79th Battalion, Army No. 65621
I was privileged to be chosen as a Machal volunteer from South Africa, even though I had no previous military training; this was probably because I had been active in Zionist youth movements. (Machal is an acronym for the Hebrew words meaning Volunteers from Abroad).
Our preliminary clandestine weekend training took place at Tebby Sacks’s farm at Klapmuts, between Cape Town and Paarl. Our instructors included two officers who had served in WW II, Advocate Gerald Gordon and Eric Behrman, who also joined
Machal.
We left Johannesburg at midnight in mid-August, 1948, in an undercover and supposedly secret illegal operation, to which a sympathetic South African Government turned a blind eye: South Africans were not allowed to join an army of a foreign country. The non–Jewish pilot of the twin engine Dakota (which was not air-conditioned) was part of the plot, preferring not to hear the word “Israel” mentioned – as far as he was concerned, we were headed for Oklahama.
We flew over Africa, making two overnight stops, one at Entebbe and the second at Wadi-Halfa on the Nile, with two re-fuelling stops at Khartoum and El-Adem. We landed at the airport in Rome, where we were asked to contribute cigarettes in order to ease our way past the immigration officers, who were well aware of the purpose of our “visit.”
From Rome we traveled by train to Genoa to embark on the S.S.Kedmah and to sail to Marseilles to pick up refugees, 450 men, women and children who were to join our group of 20 South Africans aboard. It was an emotional sight to see these displaced persons, each one with only one or two suitcases or knapsacks holding all their worldly possessions. They were making the journey for the second time, trying to reach a safe haven in the promised land, as once before they had been turned back from Israel’s shores by British soldiers. For the first time, the Machalniks aboard were faced with the stark reality of the Holocaust, and the reason why we were on our way to Israel: so that never again would it be possible for such things to happen.
Some days on the Mediterranean were pleasant, and the fine weather compensated for the poor conditions. All the cabins were allocated to the refugees; we slept on deck on mattresses wherever there was space; the toilet facilities on board were a health hazard, but there were no complaints.
When we stopped at Messina in Sicily, we were allowed to go ashore for a few hours. For the very first time I came face to face with the Italian-made Vespa scooter, which had not yet reached South Africa. While examining one close-up, I was offered a pillion ride by the young Italian owner. I accepted with some trepidation, expecting no more than a spin around the block. But half-an-hour later, after a nerve-wracking, bumpy ride, I found myself at the peak of Mount Etna. Fortunately, the volcano was not active at that time. My kind “host” got me back to the ship on time, and even refused a gratuity from me, perhaps because he was so pleased to show off his new toy.
We sailed into Haifa early one Saturday morning, but because of Shabbat we were not allowed to land until nightfall, causing much consternation, almost rebellion, amongst the refugees, whose tired bodies ached to reach a safe haven.
Our first night in Israel was spent at a transit camp at Bat-Galim, on the outskirts of Haifa. The next morning we were taken into the city for medical examinations; we moved from booth to booth as a line-up of doctors examined us. Then we set off for Tel Aviv, to the transit camp at Tel-Litwinsky, where we were allowed a three-day rest period, which included a stroll around Tel Aviv before being posted to our army base camps.
I was happy to be posted to the workshops of our armored 7th Brigade. This posting was almost automatic when the questioning officers heard that I had served my apprenticeship as a motor mechanic in our family motor business in South Africa; at that time qualified mechanics were in short supply.
A bus took us to our base camp at Kurdani, situated between Haifa and Acre. The camp covered a huge area and had been used by the British. When they vacated it, they kindly left behind odd bits and pieces of furniture – such as beds, mattresses and tables, which we gladly used to make life more comfortable in our quarters, that were located next to our workshops, inside one of the large buildings. Thankfully, this building had large solar heated water tanks on the roof, and our boys soon got the system working, so there was always hot water available for showering and to scrub the dirty grease off our hands. This little bit of luxury was much appreciated.
There were about 100 of us in the unit: mechanics, assistants, storekeepers and machinists, of whom only four were South Africans. There were also many new arrivals from Eastern Europe who learnt spoken Hebrew quite quickly, but had never learnt to read or write it in their countries of origin. I, on the other hand, having had a thorough Hebrew education could read and write easily. Although my vocabulary was limited, I was able to help by reading letters to them, and sometimes even in Yiddish.
Our workshops were responsible for the repair and maintenance of equipment of the 79th Armored Battalion headquarters at the St.-Jean camp, situated between Acre and Nahariya. Many South African Machalniks were attached to the 79th as well as to the 72nd Infantry Battalion. We were lucky to have two South African doctors for the daily sick parade, one of them my very good friend from Cape Town, Dr. Harry Bank, and the other, Dr. David Rosenberg.
The majority of our armored vehicles were half-tracks, so-called as they were fitted with wheels at the front and with heavy rubberized tracks at the rear for a caterpillar effect. Changing these tracks when needed, was the hardest and most strenuous of all our tasks.
At that time Israel was under a general arms embargo, with France as our best ally. These half-tracks got through the embargo and were brought into the country from France as “agricultural implements” and were immediately fitted with quarter-inch steel plating for army use, and were used primarily as troopcarriers, or they were mounted with small cannons. We also had armored vehicles of all shapes and sizes, many of them captured from the Arabs during skirmishes and battles. It became a guessing game to determine which make of engine we would find beneath the bonnets of our booty, most of them were of American origin – well-known names such as White, International, Rio and others. Needless to say, after being overhauled these units became part of our equipment.
Life at base camp was one of daily routine, especially so during the times when truces were declared by world leaders after heavy battles. However, in the workshops we worked a full nine-hour day, from 7 a.m. till 4 p.m., for it was during these days that every single one of our armored vehicles had its turn to be thoroughly checked, in order so as to be in top notch condition for battle.
But during these days of truce, when tensions were at a minimum, we also enjoyed some hours of relaxation. Every night, after a hard day’s work, transport was provided from our base to Haifa, a 40-minute drive, and many a night was spent strolling around the town, particularly up on Mount Carmel, where there was no shortage of coffee-houses where we could hang out and chat with comrades from other army units. But the truce days were mere lulls in the storm, and we were all aware of the battles which were still to come.
One of Israel’s major objectives was to clear the Galilee of Arab forces and to establish an international boundary on the Lebanese border. Our 7th Brigade, comprising the 79th Armored Battalion and 72nd Infantry Battalion, was called into action and joined forces with three other brigades – Oded, Golani and Carmeli. The combined Israeli offensive was code-named “Operation Hiram” after the King of Tyre, who had been an ally of King David and King Solomon and who had donated the cedar-wood to build the Temple in Jerusalem. The force we were fighting was Kaukji’s Liberation Army, made up of 3,000 to 4,000 fighters from Syria and Lebanon. They had been able to inflict damage and casualties on our forces in scattered skirmishes in the North, and their equipment included a number of armored vehicles and 75 mm. guns.
The first part of the operation was to move our armored units to Safed and to establish a base camp on Mount Canaan. We used a ruse to effect this operation. The time of the new moon, with maximum darkness at night, was chosen. By day the vehicles were driven up the mountain with as much noise and commotion as possible, making them clearly visible to spying Arab eyes. Then, in the darkness of the night, the vehicles were silently freewheeled down the mountain, and then brought up again the next day in full daylight. This exercise was performed several times, to lead the enemy to believe that a massive army was being deployed for the action to follow.
Just hours before the attack was scheduled to begin, Count Bernadotte, the United Nations mediator, was assassinated, and for political reasons, action on all fronts was stopped immediately. So we returned to base camp at Kurdani to wait it out for the next scheduled attack. One month later, in similar fashion, our Armored Brigade was moved up to Mount Canaan.
On the night of October 28th the action began, with all four participating brigades deployed in a pincer movement. Initial Arab resistance was soon dealt with, and incredibly, all Kaukji’s forces were defeated by October 31st.
To quote from. “The Edge of the Sword, Israel’s War of Independence”, by Netanel Lorch: “The main objective of Operation Hiram, control of the whole Galilee was completely achieved with hardly any casualties. Arab casualties amounted to some 400 killed, and 550 prisoners. Some 1,500 rifles were captured, three guns, two armored vehicles, 20 other vehicles, four machine guns, and three anti-tank rifles. All vehicles were marked with the symbol of the Liberation Army, a crooked dagger dripping blood, piercing a Shield of David”.
So swift was the breakthrough of the enemy lines, I was hardly aware of being at a battlefront, apart from hearing gunfire and cannon shots, The function of our workshop unit was to follow behind our armored vehicles and to salvage damaged ones, as well as to bring captured vehicles back to base camp for our own use.
Amongst the vehicles we captured were brand new Chevrolet buses, still in their original factory colors. Julie Pearl and I drove one of these buses from Safed back to our base camp at Kurdani, a two-hour drive. En route, we passed by a group of Arabs fleeing from their village. I would say that there were about 30 of them, probably a family of elderly parents with a host of children, followed by their camels and herds of sheep and goats. As we approached them slowly in the bus, they fell down on their knees, begging for mercy. Julie and I stopped the bus and got out, with our rifles in hand, and on approaching them, they came forward, offering us live chickens as a peace offering, which we gladly accepted. When we got back to camp we barbequed them and shared our booty.
Things returned to normal at camp, as were kept busy in our workshops, occupied daily with complete check-ups on all our vehicles, so that they’d be in perfect condition for any future action. Heavy fighting was now concentrated on the Southern front against the Egyptian forces, until they were routed, and the Negev, all the way down to Eilat, was in Israel’s hands.
But our 7th Brigade was once again put on the alert: we were informed that we were going in to clear the Arab Triangle whose boundries were Tulkarm, Jenin and Nablus. This was not a secret undercover operation. On the contrary, all our vehicles had triangles painted on them, so that the enemy could see them clearly and be aware of our intended action. But this operation never took place, as a cease-fire came into effect. Armistice agreements were signed with Egypt in February 1949, with Lebanon in March, with Jordan in April and with Syria in July.
To quote: “The War of Independence was over. The State of Israel was established within borders constituted by the lines agreed upon in the armistice agreements”. At this time, with the cease-fires in effect, Machalniks were already being discharged. My turn came in mid-June, and once again I sailed on the Mediterranean, this time aboard the S.S.Negba, the sister ship of the S.S. Kedmah, which had brought me to Israel ten months earlier. The first part of my journey home was via Paris, then on to London, before sailing back to Cape Town, arriving there on July 23rd. I was lucky to be able to arrange this passage back with the kind help of relatives from Manchester, the Swerlings, with whom I had spent some time. By then my cash savings had dwindled, and I could not afford the journey home by plane. I had to share a small cabin with three British Tommies. After three weeks at sea I was glad to step ashore in Cape Town to a welcoming mother and my brothers, happy to have me back home safely in one piece, but also proud of what I had undertaken.
Would I do it all again? Absolutely! Today, more than 50 years later, I remain humbly proud of having been able to be present at the birth and recreation of our National Homeland, and to have taken part in it.