Kicking Out the British Day

We have just celebrated Independence Day in recognition of the day the British finally packed up and went home for tea. The festivities on the kibbutz are always the same – fireworks then barbecue then public sing-along in the dining hall. It’s all predictably nice. In America we also celebrated the official Kicking Out the Brits Day with fireworks and barbecue, but the actual events had not happened in living memory so no one remembered what it was like to live under their iron thumb.

The British as a whole are polite, civilized people in their own country. As rulers, however, they can be very different. This is the story of what happened when they came here to Kibbutz Maabarot on June 30th. It was told to me by my late husband who fought in the Jewish Brigade of the British Army during WWII. He held the rank of captain and was home on demobilization leave. The year was 1946 and the Brits came looking for members of the Hagana, an organization which was officially illegal, but essential if you were Jewish and interested in survival.

All the men were rounded up and held under guard for questioning. When they asked my husband if he was in the Hagana, he said of course, it was under their orders that he had enlisted in the British Army to fight the Nazis. While the men were being questioned the women were in the kitchen putting together little packets of pepper which they then threw into the eyes of the soldiers. In those days, nobody had pepper spray. Skirmishes were breaking out and the lieutenant in charge came to my husband to ask his help in calming the situation, saying he didn’t know how much longer he could control his men and he was afraid of a massacre. (Why my husband? Because he was still a British Army officer and he was also the most affable man in the world so he was naturally the one to be approached.)

Calm was restored and tragedy averted, but the Hagana men were arrested and held for several days. Before the Brits left the kibbutz, the soldiers ransacked the living quarters, taking whatever struck their fancy, like blankets. This was cruel. The kibbutzniks were poor. Some were living in shacks but many were in tents. They had close to nothing and the British wouldn’t even leave them that. From my husband they took a book and the only good overcoat he had. When he was released he filed a formal complaint with the Army but the answer came back that there was no evidence of theft.

This is the story as I remember hearing it. Whether from Israel or America, the British are thankfully gone. The fireworks are beautiful and the steak from the grill is comforting. And this year I raise my beer in tribute to the heroes who brought us to this point. Salute!