Open Writing

Way south of Castle Benito, beyond Azizia was a desert mountain range, and settled there was an old established Jewish community of cave dwellers. One should not imagine that they lived in primitive conditions .

Their caves were quite delightful and laid out with carpets . The great advantage was that during the tremendous heat of summer they remained relatively cool. The community had been there probably for 2000 years. Conversation with them was very limited because of language problems.

The caves were en route from further south to the coast at Sabratha (about 20 miles east of Tripoli), where there was still the well-preserved Roman Amphitheatre. We had bathed there on my 21st birthday and amazed ourselves with the wonderful acoustics in the amphitheatre. One of my friends spoke very normally from the stage, and I could hear every word so clearly from the back of gallery seating.

It was also possible to go into Tripoli quite regularly. Routine transport went up there to collect food supplies and mail, and it was not difficult to cadge a lift. There I made contact with the Jewish community, which was a very substantial one. Indeed it was reckoned that at that time roughly one-third each of the Tripoli population was Italian, Arab and Jewish.

An introduction was obtained to a senior member of one of the synagogues who had excellent English. The Tripoli community also dated back to the fall of the second temple and had lived there in peace and relative prosperity. Many of them had received university education in Italy and considered themselves Italian Jews.

One synagogue I used to visit occasionally was of particular interest to someone from UK. The women were in a gallery with a curtain in front of it so that they could not be seen, and probably could see very little. The first time I went there and found a man asleep on the floor - perhaps indicative that the synagogue was a place in which one could really feel at home.

On another occasion I met a group of youngsters who appeared very angry with one of their number. When inquiring the nature of the problem, I was told he was to be ostracised because he had been found reading an American progressive Jewish publication, which was not considered suitable for this more orthodox congregation.

A Pogrom Arrives

I was very politically naïve, and was horrified one day to learn that the Jewish Community in Tripoli was being attacked and there were some killings. It was only gradually that the story emerged and became clear to me.

The area commander, a Brigadier Blakeney, had been called to Cairo for a meeting and had left in charge Colonel Oulton. Much of this detail emerged later because all we in Castle Benito knew was that we were not allowed into Tripoli and that there was a series of attacks on the Jewish population with many deaths.

The only news that reached us was from the driver of our supplies transport, who went into Tripoli most days. Finally I decided I had to do something. I dug out my campaign ribbons that I had not yet worn and that I had only recently received. I put them on and cadged a lift on the supplies transport into the centre of Tripoli, where I made my way to headquarters and asked to see Brigadier Blakeney.

I was told he was expected back from Cairo within an hour or so and that I could wait to see him. This I did, and in due time was shown into him. I suggested that he call out the British Troops immediately in the certainty that the Pogrom would end at once. His instant reply was, “I am calling up the British troops immediately.” This he did, and I left with genuine thanks.

Later the picture began to come together more clearly. For a non-political service man, it was a story that was difficult to comprehend fully.

This was a time when the British strength and influence in the Middle East was considerable, and the British were attempting to show that the new Arab League (sponsored and encouraged by Britain) could not accept the potential of substantial Jewish immigration into Palestine. Therefore a warning shot needed to be fired.

The first warning shot was thus stimulated by Colonel Oulton, who had a lengthy record of service in Palestine and was known as a pro-Arab. The departure of the Brigadier seemed a sensible time for all to happen. British troops were indeed called out immediately, but only to guard the Palestine port contingent (all Jews) and prevent them from interfering.

The Jewish community was totally unprepared for anything of this nature. Two thousand years of peaceful living alongside their Arab neighbours had precluded any thoughts of the need for self-defence.

There were several cases reported of two young Jews running away from one Arab. The death rate was reported as approaching 200. The implements used were pretty basic: knives, stones and pieces of wood. The immediate action was a donation to the relief fund by the British authorities and also by the Arab leader of the local community.

For me the impact was shattering in that it was impossible to appreciate that British authorities could connive at an attack on a peaceful Jewish population. Much later I also learned that there was a senior British Jewish officer on the Tripoli headquarters staff, and he took no visible action.

My friends had not suffered, and I encouraged them to organise some self-defence activities amongst the male youth. I am not sure how far they progressed with this since the entire Jewish population left for Israel a few years later when the Tripoli monarchy changed to a military dictatorship. Perhaps it was unimportant.

Another immediate activity was a long letter to my father giving him a full report. On receipt of it, he took it immediately to the Jewish Board of Deputies in London - the responsible organisation for Anglo Jewry. Nothing major resulted because there was so much happening in the world at that time. The discovery of the full measure of the Nazi Holocaust meant the Tripoli story was a very small local potato that had been nipped in the bud before a major number of deaths.

The briefing routine of an operations officer was not over exciting, and I managed to organise a few flights to keep my flying in-hand. The CO once told me that he had been allocated an Anson aircraft which was in Cairo, and would I like to collect it. The answer was an immediate “Yes,” although I did not add that I had never flown a twin-engine aircraft.

However the Anson was reputed to be slow, vice-free and comparatively simple to fly. I was allocated a warrant officer navigator. Somehow a Fairchild aircraft had become unserviceable on the way to Cairo. It had been repaired, and I was asked to take it there.

Whilst without experience on the little Fairchild single engine passenger aircraft, it was an easy aircraft to fly. We collected passengers at Benghazi and Tobruk, delivering all safely to Cairo. The two of us were introduced to my Anson.

I told my navigator I would give the aircraft an air test without him. The main reason was so he should not see how ignorant I was. The air test was simpler than I feared. The only thing I did not do was wind up the undercarriage by hand. From memory it was about 150 turns of a fairly heavy handle. It took me a little while to get used to the peculiarities of two engines, the judicious use of which controlled direction.

Eventually we set off together, and after a stop at Benghazi, arrived safely at Caslte Benito, where the CO was delighted to have his own communications aircraft. I had a few trips flying it around and giving various airmen the opportunity of a local flight to look at such signts as there were.