There was a bittersweet mood when we gathered for breakfast this morning, as today we head back to Tel Aviv for a final night in this amazing country. But lest you think this journey is over, we have a couple stops on the road back. The drive takes us through towns and smaller cities, a road sign reminding us of yesterday’s camel ride…

It’s not too long before we arrive at the Ayalon Institute, better known as the bullet factory museum. I’ll admit to my skepticism about stopping here; I was pleasantly surprised to be totally wrong. This was very cool, and a great testament to the lengths people will go to fighting for their country  – and in this case, their country’s independence. 

Some connective tissue: remember the Palmach Museum in Tel Aviv? The Palmach was an elite fighting force in Israel before 1948, and they of course needed munitions. Bullets made underground at this secret factory were used by the Palmach. That post is here: Tel Aviv is Familiar…and New.

A truncated history: the Zionists fighting for Israel had the weapons but not the bullets, so they smuggled in old equipment from Poland, landing it in Lebanon so as to avoid the British-controlled shipyards. They brought it into Palestine [Israel] by train, in parts, and reassembled it in an underground bunker built in about three weeks. This was beneath the kibbutz’s laundry facility, the bunker accessible by moving aside the huge industrial washing machine. A backup entry was below the bakery ovens, but was rarely used, as moving the ovens took hours. And while the kibbutz was fully functioning, it was only constructed to conceal the bullet factory.

45 teenagers and young adults worked in the secret facility. They had to be absolutely mum about it, as they would be killed if caught by the British who had a base within walking distance. Not everyone on the kibbutz was even aware there was a secret ammunition factory; those who didn’t know were referred to as “giraffes,” a reference to transport of zoo animals when they are prevented from seeing what is beneath their feet.

Our guide told us these stories as we were seated outside on wooden benches, and then in the laundry room, not knowing that we were on top of it (apologies for the spoiler there). We’re all listening to her animated, perhaps given-one-too-many-times talk, and voila! She pushes aside the giant washing machine, revealing a skinny spiral staircase that goes down 25 feet (!). Peering down the hole is a bit vertigo-inducing, especially when you think about having to work down there, with no outdoor breaks, for 8-10 hours at a time.

We are led to what is now a subterranean museum through modern stairs that we access via the bakery. The machines are running…the sound of wheels turning, motors humming, metal presses clanking and banging as they stamp out parts. It’s noisy and the air is stuffy in spite of the ventilation – that was disguised by routing it through the bakery and laundry.  

We get a brief lesson in how bullets are made – casing, gunpowder, projectile, igniter – our host adding tidbits about the challenge of getting supplies (brass for the casings was imported saying they were making lipstick tubes), testing the bullets (there’s a firing range at one end of the bunker), and lack of sun exposure (there’s a tanning booth!). You get a really good sense of what it would be like to work down here. Not fun, but for a purpose you believed in, and that’s what kept you going.

By the time this place was decommissioned in 1948, Israel having gained independence, the factory had produced over 4 million bullets. These young people’s huge contribution to Israel’s fight is undisputed, and they did this right under the noses of the British troops. It’s a great story (and odd that no one has ever made a movie about it).

As we continue towards Tel Aviv, we stop at Dialogue in the Dark, an immersive encounter designed for the sighted to experience blindness. I had done a similar thing – Dining in the Dark – several years ago, so I skip it and have some quiet time in the plaza outside. Mom got too disoriented, so bailed early but everyone else thought it was a really cool thing to do.

The Renaissance Hotel on the beach is still about an hour away, and as we drive, we use the time to reminisce. We are coming back to where we started…our introduction to the old city of Jaffa seems ages ago. We traversed over 1,000 miles these ten days, going north to the country’s edge and down to the southern desert. One by one, we share our favorite parts of this incredible adventure, adding footnotes of gratitude for having Hilik as our guide. 

Tomorrow morning we begin the long journey home, bidding a fond farewell to the State of Israel. We each have a new connection to this place and its people, a bond that can only be forged with curiosity and exploration. 

At Passover seder, we always end with “next year in Israel.” This year, that came true.