CHAPTER ONE - INTRODUCTION

              Some days, I am euphoric. Others, I am so depressed I can barely breathe. The rest of the time I run the gamut of human emotion. Such is the life of one who has dedicated herself to fighting a never-ending war: The war against bigotry, hatred, and ignorance. The war against anti-Semitism, which is not unlike the war America has fought against prejudice against African Americans.

           The similarity may not be readily apparent, so please allow me to explain. I am descended from William Phipps, the first governor of the state of Massachusetts. His wife, Mary, was almost killed in the Salem Witch Hunts. Phipps used his influence to save her life. The ignorance (based in fear of the unknown) of that blight in Massachusetts’ history was not forgotten, and when the Civil War broke out, Massachusetts created the first black regiment, led by Colonel Robert Gould Shaw.

            My family, like Colonel Shaw, fought and died for blacks in the Civil War. Why? Why did we care? We did not understand black culture. We knew very little (if anything) about African Americans. What did they like to eat? What songs did they sing? What (if any) spiritual pursuits did they have? We had no idea. So, why were we willing to die to bring an end to slavery? One reason: We knew that blacks (like all men) deserved to be free. This was a very simple motivation, but powerful nonetheless.

            How does this relate to Jews? The comparison should be obvious. What did people believe about blacks in the South (and unfortunately some still believe today)? “They are different from us. They like different music. They worship differently. They speak differently. They are a threat. We must keep them from learning how to read. We must not allow them to have an education. We must not allow them to vote. We must keep them in the cotton fields. We must keep them subjugated. Otherwise, they may decide to rise up and destroy the white race. They are a danger to us. If they will not cooperate, if they insist on asserting their right to be free, them we must beat them into submission. If that does not work, then we have no other alternative but to kill them.”

            Does any of this sound familiar? Why is it that the instant someone brings up the word “Israel” or “Jew”, all reason is removed from the discussion, and suddenly the people involved in the discussion become completely irrational? Ignorance. Fear. Most people would use the word “bigotry”. Bigotry is the result of ignorance, which breeds fear. Fear of the unknown. And, it is that fear which generates the hostility and hatred we see toward Israel today. To make matters worse, the mentality expressed in “Mein Kampf” still permeates many minds to this day. “They” (Jews) own the banks. “They” own the media. “They” control the government. “They” have all the wealth. “They” control the economy. “They” are trying to take over the world. “They” are a threat. “They” are a danger.

            People do not understand the Jew, and rather than study him and gain knowledge, people are content to pass along the latest conspiracy theories and even come up with a few of their own to explain the “oddity” that is Judaism. Jews do not go to church on Sunday; they go on the Sabbath (whatever that is). They do not even go to church; they go to synagogue (whatever that is). Jews do not celebrate Christmas; they celebrate Hanukkah (whatever that is). They light a candelabra Jews call a menorah (whatever that is). What are those funny little hats the men wear? Why do they speak Hebrew? What is the Torah? What is the Tanakh? Why do Jews not study the Bible?

            By now, the reader is convinced I am Jewish. As much as I love the label, I am not Jewish. So then you ask, what led me to embark upon this journey? The answer is not a simple one but, in short, I owe Israel. I owe Israel a debt of gratitude I can never repay, because it is through my study of Israel that I found a faith I never thought I had. I will explain how that came to be as I retrace the path that brought me to this point.  

            I am a student of history. All my life I have studied some aspect of world events: World War I, World War II, the Kennedy Assassination (of course), the Holocaust, etc. The easiest way to ensure that I will watch a movie is to advertise that it is “based upon a true story”. Often, I follow up by reading books and/or watching documentaries on the subject. Sometimes a story “gets” to me. This is the same phenomenon with which journalists and reporters are familiar. The event touches my heart in a way that makes it impossible to let go. As a result, I dig into it even further.

            One such event was the Holocaust. Many things disturb me about this moment in history (besides the obvious). I understand the historical setting that permitted Hitler to rise to power. I understand how he was able to manipulate the public into believing Jews were the problem; Germans needed a scapegoat on which to blame their misery, and Hitler provided one. That is where my understanding ceases to exist. Please do not misunderstand what I am about to say. I do not, nor would I ever, blame Jews for the Holocaust. It is the psychology which I do not understand. What drives a people to accept their fate silently and without a fight? Yes, there were those who fought. I loved the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. Not only did Jews fight the Nazis; they planned that fight well in advance. This story was right up my alley.

            But, what about those who did not resist? At first, of course, Jews did not realize the magnitude of what was happening. They knew they were being persecuted, but given their history this was not a surprise. Jews were demonized. Again, it was nothing new in Jewish history. Then came the ostracization. And the yellow stars. And the “Juden Verboden” signs. Jews became outcasts, but again, this was nothing new in the history of their people. However, a dramatic change began to occur. Suddenly, Nazis were raiding Jewish homes, stealing not only their artifacts but kicking them out and commandeering Jewish homes for Nazis. Jews were segregated into ghettos. At some point, the proverbial handwriting was on the wall and could no longer be denied.

            Jews did offer some limited resistance. In the ghettos people learned to smuggle things in and out, whether it was food or messages. They learned how to continue with their traditions in secret, albeit always in fear the Nazis would burst in at any moment. But then came the round-ups. Jews were dragged from their homes and thrown into trucks. Anyone who struggled was beaten mercilessly. Some were shot. So people began to acquiesce. They believed if they cooperated things would be alright in the end. Rumors were plentiful, and there was talk Jews were being put into “work camps”. No one imagined the pure evil that was occurring.

            Those who were taken by the SS found themselves packed into trains like sardines. Some Jews died in transit from dehydration. Still, they wanted to believe God would protect them. Their imaginations did not conceive of what awaited them. I can understand to this point how Jews found themselves at Buchenwald, Treblinka, Dachau, Auschwitz, etc. It is what happened when they arrived that I will never comprehend.

            I have the most horrifying images seared into my memory. The films I have seen of what took place during the Holocaust present pictures of things no human being should ever see, nor should he or she even be aware such unspeakable acts even exist. How does one convince a person to dig his or her own grave? How does one convince hundreds, if not thousands, of people to dig a mass grave for themselves? How does one convince those same people to line up quietly alongside the grave and wait for the bullets that will send them into it? Yes, the Nazis had machine guns. But, surely if everyone rushed the guards someone would have survived? Is it better to accept certain death, or fight in the hope one might live? This is the perplexing question that has haunted me all of these years.

Upon arriving at the “work camps”, Jews were packed into “showers” for “delousing” by the hundreds. First, they were stripped naked and shaved of all their hair. Then, they were herded in like cattle. The strange thing about these “showers” was that there were no shower heads. When the Zyclon-B was dropped into the “shower”, the sickening realization finally swept through the room. But, did the Jews fight? Did they scream? Did they claw at the door and try to get out? Not according to Nazi diaries. In fact, the Nazis were astounded by what they heard coming from inside the “showers” as the Jews were slowly gassed to death. They heard singing. They were so dumbfounded, the Nazis even recorded the words that were being sung:

“I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah.

“Though He is delayed, I still believe.”

            Now comes the part that has me terribly conflicted. Those Jews who were deemed to be fit enough to work were spared “delousing”. Instead, they were assigned to remove the bodies afterward and take them to the ovens. How does one do that? How does one watch his people being slaughtered, help cremate them, and somehow comfort himself with the knowledge that at least he is still alive? In my mind, that is betrayal on the most fundamental level. True, the instinct to survive is the strongest instinct humans have. But, at what cost? And, if that instinct is so strong, why did it not manifest itself in other ways, such as fighting their captors? Submissive survival? I do not understand. Could I live with myself day after day, comforted by the knowledge that at least it was not me? I cannot wrap my mind around such a thing.

            You get the idea. I have more questions than answers about that demonic period of world history. I only mention it as the foundation for the future studies in which I engaged. No narrative of Israel’s rebirth can be complete without at least some reference to the Holocaust.

            The following is the foundation from which my journey began in earnest. In the late 1970’s, I had just reached the age of majority when a movie, billed as a true story, was released. True to form, I watched it. The story hit me in the heart in a way that defies words. I believe, from the standpoint of a single individual, it is the most gut-wrenching moment in history I have ever studied.

            The movie was “Raid on Entebbe”. (An excellent film, but Hollywood took some literary license with the story. What I will present here are the facts.) June 27, 1976, Air France Flight 139 (originating from Tel Aviv) is hijacked after a stop-over in Athens, Greece. It is taken to Benghazi, Libya, for refueling and then flown to its final destination in Entebbe, Uganda. At that time, Uganda was ruled by Idi Amin Dada, a self-proclaimed general who was “President for life”. Amin was one of the most sadistic, ruthless dictators in history. Despite outward appearances for the constant camera presence during the stand-off, Amin was complicit with the Palestinians.

            After all of the passengers and crew were removed from the plane, they were taken inside the old terminal at Entebbe Airport, where the building was rigged with explosives to prevent anyone from trying to escape. Once Amin arrived, he “negotiated” the release of all non-Jews. Jewish hostages experienced déjà vu as passports that had been confiscated were sorted by nationality. All Jews were segregated and herded into a separate, more confined and less comfortable area of the terminal.

            To his credit, the Captain, Michel Bacos, refused to leave the Jews when the others were released, stating simply that he was responsible for all of his passengers. The Jewish hostages were eventually allowed to return to the larger room after everyone else had been evacuated. Then, the “negotiations” began. I put the word in quotation marks because these “negotiations” were never going to lead anywhere. The 103 hostages were, as they say, “dead men walking”. They were never going to be released. Israel suspected as much, which is why the Sayeret Matkal, the Special Forces branch of the IDF, began to put together a plan for a bold and daring rescue.

            I do not believe any other nation would have attempted such a mission. Entebbe was over 2,400 miles away. Israel would have to fly over hostile airspace undetected for virtually the entire 7 ½ hours it would take to get there. Four C-130’s, loaded with 200 commandos and equipment (one was converted to a hospital ship for the injured) would then have to land at Entebbe in full view of the Ugandan army undetected, travel over two miles from the landing strip to the terminal (again, undetected), and launch the attack to free the hostages. No small feat. Most would simply have called the idea insane.

             To make matters worse, the planes would ultimately be overweight by over 40,000 pounds, the day the mission was launched the ambient temperature was so hot the C-130’s had trouble getting lift and barely got off the ground before the end of the runway, and upon arrival there was the real possibility the runway lights would be off so the pilots would have to land “blind”. All of this was if they managed to avoid detection while flying over Arab countries that would gladly have shot them out of the sky. But, Israel was determined not to leave their own.

            The central character in the movie was Yonathan “Yoni” Netanyahu. The actor who portrayed him did an excellent job of capturing Yoni’s personality. There is a picture of him on the Internet which to me says everything there is to say about who he was. He is lying on his back with his hands behind his head, looking up at the camera and smiling. His eyes convey two messages: His intense love of life, and mischievousness. I have no doubt in my mind Yoni was a character, and my belief is affirmed by the intense love and loyalty demonstrated by those who knew him.

            By the time Israel’s daring plan was complete, the pilots had mastered the art of landing in the dark, and it had been decided to cross the miles from the airstrip to the terminal via vehicles resembling those of Idi Amin’s motorcade, as there was almost no chance Amin would ever be stopped in transit. As luck would have it, Israel had built the old terminal, so they had the blueprints to the building and were able to practice the breach in an exact replica. So, on Saturday, July 4^th, the planes went airborne, and “Operation Thunderbolt” was under way.

            The flights went without incident. Upon arriving at Entebbe, miraculously the runway lights were still on. This created yet another danger: C-130’s are rather hard to miss and the Ugandan army was on post. Could the planes land undetected? Miraculously, the answer was “yes”. There is no rational explanation as to how the guards not only did not see the planes, but did not hear them, either. So far, the operation was going more smoothly than anyone expected. The mock motorcade was unloaded, and commandos traversed the road to the terminal.

            Then things began to go wrong. Someone jumped the gun, so to speak, and shot one of the guards as the convoy passed the guard shack. One documentary I saw attributed this action to Yoni. My gut says that is a shameless accusation. He was a seasoned warrior, and not given to such impulsive behavior. However, the bottom line is the Israelis had now lost the element of surprise. A firefight ensued with the Ugandan army while commandos simultaneously breached the terminal. This is where the movie deviates from reality. In “Raid on Entebbe”, the central character of Yoni is depicted as almost a one-man rescue team, entering the terminal, fighting and killing terrorists, and then assisting the hostages in boarding the evacuation plane. The writers wanted to depict him as the hero he was. However, it was not necessary to embellish the truth; Yoni was most definitely a hero.

            The fact is Yonathan Netanyahu never made it to the terminal. He was caught in the firefight outside, and was ultimately shot and killed by the Ugandans. He was not the only casualty; three hostages also lost their lives. Two were shot during the rescue, because they did not stay down as ordered. The third, Dora Bloch, was a tragic story. She had become ill during the ordeal and had been taken to the hospital. After the successful raid, Idi Amin was so incensed he ordered his henchmen to kidnap her from the hospital. Amin butchered Mrs. Bloch. Despite the losses, the Entebbe rescue is hailed to this day as the most remarkable such mission ever undertaken.

As I said, Yoni’s story was especially poignant to me. As word of his death spread amongst the soldiers, their reaction was remarkable. One does not ordinarily see seasoned warriors react with such heartbreak. Yonathan Netanyahu was dearly loved by all who knew him. I have carried that feeling with me for all of these years. And it is his story that led me to another great man, someone whose leadership skills were readily apparent long before he ever hit the world stage, someone whom I have studied for decades and from whom I have learned much. The current Prime Minister of Israel, Yoni’s younger brother, Binyamin Netanyahu.