town. The communist Jankiel Blatt died and so did Juda Pomp, the class enemy. He would have had a much better chance in Siberia than in Sobibor, but the Russians, alas, hadn’t had enough time to send the Izbica bourgeoisie to the gulag.
Blatt talked and talked. Izbica had had three thousand Jews, and he was still on the first hundred. Now he was getting ready to visit Małka Lerner, the butcher’s daughter; we were passing their house. Małka—erect, tall, dark, first among the well-to-do girls—opened the door wearing a sky-blue bathrobe. Offering him cake, she bent over slightly, revealing her décolleté. Not by accident, and not with embarrassment, but with obvious pride. She was twelve years old and she already had breasts. The cakes were sprinkled with poppy seed. Such cakes were carried around to one’s neighbors for Purim, on a plate covered with a white, hem-stitched napkin. Małka carried them round to the wealthy girls, and Estera, who was shorter, petite, with blond hair, took them to the poor girls. She wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but she would have been better looking in old age than Małka, Blatt admitted somewhat reluctantly. He seemed to be pondering whether he was being disloyal to Małka. Estera would have been thinner and with a better figure, but she did not grow old. Józek Bressler, the dentist’s son, told him in the camp that he had traveled in the same freight car with Estera and Małka. “Look,” Małka had said, “I’m fifteen, I’ve never made loveto a boy and now I’ll never know what that’s like.” They both died. Józek Bressler ran away with everyone, but he was blown apart by a land mine.
Finally, the last house, Grandma Chana Sura’s; she was a Klein by birth, the aunt of the Berlin cousin. She wore a wig. She didn’t visit the Blatts because Tojwełe’s father, Leon Blatt, who had been given a concession to sell vodka and wines as a reward for his service in the Polish Legion, ate nonkosher food, did not observe the Sabbath, and had been excommunicated by the rabbi. Kurt Engels, the Gestapo chief, personally placed a crown of thorns made from barbed wire on his head and hung a sign around his neck: “I am Christ. Izbica is the new capital of the Jews.” He roared with laughter as Leon Blatt walked through Izbica wearing his crown. Grandma Chana Sura, Leon Blatt, his wife Fajga, and Herszel, Tojwełe’s younger brother, died in Sobibor.
And now it’s really the last house. The remains of a house, with remnants of a wall—Mosze Blank’s tannery. After the first deportation people took shelter in it. They felt safe; they said, come what may, the Germans will always need skins. They died in Sobibor. The owner’s sons survived. The older one, Jankiel, was a student at the famous Lublin yeshiva before the war. He had his Talmud in his hiding place near Kurów and continued his studies by the light of a kerosene lamp. He barely noticed when the war ended. The younger boy, Hersz, went into businessafter the war. He was murdered in Lublin, by unknown assailants, on Kowalska Street.
We turned to the southeast.
4
The rebellion in Sobibor, the largest uprising in the concentration camps, took place on October 14, 1943. It was led by Aleksander Peczerski, a Red Army officer and a prisoner of war. Following the uprising, the Germans liquidated the camp.
In Sobibor there were workshops producing things for the Germans. At three thirty in the afternoon the tailors informed one of the SS that his new uniform was ready to be measured. The SS man undressed and set aside his belt with his revolver. The tailors killed him with an ax and scissors. They placed his body in a closet, covered the blood on the floor with rags, and invited the next SS man to come in. At the same time, the shoemakers were announcing that boots were ready, and the carpenters, that there was beautiful furniture to inspect. Almost all the SS who were on duty died. This played out in silence and lasted an
Blatt talked and talked. Izbica had had three thousand Jews, and he was still on the first hundred. Now he was getting ready to visit Małka Lerner, the butcher’s daughter; we were passing their house. Małka—erect, tall, dark, first among the well-to-do girls—opened the door wearing a sky-blue bathrobe. Offering him cake, she bent over slightly, revealing her décolleté. Not by accident, and not with embarrassment, but with obvious pride. She was twelve years old and she already had breasts. The cakes were sprinkled with poppy seed. Such cakes were carried around to one’s neighbors for Purim, on a plate covered with a white, hem-stitched napkin. Małka carried them round to the wealthy girls, and Estera, who was shorter, petite, with blond hair, took them to the poor girls. She wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but she would have been better looking in old age than Małka, Blatt admitted somewhat reluctantly. He seemed to be pondering whether he was being disloyal to Małka. Estera would have been thinner and with a better figure, but she did not grow old. Józek Bressler, the dentist’s son, told him in the camp that he had traveled in the same freight car with Estera and Małka. “Look,” Małka had said, “I’m fifteen, I’ve never made loveto a boy and now I’ll never know what that’s like.” They both died. Józek Bressler ran away with everyone, but he was blown apart by a land mine.
Finally, the last house, Grandma Chana Sura’s; she was a Klein by birth, the aunt of the Berlin cousin. She wore a wig. She didn’t visit the Blatts because Tojwełe’s father, Leon Blatt, who had been given a concession to sell vodka and wines as a reward for his service in the Polish Legion, ate nonkosher food, did not observe the Sabbath, and had been excommunicated by the rabbi. Kurt Engels, the Gestapo chief, personally placed a crown of thorns made from barbed wire on his head and hung a sign around his neck: “I am Christ. Izbica is the new capital of the Jews.” He roared with laughter as Leon Blatt walked through Izbica wearing his crown. Grandma Chana Sura, Leon Blatt, his wife Fajga, and Herszel, Tojwełe’s younger brother, died in Sobibor.
And now it’s really the last house. The remains of a house, with remnants of a wall—Mosze Blank’s tannery. After the first deportation people took shelter in it. They felt safe; they said, come what may, the Germans will always need skins. They died in Sobibor. The owner’s sons survived. The older one, Jankiel, was a student at the famous Lublin yeshiva before the war. He had his Talmud in his hiding place near Kurów and continued his studies by the light of a kerosene lamp. He barely noticed when the war ended. The younger boy, Hersz, went into businessafter the war. He was murdered in Lublin, by unknown assailants, on Kowalska Street.
We turned to the southeast.
4
The rebellion in Sobibor, the largest uprising in the concentration camps, took place on October 14, 1943. It was led by Aleksander Peczerski, a Red Army officer and a prisoner of war. Following the uprising, the Germans liquidated the camp.
In Sobibor there were workshops producing things for the Germans. At three thirty in the afternoon the tailors informed one of the SS that his new uniform was ready to be measured. The SS man undressed and set aside his belt with his revolver. The tailors killed him with an ax and scissors. They placed his body in a closet, covered the blood on the floor with rags, and invited the next SS man to come in. At the same time, the shoemakers were announcing that boots were ready, and the carpenters, that there was beautiful furniture to inspect. Almost all the SS who were on duty died. This played out in silence and lasted an
Similar Books
