The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership Read Online Free PDF Page A

attract particular attention. Reb Yisrael looks at you through large, deep-set, and weary eyes in a lean, bearded face, a clever face which shows the sensitivity of a humble religious scholar more than the ruthlessness of a militia leader.
    Truth to tell, people who knew him well at the time said it was not all that difficult for him to avoid the authorities’ detection, since there was nothing in his appearance to stamp him as an underground fighter, let alone a commander-in-chief. In fact, a British dossier of the day titled The Jewish Terrorist Index profiled him as having “a long, hooked nose, bad teeth, and horn-rimmed spectacles.” Time and again, British police on the lookout would pass him by without a second glance, seeing him as just another out-of-pocket law student, or a run-of-the-mill rabbinic scholar.
    While living on Yehoshua Bin Nun Street, the Irgun chief again became a regular congregant at the local shtiebel .
    “What a great little shul that was,” I heard him reminisce. “There I found solace when life in the underground was at its harshest. That little shtiebel became a part of my daily life. The balei batim – congregants – were wonderful: a cross-section of hard-working Tel Aviv craftsmen, small shopkeepers, laborers, and artisans. They were true amcha , solid, down-to-earth, patriotic citizens. I regularly attended their evening Talmud classes, both because I enjoyed them and because they reinforced my cover.”
    Photograph credit: Israel Government Press Office
    Begin related this through a long sigh which mutated into a chortle when he added, “These wonderful people must have thought their Reb Yisrael Sassover was nothing but a luftmensch , a good-for-nothing loafer incapable of holding down a job who had to be kept by his wife, from whom he must have somehow managed to wring a substantial dowry.”
    He explained this reasoning by citing, part in jest, part in earnest, and much in mime, the excruciating quandary he once faced when the beadle, Reb Simcha, a short, red-bearded fellow full of good cheer, came calling on him to ask him to perform a simple mitzvah . Late one afternoon, just as he was about to enter his ramshackle home, Reb Simcha called out from the other side of the street, “Reb Yisrael, we need you for the mincha minyan” – the afternoon prayer quorum. He had to shout because of the cacophony of chained dogs barking from the municipal dogs’ home, and the doomed cattle mooing and snorting in the municipal abattoir.

    Begin living undercover as Reb Yisrael Sassover, with his wife and son Benny, 12 December 1946.
    Reb Yisrael Sassover shouted back, “I shall join you presently. I just have to tell my wife I’m home.”
    When he entered, the chief of operations of the Irgun sighed in relief: “Menachem, thank God you’re back. We were getting worried. We have an action in two hours.”
    “They’re expecting me in shul for mincha ,” Menachem Begin told him. “I must go. I won’t be long.”
    After the service, on the way out from the shteibel , Reb Simcha took Begin aside, and said to him, “I have a mitzvah for you to perform, Reb Yisrael.”
    “And what is that?”
    “Our butcher, Reb Dovid, needs a favor.”
    “What kind of a favor?”
    “In order for him to get his kashrus license renewed he needs two witnesses that he is totally shomer Shabbos – observant in every way. Since all the other congregants are hard at work all day and you seem to have lots of time on your hands I want you to come with me to the Chief Rabbinate’s office to testify on Reb Dovid’s behalf. It’s a mere formality; won’t take long. The dayanim – rabbinical judges – will ask you a few questions, that’s all.”
    Begin shifted uneasily, not sure what he should answer. To be cross-examined by such sharp-eyed rabbis could unmask him totally.
    “You have a problem with this, Reb Yisrael?” asked Reb Simcha.
    “Of course not,” replied Begin, trying to pull himself