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A memoir of the Holocaust
By Jacob Zylberman
The online version
© Copyright 1995, 2000, Jack Zylberman
Jacob's family
"Shumacher, Jacob is not himself today; he is too quiet, something is wrong," said his partner. "He is dreaming again, but somehow I don’t see any girls."
"Yes, Mr. Zook, you are right. I got a letter from my brother, a snapshot of him, his wife and little daughter."
"Then why the long face?"
"With it is also the story of my family, an account of their harrowing days in the Warsaw Ghetto, their demise, a feeling of revulsion, contempt for my fellow man."
"Would you like to read it?"
"All right."
"Dear Brother!
"For almost a decade I had carried a heavy load, the anguish, loss of our family you were spared to witness. But, since you wish to know their fate and rightly so, I will try to relate to you the best way I possibly can; although it would have been better to face you across the table, not across the ocean – but I understand your impatience, it is a reflection of your interest, your deep concern. I just wish that what I have to say would not be that difficult.
"Many, many things have happened during those horrible years, one more tragedy compounded on another. The wounds are still sore, I doubt if they will ever heal. I don’t know how to begin, but begin I must.
"You might recall the time immediately after you left, that I intended to follow hoping that the rest of the family would leave also, but Father took sick, and I took over the duties of the house. When we decided to leave the winter that year was severe. Esther’l was only six years old, the others two years apart, and the returnees from Russia did not help the situation either.
"Abramowicz, the one you left with, also returned.
"Then, on June 22, 1941 – after the Germans attacked the Russians – the conditions really began to deteriorate.
"The noose tightened, Jews, young and old, were already wearing the six-cornered patch. The ghetto, not only erected by Jewish hands but also paid for, isolated from the outside world without any food, and basic human conditions. Hunger, starvation, the bestial treatment by the Germans, and reprehensible hygienic conditions causing typhoid.
"After I recuperated from this dreadful disease, Father took sick. There was no medical help available; by sheer luck I got leeches, which helped. Then Mother caught the bug.
"The Germans patrolled the streets, searching from house to house – ours, too, but they found nothing suspicious. We were prepared. As with Father’s bout, so it was with Mother, she was hidden behind a double wall.
"It was dangerous in the house, even worse outside, with Nazi snipers sowing the streets and alleys with wounded and dead.
"Mayer and Moishele crossed over to the Aryan side in search for food once, twice; by the third attempt they were caught. Moishele was not to be seen again, Mayer yes. … But forgive me for overlapping too fast.
"In our small ghetto the conditions were bad, then in the large one, on the Mila street was even worse. Each day there were raids, supplemented by quotas, forced on the elders of the Jews to work for a limited time, only few returned.
"Because of my skill I became the official watchmaker for Tobens, a German owner of a clothing factory located at the former seminary on the Prosta-Walicow line.
"Life in the ghetto deteriorated steadily. Death and starvation, bestialic incidents with most gruesome results.
"There was Abramowicz standing in the gateway of the house when he was spotted by a young German. That little punk half his size ordered him to stand at attention, and with his riding crop beat him, unduly provoking him.
"Abramowicz could with his bare hands squash him like pulp but did not dare in fear not for his own safety but for the welfare of his family, and others. The consequences were quite drastic, whenever a German was found dead, the entire neighborhood paid tenfold and more.
"After we dragged him into the house, this giant got mad, kept hitting himself, breaking everything in sight, crying, bleeding inside. Two days later he died.
"A ten-year-old kid who dared to sneak through the gate of the ghetto was bayoneted by a Ukrainian guard. The same was with a ‘Shmaltzovnik,’ a smuggler. Caught with five potatoes in his possession, he, for each ‘kartofel,’ was compensated with a bullet in his head.
"Mother, for the sake of the youngsters presumably to be protected by the factory management, worked at Tobens, constantly brooding for Mayer and Moishele.
"Dreadful weeks and months followed. Once in the middle of the night there was a knock at the door, we ready for the worst, but to our total surprise and sheer happiness it was Mayer. Barely alive, he fell on the bed and without interval slept for almost three days. When he awoke, the shocking stories he related were beyond belief.
"He escaped Maidanek. From hell itself. ‘Everyone knows what the Nazis do to us, but no one cares, no one at all. We are as good as dead. We are doomed!’ he cried.
"The next day we started to build a bunker; electricians, plumbers, carpenters worked into the wee hours, disregarding the curfew. Provisions, water, ventilation, telephone, even a shortwave radio was secured in secrecy, and the ghetto day by day died a slow death, if not by forced transportation to the extermination camps, then by sickness, starvation, and stray bullets.
"On September 13, 1942, Mother was at the factory working when the kindergarten was cordoned off by the SS.
"Armed Lithuanians, Latvians and Ukrainians surrounded the screaming children in full view of all, dragged them to the Umshlagplatz, Malkele, Feigele, Davil’l, and Esther’l among others. …Only Malkele escaped.
"Since then mother did not sleep, moaning for her children. Father, our handsome tateshyi, got white as a dove.
"May 3, 1943 was the final blow. The little ghetto was vacated, minutes after Mother and I left the shelter, Father staying behind. For us it was the last raid.
"With brutal force we were taken away, Mother supported by me and Mayer, Malkele and Bella at her back. Those who faltered were summarily stabbed to death.
"For 48 hours we like sardines were squeezed in filthy cattle cars, without ventilation. Many suffocated. Others collapsed in their own excrement.
"Thirsty, lips parched, and the Poles stood with pitchers of the precious liquid, grinning – offering to exchange it for gold, diamonds – shouting "Zhydy, if you want water, give us the diamonds – you are going to die anyway.’
"We did not see Father anymore. He, and more than a dozen others, were buried alive in the bunker.
"And Mother, as soon as we arrived in Maidanek, was taken straight to the ovens. So were women with infants, and small children. Only the young were selected to forced labor.
"Suddenly I was alone, a walking zombie not caring about anything anymore. All, what was dear to me – gone.
"How I survived I do not know, that is another story, even though when I look back I cannot understand how.
"It was an odyssey from one hellish place to another, brutalized by wild beasts in human clothing. I only know if one believes in the seven stages of Hell (shiva medros gehenom), I can with full knowledge say that I experienced many, many more.
"I recall an old neighbor of ours prophesizing that a time will come when the living would envy the dead. May I say that all of it was true, I know it so well.
"Many a time I asked why I survived, others did not. This I cannot answer either. I only know this, before Mother was dragged away, she put her hands over us and blessed us.
"I recall an incident when the Germans were in need of watchmakers, at that time I was overcome with dysentery.
"Needless to say, there were many others in line. When it was my turn to be interrogated, I was feverish. It was then that I saw Mother beside me, she whispered the answer and I was accepted.
"Whenever I was close to death, she urged me to go on – my little daughter is the result of it.
"When it was all over I hoped that Zysyl would be more fortunate, but no. She and her little boy were killed only a few steps from their home.
"Happiness which eluded me for so long is new to me, even more painful not to have one of my kin to share it with.
"That is why I need you.
"Our great tree was uprooted, the branches torn, broken, our duty is to replant it, our father’s name to perpetuate, even more to remind the world of its inhumanity, their vicious cruelty and callousness.
"Never let them forget it.
"Your loving Brother,
Laibl."
It was quiet in the room, broken by a sniffle. Shumacher cleared his throat, his hand on Jacob’s shoulder, and said:
"I wish I could find a word of consolation, I cannot. True, a great tree was uprooted, and I sympathize with you. But you have your brother, like I have mine, and Henry his sister. We are the lucky ones. But what about the uncounted families who vanished without a trace, uprooted entirely, a forest turned into a naked wasteland! What about them?
"Look at it this way. You are like an oasis in the wilderness, to find a spring, reviving it, and with time revitalizing, you are to join the living not only for your sake, more importantly for your loved ones who are not here anymore. That is your legacy. With it you’ll vindicate them.
"Go to your brother, you need each other."
"What about Israel?" Jacob stammered. "I am so confused. I want to go to America, but also to Israel.
"I remember Father’s love for Zion, putting aside groshen to groshen, a proud owner of a few dunams of the Holy Land, nourished by the hope of … ‘Next year in Jerusalem.’
"My mother filling the Keren Kayemet pushke, jealously waiting for the moment of deliverance. Now, when I have the opportunity, I hesitate. Tell me where my loyalties belong, what comes first?"
"Now, let us be level-headed, look over this problem logically, practically," said Shumacher, putting aside the unfinished part of a jacket.
"Henry, let’s call it a day, we are well ahead in our work. Let’s see what we can do to help our friend."
"Okay, you don’t have to twist my arm. But let me answer him, since I owe him a reply.
"I think I know you, not as well as Leo, nevertheless for the last year that you have been with us I have learned a great deal about you, among other things that you are a dreamer. After so many setbacks, tragic disappointments, you still remain one. It seems to me that you were born one, it has never left you, and will remain so until the end.
"If you want my opinion, there is only one thing you can do – join your brother. I am in a similar situation, I have a sister waiting for me in America, and I would not dare to disappoint her. I will join her."
"Be pragmatic," said Shumacher. "See the facts as they are. Your parents and most of your family are not here, and nothing will bring them back, not a thing. That would be the best memorial to your parents, sisters and brothers. Do not have any scruples, join your brother, particularly after all his efforts.
"As for Israel, they will get along without you. Many thousands are leaving the camps, so are prisoners of Cyprus.
"Israel needs soldiers, shelter, food, money, lots of it – not tailors. No one will miss you – but your brother will. Go to America. Then, if you really want to help Israel – get rich, send money, lots of it, that will be the next best thing, satisfying everybody.
"And now, let us go to Moishe’s, you owe us a beer."
At last, after many months of waiting, Jacob was notified by the American consulate of his departure – and was ready.
All of his belongings were squeezed into a small valise. The instruments purchased for his brother neatly packed, and a set of dishes for Mr. Zook’s sister.
The long wait has come to an end.
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