by Isser Harel
Shimoni explained that there was concrete news of Eichmann’s whereabouts in Argentina and a plan to apprehend him had been devised. Their assignment, he said, was to make the necessary arrangements for Eichmann’s captors to bring him safely to Israel.
Klein was dumbfounded. His first reaction was that the plan was a figment of someone’s imagination. Afterward, once he was persuaded that Shimoni was speaking about tangible matters, he was overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of participating in such a secret and daring operation. He couldn’t understand why they had picked him of all people.
Throughout the flight from Rio to Buenos Aires dreadful visions of the past floated before his eyes, visions he thought he had long since erased from his mind.
Klein was about ten when the Munich Pact was signed and the region of Czechoslovakia that he lived in was annexed to Hungary. About a year later World War II broke out, but it did not spread to Hungary until 1943. By then he had finished his first three years of high school in Budapest. It was not long before the German army marched into Hungary, and by the beginning of 1944 all the Jews were concentrated in the ghetto. One night the Klein family was about to cross the border into Slovakia, but at the last moment the parents had second thoughts and decided to cancel the journey. A few weeks later they were all taken to Auschwitz. There his mother and little brother and sister were sent to one side – and vanished forever. He was led off with his father, who lied in the ‘selection,’ saying that his son was seventeen though he was just fourteen. The two of them were shuttled from labor camp to labor camp, and more than once Klein’s life was saved by his father’s resourcefulness and boundless self-sacrifice. They worked in Czechoslovakia, then Austria, and finally Germany. There father and son were separated, and the boy was sent to the camp at Mühldorf, on the road to the Austrian frontier, where he was put to work unloading coal and felling trees. After nine months of working – and watching hundreds die around him, he was transferred to the Munich region to repair the railroads bombed by Allied planes. Some weeks later he and the other workers were hustled into a train and started on a long journey whose destination, according to their guards, was an extermination camp in the Tyrol. The train stopped for many hours at a small station on the way and was eventually abandoned by the guards. Somebody said that Hitler had been assassinated and the war was over. A few of the prisoners attacked the food coach and grabbed everything they could lay their hands on, while others scattered in all directions.
Yosef Klein was lucky enough to find a wedge of salt cheese. Then all of a sudden the guards were back and shooting at the runaways. Many were killed, the rest were forced back into the train and the doors locked behind them. This time the crush was worse than before because they were thrust in without any attempt at packing them in tidily. The long journey resumed. Allied planes bombed the crammed train. After five days without food, they felt the train stop, this time for good. It was night, and the dreary hours of darkness passed while they sat caged in their carriages without any idea of what their fate would be. It was only when daylight came that they saw the guards had all vanished. And then tanks appeared, their insignia a white star, and the nightmare was over. An American soldier tossed a can of battle rations to Klein and he ate and survived; others went to a nearby village where they were given heavy food and they ate and died.
Although he tried desperately to forget – through the years of reunion with his father, return to Czechoslovakia, completion of high school in 1948, emigration to Israel, service in Zahal (Israeli Defense Force), and employment by the airline – he never did. Most of all he couldn’t forget his mother and the little brother and sister who in one ghastly second were torn from him and his father and sent to die. Nor could he forget the others, the ones who died of starvation and the ones who were mowed down by bullets. And now he, Yosef Klein, condemned to death and saved by a miracle, would take part in bringing to account for his murderous acts the most bestial of all the Nazi criminals. The very thought was staggering.
When their plane touched down at the Buenos Aires airfield and they descended the first-class gangway – as guests of the airline they traveled first class – a photographer standing on the tarmac snapped them. Klein shook with fright, sure that everyone knew he and Shimoni had come to abduct Eichmann. It was only when the photographer came over and asked them to buy the pictures he had just taken that his mind was set at ease.
They were met at the airport by Luba Volk and her husband. She had been a senior employee of the airline for many years until her husband moved to Buenos Aires to work for a private firm. The airline had asked her to help in certain matters relating to the special flight, particularly in obtaining permission to take paying passengers from Buenos Aires. One of her functions was to handle accommodations for the company’s representatives, and she had reserved rooms for them at a hotel. She was very surprised, and a little offended, when Ilani suddenly turned up, introduced himself to Shimoni according to a prearranged formula, and informed the visitors that they were staying at a different hotel.
Ilani gave Shimoni the address of a café where someone would be waiting for him that evening after he had registered at the hotel.
Later that evening I waited for Shimoni in a café. Before long his smiling face appeared in the doorway. He introduced me to his friend, Yosef Klein. I explained to them that at subsequent meetings I would give them particulars of our special needs for the flight, but for the time being all they needed to know was that their help was required to create favorable conditions for taking Eichmann aboard the plane. We arranged the undercover liaison to be set up between us, and I explained to Klein that at any meeting other than a previously planned rendezvous he was to behave as if he didn’t know me. Shimoni was familiar with the procedures, but this was Klein’s first experience in undercover activities – and he was obviously bewildered. One time I did meet him accidentally in the street and I could see it caused him considerable discomfort to have to walk past without greeting me.
Shimoni told me about the arrangements made by the airline in Israel during the two days between my departure and his. At the end of our conversation I asked the two of them to get right to work securing all the requisite rights and authorizations for the flight. In addition I instructed them both, Klein especially, to organize a thorough reconnaissance of the airfield and its various installations and to make a study of customs procedures.
By the time we separated it was already very late. We fixed another meeting the following evening for them to report back to me on their progress during the day and for me to give them further instructions.
That day, May 2, Zev Keren reached Buenos Aires after a very tense journey. He had a great deal of baggage – mainly accessories and equipment he had provided for the operation, including instruments he had had to improvise himself for the action – and during the entire flight he was in a state of suspense lest something happen to his precious equipment, knowing that without it the operation was liable to be bungled or delayed. When he changed planes in Europe he never took his eyes off his baggage until he had made certain that it had indeed been unloaded from the one plane and transferred to the next. On his safe arrival with all his equipment in Buenos Aires, he felt that within the framework of the greater operation he had just completed his own little operation. He hurried to his rendezvous at one of the cafés in the city. Ilani was waiting for him there, but all his efforts to make Zev laugh at his jokes were a waste of time – Zev was too impatient to see his beloved equipment transferred to a safe place. They collected everything and drove to Maoz, where they decided Zev would live and work. Except for short excursions to buy accessories and materials, Zev was going to be imprisoned there, getting things ready, until the eve of the operation.
Meanwhile, members of the advance party renewed their efforts to find more safe houses. Avrum and Kenet set out that morning for a holiday resort in the vicinity of Buenos Aires. For some reason, the agents took them for Germans and sen
t them to German-speaking landlords. They inspected quite a few houses, but once again the results were not wholly satisfactory. One place was in a good location but was too small to hold the captive and his guards; one house looked ideal in its construction but was too near others in the area; another villa, also appropriate for the purpose, was for sale only and not for rent.
While all this was going on Ezra moved in prearranged sequence from one city café to another, waiting for Rafi Eitan and Eli Yuval, who could be arriving any time from that day on. But his was also a wasted effort – they didn’t come that day or the next.
It was Monday, and the surveillance of Klement’s house had to be renewed. The operational trio set out in the evening for the target area. Their aim this time was to find out where Klement came from before boarding bus number 203 and at which stop he boarded the bus.
Kenet and Ezra went to the San Fernando railway station and chose an observation post beside the rail crossing at Routes 202 and 197. The gates were opened only to let busses pass, so every bus had to stop there. They reached the spot at six forty-five and stayed there until after the time Klement usually returned home. They were quite let down when he didn’t appear.
Avrum was stationed near the embankment, close to the yard of the Klement home. After the encounter with the two strangers on their earlier surveillance they wanted to spend as little time as possible on the embankment itself in order to avoid looking suspicious. So Avrum elected to hang around and allow circumstances to decide if he should climb up the embankment or not. Since nobody was in sight, he thought it would be all right for him to go back to their former observation spot and sit on the slope. Luck was with him – Klement made his daily appearance, but this time later than usual; it was close to eight o’clock when he reached the bus stop at the kiosk.
Later, Kenet and Ezra picked up Avrum and they returned to Buenos Aires. On the way, they were able to sum up that on five successive workdays they saw Klement coming home in the evening, on four occasions at seven-forty and once a few minutes before eight.
On May 3 I went with Kenet on a morning reconnaissance of the target area. We drove past all the places that had any connection with the operation and its preliminary preparations. We reconnoitered the roads in the district, visited all the observation points, and finally drove past Klement’s house. Traveling on Route 202, we had a good look at the kiosk and the patch of road between the kiosk and the house.
I must admit that when I saw the neglected appearance of the house and its surroundings I was filled with momentary misgivings – could Adolf Eichmann’s home really look like that? Were it not for the considerable evidence we had, I would have started doubting whether Klement was really our man.
The reconnaissance led me to the conclusion that if further surveillances confirmed that we now had a ‘pattern’ for part of Eichmann’s daily life, the capture must be planned for the patch of road next to his house.
Avrum and Zev Keren – the latter would be taking part in the capture -were also out on reconnaissance in the target area at the time, because although we intended apprehending the man at night it was important for all participants to see the neighborhood in daylight.
In the afternoon I drove out of town with Ilani to inspect one of the houses offered to him by an agent. Time being short and the lack of safe houses a source of anxiety, I decided to check every likely proposal myself and to decide on the spot about renting the place. The area was suitable though not ideal, and the rent was not excessive. There were other houses near the villa, but this drawback could be handled even though it wasn’t in keeping with the principles taught at the school for undercover activities. The house was worth considering for its convenience – travel was easy from the target area to the villa and from there to the airport. Its main shortcomings were the interior construction and lack of possibilities for adaptation as a suitable place of concealment for the captive and his guards. The place we needed would have to accommodate a number of occupants – the prisoner, the doctor, and the guards; it had to be able to stand the test of courtesy visits or simple curiosity on the part of the neighbors. The layout inside had to allow for a safe and suitable hiding place to be contrived – a place where a man might be kept under guard in case of a police search without endangering his health.
The villa didn’t come up to these requirements. It stood on a narrow piece of ground, and the inside was not convenient for our needs. Nevertheless, rather than risk not finding something more suitable in time, I decided to take it. I told myself that if our further efforts turned up something better we would keep this one in reserve, but at least we now had something to make do with.
Ilani made the deal on the spot, and the villa became ours. I gave it its code name: Tira (Palace).
Toward evening the operational trio went to the target area again in another attempt to discover where Klement boarded bus 203. This time Avrum went to the bus terminal in the township of Carupa, Kenet took up his post at the Carupa railway station, and Ezra watched the station at San Fernando.
When the bus left the Carupa terminal Avrum was sitting inside, watching for the stop where Klement got on. He chose a time that fitted in with their previous observations, but Klement didn’t appear anywhere along the journey to San Fernando.
Meanwhile Kenet was waiting for the trains arriving at Carupa. When two trains came and went without a sign of Klement, Kenet boarded the third, the seven forty-five, and traveled to San Fernando, Klement wasn’t on that train either.
Ultimately they took to their cars – Avrum and Ezra in one and Kenet in the other – and drove to Klement’s neighborhood. Near the kiosk they saw him walking along Route 202 toward Garibaldi Street, just as he did every day.
This was the sixth time they had seen him coming home the same way.
For Shimoni and Klein, too, that May 3 was a day of great activity. In the morning they visited the head offices of Argentina’s national airline to ask for assistance in arrangements for the special flight. For example, they inquired about spare parts for Britannia aircraft. The airline people explained that they themselves didn’t fly Britannias but that a private Argentine company at the airport did. Shimoni and Klein were given permission to use the Telex to communicate with the directors of their airline in Israel.
They went to Ezeiza airport to meet with the representative of the private company. He welcomed them cordially and told them he had a stock of spare parts and even a reserve Britannia engine, which he was willing to put at the disposal of their company.
The two visitors went next to introduce themselves to the employees of the national airline and the representatives of the airport authorities. Wherever they went they were received with great courtesy, and routine procedures at the airfield were explained to them.
It was all quite straightforward until just before they left the airfield. At the last moment Shimoni was informed that the Argentine protocol officials for the anniversary celebration would not be able to receive the Israeli delegation before two o’clock on the afternoon of May 19 - indeed, to make things easier and assure a suitable reception, it would be better if the delegation arrived no earlier than five o’clock. This meant that the special flight would have to be delayed a whole week.
Late that evening I was sitting in a café with Avrum and Kenet, waiting for Shimoni and Klein. Before Shimoni even reached our table I could see something was wrong. He started talking before he sat down, and as soon as I heard what he had to say I knew we were facing the inevitable. Even if I thought there was any prospect of inducing the Argentine authorities to change their stand I wouldn’t do anything about it, because I wanted most of all to avoid drawing attention to the special flight. At the same time, it was clear to me that putting off the operation would involve risks – not to mention the negative psychological effect it would have on the task force. I told Shimoni he must inform all who were affected by this turn of events, in Israel and in Argentina, that they must reconcile themselves to
the new schedule and see to it that the plane arrived at the hour appointed by the Argentine authorities, even if this meant further inconvenience to the airline in upsetting its timetable once more.
When the others left, I sat alone and thought about the effect the delay would have on the capture operation. It was perfectly justifiable to assume, from the results of the six consecutive surveillances, that there would be no change in Klement’s daily routine up to the day set for the operation – exactly one week away. But how could we be sure that Klement’s routine would continue for two weeks running? How could we be sure that after a certain period he might not be put on a different shift? And what would happen if he changed jobs altogether or took ill?
And that wasn’t all: if we postponed the operation for a week the surveillances would have to be prolonged accordingly, and this meant an increased risk of being spotted by Klement himself, or his neighbors, or other passers-by.
There was still another consideration: our men were nearing the limits of their physical and mental potential, and I knew it would be hard on them to be burdened with another week of such severe strain.
I turned it over and over in my mind, time after time I weighed all the factors, until at last I hammered out a decision: the capture must be carried out on the date planned or we might miss a unique opportunity.
I was all too aware of the psychological stress involved in keeping Eichmann in secret custody for an extra week, while not knowing what was happening outside or how the relatives and friends were reacting. But I had to choose between two evils – the danger of a long drawn-out period of undercover imprisonment in a strange country under difficult security conditions and the danger of missing the onetime chance of bringing the monster in charge of the ‘Final Solution’ to trial in an Israeli court of justice. In short, the choice was between a risk which, no matter how prolonged, was only temporary and a sin for which there could never be any atonement.
