{"id":500,"date":"2010-04-03T08:50:56","date_gmt":"2010-04-03T04:50:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/?p=500"},"modified":"2010-04-03T22:43:46","modified_gmt":"2010-04-03T18:43:46","slug":"a-fascinating-tale-of-revenge","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/500\/","title":{"rendered":"A Fascinating Tale of Revenge"},"content":{"rendered":"

For no other reason than sheer coincidence, during my last week in Sakhalin I happened to watch three films all sharing a common theme:\u00a0 Defiance<\/a><\/em>, Inglorious Basterds<\/em><\/a>, and The Reader<\/em><\/a>. The common theme is, of course, the Nazi persecution of the Jews in Europe with each film dealing, albeit in vastly different ways, with the issue of retribution for the crimes committed.\u00a0 This subject reminded me of a fascinating tale of revenge which is told in Bernard Fall’s excellent book, Street Without Joy<\/em><\/a>, an account of the French debacle in Indochina.\u00a0 I am surprised that nobody thus far has deemed this story worthy of making into a film.\u00a0 I have reproduced the relevant section of Fall’s book below (pages 286-290).<\/p>\n

Excerpt:<\/strong><\/p>\n

A last chapter of the of the Foreign Legion’s colorful history in Asia was written, in, of all places, the drab surroundings of an Israeli Navy court-martial in May 1958.<\/p>\n

The defendent was a 25-year old man, in the neat white uniform of the Israeli enlisted seaman.\u00a0 Eliahu Itzkovitz was charged with desertion from the Israeli Navy, but this case was not an ordinary one, for he had deserted from a peacetime hitch in Haifa to a twenty-seven months ordeal with the Foreign Legion in Indochina.<\/p>\n

Eliahu had grown up in a small town in eastern Rumania when the country threw in its lot with the Nazis at the beginning of World War II.\u00a0 Soon, the Rumanian Conductorul<\/em> (the “Leader”) Antonescu began to emulate all the tactics of the Nazis, his own version of the Brownshirts calling itself the “Iron Guard”\u00a0 and practising mass murder on a large scale.\u00a0 In fact, according to the British writer Edward Crankshaw in his book Gestapo<\/em>, they “offended the Germans on the spot by not troubling to bury their victims; and they offended the R.H.S.A. [the administrative section of the Nazi police in charge of mass exterminations] by their failure to keep proper records and by their uncontrolled looting.”<\/p>\n

The Itzkovitz family did not escape the collective fate of the Rumanian Jews.\u00a0 Eliahu and his parents and three brothers were sent to a concentration camp, no better and no worse than most Eastern European camps; one lived a few days to a few weeks and died from a wide variety of causes, mostly beating and shooting.\u00a0 Rumanian camps were not as well equipped as their German models, the “death factories” of Auschwitz and Treblinka with their sophisticated gas chambers.\u00a0 Again, according to Crankshaw, “the Rumanians showed a great aptitude\u00a0 for mass murder and conducted their own massacres in Odessa and elsewhere,” and the Itzkovitz family paid its price – within a short time, only Eliahu, the youngest boy, survived.<\/p>\n

But he had seen his family die, and he had remembered who killed it.\u00a0 It had been one particular brute, not the coldly efficient SS-type but a Rumanian from a town not too far away from his own home town and who enjoyed his new job.\u00a0 And Eliahu swore that he would kill the man, if it took all his life to do it.\u00a0 More than anything else, it was probably that hatred that kept him alive; he was a skeleton but a living one when the Russians liberated him in 1944.\u00a0 Eliahu then began his patient search from town to town.\u00a0 Of course, Stanescu (or whatever name the brute had assumed in the meantime) had not returned to his hometown for good reasons, but Eliahu found his son there and took his first revenge; he stabbed the son with a butcher knife and in 1947, a Rumanian People’s Court sentenced him to five years in a reformatory for juveniles.<\/p>\n

Eliahu served his time but did not forget.\u00a0 His family’s murderer was still at large and he had sworn to kill him.\u00a0 In 1952, he was finally released and given permission by Communist authorities to emigrate to Israel, where he was drafted into the Israeli army in 1953 and assigned to the paratroops.\u00a0 Training was rigorous in the sun-drenched barracks and stubby fields south of Rehovoth, and thoughts of revenge had become all but a dim memory.\u00a0 There was a new life to be lived here, among the people from all corners of the world who still streamed in and who, from Germans, Poles, Indians, Yemenites, or Rumanians, became Israelis.\u00a0 To be sure, Eliahu still met some of his Rumanian friends and talk often rotated back to the “old country”, to the war and the horrors of the persecution.\u00a0 Camps and torturers were listed matter-of-factly, like particularly tough schools or demanding teachers, and Stanescu came up quite naturally.<\/p>\n

“That s.o.b. made it.\u00a0 He got out in time before the Russians could get him,” said a recent arrival, “then he fled to West Germany and tried to register as a D.P. but they got wise to him and before we could report him, he was gone again.”<\/p>\n

Eliahu’s heart beat had stopped for an instant, and when it resumed its normal rhythm, he had shaken off the torpor of peacetime army life.\u00a0 The hunt was on again.<\/p>\n

“Do you know where Stanescu went then? Do you have any idea at all?”<\/p>\n

“Well – somebody said that he had gone to Offenburg in the French Zone, where they recruit people for the French Foreign Legion, and that he enlisted for service in Indochina.\u00a0 The French are fighting there, you know.”<\/p>\n

On the next day, Eliahu’s mind was made up.\u00a0 He reported to his commanding officer and applied for a transfer to the Israeli Navy; he liked the sea, had learned something about it while in Rumania, which borders the Black Sea, and would be happier aboard ship than as a paratrooper.\u00a0 A few days later, the request was granted and Eliahu was on his way to the small force of Israeli corvettes and destroyers based in Haifa.\u00a0 A few months later, the opportunity he had been waiting for came true; his ship was assigned to go to Italy to pick up equipment.<\/p>\n

In Genoa, Seaman Itzkovitz applied for shore leave and simply walked off the ship; took a train to Bordighera and crossed over to Menton, France, without the slightest difficulty.\u00a0 Three days later, Eliahu had signed his enlistment papers in Marseilles and was en route to Sidi-bel-Abb\u00e8s, Algeria, the headquarters and boot camp of the Foreign Legion, and again three months later, he was aboard the s\/s Pasteur<\/em> on his way to Indochina.<\/p>\n

Once in the Foreign Legion, Stanescu’s trail was not hard to pick up.\u00a0 While no unit was made up of any single nationality, each unit would have its little groups and informal clans acording to language or nation of origin.\u00a0 It took patience, but in early 1954, he had located his quarry in the 3d Foreign Legion Infantry.\u00a0 The last step was the easiest; the Foreign Legion generally did not object if a man requested a transfer in order to be with his friends, and Eliahu’s request to be transferred to Stanescu’s battalion came through in a perfectly routine fashion.\u00a0 When Eliahu saw Stanescu again after ten years, he felt no particular wave of hatred, as he had somehow expected.\u00a0 After having spent ten years imagining the moment of meeting the killer of his family eye to eye, the materialization of that moment could only be an anti-climax.\u00a0 Stanescu had barely changed; he had perhaps thinned down a bit in the Legion; as for Eliahu, he had been a frightened boy of thirteen and was now a trapping young man, bronzed from his two years of training with the Israeli paratroopes, the Navy and the French Foreign Legion.<\/p>\n

There was nothing left to do for Eliahu but to arrange a suitable occasion for the “execution;” for in his eyes the murder of Stanescu would be an execution.\u00a0 Stanescu (his name was, of course, no longer that) had become a corporal, and led his squad competently.\u00a0 The new arrival also turned out to be a competent soldier, a bit taciturn perhaps, but good.\u00a0 In fact, he was perhaps better trained than the run of the mill that came out of “Bel-Abb\u00e8s” these days.\u00a0 He was a good man to have along on a patrol.<\/p>\n

And it was on a patrol that Stanescu met his fate, in one of the last desperate battles along Road 18, between Bac-Ninh and Seven Pagodas.\u00a0 He and Eliahu had gone on a reconnaissance into the bushes on the side of the road, when the Viet-Minh opened fire from one hundred yards away.\u00a0 Both men slumped down into the mud.\u00a0 There was no cause for fear; the rest of the squad was close by on the road and would cover their retreat.\u00a0 Eliahu was a few paces to the side and behind Stanescu.<\/p>\n

“Stanescu!” he called out.<\/p>\n

Stanescu turned around and stared at Eliahu, and Eliahu continued in Rumanian:<\/p>\n

“You are Stanescu, aren’t you?”<\/p>\n

The man, the chest of his uniform black from the mud in which he had been lying, looked at Eliahu more in surprise than in fear.\u00a0 For all he knew, Eliahu might have been a friend of his son, a kid from the neighbourhood back home in Chisnau.<\/p>\n

“Yes, but…”<\/p>\n

“Stanescu,” said Eliahu in a perfectly even voice, “I’m one of the Jews from Chisnau,” and emptied the clip of his MAT-49 tommy gun into the man’s chest.\u00a0 He dragged the body back to the road: a Legionnaire never left a comrade behind.<\/p>\n

“Tough luck,” said one of the men of the platoon sympathetically.\u00a0 “He was a Rumanian just like you, wasn’t he?”<\/p>\n

“Yes,” said Eliahu, “just like me.”<\/p>\n

The search had ended and the deed was done.\u00a0 Eliahu was now at peace with himself and the world.\u00a0 He served out his time with the Legion, received his papers certifying that “he had served with Honor and Fidelity” and mustered out in France.\u00a0 There was nothing left for him to do but to go home to Israel.\u00a0 The Israeli Armed Forces attach\u00e8 in France at first refused to believe the incredible story, but the facts were soon verified with the French authorities and a few weeks later Eliahu was on his way to Israel.\u00a0 At Haifa, two Israeli M.P.’s, perfect copies of their British models with their glistening white canvas belts and pistol holsters, took charge of him and soon the gates of Haifa military prison closed behind him.<\/p>\n

The three Israeli Navy judges rose.\u00a0 Seaman Itzkovitz stood stiffly at attention as the presiding judge read out the judgement.<\/p>\n

“… and in view of the circumstances of the case, a Court of the State of Israel cannot bring itself to impose a heavy sentence. … One year’s imprisonment … ” <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For no other reason than sheer coincidence, during my last week in Sakhalin I happened to watch three films all sharing a common theme:\u00a0 Defiance, Inglorious Basterds, and The Reader. The common theme is, of course, the Nazi persecution of … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[12,40],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/500"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=500"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/500\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":502,"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/500\/revisions\/502"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=500"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=500"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.desertsun.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=500"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}