“We should leave now,” he complained anxiously to Yatom.
“We can leave just before dawn,” said Yatom. “You said we’d have time before the Germans could react.”
“I agree,” Shapira chimed in walking up to the group. “It’s unlikely that the Germans would send a force all the way out here in the middle of the night—it’s 1942.”
“Yes, but that means that we’ll have to move in broad daylight” Feldlrandler whined “with Germans about.”
“We will go just after dawn and find a hiding place in the woods for the remainder of the day,” said an irritated Yatom. “We can’t very well move these people out in the middle of the night” he continued, gesturing at the sleeping hundreds in the yard. “They will have to go by daylight anyway.”
For the next hour, under the stars of a clear European sky, their heads aching and their eyes heavy, Yatom and Shapira hashed out a provisional plan of action to be implemented at dawn. They also decided on a final explanation for the Jews as to their identity—Jewish soldiers from Palestine, under British command. It was what the Israelis had been saying to a few inquiring Jews over the last day, and was the only thing that would explain their common use and knowledge of Hebrew. Because it was untrue, did not reveal any useful intelligence.
With only an hour or two before the short northern night gave way to the day, Shapira dozed with his team. Yatom denied this to himself, pouring over the captured German maps to discover a workable route to Treblinka. Mofaz kept watch nearby, but the two Israeli officers spoke little, waiting unhappily for the sky to lighten.
At 3 am Yatom roused Shapira and the rest of the sayeret. Through years of conditioning and training the soldiers were ready to move almost immediately. In turn roughly awakened the sleeping Jews spread helter-skelter around the camp, liberally throwing in Hebrew, English and German curses and kicks to get the message across. De Jong and his lieutenants assisted the Israelis, as did the Sandler and a few of Sondercommandos. Sandler and his men were especially were anxious to leave Sobibor and its horrors behind. The former Jewish prisoners, accustomed to arbitrary orders and roll calls anyway—if not hangovers—were organized in a few minutes. By 3:15 over three hundred freed prisoners presented themselves in decent order within the Camp 2 yard, with De Jong and his armed men at the front. Yatom called over the Dutchman and quickly briefed on the plan of action decided a few hours before.
De Jong nodded, and then paused. “You still haven’t explained who you are, or why you are here—if you don’t mind my asking. How is it that you speak Hebrew? You promised us an answer.”
Yatom told the Dutchman that they were members of the British Palestinian Jewish Brigade, detached for special duty. De Jong accepted the explanation—it was the only thing that made sense. With De Jong’s curiosity satisfied, the Israeli commander told De Jong to have his men assist the Israelis in arming and supplying the mass of freed prisoners.
The Israelis also organized the former prisoners into rough companies of men, with Sobibor’s few women prisoners also included. They distributed most of the arms from the Sobibor armory—over a hundred rifles, dozens of pistols and grenades, a few machine pistols, and even several MG-34 machine guns. Extra clothing tools, gold, silver, jewelry and other items of value were taken from the storage sheds, and placed back into Jewish hands. From the German mess and stores Yatom’s men also distributed as much food, medical supplies, construction tools, shoes, boots and winter clothing as could be carried.
Ninety minutes later, as the morning was lighting the eastern horizon, De Jong, his original troop of men, and the freed prisoners all reassembled in the Camp 2 yard. About a third of the prisoners were now armed, and all were laden with ammunition or supplies.
Yatom and Feldhandler called De Jong aside. To his surprise they told him that they had selected twenty-four of the fittest men, who they intended to arm with two of the captured MG-34s, and a strong mix of MP-40s, rifles and hand grenades. These men would accompany the Israelis, as they handled other missions, while De Jong led the rest of the camp survivors into the forests and hopeful safety.
The Israelis planned to take all the vehicles from Sobibor’s small motor pool—two staff cars and three trucks. De Jong’s group, explained Yatom, would have to stay off the roads in any case and could not make use of the vehicles. De Jong was to lead the mass of freed prisoners and rejoin Jezek and the refugees from the train.
Overall, De Jong and Jezek’s Jews would instantly constitute one of the largest and best armed partisan groups in eastern Poland. When they found a suitable refuge, they should hide out, and hope for the best. When hope ran out they would have to fight. Yatom handed De Jong a half-dozen compasses taken from the German stores, and described as best he oould the proper heading. When De Jong met up with Jezek he was to take command of the entire group if necessary, or work out an arrangement with the Czech as he saw fit.
De Jong had been through a great deal in the last twenty-four hours and it showed on his haggard face. But De Jong knew that despite his exhaustion, and the almost impossible nature of his assignment, there was nothing else for it. Were he and the rest of the Jews to remain in Sobibor they would certainly die when the Germans eventually retook the place. Tagging along with the Israelis was a schoolboy’s solution. He had ended up the leader of over three hundred nearly dead and desperate men and women, and his task was to unite them with yet another even more vulnerable group of unfortunates, still hiding in the woods many kilometers away.
“Do you understand what you are to do?” Yatom repeated, uncertain that in the mix of German and English he’d made himself entirely clear.
The Dutchman nodded, tiredly but confidently. “I understand,” he said in English.
“Good,” said Yatom, without much sympathy. He was reinvigorated by the morning chill, and the prospect of hitting the road. De Jong’s prospects were grim, but no longer his concern.
“There is one more thing,” added Yatom coldly. “You and the rest of your people must deal with the captured Germans and Ukranians. It is up to you, and them, to deal with the prisoners.”
The exhausted Dutchman had not considered the issue, the Germans and Ukranians having been isolated for the past few hours. Besides, he figured the commandos would somehow take care of it.
“Colonel,” said De Jong haltingly, his English suddenly fractured. “We cannot… we cannot… very well take them… with us.”
“I agree,” said Yatom. “I doubt the victims of Sobibor would agree to let them go.”
“So,” said De Jong slowly, making certain he understood Yatom’s English, “you suggest that we kill them all?”
“That’s up to you,” answered Yatom, matter-of-factly. “Eliminating them would be smart. It would also give you an opportunity to blood some of your new soldiers.”
“By killing in cold blood?”
“Why don’t you put it to a vote? Or ask that fellow Sandler and his Sonderkommandos what they want to do?”
De Jong already knew the answer to the last question, and also knew that Yatom was right. Had it not been for Yatom and his men, he along with everybody on the train would have been killed mercilessly by the gray-clad men now in his power.
“Okay,” said De Jong wearily, passing sentence on the captured Germans and Ukrainians in those two unfamiliar English syllables.
“Who are you taking with you, if I may ask?” he added diffidently, changing the subject.
“Over there,” Yatom said with a nod of his head. De Jong turned to see about half of his original men helping the Israelis load the trucks and staff cars with ammunition, water, and food. Among the group were Sandler and about a dozen former Sonderkommandos.