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A memoir of the Holocaust
By Jacob Zylberman
The online version
© Copyright 1995, 2000, Jack Zylberman
Rose colored glasses
"Fellows, I have something to tell you," Jacob said. "I am in love."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Gershon, a silly smile on his face. "How do you know? What kind of sickness is it? What are the symptoms?"
"Be quiet," said Shumacher. "If you keep talking, we’ll never know. Don’t you see how anxious he is to tell us? That in itself is a sign."
"I met her at the Albion, a matinee showing a new film, ‘Traumerei,’ the life story of Robert Schumann, humming the tune when a girl in back of me in a faint whisper asked me to be quiet. Seconds later I was alongside her.
"At the end of the movie, I asked her if I could see her again, and she agreed. A week later I was at the appointed place waiting, chimes of the nearby church struck five, time fleeting. Many streetcars passed but not her.
"I started to leave, looking again. But this time it paid off – and before the car stopped she jumped off, like a graceful ballerina meeting her partner, her hair waving in midair, apologizing for her tardiness.
"She is a nurse, taking care of an elderly noblewoman. Oddly enough, her replacement arrived late.
"At the movie I looked at her more than at the screen, reassured by her smile. After a snack, we, like two children, walked in the cool of the evening, scarcely exchanging a word, just agreeing to meet again."
"But how does she look? So far I know nothing about her, not even her name," Gershon said.
"Well, to begin with, her name is Andrea. She’s tallish, a string of pearls over a light blue turtleneck dress, dark blonde hair resting on a swanlike neck. Her eyes a deep blue, her delicate nose quivering barely when she speaks. Her lips a natural pale red.
"Serene like the morning dew. She is spring itself!"
"I like her already. When are you seeing her again?"
"Next Saturday."
"Why don’t you invite her. I would like to meet her," Gershon said, then he stopped, laughing. "You had better not, you might mix up your dates.
"Isn’t Ruth coming on Saturday?"
"I like the way you phrase it. Very funny. Ruth not only comes on Saturday, also during the week, but no more. I think she has someone else for the weekend.
"How about changing the subject?" Shumacher said. "Let’s forget about girls for a while.
"The United Nations are eager to settle the Jewish question. There are rumors of partitioning Palestine into an Arab and a Jewish entity.
"Imagine, a Jewish sovereign state, actually the dreams of our parents becoming a reality. Isn’t that great?"
"Oh, my God, my dear God!" shouted Gershon, his face flushed. "I am surrounded by a bunch of dreamers! After years of horror, devastation and hell, they still have trust in them! I cannot fathom how one could be so naive, listen to their stories and fairy tales. You are not children anymore. …Why don’t you wake up!
"Suddenly they became generous. They want us to have our own Jewish State," he said angrily. "Don’t you think it is a little late, five, ten years late, when so many of us yearned to return to Zion – who would have gladly walked all the way to the Holy Land. Isn’t it too late?
"Tell me, where was England, the great British Empire, their politicians waving a document of intent to create a Jewish Entity in Palestine – making good their promise to others but not to us!
"The Balfour Declaration, that solemn pledge – a debt promised to Dr. Weitzman they never intended to repay. Their blue-blooded promissory notes, worthless, too soft to be of any value, too coarse to wipe one’s ass.
"Who can ever forget the meeting of the world’s leaders in Evian, France, straightforward denying the Jews of Europe any help, ignoring the threats of the mad Fuhrer.
"Boats-full of men, women and children roaming the seas, shores of great countries, nearing one port after another to be denied entry.
"The tired, poor, the huddled masses, wretched refugees hugging the Statue of Liberty, searching for a haven to rest their tired bodies. Why didn’t they help us while there was still time?
"But no! No, my friends, no one wanted Jews; rejected and abandoned, giving Hitler a free hand to deal with us as he pleased. By this act alone to sanction our demise.
"Pray, tell me," he continued, highly agitated, "where were they when the fires, tongues of flames extended far out? Factories of death incinerating our loved ones.
"There is no doubt that their pilots saw the vast fenced-in concentration camps, gas chambers, putrid stench, full-time smoking chimneys of the crematoriums. Where were they?
"Why didn’t our magnanimous friends, today’s benefactors, bombard the railroads, delay the bestialic, unholy deed!
"Why didn’t they save us then?
"Now, their conscience bothers them, if they ever had any. Now, they want to amend the blunders they so blatantly committed, trying to make good the wrong, when so few of us are left, and them so many. ‘After the theft of the horse, they lock the stable.’
"Imagine, if the Nazis could not kill us all, the few remaining, weak, empty shells, would be finished off by the Arabs, with their ‘kinjals’ they are so handy with – cut our throats – turn the sea red, and what the so-called civilized Germans could not accomplish, the barbarians would, and as before, no one would give a damn.
"They try to drug us, not not me, I am as sober as never before. And I don’t buy it. They are mendacious, treacherous, contemptible, double-crossing Jew baiters.
"They know we are dreamers, always were, bemoaning the past, suffring the present, our only luxury dreaming of the future. It’s so outrageously sickening, so tragic.
"My friends, I am sorry, I don’t trust them like I never trusted my neighbors. … They despise us with a passion.
"Let me tell you of an episode, a personal experience, painful to remember, it hurts even more to talk about.
"My father was the Rabbi of Przytyk, a small town near Radom, loved by Jews, respected by the Gentiles.
"One day, Jews, young and old, were huddled into the marketplace, my father in front. Though branded with the Star of David he wore the patch with pride, refused to kneel before the head Nazi, defying his orders – spat into his red face – killed instantly by the outraged officer.
"My mother, her misty eyes turned to heaven. The saintly woman that she was, softened his fall, together hitting the ground. And the Gentiles who for years came to Shlomo the Wise for advice and counsel bypassing their priest, stood at the side enjoying the spectacle.
"That was the end. Then I lost faith in humanity.
"And now little men dressed in black tails, funny looking penguins they resemble, with top hats on their narrow minded heads, empty skulls, attempt to decide my destiny, put my trust, my life in their hands, is that it? No, this is just a ploy, another trick, one more bloody farce.
"So, don’t have any illusions, take off the rose-colored glasses, face reality."
An uneasy quiet permeated the air, tense, and Gershon deeply despondent sat at the table, his face in his hands.
"I apologize for my rhetoric," Shumacher said. "I had not expected such a lengthy reply. I had hoped to inform you, not aggravate the condition.
"But let me tell you, Gershon, know this: I need the rose-colored glasses, otherwise the world looks bleak. True, we are expendable. But I daresay not as much as before."
"But still darn expendable," Gershon said.
"Now, fellows, can we stop it? Let’s go out for a bit of fresh air," Shumacher proposed.
"Just one moment, one moment please," Jacob interjected. "If I may, let me have my say, let me put all this in the proper perspective, because this outcry needs some comment.
"Gershon, I gather that you are disappointed in mankind. I think most of us are, because we are greedy earthlings, miserable individuals knowing nothing better.
"Now, I am sorry to repeat myself, if that is so, tell me where was He at the time when we like sheep were gathered to the slaughter? Where was God when we needed Him most? Was He unaware of it? Is that possible? Was He asleep? The Great Omnipotent, Almighty God asleep? Yes? Was He?"
"And ‘While God slept, man wept,’ " Shumacher said.
"No! He was not! He saw it all, He heard it all. But unmindful, intoxicated in His glory, He sat on His throne surrounded by his angels and Seraphim. And one of them, the Angel of Death, surreptitiously sped down to earth, sowing death, destruction, sorrow on us, His chosen people, in spite, and because of it. The devil had a ball like never before, and God could have prevented it. Thus if God didn’t stop the onslaught, then why should the earthlings?
"Long before the Germans’ sneak attack on the Russians, when the infamous Ribbentrop-Molotov non-aggression pact was not yet dry, wily, sly politicians pondered how to outsmart one another, swerved into the darkest tunnels disregarding basic tenets of civility, helping the cause of Himmler, Eichmann, Heidrich, henchmen of the perverted madman in their evil scheme, culminating on January 20, 1942, at Wannsee, when the dastardly plan of the final solution took shape.
"With rigid precision they began the elimination of the European Jew, pursuing the lowest instincts of mendacity. An iniquitous mission of insidious behavior transcending all vestiges of human injustice and disorder.
"Wasn’t it Goethe who said so eloquently, ‘If there is a choice between injustice and disorder, the German prefers injustice’?
"One very important thought comes to mind that puzzles me. Why is it that so many of us went to their death, some even willingly? More than a year ago I was faced with that question, unable to find an explanation then, nor can I now, and I keep wondering if I ever will, yet it bothers me. I am deeply disturbed by it.
"Considering all these tragic events I am sorry to say that many of us, though inadvertently, helped them in our own demise.
"What I am saying is, those who escaped the Nazis to the Soviet Union – myopic, soft-bellied, hard-headed individuals failing the test of bodily and spiritual strength, returned.
"Impervious to the facts, they were responsible for those trapped in the Nazi net, thus sealing not only their fate but the doom of countless thousands of others.
"Accomplishing that, the SS master plan took shape, the nefarious duplicity progressing. The ugly beast baring his teeth clamped down, trapping the victims.
"One fears that if the Wehrmacht had displayed so much dedication toward the war, as the SS toward the eradication of Jews, one would have not ventured to foresee, predict the outcome. The odds might have been in their favor.
"Jews imprisoned in ghettos, forsaken by their neighbors and the world at large, were ready for the kill.
"Concentration camps mushroomed overnight, breaking up units, father from son, mother from daughter, a brilliant strategy of divide and conquer, speed and expertise.
"An unholy band of murderers were devoted to a methodical annihilation of a people, a race.
"Finally, when the stark reality hit the Jews, there was little they could do – the faithful took it as the will of God, others weak in body and spirit crushed with the loss of their loved ones, succumbed.
"Yet the flicker of fire was not totally extinguished, a resistance formed. Young boys and girls, old men, women and children, recalcitrant little Samsons refused to die, using guns, crude bombs, attacking the Nazis, taking the molester to the abyss with them.
"The remnants of the Warsaw Ghetto did not surrender that easily. A tiny group held the elite of the German army at bay longer than sovereign states with large armies and lines of fortifications. So did other pockets of resistance, brave partisans who fought heroically.
"With their blood, and undying honor, they inscribed a glorious chapter in the annals of human endurance, supreme sacrifice, and incomparable heroism, thus creating an everlasting monument.
"What is there to add? Stripped of everything dear to us, we are the lone survivors of a great wreckage, swept away by a devastating flood, angry waves."
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