Chapter XI: Our journey to our homeland

(February 22, 1939; from diary)

All goodbyes are sad - we shed many tears, said many thank yous and promised to stay in touch and we were off on our long journey to Palestine.

(Little did we know that we would never see these lovely people again. Their fate was very cruel. The entire beautiful family, young and old, except Willy and his wife were to perish during the Holocaust. I shall always remember them with love and gratitude.)

At 11:00 am we took the train from Brussels to Paris where we arrived at 4:30 pm. I stayed with mother and Vera in the waiting room of the train station. Meanwhile papa had some things to arrange and later we took the 9:00 pm train to Marseilles and arrived there at 8:00 am. It was a long ride, very tiring and exhausting, but no one complained.

(February 23, 1939; from diary)

In Marseilles, papa was arranging our papers with immigration and customs. My mother and I took the time to write postcards to opa and oma in Vienna and to the Katzels in Brussels. Finally we took a taxi to the harbour. I was in awe when I saw those huge ships and boats - and then there she was the 'Marietta Pasha." (At the beginning of the war she was sunk by a u-boat) I had never seen any big ships in my life. I felt so small next to them and I was overcome with a sense of fear and terror. We walked up the many stairs towards the deck of the ship. An official received us, took our papers and escorted us to our cabin. As I entered, I shuddered with repulsion. The room was small, dingy and the beds were stacked one above the other. The air was heavy and instead of windows, there were round port holes. This was all totally foreign to me. The night was very stormy; the turbulent sea took us to the top of the crest, only to let us down again with a great shudder. The great ship was thrown from one wave to the other like a ping-pong ball and it seemed to cry out with pain. The noise of the ship became louder and more menacing - it was a horrible night!

In the morning, papa and I were the only people in the dining room. Everyone was sick, including my mother and Vera. The next day it was my turn to get sick and I was advised to get on deck where 1 would feel better.

Alexandria
(February 27, 1939; from diary)

We are in heaven, smooth sea, blue sky, not a cloud on the horizon. It must be a "Fatah Morgana!" Well, we landed in Alexandria, Egypt and I managed to stay on deck in the hot sun - I just loved it, after the frightening ordeal of cold and storm.

My father went into the city in order to establish business connections and keep appointments. His mind was always working and planning business transactions. My mother was still under the weather and kept to herself in the cabin with my sister Vera. I remained on deck watching the pulsating life that was going on around me. This indeed was the "The Orient" - the dream of many Europeans, filled with adventures, intrigues, the smell of strange perfumes, exotic plants and just sweat and dirt. I was mesmerized by all the riches and poverty that I observed.

Suddenly a voice addressed me; when I turned around, there was a well-dressed, clean looking young man, with dark hair and tanned skin. "Do you speak English?" he asked. And at that moment I was grateful for all the hours of English lessons, which I had been forced to take and resented at that time. I was flattered, being spoken to as an adult, and we carried on an interesting conversation. He described to me the beauty of Alexandria, its elegant people and shops. And then he invited me to come to shore and show me the city at night. "We will be back in time before the ship sails," he assured me. The sun was gone by that time, the lights were dimmed and the noise of the harbour diminished. There was adventure in the air - "What if I just left for one hour?" The offer was so very tempting. At this moment I spotted papa walking up the plank. Since there is no twilight in the orient, darkness sets in quickly. My father saw me immediately and approached me and the young man and assessed the situation at a glance. He took my hand and turned to the other person, addressing him with an angry tone, "Leave her alone, she's only twelve years old - go! What do you think you're doing?!" The young man turned around and left without a word. I was hurt and very embarrassed! How could my father shame me like this in front of a stranger? I'm not a baby any more, I am a grown up person! After all the ordeals, shock and pain 1 had experienced, 1 was forced to grow up fast. My father did not let go of my hand until he led me downstairs to see mother. He turned to her and said, "How could you let her be all by herself on deck while the ship is docked in Alexandria? Somebody noticed her already and propositioned her to come ashore. God knows about his intentions! He could have kidnapped her - never to be seen again.'

My father took me in his arms and hugged me, and went to kiss my mother. I realized it was an emotional moment - and was grateful that the danger had passed.

PART II

Chapter I: Palestine

(Feb. 28th, 1939: from diary)

The bad weather continued the whole day. In the afternoon one could barely make out the silhouette of the city Haifa, all engulfed in thick fog.

I tried to get on deck, but could hardly stand there, because of the strong gusts of wind blowing towards the mainland. I regretted not to be able to watch our approach to the beautiful coastal city of Haifa nestled in the hills. People around me voiced the same regret.

Disembarking was tedious - as we were questioned, medically examined and questioned again by the British authorities. They were neither helpful nor friendly - but rather intimidating. They made us feel quite uncomfortable.

After a few hours of hustling with bureaucracy, we were allowed to disembark. As we came ashore, the police promptly informed us that since curfew was set for 5 pm this afternoon, we had little time left to get off the streets.

Our first night in Palestine was spent in a hotel not far from the port. We were exhausted, but happy - we had come home!

The next morning we went by taxi to Tel-Aviv. The first part of the trip took us through Arab fields and villages, which were poor looking and dirty. The fields lay barren, and the parched earth was crying out for water and care. After a while we hit the Jewish section - what a totally different picture! Before our eyes, there was a well cultivated land of grain, fruits and flowers, in lush colours, different hues of blues and reds. There were acres and acres of grapefruit and orange groves - the likes of which I had never seen before.

My father stopped the taxi and approached one of the men working, asking him if he could purchase some of these beautiful oranges. The owner in turn, handed us dozens of these wonderful citrus fruits with the word "Shalom."

I was moved to tears by his kind gesture. Where I come from, an orange is a very dear and exotic fruit, only to be eaten on very special occasions. To receive a handful of this "golden ambrosia for the Gods" was a good omen of fine things to come.

We are home in our land!

Chapter II: Tel-Aviv

It had been only five years since the city by the sea - Tel-Aviv, had been transformed from a settlement of huts and concrete blocks and tents, into a lovely town called, "The Hill of Spring."

The private homes, all painted white, with little gardens in the front, or in the back, looked very friendly indeed. There were some apartment buildings only two or three stories high, also painted white to protect against the intense heat. Some newly planted trees lined the streets. The city seemed to be bathed in sunlight, everything was bright and clean. There were no shadows lurking behind tall buildings and dark narrow streets. There was nothing that was imposing or threatening. This city had no painful past, no memories of families torn apart, and lives and cultures destroyed.

It was a city built by young people with sweat, hard labour, and love. A city with a vision - to open its doors to the wandering Jews - returning to their homeland!

From this moment on, I fell in love with Tel-Aviv!

The first few weeks, we stayed in the home of my mother's relatives Samonia and Ida Kossowsky, a cousin, and their two children, Ram and Ariella. Ida's sister, Riva, and their mother also lived there. They lived in a small, lovely house near the beach in the "Zafon" - which today would be across from the Hotel Hilton, Tel-Aviv.

I liked Samonia from the start. He was a kind man, short in stature, and an engineer by profession, servicing the few elevators which existed in the city. He just about made a living, but was respected for his education and title "engineer." I found his wife Ida and her sister Riva to be arrogant and cold, and I always had the feeling that I wasn't liked by them. I sensed a distinct jealousy towards me, the reason of which I cannot understand to this day.

Many years later, I used to meet Samonia and the family on our trips to Israel - always to be touched by his kindness. They are all gone now....

Chapter III: School

After a while I began to be bored with my life. I was surrounded by people, speaking two foreign languages, Russian and Hebrew, which I did not understand, and who did not have the time, or simply did not want to bother with a young girl - desperately searching for a new identity.

I spent much time with my adorable sister Vera taking her to the beach and for long walks. It was fun - but not enough.

On March 13th, 1939, I started attending a private school with Ariella. The same day Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia. It affected the people in Tel-Aviv and they started to worry.

The school did not work out for me. I was totally isolated there due to the language barrier. The children, including Ariella and her friends, were kind, but ignored me completely. No one asked me to join them for recess or invited me to their homes. Even the teachers did not make an effort to include me in any of their activities, nor did they try to explain to the class my problems or ask for their help to integrate me into the new school.

I used to sit all by myself, lonely and unhappy on a bench in the last row of the room watching the give and take of lessons conducted in an open environment. Life was passing me by once more - this time in my homeland.

"Shall I always remain homeless?"

My parents found a lovely apartment in a detached duplex on Reines St. 22, furnished it and made a home for Vera and myself. It was wonderful to be on our own - and my parents enjoyed their privacy no end. Shortly after I was taken out of school and instead was being tutored by a lovely Viennese Hebrew teacher. He spent long hours with me every day in order to prepare me for regular school. We did Hebrew language, history and the Bible (Tanach). I worked very hard and my teacher, Mr. Herzberg, was always encouraging, very knowledgeable in his subjects and we got along very well. I understood that I needed to master the Hebrew language in order to be integrated in school and find my identity in Palestine.

The German language was frowned upon. German immigrants were called "Jecke" because of their culture's punctuality and sense of morals. We were not received with open arms - we had to work for it -and work hard!

Chapter IV

After three months of hard work, I spoke Hebrew very well and was accepted at the proper level at school according to my age. I went to Geula gymnasium on Geula Street, which still exists.

Life finally changed for me although I was still different from the others because of my grammatically correct sentences and literary language. I said, "Anochi", instead of "Ani" - "Hafeza" instead of "Ani Rotza."

But it was a beginning!

I started to meet people and made my first friend since leaving Vienna - Alisa Preminger. She was also from Vienna, the niece of the famous film producer, Otto Preminger, and Ruth Bialik, a relative of the great Hebrew writer, Nachman Bialik.

These two girls accompanied me all through my later schooling into adulthood.

I was not alone anymore!

I was busy with school, friends and adjusted slowly to the new life. It was very different from my past - the people, the school, the climate and the politics.

People in Palestine were loud! Everywhere you went, noise engulfed you. It was either the traffic, the honking of cars, or the shouting and talking. Since we had no telephones in private homes, our means of communication was calling up to the higher floor. You would hear the shouting of names of friends, or whistling from the street to the various apartments.

School was very different there. In Vienna education was formal and structured. When the teacher entered the classroom, all the students had to get up with a formal greeting, "Herr Lehrer," Mr. Teacher. When you had something to say - you had to lift two fingers and wait until you were called upon. You did not dream of talking without permission. It was a cold and sterile environment.

By comparison, the classroom in Tel-Aviv was a place of talk, laughter, noise and an area of camaraderie. We called most of the teachers by their first names, and not everybody stood up as they entered the classroom. But, the older generation of teachers, coming from Russia and Germany, had academic titles to their names and therefore demanded more formality - and they received it. We would always address them as Mr. or Mrs. and behave more politely in their presence.

I still recall very fondly a few teachers of years past who influenced my way of thinking and helped me to develop intellectually.

Dr. Hacke - math, chemistry and geometry instructor, a very devoted teacher, giving his private time generously to us during after hours sessions on his subjects. He also established a chess club and was always there for us. I can still recall him vividly. He had a middle aged figure, intelligent face, often wearing a tweed sport jacket, looking like an English professor. A non hero - hero! I developed a crush on him - a young girl, admiring an educated, mature man!

Mrs. Pickholz, who taught us English language and English literature. I was fortunate to have had her guidance for many years and still remember her fascinating courses on Shakespeare - Macbeth, King Lear, Merchant of Venice.... as well as the poetry of Milton and Shelley. All these shaped my taste and love for literature.

Mr. Goldenson, our very controversial French teacher. He was a thin man, medium height, always formally dressed with coat, shirt and tie. He had no family and kept very much to himself. He did not socialize with his co-workers. He lived across the street from us in a nice, modern apartment. Mr. Goldenson was known to favour pretty girls, whom he would occasionally invite to a concert or for tea in his apartment. He liked me very much, and I could do no wrong in his class.

He never approached any of us in an unseemly manner. Although he did invite me once to accompany him to a concert and another time to his apartment where we read French poetry.

My mother, in spite of the fact that she did not speak Hebrew, knew exactly what was going on around her, and she put an end to this teacher - student friendship.

But it was him who opened up doors for me into the beauty of literature. It was the poetry of Charles Baudelaire - 'Enivrez Vous' (Get drunk), which touched me deeply. Living in a world gone mad - the idea of getting drunk with poetry, wine or "morals," ''as long as you believe in something," appealed to me.

"L'Etranger" - the novel, shaped my thinking as well. Albert Camus, the author, had a nihilistic approach to life in those difficult days and it helped mold my thinking. When the foreigner was asked in the novel 'L'Etranger,' whom do you love the most? Your father, mother, friend, beauty? He answered, "I have none of these, and I only love the clouds, those beautiful clouds - nature!

This nihilistic romantic approach caught my imagination and I started to dream and to write and write....

I will always be indebted to these people who were highly educated, made a measly salary, and cared so much about their "children."

They certainly made a difference in my life! I blossomed in this milieu and loved going to school. I will always be grateful to them.

Chapter V: World War II

September 1940 (from diary)

Russia aligned itself with Germany and invaded Finland, where they were met with brave resistance. Then Germany invaded Poland, in the hope of acquiring Danzig. Hitler did not believe that the world would oppose him, but right after he started bombing Warsaw heavily - England and its allies declared war on Germany.

April 10th 1940

Hitler's Army marches into Norway and Denmark. Copenhagen, Oslo, Frondheim and Bergen fell into the hands of Germany.

April 11th , 1940

North Sea: Great battles are raging in the North-Sea. England freed Oslo and Bergen; land and water mines on the coast of Belgium. The Russian fleet is on the way to Europe.

April 4th, 1943

Three years have passed since I last wrote in my diary. A lot has happened since. Many lives were lost. The horrors of the Holocaust are slowly being discovered. There was disbelief, anguish, pain, anger and fury against Hitler's henchmen. We asked, "Where was the world?" "Why did the rest of the word not make a stand?" "Why - Why?" There was no answer and finally the realization of what had happened to our people and what could have been - and then a feeling of guilt set in. "Why was I spared?"

All of us walked around with a heavy heart and tears in our eyes. From my father's family in Skalat, Poland there was only deafening silence. He became very quiet - but was always in touch with people and organizations to find a sign of life from his parents, brother and sister.

My beloved opa passed away from cancer. His doctor in Vienna took good care of him in the hospital - until the end.

From my grandmother, Sara, we received heart-wrenching letters. She described the isolation, the poverty and horror of her lonely life. A little frail, old figure in a city surrounded with Nazi flags and infiltrated with hate and brutality.

All of us tried to get her out of this hell. My aunts, Elizabeth and Mia, living in London, were doing their utmost - but to no avail! No papers for this poor woman - she seemed to be condemned!

My mother cries a lot these days, and the mood in the country is very bleak.

The war in Europe seems hopeless. Hitler's army overran all of Europe; it is only England standing up to Germany in that part of the world.

The Americans and their allies are fighting bravely on two fronts; the Germans and Italians in Europe and the Middle East and Japan in the Far East.

The German army stationed in Egypt at "Matruh Marse" was fighting to conquer the desert around it, and from there the rest of the Middle East.

The Arab countries already infiltrated by the Nazis, and Nazi- sympathizers supported the Germans, and Hitler courted the "Mufti" who was the most influential figure in the Arab world, and a great enemy of the Jewish people.

The British government did their utmost not to antagonize the Arabs - knowing very well, that the Jewish population in Palestine had no other choice, but to be loyal to England. They simply had no other choice!

We all knew that our survival depended on the British forces and the allies to win the war.

In the summer of 1943, fierce battles raged in the desert outside of "Matruh Marse."

The Germans, led by General Rommel, having the reputation of being the best there is in the German Army, were strongly entrenched with their numerous tanks (tigers), manned by a well trained and well honed army.

The British led by General Montgomery - their finest - had to rush his army through hostile Arab lands. For months the situation looked very bleak. We all realized that if Egypt should be overrun by Germany, the Jews in Palestine were doomed.

Everyone's mood was depressed and dark. I overheard my father starting to make new desperate plans to save his family once more, but - alas - we all knew if Palestine should surrender to "Rommel", there was no hope for any of us - to escape!

Once again, I started to worry if we could survive this horrible war. Will there be no end to this fear and suffering?!

Chapter VI: Family (end of diary)

During that time, my little sister, Vera, was growing up and going to school. I would take her to the park and on occasion, to the movies. When she saw "Pinocchio," she would cry very hard - being afraid that should she ever tell a lie, her nose would keep on growing, just as big as Pinocchio's.

We had good times playing and I loved holding her little hand in mine.

My parents nicknamed her "Verale." Having to take care of a small child induced some purpose in their lives - they felt young again!

It was not easy for my parents to settle in Palestine. Their life was very different from the one they left behind.

My father adapted fast to the new surroundings. He went out to start a business and build a future for his family. His business in raw cotton flourished. He dealt with Egypt and Lebanon, which produced the finest qualities. Later on, he would buy land and build a big warehouse to store the goods. My father was a very busy man - always adapting to new situations. When he stopped travelling to these countries, because of the war raging around us - he found other ways and means to conduct his business.

On the other hand, my mother missed her family and friends painfully. There was also a great language barrier. The official languages were English, Hebrew and Arabic, and she spoke none - it was tough.

Slowly a new life emerged and a new European culture was transplanted into Palestine. The German speaking immigrants used their education and intellect and opened up new businesses and ventured into the arts. Soon, German newspapers became available, plays translated into German flourished; and my mother found a circle of friends who spoke German.

An opera was established singing in Hebrew and the "Habima," the National Theatre, performed only in Hebrew.

The Palestine Philharmonic Orchestra founded by Huberman around 1920 was world class. It represented the only all Jewish orchestra of its kind. Slowly, life in Tel-Aviv emerged as a cultural satellite in the middle-east!

Chapter VII: "A Nationalist is Born"

(For some of the historical notes to follow, we are indebted to the writings of Tom Segev, the Israeli historian.)

As I reflected on my life, I realized that I had finally found my niche and became entrenched in the Jewish life in Palestine.

At school we had special programs in survival skills and defence tactics. We believed in self defence and the motto that, "Jews must protect themselves and their families - no matter what - no matter the consequences!"

We, the students, marched as "Gadna," a paramilitary organization led by well trained madrichim (guides) from the Palmach (the elite, illegal military organization).

We took long strenuous hikes in order to familiarize ourselves with the terrain, and to differentiate borders between Arab and Jewish settlements. These hikes were also done with a purpose to instill love and devotion to the land of our forefathers. We learned to shoot guns and to throw grenades, in which I personally did not succeed in doing well. We believed that Palestine was the only chance for a Jewish future. We vowed to create a new kind of Jew, and to rebuild ourselves in building the land.

Many of our leaders were not religious. They possessed a secular notion of history. Their Judaism centered less on G-d, but more on the people, the history and the future. I could very easily identify with this philosophy, particularly so soon after the slaughter in Europe!

If you're not a socialist when you're young, you have no heart. If you're still a socialist when you're old, you have no brain. (Joshua Fink)

The movement of the Hashomer Hatzair "Young Guard" came next. It was a left wing organization dedicated to the sacredness of working the land. This movement recruited many of us young impressionable students. They believed in sharing possessions, in the equality of women, and that the children living in the kibbutzim belonged to the community. The children were idolized as the future of the country, and therefore received love and caring from the community. The food given to the children was chosen to be the best in quality and nutrition. They received the eggs, butter, milk and meat, staples of food the adults only saw on rare occasions.

The image of the pioneer Jew was to be strong in body and mind. He was ready to take chances and to take control of his life!

There was a Zionist Youth Group "Betar," which was very right wing and was dedicated to bringing about the dream for a Jewish state with holy violence. Their leader was Vladimir Jabotinsky; prior to him, still in Poland, was their leader Menachem Begin, who would much later become the prime minister of Israel. In March 26, 1979 he would forge a peace treaty with Anwar Sadat of Egypt who would later be assassinated by militant Muslims during an army parade.

Ben-Gurion, "The prophet"

In 1938, the political situation had made it necessary to preserve "Britain's good will". Ben Gurion, who later became the first prime minister of the state of Israel, warned the Jewish leaders that the greatest catastrophe the world has ever seen was about to take place and who knew which army would end up in Palestine? The country could be occupied by Hitler, Stalin or Ibn Saud - so we have to support Great Britain.

December 1938, following the Kristallnacht, Ben Gurion spoke at a meeting and said, if I knew that it was possible to save all the children in Germany by transporting them to England but only half of them, by transporting them to Palestine, I would chose the second be cause we face not only the reckoning of those children,but the historical recognition of the Jewish people. A few days later he tried to explain his statement since it evoked heated outbursts among the leaders and to make sure he was not misunderstood, Ben Gurion added: Like every Jew, I am interested in saving every Jew - whenever possible - but nothing - nothing takes precedence over saving the Hebrew Nation in its land!

The tendency to see the .Jews of Europe as "human materials" necessary to establish the state, rather than seeing the state as a means to save the .Jews, guided the Zionist leadership in setting its immigration policy.

Most immigration permits issued in the 1930's were assigned to unmarried male pioneers in their twenties. Only 20% went to young women and children. Life in Palestine as a pioneer was too hard and demanding for most of the European Jews, and Ben Gurion was very resentful and angry at this attitude.

Ben Gurion was a man of strong character, fierce conviction towards the cause of a Jewish nation in their own land, and an infallible belief that his dream would turn into reality. He was a man of wisdom and vision - our first post-biblical prophet who created and forged the State of Israel and became its first Prime Minister. His memory is carved in stone for history. He was perhaps molded after the concept of the Grecian perfect man, "strong in body and soul."

The new Jew would no longer accept curses and beatings with humility. He would fight back and fight back hard! There was a new philosophy emerging from the killing fields of Europe - "If you have to die - you take your enemy with you - you never go alone!" The best example of this was the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising where a handful of valiant, young Jewish fighters opposed the mighty German army, knowing all along, that they would all perish in the end.

I was fascinated by the concept of the "free, strong Jew," and embraced this ideology with great enthusiasm. It suited my temperament. I could identify with my people and be proud of who we were. I was ready to do everything in my power to fight for my country! I became very idealistic and joined a Youth Group throughout my school years. We went on hikes, worked in Kibbutz Sarid near Haifa, and got involved in the lives of the Yishuv (Jewish community in Palestine) and learned to be proud of who we were. I was ready to be counted on!

February 1944

As for myself, my life went on amidst the turmoils of war and suffering. 1 was young, took school and learning very seriously and was involved with "Gadna" and other organizations. I continued writing for school: plays, essays, articles. I had found my place amongst my people. In Kibbutz Sarid, which was part of a left wing movement called, "Hashomer Hatzair", I met a nice young man named Arje. We became friends and he visited me in Tel-Aviv together with other young people from the kibbutz. He lived on the kibbutz as a Kafir, which was a cross between guard and police for the kibbutzim only - appointed by the community. This became a big problem with my father who was opposed to socialism and very much afraid to have his daughter exposed to this left wing movement. As it turned out, Arje was a quiet, decent young man who was not involved too much in politics, but considered his position simply as a means to make a living.

The kibbutzim of Hashomer Hatzair were socialistic bordering on the communist philosophy. Everything was considered communal, the social norms very loose, men and women lived together as husband and wife without being married. A rabbi would come and visit once a year to marry anyone who so desired. Religion was of no importance but the land and our Jewish history was their love and passion. It was their "reason for being."

Later, out of these groups, emerged the most dedicated, courageous fighters - many of these wonderful people would give their lives for the creation of the state of Israel.

My relationship with my father became tense as 1 failed to convince him about the necessity of budding idealism and that no danger existed for me of becoming a left wing socialist. This tension didn't last long since we had a strong bond of love and respect.

"This is my beloved. this is my friend" (Songs of Songs)

November 15,1944

My friend Ruth Bialik, we called her Rutchen, and another girl, decided to go to a little party, which was being held on Ben- Yehuda Street. I had afternoon classes in Chemistry and later a meeting with my math teacher, Dr. Hacke. He was always generous with his time and devoted to his students.

Ruth convinced me that I should come after school, even if it meant that I would be somewhat late. The party was informal and an open house.

When I arrived, at about 8 pm, the party was well under way and people were dancing to the sound of a gramophone. They were having a good time. My friend Ruth greeted me and introduced me to some guests. I did not know any of them. Most were older, dressed in sport jackets, and some in business suits. It seemed that they had come directly from their offices or places of work to have some fun and dance.

The party was given by a well known dancing school in Tel-Aviv, Hans-Guht.

A short guy with pimples came over and asked me to dance; I refused by using the excuse of having an injured foot. He really repelled me!

As I was standing with Ruth, talking, we noticed a handsome young man; tall, dark hair, very well groomed, wearing a blue blazer. He stood out from the crowd, with his poised bearing and good looks. We watched him converse with others, and noticed that he was not only handsome, but had an aura of refinement and sophistication about him.

This was all too much for me, and over my head, as I was running at that time, with a crowd of students who looked and behaved like students do - so very different!

At this moment, Ruth pointed out that this gorgeous man was coming my way. And so he did, and asked me to dance - I refused!

Now when I started being socially active, my mother explained to me not to dance with anyone after I had refused him a dance earlier. It would be very insulting and rude to the person who had been rejected.

In those days, I was strongly under the influence of nationalism, humanism, and socialism. I was convinced that the world was in great need of love and goodness in order to be healed from all the pain it had endured. I was a great idealist and did not want to hurt the young guy who was still watching me.

I felt a sharp pain on my side - my friend had just kicked me - and heard her hiss at me, "Are you out of your mind to refuse this Chatich (hot guy), you will never be able to meet anyone else like him. Are you crazy?"

The music kept on playing, and was interrupted by a male voice announcing "Ladies Choice," meaning it was now the girls' turn to choose their partners.

Ruth turned once more in my direction and challenged me, "If you're not going over to him now - I will go and ask him to dance myself!"

Well, since I did not like the idea of refusing a challenge - I decided to approach him and ask for the dance!

He turned out to be kind and with a slight ironic smile, asked me, "How come you changed your mind?" The music kept playing, "You stepped out of a dream... " and we're still dancing, 50 years later.

It turned out that this young man was also from Vienna and arrived with his parents in Palestine the same time we did. His name is Joshua Fink. He walked me home.

It was his sense of fairness, keen intellect, humour and most of all his decency and warmth, which soon captivated my heart.

We fell head over heels in love - and the rest is history!

1945: World War II Ended

After the horrors of the war, thousands of survivors with no home nor families to return to, sick in body and mind remained in different concentration camps. They were still tormented by a world which stood by watching six million being slaughtered - among them 1 1/2 million children. Their only crime was being born Jewish! Now the world still watched, as the small numbers of tormented remnants were left in camps with nowhere to go! These camps were named D.P. camps (camps for Displaced Persons).

The British controlled Palestine and would not let the Jews enter.

In the winter of 1945, over 100 Jewish agents from Palestine were in Europe working with the local Zionists building a labyrinth of contacts and hideouts. They recruited young, able people and tried to ship them to Palestine illegally, disregarding papers or visas.

Now and then, on the way through Germany and Poland, a group of refugees would be attacked. But the Jews, by battle hardened partisans who stood watch on both sides of the street, were no longer the same Jews, they were no longer the helpless of the past. These were new Jews created by the war - they in turn had become fierce fighters and killers. The refugees lifted their heads, and a sense of pride embraced their hollowed bodies - it gave them a purpose and hope for the future!

We decided to forge our own destiny and embrace Hillel's lines in 'Pirkei Avot:'

If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And being for myself, what am I? And if not now - when? This was our motto to be!

Chapter VIII: A NATION IS BORN - one Palestine complete

In February 1947, the British government had decided to turn the mandate of Palestine over to the United Nations. The U.N. set up a special commission and finally came to a decision that Palestine should be partitioned.

On May 12th, 1948, the United Nations proposed to take over Palestine when the British left and demanded that the Jews would not declare statehood until an agreement had been worked out between them and the Palestinian Arabs.

Ben-Gurion, "the visionary", urged his colleagues to reject the American plan and proposed instead an immediate declaration of statehood.

This Declaration of Independence which was written in May 1948, states that the State of Israel will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture; it will safeguard the Holy Places of all religions; and it will be faithful to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.

Five members of the ten man council feared that the moment statehood was declared, the Arab nations would attack and win.

The operation officers of the Haganah, headed by Yigael Yadin, added that the Haganah had a high level, both of training and determination, which could offset the overwhelming numbers of soldiers and superior arms and equipment of the Arabs.

Ben-Gurion then mentioned that new arms and supplies were arriving shortly from Europe.

The council voted once more, and decided on the Declaration of Independence. They still discussed what the new state should be called - Zion, Ziona, Judaea or Herzliya.

The council finally decided on the name, Israel.

On May 14th, 1948 at 5 pm, Ben-Gurion presided over the signing of Israel's Declaration of Independence in Tel-Aviv.

Two thousand years of prayers and spiritual longings had been fulfilled!

Joshua and I ran out into the streets and joined friends and strangers dancing the horah and singing on Dizengoff Street.

Strangers hugged, kissed and cried - we were all in a frenzy of emotions.

But everywhere in the country the Haganah was on the alert.

News of the massacre of the Jews in the Etzion Block cast a grim pall! As did the fact that 1,200 Jews had already been killed since the U.N. partition resolution, less than six months earlier.

Immediately after Independence was declared, five Arab armies crossed the borders into the former mandate, Palestine.

Ben-Gurion forged immediately the Haganah, Palmach and Irgun into a single Jewish army - The Israel Defense Forces, known as the I.D.F.

On the morning of May 14th, we were awoken by sirens - an Egyptian bombing raid in Tel-Aviv killed 100 Jews.

We stood shattered and frightened - the sorrow followed too soon after our joy.

In the days ahead, Egyptian troops overran two Jewish settlements south of Gaza and captured Yad Mordechai, and advanced to within 25 miles of Tel-Aviv. The Arab Legion, the best trained of the lot, cut the road from Tel-Aviv to Jerusalem and occupied the former police fort, at Latrun.

Three attempts were made by the Israelis to reopen it, but each attack was unsuccessful.

In besieged Jerusalem, the battle for the Jewish quarters of the old city lasted two weeks. On May 28th, it surrendered to the Arab Legion.

Among its defenders was a young English girl of 21 years - who was killed. A letter was found after her death, written to her parents:

We had a difficult fight, I tasted hell, but it has been worthwhile because I am convinced in the end we will see a Jewish state. I have lived my life fully, and very sweet, it has been to be in our land!

The mood in the country was somber and grim. Again we faced the threat of total annihilation. I felt trapped in our own country, short of a miracle how could we be saved?

By now, Joshua had been called up to the army and waited every day to join his battalion. I was due to join part-time, in order to work in the military offices.

It has always been said that turbulent times bring about strong leaders. Well, it certainly applied to those dark, difficult days, when a young nation was fighting for its survival.

From the first days of independence, volunteer fighters reached Israel from abroad. One of them was an American Colonel, David Marcus, a graduate of West Point, who parachuted into Normandy and had seen Dachau a few days after its liberation.

Marcus fought in Latrun, and later opened a by-pass road through the hills to besieged Jerusalem. The road was called, "Burma Road."

He would fly the small planes we had for crop-dusting and flying clubs, to deliver mail and medicine to cut-off besieged settlements and kibbutzim.

He also flew the first Israeli "Messerschmitt," delivered from Germany May 28th, 1948. He was our pride and joy and shaped the fledging Israeli Air Force of one!

On June 11 th, 1948, Colonel Marcus left his tent after dark, wrapped in a white sheet. When challenged by a sentry to give the night password, Marcus hesitated for whatever reason. Perhaps he was too sleepy and his Hebrew not good enough; the guards mistook him for an Arab and shot him dead.

He was buried with full honours at West Point, and later portrayed by Kirk Douglas in the film, "Cast a Giant Shadow."

The young nation mourned its heroes - tragedy did strike. We were all shaken by this needless loss!

Chapter IX

Joszi and I got married on June 11th, 1948 at the Ritz Hotel in Tel-Aviv. It was a happy wedding with the families from both sides and friends present. We spent our honeymoon on Har-Hacarmel on top of Haifa's mountain. It was a very ideal holiday - the world seemed at peace.

On the day we planned to return home, the British imposed a curfew on the whole country. We could not make it to Tel-Aviv but managed to get to Bnei-Brak, where we stayed over night, with Joszi's uncle Marcus. They were very hospitable, and the next day, we decided to try and make it to Tel-Aviv, to our new apartment on Dizengoff Street.

The next day the curfew intensified - no one was allowed on the street, or on the balconies, or near a window - without chancing to be shot at. British soldiers with machine guns patrolled the street - they meant business. Hostility to the British Government headed by Ernest Bevin grew out of desperation. The number of Jewish immigrants to Palestine was limited to 1,000 people a month at a time, when thousands languished in various camps in Europe with nowhere to go.

The "Stern" party bombed the King David hotel in Jerusalem, as it housed the British government offices at that time. Some people got killed, and the government decided to call the curfew, and order a systematic house to house search - arresting every young Jewish male, and some Jewish women!

Well, we, the newly-weds, got caught up in this house-to-house search. Everyone in our building was sitting behind closed doors waiting. I was very scared - being so young, I knew both of us, Joszi and myself, would be taken away. We would be herded into large open spaces surrounded by wires and questioned for hours and hours, standing in the hot, merciless sun. I took a large kerchief and tied it on my head and gave Joszi a sun hat and waited. Soon we heard the footsteps of the soldiers' heavy boots and the clinking of their machine guns coming up the stairs. We lived on the third floor, and our apartment was in the center of the hallway. Then we heard angry voices, shuffling and then the voice of our neighbour being taken away, all the while cursing them.

Then, there was a loud knock to the right of our apartment. Once again we heard loud, angry voices, shuffling as a young man was taken away. The women had been left behind because each had a little baby in the house. I experienced a flashback of memories at that moment - Nazi Germany, sounds of boots, screaming, Gestapo!.... We waited and waited behind the closed door in silence, not daring to breathe.

After a while, we heard people coming out of their apartments into the hallway, talking in whispers. We finally realized the soldiers simply forgot to come back for us. We were spared!

People slowly trickled back home, telling frightening stories about the British behaviour towards randomly arrested young people. It aroused our anger and we named them "British Nazis."

The next day of curfew, another incident was about to occur. The atmosphere was slightly relaxed, and being bored, I peeped out through the closed blinds of the balcony door, which led to the street. I saw a strange sight and called Joszi to come and look. A trio was walking towards our building - two British soldiers with machine guns, marching with a little woman between them, carrying some parcels. We wondered why this woman was being arrested. As we looked a little closer, we recognized her identity, "My God - it's Mama!"

I opened the door screaming, "Mama - Mama - why did they arrest you?" The soldiers motioned to close the door and Mama called, 'I am coming!" Sure enough, the trio came to our apartment. Mama was bringing us food to eat; she was worried that we would be starving!

Mama was a great lady and could accomplish and get away with lots of things due to her charm and love of people. During that time, she spoke neither Hebrew nor English. How she managed to communicate with those soldiers still remains a mystery to me.

Mama walked out of her building towards the soldiers on her street, holding a white tablecloth in her hands. Somehow, she made them understand that her poor, newly-wed daughter and her husband were stranded in their empty apartment without food and water. She must have added that either I or both of us were sick and needed help. The two soldiers felt sorry for her plight and offered to escort her to us to deliver the precious food - and then back to her home. It was explained to Mama that it was too dangerous to walk alone without their protection.

The whole neighbourhood talked for days about Mrs. Friedmann - walking escorted by two armed British soldiers to her daughter and back - in order to deliver a meal!

Chapter X

My husband, Joshua, whom we called by his nickname, Joszi, soon joined his battalion to fight in Jaffa. For a day and a night, we heard the sounds of gunshots everywhere and we knew that things were not going too well. I was very worried. I left our apartment on Dizengoff and slept at my parents and my in-laws during those difficult days - knowing that Joszi was there with his group.

Later during the war, Joszi was promoted to Sergeant Major and was responsible for "Zijud," the supply of uniforms and guns. His immediate superior was Brigadier General Ben-David, a fair, but tough army man, who supplied Joszi with a car to drive the general around.

Luck was with us. The following day, it was the Arab population that decided to leave the city of Jaffa. The battle of Jaffa had the same phenomena as some of the other Arab villages. All the Arab population fled the city. They were all convinced the war would end shortly, and after the victory of the Arab army - they would return and take control of the whole county - pushing the Israelis into the sea!

"The Altalena "

On June 21st, 1948, the ship Altalena arrived north of Tel-Aviv with 900 immigrants, revisionists bringing the desperately needed supply of rifles and light machine guns. The problem was that this group loyal to their leader, Menachem Begin, refused to hand over the ammunitions to the elected leader of the fledgling new Nation - wanting to fight under their leader.

Now this triggered a tragedy and tore the country apart.

Ben-Gurion ordered the ship to be fired on by his senior commander, Yitzhak Rabin. Six Irgunists and two Israeli soldiers were killed. The ship sailed to Tel-Aviv, we all ran to the shore to watch the fire burn. Slowly a chilling realization entered our hearts, "Oh My God - Jews Fighting Jews!"

Ben-Gurion, once again, turned out to be a visionary with his tough love! He decided he had no choice but to take a tough line with the Irgun to prevent a break-away from the armed forces being established.

He was convinced that for Israel to beat the odds - the country must be united under one leadership, with one army - the I.D.F. - Israel Defence Forces.

Much later in the years to come, both leaders, Menachem Begin and Yitzhak Rabin became presidents of Israel. The first, to make peace with Sadat of Egypt and the latter, Rabin, who was on the way of forging peace with Arafat and the Palestinians. He was assassinated in Tel-Aviv, at a peace rally by Amir, a fanatical right wing murderer.

Chapter XI

Egypt occupied the Gaza strip; the Palestinian Arabs, like those on the West Bank and East Jerusalem under Jordan, were denied their statehood, for which the United Nations had voted and promised.

This fact that the Arabs lived in limbo without statehood, caused great anguish for the Arabs and Jews for years to come. The Arab world was using the refugees for political purposes - not caring at all about their well-being.

The State of Israel had to repair the ravages of war, secure its borders and formalize the institutions of statehood.

The government also felt a responsibility for Jews in the diaspora. In 1949, the Rumanian government was bribed into letting their Jews emigrate to Israel. Then, a third of the Turkish Jews came as did almost all of the Bulgarian Jews - 37,260 in all. They came from Yugoslavia, some from Britain, Canada, United States, South Africa and Australia - highly motivated immigrants, including many professionals. Later they came from Morocco, Yemen and Aden - ancient biblical communities.

Life in Israel became a kaleidoscope as Jews emigrated from all over the world bringing with them their different cultures, foods, and languages.

Ben-Gurion knew he had to explore the links between modern Israel and the ancient Jewish heritage.

In 1950, a law of return guaranteed the right of every Jew wherever he or she might live in the world - to enter Israel as an immigrant and become a citizen immediately on arrival.

Slowly, the state of Israel forged its fledging army into an army feared by its enemies and admired and respected by its friends. Israel secured its borders, settled her immigrants, and emerged a leader in medical research (Weizman Institute). It also developed an arms industry, which helped secure the state and added the much needed foreign exchange. Israel became a leading exporter of polished diamonds. Joszi, at that time, was the owner of a small diamond factory together with his partner, Dundi Schwartz. They were to remain life long friends.

The arts of painting and music flourished in the small country in spite of the political insecurity and economic problems.

The American composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein, visited Israel many times; twice, when Israel was at war; he arrived without hesitation to play for soldiers and civilians alike.

In the summer of 1949, Joszi and I were fortunate to hear him play and thereafter we met him at the private "Eshkol Club." I was in my last month of pregnancy with our daughter, Iris. After all this time, I can still feel the excitement and deep emotion, "Lennie" stirred in us. I was totally enchanted by his music and the tone of his voice, and like every other woman in the crowd, I fell a little bit in love with him.

My relationship with Joszi became closer and warmer with each passing year. A strong bond was forged in our marriage and our love became more meaningful.

We went through many good times and some hard, and sad periods in our lives, due to the political instability in Israel and emigration to Canada - a cold and foreign land. Most of all, it was the loss of our dear parents, too young to die, which caused the most pain. It was our love and caring which enabled us to endure the sorrows and hardships of life.

"Joszi, how much do I love thee? . .."

We were blessed with a beautiful daughter, Iris, born in Tel-Aviv in 1949. We emigrated to Montreal, Canada in the summer of 1951 where our adorable son, Raymond (Ray) was born in 1953. His grandmother Sally called him, "beautiful as a picture." Three months later she passed away from a sudden heart attack at the age of 60. Her passing was a great loss for me - I loved her dearly. For Joszi, the world collapsed and the sun stopped shining. Hersh, Joszi's father, was numbed by the sad loss.

We were fortunate to settle in this vast and tolerant country and started a new life. It was not an easy transition as no emigration is. We met with new culture, new language and a harsh climate. But, the people were warm and helpful and we managed to spread our wings and overcame the obstacles.

The same year, my beloved father Moshe succumbed to the horrors of cancer. He was 54 years old. I was totally shaken by his loss. Having been close to him all these years, his death left a void in my life, an emptiness that seemed unsurpassable. He left a young wife, Schifra, my mother, and my young sister Vera - all alone, in the big city of New York. It was not a good omen to start a new life in a new country!

But nevertheless, fate was good to us. Joszi started working again in the diamond business and prospered and we derived great joy from our two children as they grew up. My mother, Schifra, and sister, Vera lived in New York and we visited frequently and managed to stay close.

Later, Iris graduated from McGill, married Harry in December 1978, and presented us with three beautiful grandchildren; Jennifer, Jonathan, and Derek.

Ray graduated from medical school at McGill and married Rhona in June 1978, she was also a medical doctor. She became a loving and caring daughter-in-law. They gave us three beautiful grandchildren; Daniel, Sarah, and Miriam.

Every child comes with a message that G-d is not discouraged by man. (Rabindranath Tagore)

WE WERE BLESSED!!!

Epilogue

This story is from a time gone by, and most of us who played our roles are today either old, or dead.

We - the survivors of the Holocaust generation, have many stories to tell. Some of unmentionable hatred, evil and inhuman behaviour of the Nazis and their henchmen, others of love, dedication and great courage of some of the victims.

I tried to tell a simple and truthful story, but when one writes about the past, which is a fluid situation, it becomes difficult to include everything.

There is so much that I have left out, and therefore this is only a very small part of "My Story."