Pursuit (40 page)

The attack this time did not come from any loosely organized band of Arabs intent upon loot, simply venting their fury on what they considered unwarranted intrusion of their land; the attack this time was a co-ordinated operation between the Egyptian Army and the Jordanian Arab Legion. The Egyptians had come down from El Arish through the edge of the Sinai intending to join up with the Jordanians on the Dead Sea; the Jordanians had come from Ammon through Karak and Safi and had skirted the flat water around the southern tip of the sea between Sdom and the Hakemah Cave. The intent of the operation was to sweep the western Negev and the Judean deserts and then move north to Jericho and join with the Arab Legion fighting in the Jerusalem sector. In the course of the operation all Negev and Judean settlements in the path of the combined armies were to be destroyed, to demonstrate to the world as well as to the Israelis that their hope of settling Jews in the age-old land of the Arabs was doomed to failure, and that when the war was finally over and won, the shifting sands of the region would once again provide terrain for wandering Bedouin tribes, but no permanent enclaves for Jews.

The radio call for help was received by the Givati Brigade at a time when the full effort of the southern command was dedicated to Operation Horev, designed to expel the Egyptians from the area starting at the Egyptian border in the Sinai to just below Ashdod, when every man and machine and effort was desperately needed on the front from Rafa to Yad Mordekhai to Majdal. When Joel Perez's continuing cries for aid increased, a conference was called at Sa'ad.

“We are going to lose settlements,” Colonel Wishnak said sadly. Wishnak was in charge of the force assigned to attack Gaza and then move south to cut off aid from Rafa. “It's tragic but there's no way we can hope to save them piecemeal. Normally we send all the help we can, but right now Horev takes precedence. Our best hope to save the settlements that remain is to drive the Egyptians out of the region, to inflict enough damage on them here, where we have them, so they'll sue for peace. And hope our boys in the north, in the Latrun-Jerusalem sector, do the same to Arab Legion. When there is peace, true peace, only then will the settlements really be safe.”

Lieutenant Grossman, listening passively, knew better than to raise the argument that his pregnant wife was at Ein Tsofar; many if not most in the room had someone in one settlement or another, and many a kibbutz or moshav had been overrun and destroyed with everyone killed. Lieutenant Grossman was also aware that an army cannot operate successfully without discipline, but he knew regardless of all other arguments that he, personally, would be at Ein Tsofar as soon as he could get there after this idiotic conference was over. The others may put Israel first, but he did not; he was fighting for his family and nothing else. He had no idea of what he would do when he got to Ein Tsofar, but he felt he would have time to plan that on the way there.

Max Brodsky, watching Grossman and knowing of Deborah's presence at the Ein Tsofar clinic, could almost read the lieutenant's mind. He broke into the discussion.

“I know we can't hope to split our forces and try to save each individual kibbutz or moshav one at a time,” he said quietly, “but Ein Tsofar represents more than just any other settlement. In fact, most of the other settlements in the area have been abandoned and their people concentrated at Ein Tsofar, since it always had the best chance of survival by itself. So by saving Ein Tsofar we would, in effect, be saving many settlements at one time—or at least their people, which is the important thing. Also, this attack is not by some roaming band of Arabs. This is a joint Egyptian-Jordanian army operation. If the Egyptians can open and maintain a line behind our front, and get tanks and troops to the Jerusalem sector without leaving one settlement standing that we can use as a base later to stop them …” He left the balance unsaid.

Colonel Wishnak frowned. “What are you suggesting? That we change our objectives? We can't do that, you know.”

“I know. And I know how important Operation Horev is; it's vitally important. But I believe we can afford to give at least three or four tanks and a company of infantry to help Ein Tsofar.” He went on quickly before anyone could interrupt him. “I suggest Lieutenant Grossman lead the force; he's familiar with the area.” He shrugged. “Those of us who stay will just have to fight that much harder to compensate for the men who are gone.”

There was silence for a moment or two; then Colonel Wishnak sighed.

“We'll have to take it up with headquarters …”

“Headquarters has enough problems of its own,” Grossman said harshly. He knew what headquarters would say about weakening the striking force at that moment; it would have been the same thing he would have said under other conditions. He stared coldly into Wishnak's eyes. “The object of Operation Horev is to wipe out the Egyptians in the Negev. Well, the brigade attacking Ein Tsofar is Egyptian and they're in the Negev. We're wasting time.” He swung around, pointing. “I'll take you—and you—and you. Three tanks is all. And Company B in personnel carriers. Four carriers is all.” He glanced at his wristwatch. The total authority of his voice as well as his mien made opposition difficult. “I'll meet with the commanders outside.”

He turned and walked from the room without looking back. The three selected tank commanders as well as the commander of Company B looked at Wishnak's expressionless face a moment, and then followed Grossman. In the area outside the command post, the commander of the infantry company brought up a point while the tank commanders waited.

“With only four carriers, Lieutenant, we're going to be crowded.”

“You'll be even more crowded,” Grossman said succinctly. “I want each tank and each troop carrier to bring along as large a log as they can carry either inside or on top, plus about fifty feet of chain, each.”

The commanders all grinned. It had been a tactic that had often been discussed but had not been used as yet.

“Right!” they said in a chorus, and went to make the necessary arrangements.

In the command post there was dead silence when the five men had left. Those remaining looked at Colonel Wishnak, wondering if he was going to counter the orders of the brash lieutenant. Colonel Wishnak studied the curious faces about him for a moment, and then cleared his throat.

“Back to business, gentlemen. Now, about the attack on Gaza.”

The three tanks and the four crowded troop carriers traveled almost due east at first, moving at top speed along the Israeli-controlled roads until they reached a point just north of Beer Sheba, where Israeli territorial control ended. Night had fallen before they reached the Arab-controlled area, and from there on they traveled without lights, weaving slowly between the rolling dunes, moving onto the old track on which Dov Shapiro had guided Wolf and Brodsky with the arms for Ein Tsofar so many months before, and on which Grossman had left the settlement after the battle for the kibbutz. Grossman, standing in the hatchway of the lead tank with the tank commander beside him, judged their direction from the stars; moonlight furnished the little illumination they needed to avoid the shadowed wadis. Although Grossman was desperately concerned as to the situation at the settlement, he forbade all radio communication either with the kibbutz or even between tanks. If the enemy forces were as great as Perez had indicated in his radio calls for help, his real weapon would not be his small group, but surprise, and he could not be sure that the Egyptians did not have radio-direction finders.

At three in the morning they came inching their way down the steep pass in the cliffs some six miles south of the settlement, around a sweep in the mountain range, and came to rest near the shore of the sea. Grossman could only hope that the attacking Egyptian and Jordanian forces were resting, putting off their next strike against Ein Tsofar until daylight, because there was nothing he could do before then. Daylight was essential to his plan. The tanks and the carriers waited, black shadows against the blacker shadow of the mountain, total silence imposed, smoking forbidden. Dawn seemed to take forever to break. At five the order was given to drop the logs behind the vehicles and chain them to the tow rings. In the growing light the marks made by the passing Egyptian tanks moving through to join the Arab Legion forces could be plainly seen on the shore of the sea.

Now at last radio silence was broken with a vengeance. Each tank and troop carrier began a bombardment of the air with a series of short orders, barked out in staccato style:

“Tank Force B, spread out for the attack!”

“Commander of Force E, get your tanks in line!”

“Six tanks in each column! Ammunition loaders at your posts!”

“Carriers A through G to the left echelon, mortars in position!”

“Move! Move! Move!”

With the radio operators constantly barking orders to imaginary forces into their radios, the small force moved out, fanning to cover the area between the sheer mountains and the sea as completely as their limited numbers could manage, plowing across the plain and around the curve in the mountain range into view of the settlement. In the distance across the sandy terrain they could see the faint outlines of the settlement, see the ring of tanks like dogs around a treed animal, barking with the spitting of shellfire, see the flash of answering guns from the roofs of some of the buildings. The commander of the lead tank put his mouth to Grossman's ear, screaming to be heard.

“They're still holding out!”

The logs behind the tanks and the carriers prevented the vehicles from obtaining any great degree of speed, but speed was not what Grossman wanted. He wanted dust, and the bouncing, leaping, twisting logs battered the sandy plain, splintering and rocketing, raising a cloud of dust that rose in a huge curtain, spreading from the cliffs to the shore of the sea and beyond, rolling behind the lumbering vehicles, towering over them. From the kibbutz it must have appeared as if the entire 8th Armored Brigade was coming to the rescue. Grossman only hoped the Egyptians would have the same impression, for he knew if the enemy decided to stand and make a fight of it, his small force would be decimated in minutes. But the Egyptian commander apparently came to the conclusion that one settlement, even one as important as Ein Tsofar, was not worth jeopardizing his main objective of reaching Jerusalem; he ordered his forces to withdraw. Soldiers ran for their carriers, tanks wheeled and lurched away to the north, raising their own dust screen as they pulled out. Ein Tsofar had been rescued without a shot having been fired by its rescuers.

Grossman's small force drew up beside a tank trap that had not been there when he had last seen the settlement. The trap had served its purpose; two Arab tanks were upended in it, burning. They had apparently ventured into the trap in the dark, and their failure had prompted the wait for daylight that had played such a large part in the rescue. There was a brief cheer from the settlement's remaining defenders as the Israeli tanks drew up and stopped; Grossman and the others jumped down and ran for the fence. The wire had been breached in many places and he could see that most of the buildings had gaping holes in them from the intense shelling. Bodies were scattered around the perimeter of the wire; dead men were draped from the small windows of the outposts. Joel Perez lay near the shattered gate, his stomach ripped open by a bayonet; his wife lay nearby, nearly decapitated by the sweep of some Arab blade.

Arab and Israeli bodies covered the area before the administration building; the fighting there had been hand-to-hand and fierce. The generator for the Ein Tsofar lighting system had been blasted from its base and was tilted to one side, half buried in the sand; the fuel that had serviced it was soaking into the sand from a ruptured tank. The flag that had been flown from the roof of the administration building was torn in shreds and lay on the ground in the blood of the Arab who had pulled it down. Grossman and several others ran for the cave that had been the hospital; the opening to the cave had been barricaded completely with beds, litters, and bedding. He raised his voice even as he started to tear at the barricade.

“Is anyone in there? This is Ben Grossman of the Givati Brigade! Can you hear? Is anyone in there?”

There was silence. With a curse and a terrible fear in his heart he started to rip at the barricade and then suddenly stopped, motioning the others to stop also; a bullet could well greet the first to remove that cover and be exposed. He raised his voice again, this time in a bellow.

“Is anyone in there? This is Ben Grossman of the Givati Brigade! We're here to help you …”

There was a muffled scream of joy from inside and hands began to tear at the barrier from both sides; the barricade came down in minutes and the men entered. The cave was in darkness except for the slanting bar of sunlight that came from outside. The wounded were lying on the floor, the cots and bedding having been used to block the entrance. Ben stared into the blackness and then grabbed the first nurse he saw.

“Deborah Assavar—Grossman—where is she?”

“Ben! Ben!”

He turned, searching. Deborah was lying on the floor of the cave at the rear, wrapped in a sheet. She was laughing and crying at the same time and he realized it was the first time he had heard tears in Deborah's voice. He hurried to her and knelt beside her, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, searching visibly for the wound. Then he saw that she was trying to sit up while still trying to protect a small bundle in her arms.

“Your son … I couldn't deliver … this big cow body of mine and I couldn't deliver … I thought I was going to disappoint you … I thought I was going to lose the baby, he was so big and he wouldn't come out … and … and then the shelling started and a shell hit just over the cave entrance and I thought we were all dead and … and the baby … just seemed to pop out …” She looked down at the small red-faced creature in her arms and then looked up at Ben, smiling tremulously. “Our son, Ben … your son you wanted so badly …”