Page 121 - big friday
P. 121
On the Day the State Was Born –
from Gush Etzion to Hebron
U riel Ofek
U riel Ofek, a writer who served as a Palmach medic in the besieged Gush
Etzion, describes the last day amongst the last Gush Etzion community
to fall – Massuot Yitzhak – just a few hours after the state was declared.
Friday, 5th Iyar (May 14, 1948)
…The following are the main points of the ceasefire agreement which Jerusalem has
achieved for us: non-combatants (women, the severely wounded and medical staff) will
be transferred to Jerusalem under the auspices of the Red Cross. Weapons will be handed
over to the Arab Legion. The fighters, including those lightly wounded, will be taken into
captivity.
A t sunrise I climb onto the roof of the sanatorium and hang two flags: the flag of the
Red Cross, and the flag of Magen David Adom. The flags flutter in the light morning
breeze, declaring: This is a hospital! We start organizing the rooms to receive the Red
Cross: the floors are washed, bandages are changed, suitable uniforms are sent from the
clothing warehouse for the medical staff, and I am soon dressed as a nurse, wearing a long
white gown with a Magen David Adom ribbon on the sleeve.
I go outside. An atmosphere of "closing down" wafts in the air. The kibbutz members
are packing piles of clothing and mementos to take with them into captivity. The kitchen
staff brings out its remaining food: Come, all who are hungry; come and enjoy a royal
meal, for this is the last day in Gush Etzion, and there is no longer any need to stockpile
food. In the center of the courtyard there is a heap of letters, documents, albums and other
valuable items; the whole lot is burned, lest it fall into the hands of the conquerors.
A strange quiet prevails in the empty space, devoid of the sound of battle to which
we had become so accustomed. I look at the hills surrounding the kibbutz - and they are
full of armed Arabs, marching in lines, drawing closer to us. No doubt, members of the
"liberation army". They maintain a "respectful distance" and honor the conditions of the
agreement: there is no shooting. "Good children"…
Y ehuda, a gardener, passes me by. There is deep sadness on his face, and tears in his
eyes. I understand how he feels: it was he who removed every stone from this rocky piece
of land; it was his hands that nurtured every sapling until it became a flourishing bush.
Those bushes, those flowering beds – what will become of them? Who will take care of
them now? But suddenly the chap takes hold of himself, overcomes his emotions, and
T he Same Day, in... 119
from Gush Etzion to Hebron
U riel Ofek
U riel Ofek, a writer who served as a Palmach medic in the besieged Gush
Etzion, describes the last day amongst the last Gush Etzion community
to fall – Massuot Yitzhak – just a few hours after the state was declared.
Friday, 5th Iyar (May 14, 1948)
…The following are the main points of the ceasefire agreement which Jerusalem has
achieved for us: non-combatants (women, the severely wounded and medical staff) will
be transferred to Jerusalem under the auspices of the Red Cross. Weapons will be handed
over to the Arab Legion. The fighters, including those lightly wounded, will be taken into
captivity.
A t sunrise I climb onto the roof of the sanatorium and hang two flags: the flag of the
Red Cross, and the flag of Magen David Adom. The flags flutter in the light morning
breeze, declaring: This is a hospital! We start organizing the rooms to receive the Red
Cross: the floors are washed, bandages are changed, suitable uniforms are sent from the
clothing warehouse for the medical staff, and I am soon dressed as a nurse, wearing a long
white gown with a Magen David Adom ribbon on the sleeve.
I go outside. An atmosphere of "closing down" wafts in the air. The kibbutz members
are packing piles of clothing and mementos to take with them into captivity. The kitchen
staff brings out its remaining food: Come, all who are hungry; come and enjoy a royal
meal, for this is the last day in Gush Etzion, and there is no longer any need to stockpile
food. In the center of the courtyard there is a heap of letters, documents, albums and other
valuable items; the whole lot is burned, lest it fall into the hands of the conquerors.
A strange quiet prevails in the empty space, devoid of the sound of battle to which
we had become so accustomed. I look at the hills surrounding the kibbutz - and they are
full of armed Arabs, marching in lines, drawing closer to us. No doubt, members of the
"liberation army". They maintain a "respectful distance" and honor the conditions of the
agreement: there is no shooting. "Good children"…
Y ehuda, a gardener, passes me by. There is deep sadness on his face, and tears in his
eyes. I understand how he feels: it was he who removed every stone from this rocky piece
of land; it was his hands that nurtured every sapling until it became a flourishing bush.
Those bushes, those flowering beds – what will become of them? Who will take care of
them now? But suddenly the chap takes hold of himself, overcomes his emotions, and
T he Same Day, in... 119
