"Escape" to the Arabs
301
"You are very thin. You look bad. You look sick," he said
comfortingly.
Zaki and the Intelligence officer went into a comer.
"Let's see what you have in your bag," the Egyptian said,
returning. He inspected it, while the others looked on curiously. "You had another camera, a bigger one," Zaki observed.
"The Jews took it away. They take everything away from
the Christians."
"You still have your wrist watch," he observed.
"I kept it hidden in my pocket. I have worn it tonight for
the first time since leaving the Arab side." Zaki had always had
his eyes on my Gruen. He thought the metal band was solid
gold.
"Where are your new military shoes?" He astonished me
with his memory.
"I sold them to one of the American correspondents whose
shoes were stolen by the Jews." I thought this an exceptionally
convincing lie.
The two conferred again, and the Intelligence officer said:
"You will sleep here tonight. Tomorrow you must go up to
El Raudat [Arab Legion headquarters] to be questioned by
the higher authorities." With this he left me alone in a roomful of hostile Arabs.
"Sleep there!" Zaki pointed to a mat squeezed between the
worst of them.
I feared that during the night they'd steal everything of
value from my bag. I had my dollars and traveler's checks in
a money belt around my waist. I tucked the watch inside my
undershirt together with several fountain pens, feeling the
metal against my body. Resting my head against my bag, I
stretched out on the mat. I knew that by morning I'd have
fleas or lice—or both. Just before retiring I saw one of the
soldiers eating. I looked at him hungrily. Famed Arab hospitality won. The soldier offered me Arab bread, olives, and