Abish Hirsh tells how his mother is shot by a Nazi when
she infiltrates into the part of the ghetto reserved for
those who are gainfully employed, that is, the men. The
Gestapo leaves her crumpled on the ground, assuming she is
dead. Abish quickly takes her to a basement, hides her, gets
a gentile doctor to treat her, but her lung has been
punctured and after holding out for ten days, she is on the
verge of death.
"Abish'l," she turned to me, "you will survive! You will
remain alive! Your brother Yosef is in a camp. Find him and
together, you will yet see many good years. You saved me from
two aktions and risked your life for your niece. In
this merit you will live to see good days." She repeated her
words as if they were a promise, a will and testament. But I
wanted to believe that Mama would live...
Abish'l is sent to the Plashov concentration camp among a
group of 120 young men. Here, true to his mother's
prediction, he meets his brother, Yosef, who is employed in
Schindler's factory.
The Yom Kippur of 5704 is one I will never forget. On that
day, the fiends decided to practice kapporos on one
hundred Jews whom they selected for execution. They appointed
Nazi officers, among them Jewish kapos, to make the
selection, among them a despised Jew called Sperling who did
his job with gleeful efficiency. A large group of the weaker
specimens were lined up against a wall and examined, one by
one, verily like sheep under the scrutiny of their
shepherd... I was very pale because of the fast, besides
which I had had to work hard that day. Sperling put his eye
on me and another one of the group. My heart sank.
Then something totally unexpected happened. A Jew by the name
of R' Yechezkel Ekstein risked his life and courageously
stepped right up to the Jewish kapo. He began arguing with
him that we, two, were still fit for labor. He even went so
far as to promise him numerous blessings if he spared us. We
stood on the side, shivering and shaking, fearfully awaiting
the outcome of this debate.
Sperling let himself be convinced and finally nodded to us to
rejoin the ranks. With feet quivering like jelly and a prayer
of thanksgiving on our lips, we returned to our places.
Ekstein meanwhile rushed towards the group of Jews who had
been singled out for execution. He lifted up one of the floor
boards of the barracks and quickly shoved one of the Jews
underneath it. Thus was he able to save three lives! The rest
were herded off to their death as sacred sacrifices, after
which the German murderers went to eat and make merry.
R' Yechezkel seized this opportunity to come to our barracks
and make his plea: "Let us all gather for mincha and
neila together." By some miracle, a machzor was
found and since no one dared volunteer to be the
chazzon, R' Yechezkel took it upon himself to lead the
prayers.
His soft voice slowly gained momentum and volume, sweeping us
all up with him. That Yom Kippur service, which was also in
memory of the ninety-seven holy men who died on that selfsame
day, surely must have split the very heavens, just as it is
engraved upon my own heart forevermore. After the war, I was
fortunate enough to find my benefactor and to this very day,
there exists a very strong and warm bond between us and our
families.
