Golda's Stories of the Holocaust
Part III - Elevation
Section 3 – Israel
Chapter A – The village Kfar-Yeheskel
My crate saves the village from an Arabs' attack
I sailed to Israel on the ship "Kedma".
The officials form the Jewish Agency in the ship asked me if I have relatives there.
I answered: "I have a remote uncle in the village Kfar-Yeheskel.
They convinced me to go to him.
They planned for me a temporary arrangement.
I didn't have to, but they suggested: "You have an uncle in Kfar-Yeheskel, so go to your uncle"
I did not object.
I arrived from the ship to Kiryat-Shmuel near Haifa, to a new immigrants' lodge.
I lodged there two nights.
In the morning of the third day arrived an ironclad bus. The bus traveled until Beit-Sha'an. Some people went up. My luggage's crate was loaded on it.
In Cyprus we received from a Jewish philanthropic organization few clothes, and I collected all sorts of clothes. I had also several other vital things that I collected, since I was left without anything.
I made for the things a big crate in the length of about one meter, from lumber which I found. I was told that in Israel there is a shortage of wood. Therefore I thought that I will prepare a table or a closet from the crate.
The driver dropped the crate by the roadside, in the station of Kfar-Yeheskel, and said ridiculously: "Go down here. You see, here, on the hill, is Kfar-Yeheskel".
I went down alone from the bus, with a huge crate, and did not know what to do.
He said "On the hill", and I did not know if to go the long distance.
I stood in the desolated junction, waiting for as ten minutes, thinking what to do, how to leave the crate and go.
I stood and contemplated, and suddenly I saw on the main road a big truck approaching from a distance.
There were soldiers on it. They wore red cylindrical hats.
I knew that these are Arab soldiers' uniforms.
I was afraid and I hid myself by lying in the field by the roadside.
From my hiding place, I saw on the truck about twenty soldiers. They sat with their rifles aiming at the roadsides.
The truck slowed down in the junction, and began to make turns back and forth near the crate, as if its commander hesitates if to stop and examine it.
I wanted to be away from the soldiers and started to crawl on my belly toward the hill.
I arrived exhausted to the first house of the village. The owner, Mr. Katz, became later my friend.
I knocked on the door and he opened.
Without any introduction, I told him straight: "Hear me sir. I am from the Jewish Agency. I came here by bus, because I said that I have an uncle here. But my crate is still on the roadside. I crawled to here because I saw Arabs. I don't feel good. You see, I am dirty, and my clothes are torn. I am afraid and hardly alive".
He understood the severity of the situation. He harnessed a horse to a wagon, and we both hurried to my uncle Tzvi Berman, who arrived to Israel together with Ben-Gurion.
Immediately I told my uncle that there are on the road Arabs soldiers on a truck.
The uncle informed a neighbor about it.
They were sure that this is a dangerous situation and rang the village's bell.
The entire village gathered in the square alongside the community center and was updated.
An alert was announced.
Some courageous guys who defended the village were quickly organized, and drove with their rifles to see what happens.
The Arab soldiers saw them and fled.
One of the guys returned after a short while with the crate.
Afterward the whole affair was examined, and the question why the truck went back and forth near the crate was solved.
My crate saved us, me and the entire village.
The Arab soldiers planned to attack the village. They saw the crate on the roadside, suspected that this is a bomb and feared to approach it.
This was the only reason they did not attack. Miraculously everything ended at peace.