270
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
gave in; the little fellow was manfully carrying the bucket
when he tripped. The crowd gasped at the tragedy. She
put down her pail, seized Junior, and gave his backside what
everyone thought was a well-deserved trouncing.
The desperate shortage in Jerusalem resulted, of course,
from the Arab smashing of the water-pumping station at
Latrun, a point midway between Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. The
Arab Legion, led by English officers, held on to Latrun fanatically. Farsighted Jewish officials had long ago sealed most
private wells and collected rainwater. Baths, warm or cold,
were out of the question. The precious liquid was used for
drinking and cooking. What little was left over was used for
washing.
The food situation, too, was becoming critical. The New
City—with its hundred thousand souls—was encircled with
what had proved so far to be an impenetrable circle of Arab
steel, and convoys again could not get through from Tel Aviv.
For Passover week in mid-April, the rations had been two
pounds of potatoes, a half pound of meat, two eggs, a half
pound of dried fish, four pounds of matzos, a half pound of
matzoh flour, and one and a half ounces of dried fruit. Now
it was much worse!
In the meanwhile, the Palestine Post (printed daily in
Jerusalem, or mimeographed when the electric current gave
out) announced the opening of the Law Courts, the first Jewish Post Office, the appearance of the first policemen, and
the issuance of Israel's first immigration visa. The State was
on its way.
In the Pantiles, Mary announced that she was serving the
last of our meat, and that flour was getting low. As the pumps
depended on the local supply of electricity, we had to take
turns at using the hand pump to fill the reservoir of water
which supplied the Pantiles. After a while the well went dry,
and the pump became useless.