Together, with someone older and more experienced than myself, I was appointed to organise the Jews of Brashov for possible aliyah. I was put up in the apartment of Mr. Farkash, one of the town's wealthy citizens, where there was a telephone. I had telephone duty as well as other jobs such as enrolment of those who were chosen for aliyah, dealing with the allowed luggage weight-allowance and the different rules such as the rule forbidding the taking money, especially foreign currency, gold, diamonds, etc.

Each person had to pack his or her own things in only one bag and having a weight of not more than sixteen kilos, pay all taxes and similar costs in order not to cause any damage to the country releasing the Jews. Most of the work was done by the older person and I was his assistant.

My kibbutz didn't put me on the list for aliyah because I was a newcomer. The criteria were national as well as from each group. The only chance I had of going to Eretz-Israel was if the entire group was allowed to go. My parents were on another list, thanks to their connections with our friend, Shaike Dan. I alarmed my mother and when she learned that I was not on the list, she refused to leave. She was in Bucharest and I can only imagine her suffering and pain. One of her sons had left and no one knew anything about him; her daughter was staying to finish her studies and her "mezinik" (little boy) was to stay behind with the kibbutz? She pulled every string that she could and finally managed to have my name included on the Bucharest list, without using the quota of the Zionist Youth.

When my kibbutz received word that I was also to make aliyah, I was asked to give up my spot for an older member but I refused. They held a trial and threw me out of the group as well as the Movement. I was not particularly upset by their decision because the only reason I joined the group was because of my desire to reach Eretz-Israel and if they could not give me that, then I would take whatever steps necessary to reach my goal. I did not need their help inasmuch as I was already living in Mr. Farkash's apartment, beside the telephone. There was much friction between the representatives and those wanting to make aliyah. The tension would rise and fall with every rumour connected to aliyah; we knew that all of the candidates were ready and we kept in daily contact with them.

Finally, we received the confirming message. The candidates formed two groups. My superior took charge of one group and I the second. Each group entered a separate train coach. I was given the job of bringing the group to Eretz-Israel and I had all of the responsibility on my shoulders. I demanded iron discipline and total obedience because any break in discipline could cause failure of the entire mission. In particular, we are talking about the serious laws against the taking of valuables - silver and gold, diamonds and all sorts of precious gems. That is why there was a limit of sixteen kilos and only one piece of luggage. It wasn't easy, especially for those who, unlike myself, were not used to just leaving everything behind. My group contained full families, mostly older women as well as one woman, a young widow, with a three year old son.

The train stopped only at stations where there were candidates for aliyah and only for the time it took to board the passengers. We arrived at the Bulgarian border after almost a full day of travel and transferred to a Bulgarian train which took us to the port city of Burgaz. In the coaches of the Bulgarian train, we found boxes of apples, a sign of goodwill which was comforting. I got them over the border, especially through the border inspections which were quick and smooth for my group. I heard about other groups who had problems because they did not stick to the written rules of not taking forbidden items.

With our arrival in Burgaz, we boarded the "Pan-York." I did not see my parents and only after we were at sea did I learn that they were on the other ship, "Pan-Crescent." On the deck we met a group of healthy and attractive young fellows dressed in American army fatigues ; they spoke Bulgarian. As head of a group, I was told to take my group to the second level below deck. I received a space allotment according to the number of persons, two people to a space. Everyone arranged themselves in family groups and I shared my chamber with the widow and her son. In a sense I became her guardian and helped her with the child.

With my bringing the people to their places on the boat I thought my job was over, but I quickly learned that now came the difficult part. Originally, the ship was a bulk carrier. During a two-month period in the port of Constanza, they built wooden levels of close-quarter shelving. It was almost impossible to sit. One had to crawl to get in. My job as head of the group was to watch over my group in their shelves and maintain discipline; also, to bring them food and water and keep contact with the captain of the ship. The Bulgarian youths were supposed to do the work of running the ship. I don't know why I was given the job of distributing water from one of the taps.

On board, I ran into my aunt Batya, the Eliezer and Elka'le Gamerman who I knew from Deborah's wedding. During the war, both of them served as officers in the Russian Train Transportation Command. Their children, who were in summer camp when the war broke out, were banished to Russia by the Germans and died on their way to the Russian hinterland. The Gamermans were wonderful people and my fate was connected to them for years afterwards.

Sailing on the ship was very nice. Despite the fact that we were warned about sea-sickness, I can't remember if anyone really suffered from it. Under controlled circumstances, people were allowed on deck and it was possible to wash one's hands and face at special faucets using sea water. The drinking water was guarded because we were advised that we could remain aboard for months until we received permission to disembark in Eretz-Israel.

There were more than 7,000 people on board and amongst them, of course, artists and singers. The captain of the ship organised some of them to give singing performances using microphones. One of the girls I met on the boat was a good singer and after she heard me sing one evening, invited me to sing a duet of that wonderful song, Suliko. She arrived in Israel and became an Israeli opera singer and I don't even sing in the bathroom.

I was very busy and barely had time to rest or sleep. I worked almost round the clock. We left the Black Sea, passed through the Straits of Dardanelles and after some time intercepted by British navy ships. We knew that the British were against our landing in Eretz-Israel. We had heard what they did to ships before us which tried to land. Using two of their warships, they would make a "sandwich" with the immigrant boat in the middle. They would transfer the immigrants/refugees from the damaged boat to a prison ship and then take the refugees to Cyprus. In comparison to others, our ships were large and strong; we were not "sandwiched."

We immigrants did not know what was taking place. Because I was in charge of the water faucet, I was told that we would fight the British even if it took months; therefore, we had to guard the water distribution and not waste any of it. I filled my job, giving exact instructions as I had learned to relate to all orders of the "Haganah."

After many years I heard various things about what happened during the battle between the British who attacked our ship's bow and only during this last while did I read what really happened in a book by Amos Ettinger, "Parachuting Blind" where he recounts the biography of Shaike Dan who saved tens of thousands of families from the bitter fate of remaining in Eastern Europe.

Cyprus, a British “prison” refugee camp

I celebrated new year, December 31, 1947, on board the ship. That same night, I heard that the young King Michael the First who had inherited his crown when his father was forced to abdicate, was also forced to give up his throne and go into exile. The kingdom of Romania had reached its end and the Republic of the People began in its full meaning.

We sailed under the escort of the British navy until we were advised that we had succeeded in our struggle with the British, that is to say that we would disembark in Cyprus with our meagre possessions.

We left our ship on the coast near Famagusta and were immediately disinfected with DDT We were issued military cutlery, a blanket, bed and mattress and put into a camp fenced with barb-wire and guarded by British soldiers. My job as leader of the group I brought from Brashov ended with our arrival in the camp. My commander on the ship ordered me to immediately leave the camp and work as a "porter," which really meant to help the old people and children; every time I re-entered the camp, I was to do so using a different name. I did this several times and when everyone had entered the camp, I found myself as leader of a non-existent group of people, the names of whom I had invented, as instructed by my commander. The purpose was to create disorder and mismanagement of the British. Some said it was to show the world how bad the British treat us even making many refugees disappear.

In return for the vouchers I received each time I entered the camp, I was given a tent which housed six persons. I invited the widow and her little son to share the tent but within a few days they were reunited with family members who took them under their wing. Alone, I remained in the tent, tired, weak and without hope; empty and again fenced-in, but this time not in danger.

As head of my imaginary group, I had a "storeroom" with food the likes of which I hadn't eaten in a long time. A bag of oranges and a carton of tinned Australian milk. I had other products but I did not bother to use them. I lay prostrate on my bed for several days without leaving the food, except to use the lavatory. Bearded and barely washing; only resting from the tremendous struggle and exertion placed on me as leader of the group from the ship. I felt freed but imprisoned. Sad and disappointed. For me, to be without hope was like being without air to breathe.

My parents, who were on the boat "Pan Crescent" were sent to a winter camp. I was in camp number sixty-two, one of four summer camps in the Caraolos area, some tens of kilometres from the winter camps. We did not see each other at the port when we boarded and I was certain that my mother cried silently, choking on her tears. I had been unable to contact my aunt Batya or our relatives, the Gamerman family.

Eliezer Gamerman's wife, Elka'le, apparently sent by her husband, came to visit me (she was my father's relative). She found me incapacitated and covered with all of the blankets in the tent, shaking with cold and burning with fever. I was very sick; until that time, I had never been ill. She liquidated my tent, carried me to their tent and took such good care of me that only a loving mother is capable of doing so. She lavished upon me seven years of accumulated love for her children who had been taken by death. She told me that because of the fever I was unconscious for hours at a time. Actually, Eliezer and Elisheva saved my life and I agreed to their request to stay and live with them in their tent.

They lived in camp sixty-three in a tent smaller than mine and shared it with another couple in their mid-thirties. Mine was an Indian tent in which one could walk upright while they had a tent in which one could perhaps stand only at the centre. They cooked in a dug-out oven in the ground. The fire consisted of diesel fuel and water in the correct proportion to produce a hot flame and no smoke. Although I agreed to join them and the young couple in the tent, I had the feeling that I was certainly imposing on them and was certainly disturbing the intimacy of their private lives, difficult enough under the circumstances.

Once I moved to live with them, I regained my former strength and began to weave a plan. First of all, I raised the roof by at least half a meter and enlarged the tent as well, by sewing additionally appropriate sections. I made a stove that one did not have to lie on the floor in order to use it. I brought happiness and joy to my relatives and hope to the pretty woman who apparently did not exactly get pleasure from her husband. She also spoiled me and very quickly I felt good in the new tent. Elisheva, or as she was always called, Elka'le, knew no bounds to the love she showered on me.

At home, beginning with grandfather and then my father, mother, sister and brother, there was never any overt display of affection, neither by word or with kisses. I am certain that my sister loved David very much and vice versa and there are stories of how they cared for each other at every opportunity. I have no doubts that my parents loved me, but it was customary not to show it with kisses or caresses and certainly not saying words like, "I love you, you are dear to me, you fill my heart, your presence thrills me" or other words. Here, with Elka'le, I received a non-stop multitude of such affection In the beginning, it was very strange for me, but I got used to and enjoyed it because I believed it wasn't just so many words on her lips, rather it came from the depths of her heart.

It was easier in the summer camp compared to the winter one. The camp was on the beach and we could bathe in the sea from March-April 1948. We played soccer almost every day. Every camp had a volleyball court but in our camp (sixty-three) we had the best teams. Most of the fellows from the deck of my ship (the Bulgarian compound), were concentrated in the camp and they were tall, slender, strong and played well. In every way, for me, they were the type of Jew I never really knew. They sang well, played the accordion, fooled around with a guitar, etc.

In the summer and winter camps we were organised according to party (political) affiliation. Whoever did not belong to a party did not receive food or a tent because they were distributed by the parties. At the entrance to the camps were representatives trying to persuade one to join them and if one did not know which party to join, one received an ideological lecture. In camp sixty-two, I join the General Zionist organisation only because I arrived with a group who identified with them. With moving to camp sixty-three, I joined the "Achdut Ha Avoda" (The Workers' Union) because Eliezer was the party secretary.

The political pressures, of which I was ignorant at that time, hovered above everything and even caused physical agitation and contact between the camps. Because of the violent behaviour of Moti Spakov, who had once been the Romanian boxing champion representing the Revisionists, we organised an offence with a carefully constructed plan. One night, in total silence, we surrounded the Revisionist camp, untied the ropes of the tents and at a given signal caused the tents to collapse upon those sitting inside; then, using wooden batons for face-to-face combat, we completed our task. After this tragic "war of the Jews," there was quiet.

“Shurot Hameginim” The Haganah

I met friends from the self-defence course and they asked me to join a course for leaders which was soon to begin. My adopted parents, Eliezer and Elka'le, were very much against this and tried to persuade me not to agree because they were afraid to again lose a child. The course required the cadets to live in the training camp. It was impossible to stop my path to national service; I had already sworn myself to it on the way to Transnistria.

Along with the Romanian group, I completed the difficult course but with much more emotion because I learned to use a real weapon, a Sten-gun and not just a wooden baton.

Well into the course, one by one we were taken into a building in the centre of the training camp. In the first room they moved a closet and squeezing through a small opening, I crawled inside. Outside was the darkness of night and in the space into which I had crawled it was totally black. I stood beside two fellows who had been there longer than us new recruits, opposite a table which I could feel. Someone lit a candle. On the table rested a pistol and what appeared to be a Hebrew Bible. The "Haganah" commander explained that I had been chosen to join the "Haganah Organisation" and I must swear an oath, promise to fulfil all orders and be prepared to sacrifice my life for the Land of Israel. It was one of the most moving events in my life. Finally, I thought, this is what I want to be, an Israeli soldier so that never again will four soldiers march ten thousand helpless Jewish refugees to the unknown and perhaps to death.

From so much emotion, I could barely repeat the oath after him. In one hand I held the pistol and my other hand on the Bible. This was my first oath to my future homeland and I have never spoken about it since that time.

I corresponded with my parents in the winter camp. I did not try to transfer to them and they were unable to transfer to us. I received several letters and a few English pounds sterling from my brother David. In the one and only shop that was in the camp, it was impossible to buy anything except chocolate. All other products were supplied to us by the British. We received clothing only once and from then on we had to sew anything else from the cloth of Indian tents. The outside cloth was used to make pants and the inside, a blue-indigo cloth, was used to make shirts. Since the climate was most hospitable, no one was particularly worried about clothes.

My problem of shoes followed me here, too. Apparently I was still growing and again my shoes were too small and there was no one from whom I could buy others, even if I had money to do so, which I did not. I made myself a pair of wooden clogs which solved the problem for the time being. Eliezer worked in the secretariat of camp sixty-three as the secretary of labour. Within the secretariat, there were representatives from all political parties and each representative had the job of being secretary of this or that. Everyone who worked in the secretariat or for it, received five shillings a week. With the "Haganah's" recommendation and Eliezer's influence, I was given my first paying job. I became a body guard for the British commander of the summer camps.

Until that job, I had always made money in business, producing and selling soap or even selling water in the marketplace with my cousin Zvi when we were in Moghilev; now I was a "government clerk." The position had a purpose and it was to prevent the British officer from seeing things which we did not want seen. The reason given for him to have a bodyguard was "to prevent any hothead within the summer camps from attacking him." The officer had the rank of major, was very nice, polite and a far cry from the type portrayed in the movies, such as prison or detainment camp officers. My English was very poor but my English was not what determined my being chosen for the job; rather, it was my muscles and the jujitsu which I had learned and refined in Romania and Cyprus. We also had a translator who knew perfect English and he communicated directly for the commander, both inside and outside the camp. I only guarded him from the time he entered the camp until the time he left.

The little English that I knew was from the films I had seen, but mostly from an evening course I took in Bucharest at the Rumanian-American Friendship Organisation. Those two sources helped me "to manage" (together with the translator) with the British officer.

Life in the camp began to fill with meaning. The course, my job, the cultural life which was expanding, soccer, volleyball and the like. Even a Yiddish theatre came into existence. We were in a detainment camp but it was more like a vacation camp. There were parties and weddings. Children were born and there was no worry about supporting them. Everything, except for the inability to reach Israel, was OK One of the most moving events was the performance of Shoshana Damari. Every detainee in the summer camp gathered on the soccer field where a stage had been built in the centre. On the stage stood a beautiful, dark-skinned woman like those seen only rarely in Europe. Very tanned with wonderful black hair; but most of all, the voice. Her songs electrified us and even though her accompanist did not manage to work the accordion, which apparently had been damaged during its travels. She hypnotised us with her songs and gave a complex to anyone who thought he or she knew how to speak Hebrew.

I was educated speaking Hebrew with Sephardic style and even so, it was the first time I heard authentic Hebrew. I didn't even know there were Ashkenasi Jews and Sephardic Jews until I reached Bucharest. There I learned that the Sephardic Jews were the elite of the people and they descended directly from King David's kingdom and after the destruction of the second temple, were deported or compelled by circumstances to leave their home land to the Diaspora then lived a flourishing period in Spain until the expulsion by and during the Spanish Inquisition.

In Cyprus, I met Jews from Morocco and Shoshana Damari exemplified the Jews in Israel. Only later did I learn that she was from Yemen. The melodies of her songs accompanied me for years to come and even though I have heard her sing tens, if not hundreds of times, her songs still remind me of that unforgettable experience in Cyprus. In the television show, "This Is Your Life," I heard her say that the most emotional event in her long, rich career was "the performance she gave, the songs she sang before the refugees in Cyprus." How very true!

We refused to accept electricity from the British and we also did not want them to give us radios to listen to the news. We received newspapers and the people were hungry for news and knowledge. Each party had its own news tent, where every day at a set time, they read the news, using a megaphone. All of the news we heard was in Yiddish and was usually about Eretz- Israel and the war against the British. Occasionally, there was other news and small bits of information.

In May 15 1948, Ben Gurion proclaimed the creation of the State of Israel. The British have left Palestine, but they continued to control the refugees in Cyprus. Some of the refugees were permitted to leave and go to the new born independent Israel. Eliezer and Elka'le received permission to go to Israel. They faced a serious dilemma - to leave me alone and finally reach their goal or stay until I, too, was allowed to go. I told them to go without any second thoughts because one day, not too much longer in the future, I would join them. But they carried the memories of separation from their children whom they never saw again, and this was an especially painful decision for them. After deliberations and failing to get a permit to take with them, they decided to leave without me.

During the months I spent with them, I did not think about the possibility of joining my parents, either by moving to them or having them join us. When the Gamermans left, I used my connections with the British major and my parents were surprised when they were told that they had permission to move to the summer camp.

We hadn't seen each other for almost a year and while our reunification was emotional, I did not behave very well. I did not display any particular joy at our meeting; instead, I recounted my relationship with Eliezer and Elka'le, something which undoubtedly both pleased and annoyed my parents, especially my mother. Moreover, I believe that I owe her much thanks but more than that, beg her forgiveness. She loved her children but did not make a show of it. She sacrificed herself for others. When it was necessary to buy medicine for Dina, she did not hesitate to have her gold teeth pulled and sell them to do so. She worried about food for the family, the children and only afterwards, for herself. I remember with sadness and embarrassment how I was unhappy to travel with her on the electric cars in Bucharest because of how poorly she was dressed and how the Romanian she spoke was like the peasants. The list of tragedies we caused her is long; since her death at the age of sixty-nine, I am unable to ignore the sorrow and pain caused and my unjust contribution to it. It appears that my children will "balance the account" with me. I can only hope that they won't exaggerate, because one day their turn will come ("He who preaches will one day be preached to.")

For my mother, moving to the summer camp came just in time. The conditions here were much better. Food was more plentiful thanks to my manipulations. The tent was large and the stove was a dream. My mother could make food from nothing and from the supplies we received in camp sixty-three she produced delicacies. Generally speaking, in Cyprus they did weird things, like pants and shirts from the cloth of Indian tents, marking a soccer field with corn flour, bridal dresses made from women's sanitary pads, theatre stages made from wooden orange crates, and much more.

When my parents joined me, it took a while for me to get used to them. Moritz, Dina Coifman's son, was in camp sixty-one in the Beitar group which he joined because his brother Monia . My mother invited Moritz to join us but he was involved with Beitar and while he did not agree to live with us, he brought his rations every day; mother added them to ours and gave him real home-cooked food. Father did nothing. It was out of character for him to sit and do nothing, but those were the existing conditions. Cyprus was almost free of commerce. There was no marketplace. Occasionally, someone would exchange one thing for another. Since the 30's, political parties simply made him angry. He did not trust them and viewed them as parasites. His brother Matityahu, who made aliyah to Eretz-Israel in the 1920's, wrote him to invest in Israel. That he should buy orchards, build a flour mill and contribute to the Establishment Fund and to the Keren Kayemet, but he didn't buy and he didn't build and he didn't contribute enough. Even though he sent my uncle money to make it easier for him , father did nothing more than that.

Matityahu wrote during the 1930's that "black and heavy clouds cover the sky, so sell everything and flee from Europe as soon as possible."

Eliezer, Ekla'le, myself (First row)
Batya, Max Amselem, Riva Yurim.
Cyprus, Detention Camp 62 Caraolos

 

The elected secretariat of the 63^rd Detention Camp and its Commandant
The interpreter is on my left.

 

Shoshana Damari performing in Cyprus
before we deportee "illegal immigrants"

On the 15th of May 1948, the decision to declare the establishment of the State of Israel was made. We celebrated all day and all night and expected that the camps would be opened and that we would become citizens of our old-new country. Our disappointment did not take long to arrive. Nothing happened. Weeks passed before anything changed. They began to allow, in a defined order, the old and the children to go to Israel. The Gamermans, my adopted parents for several months were permitted to leave, as I described earlier. My parent , after arriving to the summer camps, were also eligible to go to Israel. Again, I was frightened that I would be separated from my parents because they were considered as "old" (at that time they were in their late forties and in my eyes were old) while I was seventeen and a quarter. I immediately began to work towards repairing the situation.

Using my connections with the camp commander, with the advice of a "Haganah," representative from Israel who was also a friend of mine, I changed my date of birth on the list located in the camp commander's office; we did not have documents and the registered information when we first entered the camp was the determining factor.

Only on the 4th of July 1948 did my parent's and my turn (as a child) arrive for aliyah to Israel. The reason the young men were not allowed to enter the country was because of the cease-fire agreement which forbade increasing the number of fighting personnel. I continued my aliyah on the same boat which brought me to Cyprus, after a seven-month intermission that was, for me, like the journey through the Egyptian desert. The ship was renamed, "Independence" and on the masthead was the flag of the country which had adopted me, Israel.

This time the ship carried only 1500-2000 passengers. Most of my time was spent on deck, looking into the depths of the sea in order to become acquainted with the waters which washed upon our shores. I tried to learn about the fish and the medusa which awakened great wonder in me. On board with me were most of the fellows with whom I took the leadership course. They spoke about their desire to join the "Palmach" because this is what we promised. We were in top physical condition and of course could quickly become part of the Palmach units. I had my doubts about joining the Palmach because I knew that we needed one army not the Palmach, Etzel, Haganah, etc. My future lay within one of the special units of the nation's army. My ideas were concretely formed in Cyprus, something which made me less popular with my friends. They tried to label me with different unpleasant names, but I will not go into that, here. They tried to embarrass me and convince me to abandon my nationalistic ideas.

We approached the coast of Israel with the sighting of Mount Carmel being the first thing we saw. The boat dropped into a lower gear. Spontaneously, "Hatikva" (The Hope) our national anthem burst forth, tears streamed from the toughest of the tough amongst us. We hugged each other and everyone patriotically swore that no one would ever allow anyone to take our homeland, even though we had not been born there.

A few kilometres from shore, the ship captain passed amongst us. He explained that everyone of the age of conscription or who physically appeared to be conscriptable, was to take leave of his family and disembark to a small boat which had stationed itself beside our ship. He explained that the reason was because the United Nations Forces were checking to ensure that there was no increase of fighting-age personnel during the cease-fire agreement.

Israel - The War of Independence

Anew, I was forced to leave my parents and again there was a repeat performance of mother's usual sad mask, the tears without crying and her terror of it all; pictures from life. This time, father cried with tears of his anguish. Like most youth taking a step along one's way, I did not apply very much importance to our being separated and really did not understand their reason for crying. On the contrary, now that I finally reached the safe haven of my hopes of many years, fulfilling the dream of generations of Jews as expressed in our prayer of, "next year in Jerusalem," I failed to be caught up in their terror of the situation. I took the almost empty backpack sewn for me in Bucharest; I had almost nothing because we had been allowed to exit Rumania with only sixteen kilos. There had been room for another fourteen kilos because all of my possessions totalled only two kilo.

With the others, I left the ship descending on rope ladders to small boats which took us to reefs not checked by the UN We boarded a bus bearing "M2" markings and were taken to the central Carmel area of Haifa to "Mitbah Hapoalim" (The workers' kitchen) to eat a plentiful lunch of home-cooking. Oranges no longer caused such excitement because we had eaten them in Cyprus and I had even seen them growing on trees. What did make an impression on me was the soda water and the fact that it was always available. The water on the boat was rationed as was the supply in Cyprus, but here, soda water was readily obtainable. After lunch we were taken to a large lecture hall usually used for academic purposes at the Technion; there we passed the night.

For a long time afterwards, I did not know the whereabouts of my parents. The next morning we again boarded the special bus and were taken to the place where all new recruits were assembled, the camp at Beit-Lid. At the camp, we were conscripted, received our personal identification number, military ID Booklet, a shirt, trousers, underwear, socks and most important, a new pair of shoes. It was years since I had seen such a thing, especially on my feet.

After completing our first assembly parade, together with another group from Cyprus, we were assigned to the Palmach. At that point I stood firm on my principles and advised them that I would only join the Israeli defence forces (IDF) and not the Palmach. Telling me that the Palmach was part of the IDF did not help them.

Friends who did not hold the same natural beliefs as myself, joined the Palmach and I remained, to await a different posting. That evening my name was called and I was told that all new immigrants had been given a four-day leave to enable them to become acquainted with the country, to meet family and for anyone who had parents, to visit them.

I received an advance on my pay of two lira and set out to hitch-hike to the Tel-Aviv I had heard about while still in Cyprus. I thought the country was a desert because I had always heard lectures about the shortage of water and of the necessity to contribute to the Keren Kayemet (The National Fund) to provide for the planting of trees; but, from the moment I left the ship I had been surrounded by greenery. Haifa was full of trees. The road to Beit Lid passed through an entirely green area and even banana plantations. Until that moment I had never even seen a picture of a banana and suddenly here was this wonderful, strange, interestingly-formed fruit. Both sides of the road to Tel Aviv were also green.

Following the advice of the person issuing me leave, I contacted the Tel-Aviv military officer upon my arrival. I requested a place to sleep and advice of what to see and where to eat. My problems were quickly solved and much better than I had hoped. In the officer's office waited citizens who offered such assistance to soldiers returning from the battle-fronts for a few days of rest and recreation.

Despite not having yet been to the front, I benefited from this service because my parents' whereabouts were still unknown and essentially, I had no place where I could go. One woman suggested that I stay with her family but I refused because I explained that I had just come from Cyprus and not from any battle area. I was told that even so, as a soldier, I was entitled to assistance and that they would be very pleased if I would be their guest.

I went to the home of the Lifschitz family, located on a small street not far from Dizengoff Square. They had two young, very nice children, approximately six and eight.

They entertained me and were very proud of me even though I had yet to make any national contribution. I told them about what had happened to us during the war and they were eager to hear as much as I was willing and able to tell.

As did my relatives, the Spectorman family, Mr. Lifschitz was engaged in the textile business. When I mentioned this, Mr. Lifschitz promised to get news to them of my arrival in Israel. The next day Moshe Spectorman, my mother's uncle, arrived and took me home with him. We had never met but I felt well-acquainted through my mother and father's stories about him. I reminded him about the assistance he supplied during the time we were in Transnistria. At his behest and those of his brother and partner, Melech, from time to time they had sent money via a Rumanian officer who took between sixty to ninety percent for himself; even so, the small amount we did receive arrived at a time when we were really revitalised. Now, here in his home, I was able to personally thank him; it seemed to me that his satisfaction knew no bounds as I explained to him how his help played a very important role in saving our family from death.

Moshe and his wife Rivka (whom everyone called Rivusia) had two children - one daughter, Mara, a year or two younger than me and a younger son Ben-Ami. The daughter was beautiful and attractive in my eyes but I made no impression on her. She was not excited about the immigrant who had arrived from Romania. She was pretty and very busy with both her studies at the Gymnasium Herzlia and her friends.

Uncle Moshe gave me a pair of regular shoes so I would not have to wear the high boots given to me at the camp in Beit Lid. I am certain that I received other things from them as well, but the shoes were the most useful and memorable of everything they gave me.

My uncle had a small black car, a Hillman, and took me on a tour of the city. We began with the seashore along Allenby Street; afterwards, Rothschild Boulevard. It was lovely and I was impressed with an explanation of the various, splendid trees lining the Boulevard.

My often interrupted education omitted many disciplines with which I had no connection and into which I had not inquired. Until this day, I cannot identify birds or trees. I don't know the names of the various breeds of dogs or the many other things developed by a normal child exploring nature with his parents. This same trait also exists covering a variety of subjects within my capabilities of the various languages I speak.

It was an interesting and awakening trip. An absorbing visit to the factory in Bnei Brak quickly gave me a broader picture of Israel which a few days hence I would be called upon to defend.

I continued to visit with the Spectorman family for the next few days until my return to Beit Lid where the designating officer advised me that I was to report to a boot-camp (I think it was called Camp Meir) in Tel Aviv. There, I received orders for one day of kitchen duty which annoyed me. It wasn't so much the assignment as it was having to collect and discard remains of bread, margarine and jam in the dining room.

My conception about good, left-over food from the shortage days of 1941-1945 and the rationing in Israel, was not compatible with throwing food into the garbage bin. Jerusalem's supply route was cut-off and here we were tossing out margarine and hundreds of slices and untouched loaves of bread. I could neither come to terms with this nor could I solve the problems of such a vexing situation. That evening, those of us who had arrived that day were called together and again given a few days leave.

I didn't understand what was going on! Since coming to the country and being immediately conscripted, I thought it would put me into a unit where I would be involved in military operations. I began to think that because I refused to join the Palmach, they were giving me the run-around and as a new immigrant felt inferior because they called us, "Gahalnik" (conscripted outside of the country) and this feeling of being deliberately frustrated followed me for some time.

I used this leave by spending it with relatives of father. Close by Camp Meir and opposite Netzach Israel Street, just outside the boundaries of Tel Aviv of that time (not far from today's Gat movie theatre), lived Frances and Zvi Halperin and their year old son, Allon. Frances was uncle Elchanan's daughter; she and young David, about whom I have already written, visited us in Lipcani.

Zvi was an uncompromising Revisionist; later, I saw the book, The Revolt, which had been warmly autographed by Menachem Begin and included a personal message. Begin was also Allon's godfather. Zvi made a living in the automobile business; that is to say, he bought army surplus vehicles from the British when they left the country. Still, I did not know where my parents were or what had become of them. Also, I had yet to make contact with my brother David. I knew that he had not yet been conscripted, something which was very surprising especially since he was an experienced soldier and had taken part in the Second World War in the service of the Red Army.

I returned to the Meir compound and finally we formed ranks and were assigned. The assignment officer asked if I wanted to be a pilot but my joy was short-lived when I had to reply in the negative to his question of whether or not I functioned in English. I told him that while I only understand English, I could speak Russian and that sealed my fate for many years to come.

My first day as a soldier,
with the Lifshitz children in Tel-Aviv

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