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For some 15 miles he rode with us, his gun pointed at my head. As we rode, he and the driver argued over what should happen to me. The usual procedure, if they catch a Yahudi, is to shoot him at once. Finally, the driver said: "Look, would I be carrying a Yahudi?" That seemed to do the trick, so the assassin motioned him to halt at a side road. As he climbed out, he glanced up & down for British patrols, then turned towards me and, bringing his gun up to his brow, he said: "B'khatirkum," meaning "by your leave." I nodded, found all I could say was: "Thanks."
Such occurrences, not always with so happy an ending, happen daily. Meanwhile, Palestine's people live on edge, wait for the next blow from either side. This year Jews and Arabs will stay inside their respective fortified areas as the rest of the world celebrates the 1947 anniversary of the birth of the Prince of Peace. The bright star which guided the Wise Men to the Manger will probably be outshone by the Very lights which British troops in Jerusalem's Old City send up through the long hours of night to spot rooftop snipers. As a new state is aborning in this ancient land, Palestine knows no peace and men of good will are hard to find.