Upfall

All together there were over a dozen cars and trucks and even a pair of Kubelwagons, Nazi Germany's version of the jeep. Leaving Nir to inspect and organize the transport Yatom headed to Treblinka's armory, which Fliegel had taken it upon himself to secure. The young Jew impressed Yatom with his seriousness and organization. Yatom told Fliegel to guard the weapons, which would eventually be divvied up between the sayeret and Treblinka's freed prisoners. He also told Fliegel that his men, the Bears, would be accompanying the sayeret back south, while Sandler's men would have to stay behind and assist Treblinka's survivors.

By the time Yatom got back to the deportation square he found his exhausted men scattered here and there around the enclosure. Several were with Mofaz gulping down recently liberated German foodstuffs. Bolander and Ilan appeared to be asleep, or at least resting their tired eyes, while Shapira was engaged in an animated conversation with a petite dark haired young woman, who happened to be covered in blood. Feldhandler was nowhere to be seen. Yatom sent the indefatigable Nir, back from the motor pool, over to join Mofaz and eat, but also to remind the Major to that they needed to move within the next thirty minutes.

Yatom walked toward the woman's barracks where Shapira and the blood spattered woman were still deeply engaged in conversation. To his surprise they were speaking in vernacular Hebrew. Shapira stood as his commander approached.

"Colonel Yatom" said Shapira with evident glee, "this is Norit Zuckerman. From Kibbutz Ginosar."

"On the Kinneret?" Yatom asked her, his voice betraying a certain joy of his own. He'd been to Ginosar on several occasions, and associated the kibbutz with pleasant memories. It was a lovely modern place on the shores of the Sea of Galilee with a guest hotel and a fantastic breakfast.

"Yes" said Norit, patiently and with a smile, despite having answered the same question several times in the past hour. Yatom looked at Shapira inquiringly.

"I already asked her what it was like Colonel—in 1937 when the kibbutz was founded."

"And did you ask her how a member of the yishuv — ends up in Treblinka?"

"You mean an Israeli, don't you Colonel Yatom?" said Norit.

Yatom made a motion with his finger for Shapira to come with him.

"Entschuldigung, Frauline” Shapira told Norit in exaggerated German. They smiled at one another like school kids.

"Beseder” she replied in insouciant Hebrew. "I should get cleaned up anyway." Norit stood and walked toward the women's barack, Shapira's eyes following her.

"What the fuck is going on lieutenant, and what does she know?"

"She knows we are Israeli, and not likely from the old yishuv" said Shapira, like Yatom, using the term for the Jewish community in the British Palestinian Mandate.

"And?"

"That's all. She's figured out that we cannot be Jews from the yishuv or anyplace else within her frame of reference, and yet obviously we are Israeli. She moved to Israel from Germany in 1935 when she was seventeen, and helped found Ginosar. Isn't that fantastic?"

"Thrilling" said Yatom sarcastically, nervous that the woman already knew too much, though at the same time, like Shapira, a little enraptured by the story.

"She was part of an early Zionist youth movement, left Dresden and her family behind—guessing what was to come."

"Then what's she doing in Treblinka?"

"She returned at the last moment, in 1938 to try to get her sister out. But it was too late by then—for all of them. Kristalnacht came and they were caught in the progroms that followed. The whole family was sent to the Warsaw ghetto, then here. Her parents are dead. The girl the commandant threatened is her sister. She led the revolt in there" said Shapira, pointing to the woman's barrack.

"That explains the blood. We need to talk to Feldhandler and Mofaz and decide what to do with her" said Yatom.

"Do with her...?" said Shapira worriedly.

"Relax Ron. I mean whether to take her with us or not. I wasn't planning to take any of the Treblinka survivors, but..."

"I don't think we have a choice Colonel."

"You are probably right. Get Mofaz and find Feldhandler. Let's talk to them and then get the hell out of here."

"Does she know who we are?" asked Feldhandler anxiously a few minutes later, squatting in the dirt with Shapira and Yatom while Mofaz stood munching on a rind of stinky German cheese.

"Not quite" growled Yatom. "Where have you been anyway?"

"I was praying" replied Feldhandler in a serious tone. “Thanking God for the deliverance of this place."

"You've got to be kidding?" guffawed Mofaz. "You praying—the mad scientist who bends light and time—give me a break."

"And you" spat Feldhandler "a religious Zionist officer with a mouth full of pig fat?"

"It's cheese, idiot."

"Maybe you should give somebody else a chance to eat?" suggested Yatom. Mofaz gave Yatom the rest of his cheese rind.