Upfall

Feldhandler's heart was racing. Adrenaline poured into his system. He took a deep breath and looked at the two writhing Germans. He felt cold. He put his head down for a moment to relax and regain his composure.

A hundred meters down the track Popel saw his squad-mates fall.

He also saw the muzzle flashes of a rapid fire rifle coming from a weed covered ditch, although he couldn't see the shooter. Popel, like most of the policemen, was armed with a KAR 98 Mauser rifle. It was slow firing, but a reliable, highly accurate weapon, and Popel was a good shot. He swung the rifle in Feldhandler's direction.

From the tree line, Yatom watched Feldhandler gun down the two Germans who exited the railcar, but also saw that he had seemingly forgotten about a third German down the track, who now was aiming his rifle at the scientist. Yatom radioed urgently to Ilan, who was masked near a tree two dozen meters away.

Yatom keyed his Madonna. "Ilan, do you see that German?!" The sniper already had his SR-25 on the target—at least he guessed it was the target—the man man looked like a German from an old movie.

"Affirmative."

"Take him."

Mofaz broke into the net and said "No!" but it was too late...

At the same moment, concealed at the far end of the train, Shapira and Bolander also watched as Popel swung his rifle towards Feldhandler. Popel's back was to Bolander, well over three hundred meters distant. It was a longish shot, but well within Bolander's capabilities.

Shapira didn't have orders from Yatom, but Israeli officers were supposed to make decisions on their own based on conditions at the scene. "Go" said Shapira to the marksman.

Popel stared down the sights of his rifle in Feldhandler's direction. Through the weeds he detected a flash of human flesh below an elaborate helmet covering. He was surprised at the strange figure, but pleased he had a target. Now, he thought, he would make up for his qualms and failures at Biala.

Feldhandler saw the policeman's rifle pointed right at his face. He'd forgotten about the third German in his nervousness and excitement. Now, shockingly, Feldhandler realized he would die before he'd accomplished anything, all for a momentary lapse of concentration! The scientist desperately tried to swing his rifle at the German.

Popel squeezed the trigger precisely at the moment Ilan's 7.62mm bullet tore off his lower jaw. Poppel's head snapped sharply to the side and his rifle jerked up at the last moment sending his bullet inches over Feldhandler's head. A split second later Bolander's 5.56mm round plowed into Popel's right kidney and blew out of his body near his navel, trailing a bloody spool of intestine. Shock and pain filled the young German's consciousness. He felt for his missing jaw and came away horrified. He couldn't even scream. He watched his guts spill onto the graveled rail bed and fell on top of thern. He knew he was dying but didn't think of his mother, his girlfriend or his country—only pain and horror. Instinctively, he scrambled for his fallen Mauser.

Feldhandler heard the German bullet snap over his head, the sound mixed with the reports of Israeli rifles. He looked up and saw the German slumped on the ground but grasping for his gun.

Feldhandler set the Galil on automatic and fired a long burst at the prostrate man. The Galil's bullets slammed into Popel like angels of mercy, putting him out of his misery.

Yatom called over his radio to Feldhandler. "Doctor, are you alright?"

"Yes" stammered Feldhandler. "Thank you."

"Stay in the ditch and don't nrove."

"Acknowledged" said Feldhandler resignedly and with relief. He would gladly let the sarayet carry the fight if that's what Yatom intended.

Mofaz came on the net. "Commander, what are you doing?" It was as much a demand as a question.

Yatom wasn't sure. He hadn't made up his mind until he gave the order to Ilan, and that had been an almost instinctive response. But Yatom hated indecision and his own inability to choose a course had bothered him more that making the decision to join the fight. He couldn't fully explain himself to Mofaz at the moment, but felt in his gut that he was doing the right thing. "We are in this fight Major" said Yatom. Then Yatom broadcast a message to the rest of the sayeret.

"We are engaged. Enemy is in gray. If he is armed you may fire. Yatom out."

Mofaz tossed his helmet in disgust. Itzak, Ilan and Roskovsky looked at him curiously—embarrassed for their team leader. Itzak, who had more or less figured out what had happened to thenr, was pleased with Yatom‘s decision. Ilan had already taken a shot and killed somebody, and Roskovsky was a disciplined engineer who didn't like disorder. Mofaz seemed to recognize all this and recovered himself. He scratched his balding head and replaced his helmet, then caught the eye of each man in turn. He nodded his head, as if to acknowledge his mistake. "Okay boys" said Mofaz "we have our orders. Kill the gray guys."