King David Hotel

A take on the King David Hotel Bombings in Tel Aviv in 1946. An imagined story of the different perspectives of all the nationalities involved, looking at their motivations and drives in fictional form. Though the characters are named, their motivations and actions are to an extent imagined.

This first draft has only the British and Jewish views currently, don't worry, I will have a Palestinian view shortly, and I will attempt to achieve narrative parity soon.

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2. Joshua

22th June 1946

 

'We must take back the lands that have been stolen from us! We have been persecuted for too long!'

Joshua sat back in his seat, having just listened to another speech. Another! How long must it take until there was action, how much longer still until there was progress? He had heard these speeches so many times at these meetings before, but nothing was done. Threats yes, but nothing in truth, no act of defiance.

'It's funny how he wasn't even born here. Where is he from? America?' a voice said to Joshua's right, with mutterings of agreement from around him. In truth, none of those in this small room where born here either, instead they, like all the Jews in Palestine, had come here as Zionists - wanting to recreate the Kingdom of Israel. Joshua himself was from Ireland, and had answered the calls for a Jewish nation. Those calls seemed too inviting, too compelling to be ignored. He was young, 21 years old, and the idea of adventure had to be taken. Stories of adventure don't tell you the frustration though, nor the Middle Eastern flies.

They were everywhere.

Around him came people from all nations, one from the United States, another from Russia, but most had come from the war ravaged nations of Europe, having either fled the persecution there, or been forced to leave their homes and belongings. These men and women were the quietest, rarely speaking or offering suggestions, instead sitting, listening. Most of the others took this to be a lack of faith in the cause, but Joshua thought differently. All of those he had spoken to seemed to have an inner steal to them, an unbreakable will. To him, these were people who did not want to waste their words, as others were, on empty promises and threats. These people seemed bent on action, not words.

They were all members of the newly formed Irgun group, what that was no one was quite sure. But all of it's members were Jewish, and were devoted to the cause of creating a homeland for the Jews.

This particular meeting was being held at the speakers house, and as a right, he could put his own views forward, as was his right in the rules of the group. The speaker stood in the centre of the room, the bare furnishings having been moved to the side of the room, leaving space for him to stand, and for the rest of the group to sit and listen. Much like usual, the speaker mused about the laws and the rights of the Jewish people in the new nation he would create, and how all would live in peace and happiness. In three months since the group had been founded, with meetings every week, no one had ever talked about how to achieve this dream.

Perhaps they feared the cost.

 

'Our friends in the United States Jewish Association have sent funds for us to use,' the speaker continued 'and now we have the opportunity to make ourselves felt. Too long have the Arabs reaped our crops from our soil, eaten our bread, washed with our water, worshiped in our holy places. Too long have the British betrayed our cause, broken promises and handed the land that belongs to us to our enemies!'

That was most of the problem. Though more Zionists arrived by the month, there were too many against them, Joshua knew. The Muslims that already lived in Palestine were numbered in the millions to the hundreds of thousands of Jews, and behind them seemed to stand the largest empire in the world. How could they possibly succeed? They had money from America, yes, but what good was money, if they could not use it to buy bombs or guns?

Joshua looked around the room and for about the sixth time this meeting, felt his heart sink. Where there should have been a strong group of young men, sat the old and the juvenile. The usual group. As usual there were the hard line members and leaders, sat at the front, and at the back were the one-time members, the first timers and the followers. One stood away slightly, scribbling notes, looking intently at the speaker.

Perhaps he would become more prominent soon.

The thought was quickly banished from Joshua's head as he stood up. The meeting had concluded. Once again, no progression towards their goal. He looked to the man at the back, his notebook now under his arm.

Perhaps he will bring us closer to it.

 

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