Sandler had been operating around Belzec for several days before Shapira arrived and was familiar with the lay of the land. Shapira’s camp was six kilometers from the death camp, not far from Sandler’s own hideout, about a kilometer further away. The news he brought the Israeli lieutenant was not pleasant.
Belzec, said Sandler, was not in operation—which was good—but the pause was only temporary. The Germans were working night and day to expand the facility, using Jewish slave labor gangs, who were worked until collapse, at which point they were massacred and replaced. The labor gangs toiled to spread the camp northward, and within the enlarged area they had built ten new gas chambers, each guessed Sandler, with a former Sonderkommando’s expertise, capable of killing 300 people at a time. Next to the huge gassing complex were several large pits, criss-crossed with railroad ties—structures that resembled nothing so much as giant grills. The intended use of the structures was easily surmised.
That wasn’t the worst of it though, explained Sandler. The camp had been reinforced not only with the usual polyglot of SS guards and Ukranians, but with hundreds of elite combat troops of the dreaded SS. These troops had established their own camp outside of Belzec. But unlike the pathetic Ukranian guard camp that the Bears and Bulls had overrun at Treblinka, this encampment was wired in and fortified, and guarded by bright eyed young SS troopers. Around the main camp the SS battalion had constructed dozens of firing pits linked by trenches, manned by at least a company of men at all times. Inside the camp were more SS troopers, plus the usual collection of Ukranians and regular SS guards. Nor were the SS lazy. They didn’t stay put around the camp but patrolled aggressively, as far as five kilometers from the Belzec’s perimeter. Sandler had chanced one clash with a patrol, and lost two men for it—though the SS had left two dead of their own.
“Just approaching the camp will be risky, taking it impossible, and merely penetrating it very difficult” concluded the tough young partisan leader.
“I’m not planning to take the place, just get in, plant explosives and leave” said Shapira. “Anyway, is there any good news?”
“Just this” answered Sandler. “The northern perimeter fence is gone due to the construction. The area is only partly wired in—with SS patrols and gun pits protecting the approaches If you can get your men past the patrols and gun pits, you’ll have a run at the gassing complex.”
“That sounds encouraging” said the Israeli lieutenant, with a glance over to Chaim, who was trying his best to decipher the mix of Yiddish and German they were speaking. “If we attack on a very narrow front, you and your gunners can blast us in, yes?”
“Maybe,” said Sandler in a whisper. “But even if you make it in you’ll never get out. Not one of you.”
Hans Opificius envied his fellow Der Fuehrer battalion commanders, Stadler and Horn, whose missions did not include guard duty over a reeking death camp. Opificius wondered if perhaps Kumm did not like him. Certainly the regimental commander favored him less than the handsome Stadler—though the 2nd Battalion commander was only handsome if he didn’t smile—Stadler’s teeth were awful. He shouldn’t have gotten into the SS in the first instance with such corrupted dentation, thought the cavity-free Opificius. Probably connections and pure attitude—Stadler was a fanatic. Horn had a fine SS resume too, especially his stint as an instructor at the Junkerschule. And Opificius was Norweigian, not an Austrian like most of the regiment’s officers. He felt like an adopted middle child.
Opificius knew that there would be no chance of a medal at Belzec, but he was a professional officer and would do his duty. He would defend the place and its disagreeable commander, Wirth. Opificius was indifferent about about snaggletoothed Stadler, but in a few days he’d already developed a healthy dislike for Wirth. So far as Opificius could tell, the man had advanced in the SS based entirely on his expertise at gassing people. Not that Opificius had a problem with that the victims were Untermenschen—it was just dirty, inglorious work. Not a soldier’s vocation. On top of that, Wirth had been promoted from lieutenant to major, skipping Opificius’ own rank of Hauptsturmfuhrer. Evidently this was in order to give him unquestioned authority at Belzee—over Opificius.
But what bothered Opificius most was that Wirth was a pantywaist. Opificius had all five of his companies at Belzec. Such a force, he argued, should be used to actively patrol, and destroy any partisans before they could attack the camp. But Wirth would have none of it. The camp commander was terrified of the phantom British commandos who had supposedly ravaged Sobibor and Treblinka. Wirth insisted that Opificius build a fortified battalion camp just outside the Belzec fence, always manned by a full company. Another company had to be stationed within the camp itself—even though the camp already had Ukranian and regular SS guards—while yet a third manned trenches around the perimeter of the camp. Since his companies had to rest occasionally, that left Opificius with few troops for active patrolling in the countryside.
His meager patrols had managed one contact the day before, and Opificius had to admit it was a disturbing one. An SS squad had come upon a group of partisans about several kilometers from Belzec and lost two men killed and one wounded in a sharp firefight. The patrol leader, Russian front veteran, reported that the bandits were better armed than his own men, entirely with automatic weapons, including a couple of MG-34s. He’d charged the partisans, assuming that they would flee, but instead they poured bullets into his men. The SS patrol was forced to withdraw under fire, leaving behind their dead.
Wirth was entirely unnerved by the news, and insisted that the encounter proved that the menacing British were nearby. But rather than permitting Opificius to seek them out, Wirth insisted on further limiting the patrols and reinforcing the perimeter. Opificius had not choice but to comply.
Chapter 42
On June 28, while the rest of the sayeret was fighting for its life near Biali, Shapira and Chaim did their own reconnaissance of Belzec. There were no German patrols to dodge, which was contrary to Sandler’s grim warnings, although hardly unwelcome Otherwise Sandler’s assessment of the situation was quite accurate.
The best access into the camp was through the unfenced north perimeter. The approach was protected by a line of SS entrenchments and thin coils of barbed wire, but little else, not even lights or watchtowers. Behind the SS positions lay the newly constructed gas chamber complex. This was Shapira’s only target. Shapira knew that the SS troopers guarding the approach would not be pushovers, and that he would probably face a rapid counter-attack once his men penetrated the camp They would have to be fast and lucky.