Then Renia spotted an open area next to the station, on the other side of the barrier. There stood a mass of people. Among them, her friends. The Poles stared at them, at these “guilty criminals,” as if they were animals in a zoo. Her comrades, her loves, were surrounded by hooligans with rifles, whips, and revolvers.
She didn’t see Sarah anywhere.
Renia could barely remain on her feet. She was going to faint. She knew she needed to flee as fast as possible. If they checked her documents, she’d be finished.
“But,” Renia later wrote, “I saw in that moment that my own heart had turned to stone, for how could I leave without knowing anything about the fate of those nearest to me?” She was watching the only family left to her being driven to their deaths. She turned around—but it was futile. She could not get into the ghetto. “In my heart, I thought: My life has lost all meaning. Why live, now that they have taken everything from me—my family, my relatives, and now my beloved friends?” She had reestablished her life, was willing to risk everything for these comrades. Her sister.
“An inner demon told me to put an end to my own life,” Renia recalled. “And then I felt shame for this weakness. No! I will not ease the Germans’ work with my own hands!” Instead, her thoughts turned to vengeance.
Renia walked aimlessly. She had no home now, no home at all.
There was only path available to her: back to Warsaw. But how? The next train didn’t leave until five o’clock the next morning.
Renia Kukielka was the last remaining Freedom courier.
*
By three in the afternoon, Renia had been on the road all night, all day. She was tired, broken, and hadn’t eaten for as long as she could remember. All she could think about was bread. But a loaf was obtainable only with a ration card. She couldn’t go into a store without one, or they’d suspect her of being a Jew. Suddenly she remembered someone she knew: a non-Jewish Russian woman, a dentist, Dr. Weiss, in Sosnowiec, a town about four miles west of B?dzin.
Renia took the tramway. At the other end of the car, they were checking documents. She rode as far as she could, then hopped off and got on a second train. She meandered from wagon to wagon, switching trains often, until her destination.
In Sosnowiec, the ghetto was surrounded.
The expulsion was happening here too. Nazis everywhere, the screaming, the shots.
Renia flew to the dentist’s home. Only a few more streets, she repeated to herself. Small streets.
Dr. Weiss opened her door and stared at Renia in shock. “How did you get here?”
She offered Renia a chair, afraid the girl would collapse. Then she went to the kitchen to make tea.
Only then, once Renia sat down, did she realize how close she had been to losing consciousness. She pulled herself together. She wanted to tell Dr. Weiss everything.
But she couldn’t.
A pressure in her throat.
Suddenly she began to cry. Wild, convulsive sobs.
Renia felt ashamed. But her suffering overflowed, and she could not stop. If she didn’t cry, she feared her heart would explode in anguish.
Dr. Weiss patted her head. “Don’t cry,” she said. “You have always been brave. I hold you up as a hero. Your courage is an example for me. You must be strong, my child. Maybe some of your people are still alive.”
Renia felt a sharp hunger, but could not eat. She was at her limit. This was it. “My heart wanted to die,” she wrote.
But slowly she began to relax, eager for a few hours to rest, regroup. To stay alive.
“I would love for you to spend the night in my home,” Dr. Weiss said, and Renia exhaled. “But,” she continued, “the Germans often break into houses out of nowhere, searching for hidden Jews. If they’re in the area, they’ll surely come here. I’m Russian. They already suspect me of maintaining connections with Jews.” She sighed. “Forgive me, but I cannot risk my life.”