Beyond the Shield

by Nachman Kataczinsky

  His soldiers left the cover of the Judean hills and were approaching Route 90. There was no response to his advance and the commander decided, to his credit, that this might be an ambush. He ordered six of his 80mm mortars and a machine gun section to dig in on the west side of the road - the roadside ditch was handy for that - and suppress any fire that might descend on the troops.

  Two of Noam’s platoons were dug in between the two ridge lines about two thousand feet back from the entrance to the funnel. The flanks were protected by a platoon on either side and machine guns on the ridge slopes. Six tanks were positioned in line with the infantry, dug in to make them less visible from the road. A mortar platoon behind the infantry line completed the defense position. It all looked somewhat appropriate for a First World War setup.

  Noam’s plan was for the forward machine gun team to start shooting and then fall back to the rest of the company when the enemy started advancing on them. This would put the attackers in a prepared field of crossfire.

  When he saw the mortar teams taking up positions in front of him beyond the road he considered calling his artillery support to attack them. He hesitated – the Palestinian position was only a couple hundred feet from the outskirts of the village and artillery could easily drop a shell off the mark. He didn’t want to harm civilians. Noam decided on an alternative: he ordered his tanks to target the mortar positions with high explosive rounds, to be fired on his command.

  Now he needed to wait, the hardest part of any battle. After fifteen more minutes, in the darkening dusk, he gave his order: “Machine gun crew start firing for effect.”

  Theirs was the only position in front of the company. A trench led back, with a couple of Claymore mines installed in its walls to be primed by the retreating crew – in case some of the Arab fighters decided to use the trench.

  The PA Security Force soldiers in front threw themselves to the ground but continued to advance in small groups. They were well-trained and disciplined.

  Noam gave the order to retreat and waited for the machine gun crew to run in front of him. He followed, setting the Claymores as he passed them. When he was less than ten feet from their main position his world went black.

  His deputy took over and ordered, “Tanks, fire on the marked point. Keep firing as long as mortar fire persists.”

  Six 120mm air burst shells exploded above the mortars and machine gun crews across the road; 80mm proximity fused mortar shells followed close behind them. Now it became clear that just digging a roadside ditch deeper was not a wise decision. Without a zigzag in the ditch one round could send shock waves and deadly fragments great distances. The first salvo wiped out the machine gun and all but one mortar. The last mortar crew wisely chose not to fire again.

  Next the lieutenant called on the artillery to attack the advancing infantry. Shells were falling as close as 300 feet from the company’s position. The reaction of the attackers surprised him: most of the crawling soldiers got up and tried to close the short distance at a run. They might have succeeded since the company’s fire power was not enough to kill two thousand fighters but the Palestinian troops were taking heavy losses and seriously slowed down by barbed wire starting at 200 feet from their position. They still would have had a chance against the vastly smaller defending force.

  Noam’s plan worked: the tanks positioned in between the infantry opened up with antipersonnel rounds. Thousands of flechettes were shot out of each 120mm main tank gun at over four thousand feet per second. The effect of the tiny steel arrows was devastating. After several salvos there were a couple of hundred stragglers still alive and trying to get out of the area. Very few of them survived the artillery that kept laying a blocking curtain of fire parallel to the road in back of the attackers.

  The attack on the ridges followed a similar pattern, except that those attackers didn’t have mortar support and had to climb a steep ridge under fire from its defenders and from the forces below. When it looked like some of them might get over the top and into an area where the defendant’s fire couldn’t reach, a helicopter gunship rose above the ridge and opened up with its mini-gun. The firestorm swept the attackers from the ridge.

  In this sector the whole affair was over in less than an hour. It didn’t end bloodlessly for the Israeli forces. The cost of the battle was thirty-seven wounded and sixteen dead. Sixty percent of the casualties were officers and noncoms. That was the price of leading by example.

  After the battle the PA Security Force ceased to exist as a coherent unit. Most of the surviving soldiers threw away their weapons, returned to their homes and got out of uniform in the hope that they could disappear among the general population.

  ***

  The next morning Ze’ev was awakened by his phone. It was six in the morning. He was groggy and responded in an angry voice, “What’s so urgent?”

  His daughter Shoshanna was on the line. “Dad, Noam was in a battle on the Jordan river. He’s at the Shaare Zedek Medical Center. I’m on my way there now.”

  “Wait a second. What’s his condition? Where was he injured?”

  “Dad, I don’t know. They just notified me. He’s alive, that’s all I know. I’ve got to go.” She hung up.

  Linda woke up and looked askance at her husband. Ze’ev gave her Shoshanna’s message. He was up and preparing to go.

  “Ze’ev, I’m coming with you. Before we go you will eat something so don’t rush. You won’t be able to do anything and Shosh is strong and will manage without us for an hour. So stay calm and slow down.”

  Ze’ev did his best to follow his wife’s orders. “I have an appointment with the Prime Minister later in the day. You want to take two cars?”

  “No. We will go to Jerusalem together. If the situation isn’t grave, you will leave me at the hospital, go to your appointment and pick me up afterwards. If it’s bad, I’m sure the PM will understand.”

  ***

  Hitler was foaming at the mouth. “What do you mean you don’t have sufficient proof of who was responsible for all the assassinations?”

  Mueller cringed in his seat but didn’t back down. “Mein Fuehrer, we definitely have a connection to the Army. Army personnel were present at the assassination of Reichsminister Goebbels and at the attack on the Mufti. The other attacks used Wehrmacht rockets. We had difficulty determining who exactly in the Army was responsible.”

  The head of the Inland-SD (Sicherheitsdienst), SS Gruppenführer Otto Ohlendorf, moved in his chair and nodded in agreement. “We have a lead that points to the staff of Field Marshall von Rundstedt but we have no names.” Ohlendorf fidgeted a lot. He felt unbalanced without his left arm and half the right leg. Both were lost when the “Caliph” attacked and destroyed Einsatzgruppe E, which he commanded.

  Hitler looked at Himmler: “Suggestions?”

  Himmler straightened in his chair. “I would like to arrest some of the members of Rundstedt’s staff, at the rank of colonel, and start interrogating them. I need your approval. This may cause some disaffection in the Wehrmacht and we need to prepare for that.”

  “I assume that your subordinates here agree?” Hitler nodded at ‘Gestapo’ Mueller and Ohlendorf.

  Both nodded agreement.

  “You have my permission to start the operation, but move cautiously. The generals are a bit touchy. On the other hand, some of them are traitors, so don’t dawdle.”

  ***

  The major was arrested in Paris and brought to the local Gestapo. He was held in a relatively comfortable cell but never told why he was arrested. After a couple of days he was finally brought to an interrogation room. It was dark and a bright light was set to shine in his eyes. He thought that in addition to the interrogator on the other side of the heavy table to which the major was handcuffed there was another person in the room, but that person never said a word or even made a noise.

  “Your name is Hans Gruber?

  “Yes.”

  “You are the adjutant to Colonel Bombach?”

 
“Yes.”

  “Did you ever hear the colonel say anything disrespectful of the Party?”

  “No.”

  “Never? Even when you were all drunk at that bash at the bistro around the corner of the headquarters two weeks ago?”

  “No. He never said anything disrespectful of the Party or the Fuehrer.”

  “You are lying, Hans. May I call you Hans?” The interrogator was smiling now, an unpleasant expression.

  “No. I’m telling the truth.”

  “Are you telling me that in your drunken condition you remember everything said by the colonel and the others? Every word?”

  “No… I don’t really remember.”

  “So you did lie to me!”

  After two days without sleep the major signed a confession. It implicated his commanding officer in un-patriotic activities and named several other potential enemies of the state. The major was released and returned to his duties.

  Colonel Bombach was next. He was a tougher nut but eventually cracked and signed his confession. Everybody confessed to the Gestapo; it was only a question of time.

  The colonel had some real anti-Nazi contacts, not where the Paris Gestapo were looking but in the command of Army Group South on the Eastern front. Most were people who voiced vague dissatisfaction with the way the country, or the war, was run and one even quoted his general as saying that ‘Hitler is just a stupid corporal playing with toy soldiers.’ The colonel didn’t single out any of them but what he said was enough for Himmler’s hounds to start on their trail.

  ***

  General Henry Maitland Wilson was putting the final touches on a plan he was revising.

  “General,” the Israeli ambassador greeted him.

  “Ambassador, a pleasure seeing you. Tea as usual?”

  “Please.” Mizrahi settled in a chair opposite Wilson’s desk. “I think that it’s time to discuss the second phase of our German plan.”

  “I agree,” Wilson said. “Our forces in Brindisi are almost ready. By the time we need to move they’ll all be in place. Our people tell me that your forces are ready as well.”

  Mizrahi smiled. “Not just our forces but also the Italians. They have as many of their soldiers back in Italy as they expect to return. Prime Minister Count Ciano let us know that they’re ready to transport our combined task force to Northern Italy as soon as we say so.”

  Wilson nodded. “Yes, our people in Italy confirm this, though I doubt the Italian railroad’s efficiency and ability.”

  Mizrahi shrugged. “We doubt that as well. We have observers with secure communications equipment at all the major junctions and will do our best to alleviate any problems.

  “But this is not the reason for my visit today. We have clear indications from Germany that there is growing unrest among the generals, especially in the east. It seems to us that the time is ripe for a second push.”

  Wilson extended the papers he was reviewing when Mizrahi came in. “This is what we propose to do. It’s based on our discussions and hopefully reflects both our countries abilities in this field.”

  Mizrahi placed the bundle in his briefcase. “I will give you my government’s opinion as soon as possible.”

  ***

  Consciousness was slowly returning; Noam Shaviv tried to remember what had happened. It took him several seconds to remember the battle and his sudden blackout. He took inventory of his body: a headache, left arm slightly numb, can’t feel his legs. He opened his eyes.

  At first he saw only whiteness but a moment later his eyes refocused and a ceiling came into focus, then a familiar voice. “Noam, how are you feeling?” His wife Shoshanna, sitting next to his bed looking worried.

  He tried to speak but nothing came out. Shosh gave him a drinking cup with a bent straw.

  He sipped and cleared his throat. “Much better. My throat was bone dry. Where are we?”

  “At the Share Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem, because my stupid husband got himself injured. So how are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know.” Noam turned his head and saw the IV stuck in his left arm. “Do I have legs or are they gone? I can’t feel them.”

  “You have legs.” The speaker was Ze’ev Hirshson, Noam’s father-in-law. “I just spoke to the doctors. You were very lucky. A mortar bomb exploded behind you. A large fragment hit you in the left leg and went through the knee. The other knee got a smaller fragment through it. You also have a concussion and a bunch of bruises.”

  Shoshanna nodded. “Like dad said, you have legs. What you decide to do with them is another matter. You don’t feel them because of an anesthetic nerve block. After all, two torn and broken knees would be very painful.”

  Noam tried nodding and winced. His head was very painful.

  “Try not to move and get some sleep. You are suffering from a serious concussion,” Shoshanna said.

  Noam closed his eyes. “I wish I could sleep but the thought of not ever being able to walk normally is a bit bothersome.”

  A new voice entered the conversation. “I’m the surgeon. Who said anything about not being able to walk? I fully expect you to walk normally within a couple of months. We just need to replace your knees: a simple operation.”

  “When?” Noam croaked.

  “As soon as you recover from the concussion, young man. That will take at least a week. We’ll see how it goes.

  “In the meantime I need you to relax.” The doctor faced the visitors. “You guys have to be absolutely quiet. Noam needs to rest.”

  “Actually, please keep talking,” said Noam. “It makes me feel better, like we’re all together at home.”

  Linda asked Shoshanna, “Who’s taking care of the children?”

  “Sara has been staying with me since Noam was called up for his reserve duty, so she took over. That reminds me, I need to call her. She is worried sick about Noam and apprehensive about Jacob as well.”

  Noam said, “Call her from here. I’ll say hello as well.”

  Ze’ev got up. “I have a meeting in about forty minutes. With this traffic I better get going. See you later.”

  A new voice joined the conversation. “Baby, what happened to you?” Noam’s mother and father came into the room.

  Noam tried to wave to them but gave up in the middle of the motion, “Nothing big. I just stumbled on a walk by the river.”

  ***

  “Prime Minister, Dr. Ze’ev Hirshson is waiting.”

  Amos got up to greet Ze’ev. “Dr. Hirshson, what brings you here?”

  “Just Ze’ev, please. I need to share some information with you, Prime Minister, which may be important to your future considerations of policy. You are familiar with the work of Arye Kidron at the Technion.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Amos nodded, “The Shield inventor, yes.”

  “I have been funding his work for some time now in the hopes of finding a new compact source of energy. That doesn’t seem to be working out, but while working on an energy source he, and a physicist in my employ, discovered a way to open a portal to parallel universes. The theory will take too long to explain. In a nutshell, the effect is similar to what the Shield does but the affected area is transported to a universe different from ours.”

  Amos scratched his head. “A different universe? How do they know it’s a different universe?”

  “Well, one of those universes is apparently, as far as they could ascertain, free of human life. There is another where the atmosphere is a mix of oxygen and argon with life really different from ours.

  “I also have to mention,” Ze’ev continued, “that my company owns the patents on the transport equipment and algorithms. I believe that we can arrive at an agreement if the government wants to make use of it.”

  “A different universe? You mean that whatever happens there has no chance of changing anything here?”

  “That’s what I understood from the physicists.”

  Amos smiled. “I really appreciate you bringing this to my att
ention. Assuming this is indeed true it solves a problem that’s been bothering me for a long while.

  “How soon would your equipment be available? I would like a demonstration to ascertain that there’s no misunderstanding or mistake.”

  “We have prototypes that will send an area of about ten by ten meters. If you need more, we will have to see how many of the boxes are necessary. It takes several hours to make one box by hand - we call them U-nodes. If you need more than a hundred we will have to manufacture them at our new facility in Refidim. The facility will be ready in a month or so.”

  Amos looked Ze’ev in the eyes. “What I’m going to say is confidential. Can I rely on you to keep the secret, at least for a while?”

  “Certainly,” Ze’ev responded.

  “In that case, we will need enough of your U-nodes to send all of Judea and Samaria, excluding Jewish settlements. We will also, probably, want to send some of the Israeli Arab villages and maybe parts of Jerusalem. Can you figure out how many we will need?”

  “The definition of Israeli Arab villages is a bit vague. How about defining the whole project as Judea, Samaria and 50% extra?”

  Amos nodded. “Good. After a satisfactory demonstration and approval by independent observers your company will receive a formal request for a quote from the Ministry of Defense. Assuming, of course, that we can come to an understanding on who owns the rights to what.”

  ***

  Wolf’s tank was equipped with a data terminal and keyboard, usually used for tactical information and control. Since they arrived in Brindisi it was connected to the base’s intranet and through it to the Israeli internet.

  Now he was busy composing an email in Yiddish to Sheina who was, like him, one of those who hadn’t survived the Holocaust in the other timeline. They were both, separately, related to Ze’ev Hirshson and met at a family reunion. Wolf was courting the beautiful girl, and she seemed receptive.

  Dear Sheina,