Tovi was still there, lying on his belly upon the track bed. Jezek crawled over to him. “What do you see, boy?”
“I saw boots—soldiers boots—running toward the front of the train.”
“German?”
“I don’t think so.”
Jezek crawled forward as he had learned in the army. He reached the edge of the car and peered out. It was hard to see far flat on his belly. As he looked down the train he saw that several other Jews, having clawed their way out were doing the same thing. The shooting had stopped but it was impossible to hear anything else above the din of thousands of trapped people still inside the cars. Suddenly, one of the Jews hiding under the train, a few cars up from him, slithered out and made a dash for it across an open field for the trees. Jezek grimaced, expecting to hear rifle shots, but they did not come. Another Jew, obviously noting the same thing, took off.
“Wait here” Jezek told Tovi, who in the meantime had been joined by the second youth, and the man who had helped them in the car. Jezek rolled out from under the car, and rose up to a crouch, hugging the railcar. Far down the track he made out the forms of what appeared to be soldiers, although he couldn’t be sure. They didn’t look German. He shuffled forward. Tovi came out after him—the boy had no reason to take orders, Jezek realized. They continued together down the track.
Along the way, several other Jews came out from under the train and followed them. Several cars down they passed the bullet riddled body of policeman Bieber. His rifle still lay by his side, but Jezek left it there. Another man picked it up.
Nearer the front of the train Jezek paused and examined the men standing near the front of the train. One looked back at him, and turned away. The men were indeed soldiers of some kind, but not like any he’d ever seen. Their uniforms were brownish green, and bulky.
They didn’t carry ordinary weapons. On their heads, instead of helmets, they wore a floppy camouflaged cloth. But most importantly they completely ignored him and the other Jews creeping along the train.
Jezek stood up. For the first time he noticed that five dead German soldiers lay at the soldiers’ feet. One of the soldiers looked back at him curiously. The soldier motioned for him to come over.
Jezek glanced behind him and saw that he’d been followed by more than a dozen men and boys and at least one woman. Instinctively he straightened his filthy jacket and walked over to the soldier.
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” asked Sergeant Bolander. Bolander” most of the other commandos knew a fair bit of German from occasional training with German special forces units.
“Ja. Wer sind Sie?”
Bolander paused, uncertain as to what he should say. He called over Shapira, who’s German was nearly fluent. The lieutenant climbed down from the passenger car and jogged over. “He asked who we are” said Bolander.
Shapira looked at the man, who though filthy and obviously exhausted stood straight, attempting to project a degree of pride. “We are friends” said Shapira in German. “Wait here” he said, pointing to the growing gathering behind Jezek.
“We need water. Our families are trapped in the railcars” said Jezek quickly and excitedly.
Shapira didn’t understand the whole sentence—he needed to adjust—but got the gist. He looked up to Yatom who stood at the doorway to railcar while Nir led the bloody, groggy, and bound Sergeant Mueller down the steps.
“Colonel,” said Shapira in Hebrew, “we need to do something for these people. We have to let them out of the railcars—they need water.” But Yatom didn’t seem to hear him and stalked off toward Feldhandler who stood by the locomotive.
Jezek, however had heard Shapira, and to his utter shock recognized the language. “Sie sprechen Hebraeisch!” he said, first to Shapira, then repeating himself to the folks behind him in case they missed it.
“Wait here please” Shapira told Jezek, switching back to German.
He started to walk away toward Yatom, then paused and handed one of his canteens to the man. Jezek took it gratefully and drank several deep swallows, and resisting his own thirst, passed it back to Tovi. The boy was immediately set upon by the others who began fighting for the water. Bolander and the other soldiers stepped in offering their canteens too, trying to calm the growing crowd. Shapira turned his back on the commotion, seeking out Yatom, who was speaking urgently to Feldhandler.
“Did you consider how to handle this situation…” Yatom was saying angrily.
“I did, Colonel, but at the time you didn’t want to listen” said Feldhandler.
“We need to get these people off the train” said Shapira. Yatom turned to Shapira. “Agreed” said Yatom. “Ron, open the doors and get those people out. Tell that tall man over there” he said, pointing at Jezek “about the stream. They seem to need water more than anything. Have him and other Jews from the train organize themselves. They are going to have to fend for themselves anyway.”
Shapira ran back towards Jezek, who was now arguing with the gaggle of people behind him about the water. Shapira pulled Jezek by the shoulder.
“Wie heissen Sie?” Shapira asked Jezek.
“My name is Abraham Jezek, from Prague.”
“I am Lieutenant Shapira. Listen to me carefully” he continued, his German improving with each word. “Open the train doors and let your people out. There is a stream half a kilometer from here in that direction.” Shapira pointed to the other side of the train. Take your people there. Once you have done that, you return to me. Bring some other people that you think can help lead your group.” Jezek nodded. ”Danke!” he said, then paused. “Can I ask why you are speaking Hebrew?”
“I will explain later” said Shapira. “Now help your people!” Jezek politely returned Shapira’s canteen, and ran back to Tovi and the others. He told them about the stream and begged them to attempt to organize the people as they came off the train. Those that had found their way out first, said Jezek, must lead for now. As for the future who could say? Then fueled with excitement a few ounces of water, Jezek sprinted back to his wife and daughter.
Shapira returned to Yatom. The sayeret commander radioed Mofaz and told him to take his team back to the capsule and bring forward the extra supplies, then secure capsule, cover it with camouflage netting and rejoin the rest of the sayeret at the train.
Mofaz paused. He didn’t like the idea of abandoning the capsule, or hauling the extra supplies, but he bit his tongue. Mofaz asked about Perchansky. Yatom told him let her do as she pleased. In the meantime Feldhandler had fetched the two Polish engineers from the locomotive, bound them, and dumped them off near Sergeant Mueller, who lay groggily on the ground nearby.
While the commandos waited for orders they stood about watching the strange scene unfolding before them. The freed Jews flung open the doors to the boxcars, and a miserable but relieved flood of humanity poured out. Jezek and a few of the others attempted to bring some order to the chaos. Scores of people milled about, and some just ran off, but most heeded Jezek’s shouted instructions and roughly organized themselves about the train.
Nir and Bolander strolled back to the cars to get a better look.
After the able-bodied left the trains, young men and women assisted the elderly and the children. The people looked at the soldiers curiously as they approached and kept their distance. Finally, Bolander peaked into one of the emptied boxcars and recoiled in horror. Not only was the stench overpowering, but inside the car were nearly a dozen bodies, mainly elderly people who died along the way, but including at least one, apparently orphaned child. In other cars the scene was the same. Of nearly 2000 people who had been loaded onto the train the day before, close to 300 had died en route to Sobibor—a number neither particularly large nor small for a Jewish transport.