The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII (17 page)

The policy of accepting all Jews kept the Jewish partisans more human, more humane. The permanent camp with its children, old people and families was a cross section of society. It constantly reminded the fighters what they were fighting for and provided a civilized place to go after they'd finished their missions. For the refugees, it was an unbelievable blessing-alone in a hostile world-having lost everything and with little hope for escape or survival, suddenly finding themselves in a community of other Jews, functioning with relative security deep in the Ukrainian forests. It was a community free of non-Jews, anti-Semites and few of them could remember ever feeling so free of the abuses and barbs they had suffered daily in the Christian world.

"Strange," Sol said to Rachel one day, "how under these conditions, I feel a peace and a freedom I've never known before. Not until I got away from the Christians did I realize what bastards most of them have been to us. Besides Ivan and Sosha and that priest, Father Peter, I can't think of but two or three that didn't cause us grief."

Rachel was thoughtful a moment, "That's a horrible thing to say, Sol, but I can't see that my experiences have been that different. I wonder if it's that way everywhere?"

"It wouldn't be if we had a Jewish nation."

"Now you sound like one of those Zionist workers that used to come to our village before..."

"I heard them speak a few times, too. Didn't impress me much then; makes more sense now."

When refugees finally reached the family camp, they were taken into the community and made to contribute in some way. Many had begun to doubt their self worth, some on the verge of suicide. The Nazi program of dehumanizing the Jews by verbal and physical abuse worked well on its victims. Their new responsibilities in the family camp reversed this process. It helped them to feel their lives were worthwhile-necessary.

Early in the formation of the family camp, a group of Jews came to the band. They had started out in Poland ten months earlier. At that time, they had numbered twenty-nine. Their original destination was Palestine. They were a Zionist youth group and they had intended to walk to Palestine, as many Jews had done before them. For ten months, they eluded the Germans, forced farther and farther south and east, until they were found by Solomon's Jews. Twenty of their number had perished.

These young Zionists intended to form a kibbutz when they finally reached the Promised Land and had trained for years in pioneering techniques. Their training was invaluable to the establishment and survival of the community. It would be even more valuable in the spring when their agricultural skills helped grow their food. Now, in the winter they were already planning their crops.

About the same time the nine Zionists arrived, there came to the camp three Jews from Kiev. These three were very orthodox, a grandfather who was nearly ninety, his son who was well past sixty and his grandson who was forty six. They had escaped the city before the Babi Yar roundup and miraculously survived living in the woods until Father Peter directed them to Ivan. They'd sought the priest when they'd heard some peasants speak of his still-famous sermon.

When they first arrived, no one realized what extreme importance these three, elderly orthodox Jews would have. Though he hadn't known them in Kiev, it was Sol who discovered their great talent-printing.

These men represented three generations of printers and had run a family-owned printing shop in Kiev. When the Germans occupied the city, the shop was immediately confiscated-the written word being the greatest threat to any occupation force.

The old man was retired and spent his time at his first love, reading. He retained much of his old skill, however. His son, being a master printer, was capable of the finest reproduction work anywhere. But the greatest talent had surfaced in the grandson. He was not only a master printer but also a master engraver. Solomon's first question was, "Can you reproduce official-looking papers-papers like passes, identity cards, documents and letters?"

The youngest of the three, the grandson, answered with a chuckle that was almost arrogant, "It would be simple if we had the equipment and proper paper-but we are here and it is there."

"Are you certain you had everything in the shop that you would need?" Sol asked eagerly.

This time the father answered, "Our shop was the finest in Kiev. It was set up most efficiently. The Germans would be fools not to use it. If I'm right, there will be plenty of official paper, ink and engravings of official letterheads and seals."

A mission was immediately planned.

The next day Ivan and Sosha went into Kiev to the address of the printing shop. It was still there, not open to the public. The Germans ran it for the occupation. It wasn't a big plant. Ivan guessed that one truckload could move everything out of the building. He reported their findings back to the planning committee and the mission was put into operation.

Winter operations were dangerous business because tracks were easily followed in the deep snow. Most partisan groups chose the best defense-to wait out the winter in hiding. But Solomon's three camp system allowed his group to function year round. Even during the winter, they averaged one or two missions a week.

Stage one of this latest operation was to obtain a German truck. Four men waited along the road to Irpen and selected the first solitary, large truck which fit their needs to come along. The Germans didn't send many trucks without convoy, but there were always a few. With this truck, they got a bonus of three rifles, several rounds of compatible ammunition, three uniforms from the occupants, two grenades and a truckload of barbed wire. They had no immediate use for the barbed wire, but it was stored away. Everything was kept, no matter how unlikely. Improvisation was a key to survival. And if they couldn't find a use for an item, well, everything had a value on the black market. They could always trade for things that were needed.

As soon as the truck was captured, four other partisans initiated stage two by dressing in German uniforms from the growing captured military wardrobe. One played the role of officer, the others became enlisted men. Four others dressed as Ukrainian workers-collaborators. Within the hour after stealing the truck, the masqueraders drove it to Kiev.

They entered the city at dusk. With all the chutzpa they could muster, they drove the main streets across half the metropolis, turned and rumbled three blocks up the proper side street, then steered into an alley behind the shop.

Hans Geller, the partisan dressed as the officer, spoke perfect German. Before escaping the advancing Nazi front, Hans lived in Berlin where he'd been a chemistry teacher. Now, Hans hopped down from the high cab of a German military truck behind a Ukrainian print shop full of enemy military men. He strode to the alley door and gave it three authoritative knocks. When it opened to reveal a German corporeal, Hans mustered all the arrogance he could.

"I am Major Strauss. We have been informed that this print shop is a target for a partisan raid tonight!" He hoped that only he could hear the nervousness in his voice. To cover his anxiety he spoke even louder, more arrogantly. "Quickly-we must prepare a trap for the swine!" As he spoke, he motioned his crew into the shop. "There are only three of you in the shop now?"

"Yes. That is all we ever have here."

"I will have to do something about that. It is a wonder those bastard partisans haven't hit you during the day."

Hans Geller began to enjoy his role now, all anxiety dissipating. If these three Germans gave them any trouble they'd be eliminated; if not they'd be used. He strode through the plant, thankful that none of the occupants were officers. It's easier to intimidate enlisted men, he thought thankfully.

"First, men, move out everything that they could find helpful to them! Nothing useful must fall into the enemy's hands."

Overwhelmed by the invasion, the three Germans began helping to move equipment. Outside, the last man to enter the building cut the telephone wires. Hans Geller played his role well and did none of the work. He just kept yelling orders to keep the real Germans rattled.

With ten men working, they had everything they wanted and more, in less than ten minutes-everything but the presses. There were two of them-one large and a second smaller, hand operated proof press. In another five minutes, the small proof press was on the truck.

As quickly as they had entered the building, the partisans left; but not before they dealt with the three Germans. Hans, who'd lived all his life in peace and two others, who'd also never expected lives of violence, skillfully cut the soldier's throats. There was no hesitation. They knew it was necessary to insure success of the mission. There was a lot of German territory to drive through before they were safe. Any alarm or identification of the band and truck could spell disaster.

The Germans had no weapons, but the partisans took their identification papers and uniforms, leaving the three bodies clad in underwear.

Bolstered by the success of their raid, they drove back out of the city with twice the chutzpa with which they had entered. Only for a moment did Hans dwell on the thought that he had to take lives to make the mission a success.

Seven days passed before the printing press and equipment reached the family camp. Thus, the three "men of letters," as Sol called them in his diary, busied themselves. They had all the tools of their trade and the paper stock from the print shop proved to be official German paper. It took them a day to set up and on the second day they were busy forging identity papers and all the documents necessary to allow them more freedom and safety in their movements about the occupied country.

"I think I love her!" Solomon wrote early on in his diary this day. He meant Rachel. Now, in February of 1942, he no longer had any doubts.

Rachel had a simple beauty. She was fair and blue eyed with black, full and naturally curly hair. The combination was stunning. Her tall, slim body made her looks more frail than she really was. She seemed at first a shy and dependent person, but was, in fact, quite self reliant. Though not a leader of people like Dovka, the leaders could rely on Rachel too.

When Sol and his three new friends first found her group in the forest and brought them back to the cave, she was attracted to Solomon and he recognized it. He encouraged her, but thought of the relationship as one of protector and friend.

As time went on, though, he found she was giving at least as much as he was. Stable and attractive, Rachel was easy for Sol to talk to. Like most survivors of atrocities such as Babi Yar, Sol had denied himself the necessary grieving. Rachel recognized his tenseness and undercurrent of depression and forced him to talk of his past, his loss, his guilt, his hate.

Her own past was no less tragic than Solomon's, of course. No Jew at that time, in those places, had any special claim on tragedy. As they shared their stories with one another, a bond grew and love followed.

Major Hans Oberman sat in his office, irritated because his superiors had warned him to curb the growing guerrilla activity in the area.

At first, there were only isolated incidents, the enormous explosions and fire in the Kreshchetik, a few minor thefts and killings. Then there was the incident of Father Peter's sermon which he'd put an end to himself. That's probably why they dropped all the rest of their partisan problems in my lap, he speculated.

Anti-occupation activity was discouraged by severe penalties to the perpetrators-death to them and their entire families.

Then organized activities began.

There was the raid on the supply depot at Irpen, which cost six German lives and nine truckloads of goods. For that action Major Oberman rounded up six hundred Kievites and had them shot as reprisal. "One hundred civilians," he made it known, "will be shot for every German soldier who is killed!" Surely that will deter the partisan activities, he thought. He was wrong. After that sabotage, raids, killings and disruption of troop and supply movements steadily increased. Heavy reprisals don't seem to disturb these partisans. Surely they are the Bolsheviks.

"Reprisals are not enough, Major," Hans Oberman's Colonel explicitly pointed out. "I suggest that in addition to your reprisals, you start measures to capture the scoundrels. The only way to stop these partisans is to exterminate them. They are just like rats, Gypsies and Jews. We have plenty of room for all of them in Babi Yar. But Jews and Gypsies are easy to catch-rats are more difficult." He looked to see what impact his words had on Oberman. Then he added sarcastically, "You might even have to get out of your office or your mistress's bed to capture them!"

"Yes sir."

"I suggest you make it your first order of business! Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. You are dismissed."

This was not the way Oberman was used to being talked to. He was deeply humiliated, especially since he considered the Colonel a boor and imbecile. He knew the Colonel was passing on to him what he, himself, had gotten from his superiors. It had probably been passed down the entire chain of command. But it ended with Oberman. Failure to get the job done would be borne by him alone.

Yes, Major Hans Oberman was very irritated as he sat in his office mulling over his problem. Ordering six hundred people to their deaths is easy. I can do that with a signature. I can do it before breakfast and have the rest of the day to myself. Why don't those inhuman bastards learn that their deeds are costing their countrymen's lives? Don't they value the lives of their own people?

Now he would have to be inconvenienced. It would have been so much easier to raise the reprisal rate to two hundred to one, but the Colonel would not hear of it. "Capture those scoundrels!" he'd ordered.

Oberman decided he would have to set a trap for these partisans. Once they were out of the way he could return to the simpler task of executing civilians. This had been for him a safe and comfortable war until now. Get this problem over with and it would be again, he thought.