by Isser Harel
I decided that this was the ideal place to establish my operational headquarters. In that constant turmoil nobody would pay attention to several people coming in, sitting down at a table, then getting up and giving their seats to others. But how to get a table here? I joined the long line of people in uniform, in office clothes, in overalls, who were wandering around the hall in search of unoccupied or emptying tables. A few of them were lined up next to tables which showed imminent signs of being vacated. The minute anybody got up one of those on the waiting line grabbed the empty chair. I did the same and found myself sitting with a group of soldiers eating with hearty appetites. My table companions were in high spirits, and their courtesy was exemplary.
The first person who came to see me at my new location had to stand stooping over me so that we could hear each other through the general uproar. Nobody took any notice. As time went on, more and more of our men came to stand around me. When one of the places at the table was vacated we didn’t give an outsider the chance to take it but grabbed it quickly for ourselves. Ultimately, the table was all ours, and from then on we were very careful not to leave a seat empty. We contributed several chairs to a neighboring table and saw to it that nobody from our table got up unless he could give his chair to another of our men. It was from this place that I directed the operation to its conclusion.
Shimoni was one of the first to come to the new headquarters I had set up. I asked him how the crew had reacted when the nature of our operation was explained to them. He said a few of them had guessed that the flight had something to do with Nazi war criminals, and they were all filled with anticipation about the final action. There’s no doubt, he said, that they will now work with twice as much devotion. When I asked if we could rely on the punctuality of the crew, Shimoni replied that I need have no fears about late arrivals, personal complications, or anything similar which might upset the course of the operation, since the entire crew had been carefully selected.
Once again we examined the plans I had drawn up, and Shimoni gave his opinion that under existing conditions all of them were workable.
I asked him about the normal inspection procedures for those on the crew who started the aircraft’s engines and taxied the plane onto the apron. I wanted to know at what stage these men passed through customs and border control.
We decided finally that the car and the minibus carrying the rest of the crew to the plane would wait in the parking lot until the car with Eichmann in it joined them, and all three would proceed together to the checkpoint in the area where the plane was parked. The car with the crew members would head the procession to test the reaction and alertness of the sentries. The men must be noisy and gay, I said, as if they were still in holiday spirits. The technical inspection and fueling must be completed before the arrival of the crew, and all the provisions to be loaded on to the plane from the apron must be ready in good time, so that not a single second should be lost.
Only one problem remained to be cleared up, one that was actually only indirectly connected with the operation. The local branch of the airline company had received quite a few requests from Israelis – ill or stranded in Buenos Aires – to be flown to Israel free of charge, and Shimoni wanted to know how to deal with them. With great regret, particularly for the sick applicants, I had to refuse them. I was afraid such passengers might hamper the speed of take-off and cause other delays; furthermore, accepting them would be likely to raise procedural problems, not to mention the security risk of taking just anybody on an operational flight. To avoid unfair criticism of the airline for hardheartedness, I advised Shimoni to explain to all the applicants that, according to directives from Tel Aviv, the plane might have to change its flight direction at the last moment and proceed to some airport other than Lydda.
Arye and Avivi were busy the entire day preparing the aircraft for its long flight. They checked and rechecked time after time, but they found no malfunctions. In the afternoon Zev Keren joined them. They had been told he was authorized to come and go as he pleased and that they could trust him and must give him all the help he asked for. Zev asked a lot of questions, and Arye could see they were all to the point. But he couldn’t make out what this reticent man, who displayed such professional skill in technical matters, was trying to accomplish.
Toward evening Arye was told to wander around the aircraft and to leave and return a number of times, so the guards at the checkpoint would get used to the constant traffic of company men to and from the plane. After he had gone through the gate a few times he was no longer asked to show his papers.
These peculiar instructions finally convinced Arye that something out of the ordinary was cooking, but still Zev’s activities provided no key to the mystery. Zev went on asking questions and showing great interest in the plane’s construction, but he kept his mouth shut about the important matters. Arye decided to ignore him and start fueling the plane.
Barhon waited impatiently for the results of the final medical tests which would decide his fate. He had no idea why it was so important for him to be released from the hospital on that particular day, but he was intelligent enough to comprehend that the success or failure of a vitally important action might depend on his ability to convince the doctors that he was completely recovered. When he was summoned to the doctor’s office, he was still trying to remember if he had done exactly as Ilani had told him. Judging by the smile with which he was greeted, he understood everything was in order. The doctor patted him on the shoulder and told him that the tests were satisfactory, and the hospital was prepared to let him go and to give permission for him to fly to Israel. The doctor even had a medical certificate ready for him:
SUMMARY OF CLINICAL PICTURE OF MEIR BARHON
On May 17, 1960, the above mentioned was injured in a car accident while sitting on the rear seat of a moving car, when the car braked suddenly and he was thrown against the front seat. There was no visible injury to the head. Nevertheless, he lost consciousness for several minutes. For twenty-four hours after that he suffered from vertigo, but he had no nausea and did not vomit. The neurological test carried out the following day (May 18) was normal. Skull X-rays showed no fracture or other abnormality. He was released on May 20. The neurological test is normal. In our opinion, there is nothing to prevent the patient from traveling by air. It is advisable that medical supervision be continued in order to diagnose rapidly any possible complications following the blow.
Barhon promptly telephoned Ilani, who was waiting at a large café in the vicinity, and asked him to come and pick him up from the hospital. He said good-bye to the staff and the friends he had made among the patients, and they all wished him a speedy recovery and a pleasant journey.
Ilani arrived shortly afterward. They drove to the safe house Ramim, and as soon as they were inside Ilani took away Barhon’s papers and forbade him under any circumstances whatsoever to set foot out of the building until the papers were given back to him or until he was supplied with other documentation. Ilani hurried off to Maoz, to Shalom Dani. Eich-mann’s photographs were already lying on the table, and Shalom quickly attached them to Meir’s documents.
From Maoz, Ilani dashed off to meet me. He found me surrounded by people standing and waiting to talk to me – and to sit down. He reported Barhon’s release and showed me his doctor’s certificate. I told Ilani that Barhon must remain at Ramim until further instructions. If we used his papers, Ilani would bring him fresh ones prepared by Shalom Dani so that he could leave Argentina without delay. But even if his documents were not used, Barhon must take care not to linger on in Argentina, since there was always the likelihood of his meeting one of the doctors who had attended him. In the meantime, Ilani must go to see Barhon in his ‘prison’ to explain the circumstances and to see that he had enough food and everything else he would need until he could leave.
Meir Lavi, who was handling Operation Mengele, was two hours late. I had already begun to fear that this delay might force us to make serious changes in o
ur arrangements for a final briefing. And the diversion of personnel for Mengele’s capture – presuming, of course, that he was still in the house – would create an even greater disruption.
When Meir eventually appeared, the expression of his face showed that he’d had no luck. He explained quite candidly that he hadn’t managed to arrange a parcel delivery as a plausible pretext for entering the house. He could see he was wasting valuable time so he decided to do something else. By looking through the telephone directory until he came across the address of the house, he was able to find the name and number of the owner. He promptly dialed the number and asked to speak to the owner of the house. The woman who answered the phone could hardly speak Spanish. She asked him if he spoke English, and they switched to that language. From her accent and idiom Meir gathered that she was American, new to the place, and definitely not of German origin. She had no hesitation in giving her name, and when he asked about the previous tenants, she said she knew nothing about them.
I reprimanded Meir for not having followed instructions, and then I set him at ease and told him that he’d caused no harm and had even achieved certain results. He was very relieved, though he was still positive he’d made a serious mistake. I asked him to sit and wait for further instructions.
About an hour later Hilel Pooch appeared. He was wearing overalls and looked tired and depressed. Equipped with electrician’s tools, he had gone to the house in Vicente López and rung the doorbell. He explained in Spanish to the woman who opened the door that he had come to repair the hot-water heater. She replied in halting Spanish with an English or American accent, and it was obvious she hadn’t fully understood him. Very patiently he explained again what he had come for, and she said she hadn’t ordered any repairs. Hilel told her the workshop had been asked to send somebody. He admitted that this was quite a few days ago, but nobody had telephoned since then to cancel the order. She tried to explain that it must be a misunderstanding, or that maybe the former tenants had asked for the heater to be repaired. In any case, she didn’t know anything about any repair orders.
During the course of the conversation, Hilel asked for her name and she gave it without hesitation – the same name the postman had mentioned earlier. Clearly the woman wasn’t German and she wasn’t trying to hide anything. It was quite obvious that Mengele had in fact moved out of the house.
I thanked Meir and Hilel for their conscientiousness and asked them to convey my thanks to their wives as well. I told them that they had better leave Argentina the next day – unless Ilani told them to wait – but that I’d like them to stand by until midnight. They knew nothing about what was going to happen that night.
Their findings came as a bitter disappointment. Though I knew that the prospects of finding Mengele at his old address were pretty poor, I nevertheless hoped that luck might be on our side. It was hard to reconcile myself to the fact that we had missed the opportunity of capturing the murderous doctor by as little as a couple of weeks. However, there was nothing to do but continue with the work ahead of us. For the next few hours reports on various details of the operation continued to pour in. The safe house Doron, I was told, had been evacuated and was ready to be handed back to the owners the next morning. At Tira everything was in order. From midday they had stopped giving Eichmann food or drink in preparation for his partial drugging. Eli made up the prisoner’s face as he had for Shalom Dani’s photographs, and he did a perfect job – even Eichmann’s best friends in Argentina wouldn’t have been able to identify him.
Conditions on the roads weren’t ideal, but there was no particular cause for anxiety. The security forces were out on patrol, but it was possible to avoid running into them. If nothing unexpected happened, there was every reason to assume that private cars wouldn’t be held up in the vicinity of the airfield.
The airport itself and the approach roads were full of all kinds of security men, but they were not conducting searches at either the airport itself or its entrances. In the departure lounge there was no extraordinary bustle and no sign of abnormal tension. The security men seemed too busy with the important incoming visitors to pay much attention to departing passengers.
In the maintenance area where our plane was standing there was no undue commotion. The afternoon and evening papers were well scrutinized: still no mention of Klement’s disappearance.
26
AT SEVEN-THIRTY I was waiting for Yitzhak’s final reconnaissance report. Since I had only until eight o’clock to dispatch the car to Tira to pick up Eichmann, the results of Yitzhak’s latest reconnaissance were really vital. But he was late.
Kenet, who was to drive the car, sat at my table, awaiting instructions. By seven fifty-five he was showing signs of anxiety – Yitzhak wasn’t there yet. If I knew that his car had broken down I wouldn’t have worried; I could send Kenet out to look for him at the side of the road. Or Kenet could still have made a final check of the roads himself. But what if Yitzhak had been stopped? I knew that even in that case he would hold his tongue and win the confidence of the guards, for no one was more capable of looking convincingly innocent.
At eight o’clock precisely I told Kenet and the other man with him that we couldn’t wait any longer and they must get going. I told them that if the highways seemed more or less safe they should bring Eichmann and his escorts without awaiting further word from Yitzhak. I reminded them that they should arrive at the airfield by eleven o’clock. I would arrange for reconnaissance of the airfield itself, and if anything went wrong I would send a courier by car to stop them and give them fresh instructions. If they didn’t come across any of our men on the road it would mean that the way was clear, and they would then go straight to the spot on the parking lot previously agreed on by Kenet and Avrum. They were to wait there for further instructions from me.
Zvi Tohar fixed seven o’clock as the time for the crew’s evening meal and told his men that as soon as they had finished eating they must leave the hotel and drive to the airport. He and the men who had to prepare the aircraft for take-off left Buenos Aires at eight-thirty. Neither on the way nor when they entered the airfield were they stopped or asked to show their papers. It was only when they got to the checkpoint at the Argentine national airline’s maintenance area that they were asked to identify themselves, but the inspection was perfectly routine. By nine-thirty they were at the plane. A final check showed that everything was in order, so there was nothing more for them to do except wait for the convoy of cars bringing Eichmann. While waiting, they noted once again that all was quiet in their vicinity.
Shalom Dani also arrived at the airport in the evening, having completed all his work in the laboratory. He was carrying a briefcase and looked like any passenger waiting for a plane. I gave him some last minute work, and he sat down at a table in a corner and got busy with his ‘correspondence,’ just like a tourist with time on his hands. Letters were strewn over his table and he himself wrote many ‘letters’ that evening – filling in various official forms, extending the expiration date of one passport, changing the photograph on another. The waiters who went over to him from time to time, serving him drinks or clearing the table, didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
Adi Peleg came to tell me that all the crew who had been lodging in the city had arrived; none of them had been held up or had experienced any difficulties whatsoever when they entered the airport. As for the plane, it was ready for take-off and waiting only for its chief passenger.
The hands of the clock stood at ten-thirty. If everything is all right, I told myself, the Eichmann convoy will be at the airfield in half an hour. Avrum came to report that the latest reconnaissance at the field and at the entrances revealed no cause for suspicion or anxiety. There was much traffic of security forces, but there were no roadblocks and no searches. I agreed with Avrum that there was no need to send anyone out to the convoy. It was better to let it proceed on its own. But Avrum must go at once to the spot where the plane was parked to check that everything
was in order and come straight back to give me the results of his inspection. Afterward he would go out to meet the convoy and inform me as soon as it arrived. The minute he got the order to move he would lead the convoy through the checkpoint and up to the plane.
Meanwhile, Adi Peleg assembled all the crew at the airport hotel and addressed them: ‘Gentlemen, you are participating in a great event. Don’t ask me what it is. Just do exactly as I tell you. We are taking someone with us to Israel. I will tell you his identity later on.’
Even those members of the crew who had not yet been let in on the secret were not very surprised when they heard the disclosure. They had already sensed from all the activity that something out-of-the-ordinary was taking place. When Adi told them to get into the car and minibus standing at the edge of the hotel parking ground, they did so without further question.
Avrum had in the meantime carried out a quick inspection near the plane and found everything as it should be. He drove immediately to the main entrance of the airport and sent a courier to tell me that the road to the aircraft was open and safe.
Avrum made his way to the parking lot and found Adi and the crew waiting there. He told them that from then on none of them would be allowed to leave the cars. He instructed the drivers to start the engines and wait for a signal. Turning to the crew, he told them that when they were passing through the checkpoint before our parking area they must act loud and boisterous to draw the attention of the sentries away from the occupants of the third car that would be joining them. When they reached the plane they must form a tight cordon to cover up a most important security action. Avrum then returned to the main entrance of the airfield to wait for the convoy and direct it to the parking lot.