“What if the train is late, say because of problems with the track” pressed Shapira.
Mueller understood what the man was driving at now. He considered dissembling but didn’t see how any of this was harmful.
“There is no way to let them know if we are running late—you see there is no radio. I suppose they just wait. When the train is a few hundred meters outside the camp, the engineers blow the whistle.”
Feldhandler continued questioning the Gennan about details crew transfer, and of what Mueller had observed about the exterior of the camp. All this Mueller answered truthfully, certain his own role in this business was now plainly innocuous. He was offered water, which he drank gratefully. Mueller allowed himself to relax a little. He’d proven useful, innocent, and cooperative.
“You said a moment ago that your unit is Polizei Battalion 201,” said Feldhandler, matter-of-factly.
“Yes, mein Herr” agreed Mueller quickly. “We are a police unit, not real soldiers. Almost civilians, really…”
“You know the village of Biali then” interrupted Feldhandler. “It’s not far from here” he smiled sickly, pointing generally to the southeast.
Mueller’s blood froze. “Nein, mein Herr.”
“I told you I already know the truth. Tell my friends” Feldhandler pointed to the Israeli officers and Perchansky “what Polizei Battalion 201 did at Baili a few months ago—or I’ll shoot off your balls.” He pressed the assault rifle’s muzzle hard into Mueller’s groin.
“Bitte” begged Mueller, knowing that telling the truth would likely result in the same fate anyway.
“Leave him be!” said Perchansky in Hebrew. “He’s answered your questions.”
“Not my last. You’ll want hear this Andrea. You’ve always been a seeker of the truth.”
Yatom checked his watch, annoyed by the bickering and Feldhandler’s manner, but curious. He interrupted the two scientists by lightly kicking away Feldhandler’s rifle, and slipping out his combat knife which he placed on Mueller’s neck.
Imperfect in German Yatom said simply “Antwort.”
Mueller shook his head lightly, and tears formed in his eyes.
Yatom pressed the knife until it drew blood. Mueller felt the flow and the increasing pressure of the razor—sharp blade.
“I was there, but I refused to participate!” he lied. “Some of the men you killed though, one named Popel in particular, was very involved!”
“You’re lying!” growled Feldhandler.
“Nein! What I say is true. They taunted me, Popel especially” sobbed Mueller convincingly. They said I was a coward for standing by the trucks. But I couldn’t do it—kill innocent people like that. They almost took my rank from me!”
“We don’t have any more time for this” said Yatom quickly in Hebrew, satisfied that they’d gotten enough from the fetid German.
“Gag him put him on the train.”
Feldhandler blanched. “You’re crazy. He’s a Nazi murderer. Do you know what happened at Biali? We need to shoot him now.”
“Nu!” said Perchansky.
“I’m not shooting anybody in cold blood if I don’t have to” said Yatom. “Besides, he’s been helpful, and maybe still.”
Feldhandler pulled a filthy sock off one of the dead Germans nearby and stuffed it into Mueller’s mouth. Then he and Yatom dragged the bound man onto the train and left him there.
They walked from the train and rejoined Mofaz, Shapira and Perchansky.
“Was he being truthful?” asked Yatom, putting the question out generally.
“I think so” offered Shapira. “Mostly anyway. And there doesn’t seem any reason why our plan shouldn’t work.”
“This plan of yours” said Mofaz looking at Shapira “to ride the train into Sobibor—it’s too complicated.”
“What are you talking about?” said Shapira. Shapira resented the Major’s resistance to everything that they’d tried to do since arriving.
“It is the simplest solution to the problem.”
Mofaz ignored Shapira’s tone. “Not if we have to change railroad crews. Is what he said correct Feldhandler--you’ve read the history.”
“Yes” agreed Feldhandler. He’d grown to despise Mofaz over the course of the morning for all the anger and contempt he’d displayed. but Feldhandler had to admit the Major had a sharp mind and quick grasp of military problems.
“It’s not a simple solution” continued Mofaz. “We either have to coerce the German crew at Sobibor into assisting us, or eliminate them and have the Polish crew bring the train in to the platform—all without the Nazi’s in the camp becoming suspicious.”
“So, what’s the alternative?” said Shapira.
“One would be to forget this whole enterprise, take Dr. Feldhandler” back to the capsule and force him to take us back to our own time and country” hissed Mofaz.
“That’s not going to happen, Major” said Yatom calmly. “What is your next suggestion?”
Mofaz cast Feldhandler a hateful glance, hut got back to business.
“We ride the train in to within a kilometer or so of the camp, disembark, and assault the place conventionally. That’s the simplest solution.”
“Sobibor is surrounded by a minefield” said Feldhandler.
Yatom blanched. “What?”
“It’s in the history. It was the only death camp with a minefield. Here, read it for yourself.” Feldhandler reached into the cargo pocket of his fatigues and pulled out a wom copy of “Sobibor: The Forgotten Revolt” by Thomas Blatt, one of the camp’s few Jewish survivors.
Yatom flipped through a few pages, stopping at a map of the place half-way through the teXt—the same map Feldhandler had copied for them.
Yatom quickly perused a few more pages. “Why didn’t the German sergeant mention the minefield?”
“He probably doesn’t know—why should he.”
Yatom handed the book back to Feldhandler. “Major, I appreciate your assessment, your points are well taken, but we’ll do it Shapira’s way. When the train stops at the station we’ll eliminate the German crew—you and me personally—and have the Poles drive the train into the station.”
“Yes commander” said Mofaz resignedly.
“Assuming the men agree to all this.”
“They’ll agree” said Yatom.
“We’d better talk to the Poles, and collect the men” said Feldhandler excitedly. “We don’t have much time.”
Perchansky gave Mofaz a quizzical look, as if to say, why did you give in?
Mofaz shrugged and said “I tried. But I’m a soldier too.”
Yatom radioed the men to join him by the locomotive. Some were over a kilometer away so it took thirty minutes before the srryeret was reassembled. The afternoon was wearing on and Yatom feared their window of opportunity was rapidly diminishing. How long could the hijacking of the train remain unknown to the Germans?
The men sat in a circle before the officers, some munching on the extra Powerbars provided by Feldhandler, others on their Israeli iron rations. The soldiers were always happier if they knew that they could eat. ltzak sat with the men despite his technical rank. Yatom explained truthfully, as best he knew, what had happened and where they were, although all the men had figured it out. Nonetheless, Yatom considered it important that they hear it formally from their commander.
“For now now there is little or no chance of returning to Israel in our time” said Yatom carefully. “So we find ourselves Israeli soldiers in Poland in the midst of the Holocaust. Do any of you have a question as to what our duty should be now?” Itzak spoke up. “I don’t question that we ought to fight Nazis. But will our actions now change our own future?”