Day After Night

And then it was as if nothing had happened. A few men stood at the door, sharing a cigarette and calling out to some of the girls, who were strolling arm in arm.

Nathan and Tirzah came running toward Shayndel and Zorah. “What happened? Where is Uri?” Nathan asked. “And Bob? Where are they?”

Shayndel picked up one of Bob’s shoes and pointed.

Nathan sprinted to the barrack door and started knocking. “Let me in there,” he called. “This has to stop.”

The noise started to attract attention. Esther and Jacob joined Zorah, who explained what was happening. A few minutes later, the sallow British sergeant known as Wilson-the-antiSemite arrived. “What’s going on here?” he barked. “What’s going on?”

Wilson shoved Nathan aside and tried the latch. “Open up,” he shouted. All of the windows were shut tight as well. “Open the door,” he yelled and pounded on it with the butt of his gun. “That is an order.”

“You have a little dick,” came the reply in Hebrew, setting off a roar of laughter.

“What did he say?” Jacob asked.

“Shhhh,” said Zorah.

Goldberg ran to the door and shouted to the men inside, in Yiddish, “What’s going on?”

“Is that you, Goldberg?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“We demand justice,” Francek announced. “We demand our freedom. We will not release these two Yishuv stooges until every last man is out of Atlit. Go tell those fucking British assholes that, would you?”

Zorah watched Goldberg’s craggy face register amusement, worry, and annoyance. He returned ten minutes later with Colonel Bryce, his aide, and four soldiers carrying bayonets through a crowd that included nearly every inmate in the camp.

Sergeant Gordon knocked at the door and announced, “Colonel Bryce will address you now.”

“Gentlemen,” said Bryce. “I have just spoken to a senior member of the Jewish Agency in Tel Aviv. A delegation is on its way to talk to you directly. The matter will be settled when they arrive.”

He gave orders for two of the armed men to stay, and left, taking the hated Wilson with him

.

The crowd kept a nervous watch. The mood was tense but not grim. A break in the routine boredom of a day in Atlit was always welcome, and as the hours passed, some of the children started kicking around a battered soccer ball. Esther tried to push Jacob to join the other boys, but he refused to budge. Zorah said, “Let him be.”

“He needs to build up his strength,” said Esther. “He must learn to join in with the others.”

“I’m not sure that’s in his nature,” Zorah said.

“I know. All these other boys are so robust and it seems all they talk about is fighting and farming. I’m afraid Jacob is not built for that.”

“There will be a place for him. Among Jews, there is always a place for the thoughtful ones.” But Zorah frowned as soon as the words left her lips; she didn’t know if that would hold true in Palestine. What if all of the pioneer propaganda turned out to be prophetic and Eretz Yisrael became a nation filled with new kinds of Jews: soldiers, farmers, and athletes living on communes, cheerfully following the rules, arguing about nothing but military tactics and crops and soccer?

What would happen to a dreamy child in such a world? What would happen to the solitary ones, with inward-facing souls? Where would Jacob fit in? Where would she go?

“Are you unwell?” Esther asked. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

“I’m fine,” Zorah said. “It’s not too hot today.”

“It is beautiful,” said Esther in halting Hebrew. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and looked up at the sky. “This may be the most beautiful day I’ve seen since we got here.”

Zorah followed her gaze up to the cloudless sky.

“It would be nice to walk by the sea today,” Esther said wistfully.

“Or in the hills,” said Zorah.