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al Hours in Naharayim
Zeev Kachel
O n the day of the establishment of the state, 5th Iyar 5708 (May 14, 1948),
the hydro-electric power station in Naharayim fell to the Jordanian and
Iraqi armies. Zeev Kachel, the engineer on duty that evening, describes
in his memoirs the great drama and his struggle as a lone civilian against
powerful military forces. The excerpt below is taken from his book, Dams
Erupting (with omissions).
Night falls on the plant and all its surroundings. The tension and expectations of the
worst grow more intense from one moment to the next. It seems as though the enemy has
forgotten about the existence of this plant. Why have they not come to take us? I wonder
to myself, impatiently, seized by an inexplicable desire that they come, finally, and take us.
Suddenly, some people arrive and tell me that there is loud banging on the gate of the plant
and there are shouts in Arabic that we should open.
"There is smoke coming up from under the door," someone tells me. It is close
to10:30pm. The critical moment is upon us. What should we do? To open or not to open?
T he electrical workshop manager hurries to the phone booth to call Rutenberg [Avraham
Rutenberg, CEO of the Palestine Electric Corporation].
"The Arabs are knocking on the factory gates," he reports. "What should we do?"
"If they're government people, open up for them," comes the response.
"Mr. Rutenberg," I say, "The Arabs are knocking on the gates of the factory and demanding
that we open. There's continuous shooting going on outside. In the neighborhoods, there's
pillaging. I've had no information for some time about the 30 people in the neighborhoods.
I don't know whether they're still alive. We're here behind huge walls and heavy iron
doors. We have food stockpiled for three months, and we can hold out under siege. Most
important," I add, "is the fact that Naharayim is continuing to operate. It is [the plant]
here, and not Haifa, that is now supplying electricity to the Jordan Valley. The moment we
open up, the supply of electricity to the Jordan Valley will be cut off right away."
That final point has decisive, immediate impact.
I sense fear in the voice on the other side of the line.
"Call [Hagana] headquarters immediately. Tell them that Naharayim is operating, and
that it is that station that is supplying electricity to the Jordan Valley. Tell them that!"
I sense in his voice profound concern for the fate of the Jordan Valley, for the fate of the
entire war.
I imagine the scene: throughout the border communities, preparations for battle are
underway. Boxes, weapons, and bullets are being brought out. The bakeries are preparing
bread for the soldiers. At the hospitals, everything works on electricity. The lathes make
The Same Day, in... 133
Zeev Kachel
O n the day of the establishment of the state, 5th Iyar 5708 (May 14, 1948),
the hydro-electric power station in Naharayim fell to the Jordanian and
Iraqi armies. Zeev Kachel, the engineer on duty that evening, describes
in his memoirs the great drama and his struggle as a lone civilian against
powerful military forces. The excerpt below is taken from his book, Dams
Erupting (with omissions).
Night falls on the plant and all its surroundings. The tension and expectations of the
worst grow more intense from one moment to the next. It seems as though the enemy has
forgotten about the existence of this plant. Why have they not come to take us? I wonder
to myself, impatiently, seized by an inexplicable desire that they come, finally, and take us.
Suddenly, some people arrive and tell me that there is loud banging on the gate of the plant
and there are shouts in Arabic that we should open.
"There is smoke coming up from under the door," someone tells me. It is close
to10:30pm. The critical moment is upon us. What should we do? To open or not to open?
T he electrical workshop manager hurries to the phone booth to call Rutenberg [Avraham
Rutenberg, CEO of the Palestine Electric Corporation].
"The Arabs are knocking on the factory gates," he reports. "What should we do?"
"If they're government people, open up for them," comes the response.
"Mr. Rutenberg," I say, "The Arabs are knocking on the gates of the factory and demanding
that we open. There's continuous shooting going on outside. In the neighborhoods, there's
pillaging. I've had no information for some time about the 30 people in the neighborhoods.
I don't know whether they're still alive. We're here behind huge walls and heavy iron
doors. We have food stockpiled for three months, and we can hold out under siege. Most
important," I add, "is the fact that Naharayim is continuing to operate. It is [the plant]
here, and not Haifa, that is now supplying electricity to the Jordan Valley. The moment we
open up, the supply of electricity to the Jordan Valley will be cut off right away."
That final point has decisive, immediate impact.
I sense fear in the voice on the other side of the line.
"Call [Hagana] headquarters immediately. Tell them that Naharayim is operating, and
that it is that station that is supplying electricity to the Jordan Valley. Tell them that!"
I sense in his voice profound concern for the fate of the Jordan Valley, for the fate of the
entire war.
I imagine the scene: throughout the border communities, preparations for battle are
underway. Boxes, weapons, and bullets are being brought out. The bakeries are preparing
bread for the soldiers. At the hospitals, everything works on electricity. The lathes make
The Same Day, in... 133
