatrician, of my situation. They did so, and Dr. Kaplan came at once to the hospital despite an Egyptian air raid in progress; with her she brought Professor Marcus to my bedside. He decided my leg could be saved, though I would never be able to bend my knee. He did a great job of surgery and I have been able to bend my knee.
Near my bed was Shaul Karniel, one of my platoon commanders, a very good one, from a well-known family in Zichron Ya’acov. He had been wounded in the leg, but closer to the ankle, in the same minute in Kula as I had been hit. His parents always brought him grapes and never forgot to bring me some as well. It was quite pleasant after a while. The nurses were very sweet to me, as were some of the girls from our brigade. I even had a marriage proposal.
When I had left Oxford, I had written from France to my rector, Sir Keith Murray (later Lord Murray of Newhaven), that on a weekend in France I had met a man from Warsaw who thought he had met a woman from Warsaw with a group going to Palestine and he thought she might have amnesia. (I wondered if it was my mother.) I now wrote to him that I had not found my mother, but had found a war going on in which I had become involved. Now I was wounded and could fight no more. Would I be able to return to Lincoln? He answered that I would be welcome and he would make all necessary arrangements for me.
It was not to be. Brigade Commander Dan Even came to visit me in hospital. When I told him I was going back to England, he said, “The war is not over. There are other things for you to do here, more important than charging around at the head of a company.” He went on to propose that I should accept the position of deputy operations officer of the newly formed “hazit bet,” the ‘B’ front, of which he had been appointed commander. Israel had been divided into four fronts – the first in the north, the second from north of Zichron Ya’acov to around Petach Tikva, the third from there to Jerusalem and the corridor, and the fourth one with responsibility for the south. As from August, ranks were to be introduced into the IDF and I would be appointed a major. There were to be only two higher ranks, Lt. Colonel and Colonel. There would be one Brigadier General, the Chief of Staff.
I was persuaded, and after a period of recuperation, I reported for duty, my leg still in a cast. While waiting outside the office of my home-to-be, I was surprised to hear German being spoken; “Jaweitz, Herr Oberst Leutenant: Yahwolh, Herr Hauptman.” It was Operations Officer Fritz von Eisenstadt conversing with von Weisl, commander of our artillery.
Fritz was good to work with. At my request, he discovered why I was still a captain – the major which went with the job had been given to Captain Friedlander when he had been appointed Brigade Sports Officer, a job for which there was no precedent. He then ensured that I got the promotion. It was another example of having to be alert and demanding of the IDF to receive what you are entitled to.
Though the second truce, ordered by the Security Council, had come into force on July 18th, both sides were active in trying to improve their positions. On July 27th Alexandroni was in command of an operation; in a three-day battle it cleared a force of some 800 armed Arabs, including Iraqi regulars and British volunteers, which blocked the Tel Aviv-Haifa road north of Zichron Yaacov.
Smaller attacks and bombardments went on all the time. Around the end of August, Dan Even was replaced as front commander by Shlomo Shamir, who had commanded the 7th Brigade at Latrun. The many casualties weighed heavily on his conscience. He was determined that his HQ would be made up of professionals. It was an odd assortment: as operations officer he brought in a crazy self-proclaimed Russian general. According to him, he had commanded a division from Vladivostok to Berlin. (I believe that when he was finally checked out, it was discovered that he had risen to the rank of captain in the air force ground staff.) He only spoke Russian and Yiddish, and I had to communicate with him in my very poor German and Polish. His name was Schwerzer, but we called him Ivan Grosny. Then there was a South African, Lionel Schwartz, who claimed to have been a colonel in World War II. He had been a sergeant in Intelligence in a South African unit, and to facilitate their work, they were permitted to wear any rank they pleased. Our brigade intelligence officer was Chaim Gaon, a Dutch Jew who had been captured by the Japanese in Indonesia and had later joined the British Army, where he worked in a War Crimes unit. He really had been a major, and did a good job. Then there was an ex-captain from the Spanish Republican Army whom we naturally called Sancho Pancho. He was what he claimed to be.
Every order was preceded by a lengthy discussion in several languages. Ivan’s tactic was to ask, “What do you think? And what do you not think?” or “What would you do? And what wouldn’t you do?” or “How much mortar ammunition do we have? And how much don’t we have?” Then irrespective of the answer, he would say, “Du weisst gurnisht.” (“You know nothing.”) After everyone had left, he would say to me “Shaul, write the Operational Order.” “But what have you decided?” I would ask. “I leave it to you, he would answer, “just write what you think, I know I can rely on you.”
Ivan really was not normal. He ordered the HQ to move from Camp Dora to a forward HQ in some caves. When we managed to get a medical officer to condemn them as a danger to health, due to cave malaria, we returned to Camp Dora, now a shambles. Another time, when Moshele Bar-On, then a company commander, was under heavy attack at Ramat Hakovesh and asked urgently for some mortar ammunition, Ivan demanded that he first put in a written report on how he had used the ammunition, how much he had fired and how much he had left. Only by threatening to go to Shlomo Shamir, the camp commander, did I get his OK to rush the ammunition to Bar-On. Finally, as complaints piled up, Shlomo sent him away. He finished up in an asylum.
Meanwhile, Ben-Gurion was contemplating the conquest of the West Bank. Our Alexandroni Brigade was for a start to carry out the conquest of Kalkilya, Jaljulia, Habla and Azzun on the road to Nablus. Orders had already been transmitted to the battalion commanders when, on September 17th, the UN mediator, Count Folke Bernadette, a member of the royal family of Sweden, was assassinated by the Lehi. The order to attack was immediately countermanded to avoid the inevitable suspicion of government complicity in the murder, had the attack been launched as planned.
In October I visited Jerusalem for the first time. I was surprised by the emotion I felt at the first sight of the city. I then went to the Southern Command, to monitor “Operation Yoav”, which culminated in the capture of Beersheba on October 21st. In Huleikat I noted that Egyptian dead were equipped with gas-masks. We also found a two-pounder gun there. In Beersheba four Egyptian field guns had been abandoned in the main square.
On October 28th I went to Northern Command to observe “Operation Hiram.” We had a terrific reception in the Druse village of Hurfeish. In Tarshiha I met one of the most colorful Machal personalities of the War of Liberation. “I am Major Pataqui,” he introduced himself, “commander of the 95th Spanish Battalion. I have distinguished myself in the capture of Tarshiha.” He had come from Nicaragua wearing many medals (most, if not all, bought in pawn shops). Most of the time he spoke of “a wonderful woman.” When told that only the day before he had boasted that he had found the most wonderful woman in the world, he answered, “Yes, that was yesterday, but one must think of tomorrow!” His main experience was in organizing revolutions, he claimed. He said the President of Nicaragua would ring him up and say, ” Pataqui tomorrow I want a revolution.” His answer would be, “All right, Mr. President, how much?”
In November, Alexandroni was sent to the Southern Command and the Givati Brigade replaced it in our area. It was an excellent brigade, its commander was kibbutznik Shimon Avidan (Kuch). Its operation officer was Meirke Davidson, his deputy Yuval Ne’eman, and the battalion commanders were Yaakov Prulow, Zvi Tzur and Yehuda Wallach.
Meirke reminds me of another lesson I learned in Israel. On November 7th 1948, the Provisional Government accepted Ben-Gurion’s view that the Palmach be disbanded as there was room for only one army and one command hierarchy in a state. This took effect in May 1949, and the Palmach brigades were fully incorporated into the IDF. Many generals came from the ranks of the Palmach. However, Ben-Gurion knew that there was great opposition to his decision. He called a meeting of all senior officers, majors and above. He asked the assembled officers to give their honest opinions without fear of any repercussions. Meirke took him at his word and blasted the decision bluntly. He was slated to become head of the operations department in the GHQ (one of the three jobs I was offered if I joined the regular army was to be his deputy). However, his speech ended his military career.
When the armistice talks started on January 13th with Egypt in Rhodes, I was acting operations officer of the ‘B’ front. Later, the Israeli delegation for the talks with Jordan on March 1st was made up of representatives of the prime minister’s office and the foreign minister. It included Reuven Shiloah as head of the delegation, Moshe Dayan, commander of the Jerusalem Brigade, as senior IDF delegate, as well as Dan Lochner and I as operations officers of the ‘A’ and ‘B’ fronts. My prime function was to prepare a demarcation line in our sector for which we could reasonably expect Jordan’s agreement, as well as a minimum line which we could, if absolutely necessary, agree to. There was also Shabtai Rosenne, the legal adviser in charge of drafting the agreement, as he had done with the Egyptians, and Fatili Harkabi, who looked after the administration of our delegation and was our Arabic expert.
Our first task was to postpone the signing of the cease-fire until two brigades had reached Umm-Rash-Rash on the Red Sea coast (“Operation Uvda”), ensuring that the Negev would be within Israel’s borders. They reached what is today Eilat on March 10th, and the cease-fire was signed on March 11th 1949. We spent the first week sightseeing while waiting for a contact with the Iraqis. When the UN mediator, Dr. Ralph Bunche, finally got us into the Yellow Room of the Hotel of Roses, we walked out when the Jordanian delegate Colonel Sudki-el-Jundi missed his cue to shake hands with Shiloah, whose body was extended across the wide table with his hand outstretched. This gave us the last 24-hours needed to capture the Negev.
On March 18th I returned to Israel with Moshe Dayan. He went to meet Col. Abdullah-el-Tell and King Abdullah. I went back to HQ with orders to openly propose for an offensive against the West Bank. The implication was not lost on the Jordanians – either we agree to a compromise or we take the lot. The
Armistice Agreement was signed in secret in the King’s Summer Palace in Shuneh on March 23rd and ratified by the prime minister of Jordan, with a slight amendment at a further meeting on March 30th. The agreements were to remain secret. They were brought to Rhodes as the basis for the General Armistice Agreement, the 1:100,000 map transcribed on to five 1:250,000 maps attached to the five copies of the G.A.A.
My next job was to see that the Armistice Agreement was properly implemented. The areas that were to pass to Israel under the terms of the agreement were to be handed over from five to fifteen weeks after its signing on April 3rd 1949. On the appointed day we decided to move forward in battle formation. It was just as well. As we approached the Tulkarm-Kalkilya road, we were stopped by a Jordanian unit, supported by armored cars. “So far and no further,” they said. They produced a map on which the road was indeed in Jordan territory. “I was in Rhodes,” I said, “and this is not an official map.” I gave them 30 minutes in which to contact their HQ and get authority to withdraw to the demarcation line (DL) or we would go forward, if necessary by force. They retreated in time. What had happened was that on the last night in Rhodes, champagne flowed freely and Major Durre, the Belgian U.N. Officer who had been in charge of drawing the DL on the five official maps, drew some more and had them signed by delegates from both sides as souvenirs. As the night wore on and his consumption of champagne increased, his hand became ever less steady and the DL he drew had little resemblance to that which had been agreed. This incident was one of many I encountered, when I was later put in charge of Israel’s delegation to the Mixed Armistice Commissions with Egypt, Syria, Lebanon and Jordan, which showed that whatever the rights or wrongs, Arabs would only transfer land to us if we used force or credibly threatened to do so.
In October a gorgeous Sergeant Major, Esther Dombrowska, had arrived at Camp Dora to take charge of the girls in the HQ. Fortunately, in the IDF officers and sergeants shared the same mess. I asked her to pass me the salt, and nine months later we were married. This was a major factor in my decision to stay in Israel for good. I had planned to go to a kibbutz for two years (I was certain I would wish to go back to England after one year), and then decide whether to remain in Israel, so Esther and I became founding members of Moshav Shitufi Habonim (Kfar Lam) on the coast near Zichron Yaacov, along with a crowd of Machalniks,. To my surprise, I was called to the adjutant general who told me in no uncertain terms that now that the war was over, the real pioneering was to build a real army. It was now that my English army training would really make a contribution.
I was offered the choice of three posts at the lieutenant colonel level – deputy operations officer at General Headquarters, chief of staff of the Central Regional Command, or Head of the Israeli Delegation to the Jordan-Israel Mixed Armistice Commission. I chose the latter and ended my Machal days signing on for the IDF.
Some four years later I got myself upgraded to “fighting fit” so that I could take command of a regular Infantry Reserve Battalion (the 54th Battalion of the Givati Brigade). Twenty years later, almost to the day, I developed a “foot drop.’ I could not get rid of it by playing squash. Finally, after trying everything else for three months, I went to the Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem. The doctors decided that the bones had grown together and thickened, and were now pressing on a nerve, so they decided on surgery. Testing to find the exact trouble-spot, they passed an electric current through a needle with which they probed. Suddenly, my foot was alright. “It was only a test,” they protested. “Whatever it was it has cured my foot,” I answered. They told me that if it happened again I should come straight to the hospital, as otherwise I might lose my leg. Fortunately the problem never recurred.