The Shield: a novel

by Nachman Kataczinsky PhD

  “I hope the train starts as soon as they load us,” he said to the young man next to him. “If it doesn’t move quickly, we‘ll be cooked alive in those cars.”

  “Maybe they won’t close the doors,” the young man responded. The pretty girl next to him was looking at Bohdan, who stood straighter under her inspection. He knew how to assume a perfectly straight-backed military stance, having been well-trained in his previous life in the Ukrainian guards.

  “Is this your girlfriend?” Bohdan asked the young man.

  “No, this is my sister Sheina, and this is my mother Sara,” the young man responded. “I’m Jacob Hirshson.”

  “Boruch Katzenelson, from Lutsk.”

  “Were you there when the pogrom happened?” Sheina asked.

  Bohdan was not surprised to hear that the pretty girl had a pleasant voice and spoke an educated Yiddish. “Yes, I survived by a miracle. Just ran out into the fields and hid there.” He was practiced in his story and by now it came out naturally.

  “Are you alone here?” Sheina inquired.

  “Yes. My sisters and parents were all lost in the pogrom. I’d rather not discuss it.”

  “I am sorry!” Jacob exclaimed. “My little sister is sometimes too inquisitive.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the station P.A. system: “Achtung! Achtung!” a German voice announced. “You will start boarding the train. Proceed to the cars immediately.”

  The train was loaded within an hour. About eighty people per cattle car - crowded but leaving enough space for most of them to sit.

  Jacob looked around. In one corner of the car was an open-topped barrel of water. In another, plywood enclosed a hole in the floor. A notice printed in a variety of languages prohibited the use of the lavatory hole while the train was standing.

  Jacob pointed out some writing on the wooden planks of the cattle car to Bohdan.

  “Very interesting. It looks like we made the right decision to come on this train. According to this, the previous transport arrived someplace in Italy.”

  So that’s what is says, Bohdan thought, hoping his inability to read Yiddish wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Are we supposed to relieve ourselves behind this piece of plywood with everybody just an inch away on the other side?” Sara complained.

  “Yes, mother,” Jacob responded. “It could be worse. The Germans don’t usually care much about their own privacy, let alone ours. Don’t worry, we will survive this.”

  Two SS officers stopped in front of the open doors of the cattle car consulting quietly. The only thing Jacob could hear was “heat” and “die”. Finally the two left. A few minutes later The P.A. system announced “The car doors on the side facing away from the platform are wired shut. Do not attempt to open them. We will close the doors on the platform side with wire as well but will leave an opening for air. PAY ATTENTION: if anyone removes the wire, opens the doors, or tries to leave their car, everyone in that car will be executed.

  “You were issued food packages. Make sure your food lasts you for at least seven days.”

  Chapter 13

  Noam Shaviv enjoyed his work. He would have liked to have explored more design options for the building he was working on, but today was different. His yearly month-long reserve service ended only two weeks ago; it was more important for him to spend time with his wife and two boys. They were hoping the next one would be a girl. His wife wanted two boys and two girls - “balance the family”. Noam wasn’t entirely sure about having four kids, but he loved his wife and enjoyed the process.

  “Hi, Shosh!” he yelled. “I’m home.”

  “So I hear,” his wife, Shoshanna, answered. She was a nursing instructor at a nearby hospital and sometimes worked strange hours. She’d arranged to work only days since Noam came home so they could spend as much time as possible together. She was, as ever, full of energy and enthusiasm. “How did it go at work?” she asked.

  “Good. I’m working on an interesting design. My team finished all the small stuff while I was away and now I’m annoying them a little by challenging some of the assumptions.”

  “They should be used to that by now.”

  “I heard some news at the office,” said Noam. “We’re negotiating a new government contract and, if we get it, my department will run it. The strange thing is that the government wants us to design an inexpensive building, preferably a duplex on a 600 square meter lot with fairly nice amenities. It makes no sense, since the land will cost more than the building itself, unless they build it in the desert.”

  “It sounds like they plan to build a new city, which makes sense. With all the people coming in we’ll need to house them somewhere.”

  “I don’t know,” Noam hesitated. “Someone probably got a contract to design the city, but I have no idea who it may be. I’ll have to inquire tomorrow. And I heard that the railways are looking into expanding their network by another five hundred kilometers south of Beer Sheba. But enough about my work. How was your day?”

  “Normal,” Shoshanna smiled. “Today we were preparing for a mass inoculation for polio. Teva, even with all their experience as the largest supplier of generic drugs in the ‘old’ world, still haven’t produced the quantity of vaccine we estimate we’ll need. I’ve been practicing my Yiddish - How does it sound? I discovered that I didn’t forget everything my grandmother taught me.”

  Noam was amused. “Your Yiddish sounds funny to me. I only remember a couple of words, but maybe it will come back if I use it. I still remember Polish, I think. I got to use it a bit a couple of years ago - remember that project I did in Poland? It came back to me then like my dad told me it would. He says that no language you ever master is forgotten, only dormant until needed.”

  The next day at work Shoshanna was surprised.

  “I have good news,” her supervisor, the nursing school’s administrator told her. “We’ve been instructed by the ministry to setup a new nursing school at another hospital. It’ll need an administrator. If you want, the job is yours. I will hate losing you, but all the medical personnel that will be coming in from Europe will need re-training and you are one of the best in the business. Besides, I think that you deserve a promotion and there is nowhere to go here.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to think about this and discuss it with Noam.”

  “Sure, sure. Think it over. I am certain that Noam will approve. In the meantime, whether you decide for or against, I need you to go there today to meet with the architects and the city engineer to discuss the needs of the new school. They want to put up temporary buildings, but you know the saying ‘there is nothing as permanent as a temporary arrangement’. We don’t want to be stuck with makeshift construction, especially as the ministry miraculously found the money necessary to build a nice school.”

  That evening the couple greeted each other with: “I have news.”

  “You go first.”

  “Sima offered me the post of administrator at a new nursing school they’re going to build at our local hospital. They’ll start construction in a couple of weeks. I need to give her my decision soon.”

  “That’s great.” Noam was smiling. “You finally get rewarded for all your hard work. It‘s also walking distance from here. I think that you should take the job.”

  “Not so fast.” Shoshanna was serious. “It is not the same job I have now. The new job means longer hours and all kinds of aggravation, at least until the thing is built and running. What if we have more children? I still want my girls.”

  “Your word is my command, my lady. Shall we start working on that right now?”

  “Can’t you be serious for a moment?”

  “Oh, I am serious. I don’t see how a couple of hours more a week at work will prevent us from having more kids, especially if you’re working closer to home.” Noam was serious now too. “Anyway, the key to success in a job like that is not working harder but deputizing. Let your assistants do the work while you supervise. Th
ey will let you hire people right away?”

  “I’ll check on that. If they do, you think I should take the job?”

  “Yes, I think you should. I’ll do my best to help you, though with my news it will be difficult.”

  “News?”

  “Well, I let you go first, now it’s my turn. I was also offered a promotion today; or rather I was promoted without an option to refuse.” Noam was smiling happily. “I was made a partner in the firm.”

  “Hey, this is great.” Shoshanna was smiling now too. “Are we rich yet?”

  “My salary will be half again as much, plus part of the firm’s profits. There’s a catch though; I’m now responsible for a huge project. You remember my speculation yesterday about who’s going to design that new project and the railway extension? Well, the answer is: our firm. Jacobson, Amichai, Keshet and Shaviv. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  “Your name will be on the firm’s building? Really?”

  “Yes. They ordered new signs already. Now the catch is that it’s going to be my responsibility to coordinate the different design teams. The other partners will help, but with Jacobson having celebrated his seventy-fifth and Amichai close to it, it will be up to the two younger partners to carry that out.”

  “But Noam,” Shoshanna said, “your firm doesn’t have enough architects and engineers for a project of this magnitude.”

  “You don’t realize how right you are. The new city, or rather complex of cities, is supposed to be in the desert. We don’t even have enough surveyors for the job. We’re hiring right now, but the market is tight. Architecture and civil engineering were never that well-paid, so the pickings are slim. I applied today to the Ministry of Housing to issue temporary licenses to any qualifying architects and civil engineers among the newcomers. According to the immigration statistics I saw today, that should solve the problem. We’ll have to revert to old pencil and paper techniques, but it will be doable.”

  “I wonder why the government chose to give such a big contract to a small firm like yours.”

  “Hey, we’re not small. There are three active partners, with two very experienced architects advising us. The firm employs close to eighty people. Among architectural design firms we’re considered big. Not the biggest, but big enough for the job. And we won the contract. After all, we’re not going to build anything, just design and supervise. They’re going to divide the construction between a number of builders. Maybe even get some foreign companies in on this. Besides, if we need to, we can partner with one of the other firms, or hire them as subcontractors. We’ll see.”

  ***

  Ibrahim knocked on the door in Jenin. His friend and commander pulled him inside: “Allahu Akbar. I see you are back. How did your mission go?”

  “I was taken by the guide to the Sinai and eventually arrived at a German base in Bosnia. I met with the Grand Mufti, may Allah smile on him forever. I completed my mission.”

  “Are you certain you were not followed here?”

  “Yes. The Mufti’s pilot took me into Jordan and landed in the desert not far from the Dead Sea. I walked across the border south of there and then hitchhiked to Jenin. At no time did I see anything suspicious.”

  “OK. I’ll report to the commander. You can stay here for a while. I’ll not be long.”

  ***

  Mohammad al Husseini listened quietly to the report. He was elated – Finally he succeeded in striking at the hated Jews and, hopefully, eliminating them altogether.

  “You say that my great uncle met with Ibrahim. Did he give Ibrahim a message for me?”

  “Ibrahim has a message, but he claims that it is for your ears only and will not tell me what it is.”

  “Stop wasting time then. Bring him here. But be careful - We don’t want the Israelis getting wind of this.”

  Less than an hour later the courier knocked on his door

  “Allahu Akbar.” Mohammad greeted him. “I hear that you bring good news.”

  “Allahu Akbar, sir, and may Allah cherish you forever,” Ibrahim responded. “I have good news indeed. But first I have to give you the message your great uncle, may he be in Allah’s favor forever, gave me. Here is the sealed letter he personally handed me. He also made me memorize a message, in case I had to destroy the letter.”

  Mohammad carefully inspected the thin, postcard size, rice paper envelope. It was sealed with a gold leaf seal bearing the words ‘Allah is Great’ and the Mufti’s personal crest with an image of the Temple Mount mosques. The top left corner said in German: ‘The office of the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, Chief Commander of the Muslim forces in Europe”; the right corner had the same text in Arabic. There was a signature across the seal on the flap of the envelope. He sliced the envelope open, without breaking the seal. Inside was a piece of rice paper bearing the imprinted seal of the Mufti as well as the address of his office in Sarajevo. The rest was hand-written and signed in dark green ink – the Mufti’s favorite. He knew the signature from the many family papers he had seen. Being a careful conspirator, Mohammad pulled out a copy of his great uncle’s letter and compared signatures. He had no doubt: both the handwriting and signature were authentic.

  “Did you see what kind of pen my great uncle used to write this?” Mohammad asked.

  “I saw him sign the back with a fountain pen with, I think, a gold nib. I don’t know what make it was. I am sorry but I am not familiar with brands of fountain pens.”

  “That’s fine, I wouldn’t expect you to know that. You did a great job.”

  He read the letter. It was short and to the point, just like Mohammad expected a communication from the Grand Mufti to be:

  My dear nephew, may Allah always smile upon you,

  We were handed a unique opportunity to finish the Jews. My friend, Herr Hitler is doing a thorough job on them in Europe but it will be up to us to get the Dar al Islam rid of them. The lands of Islam will be liberated by the numerous Muslim SS divisions being recruited and trained in Bosnia. They will have advanced weapons the Third Reich is building with Allah’s help and the knowledge you gave us.

  We must train as many soldiers as possible to join the SS. For this purpose I instruct all the Arabs dwelling in the Jewish state prepare to leave for the Kingdom of Jordan. We are working on establishing our training camps there and want everyone to be ready to leave as soon as I give the word. In the meantime you should desist from any activity that may alert the Jews to our plans or cause them to attack us before we are ready.

  By Allah’s will your uncle,

  The Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, Hajj Amin al Husseini

  Sarajevo, July 7, 1941

  Mohammad looked at Ibrahim: “What was the message you memorized?”

  Ibrahim recited his message. It was the same as the letter.

  “Did the Mufti say anything else?” Mohammad inquired.

  “We had a conversation that lasted almost an hour. Mostly he wanted to know about the future and what kind of weapons the Israelis have. He seemed very sure about his plans. He told me that German scientist looked at the books I brought with me - by the way he thought that it was a great inspiration for you to send science books in German. The Germans are sure that they will be able to develop an atomic bomb very soon. That’s one reason he wants everybody to get out of here – he plans on using it on the Jews and doesn’t want any of our brethren to be harmed.” Ibrahim paused, thinking. “That is all I remember, sir.”

  “Ah, that makes more sense. My great uncle is truly a great strategist. Now the order to leave for Jordan makes sense.” Muhammad nodded to himself. “It will have to wait until the Israelis open the borders, but we should make all the preparations now. Tell the commander of your cell that we will have a strategy meeting tonight. He has to notify the others.”

  After Ibrahim left, Muhammad made a telephone call to Ramallah. “The package was successfully delivered; I need you to set up a meeting soon.”

  ***

  Moshe Cohen, aka Ibrahim al Taibeh, wa
s tired of traveling. He had been transported in German military cars from Turkey to Greece and from there to Bosnia. Apparently the Nazis were trying to check up on him and were in no hurry to deliver him to the Mufti. Even after he told them to radio the Caliph to verify his identity they were still slow. Moshe suspected that they were bugging the site of the meeting. Now, after four days on the road, they were approaching Sarajevo where the Mufti was supposed to be.

  “Major, we have a room in one of the local hotels ready for you. Not the best accommodations possible but not bad considering the barbaric conditions in this country.” The German SS officer smiled as he opened the car door for Moshe.

  The hotel looked like it was the fanciest place in town, although that wasn’t saying much. The facade was pockmarked by bullets – a witness to a battle. At least all the windows were glazed, which couldn’t be said of most of the other buildings in the area. Two huge Nazi flags hung from first floor windows and a couple of SS guards patrolled outside the front door.

  “It looks like this hotel is well-guarded,” Moshe said with fake innocence. “You have problems with criminals?” He knew that this was military headquarter for the Muslim SS.

  “No, sir.” The German made a dismissive gesture. “The Bosnians mostly welcome us, at least the Muslims do. Of course, there are always some malcontents, but this place is guarded because it’s the temporary headquarters of the Muslim Hanjar 13th Waffen SS division.”

  “Oh, I will have the honor of staying in the same building as the Grand Mufti, may Allah always smile on him.”

  The room was large and had been expensively decorated before World War I. Now it was a bit shabby but still livable. Moshe had no complaints.

  “When will I see the Grand Mufti?”

  “He will see you at supper, in about two hours. You may want to wash up, sir. There is a fresh change of clothes in the closet.” The officer saluted and left the room.

  Moshe decided to follow the German’s advice. He showered and changed into a black suit that had been prepared for him. It fit well and he marveled, again, at the efficiency of the Germans.