Chapter 52, 6 Days War

Dad got a special gift for his birthday, "a baby boy".

It all started about a year before, late spring of 1967, we just returned from the town's public swimming pool. The 6th grade teacher led us to the gym building for an assembly. 

"What is it all about?" Ruti asked. 

"It's probably about our swimming lessons, you saw how Uri pushed Tanya into the deep water and she didn't know how to swim," Nehama answered.

I looked forward to those lessons. I loved the water, but I didn't know how to swim in deep water. Mom promised me that when I know how to swim well, she'll let me go with my friend to the beach unsupervised.

"Quiet! Quiet everyone!" The principal yelled, "Quiet!" The whole school was there even the little kids from the special 1st grade.

"We gathered here today for a very important reason, so I want everybody to cooperate and pay attention. There is a possibility that Israel will be going to war. As you, know the Arab nations are surrounding us..."

"This time they won't escape!" I whispered to Sarah Markovich.

"Is there something you want to share with us, young boy?" Said the principal, looking directly at me.

"Who me?" I said (how did he hear me?) "No sorry".

"There is a possibility that the Arabs will penetrate our borders and send planes to bomb our towns. For such occasions we must be prepared. We have to practice emergency drills. For now, to practice, you will hear the school's bell ringing intermittently. This will be the sign for you to - quietly - get up and - nicely - without talking, young boy!" Again, he was looking at me, I hate it when people call me young boy.

"You will walk, not run!" The principal continued, “to the underground shelter under the nature science building. We designated a spot for each class, so I expect every class to walk to their designated area, sit quietly and wait for instructions. In case of a real emergency, you will hear a siren going up and down and, in this case, you’ll do just the same and - quietly - walk to your assigned places. If this happened to be during your break between classes please don't run, just walk to your regular assigned places as if your teacher was with you."

No one expected that kind of talk. Back at the classrooms our teacher explained again what it all meant and what we should do at home. "You should tape the windows like we did in class and at night dim all the lights. I'm sure that your neighbors will get together to dig trenches. Offer your help because most of the men are enlisted in the army and the women wouldn't be able to do much without your help."

"How are we going to see in the dark?" asked Sarah Markovich. Sarah and I shared the desk for the last two years. She kept me in line most of the time.

"Well," said the teacher, "the idea is to dim the light so 'airplanes will not see us at night. Even car lights will have to be painted, leaving only a thin opening for the light to show. We will all just have to be more careful."

"And what about the swimming lessons?" Asked Bully - Israel the big boy who had to repeat this year.

"Yes, what about those swimming lessons?" Asked Sarah Mimon.

"You see children," said the teacher, your swimming instructors had to go to serve in the army just like all the other men in Israel. I'm sure that after all this is over, they'll be back, and you'll have the opportunity to swim again."

That afternoon, when I got home, Mom was waiting for me with a shovel. "Your brother is already helping the neighbors dig the trench.

Roni Halali brought bags from his dad's store, your job is to fill the sandbags with the dirt that the older boys are digging," Mom said, "so hurry up, finish your lunch and go to help them."

All the young men were drafted to serve on the border, the middle-aged men were in the local defense with my dad, he became medic with my help. It was all up to us boys to defend our neighborhood. We will dig the best trench so everyone can fit in and be safe. You see, not every building had a shelter or a basement, only the brand-new ones were designed with a big basement. Our neighborhood was built long ago, and they didn't anticipate aerial attack. By evening we were all done. Mrs. Halali brought raspberry juice and a transistor radio. We all sat outside our new shelter / trench and listened to the radio for updates and instructions.

Next morning, as usual, Sarah Mimon was waiting for me at the corner next to her house to walk to school together.

"Say, my dad had to go to the army today," she said, "how about your dad? Did he get drafted?

"Yes" I replied, "but he is in HAGA the local forces. He doesn't have to fight this time. He is a medic, and he will be at the Red Magen David station. But I'm worried because my Uncle Claude, was drafted yesterday morning and his wife entered the hospital to have a baby last night. I don't want to think about what will happened if he never comes back."

"He'll be back," she said. "The war didn't even start yet and we don't know if there will be war."

"You're right, we don't know. Oh, guess who was drafted today?" I continued.

"I don't know, who?"

"Moshe Kotler"

"Our teacher?"

"No, our mother!" I teased her. "I saw him this morning in uniforms boarding a bus."

"You're kidding. What will they do with us now? They sent us home early yesterday because the gym teacher was drafted."

"I don't know. I kind of like this war stuff maybe they'll cancel school altogether."

"Yes, don't you wish," she said when we entered the classroom.

I went to my chair next to Sarah Markovich, Sarah Mimon went to her place at the back of the class and waited quietly for the bell to ring.

Right after snack break at 10:00 AM, the siren sounded. The substitute teacher stood up. You could see the color on her face changing and her worried expression.

"Let's all get up quietly and walk to the shelter," she said.

At the shelter that is our audio-visual auditorium, under the nature/biology center, all of us sat at our designated areas. Some girls were crying softly, some kids were whispering but it was extremely quiet. The principal didn't have to do his "quiet" routine. 

"We will wait here until the all-clear siren will sound and then we'll send you all home." The principal announced, "Meanwhile we'll watch a movie."

 We didn't have a chance to see the movie. The moment the light went off the all-clear siren went on. 

    "School will be canceled for now. Please listen to the radio to find out when we'll resume," said the principal When the light went on. "Don't wander around on your way home and when you're there, stay at your neighborhood. We don't want anybody to get hurt."

On the way home I walked with Sarah Mimon and Uri, the tall boy whose father is in jail for attempted murder of his wife's lover. Suddenly we heard a loud noise, and two jet fighter planes flew above us at a very low altitude. Uri started running and yelling something that sounded like "mom" or something. Sarah grabbed my arm while I looked up at the 'planes. They were very fast, but I had the chance to see their marking. They were blue and white. Those French made "Mirage" were my favorite Israeli plains because they looked just like the paper 'planes I made during English class.

"Don't worry" I said to Sarah Mimon, "they're ours, but I think we should hurry home anyway."

Again, Mom was waiting for me on the front lawn.

"Dad was here earlier but he went back to his post," she said. " He said that there is nothing to worry about. But I can't help it, I always worry." 

Just as I walked home the sirens sounded again. We all rushed to the trenches and jumped right in. A moment later the sirens sounded the "all clear".

"What is going on?" asked Uri.

"We didn't have a chance to get in the trenches and they sounded the all-clear" said Rita "Chita". 

"They don't let the Arabs' planes get in our country." said Bentzi.

"Listen to this" said Gila Halali my mother's friend, while holding the transistor radio. " They said on the radio that we shot down 250 Arab war planes. Can you believe that?"

"Unbelievable!" Said mom.

Now another neighbor came out of her house. It was Hana Televisia. She got her nickname because of her odd habit of yelling every time she opened her window. She also held a transistor radio in her hand, but she was listening to an Arab station. Hana Televisia was yelling and crying.

"Woo, woo, my God, they are coming, they are in Tel Aviv. We are all going to die. The Arabs are going to throw us all into the sea. Woo Woo..."

"Those chalalulus" said Uri's mother "When are they going to learn to speak Hebrew or at least listen to a Hebrew station?"

Lucky for us, her older son came home, and he comforted her and explained to her that that news was a made-up propaganda by the Arabs countries to stir up chaos and panic in Israel.

That night, following the radio's instructions, we dimmed all the lights and anywhere we went we had a transistor radio with us.

“They are rolling barrels in the sky!” whispered Rita Chita as we heard the planes over head. We were all sitting in the trench, and I had to explain to Rita that you can’t actually roll barrels in the sky. It was a tactical move the Israelis where using to scare the Arabs during the war of independence. 

For five days we were all listening to the news every hour. The Radio played only Israeli music. New songs were written, and new jokes were composed all about the feat of the Israeli army.

The most memorable moment was at one night when we all sat on the front lawn listening to the radio. The radio announcer sounded very excited. He was describing his steps and the soldiers' steps in the old city of Jerusalem. I felt a big lump in my throat, as he was approaching the Western Wall and, as soon as he touched the Wailing Wall, a new song played on the radio -- a song that became one of the most famous Israeli songs in the world. It was "Jerusalem of gold" by Naomi Shemer.

 

The morale in Israel was very high, we felt invincible. We have the best pilots in the world and the best army, and no-one will ever defeat us. But then the real truth started to appear. Yes, we won the war, but at a very high price. Every family in Israel lost someone in this war, whether it was a father, brother, or an uncle.

When the policeman knocked on our door, I knew who would never come back. Uncle Claude, Dad's youngest brother, the one that just had a baby, was in the first jeep entering the city of Gaza. He was also in the first jeep that was hit by an antitank mistle.

It was horrible. I had never seen Dad cry before. We all cried. At the "Shiv’a" at Meme's house, Mom promised that she was going to bring Uncle Claude back. For a while I didn't know what that meant or how she was going to do that, but when I saw mom’s belly growing, I understood, I am was going to have a new brother. 

 

***

 

 

Marinara

Red tomato sauce, so popular in many Italian dishes. I am sure there are many different versions of recipes for marinara. This one is mine.

 

Ingredients:

1 Onion

4 Garlic Cloves 

2 Celery Stalks

½ Cup Chopped Basil

¼ Cup Cupped Oregano

3 TBSP Olive Oil

1 Quart Crushed Tomato

2 TBSP Tomato Paste

1 tsp Salt

1 tsp Paprika

¼ tsp Black Pepper

1 Cup Water

 

Preparation:

 In a deep pot, sauté the onion in the 3 TBSP olive oil with the 1 tsp salt. Crush and chop the garlic and add it to the pot when the onion turns golden brown. When the garlic starts to crisp add the chopped celery. When the celery starts to soften add the basil and oregano. Simmer for 2 minutes. Add the crushed tomatoes, water and tomato paste, bring to boil. Lower the heat and cover. Simmer for an hour until all is very soft. Blend with an immersing blender or in a blender that can withstand heat. You may serve it right away or keep it in the refrigerator for a few days. Heat before serving on top of pasta.

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