MEMOIRS OF SHERESHEV

By MOISHE KANTOROWITZ

Chapter 7.E

The school had its own dormitory for out of town students, to which I was accepted.  It was on Trzeciego-Maja Street No 66.  A large four story brick building.  On the first floor was the kitchen, dining room, shower room and locker room, with over one hundred lockers, one for each student.  The second and third floors were all bed rooms with some 15 boys to a room and on the fourth floor were two large rooms, a home work room and a reading room.

The students came from as far east as Baranowicz, Slonim, Wolkowisk and Nowogrodek, and as far south as Kowel and Kamien-Koszyrsk.  There were some from the north like a shtetl Molczadz and closer places like Kobrin, Pruzany, Zabinka and others.  There was in fact a small group of boys from an orphanage in Warsaw that grew up in a non Jewish environment, for they knew very little of Jewish tradition or customs.  They spoke no Yiddish and conversed only in Polish, what was for the rest of us, east Polish Jews, strange.

               My school year in Brest-Litowsk started late.  The couple weeks in gymnasium and formalities of entry to school in Brest-Litowsk made it so.  As a result, I spent an extra few days in Shershev.  A good part of that time I walked with my friends on the wind blown streets in a depressing mood.  What added to that disposition was the unusual amount of ravens that flew from one naked tree to the other, with their continuous crowing like forbidding messengers of terrible events to come.

              Thus I arrived in Brest-Litowsk in late fall.  The first thing that struck my eye was not my new way of life, but the screaming hugh headlines in all the newspapers.  They proclaimed the news that Poland is now hosting the distinguished guests from Germany, like Guering, Ribbertropf, Himler and other big shots.  That those guests are now in Bialowieza taking part in a hunt.

              The next day on the front pages the same newspapers had displayed large photos of the successful hunt including the rows of the killed animals and exact number.  Among them were over a hundred wild boars, a couple dozen deer and moose and an assortment of other animals.

              I, one of the millions of Jews in Poland, ask ourselves the question; How naïve, deceived and outright blind can the Poles be?

              With the onset of winter something had changed in the air.

              It started with a hint in the German press about the free city of Danzig, which quickly developed into the question of all of Pomern, Poland access to the Baltic.

              The Poles began to sense that it might have been a mistake to follow Hitler in all his deeds although there was no breast beating for Jewish persecution.  The very mention of Danzig in the German press, was enough to distract their attention from the Jews and better analyze Hitler’s intentions about the city.

              Finally it dawned on them that Poland is not a power to be reckoned with, especially Hitler.  They started to arm in their primitive way, as everyone knows, to acquire weapons and build an army, money was needed.  In order to raise the money, they proclaimed a general loan.  It was not done like in other countries by selling bonds, instead they called it a “compulsory loan”, knowing that the population had little trust in promises of repayment.

                      Each household and bread winner was assessed.  A sum of money which had to be paid within a short time.

                      Here again, the Jewish population bore the heaviest burden.  The ten percent Jewish population of Poland was assessed and contributed fifty percent of the total sum.  Jews groaned and moaned having to pay such tributes, which in many cases deprived them of their daily bread.  Turning comfortable business men into petty merchants and petty merchants into beggars.

                      In March 1939, the Polish government carried out the first mobilization.  It consisted of last years released men, who have completed their two year compulsory army service.  Among them was my uncle Eli (Eliyaho), my father’s youngest brother, and all his friends that served at the same time.

                        They were to appear at once to the rail way station Linovo-Oranczyce, 30 kilometers away, where farther instructions would be given.

                        As my uncle later related after that particular part of the war ended; he arrived on that rail way station where everything was in chaos and panic, because of lack of organization and preparation by the army.  It took over twenty four hours to get him and others on the train in the direction of Warsaw.  Before reaching Warsaw the train turned north towards east Prussia.

                   They disembarked at the Prussian border, near a shtetl Mlawa.  My uncle was assigned to an artillery battery consisting of four cannons.  They were ordered to dig in and make covered trenches that served as living quarters.

                   In Shershev and I am sure in all other towns and cities of Poland, this mobilization evoked fear and apprehension, despite the attempt by the government to dispel the rumors of an imminent war.

                   The spring of 1939 brought open German demands of Poland to return Danzig to Germany, to what Poland replied with continuous but smaller mobilizations.  Poland started a feverish rearmament program.  Its army was horse drawn, except for the few hundred outdated tanks the entire army depended for mobility on horses.  The army began to buy horses and the only sources were the farmers.

               Money was no obstacle; they simply began to print more.  All one could see was new bank notes. They paid for horses exorbitant prices, double and triple the value.

              Suddenly, the farmers had a lot of money to spend, and spend they did.  They spent on clothing, foot wear, and bicycles.  Some even removed their thatch roofs and replaced it with shingles even tin.

               Money began to appear in circulation as if a prelude to a bad omen.  Still, for the time being, Jewish petty store keepers and merchants began to make a livelihood, for the first time in a long while.

              Hitler’s Germany was now demanding not only Danzig but all of  Pomern, that strip of land connecting Poland to the sea, but at the same time cutting east Prussia in half, thus with all of Germany.

             To the threatening voices of Hitler, Poland continued to answer with more small mobilizations which were easier to handle, avoiding chaos at the rail way stations and minimizing the panic of the first mobilization of March.

             The question if it will come to a war ceased to exist and was replaced  by the question of when.  The newspaper analysts predicted that it will take place in fall, right after the harvest.  They substantiated their opinion by reasoning that the assaulter as well as the assailed would want to take in the crop from the fields, assuring a food supply for the  army and population.

               Many Jews at that time already wished they had a chance to get out of Poland, although in their most horrible night mares they could not have foreseen the cruelty and savagery that the future holds for them.

              Unfortunately, the doors of every country in the world were closed for them.  The few Jews that did write to the foreign embassy in Warsaw for visas received outright refusals or at best, were informed that there is a long list of earlier applicants that are being considered, therefore the present petition can not be accepted.

             A continuous flow of news used to come via newspapers and radios.  Some of the news carried an ironic character.  The Polish papers and radio started complaining that the German youth and young men are beating up Poles in the streets of Danzig, breaking their windows and boycotting Polish stores.  In general making life difficult for them.  Exactly the very same words that we Jews used to accuse the Poles of.

             Now the Poles of Danzig were being exposed to the experience of a persecuted people, instead of persecutors.

             In those long summer days, we used to sit up at home till late after midnight and talking politics, or just to talk.

              It seems that I had a premonition that this, almost quiet and normal life style, was not to last much longer, for they became dear and precious to me.  I listened intensively to my mother’s beloved voice, her instructions, fables and parables, some of them she acquired from her own experience,  during the course of her own young life and still others which had their roots in the “Talmud’.

           Here is an example that I heard from my mother referring to a person who  was educated but did not receive the appropriate respect befitting his stature due to the fact that he was lacking common sense.

           This is the story: many years ago, there was once a king in the times when people believed in astrology.  The king had one child, a son, who unfortunately was not very bright.  When the king got older, he began to worry about the future of his kingdom, knowing that he can not entrust the future of his country in the hands of his son, the crown prince.  The older the king got , the more pressing the problem became.  Unable to solve it by himself, the king turned to his most trusted advisors for help.

           After a long deliberation one of the king’s advisors proposed to send the crown prince to an astrology school, supporting his proposition that when the crown prince will become king and should he be confronted with a decision, he will look up to the sky and by the stars will be able to tell what to do.

           The suggestion pleased the king and his advisors.  The crown prince was immediately sent away to the most prestigious astrology school in the country.

           A few years later, the crown prince came back with a beautiful ribbon and stamp decorated diploma, stating that he graduated the astrology school with honors.  His father, the king, in a moment of jubilation decided to throw a big party to which all his advisors, ministers, generals and even members of the foreign diplomatic corps were invited.   

           When the party was in full swing, one of the guests called out loudly; let us see what his honor, the crown prince, has learned there.  All the guests applauded the idea.  One of the guests took some object in his fist, walking over to the crown prince, he asked him: tell me your excellency, what do I have in my fist?  The prince walked out to the garden and looked up to the stars.  He looked at the sky long, thoroughly, and carefully.  He saw the man was holding a round object with a hole in the middle, Without hesitation, the crown prince called out; a millstone.  The man opened his fist and there it was a ring.

           True, my mother said, the young man studied well, and saw in the stars a round thing with a hole in the middle, but to understand that you can not hold a millstone in your fist was above his intelligence. The moral of the story is valid today and remains for generations to come.

            One of her advises, which she repeated to me several time was; when you deal with someone let yours defer.  This is, let the other one know that he is getting the better part of the deal or bargain.

           I lived up to this principle or doctrine if you like, all my life.  If this practice helped me materially, I doubt.  In fact, I know that it did not, but to my peace of mind and clearness of conscious, it did wonders.   Laying down to sleep, I knew that I did not wrong anybody nor did I violate any moral standard and slept with a clear conscious.  My mother’s instructions and traditional Jewish upbringing served me as a trustworthy guide in my most difficult times.

             Something strange or bizarre happened that very summer, to which my mother was inadvertently involved.

            There lived in Shershev a widow by the family name KLEINGERG.  She had two sons, the older my age Itzel, who attended Hebrew school with me in the same grade and whom I left in there when I went to the Polish school,  The second son a couple years younger, by the name of Molie, did not attend school or Heder. He could be found anywhere and everywhere day or night, literally growing up wild. I am sure that his older brother Itzel attended school for free, for his mother could not afford to pay tuition. The poverty in the place where they lived was beyond description.

         I am sure that Nathan KRENITZER’s wife, who used to go around every Friday noon to the better to do homes, collecting Challah for the poor so that they should have a Challah for Sabbath, used to bring them some, too.

           Once I asked my mother for whom Nathan’s wife is collecting the Challah. My mother said that she does not know and does not want to know.  All she knows is that it is being distributed among the poor that can not afford to bake their own.    

            Those two boys used to be dressed in rags.  Hand me downs, from the better to do families in town.

               That summer morning, as I walked out into our yard, I noticed the younger of the two, Molie walking around the rim of the old synagogue ceiling a height of some twenty meters that was by then over grown with young birch trees.

             I could not understand how this thirteen year old boy could have gotten there, while we have been trying to do it for years and so have others and older, without success.

              Here was my chance to find out.  I quickly ran across the garden towards the shul, not letting him out of my sight, as he was walking back and forth along the precipice or the ceiling. I stood silently in a corner waiting to see how he will get down.  For a while he disappeared behind some protruding masonry, appearing on top of the wall of the hallway opposite me.  Between him on top of the wall and the ground covered with pieces of bricks was a distance of twenty meters.  Half way down was suspended a partly burned beam close to the wall.  Without hesitation the boy turned around, lowering himself on his hand, he let himself go, hoping to land on the beam.  He apparently miscalculated and missed his footing.  Instead landing on the beam he hooked on with his chin and continued his fall towards the grounds. While falling his coat opened up like a pair of wings, apparently breaking his fall to a degree.

           But the very fact that he wore a heavy coat on a summer day is proof of his sanity or insanity.

            He landed on the ground flat on his back.  I looked at him in horror as he was trying to stretch his arms and legs while a painful groan came out from inside him.

           In fear and confusion, I ran home to tell my mother what happened.  I found her in the usual place, the kitchen.  Not wanting to alarm her unnecessarily, I asked her in as quiet voice as I could master, “Guess, mom, who just fell of the shul wall?” Without thinking a moment, my mother answered, Molie.  I was stunned.  How could anybody have told her?  I was the only one inside the shul that saw him fall and if even not, I was running straight home and nobody could have beaten me to it, and why would have somebody run to tell my mother?  Stunned, I blurt out, how did you know?  In her quiet voice, my mother answered: I dreamed about it last night.  Now my child, go out into the square and get some people to carry him to the doctor.

           The square that time of day was alive with people and there was no shortage of volunteers.  As we carried him through the square, the group of followers kept on growing.  We carried him into the admitting office with the mob behind us.  The doctor told us to put him down and ordered us all out.

           I doubt if the doctor ever got paid for this visit.  Molie’s mother certainly could not pay for it.  It seems that this Molie had more than one life.  How he survived that fall I do not know.  It is enough to say that a few days later, I saw him climbing the walls of the shul again.

           However, the prophecy of my mother’s dream, I have never forgotten.

           That summer of 1939 came to Shershev a guest from the land of Israel, named Sonia SHEMESH (Pinsky).  The same Sonia that I mentioned several times before, the aunt of my two good friends, the brother ROTENBERG.

             Shortly after arriving in the land of Israel, she married my father’s cousin, Chaim SHEMESH.  She came with a year and a half old, little daughter by the name of Lauma.  The child was just beginning to talk and the few dozen word she knew, were in Hebrew.  In Shershev, it was quite a sensation, imagine, a year old child and it already speaks Hebrew.

              Her, Sonia’s arrival, brought a commotion in shtetl, even excitement for me.  Despite our discrepancy in age and family relationship, I felt very close to her, having spent countless hours in the house of her sister whose two sons, were my close friends, not to mention the fact that their two houses were under the same roof and were seeing each other often.

               There was a continuous rivalry between me and my friends, the ROTENBERG brothers, for holding the Israeli born baby who continued her babbling in Hebrew.

               From Sonia the Jews of Shershev received personal regards from the over a dozen local youths who lived already in the land of Israel.  Also precise description and portrayal of the situation there.  Especially then, in the third year of the relentless Arab terror that raged there.

              In the beginning of July of that summer of 1939, my uncle Eli, who was mobilized in March, came home on a ten day leave.  In that tension filled summer, when former service men were continuously being mobilized there were no leaves given only in exceptional cases.  My uncle earned it by aiming the canons of his battery on a moving object which was supposed to be a tank. And scoring a direct hit, by it taking first place in the competitions.

              In gratitude, his regiment commander gave him the ten days leave.

               My uncle arrived under a blanket of secrecy.  Not that his arrival was a secret but where from.  Nothing of where he is or what he does was to be mentioned.  The local population, Jewish or non-Jewish came to inquire about their sons, brothers and men folk, to which he was forbidden to answer.  To us, immediate family, he confidentially said that he and some others from shtetl and vicinity are with him among many others near a shtetl Mlawa, close to the east Prussian border.  That since the mobilization they continuously are improving their trenches in which they are spending most of their time.  Being under strict orders not to tell anything, he did not seek company and spent most of his time with his parents, my grandparents and us, who used to come to spend with him as much time as possible.

               Needless to say that the few days went by in a blink of an eye.  We all accompanied him to the bus, the women with tears in their eyes.

                 To add to the sadness of his departure, the political situation became even more tense.  While the non-Jewish population busied itself with taking in the harvest, the Jewish tradesmen, artisans and petty storekeepers lost the desire to provide, in a sense became apathetic, losing interest in everything and becoming consumed by the events of the day.  Unable to sit at their work, they used to congregate in small groups in the market square and talk politics.  There was no shortage of themes or subjects.  The newspapers and radios were full of news and the news was not good.

               Through the entire month of August there were continuous call ups of men to the army.  They were leaving in small groups and organized.

               The discussions revolved around the problem of war and what to do when the front line will get closer.  Nobody had any illusions about the might of the German army, especially in comparison to the Polish one and expected a Polish defeat, if her allies England and France won’t come to her help.  Still we expected that Poland will hold out alone against Germany for some six months.

               In our store, where the self appointed smart politicians of the shtetl were spending more and more time, they used to gather daily to discuss the latest news,.  One turned to my father and asked; what will we do when the front line will get close and the entry of the German army will become imminent?  My father answered: Then we will run to the Russians. (Soviets).  But the Russians aren’t letting anybody in even now, said the other, “so we will go against the Soviet bayonets,” answered my father.

              A thought ran through my mind in which I saw a row of Russian soldiers along the thousand kilometer long Polish border, standing shoulder to shoulder with one knee on the ground, each with a rifle in hand, the butt of the rifle resting on the ground pointing in the direction of the Polish border, a shining sharp bayonet attached to the gun barrel and thousands of Jews running towards them impaling themselves on those bayonets.

            For the first time in my life, particularly in that year of 1939 since the possibility of war became imminent, the very prospect of it sobered me up.  But this thought did not stay with me long; Russians are not animals and communism is not Hitlerism.  After all, they, the Communists, represent the best of humanity unlike Nazis represent the worst.   They will let us in and protect us from the Nazis.

           The end of August was nearing.  The media kept on reporting that the German army is massing on the Polish border and that the Germans are accusing the Poles of all kinds of provocations. 

            The Polish radio kept on assuring the public that her allies will come to her help,  should Germany attack and between the three of them Germany will be defeated in no time.

             The truth is that the population of eastern Poland that consisted mostly of Belarusian’s (White Russians), Ukrainians and Jews did not have much confidence in the Polish army, but in the two great powers, her allies, England and France they had too much.