The Shield: a novel (35 page)

Two weeks after his return from the mission to Lithuania, Jacob was ready to travel to Israel. While he had been away and recuperating, his sister had studied Hebrew and was now fairly fluent. His mother was less proficient but had made friends with some of the other women in the facility and was in the process of organizing a training progr
am for them. She thought that studying Hebrew was essential to their future and wanted the other women to study as she did. The women’s group also included his uncle Chaim’s daughter and Chaim’s wife. Since their Yiddish contained a fair amount of Hebrew it made learning the new language easier but also imbued it with a definite accent.

Chaim was reading up on Palestine and trying to figure out what kind of business he could setup when he arrived there. The brochures they got were a new publication. They presented the most pertinent information without mentioning the state of Israel or time travel.

When the day for their departure finally came, on September 10th, 1941, the family was surprised. They had expected a three or four day journey on a German or British ship. But the bus carrying Hirshson’s extended family and several others stopped at a small terminal building nowhere near the sea. The real surprise came when, after having their ID’s checked one last time, they came out on the other side. An enormous airplane was waiting for them. It carried the name “El AL” in both Hebrew and Latin letters.

Some of the new immigrants hesitated and some flat out refused to embark – they wanted the ship they expected. The prospect of flying terrified them. These were taken back and put on a ship. Most of the immigrants got on the plane without further comment, though Jacob wanted to know how come such a huge airplane existed without being f
amous all over the world. He wasn’t the only one who was surprised and curious. They were promised an explanation after boarding the plane.

The Airbus A380 jet had been configured to carry more than 900 passengers. The seats were small and cr
amped together, but to these people it seemed the height of luxury. They didn’t complain that no meal was served and were grateful for the water and juice the flight attendants gave them.

A short film informed them about the time displacement event and the strange fact of going to an independent Jewish state. Some of the passengers were skeptical and some wanted proof that wasn’t forthcoming except in the form of the huge aircraft itself. After drinks were served, another film introduced the immigrants to some aspects of life in Israel.

The flight to Israel lasted only three hours – the Israeli jet did not have to follow set routes and made the best time possible. They were warned by the captain that they would see other aircraft marked with a Star of David and should not be alarmed – these were their armed escorts. The escort pilots waved to them – with the passengers waving enthusiastically back.

When they approached the Israeli coast the captain pointed out major features - the Tel-Aviv marina with its boats, the skyscrapers and other notable sights. The new immigrants paid little attention – they were overwhelmed by the size of the metropolis – it was many times larger than Vilnius
as seen from mount Gedeminas, or any other town in the Baltic countries. Most were stunned by the experience.

After the plane had taxied and connected to the unloading sleeves of the terminal building everybody tried to get out at once. The captain had to ask several times to take it easy before the crowd calmed down. The passengers wanted out; they were eager to see the Promised Land. What they saw was the inside of a modern terminal building, unlike anything they had ever seen.

It was a fairly long walk to the passport control area. The crowd was separated into lines in front of the windows – everybody’s ID was checked and compared to a computerized list.

“
Your family is waiting at the exit from this hall. Go to marker number 10 - you will see it when you get through the sliding door,” the young woman in uniform told Jacob. Most new arrivals were also told to meet family. There was a significant number whose relatives could not come or who had no surviving family members in Israel. They were directed to buses that took them directly to immigrant villages.

When the
Hirshsons entered the main hall of the terminal they saw a tall, yellow pole topped with the number 10 written in large letters on a placard. There were a number of people waiting there, looking eagerly at the crowd of newcomers. A stocky man in his mid sixties, about 5’7” with a receding hairline and a shortly trimmed gray beard walked quickly towards them: “Welcome to Israel! I am Ze’ev.” He shook hands with Jacob. The rest of the family was introduced as they walked to a nearby parking lot. The whole clan piled into a minibus and was driven to Ze’ev’s home in Hertzlia Pituach, an affluent suburb about ten miles north of Tel-Aviv on the Mediterranean shore.

On the way
, Ze’ev tried to clarify the family relationships. He explained to Jacob and the others that in his time-line Jacob was his father. They had already met Ze’ev’s son: Colonel Ephraim Hirshson, commander of the Brindisi base. Ephraim was Jacob’s grandson, named after Jacob’s father.

“
All this is giving me a headache,” declared Sara, “but at least it explains why your Ephraim looks so much like my husband, may he rest in peace.”

***

Ze’ev Hirshson was somewhat of an oddball. He had not followed the path most common for young men in Israel in the late 1960s. Instead of enlisting in the Army at the age of 18, as required by law, he chose to try to get into college before his compulsory service. It was partly due to a character defect: he never obeyed orders and was not happy with a situation where everyone could order him around – which is how he viewed the Army. There was a solution: It would not be easy to accomplish, but if he succeeded he would enter the Army as an officer. Anyone who passed a difficult week of psychological and leadership tests could qualify for officer training. This enabled them to apply to study particular specialties at an approved college, becoming a member of what was called the “Academic Reserve”. The real problem was getting accepted: each year more than 2000 candidates competed for 400 slots in the program. He could of course enlist like everybody else and apply for officer training later but that would mean serving as an enlisted man for a long while. Completely unacceptable to Ze’ev.

His
parents encouraged him to try, partly because they hoped that his studies would put him in a relatively safe position in the army and partly because of the prestige of graduating from the elite Academic Reserve program. They were pleased when he passed all the military tests and was accepted to study mechanical engineering at the Technion, Israel’s most prestigious engineering and science university.

Things turned out a bit different than anticipated. Ze’ev was wounded early in his military career, before graduating from college. A shootout with terrorists had left him with an injured foot that should have led to his discharge. He resisted, unwilling to give up his coveted spot in the progr
am. In the end he succeeded in staying in the service, thereby also preserving his place in college. Since he was unwilling to sign up for five years of professional army service in his chosen profession – again, the desire not to be told what to do – he ended up in a combat infantry unit, serving only the minimum time.

After the army, he was considered a hotshot at his first job - graduating
from the Academic Reserve didn’t harm his career prospects. Four years later he was running the company’s Research and Development unit.

For the s
ame reason he wanted to be an officer in the army, Ze’ev kept climbing the corporate ladder: the higher up you go the fewer people telling you what to do. By the time he was thirty he’d become a vice president for R&D of Consolidated Manufacturing, where he started his career.

He would have loved to be his own man, but Israeli industry of the 1970s and 1980s was dominated by relatively large corporations – such as Consolidated
, with sales in excess of $80 million. Consulting engineers were rare, and usually were retirees from large companies. Not wanting to work outside his profession Ze’ev didn’t have a choice, and stayed with the company.

At one of the numerous seminars he attended in his career he was offered an opportunity to go to MIT for a couple of years to work on a PhD and, like the MIT professor that invited him said “have some fun”. Ze’ev decided to take a chance and go to
America.

Six months after moving to Boston he met a
Linda. They were married before the end of the year. By the time Ze’ev finished his PhD, the couple were the happy parents of a boy, with another one on the way. Ze’ev set up a consulting company, which did very well. Five years later, the company he had worked for in Israel was in trouble and he and several friends managed a leveraged buyout. Ze’ev led the company, buying his friends out within ten years. Just before the Event he was expanding his company from its traditional business of steel and iron into advanced ceramics. He thought that the electronics and defense markets for these materials were going to expand and the company had a chance of becoming a leader – if it invested in research and was not afraid to tackle new technologies.

The Event changed little in his business perception, except making the metallurgical business more attractive – it wasn’t a commodity anymore
. The company’s abilities were unmatched and being the only steel maker in Israel was a huge asset.

***

When they arrived at the house Ze’ev introduced everybody to his wife, Linda. It took a while to sort out how to address each other. Jacob looked like Ze’ev’s father when Ze’ev was a little boy, but Ze’ev also remembered him when he was eighty. Calling this young man “Father” was strange, and he was not really Ze’ev’s father, not in this reality. It was even stranger for Jacob. His mother saw the resemblance and, most of all, some of the mannerisms of her son in Ze’ev, and was not shy about pointing it out to everybody. But Jacob’s instinct was
not
to call this older man “son”. They finally settled on calling each other by their first names.

It took a long lunch with several glasses of wine in the spacious dining room for everybody to relax. There was a multitude of questions, asked mostly by the women who naturally took over the conversation.

Sara wanted to know everything about her grandson’s family. Linda obliged: “We have five children. You met our eldest – Ephraim. He graduated from the Technion and Ze’ev had great hopes for him in the business, but he decided to stay in the Army. I don’t really like the idea of my son being a soldier, but it’s his life. He is also married and has a daughter. They have a house not far from Jerusalem. I visit his wife frequently while he is away – she is expecting their second child and I worry about her. Our second child is a daughter. She is a nurse, married, with two young boys. They live in Holon, not too far from here. The next one is also a daughter. She lives in Jerusalem and is a reporter for a newspaper there. The second youngest is a son. He lives in Beersheba and runs a plant that belongs to my husband’s company. You will meet the youngest son soon, I hope.”

Both Sara and Chaim’s wife said in unison: “Jerusalem!?”

“Yes, we will go to see Jerusalem soon” Linda responded. “Probably we should go out and do some shopping first. You’ll need light dresses for this climate. How about a shopping trip tomorrow?”

“
Great!” Sheina was eager, as was her cousin Tzipora.

“
Wait, wait.” Sara was uncomfortable. “We have no money. How can we buy clothes?”

“
You’re family - Don’t worry about it.  I’ll pay for now and you can teach me to cook. I’ve heard stories about your kishka and gefilte fish. So don’t worry. We will go shopping and have lots of fun.”

“
So that’s settled,” Ze’ev said. “I have to be at the Ministry of Industry tomorrow. May I suggest that while the women go shopping with Linda, Benjamin, our youngest, can take you two men to get some new clothes. He’s a fairly successful menswear designer. He’ll take good care of you. Then we can all meet at the Sheraton for an early dinner at, say six?”

Linda said to Jacob and Chaim: “Benj
amin knows clothing but don’t pay any attention to his politics. He is a socialist, a lost soul.”

On th
at note Ben joined the party. He looked nothing like his parents. He was tall and thin, with a big mop of dark hair, dressed in slacks and a silk shirt with a colorful kerchief around his neck.

After the introductions, he sat next to Sheina
. “I wish my mother had volunteered me to take you out on the town tomorrow. A beautiful girl like you - and your cousin of course - would be much more fun than the two guys.”

Linda heard that
. “Benjamin, dear, stop flirting with your aunt. Our new family will all be out of bounds for you.” Benjamin looked slightly offended, but didn’t dare to contradict his mother – not many people did.

The f
amily moved from the dining room to a veranda in back of the house giving a view of the beach. A path led to white sand only a hundred feet away.

Jacob wanted to know what happened in the reality from which his new f
amily came. Ze’ev was the one to answer this question. He chose his words carefully but everyone was depressed anyway. It’s not easy to hear that if not for a time accident you were destined to suffer and eventually be murdered.