Our positions were taken over by the Besa machine gun platoon of our battalion, and for a brief moment I was able to have a few words with the fellows I had flown up with: Hymie Josman, Hymie Toker, “Toekie” Levitt, Albert Shorkend, Archie Nankin and Jack Marcusson.
Sasa had been captured and we were to consolidate. No. 2 Platoon was moved to the right of Sasa, where they successfully intercepted two enemy trucks, one laden with field rations and the other with 75mm cannon shells, towing the relevant 75mm gun, used the next day by our forces attacking Malkiya.
We, the No. 1 Platoon, were taken past Sasa on the Tarshiha road to dig in to face any counter attack from the direction of the Sasa police fortress above us. We were reinforced by an armored car from the 79th Battalion. When daylight broke, we found ourselves in a deep valley, today a picnic site, facing Mount Adir. Soon afterwards we saw a group of enemy soldiers coming down the road from the fort. They certainly had not seen us, but before our platoon C.O. Stanley Medicks could plan anything, the trigger-happy gunner on the armored car opened fire and scared them off. The element of surprise was now lost. We then started to move off and clear the hills around us.
After clearing the hills around Sasa, No. 1 Platoon of “B” Company stopped for a meal break at Sasa Junction before moving north towards Malkiya. (Photograph: Henry Katzew’s “South Africa’s 800”)
Fritz Bornstein’s No. 3 section went up Mount Adir on the left, Medicks’ platoon headquarters group and Cliff Epstein’s No. 1 section moved up in the centre up the road towards the fort, and Hymie Klein’s No. 2 section, where I was, headed up Mount Sasa on the right. We were to meet in a damaged police post about halfway up, in the direction of the fort. The group in the centre came under light fire from the enemy and was the first to reach the concrete blockhouse. Our section, almost completing our patrol, suddenly sighted a running uniformed Arab a few hundred meters from us. We all opened fire with our rifles, but he got away. He was probably a survivor of the two vehicles ambushed during the night by our No. 2 Platoon. This was the possible miss I mentioned earlier, when I hadn’t checked the sights on the German Mauser, as I was a reasonably good marksman. In the excitement I had forgotten to order the L.M.G. gunner to set-up and open fire. We eventually reached the deserted blockhouse, and the platoon consolidated in and around it, waiting for further orders. Some sporadic fire was directed at us from the police fort, including a few mortar shells. At about midday, with water bottles empty, we forgot about our thirst by watching a few of our aircraft bombing some northern border positions. At about 14.00 hours we moved back to our buses and were driven back to the Sasa crossroads. We refilled our bottles from a water carrier, were given a meal from a supply truck, and rested for about an hour. And then we moved northwards.
Shortly before dusk, our convoy entered the Christian Arab village of Baram. The residents seemed friendly enough, standing idly at the doors of their homes or carrying on with their evening routine. We ate an evening meal, and were soon back
on the buses pushing northwards. Eventually we stopped, half the platoon under Sergeant Perlman with No. 3 section, and half the riflemen of our No. 2 section under Hymie Klein, disappeared to the right towards an empty blockhouse. The rest of us under Lieutenant Medicks – Cliff Epstein’s No. 1 section and me with my L.M.G. group, drove further north, and occupied another blockhouse, this time on the left of the road, on the Lebanese border. The roof had been demolished. We packed rocks to close the doorway to half-height and mounted guards around the area. Those not on guard dozed off inside and around the cold and uncomfortable building. The next morning, rations arrived, with the news that we would be relieved at about 14.00 hours. We made ourselves comfortable again, mounted guards and watched the vehicles of our “A” Company and 79th Battalion roll by for the attack on Malkiya. During the day we watched many fleeing Arabs crossing the border into Lebanon, directed by our Arab-speaking volunteer from Bombay. Ezra Mekmal, whose family was from Iraq, spoke fluent Arabic, and he even had an Iraqi grandmother living in Jerusalem.
At 14.00 hours our transport arrived and we again moved northwards, meeting our supply trucks in a wadi just off the road, where we had a hot meal. Here we heard that in the early morning our No. 2 Platoon suffered two casualties on a mountaintop close to the Lebanese border, one fighter killed and the other wounded. Suddenly a low-flying light plane swooped down, and we ran for cover, but we soon discovered that it was one of ours. The pilot waved and dropped some cans of food wrapped in a shirt. As we prepared to move into a hill inside Lebanon, we heard the sad news that the soldier killed in the early morning was Zachariah (Aya) Feldman, our very popular No. 2 Platoon Commander, a life-long friend of our platoon C.O. Aharoni Landman, who was hospitalized. They had been the last two left alive of their group of friends, and now Aharoni was the sole survivor. Feldman, soon to be married, was killed while performing his duty, which he had done so well. Not only was he an inspiration to his own men but to all of us in “B” Company. He was a great credit and an asset to Israel, which he loved dearly; a true example of a highly motivated young Israeli of which this country has so many, even today in 1987, when I wrote these memoirs based on the late “Locky” Fainman’s diary of 1948.
From the story that we heard, the previous night while we in No. 1 Platoon had consolidated the two blockhouses, No. 2 platoon supported by a Besa heavy machine gun had occupied a hill just inside Lebanon. A number of black Sengalese mercenaries of the Lebanese army had crept close and attacked at dawn. A burst of machine gun fire had killed Feldman and just burned the lips of C.O. Norman Schutzman, while our men and the Besa crew who were still in the open fought, and drove the enemy back.
We moved onto our hill in the fading light and having to dig in and prepare our defenses and guard duties kept us occupied the greater part of the night, and dawn came very quickly. The next day, 1st November, the men of our platoon took turns manning a position over the crest of the hill, observing the many Arabs crossing into Lebanon, and sniping at any uniformed enemy soldiers. We had already heard that Malkiya was in our hands, and that “Operation Hiram” had been completed with
100 percent success, and we were also told that we would be relieved at 01.00 hours that night.
Alter Leff of Toronto, the usual No. 2 of our Spandau section, had been hospitalized in Haifa when this offensive started. He heard that we were in action, went A.W.O.L. from the hospital and returned to our base camp from where he tried to reach us by hitching a ride on the supply trucks, until finally he found us on the last morning. He immediately came to me with some outstanding news. At our camp he had met a new arrival in our Etzel “A” Company, comprised mostly of Holocaust survivors. The man he met was a Katz from Lithuania, looking for a Woolf family of Gordon Road in Bertrams in Johannesburg. As my mother’s maiden name was Katz, I was overjoyed, and really thought that someone of her family had survived the Holocaust. For the last few hours on that hill, I deliberately kept away from any dangerous situation, and did not press to take my turn on the crest, as I wanted to stay alive to meet this Katz fellow. (See Notes 1, 2, and 3 below). Amongst the South African Machalniks were Hymie Shachman and Sydney Levy, who had also been born in my village.
By sunset we had not yet been relieved, and we settled down for another night on the hill, and here an amusing incident occurred: Our platoon runner Ghandi was sent into the valley to guide our relief force up the hill. He returned alone to report their non-arrival, and was challenged by our guard. He didn’t hear the challenge, and the guard fired at him. Fortunately, he wasn’t hit, and called out the password. The next time he returned with our relief group, he shouted the password from the bottom of the hill and repeated it all the way up. This relief had arrived at 02.00 hours, 2nd November. Returning to camp I noticed that they came by a much shorter route directly to Akko, obviously through the central Galilee, which was now in our hands. So ended “Operation Hiram” after three non-starts; four brigades had been involved: our 7th, the 9 th, Golani and Carmeli, with a low figure of only 23 dead and some 60 wounded. It was a tribute to its planners, and of course those who carried it out – us. The whole of the Galilee was now in our hands.
The first day on our return to camp was given to cleaning up, laundering and resting. The next day, we were given a few days leave, which I spent in Tel Aviv, visiting my Dad’s friend and family and the South African Zionist Federation to check for mail and to collect my ₤5 monthly allowance, in addition to my I.D.F. pay of ₤3 per month.
Back at Samaria (today Schraga) camp, many changes were taking place. Our 79th Battalion, previously at St. Jean next to Akko, was to move to Samaria and St. Jean became an Israel Air Force base. I think the 71st Battalion had been moved down to the Negev and we, “B” and “D” support companies, moved to another former British base of St. Lukes, just south of Haifa on the main coastal road to Tel Aviv.
Here we started a period of intensive training on the road north of Akko, and on the beach between Haifa and Atlit. The training also included a number of long route marches with full equipment; a particularly difficult one was up the southern side of the Carmel mountain until we reached the Druze village of Isfiya, and then back down the steep mountain to Kibbutz Yagur, where buses were waiting to take us back to camp.
Early December 1948 – “B” Company ready to board buses at St. Lukes for the Syrian front. (Photograph: Henry Katzew’s “South Africa’s 800”)
At the end of November 1948, I was transferred to No. 3 Platoon (formerly the only platoon of “D” Company, now amalgamated into “B” Company). After “Operation Hiram”, Norman Schultzman had returned to the U.S.A., and non-Jewish Derek Bowden (aka David Appel) was now in command. My section included a number of South Africans – Cyril Clouts from Cape Town, Kenny Danker from Krugersdorp, Max Chait from Pretoria, Zelig Genn from Johannesburg, Frank Fisher from Johannesburg, Monty Katz from Johannesburg and George Busch from Cape Town. The others to complete a now full strength section were British volunteers – Holocaust survivors known as “The Boys” – Mendel Silberstein, Chaim Liss, Zvi Brand and Zelig Rosenblatt.
My training period with them was brief, as in early December we were ordered to move north again. However, I remember two additional long-distance maneuvers, one north of Nahariya and another one southward towards Atlit. The rainy season had begun,and many of these movements were carried out in heavy rain. Once again we boarded the buses, and after a stop at the Sea of Galilee we proceeded to camp Fylon at Rosh Pina, our battalion headquarters.
The remnants of the 7th Brigade were to relieve and replace the Carmeli Brigade, holding positions in the upper Galilee and the Hula valley. We had hardly settled down when our platoon was taken at night to Kibbutz Hulata, and from there we boarded a launch and crossed over to Kibbutz Dardara on the other side of Lake Hula. Here we spent about a week holding positions and supplementing the kibbutz defenders. It was a new environment for us, and it took a few days to get used to having the Syrian positions looking down on us at a distance of 100 meters or less.
It was raining quite heavily, and we sloshed around in the mud between defense posts, the mess hall and our tents. Finally, we were relieved, re-crossed Lake Hula on the fishing launch at midnight, returned to Fylon and immediately taken to new positions past Kibbutz Machanayim, at an old ruin called Yarda on the left of the main road to Damascus, not far from Kibbutz Mishmar Hayarden, then in Syrian hands; the Syrian positions were on the next hill, about two hundred meters north of us.
After a few days in this position, during an inspection, our company C.O. noticed a gap in our lines between the Yarda ruin and the road position held by No. 1 Platoon. He ordered my section to prepare another dug-out, which became our night position. As the Syrians were interested in maintaining the cease-fire, our time there was relatively quiet. On Christmas Day, our fellows sang Christmas carols to the Syrians, many of whom were probably Christians.
Our duties involved day observations, some inter-platoon patrols and manning this new dug-out at night, which meant three fellows staying there for two or three hours at a time. Maybe it was quiet, but we did lose two British volunteers. On Christmas Day, reconnaissance man and sniper Jonathan Balter, carrying a message from one platoon position to another, must have taken a wrong turn and stepped on a mine or booby trap. It took some hours of patrolling to find and retrieve his body with the help of the co-operative Syrians, who pointed out the direction from where they had heard the explosion. Jonathan was a very serious and popular London medical student and Zionist who spoke with an Oxford accent. The second, Wilfred Sheppard, an ex-kindertransport child, and a new arrival, died in a shooting accident on 26th December at Fylon camp, before he even managed to join us.
During this period, heavy fighting erupted in the south against the Egyptians in “Operations Assaf” and “Horev”, and our forces succeeded in pushing the enemy beyond the Sinai border. Naturally, we were all fed up having to sit it out in relative boredom while action was taking place in the south.
Later we learnt that we were the only brigade left to hold the entire north, supported by regional defense (home guard) units. In spite of the lack of action, the particular hard winter kept our medical officer, South African Dr. Harry Bank busy at his sick bay in Fylon camp with the usual injuries, pneumonia, flu, fevers, and so on; his patients included me, when I managed to get a two-day rest in the sickbay with a badly infected hand: maybe it was due to an insect bite, or to an injury.
On the extreme right flank of our company’s line, next to Lieutenant Stanley Medicks’ No. 2 Platoon position, was an isolated outpost very close to the Syrians. To prevent any group sitting there for an extended period, each of the nine sections of the company took turns to man it for a 24- or 48-hour stint.
Coming from Lieutenant Arthur Sokolov’s No. 3 Platoon, which was on the extreme left flank involving a long hike, I took my section for this duty. Just before dawn I set out along the communication trench on inspection, to ensure that all the men were alert and everything was in order. Approaching the dugout closest and within spitting distance of the Syrians, I heard shrieks of laughter. Concerned, I hurried over to find Frank Fisher and Zelig Genn sitting on the post, exchanging jokes when they should have been inside on pre-dawn readiness.
Hymie Malbin, Cyril Clouts, George Busch, Hymie Treisman
(Photograph: Henry Katzew’s “South Africa’s 800”). (Photo by Zelig Genn)
When our air force shot down five R.A.F. fighter aircraft over Sinai on 7th January 1949, we were put on stand-by, ready for the possibility of war with England. Eventually in mid-January we were relieved and the whole company sent back for a few days rest at Fylon.
When told that no outside leave would be granted, some of the fellows of No.1 and 3 Platoons decided to take a few days off. They marched out of the camp as if on an exercise and headed in all directions, leaving notices stating that in case of an emergency they would return immediately. Frank Fisher and I had official night passes for Tiberias and could have easily joined them. We opted not to, but we met a boisterous crowd in Tiberias waiting for a bus or to hitchhike to Tel Aviv, having landed up in the well-known Grand Hotel pub. I had another reason for not joining them – I wanted to ask our C.O. to return me to No. 1 Platoon.
Captain David Appel (Derek Bowden), a drinking mate of the boys, had an enjoyable time driving around in his jeep rounding up a lot of the fellows, knowing exactly where to find them. Eventually all returned as promised, got a hell of a dressing-down from Bowden, and were punished by being sent to the Dardara position on the other side of Lake Hula for a week.
When we returned to the lines, I was again with No. 1 Platoon and my old friends, although the guys of No. 3 Platoon were also good friends, and have remained so until this day, those of us who are still alive.
Near the end of February, we returned to St. Lukes and were given leave. I took the opportunity of heading to Jerusalem for a few days, wandering around and excited to be in the holy city. There had been a heavy snowfall, and there was still snow on the ground.
Then I went back to St. Lukes, and had a short period of inactivity. South African university students were returning home to return to their studies, while other Machalniks were settling down in Israel.
To keep us busy, Captain Appel took us out for a day to the shooting range just north of Akko, the one we had used while at Samaria camp. At this stage of the war there was an excess of rifle and Spandau machine gun ammunition, much of it rusty. We had a great time shooting away, but while we were busy Captain Appel sent the buses home empty. When we had finished, he announced that we were going to march back to St. Lukes, a distance of some 25-30km. Once we passed Akko we marched along the Haifa Bay beach. To keep up the brisk momentum, some of us fitter guys kept changing to the front in order to set a fast pace. We finished up by marching in parade formation, singing loudly through the deserted streets of Haifa and arriving at St. Lukes after midnight.
One cold sunny March Saturday morning, a group of us South Africans, wearing only towels around our waists and army boots, took a short march in single file along the main Haifa-Tel Aviv highway to an ex-British officers’ beach. I cannot recall exactly who was involved, but I was there along with Mo Katz, Kenny Danker, Frank Fisher, Dave Brenner, Martin Kahn, Mike Snipper, Solly Taback, Ian Walters, and Luther Brand. Perhaps Harry Klass was there, and I think Canadians Hank Meyerowitz and Ernie Levine, as well as Brits Cliff Epstein and David Massil were with us. Over this February/March period I was lucky to be sent on a two-week course to learn Hebrew at Bet Rutenberg on the Carmel. Many of us did not learn any Hebrew. It was bitterly cold with heavy rain, but we didn’t miss the cultural activities and tours. Dov Judah, the South African chief of operations in the air force, probably with the rank of major, was in our barracks, and he used to tell the sergeant sent to wake us: “Bugger off!” so we didn’t get up for lessons. One day we were taken to Rambam Hospital to donate blood. We were offered a snort of whisky and a one-day leave. I’m still waiting for that leave! Stan Medicks and Mischa Figowski were also on this course, and there were some others from our company, as well as many high school and neighborhood friends whose presence in Israel was not known to me – David Navias, Reuben Narunsky, Walter Caspary, Clive Centner, Hymie Shachman, Solly Kramer, Harold Sher, and some others whom I had not known. Apart from Dov Judah, Melville Malkin, Mockie Schachat, Harry Goldstein, Jack Patlansky, Fred Salant and Mike Isaacson were with us on the course, and some others, but I don’t remember their names.
When the course was over, the South African Zionist Federation in Tel Aviv advised me to apply for my discharge and return to South Africa. My parents had reported to the South African Zionist Federation in Johannesburg that the military police were looking for me. Unlike my sensible friend Ralph Lanesman, who had applied for one year’s leave from his A.C.F. Pretoria Regiment, I had applied for only two-months’ leave from my regiment to tour Europe, as I didn’t want to arouse suspicion. Not wishing to lose my South African resident’s status (I was not yet a citizen), I accepted the advice of the South African Zionist Federation, and began the discharge procedure. During my discharge leave I visited my friends Lionel and Essie Narunsky at Kibbutz Timorim, then near Nazareth. While I was there I heard rumors that some military movements were going on. I rushed back to camp and indeed, our 72nd was on the move again.
By now many fellows had been discharged, and our English-speaking “B” Company had been reduced to one slightly over-strength platoon. All the sections had been formed, and there was nowhere for me to go as a section leader. So, our C.O. Aharoni Landman put me in charge of an expanded 2″ mortar team which had two mortars. I was privileged to have with me two experienced veterans who had been sergeants in World War II – American Herb Tarnapol and Canadian Sam Fagen. Either one of them could have made a better leader, but they had refused rank. Having them with us gave me some extra confidence. Our platoon now became No. 3 Platoon of the Etzel “A” company, and we were sent to Kfar Saba to become part of the 52nd Battalion of Givati.
We learned that the impending operation was to clear the area all the way to the Jordan River. Much later, in discussions with other Machaniks, it seemed that every available brigade was positioned around the Arab triangle of Jenin, Tulkarm and Kalkilya, all the way to the Jerusalem hills; opposing us would be the Jordanian and Iraqi forces. Our company was to attack and capture Kalkilya, and because of the particular task of our platoon, we changed the two mortars for two P.I.A.T.s [anti tank rocket guns]. The plan was that as the platoon progressed, my section was to move forward and cover a road, in order to prevent enemy armored vehicles from interfering. I was also given two light machine gun groups and a number of riflemen for this task.
We were put up in the classrooms of a school and advised that because of Aharoni’s promotion to captain and his seniority, we would be the point platoon of the attack. This was not a great compliment, as we’d be the first to be killed. We settled down to some serious training, doing many platoon and section exercises amongst the citrus groves, the exact terrain for our attack. A good part of our diet during our breaks consisted of oranges and grapefruit from the trees. To this day, I still remember the scent of the citrus.
After a period of some two weeks, when we worked ourselves up to a peak of enthusiasm and ability, the operation was cancelled. Apparently observing our movements, King Abdullah of Jordan had agreed to join the armistice talks to take place at Rhodes. On the 45th anniversary of the state, I learnt of another reason in an article written by the then cabinet secretary: Ben-Gurion’s bold plan had not been approved by the cabinet. From the personal story of British Machalnik and company commander Shaul (Rosenberg) Ramati of the Alexandroni Brigade, I learned that Ben-Gurion had a similar plan for September 1948, which was also cancelled because of the assassination of Count Bernadotte on 17th September; because of that, our first attempt at “Operation Hiram” had been postponed.
South Africans of the old “B” Company who were still there were Mo Katz, Kenny Danker, Mendel Cohen, Abe Rachman and Reuben Sacks, who under the command of American Lt. Arthur Sokolov manned positions in the lines outside Kfar Saba, and I was in the attacking platoon with Frank Fisher, Solly Taback, Dave Brenner, Martin Kahn, Ian Walters from Kenya, Harry Klass, Mike Snipper, Simon Novikow, Zelig Genn and Luther Brand.
Once the operation had been cancelled, I got back to my discharge procedures, and went back to St. Lukes on my own. All that was left of the 72nd had been reduced to a few tents in the camp. The rest was being filled up with refugees, former detainees from the Cyprus camps who were being released by the British. In fact, the camp was shortly to be renamed Shaar Ha-Aliyah (The Gate to Immigration) and is now a suburb of Haifa. I spent a week in the Tel Aviv area saying my farewells to people I knew, and included two days at Kibbutz Givat Brenner with an old school and neighborhood friend, Barry Chait, who had been posted there for his military service.
On the flight, probably the first for Universal Airlines, the forerunner of El Al, I had the privilege of meeting fellow passenger Syd Cohen, returning to South Africa to complete his medical studies. He was a famous pilot and commander of 101 Fighter Squadron. In his honor, we were treated out of Israel to a farewell escort flight of four Spitfires. From the window of our Dakota I successfully photographed two of these aircraft with a second-hand Kodak Retina camera bought with my discharge allowance in Haifa. I used the same camera well into the 1980s in Israel, and one of these photographs has even become a famous air force memento. On the way back to South Africa we made night stops at Juba in Sudan and Ndola in Northern Rhodesia, today Zambia, as well as lunch stops at Entebbe in Uganda and Bulawayo in Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe.
In addition to Syd Cohen, other Machalniks returning on that flight were Hymie (Slim) Kurgan, Maurice Mendelowitz, Harold Sher – an old Doornfontein acquaintance and my mother-in-law’s first cousin – Mike Isaacson, Leon Rosen – who had joined the Hebrew Legion with me – and Julius Levine, who appears in a 1st grade class photo of mine dating back to 1934.
I arrived back at Palmietfontein quite broke, and had to borrow money from Mendelowitz to pay customs on the Retina camera I brought with me. I think the Zionist Federation arranged for taxis to take us to our homes. I had not advised the family of my return, and surprised them by coming in via the back door of our new home.
I must have arrived back a few days before 15th April, as when I reported to Simie Weinstein at the Federation the next day, he told me that Leo Kowarsky, head of the South African League for the Haganah, and also an ex-World War II decorated officer of my regiment, had negotiated with them: as long as I joined the regiment leaving for their annual month’s training at Camp Tempe in Bloemfontein, starting 15th April, the charge of desertion would be squashed. So after a few days at home, I was back in the army, spending my 21st birthday and the Pesach festival there. I and the other half-a-dozen or so Jewish members of the battalion were entertained by the Jewish community of Bloemfontein. My neighborhood friend Frank Milner – born in the same village of Lithuania as I was – was hosted by the head of the community, as was I. The officers and men of my battalion received me back with respect and appreciation for what I had done.
An Anecdote – As noted earlier, I was not yet a naturalized citizen of South Africa. According to law I had to report my movements to the Aliens Department of the C.I.D. before leaving. I had done so, completing the relevant form with the reason for departure as a ‘European Tour.’ Finishing the period with my battalion, I went back to the C.I.D. to report my return, and the same detective sergeant was on duty. Going to Israel was supposed to have been a secret. He looked at me with a grin, and said with his very pronounced Afrikaans accent, “So the Arabs didn’t get you, hey!”
On reflection, as a simple “musket-bearer” I played a very minor role, and no doubt the war of 1948/49 could have been won without my contribution. However, I never regretted being a part of it. As I wrote at the beginning of my narrative, I was never a Zionist and did not participate in any Zionist activities, but like so many others with little connection to Zionist affairs, “whether explicitly or implicitly,” I became a Zionist, as noted by Henry Katzew, author of the book “South Africa’s 800.” Having served in the 72nd Infantry, I knew a lot about the history of the 7th Brigade. At reunions here in Israel and formerly in South Africa, I had learned about the units in which many others had served. Sometimes I learned from them about the roles they played. If I had not been involved in the publication of the “South Africa’s 800,” and now the World Machal Web site, I could never have imagined the overall contribution of “South Africa’s 800” and now, in a broader picture, I understand the contribution of over 4,400 Machalniks from all over the world. Henry Katzew stated how proud he was to have been the chronicler of the South African enterprise. I am proud to have been part of it.
Note ¹
During Machal’s 50th anniversary in 1998, we succeeded in tracing this “baby,” 49- year-old Meir Mederer living in Kiryat Bialik. Alan and Ellen Price and I had a wonderful reunion at the home of his parents, Martin and Freda, in Tivon. Also attending the reunion with the Mederer family was New Yorker, Harry Eisner, 16- years older than I, a comrade of “B” Company, our house guest for the reunion.
Link to Joe Woolf – Machal Researcher story
Additional Notes by author and researcher Joe Woolf:
Note 1
However, I did know that my paternal grandparents, aunts, uncles and their spouses and children had disappeared in the Holocaust, with some of my mother’s Katz family. I also knew that my Katz grandparents had died as refugees during World War I from the hardships and diseases prevalent at that time. They had been expelled eastwards by the Russian Military Governor of the Baltic States . My mother, only ten-years-old in 1915, was expelled with them. During my visits to the Lithuanian archives in the 1990s, I discovered that I had lost 22 direct family and 16 Katz and Woolf second cousins.
Note 2
Solly (Genkind) Ganor, who served in our “B” Company, was a relative by marriage from both my parents’ sides and had survived the Kovno Ghetto and the Dachau concentration camp, but our relationship was not established until after my second research trip to Lithuania in 1996; upon discovering that his mother’s maiden name was Strom, I knew that it was a name that originated from my village. Only after we had built our monument to the Machal Fallen at Sha’ar Hagai, and meeting each year on Memorial Day, did I find out that Solly originated from Lithuania.
Note 3
On return to Samaria, I immediately went over to the “A” Company tents to seek out this Katz fellow, but disappointingly his father’s name was not known to me, and also he was not from the village of my birth. My mother had only one brother left in Lithuania at the outbreak of World War II. He, together with his wife and three children, had simply disappeared. It still took six months before I returned to South Africa, by which time my family had moved to a different suburb on the other side of Johannesburg. There must have been another Woolf family living in Gordon Road, and for many years, even until my visit to Lithuania in 1996, I regret not trying to trace this other Woolf family of Gordon Road, Johannesburg to see if this fellow had managed to find them. There might not even have been one, as this Katz could have been from an unknown branch of the family. During my visit in 1996, I had traced a 3rd cousin in Vilnius and from the information I obtained from him, I was able to expand my extensive Katz family tree, including some who were not from my village.
At least ten Katz second- and third-cousins had been murdered in the 1941 Lithuanian massacres. Others had survived, and their descendants live in Israel and in the Los Angeles area. Recently perusing this family tree, there were no male survivors who could have been of army age in 1948, but I still regret not trying to trace the other Woolf family of Gordon Road, Johannesburg.
In 1948 I did not know as much as I do now. The second- and third-cousins were unknown to me. My 1990s Lithuanian research indicated that my Katz family who lived in my village of Seta during the 20th century actually originated from another place in Lithuania. Due to lack of knowledge in 1948, I might have missed a serious opportunity. I wonder if this Katz survivor or his descendants are still alive?
Author: Joe Woolf, World Machal’s Chief Researcher and Editor of Henry Katzew’s book “South Africa’s 800.”
Link to Joe Woolf – Machal Researcher story