CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

EMT [État-major tactique, Tactical Command Post], La Légion Étrangère, Sidi-bel-Abbès, Algeria, December 29, 1964, late evening

Prior to going to the EMT bar to socialize with the Legionnaires—the suspected murderers of the generals—Lev and Moises cautioned their men to avoid consuming more than just a little social alcohol; so, they would have their wits about them at all times. Moises told them to let the Nazis get drunk and talkative. They would be good listeners. Lev paid their waiter a double tip to water down the Israeli contingent’s drinks and to make the Legionnaire’s drinks extra concentrated. Nonetheless, they did not learn much from the mildly inebriated Legionnaires. After the social meeting, Lev and Moises retired to their rooms and made a call to the Institute.

A measure of the importance attached to the transmission was that “C” himself answered the encrypted call.

“Lev, Moises, I presume this call relates to our discussion about events in your current location last April.”

“Yes, sir. We have confirmed the presence of three subjects whom we last saw in South America. It is not feasible to meet with them in Tel Aviv anytime soon without creating difficulties. We will have to return at a future date and with a solid plan.”

“Will you be back to the Institute tomorrow?”

“Jehovah willing and good luck with the weather and the rather unreliable transportation facilities we will face.”

“Overcome, brothers. I am sure this is an issue that won’t wait.”

§§§§§§

Le Bureau Central National (BCN) d’INTERPOL pour la France [The International Criminal Police Organization, or INTERPOL], Office of Senior Detective Chief Superintendent Eugène Léon Dentremont, 200 Quai Charles de Gaulle, 69006 Lyon, France, December 29, 1964, late evening

DCS Dentremont was called into headquarters from a black tie soiree honoring President Deutraine’s appointment of a new chief of staff of the French air force. Now ensconced in his office with a fully secure line, he returned the direct line call from “C” at Israel’s Institute.

“C” answered the telephone himself. “Thank you for getting back to me so promptly, Eugéne. I would not have troubled you unless it was about a matter of some gravity.”

“I’m glad to be ‘bothered,’ ‘C’; I hate black tie affairs. What’s up?”

“Some of our agents have located the fugitives being sought in the Project Save the Generals case.”

“Confirmed?”

“As nearly absolutely as possible. My most senior katsa [field agent] and kidon [assassin] have identified all three. In fact, they participated in an athletic contest and spent the evening having drinks with them. As important as that, we have one of our sayanim in the area to keep a close watch on them while we plan our move.”

“Can you give me the area, ‘C’?”

“Of course, but we all must understand that this must be handled with the utmost delicacy for any number of reasons: the political fallout with the French, the Muslims, Israel, and the Algerian government; the risk of causing an international incident that leads to armed conflict among countries; and certainly the possibility that a premature, gauche, or mishandled operation could result in the permanent loss of our access to these SS monsters. The place is Sidi-bel-Abbès, Algeria.”

“The French Foreign Legion!!?” Léon exclaimed, quite unlike his usual unflappable self. “Do you wish to handle this alone, ‘C’? Cutting out the FBI, the CIA, the Sûreté, the SDECE [Service de Documentation Extérieure et de Contre-Espionnage—external security], and the DGSI [Direction générale de la sécurité intérieure—internal security] —to name but a few—will not help you win friends; and it won’t get you any help you might find that you need.”

“Nor INTERPOL, I presume?”

“We will not be happy. However, we are good at keeping secrets; and we will not betray you.”

“Thank you for that. I, of course, would not expect anything less. Frankly, our experience with the FBI and the CIA has not filled us with confidence; and the French would have a conflict of interest of the first order. They would be highly averse to allowing French Foreign Legion soldiers to be taken, and they would be loath to admit ever that they were employing former Nazis in senior military positions.”

“I understand, and I pledge INTERPOL assistance in any way we can should you make a request.”

“Thank you, Léon. The Institute will consider this to be a marker we owe you, payable at some future date.”

§§§§§§

Oval Office, the White House, Washington, DC, December 31, 1964, 0600

President Johnson listened intently and without interrupting as the DCIA presented the PDB [Presidential Daily Briefing] for the previous day. The PDB was a top secret document produced each morning for the president of the United States under the direction of the DCIA, DDIA, the NSA, and other members of the United States Intelligence Community as became necessary. There was only one topic covered in today’s PDB.

Director McCone summarized.

“Mr. President, ‘C’ communicated to us—as a courtesy—that they have intelligence that they consider comes from absolutely reliable sources relating to the whereabouts of the murderers of the senior generals around the world, including one of our own, Gen. Glen Gabler, USA/Ret. You will recall that they almost captured them in September 1963 in Bariloche, Argentina, and Puerto Montt, Chile. The fugitives have been in the wind ever since, seemingly having vanished from the earth. Then, in April 1964, a group of Israelis took part in a Krav Maga martial arts competition with French Foreign Legionnaires in Sidi-bel-Abbès, Algeria.”

“That’s the world headquarters for the Foreign Legion, isn’t it?”

“Used to be up until two years ago when they got booted out of country after Algeria got its independence.”

“Let me guess,” the president said, “those old Nazis are now in the Foreign Legion and fighting for France.”

“Seems so.”

“Lot of strange bedfellows since the war seems to me.”

“And this is about as strange as it gets, Mr. President. Apparently, the Legion and the Mossad have close ties; and the old Nazis are thick as thieves with the Israeli Jews.”

The president shook his head.

“As I said in the beginning of this PDB, the Mossad has officially informed us that they are planning to capture or to terminate the three fugitives they know about and any others they run into in Algeria. They invite our help, but I have to say that ‘C’ didn’t seem all that enthusiastic or hopeful that we would want to get involved.”

“Involved how?”

“They are going to run a black-op to kidnap or kill the Nazis.”

“Where … exactly?”

“On the base. It’s a Foreign Legion outpost EMT or Tactical Command Post for rapid deployment missions.”

“With French Foreign Legionnaires protecting their comrades, Director?”

“Probably with some stealth, Mr. President; but in a nutshell, that’s about it.”

“And what do they want from us in return for destroying every diplomatic endeavor from now until kingdom come, or even risking war with the French?!”

“At the minimum they’d like some equipment … like two Beechcraft King Air Multirole Transports and flight crews to get the people in and out, two C-97 Stratofreighters to haul in all the stuff, and a few third-generation jet fighters—including, but not limited to Airforce F-111 Tactical Strike Aircraft and F4 Phantom IIs with our air-to-air missiles, more sophisticated radars and medium-range RF AAMs for stand-off ranges, our improved electronic countermeasures (ECM) for spoofing radar seekers, and chain-guns for starters, sir.”

“C-97s are the pregnant guppies that we now have for civilian use?”

“Basically.”

“Anything else suit their fancy, Director?”

“Boots on the ground would not be rejected. ‘C’ specifically hinted at SEALs and Army Rangers.”

“Large force?”

“No, they want a small force, but the crème de la crème.”

“Any idea what this would cost in American money, Director?”

“Depends on the length of time involved and the exact equipment we contribute, but I’d think nothing less than $100 million.”

“I know that a lot of you think I take too long of a time to make up my mind about things, especially when it comes to military action. However true that may be in general, in this specific instance I will give you my decision right now: it’s no. Plain unvarnished no. Risk a war with the touchy French; so, the world will be safe from a couple or three old Nazis? I don’t think so. Tell ‘C’ that for me, and wish them luck. They’re gonna need it.”

§§§§§§

Israeli Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations [Mossad LeAliyah Bet], Headquarters of Director Levi Appleman ben Cohen, Glilot Junction on Highway 2, Ramat Aviv Neighborhood of Tel Aviv, January 1, afternoon

“C” sat at his simple old desk in the Institute and surveyed his most trusted katsa, Abraham Levy, and the designated head of the kidon squad, Lev Mizrahi, who would direct the mission and turn it into an assassination if necessary. That was Lev’s specialty. There were a total of nineteen men in the room including Moises Silverman, the senior Mossad field agent who had been part of the Project Save the Generals since its inception, and an unprecedented fourteen katsas. There were only thirty-five katsas [foreign field agents] in the entire world; so, the significant percentage of them involved in this project underscored the gravity with which it was regarded. “C” was well aware that if the mission became a disaster, his coterie of agents would be severely depleted; and he would almost certainly lose his job. Each man was special and known personally by “C”; and he cared about them, knew their families, and was cognizant of what they had already sacrificed for Éres Yisra’el. He was on a first name basis with them: Eban, Micah, Eliot,

Enos, Gavriel, Ezra, Haggai, Yachin, Enos, Manny, and Aaron. The force was rounded out by five IDF commandoes who came with the personal recommendation of the IDF chief of staff.

“C” did not waste time on formalities or warm up chit-chat.

“Thank you for your willingness to be involved in this mission. You are volunteers, and a great deal rides on what you do, not the least of which is the reputation of Israel … and … my job. And, oh, yes … your lives. We are in this alone. President Johnson and DCIA McCone flatly turned us down when I requested operational assistance. They want nothing to do with what could well turn out to be an international incident.

“You men will fly to Sidi-bel-Abbès, Algeria, tomorrow night and do a HALO parachute drop in the mountains just north of the city. You will travel in three separate companies to a location outside the west gates of the city on the side opposite the Legion headquarters. There you will meet our sayanim who lives in the city. He will be your guide. Others of our sayanim who live in Algiers have arranged trucks to haul in heavy weapons and troop trucks to aid in your escape. When you leave this room, each of you will be issued an L-pill—just in case—and false ID papers including Moroccan passports. In part, you have been selected because of your fluency in Arabic; that is important should this venture come unglued; and you have to make it back to Israel on your own. You know the drill: should you be captured or killed, we will disavow you. You know better than to carry anything that identifies your real person, anything that originated in Israel, or any personal photos or memorabilia. No Magen Davids [Star of David] on you anywhere or in any form.”

There were no demurrers, even from the minority of the men who were religious.