The events of October 7 brought back the terror, nightmares, and fear that I experienced as a 14-year-old in 1970.
I grew up in Trenton, New Jersey. I was interested only in what the Baltimore Orioles, my favorite baseball team, did the night before and whether Brooks Robinson made any great plays or had any clutch hits.
In the summer of 1970, my parents, my four siblings, and I made our first trip to Israel. My father, the principal of a Jewish day school, returned home early, and the rest of us flew home on September 6, Labor Day weekend.
After taking off from Frankfurt, Germany, where we had stopped for a refueling, we were hijacked over Brussels, Belgium. I vividly remember the hijackers running up the aisle holding a gun and a grenade. I still clearly remember the words of our hijacker. “This is your new captain speaking. We are taking you to a friendly country.” That friendly country turned out to be Jordan.
Our reception and stay in Jordan were anything but friendly. Our plane landed on the sands of a sweltering desert, where we sat for a week. We melted during the day and froze at night. We were starved; we were given one small meal a day consisting of a pita, egg, and slice of cheese. I lost 8 pounds in one week. We had little water to drink; our mouths were always parched. We were threatened by our “friendly” guards; they kept reminding us that they were not responsible for what would happen to us. The plane was loaded with explosives.
I was taken off the plane with my mother to stand by while the “friendly” terrorists rummaged through our luggage and confiscating anything that had any connection to Israel – like the watch I received from my parents for my bar mitzvah, because the dial had Hebrew letters.
I remember when our “friendly” captors paraded PFLP members, including George Habash, down the aisle of our plane, displaying us like we were caged in the zoo. And I particularly remember that they brought their children to point, laugh, and spit at us. I wonder how many of these innocent “friendly” children became terrorist themselves? Or their children or grandchildren?
Special “thanks” to the International Committee of the Red Cross, which came and was able to secure the release of the non-Jewish women and children, who were sent to a hotel in Amman. The rest of the women and children, recalling the selection process that took place during the Holocaust, were forced to reboard the hot plane. We never saw the ICRC again.
Upon our release, we were being transported by Jordanian Army van to Amman. I still recoil at the fear I had while we were being pelted by rocks by the “friendly” locals, men, women, and children, who yelled the bloodcurdling “Itbah al-Yahud” (slaughter the Jews).
When we were flown to Nicosia, Cyprus, the next day, we were greeted by an official from the local US Consulate. He lectured us as to the cause of the hijacking. Apparently, I was to blame for the suffering of the Palestinian children. I could not tell which children he was referring to; those who pointed, laughed, and spit at us on the plane? Or those who threw rocks at us, trying to murder us? Besides, what did this 14-year-old boy from Trenton, New Jersey, whose primary interest was baseball, have to do with that?
By contrast, the released Israeli hostages were greeted by the Israeli ambassador and were handed flowers. It was then that I realized that my future was not as the scapegoat in the US, but as part of the Israeli family.
For those who are interested in why we were all eventually released without physical harm, King Hussein decided that Jordan was not a Palestinian country but an independent Jordan. He declared war on the PFLP and Yasser Arafat. He did not provide humanitarian aid, water, or electricity. He did not give them warning of pending attacks or create safe zones. He demanded the release of all the hostages and unconditional surrender, which included including leaving Jordan. And that is precisely what he got. The king was not condemned, criticized, or told how to manage his response. There has not been a recurrence of this type of terrorism in Jordan since.
Perhaps allowing Israel to use the same tactics as King Hussein will prevent future rounds of attacks and hostage-taking so that there will be no more suffering for the current hostages and their families, past and present.
The writer, a PhD, is a software consultant, based in Ma’aleh Adumim. He was hijacked on a TWA flight, with his mother and four siblings, to the Jordanian desert by the PFLP in September 1970. He came on aliyah with his wife, Rebecca, and their four children in 1997. His children and grandchildren are proof that Am Yisrael Chai.
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