There is no single memory for everyone. Each person has a willow upon which to hang one’s violin. Mine is the story of Nechama, the mother of Alec.
There is a headstone in one of the hidden corners of Jerusalem’s Har Menuchot Cemetery, in one of the first plots added as the city was engulfed in war in 1948. I would like to place its story here, like the stone traditionally placed on a Jewish grave; on the graves of all of those who have fallen in this land, on those of the friends and the foes, on all of those who gave their lives out of love for it. All of them, all of them, with great love.
On the eighth of Tammuz 5708, the fifteenth of July 1948, Nechama was brought for burial in the Sheikh Bader cemetery. She was the mother of Alexander Yehuda Cohen – Alec as he was known – a simple soldier, a corporal who was killed a few months before, on the fifth of Shvat, the night between the fifteenth and sixteenth of January, along with all of his friends in the “Mountain Company”. Half a year passed between the death of the son and the death of his mother.
Alec, eighteen years old at the time of his death, was the only child to Nechama and his father, Moshe. According to Alika who was a year younger than him and from whom I learned the little I know, Alec was exceptionally brilliant, gentle and sensitive. No one – not even his parents – knew about his enlistment.
Alexander Yehuda “Alec” Cohen
But it is not the story of Alec that I wish to share. You may read about him elsewhere, and I don’t have anything to add to what can already be found there. I would like to share something about his mother and her grief, about Nechama, and also about his father Moshe and his grief, as I heard it.
In those days families did not hear about the death of a son from a messenger who came to the house. At least not everyone did. Usually not even via telephone, which there wasn’t, anyway. Often, they found out about it from the daily newspaper. In those days there was no home delivery of newspapers; subscribers had to go to the nearest newsstand where theirs would be waiting. The closest to Alec’s house at 10 Rashbam Street in Mekor Baruch was just a few dozen meters away on Tachkemoni Street. There, on that Friday morning, the sixth of Shvat, was where his father took his newspaper and learned that Alec was no longer among the living, the third of 35 who had grown up together in the tiny area of Mekor Baruch bordered by Rashi, Rashbam and Tachkemoni Streets. He erupted in a terrible cry of pain that startled the quiet neighborhood, a cry that went on and on, and was heard from one end of the neighborhood to the other; back and forth, with no end, until he reached his home. By the time he arrived, there was no longer any need to share the news.
The story of that cry, that one cry, I heard a few times from Alika, and also from Gouri who echoed her story time and again. When he told it, he was startled as if at that very moment he was hearing that terrible cry of the grieving father, rolling on and on, without rest. Anyone who knows how to take on some of the pain of another will hear that terrible cry in the ears of his soul, that which is somewhere between the roar of a lion and the howl of jackal.
Nechama died within the year. Just a few months after the death of her son, her grief overwhelmed her. When Moshe, a sensitive and introverted artist, transferred her to her final resting place, he had the following placed on her headstone:
Nechama who was not consoled
Like an angel to purity like Job to suffering
And at the base of the headstone he added – “In memory of her only son”. Above it the father placed the figure of a lioness lying down, her eyes closed and her paws spread over the top of the tombstone, perhaps protecting her dead son, perhaps preparing herself for the great roar – that rolling roar that would roll from its place, roll and cry, roll and howl, quickly to the hill, from the hill to the valley and back to the mountain again, God forbid. And will not rest.
The Surrender of the Old City’s Jewish Quarter
The tragic circumstances that led to the surrender of the Jewish Quarter's defenders in Jerusalem's Old City during the War of Independence
The Old City's Jewish Quarter in ruins. The photograph was taken by the Arab Legion following the battles.
“What is the meaning of the white flag that was seen being carried near the matzah factory?” – read the urgent telegram sent on May 28th, 1948th, from the Jerusalem District Headquarters to the command post in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem. The State of Israel had been declared exactly two weeks earlier, with the War of Independence underway for nearly six months already.
“We began negotiations on the retrieval of the bodies of the dead in order to stall. The first result of this was the Arabs ordering a ceasefire. Further details are still unknown” – replied the Haganah-appointed commander of the Jewish Quarter, Moshe Rusnak. A few hours later, the entire Jewish Quarter surrendered; nearly all of the Quarter’s buildings were blown up, soldiers were taken captive, and the remaining civilians were evacuated to the new city.
On August 17th, 1948, with battles still taking place throughout Israel, the Jerusalem District Commander David Shaltiel appointed a committee to investigate the surrender of the Old City to Jordan’s Arab Legion force.
The first page of the committee of inquiry‘s report, in the handwriting of Zohara Wilbush, the committee secretary, the National Library of Israel collections
On February 14th, 1947, British Prime Minister Clement Attlee announced to his cabinet that Britain would be withdrawing from Mandatory Palestine. Four months after his appeal to the United Nations to appoint a committee to make recommendations “concerning the future government” of the country, the UN presented what would soon be known as “The Partition Plan”, dividing the land into two states – one Arab, one Jewish – that would coexist alongside each other.
The section that was most difficult for both sides to stomach related to the future of Jerusalem: Unlike the rest of the country that would be divided, Jerusalem would not be the capital of either state, but would rather be placed under an international regime sponsored by the UN. Although David Ben-Gurion, then chairman of the Jewish Agency (the Zionist government of the state “in-the-making”), agreed to the plan, many in Jerusalem believed that “even though no violence had broken out as yet, it felt as though all of a sudden an invisible muscle was suddenly flexed. It was not sensible to go to those areas anymore.”(Amos Oz, A Tale of Love and Darkness)
UN Resolution 181 – the Partition Plan – was approved with the votes of 33 countries in favor and set off the battles of the War of Independence. On the very evening the resolution was adopted, dozens of Arabs rushed to the city’s center, looking to harm any Jew they could find. Within two weeks the Old City’s Jewish Quarter was under attack and its residents found themselves under siege of the superior Arab forces. As the fighting grew more intense, the Zionist leadership became more and more convinced they were losing their hold on Jerusalem.
Residents of the Jewish Quarter wait in line for food distribution (from the book “The Battle for Jerusalem in the War of Independence” by Oved Michaeli [Hebrew])
Four people were present at the inquiry meeting on August 17th, 1948: Haganah commander Avraham Erst; military jurist Gideon Hausner; the chairman of the Old City council during the siege, Mordechai Weingarten and the meeting’s secretary Zohara Wilbush.
First, Erst and Hausner wanted to explore the military developments that preceded the surrender. They asked Weingarten, “Did we lose a lot of territory between the day of the breakthrough and the surrender?” The “breakthrough” to which they referred was most likely the capture of the Old City’s Zion Gate by the Haganah’s elite Palmach force on the night of the 18th-19th of May. This force, however, was not able to make any further progress, and in fact it was the Arabs who soon stormed the besieged Quarter and began to seize control of more and more positions. The Quarter’s handful of defenders put up a courageous and determined defense to block the Arab advance, staving the invaders off of Sha’ar HaShamayim street, one of their very last strongholds.
“We lost most of the territory”. Page 3 of the committee of inquiry’s report of the committee of inquiry‘s report, the National Library of Israel collections
Weingarten recounted that as the military situation deteriorated, the fighters’ morale suffered a severe blow: “Spirits were very low. Some of the men were at the synagogues along with the locals and had to be located.” “There were various rumors about the supply of ammunition,” Weingarten added, “there were no grenades” and every bullet was counted before being fired. This was in stark contrast to the Arab Legion soldiers who used mortars, submachine guns and explosives to conquer the Quarter’s buildings as well as the defensive positions scattered throughout.
As the attackers advanced, communication between the Quarter’s headquarters and the fighters deployed in the remaining positions broke down. “A sore wound, the last days were chaos. At times Pinkas [referring to Mordechai Pinkas, one of the commanders in the field] was able to take control; other times he was not. It was like ‘a mouse in a trap’.” The besieged Quarter was not only cut off from food supply from the outside; all of the Quarter’s bakeries were conquered by the invading force, and the only food left for the residents was pita bread they made themselves. “Pita was flour + salt. And some jam.
Residents of the Quarter fortify their posts ahead of the Arab Legion’s arrival (from the book “The Battle for Jerusalem in the War of Independence” by Oved Michaeli)
Two days after the assault began, the Arab Legion’s 6th battalion entered the Old City. 650 Arab fighters now faced 131 Jewish defenders. The attackers were encouraged by the difference in numbers and by their superior arms. There was no doubt the Quarter would soon fall; it was only a matter of time.
Though the Palmach force was able to get as close as Zion Gate, the failure to actually reinforce the desperate defenders of the Jewish Quarter only led to more frustration. Weingarten reported that “The military command did not make a substantial attempt to communicate with the civilians. It was known – ‘backup coming in 30 or 15 minutes’– and this led to disappointment.”
“The military command did not make a substantial attempt to communicate with the civilians.” Page 5 of the committee of inquiry’s report of the committee of inquiry‘s report, the National Library of Israel collections
As the days went by and ammunition ran out, the bitter truth was revealed: “A few fought fiercely; others hid.” The idea of negotiating surrender was first suggested by the Arab Legion. “Every day, the Arabs spoke through a loudspeaker in three languages, requesting that we negotiate. We did not answer.”
An Arab soldier views the Jewish Quarter from a market rooftop. In the photograph, the Hurva synagogue and the Tiferet Yirael synagogue are still intact (from the book “The Battle for Jerusalem in the War of Independence” by Oved Michaeli [Hebrew])
By May 28, it became clear there was no hope for rescue, and if they did not soon surrender, the Quarter’s residents would be slaughtered by the attackers. Weingarten believed that none of the residents had the courage to personally engage in “negotiations with the Arabs”. At that point, Weingarten conveyed, the Quarter’s commander, Moshe Rusnak, appeared to have been “cracking”, but he refused to consider surrendering. Subsequently, a delegation of rabbis led by Weingarten approached Rusnak and demanded that negotiations for surrender begin before the Legion forces moved against the last remaining defensive positions. Rusnak refused to allow the delegation to discuss surrender; he demanded that the meeting’s agenda be the evacuation of both sides’ injured and dead. Their persistence paid off: “We were sent with a man holding a white flag.”
Around 10 am, the delegation of rabbis met with the commander of the Arab Legion’s 6th Battalion, General Abdullah El Tell, at Cafe Alsheich. The Jordanian commander refused to discuss the evacuation of the injured and dead. Instead, he gave the rabbis an ultimatum: Surrender or else. He gave them an hour and 15 minutes to return with an answer.
At one o’clock in the afternoon, the Quarter’s commanders and delegates gathered to discuss the surrender proposal. All attendees, save for an Irgun representative who abstained, voted in favor of surrender. This time Rusnak joined Weingarten to settle the surrender with the Jordanian commander. Minutes earlier, Rusnak sent a telegram to the District Headquarters, reassuring them and explaining that the talks were about transferring the wounded and dead, and not about the terms of the Quarter’s surrender. Though it is not mentioned by Weingarten, historian Yitzhak Levy suggests that both parties – district commander David Shaltiel and the besieged Quarter’s leader, Moshe Rusnak – knew the defenders had no choice but to surrender, yet they both refused to admit this bitter truth to each other.
“Perhaps more could have been done,” Weingarten concluded, refusing to point an accusing finger at the Jewish Quarter administration or at the Jerusalem District Headquarters, “The Jewish people have a long and bloody history.”
The Old City’s Jewish Quarter in ruins. The photograph was taken by the Arab Legion following the battles.
Winston Churchill in Palestine – 100 Years On
“The establishment of a Jewish National Home in Palestine will be a blessing to the whole world.”
Winston Churchill in Tel Aviv, 1921, from the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
On March 24, 1921 an overnight train from Cairo arrived in Gaza, a town populated by some 15,000 Arabs and fewer than a hundred Jews, located just inside the southwestern border of the newly created British mandatory territory of Palestine. The League of Nations mandate had been granted to Britain under the terms of the San Remo Conference eleven months before.
The train carried three important British passengers including Sir Herbert Samuel, a veteran Jewish Liberal (and Zionist) politician who had been appointed as Britain’s first High Commissioner for Palestine, and a shrewd army colonel possessing unequalled familiarity with the Middle East, T. E. Lawrence.
The third passenger was Winston Spencer Churchill, another political veteran who just a few weeks before had become Secretary of State for the Colonies, responsible for Britain’s administration of both Palestine and what had been intended to be a parallel mandate in Mesopotamia.
Churchill, Samuel and Lawrence had spent nearly three weeks in Cairo meeting with other senior British officials to reshape the remnants of the Ottoman Empire and create the new Arab kingdoms of Iraq and Trans-Jordan.
Churchill remained in Palestine for eight days on what would be his only official visit to the Holy Land. He was already sympathetic to Jewish aspirations for the national home in Palestine, which Britain had pledged in the Balfour Declaration of November 1917, although his support was tempered by concerns about the cost of administering the new mandate and an even greater anxiety about the ability of the Jewish community and its much more populous Arab neighbors to coexist.
Notwithstanding his doubts, Churchill’s experiences during that visit served to solidify both his admiration for the Jewish people and his support of Zionism. He set himself up in Government House in Jerusalem, meeting with both Arab and Jewish delegations. A talented amateur painter, he also found time to create a beautiful landscape of sunset over the city, a work still owned by his descendants.
On March 27, he dedicated the new British Military Cemetery on the Mount of Olives and the following day met with Emir Abdullah, the newly designated King of Trans-Jordan, to assuage his anxiety about the pace of Jewish immigration into the area. While Abdullah was not wholly mollified, Churchill agreed that Jewish settlement east of the River Jordan would be proscribed.
Churchill with Bishop MacInnes of Jerusalem at the memorial service in the Mt. Scopus Military Cemetery, 26 March 1921 (American Colony Photo Dept. / Library of Congress)
Winston Churchill, TE Lawrence and Emir Abdullah walking in the gardens of the Government House in Jerusalem, 1921 (G. Eric Matson / Library of Congress)
Two days later, he planted a tree at the site on Mount Scopus of the future Hebrew University, telling the assembled dignitaries, “My heart is full of sympathy for Zionism. The establishment of a Jewish National Home in Palestine will be a blessing to the whole world.”
Herbert Samuel and Winston Churchill (with shovel) at the tree planting ceremony on the future site of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, 28 March 1921 (G. Eric Matson / Library of Congress)Winston Churchill speaking at the tree planting ceremony on the future site of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, 28 March 1921 (American Colony Photo Dept. / Library of Congress)
The next day, Churchill received a delegation from the Congress of Palestinian Arabs whose 35-page protest against Zionist activity included a variety of anti-Semitic tropes: “The Jew is clannish and unneighborly. He will enjoy the privileges and benefits of a country but will give nothing in return.”
Churchill vigorously rejected their assertions, saying:
“It is manifestly right that the Jews should have a National Home where some of them may be reunited. And where else could that be but in this land of Palestine, with which for more than 3,000 years they have been intimately and profoundly associated.”
Churchill told the Jewish delegation which followed:
“The cause of Zionism is one which carries with it much that is good for the whole world, and not only for the Jewish people; it will bring prosperity and advancement for the Arab population.”
Before returning to Cairo the evening of March 30, Churchill visited the then twelve-year-old Jewish town of Tel Aviv, meeting with its Mayor Meir Dizengoff, and the agricultural settlement in Rishon LeZion. On his return to London, he told the House of Commons:
“Anyone who has seen the work of the Jewish colonies will be struck by the enormous productive results which they have achieved from the most inhospitable soil.”
Churchill hoped that the Jews of Palestine – and the Jewish majority state that he envisaged might someday grow out of it – would live in a peaceful and productive relationship with their Arab neighbors.
This aspiration has been partially realized in a cold peace with the major states with whom Israel fought three wars after 1948, and now a newly warmer one with the Gulf states. Nonetheless – one hundred years after his visit – he would find that peaceful co-existence between the peoples living within the borders of what was then Mandatory Palestine remains challenging and uncertain.
This article has been published as part of Gesher L’Europa, the National Library of Israel’s initiative to connect with people, institutions and communities across Europe and beyond, through storytelling, knowledge sharing and community engagement.
The Abraham Schwadron Portrait Collection has been reviewed and described thanks to the generous support of The Leir Foundation.
A Surprising Chronicle of 20 Israeli Election Firsts
From the first election 72 years ago to the first snap election 70 years ago, Israel’s vibrant democracy is a work in progress
Likud election posters from 1977 – In 1977, Menahem Begin led an election upset as Israel’s first non-Labor prime minister. Credit: GPO
On March 23rd, Israelis will trudge to the polls to cast their ballots yet again in our fourth election “do-over” of the last two years.
This is the first time Israel will have held four elections within a two-year period (and there’s absolutely no guarantee we won’t be facing a fifth within a very short time).
Israel’s democracy is a vibrant work in process, and this isn’t the only historic first the country has experienced.
Join us for a tour of 20 other election firsts in Israel.
In 1949, signs exhorting citizens to “Go and Vote!” were posted to notify building residents about the location of their polling stations for the first elections to take place in the newly established State of Israel.
“Go and vote!” exhorts a 1949 poster notifying residents of the location of their polling station in Israel’s first elections, the National Library of Israel collections
That same year was the first in which a women’s party, formed by the Women’s Zionist Organization (WIZO),took part. Although only receiving enough votes to earn it a single seat in the first Knesset, WIZO did sound the call for equal rights.
A women’s party organized by the Women’s Zionist Organization won a seat in the 1949 elections, the National Library of Israel collections
The elections for the second Knesset, in 1951, were in fact the first Knesset elections, as the 1949 elections were actually for a National Assembly.
The massive waves of immigration, symbolized by welcoming open gates, would be a deciding force in the 1951 elections, the National Library of Israel collections
New immigrants were a deciding force, as large numbers of immigrants had come to Israel in mass waves and were eligible to vote. The “Ingathering of the Exiles” was celebrated in this poster for Hapoel HaMizrachi- Mizrachi Workers party (one of the predecessors of the National Religious Party).
