168
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
Jerusalem. From here the Holy City presented an indescribably
beautiful and majestic panorama, breathtaking in the Biblical
history it encompassed.
On the left was the Jewish-built New City, the striking and
imposing tower of the Young Men's Christian Association,
the luxurious King David Hotel, and clusters of rugged stone
buildings. Beyond, on Biblical Mount Scopus, now kissed by
the setting sun, were the classic modern buildings of the Hebrew University and the Hadassah Hospital. Far to the right
I could see the mountains of Trans-Jordan rising above the
depression of the Dead Sea.
Mount Zion was directly across from us. On the Mount of
Olives was the stately Church of the Ascension, with the
Garden of Gethsemane at its base. David's Tower, the
Citadel, and the massive serrated Old City walls commanded
attention in the foreground. Inside those walls, built in the
shape of a crooked rectangle about a square mile in area, was
the Old City of Jerusalem. From where I stood I could see
the giant Dome of the Rock—the Mosque of Omar—Islam's
holy shrine, built over the spot where the Prophet is supposed
to have ascended to heaven. Within those Old City walls, too,
were the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Golgotha, the Wailing Wall, and scores of shrines holy to three faiths, which had
made Jerusalem, with its strategic position, the most foughtover city in the world for twenty centuries and more.
But this was no time for reverie. Faris took us immediately to the home of his cousin, Hashim. There we had supper, and were put up for the night. When I saw our host wearing the insignia of Ikhwan el Muslimin, I said to him: "I
have met your Moorshid in Cairo. A great man, a very noble
man. May Allah preserve him."
It pleased him immensely.
I found Deir Aboutor bristling with artillery, most of it
hidden for future use, for at this moment—a month and more
before the British mandate was to end—it was illegal to possess arms, let alone fire them, although thousands, both Arab