Shapira disregarded the celebrations, and kept the night-sight of his Tavor on the women’s barrack. There was no longer shooting from the building, but through the open doorway Shapira could see the huddled forms of women and girls inside. Suddenly the door closed.
He ordered Roi to cover the women’s barrack and moved with Chaim to the entrance to the Himmelgang. The passageway was clear. He radioed Yatom that the rest of the sayeret could move safely down the passage, but warned that there were still Germans in the square, holed up in a barrack building.
“Why don’t you take them out?” asked Yatom impatiently.
“Because” said Shapira “I think we have a hostage situation.”
Yatom decided to leave Camp 4 and move his men dovm the Himmelgang to the deportation square. By default, the extermination camp now fell into the hands of Treblinka’s Sonderkommando. These desperate scarecrows came out of their hiding places, mostly near the burial pits. The thin haunted men stared at the Israeli commandos but comprehended that the strange looking men were not hostile. The prisoners knew that things had changed, but were uncertain what to do next. Yatom simply said to them in Hebrew “you’re free.” This only surprised and confused them more. Yatom had neither the time nor patience to deal with these desperate men and their garbled questions. Instead Yatom assembled his men and walked to the Himmelgang entranceway.
“You explain the situation to them” he told Feldhandler. “This is your shining moment.”
Feldhandler nodded, and smiled, as if he’d forgotten why he was there. “Beseder. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Take your time!” yelled Yatom as he hurried down the Himmelgang bringing up the rear of the sayeret.
Shapira was waiting for him with Mofaz. The square was crowded with Jewish prisoners milling around, mixed in with the Sandler’s and Fliegel’s armed men. A few of the newly freed Jews seemed to have picked up arms themselves, and were playing with them dangerously.
Many were leaving the area, armed or not, in search of food. It looked and sounded like a festival. For all intents and purposes, Treblinka had fallen.
Yatom scowled. “Is the rest of the camp secure?”
“Who knows” answered Shapira. “Fleigel’s men can scour the place. Between them and the released prisoners it should be pretty clear of Germans soon.”
Yatom turned to Mofaz. “Take your team and help Fliegel secure the camp. Let’s not have this place get totally out of control.” Mofaz nodded and set off.
“What’s going on there?” Yatom nodded toward the women’s barrack.
“A group of Germans is inside, as are women and girls.”
“Have the Germans done anything?”
“They fired at us, but stopped when we shot back. Since then nothing” said Shapira.
“You speak good German. Tell them to come out, and they won’t be harmed.”
“Alright, but we need to quiet this place down first.”
“I’ll take care of that” said Yatom. He raised his Tavor fired off half a magazine toward the waning stars. Many of the Jews dived for cover, and the rest of the sayeret dropped and aimed for enemies until they realized what had happened. The square fell silent. Shapira stepped forward into the hush and shouted loudly in German, directing his words to the Jews in the square. He told them that the camp had fallen, to leave the deportation area, find food, and organize near the front gate. Shapira looked over at Sandler. The young leader, abashed at the disorganized mess in the square, was shaken back to the reality of soldiering—ceaseless work. Sandler told his men to move the revelers out of the square and into the Forward Camp.
Shapira waited for the square to clear. Then he turned toward the woman’s barrack and addressed the Germans inside. He ordered them to surrender their weapons and come out. A moment later the door opened slightly and a teenage girl appeared followed closely by a German officer. The German held a pistol at the girl’s neck.
From the darkened barack Erbel looked out into the square, and noted for the first time the oddly attired soldiers standing in a rough semi-circle around the building. These must be the fearsome commandos Wirth had warned him about. Somehow they had commandeered his camp. But for all the damage they had caused, and the obviously desperate position they had put him in, actually seeing his enemy calmed Erbel. They had metamorphosed from phantoms into men, if strangely dressed and armed. Their leader, or at least the man who had called to him, was tall and thin, loaded with equipment and an odd floppy hat.
Erbel put his mouth to the girl’s ear. “Tell me your name” he hissed nervously.
“My name is Hannah. Hannah Zuckerman.”
Erbel directed his next words at the man in the floppy hat. Lawyer-like he intended to stake out the best negotiating position possible and work down from there.
“I am Obersturmfuhrer Erbel! I am the commander of this installation of the Greater German Reich. Abandon your weapons and surrender immediately! ”
Yatom moved over toward Ilan, who had taken position near the men’s barrack and now had his rifle trained on the doorway. Bolander nearby, also had his weapon on the door.
“Do either of you have a shot?”
“Negative, commander” they said almost in unison. “Not without risk to the girl” added Ilan. “If our rules of engagement here are different now, I can take him out.”
“Wait” said Yatom.
“Machts nicht!” yelled Shapira, contemptuously. “You have one minute to surrender, or we come and get you.”
Yatom touched Ilan on the sleeve. “Okay Ilan, give him a minute. Then take him, no matter what.”
“This girl is called Hannah Zuckerman” snarled Erbel. “I’ll kill her and every woman and child in here if you do not abandon this camp!”
Erbel had already lowered his demand, but was clever in using the girls’ name—it brought Shapira up short for a moment, personalizing the situation. Shapira steeled himself, prepared to sacrifice the girl if necessary.
“So” said Shapira ignoring the girl, but noting Erbel’s negotiating concession. “Now you only want us gone. What about our surrender?” Erbel pulled the girl back, his finger tightening around the trigger.
“I lost him” said llan to Yatom.
“Shit” said Yatom. He left Ilan and walked over to Shapira who stood fully exposed in the square.
“Let’s get under some cover and plan this out before he really starts shooting” said Yatom.
“I don’t think he will” said Shapira. “He’s a coward. He’s bluffing.”
Yatom turned back and called to Ilan and Bolander. “If either of you gets a shot at him again—take it!” Inside the barrack Erbel swung the door shut. Then he tossed the girl to one of the Ukranians. “Shoot her.”
The Ukranian guard pushed the girl against the wall and raised his rifle.
“Nein!” cried a dark haired and wiry woman all of five feet tall. She rushed the guard, grabbed at the the rifle, and pushed it away from her sister before the Ukranian could react. The guard pulled the trigger and discharged the rifle into the roof. The Ukranian wrenched the gun from her grasp. He raised the rifle and worked the bolt to reload a bullet when two more women threw themselves on him, clawing at his arms and face. The darked woman grabbed at the rifle again, biting the Ukranian’s wrist as he struggled against her. He howled in pain and rage, releasing the gun as he flailed against his attackers.
“Stop!” yelled Erbel pathetically. He raised his pistol and pointed it at the wriggling mass. A tall woman jumped on his back. She bit his ear, cutting straight through the cartilage and spraying the side of his face with blood. Erbel cried and swung her around, crashing into more women who now attacked and tore at him like they were cats and he an unfortunate mouse. Hannah Zuckerman pulled away from Erbel’s grasp and crawled toward her sister, the dark haired woman who had started the melee. “Norit!” she cried Schweinsteiger cocked and raised his machine pistol. A teenage girl grabbed at it another girl clawed at his mouth, while a third caught him from behind and dug her nails into an eye socket. Schweinsteiger screamed and fiailed at his tormentors, half-blind and mad with pain.