[Page 237]

This sad Purim came about at the end of the winter, 1943, in the so-called “Little Ghetto,” a stunted remnant of what had once been the flourishing Jewish community of Piotrkow.

After the mass “evacuation” of Jews from Piotrkow in October, 1942, only 2,000 Jews had been left in Piotrkow. This number included refugees from the immediate environs and also from other cities and towns of Nazi-occupied Poland. They were crammed into a Procrustean bed south of Staro-Warszawska, once the “Jewish Street” par excellence. It was ringed by a thicket of barbed wire that turned the area allotted to Piotrkow's remaining Jews into a convenient cage within which the murderers could gun down their victims any time they chose.

The streets on the other side of the barbed wire, formerly part of the larger Ghetto, were lined with houses where Jews had once lived but which were now deserted shells. With their doors agape and their window frames having had their glass panes knocked out, they looked like so many skeletons with toothless mouths and empty eye sockets. They spread an atmosphere of stark terror with their graveyard stillness, a silence broken only from time to time by the sounds of the Nazis knocking down walls and tearing open floors in search of hidden treasures which the deported Jews had supposedly left behind.

It was in this still atmosphere, heavy with constant dread, that the Jews tried to muddle through life. The intention of the authorities was to keep their frightened victims in a permanent state of suspense. Every day brought a new regulation, but so disguised that the Jews would not be able to suspect its intent. Thus, it often happened that a shipment of food would arrive just before a “partial evacuation,” or on the eve of a mass execution.

This is the way things happened on that tragic Purim which I am to describe. Only the pale sun, hiding behind the Ghetto houses, shed a feeble light which infiltrated the frozen roofs as if seeking to melt the winter ice upon them. But its light could not warm the human shadows in the Ghetto Prison; their bodies were too stiff, their souls too congealed for that.

To whom would it have occurred that this day was Purim, the merriest of Jewish holidays? Perhaps there were some who managed to keep track of time; those who kept their Judaism with self-sacrificing devotion even under the most inhuman conditions, or those exceptional individuals who stole a glance in the underground newspapers smuggled into the Ghetto by some Polish and Jewish workers. Among the “contrabandists” who managed to sneak this literature into the Ghetto at the risk of their lives was our friend, the young Zionist activist Feivel Steinberg of blessed memory, whose own optimism helped cheer many who were on the verge of despair.

When, on that bleak winter day, a truck bearing armed policemen pulled up in the front of the house at 12 Jerozolimska Street, the headquarters of the Ghetto Committee, no one suspected that this would be the start of an orgy of murder. On the contrary, there appeared a faint glimmer of hope, whose feeble glow briefly diminished the gloom of the Ghetto. There were whispered rumors that Jews from various Ghettos in Poland were about to be exchanged for German citizens living in Palestine, in Sharona, a colony founded by the Knights of Templar. This fortune had come to Jacob Kurz, Rosenthal, and several others;^[1]they had been permitted to leave the Ghetto of Piotrkow and had arrived safely in Palestine.

The Nazis saw to it that this rumor would spread widely through the Ghetto. They stressed that “for the time being,” the privilege of “repatriation” to Palestine in exchange for German citizens would be limited to ten Jews in all: each one would have to show proof that he had graduated from an institution of higher learning.

On Purim afternoon in 1943, the Ghetto was more alive than it had been in many a day. There was unusual activity, particularly in the courtyard of the so-called “Jewish Committee,” at Reder's house, which had been designated as the assembly point for the “privileged few” who, it was said, were eligible for “repatriation” to Palestine.

The first ones to arrive at the assembly point were Stanislaw Silberstein and his white-haired wife. As a wealthy, assimilated lawyer and the son of Wilhelm Silberstein, a former president of Piotrkow's Jewish community, he had been a highly esteemed personage before the war, as well as in the circles of the Polish intelligentsia. As it turned out, Stanislaw knew better than the others what the true intentions of the Germans might be, as his prompt reaction to the news that the Germans were about to “exchange” Jews for Germans was to pull out a vial of poison. He asked them to look out for his only daughter.

The next “privileged” individual to report was Dr. Maurycy Brams. With him were his wife, his dark-haired daughter and his sister-in-law (a member of the Kagan family). This humble but most efficient and devoted communal leader, whose gaunt, ascetic features were brightened by shining, gentle eyes, had been helping his needy fellow Jews to the point of self-sacrifice, particularly since the outbreak of the war. Unlike Silberstein, Brams was in high spirits. He was certain that he was about to be sent to a country where he would not only be freed and independent himself, but be in the position to help the Jews who remained in the Ghetto.

The mood of Szymek Stein was entirely different. This brilliant young Jewish lawyer, bubbling over with life and wit, had been educated at the Jewish Gymnasium and was an active Zionist. As soon as he arrived at the assembly point, he had a premonition of what the Germans were really planning to do, and tried to escape – too late, unfortunately.

Also among the “privileged few” was the psychiatrist Leon Glatter. Altogether, ten individuals had been “selected” for the “exchange.”

As the “repatriates” were shepherded into the waiting truck, the mood in the Ghetto street grew tense. The “lucky” few were followed by curious, searching glances from those who had to remain behind.

The truck with the “repatriates” drove off in the direction of Sulejowska Street. Supposedly, they would be taken to Radom, the chief city of the district to which Piotrkow belonged during the Nazi occupation. There, they would join a large transport of “privileged” people from other Ghettos and set out together on the journey to freedom.

The next morning dawned dark and somber in the Ghetto. The Jews were suddenly confronted with the incredible reports of blood-curdling scenes in the Jewish cemetery. People in the know told gruesome details about the fate that had befallen the “privileged” individuals. In order to made a proper production of it, the Nazi hangmen had imitated the account in the Book of Esther of the execution of the ten sons of Haman – except that, to the ten Jewish victims, they had added an eleventh ^[2] one.

All the Nazi bigwigs of the Piotrkow district had gathered at the mass grave, which was surrounded by gendarmes, policemen, and army officers with machine guns at the ready. They drank, made merry and even read an obscene parody of the Book of Esther before killing the “repatriates.”

Polish policemen who had been present at the cemetery later recalled the horrible scenes they had witnessed with their own eyes: how Dr. Brams had collapsed when he saw his beautiful daughter dragged to the mass grave, and how Szymek Stein had appealed to the conscience of the Nazi police chief not to take the lives of innocent human beings. But the hearts of the Germans had remained cold to his pleas. All the Nazi officer said was, “We carry out our order,” and this with a cynical, satanic sneer.

In order to avert any suspicions the Jews might have had, the Germans drove them all over the city until nightfall. Only under cover of pitch darkness did they finally take them quickly to the cemetery, where even the optimists in the group lost the last of their illusions.

The tears for the Martyrs of the Purim massacre had not yet dried when there came a new wave of mass executions. Dozens of young, vibrant Jews were gunned down, including some who later were found to be carrying forged “Aryan” passports.

And so the sufferings of the Jews were prolonged like a thick, blood-soaked chain, day in and day out, leaving no breathing spell in which to contemplate what had happened that day, or even the hour before, in the words of our Sages, “The latest sorrows cause the earlier ones to be forgotten” (Ber.13).

To this day we are wading through a vast sea of tears over the horrible deaths and unspeakable sufferings of millions of victims – our fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, wives and husbands and children, and other loved ones -- whose final resting place we do not know and for whom no adequate dirges have been composed. To that deluge of tears let us add still more for the ten Martyrs of Piotrkow.

Footnotes:

[Page 246]

Such activities were punishable by death; many paid the price of being arrested and deported, among them shochet Yehoshua Lerner and butcher Berek Pudlowski, who was caught when bringing a cow (live) up flights of stairs for slaughter.

Bribery was a big factor in disobeying the draconian rules of the oppressor. For example, in 1940, a large group of young men was deported to various labor camps in the Lublin area. A man name Gomberg was dispatched by the Council and was successful in releasing the boys in exchange for a large sum of money paid to the SS monster Dolf.

A hard task was satisfying the extortion demands by the Germans. On December 2nd, 1939, the Council was ordered to deliver a thousand men for forced labor each day and to pay their wages. In addition, the constant demands for the delivery of pianos, furs, furniture, etc., plus three cash contributions of a total of three hundred and ninety thousand zlotys greatly afflicted the people. In January, 1940, the Stadtkommissar demanded all leather and textiles from Jewish stores. The Council then submitted several memoranda to the occupants boldly describing the desperate situation and requesting that the community be spared in the future.

The people also responded with defiance. They sold or gave away the furs and other forbidden articles to the Poles or simply destroyed them.

Widespread welfare and medical aid was initiated in the ghetto by the Council – a kitchen for the needy, milk distribution for babies and children, shelters, clinics and many other facilities. Despite hard living conditions, some cultural activities were organized.

People tried somehow to brighten up their gloomy existence. There were a few illegal libraries, providing a vigorous book exchange; amateur theater groups were active and performed, form time to time, before selected audiences. Musicians performed, mostly chamber music.

The ghetto was established in the oldest and drabbest part of the city. All the parks and gardens were located beyond our reach. In 1940, a special squad of “new made” gardeners was organized. They planted flowers and greenery, beautifying the gloomy ghetto backyards and squares.

The religious people, in defiance of the rules, observed the Sabbath and Holidays as much as possible. A group of orthodox activists was responsible for saving holy books and scriptures. They succeeded in saving over three hundred religious objects from sacrilege.

A separate chapter of courage and dedication was written by the teachers of the ghetto. Soon after the smoke in 1939 had settled, they started their immense and very useful activities. Some joined forces and maintained a regular educational system conducted in strict secrecy. Every false move invited serious consequences. The youngsters were told to enter the flats one by one and carry their notebooks under their clothes. Sometimes the class had to stop in the middle of a session and disperse rapidly when the Germans were riding the block. This underground education was one of the most powerful expressions of passive resistance.

Various organizations continued their activities in the ghetto. Understandably, they were limited. The Bund movement held regular meetings and maintained close contact with their Central Committee in Warsaw, receiving underground literature and outlines for eventual active resistance. In July, 1941, a Polish underground courier, Maria Szczesna, was arrested by the Gestapo while carrying illegal publications and the names of most of the Council as underground activists. The Germans learned who was involved in the resistance and rescue endeavors. Shortly thereafter, a few of the Council members were arrested, among them chairman Zalman Tenenberg, treasurer Zalman (Stach) Staszewski, Maierowicz, Fraint and others. One of them, Jacob Berliner, surrendered to the Germans of his own will in solidarity with the arrested colleagues. They were sent to Auschwitz, and, shortly afterward, a telegram arrived stating that they all had died. 

Despite the loss of their most important leaders, a group of Bund's younger activists kept in contact with Warsaw. Even in 1943, they were receiving large sums of money and underground pamphlets. All this was distributed among their fellow members.

Many others were arrested and killed for possession of illegal material, among them Itka Lipnicka, Niusia Modkowicz and Lusia Weishoff. Lolek Kon lost his life for possessing a stinging satire about Hitler and Stalin.

The Hashomer Hatzair movement also continued its work in the ghetto. In February, 1940, an emissary from the Warsaw Hanhagah Rashit came to Piotrkow. His name was Mordechai Anielewicz; he later became the commander of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. His mission was to spread the gospel of resistance. After his visit, the contact with Warsaw was kept and Jakov Aronowicz, the head of the Ken in Piotrkow, attended a conspiratorial meeting in Warsaw dealing with future resistance policy and behavior. A special code was used in communicating with Warsaw. After the war, letters in such code, written by Aronowicz and Zarnowiecki, were found in the underground ghetto archives.

Movements such as Betar, Hanoar and others also conducted meetings and discussions. The subjects were mainly resistance and freedom.

There were several attempts of active resistance in the ghetto of Piotrkow. Let us mention with esteem the heroic outbreak of brother Goldberg and Liberman, members of Betar. At their workplace, they made contact with a Polish foreman. For an exorbitant fee, the man was ready to deliver guns and ammunition and also firemen's uniforms. He claimed to be a member of an Armia Krajowa unit and promised safe passage to their hideout in a nearby forest.

On a set day, the foreman delivered the arms and uniforms. He did not tell the boys that the bullets were blanks. At midnight, the five youngsters crossed the ghetto wall. The man led them to the Sulejow forest and left them there. They were soon surrounded by Germans. A gun fight ensued. But how do you fight an enemy with blank bullets? Soon they were captured, some of the boys wounded. The Gestapo brought them in for torturous interrogation. Shmuel Katz, the hat maker who made the firemen's caps, and Szymek Nyss, who helped them to cross the ghetto wall, were implicated. All those seven courageous men were brought to the Jewish cemetery and shot.

Some young men were successful in joining the Polish underground. One of them, Julek (Kazik) Szmulewicz (Small), escaped from Bugaj and was accepted by an Armia Ludowa unit, a left-oriented fighting force which had a policy of helping Jews. With them, he fought the enemy and, after the war he became an officer in the Polish Army. Heniek Goldhersh (pseudonym Wywra) and Heniek Ryterband fled from Bugaj and joined a different AL group. Just days before the Russian front reached Piotrkow in 1945, they were in combat with the Germans in the Milejow forest. Heniek Goldhersh lost his life; Heniek Ryterband survived.

At the same time, another young man also escaped from Bugaj. His name was Motek Szteinberg. He had difficulties in making contact with the underground and returned to the camp. Miraculously, he wasn't killed by Dietrich or Fisher and survived the Holocaust. He lost his young life in 1948 defending kibbutz Degania on the banks of the Kinereth.

It's impossible to mention all such stories of valor in one short essay. History teaches that there are two ways to resist – actively and passively. Active resistance is possible when the will rises in enough people to make the supreme sacrifice for honor and freedom. However, support from the outside is the ultimate condition.

For ages, the Jews in Poland were dispersed among hostile, sometimes reactionary and prejudiced masses. When the Germans came, we were contained in ghettos, where annihilation could proceed swiftly at a moment's notice without even the remote possibility of resistance. We were also cruelly deceived and alone. Still today, we cannot rid ourselves of the awful feeling of isolation that we experienced so deeply at that time. To set a foot out of the ghetto meant to be hunted day and night. And from the outside world, in answer to our cries, came only shattering silence.

The road to survival we instinctively took was the only one possible fit for sanity. Those who blame us today for our lack of active resistance then are only trying to cover up their own guilty consciences, to cover up the dark moments in the history of mankind, when the world stood silent.

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