I was one of about ten of us who were sent to guard a house in a section of Jerusalem inhabited by both Jews and Arabs, shortly after the United Nations voted to establish a separate Jewish state. I remember that Moshe Perlstein (a Machalnik from the U.S.A.) was one of our group. During the night one of us was on guard in front and one in the rear of the house. In the rear a rope attached to a bell was lowered from the second floor window, where others of our group slept at night. It was meant to be yanked to give the alarm if Arabs appeared.
On this particular night, at perhaps two a.m. I was on guard at the rear, and Moshe Perlstein in the front. As I recall, I was humming a Hebrew tune and swaying to pass the time of night and to stay warm. Then I thought better of my movements, stopped swaying and moved into the darker shadows. Shortly thereafter a file of about eight Arabs appeared out of the adjacent wadi and passed by me going towards the front. I yanked on the rope but nothing happened. I yanked harder but the darn thing wouldn’t work. About then I heard a ruckus in front and the Arabs passed me running back into the wadi, Moshe at their heels. He fired his weapon but was only rewarded by a click from the faulty gun. Nothing was working for us. Our squad remained on heightened alert all night, but nothing further happened.
Some days later we were scheduled to go out on a mission, but for some reason I and some others were scratched from the group at the last moment. Moshe went, and he was one of the thirty-five surrounded by a large force of Arabs at a place called Kfar Etzion where all were killed.
I would not recognize Moshe Perlstein if I saw him today, but whenever I say Yizkor I remember him in my thoughts and often shed a tear. I could just as well have been with him.
Author Irving Fellner, 29th March 1995, American Veterans of Israel Newsletter.