Beneath the Dover Sky

by Murray Pura

  As the soldiers sprang forward, the Arabs fled. Several of the privates made rugby tackles and brought their men down. Others chased rioters into back alleys and along empty streets where families cowered behind locked doors. Robbie kicked the bearded man in the ribs as he tried to get up and brandished one of his swords. Robbie placed his boot on the back of the Arab’s head and pressed down with his body weight to keep the man in place. He glanced at the two women who had been assaulted.

  “Go to a neighbor’s house,” he ordered. “Bar the door. If you have any weapons, don’t hesitate to use them.”

  “We have nothing,” one of them said.

  “You have axes to chop wood, don’t you? Knives to slice bread and meat? Use those if you must.”

  “Are—are you going to leave us alone, sir?”

  “No. A section of my men will stay to guard this street—ten or twelve men. You won’t be left unprotected. I have to go to other neighborhoods to see what is happening. There is rioting everywhere. Where are your men?”

  One woman’s face looked as white as snow and ice. “Dead,” she responded. “They were killed at the synagogue.”

  Robbie tugged a knife from his boot and tossed it to the woman, sheath and all. “Keep that by your side. If you have to protect yourself and your children, remember Deborah and remember Jael. Bear in mind how Jael slew Sisera, the enemy general, by driving a tent stake through his head. If you have to do the same, do it. A child’s life is worth a thousand of these murderers’ lives.”

  “Toda raba. Thank you.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “That’s young to be married.”

  She shrugged. “Not among us. In any case, I am one of the daughters—not a wife.”

  “I see. Do not lose the knife.”

  “I will not.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Michal.”

  “Like the wife of King David.”

  She offered him a fragment of a smile. “One of them.”

  “A fiery one, if I recall.”

  “With good reason, sir.”

  “Yes. Well, put that spirit to use if men try to slay you and your household.” He pointed at the knife. “I shall be back for it.”

  “I will keep it in my hand until you return.”

  “That’s an excellent place.”

  Robbie bent down and dragged the bearded man to his feet. The Arab growled through fingers dark with his own blood as he held his nose. Robbie manacled him and then shoved him roughly towards the armored car. Looking back over his shoulder at Michal, he said, “I will not cease to pray for you…and your people.”

  She bowed her head briefly in thanks.

  Dover Sky

  Lord Preston paced his study while Edward and Kipp watched. “A week of killing, rapes, mutilations, and desecrations. Hundreds of people killed, and hundreds of arrests. Still no word from Robbie! The prime minister assures me there have been no reports of British fatalities. I thank God for that, but what of the others? Mostly women and children—unarmed, defenseless, posing no more threat to the Arabs than a cloud in the sky. Attacks totally unprovoked as far as the reports Mr. MacDonald has read. The viciousness utterly without cause except hatred. Exceptional hate—where does it come from? How does it live in people’s breasts, in people who were made in the image of God, the people who were sons of Ishmael?”

  Kipp and Edward kept their eyes on him but didn’t reply. They noticed their father’s face was haggard and gray, his white hair uncombed.

  Lord Preston paused in his pacing to look at a painting of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. “Well, the worst is over I’m told. The prime minister assured me he would ring us with information on Robbie the moment he hears anything. So we shall wait on that and trust God.” He looked at his sons. “What would I tell the families of the murdered if I were there? What would I say to them of the ways of the world and the ways of God? How might I possibly bring them a morsel of comfort? What words could someone use that could make any difference at all?”

  Safed, Palestine

  The colonel slipped into the back of the car next to Robbie. He tugged off his leather gloves and stared straight ahead. “How long have you been sitting here, Danforth?” he asked.

  “Ten minutes, sir.”

  “Saw all you could stomach of Safed and Hebron?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yet you were in Ireland, weren’t you?”

  “Even at its worst, Ireland was never like this, sir. There I didn’t walk into houses and find twenty or thirty men, women, and children murdered in cold blood. I didn’t find young girls raped and tortured and stabbed to death. I didn’t walk into orphanages and see the horrors I saw here in Safed.”

  “No. I expect not.” He sighed with a low groan. “At least some Arabs hid Jewish neighbors in their homes.”

  “Yes, sir. I take some measure of hope for the future in that.”

  “Do you? I wish I could be as sanguine as you.”

  Robbie shook his head. “I don’t feel sanguine, sir. It’s one straw to grasp on to, that’s all. Not much.”

  “What does your crystal ball tell you?”

  “My crystal ball? I wish I could say I see one nation of Arab Christians and Arab Muslims living side by side with religious Jews and socialist Jews, forming a kind of coalition government just as we would do back in Britain, sir. But massacres like these—pogroms, really—just ensure the Zionists will argue other Jews into the desire to establish a totally Jewish state. Muslims will hate them for it, so the fighting will carry on regardless of the peace that moderates and well-wishers dream of.”

  “Why not form two separate nations, Danforth?”

  “That would be like Ireland and England, sir. Never the best of friends.”

  “Well, I shall continue to hope for some sort of miracle.” He glanced at Robbie. “You’re right. You are not as sanguine as you first appear.” He patted the back of the seat in front of him. “Corporal. Let’s leave this place and get back to Jerusalem.”

  The driver started the engine of the car. “Very good, sir.” The vehicle stirred up dust as it headed off. Army lorries full of troops and police followed them.

  “Nevertheless, I should like your full report on my desk in two days, Danforth. Sanguine or not.”

  “I will have it for you, Colonel.”

  MUM AND DAD

  WE ARE ALL RIGHT HERE. SHANNON AND THE BABY ARE DOING FINE. I WAS NOT INJURED DURING THE RIOTING. WILL WRITE A LETTER IN A FORTNIGHT. AS YOU CAN IMAGINE THINGS ARE PRETTY HECTIC HERE IN THE AFTERMATH. PRAY FOR THE PEACE OF JERUSALEM.

  OUR LOVE

  ROBBIE SHANNON AND PATRICIA CLAIRE

  Jerusalem

  In summary:

  As far as we can ascertain, between the dates of August 23rd and August 29th, 133 Jews were killed and some 300 injured. During the same period, 115 or 116 Arabs were killed and more than 230 injured.

  The Jews were killed and wounded by Arab rioters for the most part, though there is evidence some were victims of British gunfire. The majority of Arabs were killed and wounded by soldiers of the British Army and officers of the British Palestine Police Force who were trying to halt the massacres. A small number of Arabs were killed by Jews defending themselves or retaliating for Arab assaults. In the worst case, an Imam and six others were slain. For the most part, Jews neither attacked rioters nor defended themselves.

  Casualties occurred in Jerusalem, Hebron, Safed, Motza, Kfar Uria, and Tel Aviv.

  124 Arabs have been charged with murder, 50 with attempted murder, 250 with arson and looting, and almost 300 with less serious offences.

  70 Jews have been charged with murder, 40 with attempted murder, 31 with arson and looting, and 21 with less serious offences.

  Jews and Arabs—Arab Muslims in particular—have become more firmly entrenched in their positions as a result of the riots. Jewish proponents of an all-Jewish nation now dominate the pol
itical landscape. By the same token, Muslims who desire an all-Arab or even all-Muslim Palestine under sharia law hold sway among their population.

  Recommendations:

  The British military garrison must be reinforced in 1930. One hundred soldiers is not a sufficient complement to deal with the tensions in this region.

  Talks between Jewish and Arab leaders must continue, mediated by British officials.

  The British military and police in Palestine and the British Government in Westminster must brace themselves for increased hostilities between Arabs and Jews over the next decade. Nothing will appease Zionists except a fully Jewish state. Nothing will appease Muslims except a fully Muslim Palestine.

  The Grand Mufti bears watching. He could have quelled the rioting before it began, but it appeared to me he was whipping the Arabs into a frenzy against the Jews at the Dome of the Rock. He does not have the best interests of Great Britain at heart and certainly not the best interests of those among us who desire an amicable solution to the Jewish–Arab problem.

  “Shalom, Michal.”

  “Shalom…major.”

  “You may call me by my Christian name please, Michal. I’m Robert, but you can use Robbie if you wish.”

  She stood in the doorway and smiled, her eyes and hair dark. “I prefer Robert.” She handed the knife in its sheath to him. “You have come for this.”

  Robbie took the knife. “This and to see how you are.”

  “Frightened like the other Jews here. Hoping it will not happen again, but knowing it will. Trusting the British will protect us, and realizing we must also protect ourselves.”

  He pulled the knife from its sheath. “You used it?”

  She dropped her eyes. “I tried to clean it well.”

  “What happened?”

  “That night a man came through the back window. Your soldiers didn’t see him. He put a hand over my mouth and tried to force himself on me. I put the knife into his back. His finger jerked the trigger on his pistol several times. Your men rushed through the door, knocking it down. They saw what had happened. A corporal ordered the man’s body be carried away and placed in the street far from my house.”

  “He didn’t report the incident.”

  She kept her eyes on the ground. “He said I acted in self-defense, and he did not want me charged with murder.”

  “You would have been exonerated.”

  “The corporal wasn’t sure.”

  Robbie looked at her a few moments. “So in the end you were like Jael.”

  “In the end I was a frightened Jewish woman grabbing whatever came first to her hand.”

  He tossed the knife in his palm and then slipped it into its brown leather sheath. He handed it back to her. “Good Sheffield steel, that. You’d better hang on to it. You might need it again.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Hope but be prepared to defend yourself against those who have different hopes.”

  She lifted her eyes to his and took the knife. “Thank you, major.”

  “Robert.”

  “Yes, Robert. Toda raba.”

  Robbie touched his fingers to his officer’s hat. “Perhaps I will see you again, Michal.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She watched him climb into his armored car. He remained standing in the hatch as it drove away. She followed him with her eyes as the vehicle negotiated the street between vendors selling kosher meat, vegetables, and baked sweets. It slowed down, sped up, slowed down, sped up according to traffic. He looked back once and they saw each other.

  16

  November, 1929–April, 1930

  Tubingen, Germany

  “Now Hitler has what he wanted—economic chaos!”

  “Please calm down, Albrecht.”

  “Calm down? Let me explain the situation.” After moving a stack of books, Albrecht sat next to Catherine on the couch in his study. “So long as our economy was doing well, Hitler had no real power to attract the German people. I was alarmed by the number of his stormtroopers and the fact that Nazi Party membership kept growing, but I was comforted that he wasn’t drawing in the majority of the population. Germany was at work, and our money was good. However, a great part of this was due to massive loans from the United States that helped us get back on our feet. The money was used to subsidize various employment schemes and businesses and to shore up our currency, not to mention shore up the government.”

  He paused to remove his reading glasses and run a hand through his hair.

  Catherine waited.

  “Now with the stock market crash in America in October, everything has changed drastically. Fortunes have been lost, wealth has vanished overnight, millionaires are throwing themselves out of windows in New York City because they are suddenly penniless. And because they are paupers, America is in danger of becoming a pauper too. So with this financial crisis, America is already making sounds we don’t want to hear in Germany—that they are short on cash, that they need to deal with the economic disaster in their own country, that they need to recall their international loans. Yes, every single loan. They are going to take them back.”

  “Has this actually happened yet?”

  “My sources tell me the tremors are certainly being felt in Berlin. It’s not noticeable to you or me at this point, but employment is being affected and the Deutschmark is losing ground rapidly. It will be quite obvious in 1930. In any case, the workingman who has lost his job or had his wages cut already sees it. The financiers and capitalists who are taking it on the chin see it. And what do you think they are saying on the street, in the beer halls, in the private clubs, in the business meetings? That if Hitler was smart enough to predict this economic collapse in 1928, then maybe he is smart enough to fix it in 1929 and 1930.”

  Catherine felt an uncomfortable coldness in her body, and she clasped her hands together. “I see.”

  Albrecht gazed out the study window at the slow spinning fall of snowflakes. “Hitler is already making more speeches, already saying democracy doesn’t work—certainly not for Germany. That the Fatherland has always done well with a strong man at the helm, like Charlemagne or Bismarck…like himself. He and his henchmen are trying to manipulate the situation and have him appointed chancellor over the nation. So far he hasn’t succeeded in budging von Hindenburg on the matter. The day may come when our elderly statesman and president has no choice but to bow to Hitler’s demands. If the economic situation worsens and the Nazi Party continues to grow, and if Hitler wins more seats in the Reichstag, well, von Hindenburg will be backed into a corner.”

  “Your views do not cheer the soul, Albrecht. I hope you exaggerate the threat facing Germany.”

  “If it faces Germany, it faces Europe as well.” Albrecht squeezed her shoulder. “I shall be late for dinner. Do not wait for me. The Brotherhood of the Oak are meeting in half an hour at a small room in a museum.”

  “The Brotherhood? You have not met for years.”

  He stood up and took his suit coat off the back of a chair. “That tells you others share my rosy outlook.”

  “That suit coat is badly wrinkled. Let me iron it for you.”

  “No time. It is just men with cigars and pipes and fear in their eyes, Catherine. Believe me, they will not be looking at my coat and its wrinkles.”

  “No? Exactly what do these men look for from you?”

  “Fight.” He wrapped his red scarf about his neck. “They look for the German fighting spirit. Hitler and his brownshirts, with their swastikas and their fists, have it. The Brotherhood look for it in those who have a different vision for Germany and a totally different heart. And they hope to God they can find it.”

  Dover Sky

  Lord Preston jingled coins in his pants pocket as he held the phone to his ear and patiently repeated his words. “No, Longbottom. No shipyard worker in Liverpool or Belfast will be asked to pick up and go home, ending his employment with us.”

  “But, my lord, the economic crisis in America has touched
us all. You are losing profits. If you wish to ensure a fairly high cash flow despite international circumstances, you must trim expenditures.”

  “Out of the question. The pound has already lost buying power for my workers.”

  “And for you.”

  “Nevertheless, we shall weather the storm without putting anyone out of work. The most I will agree to is a ten percent wage cut across the board for office workers as well as those on the docks. They must be told this is to ensure Danforth Shipyards and Shipping continues to stay in business so they can keep their jobs. We’ve taken the same steps at the textile mills in Preston. Baxter and I tried to ease the sting of this by initiating the provision of hot lunches for employees. This will keep more food on the table at home. I should like you to set up the same sort of thing in Liverpool and Belfast.”

  “Such an arrangement cannot be brought about cheaply, my lord.”

  “I know that.”

  “Some will see it as charity and refuse it.”

  Lord Preston jingled the loose change in his pocket again. “I can do nothing about that, Longbottom. They will have to look to themselves and to God as far as that is concerned. The hot meals will be available for all employees of Danforth Shipyards and Shipping if the workers wish to enjoy them and bring some relief to their economic hardships. Have you seen what the price for a loaf of bread is now? Heaven knows the farmer and the miller feel the pinch as well as the grocer, but still it is outrageous. My people in my companies must keep their wages at home and take care of their sons and daughters.”

  “Very good, my lord. I see your mind is set.”

  “It is indeed.” Lord Preston smiled as he watched Caroline walk past the parlor door with a baby wrapped in white blankets in her arms. His voice changed completely. “Ah, Longbottom, if only you were down Dover way this weekend. My son Kipp—you remember Kipp the pilot—Kipp and his lovely wife, Lord and Lady Scarborough’s daughter Caroline, have had themselves a child—a girl as beautiful as a sunrise, I swear it. Well, you know how we grandfathers are. I shall send a photograph up to you.”