ARMY – 7TH BRIGADE, 72ND BATTALION
INTRODUCTION TO “LOCKY” FAINMAN’S DIARY
Back row – Left to Right: Gordon Mandelzweig, “Locky” Fainman, David Susman
Front row – Left to Right: Fred Sariff, Jeff Perlman
INTRODUCTION TO “LOCKY” FAINMAN’S DIARY
To Locky 2nd October, 1948
From the Boys of Company “B”
With apologies to Bill Mauldlin
“UP FRONT”
The dogface’s real heroes are the stretcher bearers and first aid men who go into combat situations right along with the infantryman, share his hardships and dangers, and aren’t able to fight back. When the infantryman is down, the medic must get up and help him. That’s not pleasant sometimes when there’s shooting.
The medics and litter bearers know that their work is often far more important than that of the surgeon at the operating table, because if it were not for the first aid man, the casualty would not live to reach the surgeon’s table.
Let’s say the doggie has a shattered leg, and is lying in a shell-hole, but in front of his company, pinned down by machine-gun fire. He uses the bandage from his first aid kit to make a tourniquet and he takes the sulfa pills, but he knows that if he lies there much longer he will bleed to death. Nobody is going to blame the first aid man if he saves his own neck and doesn’t go after a man who will probably die anyway. But the medic usually goes.
Put yourself in the wounded guy’s shoes when he sees the medic appear over him and his pain is dulled by morphine, his bleeding is stopped and he is lifted out and carried back to safety and surgery. Sure, he’s going to love that medic. And after a few dozen men owe their lives to one man, that little pill-roller is going to be very well liked indeed.
Sooner or later, like anybody who works around the infantry, the medic is going to get his. Many medics have been wounded and many have been killed. It should comfort the families of those who have died to know that there are many friends who grieve with them.
Look after yourself, kid – this could have been written for you.
Thanks – The Boys
DIARY OF THE LATE “LOCKY” FAINMAN
GIVEN TO JOE WOOLF IN 1967
AFTER THE LATRUN FIASCO – 72ND BATTALION DECIMATED
Tuesday, 7TH September, 1948
(Written shortly after the battle, under stress and exhaustion)
TAMRA
We have been taken to an Arab village “somewhere in the north.” I have just spent about four days at Birwa, and yesterday morning I received a cable calling for Mick Orlfman and me to return to base at Samaria immediately. Due to lack of transport we arrived at 5 o’clock, and were greeted with annoyance by our M.O. He ordered us both to return to Birwa and not to join the convoy standing by and ready to leave. Mick left for Birwa, but following some argument and wrangling, the Doc allowed me to proceed to the front with “B” Company, an English-speaking unit.
On the bus there was a certain tenseness, and I was very occupied giving the other three medics some last minute tips. None of them really knew anything, thank goodness the course gave me confidence.
With many stops and starts we arrived in the village of Tamra (a neutral village with white Aabs) well after dark. Orders were that we were to remove about 15 or 20 Arab snipers who had taken up strategic positions on a hill just behind the village. Medic H.Q. was in the biggest house and we moved off, five medics to each of the two platoons. Much of the way up was covered on hands and knees and then the orders were given for three runners and two medics to move to the front and wait with the sergeant in charge, Jeff Perlman. I got a little sleep on a rock with my head on a thorn bush, and at about 1:30 a.m. mortars began to “plaster” the top of the hill. For about 25 minutes we lay there listening to the thud, hum and crash of mortar shells as they paved the way for our attack. At 2 a.m. exactly we started to move up, and near the top, bullets began to whistle rather close by. We had pushed the Arabs off and were now prepared to dig in, but there were no digging implements. For hours we dug our trench, five of us, with bayonets, tin helmets and our hands. And so we dug throughout the night.
I remember someone lighting a cigarette, and then realized that dawn was very near; it had just started to get light. This, I think was their signal. Bullets began to whine and hiss just over our heads and we lay low in the half-trench which we had made. I must have fallen asleep and was suddenly awakened by Jeff’s voice calling, “Medic, medic, someone has been hit.” I grabbed my kit and rushed to the forward position where I found a man with a bullet wound through the neck. One of the officers helped me carry him down. I scarcely had time to notice how steep the hill really was and it was only after we had carried the man to a stretcher to the first base, and then had Motke and a few others help me to carry him to the hospital base, that I realized how tired I was. I had helped to carry him all the way and was sweating heavily. The doctor told me to sit down and rest, but I had some food, and set off back to the boys up on the hill.
After this, things are very indistinct in my mind. I got back up and heard that we had six casualties, another medic and Dave Sussman amongst them. I dressed the wounds of Dick Furman and carried him down part of the way. When I returned to the hill I found that we had been surrounded on three sides and were nearly pushed right off the hill. I prepared to run with the others, but someone gave the order to fix bayonets and advance in skirmish line. Just before this, while we were all concentrated on the back of the hill, Jeff told me that there was a wounded man lying slightly to the right of us in an advance position. I hesitated for a moment and then grabbed my kit and ran towards the position he had indicated. I could hear Jeff and the others shouting, “Run, Lockie, run.” As I neared the position where I expected to find the casualty, an Arab must have spotted me and started firing at me. Terrified, I fell under a rock and waited while bullets struck the rocks and earth around me. I really prayed then! My kitbag was punctured by his bullets. When I saw a few comrades a little to the side, I called and asked where the wounded man was. They were all too busy trying to fight back, so I got up and ran to the place where I thought he was. I saw him lying in the open and lay down next to him with my back to the Arabs to prevent him from being hit again. I dressed his wounds and dragged him to a safe position. I don’t remember who it was who remained with him – I think it was Benny Landau. I returned to the others just in time to pick up a rifle with a bayonet and join in the charge. I saw an Arab run back and then someone asked me to assist with his Spandau. I helped for only a few minutes and then left to attend to some more wounded men. Our boys had already reached the place where I had attended to the fellow, and I found three other wounded there. I had not quite completed my dressings when a man carried Benny Hirschberg in, his face covered in blood. They turned him on his back and I rushed to examine him. I tested his eye reflex and his pulse when I saw that his armpit had been completely torn away. I examined him quickly and made sure that he was dead. I left him there and immediately returned to the other wounded men.
With “Toets” Landau’s help, I dragged the wounded medic out of fire and then crawled back to help with Max Schmulewitz who had got it severely in the back. I saw a jelly-like mass of blood on his vest which I thought was a kidney section; I dressed the wound hastily and with three men to assist, set off down the hill without a stretcher. I really felt sorry for Max as we had to carry him face downwards and often one or another of us would slip, which hurt him. He was groaning and really feeling bad. We rested many times so as to make it easier for Max and more difficult for the Arabs who were shooting at us.
About halfway down I met a fellow coming up and immediately sent him for a stretcher. We carried Max further and when the stretcher arrived “Shelly” lost his control completely and started to shout and cry. He swore at the Arabs incessantly for not coming out and fighting in the open and for firing on stretcher bearers. I had to support “Shelly” on one arm and carry the stretcher with another. We carried him right back to base.
Here I “blew my top off” at the doctor; drank some water and started back for the lines. Carrying Max down had been a real nightmare.
At this stage, I nearly collapsed too, and shouted murder at some of the Arabs standing around in the village. Each time we passed through with a casualty they looked through the windows and stared silently at this group of tired men bringing in their wounded soldiers. I could not help pitying the poor kids who had to see all this.
I returned to the hill to help with some more wounded. In all I brought down or helped to bring down six casualties. By late afternoon things were quieter and there were no more wounded then, so I set about getting the dead men down.
With help from Gordon Mandelzweig and some others I brought the first dead man, Bornstein, down, and then went back to fetch Benny Herschberg. Motke now came to help me, but about halfway down I was unable to carry any more so I went to the first base to get four very reluctant assistants. While they brought the body down, I went to fetch the jeep which I was in the village.
When I returned to base with Ben Herschberg, I heard that “Eager Beaver” Leiser had been killed and had been brought in. It was already evening and I was covered in blood and filth. Even my cigarettes were soaked in blood. I was completely exhausted and found a bed in the house where I was only too happy to remove all my clothes and sleep until 6 o’clock the next morning, when we were relieved.
I pieced most of the story of the battle together afterwards and found that our boys had all fought heroically against superior numbers of Iraqi-trained forces.
In my section two medics who had run out had been wounded early in the battle, and of the four of us, I alone remained to treat the entire company.
Everyone at Tamra was congratulating me, and ever since then I have been treated like a hero. On return to camp, Jeff Perlman and Doctor Bustyn have both informed me that I am being cited “For devotion to duty, etc. etc.” This makes me very proud, but I hope not conceited.
(Editor’s Note: In April 2008, the official recommendation for the Decoration of Excellence, endorsed by the 72nd Battalion O.C. Jack Lichtenstein, was found at the IDF Archives, and a translation into English appears at the end of this diary).
The following day all the men returning from Tamra were given two day’s leave, except for me. I was asked to go with Capt. Norman Schutzman and Sgt. Major Len Fine to Tel Litwinsky to assist in a recruiting campaign. They both treated me extremely well. On return to camp I received my 48 hours and in Tel Aviv found everyone knew about my story. It seemed to be the main topic of conversation everywhere. Men pointed at me in the streets and many whom I did not know came to congratulate me. I have been invited to join Cpl. Eisner’s “Suicide Squad” and have accepted the offer.
11th September, 1948
After the leave we were sent to Birwa, an occupied Arab village about ten kilometers from Acre in the North. The silent stone houses tempt looters but very little remains of the possessions of the former occupants. Smashed furniture litters the floors and splinters of mirrors crackle as the soldiers’ hob-nails take them further and further into the maze of the village. The cemetery is an indelible, accusing indication of their unwholesome lives – the proportion of young children’s graves is immense. The infant mortality was out of all proportion to the deaths.
In the first and largest house we set up our H.Q. The men had occupied the surrounding hills and we were the medical base. I found a room at the back which I had claimed on my former visit and set up my medical base here. The week in this place passed slowly and uneventfully. The monotony was broken for me by two trips to Haifa in the line of duty.
18th September, 1948
We heard rumors of the Bernadotte murder and this caused quite a stir amongst the men. We had spent a week in Birwa and at 2 a.m. on the 19th were moved into trucks and told to wait. We sat through the cold night on the open trucks and at about 7 a.m. marched off towards camp. Here we ate and changed clothes and immediately set off on a five-hour journey towards Safed.
After passing Nazareth we were thrust suddenly upon a delightful scene. Nestling snugly in a basin at our feet was the white square of Tiberias with the beautiful blue of the Kinneret lapping the sides of the city. We rapidly passed the notice “Sea Level” and descended into the cool city, where we stopped to hastily quench our thirst and satisfy our hunger.
Almost immediately we passed a few green happy-looking kibbutzim and again the ascent on our last stage towards Safed. The tortuous mountain passes took us up and up: through Rosh Pina and into the old city of Safed. It was now almost dark and we ate and were then assembled.
Our captain began his speech with, “Well men, this is it. This is what you came over for. This is “D” Day. All over Palestine fighting will commence tonight.” We were briefed and told that “A” company would occupy the neighboring village of Meron; “B” company would capture a large twin-mountain overlooking the village; and “C” company would take a nearby police station. The attack would begin at 2 a.m. and we were all ordered to prepare our kits and settle down in our clothes until we were wakened. The attack did not take place. In the morning we were told that political reasons (Bernadotte’s murder) had prevented any action.
We spent the day in Safed and that night two sections were formed and told that the engineers were to de-mine the main road from Safed to Acre – we had come by a devious route. One section under Jeff Perlman would accompany the engineers and the other section under Lt. Feldman would cut off the road, through no-man’s land and into Arab territory overlooking a bend in the road. I went with Feldman’s section and this time carried a small stretcher and a rifle. In silence, we were taken to a spot on the road where we left our buses and the 17 of us set-off up the hill. As we neared the top we were met with a challenge in English, Hebrew, and Yiddish. For obvious reasons we did not reply and were immediately forced to take cover when Spandau and rifle fire were showered upon us. During this attack, the lieutenant asked me to crawl back to the men and tell them our password: “Tamra,” and the reply, “Birwa.” I did so, and few minutes later the firing ceased and the attackers moved off onto the road. We went after them and soon discovered that they were Jews of the 79th Battalion.
Once more we set off towards the Arab lines and after a three-hour crossing through the mountains we reached Arab territory. Now we proceeded with utmost caution. Every few yards we fell to the ground and awaited developments. We moved silently through the cold night and approached the foot of a high mountain. Orders were that we were to proceed to the top, but if strong enemy opposition was met we would immediately return to base.
We reached the top without opposition and spread out to cover all sides. The road was immediately below us and just across the road was the large twin-hill which should have been the objective of the previous night. The Arabs had dug excellent trenches on the hill we had just occupied and we realized that they had been there during the day.
We sat silently on the cold hill and heard the Arab forces on the hill overlooking us change guard. In the village below us we could hear the dogs barking and the 17 men shivered, as much with fear as with cold.
According to orders we evacuated our positions at the rise of the morning star at about 4 a.m.) and moved quickly and silently back to Safed. In the daylight enemy snipers would have picked us off very rapidly from their superior positions at such short range. The commander of our scout party asked me to act as guide and in my position 20-yards ahead, I led the party back to our starting point.
20th September, 1948
In Safed we were moved into what had been a hotel, badly scarred by the recent fight for the city where a handful of Jews had held out for two months against 12,000 Syrian forces and had then been relieved by the Palmach.
The windows and doors were all broken; bullet holes had left scars and metal shrapnel on the walls and floor. The entire three-storey building was protected with barbed wire. We soon found that British forces had once occupied our new home.
The days passed in waiting. Our doctor was replaced by a young South African doctor, Harry Bank, with whom I soon became friendly and I spent much time at the hospital or in the city. The contrast of Jewish and former Arab areas was unbelievable. On the one side the empty houses and shops groaned in agony as the wind played amongst the deserted desolate walls packed one upon the other. Each house seems to be making an attempt to squeeze its neighbor off the tiny space between them. The narrow paths would be a defending soldier’s delight, but were inconvenient to the inhabitants. Here all was deadly silent. And as one walked along the paths they gradually widened into a main street, the sound of children’s laughter occupied the area and soon the street rounded the bend to show open shops and Jews busily engaged in living a quiet peaceful life in their scarred but happy and proud city.
28th September, 1948
Last night at a party I met Pnina and Deborah. They were both very sweet young girls who had met Les and who both seemed to have been very friendly with him. I promised to look them up soon, but today we have moved out on our way back to Samaria. On the trip back we took a different route. By this method we saw the heart and the spirit of the land for which we were fighting. The delightful green and brown shades of the scenery leaped with pride and joy and seemed to dance in happiness into the distance. The cultivated beauty of Emek Yisrael is truly inspiring. The shades of green darken into the Balfour Forest in the distance and the air seems to radiate vitality and life. It is pleasing not only to the eye, but to the deeper senses. It is a call to our pride, to stand up and defend.
We have remained in camp until Rosh Hashana. I heard that Les was going home and through much wrangling, obtained 30-hours leave which I extended to four-days A.W.O.L. to cover the Rosh Hashana holidays. Together Les and I spent the period at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Cowzin, who gave us a really delightful holiday with all the comforts of a home. We spent one night in Haifa and then I left for our camp and Les waited to be taken to Cyprus. The days once more passed in the normal drag of camp-life.
12th October, 1948
We have heard rumors of an ambush on a patrol with casualties of the 71st Battalion at Tarshiha. Today our “A” company was moved up there in support, and the remaining companies are on stand-by, ready to go into action.
13th October, 1948
Yom Kippur, and the doc, Vic and I are in a tent about 400-kilometers from the Arab lines. Our “A” company is in holding positions, but the doc has been called up just in case of action. We intended fasting, but considering the conditions have given up the idea.
14th October, 1948
We have been moved back to base together with “A” company and are once more awaiting action.
15th October, 1948
All the fighting men of the 7th Brigade are reported to be on the move north. We were ordered to prepare for action and were equipped and taken well beyond Nahariya by bus. From here all the men of 72 (“A” company, “B” company, and one platoon of “D” company) set off on a march north-east of Nahariya. This was the most grueling march of my life. For four-and-a-half hours we carried on through the night carrying our heavy packs and weapons. Every hour we had a most welcome ten-minute break, but the march through the valley and into the hills through one kibbutz and then on towards the next one was a real test of stamina and endurance. The lights of Kibbutz Eilon were the lights of paradise to us. We arrived at about 3 a.m. and were bunked in the open in a forest. Sgt. Paul Katz, Sgt/Maj. Lewis, Cpl. Harry Eisner, Cecil Prince and I were the only men besides the officers who didn’t sleep in the woods. We found an empty room with a radio on the kibbutz and slept the night away there.
16th October, 1948
Today we are to rest on the kibbutz. No man is to leave the forest because the enemy could watch every movement on the kibbutz and would immediately spot any troops. The success of the attack depends upon the element of surprise. Unless we catch them unprepared we will have a high casualty list.
Tonight we will attack and a full-scale war will be in effect throughout the Holy Land by tomorrow. No. 1 Platoon of “B” company will occupy a hill overlooking the road, No. 2 Platoon will occupy Ikrit. I move with this platoon once more under Feldman. Perlman of No. 1 Platoon and I have just had an argument and he is very annoyed with me because I am not with him.
“A” company will occupy an Arab blockhouse and Tarshiha farther North. As soon as this is done a flying convoy of the 79th will move through to Sassa. The 71st will relieve us and we will be picked up and moved on as support at Sassa. All this must be done in one night. We must occupy Sassa tonight.
It would be impossible to move the casualties from our area, so each medic would have to set up his own dressing station until the arrival of an ambulance once the battle has been won as far as Tarshiha. This is scheduled to take only one hour, or perhaps two.
At 6.30 we were due to move and had been assembled ready to begin the march to C.P.. when the captain came and told us that, owing to the Jewish successes in the Negev and for 30 percent political reasons, the attack had to be postponed, but definitely not cancelled unless the northern Arab forces surrendered without battle. The 17th and 18th were spent in the forest at Eilon and on the night of the 18th we marched back a few kilometers and were then met by buses which returned us to base at Samaria.
21st October, 1948
The day has been uneventful, but took a sudden change this evening. Some fellows from Company ‘B” went on a sit-down strike in front of the company offices. I was the only person able to talk a little sense into them and they asked me to speak to Capt. Norman and try to settle the matter. I spoke to him, he was very friendly, but said it was too late to drop the charges and the men were removed to prison. Capt. Klein later called me into his office and we had a very long and friendly man-to-man chat on the subject and he offered his assistance if the men wished it. He acknowledged my control over the men and asked me to chat to them again. Later in the evening I visited the dark cells and took them sweets (candy) and cold drinks under my jacket. The fellows were friendly and agreed to have Capt. Klein as mediator. During my talk with him, Klein suggested removing Motke and placing me in charge of M.I. under Dr. Bank. Capt. Klein, an American, was commander of headquarters company.
23rd October, 1948
It is now 9.15 a.m. and I have just returned from a raiding patrol in the north beyond Eilon. I have not slept at all since yesterday and the night before I was up until 3.15 am. attending to a malaria case.
Last night we were called out suddenly and taken to the front lines. The briefing was that No. 1 platoon of “B” company would make a lightning raid on an enemy-held hill, with the object of killing as many as possible and returning immediately. From Eilon we moved north along the road and then cut across the hills to rain heavy fire on the enemy positions. We returned without casualties and as we plodded wearily through no-man’s land, I thought of these men – silently they moved in single file, each occupied with his own thoughts; some were thinking of their parents, others of sweethearts, wives or their kids. At times like that men think – and then suddenly duck to avoid enemy fire. My little reverie was cut short as I “hit the dust” along with the men. Suddenly from the front came a cry of “Medic – Locky – someone’s been hit!” I ran forward and across the road and found Louis Hack, a South African, lying with a tiny bullet hole just below the heart. He was fully conscious but convinced that he would die. I dressed his wound rapidly, improvising a stretcher from rifles and jackets, and moved along rapidly. We rushed him to the Eilon marpeya [clinic], gave him a blood transfusion and all the while he spoke to me: “Locky, put me to sleep,” and then moved him off in an ambulance to Nahariya Hospital for surgery, but he was dead on arrival. That is war and we must face it, it could have been anyone, but it was him. He died for Israel, suddenly but gloriously. “Tell them,” he said, “tell that that I died like a soldier – Gerry knows who to write to.”
25th October, 1948
Dr. Bank took me to a party given by Dr. Sieff, the brigade doc. There I met Haya Grinbaum of Kiryat Motzkin. We got on extremely well together and as she remarked, we seemed to have known each other for ages. Her story is a sad one: Her fiancé fought through the battle of Jerusalem and recovered from a wound sustained there. The day before their marriage), a Piat bomb exploded at his camp (this was later verified) and killed him. I have promised to try and see her again.
26th October, 1948
Our new sergeant-medic who arrived last night is a sorely-needed improvement which has been lacking for a long time. I am pleased he has arrived, but unfortunately I am now in a difficult position. He regards me as knowing nothing and insists on treating the cases which have become recognized as my own patients. Today some fellows insisted on being treated by me, and returned during the lunch hour so that I could treat them. I am now definitely insisting on a transfer to the paratroops and have written to the brigade doctor about this. I am sorry to leave the fellows, but it is now not only a duty, but a necessity to leave this battalion and the paratroopers will need me.
26th October, 1948
At first our day was uneventful, but at about noon we were told to prepare our kits and be ready to leave for Safed at 4 p.m. We left at the arranged time, but just after passing Acre our convoy was halted and returned to camp for 24 hours – the air force was not fully ready as their guys had a party in Tel Aviv. The bloody spies!
27th October, 1948
At 4 p.m. we left camp and soon the impressive long convoy of trucks and buses glided through the Emek and northwards towards Safed. We stopped just before proceeding on our way to our destination. Just beyond Tiberias trouble started in the convoy. One bus, loaded with soldiers, overturned (fortunately without casualties) and then the ammunition truck capsized. This held us up for hours and I left the bus and immediately proceeded towards Safed in the ambulance on our own. It was a very grueling journey and few of us slept at all that night.
28th October, 1948
Once more we were in Safed. The move allowed us to sleep and make personal preparations, and Vic and I even went into town for coffee. In the afternoon I spent a great deal of time discussing with the officers including Norman, Aya, and Stan Medicks, what the medical arrangements were to be. We decided that our sergeant-medic would accompany us and he and I would set up a medical H.Q. in the second house to be occupied. He was most disagreeable about having to accompany us into danger, but soon realized that he had to come. “B” company was occupying Meron. While we, the 7th Brigade, fought from Safed, the 9th Brigade would occupy Tarshiha and then meet us at Sassa.
As we sat in the buses ready to leave at about six in the evening, we were thrilled to see two bombers appear nearby and soon followed the crash of bombs. Our hearts stood still as we watched the bursts of “ack-ack” directed at the bombers. Their job completed, the planes moved off, and we set out singing loudly. Soon the singing was silenced, cigarettes were stubbed and in the dark we proceeded towards the objective. After a short distance we left our buses and “B” company set off in a long silent single file across the hills along the same route as I had patrolled with Aya Feldman some weeks previously.
We walked for hours and soon entered a wadi near Meron. Suddenly a burst of machine gun fire started near us. I saw the sparks of ricocheting bullets a few inches in front of me. Suddenly, as we all lay low, there was a cry of “medic, medic, someone’s hurt.” I got up and ran back, although it was the duty of the other medic. By the time he had plucked up the courage to come and help, I had already applied two field dressings to Jack Banin. He had an entrance hole just below the right nostril and the exit about an inch from the medial line of the back of his neck. We lay for a while – I calmed him by talk, and then we began to move under fire towards the edge of the valley. Poor Jack was badly shocked and said what he thought was his last prayer just as I arrived. Thank God he recovered.
We lay in the valley while bullets rained on the area, and our mortars lit the dark night as they crashed on the village above us. Capt. Norman kept us in the cold valley during the coldest night I have ever experienced, while he made up his mind whether or not to attack. At about 3 a.m. we went in for the attack and began to move up the hill. One platoon in advance, then our platoon and then the supporting platoon. When we reached the top we were suddenly confronted by a huge blockhouse, the tomb of Rabbi Simon Bar Yochai. On each corner was a Bren-gun and the Arabs poured fire on us through the windows which were packed with sandbags. This continued throughout the night and just after dawn our No. 2 platoon entered the huge tomb from the side entrance and shortly afterwards we were in possession of the blockhouse. Jonathan and I managed to stick together. While we were still on the slope before entering, Jeff Perlman and I went down to identify one of our dead soldiers. It was already light and as we moved downwards bullets crashed the rocks very near to us. Jeff ran for cover and I rapidly followed suit as I realized that we were being sniped at from the opposite hill.
When we entered the tomb I dressed the minor casualties: there were no major ones, but Daks was killed, and then we searched for loot in the rooms. I found a wallet which I kept. In the courtyard I opened a large swollen insect bite on one of our guys, using a razor blade and sulfadiazine powder. The leg recovered perfectly. We then left the blockhouse to clear the remaining houses in the village. I advanced with the others. At one house I kicked a door in, entered, and looted the room. I found a jacket with a soldier’s papers. I gave the jacket to Lt. Stan Medicks and I kept the papers as a souvenir.
At one of the tents I found positive proof that our mortar fire had killed three Arabs and wounded others. We cleared the village and ate breakfast before setting out towards our next objective.
We left for Jish which “A” company had captured, and found that many of Kaukji’s soldiers had been killed together with a German, a Yugoslavian, and a captured English officer. At Jish I slept for a while and at about 2 p.m. we set off for an attack on Sassa. At about this time mortars were directed on the village and as we crossed a field into a sparse olive grove, the fire was changed to us. We lay down while artillery shells poured over the area about us. Thank God there were no casualties! The only shell that would undoubtedly have got at least three of us, Jeff, Jonathan and me, did not explode. It was to this position that someone brought mail and the boys lay in the field under shell-fire reading letters from home. Here there was no panic, no fear or excitement. We lay in the grove and waited while the missiles of death sang their song of death as they sped over our heads and often the air was rent with the explosions of an accurate shot. These exploded even before their warning hum reached us.
We lay in the field and dozed as we grew accustomed to the whine and thud of the shells. Suddenly there was a loud cry. Soon other voices joined in: “Look,” they shouted, “Look at the road!” I jumped to my feet and realized to my delight that it was not what I had feared. On the road by our side an armored unit moved in a metal caterpillar of strength. We had never suspected that in all Israel there were so many mechanized pieces. They stretched as far as we could see down the road, a moving tower of strength with a man’s head and shoulders above each turret.
They passed, and we followed them along the roadside. We were no longer afraid. Soon the shells would come. They would pound the village. The tanks would machine gun the village and we would follow in. The enemy would be afraid and dispirited. It would be easy, a few hundred shots, the staccato of Spandau, the whine of returning fire, a few dead Arabs and they would run. So we hoped.
We moved onto the hill overlooking the village and dug in to prevent their retreat from the 79th’s heavy fire. At about 11 p.m. we were suddenly moved backwards to the road and taken to waiting half-tracks. Number 2 Platoon went one way, while we were taken to the side of the village where we left the transport and advanced on foot through the fields. We mounted positions on either side of the road from Tarshiha, just a short distance from the most important crossroads in Galilee.
Here we spent the remaining few hours of darkness digging in and waiting for a possible enemy counterattack from Tarshiha. During the march down I had bumped my knee badly and by morning was scarcely able to move my leg. However, I refused to be sent back to H.Q. and prepared to move with the men when light came.
By daylight I discerned that we were in a valley covered on all sides by hills, on one of which only a few hundred yards above us were the clear figures of Arab soldiers.
Sassa, just behind us, had fallen without a fight and we split up into three sections in an advance on a small blockhouse about half a kilometer along the road. One section cleared the hills on the left, another section the right flank and the third (Stan Medicks, a runner Ghandi, and I) moved upwards in a straight line towards the blockhouse. At the same time two armored cars advanced up the road to pour heavy fire in the building from close range. On the way up an Arab sniper with a silenced rifle tried to silence our little central group, the three of us, before fleeing from our men on the right flank. Another Arab on the same side dropped his rifle and ran as our men approached. He must have had a charmed life because even at so close a range, about 500 feet, no one hit him. As we moved to the blockhouse we realized that it had been deserted and we rose to enter it. Suddenly fire broke out from a police station about half a kilometer further ahead, and considering the range their shooting was fairly accurate, many bullets missing by only short distances. Stan, Ghandi and I ran the short distance to the blockhouse and awaited the arrival of our remaining men.
Soon they mortared us, but we were not unduly worried as very few came really close. We soon gathered all our men into the blockhouse and for safety’s sake split up and some of us lay in the bushes amongst the rocks, a short distance from the building. By this time we were all becoming frantic with thirst. Our water bottles were long since emptied and for about 24-hours we had been without liquid refreshment. Planes bombing the most northern villages served as our only distraction but even this wore off after a while and the aching thirst returned. Luckily, Gerry gave me a sip of his. By 2 o’clock the engineers had consolidated the road and we moved back to our buses and on to Sassa.
Just beyond the village we heard of all that had been captured in the village. A huge wholesale storehouse would provide tinned foods, sugar and rice for several months. Number 2 Platoon just off the crossroads had intercepted two trucks during the night. One truck was heavily laden with iron rations for the enemy, and the other carried shells for the beautiful 0.75 mm latest model French gun which it towed. A few hours later, the gun was already in use against its former owners.
The roadside was littered with dead animals, occasional dead Arab soldiers or a few prisoners and a large quantity of household material and personal equipment left by the retreating villagers.
We drank heartily from the water truck, ate a meal and rested for about an hour before we once more entered our buses and pushed on northwards. It was here that we took photographs of No. 1 platoon.
Shortly before dusk our long convoy entered a Christian-Arab village. The first sight was that of a young Arab girl carrying a water canteen and leading a donkey along the road. The people stood idly at the doors of their homes or carried on with their evening routine. Many were already preparing to settle down for the night as we had imposed a curfew on them for one night from six to six. Here we de-bused and ate the evening meal. I stood and spoke to some kids here. We were soon back on our buses and pushing on towards Lebanon in pursuit of the fleeing Kaukjis.
Just about 500 yards from the Lebanese border we stopped and one platoon left the bus in order to occupy an enemy blockhouse just off the road. Right on the border we descended from our vehicle and approached a second blockhouse which marked the border of Israel and Lebanon.
We entered the building without resistance and found that the enemy had destroyed the roof. The building itself was very small and round, being about 15 feet in diameter and having six narrow windows and a destroyed door. The wall was about 15 feet high and on the floor lay the rocky cement rubble remains of the second storey platform which had been destroyed. We packed huge rocks to close half the doorway, mounted our guards in all directions and tried to sleep the night. It was extremely cold and uncomfortable but we all managed a few hours sleep on and off.
The following morning our rations came and with them the news that we would be relieved at about 2 o’clock that afternoon. We sat in the little hole, made ourselves comfortable and watched the trucks and artillery pieces roll pass on their way into Lebanon up towards the attack on Malkiya.
During the day we saw fleeing Arabs crossing the border. We allowed them to pass but those trying to return were chased off. One old woman wished to stay with us and we had a great deal of trouble in chasing her off.
At 2 p.m. our transport arrived and the men mounted the bus while I left on the guide jeep with Lt. Basil (who was driving owing to the fact that the driver had given up due to the sniping on the road). We sped along the road into a wadi where we stopped to eat a hot meal. Here we heard that our second platoon had had two casualties – one dead and one wounded. While we sat in the valley where we remained for about an hour, a light plane circled around us and then suddenly swooped down towards us. Everyone ran for cover but soon shouted joyfully as the Jewish pilot waved to us and then flew off into the distance leaving us with tinned food wrapped in a shirt. We prepared the move into an overlooking hill inside Lebanon when the news came. It was an incredible shock and all who knew him mourned the death of Lt. Zachariah Feldman, the young officer with whom I had become well acquainted and with whom I had served so often. From the story I gathered that number 2 platoon were well into Lebanon when the Arabs (Senegalese) had crept up to their hill position and staged a counter-attack. A burst of machine gun fire had killed Zachariah and just burnt the lips of Capt. Norman Schutzman. The enemy had advanced under heavy fire and throwing hand grenades while our men sat in the open and fought back driving the good enemy soldiers (the best of the Northern Arab forces) back in a panic. They had gained no territory, but an officer who was really at the top of his class, 22 year old Zachariah Feldman, whose father had come up to Sassa the previous day to inquire after his son, this boy from Haifa who treated me as though I was really just more than a kid. The man who was to be married when he returned from the action had been killed in performance of his duty which he had always done so well. He was truly one of the finest and bravest men I had ever met. He was an inspiration to his men and a great credit and asset to Israel, which he loved so dearly.
We moved into the hills and “dug in” in the fading light. Preparation of our defenses and guard duties occupied the greater part of the night and dawn came very quickly. While we were digging in at about 8 p.m. Stan Medicks who shared our H.Q. trench left on an inspection of our positions.
During the day we saw many Arabs retreating to Lebanon and many were killed when approaching or sniping at us. We heard that Malkiya was in our hands and that the offensive was completed with 100% success. We would be relieved at 1 p.m. and we waited impatiently for our relief forces.
The relief had not come by sunset so we dug in and prepared for the night. Here a most amusing incident occurred. Ghandi, the runner, was sent into the valley in order to guide our relief forces up. Once he came up to report and was challenged by the guard. He did not hear the challenge and was shot at. Fortunately, he was not hit and he called the word to stop the firing. The next time he came up we heard him shouting the password from the moment he left his position at the bottom of the hill. He repeated the word all the way up the hill!
Jeff, Stan, and I lay in our trench and talked, of our homes, our girlfriends, and argued for a long time as to the day and date. We decided eventually when we received a three-day old paper that we had all been wrong.
That night we got a sudden report that Arab soldiers were seen and heard approaching our positions from the opposite side of the hill. Piat fire and a few Spandau and rifle bursts soon drove them off.
At about 2 a.m. our relief arrived and we returned to camp where I just dropped onto a bed and slept. What a relief it was to remove our boots and dirty clothes.
2nd November, 1948
This day was spent in cleaning up, in washing clothes, and relating the adventures of the action.
3rd November, 1948
Half of each company (except the M.I. which was separate now) left on leave. I went to Tel Aviv and Ada.
4th November, 1948
Today I had a wonderful day. This morning……
(page torn out).
TRANSLATION FROM THE HEBREW
OF APPLICATION FORM RECOMMENDATION FOR DECLARATION OF EXCELLENCE (BRAVERY)
FAINMAN, LAWRENCE (LOCKY)
Application form recommendation for Declaration of Excellence (Valour)
72nd Battalion.
1. Personal Details – IDF No: 53538 Rank: Private Duty: Medic
Name: Fainman Lawrence.
2. Reason for Recommendation
(a) Date 7.9.1948
(b) Exact Place: Tamra Mountain
(c) Not completed.
(d) Details of Action: Showed cool courage and determination under heavy fire. Ran and crawled and treated wounded men. On one occasion personally operating a Spandau light machine gun of one of the wounded he had treated. With this cool courage, saved the lives of numerous wounded, inspiring others around him.
(e) Not completed.
(f) Not completed
Date of Recommendation – Not completed.
3. Orders and documents – comments of recommending superior:
The above showed excellence and personal courage in evacuating wounded on the field of battle. I therefore recommend the Decoration of Excellence/Valor for this individual act of bravery.
Dated: 23.4.1949
Source: IDF Archives
TRANSLATION FROM THE HEBREW
72nd Battalion
7th Brigade
Ref: 667/17666
November 1948
Operations Officer – 7th Brigade,
Ref: Decoration of Excellence
Private Fainman, Lawrence 53538
I absolutely recommend that this soldier, Lawrence Fainman, receives the Decoration of Excellence (Bravery) for his actions as Medic, beyond the call of duty.
Jack Lichtenstein
Major (Rav Seren) Battalion Commander
(Note: under the typed paragraph, Lichtenstein had written in a scrawl difficult to read:)
1. Open a special file in connection with applications for decorations.
2. Advise all concerned, etc.
3. Prepare all details for translation to English for the knowledge of the Brigade Commander.
(Joe Woolf’s comment – the Brigade Commander was Canadian Machalnik
Ben Dunkelman)
Source: IDF Archives
Photo courtesy of Gordon Mandelzweig