Ido reported that Chaim’s wound was, in IDF parlance, moderate, and treatable, but his arm would have to remain in a sling for the time being. Yatom told Fliegel that they would leave the two dead Jewish fighters behind. The surviving Bears loaded their three wounded onto the truck with Ido, Perchansky and Norit. Itzak, his head aching, but intact, joined them. With Chaim resting, and Itzak treatable with aspirin and rest, Ido set to work on the wounded Jewish fighters.
Yatom and Nir now took the lead scout position in the colmnn with the remaining Kubelwagon, while the other Wagon smoldered off the side of the road. It was well past midnight by the time the sayeret moved out, shaken and dismayed by the rough encounter with real German infantry. Yatom led them further to the south and east, trying to pull away from the encroaching enemy in the few remaining hours of darkness.
Chapter 29
Heydnch felt quite comfortable behind Globocnik’s desk despite the fact that in front of him lay disturbing reports from the field concerning the situation in eastern Poland. Most recently two roadblocks in the Lubin district had been overrun, presumably by Treblinka’s raiders. A single survivor from the second roadblock, a private from the 2123’ Infantry Division, was on the way to Lubin now for debriefing. Pushing the reports aside, Heydrich fixed his eyes curiously on Sergeant Mueller, like a cat inspecting a pigeon. The policeman looked like a man roused from the dead, his uniform filthy and tattered, his face lined and sallow. The sergeant was making an effort to stand at attention, but his body was comically tilted to one side. Heydrich wanted to smirk, but kept his face impassive.
“You are Feldwebel Mueller, from the Sobibor train guard?”
“UnterfeldwebeI Mueller, Mein Herr-. Unless…”
“No Mueller” said Heydrich with a smile. “You have not been promoted not yet. Your insignia are mangled.”
“Es tut mir leid Mein Herr. I have come from the battlefield.”
“You and Obersturmfuhrer Wirth both” said Heydrich, gesturing at one of the SS officers across the room. “You survived an encounter with the enemy bandits ravaging the countryside. How did you manage that?”
“Sir, I was captured by them, but escaped.”
“Yes, so you claim. Tell me about them.”
“With all due respect sir, they are not really bandits—not most of them anyway. They are enemy commando soldiers…” Mueller’s voice trailed off. He was unsure of himself before such an eminence as Heydrich.
“Soldiers from where?” asked Heydrich calmly, but with evident interest.
“I don’t know sir. I am not a well educated man. I’m just a policeman. I’m not very good with languages. I did not recognize theirs.”
“Were they English? Or Russian?” asked another SS officer, standing off to Heydrich’s side.
“I don’t speak those languages sir, but I think not” said Mueller slowly. “I…I brought a weapon I captured off one of them during my escape. An SS officer took it from me a moment ago.” He pointed over at Globocnik’s aide who stood in a far corner of the room. The officer ignored him. “Perhaps it is some evidence of who these men are?”
“This?” said the SS officer at Heydrich’s side, holding out the submachinegun.
“Yes sir, that’s it!” said Mueller as if discovering an old friend. “I believe they called it an Utzi.” That brought a laugh from the assembled officers.
“An Utzi?” said the SS officer. “Are you sure?”
“No sir. It’s just what I heard.”
“Do you know what this writing is on the receiver?” said the officer, pointing to the center of the weapon. Mueller shook his head.
“It’s Hebrew.” This brought a gasp of disbelief from the assembled officers. Heydrich looked over at the SS man quizzically.
“Are you sure Obersturmbannfuhrer Eichman?” demanded Heydrich.
“Yes sir” replied Eichman diffidently yet with assurance. “As you know I’ve studied the language. It’s Hebrew and Sergeant Mueller is correct. The weapon seems to be called an Uzi. The bullets also have Hebrew lettering on them.”
“Bring an ordnance officer in here right away!” barked Globocnik. Heydrich’s aide ran out the door.
“Mueller” asked Eichman gently “surely you are somewhat familiar with Yiddish?”
“Of course sir. The Jews jabber it all the time.”
“Did these soldiers speak something like Yiddish?”
“No sir. Yiddish sounds like bad German. Some of them spoke German—some better than others. Sometimes they spoke a bit of Yiddish too. But their own language—that wasn’t Yiddish.”
“But some of the words” persisted Eichman “did they sound like Yiddish words? Think hard sergeant.”
Mueller did as he was told, afraid of what would happen if he didn’t. He also considered that maybe he should just tell this Eichman what he clearly wanted to hear.
“Well sir” said Mueller, trying to sound thoughtful. “Maybe a few words sounded a little like Yiddish. It was a very guttural language like Yiddish, and those boys did gesture a lot—for soldiers anyway.”
“Satisfied Eichman?” asked Heydrich. Eichman nodded. Heydrich looked again at Mueller, his blue eyes sparkling. “Can you tell us anything else about these men—anything significant. ”
Mueller ran the past days through his mind. He wanted to help out the SS officers, more for his own protection than anything else. His story was true after all. He’d lived with the enemy. Certainly there is something more to say. If he were only rested and had some food in his belly. He hated the tall thin one called Shapira, especially, and the one who beat him, but.
“Their names!” Mueller blurted out excitedly. “I know some of their names!”
“What names?” asked Eichman.
Mueller went on to list the names he remembered—Shapira, Yatom, Perchensky—while Eichman noted them in a small book. Warming up, he described their other weapons as best he could, and their odd uniforms and equipment.
“What exactly did the other weapons look like?” asked Heydrich.
Mueller thought about this. “A little like that one” he said, pointing at the Uzi “but larger, and with telescopes on them.”
“Are you getting this, Reder” said Globocnik to a middle aged intelligence officer standing in a comer.
“Jawohl, Herr General” said Hauptman Reder, who was also writing in a little notebook.
Mueller, continued, offering opinions now. He thought they argued a lot for soldiers, but truth be told—they seemed very tough and competent, making his escape all the more remarkable. Of course, he didn’t bother to tell them that Perchensky was a woman, or that he had cooperated with his captors until his got away.
Finally, Heydrich smiled at him pleasantly and told him tn return to his unit and clean up. Mueller snapped a Nazi salute, clicked his heels and turned about, then practically ran out of the room. Heydrich ordered everyone else to out of the office as well, but for Eichman, Globocnik and Wirth. As Reder departed Globocnik said to him “You know what to do now, don’t you?”
“Yes sir” said the intelligence captain, closing the door. “What was that about?” asked Heydrich. “Just policeman stuff, Herr General” answered Globo easily. Heydrich let it go and turned toward Eichman.
“Well Eichman what are you thinking?”
“That these bandits are Jews. Probably in British employ from Palestine. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Why are they here though” asked Globocnik “raiding our camps? What do the British care about Jews?”
“Churchill” said Heydrich confidently, as if he’d found a clue in a crossword. “It’s just the sort of project he likes—wasteful, useless, but intrepid. He’s probably behind it, without the support of anyone else on the whole damned island.”