By Naomi Gafni
My childhood was spent in the Galilee. My parents lived for seven years in Mahanayim. I vaguely remember the immigration of the “Yizrael” organization - I was about three and a half years old. Before that, we lived in Kfar Saba, when I was two. At the edge of the camp, a few wooden huts were built. Around them, the land cultivated by our parents and the older “Polers” began to show signs of life.
Among the huts stood a large shed where the children would gather and play. A year later, a school opened in the clerks’ camp (offices of the Palestine Plantations Company), operating from a train carriage. The teacher, Rachel, taught grades 1 through 3 as well as kindergarten all by herself.
When the settlers’ families moved to their plots, the first 20 houses were built. The school was relocated to the Tel Mond camp. I entered first grade. Miriam was my teacher. Dov and Sima were taught by Yitzhak. A field trip was organized to the Antipatris Fortress - I joined the trip.
In second and third grades, I was taught by Sarah. During Hanukkah of 1935 (Hebrew year 5696), we celebrated the inauguration of the new school in Kfar Ziv.
In fourth grade, our teacher was named Rosa. I was already seven and a half years old - a big girl. The Arab Revolt began. I was afraid to go out alone. During the vacation, our family traveled by wagon to Tel Aviv. We stayed there and swam in the sea every morning. We sold our mules. My father had been a wagon driver for eight years.
I moved on to fifth grade in 1938. Our teacher was again Rosa. I and Ayah Berlin excelled in our studies. Around that time, my grandfather fell ill and remained bedridden for three years. He passed away on September 20, 1940. The unrest continued. Volunteers were sent to every task. On May 1, 1938, I joined the “Working Youth” movement. Our counselor was Moshe Argaman. He was diligent and everyone loved him.
I entered sixth grade. Rosa continued as our teacher. During Hanukkah, a party was held in Kfar Hess, and we performed “Mattathias and His Sons.” Moshe Argaman directed the play. That night, gunfire was heard from the direction of Yakhin. The guard, Israel Goldenberg, was seriously wounded. He died from his wounds after seven days.
At his funeral, we walked in a long procession in groups of four, heads bowed. His wife walked as if paralyzed. Near their house, she cried out: “My son, my son - your father is here!” It was terrifying. A few months later, four members of Ein Vered were murdered. I didn’t attend that funeral. I couldn’t bear the wailing and screams.
At that time, the foundation was laid for the youth club in Kfar Hess. One night, we were attacked by Arabs. They set fire to the concrete molds of the new pool in Block B. A few days later, in the morning, we were attacked again by Arab thugs. The whole village sprang into action. Our friend Marder was injured and lay in Beilinson Hospital for two weeks. Not long after, our counselor Moshe told us he was leaving. We held a farewell party for him at the school. Moshe shared the story of his life. The farewell was difficult.
Seventh grade. I was already nine and a half.
Our teacher was Tzvi (Zevulun Weinberg). During Hanukkah, we held a party in Kfar Hess. Simcha and Asher Avish organized it. We performed “The Rebuilding of the Wall in the Time of Ezra and Nehemiah.” That year we went on trips to Gan Menashe, Kfar Yabetz, Kadima, Even Yehuda, Kfar Netter, Beit Yehoshua, and Tel Yitzhak. We got a new youth counselor - Moshe Steinberg.
In March 1940, my parents bought a Romanian white goat. Two months later, she gave birth in the field to a little white kid. We named her Hemdaleh. I became very attached to her. I would take the goats to graze and care for them. That summer, a children’s camp was established in the eucalyptus grove of Kfar Hess. We stayed there for a few days. On the last evening, we held a party. How wonderful that camp was!
Italian planes bombed Haifa and later Tel Aviv, causing many casualties. Families began fleeing the cities to villages. Many families also arrived in the Tel Mond Bloc. The first bombing occurred on 9 Elul 5701 (1941). I was then in eighth grade. Rosa returned to be our teacher. The refugee children from Tel Aviv greatly increased the class size. The situation negatively affected our studies - many didn’t want to learn. Two parents sat in every classroom daily, but even that didn’t help.
Relations with nearby Arab villages were good. One Saturday, we walked with Ze’ev to Tira, Kalmania, Ramat HaKovesh, and passed through Miska. Children from Tira and Taybeh also visited us. That year, the first class graduated from our school. Dov and Sima completed tenth grade.
We held a Hanukkah party and performed “The Festival of Lights.” David Cohen came from the movement’s center. That year, the school began serving us hot lunches. On Tu Bishvat, we planted a tree-lined path next to the youth club. On Purim, we prepared festive “Mishloach Manot” (gift packages). A humorous newspaper was read aloud. We also heard “The Journey of the Goat” to Kfar Hess. We laughed and danced.
On March 15, 1941, the goat gave birth to twins - a male and a female. We raised the female and named her Haviva. That year marked the 20th anniversary of the Histadrut (Workers’ Union). There were celebrations across all the moshavim. The school purchased a piano. Beba Idelson came to lecture, and Chana Kipnis sang and played the piano. At Passover, a communal seder was held in Kfar Hess.
The children performed plays: “An Immigrant Ship,” “The Hasidim,” “Moses in the Desert.” Afterwards came spring break. I helped around the house, fed the goats, did homework, and worked in the garden. I also taught English to Yisrael Borlak - he was progressing very nicely.
On Friday night, October 2, 1941, we held a farewell party for Moshe the counselor. We danced, sang, and a lively hora broke out. The parting was hard. I entered ninth grade.
One night, I had a terrible dream: enemy armies were approaching our land, and the moment of reckoning was near. I was terrified! I woke up and felt raindrops on my feet - apparently, the roof had leaked. It was the first rain of that winter. On the evening of Monday, October 1, 1941, we gathered at the youth club. The counselor said we must build the club hut. He suggested that after completing it, we decorate it and dedicate a week to the topic of the Yizrael Organization. A very good idea - if only we follow through…
On Yom Kippur, I fasted the entire day (26 hours). I’m currently reading the book “Jerusalem.” On Simchat Torah, I went to the synagogue with my parents. It was quite joyous. On Friday, all the schoolchildren gathered. There was a memorial service for Ussishkin, who died two weeks prior on October 3, 1941.
On Sunday, we started school at 12:25 p.m. That’s how we would continue the whole year. Ruth would teach us English, Chaim Shiber - history, algebra, and geometry. Rosa would teach science and geography. Tzvi began teaching us, but after leaving the classroom he told the other teachers he no longer wanted to teach our class. Why?… Rosa also said she no longer had the desire to teach us.
There were talks of teacher layoffs. Taxes were extremely high and now being raised even more. Parents had to contribute another half a lira each month! How would we manage? How could we continue our studies?
We studied from 12:30 until 6:15 in the evening. The teachers had changed. Our moods had also changed. I had a great desire to learn, to read a lot, to know and to understand… but disruptions in class continued.
One day a window was broken, another day a table, another time a chair or a broom. This week we lost two dear friends: Moshe Steinberg and Michael Blashtein. We held a farewell party for them on Friday night. Gutkovsky read a letter from a soldier who had written to our village. He had received the Rosh Hashanah gift package we sent and thanked us for it.
The older kids stayed afterward to hear a report from Moshe, a member of the youth club committee. The club had been built, the roof covered - but it still lacked a floor. With time, it would be completed.
On Friday night, we held a Hanukkah party. The parents organized it. It was joyful. A week earlier was the Histadrut holiday celebration. Margalit from “Ohel” Theater came too. On Friday night, Ein Vered celebrated its tenth anniversary. Mah (a friend or youth leader) brought five boys who danced until 3:30 in the morning.
Haviva, the goat, died. In the morning, we noticed she didn’t want to eat. I took her for a walk, and suddenly she lay down on the path and wouldn’t get up. I cried a lot and carried her back home on a sack. She fluttered between life and death for about half an hour. I did everything I could for her. She was eight months old… and gone. It took me a long time to get used to being without her.
Today was a terrible day: Hemdaleh, the goat, developed an udder infection. I ran to Dr. Kashat, but he wasn’t home. I couldn’t hold back the tears…
We bought a heifer calf named Kochva. She is eleven days old.
We held a memorial ceremony for the heroes of Tel Hai at the school. On Thursday, a general strike was declared in the country from 7 to 11 a.m. The reason: the immigrant ship Struma was sunk in the Black Sea by a mine. On this small ship were 800 Jewish refugees. We were horrified.
From there, we traveled by Arab car to Khirbat Beit Lid Police Station, and from there to Netanya. We went straight to the sea - a magnificent sight. The sea was stormy, full of white foam. From there, we went to the Shomron Convention. People came from all over the country. There they eulogized the victims of the Struma disaster. We ate dinner in the kibbutz kitchen. The Tel Mond branch slept in the dining hall on the tables.
There was a club party on Friday night. They proposed naming the youth club Struma.
Passover has ended. I read a book called “Catherine”. It describes World War II. War is the worst thing. Millions of people are killed, thousands of Jews are destroyed, everything is ruined. All that humanity has built is being destroyed. When will wars between people and between nations end - when?
The situation in the country is very serious. There are fears of bombing raids. We must be prepared for anything. This is our only land, and we must cling to it. It is the hope of us all and of Jews around the world. The blood of our brothers cries out to us: “Cling to the soil of the land and do not surrender to the enemies of our souls…”
Today, I turned 15 according to the Hebrew calendar. There was a May Day celebration for the older youth. Several speakers took part and described the situation of the Jewish people around the world. They called on everyone who was able to enlist and join the fight against the cruel and terrible enemy. Only a small group from our class attended the event, since the majority had been forbidden to go because they chose to attend a military dance party instead. As a result, they staged a student strike.
The teachers’ strike has been going on for a week. Meanwhile, Shavuot is approaching, but we’re not preparing for it because there are no classes…
This week the political situation worsened. The Germans captured Tobruk and are advancing toward Egypt. The danger is approaching our land. A state of emergency has been declared. General enlistment was announced.
In the past two weeks, I’ve been struggling with a strange mood. War is the worst thing: millions of people are killed, countries are destroyed, cities burned, many ships sunk, thousands drowned. All because of war! Why?!
From Kfar Hess, five boys and two young men have been drafted. They were all on leave, except for Messinger, who is in captivity. They’ll all be excellent drivers and will be sent who-knows-where…
I’m sure we’ll meet again soon - and when we do, they’ll say one word: Victory! Amen, selah!
We have four more days of school and many exams. For Bible class, we’re being tested on the fall of Egypt according to the prophets Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Ezekiel, and more… Many young women have enlisted in the Brigade and Notrim (the Jewish auxiliary police).
We traveled to see the military parade of Jewish soldiers and women soldiers. The Jewish Legion Day in Tel Aviv was a tasteful, inspiring event. In the evening, we boated on the Yarkon River.
I’m sitting now in my room. The room is full of furniture, and in the other room are month-old chicks. The war is continuing into its fourth year. Until when - no one knows. But one thing is clear: the end will be Germany’s defeat. If not - the entire civilized world will fall under the burden of Nazism and Fascism, those dogs!
If the Allies lose, God forbid, the Jewish question and the question of the Jewish homeland will be lost as well…
No longer 13, nor 12. I feel that I’ve matured a bit.
Sometimes the question of enlistment arises, but I’m still not of age.
Today is a day of mourning for our people in the Land of Israel - a day of communal protest over the blood of our brothers that has been spilled.
The Nazi agents of Hitler continue to annihilate our brothers in the Diaspora. They lead children, the elderly, women, and men to concentration camps, where they torment those pure souls with every method modern technology has devised. Thousands perish every single day.
Is the human heart really so hard and cruel that it cannot feel the suffering of the Jews and this horrific slaughter?
Does the whole world really not care?
The Yishuv cries out to the Allied powers for help, and Jewish soldiers are already fighting within their ranks - on land, at sea, and in the air.
Give aid! Open the gates of rescue - the gates of your countries and the gate of the homeland - to a people without a land! Don’t delay!
The National Committee ordered the Jewish community in the Land of Israel to go on strike today starting at 12 noon. Every Jewish household, both young and old, was asked to sign a petition. Assemblies were held across the country to remember the millions of Jews who are no longer with us, to honor our soldiers who have fallen in battle, and to call upon the people to increase their efforts toward rescue and relief. Do not despair!
The government granted 39,000 immigration certificates, but has not provided us with the means of transportation. If we are to bring the immigrants through Turkey, it will take 12 years to complete the operation.
The Jews who survived in the Warsaw Ghetto organized to fight the Nazis. They are battling with bare hands and light weapons against tanks, yet many Nazi soldiers have fallen in this heroic war.
This war will go down in history as a symbol of courage, unmatched since the days of Bar Kochba, Rabbi Akiva, and the other great heroes of our people.
There was a naval operation involving Jewish soldiers on the route from Egypt to Turkey. The Germans bombed several ships, including one carrying Hebrew soldiers. More than 100 are missing - including our own guide, Moshe Steinberg, our counselor.
We took a trip to Jerusalem. We also visited the Hebrew University on Mount Scopus. Nearby is the cemetery for Allied soldiers who died in the last war in this land. There are about 25 graves of Jewish soldiers there. The cemetery is clean and well-kept.
We are filled with great joy mixed with deep sorrow here in our village, Kfar Hess. Our two boys, Aryeh and Micha, came home in army uniforms. They arrived on July 2 and must return on July 13 to who-knows-where…
At first, I couldn’t believe that our soldiers were truly on leave. But it was real. In the evening I got dressed and went with my sister to meet the group.
We were at Aryeh Glonsky’s house, eating all kinds of good food. At the entrance, several families sat around a long table set with drinks and dishes. Suddenly I was overcome with emotion or shyness - I couldn’t utter a word, only a strong handshake and a friendly smile. That was my first reunion.
There they were - Aryeh and Micha - just as I remembered them. Or perhaps it was just a front? Who knows what’s going on inside their hearts? They didn’t say anything about their lives in Benghazi, their struggles, or their many adventures over the past ten months on different fronts.
Yochanan Dubster and Michael Karsel were also on leave. It was a week of reunions with our enlisted friends. Yitzhak Titivski was home, too.
On Saturday night, we gathered in the eucalyptus grove. We lit a bonfire, two boys tended the flames, and we sat in a circle and sang.
Yesterday, at the end of the school day, we went to the cemetery. It had been five years since the murder of the four members of Ein Vered. The grave of Israel Goldenberg is the first in the Tel Mond cemetery - and now the cemetery is full…
Today we had a party at school in honor of the soldiers who were home on leave. We performed, sang, and gave speeches. Aryeh, Micha, and the others sat quietly, smiling. It was clear they were moved. Their uniforms stood out among our simple clothes. I couldn’t help but look at them and wonder what they had seen, what they had endured, and how they would ever return to normal life after all this.
August 1943
School is on break. I help at home, feed the goats, clean, and read when I have time. We are hearing more and more terrible news from Europe. Whole Jewish communities wiped out. My mother sits quietly sometimes, holding letters from relatives abroad, not knowing whether to hope or mourn. The war feels far and near at the same time.
A new school year begins. I’m in the upper grades now. Fewer of us are left in the class. Some families moved, some children left to help at home, and some… just faded away. My teacher says we must study even more now - to build the future they are dying for over there.
We planted new trees near the school for Tu BiShvat. My little brother has joined the youth group. I help him with his reading. I hope he remembers these days like I remember mine - hard but full of purpose.
We are filled with great joy mixed with deep sorrow here in our village, Kfar Hess. Two of our boys, Aryeh and Micha, returned home in uniform. They arrived on July 2, 1943, and must return on the 13th - off to who knows where…
At first, I couldn’t believe they were truly home on leave, but it’s real. That evening, I dressed nicely and went with my sister to meet the gang.
We visited the Aryeh Glonsky family and were treated to a generous meal. At the entrance, several families sat at a long table, drinks and food laid out. Suddenly, I felt a wave of nervousness or shyness - I couldn’t say a word, just shook hands firmly and smiled warmly. That was the end of my first encounter.
There they were - Aryeh and Micha - just as I remembered them. Or was it only their outward appearance that hadn’t changed? Who knows what lies in their hearts? Who knows what they hide beneath the surface?
They spoke nothing of their lives in Benghazi, their struggles, or their adventures over the past ten months on the various fronts.
Yohanan Dubster and Michael Krasel were also home on leave. It was a week of reunions with our enlisted boys. Yitzhak Titivsky was home too. On Saturday evening, we gathered in the eucalyptus grove. A bonfire was lit, two boys kept watch over the fire, and the rest of us sat in a circle singing.
Yesterday, at the end of our school day, we went to the cemetery. It has been five years since the murder of four members from Ein Vered. The grave of Israel Goldenberg is the first in the cemetery in Tel Mond, and now the cemetery is full…