by Jennifer Roy
and shiny shoes that fit me
and a red bicycle with a basket and a little bell.
Yes, I will learn to ride a bicycle
in this better life,
I think.
Maybe I’ll even go fast.
Talks with Dora
Dora feels bad for me
having to stay inside all the time,
so she brings home funny stories and jokes
to cheer me up.
We sit together on her bed in the evening
and talk.
She tells me about the factory.
Now they are making munitions.
Bullets and weapons
for the Nazis to win the war.
The Nazis want to take over the world,
Dora believes.
They think that they are better than everyone else,
and they especially hate the Jews.
“Why do they hate us so much?” I want to know.
I have asked this before, but maybe
I’ll understand better,
now that I’m older.
“They think we killed their God,” replies Dora.
This makes little sense to me,
because no one I know ever killed anyone.
Then I become worried.
“God is dead?” I say.
“Not our God, their God,” Dora says.
I’m still confused but I’m relieved.
God is still alive.
Then I have a new worry.
If God dies, who will run the world?
I hope it’s not the Nazis.
I want to ask Dora about this,
but she has fallen asleep.
Games
Games I play to pass the time:
#1—“Different Views”
To play this game, I lie down in various
parts of the apartment
and stare at the different views.
Sometimes I lie on my back,
sometimes on my side,
sometimes on my stomach.
My favorite view is of the shoes lined up
at the door.
My least favorite is from under the bed.
Too dark.
#2—“Dust Dolls”
I make families out of balls of dust.
There is always a mother and a father
and lots of children.
The smallest piece of dust is the baby.
I gently blow to make the people move.
I feel a little guilty at the end of this game,
when I have to sweep them up.
#3—“Lessons”
At night I ask Dora to teach me
things, like adding and subtracting
and spelling,
and the next day I practice the lesson
over and over in my head.
I like my games,
but I wish I had somebody else to play them with.
Part Four
By 1943, the residents of the Lodz ghetto had heard the rumors about Nazi extermination camps. Most did not believe Rumkowski’s reassurances that everything was under control. Rumkowski kept telling the Jews that they were necessary to the Nazis as long as they continued working and producing. There were ninety-six factories in the Lodz ghetto, with more than seventy thousand workers. Most of the factories produced textiles. Some built munitions.
The men and women in the ghetto tried to convince themselves that their work really was essential, that the Nazis would not harm them.
In the Lodz ghetto, some people tried to form an underground group to fight back against the Nazis. But it was impossible to organize anything effective.
In the capital city of Warsaw, however, resistance was more successful. After watching the population of the Warsaw ghetto dwindle from 350,000 to less than 35,000, some of the remaining Jews fought back. They held uprisings and used guns and homemade bombs. For the first time in the war, Jews killed Germans. The German troops, of course, retaliated. In April 1943, German soldiers set the ghetto on fire and watched it burn. Many Jews burned to death, and others were shot by the Nazis as they tried to escape.
The tale of the Warsaw ghetto heroics spread to the residents of Lodz. They quietly cheered the brave Jews who had fought back, even as they mourned the deaths of so many.
WINTER 1942–SPRING 1944
Almost Two Years Go By
Days and days of hiding
turn into weeks
and then months.
Each day seems the same,
except for the weather.
It changes with the seasons.
Sometimes it is freezing cold in our apartment,
and sometimes it is boiling hot.
Another Ghetto
Sometimes I forget there are other people
outside our ghetto.
Dora says that in another city, our capital city,
there is a ghetto
even larger than ours.
It is the Warsaw ghetto,
and something incredible is happening there.
Jews are fighting back.
Dora says there have been uprisings
by Jews with stolen guns, bombs, grenades.
They have killed some soldiers!
Dora calls them resistance fighters
who make their plans “underground.”
I imagine them like ants
tunneling through the ground
with guns.
But then Dora explains it’s not that kind
of underground.
Still, I can’t help but wonder what’s going on
under the ground of Lodz.
Dora says, not much.
Growing Girl
I grow taller
and skinnier.
Mother frets that I am all bones,
but she is just as thin.
There is little food,
and a number of times we come close to starving.
It is kind of like sleepwalking
to live life in the ghetto.
We are all weak,
and our brains are foggy.
A little while ago they changed the rules again.
One child now allowed per family.
The Nazis perhaps
could not keep track of all the new babies
being born,
so they decided not to bother,
and, of course, they think
there are no older children left.
The new rule
did not change things much, though,
because Mother says it is
too dangerous
for me to go outside anyway.
Too much filth, sickness, sadness,
but it feels a little nice
to know that if I did step outside,
I wouldn’t be
breaking the rules.
I have my eighth birthday while in hiding
and then my ninth.
Time goes on,
and so do we.
Part Five
By mid-1944, all of the ghettos—except for Lodz—had been destroyed. Rumkowski repeated that Lodz had survived because of the ghetto’s hard workers. But then, the Nazis asked for volunteers to help clean up cities in Germany that had been bombed. While the Jews in Lodz were suspicious of this request, the Nazis made it seem legitimate. Volunteers lined up at the train station, and soldiers carefully checked their luggage, assuring the men and women they would get their belongings back at the end of the journey. The soldiers also apologized for the uncomfortable method of travel. Freight cars, they explained, were the only transportation not being used to fight in the war.
By July fifteenth, 7,175 “volunteers” had taken the trains…to Chelmno extermination camp, where they were killed.
Then began liquidation. The Nazis ordered the Lodz ghetto to be emptied of people. This time there was no request for volunteers, no checking of baggage. From August 27 to August 30, the residents of Lodz were transported o
ut of the ghetto in crowded freight trains. Their destination was Auschwitz-Birkenau, where crematory ovens burned twenty-four hours a day. When the last train departed, 74,000 persons had already been sent to Auschwitz. Among the last to go were Rumkowski and his new wife, who were gassed to death.
Approximately 1,200 Jews were left behind in the ghetto to clean it up.
Outside the ghetto, war raged on. On June 6, 1944, the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy, France, a day known as D-day. The Allies were on their way to winning the war in Europe.
SUMMER 1944
Losing the War
Into the silence
of thousands of weak, weary Jews,
comes a shock wave:
The Germans are losing the war!
Papa says it is true.
I repeat the words over and over to myself.
The Germans are losing the war.
I cannot imagine who could beat
the Nazis.
They are so big and so powerful
with so many guns,
but Papa says the British and Soviets
and Americans
are even stronger.
I picture their soldiers
as giants.
Papa says no, they are just very brave,
regular-sized men.
“I’ll bet the Americans look like movie stars.”
Dora sighs,
and for a moment I remember the
old Dora,
who was popular and happy
and talked about boys.
Now I look at my
thin, weary sister
and I say,
“Yes, movie stars,”
even though I’ve never seen a movie
in my whole life.
What Next?
What happens to us if the Germans lose the war?
We will go home, I hope.
All the people,
like Hava and Itka and the others,
will come back to Lodz, too,
I hope.
I keep on hoping,
even though Dora says that some people
believe that the Jews
who left the ghetto
won’t be coming back.
I’m not a little child anymore.
I know that she means
they might be dead,
not just in another place somewhere,
but it doesn’t make sense
that all those people
are dead.
It’s impossible.
Another Question
Here is another question.
There are Russians and British and Americans
(and people called ’Stralians)
who are coming to rescue the Polish people.
But what about the Jews?
If even people of our own country
did not try to help us
when we were put into the ghetto,
why would these foreigners
want to save us?
It is very lonely being Jewish,
I think.
And confusing.
Shipping Out
An announcement from Rumkowski,
leader of the Jews.
The Nazis need workers to go into Germany
and help repair damages
caused by the enemy.
Ghetto residents are to be shipped out
by train.
This week, the first trainloads
pull out of the station.
The trains carry all the people from the hospitals.
And this is very worrisome.
It doesn’t make sense that
the sickest and the frailest
would be chosen to fix Germany!
Papa has heard that
door-to-door searches
and round-ups
will be starting again.
When the Nazi soldiers come
to our neighborhood this time,
I’m afraid I will be too tired
to run.
It seems unfair to wait for years
for the war to end
so that we can decide about the rest of our lives
and now that it may be ending,
the Germans will decide what to do
with us.
A Knock on the Door
At night there is a knock on the door.
It’s my Uncle Hyman!
It is rare to see anyone
besides Papa, Mother, and Dora.
I want to say hello!
but my uncle did not come for hellos.
His daughter, Mina, has been taken by soldiers,
and he needs Papa’s help.
Out the door in a flash
goes Papa,
and we wait
all night
for him to come back.
Search
Early the next morning,
Papa returns,
and we sigh with relief,
because he says everyone is safe.
This, Papa says, is what happened.
The soldiers blocked off the streets
surrounding our relatives’ neighborhood
and searched every building.
They pulled Mina
right out of Aunt Rose’s arms
and took her away.
So Mina’s father, Hyman,
came to our apartment because
(and Papa says this briskly,
as if it is not a big thing)
many people
who like Papa and respect him
owe him favors.
That’s why Uncle Hyman
thinks he can help.
So Papa and my uncle went out
and woke people
and asked around
and learned that the captured were taken
to a ghetto hospital
to be held overnight
before being deported in the morning
on an early train.
Papa, through his sources,
obtained two outfits
worn by chimney sweepers,
and a wheelbarrow.
Next the two men went to Papa’s workplace
and took some bags of flour
and filled the wheelbarrow.
Then they went to the hospital.
Rescue
No one even gave them a second look
as they went in.
“I planned to say, ‘Here to sweep the chimneys,’”
Papa tells us,
“but no one even asked.”
So the men looked in the rooms,
and guess what they found?
Three children!
One of them was my cousin Mina!
Hide in the wheelbarrow, they told her,
under the flour sacks.
Then they calmly wheeled her out
of the hospital
to a safe hiding place.
And then
they went back in two more times
to carry out the other children.
“Now all three children
are back home with their families,
asleep,” says Papa,
“and you should be, too.
Back to bed, Dora, Syvia.
Good night.”
“It is morning,”
I point out.
“Go to sleep,” says Mother,
And I do.
Liquidation
Papa and Mother are at work,
but Dora has the day off.
She is very quiet,
so I ask her, “What is the matter?”
“They are emptying out the ghetto,” she responds.
“The Nazis. They are packing everybody
they can find
onto trains
and sending them away.”
Trainloads and
trainloads and
trainloads
of people,
until there is nobody left.
&nb
sp; Even Rumkowski,
the “leader of the Jews.”
He got married not long ago,
and people complained
that he got special treatment.
So much fuss over his wedding
when so many were suffering.
But in the end,
there was no special treatment,
even for Rumkowski.
He got stuffed into a train car
like a regular Jew.
Aunt Sara and Uncle Shmuel—gone on the trains.
Aunt Rose and Uncle Hyman and, yes, Mina.
On the trains.
Malka. Edit, Esther, and Sura. Gone, too.
“It is only a matter of time,”
Dora says,
“before it is our turn.”
In the Moonlight
Nighttime.
The moon casts a beam down,
joining its light with the lanterns
carried by Nazi soldiers
marching through the streets
on their way
to our apartment.
It Is Time
The soldiers stomp through our building.
Walls shake,
windows rattle,
my body trembles,
and we all are awake, knowing
the time has come.
“Everybody out! Everybody out!”
Pound! Pound! Pound!
This time “everybody”
includes my family
and me.
We all dress silently.
My hands shake with fear,
and I cannot button my dress,
so Mother helps me.
Papa opens the door and steps out
into the hallway.
Dora takes my hand and we follow.
Mother comes out behind us
and shuts the door.
We stand in the hall.
What else are we to do?
Papa is a strong man,
but even he can not fight off
soldiers with guns.
Other men and women come out
of their apartments,
some half-asleep, rubbing their eyes.
And then
the soldiers appear and herd us down the stairs
and outside,
where many other Jews
and many other soldiers
are walking down the street.
We are ordered to step in with the group.
We start walking.
Papa and Mother.
Dora and me between them.
One family
among hundreds
being swept along with the tide,
a sea of innocents simply
following orders
as dawn breaks
and the sun begins to rise.
Moving Forward
I should be frightened
but at the moment all I feel is
squashed
between bodies—
everyone so thin!—
as we move forward.
My legs are wobbly
because I haven’t walked this far