JERUSALEM — Like Ellis Island for immigrants to the United States, Haifa’s port was the first sight eyed by myriad immigrants of pre-state days and the early years of the country.
Until the state of Israel was established, however, the refugees heading for its harbor had no idea what kind of reception they would receive. Would they have to swim to shore? Would they make it safely into Jewish hands? Or, would they be intercepted by the British and sent to an internment camp?
These were the questions in the hearts of some 107,000 refugees who immigrated to Eretz Yisrael from 1934 through May 1948. The story of this fateful era and how it led to the establishment of the Israeli navy are now showcased in the Clandestine Immigration and Navy Museum in Haifa.
From the “bargain basements” of the world’s shipyards, 118 vessels were converted to transport the immigrants on a total of 140 voyages, some of them carrying over 4,000 people at a time.
A decommissioned icebreaker purchased from the U.S. Navy was converted into Medinat HaYehudim — The State of the Jews — later to become the Eilat when refitted yet again for the fledgling Israeli navy. The most famous, thanks to Leon Uris, was the Exodus, its full name being Exodus from Europe 1947.
“I’ll never forget what Haifa looked like the first time I set eyes on it,” says Bruria Barish, who was 14-1/2 years old when she arrived with some 1,800 others on the Max Nordau in May 1946. “I was so happy knowing I wouldn’t have to swim ashore. But little did I realize it meant we’d been captured by the British.”
In spite of the state of affairs in war-ravaged Europe and the British prohibition against Jewish immigration, a highly organized effort was what succeeded, more often than not, in saving tens of thousands of lives. Those who undertook this enterprise were much like Yoske Almog, now 74, who had immigrated to Palestine from Poland in 1936 and joined the Pal-Yam — the naval division of the Palmach — in 1943, when he was barely 18 years old.
By 1947, he had received command of one of these ships, starting with its overhaul in France, following a year spent meeting with refugees in the aliyah camps, to orient them about what they should expect.
“I was commander of two voyages, before the War of Independence broke out,” Almog said. “Yes, I was young, but we all were, and we were keenly aware that lives depended on us.”
By 1947, he said, there was talk of establishing a navy. With the start of the independence war, the immigrant vessels became “warships,” and the members of the Pal-Yam became sailors in the Israeli navy. Almog found it a natural transition and made the navy his career, retiring with the rank of commander in 1968.
Upon nearing retirement, knowing there were plans to establish a network of military museums, he put forth his candidacy to form and head the naval museum. Starting with the design and construction of the museum, Almog went on to his second career. He officially retired just two years ago.
When the last of the immigrant ships, the Af Al Pi Khen, was to be sold for scrap in 1959, the navy’s top officer decided it should be preserved as a museum piece. Almog took this a step further: He hit upon the idea of making the ship part of the museum and had it incorporated into the actual structure of the Clandestine Immigration and Navy Museum of Israel, near Haifa Bay.
The museum includes a model of the Exodus, a reconstruction of the living quarters in a cabin of the Cyprus internment camps and the history of the Israeli navy.