Are You Waiting for Eliahu? the Story of a Woman Freedom Fighter, 19424948
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The Story of a Woman Freedom Fighter, 1942-1948 Are You Waiting for Eliahu? The Story of a Woman Freedom Fighter, 19424948 by i Translated by Zev Golan with thanks to Moran Matiyash Yair Publishing House, Tel Aviv Cover artwork and other drawings by Yammi Eleazar Cover design by Dorit Zinneman © Copyright - 2014 Hanna Armoni All Rights Reserved Originally published in Hebrew as At Mechaka Le ’Eliahu? by Yair Publishing, Tel Aviv Hebrew edition © - 2007 ISBN: 978-965-555-744-2 Yair Publishing House, 8 Rechov Stem, Tel Aviv, Israel Printed at Hidekel Press, Tel Aviv, 2014 DEDICATED TO: My mother, Miriam Gittel, whose influence I willingly and respectfully accepted, even though, being the rebellious type, I often differed with her. My father, Israel Shlomo, a bookbinder, who read almost every book brought to him, and who bequeathed me a love for the written word. Haim Applebaum - Elimelech, whose honest, idealistic soul was nourished by his love of people and, in our marriage, shined upon me. Moshe Armoni, whose wisdom opened me to surprising horizons of thought, and who was a warm and equal partner in educating our daughters. And all my friends who fell on the way and did not live to see their dream realized. Acknowledgments To Rachel Eichenbaum-Inbar, a journalist and author who read the first drafts of the original Hebrew edition with great attention and offered worthwhile comments. I adopted many of her suggestions for the chapter titles. To Yammi Eleazar, my daughter, who knew how to touch the soul of my writing and express it in the cover art and the drawings that appear throughout the text. To Ruth Amikam, who spent hours gathering Hebrew press clippings and was always ready to lend a helping hand. I express my heartfelt thanks and more to them. To my beloved granddaughter, the very special Moran Matiyash, who years ago, at my request, provided a draft English-language translation of the book. Her work was the impetus for the book’s publication. It was a song of love and a cornerstone of understanding between different generations. To my friend, the author and historian Zev Golan, precious heartfelt thanks. Golan’s expertise in the history of Lehi allows him to introduce the readers of the English-language edition of my book, in his translation, to a new world, and makes the experiences and concepts of the past seem alive and clear. My depiction of yesterday’s aspirations thus finds a place in today’s consciousness. I express my great appreciation for his exellent work, the energies he invested in it, his knowledge and his warm heart. H. A. • • • • 5 ? • • • Introduction 7 Foreword 9 I Leave Home 15 What Can Women Do? 23 Let’s Make a Toast 29 Excuse Me, Are You Waiting for Eliahu? 39 Suddenly Elimelech 53 The Chafing of the Rope around My Neck 59 If the British Come 71 Haifa and the Red Apple 81 A Premature Explosion 91 Haifa Circles 97 Tiberias Isn’t Tiberias 105 When Chopping Wood 113 Go to Haifa Right Away! 121 I Saw Him Just Yesterday 129 The Power of a Little “Ferteleh” 135 May I Stow a Typewriter Here? 143 One of Them is My Husband 151 Where Is My Mother? 159 The Whistle of a Bullet in the Dark 169 If I Am Thinking... 175 Guilt that Cannot Be Erased 183 Introduction The recollections in this book are what might be called a baring of my inner self. For years I shied from touching these memories. It didn’t take much effort; they were scalding and I couldn’t get near them, at least during daylight hours. Our time is limited in length, but its passage widens our perspective. I don’t know when the change came. At some point I felt that what happened to me long ago had moved and was standing on its own, as if with a different backdrop. The colors with which the past was painted are now meant for other eyes. My personal matters became something different that others also have a hand in. My friends and opponents are partners in my past and can take their rightful places. And my daughters and grandchildren? Don’t they have a right to know? I will offer recollections of one period of my life, that which has been the most meaningful one for me. Neither before nor after that time have I enjoyed the same harmonious feeling of a person living a completely meaningful life. • • • • 7 ; *• • •* Will the simple, small details with which I fill the book succeed in revealing the sparks that lay hidden in the deeds? I hope so, but only time will tell. • • • • 8 * • • • Foreword A recorded experience is of its nature subjective and limited to the writer’s perspective, hewn from the writer’s life and what the sieve of memory has left imprinted in his soul. To historians studying a particular period, a personal recollection is of only secondary importance. It is not solid evidence. Their objective sources are documents, archeological findings, and official reports, all of which can be compared and checked against each other. This does not make the stories that follow and the personal events I describe fiction. Moreover, they are intimately tied to the period in which they occurred. They could not have happened at any other time. Most of them are unique in terms of their form. They have a purpose. To try and convey the feelings and determination inside us, which were subjective, but which led to actions and events, which were objective. Actions have dates and documentation. Their results belong to history. History is not just a chronological list of events, though it may sometimes seem so, but a summary of what happened, a way of reading it. The discourse, the study of history, is the study of processes and their consequences for an era. • • • • 9 ? In order to understand and draw conclusions, researchers are dependent on the creators of history; there is a mutual dependence, because the creators need the historian’s chisel to enshrine their deeds in the halls of eternity. I thought of this when my desire to record certain special incidents ripened, memories and experiences of a time when we had a hand (not the only one) in the dramatic transformation of our position in the Land of Israel, when we forced the British to leave and we gained our independence. I questioned hard the value of apparently personal and private stories when they are not assimilated into the great circle of historical events that created and engendered them. And looking back, they tell of turning a dream into reality. I have tried to stick to the facts. I have tried to describe how an individual, with his personal weaknesses, becomes a factor, and how the human spirit creates opportunities for a reality that had not previously been possible. Yet while events involve facts and figures, times and dates, have been chronicled, and can be corroborated by various documents, the life experiences and some of the deeds survive to this day only in individual memories. I have held such memories dear all these years; they are as fresh as ever. Perhaps they are only a drop in the sea, but to me they are the atoms that make the body. I do not presume to write our history. I leave that to professionals. I do not intend to scrutinize the global or 10 national developments of the time. I am not qualified to do so. I am given but to the thoughts and fates of the people who took part with me in the process. The stories in this book are indeed personal. Each and every one is a description of moments that were; moments when I experienced and was tried in remarkable circumstances. Perhaps through my private and small looking glass, an explanation for what took place in the heart of the matter will become visible. If I succeed in conveying our feelings, perhaps what I write will shine light on the atmosphere of sacrifice, conviction, and hope that motivated us. After my first attempt, I discovered that entering another’s mind, writing what I thought he was thinking, was forcing me into the realm of fiction, which I was trying to avoid. Yet... where did we, an entire generation - every underground and organization in its own time and with its own methods - draw the motivation to take upon ourselves the responsibility (no one asked us to do so) to fight the British, expel them from the country, and establish an independent state? From where did we draw such motivation...? 11 Lehi Collected Works, vol. 1, pp. 237-38 20 Escape from the Latrun Concentration Camp [...] Latrun has four camps: No. 1 - Enemy citizens, Germans and Italians who refused to sign a declaration of opposition to Nazi ideology; No. 2 - A mix of about twenty nationalities, mostly from Allied countries, suspected of ties with the enemy; No. 3 - Arab followers of the Jerusalem Mufti who support every German victory and mourn its losses; Finally, no. 4 - the Jewish camp, with approximately one hundred prisoners. [...] The Jews are “special.” They are not allowed out of the limited camp perimeter. Their every move is supervised by British policemen. Plans for the Tunnel This was the plan: An opening would be made in one of the comers of the floor of the hut nearest the fence. A two-meter pit would be dug from which they would proceed through a tunnel, under the inner fence, under the electrical fence, all the way to the man-made canal in the empty lot that channels rain water from the camp to the nearby riverbed.