Read Online Striking Back: The 1972 Munich Olympics Massacre and Israel's Deadly Response by Aaron J. Klein - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Aaron J. Klein
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the gloomy German officials presented themselves at the blue door. Their strategy was leading to a dead end, and they knew it. The Bavarian interior minister, Bruno Merck, spoke first, but with little success. The terrorists weren’t buying any more half-baked excuses. Issa then surprised the Germans with a new proposal. He demanded that a plane be ready and waiting on the runway within an hour. The terrorists and their hostages would be flown to Cairo, where the negotiations could continue. The Israeli government would fly the released prisoners to Egypt, and the exchange would be made there. If this demand was not met, Issa assured them calmly, he would execute each and every one of the hostages.
Genscher, Schreiber, Troeger, and Merck backed away from the doorway to confer. They agreed that the plan was not viable. The sovereign nation of West Germany could not allow the transfer to foreign soil—the kidnapping, actually—of international guests by a terrorist group. Yet Issa’s proposal also held considerable appeal. The shift of the crisis to an Arab country might save the Olympic Games: with the crisis two thousand miles away and far from the prying lenses of the media, the so-called Games of Peace and Joy could go on.
The crisis committee wanted to buy time to see if the plan was in any way workable. Genscher asked to speak to the hostages. Issa hesitated for a minute and then shouted to Tony in Arabic on the second floor. The curtains at the second-floor window were opened and fencing coach Andrei Spitzer appeared in his undershirt. His hands were tied, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. “Is everybody okay?” Genscher asked. “What is the situation with all the other hostages?”
Spitzer managed to reply, “Everybody is okay except for one—” before he was hit in the back of his head with the butt of an AK -47 and dragged away from the window. This implausible encounter, captured by the cameras, was the last time Spitzer was publicly seen alive.
Genscher insisted that Issa let him into the hostage room. He wanted to see the athletes with his own eyes. If they were willing to fly to Cairo, West Germany would arrange the transfer. Issa was feeling the pressure: he and his squad had been on their feet for at least twenty-four hours. They had been holding the hostages captive for twelve. He knew their lack of sleep could compromise the mission; he feared losing the ability to make sharp decisions. The negotiations were going in circles. Egypt had friendly relations with Fatah; they would be welcomed there. Issa understood that the longer they stayed in the Olympic Village, the more vulnerable they became. He assumed that the Germans were just waiting for the right moment to pounce. The move to an Arab country, which first came up as a possibility during the planning stages of the operation, now seemed a brilliant option. And if Cairo should reject the planes, they would simply fly on to Morocco.
Issa also recognized that one battle had already been won—that of the airwaves. Throughout the hostage crises the Palestinian problem had been prime-time news; millions of people now knew of their people’s predicament. Issa agreed to Genscher’s request.
At 1705 hours , five minutes after the final deadline passed, Genscher and Troeger pushed open the blue door, entered Apartment 1, and bounded up the steps to the room holding the captives. The view was harsh. Weight lifter Yossef Romano lay lifeless in the center of the room, in a spreading pool of blood. The walls were stained red and riddled with bullets. Food and garbage was strewn across the floor. Yossef Gutfreund, the hulking weight lifting referee, was bound to a chair. The remaining eight hostages were crammed together on two beds with their hands and feet tied. “It was a terrible impression,” Troeger later recounted. “Appalling, I must say. They said they were treated well; however, the discussion was absolutely overshadowed by the
Genscher, Schreiber, Troeger, and Merck backed away from the doorway to confer. They agreed that the plan was not viable. The sovereign nation of West Germany could not allow the transfer to foreign soil—the kidnapping, actually—of international guests by a terrorist group. Yet Issa’s proposal also held considerable appeal. The shift of the crisis to an Arab country might save the Olympic Games: with the crisis two thousand miles away and far from the prying lenses of the media, the so-called Games of Peace and Joy could go on.
The crisis committee wanted to buy time to see if the plan was in any way workable. Genscher asked to speak to the hostages. Issa hesitated for a minute and then shouted to Tony in Arabic on the second floor. The curtains at the second-floor window were opened and fencing coach Andrei Spitzer appeared in his undershirt. His hands were tied, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. “Is everybody okay?” Genscher asked. “What is the situation with all the other hostages?”
Spitzer managed to reply, “Everybody is okay except for one—” before he was hit in the back of his head with the butt of an AK -47 and dragged away from the window. This implausible encounter, captured by the cameras, was the last time Spitzer was publicly seen alive.
Genscher insisted that Issa let him into the hostage room. He wanted to see the athletes with his own eyes. If they were willing to fly to Cairo, West Germany would arrange the transfer. Issa was feeling the pressure: he and his squad had been on their feet for at least twenty-four hours. They had been holding the hostages captive for twelve. He knew their lack of sleep could compromise the mission; he feared losing the ability to make sharp decisions. The negotiations were going in circles. Egypt had friendly relations with Fatah; they would be welcomed there. Issa understood that the longer they stayed in the Olympic Village, the more vulnerable they became. He assumed that the Germans were just waiting for the right moment to pounce. The move to an Arab country, which first came up as a possibility during the planning stages of the operation, now seemed a brilliant option. And if Cairo should reject the planes, they would simply fly on to Morocco.
Issa also recognized that one battle had already been won—that of the airwaves. Throughout the hostage crises the Palestinian problem had been prime-time news; millions of people now knew of their people’s predicament. Issa agreed to Genscher’s request.
At 1705 hours , five minutes after the final deadline passed, Genscher and Troeger pushed open the blue door, entered Apartment 1, and bounded up the steps to the room holding the captives. The view was harsh. Weight lifter Yossef Romano lay lifeless in the center of the room, in a spreading pool of blood. The walls were stained red and riddled with bullets. Food and garbage was strewn across the floor. Yossef Gutfreund, the hulking weight lifting referee, was bound to a chair. The remaining eight hostages were crammed together on two beds with their hands and feet tied. “It was a terrible impression,” Troeger later recounted. “Appalling, I must say. They said they were treated well; however, the discussion was absolutely overshadowed by the
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