CHAPTER 18 - Aron in Berlin, Copenhagen and London and Sara takes Charge

Aron in London, 1916

Meanwhile, Aron is on his way to London, not entirely sure how he is going to achieve his intended destination. It is July 1916. He takes the familiar train from Haifa to Constantinople, traversing the same route in reverse that Sara had so recently covered and he observes the same horrors: the dead bodies chewed by dogs and the desiccated corpses hanging from trees, that his sister had seen. And new ones. Due to the Arab Revolt,  the Hejaz Railway to Damascus, with a branch line extending to Haifa, is a target of attacks by both British and Arab forces.

The Train from Haifa to Constantinople

When he gets to the Turkish capital - fortunately unscathed - he struggles to get the necessary permit for travel to Berlin. German officials are understandably suspicious. What is a Jew from Palestine doing wanting to go to Berlin at this dangerous time? Aron, shows them his briefcase full of locust documentation and persuades them that respected Professor Otto Warburg - an old friend and colleague - at the famous Berlin German Entomological Institute on Thomasius Strasse urgently awaits his reports on the locusts inflicting their destruction on Palestine.

Aron &  Rabbi Judah Magnes at Berlin Station

In Berlin, to his surprise he is greeted on the station platform by his great supporter, Reform Rabbi Judah Magnes, who is in the city on a relief mission and who has heard that Aron is due to arrive any day. Aron confides in the helpful Rabbi that he needs to get to Copenhagen and the Rabbi promises to help him in any way he can.

Aron writes to Sara that the meeting: ‘Makes a great change in my plan, and it’s a change for the good.’

Absa's Sister Tsila in Berlin

In Berlin, he also meets with Absa’s sister Tsila to arrange for her to communicate directly with Zikhron. Ironically, Tsila has just taken on a job in the busy business of German postal censorship! He gives her a letter to Absa, explaining his actions and that he is en route to London, via a number of other stops which he does not spell out. And that God willing, they would meet again in Egypt. 

Professor Otto Warburg, Berlin Botanical Institute

Aron has many scientific friends in Berlin, Professor Otto Warburg, being one of them. Aron’s experiments with the sesame seed which yield a particularly rich oil, of great interest to the Germans, provides the pretext. He states his intention of going to Denmark to engage the help of a seed-breeding institute there and supported by his many influential friends, he soon gets the necessary papers and finds himself in neutral Copenhagen where he makes his way to the British consulate  to discuss his plans with minister Sir Roger Paget. To ensure his qualifications, he brings with him a letter from the Secretary of Agriculture in Washington, requesting that he is urgently requested there. Of course, Aron has no intention of actually going to America, but a decoy visa is procured. In Copenhagen, Rabbi Magnes, books a passage to sail on a Scandinavian ship, the ‘Oskar 11’, to New York.

Aron intends to go with him, even though he does not have a ticket.

He accompanies the Rabbi to the ship and waits until his friend has settled nicely in his cabin. The Rabbi then returns to the gangplank and in the guise of purchasing a few pastries, surreptitiously hands his ticket to Aron on the quay and returns to his cabin. In the throng of passengers, Aron finds it easy to slip on board.

The cabin has a two-bunk bed and a day-bed. Aron sleeps on the latter. It is not known how much sleep the Rabbi gets, as Aron, by his own admission, is a great snorer.

Onboard, Aron meets a lovely, young German woman, Mademoiselle Olga Bernhardt, and spends some happy hours, walking the deck with her. The voyage is otherwise, uneventful.

****

Aron Aboard the Oskar 11 off the Orkney Islands

As the ship passes Kirkwell in the Orkney islands, Rabbi Magnes, relaxes in his cabin sipping tea. Two teacups and some Danish apple pastries on the table.

At that moment, a routine security operation begins on deck. A search is on.

The door bursts open and two British Naval Police enter.

    “Rabbi, sir, sorry to intrude, but we ‘ave reason to believe you’ve a person on board ‘oo ‘asn’t paid for ‘is ticket! A stow-away!”

Naval Policeman number two picks up one of the tea cups and says something like: “What ‘ave we here?”

Rabbi Magnes responds without missing a beat: “I was waiting for you to come, gentlemen.”

Aron, looking a little dishevelled, climbs out of his hiding place in the wardrobe.

    “Yes officers. I am that stowaway,” he says calmly, before finishing off one of the pastries,  picking up his bag and being marched off the ship under close guard.

Mademoiselle Bernhardt is greatly distressed and promises to report Aron’s arrest when she gets to New York. All this is according to Aron’s plan to get as much publicity for his 'arrest' as is possible.

****

The tower room at the Station in Atlit. Sara smiles as she reads the British Newspaper Headlines:

‘Aron Aronson Agronomist Sultan’s Top Scientist Arrested on the High Seas by the British Navy on Charges of High Treason.’

As a later writer confirms: ‘On the morning of 16 October 1916, at the height of World War I, British military authorities in the port of Kirkwall, Scotland, arrested a 40-year-old, barrel-chested Palestinian Jew named Aron Aronson. A subject of the Ottoman Empire, Aronson - an internationally renowned scientist- was seized from the Oskar II, a Scandinavian-American ship en route from Copenhagen to New York City, and accused of espionage. From Kirkwall, Aronson was taken by train to London where he was interrogated, both at Scotland Yard and at the War Office. As it happened, he was indeed a spy - a spy for the British. The incident at Kirkwall was an elaborate ruse, designed to fool the enemy Turks into thinking Aronson might have been their agent...’

Avshalom smoking, lying naked on the bed beckons her back to bed.

    “Lucky man,” he says and we don’t know if he is referring to Aron or himself.

****

London, autumn 1916. Aron, having been ‘released’ from a military jail and being given permission to check into a hotel in High Holborn, enjoys his first cup of real, English tea. The next morning, he is driven, still under guard, to the offices of Scotland Yard.

Sir Basil Thomson, Scotland Yard

Through the window, a foggy November day. Aron strides confidently into the offices of bushy-browed, Sir Basil Thomson, head of British Intelligence with the newly formed Secret Service Bureau - later to be known as MI6 - who peruses Aron’s papers and looks with disfavour at the strange Jew from Palestine who passionately spills out his requests for help for a 'spy ring', of which, Sir Basil has never heard.

‘A burly, sun-burned man with a heavy, determined jaw'

As Sir Basil will later write: ‘A burly, sun-burned man with a heavy, determined jaw, who brings strange tidings from the East.’

And he proceeds to bring that determined, sun-tanned man, down a peg or two and to stress the pecking order, between Jew and Englishman.

    “I don’t mind telling you,” he reprimands Aron: “But there are those who would like to see you hanged as an enemy spy. You’ve caused all kind of ripples in the department!”

Sir Basil trusts few foreigners and his work has taught him to suspecting most outsiders as treacherous, possible double agents. Aron is frustrated. Once again, his honour is questioned. He is still treated with disdain and suspicion, still seen as a dubious and untrustworthy outsider. He is told that Lieutenant Woolley has left no instructions or records of his relationship with the spies and with Avshalom in particular, and that Woolley has disappeared.

The meeting is soon terminated while the British mull over the spy’s credentials - Is he working for the Germans or the Turks? - and Aron retreats to nurse his battered pride in a Soho pub, a lukewarm pie and a bottle of British ale.

Aron in Soho Pub

   ****

However, Aron, wastes no time in meeting others of the top brass through his many connections - both Zionist and scientific.

Sir Herbert Samuel & 'The Future of Palestine'

Chaim Weizmann - Inventor of Military Acetone and Proud Zionist 

Nahum Sokolov - President of the World Zionist Organisation

Among his many friends Aron counts Sir Herbert Samuel - first practising Jewish Cabinet Minister in the United Kingdom and promoter of the 1915 memorandum 'The Future of Palestine', Chaim Weizmann - director of the British Admiralty Laboratories, producing acetone, crucial for British munitions, and simultaneously engaged in negotiations to secure support for a Jewish homeland in Palestine - and President of the World Zionist Organisation, Nahum Sokolov, who works with Weizmann in securing the Balfour Declaration. They present him with a memorandum of proposals for the recognition of the Jews as a nation with the view that Britain should take over Palestine. Aron, of course is instrumental in conveying the views of those who already call Eretz Israel, their home.

Brigadier Walter Harold Gribbon

Brigadier Walter Harold Gribbon, Turkish expert in the War Office is impressed by the Jew from Palestine and his huge knowledge of the region - despite initial scepticism and the negative report from Sir Basil. Gribbon, is so impressed, in fact, that he spends five hours in a conference discussing Aron’s proposals, invites him to his home for dinner and even arranges for diplomat Sir Mark Sykes - of whom more later - to ‘pop in’ to discuss the political ramifications of Aron’s audacious proposals.

Sir Mark Sykes

Sir Mark, does not, as a rule like Jews, but even he finds himself grudgingly admiring the very persuasive, Nili spokesman.

      ****

Soon a new report gets back to Sir Basil, who with precious few qualms about his previous encounter, will write without a touch of irony, in his memoirs, that the spy’s arrival was ‘one of the most romantic incidents in the war history of Scotland Yard.’

    “I must admit, your story has about it, the ring of truth,” says Scotland Yard’s finest.

Aron’s relief floods his tense face.

Sir Basil Thomson agrees cautiously: “A victory in the East would serve us well - ”

    “You must invade, without delay!” declares our impatient spy.

    “A desert war? Impossible. There’s no water for our troops in that wasteland,” says the disbelieving, Sir Basil.

    “We can help you find water - if you find us food!”,  Aron is unflinching as he delivers what he hopes is his master stroke.

****

The War Office, London. A room full of maps. 

Aron with General Macdonah, Sir Walter Gribbon and Brigadier General Clayton

General Macdonah, imposing, neat moustached, Chief of Military Intelligence, and Brigadier General Clayton - Gilbert - regard a large folder marked: ‘Report of an Inhabitant of Atlit, Mount Carmel; stamped in red which had been forwarded by Sir Walter Gribbon and is marked in scarlet:: ‘OF CONSIDERABLE INTEREST’.

The folder sits between them on the table - like a bomb that might explode.

But Gribbon’s support and respect for Aron’s findings, changes everything. He will indeed, be remembered for his active role in Anglo-Zionist intelligence operations. But first Aron has to persuade his other interrogators to come on side.

Aron has stressed in that report that there are few effective Turkish coastal fortifications and that it would be the easiest thing in the world to attack from the coast - not from Sinai. But Macdonah and Clayton, still smarting from the Gallipoli defeat, will hear nothing of it.

A rather curious addendum to the report, made by an unknown official, reads; ‘The person in question talks most freely and well and is very correct in his statements,’ but ends with the question: ‘What if the Palestine Spy is actually a Turkish Spy?’

Despite constant suspicion, the authenticity and earnestness of our hero finally wins over his detractors and the Foreign Office adds its support and clears Aron of any nefarious intent.

General Macdonah and Brigadier General Clayton - Gilbert - listen to Aron as he points to various sites on a map of Palestine and the Sinai desert, and simultaneously seeks to prove his loyalty.

    “My duty is to my homeland - but it will only be if Britain is victorious. We look upon you as our closest ally. I can offer you all my knowledge of the country. There is water right there in the  desert!” 

Ancient Well, Palestine Desert

    “How do you know that?” asks the Brigadier disbelieving.
    
    “The rocks indicate it, and the ancient wells,” Aron replies: “And Joseph Flavius corroborates it. He wrote that he could walk all day from Caesarea and never leave flourishing gardens. Today the desert sands reach to the walls of Caesarea. Where there were gardens there must have been water.”

The men exchange glances. Everything depends on water.

Maps of  Water Sources in Ancient Israel

Aron goes on to explain that over many years he has explored the geology of Palestine most thoroughly and is convinced from the rock strata that is plenty of water at a depth of  three hundred feet. Enough to turn the arid Sinai into flourishing fields of wheat. All they have to do is dig.

    “Impossible!” says the Brigadier still unconvinced.
 
General Macdonah is a tad more diplomatic: “I don’t see how we can dig in the desert on the strength of evidence given two thousand years ago?”

 Ani Musa - The Well of Moses - Sinai Desert

Aron shoots back, undaunted: “We have not just the biblical records of where the wells are but modern geological charts, as well as archeological studies. We can show your engineers exactly where to dig!”

Despite his initial scepticism, General Macdonah is impressed: “A modern day Moses, Lieutenant Aronson!”

    “Lieutenant!?” Aron is surprised.

The General shakes his hand firmly: “You’ll be working directly with us from now on, Lieutenant.”

Thus 'Lieutenant Aronson' is sent back to the War Office, where his reception is distinctly more cordial than his last. The plan is to send him back to British Headquarters in Egypt.

**** 

Hotel on the Finchley Road, London

The interior of a dingy hotel on the Finchley Road, London where Aron has now set up office. The life of a would-be-spy is a lonely one with few creature comforts. Through the window, a foggy November day. Bare trees and dismal, scurrying clouds. Aron wrapped in an enormous, winter coat - he hates the cold - writing at the desk:

‘My dearest sister, I can safely report that the British military, have met me with assurances that will make you more than happy. They have, it appears, promoted me too, to the rank of Lieutenant.’

He puts down his pen and looks out at the unfriendly view.

A gap in the clouds and a feather of sunlight pierces the gloom.

‘They are sending me to Cairo. Have your copy ready,’ writes the ever-optimistic Aron. ‘We’re on our way!’

But unbeknown to its sender or its intended recipient, events will intervene to mean that Aron’s letter will take months to get through.

 ****

Sara & Avshalom at Atlit

With Aron away, the bulk of the work of the station and the spy operations, lands directly on Sara’s head. Fortunately, she has Avshalom at her side and they share the belief that everything Aron does will bring them closer to their aim - freeing the land, expelling the Turks and that the British would be able to march in victorious, to free Jerusalem.

Nili Members

The Nili men and women now number just over a dozen. Another fifteen or so, are occasional workers, conveying messages by opportunity, sometimes for a little payment.

Drivers Nasser & Elias Abu Farrid & Frida Lulu, Housekeeper at the Atlit Station

The third group are workers at the Station - agricultural ones and drivers - two Christian Arabs, Nasser and aforementioned Elias Abu Farrid - Jewish housekeeper Frida Lulu and Station Manager, Baruch Raab.  

Baruch Raab, Station Manager

In Aron's absence, most of them have been laid off as a result of lack of funding and the strictures of war - and now as a result of the need for secrecy in the forthcoming operation. Only Baruch remains.

As the first group are all friends, family or close colleagues they attract little attention. They are used to being in each other’s company and Zikhron's citizens are used to seeing them together. And Avshalom fits like a duck to water in the tight knit camaraderie of the group. He takes on more and more of Aron’s work and he even takes the place of a son in the household. He is particularly fond of the old man, Efraim, who wanders around the empty house like a ghost, only cheered up by his bible.

Zvi lives across the street with his wife Sarah Hinda and their little ones. Sarah Hinda’s sister Toba, Sara’s dearest friend, is a frequent guest there and Sara brings her documents to be quickly copied before it is noticed they are missing. Toba is a speedy writer and they never stop making the reports ready for the ship to come.

Sara with Toba, sister in law Sara Hinda and children, Zohara, Moshe and Yardena

They meet now in the evenings, ostensibly all fun and games, but really awaiting Aron’s communication. The children, Moshe and Yardena, adore Avshalom. He plays games with them, makes funny faces and lets them ride on his back as if he is a bucking horse. 

Absa & Niece Zohara

Absa also brings along his niece Zohara - the children provide a nice, homely, background to the group's clandestine meetings. And all the time, they are waiting for news from Leo who is in Istanbul under the alias of ‘Haim Cohen’, and who is supposed to inform them of Aron’s plans. But nothing comes from ‘Haim Cohen’.

Meanwhile Avshalom’s sister Tsila, in Berlin, Aron having arranged that she would get his messages in the absence of direct contact, also sends nothing. Or at least nothing that reaches them. Four months pass, still no news. Nothing from Aron in London either. Avshalom is certain that they have been abandoned. Sara persuades him that all will be well and to carry on with the work. Crucial information is accumulating. Everyone is worried about a German victory. Avshalom threatens again to go to Egypt to see what’s going on and to deliver the material personally. Sara fears the risk of going into an active war zone and dissuades him for the moment.

She cannot bear the thought of separation or the possibility of her dear one’s death.

****

Joe at the Bonfire

It is the Jewish holiday of Lag Ba'omer and a huge bonfire is lit. The village threshing floor, having little wheat to mill, is now a dance floor. Even though its wartime, then as now, the young people of the Yishuv continue to dance. A hot, windless night. Musicians play Eastern European music on  fiddle and drum. Absa, Sara, Toba and half a dozen other young people watch as Joe Lishanky, the man from the south, does a wild cossack dance.

Everyone stands back clapping as he whirls like a dervish, centre stage.

Conventional Zvi, is not convinced by these antics: “I’m not sure about him - he’s a risk taker!”

Sara defends the whirling dervish: “He certainly risked his neck getting Absa out of jail.”

Toba: “Sara’s right, we owe him whether we like it or not. And he’s definitely brave.”

Avshalom agrees: “Joe is brave. He’s alright - Fate decides everything.”

The bonfire flames roar higher. Sara leaning against Avshalom who feeds the fire, as Joe dances, silhouetted like a burning man against the rising flames. 

Avshalom pulls Sara towards him and kisses her on the mouth.

    “What will people say?,” she murmurs.

For answer, her lover exclaims: “My princess of a thousand sweetest kisses, I don’t care what they say. This is our honeymoon and no one is going to keep us apart!”

****

At the Dead Sea

A small guest house, at the Dead Sea, actually not much more than a shack, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of sand and a frozen, blue plane of water scattered with thousands of gleaming salt crystals.

Avshalom carries laughing and happy Sara across the threshold.

The guest house owner watches them - not too happy.

Inside the little cabin. Avshalom drops Sara gently onto the bed.


    “He didn’t believe we were married”, Sara says, amused.

Avshalom undressing her, whispers: “We’re lovers in wartime - only God can see us and he doesn’t mind!”

**** 

At Masada

Overlooking the Dead Sea. Avshalom and Sara climb the mountain of Masada, scene of past massacre and martyrdom and scene of one of the central myths of the still, far off new State.

Breathlessly, they reach the top and survey a collection of honey-coloured ruins, high above the sea.

Avshalom: “They took their own lives rather than surrender to the oppressors.”

Sara and Avshalom sitting on the very edge of a precipice with dizzying view below.


    “If one wanted to die - how would one do it?” Sara asks.
    
    “The quickest and easiest way - ” Avshalom mimes with his long, gentle fingers: “Put a pistol in your mouth and pull the trigger - ”

Sara shuts her eyes, the thought too terrible to contemplate.

Both of them are sad. Perhaps the ghosts of Masada are too.

    “But why think of dying when there’s so much to live for?” says her dear one.

At Masada with View of the Dead Sea

He kisses her again and we pull out to a panoramic view of that landlocked, salt lake at the lowest point on earth. The incredible beauty of the ochre-coloured desert and that gelatinous, salty Dead Sea - flat and blue, with its white crystals floating on its surface like diamonds.

    ****

Avshalom, Toba and Sara playing with Zvi and Sarah Hinda’s children, Malachi, on Avshalom’s shoulders, and little Yardena, crawling on hands and knees playing with her toy camels, in the garden at Zikhron.

    “You should marry him. Get a divorce from that husband of yours - ” says Toba matter of factly.

Sara does not answer. She shuts her eyes and from that red, black darkness, the colour of blood, a terrible premonition appears before those softly veined eyelids: Bedouin men, camels, horses and hooded riders in a dense sand storm. The sound of gunshot and her loved one falling in slow motion from his horse onto the sand.

Sara opens her eyes, frightened and pale.

    “Are you alright? You’re not pregnant are you?” asks her concerned friend.

    Sara shakes her head: “It’s nothing. Just the heat.”

    “But I am, darling Sara,” Toba excitedly shares her news with her closest friend.

    “Nissim and I are getting married. We are having a baby.”

Sara hugs her friend and congratulates her, but she is still unable to get that abominable vision out of her mind.

She looks at Avshalom - as if checking he is still there - and is relieved when he gives her a goofy grin and a nonchalant wave.

     **** 

Felix & Naaman at Rishon-Le-Zion Winery

After hours at the Rishon-Le-Zion Winery where Naaman Belkind works. The place is deserted except for two silhouetted men. A candle burns on the counter.

Naaman receives a package from Albanian Officer, Felix - the elegant, tall young man. In exchange, Naaman hands him a beautiful pair of gold cuff links.

Felix takes the cuff links and thanking Naaman, tries them on

     “One sells one’s soul at one’s peril,” he says as the gold sparks in the dull candle light.

**** 

Absa & Sara in Aron's House

Aron's house in Zikhron where Sara and Absa have taken up residence in Aron’s absence. They sit tensely listening to the BBC radio, the ‘wireless’, as radio was then called, which crackles over the airwaves and is broadcast from British Cairo - that is, when the signal is not being intermittently jammed. There are a number of amateur radio operators operating in the Holy Land which provide this on/off means of communication, at risk, it must be said, to their lives.

‘Britain has sent more troops to guard the Canal. Allied troops have landed at Salonika in Greece - ’

Avshalom is fidgety: “Where is he? Why doesn't he contact us? Stuffs piling up and we’re cut off without a ray of hope!”

    “Be patient. There must be a reason.”

Avshalom:  “He's not coming back, that's what it is. He's leaving us to fight it out alone!

Sara tries to reassure her love asking him to be patient a little longer but Absa is angry at what he considers to be Aron’s betrayal. They have lost too much time at a crucial stage of the war.

The entire year of 1916 was spent attempting to establish contact with the British forces in Egypt. Even at the beginning of January 1917, it seemed to Avshalom that there was no such connection. Aron had still  not been heard from even though he had already reached Egypt and Avshalom was now adamant that he too needed to get to Egypt, with or without Aron’s permission.

****