Leon Uris by The Haj Page B

Haganah is, it would eventually have to take on the Arab Legion. It’s a damned good little army. Our situation is this. We can’t do a hell of a lot more against the Mufti without having the entire Arab world cave in on us. We’re giving serious consideration to some very bright ideas.’
    ‘Namely?’
    ‘A young officer has recently joined the staff here. He’s a bit of an off horse, one of those maverick types who pop up now and again. He’s captivated the general with some quite original notions.’
    ‘What’s his background?’
    ‘Captain. Scottish ancestry. Deeply religious childhood, son of missionaries. I say, he’s rabidly in favor of Zionism and, incidentally, he speaks Hebrew like a Jew.’
    ‘What does he know about the Arabs?’
    ‘Long tour of duty in the Sudan. Bit of a desert rat. He’s won some measure of renown going on a one-man mission in search of the lost Zarzura oasis in the Libyan Desert. And don’t challenge him on the Bible.’
    ‘What does he have in mind?’ Gideon asked, smothering his growing curiosity.
    ‘A small elite force of Jewish night fighters given a free hand to strike where and when necessary without written orders. No one will ever be called to task over what they do. What do you think?’
    ‘It’s an interesting idea.’
    ‘Shall I ask him to join us?’
    Gideon nodded. Colonel Foote pushed a buzzer, then lifted the phone connected to the bar. ‘Mr. Rothschild, there’s a chap at the end of the bar ... yes, a captain. Would you send him up? No, no thank you, we have plenty of coffee.’
    A knock was followed by the entrance of a smallish but handsome dark-haired man in his early thirties. ‘You must be Gideon Asch.’ He spoke in a most friendly manner. ‘I’m a longtime admirer. I’ve traveled by your Sinai maps. Orde Wingate at your service.’
    It was a lifelong friendship at first handshake.
    ‘What are you up to, Captain Wingate?’ Gideon asked.
    The Scot smiled charmingly, but Gideon noticed that slight hint of lovely madness in his eyes. ‘We have to take the night away from the Mufti,’ he said. ‘You’re half Bedouin yourself, Mr. Asch. You know it can be done with a small, dedicated striking force. They must be good, very good, the best. They have King David’s tradition to uphold. I’ll let them know that.’
    ‘How many boys do you have in mind?’
    ‘Deborah and Barak routed a massive Canaanite army at the foot of Mount Tabor with three hundred hand-picked men. He was able to do it because he knew the Canaanites were illiterate and superstitious and used the night and great noises as deadly weapons.’
    ‘Captain Wingate. Suppose I’m able to sell this idea to the Haganah and Ben-Gurion. We have an urgent situation in the Valley of Ayalon. It will mean trailing fifty to a hundred of the Mufti’s men deep into the Bab el Wad. How soon can you address yourself to it and how many men do you need?’
    ‘Ten, twelve. They must speak Arabic fluently. I’ll teach them what the Bab el Wad means to Jewish fighters if you’ll do the tracking for us. Give me two weeks.’
    ‘I’ll have an answer for you tonight,’ Gideon said.
    ‘I jolly well told General Clay-Hurst you’d go for it,’ Foote said jubilantly.
    ‘Captain Wingate,’ Gideon said, ‘you didn’t come upon this by revelation in the middle of the night. What is your theory?’
    ‘I am a dedicated Zionist. I believe this is Jewish land. I also believe that the ways of using these valleys and hills and deserts for defense have all been writ in the Bible. If there is ever to be a Jewish nation in Palestine, I feel destined to be a part of making it.’
    ‘What is the rest of your theory, Captain?’
    ‘The Jews, we Zionists,’ he said, ‘will never be able to settle more than a few million people here. That is reality. What is also reality is the fact that such a state will always be surrounded by tens of millions of hostile and unforgiving Arabs. You cannot expect to