There was a motorcycle and sidecar with a machine gunner following the convoy. Each truck carried four Germans: two in the cab and two armed guards, one at each rear corner of the truck where the prisoners were packed in. The captives had been told that anyone talking would be shot, but there were too many in the truck for two soldiers to watch. In very discreet whispers, they made their plans. Approaching the Kiev vicinity, headed for Babi Yar, they passed through a series of forests. The road twisted and curved quite severely. It was probably the best chance they would get. At a predetermined signal, they made their move.
Their actions were lightning swift. They hit the two guards who had been lulled into carelessness by the long, boring ride. Stripping their weapons from them in seconds, they threw the flailing bodies off the back of the vehicle into the path of the motorcycle, which had been following too closely for a long time. In the reflex swerving and braking of the motorcycle to avoid the bodies, its riders were sufficiently distracted to let the prisoners get off the first bursts of gunfire killing the cyclists and fallen guards. At the same moment, the other prisoners jumped over the sides of the truck, slowing to make the sharp curves of the road. Most of the prisoners were off and into the woods before anyone up front had a chance to know what happened. As the truck bed emptied, a burst was fired into the cab.
The first fugitives off the trucks ran to the dead cyclists and guards and confiscated the rest of their equipment, weapons and ammunition. In all, the whole escape took less than twenty seconds. By the time the convoy got stopped, the men were out of sight and the Germans couldn't go after them for fear of losing the rest of their prisoners. The getaway was very smooth.
Most escapees separated, but thirteen stayed together. The weapons and munitions were in their possession-three machine guns, two pistols and a small supply of bullets. With those, they decided to carry the war to their enemy.
For the next three, days they moved continuously through the forests. In running from the Germans, they came across a band of Ukrainian partisans. Their paths crossed purely by accident and both groups considered it extremely good fortune. The partisans numbered about thirty and the thirteen Jewish escapees wanted to join forces with them.
The Jews were still in their Soviet Army uniforms and the partisans realized these men were probably well trained-battle seasoned men. Many questioned the Jews-over and over-about their escape and all they had gone through before and after. They were finally satisfied that the fugitives where what they claimed-escaped prisoners of war, Jews, who wanted to join in the fight against the Nazis.
Not until they convinced the Jews that they believed their story did the partisans ask them to turn over their weapons. "We would be proud to have you with us, but we must ask that you turn over your weapons until we return to our camp. It is a precaution we must take. And beside that, we will distribute weapons when you go out on raids."
Overjoyed that they had been accepted into the organization, the Jews did not hesitate to relinquish their arms.
They were taken to the encampment.
"Now," the leader of the partisans began, "we must get you out of those uniforms-what's left of them. Follow this man to our supply cache. He will get you other clothes and show you where to bury your uniforms."
They were led off into the woods.
Moshe Pinsker, an orthodox Jew who had been the brunt of Christian anti-Semitism all his life and was sensitive and skeptical of all non-Jews and strangers, told his companions, Boris and Uri, "I feel uneasy, don't ask me why. I kept the pistol and bullets I'd taken off the Germans. The further we walk with that partisan, the less I liked it. I feel the pistol under my shirt. I'm glad I kept it. It has a full clip of bullets in it and I have one extra clip in my pocket. It makes me feel a little better, but not enough."
They'd been near the front of the group when starting into the forest; but as the feeling got stronger, they started to slip further back, whispering Moshe's fears to others as they passed. Most paid them no mind. After covering a little over a kilometer only these two, Boris and Uri had lagged back with Moshe. Now at the rear of the group, they turned off the indistinct path. They followed the sounds of the others, but at about thirty yards to the rear and side, Moshe repeated his fears, whispering, "I tell you there is something terribly wrong here. I would think the trail to their supplies would be frequently traveled. That path shows no sign of heavy traffic. And I cannot believe they would keep their supplies so far from their encampment. I don't trust them, but I don't know how to convince the others."
Boris interrupted, "'I think you are overly suspicious, Moshe. I think we should catch up with the others."
It was at that very moment that the three heard voices. The others had come to a clearing and there found three more partisans waiting for them with the automatic weapons they had taken from them earlier. Creeping closer they heard one say, "All right, you Jews, get your asses over there. Men, let's make this fast. We have their equipment. There's no reason to burden ourselves with these Yids any longer." If there was anymore said, it was drowned out by the noise of guns. When the firing stopped, all they heard was the laughter and joking of the Ukrainians.
Moshe, Boris and Uri ran.
9
Rachel...
Rachel was from Minsk. She was the only child of a third generation rabbi of that city. Her mother had died in 1939 of cancer; and though the orthodox tradition encouraged a widower to seek a new wife after a reasonable period of morning, her father had not been able even to consider it. Rachel ran his household and filled in the duties of rebbitsin for the congregation whenever she could.
When the war broke out between Russia and Germany in June of 1941, Minsk had a Jewish population of 90,000-about one third of the city's population. On June 28th, 1941, just three days after Rachel's nineteenth birthday and the announcement of her engagement to a young local merchant, Avraham Rakitch, the Germans occupied Minsk.
Within days, the city's commandant ordered all males between the ages of 15 and 45 to "report and register." Both Rachel's father and Avraham were included in that group. Since evasion was punishable by death, an estimated forty thousand men reported. The mass of humanity marched to a field at Drozdy, just outside the city. There the forty thousand men were divided into three groups: Soviet military men caught up in the occupation, Jews and non-Jewish civilians. For five days, they were kept in that field for processing, during which time Rachel had no news of her men. On the fifth day, all the non-Jewish civilians, who could prove they were neither military personnel nor Communist party members, were allowed to return to their homes.
After release of the non-Jews, the Germans commanded all of the Jewish lawyers, dentists, physicians, educators, rabbis and professional men to make themselves known. Several thousand men qualified, among them Rachel's father. From that group only the physicians were taken aside. The rest were marched to a nearby forest where they were machine-gunned to death-but not before they were made to dig their own mass grave.
The remaining Jews were crammed into Minsk prison. It took several days before news could be smuggled out to Rachel and the other Jewish mothers, wives and daughters as to the fate of their loved ones.
Rachel set aside her own grief, comforting many of the hysterical women in her murdered father's congregation. Not until August 20th did the Germans release the imprisoned Jews. Thousands had already died. Upon his release, Rachel's fianc e, Avraham Rakitch, went directly to her and demanded she prepare to leave the city with him. Earlier that day, the city commandant had issued an order establishing the Minsk Ghetto, declaring that all Jews had to move into the confined area.
"These Germans are not human. They are not the civilized people we have been led to believe they are. Get together what you can carry - take nothing you don't absolutely need. We are getting out - now! Tomorrow may be too late. You can't believe how they treated us in that prison. They hate us Jews worse than the Russians do!"
"But, Avraham, I have a r
esponsibility to..."
"Your responsibility now is to salvage your own life, Rachel. It will do no good for you to die with those foolish enough to stay. And believe me, many are going to try to escape. It's all we talked of in prison. Now get your things together. We leave as soon as it gets dark."
Rachel and Avraham fled the city that night and became forest people-a new, growing society of Jews. They traveled through the forests by night, heading south in hopes of finding some partisans to join. After five nights of travel, they crossed the border into the Ukraine. Though still behind German lines, they were getting closer to the front. But the front was now moving to the south and east faster than they were.
After two days travel into the Ukraine, they finally came across a partisan band. The couple was in the forest, lost-exhausted. She was falling asleep when Avraham shook her awake. He hushed her before she could speak. "Someone is coming," he whispered. She could hear footsteps through the dry brush on the forest floor. Avraham motioned her to follow him into some high weeds. There was no trail. If these were Germans the only hope was to be under cover. It sounded like a whole army approaching. No effort was made to quiet their steps. Certain that they were the Nazis, the couple was frightened.
But then they heard talk among the men. It turned out to be Ukrainian. Still, they maintained silence. The group passed by. Rachel and Avraham waited, then Avraham signaled her to follow him again. He headed in the direction they had gone, led by their sounds. "I want to be sure they aren't Ukrainian collaborators before we make ourselves known," he said in hushed voice. In almost the same instant they were grabbed from behind-arms about their throats-knives pressed into their ribs, "Resist and you're dead!"
She could feel the sharp point cutting through her clothing-biting into the outer layer of her flesh. The arm choked off her air until she thought she'd taken her last breath. Not until strong hands secured both her arms did the choking grasp free her throat. The fresh air rushed in. Her heart drummed wildly and she thanked God it hadn't stopped. Apparently she and Avraham had been following between the main body of men and a rear guard.
"Search them!" one of the guards shouted.
"We are friendly!" Avraham cried.
"Shut up! We decide who's friendly. Search them!"
Rachel was too terrified to speak. The thought struck her that they had indeed run into Ukrainian collaborators. There were now seven of them, two more coming out of the trees when they heard the commotion the first five made. Two held Rachel, two held Avraham. They didn't struggle and she could feel their grips on her arms ease. She realized they had cut the circulation to her hands.
One of them stood perhaps two meters in front of her, leveling a rifle at her head. Another pointed his weapon at Avraham. He was the one who shouted all the orders at the other men. Again he shouted, "Search them!"
One walked to Avraham and looked directly into his eyes. "Don't struggle. It will go easier for both of us." His hands slid over Avraham's entire body seeking the bulge of a hidden weapon. "He has nothing," the man finally announced.
"Look for identity papers!" the leader replied.
The man pushed his hands into each of Avraham's pockets. They were empty. He opened Avraham's shirt. He loosened Avraham's belt and opened his trousers to make sure nothing was hidden there.
"This one's a Jew!" he laughed. In his search he saw Avraham was circumcised. His tone was terrifying! "But there are no papers."
"Search the woman!"
All eyes but Avraham's turned toward her. His head hung tearfully toward the ground. Rachel swallowed back her own tears as she awaited her fate. Avraham felt her anguish and was defeated by the knowledge of their helplessness.
As the searcher approached her, he looked directly into her eyes, as he had into Avraham's, but a sickening smirk twisted onto his face. She looked around at her captors with pleading eyes, hoping for a sympathetic look-someone who might intervene. They all had those eager grins-waiting. Only their leader was without expression. No help would come from him either.
Fear rushed through every cell of her body ahead of his hands as they slipped over her clothing, slowing at her breasts, then going down...
She thought she might faint and then she heard, "She has no weapon." A reprieve!
"Look for papers!"
The reprieve was short lived.
She felt her blouse open-heard snickers. His foul breath penetrated her nostrils and a wave of nausea ran through her stomach as he stepped closer to reach around inside her clothing. His rough hands felt inside Rachel's tattered brassiere. She broke into uncontrollable tears and she heard Avraham whimpering.
"No! Please, no!" She screamed, as his hands probed inside her other undergarments. "No! We are not your enemy! We have nothing for you."
"Enough!" the commander said. "Bring the man to me." His words seemed heaven sent.
He had been putting questions to Avraham for some time before Rachel could pull herself together to notice what he was asking.
"Are you alone?"
"Are there more of you in the woods?"
"Do you have anything hidden?"
"Are you both Jews?"
"Why were you following us?"
Avraham answered all his questions, convincing him that they were who they claimed to be.
"You say you want to join us to fight the Nazis? I've never known a Jew to fight!" He laughed and his men responded in kind. "Besides, our mission is to kill Nazis-not save Jews."
A shot rang out!
Rachel screamed, "Avraham!" as she saw him slump to the ground.
After the echo of that shot died out she heard him tell his men, "Use her as you like!"
She heard her clothing rip, felt the hot, smelly breath of the first man as he grabbed her. Now God was merciful-for she would remember nothing else. She fainted into unconsciousness and hours later her ravaged body was left for dead in the forest next to Avraham's corpse.
10
Dovka...
Dovka, at twenty four, had earned a law degree, unheard of for a woman or a Jew in the Ukraine. Her father was a judge, also very unusual for a Ukrainian Jew. Her family had been one of the first to be wiped out by the Nazis.
She had not been home at the time of the roundup, but her father, mother and two younger brothers were hanged in the public square as reprisals for an act of resistance. Dovka saw the terrible execution from a window overlooking the square. The town was in the northwest, one of the first overrun by the Germans.
Her neighbors warned her before she returned home, when her parents and siblings had been rounded up by the Germans; and they hid her in an attic overlooking the square.
As she watched the executions in horror, she decided she would extract revenge on the Germans and any Ukrainians who were in sympathy with the atrocities against the Jews. Right then she decided she would have to go to the forests. All her life she had thought that disputes were best settled with reason in the courts. But that was for civilized societies. These Germans and the Ukrainians who cheered as the executions were carried out were not civilized.
She told her rescuers that she was leaving after dark. Several asked to go with her. She agreed. A natural leader, they followed her. When she let herself out into the cover of darkness that night, seven Jews accompanied her into the forest, five men and two women. Dovka fell into the undisputed role of leader in the effort to escape certain death. As they picked up others who had independently fled to the forests, she remained their leader.
11
Yorgi...
Exhaustion overtook Yorgi Tzarof.
Sleep claimed him right there on the dusty ground where his German captors threw him. He was unconscious of the search of his clothes by other prisoners. He had nothing of value on him except his shoes, which were quickly removed while he slept. Now he was completely ignored by other prisoners who wandered aimlessly or just sat around in the vast compound.
Yorgi awoke after four and a half hours of motionless
sleep. He had to think a moment before he could recall where he was-Darnitsa! He opened his eyes very slowly, but still didn't move. Finally he raised his head cautiously and looked around. There were thousands of prisoners in the compound and to Yorgi's relief none seemed the least concerned with him.
He had been in prisoner of war camps before. He knew the other prisoners could be as dangerous as the guards-more dangerous. He sat up. Damn it, they got my shoes, he realized. He made no outward sign of emotion or recognition of the fact. Oh well, I'll get others. At least it's warm weather. But I'll need a pair before I escape. All in its time...
Darnitsa was across the Dnieper River from Kiev, a suburb made up mostly of working class people. During World War I, the area had hosted an enormous prisoner of war camp. At that time, it had been the Germans who died inside the barbed wire by the thousands. Now, the Germans had turned the tables on their former keepers. These Russian prisoners could not complain that they were being treated any worse than they had treated the Germans nearly a quarter century earlier. In those days, hundreds of Germans died daily in Darnitsa, from hunger, exhaustion, exposure and disease. If more Russians died now, it was only because there were more of them detained in the same area.
As Yorgi looked about him, he saw a mass of wretched humanity. Most had dull, unseeing, emotionless expressions. They'd soon be reduced to spiritless animals. Draining them of all hope and ambition made control of them easier. Yorgi wondered whether most cared if they took another breath.
He'd been in other prisoner camps, but none like this. Sixty or seventy thousand men were enclosed by barbed wire in this place. The ground was hard, dry and dusty. There had been an abundance of plant life here before it had been reclaimed as a prisoner compound, but all of that had been picked and eaten by starving men-picked clean, down to the last blade of grass.
There was a stench common to all such camps of urine, vomit, feces and the odor of bodies not cleaned in days or weeks. At least here it appeared, they removed the dead quickly, so the horrible smell of death did not add to the other disgusting odors.
The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII (Boomer Book Series) Page 5