The Haj - Leon Uris [40]
Wingate waited a full hour after they had passed, then whistled for his boys to assemble. They had counted somewhat over two hundred and fifty of Kaukji’s men who would take part in the attack on Tabah.
Wingate spread a map. ‘We stay off the path. Keep in the hills. Here at this point, two miles before we reach Fakim, we will set up the ambush.’ The plan was to give a reception to Kaukji’s forces when they returned from the attack on Tabah. The men of the Special Night Squad knew that in order to avoid detection, the rest of the night would be one, long, murderous uphill climb. Wingate glanced at Gideon, who nodded that he, despite his age, would make it just fine.
At two in the morning, Kaukji’s rebels fanned out at the base of the knoll of Tabah and crawled upslope toward the village.
Haj Ibrahim had long second thoughts about his strange encounter with the British officer, then gathered his people and ordered them to carry the village supply of kerosene up to the prophet’s tomb. Taking full credit for the plan, he had the perimeter soaked so the dry grass begged to be ignited.
At half past two, a rebel officer stood up near the top of the knoll, held his rifle aloft, and screamed the ancient battle cry, ‘Allah akbar!’ A roar went up from the rest, followed by a volley of fire and a charge.
Haj Ibrahim arced the first torch into the grass and fell to his stomach. One after another his people ran to the perimeter, each flinging a torch at the onrushers. Within seconds a grumble of fire mixing with fuel belched into a roar and a titanic blaze leaped heavenward. The wind swept over the knoll, pushing the fire downhill toward the attackers almost instantly. Curses changed to horrendous screams while one human torch after another ignited. Men leaped up and down as the ground turned into a broiler. Some fell to the ground gagging from the rushing cloud of angry black smoke, others tumbled downhill, frantically trying to outrun the advancing wall of flame. They were cross-whipped with hellfire and scattered in utter panic. Twenty-five men had been burned or choked to death within two minutes of ignition. Another hundred were badly charred.
The balance limped back into the sanctuary of the Bab el Wad toward Fakim, dazed after an insane all-night retreat. By dawn they began to enter a narrow defile a few miles from Fakim, overcome with exhaustion, barely able to hang on.
The Special Night Squad had arrived at the defile hours earlier after the vicious forced march and were deployed in an executioner’s ambush. The survivors of the charge on Tabah now faced a pair of machine guns set up to mangle anything caught in their crossfire. Those who survived the first burst flung down their weapons and scattered through the hills, never to return to battle again.
13
October 1937
THE OFFICE OF THE Waqf served as headquarters for the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem. It was located just outside the great plaza known as the Haram esh Sharif, the former Temple Mount of Solomon and Herod. The Haram esh Sharif held Islam’s first major edifice, the Dome of the Rock, which dominated all else in Jerusalem. The mighty dome was thirteen centuries old. It was the site of Abraham’s sacrifice, of the Holy of Holies of the Hebrew Temple, and the rock from which Mohammed made his legendary leap to heaven. Hovering in its shadows was a small replica of the Dome of the Rock known as the Mosque of the Chain, which had served as the model for the larger building. The Mufti claimed the Mosque of the Chain as his personal place of worship. Several times a day he crossed from the Office of the Waqf to attend to his spiritual needs.
He sat on his prayer rug in cross-legged meditation.
‘Your Eminence!’ a voice echoed