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Those who lived through the unforgettable days of liberation from the Nazi enemy remember that they greeted the events with mixed feelings: joy at the signing of the ceasefire agreement, unease caused by German soldiers who, during their retreat, blew up army barracks and warehouses in the suburbs, and the promise regarding the attitude of the Russian liberating army – a promise that turned out to be arrogant and aggressive – anything but friendly.

Yet there was no time for despair; we knew that the Soviet army had reached an understanding with the local population about the arrangements for life in the cities of northern Moldova. Life and administration quickly reorganized in these regions, replacing the anxiety over the Nazi army, whose retreat was now inevitable, and whose destruction was nothing more than the death throes of a dragon mortally wounded.

Traffic in the city streets was sparse, but peace had not yet come to the city. Many residents left out of fear of the Russians, and many more feared that the time had come to pay for their crimes. Many Nazi collaborators had previously believed wholeheartedly that the German Reich would last a thousand years. Many of them were legionnaires, Nazis, police officers, and pleasure-seekers who thought the end had come for the Jewish community (“the congregation,” “the murderers of God who suck the blood of Christians”).

Public institutions were empty of officials. The courthouse and the office of the district commissioner looked as if after an invasion: files scattered on the floor, weapons abandoned by German soldiers, old mattresses, piles of excrement giving off a foul smell in every corner. Broken doors and crumbling windows. Other public institutions were in similar condition: the bar association, the chamber of commerce, the municipality, and the banks.

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The first task required was to restore order. A new police force was quickly organized under the supervision of the regional committee of the Communist Party: groups of young communists and high school students were sent to the city hall and the office of the district commissioner. Attorney Dionisie Ionescu, a communist from the period when the Romanian Communist Party was outlawed, was appointed as district commissioner. This was the first public appointment in the city after the entry of the Russian army. A teacher named G. Botezatu was appointed as mayor. It was necessary to fill the gaps that had emerged in all areas of life and to resume normal functioning in a city where so many acts of terror and atrocities had occurred. The main difficulty was supply. The city was completely cut off from the rest of the country. On the Bacău-Bucharest railway, there were no longer any intact tracks. Instead, there was a line with wide-gauge rails, which could only be used by Russian trains and carriages.

Equally important was the restoration of cultural life: reopening schools, libraries, and hospitals. Students from the Jewish high school took action. They roamed the streets and searched abandoned cultural institutions, collected books, and established the “People's House” in the villa of a wealthy refugee. The People's House served not only as a library but also as the nucleus for many cultural and artistic institutions: a music school, a vocational school. The auditorium in the People's House became the stronghold of intellectual life in the city and the district.

A public committee was appointed to manage the People's House. The committee's chairman was teacher Ilia Grinberg. Committee members included: teacher Jean Copler, author Marcel Marcian, Gabriel Friedman (who later studied medicine), and activist Blumpold.

Alongside the search for books and the creation of the library in the People's House, part of the collection of the “Raza” (Ray of Light) Library-established before the war by the “Jewish Women's Cultural Association” under the leadership of its chairwoman Rosa Perlberger and her assistant Bianca Groper-was partially restored. Romanian intellectuals and collaborators with the fascist regime had previously taken many valuable books from the library. Other books were hidden in cellars by the library's management. Now, the Raza Library resumed its existence under a different name and once again radiated an atmosphere of culture over the abandoned and ruined city.

Jean Copler, who was a member of the People's House committee, was also appointed director of the music school. Students from the Jewish high school revived their orchestra there, an orchestra that had operated during the war. More and more young people with musical talent joined the effort to create a foundational repertoire. That ensemble became the nucleus of the new state theater. Following the example of the children's shelter – which had operated during the Holocaust under the auspices of the Jewish high school – welfare institutions and kindergartens were established, providing meals and lodging or meals only.

In the autumn of 1944, the Jewish school was no longer considered unofficial. Then its existence came to an end. Its graduates sat for their matriculation exams. Students who had been released from labor camps took special exams to make up for the ones they had missed, and most of the “un-uniformed” students entered or returned to the state high school

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named after “Ferdinand.” They left their exile school with mixed feelings: joy at the victory over fascism, but also the sense that they could never again see their Christian classmates as true friends. They felt alienated, stunned, and shaken by the hatred, persecution, and humiliations they had endured.

They walked through the grand building of the high school, through the real classrooms, amphitheaters, libraries, and study rooms, but their steps had a strange echo on the gleaming, cold tiles. After classes, they would go into the alley where once stood the dilapidated building in which they had discovered their uniqueness, their belonging, and in which was born anew their faith in a land of their own – the land of their ancestors. In that house, they had found refuge and their wounds had been tended, in an atmosphere of spiritual elevation, true friendship, and mutual trust. The Jewish high school teachers returned to teach in the Romanian high school with mixed feelings. The “warm wishes” with which they were received were mostly insincere; few rejoiced sincerely.

Ceremony unveiling the monument to the heroes who fell sanctifying God's name

Many of the Jews' personal belongings-furniture, radios, clothing-had been looted or “purchased” by them at “public auctions” organized when

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Jewish property was confiscated. The new owners, including those from towns from which Jews had been expelled, viewed Jewish requests for restitution as false claims. Returning property was out of the question. Their contradictory versions to those seeking rightful ownership were seen as rebellion against “Jewish impudence” that must not be tolerated.

Stripped of their property, unable to return to their trades or professions (since their businesses had been confiscated), most Jews became dependent on relief, even in the first days of “liberation and freedom.” It was difficult to provide shelter, food, clothing, and medical care, especially for those returning from camps.

Another issue was punishing collaborators – members of the old Legionary and Antonescu regimes. Court and police archives contained abundant evidence against Jew-haters who had helped hand over innocent people. Police and secret police investigators now worked intensively to examine evidence from documents. The number of collaborators grew as refugees returned home. These refugees were in poor health and were accepted into certain positions for lack of alternatives. In the repression operations, they were the most zealous and cruel.

The communists could not consolidate their rule because they had no popular base. They faced difficulties in seizing and stabilizing power. They needed experienced people. Their intention was to later examine the loyalty of those chosen. For now, they needed them!

The “Republic” in Bacău was cut off from other parts of the country. It tried to manage and develop its economic life independently. A few daring individuals ventured to travel to Bucharest, the capital, on Russian trains. Among them were Jewish students and graduates of the Jewish high school. In autumn 1944, several months after the signing of the armistice agreement, they set out for Bucharest despite all dangers. Such a journey lasted three to four days. Soviet soldiers or armed escorts also traveled in the carriage. They were admitted to university without problems, although they had to request interviews with deans who had not yet been purged, some of whom were even members of the government!

It seemed that life had returned to normal, to order and peace. The Jewish community established close ties with the state authorities and helped them with arranging jobs and housing. Zionist organizations emerged – temporarily – from the underground and operated alongside the Communist Youth Union and other democratic organizations.

An event that stirred enthusiasm among Jews was the first May Day parade. Zionist organizations participated in the parade, alongside all the workers. Dr. Shmuel Sabat organized the pioneers; they marched in special uniforms and were proud of their attire and their faith.

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The seizure of power by the communists was done with great commotion. No party willingly gave up power. Ties between Bacău and Bucharest, the capital, were completely renewed. The domino effect of events that occurred throughout the entire country was especially prevalent in rural towns. The gradual disposal of democratic governments with Santanescu and Radescu's permission, the establishment of Petru Groza's government, and the land reform impacted Jews and Christians alike.

The establishment of the People's Court to try war criminals was especially of interest to Jews and Holocaust survivors. They followed the trials of the war criminals, those big and small, commanders of concentration camps and commanders of slave battalions. Their hearts were full of hope that there would be justice.

Ex-prisoners marched in prison uniforms and with a noose near the courthouse, outside the courthouse windows. The first sentences that were death sentences were quickly turned into hard labor and life sentences in prison. The trial against the perpetrators of the Iaşi pogrom lasted for a long time. Other war criminals received only minor charges. There were strong reactionary forces who had the power to prevent this justice and they prevented the conviction of the accused. On the other hand, the political trials were of great weight and importance: the trial of socialist-democratic party leaders, the trial of Marshal Antonescu and his accomplices, the heads of Transnistria and the heads of the second ministry.

A change in attitude towards Jews was felt with the appearance of the Comitetul Democrat Evreiesc ^[1] (CDE). It is no coincidence that this committee appeared at the same time as the mandates that were imposed on the Zionist organizations and their members.

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The last public displays of joy by the Jewish population in Romania were after the UN resolution of the 9^th General Assembly in November 1947 about the partition of the Land of Israel into two states, Jewish and Arab, and the soon-to-be establishment of the Jewish state. Also, after the establishment of the State of Israel, on a Thursday in Iyar, 5708 (May 1948).

Both of these events provoked a desire among the Jews to emigrate. Many of them saw the opening of Israel's gates as new horizons they all carried their souls to, big and small. The first few years of Romania's liberation were underwhelming for Jews, which strengthened this desire as well. On the one hand, the CDE was encouraged to sabotage Zionist activity, even as far as eliminating them. Things reached the point that any Zionist activity whatsoever was banned and outlawed, and many Zionist officials were imprisoned. On the other hand, something was off about what the Communist Party and state authorities were up to. In the first years of the new regime, the oppressive authorities intervened by brute force, which left a bitter taste. Among the forceful interventions in citizens' lives there was also “the race for gold”: many committed suicide or were killed over their “refusal” to give up the gold they had in their possession. The story of the Strumwasser family is well known in Bacău - which reached dramatic proportions - along with the stories of the Steinbok family, Piecewitz family, and others. Jews accepted with understanding - but not enthusiasm - the class war. Certain decrees had an antisemitic taste; between the bureaucratic challenges and the incompetence of inexperienced officials and workers, these tainted the prestige of the Communist Party. The trials against those who were labeled “corrupt” or “reactionary” or otherwise against the regime were not always intended to serve justice. Under these circumstances, more and more Jews decided to emigrate from Romania. This was a hard decision. Every person that decided to apply for immigration went through their own crisis of dimensions they weren't even aware of. We must understand that the majority of Romanian Jews did not decide to immigrate out of a desire to get rich overnight or to go on an adventure. Those Jews were deeply connected to their homeland, and only by exhausting all other options did they finally come to terms with their displacement from a homeland with no secure tomorrow, but they knew a new antisemitism that brought painful memories and fears from not so long ago. In this they differed from the Zionists, who always wanted to reach their goal of immigrating to the land of their ancestors. Both wanted to use all their legal resources to relocate, but faced difficulties and rejections. Thus, young people chose to get out illegally. They traveled to towns along Romania's western border, near which there are crossing points: Jimbolia, Episcopia Bihorului, Oradea, Baia Mare, and bravely stole over the border at night. Some of them were shot by a border guard. Others successfully reached Budapest, continued to Vienna, Paris, Marseilles, and from there they sailed to the Land of Israel's coast. But not everyone was successful in entering the Land. Many were held in a refugee camp in Cyprus until the State of Israel was established. Nothing could stop the wave of departure from Romania and immigration, legal and illegal. Many Jews applied for it at the risk of losing their livelihoods or their right to study in schools or

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universities. Many of them waited for years and even decades until their applications were approved. Tragedies happened on occasion; families were arbitrarily separated: the wife or mother received the passport and visa while the husband or father did not. There were cases where Jews would receive a visa, then promptly sell their homes and liquidate their property, and then their visas were confiscated and they were forced to start all over again with nothing.

The sheer volume of applications for visas harmed promotions to senior positions for Jews and stopped them entirely. Jews that did hold senior positions, even those who didn't apply for a visa, were gradually demoted from their positions, or were coerced into retirement. Authorities searched and found different ways to eliminate Jews from public offices.

It was not this way in the beginning. Immediately after the ceasefire, Jews were brought back to their jobs. Some were promoted to senior positions even beyond their aptitude, especially by virtue of their membership in the Communist Party. Jewish students were brought back to state schools and given relief in university admission like their Christian friends, without discrimination. If there was discrimination, it impacted both Jews and Christians, and not just Jews for being Jews. These discriminatory actions started with the class war that revolved around social origin, according to the files from the personnel departments. At the same time informers appeared, always ready to deliver information where the results were unpredictable. Other prisons and camps were established, which housed other culprits and sometimes even innocents. Oppression wasn't only at the hands of the Romanian population. Jewish oppressors were sometimes more brutal than their Romanian counterparts, in order to prove loyalty to the regime, so no one would suspect them, so that no fault would be placed on them. They were renounced by their acquaintances on the street or in institutions just as their acquaintances and friends who became members of the “Iron Guard” several years before were renounced by them. They only knew you if you weren't at the demonstrations on May 1st, August 23rd, or November 7th. They were the ones who would stand up and attack you during meetings, would ask you to criticize yourself and would suggest your removal from the ranks of the Communist Party during the purges. After the “nine plagues of Egypt”, came the “the tenth plague”: the CDE was established with a mission to attack the Jews who yearned for Zion and Jerusalem. Thus began the persecution of Zionists.

Starting on the first liberated May 1st of Romania, and for many years, the blue and white flag was flown next to the red flag of the Proletariat. After a few years the situation changed. Trials and investigations were held, this narrowed the mobility of the Zionist movement as Zionist officials were sentenced to many years of harsh imprisonment. The “Jewish Center” (Centralia Evreilor) from the days of the Holocaust, headed by Gingold, became the “Comitetul Democrat Evreiesc” that was headed by Leibovici-Șerban and Bercu Feldman. Their job was to receive reports on regional and local successes, and these successes came without delay. The chief rabbi of Romania, Rabbi Dr. Alexander Șafran, was deported from Romania and Rabbi Dr. Moses Rosen ^[2] was appointed in his place. Jewish newspapers brought forth a smear campaign

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against “Zionist imperialist attackers,” like David Ben-Gurion, Levi Eshkol, and Golda Meir. Long articles were published about several Jews that left to the “Zionist Garden of Eden” and came back to their homeland, because they couldn't bear the poverty there.

Indeed, several dozens of Jews had been in the Land and had returned to Romania. At the same time, hundreds of members of the “Jewish Democratic Committee” began to relocate, and lo and behold! They came out organized, they were sent with a defined cause, though no one knew what. Perhaps their mission was to break the Zionist Imperialist Front and turn the State of Israel into a communist state. However, after a short period of time, it became known that these “battalions” organized by the “Jewish Democratic Committee” dispersed. Their members looked for appropriate jobs and forgot their political missions. Their defection affected other Jews from Romania, those who didn't belong to the Jewish Democratic Committee. The situation in Romania gradually got worse, and at the same time, so did the yearning for Zion. The number of applications for visas was growing. Even the delays and layoffs from workplaces had no effect. “Syrovniks” ^[3] came back with new applications. The Jewish population of Bacău decreased every year. By 1960, there was a significant decrease in the number of Jews in the city, and an even greater decrease by 1970. By the '80s, only a few hundred Jews remained in the city, most of them were older people who lived off financial aid that they received from the community. There were also young people who stayed for various personal reasons: mixed marriage, fear of the unknown, their material indulgences. But their Jewishness slapped them in the face every night all over again. Their children studied in the Talmud Torah, they sang in the community choir, they filled the few synagogues that were left. The poverty-stricken Jews ate at the community kosher restaurant, whose supply was good thanks to the Joint^[4]. They also received holiday gifts and participated in “Chanukiada” – the lighting of Chanukah candles in the presence of Rabbi Dr. Moses Rosen who came specially from Bucharest – and in the Passover Seder, that were organized by the community leadership. Guests from abroad also attended these rituals, glad to have discovered a “Jewish island in a Christian sea!” On holidays “not from the Torah” ^[5] documentaries were filmed and photos were taken, the community children's choir sang, there was a general spirit of joy in the air. Afterwards, the guests from abroad went on their way in search of more Jewish islands. Some of them, formerly Bacău people, visited the Jewish cemetery to go to the graves of their loved ones.

That's how things were conducted by the end of the '80s in Bacău, a city that once had a Jewish community of 18,000 people. The current head of the community can attest to this, attorney Lica Brill, an honest, passionate, and reliable man who takes care of the last members of the declining community.

Translator's footnotes

1. Romanian name for the Jewish Democratic Committee.  Return
2. In Hebrew, he is known as David Moshe Rosen, but in English he is referred to as Moses Rosen. Return
3. Literally translates to “refuseniks.” This was a colloquial term for Jews who were denied visas. Return
4. A reference to the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, or JDC. Return
5. These holidays included Chanukah and Purim. Return

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A few years ago, I returned to Bacău. For a while, I had felt a strong desire to see the beloved places again. To wander once more the narrow alleys where my youth had passed, and in the wide streets where my adulthood unfolded. I knew that this return to the world of shadows would be an experience in the style of Dante Alighieri. The world of shadows trembles under the waves of memories. Yet in the places where I sat and cried, I remembered the retreats alongside the victories, the ups and downs as in the life of every person.

And here I am wandering through alleys and streets, and it seems to me that I am roaming through the cemetery of memories and delusions. There is no trace of the past. The past has passed; time has bulldozed over everything and everyone. I searched for familiar faces, and indeed I saw some in a man with a wrinkled face. I greeted him with a nod, but the man looked at me surprised and puzzled. Perhaps he thought that it was just a nervous gesture or that I had lost my mind.

After that, I felt a terrible feeling of alienation. Even though I was in places so close to me, where I had walked and roamed thousands of times. Nothing remained as it was; the houses, the gardens, the streets, the people. Buildings I knew vanished as if they never existed, others seemed perhaps large and beautiful, but cold and lifeless. I began to search for the home I had dreamed in… a tall building served as an anchor for me, but it only led me to another tall building, new and standing exactly where I remembered. And I turned towards the Jewish high school building. Another row of tall buildings stood in its place. I walked away from there, and it was as if I could hear behind me the noise and commotion of students during recess. No, that's not it. It's just the noise of the street, the cars.

I lingered in the city garden, or what was left of it. Tired, I sat on a bench under the willow tree, where I had sat many times in the past. I closed my eyes, and in my mind, I saw the pavilion where the army band played “the Overture of 1812” by Tchaikovsky, to the delight of the children who came to listen to the sound of the bells and drums.

Then I continued to walk along the former Marasesti road, far away, to Ursu, a very long way. From there I turned to Sarata way… there, up the street, is the cemetery. A silent sea of stone and marble tombstones. There I found familiar names and once again I lived among familiar faces. Here, in the center of the main avenue - the former heads of the Jewish community. No one is missing, everyone is present at the board meeting: Dr. Tocucianu, Uziash Hershkovich, Yosef Goldenberg, Herman Kisler, Aroneanu, Avraham Feldhar, Bernstein, Mendelovich. In the Yeshiva shel ma'alah as in the yeshiva shel mata ^[1] “The big street” (Strada Mare) is also big here… Lazarovich, “Galia” Groberg, Solomon the watchmaker and his brothers, Yakirkenner, Greenberg, Horn. No one is missing. Also, all the high society women of Bacău from those days. Those who filled the gossip columns in the local press, describing

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their clothing, their jewelry, the parties, the feasts they participated in until dawn at Perlberg's or at “Corso”. And here are also the respected names of rabbis resting in eternal rest in niches under small prayer houses, impressive in their simplicity: Rabbi Betzalel Shafran z“l, Rabbi Blank z”l.

Tired from the flood of emotions and memories, I looked at the photograph of Mirel Segal attached to his tombstone. He smiles at me like in the past when he was studying in class, when he asked me questions of various sorts. Because his curiosity and desire to know were endless. A diligent student, who became a successful engineer. When he turned 25, he was killed in a fatal car accident. And further away, in other avenues is the “teachers' room.” Gutman, a teacher who taught thousands of students math. A cruel disease led to the amputation of his legs. Not far from there is another teacher, Aronovich. In the past, he used to teach law and was a lawyer. A handsome man, with gray hair and neatly styled sideburns. Students envied him because of his beauty. Female students were captivated and daydreamed while he taught.

Ideas rise in my head, and I see mirages in other places. Hilda Simone, a French teacher. A strange woman both in body and spirit. A beauty with a subtle character, a pure character. Her landing at the airport in Israel was also strange. Perhaps this was the only moment in her life when she tied her fate to the lives of others and stepped out of her loneliness. However, shortly thereafter, she passed away. Apart from her students, she had no one in the world. She taught at the school in an area near Tel Aviv. When she passed away, her students published an announcement in the newspaper about her untimely death.

A few months earlier, the lawyer Mititelu passed away. He was a physical education teacher at the Jewish high school in Bacău. He was Hilda's only friend in Romania and perhaps even in Israel. The “Tribune” is now forever silent. He had philosophical sayings such as: “The life of a man, the life of a dog, requires bread”, or “Some eat until they decay, and some decay until they eat”.

Here I am sitting and crying by the graves of my friends and my mother.

I bypassed the pure, white grave of Laurie Cambus, who was wonderful and disappeared too soon from the stage of life and art. I continued on my way to the “second cemetery”, where I did not know any avenues, houses, or people. I paid the guard waiting for me at the gate the tips due to him for bringing me into the world of shadows, and I made my way into the city. Finally, a familiar shadow that in its time saved my youth: the factory of Letea, the anti-Semitic fortress of Porumbaru, the fortress of Romanian nationalism. Thus, ending my encounter with the past.

Translator's footnote

1. The author draws a contrast between two metaphorical realms: “yeshiva shel ma'alah” (the yeshiva above) and “yeshiva shel matah” (the yeshiva below). Yeshiva shel ma'alah typically refers to a divine spiritual domain where decisions about human fate are made. In contrast, yeshiva shel mata signifies the earthly domain and embodied human existence and efforts to learn. The phrase familiar to Hebrew speakers from the Kol Nidre service on Yom Kippur. Return

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