A Year After the Balfour Declaration and Still No State?
A letter sent by a soldier in the Jewish Legion in 1919 gives us a glimpse into the depression and despair felt by the youth of the Land of Israel at the end of the war which "liberated" the Land of Israel from Ottoman oppression.
17 year old Moshe Feldstein arrived in Israel in 1913. Life in the undeveloped poverty-struck country was certainly not easy for a young man who came from the Ukraine, but these conditions did not prevent him from taking part in building the Land, and when the time came – from enlisting to defend and liberate it from the Ottoman Empire.
Together with six of his fellow laborers from the “Rehovot Group”, Feldstein was one of the first recruits to the Jewish Legion in the Land of Israel. Like the majority of soldiers in the Jewish Legion, Feldstein did not see any actual battles.
In 1919, Feldstein sent a letter to another enlisted friend named David Zonenstein. The war had ended a year earlier and Feldstein, who was stationed in Rafah, found himself predominantly bored. His letter is a fascinating historical document – testimony from a critical period in the history of the Jewish Yishuv. But before we peek into the soul of a soldier in the Jewish Legion at the end of the First World War, we should first clarify what this Legion was and who enlisted in it.
“For our nation and our land”: From the Zion Mule Corps to the Jewish Legion
The first incarnation of the Jewish Legion was given a singularly unimpressive name. It was known as “The Zion Mule Corps”. At the end of the first year of the “Great War”, Joseph Trumpeldor and Ze’ev Jabotinsky, from their place of exile in Egypt, came up with the concept of the battalion. When the idea began to take shape, the pair disagreed about the extent of the achievement. Trumpeldor was satisfied, Jabotinsky – much less so.
Jabotinsky fought for the establishment of a Jewish combat military legion for over two and a half years. In contrast to the Zion Mule Corps who were stationed in Gallipoli and had combat service support roles, Jabotinsky envisioned a Jewish battalion which would fight and liberate the Land of Israel itself.
In August 1917 some of Jabotinsky’s demands were accepted, when he was one of the founders of the first Jewish Battalion of the British army. The British army’s capture of the south of the Land of Israel in December 1917 provided him with the impetus he was waiting for. From January 1918, multitudes of young men from the Land of Israel enlisted in units which were given the name “The Jewish Legion”. But even now, when the waves of enthusiasm from the Balfour Declaration and the surrender of Jerusalem had not yet subsided – the enthused soldiers’ dream did not materialize. Three different units were established: British, Land of Israel and American. With the exception of the conquest of the Um Al-Shart Bridge in the Jordan Valley, the legion’s soldiers carried out a series of combat service support roles – mainly guarding prisoners of war and non-combative patrolling.
And what is in the letter?
Letters distributed to the soldiers in the Jewish Legion, the letter contains a map of the Land of Israel and a reduced size map of Jerusalem, together with a portrait of Herzl and his famous saying.The original postcard
The letter begins with the really important information: “I am healthy and am in Rafah. I currently work in the library.” After these two lines, the idyllic description ends – “Our mood is dejected”, writes Feldstein.
Despairing and depressed, the soldiers discussed the possibility of writing a memorandum about “the declaration which they just made and which they are postponing from day to day and not fulfilling.”
What declaration is Feldstein referring to? It is likely that this was the Balfour Declaration, judging from a sentence he wrote on the side of the letter “There is a cartoon which shows Balfour. He is asked: ‘What’s new with the declaration you gave to the Jews?’ Balfour sits down and replies: ‘My mistake…'”
This assertion is nothing less than astonishing – less than two years have passed since the Balfour Declaration guaranteed that “His Majesty’s Government view with favor the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people” and the entire country was now under the control of the British Army. Despite these historic developments, the youngsters in the camp in Rafah had totally detached themselves from the waves of enthusiasm which swept through the entire Jewish world.
Did they express a prevalent feeling in the Yishuv at such an early stage of British rule in Israel, before the Mandate had even been firmly established? Or should the reason for their doubts be attributed to another cause? Feldstein’s letter does not provide an answer to this historical question, but we can postulate.
Visualize a group of young Jews, full of purpose and with a sense of mission who go out to battle in order to free the parts of the Land of Israel still awaiting liberation. Fast forward a few months until the “Great War” ends, now, after its end, we find them scattered in camps far from home – with no state or even a single heroic tale to impress the girls back home. Little wonder they were dejected.
N.I.L.I’s Story Told Through the Diary of the Man Who Gave It Its Name
Levi Yitzchak Schneersohn is not the first name which enters our minds when we hear the name N.I.L.I, but his diary gives us a glimpse into the activities of the first Jewish espionage organization in the Yishuv.
לוי יצחק (ליובה) שניאורסון. התמונה לקוחה מתוך "בית אהרנסון – מוזיאון ניל"י"
It was on a December night in 1914, several months after the First World War began raging through Europe, that a group of young people from Hadera, a Moshava that was part of the Jewish Yishuv, went on a nighttime trip to the beach. “Suddenly Yocheved Madorsky cried out that something had got into her eye,” Levi Yitzchak (Lowa) Schneersohn writes in his diary. “Dr. Glicker was also with us and he treated her eye by the light of a pocket flashlight which my brother Mendel happened to have with him.” The light from the flashlight aroused the suspicion of several nearby Bedouins, and they approached the group, who greeted them.
The entire meeting lasted no longer than a few short minutes. The Jewish youngsters offered cigarettes to their guests, who happily accepted them and parted from them a short while later. The event is unlikely to have left an impression on its participants, if not for what took place a few days later.
Levi Yitzchak (Lowa) Schneersohn
On Saturday, January 18, 1915, a delegation from the Ottoman government, made up of a unit of mounted riders and masses of furious Arabs, entered Hadera. The delegation first separated the Arab laborers from the Jews of the Moshava. The head of the delegation, Sheikh Abu-Hantesh then began to interrogate the laborers about the secret intelligence activities the members of the Moshava have been carrying out with the British army.
As the investigation proceeded, the Sheikh’s frustration from the responses he received grew, and the questions were replaced with shouts and blows. During the exchange it became clear to the members of the Moshava that the Ottoman delegation saw the pocket flashlight the doctor used to check Madorsky’s eyes as proof which aroused their suspicions about a connection between the members of the settlement and the British. Even after the delegation was disbanded, following intervention of a senior Arab who passed by, tempers did not subside.
A few weeks later, a Turkish officer appeared in the Moshava and arrested 13 of its members, including Levi Yitzchak, his brother Mendel and their close friend Avshalom Feinberg. This was a turning point in the lives of Levi Yitzchak and his friend Feinberg, and they discussed the possibility “of concrete help to the English, who are going to liberate the Holy Land.” What exactly should they do, the pair did not know.
At the end of March 1915 Feinberg first raised the plan he had previously kept to himself. He did so before Schneersohn and their mutual friend by the name of Aaron Aaronsohn. “There is still no clear-cut plan” Schneersohn wrote in his diary, but “Avshalom already knows. He will travel to Egypt. He will reach English headquarters. He will tell them: Listen gentlemen, we are a group of young Jews, who are familiar with all the roads in Israel, we will help you!”
Almost five months passed until Feinberg managed to carry out his plan and board an American refugee ship on its way to Egypt. In the meantime, life on the Moshava settled into a worrying routine: the farmers worked in the fields, the Turks continued to sniff around, occasionally bursting into the Moshava to confiscate the farmers’ weapons. Feinberg returned in November with glad tidings: the British accepted his proposal and will make contact from now on at Atlit Beach.
A month passed, then two months and there was no sign the British intended to keep their word. The unpleasant silence led Feinberg to concoct a new daring plan: to contact the British through Sinai. It was only though Aaronsohn’s efforts that Feinberg was released after being caught on the way.
The women of the city didn’t stop there; they introduced other initiatives – distributing clothes to children in collaboration with the city committee and women of Haddasah, helping the hospital staff and taking thousands of orphans under their wings – first in an orphan assembly and later by bringing them to attend classes they arranged.
1915 passed with no practical success, and 1916 began with even more worrying news.
Massacre of the Armenians, Oppression in the Land of Israel
Sarah Aaronsohn, Aaaron’s sister, returned at the beginning of 1916 from Constantinople in Turkey to the Land of Israel with the terrible news: the enormous Armenian massacre committed by the Ottomans. A terrible fear spread through all the listeners: would the Jewish Yishuv suffer the same fate? The fear encouraged Feinberg, Schneersohn and the Aaronsohn siblings to redouble their efforts to contact the British.
Once again, it was Feinberg who took matters into his own hands. This time, he decided to make his way to Constantinople. Upon arrival, he received an urgent telegram from Aaronsohn instructing him to rush back to Israel: on March 16, 1916, the British had made contact on the Atlit Beach.
Sarah Aaronsohn in the agricultural experiments station in Atlit, it is not known what year the picture was photographed. The picture was taken from “Beit Aaronsohn – N.I.L.I Museum”
With a vague promise to make contact again, the members of the organization began to gather all the information they could about the Ottoman army’s movements, its level of preparation for a British attack and its future plans regarding the Land of Israel. The success of the secret organization, which was soon joined by Sarah Aaronsohn and other friends, actually caused great frustration. “If this material was given to the British, it would be of substantial help to them in beating the Turkish army fast,” Schneersohn overly estimated the achievements of his organization in mid-May 1916.
The members of the organization ran out of patience at the end of May 1916 and Aaaron Aaronsohn decided to travel to Constantinople, from where he would travel to England via Berlin. “The plan is to take me along as his secretary,” Schneersohn wrote on the page in his diary dated the end of May 1916. “Although only God knows how I will explain my journey at home.” Fortunately for him, his father chose not to challenge his son and accepted his explanations with a blank face.
The pair reached Constantinople at the beginning of August. Schneersohn’s reception when he descended from the train proved to be a preview of what awaited him in the Turkish city: the clerk refused to authorize Schneersohn – who was using an alias – to enter the city. After threats from Aaronsohn and numerous thoughts and considerations from the clerk, he came to like the idea, “and when he received baksheesh [a bribe] his thoughts became clear and he allowed us to continue on our way.”
In Constantinople, Schneersohn attempted to maintain his false identity, Mr. Chaim Cohen – Aaronsohn’s clerk. It was not always easy. The hotel the pair stayed in was “a center for people from the Land of Israel. All the young people from Jaffa who study in the officials’ school near the city come here.” There were also several familiar faces who could have mistakenly disclosed Schneersohn’s true identity.
In testimony from his diary dated the end of August Schneersohn relates about one such incident. “This morning, Dr. Rupin entered the hotel, saw me, recognized me, greeted me heartily and said: “How are you Mr. Schneersohn?” Without batting an eyelid, I replied: “I am Chaim Cohen”. Dr. Rupin didn’t flinch. He smiled and immediately corrected himself: “How are you, Mr. Chaim Cohen?” We chatted a little. I didn’t ask why he had come. I also did not tell him anything.”
Schneersohn’s experiences in Constantinople show the sometimes amateur behavior of the organization he and his friends established. His alias was not revealed, but as he did not have any official documents, he was not allowed to continue with Aaronsohn to Berlin. Aaronsohn had to carry on alone, and Schneersohn worked to obtain a permit to return to Israel – a mission which proved to be complex in its own right.
Personal secretary and transcriber of manuscripts for Dr. Rupin, vendor of matches on street corners – the refugee did all sorts of jobs to avoid using the last few coins he had left for his journey home. With Dr. Rupin’s help, Schneersohn managed to catch a military train to the Land of Israel as the servant of a German officer, Mauer Klein. With a new red tarbush on his head, Schneersohn finally set out for home.
With Mauer Klein on the way to the Land of Israel, documented in Levi Schneersohn’s diary
Back in Israel
At the agricultural experiments station established by Aaronsohn in Atlit, which served as the organization’s base, Schneersohn discovered that Feinberg had disappeared after setting out once again to the Sinai Desert on his way to British controlled Egypt. Schneersohn did not share his feelings with his friends, but was sure that Feinberg had met with disaster.
“I am lying on the sofa in Avshalom’s room. My friend, my friend!” Levi Schneersohn hides from the Turks in the Feinberg house
The connection with the British was re-established in February 1917. At ten o’clock in the morning, after the “Managam” intelligence ship transmitted the agreed-upon signals, the members of the organization split into two groups and went out to the Atlit beach to meet their contact people. That night, Baruch Rav and Yehuda Maldin returned with “A terrified, confused and half-crazed person”, shaking from fear and cold.
A warm blanket, steaming cup of tea and the friends gathered around him encouraged him to stutter, with a mouth reeking of alcohol, “Aaronsohn…ship…come…Reuven…where is Chaim Cohen? … come…”, and while stammering, he pulled a medallion out of his pocket and gave it to Sarah”.
Sarah recognized the medallion, testimony in Levi Schneersohn’s diary
Sarah recognized her brother Aaron’s medallion and realized it her brother who sent the mysterious man sitting before her. Once the mysterious man recovered from the whisky the British had fortified him with, he identified himself as Leibel Bernstein – a former soldier in the Zion Mule Corps who joined the British intelligence.
The friends tried to help him to return to his ship with the information they had gathered, but the tempestuous sea led him returning to the station an hour later – this time naked and shuddering with cold – and begged them not to let the Turks discover him.
The connection was renewed on February 28, and Schneersohn was the first to alight on the deck of the British ship to the encouraging cries of Aaron Aaronsohn – “Come up, come up: you are standing on English ground, and are a free man!”. Schneersohn requested to know what had befallen Avshalom.
He did not receive an answer until the following day. “Avshalom was killed in the desert” was all Aaronsohn told his friend. He was unable to respond – not with tears, nor screams, he sat “like a rock”, indifferent to the passage of time.
The shock of the discovery is clearly expressed in the diary
After he recovered, Aaronsohn and a British officer asked Schneersohn: “Lowa, perhaps you know what name is suitable for our affair?” It took Schneersohn a few seconds to understand. The solution was provided by an old habit of Schneersohn’s – he took the Bible he carried with him everywhere out of his pocket, opened it at random, pointed at a line without looking and counted seven lines down “Netzach Yisrael Lo Yeshaker {The Eternity of Israel will not deceive}”, or in an acronym – N.I.L.I.
The British officer, who heard the name, smiled teasingly at the pair and said in English: “Oh, how nice. She must be a lovely girl, this Nili”.
A memo a few pages long about recruitment to the NILI organization
The End
From that moment and until the spy network was discovered in September 1917 following the capture and torture of one of its members, Na’aman Belkind, Schneersohn served as the contact officer between the members in Atlit and the British. He spent most of his time on the ship, or in various bases in Egypt – deciphering and translating the reports supplied by the members in Atlit. Even after Belkind’s capture, the residents of Atlit refused to escape on the intelligence ship.
They initially believed they would manage to arrange for the prisoner’s release (they did not know that Belkind had broken in the interrogations he underwent, until it was too late for them). Additionally, they were afraid that them leaving would bring disaster upon the Jewish Yishuv.
In early October 1917, the Ottoman Army surrounded Zikhron Ya’akov and arrested many Nili members. Among them, Sarah Aaronsohn. After days of torture, she shot herself, making sure she would not reveal anything about Nili, its activities and members. She lay dying for three days before she finally passed away. During investigations in Nazareth, the body of Nili member Reuven Schwartz was found hanging in the detention cell. Yosef Lischinsky, another member of Nili, managed to escape the Ottoman army for 20 days. We was eventually captured and was hung together with Na’aman Belkind on December 16, 1917, in Damascus.
A letter in the Schneersohn archive attests to the attitude toward the members of the organization after they were discovered. When the surviving members of N.I.L.I were revealed they received negative treatment from most of the Yishuv, who saw them as impetuous youngsters who had endangered the entire Yishuv. The letter was sent in 1919 to Dr. Chaim Weizmann, and relates the story of the ring and lists the names of its members. We do not know if Schneersohn and his surviving friends received a response from the head of the Committee of Zionist Delegates in Israel.
It was the British army which recognized the organization’s contribution, and awarded most of them various honors. Schneersohn copied the certificate of appreciation he received into a notebook.
The transcription of the certificate of appreciation Schneersohn received, from one of his many notebooks kept in the Levi Schneersohn collection
It was not until the 1960’s that attitudes toward the N.I.L.I organization changed. Two events brought this change about: the discovery of Avshalom Feinberg’s corpse in Sinai after the Six Day War, and the public discussion in the wake of the discovery. In the same year, 1967, the book “From the Diary of a NILI Member”, based on Schneersohn’s diaries, was published.
Levi Yitzchak Lowa Schneersohn died in 1975. His personal archive was donated to the National Library a year later.
The article was written with the help of Ivgi Slutzk, the archive department of the National Library.
While founding the 20th Machine Gun Squadron on July 4, 1917, its commanders found themselves dealing with an unexpected obstacle: only 30 of the squadron’s 121 soldiers had been trained to operate the latest weapons. The other soldiers had never been stationed in such a unit.
The impending battle to conquer the Land of Israel left no time for unnecessary delays, and a new order received several days before gave the soldiers of the new squadron a glimpse into the tremendous challenge that awaited them. On August 12, a month after its establishment, the squadron set out for the new military front: The Land of Israel.
The story of the squadron was documented in the book “Through Palestine with the 20th Machine Gun Squadron”, which was handed out to members of the unit after the war. One of the soldiers decided to stick photographs he took during the squadron’s trek through the Land of Israel.
Most likely the photographer, and original owner of the book. His identity is unknown.
The fascinating story of the squadron as documented through the eyes of one of its soldiers is preserved in the National Library.
The Original Cover of “Through Palestine with the 20th Machine Gun Squadron”
Under the fierce sun, with aching shoulders, and constant fear of depletion of the daily water ration, the squadron’s warriors spent 18 days traversing the Sinai desert. They took advantage of their stay in the British camp to continue the drills – they spent half a day practicing operating the weapons which were new to most of them, and the second half of the day – on horse riding.
Members of the Squadron. Besides the few drawings in the book, the Library’s copy contained photographs in the first few pagesThe Women of Jerusalem by the Western Wall
DamascusSome of the drawings that accompany the book
The soldiers encountered their first battle as a squadron seven miles south of the city of Be’er Sheba. With reinforcements on their left and the Australian units on their right, the solders of the machine gun squadron attacked the terrifying trenches the Ottomans had dug in the road leading to the city: the attackers and defenders fought the entire morning and afternoon.
The dust that flew in all directions inhibited both sides from seeing more than a few meters in front of them. After several hours of fighting, the soldiers discovered, to their utter dismay, that the Ottomans had retreated to the city. The order arrived at four in the afternoon: attack Be’er Sheba, which also proved to be deserted of enemy troops.
The Road to JerichoA drawing by one of the squadron membersA soldier photographs “Native Women”
“Be’er Sheba”, the soldiers wrote in the squadron book, “was extremely disappointing. It is barely a village in the way Europeans understand the term – a place one can buy cigarettes and something to eat; there was nothing to be found, and the only buildings in it which were not wooden huts were deserted.” When the soldiers toured around the area they were unimpressed by the arid desert which surrounded them, and by the lack of traversable roads.
The soldiers also reached Gaza after the Ottomans retreated from the city – This is not mentioned anywhere in the book, but it’s likely that the soldiers didn’t take part in the hard battles to conquer Gaza. Despite the short distance from Be’er Sheba, they encountered a different type of settlement – roadside villages, populated by farmers who worked their lands. As they approached they discovered a horrifying sight: dirt and refuse, men resting while the women did the hard work. The soldiers found nothing positive to say about this city either.
A map of the route the squadron took in the Land of Israel
The soldiers continued from Gaza to Ramallah, from Ramallah to the Arab village of Qezaze, from there they followed the train tracks to Jerusalem. The enemy soldiers predicted this path of advance and dug trenches along the way. The fierce battles led to a series of casualties. The squadron’s commanders decided to retreat and re-organize in the Jaffa area. On their way to Jaffa, the soldiers came across Rehovot for the first time.
Rehovot reminded the soldiers of the life they had left behind in Britain. The soldiers met the Zionist settlers and bought sacks full of juicy Jaffa oranges from them. Anyone who did not have enough money with them bartered for the preserved meat they received from the squadron. The meeting with the Jewish settlers excited the soldiers, who regarded them as the beginning of the rebuilding of the Jewish nation.
Caves close to the Red Sea
After a short rest, the soldiers advanced on Jerusalem once again. The Ottoman defenders were aware of the importance of the holy city: they sent most of the forces stationed in the Land of Israel to defend the road to Jerusalem. With every additional meter the soldiers of the Machine Gun Squadron managed to capture from the enemy, the warriors’ focal effort was to station the terrifying artillery machines at the highest place in the battle zone. They took advantage of every gain they managed to achieve: coverage from other units, use of snipers, silent advance at night or – when there was no other option – firing burning fire on the enemy to force them to flee from the position they had taken up.
Thus, on December 8, 1917, despite the defective roads, the constant lack of water and Ottoman and German opposition along the way, the soldiers of the Machine Gun Squadron, together with Allenby’s other forces, managed to open the road to Jerusalem.
Jaffa GateDamascus GateBedouin Riders
More than four hundred years of Ottoman rule in the Holy Land came to an end a day later, with the surrender of the city of Jerusalem. The date was merely symbolic, as most of northern Israel was still under Ottoman rule, which disintegrated in the following months.
“How wondrous,” declared the emotional soldiers who finally beheld the city of Jerusalem. The holy city was freed on the eve of the festival of Hanukah, and as the Ottomans fled from Jerusalem, the Jews celebrated the historical victory of the Maccabees over the ancient Greek conquers.
The squadron lost 3 commanders and 67 soldiers during the conquest of the Land of Israel.
That Time David Ben-Gurion’s Father Sent Him Some Cash
When Dr. Irving Halperin wrote to David Ben-Gurion in the summer of 1968, the response contained a few surprising anecdotes about the Jewish State's first prime minister.
גלויה של דוד בן גוריון בחדר עבודתו, אוסף אברהם שבדרון
I have long been an ‘invisible’ fan of yours.
It was the summer of 1968.
The United States was in turmoil. Protestors and public displays of affection filled the streets, new music filled the airwaves.
For many, San Francisco was the epicenter of it all. San Francisco State College, where Dr. Irving Halperin taught English, had seen violence, mass protests, arrests of students and faculty. It was soon to be the site of the longest student strike in American academic history.
Nonetheless, in the letter Dr. Halperin writes in English to Israel’s first prime minister, he makes no mention of what is going on around him.
Letter from Ben-Gurion to Irving Halperin, Correspondence, 14 August 1968, Ben-Gurion Archives.
Halperin, a middle-aged Jewish academic, simply wanted to know about the past, about the “Second Aliyah” period some six decades earlier during which Ben-Gurion made Ottoman Palestine his home.
–
In the last four months I was terribly busy and beg to apologize for not answering your letter of August 14th until now.
On September 18th, David Ben-Gurion handwrote his response in English from the humbly isolated confines of Kibbutz Sdeh-Boker in the Negev Desert. Israel’s 82-year-old founding father was embarrassed that it had taken him so long to get back to a man in California whom he had never met.
Halperin had asked Ben-Gurion to recommend “documentary material” and “works of literature” that would help him write a book about “the day-to-day life in Israel of Second Aliyah settlers”. He wanted “a palpable grasp of where they worked, how they lived, what they ate, how they saw the challenges of the land, how they suffered, etc.” As an afterthought, Halperin had jotted “in English” on the page’s margin, connecting it to the typed word “literature” in order to make it clear that Hebrew sources would be of no use to him.
In his response, Ben-Gurion first suggests reading ספר העליה השניה (The Book of the Second Aliyah), a Hebrew collection of essays and personal accounts related to the period. Then, in first person, he offers this stranger from across the globe an intimate account (in English) of his earliest experiences in the Land of Israel:
I will describe my life when I worked a year in Petah-Tikva 62 years ago, and in Sejera 60 years ago. In P.T.: It was not easy to get work every day, as our colonists preferred Arab Labor. I worked 8 hours a day when I got work. I received 8 piasters a day, worked 8 hours a day. I could not work every day, either because I couldn’t get work or because I suffered from malaria. On the average I worked 10 day [sic] in a month.
The Sejera farm in 1912, from the book ספר העליה השנייה, personally recommended by Ben-Gurion.
Ben-Gurion’s father, himself an ardent and active Zionist who had once written to none other than Theodor Herzl to ask for advice about young David’s education, could not bear reading of his son’s miserable condition. He had even unsuccessfully invited his son back to Plonsk and sent him some money to help ease the situation:
When my father learnt that I suffer [sic] from malaria and hunger, he asked me in a letter to come home. I replied that my Home is in Israel. Then he sent me money. I returned the money.
After suffering through malaria, hunger and a measly 8 piasters a day, Ben-Gurion moved up to the settlement of Sejera in the Galilee, where, “I had permanent work and although my monthly salary was only 30 francs, I was quite happy.”
Intimating that a personal handwritten account from Israel’s founding father was of marginal importance, Ben-Gurion closes his letter to Halperin with “But try to get the book ‘ספר העליה השניה'” (“The Book of the Second Migration Wave”) – a simple recommendationm, and perhaps a not-so-subtle admonition to learn Hebrew. from an aging statesman in the Israeli desert to “an ‘invisible’ fan” across the world.
Envelope in which David Ben-Gurion sent his letter to Dr. Irving Halperin, San Francisco State College. From the Abraham Schwadron Collection at the National Library of Israel (Schwad 01 02 216).
Hand-written letter from David Ben-Gurion to Dr. Irving Halperin. Sdeh-Boker, 9 September 1968. From the Abraham Schwadron Collection at the National Library of Israel (Schwad 01 02 216).
Special thanks to Leanna Feldman of the Ben-Gurion Archives at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Daniel Lipson and Chen Malul of the National Library of Israel for their assistance and insights.
