“Yes Herr General. This business should be concluded by tomorrow night.”
“Let’s hope so Colonel,” said Globocnik as he stood at the door to the conference room, not reassured by Kumm’s cool confidence.
After Globocnik’s departure Kumm, Stadler and his staff officers got down to the planning the raid. They were all disturbed that Globocnik refused to allow all of Stadler’s battalion to move, but not unused to dealing with difficult and even foolish superiors. Kumm especially was distressed—he’d arrived with an entire regiment—less his artillery—only to see it whittled away. After the officers exchanged a mutual glance of exasperation, they went back to work.
Kumm was anxious to get going, before the enemy had a chance to fully react to the reconnaissance probe. But the regiment was still short of fuel and other supplies. Plus, his men had yet to configure the half-tracks for battalion and regimental command and communication—and for an engineering platoon—as well as a hundred other details. Six of the half-tracked personnel carriers would be given to a pair of assault platoons, but most of Stadler’s remaining three companies would ride to battle in trucks.
Captain Holzer, Kumm’s operations officer, passed out a neatly typed out order of march and operational plan. The plan reflected Kumm’s experiences in Russia, where after a period of trial and error, he had successfully crushed several partisan bands. Kumm’s plan did not involve anything like hearts and minds, but rather speed, envelopment and brutal force. Holzer’s order reflected this, calling for the four assault guns and mounted troops to move aggressively down the two available roads to pin the partisans, while infantry infiltrated their flanks. Once surrounded, Kumm’s artillery, consisting of eight 81mm battalion mortars in two batteries, would pound the partisans into submission; at which point the infantry would mop them up. If any of the enemy survived the battle, they would parade before Mueller as instructed. But if Kumm’s men fought correctly, not many enemy troops, partisans or commandos would be left alive—and no old men, women, or children in any case. Under SS policy, anybody in the battle zone was considered a partisan. It was gruesome, but it made Kumm’s job easier.
Chapter 38
A full company of Biali’s defense force, and half the sayeret sat in the trenches and bunkers on the ridges west of Biali all day on June 27th anticipating an attack that did not come. Bolander waited alone, well in advance of the main positions, with the motorcycle and a radio, watching the southwest road to Lubin. Yet the road stayed quiet and empty. On the evening of the 28th fresh men entered the defensive positions to give others a break, and half the sayeret returned to Biali to rest and recharge batteries for the coming night. Yatom ordered Roi to replace Bolander and the Negev gunner happily roared out to take the forward sentry post.
Just after dawn the next day Roi returned from the sentry post for a rest, and found Yatom dozing in the command bunker atop the main north-south ridge that dominated the Lubin road. Like the other positions the command bunker was built cleverly into the hillside and carefully camouflaged, but was somewhat larger and better constructed than most of the other fighting points—Nudelman had designed it to take a direct hit from a heavy shell. Roi put up the motorcycle and asked Yatom if Bolander should take the bike back out to the high road. Yatom told him no. In fact, Yatom had begun to hope that there would not be any attack at all. Possibly the SS patrol misinterpreted the clash on the 26th, or the patrol leader didn’t make an accurate report. Perhaps the Germans just no longer cared that much. Earlier that morning Shapira had transmitted a brief message that he had linked up with Sandler’s men, and would move on Belzec within the next two days. Maybe, just maybe, Yatom thought, the sayeret would get away without further fighting and loss of life.
Yatom was acutely aware that the unexpected lull had not been good for morale among the sayeret or the men and women of Biali. Everyone had been geared up for an attack. That intense sense of anxiety and urgency was good, but didn’t last forever. Eventually it robbed people of strength and resolve. Biali’s defenders could not stay on alert forever.
Yatom decided to speak with his deputy. He left the bunker, and walked over to the deserted forester’s encampment that guarded the right flank where Mofaz was stationed. Mofaz was grumpy again. The abandoned buildings of the settlement cast early morning shadows over acres of high grass and weeds. Yatom suggested that if things were still quiet by midday, they stand down the ridgeline defenses, pull back the sayeret and just leave a small advance force in the hilltop fortifications. Mofaz agreed.
Restless and with nothing better to do, the Yatom decided to stroll his lines until the expected midday withdrawal. He found Bolander and Roi sitting outside the command bunker, the motorcycle between them, chatting amiably and eating a meager breakfast of dry bread and cheese. Yatom considered sending Bolander back out, but didn’t have the heart to disturb the young soldier. He squeezed each man on the back of the neck in an unaccustomed show of affection and moved on to check the mortar position.
Two hours later the sun had risen over the trees, and although it was only mid—morning Yatom, still on the main ridge, had had enough. He stood up and raised his binoculars to take a last look at the Lubin road when his Madonna crackled in his ear. It was Roskovsky. The engineer was forward of the main positions with his platoon. There he was to block the access roads and coordinate the detonation of the EFPs.
“I hear vehicles to the west” said Roskovsky. “They are close.”
Yatom looked through the binoculars again, and noted a thin cloud of dust over the western trees he’d missed just a moment before. He cursed his own lassitude.
“Standby” answered Yatom. He had Nir broadcast a general alert and warn the radio station in Biali that the Germans had finally arrived.
Men and women rushed back to their positions, covering over the bunkers with dirt and brush and breaking out extra machinegun bullets and grenades. In Biali the reserve companies gathered their weapons and started marching westward. At the radio rig, Zim and Hannah, assisted by Perchansky, searched the ether for German transmissions. Feldhandler, Norit, and De Young climbed into a staff car and headed for the southern hill position, the Dutchman driving, with the professor cradling his MG 42 and Norit, who was to be his second on the team, the extra ammunition. Feldhandler hoped that they would not be too late.
Kumm stopped the Waffen SS column near the two approach roads identified by Lieutenant Kaiser. Satisfied that he was in the right place, Kumm directed Kaiser to lead one armored column down the Lubin road, where he’d been ambushed before, accompanied by two half-tracks full of combat engineers to deal with the mines. On the other road, which appeared to be an old forester’s path, a pair of engineer halftracks led a second column. Infantry dismounted from their trucks along the high road and marched into the woods that lined all the roadways. One company flanked the mobile column on the Lubin road to the south, while a second covered the woods to the north of the forester’s path. Two more platoons tromped the forest between the two approach roads, headed right for where Roskovsky and his men had deployed. Kumm sent the mortar batteries into the woods to the north and south of the Lubin road with orders to find clearings from which to fire. He set up his own mobile headquarters off in a small field several hundred meters east of the north—south high road. Stadler, in his own half-track, led a mounted armored infantry platoon and two Stug III assault guns down the forester’s road in the wake of two engineer vehicles. Two more Stug III’s followed the Kaiser’s force on the Lubin road.