MY VOYAGE TO ISRAEL ABOARD THE “SS FABIO”
The voyage of the “SS Fabio” to Haifa from Naples early in September 1948 was not unique, for it was one of numerous voyages that helped to empty the displaced persons camps. Also aboard were 31 South Africans who were coming to join Machal and were learning, albeit secondhand, the conditions under which Europe’s Jews had been living for 15 years.
The ship was a small cargo vessel built in the 1880s and powered by a junk six- cylinder engine. It weighed 400 tons and measured 100 by 20 feet. The ship had been in use many times during the days of illegal immigration.
Eating arrangements were severely restricted, with cooking facilities consisting of an oil drum with a fireplace at the bottom, suitable only for boiling water. After the second day I felt so nauseated that for the rest of the voyage I existed on a diet of a plate of macaroni, half a chocolate bar or a quarter pint of fruit juice. Sanitary arrangements were extremely primitive. There were quite a few babies on board who had better food, thanks to two South African girls, both qualified nursing sisters, Sarah Witt and non-Jewish Delyn Kacev, who volunteered to help the medical officer, so the babies were as well cared for as possible.
The passengers came from about 20 countries and each one had his own story. There were two groups of youngsters on board, one from Hungary and the other from Tripoli, of whom 87 had crossed the Mediterranean in a small un-seaworthy fishing boat. They had no food, sleep or space to lie down.
The “Fabio” could easily have been mistaken for a snoek fishing boat from Cape Town. She was an oil-burner, a wizened hulk of the sea. The run she was now about to undertake on that September day, starting from Gaeta, a little wharf near Naples, would be in keeping with her hard and pressured life. She should not have taken aboard more than 50 people, but she took exactly 292. Her holds had been converted into dormitories by the simple expedient of installing bulwark-to-bulwark boards. You could not have put a razor blade between us. “If you slept on your back, you had to stay on your back,” recalls Morris Smith.
Her passengers were a motley crowd, people of about twenty nationalities. They were mainly displaced persons, but there was also a handful of ex-Spanish Civil War men, as well as a handful of ex-Jewish Brigade men and women from Tripoli who had crossed the Mediterranean to reach the ships. For many, this was their second attempt, as on the first occasion they had been caught and imprisoned for several months. The Hungarians were mostly young orphans, accompanied by a number of teachers, who were on their way to a kibbutz.
There were nine pregnant women aboard; two gave birth on the voyage, one to a boy and the other to a girl. The sea was rough during the major part of the voyage – on the fourth day rope rails had to be slung across the decks for the safety of the passengers – and many suffered seasickness and retching. The diet consisted of stale bread and foul-tasting tinned sardines. The habit of collecting bits of food by the displaced persons, learned in the concentration camps, had not left them, and now they collected sardines others had pushed away, and carefully wrapped up biscuits for eating later on.
The “Fabio” made it to Crete on her last drums of fuel. The hat was passed around for money to buy more. All who could gave. The heat was like a furnace and some of the men found relief by diving into the sea and swimming around the vessel. Eventually, drums of oil were obtained and forty-eight hours later the “Fabio” sailed again.
The skipper and crew were Italians. The Palyam commanding officer, Yehuda Ben-Tzur, was a sabra of splendid physique, a typical example of the Jewish youth devoted to the cause of Israel. His deputy was Canadian Willy Rostoker; both had made quite a few trips.
Yehuda Ben-Tzur (left) and Willy Rostoker
Despite everything – hardships, seasickness, bad weather – morale was good. At night we would clamber up to the forecastle and sing in Hebrew, English, Yiddish and Afrikaans. On the ninth day we were up earlier than usual, as we were to drop anchor in Haifa.
Haifa’s mountain range came into sight on the tenth day. This was a signal for a drama of the times. Down came the Italian flag, up went the Israeli flag. The name “Fabio” was covered over, the Hebrew name “Ha’Mored” (the rebel) displayed. Louis Hack smiled broadly; this was something to write home about, the honor of hoisting the Israeli flag had been given to him. He was killed in action six weeks later while serving with the 7th Brigade of the Israel Defense Forces.
It took me a long time to get over the stench of the ship and the feeling of oppression caused by the mass of people lying over, around and under me when I slept, but I remember what Yehuda Ben-Tzur had told us on the first day. In the days of Aliyah Bet, the ship carried nearly 1000 passengers and had taken four times as long to reach Palestine. How that was humanly possible I do not know, but such were the conditions that the Jews of Europe had to endure to reach Eretz Yisrael. For my part, I have carried with me a glimpse of these conditions for the last 52 years.
“Aliyah Bet” was the name given to the clandestine immigration of Jews into Palestine after the British, in violation of the terms of the League of Nations mandate conditions: limited immigration of Jews into Palestine. They had bowed under Arab pressure. The Haganah and the Kibbutz Movement ignored the British ban and arranged clandestine immigration from Europe. The British called them “illegal immigrants.” The first ship to arrive under Aliyah Bet was the “SS Velos” in 1934, and ships continued to arrive, on and off, until the establishment of the state.
The previously mentioned two nurses and I sailed with the following South African volunteers: Hymie Malbin, Teddy Levin, Eli Herr, Aubrey Angel, Abe Berkow, Chaim Eisenberg, Bernard Etzine, Morris Freeman, Harry Goldstein, Bernard Judelson, Ivan Kirschner, Lionel Clingman, Robert Lowenberg, David Solman, Emanuel Shall, Mickey Sher, Manuel Scheiner, Morris Smith, Jesse Weinstein, Jack Kacev, David Fine, Arthur Goldreich, Louis Hack, Simon Stern (the wrestler), Effie Levy, Stanly Nash, Morris Segal and “Rusty” Kirsch.
We docked in Haifa on 17th September, the day the U.N. Mediator Count Bernadotte was assassinated. Therefore, our group was held in isolation at Beit Lid until we were eventually posted to various army units. I ended up in Squadron 505 Radar.
South Africans at Tel Litwinsky awaiting postings to their units. They arrived on the vessels “Pan York” (13th September 1948), “Fabio” (17th September 1948) and “Caserta” (26th September 1948). Those on the “Fabio” were held for about 10 days at Beit Lid because they had arrived on the day Count Bernadotte was assassinated.
Top row standing: Louis Hack, Ralph Lanesman, Teddy Levin, Bernard Etzine, George Schlacher, Gerry Davimes, unknown, Effie Levy, Simon Stern, “Mickey” Sher, Morris Freeman, Morris Segal.
Middle row sitting: Stanley Nash, David Solman, Emanuel Shall, unknown, Harry Goldstein, Aubrey Angel.
Third row: Unknown, Hymie Malbin, Abe Berkow, Chaim Eisenberg, unknown, Lionel Clingman.
Bottom on ground: Unknown, “Rusty” Kirsch, Max Kangisser
Photo by Morris Freeman
Author: Ralph Lanesman – Machalnik from South African who served in the Radar Branch of 505 Squadron.