The End of Days (15 page)

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Authors: Helen Sendyk

Tags: #Biography & Autobiography, #Historical, #History, #Holocaust, #test

BOOK: The End of Days
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change her destiny. We were all condemned, all of us vulnerable to the fury of the bestial enemy. With full faith we entrusted our fate to the divine mercy of our Almighty God, unconditionally believing in his power to rescue us.
It had hardly been a year since the Germans occupied Poland. The world of nature seemed to proceed at its own pace. The summer was coming to a close. The evenings were cooler now, and the trees began shedding their coats of green. No one dared to steal into the Lebenfeld park to pick chestnuts. The Germans lived there now. No one even thought much about the holidays. It was the Germans who celebrated victories over us, the innocent, unprotected Jews. Jews were being punished for fictitious crimes. They were arrested for behaving unlawfully, buying from a Gentile, possessing a forbidden article, or congregating in the street.
Somehow the Germans always found Jews who misbehaved, disobeyed the law. These Jews were detained, jailed, and then shipped away, never to be heard from again. Israel Gerstner and his two sons were arrested when a Pole informed on them for allegedly baking bread illegally. The Pole claimed he saw smoke coming from their bakery's smokestack, which, of course, was a lie.
Shaye Malach was caught with illegal onions in his possession. Seven such criminals were not sent away; it was here in Chrzanow, their hometown, that the Germans put them to death in a big spectacle attended by the whole town. On Krzyska Street, right beneath the windows of Shaye Malach's home, was a big old tree that must have held plenty of fond memories for him. Now there were seven ropes tied to the tree. Earlier in the day German troops drove around the town in their military vehicles with bullhorns and loudspeakers, announcing the event. Seven Jews who disobeyed the authorities were now going to be publicly hung. All Jews of all ages were to present themselves on Krzyska Street. Everyone's document would be stamped at this time; anyone later found with an unstamped document would be punished by death. This way the Germans avoided going into every Jewish home. The Jews obediently came.
 
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The Germans dressed in their best uniforms, like for a ball or celebration. They came trailing fat Commandant Schindler and Gestapo Chief Lindner with pomp and fanfare. The Poles came uninvited. They came to enjoy the spectacle.
For hours we stood before the gallows. I stood close to Mama, clutching her hand. I felt Mama's agony. We had to leave Goldzia home alone. I shivered at the sight of all those Germans with rifles and clubs. Blimcia, tears rolling down her face, clutched her baby to her breast. We had been brought here to witness the bloodthirsty Germans at their game of murder. It was traumatic for the children, gruesome for the women, and intimidating for the men. Of course, the mass execution was a merciless torment for the families of the unfortunate victims, who were brought out of a truck with their hands tied behind their backs like criminals. Their only crime was being Jewish.
Their faces pale and unshaven, they looked down the vast expanse of spectators. The downtrodden Jews, the wrathful Poles, the sadistic Germans were all assembled for a spectacle befitting the savage ancient Romans at the Coliseum. The victims were looking for help, for a miracle to happen, but none did.
The ropes were slowly placed around their necks, the vicious German hangmen delaying the final torture, prolonging the poor victims' suffering. The sun shone weakly through pale clouds, but there was no rain. The heavens did not cry with us. Many of the onlookers fainted, unable to endure the anguish. But even the faintings had to be hidden from the Germans, who watched the crowds, making sure everyone was attentive. With their loudspeakers they repeatedly proclaimed that dirty, disobedient Jews must be punished.
Finally, the hangmen kicked the stools from beneath the seven men's feet, leaving them to hang by their necks. Mama placed her hands over my eyes while in my ears rang the loud scream of ''
Shema Yisrael!
"Hear O Israelwhich pierced the air. The last words of the seven sacrificed martyrs echoed in the square, while their faces twisted and turned blue in death. Until the curfew at dusk, the Germans kept the suffering Jew-
 
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ish populace at the gallows, watching our brethren twist from the tree. Exhausted and shaken, we returned home before nightfall to an uncertain future that dangled from a frayed rope.
 
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Chapter 8
The Germans were not satisfied with Jewish gold and silver, furs, and radios. Now they wanted Jewish bodies for labor in concentration camps. The Jews had to fill quotas of young men for labor. The Jewish community council asked for volunteers.
Chrzanow's Jews formed a solid community, where mutual trust and cooperation reigned. The community in Chrzanow always took care of its sick, old, and poor. Families knew each other for decades, even centuries. They survived in the hostile, Gentile world thanks to their unity, and this same unity was maintained in these hard times of war. When the council asked for volunteers, the town's young men enlisted, to save
 
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the community, to save their families. The Germans got their quotas filled.
In our household Sholek was the only son left. Only fifteen years of age, he knew he must go. Mama's back was bent with the pain of losing her last son. Papa suffered silently thinking of his intelligent Sholek, the only son left to say Kaddish for him. Would he be able to survive, this young, still-growing, always hungry boy? With his beard gone, Papa's hollow cheeks were sinking deep as graves. Courageous young Sholek, my closest brother, my confidant, my valiant protector, would have to go. Always ready to spit in the devil's face, he had nervous cramps in his stomach and goose pimples when he marched into the marketplace. I recall the last glimpse of his pale face in a flock of males that was herded to the railroad station. They were shipped to Katowice, where he had always wanted to go with Papa on his prewar business trips.
We learned from his subsequent letters that he was thrust into a dark bunk, wakened before dawn, and brought into a stable. Sholek was given a pail and brush and told to scrub the horses. He had no idea how to reach their backs or how to make them pick up their legs. He had to be quick, efficient, and thorough, as the German guard was ready to whip him for being a lazy Jew. His stomach growled with hunger, his soul with disdain. His letters did not reveal all his suffering because he did not want to worry us or provoke the censor. Sholek composed a song and promised to sing it to us when he came home. Meanwhile, missing Sholek and worrying about him added to the misery of the German occupation.
The Jews were chased out from the Planty and Mickiewicza Street; they were forbidden not only to live on these streets but also to walk by. A ghetto was created. Attending school was prohibited. The Jewish population everywhere was harassed and abused, their lives constantly threatened. The Jewish community council did its best to care for the poor and the elderly. Schooling for children was arranged, and trade courses were instituted. All able-bodied persons had to either be employed by the Germans or shipped away to camps.
I was now thirteen. My schooling interrupted, Mama sent
 
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me to attend a course in millinery work. Not that anyone cared which hats would be fashionable next season, but the women who could teach dressmaking, corset making, or other useful trades had already been shipped away to camps. It happened to be a hatmaker who was left in Chrzanow, and so she taught us what she knew best. It was the best time I can remember during the war, all of us sitting together in her apartment creating beautiful hats. The atmosphere was one of concern and friendship. We would all bring our family's stock of old hats, for there were no new materials available. With the help of our teacher, the hats were completely refashioned. We learned to apply ribbons, feathers, flowers, and other ornaments to produce beautiful new hats. There was even an exhibition attended by our parents. People even bought hats, to promote our work and encourage us. We were all thrilled. We lost ourselves in the creative, painstaking work of patiently steaming and pressing the old felt into the contours of the dummy heads, reshaping hats as ardently as we would have liked to reshape our lives. We dared to be imaginative, happily forgetting, gossiping, and singing with our work.
Mama grew morose lamenting Shlamek and worrying about Heshek and Vrumekand Papa, God forbid the Germans should ever get hold of him. She never cared about herself. "After all, what could they do to an old woman with a sick daughter to care for?" she would say. During all the searches, she would try to hide Papa and the children, exposing only herself and Goldzia. In one of the searches, I was the only one home with Mama and Goldzia in our tiny one-bedroom apartment on the ground floor. Mama could not find anyplace to hide me, as the Germans were right outside the house. Desperately, Mama pushed me under the steps, where I crouched into a small ball. Mama quickly covered me with some rags and sacks. Soon the Germans were in the house, and I felt the heavy steps of their boots on my head, which was pressed against the wooden steps. I pressed my hands to my heart to stop it from pounding so loud. I trembled and prayed. My limbs ached. The moments hung like hours. The Germans searched the house, methodically climbing up and down the
 
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staircase, going in and out of the house. They poked around in every nook and cranny, every hiding place, their heavy boots banging on my head as I cringed there right under their feet. They never did find me. I was convinced that my prayers had been answered.
Nachcia, who was at Aunt Esther's house at the time, was spared too. She was hidden with Aunt Esther's family in their family bunker. One bedroom in Aunt Esther's house had been converted into a hiding place by placing a large wardrobe against the door leading to that room. The wardrobe had a false back door, covered with garments, through which you could get into the room. When they found out about the search, Aunt Esther piled everybody through the wardrobe into the hidden room, remaining herself to wait for the Germans. Silently they all sat listening to the Germans enter their apartment. They could hear them shout at Aunt Esther, questioning her as to the whereabouts of her family. They pressed their ears to the door to catch what was going on in the next room. Their hearts stood still when they heard the Germans open the door of the wardrobe.
Pale and exhausted, Aunt Esther finally opened the hidden door when all was clear and the Germans were gone. They cried and laughed hysterically. They had outwitted the Germans. They were saved. It was a joy tempered by pain, for having survived one search did not mean being free of danger.
But it was actually the Germans who were besting the Jews: first they took away their victims' valuables, then they beat and killed many of them, then, for the promise of some relief, they succeeded in getting the cooperation of the Jewish population. They had been filling their quotas of male Jews with volunteers for the labor camps; now they claimed the women. The Jewish community council asked for volunteers, and every family gave up one of its lovely, cherished daughters to serve as a slave to the German oppressor. The girls cooperated as the boys had, to spare their families the collective punishment that awaited them if they were caught holding out.
In our household it was Nachcia who went. Nachcia was not a strong girl; she often suffered severe migraine headaches.
 
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Mama always protected her, making sure she didn't work too hard and that she ate well and slept enough.
Now they were taking my sister away. Who would care for her? How could she withstand the ravages of long days of hard labor? Mama was distraught. Nachcia tried to allay Mama's fears, even though she was scared to death herself. But Nachcia, like all of us, knew she had no alternative. She had to go.
With some clothes and articles of food in her backpack, she joined the line of girls at the marketplace. We wondered when we would hear from her again.
Sholek's letters were heartrending. He was, after all, a young boy, burdened with the care of these huge, unfriendly beasts. He was also mistreated and kept hungry and scared by an army of two-legged beasts. All his talent, wit, and agility were of no consequence in his dreadful situation. Eventually, one of the horses ended up kicking him in the shin, which swelled up and hurt badly. His leg, inflamed and oozing pus, was getting more painful every day. The Germans hit hard to make him perform his daily chores, but finally Sholek was unable to work. Useless to the Germans, he was sent back to Chrzanow. The happiness was indescribable when Sholek, sick and limping, came home. Papa took him to Dr. Ritter, who discovered much scar tissue deep in Sholek's flesh. But at least he was home alive.
The Germans sent their quotas of Jews to the labor camps. There were promises that the rest of the population would be left in peace, but the raids at night and the searches during the day did not diminish. People were stopped in the street, arrested, and shipped away for no reason. Only landing a steady job with the German authorities provided a measure of security. The majority of these jobs involved cleaning the streets, digging ditches, or otherwise serving the Germans.
Jacob was lucky to have such a job. By nature Jacob was very handy, orderly and immaculate, and the German he worked for was satisfied with his performance: the man's boots always shined like a mirror, the bushes in his garden were neatly

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