‘They want our furs for the army,’ Papa told us. Working for the Judenrat, Papa was able to obtain more information that most people. ‘Since the Germans have turned on the Russians, they are now fighting in freezing conditions on the Russian front.’
‘I still can’t believe the Germans were stupid enough to turn on their own allies. It serves them right. I hope they freeze to death!’ It was rare to hear my gentle Mama vent such anger.
‘A lot of them are,’ Papa replied. ‘And now they plan to use our furs to line their boots.’
We spent New Year’s Eve with the Lublinskis. They arrived before curfew and we shared what little food we had.
‘What will this next year bring?’ Aunt Zenia asked sadly. ‘I hardly dare wonder anymore.
‘Peace, I pray,’ Uncle Harry said quickly.
‘Let us toast to that, and to our loved ones, wherever they may be,’ Papa declared.
We had nothing to toast with, so we improvised with cups of weak tea. As we held up our cups, Papa’s voice became solemn. ‘Tonight, we remember our family and friends.’ He looked at all of us in turn as he spoke. ‘We remember Zaida and my mother, gone so long ago. We remember Nanna and Zaida Goldberg, and hope that they remain safe in Paris. We remember our friends, both back at home and in the ghetto. We pray for Elza and Anya, and others who have died and hope they have found peace. We pray for those who have disappeared. We pray that we may see them again, and that they will live amongst us in health and happiness.’
Papa’s voice became choked. He had expressed what we all wanted to say, but in the midst of this war, I don’t think any of us dared hope for this much.
‘Amen,’ Uncle Harry said quickly.
‘Amen,’ chorused Mama and Aunty Zenia.
‘To 1942,’ Adam cried.
‘1942,’ Ryzia echoed.
As distant bells rang out the old year, the flame in our lamp started to flicker. As the last bell tolled, the light went out with a crackle.
Undeterred, Uncle Harry started to sing ‘Lili Marlene’. Adam joined in with his violin. The music was a great antidote for the previous sombre moments and Uncle Harry kept it up, following that song with ‘Night and Day’ and ‘Begin the Beguine’, which happened to be my all-time favourite. Our voices rose in the darkness, and Eva and I held hands and swung arms in time to the music. By the time we all fell asleep on our shared mattresses, we almost managed to forget the dismal world outside.
1942
That winter was particularly cold. Our only warming thought was that the United States had now entered the war.
Adam became tremendously excited by this news. He asked, ‘How quickly can the Americans beat Germany?’
Papa mused a moment before saying, ‘You’d think it would be fast, but Japan attacked them almost out of the blue and then Hitler also declared war on them too. The Americans will have to fight armies on both sides of the world.’
‘But it’s better to have them as allies, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Mama came in fervently. ‘We should pray that every day brings us closer to peace.’
Adam straightened, soldier-like, to declare, ‘The Americans will lick Hitler into shape pretty soon. He’s sure got it coming!’
But it was hard to keep our spirits up in this cold. The homeless huddled inside doorways or anywhere they could find shelter. What with the freezing conditions and lack of food, more and more people were dying. Staying alive was a struggle for everyone and the homeless had little to no chance. I worried about the boys, and wondered where they were spending their nights. I hadn’t seen them in weeks.
Our ration of coke and coal we used to heat our rooms and cook with ran out in days. We wore everything we owned to stay warm. Before the war, on cold wintry days, we warmed our insides with Elza’s hearty soups. She always had a treat for me when I got home from school. Just the memory made me feel a bit warmer. But then the tinge of too much sadness and loss set in.
I was sure I’d never see such food again. The food ration for Jews was only 184 calories per day—the equivalent of about two slices of bread. It was almost impossible to survive on so little. That all seemed to be part of the Germans’ plan. Slow starvation was sure to get rid of us. The non-Jewish Poles received 700 calories, which still wasn’t much. Soldiers were allowed 2,500 calories. I suppose that made it more tempting for them to join the army. Though their lives were in more danger, at least they got fed.
Mama and Papa’s earnings at the Judenrat kept us from the point of starvation—we could buy food on the black market, usually potatoes. These potatoes had been meant for German soldiers fighting in Russia. Since that country was so cold, the vegetables froze and then were sent back to us. We knew rotten potatoes could be poisonous, so first we boiled them before frying them as pancakes. We also ate little fish, everyone called ‘stinkies’, that came in cans and tasted like salted herring. There was bread, but it was scarce. Even though Karol, Jacob and Moshe and other children some as young as four, smuggled grain through the wall, there was never enough to go around. Bakers were forced to buy grain from the collaborators at inflated prices. In turn they charged more for each loaf.
I hated the collaborators almost as much as I hated the Germans. They were the only ones living as richly as they had before the war. People gossiped that they lived on steak and champagne. All we knew was that they were fat and healthy, while we were painfully thin and sickly.
I had to give up my gymnastics. I had become too weak to manage cartwheels, one-legged twists and somersaults. Mama told me I couldn’t afford to waste what little energy I had on exercise. Besides, there wasn’t much space in which to practise now. These days, many concerts, plays, films and readings were held in Weisman Hall. Our creativity was the one thing the Nazis couldn’t take away.
Given Jews were among some of the finest musicians in Europe, we had a splendid symphony orchestra. They were so good, some of the German soldiers on patrol used to stop at the back of the hall to listen. Adam’s violin teacher had persuaded the orchestra to allow him to become part of the first violin section.
Adam was desperate to join. ‘Can I?’
Mama wasn’t sure. ‘The children are weak with lack of proper food and proper vitamins, Romek. We have nothing left to fight off any diseases. It would be the end of us.’
She was even anxious about us going to school.
Papa didn’t agree. ‘They must continue their studies, Miriam. We can’t give up yet.’
Our classroom was less crowded now. Nina and Janette had died last November. They had stood little chance of making it through the dreadful winter conditions, they had been so thin and malnourished. Several of the younger children no longer turned up. I wasn’t sure what had happened to them. Eva and I didn’t dare ask. The best we could do was steel ourselves and do everything we could to stay alive. I didn’t want my heart to grow cold, but it was too exhausting to grieve for everyone we no longer saw. There were too many to mourn.
Rosa’s older sister died from typhus, in January.
Rosa also stopped coming.
I asked Eva, ‘Do you know if she’s all right?’
Eva shook her head. ‘I haven’t heard. Mama won’t let me go to see her.’
‘Me neither,’ I had to admit. ‘Even Papa is getting nervous about illness and he’s usually so stoical.’
The following Tuesday, both Eva and Alex weren’t at school. Adam looked at me, frightened. I went to Panna Ranicki to ask, ‘Have you heard anything, Panna?’ I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
She shook her head. ‘No, Hanna, but no doubt we will see them both tomorrow.’ She did her best to sound reassuring, but it didn’t quite work.
Eva and Alex didn’t turn up the next day either. I was too upset to concentrate on any work and as soon as I got home I asked Mama if I could visit her.
‘Sit down, Hanna, Alex,’ Mama said softly. ‘We got the news today that Uncle Harry has died.’
A lum
p caught in my throat, the lump so large I thought it might suffocate me.
‘And Eva?’
Adam clutched my hand. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
‘Aunty Zenia is doing the best she can,’ Mama told us. ‘She’s well enough for now. But it’s very hard for them.’
I couldn’t believe that cheerful, kind Uncle Harry was dead. He had always seemed larger than life. And now he was gone.
I couldn’t stop fretting and worrying about Eva. Alex took refuge in his violin. His music was slow and mournful. Papa would plead with him to stop, to come to talk with him or to play with Ryzia, but Adam would hold onto his violin like it was life itself.
Then the news came that Alex had died. He had become more and more ill, until there was no longer any hope. Thankfully, Eva seemed to be recovering.
Mama cried. ‘We must pray for her and for Aunty Zenia. What they must be going through!’
Ryzia went over to Mama and placed her little arms around Mama’s neck.
Mama held her close saying, ‘We can only pray to God that he continues to spare us.’
It was two weeks before Papa finally allowed me to visit Eva and Aunty Zenia.
To get there, I had to cross the two-storey bridge over Leszno Street. Aunty Zenia must have been listening out for me, because I found her in the hallway outside their room. Her face was gaunt and I wondered if she had the strength to look after Eva, especially after losing her husband and son. She must have guessed my thoughts, because she whispered, ‘Don’t worry, Hanna. I won’t let Eva die, I promise.
I hugged her in silence. What could I say?
I found Eva lying on her straw mattress. Her thick lovely hair had been shaved off and her skin was so pale, I hardly recognised her.
Mama had made me promise not to touch her, but as soon as she realised I was beside her, we fell into each other’s arms.
For a long while she couldn’t stop sobbing. She kept repeating how much she missed her father and brother. There was nothing I could do to console her, nothing other than listen.
‘Just seeing you again helps.’ She managed a weak smile. ‘Tell me about school. What have you been studying?’
‘Loads of English, so we will be ready when the Americans beat Hitler now that Germany has declared war on them too. You know I think these Germans are quite, quite mad.’
Eva managed to prop herself up before saying, ‘Now the Japanese and the Germans have united, they intend to conquer the whole world.’
‘I don’t know much about the Japanese, but I do know what happened to Germany after the Americans joined the last war.’
‘What about the Russians?’
I shook my head in mock despair. ‘I still can’t believe the Germans declared war on their own ally.’
‘Me either.’ She gave me a tiny smile.
‘Well,’ I said firmly. ‘I’d much rather have everyone on our side than the other way round. But now I don’t know who is left for Germany to declare war on. Maybe Switzerland?’
We managed another watery laugh.
‘Everyone at school is missing you so much,’ I told her. ‘They keep sending their love and asking me how you are.’
‘They can’t miss me as much as I miss them. Please tell Panna Ranicki I will be back soon.’
Aunty Zenia came back into the room. ‘She’s getting tired now, Hanna. And it’s getting close to curfew time. You’d best head for home.’
‘I’ll come back soon as I can.’ I squeezed Eva’s hand. ‘Promise.’
I made my way back to our apartment. When I got in, Mama was lying on the mattress, her eyes closed. Ryzia was on the floor playing with her favourite peg doll and a rabbit Mama had made from old socks too ragged to be darned. I thought back to the shelves stuffed with toys when I was Ryzia’s age and ached for her.
It was unusual for Mama to be lying down during the day. Anxious, I asked. ‘Mama, you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ She opened her eyes. ‘Yes, just a bit tired.’
She looked her usual self, no flushed cheeks or fever. But I worried now more than ever before. We had to do our best to stay healthy.
We didn’t see as much of Janusch as we used to. He still sometimes slept across the doorway to our apartment and would come inside to play with Ryzia. I assumed he was helping Karol and the others smuggle grain through the wall but he never said anything. I guess he didn’t want me to worry. He seemed to regard himself as my protector. I had a lot to be grateful to him for. I had spoken to the boys once or twice since I was shot, but they realised that I could no longer help them. They were so resourceful I felt sure they would manage without me, just as they had before.
If Papa had a bit of spare money, he would take Janusch with us to concerts and plays at Weisman Hall, and he usually sat between me and Adam.
One day I found him sitting cross-legged in the passage-way with a notebook and stub of a pencil.
‘What are you writing?’ I asked.
‘A play.’ His face beamed with pride. ‘Do you want to read it?’
I did.
Though Janusch could have done with some spelling lessons, he had a natural ear for dialogue. His play was set in the ghetto, just like many of the plays we had seen at the Hall. However in Janusch’s play the Americans rescued us. His American soldiers were like a posse of cowboys from the Wild West. One was even called Billy the Kid.
‘This is wonderful, Janusch,’ I told him. I promised to help fix his spelling, and then send it to one of the underground newspapers.
His eyes widened with pleasure. ‘Do you think they’d want to print it?’
‘Yes, I do,’ I assured him. ‘And they’d be lucky to have it. For someone who doesn’t go to school, you’ve got lots of talent.’
Papa had been trying to convince Janusch to go to one of the new religious schools that had been recently set up. ‘The Germans had allowed schools to be run in the ghetto and they received funding from the Judenrat and were able to expand. Previously all schools had been hidden or disguised as something else, like a soup kitchen or medical centre.
Papa suggested that I might want to change schools, but I liked Panna Ranicki too much to want to leave. Janusch was keen to improve his English. But those new schools concentrated mainly on religion and that didn’t interest me.
One day a girl called Maria joined our class.
She had wide-set blue eyes, very straight hair that was so blonde it was almost white, and a soft rosebud mouth. She looked so typically Aryan, only her longish nose hinted at any Jewishness. She was tall, and healthy. I wondered what she was doing here?
She settled at the back of room, her face expressionless, and did her best to make herself invisible, answering any questions only in whispers.
Inka sidled up to Maria after the lessons ended and introduced herself, and me.
‘Have you just arrived?’ Inka asked. ‘I mean, to the ghetto?’
‘It’s all an awful, awful mistake,’ Maria whispered. Her pink cheeks turned redder.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘It’s a punishment.’
‘We are all being punished,’ Inka said. ‘But not for anything we’ve done. We’re punished because we’re Jewish.’
Maria suddenly found her voice. ‘But I’m not Jewish. My father is … was … an official of the Nazi party.’
I took an involuntary step backwards.
‘Then why are you here?’
‘They killed my father. He’d done something wrong. I don’t know what. I don’t believe he did anything wrong at all.’
‘But why would they send you, his daughter, to the Jewish ghetto, even if he had done something wrong?’ Inka persisted. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘My great-grandmother was Jewish, but when she married my great-grandfather, she converted. Mother only told me after Father was shot. But you know what …’ She gave a loud sob, ‘I still don’t understand how that makes me Jewish?’
‘That’s becaus
e being Jewish comes down the female line,’ I said. ‘It means your grandmother, your mother, and you are definitely Jewish, no matter how much you might hate it.’
‘Is your mother in the ghetto with you?’ Inka did her best to sound kind.
‘Yes. The two of us are here. We didn’t know a soul when we got here. We couldn’t find anywhere to live.’
‘Have you now?’
‘We’re sharing with another family. Mother had a little money that she sewed into the hem of her dress for emergencies. It’s all we’ve got left.’ Maria stared at her feet as if she’d never seen them before.
For a moment I had a horrible thought: that it served her right. I felt a mean thrill to see an ‘Aryan blonde’ come down in the world. Then I checked myself. We’d all come down in the world from our comfortable lives. And Maria couldn’t help being blonde-haired and blue-eyed. She couldn’t help having a Nazi-officer father any more than I could help being the child of my own parents.
It was harder for Maria. At least we all had each other. She and her mother must have felt very alone and isolated, even in this crowded ghetto.
‘Mother said this morning if only we could go to church. She always felt comforted there.’
‘Actually, she can,’ Inka said. ‘There’s a church for converts on Zelazna Street.’
Maria was so grateful to hear this, she thanked Inka over and over, saying, ‘You don’t know how much this means to me!’
That night I told Papa her story. ‘She told us she wanted to become a nun.’ I took a deep breath. ‘You know, I couldn’t think of anything worse than locking myself away in a convent. And aren’t we going through enough poverty and obedience to last us a lifetime?’
My Holocaust Story: Hanna Page 10