The evening we left South Africa for Israel is etched forever in my memory. We met in great secrecy at Nat Lee’s parents home in Hillbrow/Yeoville, first to become acquainted with one another, and to receive an appraisal of the situation, advice and information from Nat Lee.
Danny Rosin was designated to be in charge of the group. We were then given an address in Rome to keep in constant touch, as well as orders stressing the importance of absolute secrecy.
“This evening”, he said in a very grave and solemn voice, “there are only thirteen people in the whole of South Africa who know of this address. When you leave tonight – there will be only one person left. To you all, I wish you the best of luck.” I shivered then as I shiver now – 57 years later. Had I known Hebrew then I would have silently cried out “IM-MA-LE” (MOMMY).
On that momentous night, thirteen circumcised South Africans and Irene Aronson left Palmietfontain for Rome, then on to Israel. To this day, Honi Rosenberg and I have, from our very first meeting, remained very close friends; more like brothers. Strangely, with the others, since we separated in Israel, I have never met any of the rest of the group at the different gatherings.
The Altalena incident certainly recalled to mind a very vivid, intense and frightening confrontation. Two Machalniks from Britain, members of the 4th
troop anti-tank unit, served together with me on the same anti-tank gun crew.
For nearly three weeks, together with all our gun’s ammunition, we three shared the same shell-hole on the brow of a freshly captured hill overlooking the town of Majdal, today Ashkelon. During the lull in mortar fire and sudden air attacks by black painted Spitfire planes, I heard their story.
The two, Henry Powers a German Jew, in his early thirties, a dark handsome ex-British sergeant, boxing champion of his regiment, a tough highly experienced soldier and comforting to have around in an emergency – and there were plenty. Michael Becker (Brekker), British, a young pleasant looking boy in his late teens met Henry by chance in France. They both decided, that in order to get to Israel as soon as possible, to take the Atelena, which still had place, and was on the point of leaving for Israel.
They were horrified at the hostile reception they received when the ship beached at Tel Aviv. While under a hail of rifle and machine gun-fire they jumped into the sea. Michael claimed if it were not for Henry, he would not be alive today. To escape the continuous firing while they were still in the water, Henry pulled him out to sea far behind the ship.
A few weeks later, after the shelling, we were in barracks undergoing training on a new anti-tank gun. During a short break, a few others and I were witnesses to a frightening and explosive confrontation. While we were sitting discussing the Altalena incident, which was on everyone’s mind, the training instructor unaware that the two sitting with us had arrived on the Altalena, boastfully and arrogantly told us that he had fired, under orders, at the ship and occupants while they were in the water. The two went bezerk!! The instructor was fortunate to escape alive.
Henry Powers, for a short period, was a member of Bet Chever, married, then returned to England with his wife, never to be heard of or seen again.
Michael Becker also returned to England, became a surveyor, married and had three boys. His wife and three kids were skeptical and disbelieving of his army experiences in Israel. So on Israel’s 25th anniversary he brought his wife with him to Machal celebrations. More important for him was to find me, to confirm his stories to his wife. He eventually found me, and admitted it had been a difficult task. My beauty he claimed, had improved with age. When I confirmed his stories and his sketch (he had great talent) that he had drawn of the two of us. Trousers around our ankles, squatting bare backside in the air, our faces buried in the ground like ostriches, relieving the nervous contents of our bellies during one of the mortar barrages from Majdal.
Michael and his wife left the country by plane. Feeling vindicated and very happy once he had his stories confirmed, he could have floated back on his own steam.