The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII (29 page)

That night of April 18, 1943, Jews from outside the Warsaw Ghetto celebrated the first night of Passover with the Jews inside the ghetto. They all knew this would probably be their last Passover. They chose to die fighting the Nazis.

While the world watched in silence, Himmler himself decided to destroy the Warsaw Ghetto. The Germans feared that if the Jews resisted, others might be encouraged. Better raze the entire ghetto and kill every Jew in it. Himmler intended to accomplish this in one day, so he could give Hitler a birthday present on April 20th-a message, "Warsaw ist Judenrein!-Warsaw is clean of Jews!"

To do the job, the Germans mobilized two thousand SS men and officers, three detachments of Wehrmacht artillery and mine experts, two battalions of German police, more than three hundred fifty Polish police and a battalion of turncoat Ukrainians who chose collaboration over prisoner of war camps. In addition, a massive force of seven thousand men was brought into the Warsaw area in case reinforcements were needed. The weapons of war to be used against the poorly equipped Jews were the most modern and sophisticated in the world. After all, the world would be watching and Himmler did not want to be embarrassed on the Fuhrer's birthday.

On the morning of April 19, Father Peter monitored the radio...

"The Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto are fighting. Armed uprising against the Germans..."

There was no more news than that.

The message was transmitted throughout the day. No details were given. The same message was received and relayed throughout occupied Europe and Russia. It was relayed to the free world.

"The Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto are fighting!"

On the evening of April 19, Father Peter heard another message relayed to the radio receivers of the Ukraine.

"Warsaw Ghetto Jews still hold the ghetto. Germans were beaten today. Fellow freedom fighters-join the revolt!" There were messages the night of the 20th and 21st and for many more nights. Each night, the listeners thought it would be the last. Each night, they were surprised and elated that the Jews still held the ghetto. Each night there was an appeal for help. Each night the appeal fell on deaf ears.

The fighters in the Ukraine were too far away-those who were near enough didn't help. Then the ghetto fighters appealed to the allied forces to bomb the Germans, to drop supplies, to help in any way they could.

No one seemed to care.

But the Warsaw Jews were prepared to fight to the end-alone if need be.

The days and nights turned into a week-that single week into a miraculous two. Each day the Jews fought heroically against staggering odds. They suffered savage casualties but fought back with unbelievable determination. Even the Germans officers developed a silent, unspoken respect for them. The German soldiers dreaded every time they had to enter the ghetto.

There was merciless shelling and mortar barraging of the area. If the Jews had given up at any time, they would still have had the respect of those who watched-those who watched but would not help. But the Jews refused to give up. They knew surrender meant death. So did continuing the battle. But they preferred to die with weapons in hand, even when those weapons were only sticks and clubs. And each day their broadcast confirmed they still had control of the ghetto.

On May 8th, the resistance in its twentieth day, the Germans came across the headquarters of the Jewish Fighting Organization, a large bunker at Mila 18. At the time, it hid about three hundred noncombatants and just under a hundred ghetto fighters. There were five outside entrances to the bunker. The Germans surrounded it. The bunker was terribly overcrowded and if there were any chance to make a fight of it, it would have to be emptied of some people. Under the circumstances, a majority of the noncombatants chose to give themselves up to the Germans, knowing full well they were probably going to their deaths.

Those who stayed in the bunker were given what weapons there were and prepared for war literally underground. But the Germans didn't come in. They sealed the five entrances and piped lethal gas down into the bunker. With the exception of a few who were accidentally near an air source, the fighters died either of suicide or of the horrible choking gas.

That night there was no message to the outside world. Mila 18 had been the communication point from which news of the actions was transmitted. It had been the coordination center of the Jewish Fighting Organization. But even though the communication and nerve center of the revolt was struck down, the Warsaw Ghetto was still not in the hands of the Germans.

On May 16, after four weeks of fighting, there was still enough resistance from the ghetto that Germans could not enter without risk. It was rubble. A continuous black smoke rose from smoldering buildings. The resistance was no longer organized, but death greeted any German who dared enter. There had been no surrender. Nevertheless, SS General Jurgen von Stroop sent word to his superiors that the Warsaw Ghetto no longer existed.

The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was a tremendous encouragement to all partisans in the occupied territories. With this, the first major uprising against the Germans in the entire war, the myth of the German super race was shattered forever. That, along with the daily reports of Russian victories, gave guerrilla fighters all the courage they needed to take on the enemy. Sabotage, ambushes, raids, harassment and reprisals were going on all over the occupied territories. In the Kiev area, the joint coordinated actions of the two Jewish groups became intolerable to the Nazis.

Diadia Misha's group encamped themselves about fifteen kilometers from the family camp. Because of the permanence of the family camp many of the elderly and noncombatants from Misha's group joined the community. Solomon frequently traveled the distance between the camps to coordinate activities. Both were keeping radio silence now.

He enjoyed the trips through the forest during the spring and summer months. Often he would be accompanied by Rachel and then the journey would be especially wonderful. They would pretend it was a summer picnic outing, that there was no war, that they were free to pursue life. With the increasing number of reports coming in of Nazi retreats on the Russian front, they began to talk more and more of their future.

On one such occasion Solomon was particularly optimistic. The day was warm and beautiful and his mood was reflected in the brisk pace he set for Rachel as they walked. She loved it when he felt uplifted like this, but his buoyancy was wearing her out.

"Solomon darling. Please slow down. It's so lovely in the woods. Let's sit down a while and just enjoy it." She sat down on a huge fallen tree and made a place for him next to her. "Smell how fresh and sweet the air is." She grabbed at his hand and pulled him down to sit next to her.

"It really is a wonderful day, Rachel."

"It's a day when you could almost put the past out of your mind. It's a day to only think of now."

"It's better than that, Rachel." Solomon had an almost dreamy look in his eyes as he stared off into the little bit of blue sky that was allowed through the treetops. "It is a day to think about the future."

Rachel rested her head on Solomon's shoulder and hugged him gently. "Oh Solomon. There really will be a future for us. It makes me so happy to know you realize it, too. I do love you so!"

Sol was still caught up in his daydreams. "Can you imagine, Rachel, what it will be like in Palestine? The Zionists tell me it is like nowhere else in the world for a Jew. Our history began there-it's our heritage. They say it will someday be our nation again. Imagine it! Our own country-a place where we will be free-one place in this damned world where we will feel welcome, where we will be among our own people. Can you imagine it?"

"What do you mean, the Zionists tell you? Solomon, you are a Zionist! You know, it's all you ever talk about anymore. I think you've persuaded more of our group to go there than anyone else has."

"I guess you're right," Sol agreed with a chuckle. "But what else is there to do after the war? There's no place for us anywhere else in the world-except maybe America-and there's an ocean between there and us. To Palestine we can walk if necessary!"

"Are you sure there will be no place for the Jews in Europe or Russia after the war? Don't you think the world will be wiser for the tragedy it has witnessed now?"

"Did the world lift a finger for the ghetto Jews of Warsaw? The same apathy that let the Warsaw Ghetto Jews die will let the anti-Semites run rampant with their pogroms again. Whenever there will be problems in a country, the Jew will again be the scapegoat. We will live in freedom only if we have our own country."

"When will we go?"

"As soon as the way is clear."

"That might be a long time, Solomon."

He contemplated a moment, kicking at some loose pebbles. "If what the radio broadcasts is true, it may not be as long as we think. The German defenses are breaking down everywhere now. And with England and America becoming more of a threat-and the losses in Africa, Hitler's attentions are being divided. While Russia becomes stronger, the Nazi is weakening." He paused, picking at some bark from the tree trunk they were sitting on, then added, "And we must do everything we can to weaken him further!"

In the months after the two groups joined forces, their coordinated effort took a devastating toll of the German supplies and troops. Together they attacked trains, convoys, struck at factories, fuel depots, warehouses, small German outposts, whatever appeared to be important target. The partisans lost many of their own fighters, but now with the tide of the war turning and the Germans becoming more intolerable as occupiers of the Ukraine, more and more people wanted to join the resistance.

In all the cities and towns in the occupied areas, the Germans were now rounding up civilians for forced labor camps. People who had been willing quietly to outlast the occupation were now being threatened with deportation to German labor camps to the west. People would leave their homes in the morning and never return. And no one ever returned from a labor camp. The only way to avoid deportation was to bribe someone and few had anything to bribe with. Many of the young and able who remained in the occupied lands, who were the prime targets of roundups, preferred escape into the forests to join partisan groups.

Over the months, Major Hans Oberman turned partisan hunting into a science. More groups formed, but at the same time it became easier to run them down. Oberman was not capturing groups faster than they were organizing, but he made sure that only he knew that. He released to his superiors only the numbers he'd captured and destroyed. Statistics favorable to the partisans he kept strictly to himself. Oberman's only frustration was that he could not pinpoint the "Jewish group." He had no idea that now there were two in his area. By midsummer, "Getting those damned Jews!" obsessed him.

He pondered for hours at a time over his problem. He went into rages if someone disturbed his concentration. It insulted his intelligence to think the "sub-humans" could outsmart him. He was determined to get them. He had to get them! Each week that passed deepened his obsession. He had the map of those woods memorized. There were hundreds of locations that could hide a large contingent of Jews. How can he isolate them? Where could he hide his troops in those forests? There had to be an answer. And he knew when he found it, it would probably be a simple answer.

I've been working too hard on this problem, Oberman finally decided. "I must get away for a while and come back to it when I'm fresh. A new approach is what I need!"

He called one of his many women companions, Eva Kromer and arranged to go with her to a resort area the Germans had established for their officers. Eva was perfect for his needs. If anyone could take his mind off of his problem, it would be Eva. She was a perfect distraction. She had beautiful, long, red hair-when she let it down-and she let it down often. Eva was a little taller than Oberman, but that didn't bother him. Her long legs were curved gracefully, joined to her slim body by perfectly shaped buttocks. Nature had sculptured her face to go ideally with the rest of her body. She considered her freckles a flaw, but Oberman thought they made her even more attractive, contrasting with and setting off a sparkle in her blue eyes. She was one of many German women brought to Kiev once the Germans had settled in, to bring a little of home to officers of the Reich. Her looks alone were enough to distract most men from their problems, even if they didn't know that the only thing fierier than her flaming hair was her insatiable passion.

The ride to the resort took them through heavily wooded hills. In the chauffeur driven staff car, the beautiful Eva at his right, Oberman started to unwind. The driver had a difficult time keeping his eyes off Eva in his rear view mirror. She knew he was watching her and did all she could to provoke him. Oberman didn't notice. He thought the thigh she was showing was for his benefit.

The resort was old and posh, established nearly a century earlier to host aristocracy in the days of the Tsars. Now it was a favorite German hideaway. The palatial lodge had hundreds of rooms. It boasted seven elegant dining rooms, three ballrooms, billiard rooms and a library which had been emptied of most of its good books under the Communists and which had been restocked now with German volumes. There were three kitchens to prepare gourmet meals for the officer and their guests. There were several cocktail lounges and even more sitting rooms. A long porch graced the back of the building and overlooked formal gardens that led down to a large lake where Germans swam, sunned and went boating. About half the rooms were available to officers; the others housed a rotating complement of prostitutes, some imported from Germany, some brought in from the occupied countries. The rest of the sizable staff lived in special servant quarters. It was the type of building the Communists loved to destroy or cut up into apartments for the masses. Only because it was secluded and a place the Communist Party also used for high ranking officials, did it survive.