1.1 -- Childhood

Children in the Warsaw Ghetto

My childhood was wonderful indeed.  Not only was I brought up in luxury, but in a very excess of it.  I had my nurse (or "Nanny" - Maryla), and a most beautiful nursery, wonderfully furnished with masses of toys.   Particularly dolls - so many of them that I did not know with which of them to play for each was more beautiful than the last

Pyry, nr. Warsaw, - 25th July, l939 

I am here at Pyry with Mama who often goes to nearby Warsaw to see Papa.  Also here with me is Nanny and my old Grandmother, Papa's Mama.  Today Mama again went to Warsaw. It was late when she came back but
Papa was with her. I noticed that he was worried about something for he was not in his usual mood. He was melancholic somehow and sad. He brought me a gas mask and taught me how to use it if necessary. He also gave me a satchel marked with a red cross with a first-aid kit
inside. 

Before leaving us again Papa came into my room and hugged me. He
held me warmly to his breast without a word. I know how hard it was for
him to leave us. I felt it. Only when he was downstairs in the hall
(I watched him go down) did he call out:

"I'm not worried about anything because I've got you, Halik, as my
ambassador. I know you will always represent me worthily. I'll see you
soon, my dear baby!" He saluted beautifully. He was already in
uniform, which suited him extremely well. My parents went out and I
returned to my room with a heavy heart.

Mama did not return until the next day. I could see that she was also
sad and unhappy. She looked tired. All the same, she busied herself
at once tidying, giving instructions, checking food supplies and so on.
I kept Grandmother company because Maryla was also busy with Mama. I 

listened to Grandmother's sighs and reminiscences about Papa. 

Warsaw, 10th August, 1939

We are back in our home on Pavia St. where letters from Papa are

waiting. He is in the Capital and will drop by in a few days to see us.

At present there is nothing he needs. He feels well. Of course, this

is not the time to be a lighthearted cavalryman. He has a family and

misses us very much. That is obvious. We miss him. I look forward

happily to seeing him.

Now that he is in military uniform I would love to go for a walk with
him around town. The uniform lends him distinction. He looks very
smart. Perhaps I will manage to let my school-friends see what a
handsome father I have?

There is a certain amount of confusion at home because the housekeeper,
Freda, cannot manage to get Cook to hurry with the preparation of
meats, fruit and preserves. As usual, Mama defuses this domestic
situation.

I am to go to Hoza St. tomorrow.  My uncle lives there in our house and
Lunia and Fija, my first cousins, have also returned from vacation and
we are to see each other. I am also going with Mama to shop for school
things. There is a great deal of movement on the streets. People
rushing about burdened with shopping, stocking up. One can sense the
general excitement. People form groups talking, gesticulating. One can
hear that the topic of conversation is the immediate threat to our
country - war.

There are many uniforms to be seen. Officers, N.C.O.'s, privates, also
the newly-recruited still in civilian clothes but marching in military
formation, closed ranks, singing soldiers' songs while their shaved
heads are their own advertisement. 

Warsaw, 23rd August, 1939

Early the next morning we were awakened by a man's voice in the street

calling for help. Almost all of us went out onto the balconies in our

dressing gowns. A group of men in the street were pulling passing Jews

into gateways, beating them and cutting off their sidelocks and beards.

It was a terrible experience for me to see old Moniek who had a food

shop across the street suddenly attacked by louts as he was opening up

and beaten into unconsciousness. I myself started calling from the

balcony: "Police! Help!" Papa could not stop himself. He ran into the

street as he was - in pajamas and dressing gown. He was only in time to

scare away the group of hooligans and go to Moniek's assistance. A

pity he was not in uniform - perhaps that would have really frightened

them,. Even so, they ran away.

Papa had just come back upstairs when, from Okopowa St., more shouts
reached us: "Gevalt! Gevalt! Help! Save us! Police!" It was terrifying.

In broad daylight with a lot of traffic about I witnessed macabre
scenes on the way to the shop on Zelazna St. with Maryla. Not only
beatings, bloodying, or knife blows to the face, but every Jew - young
or old - with a beard and a black robe being pulled into gateways of
houses and shops where their beards, sideboards, or even the hair on
their heads was cut off with razors or pocket knives. Roughly, of
course, and unevenly, while the victims tried to defend themselves. And
blows and bloody wounds were also inflicted on innocent passers-by.

I could not understand at the time why this was happening. After all,
Poland was the homeland for both nationalities, Poles and Jews. That
hurt me, for these groups of degenerates were not mere youths. They
moved along in groups of six or eight and fell on the selected victims
in pairs, especially those with beards and sidelocks - to commit that
which I have already described. Many of these victims of attack were
educated people, or the orthodox religious.

Maryla, frightened, pulled me by the hand so that I would not stop and
watch these scenes. Looking on with girlish, wide-open eyes, I was
surprised that none of the passing men reacted or defended on seeing
this. They only hurried away, ran from this place. I simply could not
understand why no one stood up to defend them. I kept asking myself
these questions: "What for? Why?" I could not take it in at all.

Sensitive by nature, I could not settle on returning home. Papa was
equally upset, so I asked no questions. I knew that we were to go today
to see an old relative on Zytnia St. despite Nanny advising everyone
not to go. But Papa wants to say goodbye to the old lady because he has
to return to his now mobilized hospital.

I went with Mama and Papa because I like going there. Aunt Lila and
the two uncles are so nice. They like me and spoil me and they simply
adore Mama and Papa. We went in the late afternoon. Since it was not
very far, we walked. It was pleasant and sad at the same time, because
Grannie had also seen what took place on the streets today.

It was late when we started back and although it was still summer it
was dark outside. The streets were lit by street lamps and the moon.
On Okopowa St. the same scenes were to be seen as earlier in the day.
Stones thrown through windows, braking glass, things smashed inside
homes and the injured occupants cowering in corners, calling for help.
Papa, in his uniform, spoke to the group of louts: "Gentlemen - why
these disturbances, this fighting? These are not our enemies living
here. If each of you is so tough, join up quick and show what you can
do at the front line to keep the Kraut out of Poland!". The group moved
off into Dzielna St. They did not throw any more stones as long as they
could see us - apparently shamed by Papa's words.

We approached the corner of Pawia St. where we lived. I walked in
front so that Papa and Mama could talk more freely. Under a lamp some
distance in front of us I could see human shadows. I did not know if
this was a group of hooligans or normal, good people. I did not have
time to tell Papa before I was passed by a group of six youths, who
parted to the sides as though to let me, a girl, pass. I passed them
quietly and slowed down for I was already under our balcony, just a few
steps from the gate. Suddenly I heard Mama cry out:

"Oh, merciful God!"

I turned quickly and saw Papa lying in the roadway, blood pouring from
his nose, unable to say a word. I screamed at the top of my voice: 

"Police! Help! They're not only beating Jewish civilians, but now they attack the military as well. Police! Help!"

Upper windows began to open in neighbouring houses. People looked out
and some recognised Papa lying in the road, unable to move. Mama was
kneeling beside him and I did not know what to do, so went on shouting:

"Accursed bandits! Go where you should be - defending Poland! Cattle,
not men! Battening on the innocent! When war comes may the first
bullets smash you, you devilish, unruly rabble!"

On hearing my shouts the caretaker, Mr. Duszak, came running. He
immediately helped Papa, rubbing his back. Papa told us later he
thought he had been struck by someone in the back with a metal ball on a
string or elastic, punched by a fist in the mouth by another and kicked
in the stomach by others still. He did not suspect anything when they
passed him, being absorbed in conversation with Mama. He was very
contused and slightly wounded. We were concerned about his spine, which
bothered him terribly. We phoned the hospital where he worked and an
ambulance came immediately, taking him there. He had to remain in bed
for some time.

As they secured their windows with shutters, I heard Jewish people
repeating:

"What is to become of us? Why have they started on us? We don't want
to fight with anyone. We are Polish citizens. Even that Dr. Josek did
not escape. Yet he no longer belongs to us, since he married a 'Goy'.
Hard to believe that even the uniform of the Republic of Poland does not
protect a Jew. Why? Why?"

Later Papa tried one day to explain to me who it was who acted against
the Poles to weaken their authority. He explained that these were the
so-called "Fifth Columnists", a covert enemy agency. Mostly made up of
diversionists and spies, only awaiting a signal to begin a "war" inside
the City itself. They act on behalf of Nazi Germany and to its
advantage. In other words, they are part of an organisation
collaborating with the enemy of our country who is preparing to attack
us. But, as most people know, we are "strong, united and ready" and
will quickly defeat the enemy. 

Warsaw, 27th August, 1939

We saw Papa again. His face was still swollen, but he moved more

freely. He told us that his spine was improving. Today he seemed

almost cheerful. He was constantly saying something to Mama, who became

progressively more troubled.

When we were leaving he hugged me warmly and with great sadness. I
felt his deep emotion as he directed these words towards me: "You know,
Halik, that your father loves you and Mama deeply. I have always been -
and still am - capable of the greatest sacrifices for your Mama and
have always taught you from your earliest years to obey her. Because I
considered that, as a girl, your upbringing was entirely her
responsibility. Perhaps it even suited me to avoid that responsibility.

"Today, when it is possible that we may be parted for a longer period, I
must explain certain matters to you because you are nearly grown up and
so will understand and appreciate things properly.

"You know that your father was formerly a Jew. Now christened, it is
true, but only from the day of my marriage to Mama. I have not been, as
I am duty bound, to confession in church since the day of my marriage. 

I do go to services sometimes and always visited the graves with you
during Holy Week and Easter Sunday, Resurrection, because that moved me
very much, especially the atmosphere and beautiful songs. All the same,
I always felt strongly bound to my mother, your Granny - the only one
you have, Mama's mother having orphaned her children too soon.

"You should know one thing, Halik. Although I undoubtedly have Jewish
blood in my veins I have always felt that I am a true Pole in spite of
this.

"One thing is important in life, remember - always to maintain your
dignity. I have never demanded this from you, Halik. You followed your
Mother's wishes regarding your upbringing, which I respect and value. 

She knows what she is doing. However, you are by nature delicate,
sensitive and emotional. You have a romantic soul although strength of
character also shows in you. That is why I ask that, while loving
people, you should never forget the Jews also, giving them some of your
feelings. You have dual blood in your veins. Never forget that.

"Remember," continued Papa, "Give help to whoever needs it. Sparing
neither strength nor life. You are my daughter so I deeply believe that
I will never be disappointed in you. And when you are fully grown up
you will choose for yourself which path to follow - Polish or Jewish.
Or both together, as I do.  I love both nations equally and both
Homelands are truly mine.

"Look after Mama, obey her, for our parting must last longer this time.
I am going 'in the field' for military exercises and they always last
longer, as you know. Anyway, who knows at present? It may be for the
duration of the war."

Tears filled my eyes but I wiped them off quickly. Papa went on:

"Give me a hug, Halik, but don't say 'good-bye'. 

That is for your luck and mine, for the whole family around us.

"And so to a speedy reunion" (we hugged again)  "and please, never
forget what I have told you today. And now, one more sweet kiss from
Mama. Greet everyone for me once more. Go now because the streets are
becoming ever more dangerous for lone women.

"Stay happy with God, both of you, till we meet again and don't worry
about me. My lucky star will always protect me, only I have never known
which one it is - the one I was born under, or that other one given to
me by my own wife."

We said goodbye once more, embracing Papa, and left the Hospital of the
Infant Jesus with heavy hearts. We reached home by taxi without
incident, though tired. And so, each of us immersed in our own
thoughts, we said good-night and went to bed. But neither of us could
sleep for a long time thinking what tomorrow might bring. Especially as
the cries of innocent people being maltreated reached us once more from
the street.