Upfall

By the accounts of his combat soldiers and his own observations, and considering the effects of the artillery bombardment, Stadler guessed that his men had killed or wounded at least 200 partisans besides his captives. Stadler reasoned, as he guessed Globocnik would as well, that it was unlikely a partisan force larger than that could even support itself in eastern Poland for very long. Therefore, concluded Stadler, the enemy force must have been virtually wiped out— nevermind that they were still shooting a few machineguns at the end. Stadler drove back into Lubin like a conquering hero, and sent on the body of his regimental commander for burial with full honors, along with the other truckloads of lesser dead.

The next day when the people of Biali counted up their losses, Stadler‘s estimate of the cost didn‘t prove to be too far off the mark. By dawn on the June 29th Sobel, who was keeping the statistics, had counted 63 Jewish dead, 92 wounded and 25 missing—not counting the sayeret's casualties. And many of the wounded, in the absence of medical facilities, supplies and antibiotics, would die. It was a devastating blow to the little community, and it wasn‘t long before some of Jezek's people, who had been rescued before reaching Sobibor, were questioning whether the terrible battle had been worth the cost. An irate crowd gathered around the overflowing clinic within the town, where dozens of wounded lay inside and out.

Sobel addressed them, his face red with anger. "You would all be dead, every last one of you if we had not fought" he spat at the weeping wives, mothers and fathers, without compassion. "And you‘ll die still, you and your loved ones, if you don't remember that."

His words didn't calm the traumatized citizenry, but silenced them. De Jong, who returned from the battlefield bloodied but intact, reinforced Sobel‘s words, surprised and grateful that the Polish Macher had stepped forward. Four wounded SS troopers ended up in the Biali clinic as well, the focus of much hate and scorn. Sobel and his men wanted to execute the soldiers immediately, but De Jong and Jezek convinced former Sobibor prisoner to keep the men alive, at least for the time being.

The sayeret remained on the shattered ridgeline with Fliegel and his men, holding the ground, and collecting what weapons and ammunition they could find off the German dead, and their own. Norit emerged from the fight little worse for wear, but Feldhandler was in biting pain from his badly burned hands. Yatom and the other Israelis were just glad he was alive, lest they be permanently stranded. But it was unlikely Feldhandler would be able to work the upside-down computer in the capsule any time soon.

Rafi was the most pressing issue for the sayeret. Ido assured them that without access to modern medical treatment the commando would die. This made returning to modern Israel an acute issue — Feldhandler had to get the device operational, regardless of his own injuries. Mofaz pressed the issue most aggessively, and Yatom allowed his unruly subordinate some room.

Feldhandler, tired and weak, but fearing Mofaz‘s rages as much as his own painful injuries, reluctantly agreed to return to the capsule with Perchansky on the evening after the fight. Yatom, speaking with the scientist in as kindly a way as he could manage, told Feldhandler that as soon as the sayeret heard from Shapira, if they heard from him, they would the capsule was operational. And if they did not hear from the Lieutenant in two days, Rafi needed to go anyway. Somehow, Feldhandler and Perchansky had to make it work.

Chapter 41

Shapira and Chaim, with their demolition men, drove south for Belzec for two tormenting days, dodging patrols and aircraft the whole way. The Germans, it seemed, were intent on protecting their most productive death factory. Shapira and his men finally made camp in a forest several kilometers from the death camp. The redoubtable Sandler found the encampment early on the morning of June 28, at which time Shapira sent Yatom a brief signal—about all the platoon radio could handle at the range Sandler had thirty-one men still with him. Of the prisoners freed from Treblinka, many had already been killed or captured. The survivors had split themselves into a dozen smaller groups, some intent on attacking the Germans, others on hiding. Sandler's unit consisted of his remaining Bulls, and twenty of Treblinka's youngest, fittest and most vengeful men. Mostly, like Sandler, they were baleful former Sonderkommandos. Sandler had given them the best of the captured weaponry from Treblinka, supplemented occasionally by loot taken from unfortunate German units that crossed his path. All of Sandler‘s men carried MP 40s or MG 34s—there wasn't a Mauser to be seen Their belts were festooned with pistols, knives and grenades. They looked like outlandishly armed buccaneers, and acted that way too. But they were death‘s men, and they knew it.