Resistance (25 page)

A group of eighteen members of the pioneering movement, mostly members of Dror, left Warsaw for the region of Hrubieszow in the Lublin district at the height of the deportation in August. A Jewish partisan cell in the forest of the area was being organized, and its members were to join with the group that had left Warsaw. The Warsaw group made its way by train, bearing documents that had been prepared for them by Joseph Kaplan using official paper and insignia at his disposal at the office of the OBW.

At a small station near their destination, the travelers were arrested by the Germans, their documents were discovered to be false, and they were all tortured and put to death, except for one, who succeeded in evading the Germans and returning to Warsaw. Then, on September 3, a police car pulled up outside the little office of the OBW enterprise, and an unknown German got out and asked to see Joseph Kaplan. This did not arouse suspicion, for Kaplan actually worked in the office and was familiar with its affairs. Only later did observers notice that there was another person seated in the German car, Israel Zelzer, one of the few members of Gordonia who had remained in Warsaw and had been one of the group destined for Hrubieszow.

Kaplan, one of the outstanding figures in the underground and a founder of the fighting organization, was arrested and taken into the police car. Efforts were immediately made to follow the men and discover their whereabouts in order to try to save them. Shmuel Breslaw, one of the leaders of Hashomer Hatzaír in Warsaw, was assigned the task. He was soon detected because it was forbidden to be in the streets during the working day. Without having time to evade the German car that had stopped alongside the pavement, Breslaw was asked to identify himself. He pulled out a knife and attacked the uniformed German sitting in the car. He was shot on the spot.

In the confusion that followed, a member of the organization, Reginka Justman, was instructed to transfer the organization's cache of weapons from the store in Mila Street to the Dror hostel in Dzielna Street. She left after working hours, when it was possible to move about and there were quite a few people in the streets. But she too was caught. The weapons were confiscated, and she was then taken to the
Umschlagplatz.

The organization lost two of its leaders and its store of arms on the same day. Kaplan was taken to the Pawiak Prison, situated on the border of the ghetto. A policeman connected to the underground, Arieh Grzybowski, was instructed to stand near the gates of the prison to observe whether Kaplan would be moved. Indeed, a few days later, Kaplan and Zelzer, together with a small group of Jews, were taken from the prison to the
Vmschlagplatz.
The Jewish policeman Engelman followed the convoy in the hope that he would be able to free Kaplan. But during the march, one of the German policemen separated Kaplan and Zelzer from the rest, pushed them into the entranceway of a house, and shot them. Only Reginka Justman escaped the mayhem. After the store of weapons had been found, she was taken to the assembly point and at that juncture saved by members of the organization.

One of those present at the funeral of Shmuel Breslaw in the Jewish cemetery in Gesia Street described the scene:

 

We escorted Shmuel on his last journey and said farewell to Joseph in our hearts.... We stood on the edge of the open grave. Scenes flickered by like a film. Burning memories. Chapters from the past as painful as blows. Joseph and Shmuel—all the stages of war behind them. Until the end—nameless and cruel. They were weary, left only with the strength of stubbornness which does not succumb, without finishing their life's mission. And who will take up their flag?

Soon it will be our turn. And those of Joseph and Shmuel's friends outside the walls, and those who had never heard of them—will they be given any sign or indication of what is happening here? A small group of youngsters at the far end of a large Jewish cemetery in a city where Jewish life is ebbing.... We stand in frozen silence, bending over the grave. The lament—they are eulogizing the dead. In strong and harsh words directed mainly to those who have survived, and someone quietly begins to sing: "Strengthen the hands of our brothers"
[Tecbezakna yedei kol acheinu]..
. Everyone quietly joins in.

 

And Abraham Levin, whose daughter Ora worked with the OBW group in the cemetery and took part in Shmuel's funeral, wrote in his diary on Thursday, September 3, "Shmuel's funeral, which took place in the presence of the guards who worked in the cemetery ... is our tragedy according to Ora's story. God Almighty!" Under the heading "Opposition," Ringelblum wrote a hurried comment: "The role of the youth, the only ones to remain on the battlefield. People with imagination. Shmuel would not get through the tragedy of the ghetto alive."

The deaths and loss of the arms cache were direct strikes at the heart of the fighting organization. Brave efforts and endless devotion had been invested until the few could find their way and a nucleus was established from which action could be expected. And then, without warning, on a day during the expulsion that was actually easier than many others, a series of incidents—neither planned nor intentional on the part of the enemy—left everyone feeling absolutely helpless. In this way the impulsive acts of a group of young people were rendered powerless by the enemy's omnipotent strength.

The young organization was suffering from shock and despair. Zuckerman, in an unrelenting chapter of his memoirs, describes the atmosphere of "the days of September 1942," when members of the organization spent the time of the catastrophic "cauldron" in hiding in Mila Street. On September iz, when the deportation was showing signs of ending, a group of veteran members of the organization met. They spoke of Joseph with sadness, full of secret longings and a sense of finality. Zuckerman continued:

 

The words were bitter, heavy and determined. There would be no Jewish opposition. We were too late. The people are gone. When there were hundreds of thousands in Warsaw, we could not manage to organize a Jewish striking force—how could we succeed in doing so now when there are only tens of thousands left. We did not manage to train the masses. We have no weapons, and it is unlikely that we will get any. There is no strength to begin anew. The people are destroyed, our honor crushed.

This small group still has the strength to restore our honor. Let us go out into the streets tomorrow, burn down the ghetto and attack the Germans. We will be killed. It is fitting that we should be killed. But our honor will be victorious. There will be a day when we are remembered: the youth of this helpless people have risen and saved our honor with everything they had.

 

Zuckerman described his reaction to these remarks:

 

The failure and shame is great. The acts that are being proposed are acts of desperation. They will vanish without a trace. The harm done to the enemy will be insignificant, and the youth will die. Until now, we have suffered endless failures, and we will experience further defeats. We must start anew. For the time being, the action is at an end. Possibly, there will be a comparative standstill, for weeks and perhaps months. Every day is a windfall ... perhaps we will succeed after all.

 

Zuckerman's comments accurately reflect the disappointment and hopelessness of those days. Members no longer relied on their leaders, no longer blindly believed in their understanding and resourcefulness. The certainty that their leaders could help the group through the obstacles and act promptly at the right time was undermined. The feelings of the rank and file, which were sometimes accompanied by ridicule and outbursts, was that members should go out immediately, without delay, and even with empty hands, with clenched fists, take vengeance on those Jews who took part in uprooting the Jews and kill every German who appeared in the streets of the ghetto. The determination was simple: no more delays, no grandiose plans that would never be realized.

Arieh Wilner, who since the loss of Kaplan and Breslaw had not moved from the ghetto to his post on the Aryan side, claimed that he knew from a reliable source that there was to be an interval in the deportation. His advice: They must stop the grumbling and fatalistic moods and find the strength during the interval of time available to prepare for the inevitable struggle. The organization would fight when the last of the Jews were being taken from the ghetto. It was possible to obtain weapons and to prepare and strengthen themselves. Impatience was an act of despair and disintegration, which not only would not affect the murderers and those responsible, but also would not earn the agreement and support of the remaining Jews of the ghetto.

Wilner's statement was made in the same spirit as Zuckerman's assumptions, but his approach was accepted unwillingly and with some hesitation. From the point of view of the Jewish Fighting Organization, which had no sooner begun when it suffered heavy losses, this marked the conclusion of the expulsion.

T
HE GHETTO WAS
never the same again. What remained was merely a sort of temporary working camp. Most of the ghetto was empty. Building after building, street after street was abandoned. Their Jews had been deported and the streets resembled a ghost town. Only four enclaves—groups of buildings, entire streets, and parts of streets adjoining various enterprises—were set aside as housing for the remaining Jews. Each enclave was separated from the others. Traffic was forbidden in the no man's land that divided these quarters, and all communication between sectors was banned.

The largest and most populated enclave was the "central ghetto," which encompassed some of the major streets of Jewish Warsaw, such as Nalewki, Gesia, Mila, Muranowska, and others. In its structure and arrangement, it resembled the old ghetto more than did any of the other enclaves. The Judenrat, headed by Czerniakow's former deputy, Marc Lichtenbaum, was located there, as were the remnants of the Jewish Police. This Judenrat bore no resemblance to the institution that formerly bore the name. Its responsibilities were curtailed and its existence mainly served as a cover for the employment of the many administrative officials.

Many of the "illegals" found refuge in the central ghetto, where they could slip into empty houses and occupy apartments. This ghetto was also the site of some workshops, including what was left of the OBW. Many of those who were employed, however, worked in the
Werterfassung,
a workers' unit owned by the SS which collected objects and property left behind by the expelled population. The Germans even permitted the "illegals" to perform this type of work and by doing so provided them with de facto recognition and the right to stay in the ghetto.

The three other enclaves were actually nuclei of workshops and isolated shops, with adjacent residential housing. The largest of these centers was the enclave that occupied a major portion of Leszno Street, Nowolipie, and several other lanes. Two large workshops were situated in this center: Walter C. Többens and K. G. Schultz. In the two other centers, brushmakers were situated in parts of streets near the "central ghetto" and in the small enclave that included a branch of the Többens enterprise in Prosta Street. This enclave was in an area comparatively distant from the other quarters of the ghetto.

The municipal doctor of the Warsaw ghetto, M. Lensky, described the ghetto as he remembered it:

 

Traffic in the streets was limited from 5 to 7:30 in the morning and from 4 to 8 in the evening. It was only during these hours that food and provisions could be bought, people could obtain necessities or visit one another. But during the day, the Jews lived in fear ... when I looked out of the window of my room, I could see three streets: Gesia, Nalewki, Franciszkanska. The appearance of the streets during the hours between 8 and 4 aroused in me a feeling of horror, and the slightest knock at the door instilled fear.

Are there no signs of renewed action? There was not a sound in the streets. From time to time, one got a glimpse of a bent-over Jew clinging to the wall and scurrying from entrance to entrance like a mouse, until he was swallowed up by an open entranceway and disappeared. Most entrance gates were closed, for there were workshops in the houses, and alongside the entrance gates stood Jewish guards from among the working personnel who permitted no one to enter, h was only possible to enter houses that had no institutions or factories. Even the gates of the hospital were closed from 8 to 3. Entering and leaving was forbidden.

 

As in the past, the ghetto's food, which had been drastically reduced, was generally brought into the ghetto by smuggling. Professional smuggling was almost nonexistent, but the activities of worker-smugglers increased when they would leave in the morning to work in various services for the Germans and return to the ghetto in the evening.

Ironically enough, life became easier at this final stage of the ghetto's existence; hunger abated significantly and the death rate declined. The deported had left their possessions behind, and these could be traded for food by those who had remained. The elderly, the children, the weak, and the poor had been deported. Those who remained were for the most part stronger young men and women who could withstand more successfully the illnesses that had swept the ghetto and led to the high death rate among the enfeebled inhabitants.

The Jewish population after the expulsion consisted of a lonely and isolated remnant of the once vast and varied Jewish population of Warsaw. Most of the 55,000–60,000 who remained were workers. Frequently, only one person remained out of whole families, and it often occurred that in the short time the ghetto was to exist, single men and women lived together, often more out of loneliness than love. They were motivated by the powerful desire to escape the loneliness and suffering, the urge to enjoy life while it was still possible. Signs of disintegration and the neglect of accepted moral norms were also evident in other aspects of life. However, only a few instances of violent crimes were recorded, and not even one case of murder among the last Jews of the Warsaw ghetto.