The Holy City
175
think about even now. I was always sure, however, of my
American passport. As I had the least use for it, I kept it in
my hip pocket.
ARAB BATTLE, ARAB FUNERAL
ON APRIL 8, the morning before my birthday, I returned
from a night at the "Y," to find Osborne House deserted and
all the boys gone. A terrific battle for the past five days had
been raging for Mount Castcl. This was the ruins of an ancient Roman fortress commanding the road over which supplies from Tel Aviv would come to Jerusalem, and therefore
was of major importance to both Jews and Arabs. The Jews
had just launched a major offensive against it, and every available Arab had been rushed to its defense. Arab boasting had
not been in vain: they had bottled up the New City, and cut
it off from the rest of Palestine. The New City's plight was
desperate. With a population of nearly one hundred thousand
to feed and defend, it was woefully short of arms, ammunition, water, food, medicine, and armored transport. Its water
was pumped from a station at Latrun, in Arab territory, but
the Arabs had destroyed the machinery. Huge convoys waited
in Tel Aviv, 45 miles away, ready to pour into the beleaguered
city with food, water, and materiel—if the Jews could win
back Castel. The Arabs were determined that they should not.
On this morning Abdul Kader el Husscini led his men,
flushed with their victory over the Jewish convoy at Nebi
Daniel, against the fortress of Castel; a whooping, colorful
counterattack, a mass charge of 2,500 frenzied Holy Warriors,
including the Deir Aboutor gang. When I found no one in
Osborne House, I went down to the Old City; and I was there
when suddenly everyone began to yell frantically. I thought
that a prominent Jew had been caught and was about to be
hanged in public. I dared not ask, as I was alone. Then, to my