Chapter 1 part 3

SPRING 1944 . Splendid news from the Russian Front. There

could no longer be any doubt: Germany would be defeated. It

was only a matter of time, months or weeks, perhaps.

The trees were in bloom. It was a year like so many others,

with its spring, its engagements, its weddings, and its births.

The people were saying, "The Red Army is advancing with

giant strides...Hitler will not be able to harm us, even if he

wants to... "

Yes, we even doubted his resolve to exterminate us.

Annihilate an entire people? Wipe out a population dispersed

throughout so many nations? So many millions of people! By

what means? In the middle of the twentieth century!

And thus my elders concerned themselves with all manner of

things—strategy, diplomacy, politics, and Zionism—but not with

their own fate.

Even Moishe the Beadle had fallen silent. He was weary of

talking. He would drift through synagogue or through the streets,

hunched over, eyes cast down, avoiding people's gaze.

In those days it was still possible to buy emigration certificates

to Palestine. I had asked my father to sell everything, to liquidate

everything, and to leave.

"I am too old, my son," he answered. "Too old to start a new

life. Too old to start from scratch in some distant l a n d ... "

Budapest radio announced that the Fascist party had seized

power. The regent Miklós Horthy was forced to ask a leader of

the pro-Nazi Nyilas party to form a new government.

Yet we still were not worried. Of course we had heard of the

Fascists, but it was all in the abstract. It meant nothing more to us

than a change of ministry.

The next day brought really disquieting news: German troops

had penetrated Hungarian territory with the government's approval.

Finally, people began to worry in earnest. One of my friends,

Moishe Chaim Berkowitz, returned from the capital for Passover

and told us, "The Jews of Budapest live in an atmosphere of fear

and terror. Anti-Semitic acts take place every day, in the streets,

on the trains. The Fascists attack Jewish stores, synagogues. The

situation is becoming very s e r i o u s ..."

The news spread through Sighet like wildfire. Soon that was

all people talked about. But not for long. Optimism soon revived:

The Germans will not come this far. They will stay in Budapest.

For strategic reasons, for political reasons ...

In less than three days, German Army vehicles made their

appearance on our streets.

ANGUISH. German soldiers—with their steel helmets and their

death's-head emblem. Still, our first impressions of the Germans

were rather reassuring. The officers were billeted in private

homes, even in Jewish homes. Their attitude toward their hosts

was distant but polite. They never demanded the impossible,

made no offensive remarks, and sometimes even smiled at the

lady of the house. A German officer lodged in the Kahns' house

across the street from us. We were told he was a charming man,

calm, likable, and polite. Three days after he moved in, he

brought Mrs. Kahn a box of chocolates. The optimists were jubi-

lant: "Well? What did we tell you? You wouldn't believe us. There

they are, your Germans. What do you say now? Where is their fa-

mous cruelty?"

The Germans were already in our town, the Fascists were al-

ready in power, the verdict was already out—and the Jews of

Sighet were still smiling.

THE EIGHT DAYS of Passover.

The weather was sublime. My mother was busy in the

kitchen. The synagogues were no longer open. People gathered

in private homes: no need to provoke the Germans.

Almost every rabbi's home became a house of prayer.

We drank, we ate, we sang. The Bible commands us to rejoice

during the eight days of celebration, but our hearts were not in it.

We wished the holiday would end so as not to have to pretend.

On the seventh day of Passover, the curtain finally rose: the

Germans arrested the leaders of the Jewish community.

From that moment on, everything happened very quickly.

The race toward death had begun.

First edict: Jews were prohibited from leaving their residences

for three days, under penalty of death.

Moishe the Beadle came running to our house.

"I warned you," he shouted. And left without waiting for a

response.

The same day, the Hungarian police burst into every Jewish

home in town: a Jew was henceforth forbidden to own gold, jew-

elry, or any valuables. Everything had to be handed over to the

authorities, under penalty of death. My father went down to the

cellar and buried our savings.

As for my mother, she went on tending to the many chores in

the house. Sometimes she would stop and gaze at us in silence.

Three days later, a new decree: every Jew had to wear the yel-

low star.

Some prominent members of the community came to consult

with my father, who had connections at the upper levels of the

Hungarian police; they wanted to know what he thought of the

situation. My father's view was that it was not all bleak, or per-

haps he just did not want to discourage the others, to throw salt

on their wounds:

"The yellow star? So what? It's not l e t h a l ..."

(Poor Father! Of what then did you die?)

But new edicts were already being issued. We no longer had

the right to frequent restaurants or cafes, to travel by rail, to attend

synagogue, to be on the streets after six o'clock in the evening.

Then came the ghettos.

TWO GHETTOS were created in Sighet. A large one in the center of

town occupied four streets, and another smaller one extended

over several alleyways on the outskirts of town. The street we

lived on, Serpent Street, was in the first ghetto. We therefore

could remain in our house. But, as it occupied a corner, the win-

dows facing the street outside the ghetto had to be sealed. We

gave some of our rooms to relatives who had been driven out of

their homes.

Little by little life returned to "normal." The barbed wire that

encircled us like a wall did not fill us with real fear. In fact, we felt

this was not a bad thing; we were entirely among ourselves. A small Jewish republic...A Jewish Council was appointed, as well

as a Jewish police force, a welfare agency, a labor committee, a

health agency—a whole governmental apparatus.

People thought this was a good thing. We would no longer

have to look at all those hostile faces, endure those hate-filled

stares. No more fear. No more anguish. We would live among

Jews, among brothers...

Of course, there still were unpleasant moments. Every day,

the Germans came looking for men to load coal into the military

trains. Volunteers for this kind of work were few. But apart from

that, the atmosphere was oddly peaceful and reassuring.

Most people thought that we would remain in the ghetto until

the end of the war, until the arrival of the Red Army. Afterward

everything would be as before. The ghetto was ruled by neither

German nor Jew; it was ruled by delusion.