“About thirty men from Sobibor have moved into Biali-Podlaski” said Jezek. “They are not diplomats.”
“Nor should they he” shot back Sobel angrily. “This is a war of survival.”
Yatom looked again at Shapira. With a barely perceptible twitch he told the lieutenant that he wasn’t interested in this squabble.
“There are arms enough for hundreds of men now, rifles, machineguns, grenades, even a pair of mortars” said Shapira, clearly speaking for his commander. “It’s only a matter of time before the German army comes after you. We need to organize you into a proper militia, prepare defenses, and consider ways to protect the women and children.”
“How are we going to fight off the German army?” complained Jezek “even if we have a few hundred guns.”
“You don’t have much choice” said Yatom “Sobel here knows that.” He paused and tried to formulate his words carefully in German, which over the past week had come back to him rather well. “This is an excellent refuge” continued the sayeret leader. “It’s hidden, defensible, out of the way. If you keep a low profile, beat off enemy patrols, and prepare for the worst, you just might survive. The alternative is certain death—so what choice do you have?”
“What do you propose?” asked Jezek.
“We distribute the weapons, train you, and build a system of bunkers and fortifications around the village and the surrounding ridgelines” said Shapira. “You’ll learn how to shoot, patrol, defend, attack and keep your men organized and supplied. You will not be a crack army, but a serviceable one, and I suppose, given the alternatives, a fanatical one.”
“There are enough weapons to equip a small battalion” said Yatom. “Properly prepared and motivated, you should be able to hold off a whole German regiment.”
“Would they really commit such a force against so minor a threat?” asked De Jong, trying to follow the commandos logic.
“Maybe not” conceded Yatom “but that’s the point-deterrence. It could be an economy of force problem for the Germans. They have bigger fish to try.”
“Hopefully” said Jezek evenly.
Yatom and Shapira spent rest of the morning with De Jong, Sobel and Jezek, describing the plan for arming and defending the Jewish town. The inventory of captured weapons was impressive: 27 machineguns; 78 submachineguns; 252 rifles; 302 grenades; 51 pistols, plus the mortars. All the weapons were of various makes and models. Some shared common ammunition, many did not, but there were plenty of bullets, at least for one or two serious fights. Not included in the totals were a dozen MP-40s and a half dozen MG-34s that the sayeret kept for itself, for the inevitable moment when their own ammunition ran out. In addition the Jews of Biali already had the weaponry from the Sobibor armory: over a hundred rifles, a pair of MG-345, several more MP-40s, several dozen pistols, scores of grenades and over 200 landmines.
“You are probably the best equipped partisan force in Poland” said Yatom. “Properly trained and fortified, you should be able to hold off all but the largest and most determined German attack.”
“Yes,” said Jezek, “you already said this, but how?”
“The fittest men and women will be organized into rifle companies,” said Shapira. We will do it, and we are going to mix the population up based on ability, not whether they are from Sobibor or the train. We’ll assign squad leaders and weapons. Machinegun crews will he specially trained. We also have four scoped rifles. Our own snipers will train the eight most promising men and women… ”
Yatom and Shapira continued with the plan, the centerpiece of which was a relatively elaborate system of bunkers which would surround the town on all sides, maimed by small teams of riflemen and machinegunners. All the Israelis had fought extensively in Lebanon against Hezbollah’s bunker systems and came to appreciate how a small but determined force could take advantage of well constructed fortifications, especially in heavily wooded and hilly terrain. Those men not and women not fit for combat, would help dig the bunkers, which would extend out into the forested hills in each direction from the town. These would create killing grounds for an invading enemy. Mines and booby-traps would complete the array.
“How long will all this take?” asked Sobel doubtfully.
“Forever,” answered Yatom, “or until the war is over. We start now, do as much as we can as quickly as we can—building defenses and training. And you keep doing it and perfecting it, because you will have to if you are going to survive.”
Mofaz did many things well, including what the Israelis called topo which means finding your way cross country by compass. He led his party to the southeast, through forest, bramble and early morning dew. They walked for over two hours, Mofaz never hesitating and only occasionally checking compass and map. Even so, while navigating to the exact coordinates was easy, the Israelis still had tmuhle finding the capsule, so well had they hidden it. Half buried in the forest, skillfully covered in netting interlaced with fallen tree branches thick with leaves, it would not have drawn the attention of anybody but someone who knew exactly what to look for. Underneath the camo netting the strange capsule assumed its unusual black blobbish appearance.
Feldhandler found the entrance keyboard, upside down, and put in the code to open the device by feel. The capsule door popped open with a small hiss.
They had to clamber onto the capsule and drop through the door. Feldhandler, surprisingly nimble after a few days of soldiering, entered followed closely by Mofaz and Perchensky. Nir stayed on guard outside.
Inside the capsule, the three Israelis were initially disoriented. Security straps from the seats dangled in their faces and bits and pieces of miscellaneous extra equipment clanked about on the roof beneath their feet.
“This is going to make things difficult,” said Feldhandler as he shined a flashlight through the inky cabin. The critical control panel was above his head as were the computer keyboards and screens.
“Your logic is generally upside down anyway,” said Mofaz. “This ought to he a breeze for you.” Perchensky snorted hut otherwise kept silent. She was tired of Feldhandler and Mofaz, and just wanted to get to work.
Feldhandler reached up and flipped some switches. The capsule’s generator hummed to life, and red security lights popped on. The scientist hit a couple of other buttons and the main lights ignited. The bright modern lighting hurt their eyes, after spending over a week mostly in the dark or in spaces illuminated by glowsticks or weak battery powered light. Even the electric light back at Samsonov’s base had been feeble compared to this.
“What now?” said Mofaz suspiciously, not trusting that Feldhandler really had his heart in the task ahead.
“Calm down Major,” Feldhandler replied, sensing Mofaz’s anxiety.
“It will take time just to boot up the computers. Then it will require a lot of guessing and calculation, which will not be resolved today, or probably for several days. And we can’t run the machines indefinitely, or we’ll drain too much power. Plus, we have to work upside down. Why don’t you wait with Nir outside?” Mofaz’s dark eyes bore into Feldhandler. Instead of challenging the Major, Feldhandler reached into his backpack and withdrew a small metal can. “Here’s the last of my loof. We missed breakfast and had a long hike. Share it with Nir—please.”
“Go on,” pleaded Perchansky, anxious to avoid another argument between the two.
Mofaz took the loof barely suppressing a smile, and climbed out of the capsule. Outside he happily blurted just three words: “Nir. Come. Loof!”
Later that evening, after Mofaz and his group returned from the capsule, they buried Itzak Belete and Dov Feld, the boy killed with him. It was late for burial under Jewish law, which stipulates the dead are to be buried Within a day, but it was as early as necessity allowed. A rabbi from Lodz presided. Mofaz tossed in the first clump of earth onto Itzak’s grave.