Wings of Refuge

  “We still have today,” Jake told her. His eyes were very green. “We have Rachel and we have each other. Let’s not spoil today by worrying about what might happen tomorrow.”

  He turned the page of the book and calmly continued reading to Rachel. As Hannah watched them, she saw her daughter’s dependence and trust in her father as she rested securely in his arms. She must do the same, resting in her heavenly Father as He turned over each new page in her life.

  But three days later, Hannah huddled on the sofa beside Jake, listening in stunned disbelief to the news. The UN peacekeeping forces had yielded to Egypt’s demands, evacuating the positions they had held in the Sinai since 1956. Prime Minister Levi Eshkol called it an act of war. Jake seemed as worried as she was.

  “It’s only a matter of time now,” he said, “before Egypt blocks all shipping to Eilat and we lose our only southern port.”

  Hannah gazed around their tiny spartan apartment, wondering what shortages the blockade would bring, what new ways she would have to find to adapt. On a bookshelf across the room, shards of ancient pottery and jar handles were piled around wedding photographs and Rachel’s baby pictures, as if offering evidence of Israel’s endless cycle of destruction and rebirth.

  “Why are people so bent on destroying us?” she asked. “In every generation there has been someone who tries to start a crusade or an inquisition or a pogrom to wipe out the Jewish people. Why us?”

  “Because we bear witness to the Holy One’s plan to redeem mankind. In fact, His redemption will come from our race, from Abraham’s seed. If Satan can destroy us, he thinks he can destroy all memory of God and keep mankind under the curse. But Satan’s plans won’t succeed.”

  “Do you think there will be a war?” she asked quietly. “Tell me the truth, Jake. Don’t say I’m borrowing tomorrow’s worry.” He reached over her shoulder to turn off the radio before taking her in his arms.

  “Yes. I do. But I also believe that what our enemies intend for evil, God is going to turn to our good.”

  “Our good? How?”

  “The Holocaust wiped out six million of us, but God used their sacrifice to reestablish us in this land. Our enemies declared war the day we declared independence, but God used it to increase Israel’s territory. Who knows what good will come from this?”

  “If we live through it,” Hannah mumbled.

  The following day, Jake’s reserve unit was mobilized. He was ordered to report to the area of the Golan Heights to defend Israel’s border against Syria. No one needed to remind Hannah that Syria’s troops were backed by the powerful Soviet Union. As she lay on their bed watching Jake put on his uniform and lace up his boots, she broke down and wept.

  “Hannah . . . don’t. Please don’t.” He lay down beside her again and held her close. “The woman I fell in love with was strong and fearless. She strode up mountains without a map or a compass and ate her lunch in dry riverbeds without a care in the world. What happened to her?”

  “She fell in love with you. We became one like Scripture says, and now that we’re being torn apart, it’s the worst pain I’ve ever known.”

  “I know, love. I know. Just pretend that I’m leaving for reserve exercises and that I’ll be home in a couple of weeks.”

  “I can’t, Jake. I know exactly where you’re going.”

  “Listen, every time one of us walks out that door, we have no guarantee that we’ll ever see each other again. Life isn’t forever, Hannah. But our love is, and so is God’s love.” He kissed her and wiped away her tears. “‘He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep,’” he recited. “I don’t know what God is doing, but I know we can trust Him.” He kissed her again, then stood. “Come to the window. I’ll wave to you.”

  He crossed to the crib where Rachel was napping and bent to kiss her forehead. Hannah stood and took her husband in her arms one last time. She felt the strength of his embrace and clung to him with all her might. Love and fear choked off everything she wanted to say.

  “I’ll see you,” Jake whispered. Then he pried her loose and quickly picked up his kit bag, walking away so she wouldn’t see his tears.

  She had felt them, though, gently falling into her hair. As soon as the front door closed, she ran to the living room window and pulled back the curtain. Jake emerged from the apartment building a few minutes later. He looked up at the window and waved. Then he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Hannah wondered if she would ever see him again.

  WEST JERUSALEM, ISRAEL—MAY 30, 1967

  Hannah knocked on the door of Ben and Devorah’s apartment and waited. Ben’s five-year-old son opened it. “It’s Auntie Hannah!” he shouted.

  “Hi, Itzak. Where’s your mama?” Hannah asked.

  “In the kitchen. Can Rachel play?”

  “Of course.” Hannah set Rachel on the floor where Itzak and three-year-old Samuel were playing with a ball and a set of toy bowling pins. She followed the sound of a scratchy radio broadcast into the kitchen. Ben and Jake had been gone for ten days. Hannah had promised to look after Devorah, who was eight months pregnant. She found her sitting at the kitchen table in tears. Hannah switched off the radio.

  “No, Hannah, wait—”

  “That’s what Jake always does when the news starts to upset me. He drove me crazy at first, but I’m beginning to think he’s right.”

  “But I want to hear the news.”

  “Sweetie, it’s not just news. Those commentators can’t shut up, and all their ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ might never even happen.”

  She crossed to the sink and poured Devorah a glass of water. In spite of Devorah’s condition, her kitchen shone—no dirty dishes piled on the counters, no sticky spots of spilled juice on the floor, no mysterious smells drifting from her tiny refrigerator each time she opened the door. Unlike Hannah’s apartment, which resembled an archaeological ruin most of the time, Devorah’s was always neat and clean. Hannah often wondered if Jake regretted his choice of a wife.

  “Here,” she said, handing the glass to Devorah, “you need this to replenish all the water that’s leaking from your eyes.” Devorah didn’t return her smile.

  “Did you hear the latest?” Devorah asked. “Egypt has signed a defense pact with Jordan. They were enemies a couple of months ago, and now they’re suddenly friends, pledging to help each other destroy us.”

  Hannah hadn’t heard, and the news shook her. The border between Israel and Jordan ran right through the middle of Jerusalem, just a few miles to the east of them. But she waved the news away as if swatting a fly, feigning indifference as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “Oh, so what! Egypt signed one with Syria, too. It doesn’t mean a thing. Those fools break their word easier than you can break an egg.”

  Devorah managed a weak smile. “Maybe you’re right about the radio, Hannah. They keep saying that Iraq is going to send troops to help Egypt, too. And they keep bringing up that speech Nasser gave a few days ago.”

  “You mean the one where he said, ‘Our basic objective will be to destroy Israel’? That’s not news. That’s been his objective for years. The man is a broken record.” But when Hannah had first heard the speech four days ago and learned that Egyptian armored units had crossed the Suez with 100,000 troops and taken positions in the Sinai, she had covered her face and wept. Images of the Holocaust circled her mind and settled on her heart like birds of prey waiting to snatch her peace. The only way to keep them at bay was to keep moving, keep working, keep praying.

  “Have you heard from Ben?” she asked.

  “Yes. He told me to brace myself for war.” Devorah rose and set the empty glass in the sink, then stood near the living room doorway watching the children play, gently massaging her ponderous belly as she spoke. “Ben says once the war starts, Israel has no alternative but to win. He says if we lose, they’ll kill every last one of us.”

  Hannah knew Ben was right, but she said, “He’s wrong. The British and the America
ns will never let it come to that.”

  “Well, so far the Americans haven’t done a thing to help. Their promise of a multinational navy to break the Egyptian blockade was an empty one. Israel will be forced to fight alone.”

  “Devorah, listen. I came to ask a favor.” Hannah needed to steer Devorah’s mind away from her fear before they both crashed into despair. “Would you be willing to watch Rachel for a few hours every day so I can go to work? I know it’s difficult in your condition with two kids of your own to watch, but nearly every man in Israel is mobilized for war, and if the women don’t take over their jobs, everything is going to come to a screeching halt around here.”

  Devorah’s shoulders straightened, and she seemed to grow stronger before Hannah’s eyes as she was offered a useful alternative to sitting and waiting. “Of course, Hannah. I’d be glad to. Where are you going to work?”

  “They’re converting some of the hotels into emergency first-aid stations. Since I trained as a medic, I thought I would volunteer. I tried taking Rachel with me when a bunch of us cleaned out the basement of our apartment building to make an air raid shelter, and she was constantly underfoot. A couple of days ago I took her with me to help fill sandbags, and I’m still cleaning sand out of her hair.” She laughed, but Devorah didn’t.

  “They made a shelter in this building, too,” she said. “It’s supposed to be a good, sturdy one. Rachel will be safe here, Hannah. And I’m all packed and ready to go down whenever we need to.” She pointed to a small overnight bag by the back door. Hannah had a similar one ready beside hers.

  Hannah feared the bombing raids the most. The Egyptians had a huge airforce that could be airborne and dropping bombs on Israel almost before the warning sirens had a chance to go off. Because her nation was so small, civilians were certain to be in the way of enemy targets and would likely be spending a great deal of time in air raid shelters. Hannah tried not to think about what would happen if Devorah couldn’t make it downstairs in time with three small children in tow.

  Rachel toddled into the kitchen with a smile on her face and a plastic bowling pin in her fist. “Wha’s dat?” she asked. Hannah pictured Jake, paging through books for hours on end, asking “What’s that, Rachel?” Would their daughter even remember her father if anything happened to him?

  “It’s a bowling pin, sweetie.” Hannah caressed Rachel’s dark curls before she tottered away again.

  “I admire your courage,” Devorah said. “I know how hard it will be for you to leave her.”

  “I’m really not courageous at all. It’s like Ben always says—‘no choice.’ Jake would tell me to trust Rachel to God’s unfailing love.” She stood and drew Devorah into her arms for an ungainly hug. “But you’re right—it will be hard. I think I know how Jake and Ben must have felt when they had to leave us.”

  Two days later, the director of the Israel Museum telephoned Hannah. “Can you possibly help us? We need to move all the antiquities into the basement for safekeeping in case the bombs start to fall.”

  Hannah left Rachel with Devorah and rode whatever transportation she could find to the museum, walking a good portion of the way. Armed soldiers, troop transports, and even tanks roamed the streets, while Israeli fighter jets roared overhead, patrolling the skies. They were accompanied by the nerve-wracking stutter of helicopters. The tension that loomed over West Jerusalem was palpable, like a huge billowing thundercloud that would surely pour rain and split the earth with lightning at any moment.

  Walking the museum hallways, Hannah felt as though she were returning home. She hadn’t worked since Rachel was born and hadn’t realized how much she missed the dusty texture of clay pots, the warm luster of ancient bronze. The task of packing thousands of precious artifacts and hauling them down to the safety of the basement was nearly as exhausting as excavating them had been in the first place, but she was protecting her daughter’s heritage, the proof that Israel belonged to Rachel’s ancestors as well as to her descendants. With the Arab nations poised to wipe the land clean of all Jews, it seemed as important a task as shouldering a machine gun.

  At midmorning, she took a lunch break with her friend Rivka, who worked part time at the museum. They sat outside in a patch of shade, enjoying the warmth of the early summer day, if not the ominous rumbling of jets and vehicles or the stench of diesel fuel.

  “This endless waiting is driving me absolutely crazy,” Rivka said. “I feel like there’s a gigantic time bomb ticking in the background and you know it’s about to explode, but you don’t know exactly when.”

  “I know what you mean. And if it’s this tense for civilians, imagine how the soldiers must feel. Jake is sitting in a tank beneath the Golan Heights, waiting to be bombarded by Syrian guns. The Syrians have had twenty years to fortify the Heights, and their hateful Soviet friends to help them do it.”

  “My husband is sitting under a camouflage net in the sands of the Negev, waiting to face the Egyptians. He says that all they do all day is wait and train and wait some more. They can’t stand it much longer.” Rivka paused as an Israeli Defense Forces fighter jet screamed overhead. She and Hannah covered their ears. “Now that Jordan is going to bed with Nasser, we’ll have to fight a war on three fronts. They said on the radio last night that huge mobs have been demonstrating in Cairo and Damascus and Baghdad, calling for Israel’s destruction.”

  “I try not to listen to the radio too much,” Hannah said.

  “We’re so small and vulnerable—and so incredibly outnumbered!” Rivka said in a trembling voice. “Do you think there is any way in the world that Israel can survive this war? Our nation isn’t even twenty years old—can this really be the end of us already?” Rivka’s fear was contagious. Hannah felt panic rising from its resting place, overshadowing her heart like a flock of vultures darkening the sky. She knew of only one way to put it to rest again.

  “Do you ever pray, Rivka?” she asked, reaching for her friend’s hand.

  She gave a nervous laugh. “You know me, Hannah. I wouldn’t know what to do inside a synagogue even if they did let me through the door.”

  “I wasn’t raised in a religious home, either, but I’ve been attending Sabbath services with Jake ever since we were married. . . .”

  “Rabbi Jake!” Rivka said, laughing. “That’s what everyone called him that summer we worked on the Desert Runoff Project, remember? But they meant it in a nice way. Everybody respected him, even if they didn’t always agree with him.”

  “Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that his faith has started to rub off on me after six years of marriage. I didn’t know how to pray either, so I started by praying the psalms. Try it. With this crisis, it really helps keep my fear down to manageable proportions.”

  “Thanks,” Rivka said. She squeezed Hannah’s hand before releasing it. “I will.”

  “You know,” Hannah said, “there were so many times in the past when Israel was outnumbered by her enemies—just like we are now—but every time they called on God they won the battle.”

  “Do you think we could win this war, too?”

  “I’m trying to believe it. Jake was reading the prophecies of Ezekiel to me the week before he left. You probably know that famous part about all the dry bones coming to life, right?”

  “I’ve heard people say that’s supposed to be Israel, coming to life on the ashes of the Holocaust.”

  “Well, the chapter right after that one talks about a huge army coming against Israel after the Jewish people are gathered here from many nations,” Hannah said. “It sounds just like this crisis, with enemy troops advancing like a storm, covering the land like a cloud, plotting to invade peaceful, un-walled villages. And it says that God will allow them to come so that He can show His greatness and His holiness before the eyes of the whole world.”

  “Wow! I sure would like to believe that!”

  “Yeah, me too.” They gathered up their lunch wrappers and returned to work inside. The air was hushed and cool in the museum,
a welcome relief from the clamor and warmth outside.

  “You know,” Rivka said as they began packing a display of Iron Age pottery, “it would be very ironic if these artifacts survived three thousand years of careless warfare and mayhem only to be destroyed in a bombing raid after we’ve been so careful to protect them.”

  “But they did survive for three thousand years, Rivka. And so will Israel. Even if we lose this war, the evidence will be here, safely buried for a future generation of Jews to unearth, proving once again that this land belongs to us.”

  * * *

  Two days later, Hannah attended Sabbath services with Devorah. It comforted her to imagine Jake and Ben and a minyan of ten men reading the same Torah passages and reciting prayers as they huddled beside their tanks. When she and Devorah took the children to the park that afternoon, they were surprised to find it crowded with picnickers, as hundreds of officers enjoyed a short home-leave from the front. Rachel pointed to the men in uniform, saying, “Abba . . . Abba.”

  “You’d never know that we’re teetering on the brink of war, would you?” Devorah said. “It almost looks like a normal Sabbath afternoon. Maybe there won’t be a war after all.”

  They learned a few days later that it was precisely what the Israeli government wanted the Egyptians to think. Sending so many officers home on leave had lulled them into believing that Israel wasn’t ready to attack. But at 7:45 A.M. on June fifth, Israeli fighter jets launched a surprise air strike on eleven Egyptian air bases, destroying or disabling ninety percent of their aircraft. In a huge gamble, Israel had left behind only twelve planes to patrol Israeli airspace and committed the remainder to demolishing Egypt’s huge airforce. Syria and Jordan soon lost their airforces as well when they scrambled to Egypt’s aid.

  “Thank heaven we don’t have to live in fear of air raids anymore,” Hannah said as she and Devorah listened to the news in astonishment.