The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII

by Seiden, Othniel J.

  On 22 July, 1942 my friend, Menochem Marek's warning and prediction came true. Though by now there were fewer doubters and even with all the suffering and inhumanity the Germans had shown, what came next was still unimaginable. On this infamous date the mass deportations from the Warsaw Ghetto were ordered. "All Jews with the exception of those employed by the Judenrat (the puppet governing body inside the ghetto), the German workshops, Jewish police, Jewish hospital and their immediate families will be resettled to the east."

  "What a relief!" many thought. "At last we'll get out of these horribly overcrowded conditions. It can't be any worse than this!" People were frantic to get on the first trains out. Indeed they went to less crowded conditions. They went to Treblinka.

  We remained na ve. Who could conceive that even the brutal Nazis could invent what was planned for us. From the end of July through September 1942 The Judenrat was to deliver from 6,000 to 10,000 Jews daily to the Umschlagplatz, the switching point, where cattle cars were filled to bursting with human cargo, to be sent for "relocation to work camps" with better, more humane conditions. By the end of September, there were only 60,000 of us left in the Warsaw Ghetto and it was now designated as a work camp. Now we understood that Menochem Marek was right. The truth had finally filtered back. Treblinka was a fact we all understood. Unbelievable as it was, we knew what our intended fate was to be.

  We formed ZOB, the Jewish Fighting Organization.

  * * *

  I knew time was getting short when they closed the Children's TB Hospital on Stawiki Street, near the Umschlagplatz. Instead of transferring the children to our hospital, they were deported; hauled off in cattle trucks. We knew it was just a matter of time now until they would "relocate our children." A drastic decision was made. We would try to smuggle out those children who were healthy enough to escape. Those who weren't would be given as much treatment as possible to get them into shape to be taken out at a later date. Those too sick to escape would be mercifully given morphine just before the Germans could take them away.

  For many months, others and I had been making trips to the outside to barter for food and supplies with our contacts. Now I would lead out the first group of children able to make the journey. Under the cover of darkness, we let ourselves into the sewer system under the ghetto, our smugglers' route in and out of the ghetto and - walking and crawling through the waste water and excrement - made good our escape. Quietly we crept from shadow to shadow hoping we'd not be seen by patrols eager to make target practice of curfew breakers.

  At long last, we got to a farm at the edge of the city from where the children would be taken to a convent for safekeeping. We doubted that these children would ever be raised as Jews or would find Jewish homes at some time in the future, but at least they were being given a chance to survive.

  I made this same trip with three more groups of children, each less healthy than the last, but the nuns insisted that they would take them with their illnesses and hoped to heal them back to health. After the last group, I decided I would not return to the ghetto. I knew the last of the children could never make their escape and I didn't want to be there to have to administer the morphine. I have had to live with the fact that it was an act of cowardice that I left the responsibility of mercy killing of those gravely ill children to others, while I turned to the forests in hopes of killing Germans.

  22

  His Holiness,

  Pius Xii...

  His Holiness, Pius XII, was born Eugenio Maria Giuseppe Giovanni Pacelli in 1876. In 1901, after his education was completed, he entered the Secretariat of State in Rome. He was appointed professor of ecclesiastical diplomacy at the Pontifical Ecclesiastical Academy in 1909, holding that post until 1914. During that time, in 1911, he was also made Under Secretary of State in Rome. In 1917, he was appointed Archbishop of Sardis and Apostolis Nuncio to the Bavarian court at Munich. In 1920, he became Nuncio to Germany. In 1925, he moved to Berlin.

  He became Cardinal Pacelli in 1929.

  In 1930, he became Rome's Secretary of State. It was in that capacity that he negotiated the concordat between the Holy See and the Third Reich. That agreement was signed by him and Hitler's Vice Chancellor von Papen on June 20th, 1933.

  In that concordat, then Pope Pius XI, the Church and its priests agreed to stay out of Hitler's politics. In return, Hitler, himself a Roman Catholic, would not interfere with the policies of the Vatican and the Roman Catholic Church.

  Though Franz von Papen signed the concordat with Cardinal Pacelli, he was cordially welcomed by His Holiness, Pius XI, who took the opportunity to express how pleased he was that Hitler and the German government were so uncompromisingly opposed to communism. The Vatican considered itself a full partner in Hitler's battle against communism and all enemies of the Church and the "civilized" world. He blessed the Third Reich-even while the first concentration camps were being outfitted to receive "political prisoners." The Vatican's prayers went out to bid the Third Reich, "Godspeed in attaining your goals."

  The Vatican ordered its bishops in Europe to "support and swear" their allegiance to the Reich. "In performing my spiritual duties, I will endeavor to avoid all acts which might be detrimental or dangerous to the Third Reich" were the concluding words of the churchmen's oath.

  In 1939, Cardinal Pacelli became His Holiness, Pius XII. He supported the agreement he had negotiated and signed for the Vatican six years earlier. The great majority of bishops and priests supported the agreement. There would be no public condemnation of the acts of the Nazis from the Roman Catholic Church.

  * * *

  When Father Peter Rochovit finally received his letter, it came from a secretary at the Vatican. "It's impersonal," he muttered, frowning, frustrated. "It gives me no specific guidance for my situation." There was enclosed a copy of the June 20th, 1933, concordat. A brief cover letter declared that the enclosure would explain the position of the Church. It emphasized that the Third Reich was doing what was best and necessary in the common struggle against communism. Father Peter was reminded, "...and your duties are to be concerned with spiritual and not political matters of your parish."

  Father Peter Rochovit decided. "I will not be able to support the dictates and position of the Church."

  23

  A Fateful Gathering...

  Four days had passed since the Germans came to confiscate Ivan's animals. No more Germans had been seen in the area since. It was nearing dusk and Sol entered the woods behind the farm. He was headed for the corral to prepare the hidden livestock for the night. He'd just gotten to the trail when a sound stopped him in his tracks. A mumble, hushed, but it had a strangely familiar ring to it. Again he dived into the underbrush.

  He listened. The sound continued. It came from deeper in the forest, somewhere between the trail and the cave. Cautiously, he started toward the sound. Creeping, the sound got louder as he neared, becoming more familiar but still too low to identify.

  He found himself at a small clearing. What he saw was too unlikely. "I must be dreaming," he mouthed.

  In the clearing were three men dressed as peasants. Ukrainians! Two silently rested against trees, while the third man produced the sound that had brought Sol there. It was not quite night, but the forest held out much of the fading light. It was properly dark for the evening prayer-the evening Amidah, Maariv-chanted daily at this time by all Orthodox Jews.

  Here in the forest, Sol had found another Jew. Another Jew! Probably three Jews! He thought, at least one of whom is orthodox, saying the three Amidahs each day-Sheehrit in the morning, Mincha in the afternoon, Maariv at evening time. Sol had to restrain himself from running into the clearing, but he didn't want them to flee before he could identify himself. More important, if they were armed and on the run, they might shoot before asking questions. At that moment, he thought of the safest way of making his presence known. Softly, Sol started chanting the Maariv as he had done daily with his father, grandfather and brothers.

  The two men sitti
ng came to their feet. Suddenly to hear evening prayers coming from the trees! The davening Jew almost choked on his words. They all stood, dumbfounded, as Solomon walked, chanting, into the clearing. Without stopping his prayer, he walked to the side of the davening Jew and they continued their chant to its completion together.

  * * *

  They embraced like brothers who hadn't seen each other in years.

  After introductions they told each other of their recent plights. The three men, Moshe, Uri and Boris, seemed half-starved. Sol decided the livestock would just have to wait while he took the men to his cave. "Stay here 'til I come back. You'll be safe. There is food stored inside-and candles. Eat all you need. I'm going back to the farm now; I'll be back after dark.

  That evening Ivan and Sol checked on the animals, then went to the cave together. No glow from inside the cave was visible. The three men had eaten their fill of turnips, carrots, cabbage, potatoes and dried fruits and were resting, feeling somewhat safe for the first time in weeks.

  Moshe woke his two companions and introduced them to Ivan. He seemed to be their spokesman, their leader. Formalities done, the five of them got down to business.

  "I suppose Sol has told you our story?"

  Ivan nodded, "Yes."

  "We wanted to join a partisan group to fight the Nazis," Moshe continued, "but it appears we will have to do that on our own. We were almost killed with the rest of our companions trying to join a group we crossed paths with. It's not safe for a Jew among gentiles here in the Ukraine."

  "Perhaps another group would have welcomed you," Ivan speculated.

  "We're not about to take the chance to find out," Uri said. "They are only interested in our weapons. They rationalize their hatred of us by claiming they will all be killed by the Nazis if they are caught harboring Jews. The fallacy in that reasoning is that as resistance fighters, they would all die regardless if they have Jews among them or not."

  "I think the anti-Semitic Ukrainians are as big a threat to us as the Germans," Boris added. "Why should they change now, after centuries of hating us? I'm staying clear of them. I only trust Jews from now on."

  "I can understand how you feel," Ivan said. "I hope you'll trust me. Maybe I can earn your trust."

  Boris was a little embarrassed that he'd spoken so candidly. "I'm sorry-but many of my friends died out there-trusting. Perhaps I shouldn't have..."

  "I understand how you must feel," Ivan interrupted. "No apology is necessary. Perhaps with time... Anyway, for now you will have to trust me. Unless you move on."

  "Enough," Moshe intervened. "It is a mute subject. If we are to form a Jewish resistance group, there is much we have to do. Winter is coming and survival in the coming weather is our first priority. It will not be easy."

  The words excited Sol. "I will be your first volunteer!"

  "Good," Boris exclaimed. "What success! We have increased our ranks by twenty five percent!"

  In that moment, Sol felt for the first time since Babi Yar that he belonged somewhere. It didn't matter that his future was no more secure than moments before. He was no longer alone. Kind as Ivan and Sosha had been to him, it was not the same. Now he was among his own people. He was with mishpocheh-family-his tribe.

  "How do you plan to recruit?" Ivan asked.

  "I don't know," Moshe replied. "But if need be, we will be a four-man army."

  They decided that for the time being the cave would be their home and headquarters. It was the safest place and could be easily winterized. Sol spent the night with his new fellow partisans.

  He would be go between from the farm to the cave. It would not be wise to have too many strangers moving visibly around the area.

  Ivan volunteered, "I will be the eyes and ears for you in the outside world-if you want me to be, that is."

  "Good," Moshe replied. "Better that we have gentile eyes and ears in the gentile world."

  Ivan didn't take offense but suddenly became a little more aware of what they were up against, how they felt. It was not just the Nazis and certain Ukrainians they had to fear. They had to be wary of the entire European Christian world. Anti-Semitism was not a Nazi invention-it was an invention of Christianity.

  In this part of the world, Jew baiting and Jew killing had never been looked upon as such big crimes.

  Sol continued working around the farm for Ivan and Sosha. In time, the neighbors who occasionally passed would think him a hired hand and not think him out of place. That way he could move freely about the area.

  The Germans were still not a common presence in the rural areas. When Ivan and Sosha went to Kiev, however, he could not accompany them as hired hands often did. It would be too risky. Dressed in peasant clothes he could easily pass for a Ukrainian non-Jew, but he had no papers. And in Kiev he might be recognized.

  The four Jews used morning and evening twilight to become familiar with the entire area. They explored their ravine from end to end. At its northeastern end it did empty into the Dneiper River, as Sol had suspected, at a point about twelve kilometers above Kiev. There the ravine widened and became heavily wooded.

  At the cave, the ravine turned and they explored its southwestern reaches. It deepened as they followed it. But when they approached that end, in about three kilometers, the sides lowered again and widened until they found themselves on some rolling, hilly pastures.

  Cautiously they pushed on until they worked their way to the top of one of the highest points and the only one that offered some trees for cover. From there they saw a paved road leading to a sizable town perhaps a kilometer north.

  Sol reported their findings to Ivan later that day.

  "That town would be Irpen," Ivan told him. "It is not too important a town, except that it is on the major route-the road you saw-across the Ukraine. It leads to Kiev if you follow it on east."

  Sol frowned and speculated, "It's bound to be a major supply route for the Germans." He paused, thinking more, "How far would you guess Irpen is from Kiev?"

  "Ten or twelve kilometers, I'd say."

  That evening, all four of the partisans and Ivan followed the ravine to the south again. After dark ,they descended to the road and made their way to the outskirts of the town. There was little activity there, but plenty of Germans. They appeared to be using the town as a storage depot. Sixty to seventy trucks were lined up in rows on a large field that had been turned into a huge parking lot. A number of storage buildings had been set up. There seemed to be only enough armed troops to guard the equipment. The rest of the Germans were probably drivers.

  "These must be supplies to be used in Kiev." Uri suggested. "They probably store them here because it's easier to protect them from sabotage."

  "That sounds reasonable," Moshe agreed. "What do you think they store here?"

  "I doubt there are weapons," Boris said. "Weapons would call for more security. My guess they have clothing, food-supplies for maintaining their troops and occupation government in Kiev."

  "Well, I think we should try to find out for sure," Ivan suggested. "Maybe I can find out by a visit here tomorrow. I'll figure out an excuse to come here-some business maybe."

  "Good idea," Sol added. "Let's get out of here and make some plans. No reason to press our luck."

  They returned to the ravine and started back toward the cave. A kilometer into the ravine they were suddenly stopped by voices. Each man froze. The voices came again. Moshe touched his index finger to his mouth. It was unnecessary; no one was going to make a sound. Then he pointed to the top of the ravine at his left. The walls were steep and high. Moshe signaled the men to follow him. He headed on toward the cave. After a little more than a half kilometer he stopped, listened, heard nothing.

  "I think it's safe to speak now, but quietly," he whispered. "As we came up along here earlier I saw a way up to the top of the cliff."

  "That's right," Sol interrupted. "I noticed it this morning. It can't be too far. Maybe a hundred meters north of that rock outcropping we just passed." He p
ointed to the landmark about thirty meters behind them.

  "Good," Moshe replied. "Uri, come with me. We will double back on top of the cliff. The rest of you go back to the cave and wait. We should return within the hour. If we don't, do not-do not come after us! It would be pointless for all of us to be wiped out in one operation."

  An hour passed; an hour and a half. Ivan had gone back to the farm. He didn't like leaving Sosha alone. People were getting desperate for food and clothing, anything that could be sold or traded. More and more reports were circulating about robberies throughout the area. People who lived outside the cities were easy prey to drifters. It was all part of survival.

  He'd left the cave with great trepidation. He feared the worst for his new friends. Boris could see his concern. Before Ivan left he said, "Ivan, about what I said the other day-I want to set it straight. You are a friend. I've no worry about you. The others-well, that remains the same. But you, Ivan, you're to be trusted. Thank you."

  Ivan put his massive hand on Boris' muscular shoulder. "Boris, I thank you. I think I understand your feelings."

  "Ivan, I'll come to the farm later and let you know if-when they've returned," Sol said.

  24

  Birth of a Community...

  Finally after two hours, Moshe and Uri returned. With them were two Jewish families and seven other unrelated Jews. Theirs had been the voices on the cliff. They'd been living in the woods, migrating from the northwest of the country. Their intention had been to escape the occupation ahead of the German front. They had to restrict their movements to nighttime and through the forests. It was very difficult. By the time they reached this area, they realized that to reach unoccupied territory was almost hopeless.