Zaretzky shrugged. “It wasn’t that long. If I remember correctly the last time I sent a letter to my dear aunt was in 1938. Since then there were all kinds of difficulties. I was under British surveillance as a suspected Communist. Then the war started and sending mail to the Soviet Union became very complicated. I have to say that I would have managed but I got no requests or questions so I kept quiet.
“We figured something like that. Now that you’re here we have questions. Can you tell me how you became a First Secretary? This is quite a senior position. Don’t they know you’re a Communist?”
“I don’t advertise it but I’m sure they know and don’t care. Being a Communist isn’t a crime in independent Palestine.
“I worked in the Foreign Section of the Jewish Agency for a long time and when we gained independence I became a senior functionary in the Foreign Ministry. I volunteered to come to Moscow. It’s considered a dangerous assignment because of the war.”
“What’s the population of Palestine?” asked Andreyev.
Zaretzky pretended to think. “It’s more than seven million now.”
“More than seven million? How did that happen?”
“I hope you won’t hold me to the exact number,” Zaretzky responded. “The government rescued about six million from Nazi-occupied Europe and the Arab countries. There are Jews coming in now from the Soviet Union and the rest of the world, in addition to those who lived in Palestine before.”
Andreyev made notes. “Ok, comrade, it’s getting late. I suggest that we break now and continue next time. Would you like a ride to your legation?”
***
Amos Nir, the Prime Minister of Israel, was in a good mood. Things were going according to plan, as much as could be expected in a war. Time for the weekly cabinet meeting.
“Good morning, everyone. First, the Foreign Minister’s report.”
“I have some good and some puzzling news. Our ambassador to London was surprised by General Wilson. He met with Wilson to arrange a conference with the Soviet ambassador in order to set up an allied leaders’ meeting. Wilson told him that he had already made an appointment with the Soviets. Mizrahi, our ambassador, threatened consequences and Wilson apologized, cancelled the appointment and let Mizrahi set up a meeting.”
“What was Wilson explanation?” asked the Defense Minister.
“He claimed it was his mistake and misinterpretation of Churchill’s instructions. Sounds like a bit of a stretch to me. More likely they tried to create a situation where we would play a secondary role as a junior partner.”
“I doubt it,” interjected Amos. “Churchill is devious but not stupid. He knows he needs a strong ally at his side when bargaining with Stalin. I tend to believe Wilson. He probably just screwed up. Old habits die hard and even Wilson sometimes thinks of us as ‘poor Palestinians’. To be sure, we need to be watchful and respond forcefully to any clear manifestation of antisemitism.
“We proposed to the Soviets a summit meeting in Tel Aviv. We have discussed this before so just let me sum up the reason why: the location will impress Stalin and his aides plus convincing them that we’re not to be slighted. We are doing a job on their intelligence service right now to confuse them about our origins. I doubt that they’ll ask direct questions while they’re here. The chances of a leak will be minimal – Both the Soviets and the Brits will be surrounded by our security people at all times. This includes everyone: waiters, drivers, house cleaners - anyone they may come in contact with. We can’t prevent them from arriving at conclusions from what they see.
“Any opinions on what to do if they refuse our proposal?”
The Foreign Minister responded. “I see no reason why Stalin won’t propose a summit in Teheran, like in our old timeline. It’s occupied by the Soviets and the Brits, it’s close to his border. He can bring a sizeable security detail. I would accept meeting in Teheran. We will have to make it clear to Stalin and his generals that we’re a serious power.”
There were nods of agreement from other members of the cabinet.
“Very well,” Amos agreed. “We will find a way to impress them or scare them, whichever we find more useful.”
***
An anticipatory mood prevailed at the Supreme Command of the Armed Forces as Hitler examined the map one more time.
“It looks like we may be able to encircle those pesky Jews or whoever they are. Paul Hausser with his group of four Waffen SS divisions is on the way to Innsbruck. He will be joined by four Hungarian divisions that our ally Admiral Horty is sending. Rommel’s contributing four divisions to the forces west of Innsbruck since the British/French offensive is stopped and the front in France is stable.”
“My Fuehrer, the staff and I recommend that we hold the line east of Innsbruck and consolidate all the forces in the west before attacking,” Jodl suggested in a somewhat timid voice.
Hitler nodded. “That is my intent. I also want to concentrate at least three hundred fighter planes and two dozen bombers on airstrips within fifty kilometers of Innsbruck. When we attack it has to be devastating.
“Jodl, how long will it take to set up all the forces east of Innsbruck?”
Jodl looked at his notes. “The Hungarians will arrive first; they are already moving. General Hausser should be there within seven days, and the forces sent by General Rommel will arrive at about the same time. Taking into account the need to organize the forces, we need eight to nine days. It also depends on who is going to be in command.”
“Let Field Marshall Günter von Kluge know that he’s in command. He will present himself to me tomorrow.”
Hitler got up signaling the end of the meeting.
***
Wolf’s unit advanced, although not very far. They were supposed to take up positions just west of an intersection three miles away. The armor company was positioned in a relatively wide valley. From the top of his tank Wolf could see two roads. The northern one, he knew, was the road to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a town on the way to Munich. The southern road lead east to where a large German force was positioned. Since the valley was almost a mile and a half wide, the company spread out. Two infantry battalions with their Namer IFVs were spreading behind and in between the tanks, with anti-aircraft batteries just behind them.
Night was descending on the valley and the temperature was dropping. Next to Wolf’s position an infantry company of the 927th was hard at work erecting tents, installing heaters and otherwise preparing to be comfortable. Wolf’s immediate concern was food; he didn’t like the ready-to-eat meals. Several times before, most recently during the fighting by the Brenner Pass, he had had the 927th as a neighbor and knew they had decent cooks. It was only natural to walk over to their company sergeant and try to arrange a hot meal for his crew.
The sergeant looked him over and nodded. “Sure. As soon as we’re ready. It will take a while. I’ll send someone to invite you guys.”
Back in Wolf’s tank a message waited on his terminal. His gunner, who assumed the commander’s duties while the commander was away, pointed it out to Wolf. “The platoon commander saw you walk over to the infantry and didn’t like it. We’re supposed to be on full combat alert.”
Wolf smiled. “I’ll explain it to him.” He sent a message to the platoon commander about the hot food.
The response came immediately. “Wolf, I don’t care about hot food. The orders are clear and I don’t want you leaving your tank for anything, except, maybe, to empty your bladder. Even then don’t go farther than the tank’s track.”
When a soldier came running from the infantry position inviting them to eat, Wolf waved at him from the turret. “Give my thanks to your sergeant but we can’t come. Our orders are not to leave the tank. Aren’t you guys on combat alert?”
The soldier nodded, which was barely visible in the uncertain light. “Sure we are. We have a crew of five, including myself, that deliver hot food to the positions. I can bring some for you guys if you want.”
“Than
ks,” Wolf replied, “we’d like that.”
Nothing happened for the next forty minutes. Wolf checked his displays and tried to pick up images from a drone he knew was circling the valley overhead. They were still in dense fog. His infrared showed nothing unusual. The drone broadcast showed some movement to the north but that was likely to be either an animal or a civilian from the village they were straddling.
Just as Wolf and his crew gave up on the hot food and were considering opening their ready meals the infantry food carrier arrived. He had a medium-sized sealed pot which he placed on top of the tank’s track cover. He climbed on top of the tank and prepared to dispense the hot stew. Wolf got down inside the tank, collected the mess kits from his crew and popped up through the hatch. He handed the kits to the soldier, who ladled stew into them, handing them back one by one. Just as Wolf picked up his mess kit and was about to dive inside, the attack began.
A series of explosions walked across the Israeli position. One of them was next to Wolf’s tank. The flash and bang of the explosion stunned him. He saw the food bearer fall off the tank and almost jumped out after him, but his training took over. He dived into the tank and closed the hatch. There was still nothing on the monitors.
Seconds later the radio came alive on the company command frequency. “All units: We have a large armored force approaching from the west. Prepare for action.”
Wolf acknowledged receipt of the message and looked at the drone monitor. It was indeed showing a column of warm objects approaching from the west. He also noticed a dark drip on the monitor. It looked like blood. “I seem to have been hit.”
Wolf woke up in a brightly lit white room. He tried to get up but couldn’t. His head was on fire and he had no feeling in his left arm.
“Relax,” a voice said. “You were injured. This is a hospital. I’ll call a nurse.”
Wolf turned his head, slowly and carefully. There was a bed next to his with a young man in it. “Who are you?” Wolf inquired quietly.
“Sergeant Yitzhak Kaufmann, Company B the 927th”
Wolf tried to focus his eyes, which wasn’t easy. “Are you the guy that sent us the food?”
“That’s me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
Kaufmann smiled. “Nothing much. A couple of pieces of shrapnel in my arm.”
“You guys are supposed to be resting. Stop babbling and rest.”
The newcomer was dressed in a white coat over his uniform and introduced himself as The Doctor. He addressed Wolf, “Look at me. Try to follow my finger with your eyes.
“Good, now close your eyes and tell me if you feel anything.”
Wolf almost jumped when he felt a needle stab his left arm.
The Doctor exhaled audibly. “Very good. It seems that feeling is returning to your arm.”
“What’s wrong with me?” Wolf wanted to know.
The Doctor examined the monitor above Wolf’s bed. “You will live. You were extremely lucky. A piece of a mortar bomb hit you in the head just above the rim of your helmet. You had a bleeding cut and a concussion. Two other fragments hit your left shoulder and upper arm.
“You seem to be recovering from the concussion. The arm is regaining some feeling but you will not be able to use it for a while. It’s broken in two places and you need to recover from surgery.”
“Surgery? How long ago was I injured? How did the battle end? What happened to my crew?”
The Doctor looked at his watch, “They brought you here almost exactly six hours ago. According to the medics who brought you in your crew is fine, in fact they fought very well and saved your life. The battle is not really over yet.”
Wolf felt his concentration wavering but he had one more question. “Where are we?”
“We’re in the University of Innsbruck Hospital. Not a bad facility. Combined with our equipment it makes a much better operating environment than a field hospital.”
Wolf fell asleep.
***
General Ephraim Hirshson was angry. Uri Sadot, his Chief of Staff, had never seen him so angry.
Hirshson was looking at the map in front of him. “What in hell compelled this idiot Almog to go on the offensive? We have a strategy and he acts like he doesn’t comprehend it.” He waved at the communications officer on the other side of the large room. “Get him on the radio.” Hirshson looked at Uri Sadot. “We’ll see how it goes. Are you ready to take over from him?”
“Of course, but are you sure it’s necessary?”
“As commander of the Expeditionary Force it’s my responsibility to do what the General Staff wants us to do. If one of my subordinates either doesn’t understand the strategy or deliberately disrupts the operation...”
The communications officer waved. General Almog was on the line.
“Oded, what’s going on in Innsbruck?” Hirshson asked.
“I moved some forces slightly west beyond the Garmisch-Partenkirchen intersection to prevent the Germans taking and fortifying it. We came under a sudden and unexpected mortar and armor attack. We stopped them and keep destroying their attacking forces. They seem to be running out of steam. I’m considering pressing an attack soon.”
Hirshson shook his head, though he knew Almog couldn’t see him. “What are your losses?”
“We have 52 dead and 73 wounded. The medics tell me about 20 will return to service within a day or two.”
Hirshson looked at Sadot and shook his head. “Oded, do you remember the strategy we’re following? You were not supposed to attack at all, just sit there and let them come to you. No matter how well they dig in they will, eventually, have to come to you.
“You should have consulted with me before doing anything that is contrary to your standing orders. Had you contacted me, I would have told you to sit tight and save the lives of your soldiers. I’m sending reinforcements, a division and several battalions. Fifteen thousand people in all. Uri Sadot will lead them. When he arrives, which will be in three days, he will become the commanding officer of the Innsbruck enclave. Is that clear? In the meantime you will not counterattack. Just sit where you are.”
“That makes sense. I see no need to retreat to my original positions.”
“You are correct. Stay in your current position and let them come to you.”
***
Jacob was preparing a light lunch at his apartment in Beer Sheva before leaving for a couple of evening lectures at the University. The TV was on and he was listening with one ear to a soap opera – good training in colloquial Hebrew. He was startled when the broadcast was interrupted by a news flash. “Our reporter with the IDF in Austria just informed us that a big battle was fought by our Expeditionary Force against a much larger German army. Our forces were victorious but we had significant losses. We will have more details in the regular news broadcast.”
Jacob picked up the phone and called Sheina. She didn’t answer. He concluded that she must be at class. Next he called Esther. She picked up on the first ring, “Hi, Esther, it’s Jacob. Did you hear from Wolf?”
“No, should I have?”
“There was a battle where he’s stationed and I was wondering whether he emailed you.”
“He didn’t. I’ll call my parents. Maybe they know something. I’ll call you as soon as I have news.”
Jacob was finishing his lunch when the phone rang.
Esther was on the line. “I just finished talking to my parents. They were visited by an IDF officer and a nurse.
“Wolf was injured in the battle. They operated on him and the prognosis is good. This is all I know.”
“I’ll be at your place in five minutes. Just have to make a call. Maybe I can find out more details.”
Next Jacob called Ze’ev, who didn’t answer his phone, so he called Ze’ev’s wife Linda. “Do you have any details on Wolf’s condition?”
Linda chuckled. “You seem to be telepathic. I was just about to call you since for some reason I don’t have Esther’s phone number. We got an em
ail from Ephraim. You know that he’s the commander of the Expeditionary Force? He doesn’t have much time but he also doesn’t have a relative injured in battle all that often.
“Anyway, he says that Wolf was hit by shrapnel. One hit his helmet and gave him a concussion. Two pieces struck his left shoulder. His left arm was also broken in two places. They had to operate to take out the shrapnel and, more importantly, repair damage to his shoulder. They expect him to recover but don’t yet have any idea whether he will have full use of his left arm.
“Wolf will be on his way home in three or four days. You call Esther and I will call her parents.”
Jacob called Esther and then ran over to her dorm. He wasn’t sure how she might take the news, though she seemed like a tough young woman and the news was not all bad.
***
Ze’ev Hirshson hadn’t answered Jacob’s call because he was just entering a conference room at the Foreign Ministry. The Minister and several other people were waiting for him.
“Dr. Hirshson, as my secretary told you we would like to discuss an automobile issue.”
“Yes, that’s what she said, with no elaboration, so I’m still in the dark.”
The Foreign Minister smiled. “Apparently she’s a diplomat as well. Let me shed light on this and hopefully you can help us.
“As you know, we now have diplomatic missions in several countries. All these embassies need transportation and, in some countries, we think it’s vital for our image to use our own home-grown cars.
“We have heard about your company’s efforts to develop a domestic car and I signed off on your import requests from Italy. So, is there anything we could use?”
“Why not use one of the cars you’re using here? No one will recognize a car from the future if new and different badges are fabricated.”
“In some countries - like the U.S., Russia and Italy - we don’t want the time travel incident to become an issue. A car that looks correct for this time would be preferable. Is there anything you can offer us?”
“As a matter of fact I can, but there may be a small problem.” He pulled out several photographs from his briefcase. “These are the two cars we’re setting up to manufacture. The bodies will be, at first, imported. We settled on the Fiat 2800 Berlina and Lancia Ardea. The Fiat is a large luxury model and the Lancia is a smaller family sedan. These cars look almost like the originals, except for some changes to the bumpers that are required by our safety laws. We’re calling the Fiat Alpha 290 or Aleph 290 in Hebrew and the Lancia is the Beta 180 or Bet 180. The number designation is simply the horsepower of the motor. Both cars will carry the line name ‘Sabra’ and Consolidated’s logo.”
Beyond the Shield Page 20
