Aliza laughed. “They fight about everything.”
“Even pineapples?”
“Mostly they argue about politics,” Aliza said. “This time, Ofer was yelling about the British and how it’s time to throw them out, once and for all. He calls them occupiers now, and started banging on the table about how the Palmach has to stand up to them for what’s going on up north. He’s furious at the English for shooting at the refugees crossing the border over the mountains.”
“But isn’t Ofer the one who loves everything English? The one with the pipe and the teapot?”
Aliza laughed. “I must talk about them too much.”
“I like hearing about your family,” Leonie said. “But tell me, the Palmach … is that separate from Haganah?”
“Not separate. Palmach is part of the Haganah. In fact, the British trained the Palmach unit to defend Palestine against the Germans,” said Aliza. “But now they fight for the Yishuv—the Jews of Palestine, all of whom are united in support of you. Oh, not just you, Leonie. No need to blush.
“I mean all of you immigrants. You are real miracle-workers, believe me. In Eretz Yisrael, where we disagree about everything—including pineapples—everyone agrees that the Jews of Europe must be able to come here. There is no solution but to burn that damned White Paper and make good on the promises of the Balfour Declaration.”
Aliza had never spoken with such passion about politics before. Leonie shrugged apologetically. “I understand the words,” she said. “But what is the White Paper? Balfour? I’m sorry to be so stupid, but I don’t know—”
Aliza interrupted. “Don’t apologize. You were just a baby when this was decided. Look at you.” She shook her head. “You’re still a child. All you need to know is that in 1917, the English foreign secretary, Balfour, wrote a letter that promised the Jews a homeland in Palestine. It was a promise that they went back on in 1939, when they put handcuffs on Jewish immigration with a document called the White Paper.”
Aliza folded the newspaper and slipped it back into her pocket. “If they had kept their word, we could have saved so many lives. It makes me sick just thinking about it. There are a million survivors still in Germany. And I heard that the Allies are starting to lock them up inside the death camps. This is beyond imagining.
“My uncle is right,” Aliza said. “Quotas and blockades will not stop us. And the truth is, the English have always preferred the Arabs to the Jews. In fact, they are anti-Semites, though there are exceptions, of course,” she said. “Like our little commandant here in Atlit.
“But enough politics for today,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’m going over to the kitchen and see if I can get a lemon or an orange so I can show you how to give an injection.” She put her hand under Leonie’s chin and smiled. “I suppose you’ll get married right away. But it’s always good to have a trade, just in case.”
Leonie watched her go, overwhelmed by affection. Aliza seemed happiest when she was taking care of others, or telling them what to do. She never complained and seemed content with her life. Leonie wondered about the heavy gold earrings that she wore every day—her only adornment. Maybe they were a gift from her husband, or perhaps they had belonged to her mother. Aliza never mentioned children; Leonie wondered if she couldn’t have any, or if she’d lost sons during the war.
Despite all the time they spent together, the two women knew almost nothing about each other. Leonie was too shy to inquire, and there was an unspoken rule against asking survivors about their experiences.
Leonie stood up and went back inside the infirmary. It might be an hour before Aliza returned; as much as the nurse disapproved of Tirzah’s affair with Colonel Bryce, they seemed to have plenty to talk about. Leonie wandered between the cots, looking for something to do. She had already cleaned up after the morning’s roster of ills: a bad splinter, coughs, rashes, constipation, diarrhea, and chest pain that turned out to be indigestion. Starvation and malnutrition followed by abundant fruits and vegetables made for a lot of stomach trouble.
The little clinic was busiest when a group of new immigrants arrived. Doctors and extra nurses would appear for a day of physical examinations, inoculations, and paperwork. The seriously ill were taken to hospital immediately, leaving only cases of simple dehydration, sunburn, cuts, and sprained ankles for the regular nurses. Many days, Aliza and her colleagues did little more than bandage scrapes, give enemas, and dose the children with vile-tasting fish oil.
Leonie was sweeping under the cots when Aliza rushed through the door, her arm around a red-faced girl, clutching her belly. Three more women ran in behind them, all of them talking at once.
“Leonie, lay out the rubber sheet behind the curtain there and bring some towels. And the surgical kit,” Aliza ordered. “You girls, come and help me get her up on the table.
“All right now, Elka,” she said, sternly, “how far along are you?”
“I was due last week,” she panted. “The women in my family carry small.”
“You should have told me as soon as you got here,” Aliza grumbled, as she draped a sheet over Elka’s legs.
“I didn’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t have let me on the boat if they knew I was so far along. But I didn’t care. I wanted my baby born in Palestine. No one was going to stop me. No one.” She gasped as the next contraction grabbed her and her face turned scarlet again.
“Don’t hold your breath,” said Aliza. “You can make all the noise you want to.” Elka obeyed immediately with a bellow that sent her friends into peals of laughter.
Tirzah arrived with a steaming kettle of water, and Aliza sent Leonie back to the kitchen with her to fetch more. A crowd had already gathered outside, waiting for news and pacing like an extended family—even though no one knew the mother’s name.
“How much longer, do you think?” someone asked Leonie as she rushed by.
“Who wants to bet it’s a boy?”
Tirzah lit the burner under a big pot of water, and chased Leonie out into the mess hall to pace until it boiled. Fifteen impossibly long minutes later, she carried the pot back through the waiting crowd, where no one was smiling.
“What’s going on?” someone asked her. “It got awfully quiet all of a sudden.”
Leonie rushed inside and felt as though she’d walked into a tomb. The stillness was so profound, for a moment, she thought she was alone. But as her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight