Beneath the Dover Sky (41 page)

“Yet you were in Ireland, weren’t you?”

“Even at its worst, Ireland was never like this, sir. There I didn’t walk into houses and find twenty or thirty men, women, and children murdered in cold blood. I didn’t find young girls raped and tortured and stabbed to death. I didn’t walk into orphanages and see the horrors I saw here in Safed.”

“No. I expect not.” He sighed with a low groan. “At least some Arabs hid Jewish neighbors in their homes.”

“Yes, sir. I take some measure of hope for the future in that.”

“Do you? I wish I could be as sanguine as you.”

Robbie shook his head. “I don’t feel sanguine, sir. It’s one straw to grasp on to, that’s all. Not much.”

“What does your crystal ball tell you?”

“My crystal ball? I wish I could say I see one nation of Arab Christians and Arab Muslims living side by side with religious Jews and socialist Jews, forming a kind of coalition government just as we would do back in Britain, sir. But massacres like these—pogroms, really—just ensure the Zionists will argue other Jews into the desire to establish a totally Jewish state. Muslims will hate them for it, so the fighting will carry on regardless of the peace that moderates and well-wishers dream of.”

“Why not form two separate nations, Danforth?”

“That would be like Ireland and England, sir. Never the best of friends.”

“Well, I shall continue to hope for some sort of miracle.” He glanced at Robbie. “You’re right. You are not as sanguine as you first appear.” He patted the back of the seat in front of him. “Corporal. Let’s leave this place and get back to Jerusalem.”

The driver started the engine of the car. “Very good, sir.” The vehicle stirred up dust as it headed off. Army lorries full of troops and police followed them.

“Nevertheless, I should like your full report on my desk in two days, Danforth. Sanguine or not.”

“I will have it for you, Colonel.”

MUM AND DAD

WE ARE ALL RIGHT HERE. SHANNON AND THE BABY ARE DOING FINE. I WAS NOT INJURED DURING THE RIOTING. WILL WRITE A LETTER IN A FORTNIGHT. AS YOU CAN IMAGINE THINGS ARE PRETTY HECTIC HERE IN THE AFTERMATH. PRAY FOR THE PEACE OF JERUSALEM.

OUR LOVE

ROBBIE SHANNON AND PATRICIA CLAIRE

Jerusalem

In summary:

As far as we can ascertain, between the dates of August 23
^rd
and August 29
^th
, 133 Jews were killed and some 300 injured. During the same period, 115 or 116 Arabs were killed and more than 230 injured.

The Jews were killed and wounded by Arab rioters for the most part, though there is evidence some were victims of British gunfire. The majority of Arabs were killed and wounded by soldiers of the British Army and officers of the British Palestine Police Force who were trying to halt the massacres. A small number of Arabs were killed by Jews defending themselves or retaliating for Arab assaults. In the worst case, an Imam and six others were slain. For the most part, Jews neither attacked rioters nor defended themselves.

Casualties occurred in Jerusalem, Hebron, Safed, Motza, Kfar Uria, and Tel Aviv.

124 Arabs have been charged with murder, 50 with attempted murder, 250 with arson and looting, and almost 300 with less serious offences.

70 Jews have been charged with murder, 40 with attempted murder, 31 with arson and looting, and 21 with less serious offences.

Jews and Arabs—Arab Muslims in particular—have become more firmly entrenched in their positions as a result of the riots. Jewish proponents of an all-Jewish nation now dominate the political landscape. By the same token, Muslims who desire an all-Arab or even all-Muslim Palestine under sharia law hold sway among their population.

Recommendations:

The British military garrison must be reinforced in 1930. One hundred soldiers is not a sufficient complement to deal with the tensions in this region.

Talks between Jewish and Arab leaders must continue, mediated by British officials.

The British military and police in Palestine and the British Government in Westminster must brace themselves for increased hostilities between Arabs and Jews over the next decade. Nothing will appease Zionists except a fully Jewish state. Nothing will appease Muslims except a fully Muslim Palestine.

The Grand Mufti bears watching. He could have quelled the rioting before it began, but it appeared to me he was whipping the Arabs into a frenzy against the Jews at the Dome of the Rock. He does not have the best interests of Great Britain at heart and certainly not the best interests of those among us who desire an amicable solution to the Jewish–Arab problem.

“
Shalom, Michal
.”

“
Shalom
…major.”

“You may call me by my Christian name please, Michal. I’m Robert, but you can use Robbie if you wish.”

She stood in the doorway and smiled, her eyes and hair dark. “I prefer Robert.” She handed the knife in its sheath to him. “You have come for this.”

Robbie took the knife. “This and to see how you are.”

“Frightened like the other Jews here. Hoping it will not happen again, but knowing it will. Trusting the British will protect us, and realizing we must also protect ourselves.”

He pulled the knife from its sheath. “You used it?”

She dropped her eyes. “I tried to clean it well.”

“What happened?”

“That night a man came through the back window. Your soldiers didn’t see him. He put a hand over my mouth and tried to force himself
on me. I put the knife into his back. His finger jerked the trigger on his pistol several times. Your men rushed through the door, knocking it down. They saw what had happened. A corporal ordered the man’s body be carried away and placed in the street far from my house.”

“He didn’t report the incident.”

She kept her eyes on the ground. “He said I acted in self-defense, and he did not want me charged with murder.”

“You would have been exonerated.”

“The corporal wasn’t sure.”

Robbie looked at her a few moments. “So in the end you were like Jael.”

“In the end I was a frightened Jewish woman grabbing whatever came first to her hand.”

He tossed the knife in his palm and then slipped it into its brown leather sheath. He handed it back to her. “Good Sheffield steel, that. You’d better hang on to it. You might need it again.”

“I hope not.”

“Hope but be prepared to defend yourself against those who have different hopes.”

She lifted her eyes to his and took the knife. “Thank you, major.”

“Robert.”

“Yes, Robert.
Toda raba
.”

Robbie touched his fingers to his officer’s hat. “Perhaps I will see you again, Michal.”

“Perhaps.”

She watched him climb into his armored car. He remained standing in the hatch as it drove away. She followed him with her eyes as the vehicle negotiated the street between vendors selling kosher meat, vegetables, and baked sweets. It slowed down, sped up, slowed down, sped up according to traffic. He looked back once and they saw each other.

16

November, 1929–April, 1930

Tubingen, Germany

“Now Hitler has what he wanted—economic chaos!”

“Please calm down, Albrecht.”

“Calm down? Let me explain the situation.” After moving a stack of books, Albrecht sat next to Catherine on the couch in his study. “So long as our economy was doing well, Hitler had no real power to attract the German people. I was alarmed by the number of his stormtroopers and the fact that Nazi Party membership kept growing, but I was comforted that he wasn’t drawing in the majority of the population. Germany was at work, and our money was good. However, a great part of this was due to massive loans from the United States that helped us get back on our feet. The money was used to subsidize various employment schemes and businesses and to shore up our currency, not to mention shore up the government.”

He paused to remove his reading glasses and run a hand through his hair.

Catherine waited.

“Now with the stock market crash in America in October, everything has changed drastically. Fortunes have been lost, wealth has vanished overnight, millionaires are throwing themselves out of windows in New York City because they are suddenly penniless. And because
they are paupers, America is in danger of becoming a pauper too. So with this financial crisis, America is already making sounds we don’t want to hear in Germany—that they are short on cash, that they need to deal with the economic disaster in their own country, that they need to recall their international loans. Yes, every single loan. They are going to take them back.”

“Has this actually happened yet?”

“My sources tell me the tremors are certainly being felt in Berlin. It’s not noticeable to you or me at this point, but employment is being affected and the Deutschmark is losing ground rapidly. It will be quite obvious in 1930. In any case, the workingman who has lost his job or had his wages cut already sees it. The financiers and capitalists who are taking it on the chin see it. And what do you think they are saying on the street, in the beer halls, in the private clubs, in the business meetings? That if Hitler was smart enough to predict this economic collapse in 1928, then maybe he is smart enough to fix it in 1929 and 1930.”

Catherine felt an uncomfortable coldness in her body, and she clasped her hands together. “I see.”

Albrecht gazed out the study window at the slow spinning fall of snowflakes. “Hitler is already making more speeches, already saying democracy doesn’t work—certainly not for Germany. That the Fatherland has always done well with a strong man at the helm, like Charlemagne or Bismarck…like himself. He and his henchmen are trying to manipulate the situation and have him appointed chancellor over the nation. So far he hasn’t succeeded in budging von Hindenburg on the matter. The day may come when our elderly statesman and president has no choice but to bow to Hitler’s demands. If the economic situation worsens and the Nazi Party continues to grow, and if Hitler wins more seats in the
Reichstag
, well, von Hindenburg will be backed into a corner.”

“Your views do not cheer the soul, Albrecht. I hope you exaggerate the threat facing Germany.”

“If it faces Germany, it faces Europe as well.” Albrecht squeezed her shoulder. “I shall be late for dinner. Do not wait for me. The Brotherhood of the Oak are meeting in half an hour at a small room in a museum.”

“The Brotherhood? You have not met for years.”

He stood up and took his suit coat off the back of a chair. “That tells you others share my rosy outlook.”

“That suit coat is badly wrinkled. Let me iron it for you.”

“No time. It is just men with cigars and pipes and fear in their eyes, Catherine. Believe me, they will not be looking at my coat and its wrinkles.”

“No? Exactly what do these men look for from you?”

“Fight.” He wrapped his red scarf about his neck. “They look for the German fighting spirit. Hitler and his brownshirts, with their swastikas and their fists, have it. The Brotherhood look for it in those who have a different vision for Germany and a totally different heart. And they hope to God they can find it.”