Monday August 13th 1945

On Monday 13th August I overslept and after breakfast went round to the CA who were supposed to be running a trip in their truck to Tel Aviv leaving at ten o’clock. At half-past ten they apologised for keeping us waiting, said that the truck had had to go to R.E.M.E. for repairs and would not be ready for half to an hour. With true oriental fatalism we ignored the date and left at about twenty to one. The patience of Job may have been outstanding but I think that, after six months in the Middle East, everyone must lose either their impatience or their sanity. The run to Jaffa is nearly all downhill; out of Jerusalem by the Jaffa Road, right through the new town, then down and down with steep gradients, hairpin bends and sudden climbs over the shoulders of little hills. The first miles are over open rock-strewn country. Then for some miles we plunged into an afforestation area, mainly conifer, cypress, cedar and some sort of pine. Beyond, we passed one of the biggest of the Jewish settlements in the country, the community camp of Kiryath Anavim. They have certainly worked wonders in making the desert blossom forth with vineyards and orchards. A great deal of hard work has gone to the production of a really good agricultural project. The Arab nations deeply resent the intrusion of Jews here – we have heard several Arab demonstrations (or Jewish counter-demonstrations) while we have been staying here – but the Jews have certainly shown that with such bits of Palestine as they have already got they have produced better results than any other nation, least of all the Arabs, could have done.

From Kiryath Anavim we went over rolling plateaux partly under crops, partly grazing land with occasional orchards or vineyards, gently dropping still, to Lydda where the coastal plain begins. Here the land is much more fertile and the road passes through an almost continuous succession of orchards, orange and banana groves, figs and vineyards with hedges either of cypress or prickly pear. The houses are Arabic, rather tumbledown-looking, right into the outskirts of Jaffa, although there are a few British (or American) style roadhouses and wayside cafes. Suddenly, through Jaffa, the houses become no longer tumbledown but uncompleted and ultra modern. This is Tel Aviv. For mile after mile we drove through streets of three storied ferro-concrete shops, flats and houses down to the front and then along parallel with the coast. Tel Aviv is a beautiful modern town of which not one house was built 25 years ago, although it now has 150,000 inhabitants. Apart from the language (all the signs are in Hebrew and, sometimes, English) and the sight of an occasional bearded Rabbi, one would never imagine that one was in the Middle East. As it was by this time after two we were more than somewhat hungry. We therefore made a beeline for the Jewish Services Club, the “Ark”, from its shape I presume. Here sixteen of us sat down, round the outside of one of the horse-shoe shaped tables, on high stools. A little Jewish waiter appeared inside the horseshoe and as soon as all the sixteen had arrived and collected their meal tickets from the cash desk, he took the sixteen tickets and re-appeared with sixteen bowls of soup on a tray. The ledge underneath the table, inside, held the tray while he quickly served them. Then back for dinner and sweet, all served from the hatch just opposite the open end of the horseshoe, with an absolute minimum of unnecessary labour or fuss. The system impressed me very much. Perhaps the secret of Jewish success lies in such organising ability and efficiency.

The club provides facilities for games, tours, introductions to civilian families, bathing and changing facilities, barber’s shop, showers and library as well as the restaurant and a snack bar. The grounds slope down to the promenade, which is very like the promenade at any other modern seaside resort, so Frank and I sat watching the Mediterranean and the swimmers, a few yachts and surf canoes. After about an hour we went to the changing rooms, received a numbered brass disc on a string in exchange for our signature and a bag containing our valuables sealed with a signed piece of gumstrip and went for a swim. The sea was a very pleasant change, the water being fairly calm but sufficiently wavy to make itself felt. After some time we returned and got our valuables back in exchange for the disc and our identical signature next to the original. Fairly foolproof, isn’t it?

I wanted to go round the bay to Jaffa but, as we had only two hours left, Frank persuaded me to laziness and we wandered along some of the wide, tree-lined shopping streets. The people are, of course, all European types but of every class. Tel Aviv boasts that every one of its 150,000 inhabitants, from the Mayor to each scavenger, is a Jew. I was interested in the types of shops. We walked for some distance and the most striking point was the number of often quite small bookshops. Novels and lighter books were displayed but the emphasis seemed to be n Science, Agriculture and technical books. There were some, but noticeably few, clothing shops. There were many shops of the lemonade and cake type but their prices were (by Army standards) high. I suppose that is typical in a seaside resort.

We bought some oranges, made our way back to the Ark, had tea and came back by truck in the gathering darkness to Jerusalem. As it was then pretty late I did some reading and writing and went to bed.