Jewish Resistance During the Holocaust (9 page)

By the beginning of 1944, the Bielski Brigade consisted of 1,200 sur
vivors. It was led by Asael, Tuvia and Zush Bielski, gathered in a family camp, in the middle of a dense Byelorussian forest and organized as a self-sustaining community. Eight hundred and fifty people functioned in supportive roles, with around 300 or so active resistance fighters armed primarily with rifles and revolvers. Unarmed refugees, mostly women, old people, children, the sick and wounded, lived side-by-side with the armed fighters. The Bielski Brigade demonstrates the success of resistance groups outside the ghetto for whom
rescue
was as important as vengeance. For the two and a half years of its existence, the Bielski partisans lost only fifty members, a phenomenal fact given that mortality rates amongst resistance groups were well over 60 percent. A casualty rate of less than 5 percent can be attributed to the work of the support com
munity and Tuvia Bielski’s philosophy of ‘rescue,’ as well as ‘clever politics’ in dealing with the Russians and the prowess of the fighters. This
shtetl
in the forest exacted vengeance on the Germans, while encouraging caring and cooperation as the primary objective of a civilized and human existence. Rescue and community for the Bielski group were as important as killing.

In looking at the Bielskis, I am concerned with the moral position of resistance. The history has been adequately covered by Peter Duffy’s
The Bielski Brothers
and Nechama Tec’s more scholarly, soci
ological analysis,
Defiance: The Bielski Partisans.
For a complete study of how the Bielskis operated and an account of the structure of their community, both Duffy’s and Tec’s books are essential reading in

55

understanding partisan resistance. What I focused on in my inter
views with Bielski survivors were the moral gray zones, problematic intersections of violence and surviving, what Zvi Bielski called the brothers’ ‘mayhem,’ in addition to the impact of memory, particu
larly memory involving spiritual and theological states of mind, and how survivors explained their luck in having lived to establish fam
ilies and build new lives.

The Bielski group initially started with a few relatives and friends who had survived the massacres in Novogrudek, a small village in Byelorussia; by 1943 it had swelled to well over 1,000 partisans. Yet, unlike almost every other partisan group, both Jewish and non-Jewish, the Bielskis insisted on accepting any Jew who sought refuge with them. Tuvia Bielski refused to turn away any refugee – no matter what their age or physical condition. But even more im
portant, all found a role in the group, and these support roles – what one would find in any village or town, from food preparation to laundry, to maintenance and supplies, and tool-making and tannery – rather than draining energy from the fighters, contributed to the community’s overall welfare. Cooperation, not desolation, informed the group’s psychological environment.

Tuvia Bielski’s leadership consistently emphasized the welfare of the group. While conflicts arose over specific issues – such as who kept ‘luxury’ goods (for example, meat) taken during food expedi
tions – the group obeyed few fixed rules: all basic foodstuffs had to be handed over to the communal kitchen. Fighters, often led by Zush and Asael, who had been on food-gathering expeditions, might divide up choice commodities (such as a cow) before re
turning to camp, and support people would complain about this, but no one went hungry. Sonia O.: ‘Even if it were only a piece of bread, it was something; a little bread and water went a long way in the forests.’ Everyone received at least two meals a day: breakfast, consisting of boiled chicory and potatoes or bread; and a fairly sub
stantial main meal, though the quality varied, depending on con
ditions and availability. In addition, there were those with access to better quality food: fighters, communal leaders, those in a position to occasionally supplement their allotment by preparing food in their own quarters.

A social hierarchy prevailed in the detachment, with commanders at the top; next came fighters; then people with special skills. At the
very bottom were those without any forest survival skills. A young girl describes her father’s position at the bottom of the hierarchy, who before the war had been a well-paid administrator of a large brewery: ‘In the
otraid
[detachment], he became a “
malbush
” [someone who did not fight, and who offered the group no special skills]; he did nothing … . He was intelligent, educated, but not at all resourceful.’ But non-combatants and those who did not work were never left to die; nor were they left to starve. Nonetheless, a great deal of social opprobrium was attached to them. Max: ‘We had little use for the
malbush
… so many people eating and drinking and having a good time; we fighters resented them.’ Max appeared to be much closer to Zush’s attitude to rescue than to Tuvia’s.

Yet, the story is more complex than that. Zvi Bielski tells me about his Dad’s rescue of some
malbush
when the unit had had to hastily retreat deep into the forests in the face of a huge German mobilization in search of the partisans. Zush told one of the group to keep an eye on a woman and her daughter, and to make sure both escaped the encampment. Zush found out that the man had gone with the group but had left both the mother and daughter behind. When he asked him why, the man responded that they were not his concern; why should he try to save them? Enraged, Zush screamed that they deserved to live as much as anyone in the group, pulled out a gun and shot him. Then, at great risk to his own life, he went back, found the mother and daughter and they rejoined the unit.

Malbush
could improve their position through various means; for example, by guard duty or working in the tannery. Where one came from, and how much time had been spent in the forest, also affected social standing. The clothes one wore, for example, the fighting unit’s dress, and ownership of weapons, distinguished them from others of the
otraid.
But carpenters, bakers, tailors, gunsmiths and tanners, though on a level below the fighters, were highly respected for their skills and contributions to group survival.

In the fall of 1943, a permanent base was established in the Nalibocka forest. Workshops were housed in buildings dug out of the ground, and the base took on the properties of an organized community. Services, provided free of charge, kept the group functioning as a community; and all were entitled to have personal effects, including weapons, clothes and tools, repaired. Transactions
involving other partisan groups had to be arranged through the leadership, and these involved payments of some kind: food, supplies, weapons, and so on. One survivor recalls: ‘Most workshops were situated in a very large hut. The din emanating from this hut could be heard from afar, banging of sledgehammers, sawing of wood, clatter of sewing machines, laughter, lively conversations rich in partisan slang.’
¹
In the ghettos workshops like these helped the Germans; in the forests the workshops benefited the partisans:

The huge hut, with its raised ceiling which looked like a large machine shop in a factory, accommodated tens of workers, who were divided up according to their trades. Large windows pro
vided proper lighting for the various workshops located in all corners of the hut. The different workshops were separated by wooden partitions, and a number of people worked in each cubicle. More workshops were spread out throughout the camp … . All materials provided by nature in the forest were put to use.
²

People who had goods to trade were served first; those with nothing had to wait, sometimes for long periods, whether it be for the tailor, the gunsmith, the carpenter, the barber, the tanner. But no matter how long one waited for a service, it was always provided. Guards were constantly posted, yet in an environment of hostility and uncertainty, the Main Street character of this village in the forest lent stability and meaning to a world of despair and death. Nevertheless, many of the fighters saw the support group as a drain on partisan operation.

Many Russian commanders were suspicious of the Bielski group and wanted it disbanded. However, when General Platon, the Russian in charge of the partisan brigades in the Baranowicze region, toured the camp, he was impressed by the model partisan community he found and insisted that its integrity be preserved in the Soviet partisan system. According to Tec: ‘[Platon’s] insistence that the Bielski
otraid
’s contributions were essential to the partisan movement saved the life of Tuvia Bielski.’
³
Politics mattered, but in Zvi Bielski’s words, fierceness mattered more: ‘The Russians knew the Bielskis were prepared to fight to preserve their unit, to kill Russians if they had to.’

Women were treated on equal terms in the Bielski group, al
though they rarely were allowed on partisan missions. Much of that reluctance had to do with cultural and traditional attitudes; and while some women had guns and used them with partisan units, the majority in the Bielski group, as in other partisan brigades, were assigned to support services. Sonia Bielski: ‘I had a gun but Zush didn’t want me going out on missions.’ Yet, with few exceptions, women refused to allow themselves to be treated as second-class cit
izens even though most of the fighters resisted efforts to bring more women into the fighting units.

Tuvia’s spontaneity, his accessibility to the detachment, his toler
ance when necessary, in addition to astute decision-making and his willingness to kill to assure the group’s survival, constituted a form of leadership that was absent in the ghettos. To protect his detach
ment from Russian anti-Semitism, he constantly reminded Soviet officials of their government’s policy of nondiscrimination; that Jews were Soviet citizens like everyone else, in addition to being patriots who in the forest were defending the Soviet Union and the unity of its system. Zush, according to his son, in not so subtle ways reminded the Soviets that these fighters would not hesitate to kill for their survival. When Platon visited the Bielskis, he saw some elderly Jews
daven
ing [praying]. When he asked what they were doing, Tuvia said they were reciting the words of a Soviet patriotic song. Tuvia had a talent for managing strong personalities, an ability that improved relationships between different factions in the brigade and mediated differences, including those with Soviet brigades that on occasion threatened the community’s capacity to function.

Tuvia’s insistence on rescue rather than revenge as the community’s fundamental rule was the dynamic primarily responsible for its survival. In the words of one survivor: ‘It seems to have been the right decision. Had we remained a small group we could not have made it. So the goal was to become a big group.’ While many of the early survivors, including Zush, opposed this decision, ‘Tuvia insisted that if we were bigger we would have a better chance of survival and we would be more secure.’
⁴
Rescue, then, took precedence over killing, a fact that distinguished Tuvia’s detachment from Jewish and non-Jewish partisan brigades built
only
on the pursuit of vengeance and who refused admittance to anyone without a
weapon and the physical stamina to withstand partisan life. This is not to say that Tuvia avoided violent missions. They were as essen
tial to his group as to the other partisan brigades; and if he believed he had to fight, he never refused to engage in combat. Yet, Tuvia, in spite of differences with his brothers, saw the community’s ability to sustain fighting and to remain intact as a
Jewish
brigade to be tied up with its role as a place of rescue and refuge.

Abraham Viner, a partisan who worked with Tuvia Bielski, remem
bers him as someone who ‘devoted his soul, his brains and every
thing else to the rescue of Jews. He saw a chance, a great opportunity, in his ability to save.’
⁵
Another survivor/partisan, echoing sentiments expressed in my interviews with Bielski survivors, writes:

‘For forty years, we had discussions about what was more im
portant, fighting the Germans or saving Jews. We came to the conclusion that our heroism was not heroism. When I was fighting with guns together with other partisans, this was not heroism. Heroism was to save a child, a woman, a human being. To keep Jews in the forest for two years and save them, this was heroism.’
⁶

Yet, divisions remained over the years. Elsie S.: ‘I remember at a Bielski survivor gathering several years ago … there were a number of people there… . One group sat off to the side, refusing to mingle with the others. I asked them what was wrong; why they were not talking. One of them said to me, “Oh, they’re
malbush
; we don’t have anything to do with them.” … This after 30 years!’ One sur
vivor remembers how her four-year-old son always used to ask: ‘Mommy, under which tree will be our house today?’
⁷
But the trees brought safety. Elsie S.: ‘I loved those trees; and the trees told me stories; I spent hours speaking with them.’

Conflicts over leadership, periodic disputes, required Tuvia’s intervention. But even with sometimes serious arguments, the group survived and grew. The fighting brigade fluctuated between 20 and 30 percent for the entire detachment. Most of the brigade came from lower-class backgrounds with only a small minority from the upper or middle classes. Most had little or no formal education since few of the Jewish elite survived the initial German occupation and mass executions; and the few who did survive and managed to
escape were ill equipped for forest life. Those who prior to the German invasion had been considered ‘lower class’ now became the elite. According to Tec, ‘Physical strength, an ability to adjust to the outdoors, and fearlessness were qualities that mattered. A man’s prestige depended on the extent to which he exhibited these qualities. Women were usually not included in these calculations,’
⁸
although lower-class men sought out upper-class women as forest ‘companions’ or ‘wives.’ In Sonia Bielski’s words, ‘We were young; we didn’t know if we were going to be alive tomorrow. So, love came to us quickly in the forests; we needed some happiness.’ Working-class people adjusted better to the physical stress of the forests, and looked with contempt on educated Jews who struggled with the rigors of forest life. Aaron (Bielski) Bell: ‘Look we grew up in the woods; it was our natural place to live. City-Jews had a rough time with this.’