Today is when Israel remembers the reunification of Jerusalem. The city had been divided between the Jordanians and the Israelis after the 1949 cease-fire agreements. I was in Jerusalem when it happened. I spent the period leading up to the outbreak of hostilities as a volunteer first aid instructor. I was then a student at the Hebrew University studying Arab history. The picture shows me on campus at the time. I’m standing, second from left. We were trying to get more volunteers for almost anything.
n instructor in first aid I taught a lot of groups various aspects of treating injured persons. I also took a couple of helpers and gave an abbreviated course to people in other neighborhoods. One was for the Association of Americans and Canadians in Israel, and one was for residents in the Katamon neighborhood who could not travel to the University campus where we gave a week long course.
The teaching staff for the course, almost all of us foreign residents, was also the staff for an emergency hospital that was to be set up in a basement under the national library building on campus. The day hostilities actually began we had no students. Our teaching staff was due to get lecture about psychological first aid from a doctor. We were waiting for him when we heard word on a radio of shooting having started in Sinai. We quickly went to the office of the civil defense command to get permission to open our storerooms and set up the hospital.
“No Way!” we were told, “There is nothing happening on this front.”
We left the office and immediately , contrary to his orders, set up our emergency clinic. We were just in time. Within minutes the Jerusalem air raid sirens began to wail and Jordanian forces in ans around the Old City began firing. Artillery shells landed in the grove of trees between the library building and the student dormitories, We ran about helping anyone outside get into a shelter. As I was about to climb the stairs to go out again a spent machine gun bullet came through the open glass doors on the main floor. It slid across the tiles and dropped down the stairs. Thunk, thunk, think… It stopped at my feet. I bent down to pick it up. I burned my finger tips. It was still very hot. I went back up the stairs to bring another lady into shelter. When I returned, the bullet was gone. I was left with a very slight burn. It was, fortunately, the worst injury I ever received from hostile fire.
Wetherhorn 