The Haj - Leon Uris [111]
As the Arab militia fell back, they became entangled with the ordinary villagers. Panic broke out as the villagers tried to separate themselves and flee, but the militia used them as cover. Civilians were caught in a vicious cross fire and broke in all directions in the mayhem. At this point, the Irgun’s discipline collapsed in confusion, then decayed into frenzy. The Irgun pressed in, shooting at anything and everything that moved.
Gideon finished his survey, then fled into an empty house and retched. Colonel Brompton came into the room and closed the door behind him as Gideon pulled himself together.
The final count seems to be in excess of two hundred and fifty killed,’ Brompton said. ‘Half of them are women and children.’
Gideon’s face was wet with sweat. He jerked out his shirttail and wiped it, then dropped his face into his hands. ‘We are denouncing this affair,’ he said. ‘The Haganah had nothing to do with it.’
‘Ah yes, but you are still responsible, are you not?’
Gideon clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew the Jews were responsible. He held up his handless arm. ‘The Baghdad ghetto. Ever hear of it? All my life I have lived with massacres. Only this one is different. The Jews committed it. Does that clean the slate of a hundred Arab massacres?’
‘Is that all you’re worried about—keeping score?’
‘Of course not. A defensive reflex. I’ve lived among the Arabs. I’ve loved them. Even though I’ve lost most of that love, I’ve continued to believe we could create something side by side ... progress ... an irresistible quality of life ... decency ... respect for one another. We would set an example and when the others saw it ... they would come and speak peace to us. I am a Jew, Colonel, and I am tormented that we have been driven to do such things to survive. I can forgive the Arabs for murdering our children. I cannot forgive them for forcing us to murder theirs.’
‘So the purity of the Zionist dream becomes tainted with the ugliness of reality,’ Brompton said. ‘Digging ditches, rolling back swamps, and singing around the campfire isn’t quite the same as declaring one’s independence. As long as you stayed in your synagogues and prayed and took your persecutions in silence, you could demand of yourselves an ethereal set of standards. You demand your own destiny, for better or worse, and that requires getting messy hands.’
‘All right, we’ve done a ghastly deed. But the Arabs will blow this thing all out of proportion.’
‘And they will continue to do so for a hundred years,’ Brompton said. ‘The first Jewish massacre of Moslems. You’ve presented them with a splendid rallying point and an eternal footnote in history.’
‘God knows, we did not want anything like this to happen.’
‘Fair fight and all that? If I’m not mistaken, you preached the gospel that once battle starts events overcome one. You could have prevented this, Asch.’
‘How!’
‘By controlling the Irgun. They’re your people. They’re your responsibility.’
Gideon leaned against a window and looked outside to the rows of corpses on litters being removed by soldiers wearing gas masks. Gideon clenched his jaw against the shock of physical pain.
‘So all your years of impassioned idealism and righteous dreams will be severely tested. You’ve given us a lot of sanctimonious advice. I’m going to give you some,’ the Englishman said.
Gideon turned and looked at him squarely.
‘When you see Ben-Gurion, you’d better impress upon him that he has to dissolve and absorb the Irgun. If you continue to allow a private little army in your midst, you’ll end up with the same anarchy that pervades the Arab world.