David had to agree with his wife, whom he always considered smarter than himself. Being a history major, she also knew more than he did about this time period.
“Now that you mention it,” he mused, trying to lighten the discussion a bit, “I see another reason not to go back even if we could: my hypertension medication will not be invented for another forty years and your cholesterol drug will not be available for another fifty. At least the Israelis have them and, I hope, will not refuse us treatment.”
There was another thing in the leaflet that bothered David. He was not very well versed in the history of WWII but the leaflet pointed out that today was the day Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union.
“You think my parents will survive again?” he asked Rachel. “I wonder what would happen if I meet them when they are young before I was even born.”
“It’s not only your parents, David. Most of their – your, our - family was killed in the Holocaust. They're still alive now.”
“I’m worried about the boys,” Rachel continued. “Since we’re stuck here, how long before the Israeli army takes them? They’re almost of age.” The army was the primary reason they never considered moving to Israel, though their sons liked the idea. Every teenager served here and all were in danger. They had even cut down on their visits in the last couple of years, so the boys wouldn’t be tempted to enlist. And now this happens. Josh was almost nineteen, and Jake was seventeen, close to the age Israelis started their service. She thought for a moment. “On the other hand, I’d prefer them serving in a Jewish army to being drafted by the U.S., assuming we join the fight in December of 1941, after Pearl Harbor.”
“This whole thing is seriously confusing!” David waved his hands as if trying to push something aside. “I spent more than thirty years of my life working with advanced physics, but now I feel like an idiot.”
***
Hans Paulus was even more upset than David, and his family wasn’t with him at the Dan to calm him down. Hans was a regional manager for Siemens, the German industrial giant. He had come to Israel in order to visit the new microprocessor and controller plant being started up near Beer Sheba. It was a joint venture with Israel’s Elbit and Intel’s Israeli branch. He had planned on going home to Munich on Wednesday. Now, even if he was allowed, it was not an option: Nazi Germany occupied the Republic he knew. And his family was lost somewhere in time.
“What do you mean my credit is no good?” he yelled at the reception clerk. “It was good when I made the reservation, and I am not going away just because you say so.” He was furious.
“Sir,” said the clerk, “we are doing our best, but the only currency we can accept is Israeli. We’re not throwing you out, but we can’t provide full hotel services either.”
Paulus forced himself to calm down enough to think. He did have a source of credit, assuming they would acknowledge him. “Please call Siemens Israel. I am sure they will solve the payment problem.”
“Sir, it doesn’t matter. We’re emptying the hotel within 30 days,” said the clerk. “There is some kind of a government plan to take care of guests after that, but I don’t know any details.”
***
On the way to the British embassy, Wilson asked the Lieutenant questions about everything he saw. Mosinson was willing to respond, within the limits imposed by his commanders.
The General was especially curious about everything to do with the military. He wanted to know about the vehicle that transported him from Naqoura, and he was even more curious about the helicopter. After several minutes of conversation, looking out the windows onto the brightly lit coastal cities of Israel, Wilson asked: “Lieutenant, how big is the population of Israel?”
“We are near the eight million mark, Sir.”
“I noticed that your border post with Lebanon was very well fortified. Were you at war just before you were transported in time?”
“We’ve been on a war footing ever since the state was established in 1948.” Mosinson paused to think. “There were several major wars, with all our Arab neighbors attacking us at once. In the interludes we had an almost-peace – with saboteurs active and Arabs attacking our civilians. When the time displacement occurred, we were at peace, and actually the chances of another war with the Arabs seemed to be diminishing.”
Wilson thought for a moment: “I assume that you successfully defended yourselves.”
“Well, we defeated all the attacks and acquired some land in the process. Maybe that is the reason they decided to stop those massive attacks.”
“Yes, that would explain your military ability. Has Britain been an ally of yours?” Wilson asked.
“Not really, sir. We had diplomatic relations, as evidenced by the embassy you will visit, but as Jews we can rely on no other power to defend us. We had allies in the sense of rendering us diplomatic support, sharing advanced technology, that sort of thing. In our world, for decades, Britain wasn’t important enough to count. It did, more or less, what the U.S. asked it to do.”
Wilson was taken aback by the last statement: “Young man, what do you mean ‘Britain was not important enough’?”
“Sir, I meant no offense. Israel needed to have cutting edge technology to be able to survive. Our government made a decision many years ago that we have to be as self-sufficient as possible. The result was that by the time we were displaced into the here and now we became leaders in a number of technologies, most of them with military use. There was nothing Britain could contribute. As a matter of fact, we were selling advanced equipment to Britain.”
“What kind of equipment?”
“Sir, I am not at liberty to disclose that. I can say though that even if I gave you a description it would not be very informative, as even the terminology to describe it doesn’t exist yet in your world.”
The helicopter was landing on the roof of the British embassy as they finished this exchange. Wilson shook the Lieutenant’s hand: “It was a pleasure talking to you, Lieutenant. Will I see you again?”
“Yes, Sir. I will be waiting for you here.”
Thomas Harvey was on the roof, shielding his eyes from the dust blown around by the helicopter: “General Wilson, I am Sir Thomas Harvey, Her Majesty’s Ambassador to Israel. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“I am pleased to meet you as well, Ambassador.”
They shook hands. Wilson paused for a moment: “You said ‘Her Majesty’?”
“Yes. It is somewhat confusing. The British government I represent is in the future, and Queen Elizabeth is the Head of State. I hope that the King’s government will re-appoint me when the time comes. Please follow me. The rest of the party is waiting for us inside.”
Wilson followed the Ambassador into the building, down a short flight of stairs and into an elevator. He was somewhat surprised that the interior of the embassy was pleasantly cool and dry – it was a great improvement over the warm and humid evening outside. It also meant air-conditioning, with which Wilson was familiar mostly through stories. Palestine had progressed indeed.
The room they entered was paneled in dark wood and looked like a dining room at a British club, except it was fairly small and had a glass wall facing the sea. Three men were seated at a dining table. They rose to meet General Wilson and introduced themselves as the Foreign Minister, Defense Minister and Chief of the General Staff of Israel.
“Ah, General Yaari, what a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
“It is my pleasure to meet you, sir. It is amazing to be able to shake your hand. Until now I knew you only from reading history books.”
“Gentlemen,” interrupted the Ambassador, “may I suggest that we have some drinks and dinner. We can continue our discussion at the table. I am assuming that you still want to return to your headquarters tonight?” he asked Wilson.
“Yes, that would be my preference.”
The group exchanged pleasantries while dinner was served. When the wait staff had left them, the Foreign Minister got dow
n to business. “General Wilson, I would like to assure you that the Government of Israel intends to assist Britain in its struggle against the Nazis. We see you as natural allies in this time since it is in our mutual interest that the Germans be beaten.”
“I appreciate your declaration of friendship,” Wilson said. “Can I count on your assistance with new and advanced military equipment that will give my forces an edge, or, even better, help us defeat Rommel as rapidly as possible?”
Gad Yaari responded: “General, giving you equipment or technology may not be in your best interests. Your country, as advanced as it may seem in this time period, will have no way to either use the equipment efficiently or maintain it without extensive training. Even a seemingly ordinary piece of equipment, like the vehicle that picked you up at Naqoura, includes technology British scientists will not be able to understand or replicate for many years.”
Thomas Harvey nodded his agreement: “As a matter of fact such ‘assistance’ could be extremely harmful. We can discuss this later, but I completely agree with General Yaari.”
The Defense Minister smiled: “We are willing and able to help you though. We can enhance your fighting ability and multiply your forces’ effectiveness. These issues will have to be discussed with your government.”
“We hope to be friends,” the Foreign Minister added. “It did not work out in the time we came from, mostly because of miserable mistakes by British policy makers. I sincerely hope that this time around things will be better.” He looked at Thomas Harvey, who picked up his cue:
“General, the Empire, which ceased to exist soon after this war was over, made severe mistakes in its relations with the Jews and the fledgling State of Israel. The Foreign Office had an unreasonable love for and trust in the Arabs, who are doing all they can to curry favor with the Nazis as we speak. I hope, for the sake of Great Britain, that this will not happen now.”
Wilson said nothing for a while, concentrating on the excellent steak and good wine. It was not normal British fare, but he had no complaints. The food was very good. “I will report to the Prime Minister,” he said finally, “and he will decide how to proceed.”
“May I suggest,” the Foreign Minister proposed, “that in order to expedite things we send a representative of our government to London as soon as possible. This will make negotiations more efficient.”
“I am not a diplomat,” Wilson responded, “but it makes sense. I will ask the Prime Minister for instructions.”
The conversation that followed touched on Israel’s military and industrial abilities but Wilson gained no additional information of any significance.
After the dinner meeting General Wilson was tired and dazed. It seemed to him that the Israelis would be a formidable ally and an even more formidable foe. Although he did not have enough information of the general war situation to be certain, his professional opinion was that their help might be enough for the Empire to defeat the Germans, even without American help, which he knew Churchill sought despite the price. This, he knew, would be welcome news to the Prime Minister. He was quiet on the short flight back to Rosh Hanikra, taking in, again, the sights of the Tel-Aviv metropolis and the coastal plain, brightly lit as if in defiance of the World War going on around it. He thanked Lieutenant Mosinson and returned to the HQ in Naqoura. It was late, but he had to write his report immediately, while the events were still fresh in his memory.
Chapter 6
SS-Standartenfuhrer (Colonel) Dr. Walter Stachlecker had prepared his speech carefully. He was always a methodical man, a scholar of law. His command, Einsatzgruppe A, included many educated men and he was proud of both his personnel and their assignment. The unit was not large, about a thousand officers and men, but he believed that it was sufficient for the task of exterminating the Jews and other enemies of the Reich in the areas assigned to it.
The Standartenfuhrer climbed onto the hood of his command Volkswagen and looked at his notes. The weather was pleasant, with a light wind. This morning of Monday, June 23, 1941, promised a beautiful day. His whole command was assembled in front of him, with the East Prussian town of Guimbinen as a backdrop. They stood at parade rest, awaiting his words.
“Dear comrades,” Stachlecker began after testing the microphone, “we are about to begin our mission for the fatherland. Each of you is expected to do all that is required to rid us of the Jew.” Stachlecker paused. A faint, pervasive whine was getting louder, threatening to drown out his speech. It reminded him of something and instinctively he looked up into the sky. Nothing. By the time his gaze was back down to his troops it was too late.
The field was enveloped in fire. It seemed that the ground itself was burning. For all practical purposes Einsatzgruppe A ceased to exist. SS-Standartenfuhrer Dr. Walter Stachlecker was lying on the ground. His right foot was burned, and he could see bones sticking out of the blackened flesh. Otherwise, he thought he was fine, until he blacked out. This could not be said about most of his devoted troops, who died a terrible death, burned alive, shrieking in pain. Some survived badly burned; only a handful escaped unharmed. A couple thousand liters of NAPALM will do that to a tight formation, especially if dropped from a great height and ignited a hundred feet in the air above the target. Not the most humane weapon but one guaranteed to produce the desired result, destroying a large group of fanatics.
***
Hitler was in his office at the Wolfsschanze. He wanted to be as close as possible - while staying at an established command center - to his armies attacking the Soviets. This headquarters, prepared in advance in eastern Prussia, was ideal for his purpose. Its deep bunkers and communications facilities enabled the Fuehrer to observe the attack and intervene, if he so desired. As of now, Monday, June 23, there was no reason to interfere – the Barbarossa plan was working as anticipated.
His secretary knocked on the door; the great man allowed her to enter.
“Mein Fuehrer, the Reichsführer SS wishes to speak with you.”
“Let him in,” Hitler responded.
The secretary quickly returned with Himmler, who gave the Nazi salute as the door closed behind him.
“Sit,” said Hitler, pointing to a chair in front of his huge desk.
“Thank you, mein Fuehrer.” Himmler looked serious.
“Heinrich, you look like your dog died today. What’s eating you?”
“Mein Fuehrer, I have issued orders to move two battalions of the Shutztaffel from SS division Death-Head to take up the duties of Einsatzgruppen A and B. I just received reports from Guimbinen, which is close to us here, and from Warsaw. It seems that a terrible catastrophe has befallen our Einsatzgruppen A and B. The reports claim that there are less than thirty survivors from both units. Everybody else was burned to death.”
“Heinrich, this is a very bad joke,” Hitler said, with a grim smile.
“This is no joke, mein Fuehrer. It seems that the attack was directed specifically against the Einsatzgruppen. I also have reports that elements of Einsatzgruppe C and some of D were attacked and annihilated in a similar way.”
“How did the Communists discover these units? Why would they attack them? Apparently their love for their Jews is beyond reason. We are pounding them to death, and they hit us just to protect their Jews?”
“Well, I don’t know who attacked our units. Why not ask Goering? His Luftwaffe was supposed to give us air cover,” Himmler complained. “I was at the Guimbinen site. It looks like somebody took flame throwers to our heroic troops.”
“I will deal with Herman later. In the meantime, how much does this delay the execution of the master plan?”
“Mein Fuehrer, the rest of my SS has not been trained for this task but their zeal and numbers will compensate. There will be only a slight delay, maybe a week or so. We can organize locals as planned to do some of the work - They only need a little encouragement. It will not be as efficiently accomplished as it would have been with the troops we lost, but we will spend hardly any additional resources.�
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“That’s not too bad.” Hitler smiled. “By then we will be well on the way to finishing off Stalin and I doubt the Communist will have the balls to interfere again.”
He was interrupted by another knock on the door. The secretary stuck her head in. “The guard commander has an emergency situation and would like to report to the Reichsführer SS,” she said.
“Let him in,” said Hitler testily. “Everybody is having emergencies today.”
***
Gad Yaari was tense. It was early afternoon of Monday, June 23, 1941. The first reports from the initial phase of Operation Moses were coming in. No losses so far. One of the F15s had had to abort its mission and return to base before reaching its target: They couldn’t continue with the targeting computer on the blink. From 20,000 feet in the air you could seriously mess up and hit the wrong target without laser-guided equipment. These things happened, though not often.
Otherwise things were going well. Most of the objectives were achieved either completely or partially. As expected. Not all the Einsatzgruppen were bunched together for a last speech by their commanders. You could only do so much.
According to his computer display, the only units still in the air above Eastern Europe were an aerial tanker and several F15s. The payload to the Wolfsschanze had been delivered. Now the waiting began. Yaari gave orders to prepare for phase two of the operation.
The Shield: a novel Page 7
