The Takeaway Men

by Meryl Ain

  “Why can’t they tell us themselves?” JoJo asked. “Why are you speaking for them?” She’d had enough of Faye’s meddling. Was Faye acting as the emcee here or the judge? Why was it that Faye had to control and interject herself into every situation? She could believe her mother loved them, but Papa, not so much.

  “They will speak, but I want you to be respectful,” Faye continued. “All parents make mistakes and learn from them. Think about it, parents are just human beings who are a generation older than their children. There’s no school that teaches parenting.”

  At that moment, Bronka realized that Faye and Izzy knew what was coming.

  “Okay, Faye, that’s enough,” snapped Izzy. “Let Aron speak.”

  “It’s my fault; I didn’t want your mother to tell you,” Aron explained. His voice cracked with emotion. “The time was never right. I didn’t want you burdened by the past. No, I was not like Jakob Zilberman, who tells everyone in his line of vision what happened. Who is to say what is right? Is it better to be completely open and honest or to protect my children? I did not want to share my personal darkness with you. I thought I was protecting you. I wanted you to be carefree Jewish-American girls, released from the demons of Europe, safe from the graveyard of Poland. But I have to say, Bronka, I am very disappointed that you spoke to Mama in such a disrespectful manner.”

  Bronka did not say a word. All she saw was a brooding, melancholy man. Who knew if he was even capable of love? He ordered her mother around as if she was his servant, and he was constantly annoyed by Faye’s big mouth. He was only pleasant with strangers—in the bakery and in the shul. She had wanted to know what made him so miserable. But he was mum. Her mother had given her clues here and there, but her sixth sense had always told her there was more. Did he really think he had been protecting his children? They could see his despair; they could feel his depression, even if he did not say a word.

  “Bronka was just shocked.” Her twin rose to her defense, knowing her sister would not have the nerve to defend herself, and generally being disdainful of her father. “She takes Judaism very seriously. And you know, she is very honest. She never liked fake things. Remember, how she even thought Tiny Tears was phony? Of course, she was stunned to hear that Mama was being nominated as a Righteous Gentile. I, on the other hand, can tolerate shades of gray. I think it’s neat that we have Christian blood and our aunt is a nun—”

  “Shoin genug,” Aron said. “Stop it this minute. What a mouth on you. You sound like Hitler. Religion is not about blood. It’s about belief and kavannah.”

  “Don’t you dare compare me with Hitler. I’m an American girl, and I’m proud of it. You’ll never be a real American because you’re buried in the past.”

  “You and your sister are both impossible,” Aron yelled as he got up from his seat. “How dare you upset your mother like this?” He was screaming as he raised his hand and slapped JoJo across her face.

  Her face smarted from the slap, and she started to cry. Aron had never hit either of the girls before. But so close were the twins, that Bronka felt the sting, the humiliation, and the anger too. The twins sobbed in unison.

  This is not going well, Izzy thought. He needed to be the adult in the room. “If you guys keep this up, it’s only a matter of time before Irv Rosen and his pal, Detective Sergeant Moe Solomon, will be snooping around here, trying to find out who’s disturbing the peace. Let’s make up and have a civil conversation.”

  “I am ready to talk if the girls want to hear,” Aron said. “But I don’t want to be interrupted with snide remarks.”

  “Do you want to hear the story?” Izzy the peacemaker asked. “And do you promise to just listen, and not comment?”

  “Yes,” said JoJo, still furious, but tremendously curious about the man who had just slapped her, and the mother who had not yet said a word.

  “Sure,” Bronka said. At that moment, she could not imagine that anything her father would say could possibly soften her aching heart.

  “My father was a respected doctor in Kielce, Poland,” Aron began. “He was admired not only for his medical skills, but also for his kindness and generosity. He treated both Jews and Christians. We lived in a big stone house; my father’s office was on the main floor. I was the oldest child; I had two sisters and two brothers. My grandfather was a rabbi. We were a religious family, observing Shabbos and kashrus. Most of the Jews—about seventy-five percent—were Orthodox.

  “Before the war, the families of Jewish doctors, lawyers, and factory owners, like our family, lived in wealth. Other Jews lived in poverty. Most were neither rich nor poor and were involved in trade and crafts. Jewish merchants accounted for more than half of Kielce’s shoemakers, tailors, bakers, butchers, haberdashers, shoemakers, and saddlers. There were also the teachers who taught in Jewish schools, and rabbis who served the Great Synagogue and more than thirty other prayer houses in Kielce. One of these was my grandfather. During the war, the entire Jewish community became poorer and poorer.

  “Before the war, we had a maid and a cook and also a nanny for the two youngest children, who were fifteen and seventeen years younger than I. We went on vacations to a resort at Karlove Vary. On Sundays, we went on outings to the forest of the district stadion, where there was a rifle range, swimming pool, and tennis courts.

  “We learned about the outbreak of war on the radio and that bombs were falling on the army barracks on Bukowka. We were shocked during the first days of the war. Bombs destroyed Mr. Sobelski’s tannery and Mr. Breiner’s sawmill. The drone of the German airplanes frightened us. We saw Polish troops leaving, and refugees started moving east. At the beginning, we thought this could not last long.

  “I was supposed to go to medical school and become a doctor and go into practice with my father. But Hitler ended all that. When the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939, my life changed. Jews were persecuted, barred from education, and eventually driven from their homes and murdered. Instead of becoming a prosperous doctor like my father, I became prey for the Nazis. If I did not wear the Star of David, I could be arrested or shot. Poles who used to be our friends and neighbors turned against us. We did not know who we could trust. It was very confusing. I went out of the house as little as possible. My plans and dreams were shattered.

  “Still, we could not have imagined how much worse things would get. When the Nazis occupied Poland, many Jews, including my parents, could not believe that the Germans—a nation of great intelligence and culture—could treat the Jews in such a cruel and sadistic way.

  “They confiscated and plundered Jewish property and businesses. The Germans took over Jewish factories. They gave Jews the dirtiest jobs, making them clean toilets with their coats. I saw them beat up a man and set fire to his beard.

  “The Great Synagogue in Kielce was plundered and closed, as were the smaller prayer houses. Still with the hope things would get better soon, I married Sarah Rabinowicz, whose father was also a doctor. We were married by my grandfather in our house because religious weddings had been banned. At first, we lived in the big house with my parents and siblings. Over time, the Nazis forbade Jews from practicing medicine, law, and other professions and from engaging in business. Businesses were confiscated, and we were driven from our homes.

  “In 1941, the Germans established a ghetto in Kielce, where all the Jews were forced to live. At first, my mother thought that since my father was a well-known doctor, and we were such a fine family, we would be treated better than the ordinary Jews and not have to go there. Especially because he also treated and was friendly with many Christians. But my family was sent to the ghetto anyway, along with all our lantzmen. Our entire extended family was stuffed into a tiny two-room flat. The ghetto was in a very small area, which was enclosed with a fence and barbed wires. There were signs: ‘Closed area. No entrance. Jewish Ghetto.’ It was the poorest district of Kielce. The buildings did not have running water, and sewage flowed in the gutters. Even though we were forced from our beautiful home, my p
arents thought the war would end and we would return. They left their valuables with a Polish doctor who was a colleague of my father.

  “Believe it or not, at first some of the Jews actually were happy at being sent to the ghetto. They thought the Jews would be left in peace and joked it would be like Tel Aviv. But that soon proved wrong. We were hungry all the time, and we were closed in like a prison. After a few weeks, some Poles started bringing us food and other supplies, like medicine.

  “Your mother was one of those Poles. I first met her when she was a young girl. Her mother, Bronka, was a nurse who assisted my father in his office. It is only because of your mother that I am alive today. Dyta, tell them the story of how you saved my life.”

  “Why don’t you tell it?” Judy suggested. She was not sure if he was deferring to her because he wanted her to tell it in her own words and was afraid he would not do her justice. Or was he incapable of giving his wife her due? Was he still ambivalent about what had happened? Or was it just too painful? She would never know.

  “I want they should hear it from you,” he said.

  Fine, she thought, if that’s what he wants, I’ll tell it myself.

  “Before the Nazis came, Poles often did business with Jews or used Jewish doctors,” Judy said. “Papa’s parents were very kind and generous to my family. When I was little, I sometimes accompanied my mother to work, and Papa and his family were always very nice to us. As I got older, I worked as a nursing assistant in the office. I, too, had my plans cut short by the Nazis. I wanted to become a nurse like my mother. But my mother died right before the German invasion, and my father began drinking heavily. My sister left home and became a nun. Once the war broke out, my father, who was a Polish policeman, started voicing anti-Semitic remarks. I didn’t know if it was the drink, political expedience, or if he really believed these things. I spent less and less time at home, and I began working with the Polish resistance.

  “When the Jews were herded into the Kielce ghetto, I first began to bring them food and blankets right outside the ghetto walls. Then in 1942, the Germans decreed that the penalty for leaving the ghetto illegally was death. It was then that I thought about doing more. One day, while I was in church, a friend from school approached and asked me to come with him. To my surprise, there was my sister, Krystyna, in the mother superior’s office. In front of my sister, the mother superior, and the parish priest, he asked me if I wanted to save children. I said yes, and he told me they had a plan, but first I had to agree to join the Polish Underground. I agreed.

  “The plan was that I would put on my mother’s nurse’s uniform and pretend I was a Red Cross nurse, going in and out of the ghetto. The Nazis were terrified of typhus, and my story was that I was going in to check for disease. I endured the ogling—and even groping—of the Gestapo and the Polish police. They whistled at me and blew me kisses. And I blew kisses back, even though they disgusted me. The Resistance provided me with a truck and a driver. They had painted a Red Cross on it, so with the uniform and the truck, I looked official.

  “Along with the driver, we smuggled in food and medicine, clothing, blankets, and supplies. On our way out, we took babies and children. Naomi, the woman who wrote the letter, must have been one of those children. Her last name was different then. We first went to the parents and got permission from them to take their children and promised we would try to reunite them when the war was over. It was always a very painful discussion. No one can see the future. Some agreed, but many did not. They still clung to the hope that the situation would get better. For those who gave us permission, we hid bigger children under blankets and towels and medical supplies. We smuggled out babies in tiny coffins with holes in them so they could breathe. I placed the babies in friendly Polish homes. I brought the older children, like Naomi, to the Convent of the Blessed Virgin Mary, where Krystyna was. Her mother superior, Mother Mary Martha, took them in and shielded them. The convent was the safest place for Jewish children during the war.

  “One day on my rounds, I spotted Papa. I told him that I had heard that the ghetto was going to be liquidated soon, and that I would like to take his little sister, Hannah, and his brother, Yosef, with me to safety in the convent. He said he would ask his parents. But they did not want to let the children go. They said they and their family were protected because his father was a doctor and the Germans had told them they needed doctors, and so they were safe. This part is Papa’s to tell, and I am only mentioning it because it is part of the story. He argued with them, but they would not part with the children because they were sure their family would be spared.

  “Then, the next day, I even went to visit them myself in the tiny flat in which the whole extended family was living, and begged them to let me take the children,” Judy continued. “They knew me, and they had known my mother. They knew I had only their best interests at heart. But they refused. Although I feared the children would end up dead, I also understood how unbearably difficult it must be to let your children go.

  “But your papa was logical and believed me. He got very angry with his parents, and everyone in the tiny flat started yelling and screaming, and the children began to cry. I tried to tell Papa’s parents that time was running out; the Nazis were going to liquidate the ghetto soon. I even appealed to his grandparents. But Aron’s mother still was convinced that they would not harm a doctor’s family. Aron finally realized that his parents were not going to let Hannah and Yosef go with me. But he believed me when I said there was trouble coming very soon. So he said that he and his wife would go with me instead of the children.

  “I had never smuggled adults out of the ghetto before, only children. So I improvised. I snuck them onto the truck and covered them with everything that was there—blankets, sacks, towels, and supplies. I waved at the policeman and blew a kiss as he motioned to let us go through without stopping.”

  “I will tell you the information I found out after the war from a Kielce survivor,” Aron interjected. “The liquidation of the ghetto took place during five days in August 1942. It happened only a few days after your mother warned us. The Nazis shot about a thousand people, mainly children, pregnant women, and the old and sick, including little Hannah, my brother, Yosef, and my grandparents. The rest were taken to the death camp, Treblinka, where my older sister and brother were killed.

  “The Jews who were left in the ghetto, including the doctors and skilled workers, were about fifteen hundred, crammed into fifty flats. They eventually shot or deported all of them except for the doctors and their wives.

  “Finally, on April 24, 1943, at noon, my parents met their fate. The Germans ordered all the doctors to get ready for a long trip. They were told that the camps did not have enough doctors and they were bringing them there. They told them they could bring their wives. The doctors and their luggage were packed into two trucks. At the Jewish cemetery, my mother and father, along with the remaining doctors and their wives, were undressed and shot. After throwing the dead and injured people into pits, the Nazis threw grenades at them. There was blood-curdling screaming and shouting.”

  Judy then spoke as tears streamed down her face. “You want the whole truth; well here it is.” She sat upright, now emboldened. She had finally found her own voice and wanted to tell the story herself. As she spoke, she began to realize how much the subterfuge and the secrecy had cost her during all these years. Once, she had been an outgoing, proactive, and courageous young woman, but ever since fleeing with Aron, she had been shy and withdrawn, afraid to take any initiative. Her secret past had paralyzed her. She fought back a flood of tears, but she was determined to go on, sensing that her forthrightness would free her. Why was she so afraid of Aron? He would not be alive if it were not for her.

  “In the cover of night, after I smuggled Papa and Sarah from the ghetto, I brought them to my house. Now I was taking my activities to a new level. I had been prepared to find hiding places for children, not adults. I had never hidden anyone in my own home before. But I co
uld not think of another option, so I hid them in our attic. I was very nervous. My father was becoming a belligerent drunk and an outspoken anti-Semite. Aron and Sarah were right under my father’s nose, and I was petrified that he would discover them.

  “After a few days, a German officer banged on the door. I went to answer it. My father was fast asleep in his room. The officer said he had information that there were Jews hiding in the area, did I know anything? I said of course not, but I would let him know if I heard or saw anything. My heart started to race. It occurred to me that perhaps my father had tipped him off. A few days before, he had attacked me and insinuated that I was helping Jews. I’m not sure if he knew then that they were in the house, but he had figured out for sure that I was helping Jews in some way.

  “Then the German officer looked me up and down with a lascivious look and touched my face and brushed my lips with his mouth. I was terrified. Poles were being hanged and shot and sent to concentration camps for helping Jews. It was illegal and punishable by death. And I did not want Papa and Sarah caught. He pressed me closer and thrust his tongue into my mouth. Although he disgusted me, I did not resist. When he left, he said he would be back again soon.

  “The next morning, when the truck came to my house, I told Papa and Sarah to get in and placed blankets and clothing and medical supplies on top of them. We drove them to the forest. Another member of the underground was a forester there, and his job was to help the Jews who were hiding. I brought them to him, left in a hurry, and said I would be back. He gave them tools and shovels to dig a bunker.

  “It was still summer, so I knew they would not freeze to death. I periodically returned to the forest with lumber, food, and medicine. In the fall, I brought warm clothing and a tarpaulin so they could build a roof on their hiding place for winter. I knew they were better off than the Jews I had seen being herded onto cattle cars and taken to death camps. But I knew their lives were in constant danger because Germans were known to patrol the forests. I had gotten beyond the point of being frightened for myself as I saw Poles hanging from trees for daring to help Jews.”