by Isser Harel
From a medical certificate of 1937: scar about one inch long in the area of the tenth rib on the left side of the body.
From an official medical certificate of 1937: scar above the left elbow.
From Wisliceny’s testimony of October 1946: blood type tattooed under the left armpit, as was customary with all SS officers.
Various Personal Particulars
His number in the SS, according to documents from 1932 and 1937 - 45326; additional SS number, whose nature is not sufficiently clear - 63752; membership in the Nazi Party-889895.
Wisliceny’s testimony of 1946: description of his way of speaking, his accent, languages he knew, etc.
Ilani and Ezra had their first meeting with Kenet on April 26, proving once again that liaison arrangements were working properly. The three of them planned their actions for the day, concluding that the most urgent matter at the moment was to rent a car so they could reconnoiter the San Fernando area and re-establish ‘contact’ with Ricardo Klement.
Kenet had more experience renting cars than the others, but he was afraid to go back in his new identity to the companies where they knew him from before. He even feared that if he went to another firm he might meet a clerk who had switched jobs, or that there was some sort of connection between the various agencies. Admittedly, he had radically changed his way of dressing and even made himself up a little, but the danger was still there. His fears were groundless. The car was rented without mishap, and they promptly set out to buy the equipment on the list prepared in Israel: folding beds, bedding, and kitchen utensils, in case several people had to stay at Maoz. They were careful in their comings and goings not to attract the attention of the neighboring tenants. And it was all done quickly because they still wanted to reconnoiter San Fernando the same evening.
By the time of the reconnaissance they were four. Avrum had received his documentation from Shalom Dani, flown from Israel to Rome, and then gone by train to the city where Zvi Zohar was waiting for him. All flights to South America were fully booked, and he could get a seat only from Lisbon. When Avrum boarded the plane he saw that Yitzhak Nesher was also one of the passengers. They pretended not to know each other and didn’t exchange a single word throughout the long flight. The plane landed at three o’clock in the afternoon, and each went to his own hotel, following the arrangements made in Israel. The advance party was now complete.
When Avrum arrived at the hotel, the reception clerk was delighted to meet a ‘fellow countryman’ and speak to him in his own language. He asked the visitor what town he lived in, and when it turned out that they both came from the same district, he started chatting about places Avrum had never seen in his life. The clerk was eager to help his ‘compatriot’ and offered to fill out the form for him – all he asked him to do was sign it. Avrum was in a panic; he’d forgotten the name in his passport! His thoughts raced. Here he was, right at the outset of his assignment, and he was already in a mess. He quickly pulled himself together and asked the receptionist to let him have his passport for a minute because he thought he’d left an important paper in it. The paper wasn’t there, but he will never again forget the name as long as he lives.
Two meetings were fixed for Avrum that day: eight in the morning at a café, and six in the evening at the corner of Avenida Santa Fe and Avenida Callao. He unpacked and went to the meeting place; he was a stranger to Buenos Aires, but he had no difficulty finding the street corner in the center of the city. Just as he arrived, at six, Kenet and Ezra Eshet came toward him.
The rented car was parked nearby, so they decided not to waste a moment but to go to San Fernando right away. Kenet, who was driving, knew the way by heart, including short cuts.
At seven-forty, on Route 202 near the kiosk which Ezra and Avrum knew well from Kenet’s reports, they saw Ricardo Klement walking along the left side of the road, between the kiosk and his house. Avrum identified him immediately from the photograph Kenet had brought with him.
‘There he is!’ whispered Avrum, and with a start of surprise Kenet jammed on the brakes. The car swerved toward Klement and stopped, but Avrum made Kenet drive on a little farther lest Klement take fright at a car stopping beside him. Ezra got out of the car and shadowed Klement as he walked along Route 202 in the direction of Bancalari, keeping a distance of about a hundred yards between them. He saw Klement leave the main road, turn left onto a dirt road, walk another twenty yards or so, and enter a small isolated house. Ezra recognized the house from Kenet’s photographs.
Meanwhile, Avrum and Kenet had continued driving toward Buenos Aires, but a little later they came back and picked up Ezra beside the railway embankment behind Klement’s house. They were afraid to go any nearer, even though it was pitch dark.
This was an unexpected bit of luck. About two hours earlier, when they had decided to go to the target area, all they had intended was to give Ezra and Avrum an opportunity to familiarize themselves with the surroundings. It never entered anyone’s mind that they would see Klement on their first reconnaissance.
On the way back to Buenos Aires they analyzed the results. It was a Tuesday, and from Klement’s presence near home on the evening of an ordinary weekday they deduced that he was no longer working far from home but in Buenos Aires itself or its vicinity. If this was the case, Klement probably walked from the bus stop to his house at a regular hour; and at this time of the year it was already dark at that hour. This meant that the capture could be made in the section of the road between the bus stop and Klement’s house.
Although their hypothesis needed to be checked further, Avrum believed – and his companions shared his opinion – that there were good grounds for reporting to Israel that Klement’s whereabouts was known and that the operation could be carried out. That same evening, April 26, they sent such a message to Tel Aviv.
Avrum’s message was handed to me toward evening, April 27. The next three days I was busier than ever before in my life. In those seventy-two hours I had to complete the coordination of all the actions relating to the operation, make my own preparations for departure, and arrange for all the diverse branches of my work to be done during my absence.
To start with, I gave the immediate ‘go’ signal to the task force. Once again the various arrangements, as well as the equipment, communications, and provisions were re-examined for a possible hitch. I met with all those concerned with the operation – the people of the task force standing by, the special team that remained at home, and all the persons and agencies outside the Service who had any sort of function to perform in the operation.
The head of the operational team, Rafi Eitan rechecked all the plans and prepared himself and his men for an immediate departure, while I devoted most of my time to confirming the means of Eichmann’s transfer from Argentina to Israel. Until then the details of the special flight were not actually confirmed. Now I had to verify that these arrangements would in fact be carried out. I summoned Yehuda Shimoni, and we decided that he would go to Argentina immediately to handle everything involved in the plane’s landing and takeoff. He repeated his suggestion that his friend Yosef Klein go along to help him so he would be available to deal with any problem that might arise.
Everything hinged on final confirmation from the board of management of the airline. I saw Ben-Ari and then the managing director of the company. They not only expressed their full agreement but also did all that was necessary to ensure that the airline would perform in accordance with the needs of the operation. The captain of the plane would be one of the company’s senior pilots – Zvi Tohar.
I met with Tohar and explained what sort of operation we were undertaking and its possible effect on the preparations for the special flight as well as on the flight itself. I stressed the necessity for Israeli mechanics to be attached to the crew in order to avoid having foreign mechanics service the engines. I asked him to be prepared for a speedy take-off if necessary and a return flight with a minimum of intermediate stops.
Tohar struck me as
a self-contained person and not much of a talker. Although certain indications of inner excitement could be detected from behind that armor of taciturnity, his verbal reaction was confined to the remark that he understood and appreciated the importance of the affair, was prepared to take part in it, and promised to do all in his power to make it a success.
As he left my office, I said good-bye to him with the familiar Hebrew ‘see you again’: ‘L’hitraot in Buenos Aires.’
During Shimoni’s absence Adi Peleg was acting as intermediary between me and the airline. I invited him, with Moshe Drori and Malka Braverman, to my house late in the evening.
Adi became very emotional when he heard about the planned operation, for he too had a score of his own to settle with the Nazis. Adi’s father, a well-to-do merchant and a respected member of the Jewish community in the German town where Adi was born, was one of the first Jews to be persecuted when the Nazis came to power. He was led through the streets in a parade of Jews, beaten, and forced to drink large doses of castor oil; he had a heart ailment and died soon after this treatment. Adi learned after World War II that until February 1943 his mother had been imprisoned in a sort of ghetto and then, with the rest of the town’s Jews, she was deported to Auschwitz – but she died on the way. Adi himself was rescued by the Youth Aliya, and he was taken to Israel in 1935 at the age of sixteen.
It didn’t take much in the way of explanation to make Adi aware of the necessity to devote all his energy during the coming weeks to the tasks entrusted to him. I assigned him to put together an aircraft crew we would be able to rely on, with regard to both capability and security, and to obtain documentation and uniforms for a few of the task force men who might have to pose as members of the crew. I also asked him to see to it that all the technical and administrative details customary for regular flights were adhered to meticulously in order to avoid any mishaps. He was to keep in touch with Drori’s group and with Malka.
In a preliminary discussion with Drori I put into shape my rough plan for transferring Eichmann to the plane in Buenos Aires. I did this with some reservations, because we were a long way from the scene of action and did not have sufficient knowledge of the local conditions. My idea was to bring Eichmann to the plane under cover as a member of the crew who had suddenly taken ill or was injured in an accident. To make Eichmann’s papers as a member of the crew appear authentic, I wanted to attach to the plane’s crew one of our men who, in general appearance, physical build, and age, resembled Eichmann as he appeared in the photographs and descriptions we received from Kenet. In other words, I wanted a double. Drori mentioned one of the operators whose physical characteristics might fit the part, but I told him not to put the double idea into effect until he was informed that the capture had taken place. I added that two more operations men must be made ready to join the crew of the plane, their function being to act as escorts of the sick or injured ‘crew member,’ to help him board the plane and to watch him on the journey. These two and the double, I said, could be presented to the genuine crew as bodyguards for the official Israeli delegation to the anniversary celebrations.
I told Drori that once I got to Buenos Aires these ideas might prove to be impractical, and if so I would let him know immediately; I was considering several other possibilities but would know if they were feasible only when I was on the spot. I might be able to make do with some of the men from the task force itself, and it might also be possible to recruit reinforcements from among the Jews or Israelis in countries bordering Argentina. In any event, Drori was to make all the necessary preparations for putting the various plans into effect and for sending the requisite equipment to Buenos Aires on the special plane.
On April 28 I went to Jerusalem to receive the Prime Minister’s farewell blessing. I informed him that the initial team had located Eichmann and reported good chances for the operation. Ben-Gurion asked whether I was certain that the man was Adolf Eichmann. I recounted the findings on which we based the recognition and my belief that we had the right man. The Prime Minister emphasised again the historical and moral importance of trying Eichmann in Israel, and elaborated on the educational influence this would have on the younger generation, born and educated in Israel, who did not know enough about the holocaust. As he shook my hand in farewell he asked when I would be back. If all went well I estimated to be back in three to four weeks.
Afterward I went to say good-bye to my daughter and her husband, who were studying at Hebrew University. I didn’t tell them where I was going, and they, accustomed to my frequent travels, didn’t display any special interest in my destination.
My next step was to see the Inspector-General of Police, Yosef Nahmias. I felt the time had come to tell him about the operation – he was, after all, the man to whom we would be handing Eichmann over for arrest and interrogation, if and when we succeeded in bringing him to Israel. We met on the pavement outside his house, as I was in a hurry and he was just going out of town.
‘What’s it about?’ he asked with a smile.
‘I’ve come to say good-bye’, I said. ‘I’m going away for several weeks.’
‘Where to this time?’
‘To find Adolf Eichmann.’
‘Really?’ he said still smiling, but the smile vanished a second later, and his face became serious. ‘Do you really believe you’ll be able to find him?’
I nodded. ‘Naturally there’s no complete certainty. In such matters you never know.’
Nahmias wished me luck. There was no need to ask him to keep it secret: I knew that until he got a report on the results of the expedition he wouldn’t utter a word.
There was, in the meantime, a complication. I was busy hosting an eminent personality from overseas, and although I was pressed for time I had to fulfill my social obligations. I dared not in any way disclose that I was engaged on an assignment that was more urgent than the exercise of good manners. The operation itself wasn’t likely to be affected if I neglected him, but politically it could be harmful – for once the operation was successfully concluded and the world knew that Eichmann had vanished, my guest might put two and two together and realize too soon that Israelis had carried it out, the proof being that his host was so busy just before Eichmann’s capture that he was unable to perform the minimal duties of hospitality. At that stage I couldn’t know what the government’s policy on publicity would be when it was advised of Operation Eichmann, or how the Eichmann family and the Argentine authorities would react. I had to bear in mind the possibility that when Eichmann’s presence in Israel was made known his family might decide not to appeal to the Argentine authorities to demand his return. I believed that in such an eventuality it would be desirable that even if we were suspected of having a hand in the affair we should not furnish them with any proof of this.
On April 28, the eve of my departure, I had to entertain my guest at my home. From an anecdote he told me late that night I learned that it was customary in South America for any stranger changing a hundred-dollar bill to be required to show identification, in case the note was counterfeit or stolen. I sent my driver Yaki to find out what banknotes had been prepared for me; as it turned out, all the money provided for my travel expenses was in hundred-dollar bills. Yaki had to go to a great deal of trouble that night and the following morning to exchange them for smaller denominations.
The dinner ended close to midnight. After the guest had gone, a few people came to consult with me about arrangements during my absence. Only in the wee hours of the next day was I able to make my personal preparations for the journey. And, in view of the new identity I had to assume, these preparations were by no means easy.
By the time I was ready it was already getting light. Early that morning I had to see my guest off at the airport. My only fear was that his plane might not take off in time, because as soon as it was airborne I had to dash home, collect my baggage and papers, and hurry back to the airport to leave for Europe. The slightest delay in my guest’s departure was liable to ups
et my whole timetable. I suppose I could have made my apologies and told him I had an important meeting and couldn’t wait with him until the plane left – but how would it look if we met as passengers later at the airport?
Fortunately, the plane left on time. I managed to get home, take what I needed, and return to Lydda. My good-byes to my wife were hurried and routine. She was used to my ‘disappearances’ from time to time, never asked questions about my work, and only in a few cases did she find out afterward where I had been. I told her that this time I’d be away for three or four weeks and wouldn’t be able to write to her. I knew she could see how tense I was – but this too had become a routine part of our lives.
I arrived at the intermediate airport in Europe at night. Only two people knew I was there: Zvi Zohar who met me at the air terminal in the city, and Efraim Ronel, Shalom Dani’s immediate superior – and I had arguments with both of them. Efraim complained bitterly that he didn’t want me to take Shalom away from the operations they were then engaged in; I expressed my sympathy and understanding, but made clear that I had no choice but to appropriate Shalom even if it meant bringing another man from Israel to replace him. Then, before I was able to go to bed at Efraim’s apartment, I had to explain to Zvi why I couldn’t let him join the task force as I had originally planned. He was the sole person who knew all about the members of the force – their assumed names, their flight routes, their documentation – so it was vital that he remain in Europe, especially if we failed and the men had to get away from the target area and needed his services to resume their former identities and return to their bases in Israel or abroad.
Early the next morning I traveled to a neighboring country and from there took off for Argentina. Only then, sitting in the plane, did I have time to go over my new papers and memorize the details of my temporary identity.
At one of the stops on the long flight I suddenly heard my name – which I had only just learned – echoing through the lounge. At first I thought I was mistaken, but the loudspeakers repeated that Mr. So-and-So – the name on my passport -was requested to come immediately to the information desk. To make sure, I slipped into a corner and opened my passport: yes, that was the name.