With the White Paper of 1939 the British caved into Arab pressure (that
would never happen now–would it?) and severely limited the number of
Jews that could enter what was then called Palestine.

The White Paper meant that Great Britain was causing the death of hundreds of
thousands of Jews who could have escaped the Holocaust, had they a place
that would take them in.   The US refused to take them onto American soil, and Churchill refused to take them on English soil.

The Exodus voyage was an attempt to smuggle some of these Jews into the
country, but they were noticed by the British as they approached Haifa.
Upon the ship’s arrival in Haifa on July 18 the passengers were
transferred to three more seaworthy ships. These ships, and the
President Warfield, left Haifa harbor on July 19th for Port-de-Bouc.
Foreign Secretary Bevin insisted that the French get their ship back as
well as its passengers. When the deportation ships arrived at
Port-de-Bouc near Marseilles on August 2, the emigrants refused to
disembark, and the French refused to cooperate with British attempts at
forced disembarkation. Realizing that they were not bound for Cyprus,
the emigrants conducted a 24-hour hunger strike, refusing to cooperate
with the British authorities.

The ship’s ordeals were widely
covered by international media, and caused the British government much
public embarrassment, especially after the refugees were forced to
disembark in the remnants of Hiltler’s Germany. It is said that the events convinced the US
government that the British mandate of Palestine was incapable of
handling the Jewish refugees problem, and that a United Nations-brokered
solution needs to be found. The US government then intensified its
pressures on the British government to return its mandate to the UN, and
the British in turn were more than willing to accept this.

Boris Agulnik was a refugee from the Holocaust, in 1947  he ended up on a ship called, The Exodus.

Boris Agulnik
says that in 1947, after months of travel by train, foot and cart, his
family made its way from the Russia-China border to Poking Pine City,
the second largest German DP camp after Belsen. Their plan was to reach
Palestine. “There, my sister Yudit was born and… I finally had my brit
mila, at age three. There was no anesthetic and they said I screamed in
Russian, ‘Mommy, mommy it’s painful.’ Afterwards, I’m told, I used to
proudly go around and boast, ‘Now I am a Jew and I am going to Israel.'”

Few immigrants to Israel can claim that the story of how they arrived
entailed a lengthy sea journey that was chronicled in daily newspapers
around the world. How many have kept the El Al tickets from their aliya
flight? But Agulnik proudly shows Metro his Exodus boarding pass.

While still in the camp, Agulnik senior was approached by the Hagana.
Having been a battle-hardened colonel in the Soviet army, he was needed
in Palestine. The family boarded a truck that was part of a convoy bound
for Sete, a port near Marseilles. From there, they would be joined by
other Holocaust survivors and displaced persons and would board the
Warfield, bound for Palestine. 

“At the German-French border we were told to get out of the trucks
and cross by foot. Scared that they would not allow us through with a
three-month-old baby, my mother hid little Yudit in a box and left her
on the truck. At the other side, after [the] nerve-wracking process at
passport control, my anguished mother rummaged through the boxes until
she found my sister, who was crying from hunger and fear,” Agulnik
recalls. “One of the French soldiers noticed the commotion, but when he
saw [my mother] breastfeeding Yudit, he tactfully looked away.”

“Looking away,” however, was something the British refused to do. After
setting sail on July 11, the President Warfield soon had company. The
British Royal Navy began tailing the vessel, despite its Columbian flag.
Soon, there was little point in pretense. The destination was
Palestine, and the ship – under the command of young American Yitzhak
Aharonowitz and his mainly American crew of Jewish ex-servicemen – was
ready to convey a message to the world.

One can imagine the outcry after the ship’s real name was revealed in
bold lettering: EXODUS. If any on board the British ship failed to
understand the reference, they would have understood the unfolding drama
when the Columbian flag was lowered and the Israeli one raised. The
course of not only a ship, but a whole nation, was at stake.

“What was different about the Exodus,” explains Agulnik, “was the
massive number of passengers on board. Generally, the ships that had
been bringing in illegal immigrants before were relatively small,
carrying at the most a few hundred passengers. With over 4,500 on our
vessel, the Hagana had upped the ante. The stakes were high!”

The British government, which wanted this evolving drama to reach a
finale of its own choosing, ordered its Navy to hijack the ship.

“One of the destroyers came alongside and called over the loudspeaker to
our captain, ordering him to sail for Haifa,” relates Agulnik’s father,
Boris, a resident of Haifa. “As time passed, they could see that the
Exodus was not changing course. The instructions from the Hagana were to
sail directly to Tel Aviv, as far [as possible] from the British naval
base at Haifa. Then the British made their move.”

Some 40 kilometers offshore and outside the jurisdiction of Palestine,
the British destroyers surrounded the Exodus – one even ramming into it.
They forced their way on board the Jewish vessel, caring little for the
655 children on board, many of whom were war orphans. Challenged by the
Exodus’s passengers and crew, a fight broke out in which three
shipmates, including first mate William Bernstein – a US sailor from San
Francisco – were killed.

“The British had truncheons and were bludgeoning left, right and center.
What did we have to fight with?” sighs Boris, “Our bare fists – and
some hopelessly fought with tin cans. Yitzhak, our captain, lost his

In the end, the British took control of the ship and towed their
battered- and-bruised prize into Haifa port. Little did the Mandate
Authority realize that they were creating the images that would swing
the world’s sympathy toward the Jewish people.

Ruth Gruber, an American journalist, was waiting on the wharf as the
Exodus limped into harbor. In a dispatch, she described her first
impressions: “In the torn, square hole, as big as an open, blitzed barn,
we could see a muddle of bedding, possessions, plumbing, broken pipes,
overflowing toilets, half-naked men, women looking for children. Cabins
were bashed in; railings were ripped off and lifesaving rafts were
dangling at crazy angles.”

The rafts must have been hanging very precariously, because one of them
dislodged and drifted over to another ship, the Drom Afrika, which had
left Cape Town three months earlier carrying seven young Jewish men
trying to reach Palestine. Metro spoke to Issy (Greenberg) Granot, a
retired architect, who was on board that day and helped lift the
Exodus’s errant life raft onto the deck of the Drom Afrika – a former
mine-sweeping vessel that had been converted into a fishing trawler in
an attempt to fool the British.

“As we sailed into Haifa, we saw the Exodus being towed into port. We
watched as the Holocaust survivors on board were transferred onto three
British ships. That night, Haifa Port was alive with activity,” Granot
recalls. He describes how police patrolled the harbor, dropping depth
charges to scare off the Jewish frogmen who were working to sabotage the
British ships.

But the British had no intention of sending the Exodus passengers to
Cyprus. “They wanted to make an example and humiliate us. What better
way than by sending us back to Europe?” Agulnik asks. Exhausted from the
sea journey as well as the battle on board, all 4,515 passengers were
transferred to three freighters converted into prison ships – The Empire
Rival, The Ocean Vigor and The Runnymede Park. 

Not only reporters, but also some members of the United Nations Special
Committee on Palestine (UNSCOP) witnessed the events in Haifa Port. They
later said that what they saw influenced them to press for an immediate
solution to Jewish immigration and the question of Palestine.

The next day, the three ships left. The Agulnik family was crammed into
the belly of The Empire Rival. Boris describes the conditions on board.
“We lay crammed together in the bare hold of the freighter and the food
was inedible. Nevertheless, under the command of the Hagana, we began to
build an organization. It was decided that all passengers were to
remain on board and not disembark when we arrived in France. We were
repeatedly encouraged to resist [the British]. Even little Eli went all
out to make a nuisance of himself. He used to climb all over the place,
particularly on top of the makeshift toilets on the deck, and scream,
‘Englander, I’m here. Now come pull me down.'”

But the Hagana members who had slipped on board disguised as refugees
were plotting other acts of resistance – some more serious than others.
“No sooner were we out at sea, when one of them climbed the mast and
removed the Union Jack, replacing it with the Star of David. If they
could, they would have lynched the fellow. In the end, they released
him, never suspecting that he was a Hagana plant.”

“What we later found out was that the three Hagana chaps had brought a
bomb on board. Unfortunately, they had no timer, so they drew lots as to
who would sacrifice himself should they decide to use [it],” Boris

When the ships arrived at Port-de-Bouc near Marseilles on August 2, the
emigrants refused to disembark. The French refused to cooperate with the
British attempts to force them off the ship. “So the British Consul
came on board and tried ‘friendly’ persuasion. If we voluntarily left,
they’d arrange French papers for us, find work and so on. People were
booing and screaming. Someone shouted, ‘We know all about British
promises,'” Boris relates. He says the scene reached a head when a
passenger showed the consul a plate of that day’s food. “You call this
food. Look at it. Can you tell the worms apart from the spaghetti?” he
asked the official, who left in a huff.

Following a hunger strike by the passengers, the ships were ordered to
proceed to the British-controlled sector of Germany. Boris reveals that
he had been told that the Hagana managed to smuggle a clock on board to
use as a timer for their bomb. The plan dictated that if the Jews were
ever forced to leave the ship, the Hagana would detonate it once all
were safely off. The plan was executed when the ship reached Hamburg and
all the refugees were finally forced off the ship into DP camps.

“The British suspected something and conducted a search of The Empire
Rival. We heard afterwards that they found the bomb in the engine room,
removed it, and placed it on a small dingy with the aim of dropping it
somewhere safe in the sea. Reports filtered back that the bomb exploded,
killing all the British personnel,” Boris relates.

One day, David Ben-Gurion visited the camp. “After he addressed the
people, I introduced myself and we spoke in Russian,” says Boris, who at
that time knew no Hebrew. “BG spoke with such vigor. He assured me,
‘Don’t worry. There will very soon be a Jewish State, and you, the
passengers of the Exodus will become its honorary citizens.'”

Eventually, in 1948, the Agulnik family returned – but not to Palestine,
rather to Israel. The captain of their ship was Yitzhak Aharonowitz, 
Former Captain of the Exodus.

Sixty-Six years ago, the British appeased the Arabs, denied Jews entry into the Holy land and sent them back to the Germany from which they had just escaped. Today the US, Britain and its European allies are still appeasing the Arabs, their terrorism, their call for the destruction of Jewish State, and the anti-Semitic hatred they teach their children.

The battle to save Israel and the Jews no longer takes place on a rickety old ship, but make no mistake about it…the Jewish people are just as precarious position today as they were 1939 or in 1947.