It was a beautiful Sunday in March when Rabbi Groh and David Peled boarded a small six-seater Bellanca 31–40 Senior Pacemaker, which would take them on the first leg of their trip to Nova Scotia. The last two seats had been removed to allow for more luggage space. The two men were forced to sit in close proximity to each other in the four remaining tightly packed passenger seats.
The rabbi noticed that Peled was not as affable as he was when they first met. He was focused on papers that he removed from his briefcase and placed on his lap. As the plane took off, he was lost in a world of his own thoughts.
In order to break the ice, the rabbi asked, “Can you tell me some more about our plans? What’s going to happen in Canada? I’m amazed the Canadians allow us to use their territory for these missions.”
Peled assured the rabbi that a “friend of the cause” would take them into town to stay overnight at his home once they arrived. The next morning, they would board a different plane to Greece. Peled did not share the details of the homemade runway the Haganah had constructed that the pilot would have to navigate. They would cross that bridge much later in the journey. In the meantime, making sure the flight to Nova Scotia took off and the contact was there to pick them up at the airport was his top priority. In truth, he was so relieved that the rabbi had agreed to join him that he felt nothing could stop this mission.
The rabbi, on the other hand, could not stop his mind from racing. He appreciated that Peled was consumed with his own thoughts, but his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to know about the Haganah, and Peled. Where was he from? How did he get involved in these missions? Who was he?
“So, David, how did you get to Palestine?”
David Peled’s mind was on anything but his own past. Rabbi Groh’s question was fair, though, and deserved an answer. He slowly lifted his head up from some papers he had been shuffling around and scanning.
“I didn’t have to get to Palestine. I was born there,” he said with pride. “Thank God for my grandfather, Aron. He was the one who had the vision to get the hell out of Europe. I wish more people would have seen what was coming like he did.”
“Me too, David, me too,” the rabbi replied.