212
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
heels, heiled back in unison, and all began talking at once in
German.
"Ach, meine Freunde, meine Kunde der deutschen Sprache
ist unglucklicherweise nicht so gross wie meine Liebe fur das
deutsche Volk. Ah, my friends. Unfortunately my knowledge of German is not so strong as my love for the German
people." Over and again I had used that at Bund meetings.
One of the Nazis translated my effusion into Arabic, much
to the delight of our host. Seeing me so well received,
Moustafa added his praise of the manly, bold, loyal Armenian who had been living with the Arabs. As usual, my American citizenship was an incidental detail. Our host, beside
himself, kept repeating: "Ahlan wa sahlen, mit ahlan wa
sahlen! Sharraftuna! Hallet el-baraka! Welcome and welcome
again! What an honor! What a pleasure! What a blessing
from Allah!"
The only one to speak English among the Germans was
introduced to me as Gerhard. He had a long face, dark hair,
and sideburns, and had perfected his English at a British
prisoner-of-war camp. As we sat down to a lavish dinner, I
asked him:
"How did you escape?"
"Through the Mufti's help. Twenty of us crossed the Canal
in a boat one night. Cars were waiting for us on the other
side."
"Only twenty have escaped?"
"Oh, no. More, hundreds more—some by hiding under
merchandise in trucks. Others are disguising themselves as
Arabs and carrying false papers, and others get through by
bribing. Customs officials at Ismailia are friendly. Der Grossmufti makes all the arrangements. In a few days we expect
twenty-five more comrades here. They will come with guns."
"English guns?"
"Naturlich. Stolen from camp or sold by English soldiers.
The Arabs get much equipment that way."