Once we were in bed, the camp commandant strode into the dormitory followed by three young men as tall and blond as himself.
‘These are your supervisors,’ he said in a soft voice, ‘Siegfried Levy, Günther Cohen, Herman Rappoport. These archangels will knock you into shape! The slightest insubordination is punishable by death! Isn’t that so, my darlings? Don’t hesitate to shoot them if they annoy you. . A bullet in the temple, no discussions! Understood, my angels?’
He gently stroked their cheeks.
‘I don’t want these European Jews undermining your moral fibre. .’
At 06:00 hours, Siegfried, Günther and Hermann dragged us from our beds, punching us as they did so. We pulled on our striped pyjamas. They led us to the administrative office of the kibbutz. We rattled off our surnames, first names, dates of birth to a dark-haired young woman wearing the regulation army khaki shirt and grey-blue trousers. Siegfried, Günther and Hermann stood behind the office door. One after another, my companions left the room after answering the young woman’s questions. My turn came. The young woman raised her head and stared me straight in the eye. She looked like the twin sister of Tania Arcisewska. She said:
‘My name is Rebecca and I love you.’
I did not know how to answer.
‘Listen,’ she said, ‘they’re going to kill you. You have to leave tonight. I’ll take care of everything. I’m an officer in the Israeli army so I don’t have to answer to the camp commandant. I’ll borrow a truck on the pretext that I have to go to Tel Aviv to attend a meeting of the chiefs of staff. You’ll come with me. I’ll steal Siegfried Levy’s papers and give them to you. That way you won’t have to worry about the police for the time being. Later, we’ll see what we can do. We could take the first boat to Europe and get married. I love you, I love you! I’ll have you brought to my office at eight o’clock tonight. Fall out!’
We broke rocks in the blazing sun until 5 p.m. I had never handled a pickaxe before and my pale hands were bleeding horribly. Siegfried, Günther and Hermann smoked Lucky Strikes and stood guard. At no point during the day did they utter a single word and I assumed they were mute. Siegfried raised a hand to let us know our work was finished. Hermann walked over to the three English Jews, took out his revolver and shot them, his eyes utterly expressionless. He lit a Lucky Strike and puffed on it, staring up at the sky. After summarily burying the English Jews, our three guards led us back to the kibbutz. We were left to stare out through the barbed wire at the desert. At eight o’clock, Hermann Rappoport came to fetch me and escorted me to the administrative office.
‘I feel like having a little fun, Hermann!’ Rebecca said, ‘Leave this little Jew with me, I’ll take him to Tel Aviv, rape him and kill him, promise!’
Hermann nodded.
‘Well then, it’s just the two of us!’ she said ominously.
As soon as Rappoport left the room, she squeezed my hand affectionately.
‘Follow me, we don’t have a moment to lose!’
We went out through the gates and climbed into a military truck. She got behind the steering wheel.
‘Freedom is ours!’ she said, ‘We’ll stop in a little while. You can slip on Siegfried’s uniform, I’ve just stolen it. His papers are in the inside pocket.’
We reached our destination at 11 p.m.
‘I love you and I want to go back to Europe,’ she told me. ‘Here there’s nothing but thugs, soldiers, boy scouts and nudniks. In Europe we’ll be happy. We’ll be able to read Kafka to our children.’
‘Yes, my darling Rebecca. We’ll dance all night and tomorrow morning we’ll catch the first boat for Marseille!’
The soldiers we encountered in the street snapped to attention as Rebecca passed.
‘I’m a lieutenant,’ she said, smiling. ‘But I can’t wait to throw this uniform away and go back to Europe.’
Rebecca knew a clandestine nightclub in Tel Aviv where we danced to the songs of Zarah Leander and Marlene Dietrich. It was a very popular club among young women in the army. To gain admittance, their companions had to wear a Luftwaffe officer’s uniform. The dim lighting was conducive to intimacy. Their first dance was a tango, ‘Der Wind hat mir ein Lied erzählt’, sung by Zarah Leander in a smouldering voice. He murmured into Rebecca’s ear ‘Du bist der Lenz nachdem ich verlangte.’ During their second dance, ‘Schön war die Zeit’, he held her shoulders and kissed her passionately on the lips. The voice of Lala Andersen quickly snuffed out that of Zarah Leander. At the first words of ‘Lili Marlene’, they heard the police sirens. There was a great commotion but no one could get out: Commandant Elias Bloch, Saul, Isaac and Isaiah had burst into the club, waving their revolvers.
‘Round up all these fools,’ roared Bloch, ‘but first, do a quick identity check.’
When his turn came, Bloch recognised him in spite of the Luftwaffe uniform.
‘Schlemilovitch? What are you doing here? I thought you had been sent to a disciplinary kibbutz! And wearing a Luftwaffe uniform! Clearly European Jews are irredeemable.’
‘Your fiancée?’ He gestured to Rebecca. ‘A French Jew I’m guessing? Dressed as an Israeli army officer! This just gets better and better! Look, here come my friends. Well, I’m a generous man, let’s crack open a bottle of champagne!’
They were quickly surrounded by a group of revellers who clapped them on the shoulder. He recognised the Marquise de Fougeire-Jusquiames, Vicomte Lévy-Vendôme, Paulo Hayakawa, Sophie Knout, Jean-Farouk de Mérode, Otto da Silva, M. Igor, the ageing Baroness Lydia Stahl, the princess Chericheff-Deborazoff, Louis-Ferdinand Céline and Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
‘I’ve just sold fifty thousand pairs of socks to the Wehrmacht,’ announced Jean-Farouk de Mérode as they sat down.
‘And I’ve sold ten thousand tins of paint to the Kreigsmarine,’ said Otto da Silva.
‘Did you know those boy scouts on Radio Londres have condemned me to death?’ said Paulo Hayakawa. ‘They call me the “Nazi brandy bootlegger”!’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Lévy-Vendôme, ‘we’ll buy up the French Résistants and the Anglo-Americans the same way we bought the Germans! Always keep in mind this maxim by our master Joanovici: “I did not sell myself to the Germans. It is I, Joseph Joanovici, Jew, who buys Germans.”’
‘I’ve been working for the French Gestapo in Neuilly for almost a week,’ said M. Igor.
‘I’m the best informant is Paris,’ said Sophie Knout. ‘They call me Miss Abwehr.’
‘I just love the Gestapo,’ said the Marquise de Fougeire-Jusquiames,‘they’re so much more manly than everyone else.’
‘You’re so right,’ said Princess Chericheff-Deborazoff, ‘all those killers make me so hot.’
‘There’s a lot of good to be said for the German occupation,’ said Jean-Farouk de Mérode, flashing a purple crocodile-skin wallet stuffed with banknotes.
‘Paris is a lot calmer,’ said Otto da Silva.
‘The trees are blonder,’ said Paulo Hayakawa.
‘And you can hear the church bells,’ said Lévy-Vendôme.
‘I hope Germany is victorious!’ said M. Igor.
‘Would you care for a Lucky Strike?’ asked the Marquise de Fougeire-Jusquiames, proffering a cigarette case of emerald-studded platinum. ‘I get them regularly from Spain.’
‘No, some champagne! Let’s drink to the health of the Abwehr!’ said Sophie Knout.
‘And the Gestapo!’ said Princess Chericheff-Deborazoff.
‘A little stroll in the Bois de Boulogne?’ suggested Commandant Bloch, turning toward him, ‘I feel like a breath of fresh air! Your fiancée can join us. We’ll meet up with our little gang on the Place de l’Étoile at midnight for a last drink!’