Upfall

After shooting Wagner Yatom cast about for another target, but the rank of commandos next to him had not left many. The boys were business-like but excited, occasionally shouting or gesturing to each other, as they kept firing. The shooting was at close range, and easy— they were well practiced in distinguishing targets—terrorists from innocent victims—and the bright multiplicity of uniforms served as an easy guide. Once in awhile a German or Ukrainian would get off wild shot or two, which caused some cursing and flinching, but for the most part it was a turkey shoot. Yatom finally found a confused young Ukrainian guard who seemed unsure whether to run or shoot. Yatom put two bullets into him, and then hit an SS man who'd thought the better of valor and was already fleeing into the camp.

The commando leader paused to get a better picture of the fighting. Within a minute the Israeli commandos had gunned down all the SS in the platform area and most of the Ukrainians. A few were in mid-flight. Yatom didn't see any German who made it away, although he assumed a few did. Some Jewish workers lay dead as well, hit by stray or misaimed Israeli bullets, or shot down in a last bloodletting by the desperate Germans. Fortunately, most of the Jewish workers had fallen to the ground, out of the line of fire.

Yatom ordered Ilan to the top of the rail car in order to snipe at any Ukrainians in the guard towers that surrounded the camp. The men in the towers, armed with deadly MG 34 machine guns, had not opened fire, most likely, Yatom figured, out of confiision and a lack of orders. Yatom decide to leave Perchensky in the car with Mueller, and sweep the platform with teams Bet andAlef. He left the car, his men hard behind him, and moved into Sobibor.

Shapira waited to hear the sound of gunfire from the front of the train before pushing open the heavy wooden door on his cattle-car. Next to Shapira were Bolander, the machine-gurmer Roi, and his radioman/grenadier Chaim Ben David. As the door slid open, Shapira saw several Jewish men in blue coveralls standing directly in front of him. Immediately behind them was an SS man with an extremely large dog and four Ukrainians. Shapira had hardly squeezed the trigger on his Tavor when the scene in front of him erupted in fallen bodies and blood. Roi and Chaim had been fast on the trigger too. Shapira managed to plug the SS man with the dog, but spared the animal, which wisely scampered off. The Jews in front of them also escaped, fleeing over the German and the dead Ukrainians.

Shapira ordered De Jong and his platoon out of the car. William the Young leapt from the train like a man twenty years his junior, followed by the newly minted soldiers who rushed from the door of the railcar like men possessed. De Jong led them with a guttural yell that only a real Dutchman could bring forth, and they imitated him, screaming in three or four languages as they piled off the train.

De Jong steered the gaggle toward the Forward camp at a run.

They moved so quickly that Shapira momentarily froze, uncertain of his next move. Bolander didn't wait for orders, and opened fire on a guard tower that loomed across the camp to the northwest, about 100 meters away. Bolander hit the guard tower with a burst of fire that knocked out the two machine-gunners just as they directed their weapon at the train. The marksman swung his Tavor about looking for other towers, but he couldn't see any from his position by the train.

"Where are the other towers?" he shouted excitedly to Shapira.

The lieutenant turned his head toward Bolander, whose words shook Shapira out of his momentary funk. "I don't know!" he shouted, but we can't stay here—let's go!"

De Jong and his men had almost reached the Forward Camp, forty meters or so from the train. A locked gate guarded by two Ukrainians with rifles barred their way. De J ong gritted his teeth and raised his pistol as he continued toward the Ukrainians. They raised their weapons uncertainly. De J ong saw them talking excitedly to each other, panic in their eyes. Ten meters from the gate the Dutchman abruptly stopped aimed the pistol. Behind him his men awkwardly halted, some running into the men in front of them, or tripping, shouting and cursing.

De Jong swung the Walther at the two Ukrainians, who in turn raised their Mausers. For an eternal second, the adversaries stared at each other without firing. Then De J ong pointed the weapon at the chest of the closest Ukrainian and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He was stunned—like everybody else, he'd taken his weapon off safe as soon at the train stopped at the camp.

"Shoot them!" cried Porchak, one of De Jong's squad leaders, who though armed with an Uzi had also neglected to fire..

The Ukrainians instinctively turned toward Porchak and both shot at him, managing to hit him with one bullet in the shoulder.