Upfall

The Major watched Perchensky and the rest of team Gimmel dismount. "Where is the German?”

"Got away" said Shapira simply.

"Beseder" said Mofaz. He didn't give a crap about any of the Germans, dead or alive. "Yatom wants us ten minutes ago. Let's get going."

The two officers jogged over to the sayeret commander who was standing near the camp entrance. Feldhandler, Sandler and Fliegel were with him. Shapira saw that Norit was hovering in the distance, chatting with Chaim. Perchensky came up behind them.

"Who's the woman speaking Hebrew with Chaim?" she asked Yatom, as if they were meeting for morning coffee instead of planning an escape. She'd managed to wash her face and comb out her hair, trying to put the ordeal with Mueller behind her.

"No time for that" said Yatom.

"You look like hell" Feldhandler told her, drawing sharp stares from the Israeli officers. Perchensky ignored him.

"We should have moved out an hour ago" said Yatom, tr'ying to hold his aggravation in check. The danger from German aircraft was acute. His men were tired, and in danger of loosing their edge. Sandler, Fliegel and their men had done their best, but getting the freed prisoners in some order had proved more difficult than at Sobibor. Sandler assembled Treblinka's former captives in rough order in the Forward Camp near the gate. They milled about nervously, well armed and carrying bags of food and other supplies.

"I've explained our plans to Sandler and Fliegel" Yatom told Shapira, who remained in the dark as to Yatom's intentions beyond seizing Treblinka. "The Bears will come with us. The Bulls will stay behind and try to assist the Treblinka survivors in the countryside. In three weeks, Sandler will attempt to rendezvous with one of our forces outside Belzac.."

"One of our forces—what does that mean?" asked Shapira.

"We'll talk about all that later" said Yatom. "We've split the weapons and food between us and the Treblinka survivors. We are heading back south, to the refugees from the train. That's why Fliegel's men are with us—those are his people. Sandler and his men are death camp survivors, so they should relate to these people better. Do you agree?" Shapira nodded—it made sense and Yatom had clearly made up his mind anyway. Yatom walked over to Sandler. "You know what to do?"

"Yes" said Sandler. Yatom offered his hand to the young partisan leader. "Gutte Gluck" said Yatom in rough German. Sandler shook his hand vigorously.

"Du auch Sayeret Fliegel" said Sandler. Shapira clapped Sandler on the back and Fliegel gave him a hug. The former Sonderkommando smiled at his friend before walking away to his excellently armed men—having helped themselves to additional MP-40s, machineguns, bandoliers of ammunition and grenades. They now stood at the head of head hundreds of Treblinka's survivors, also armed with looted weapons, mostly rifles, but with some automatic weapons or grenades.

"Come" said Yatom to Fliegel. "Let's get out of this horrible place."

Behind them, Sandler's men and Treblinka's former prisoners set fire to the death camp, mingling ashes with ashes.

Chapter 27

Muefler ran north after his escape, toward the Bug, which he remembered crossing during the journey with his former captors. Before he reached the river he began angling to what he guessed was the northwest, using the sound of fighting in Treblinka as a guide. He stayed well away from the camp, but reckoned that a road must lead north from the camp and eventually bridge the river. Mueller found the river at dawn. He walked along the bank until he found the bridge.

Looking back toward the death camp he saw a filthy column of black smoke. That's probably not so unusual, although its Germans burning today, he thought coldly.

Mueller's chief concern was that he didn't join the Treblinka SS in death. Having escaped his captors, the problem now was avoiding execution by his own side, should he be discovered wandering along the road and deemed a deserter. He knew he looked like a deserter — his uniform out of order and ragged, his equipment gone. The last thing Mueller wanted was to run into someone like himself—a hard-hearted sergeant who liked to throw his weight around. He considered ditching the seemingly useless enemy weapon, but ultimately calculated that it would be better tn keep the thing. It might be worth something more than a mere souvenier piece if he could find his way to a higher level of command. Certainly, there would be some interest in what he knew about the disaster befalling the Reich‘s "resettlement camps." The truth was that he was a hero, not a deserter. Mueller had to make sure that whoever found him understood that he deserved a medal rather than a firing squad.