And all the others, all the martyrs who died  to  sanctify G-d’s br

name:

•aaaShlomo Yigal, twenty-four, from Slonim, Poland; Zev br

Berman, twenty-three, an American from Philadelphia; Yaakov br

Wechsler, just seventeen, son of a wealthy Jew from Chicago; br

and the son of the Rosh Yeshiva, Aharon David Epstein, also br

seventeen.

•aaaSeventy-two-year-old Reb Aharon Leib Gotlovsky, from br

Herzeliyya, who had come to spend a happy Sabbath with his br

son-in-law, Bezalel Lazarovski. Both lie dead, along with br

Bezalel’s five-year-old daughter, Dvora. She will lie in a Jerusa- br

lem hospital next to another five-year-old, little Aharon Slonim, br

son of Eliezer Don and his wife, Hana.

•aaaYaakov and Leah Grodzinski have been married just four br

months. He comes from Warsaw and runs a small hotel for br

yeshiva students. She is from Hungary, from the house of Tur- br

man. They die together.

•aaaHere die, too, the noted principal of the Tel Nordau school br

in Tel Aviv, Eliezer Dovnikov, and his wife, Leah. They, too, br

came to spend a happy Sabbath in the city of the Patriarchs. br

And here too lies a simple, pious Persian Jew, twenty-seven- br

year-old Shimon Cohen.

In this one house, where they had gathered for safety, die br

twenty-four people; another thirteen are wounded, mostly grave- br

ly. Taking part in this awful slaughter are Arabs who just the br

day before did business and laughed together with Eliezer Don br

Slonim. They were his friends. . . .

The slaughter continues for half an hour. Every piece of br

property that can be moved is thrown out the door and win- br

dows. Pillows are cut, and the feathers fly through the air, some br

resting on the bodies of the dead, sticking to them, still wet with br

blood. The Arabs now leave, crying, “Let us go; there are no br

more Jews left to kill.”

They are wrong. Miraculously, Jews have been saved— br

eleven of them are squeezed into a tiny bathroom that somehow br

the mob failed to notice. Still others lie under the bodies of the br

dead. They stagger out, fearfully, to look at the horrors the Ar- br

abs have left behind. There is a terrible quiet except for the br