Open Writing

The day he returned to camp after the visit to Mary Calow, John's posting came through. It was top secret; for a build-up of British and French forces was taking place in the eastern Mediterranean. Egypt had seized the Suez Canal three months earlier and nationalised it. The oil supply for British and French industry came through it and the Anglo-French leaders had decided to claw back the canal.

The airborne brigade John was attached to was on stand-by to fly to Cyprus for a combined operation with the French. He was briefed at Mareton then flown to Cyprus with his brigade to await the arrival of their equipment coming in by sea. His Intelligence Unit was to drop behind the Egyptian lines to probe their defences and relay them back to brigade H.Q.
As he flew across Europe the Alps gleamed white in the sunshine. Far below, farms and chalets dotted the landscape. Winter was already creeping down the mountainsides while autumn swept the plains. His plane followed the coastline to Malta, where they re-fuelled before flying on to Cyprus. There trouble was brewing between the Turks and Greeks while Europe was in a ferment over Russia's invasion of Hungary. It seemed the whole world was in ferment. An old era was dying and a new one struggling to be born.

Nicosia was tense and no one went into the city alone. John carried small pistol in a shoulder holster whenever he went out, as he often did when the going was good, swimming in the sea or visiting tourist sites. While he was in Nicosia, mail began trickling through: a letter from Miriam, telling him of the news black-out and how worried she was. She'd gone to Israel under pressure from her father and that alarmed him. The place she was going to was near the Egyptian border and anything might happen there. She hadn't received any of his letters and that worried him, too, but there was nothing he could do. His mail was censored and on hold at an army postal address in Britain.

He also had a letter from Ann full of the Harry Clemence affair. Her brother had been demobbed and was keeping well clear of Keighworth. Many of his old friends had lost money in the crash and his name stank. He and his wife bolted for the east coast where they managed an hotel for Vicky's father, who'd retired there. Ann said little about herself, nor did she mention their old love though it ran through every line.

He had a letter from his aunt telling him of Joe's retirement at long last. He spent most of his time in his allotment and hen-pen. Henry Johnson had surprised them all by marrying his sweetheart of many years. She'd gone to live at Illingworth House to help Rosemary and Ann, who was deteriorating slowly but surely. It surprised him to learn Aunt Mary, too, was helping there at times and it was she who kept him informed about Ann.

It all seemed so very far away and he ached to be home. Hanging about in Cyprus, where a curfew had been imposed didn't help. It was unreal, but reality caught up with him a week later when France and Britain invaded Egypt and he was plunged into war. Israel swept across the Sinai Peninsula in a two-pronged armour attack and within hours they were in reach of the Suez Canal. Miriam saw it all as they swept down the road past the kibbutz.

At the time she was visiting an outlying settlement when columns of tanks and lorries roared by. Earlier that day she'd had another shock watching soldiers blow up the home of an Arab farmer suspected of helping the terrorists. She knew him slightly for she'd attended his sick wife and child. As she watched helplessly she demanded of Werfel, who was supervising the demolition, what proof he had that the farmer had helped the terrorists.

"We shot one of them leaving the house," he said casually.

"But that's no proof the farmer was involved," she cried.

"Proof enough for us," replied Werfel, who ordered the family to be brought outside and watch their home being bull-dozed.

They sat bewildered by what remained of their home, watching helplessly as their pitiful belongings were burnt in the rubble. The menfolk stood sullen with their hands above their heads as the soldiers searched them before marching them to awaiting trucks. When the men had been searched the women and children, too, were taken to the trucks.
"What'11 happen to them?" asked Miriam. "There are a mother and child there ill, who need treatment."

"They'll get it when they reach the camp."

"Camp?"

"They'll be shipped to Lebanon, to the Palestinian camps there," said Werfel tersely. For him it was routine and he looked on unmoved as the families were herded into trucks. Twenty years earlier in Prague, Nazi troops had herded Miriam's parents into trucks and taken them to a camp, Auschwitz.

For the first time Miriam saw the real Frank Werfel and what his brand of Zionism meant. He shrugged his shoulders when she pointed out that what he was doing to the Arabs was what the Nazis had done to the Jews in Europe.

"You're wrong!" he snapped back fiercely. "We're allowing them to go to their own people. There's no gas-chambers, no torture here. We have a right to this land. It was ours in the beginning. The Palestinians will be compensated and rehabilitated where they can do what they wish. Here they're destroying the land with their primitive farming. Soon it will be good for nothing. They have no right to be here."

"No right!" she exclaimed. "They've been here for centuries!" Tight lipped she turned round and stalked off. He hurried after her and caught her up, seizing her arm and pulling her round to face him. He knew he'd gone too far.

"Look, I'm sorry, Miriam," he said. "Perhaps I'm too harsh on them, but that's how it is." Then he changed tack. All anger had gone from his face and he was sweetness itself. "Come on, Miriam. Let's be friends. We can agree to differ without falling out. I'll make sure that family get safely to their camp. I give you my word."

She shook herself free and faced him squarely. "My parents had their home taken from them before they were trucked to a holding camp," she said, and her voice shook with emotion. "The Nazis said they would be treated well. They ended up in Auschwitz being gassed. Is that what you intend for these poor people?"

The smile left his face and he became angry again. "You know we're not like that. When the Palestinians reach their own people, they'll be all right. I'm sorry, but we have to do these things to survive. I don't like it any more than you, but it's either them or us. It's always been like that."

"Us? Count me out, Frank. I'm no part of this. England is my home - not here. America is yours. What right have we to interfere?"

He could see he was getting nowhere and put his arm round her. "Let's not quarrel. I'll keep my beliefs under wraps in future." Miriam allowed him to take her back to the kibbutz and by the time they reached it she'd calmed down. He bought her a drink and said no more about the affair. For the rest of her stay he kept well clear of the subject of Zionism, too.

She had to work alongside him daily and before long found herself being drawn closer. The attraction was mutual and he made a dead set at her. When no news came from John, she persuaded herself he'd left her. She didn't blame him after the way her parents had treated him and she guessed he'd taken up again with Ann. She'd never understood why they'd parted in the first place.

But deep down she still loved him and questions wouldn't go away. Why had he taken the trouble to take her to Mary Calow's? Above all, why had he said he loved her? But why didn't he contact her? She was desperately alone and needed love. Frank Herfel supplied it.