Trains to Treblinka

  The potato workers in the kitchen did not hesitate to jump into action with their weapons. They knew exactly what they were expected to do. Seizing the grenades from their buckets, they ran outside and witnessed the full extent of the revolt.

  As Galewski had earlier instructed them, the women dispatched their grenades toward the guard buildings and offices. Nearly everything ignited in instant flames. The dry, dusty weather finally aided the workers who had endured the scorching heat each day.

  Tchechia was exuberant. She ran up to one of the wounded Ukrainian guards and grabbed his rifle. As she moved out she directed her rifle forward and led the women in shouts of, “Die you Nazi pigs! Hurrah!”

  A few of the female workers, excited with their initial success, were now expected to head to Stangl’s office to set it ablaze, but they were stopped by gunfire and explosions. One woman was shot and fell where she stood. The other women, now terrified of dying, wanted to immediately flee the camp before it was too late.

  Tchechia, wishing she could cause more damage, turned the corner away from a blazing building and sought to head toward her friend Bronka, who had been on the other side of the camp when the revolt started. More blockades and withering gunfire hindered Tchechia’s way.

  She and a group of women ran across the courtyard, away from the explosions. As they scurried about, a few of them came face-to-face with Paulinka, the informer.

  “Hey, Paulinka,” shouted Tchechia. “Did you betray people before you came to Treblinka, or just take up the skill here after you arrived?”

  Paulinka stared back at the group defiantly.

  Another woman, who had lost her sister to Paulinka’s disloyalty, rushed past Tchechia with a large rock in her hand. In precious little time the woman paid Paulinka back for being a traitorous informer. She had no regrets.

  The roof of a building crashed down next to the cluster of workers. They searched for an avenue of escape but instead saw Nazi reinforcements entering the camp. They could not go in that direction, and they could not escape through the burning buildings.

  Then suddenly, out of a dark cloud of smoke, Franz Suchomel appeared. He approached the women and declared, “If you come with me now back to the kitchen, I will ensure your safety and see that no reprisals come your way.”

  Tchechia looked at the tall fence still blocking her way of escape. There were Nazis standing in front of it, shooting at people running toward them. Tchechia thought of Bronka, who quite possibly had already left the camp. She thought of what might happen to her if she hesitated in answering Suchomel.

  “Okay,” Tchechia responded. She and several of her brigade followed the lone SS officer into the mess hall and laid down on the floor to ride out the storm.

  Bronka looked for Tchechia but couldn’t find her anywhere. Then she tried to find Rudi but saw that he was on a roof, shooting at the guard towers. She recognized fallen comrades all around her, and heard others screaming, “Flee, flee, before it is too late!”

  Bronka ran with a group of men into Camp 2, where she had never been allowed entry before. They snuck alongside the grilling racks and an enormous pit, partially filled with bodies. They made their way over to a watchtower that was being consumed by flames. She and several men climbed over a fence and through an anti-tank barrier that had been manipulated enough by others for a passageway. One more fence to get through!

  Bronka noticed several dead bodies lying around an opening in the fence, men who had given their lives for others to escape. She quickly ran through it, then proceeded into the woods beyond.

  Richard held unbridled joy as he ran to and fro, carrying an axe, shouting, “Hurrah!” He couldn’t believe the Ukrainian barracks were burning to the ground. Warehouses, garages, and shops throughout camp were all burning. Guards were being shot, but unfortunately far more Jews were going down.

  Richard ran alongside his friend Karel, who was waving a spade over his head. Suddenly Karel stopped. Just twenty yards in front of them was a guard, poised behind a tree, using a rifle to take out workers running past him, one by one.

  Robert Altschul, coming up from behind, ran past Karel and Richard without realizing the danger ahead. Crack! The Czech with a razor-sharp analytical mind fell facedown in the hard dirt like a rag doll, shot dead by the guard.

  Keeping their emotions in check, Richard and Karel turned to flee in the other direction. As they maneuvered away from the armed sniper they heard a familiar voice, shouting, as if to push them on. It was Rudi. Still on the roof. He was yelling at the Nazis while he fired his rounds in their direction.

  “Take that for my wife!”

  “Take that one for my unborn child who did not even get to come into this world!”

  “Take that, you murderers!”

  Richard noticed the fake train station that Stangl commissioned and on which Jankiel Wiernik spent countless hours working. It was now engulfed in flames. He scanned the area, looking for Hans, but he was nowhere to be found.

  As Richard and Karel kept running, Richard laid eyes on Zelo. He had apparently opened the gate between Camp 2 and Camp 1 and was helping workers cross into the upper camp to escape for the woods. His commanding presence was easy to spot as he was giving orders like a true leader. Zelo maneuvered swiftly to help as needed—engaging the enemy with his rifle—all the while simultaneously encouraging those around him to be brave and fight back.

  Richard knew he may never see Zelo or Rudi again, but he also knew he must keep moving with Karel. Nazi reinforcements kept showing up out of nowhere. Something told the young man he better not hesitate or he would be shot from behind by the crisscrossing barrage of fire.

  Utter confusion.

  Explosions and smoke.

  Lack of order.

  All the meticulous planning to ensure that hundreds of Jews could escape had evaporated into a burning mess and a barrage of bullets reigning down on them from the towers and other fortified positions of the guards. Regardless of the plans, it was now time to make their escape because the Nazis were overwhelming the camp with gunfire.

  “Outta here! Outta here! Get into the woods!”

  Poor Robert!

  Where was Hans?

  Would Rudi get down from the roof and escape?

  Zelo!

  Chapter 28

  Franz Stangl looked out his window at the chaos in his camp. His beautiful eight hundred meters of flower-lined street was littered with bodies and smoldering debris from the fires. The new guardhouse, built exquisitely with wood in Tyrolean style, now burning down! The new fuel pump and tank, designed like a real service station with flowers and signage, had gone up in a massive explosion, which blew out some of the surrounding buildings’ windows.

  His new barracks—gone!

  His new street—in ruins!

  The bakery whose Viennese baker made such delicious treats—blown up!

  His beloved train station with the imitation clock—burning like an inferno!

  One of the guards from Camp 2 had escaped Zelo’s wrath and banged on Stangl’s window.

  “The upper camp is overrun!” he shrieked. “Everything is burning—the men’s barracks, women’s barracks, and the kitchen.”

  Stangl wasted no time getting on the phone to call the chief of the external security police. “Revolt! Come quickly!” He was thankful the telephone wires had not been cut. Then he loaded his pistol and ran outside to see if he could find any Jews causing more destruction to his beautiful camp. Did they not consider all the planning and the time it took for construction?

  The Jewish workers still fighting knew they were on a suicide mission. They continued to clear lanes of passage for their fellow workers to escape through. There would be no hope for those still firing at the Germans once reinforcements arrived. In addition, special units were sent on patrol in various distances to scout the perimeter of the camp. The longer those still sacrificially shooting waited, the less odds they would have to escape.

  Known informers
were dealt with, much like Paulinka, who had her head shattered. Eventually some men broke through the bars of the carpenter’s workshop window and ran around to open up the fence with their axes. People stormed through the gate, but it was quickly blocked again. Upon hearing the initial explosions, immeasurable Nazi reinforcements poured through the railroad gate of Treblinka. One of the first places they tried to defend was the gaping hole in the gate.

  Bodies—mostly of Jewish workers—littered the open spaces of the camp. Nearly every building seemed to be on fire. The heat from the flames hungrily torched everything around it, including humans who ventured too close. The only hope now was for those who had already crossed over Treblinka’s gates.

  Rudi Masarek lay mortally wounded on the roof of the pigeon house. As soon as he ran out of ammunition he became an easy target for a sniper in one of the guard towers. Unbeknownst to his friends, Rudi had decided long before that he was not going to leave Treblinka. The revolt needed people who would continue to fire to provide clear lanes of passage so the utmost people could escape. During his dying breaths he thought of Gisela and the life they intended to have together.

  Hans Freund, like Robert, was shot during his escape toward Camp 2 and the woods beyond.

  With caked blood on his shoes and pant legs from his work amidst the pits, a persistent Zelo led with zeal and moral stamina. A rampant fearlessness and concern for others compelled him to leave the safety of Camp 2 and its gateway toward freedom, so he could help his comrades at the lower camp.

  He was last seen running in and out of the flames, exhorting fellow workers to take courage, return fire, and flee for safety. Sometime along the way, Zelo Bloch was riddled with bullets and cut down by the might of a machine gun. He poured out everything he had until he fell.

  Camp elder Galewski made it to the upper camp alive. He assisted other workers at great risk to himself to ensure they made it over the barbed wire encircling Camp 2. He struggled to pull every worker he could through the danger area and into the safety of the woods.

  In the lower camp, Suchomel, Tchechia, and the other women who had sheltered in the kitchen were suddenly forced to flee the building when the roof caught on fire. A swell of frightened workers congregated in the camp yard near to where the female sleeping barracks were burning. Surrounded by flames and a storm of gunfire, a panic set in on all who had fled there.

  A guard’s voice penetrated the clamor and confusion. “Put your weapons down. There will be no reprisals for those who form up in front of the kommandant’s office. I repeat, put your weapons down and make a formation in front of the kommandant’s office. Those who comply will be spared. Those who resist will be shot. There will be no reprisals for those who peaceably move to the formation.”

  At this point, the frenzied mass of bodies halted and complied.

  The revolt was over.

  If one was not already through Treblinka’s gates, there was no option but to cease the uprising—resisting was useless. Besides the guards inside the camp, the Nazis had surrounded the perimeter at a distance of five kilometers.

  One hundred and five prisoners formed up in front of Stangl’s office. They had survived the revolt, but they were still prisoners of Treblinka.

  Tchechia was unable to make it to safety. She held out hope that Stangl and Suchomel would keep their promises. She decided to search for a new way to escape, possibly alone, as soon as the commotion died down.

  All evening long, those who remained at Treblinka heard gunshots, dogs barking, and shouting from the woods. More and more Jews were rounded up and killed. Hopefully Bronka made it into the forest and survived, Tchechia thought.

  Camp elder Galewski fled through Camp 2 as one of the final workers to get through. He—like Zelo—continued with all his might to push and motivate workers not to give up, to keep moving, to keep fighting, to never lose hope. He found himself in the woods with a few other escapees in the late afternoon, going from person to person, urging everyone to keep moving because in the morning the Nazis would round them up if they didn’t move. He worked himself to exhaustion. Alas, when it was time for he himself to get up and continue the journey, utterly depleted, and with Nazi guards quickly closing in on his position, camp elder Galewski ingested a vial of poison from his pocket. Within seconds he was dead.

  Go, go, go! Bronka kept quietly repeating to herself. She tried hard to keep up with those men who were just in front of her. She was exhilarated. Unbelievably, against all odds, Bronka had made it outside the perimeter fence and beyond.

  Once inside a densely packed area of foliage, the small contingent of escaped workers halted so they could hear if any trucks were coming. The only sounds were the machine-gun noises from the camp piercing through the forest. They decided to continue to head southwest; there was an ancient logging road nearby. Bronka noticed there were seven workers in her group, and there was another larger group of approximately twenty ahead in the distance. The larger group went to the right and followed the old road. Bronka’s group decided to stay in the trees and follow a creek. Dogs would surely be sent to hunt them down, so they kept in the water wherever it was available.

  Moments later there was shouting a few hundred yards away, horses were heard, and vehicles with mounted machine guns, all trying to chase down the escapees. Bronka’s group waited, not wanting to cause any movement. It was not dark yet, and the trees were not as thick as they wanted.

  The seven survivors watched as the Germans and Ukrainians infiltrated an area where they suspected a mass of Jews were hiding…and they were correct. Men came out with their hands up, but they were mowed to the ground by crisscrossing fire. Bronka’s group slowly crawled away from that area as quietly as possible, seeking denser brush and a place to wait for nightfall.

  More yelling.

  More vehicles heard in the distance.

  More gunshots.

  Would the sun ever set? Bronka wondered.

  They saw the nearby peasants all run for their homes, not wanting to be mistaken by the Nazis as Treblinka workers. Bronka’s small contingent spotted an old barn on the edge of the woods. Some wanted to creep inside to wait for the sun to set.

  Four men ran for the barn, but Bronka stayed with the two other men. They ran another kilometer and a half deeper into the woods, away from the barn, and decided to climb into three trees, thick with branches and foliage to hide them. Bronka rested in her branch and wondered what might have happened to Tchechia.

  Unfortunately Tchechia had been in the wrong part of the camp when the revolt started. Bronka easily escaped into Camp 2, but Tchechia would have had to scale over a high fence or break through the back wall of the buildings that separated the female living quarters with the sorting areas of the camp. Bronka searched in vain for her friend as other small clusters of people barreled through the woods. But there was not even a sign of other women, let alone of Tchechia.

  The three workers hiding in the trees heard a terrible sound in the direction of the barn. German voices. Screaming. Machine-gun fire. Bronka was thankful she had decided to keep moving. She held tightly to her tree, hoping the guards would not come in her direction.

  Chapter 29

  Richard Glazar and Karel Unger ran next to each other, shouting, laughing, and jumping for joy. They had crossed the vegetable garden, ran by the smoldering racks in Camp 2, and then exited Treblinka through the fallen gate.

  Gunshots penetrated the air around them, bodies fell, people cried, but Richard and Karel kept running. After the fence came the woods, those glorious woods that meant freedom! Yet they knew the woods would be viciously hunted that night for any sign of survivors.

  The two men slanted left, then ran across a weedy field toward the bogs. Another man was just in front of them. All three ran through the dense bushes surrounding the shore and jumped into the water.

  Swimming furiously, the man in front of the Czechs reached the other shore first. Crack! A gunshot from a dark-uniformed guard on the opposite si
de mowed down the poor soul who had tasted a short-lived liberation from Treblinka. The gunman wasted no time and pointed his rifle toward the two men stalled in the middle of the lake. Crack! Crack!

  Richard and Karel dove low down into the water, scraping the silty bottom, swimming furiously underwater back toward the shore they had just left. Richard raised his head among some reeds he thought might be used for cover. Crack! The guard spotted his ascent. It was target practice. Richard plunged back underwater. In the brief second he grabbed a mouthful of air, he saw more weeds, thicker cover, out of the corner of his eye. He swam there, hoping Karel would make it as well.

  Inside the willow branches Richard risked another breath. More shots, but not nearly as close. It must be at Karel! Richard plunged back under the water and slipped to the thickest area of reeds. A hand grabbed his arm. Richard barely raised his face out of the water—it was Karel, grinning at him. They had made it!

  There were a few more shots, as if for good measure, but the sun had lowered under a distant tree line. A grey hue hung over the bog. Treblinka was in a mountain of smoke. The men stayed in the water until it was almost completely dark, twilight, with only their faces out to draw another breath. They were alive and wanted nothing more than to flee the area, but they heard shots everywhere around them.

  All of a sudden there were voices heading their direction. Dogs barking, people shouting loudly, drawing near to their position. Several horses galloped by the bog.

  More shots!

  More shouting!

  More horses!

  It was as if the Nazis were right on top of them.

  “Over here,” one of the guards shouted. “There are two more bodies over here!”

  A truck rumbled in behind the submerged escapees. Their adversaries were within ten feet of where Richard and Karel had buried themselves in the reeds and willows, having only the top of their face above water.