Exodus - Leon Uris [291]
Joab reported in full on the Safed situation. He concluded, “I hate to bother you, Ari, but in another three days we are going to have to start eating rats.”
Ari grunted. The stand at Safed had been an inspiration to the entire Yishuv. It was more than a strategic position now, it was another invaluable symbol of defiance. “If we could win Safed we could crush Arab morale in the whole Galilee.”
“Ari, every time we have to fire a bullet, we must go into a debate about it.”
“I have an idea,” Ari said. “Come with me.”
Ari set up an emergency night patrol to get at least some supplies of food into Safed and then took Joab to the ordnance shed. In an inner room he showed the Moroccan a strange-looking contraption of cast iron, nuts, and bolts.
“What the hell is it?” Joab asked.
“Joab, you are looking at a Davidka.”
“A Davidka?”
“Yes ... a Little David, handcrafted by Jewish genius.”
Joab scratched his jaw. In some respects one might say it did appear to be a weapon—of a sort. Yet ... nothing quite like it existed anywhere else, Joab was sure.
“What is it supposed to do?”
“I am told that it shoots mortar shells.”
“How?”
“Damned if I know. We haven’t experimented yet. I have a report from Jerusalem saying that it has been very effective.”
“For the Jews or Arabs?”
“Joab, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ve been saving this weapon for the proper situation. It’s yours, take it to Safed.”
Joah walked around the odd piece of machinery. “The things we have to resort to to win a war,” he mumbled.
The night patrol carrying emergency rations into Safed also brought along the Davidka and thirty pounds of ammunition. As soon as he arrived, Joab called the Haganah and Palmach leaders together, and through the rest of the night they traded ideas on how the thing was supposed to work. Ten people were present and ten opinions were given.
At last someone thought of sending for Brigadier Sutherland. He was awakened at the hotel and half dragged to headquarters. He stared at the Davidka in disbelief.
“Only a Jew could concoct something like this,” he concluded.
“I hear it was very effective in Jerusalem,” Joab apologized.
Sutherland played with all the levers and handles and switches and sights and in the next hour they evolved a firing procedure which might—or might not—work.
The next morning the Davidka was carried to a clearing and pointed in the general direction of the Arab-held police station and some nearby houses the Arabs used as sniping posts.
The Davidka’s ammunition was no less strange in appearance than the Davidka. It was shaped like a mallet, of which the head was an iron cylinder filled with dynamite equipped with detonators. The thick handle allegedly fit down the mortar tube. On firing, the handle was supposed to be thrust out with such force that it would hurl the whole unbalanced load of dynamite at the target. Sutherland had visions of the thing flying for a few feet and exploding in front of them.
“If that warhead merely falls out of the end of the tube—as I confidently expect,” Sutherland said, “we are likely to lose the entire Jewish population of Safed.”
“Then I suggest we rig up a long line so we can fire it from a safe distance,” Remez said.
“How do we aim it?” Yarkoni asked.
“Aiming this monstrosity isn’t going to do much good. Just point it in the general direction and pray for the best.”
The chief rabbi and many of the Cabalists and their wives gathered around the Davidka and carried on a lengthy debate on whether or not it meant doomsday for all of them. Finally the chief rabbi said special benedictions over the weapon and asked the Messiah kindly to spare them for they had indeed been very good in keeping the laws.
“Well, let’s get it over with,” Remez said pessimistically.
The Cabalists backed to safety. Firing caps were stuffed down the tube and one of the shells was lifted and the long handle placed inside. The cylinder of dynamite balanced over the end of the tube threateningly. A long line was attached to