The Shield: a novel

by Nachman Kataczinsky PhD

  “Captain Osama Ramadan, Company A, the First Battalion, Tenth Division of the Caliph’s army,” the Israeli saluted. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Captain Ramadan is here to investigate the disappearance of their operatives. I expect you to fully cooperate with his team.” Eichmann sounded sincere, but Saul noticed that his eyes flicked to the side. Something wasn’t kosher.

  The Israeli requested, and was granted, a full tour of the fort. It was filled to its considerable capacity. Thousands of people were incarcerated in the underground casements and the drier cells above ground. The team could not easily determine who these prisoners were. One thing was certain: their life expectancy was not great.

  They started their questioning with the commander. Eichmann was not allowed in the room and was told to wait in the car. This somewhat rude treatment of a superior officer seemed to surprise the SS captain, but he said nothing. When questioned, he freely admitted that the four men had been brought to the fort by an SS detachment.

  “We interrogated them as gently as possible to make sure that they are who they said they are. As soon as we ascertained their identities we let them go.”

  “All together?” asked Saul.

  “No. The man name Mordechai was released on his second day here. The rest were released the next day. He departed on his cart as soon as we let him go.”

  Saul looked at Captain Ori Ben-Zvi, otherwise known as Osama Ramadan. Ori nodded and Saul pulled out the polygraph harness from his bag. Captain Gratt objected to wearing the harness and was promptly whacked in the face by Zohar. He was so surprised that he forgot to protest.

  “Captain, we are here to get to the truth. As you can see, we have the means of getting to the truth and we will discover it no matter what the cost to you. I would prefer to do it quickly and painlessly, but if you prefer it the other way, we can do that too.”

  The fort commander regained some of his composure: “You will be shot for what you did, Colonel Eichmann’s authority notwithstanding. You can’t expect to beat the commander of this facility and get out of here alive.”

  Ori nodded to Zohar, who smiled and broke the Nazis nose.

  “Gratt you are learning what Herr Eichmann and others learned before you: never talk back to a Caliphate officer. Never. We’ve wasted enough time. Answer my interrogator’s question. Truthfully, please. The punishment for lying is the loss of your tongue so be careful what you say.”

  The SS man didn’t resist but stuck to his version of the story. After ten minutes Saul was certain that he was lying, that Mordechai had never left the fort. He and Captain Ben-Zvi quietly conferred in the corner of the office. Then Ori said “Sergeant Ahmed please remove this man’s tongue. We are getting a bunch of lies from him.”

  Gratt jumped at Zohar and it took all of the sergeant’s skill to pacify him. They made enough noise for the soldier standing guard outside to poke his head into the room to see if they were okay.

  When Gratt came to he was tied to his chair and couldn’t move. Zohar approached with his tongue cutting tool and made the Nazi open his tightly clenched teeth by the simple expedient of pinching his nose. A screwdriver prevented the murderer from closing his mouth. When Gratt’s tongue was pulled out and he realized that it is about to be cut off he started making frantic noises.

  “Would you like to amend any of your answers?” asked Saul.

  Gratt nodded, though his head couldn’t move much.

  “Sergeant please let him speak.”

  Zohar let go of the German’s tongue and smiled at him: “I will be quicker next time. Don’t you worry.”

  “Captain Gratt if you have something to say now is the time.”

  Gratt’s voice was trembling. “It is really not my fault. A stupid guard beat your man to death. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Saul thought for a moment: “Good. Let’s start from the beginning.”

  It didn’t take long to discover the truth: Mordechai was beaten by a guard on arrival to the Ninth Fort. His three companions told the Israelis about that. His injuries were not serious and definitely not life threatening. The interrogators at the fort knew that Mordechai was not like the other three men and tried to pump him for information about the Caliph. He died suddenly during the interrogation. Saul and Ori were sure that Mordechai was about to crack and spill his secrets. He must have decided to commit suicide with the implanted poison tooth rather than tell his torturers the whole truth, which would have cost millions of lives.

  There was another thing the team decided to investigate: who were the prisoners at the fort. It didn’t take long to find that out. The SS kept meticulous records and captain Gratt was very cooperative, especially after Eichmann made no comment about his broken and still bleeding nose.

  A great majority of the fort’s inmates were ethnic minorities, mostly Gypsies, a couple of hundred Communists, or, rather, alleged Communists – several Lithuanians but mostly Poles and several Jews. A contingent of Soviet prisoners of war was also there awaiting their turn at the pits.

  There were two issues left: What was Eichmann’s role and what to do for punishment.

  ***

  The investigating team and Eichmann got back to the Kaunas ghetto by the end of the day. The captain made his report to Hirshson and waited for orders.

  Eichmann was summoned to the Gestapo headquarters at 7 in the morning.

  “Colonel, we received orders. You are to take the whole Gestapo and SS contingent from the ghetto to the Ninth Fort. Assemble all the personnel from the fort near the pits. You will read this to them.”

  The captain handed a printed page to Eichmann.

  “After that you can return to your duties.”

  “Pay attention: the assembly has to be at ten in the morning tomorrow. Please be punctual and don’t leave anybody behind either in the ghetto or at the fort.”

  Eichmann quickly read the text of the speech he was supposed to give: “I am glad you realize that none of what happened was intentional. We regret the death of your man, but it was just an accident. I am sure the Fuehrer will appreciate your restrain in this matter. I have a small objection, though. We can leave the ghetto to its own devices for a short time. The Lithuanian and Ukrainian guards will see to the population’s safety and we have only a small contingent here anyway. The fort is another issue. We must leave some guards in place otherwise there will be chaos.”

  “Don’t worry,” the captain reassured him. “The cells are locked and we will make sure that everything is peaceful. It should take you no more that fifteen minutes to read the speech. After that everything goes back to normal – I am sure that the prisoners won’t even know that the guards were away. What would you expect from sub humans?

  “One more thing I need to mention. The Jews at the fort have to be released at once into the ghetto. Also notify Herr Himmler that when the Caliph ordered all the Jews transferred to him he meant all of them. No exceptions.”

  ***

  The next day close to five hundred people were gathered at the Ninth Fort pits. They stood at attention in neat rows prepared to listen to Adolph Eichmann. Eichmann was there. He looked at his watch. It was precisely 10 in the morning. Captain Ramadan waved to him from about a hundred yards away. The captain stood close to a corner of the perimeter wall and moved around the corner when Eichmann started his speech, leaving a laser designator attached to a pole discreetly stuck in the dirt at the corner. Ori was fifty yards along the wall when the explosions came. They didn’t sound too bad – the tall, massive wall gave him ample protection. By the time he returned to his position at the corner of the wall it was all over. The combined napalm/explosive bombs left not one of the murderers alive. In fact there wasn’t much left of them at all.

  The captain ordered his soldiers to get the keys from the prison office and release the prisoners. He wasn’t sure how long the inmates could survive in this environment, but this was the best he could do for them.

  On the plane back the li
eutenant wanted to know why they had to deceive the Germans: “Sir, why not execute them properly? Why lie to them?”

  “Well, my friend, would you go quietly to your execution if you were armed and had a numerical advantage over your would be executioners? Besides, these Germans are mass murderers and deserve to be treated as such. They may wear uniforms but they’re no soldiers.”

  “I am not sure all of them deserved to die,” said the lieutenant. “I am sure that there were innocent clerks among this bunch.”

  “What do you mean ‘innocent’? They may not have shot anybody, but they facilitated the murder. In any case, this is the chance you take by associating with murderers. Our justice, in this case at least, had to be somewhat crude. Hirshson told me that it had some effect. He got a call from Himmler of all people. The guy was very angry, but calmed down quickly when Hirshson told him that if he makes a fuss we will investigate some more and maybe find that he was behind this operation. In which case we will ask the Fuhrer to behead him.”

  Chapter 17

  Jacob was recuperating from his injuries. The infected cuts were healing, aided by the antibiotics he received for ten days. He was weak and still unsteady on his feet but did his best to walk around the small infirmary. He visited the gym next door as often as he could. The other members of his team were in the infirmary as well.

  Two weeks after his return from the mission to Lithuania, Jacob was ready to travel to Israel. While he had been away and recuperating, his sister had studied Hebrew and was now fairly fluent. His mother was less proficient but had made friends with some of the other women in the facility and was in the process of organizing a training program for them. She thought that studying Hebrew was essential to their future and wanted the other women to study as she did. The women’s group also included his uncle Chaim’s daughter and Chaim’s wife. Since their Yiddish contained a fair amount of Hebrew it made learning the new language easier but also imbued it with a definite accent.

  Chaim was reading up on Palestine and trying to figure out what kind of business he could setup when he arrived there. The brochures they got were a new publication. They presented the most pertinent information without mentioning the state of Israel or time travel.

  When the day for their departure finally came, on September 10th, 1941, the family was surprised. They had expected a three or four day journey on a German or British ship. But the bus carrying Hirshson’s extended family and several others stopped at a small terminal building nowhere near the sea. The real surprise came when, after having their ID’s checked one last time, they came out on the other side. An enormous airplane was waiting for them. It carried the name “El AL” in both Hebrew and Latin letters.

  Some of the new immigrants hesitated and some flat out refused to embark – they wanted the ship they expected. The prospect of flying terrified them. These were taken back and put on a ship. Most of the immigrants got on the plane without further comment, though Jacob wanted to know how come such a huge airplane existed without being famous all over the world. He wasn’t the only one who was surprised and curious. They were promised an explanation after boarding the plane.

  The Airbus A380 jet had been configured to carry more than 900 passengers. The seats were small and cramped together, but to these people it seemed the height of luxury. They didn’t complain that no meal was served and were grateful for the water and juice the flight attendants gave them.

  A short film informed them about the time displacement event and the strange fact of going to an independent Jewish state. Some of the passengers were skeptical and some wanted proof that wasn’t forthcoming except in the form of the huge aircraft itself. After drinks were served, another film introduced the immigrants to some aspects of life in Israel.

  The flight to Israel lasted only three hours – the Israeli jet did not have to follow set routes and made the best time possible. They were warned by the captain that they would see other aircraft marked with a Star of David and should not be alarmed – these were their armed escorts. The escort pilots waved to them – with the passengers waving enthusiastically back.

  When they approached the Israeli coast the captain pointed out major features - the Tel-Aviv marina with its boats, the skyscrapers and other notable sights. The new immigrants paid little attention – they were overwhelmed by the size of the metropolis – it was many times larger than Vilnius as seen from mount Gedeminas, or any other town in the Baltic countries. Most were stunned by the experience.

  After the plane had taxied and connected to the unloading sleeves of the terminal building everybody tried to get out at once. The captain had to ask several times to take it easy before the crowd calmed down. The passengers wanted out; they were eager to see the Promised Land. What they saw was the inside of a modern terminal building, unlike anything they had ever seen.

  It was a fairly long walk to the passport control area. The crowd was separated into lines in front of the windows – everybody’s ID was checked and compared to a computerized list.

  “Your family is waiting at the exit from this hall. Go to marker number 10 - you will see it when you get through the sliding door,” the young woman in uniform told Jacob. Most new arrivals were also told to meet family. There was a significant number whose relatives could not come or who had no surviving family members in Israel. They were directed to buses that took them directly to immigrant villages.

  When the Hirshsons entered the main hall of the terminal they saw a tall, yellow pole topped with the number 10 written in large letters on a placard. There were a number of people waiting there, looking eagerly at the crowd of newcomers. A stocky man in his mid sixties, about 5’7” with a receding hairline and a shortly trimmed gray beard walked quickly towards them: “Welcome to Israel! I am Ze’ev.” He shook hands with Jacob. The rest of the family was introduced as they walked to a nearby parking lot. The whole clan piled into a minibus and was driven to Ze’ev’s home in Hertzlia Pituach, an affluent suburb about ten miles north of Tel-Aviv on the Mediterranean shore.

  On the way, Ze’ev tried to clarify the family relationships. He explained to Jacob and the others that in his time-line Jacob was his father. They had already met Ze’ev’s son: Colonel Ephraim Hirshson, commander of the Brindisi base. Ephraim was Jacob’s grandson, named after Jacob’s father.

  “All this is giving me a headache,” declared Sara, “but at least it explains why your Ephraim looks so much like my husband, may he rest in peace.”

  ***

  Ze’ev Hirshson was somewhat of an oddball. He had not followed the path most common for young men in Israel in the late 1960s. Instead of enlisting in the Army at the age of 18, as required by law, he chose to try to get into college before his compulsory service. It was partly due to a character defect: he never obeyed orders and was not happy with a situation where everyone could order him around – which is how he viewed the Army. There was a solution: It would not be easy to accomplish, but if he succeeded he would enter the Army as an officer. Anyone who passed a difficult week of psychological and leadership tests could qualify for officer training. This enabled them to apply to study particular specialties at an approved college, becoming a member of what was called the “Academic Reserve”. The real problem was getting accepted: each year more than 2000 candidates competed for 400 slots in the program. He could of course enlist like everybody else and apply for officer training later but that would mean serving as an enlisted man for a long while. Completely unacceptable to Ze’ev.

  His parents encouraged him to try, partly because they hoped that his studies would put him in a relatively safe position in the army and partly because of the prestige of graduating from the elite Academic Reserve program. They were pleased when he passed all the military tests and was accepted to study mechanical engineering at the Technion, Israel’s most prestigious engineering and science university.

  Things turned out a bit different than anticipated. Ze’ev was wounded early in his military career, before
graduating from college. A shootout with terrorists had left him with an injured foot that should have led to his discharge. He resisted, unwilling to give up his coveted spot in the program. In the end he succeeded in staying in the service, thereby also preserving his place in college. Since he was unwilling to sign up for five years of professional army service in his chosen profession – again, the desire not to be told what to do – he ended up in a combat infantry unit, serving only the minimum time.

  After the army, he was considered a hotshot at his first job - graduating from the Academic Reserve didn’t harm his career prospects. Four years later he was running the company’s Research and Development unit.

  For the same reason he wanted to be an officer in the army, Ze’ev kept climbing the corporate ladder: the higher up you go the fewer people telling you what to do. By the time he was thirty he’d become a vice president for R&D of Consolidated Manufacturing, where he started his career.

  He would have loved to be his own man, but Israeli industry of the 1970s and 1980s was dominated by relatively large corporations – such as Consolidated, with sales in excess of $80 million. Consulting engineers were rare, and usually were retirees from large companies. Not wanting to work outside his profession Ze’ev didn’t have a choice, and stayed with the company.

  At one of the numerous seminars he attended in his career he was offered an opportunity to go to MIT for a couple of years to work on a PhD and, like the MIT professor that invited him said “have some fun”. Ze’ev decided to take a chance and go to America.

  Six months after moving to Boston he met a Linda. They were married before the end of the year. By the time Ze’ev finished his PhD, the couple were the happy parents of a boy, with another one on the way. Ze’ev set up a consulting company, which did very well. Five years later, the company he had worked for in Israel was in trouble and he and several friends managed a leveraged buyout. Ze’ev led the company, buying his friends out within ten years. Just before the Event he was expanding his company from its traditional business of steel and iron into advanced ceramics. He thought that the electronics and defense markets for these materials were going to expand and the company had a chance of becoming a leader – if it invested in research and was not afraid to tackle new technologies.