For six more months the young girl stayed in the swirling dust of Caraolos and worked among her children. Her time in the succession of DP and internment camps had done nothing to harden or embitter her. She lived only for the moment when she could once again see Palestine … Eretz Israel… . The magic words became an obsession for her too.
Many hours had passed when Karen finished telling her story to Kitty Fremont. During the telling a rapport had been established between them. Each detected the loneliness and the need for companionship of the other.
“Have you heard anything further about your father?” Kitty asked.
“No. Not since La Ciotat, and that was very long ago.”
Kitty looked at her watch. “Goodness … it’s past midnight.”
“I didn’t notice the time,” Karen said.
“Neither did I. Good night, child.”
“Good night, Kitty. Will I see you again?”
“Perhaps … I don’t know.”
Kitty stepped outside and walked away from the building. The thousands of tents were still now. A searchlight from the watchtower swept over the waves of canvas. Dust kicked up and blew around her feet and she tightened her coat. The tall figure of Ari Ben Canaan walked toward her and stopped. He handed her a cigarette, and they walked silently over the bridge out of the children’s compound. Kitty stopped a moment and looked back, then continued on through the old people’s area to the main gate.
“1 will work for you on one condition,” Kitty said, “that that girl does not go on the escape. She stays in this camp with me.”
“Agreed.”
Kitty turned and walked toward the sentry house quickly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: The plan which David had romantically called Operation Gideon moved into action. At Caraolos a large batch of bills of lading and British army identification cards were forged by Dov Landau and given to Kitty Fremont. She carried them from the camp and turned them over to Ari Ben Canaan.
The delivery of the bills of lading enabled Ben Canaan to complete the first phase of his scheme. During his survey of Cyprus he had become familiar with a large British supply depot on the Famagusta road near Caraolos. It was a fenced-in area containing several acres of trucks and other rolling stock and a dozen enormous warehouses. During the war the depot had been a major supply base for the Allies in the Middle East. Now some of the stock was still being shipped to British forces in that part of the world. Other stock had been declared surplus and had been bought up by private consignees. There was always some measure of movement from the depot to the Famagusta harbor.
Mandria’s Cyprus-Mediterranean Shipping Company was the agent for the British Army on Cyprus. In that capacity Mandria had a stock list and numbers of all the materials stored at the depot. He also had a very adequate supply of bills of lading.
On Thursday at 8:00 a.m., Ari Ben Canaan and thirteen Palmachniks, all dressed in British uniforms and carrying British papers, pulled to a halt before the main gate of the depot in a British truck. Zev Gilboa, Joab Yarkoni, and David Ben Ami were in the “working party.”
Ari, who was carrying papers as “Captain Caleb Moore,” presented a list of requisitions to the depot commander. Ari’s “working party” had been detailed to gather the listed material and take it to the Famagusta docks for shipment aboard the SS Achan.
The forgeries were so perfect that the depot commander did not for a moment remember that Caleb was a spy for Moses in the Bible and that the Achan, a nonexistent ship, carried the same name as the man who stole the treasury at Jericho.
The first item the bills of lading called for was twelve trucks and two jeeps. They were rolled out of their parking area and checked out to “Captain Caleb Moore.” The “working party” then moved from warehouse to warehouse, loading their twelve new trucks with everything that would be needed for the Aphrodite/Exodus to make her trip to Palestine with three hundred escapee children.
Joab Yarkoni, who was in charge of fitting the ship, had drawn up a list of things which included a late-model radio receiver and transmitter, canned foods, medical supplies, flashlights, small arms, water cans, blankets, air-conditioning units, a loudspeaker system, and a hundred other items. Joab was very sad because Ari had insisted he shave off his big black mustache. Zev’s mustache met the same fate, for Ari feared this would identify them as Palestinians.
In addition to supplies for the Exodus, David took a few tons of the things most urgently needed in Caraolos.
Zev Gilboa nearly went to pieces when he saw the British arsenal. In all his years in the Palmach they had always needed arms, and the sight of so many lovely machine guns and mortars and carbines was almost more than he could stand.
The “working party” moved with clocklike precision. Ari knew from Mandria’s lists where everything was located. Joab Yarkoni rounded out the afternoon’s work by taking a few cases of scotch and a few of brandy and a few of gin and a few of wine-for medicinal purposes.
Twelve brand-new trucks crammed with supplies supposedly headed for the Famagusta harbor, where both supplies and trucks would be put aboard the SS Achart. Ari thanked the British commander for his excellent cooperation, and the “working party” left six hours after it had entered.
The Palmachniks were flushed with the ease of their initial victory, but Ari did not give them time to rest or be too proud of themselves. This was but a beginning.
The next stop of Operation Gideon was to find a base for the trucks and material they had stolen. Ari had the answer. He had located an abandoned British camp on the outskirts of Famagusta. It had apparently been used once by a small service unit. The fence was still up, two wooden office shacks and the outhouses remained. Electric wiring from the main line was still in.
During the night and for the next two nights all the Palmachniks from Caraolos came to this camp and labored feverishly pitching tents, cleaning the area, and generally making it appear to be once again in service.
The twelve trucks and two jeeps were painted the khaki color of the British Army. On the doors of each vehicle Joab Yarkoni drew an insignia which could be mistaken for any one of a thousand army insignias and the lettering: 23rd Transportation Company HMJFC.
The “company” office had enough actual and forged British papers and orders strewn about to give it an authentic look.
In four days the little camp with the twelve trucks looked quite natural and unimposing. They had taken enough British uniforms from the depot to dress the Palmachniks adequately as soldiers and enough of everything else to stock the camp completely.
As a finishing touch Joab Yarkoni put a sign over the entrance gate which read: 23rd Transportation Company HMJFC. Everyone sighed with relief as the sign raising officially dedicated the encampment.
Zev looked at the sign and scratched his head. “What does HMJFC stand for?”
“His Majesty’s Jewish Forces on Cyprus … what else?” Joab answered.
The pattern of Operation Gideon was set. Ari Ben Canaan had had the utter audacity to form a fake unit of the British Army. Wearing a British uniform, he had established Mos-sad Aliyah Bet headquarters in broad daylight on the Famagusta road, and he was going to execute the final phases of his plan using British equipment. It was a dangerous game, yet he held to the simple theory that acting in a natural manner was the best cover an underground agent had.
The next phase of Operation Gideon became fact when three Americans from a merchant freighter landed in Famagusta and jumped ship. They were Mossad Aliyah Bet men who had received training during the war in the United States Navy. From another ship came two exiles of Franco Spain. Often former Spanish Loyalists worked Aliyah Bet ships. Now the Exodus had a crew, the balance of which would be filled out by Ari, David, Joab, and Zev.
Hank Schlosberg, the American skipper, and Joab set to the task Of refitting the Exodus into an immigrant runner. Larnaca was a small port and Mandria certainly knew the right way to produce silence over any unusual activity around the Aphrodite at the end of the pier.