Cheyenne
Ms. Smarty Pantsless
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2000
- Posts
- 59,553
This article reminded me of the museum at Check Point Charlie in Berlin. It is a memorial to the creativeness of the people who were able to escape East Germany and live to tell about it. A fascinating place if you ever get a chance to visit. I had the same feeling while reading the article below. The human spirit wishes to survive, and will risk all to do so.
Preparing for war - secretly
LOU MARANO:
Copyright © 2002
United Press International
http://www.nandotimes.com/opinions/story/301051p-2633051c.html
REHOVOT, Israel (March 13, 2002 11:43 a.m. EST) - With all the moral posturing coming out of Europe about the death penalty in the United States, it's worth remembering that in my lifetime the British hanged Jews in Palestine simply for having a weapon in their possession.
It also puts into perspective the courage of a handful of families that ran a secret ammunition factory here under the noses of the British during the last years of the mandate. Their story is told in a remarkable museum display at the Ayalon Institute that provides a refreshing counterweight to the dreary and familiar saga of Jew as victim. Jews with guns is a far more bracing
theme.
As World War II drew to a close, Zionist patriarch David Ben Gurion and others knew that Jewish settlers would eventually have to fight for their independence. Before the war's outbreak in 1938, old machines for manufacturing bullets were purchased in Poland, renovated, and put on a ship for Palestine. Because
British intelligence got wind of the cargo, it was offloaded in Beirut and was not smuggled into Palestine until 1941.
Leaders of the Zionist underground decided to copy the Sten, a primitive British submachine gun, as the individual infantry weapon. By 1945 about 450 had been manufactured. But there was no ammunition.
Yossef Avidar, director of the nascent defense industry, entrusted the task to members of a kibbutz - a socialist farm cooperative - who had planned to work the land and fish on this spot near the Mediterranean coast, in the vicinity of a rail station and surrounded by British army camps. Together, the families had eight small children.
In a closed meeting, Avidar explained what was required of them. After a spirited discussion, the group decided unanimously to accept the risk.
Looking at the underground factory today, one marvels at the speed at which it was built and its quality, considering the rudimentary construction methods available to the settlers. Bulldozers dug a pit more than 100 feet long, some 30 feet wide and 30 feet deep. A bunker was cast in concrete, supported by pillars. The structure was coated with asphalt and covered by about 10 feet of earth. The whole process took only 22 days.
The site was disguised with a bakery at one end and a laundry on the other. The noise of the laundry drowned out the clamor of the machinery below, and layers of mattresses beneath the bakery oven dampened sound. Workers entered and left via concealed steps down where they took raw materials and brought up the finished product.
Fresh air was forced down the bakery chimney, and stale air was pumped out of the laundry chimney.
Working conditions were tough. The din alone would have been enough to rattle my nerves. After a guide turned on only a few machines for a few seconds, I was happy to hear them fall silent. Workdays were long, with only a short lunch and rest break. The fumes, the noise, the dust, the heat, and particularly the lack of fresh air and sunlight gave rise to general weakness and pallor
difficult to explain in agricultural workers. A doctor prescribed daily radiation by quartz lamps, precursor to the sunlamp.
Security was strict. A sign near the gate warned of foot-and-mouth disease, poultry plague and other afflictions. A series of silent lamp alarms gave warning of the approach of a suspicious person or vehicle. At the end of each shift, a watch officer inspected the soles of workers' shoes for telltale brass shavings.
For almost three years, workers led double lives. The secret was withheld from even the closest relatives until approval by the Jewish security service.
Brass was imported under the pretext it would be used for the manufacture of lipstick tubes.
For quality control, bullets were fired through two revolving paper discs, one behind the other. Excessive space between the holes meant the round was too slow and lacked sufficient power.
The ammunition was smuggled out in milk containers with false bottoms. When war came in 1947-48, it proved indispensable.
The Ayalon Institute, a short drive south from Tel Aviv, was declared a national historic site in 1987.
Preparing for war - secretly
LOU MARANO:
Copyright © 2002
United Press International
http://www.nandotimes.com/opinions/story/301051p-2633051c.html
REHOVOT, Israel (March 13, 2002 11:43 a.m. EST) - With all the moral posturing coming out of Europe about the death penalty in the United States, it's worth remembering that in my lifetime the British hanged Jews in Palestine simply for having a weapon in their possession.
It also puts into perspective the courage of a handful of families that ran a secret ammunition factory here under the noses of the British during the last years of the mandate. Their story is told in a remarkable museum display at the Ayalon Institute that provides a refreshing counterweight to the dreary and familiar saga of Jew as victim. Jews with guns is a far more bracing
theme.
As World War II drew to a close, Zionist patriarch David Ben Gurion and others knew that Jewish settlers would eventually have to fight for their independence. Before the war's outbreak in 1938, old machines for manufacturing bullets were purchased in Poland, renovated, and put on a ship for Palestine. Because
British intelligence got wind of the cargo, it was offloaded in Beirut and was not smuggled into Palestine until 1941.
Leaders of the Zionist underground decided to copy the Sten, a primitive British submachine gun, as the individual infantry weapon. By 1945 about 450 had been manufactured. But there was no ammunition.
Yossef Avidar, director of the nascent defense industry, entrusted the task to members of a kibbutz - a socialist farm cooperative - who had planned to work the land and fish on this spot near the Mediterranean coast, in the vicinity of a rail station and surrounded by British army camps. Together, the families had eight small children.
In a closed meeting, Avidar explained what was required of them. After a spirited discussion, the group decided unanimously to accept the risk.
Looking at the underground factory today, one marvels at the speed at which it was built and its quality, considering the rudimentary construction methods available to the settlers. Bulldozers dug a pit more than 100 feet long, some 30 feet wide and 30 feet deep. A bunker was cast in concrete, supported by pillars. The structure was coated with asphalt and covered by about 10 feet of earth. The whole process took only 22 days.
The site was disguised with a bakery at one end and a laundry on the other. The noise of the laundry drowned out the clamor of the machinery below, and layers of mattresses beneath the bakery oven dampened sound. Workers entered and left via concealed steps down where they took raw materials and brought up the finished product.
Fresh air was forced down the bakery chimney, and stale air was pumped out of the laundry chimney.
Working conditions were tough. The din alone would have been enough to rattle my nerves. After a guide turned on only a few machines for a few seconds, I was happy to hear them fall silent. Workdays were long, with only a short lunch and rest break. The fumes, the noise, the dust, the heat, and particularly the lack of fresh air and sunlight gave rise to general weakness and pallor
difficult to explain in agricultural workers. A doctor prescribed daily radiation by quartz lamps, precursor to the sunlamp.
Security was strict. A sign near the gate warned of foot-and-mouth disease, poultry plague and other afflictions. A series of silent lamp alarms gave warning of the approach of a suspicious person or vehicle. At the end of each shift, a watch officer inspected the soles of workers' shoes for telltale brass shavings.
For almost three years, workers led double lives. The secret was withheld from even the closest relatives until approval by the Jewish security service.
Brass was imported under the pretext it would be used for the manufacture of lipstick tubes.
For quality control, bullets were fired through two revolving paper discs, one behind the other. Excessive space between the holes meant the round was too slow and lacked sufficient power.
The ammunition was smuggled out in milk containers with false bottoms. When war came in 1947-48, it proved indispensable.
The Ayalon Institute, a short drive south from Tel Aviv, was declared a national historic site in 1987.
