Gertruda's Oath: A Child, a Promise, and a Heroic Escape During World War II (23 page)

Throughout the discussion, Elisheva’s thoughts wandered to her father. Ever since she had come to Palestine, she had gotten only one letter from him, and she didn’t know where he was. Was he wounded, captured, or killed? If he was still on active duty, she
thought, there was a chance he would come here with the occupying force. What would happen then? Would he save her from death? Would he also rush to help others?

Most of all now, with the possibility of a German invasion, it was important for her to keep her father’s activities secret from the members of the kibbutz. She didn’t talk about him, not even to her best friends.

One summer day in 1942, Karl Rink’s friend, Kurt Baumer, knocked on the door of his office in Vilna. Karl was surprised to see him and the two of them went to a local restaurant popular with Nazi officers.

Baumer said he was only passing through Vilna on the way to his new job.

“Have you heard of Walter Rauf?” he asked Rink.

“Yes,” said Karl. Rauf was the infamous inventor of the “death trucks,” in which myriads of Jews were executed by exhaust gas from vehicles that was fed into the freight section where the victims were packed.

“I’m joining him soon,” said Baumer. “Rauf ordered a special unit of twenty-four SS men to destroy the Jews of Palestine when our army invades there. He expects that, as in other countries where the method has been in operation, non-Jews in the country will also help us in the work of annihilation.” He said that the Germans were already in touch with a few agents active in Palestine and were getting up-to-date reports from them to prepare the basis of the annihilation.

Karl Rink turned pale. He thought of the danger lurking for his daughter.

“When will you enter Palestine?” he asked softly.

“Right away. The German army is advancing quickly.”

Karl twisted in his chair. He hesitated to admit what was bothering him, but he knew he had to. Only Baumer, he thought, could help him.

He told him about Helga.

Baumer looked at him in amazement. “I didn’t know you had a daughter in Palestine,” he said.

Rink wrote down the name and address of Yossi Millman of Kibbutz Dafna, who was supposed to know where the girl was.

“I want you to go to him,” said Rink, “and make sure that no harm comes to her.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Nobody will harm her.”

“Thank you,” said Karl. He asked his friend if he had heard anything about the disappearance of his wife.

Baumer felt uncomfortable. “I told you to leave that alone,” he growled.

“You’re hiding something from me.” Karl looked straight into his eyes.

“If I had told you the truth in Berlin,” said his friend, “they would have executed me.”

“You’re not in Berlin anymore. Tell me now.”

“I repeat that there is no point to go on looking for your wife,” Baumer persisted.

“They killed her, right?”

“Right.”

“Who?”

Baumer writhed. “You can guess,” he said.

“Schreider?”

“He gave the order. His people carried it out. I’m sorry, Karl.”

“That’s what I thought.” Rink sighed.

They parted sadly and Baumer joined Walter Rauf on the outskirts of Egypt. The new unit took command of a fleet of trucks and prepared to take them to Palestine.

But things didn’t turn out as Rauf had planned. The Afrika Korps, commanded by General Erwin Rommel, which had advanced beyond the Suez Canal in North Africa, was defeated in November 1942. Kurt Baumer was killed in Egypt in an ambush of a British commando unit. The German army wasn’t able to reach the Land of Israel.

Nothing seemed to disturb the peace that had always enveloped the small town of Pontrepoli, an isolated nature preserve among the green hills of northern Italy. The only indication of the war taking place somewhere was the roar of airplanes that rose now and then from the Tuscan hills going out or coming back from bombing missions in enemy territory. During 1943, even after Italy signed a secret truce with the Allies and German army units entered the areas where the Allies hadn’t reached, the town continued to enjoy its undisturbed peace and its inhabitants showed little interest in what was going on in the outside world. What mattered to the local peasants was mostly the rise in the prices of fruits and vegetables because of the war; otherwise, their situation had never been better.

But the Germans soon indicated that they wanted to demonstrate a military presence even in the pastoral area of the town. At first a German army base was established near the town and vehicles carrying soldiers, ammunition, and supplies passed by on the
nearby roads. Then sophisticated shooting ranges were built and the sounds of rifle and gun shots disturbed the peace day and night.

Jacob Stolowitzky followed events with profound concern, fearing that sooner or later the Germans would reach him. Radio London, which he listened to in secret, reported that the Allies had already conquered Sicily and southern Italy. He believed that the war was coming to an end, but he was still cautious. He stopped taking his nightly walks around his house, closed himself inside, read a lot, helped his wife with her housework, and waited for the war to end. But this relatively tranquil life was short-lived. The Germans soon began systematically exiling the Jews of Italy to death camps and instituted searches in all settlements, cities, and remote towns to locate Jews who had been hiding from them. They didn’t intend to overlook Pontrepoli.

One September morning in 1943, a downpour fell on the town, swallowing up the roar of the German vehicles arriving there for the first time. Gangs of armed soldiers passed from house to house, raking the local monasteries and barns, looking for Jews. At last, they came to the house where Stolowitzky and his wife lived and demanded their identity documents. Anna gave them her passport and their marriage license. They left her alone and started a long interrogation of her husband. When they discovered that he was from Poland, they said they had to arrest him. Anna pleaded with them to leave him at home. She claimed he was sick, that taking him out of the house was liable to worsen his condition. She offered them money to leave him be. The soldiers took the money but insisted. Jacob Stolowitzky was taken for questioning and it became clear that he was a Jew.

Anna mobilized the mayor, who went to the Germans and tried to make them release her husband. But he couldn’t save him. Jacob Stolowitzky was put on a truck, where he met other frightened Jews
also captured in the surrounding towns. They were taken to the railroad station and sent to Auschwitz.

Anna never saw her husband again.

The order to liquidate the Vilna Ghetto was issued in mid-September 1943. Karl Rink, who was supposed to take part in rounding up the Jews from their homes, couldn’t bring himself to do so. On the day the Germans were about to invade the ghetto, he pretended to be sick and stayed in bed.

Enhanced SS and armed units arrested masses of Jews. Some were taken to be executed in the nearby forests and others were sent to death camps. Only very few managed to hide in safe places and elude death.

Two days after the liquidation of the Vilna Ghetto, Karl Rink was called to his commander, Albert Shrek, who didn’t waste time on small talk. He gave Rink a long look.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“I heard you were sick.”

“I was.”

“Really sick?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve had my eye on you for a long time now, Karl. I’ve noticed that you’ve lost your enthusiasm. You’re too withdrawn, not focused, working mechanically. What happened to you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tried to duck the issue.

“Are you hiding something from me, Rink?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Shrek sighed. “I hope that’s true,” he said. “At any rate, I’ve got a new job for you. Maybe it will finally excite you a little.” Shrek signed a document on his desk, put it in an envelope, and gave it to Rink.

“That’s a transfer,” he said. “You’re to leave today for Kovno. Report to Wilhelm Goecke, who’s in charge of the Kovno Ghetto. He needs reinforcements.”

Rink took the transfer document and left. He quickly packed his things, and on the train to Kovno he tried to guess what Shrek really knew about him. Did he suspect that Rink wasn’t doing his job?

When he came to Kovno, it became clear to Rink that the German command was composed of harsh and brutal officers. And Wilhelm Goecke, a lover of classical music, literature, and philosophy, was responsible for the murders of tens of thousands of Jews and Russian prisoners in the Mauthausen Concentration Camp, where he had previously commanded. He also participated in suppressing the uprising and liquidating the Warsaw Ghetto. The orders Rink received from Berlin when he came to Kovno were unequivocal: to liquidate the ghetto, annihilate the women and children, and leave alive only the men, who could be used for the German war production.

Karl Rink was put in charge of the workshops employing thousands of Jews, including several children who wore adult clothing to remain at their jobs and avoid being sent to death camps. The Jews of the ghetto quickly figured out who Goecke was, but couldn’t discover what was hidden behind Karl Rink’s frozen expression. They knew only that he treated them decently, didn’t seek
excuses to abuse them, and often overlooked the fact that one or another worker was too weak to fill his production quota.

Moshe Segelson, the Jewish manager of the workshop, became as friendly with Rink as he possibly could. They often chatted about classical music and German literature, which they both loved, and never talked about the war. Many of those who attended a ghetto orchestra concert of works by Jewish composers were surprised to see Rink in the first row. He applauded the orchestra and expressed personal admiration for the performance after the concert.

On New Year’s Day, Moshe Segelson wanted to give Rink a gift. “The present is to express our appreciation for your decent treatment of us,” he told him.

“We’re not allowed to take gifts,” said Rink. “But even without a gift, I can promise you that my treatment of you won’t change.”

Karl Rink lived in a large apartment in a building inhabited by other SS officers. On the wall of his bedroom, facing his bed, were framed pictures of his wife and daughter. One morning, when he left the house on his way to the workshop, he saw three SS men who had caught a frightened young Jew and were about to shove him into a military truck. Snatching children was an everyday thing in the ghetto and the fate of those who were taken was known in advance.

Rink went to the SS men and demanded they free the child.

“I know him,” he lied. “His father is collaborating with us.”

The boy was released immediately.

Sometime later, in the middle of the day in the shoe shop, a Ukrainian SS man was sent to look for hiding children and came to the workshop. Segelson knew that only Rink could prevent the evil decree. He hurried to Rink’s office and told him that children were
indeed hiding in the attic and his daughter was one of them. Rink went to the Ukrainian and asked what he was doing.

“We got information that dozens of children are hiding in the attic,” said the SS man. “We’ve been told that strange noises were coming from there.”

“There are no children here,” stated Rink and ordered him to leave.

Shortly thereafter, the Ukrainian came back with a senior SS officer.

Rink told both of them that he had already searched the attic thoroughly and hadn’t found anything.

“You’re sure?” asked the officer.

“Definitely.”

The two of them left and Segelson, with tears in his eyes, thanked Rink for his help.

“I’ll never forget what you did,” he said.

That evening, Rink ordered Segelson to come with him to his apartment to check up on repairs done there by employees of the shop. They set out, but Rink didn’t head his car toward his home. Instead, they drove around the streets of the ghetto for a long time in silence, and then Rink finally took Segelson back home. The next morning, Segelson discovered that while he was absent, arrests were made among the managers of the workshops. He was sure that Rink had come to his aid this time, too.

The hopeful news of the Russian advance was spread by whispers in the Kovno Ghetto. Radio London was the first to report it and the broadcast was picked up on some of the secret radios in the
ghetto. The Jews were afraid to show their joy to the Germans, but they were excited.

Changes were also visible on the ground. The German soldiers and their commanders looked nervous and frightened. Army units passed in the streets of Kovno on their way to the new front lines, and partisans attacked them from the forests. Soviet planes bombed the city, and at night the horizon glowed with the mortar shells attacking the German army.

In the ghetto workshops, work went on as usual. Rink still came to his office every morning, but he was restless and couldn’t concentrate. Moshe Segelson understood him and left him alone. Their meetings were limited to work issues, until one day Rink called him into his office and locked the door.

“I want to talk to you not as a commander, but man to man.” Rink surprised him. His voice was soft and hesitant.

Segelson listened attentively.

“The war will end soon,” said Rink. “Our army is crushed and Germany is about to be defeated. I want you to know that I never hated Jews. My wife was a Jew and I smuggled my daughter out of Germany at the last minute. I did the best I could to save Jews. I avoided carrying out orders to liquidate them or send them to death camps. I did that deliberately and I’m glad I could help.”

“I know,” said Segelson.

Karl Rink wiped away drops of sweat on his forehead.

“I’m not sure I’ll remain alive,” he went on. “But you have a good chance to survive. I’ve got a secret and I want to tell it to you. Promise me you won’t tell anyone until the war is over.”