The House on Garibaldi Street

by Isser Harel

  Whatever prompted him, the fact is that, at Dakar, Vedeles greeted Shimoni with ‘Who are they bringing, Mengele or Eichmann?’

  Shimoni drew back in amazement. How had the news reached Dakar? How did Vedeles know the best kept secret in the world? He promptly realized that his surprised look must have confirmed Vedeles’s shot in the dark, so he decided it would be better to tell him the truth and ask him to keep the secret than to let him go on with his questions and guesses. He asked, ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Not a soul.’

  ‘Look,’ Shimoni said, ‘they’re taking Eichmann. It’s a dead secret, and if it’s disclosed the operation will fail. You’ve got to promise me you won’t open your mouth.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Shimoni, don’t worry,’ Vedeles said, and with great glee he kissed Shimoni on both cheeks.

  Vedeles relieved Tohar in the pilot’s seat and probably spent the long journey from Dakar to Recife recalling the time he first heard Eichmann’s name. He was a youngster, in Vienna in the thirties, when a rumor spread through the city that Eichmann, the commissar for Jewish affairs, had promised Hitler a birthday present – ajudenrein (Jew-free) Vienna.

  Vedeles was fourteen when Austria was annexed to Germany. For him this event meant expulsion from school and his family’s eviction from their apartment. Of all the dreadful sights during those days one in particular was engraved on his memory: He saw a German mob fall upon an old rabbi, force a piece of pork fat into his mouth, and, with a victorious yell, set fire to his beard. A crowd of people stood by, but no one uttered a word of protest.

  After the ‘Crystal Night’ Vedeles’s father managed to escape to Antwerp, and the rest of the family, joined him a little later. In 1940, under the auspices of Youth Aliya, Vedeles went to Israel, but his family was stuck in Belgium during the Nazi conquest. All were sent to Auschwitz, never to come out. About twenty of his relatives perished in the Nazi death camps. Now the man who directed it all, the foreman of the murder factory, was going to be brought to Israel on this plane, to be judged for his crimes.

  Vedeles wasn’t the only one who sensed something unusual about the special flight. Kurt Mayer of the airlines service department also understood that something was in the wind when he was told he would be attached to the crew of the plane flying the official Israeli delegation to Argentina. He told his friend Zvi Tohar about his surmise. Tohar didn’t go into detail about Kurt’s conjectures but merely told him he wouldn’t be sorry he’d been chosen to participate in the flight. This cryptic remark heightened Kurt’s curiosity even more. And then when he saw three crew members he didn’t know, he went to Tohar and asked, Those three … are they O.K.?’

  Tohar smiled his mysterious smile and said to Kurt: They’re a hundred per cent. And don’t be surprised if on the way back we pick up another one you don’t know.’ And he left Kurt alone with his thoughts – thoughts which no doubt recalled his childhood in Germany. Twice he had evaded the Nazis: first in 1938 when he fled to Denmark with the help of Youth Aliya and again when his country of refuge was conquered. At the height of the war he succeeded in reaching Israel, through Sweden, Turkey, and Syria. Eichmann’s long arm hadn’t caught up with him – but his father perished in a Nazi concentration camp.

  Leo Barkai, one of the airline’s veteran stewards, who had gone to Dakar ahead of the plane to obtain provisions for the onward journey, also noticed the three strangers among the passengers, but he thought they were security men guarding the official delegation. However, before the landing at Buenos Aires he saw them dressed in airline uniform, and that started him thinking. He thought about the extensive preparations that had preceded the take-off, the special composition of the crew, the mechanics, and all these things took on a new significance in his mind. Something was going to happen on this flight, he said to himself. He detected an air of tension about his colleagues, but he saw them going on with their work in a formal fashion, so he decided he’d better keep quiet.

  Arye Fridman, the airline’s hangar foreman at Lydda, reacted the same way. On May 16 the departmental manager instructed Arye to get a Britannia ready for a special flight. Arye and his companions were extraordinarily meticulous about preparing the aircraft bound for Buenos Aires. Because the plane would be undertaking a longer journey than usual, and as it had to be presumed that good maintenance stations on the way might not be available, their preparations had to be painstaking over and above even their usual high standards. Several times during the next few days the departmental manager came to ask if everything was progressing according to plan, and Arye gathered that even the company’s management attributed special importance to this flight. One afternoon he was summoned to the office of the departmental manager.

  ‘Arye,’ he said, ‘we have decided to send a mechanic and an electrician on the flight.’ He noted the surprised expression on Arye’s face and hastened to explain, ‘It’s a very long flight, and in that part of the world there are few Britannias, so we have reason to fear that in the event of a technical hitch on the way personnel familiar with this type of plane might be hard to find. The management is anxious to have the delegation arrive without any delays, and we have therefore decided to attach two aircraft mechanics to the flight. Whom do you suggest?’

  ‘As electrician,’ said Arye, ‘I suggest Avivi. As for the mechanic …’

  Suddenly a thought flashed through his mind: why not himself? After all, it would be an opportunity to see South America. He had relatives there. Who knew when he would get another chance like that?

  ‘As mechanic, I suggest myself,’ he said at last, amazed at his own audacity.

  The departmental manager had some reservations about accepting his suggestion. Since Arye was the ruling spirit at the hangars, his absence, even for a few days, would be hard to bear. But he quickly thought it over, perhaps because of the eagerness plainly displayed on Arye’s face. He agreed – and Arye was the happiest of men.

  Arye worked long hours before he was satisfied with the mechanical condition of the plane. It was only after they took off that he had a chance to rest. Before long he sat up and began looking at the members of the official delegation. After all, it wasn’t every day that he had a chance to be at close quarters with a diplomat and brigadier. He also noticed the three strangers who were neither delegates nor company employees, and he came to the conclusion that they must be security men guarding the delegation.

  A little overdone, he mused. A special plane and special bodyguards for a flight from Lydda to Buenos Aires. … But then, who am I to judge?

  During the flight, Arye had occasion to go down into the freight compartment and was surprised to see several items that were unfamiliar to him. When he climbed back into the cabin, he started making inquiries among the crew to find out if any of them knew what their peculiar freight was. They didn’t, but Arye noticed that one of the security men appeared to be interested in his questions. He decided he’d better put the whole thing out of his mind.

  The last straw for him in this series of unusual happenings was the sight of the three security men in airline uniform just before the landing at Buenos Aires. Arye decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed them.

  The plane landed at Recife at five o’clock in the morning. In spite of the early hour, the Israeli Ambassador to Brazil, Yosef Tekoa, was waiting for them at the airport, and thousands of Jews had given up their sleep just to welcome the Israeli delegation. The delegates were greeted with excited cheers from the assembled crowd, and the crew members handed out everything they could find on the plane that could be considered a souvenir of Israel. The head of the Jewish community and the local rabbi invited the delegation on a tour of the city.

  Meanwhile, as was customary, Tohar and Shimoni had presented themselves to the airfield authorities to register the flight plan. They were stunned when the airport controller told them they had no flight authorization from the Brazilian authorities. Shimoni claimed in exasperation that he himself had arranged the flight
clearance when he was in Argentina, but the controller stood his ground and declared that they would not be allowed to take off until they had the requisite authorization. He added that it would take them not less than two hours to obtain the authorization, and maybe as much as six hours.

  Tohar asked him how come he had allowed the plane to land at Recife without a clearance, to which the controller replied that they had permission to land but not to fly over Brazilian territory. Shimoni promptly suggested that they could turn toward the sea again on their take-off and in that way avoid flying in Brazilian air space. The controller said that actually they had the right to fly in Brazilian air space – but not to take off. The head of the delegation and Ambassador Tekoa tried to intervene, but the controller stuck to his guns.

  The man’s behavior seemed suspicious to Tohar. He wondered if something had leaked out to the Brazilian authorities, since otherwise it was hard to understand what made the fellow put obstacles in their way. Shimoni and Tekoa went to the Israeli consulate in the city to try to communicate with the central air authorities in Rio de Janeiro, but they couldn’t get a connection. When they returned to the airfield, they saw Tohar in the distance waving a piece of paper – it was the authorization to fly in Brazilian air space. Tohar had solved the problem by applying to the representative of the Argentine national airline, who obtained telegraphic confirmation from Buenos Aires that the clearance for transit over Brazilian territory had been sent to Recife the day before.

  Then, when the passengers were already seated in the plane, the airport controller found another excuse to delay the takeoff. He demanded that Tohar sign a statement of wide legal significance in connection with the flight – something that was contrary to all airport usage. Tohar rejected his demand, and only after a long dispute did the controller agree to be content with a statement about the place of departure, the purpose of the flight, and its destination.

  The incident at Recife cast a gloom over the spirits of those members of the crew who knew the true purpose of the flight, and the controller’s obstinacy had a depressing effect on the others as well. Tohar was more worried than any of them, and Vedeles was afraid there had been some hitch in the capture of Eichmann.

  24

  THE CONFUSION in Recife had delayed the plane’s arrival in Buenos Aires by two and a half hours, but the reception was not affected. A red carpet was spread, a band played national anthems, and children were waving flags and cheering the visitors. In addition to Argentine protocol officials, the Israeli Embassy staff and Jewish community leaders were there to welcome them. The atmosphere was solemn yet friendly.

  Adi Peleg had no time to watch the ceremonies. As soon as the delegation left the plane he boarded it to inform the two mechanics that they were not allowed to leave the airfield to go into the city, they had to guard the plane during the night. He explained that there was reason to suspect that hostile agencies might try to damage the plane.

  They were extremely disappointed. Was it for this that they had taken the long journey from Lydda? To be confined to the airport and not see Buenos Aires, so famous for its beauty? Arye thought about the relatives he wouldn’t be able to visit. How was he going to explain to his father that he had been in Argentina and yet hadn’t seen any of them?

  Yosef Klein and Luba Volk were among the airlines people welcoming the plane. Luba was surprised at the way the special flight had been handled. First we had asked her to help get permission to fly passengers from Buenos Aires. She had come up against innumerable difficulties and had devised all kinds of ruses to overcome them. Yet when she thought she was finally within reach of her goal, Klein suddenly announced that she must stop all further activity in the matter. She simply couldn’t understand this strange decision. Every single ticket sold in Buenos Aires was clear profit for the company. She tried protesting, but nobody paid any attention to her complaints. Now she was determined to appeal to Shimoni who had given her the job of getting the permit to carry passengers, and demand to know the reason for the sudden change in policy. She wasn’t to know that I was responsible for the order to do nothing further about passengers from Buenos Aires.

  Luba Volk represented the company to the various official Argentinean bodies with regard to this special flight. This included, as mentioned, obtaining the rights to take passengers from Argentina to Israel. After this was not approved, she arranged to take, without any payment, several ill people of Israeli origin. While doing that Luba signed several documents on behalf of the company.

  After the revelations in Israel of the Eichmann capture a finger was pointed at her by the Eichman family. Her name was also mentioned in this regard in the Argentinean media and elsewhere. In this situation, and following official Israeli legal advice, Luba was forced to leave Argentina without delay, to be followed by her husband, who had to cut short his successful and promising professional standing. This was how this good family was badly affected.

  During that time the Volk family refrained from demanding any compensation for the damage caused to them, and was satisfied with Luba’s assistance, albeit indirectly, to this historical operation.

  That night a few of the crew stayed at the airport hotel, while the rest, including the two captains, put up at a large hotel in the center of the city.

  In anticipation of the plane’s arrival, I moved my roving headquarters to cafes nearer the airport, and shortly after it landed I received a report about the initial arrangements for guarding, parking, and preparing the aircraft for the return flight to Israel. The delegates would not be returning the way they had come. The head of the delegation intended going from Argentina to visit the United States, and the others also wanted to spend a little time in the Western Hemisphere. So the plane had only two things to wait for: a thorough technical checkup, and the compulsory rest period for the crew as laid down in international regulations.

  I gave instructions that throughout the waiting time the plane had to be under the continuous supervision of the crew. The cover story for these security measures was that enemies of Israel might attempt to damage the aircraft in their rage at the warm reception given to the delegation by the Argentine government, press, and public. My real object was to be on constant watch for anybody who had thought of connecting Klement’s disappearance with the arrival of the plane and would certainly try to check up on the plane and its crew. Also, I believed that this was one way of finding out if there was any government agency, officially or unofficially, taking an active interest in Eichmann’s fate.

  Zvi Tohar and Yehuda Shimoni came into the café shortly after the plane arrived. They looked tired, which I attributed to the long flight, but they allowed that their condition was due to extreme tension and not just fatigue – they couldn’t rest because of the incident at Recife. Tohar firmly declared that he was prepared to do whatever I ordered him to do, except one thing: he would never land at Recife again. Shimoni explained that it wasn’t his fault; before he left Buenos Aires for Israel, he had attended to the clearance for transit in Brazilian air space and the right to land, and he couldn’t understand what the Brazilian airport controller’s motives were.

  I calmed him down and told him that logically no link was possible between the incident at Recife and the operation itself, since if there had been any mishap in the operation the first repercussions would be felt in Buenos Aires and not in Brazil. Furthermore, if anybody had any suspicions about what the plane would be used for, he would presumably try to test these suspicions before it took off from Buenos Aires, and not while it was still on its way to Argentina. All these considerations apart, I said, it was an accomplished fact that the operation had gone off without a hitch, and there was no sign of any change in the situation. Naturally, we would have to exercise constant vigilance to safeguard Eichmann during his transfer to the plane. I hoped, however, that the plans we had made would enable us to bring this stage, too, to a successful conclusion.

  Before long, they had both relaxed, but Tohar repeated
that he would not fly by way of Brazil. He considered our first plan the most workable – putting Eichmann on board in the maintenance area under cover as a crew member who was sick or had been injured in an accident. It was decided that the whole crew would come to the maintenance area together, so that our special passenger could be brought in as one of a large group. All those who had no tasks to perform at take-off would remain in their seats on the plane, together with Eichmann, and take a nap to be fresh for the last portion of the flight when they would take up their duties as members of the crew. They were to have the use of the first-class compartment.

  I wanted to bring the departure time as far forward as possible, but Tohar explained that for safety reasons it was essential to allow the crew substantial rest before the plane set off again. He finally fixed midnight of the following day, May 20, 1960, as the time for the take-off. I suggested announcing the time of departure as later than it really was – two hours after midnight – in order to mislead any hostile agencies who might be planning a surprise inspection of the aircraft at the last minute. There was nothing to stop us from doing so, I said, because the flight was not included in the regular timetable and there were no passengers to be called to the airport beforehand.

  The day before our plane arrived the army had set up roadblocks on the roads leading to the airport. There were at the time American air-force planes and a British plane on the field. Klein believed they had brought official guests to the anniversary celebrations. The inspection at the checkpoints next to the airfield was very scrupulous, and even Klein wasn’t allowed to pass until he proved that he was the representative of a foreign airline.