The Haj - Leon Uris [97]
‘Those who flee will have no chance of returning. We want men of character to lead the new Palestine.’
‘Effendi, I do not wish to seem ungrateful, but what if the Arab regular armies are defeated?’
‘All the Arab armies defeated! It is not possible.’
‘I realize it is not possible, but suppose, by some very strange quirk, they ... lose?’
‘You are right, Farouk. One cannot be too careful. We must think of all possibilities. I have spoken to Ben-Gurion personally.’
‘Ben-Gurion!’
‘Ben-Gurion. He tells me that the Jews will do nothing to those Arab families who remain. If the terrible catastrophe of a Jewish victory happens, then you will still have Tabah. In such an unlikely event of a Jewish victory, you and I will split all the lands of Tabah fifty-fifty.’
Farouk thought about it. Fawzi Effendi Kabir had figured things out so that he was going to end up with something no matter who won or who lost. An Arab victory meant that he, Farouk, would end up as a great landholder and the muktar. Arab defeat meant that he, Farouk, would still end up as the muktar with half of Tabah’s profitable fields. All it hinged on was his telling his brother a small untruth. Either way, Haj Ibrahim would not be able to come back to Tabah. He broke out in perspiration. He could justify everything, for if he did not do what Kabir wanted, he would also be finished.
Farouk suddenly grabbed Kabir’s hands and kissed them and pocketed the bankbook. ‘I must leave and find supplies or otherwise there will be some suspicion.’
‘Just give me a list of the things you need,’ Kabir said. ‘I will have your supplies gathered by morning. Tonight I wish you to be my guest. I have planned some interesting entertainment for my new friend and ally.’
8
LATE IN THE AUTUMN of 1947, Gideon Asch was assigned by Ben-Gurion to head a committee of Haganah commanders and Jewish Agency executives to formulate a number of alternate plans in the event of war. As each area commander reported in on his capabilities, a grim set of prospects piled up on his desk.
His daily time with Ben-Gurion usually came after normal working hours, often in the living room of the Old Man’s flat in Tel Aviv.
The central question was how much of Jewish Palestine could be defeated. What would be acceptable losses? Jerusalem was terribly vulnerable. What would the Arab villages along the Bab el Wad and near Latrun do? How to defend isolated settlements, such as those in the Negev Desert who would be facing the regular Egyptian Army?
Should the Yishuv plan to shrink back into their highly populated regions and fight from a more defensible line? Gideon leaned in that direction and had the Old Man’s ear. The Young Turks were brazen enough to believe that every Jewish settlement should fight to the end... concede nothing... evacuate no one.
As the various plans were refined, a moment of decision came to hand.
Even now the road to and from Jerusalem was becoming difficult to travel safely. It increased the problems of running the Jewish Agency tenfold. At last Ben-Gurion agreed to move many of the Agency’s offices to the greater safety of the all-Jewish city of Tel Aviv, which was on the coast and adjoined Arab Jaffa. A small turn-of-the-century house in a former German colony in Tel Aviv had become headquarters for Ben-Gurion and the military.
On the night of decision, Gideon arrived early to review the options once again. The pages of Plan D seemed to glare from the conference table as though a light from an unseen force were shining on it. Without words, Gideon knew that Ben-Gurion had dug in; when that happened he could be immovable. Plan D audaciously called for the defense of every Jewish settlement, no matter how vulnerable or isolated.
‘At worst, it is suicidal,’ Gideon said at last. ‘At best, it is a dangerous gamble.’
‘I know what you think, Gideon,’ B.G. retorted tersely.
They began to arrive from the Galilee, from the Negev, from the mixed cities, from the settlements. When the backslaps were done and the tea finished, Gideon went