28
Palestine 1947
The next evening, Irit and I took the lead truck. She drove. I lit a cigarette and handed it to her. She took a deep pull and exhaled noisily. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” I lit one for myself. I looked out at the landscape, pitch black. I saw shadows and outlines backlit by the stars “How well do you know Haifa?” I asked.
“Well, enough.”
“And the section of the port we’re heading to, is it safe?”
She snorted. “Nothing is safe. Let’s hope the British will be asleep.”
“And the Arabs?”
“Yes, there are plenty in Haifa. The city is surrounded by their settlements.”
“They will see us?”
“Without a doubt. Nothing much gets past them. They tend to be observant, and these trucks are hardly silent.”
I mulled this over. “There’s something else Avi wasn’t telling us, or at least, not
