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| Edward Loth |
That evening - having carefully shaded all windows - tenants from the whole house gathered in our apartment for corn coffee in order to say good-by to Papa with respect and devotion.
The following morning there was a ceremonial breakfast (not with respect to food -- there was nothing at our disposal ) but because of parting with Papa. With heavy heart Papa prepared to leave. Rising from the table he said, "How I will endure without all of you I do not know. I shall worry about you a great deal. Because parting is not the same when one is going into the army. It is then lightened by the concept of defending not only one's homeland, but also one's nearest and dearest. This is quite different -- something else.
"But since all my family and friends have so decided and have talked me into it, then, (turning to Mama). beloved wife, I entrust you with the key to our treasury. Use it as you think fit, not only for others but for also for yourself. That you should not know hunger or poverty. Remember also my mother and the remainder of the family."
The younger children believed that my Papa was going to see their father to find out if he had finished building their new home. Sulenka felt so at home here by that time that she replied resignedly, "I'm all right even in your home, Mr. Jozef. You don't have to go to see if our house is ready. I will see my Daddy soon anyway, because he promised me."
She put up her cheek for a kiss and held out a pretty little hand, saying, "Will you give me a little kiss? Just one last one. I'll never ask you for any more."
I felt a shiver run down my spine. Why does she say that?
Moved by tenderness, Papa kissed both her hands. And she did not realise how he was suffering at that moment. At one point she started to laugh, playful as she once was. Perhaps a good omen? I thought.
Papa hugged, squeezed and kissed everyone in turn. He seemed to be in control of himself. But I knew what was happening in his heart and soul. Especially when, from time to time, his eyes wandered over the whole apartment as though he was saying good-bye to every piece of furniture individually and for ever - not only to us.
Mrs. Irma put her arms round Papa's neck, but jumped away quickly as if struck by a current. She whispered only, "No, Jozef! Go with luck. Don't say good-bye to me. I can't. It is too hard for me...."
She ran, sobbing, from the salon.
Josek, seeing this, in turn threw himself at Papa's neck in tears which he could not hold back this time and, with all the hurt of a nine year-old boy, sobbed out, "I believed in you so much! I thought you were different from the average adult and did not know how to 'tell fibs'. I'm not little Sula. I am Josek and you are Josek, aren't we? It doesn't matter that they call you Jozik, Jozef or Ziutek. I will always be the same Jos.
"I thought that because my Daddy's gone and we can't find him you'd be everyone's Daddy - and now you're going just like the others. Why? Because of that stupid wall? Can't people live in a box? Don't worry - it will be warmer! Tell me, doctor, is death so terrible? You're a soldiers and were at the front with my Daddy, so why be afraid - and why are you leaving us? Who will be our father now?"
None of the adults could bear this sight, not even Papa himself. For the first time I saw him dissolve in tears. When Josek saw this also he became shy for a moment. Still holding on tightly to Papa, he kissed him on both cheeks, then wiped his own tears with the sleeve of his blouse - for my completely soaked handkerchief lay on the carpet.
Then he said, "Maybe you're right. Go, tall Jos, perhaps you'll really find my Daddy somewhere? If you do, let us know quickly where he is. Lala and I will be waiting for this news. Now go with luck and with God, and I will act in your place as everyone's 'father'. Don't worry about anything. Everything has been in good order here up to now - and it will stay that way. And don't worry about the women and my sister. Don't worry about anything."
Letting go of Papa's neck, he straightened up proudly. He saluted Papa, putting his fingers to those dark locks, and marched off to his room in military style, asking everyone not to go with him.
Finally it was my turn and I, too, had to say good-bye to Papa. Which was not easy after what had just occurred. But I controlled myself with an effort of will so as to show Papa I was hard, I was truly his daughter -- the way he always wanted me to be. He thanked me, cuddled me warmly, with a slight smile.
I did not see my parents saying good-bye to each other. I had no more strength and, I must admit, wanted only for them to be left alone. I felt very tired. I only went as far as the front door with Papa and returned quickly to my room to watch from the balcony as Mama saw him off. They walked slowly along the street. Very slowly. This time in the direction of Smocza St. Seeing me on the balcony, he waved his hand to me.
Then they hurried on until they were lost from sight.
Mama came back soon, but only as far as Smocza St. Standing there, under the wall of some building, she waited and watched from a distance the place where Papa had to pass the German guard. There was a guard hut at that point and this was the exit to the Aryan side in the immediate period after the wall was erected.
As Mama told me, they checked Papa's documents and told him to open his briefcase. They did not swear at him this time so, walking quickly, Papa left his happy environment, his possessions, family, friends and acquaintances. Some distance away, on the "other" side, a good friend of ours, Prof. Edward Loth, was waiting for Papa. [Type "translate polish to english" or whatever language for the story of Loth's life from this Wikipedia entry. He was a Polish physician and anatomist killed in the Warsaw Uprising of 1944 with his wife and daughter.]
Very exhausted by the events of this day, Mama went to her room. She preferred to be alone with her thoughts, so I did not intrude. The whole of the rest of that day was exceptionally sad and strangely hard to bear for everyone. They moved around the whole house, each busy with their own thoughts. Eventually they all disappeared to their own rooms. In this way time passed unnoticed until it was almost noon.
Before going to my room I decided, in spite of his stipulation, to look in on Josek. I knocked quietly and immediately opened the door of his room. He was lying on the settee, but was not asleep. When he saw that it was I, he invited me in. He was not crying. Rather, he seemed calm. But he was silent for a long time. Neither did I feel able to speak. Eventually he grabbed my hand (I was sitting on the edge of the settee) and held it to his heart.
He said quietly, "Lala, you are more grown up than I am but" -- he postulated -- "not in everything and not always. Although I am a slightly" (emphasising the word) "younger boy I can keep up with you and with everybody in everything. I've been thinking about this since yesterday and I have decided. We will make a pact. But no one in the house is to know about it, only you and I -- nobody else. You understand? We'll gather together Samuel's boys and girls..."
Seeing my astonishment, he added, "You know -- the Samuel who saved you from getting caught with that history book business. And, you know," he continued, "We'll form our own, sort of, 'secret organisation'. I've thought it all out already. You know that many people used to buy things in the shops on Okopowa St. when there was anything to buy.
"Then these occupying riff-raff cut off our street. You have to go the long way round -- and that takes a lot of time. What's more, you have to pass by that German gendarme guard post, which is not pleasant. And they've started to check papers frequently -- who goes out and who comes in -- and search any luggage people carry. Because of this there could be more hunger and things could get worse in our house.
"I watched through the curtains when they were building that mangy wall close to here and I know that, right at the bottom of the centre section, there are some damaged bricks. When it gets a bit darker we'll both go down to the wall and I'll count them and mark them."
I listened to what he was telling me with bated breath, but still did not know what it was all about. Josek went on, "Later, when it is almost night, I'll let Sam's (which was what Samuel's parents called him) boys into the secret and they'll pick out the cement so that these few bricks can be taken out and replaced without the guards on Okopowa noticing anything."
"Why on earth would you want to take bricks out?" I asked.
"Oh Lalka, you still don't see? So that boys could get through that hole to the other side. It's always easier to get food over there. Now do you see?"
Yes, I saw now -- and was full of admiration and respect for him that he had solved this irksome problem of direct access to Okopowa St. despite it being fenced off. Fired by his idea, Josek went on,
"If we scratch out enough of these bricks so you can get through as well, you'll have easy access to your schools without going round and, what's more, without going through that unpleasant guard-post. It will be nearer for you and you won't have to put on your arm-band -- only to pull it off later in some gateway in the city."
He startled me by saying this. When did he see me pulling it off? Where? When did the sharp eyes of this boy catch me at it? It was true. When these arm-bands were issued, on the 1st December, 1939, to be compulsorily worn by all Jews and those of Jewish extraction -- adults and children from age of 12 without regard to faith -- I enthusiastically put mine on my sleeve and paraded around the city proudly, pleased that not everyone wore them.
At the time I noticed more than once that people of both sexes frequently looked round at me. When, however, I happened to look round at the same moment, I often saw men smile pleasantly, while the women seemed to grimace ironically.
But when a teacher at the high school ("komplety", of course) asked me if I definitely had to wear it -- explaining that it would be better for the good of the school and the safety of other girls if I took it off somewhere on the way and hid it in my satchel or pocket -- that was what I did. I could not work out, however, where Josek could have seen me, how he could have caught me? Since he knew, I did not deny it, only explained why I was doing it.
"There - you see, Lala? Wasn't I right that I must do the 'fathering' in your Papa's place? Oh, girls! Such strange, slow-witted bipeds!"
This description of girls amused me a lot. But before leaving the room I had to promise on my knees that it was all a great secret; that, from to-day, we have our "domestic conspiratorial organisation"; that there will be a meeting of all the boys and girls and everyone will have a code name just like in real organisations of this kind, like they say in the conspiratorial newspaper "Poland Lives".
I searched for a code name for myself but none were to my liking.
At first I wanted to take my father's name. The more so because in Jewish underground organizations everyone took Polish names. But Jos dissuaded me quickly and I guessed why. It would remind him of my father and he would suffer more because of it. Eventually he declared that he must give it a lot of thought because it was a very important decision!
"First of all, the girls must have suitable names!" he declared. He asked me which name I would like for myself, stressing that it can be one which I like best. When I said that, since my second name on my birth certificate is Jozef (after Papa) so I could be, for instance, "Joska", he burst out laughing.
He declared emphatically that in the first place the name did not suit me at all and in the second place there was no such Jewish name for girls. So I must think some more to find one which really suits me. He considered it for a time, then sat down suddenly on the settee and declared, "Got it! On your school documents you are 'Halina'. But everyone calls you 'Lala' although to some you are 'Halszka' and to others 'Hala'. You know, it would be best if the code-name agreed with those documents by choosing a name also beginning with 'H'. You're Halina...Halina...I know!" he shouted. "I think you could change it to a Jewish name, a sort of nickname for Halina - in other words - 'Hana'!"
It was all the same to me. And so I became "Hana" in this first phase of childish play. Much later that is what I called myself when I first came in contact with the real conspiratorial youth organisation in the ever-tightening Warsaw ghetto. This was confirmed by the "commander" of this brave group of boys, that is, by Samuel (Sam) Wiener.
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