The soldiers who had been stationed in B?dzin were ordered to the front, presumably to defend against Russian advances. New, older German soldiers arrived. Chajka befriended them. They too suffered. They didn’t believe the stories of mass murder, and as the movement had asked, she took responsibility to spread the word, to enlighten the Germans, to tell them exactly what they were doing.
Chapter 24
The Gestapo Net
Renia
AUGUST 1943
But how to get them out?
Desperate, wired, Renia could think of nothing else but how to help her comrades in the liquidation camp. Aside from Chajka, she’d heard that Aliza was there, Chawka Lenczner, children from Atid—even her sister Sarah. Each day, more Jews were deported to death. Renia did not know the guards or the layout of the entrance; she couldn’t get in by herself.
She frantically inquired and found out about Bolk Kojak, a member of The Zionist Youth （Hanoar Hatzioni）， a less political Zionist youth group that focused on Jewish pluralism and rescue. Bolk knew several guards, and went in and out of the camp each day. He lived in Aryan B?dzin, disguised as a Catholic. He’d been friends with several Freedom members, and Renia prayed that he’d help her—at least give her advice. Taking Ilza with her, Renia “stood in the street like a dog” waiting for two days to meet him. Suddenly Kojak appeared from afar, and Renia jumped up and ran toward him, inflated with hope.
They walked together, as if strolling on a promenade, then sat down on a bench in the market. They acted natural, but whispered, noting that two older Polish women sat nearby. Renia begged. “Please help me.”
“My priority is to rescue members of the Zionist Youth,” he told her, crushing her heart. She was so close, too close.
But Renia did not let up. As always, she did everything she could to get what she wanted. In her hushed tone, she begged, negotiated. Finally, she offered him several thousand marks if he saved even one Freedom kibbutznik.
“Meet me again the day after tomorrow,” he said. “Six in the morning.”
They parted, Bolk going one way, and Renia and Ilza walking in the other direction. They hurried to catch the tram to the nearby town of Katowice, where they were going to spend the night. Suddenly the two women who’d been sitting near them on the bench appeared. “You’re Jewish, aren’t you?”
They started chasing the girls, followed by a group of children yelling “Jews! Jews!”
“Let’s run,” Ilza whispered.
“No.” Renia didn’t want to raise suspicion. They strode quickly to an empty building that had been previously occupied by Jews. By then, however, a herd of people were after them, led by the two older women, who yelled, “You’re disguised as Poles. You met with a Jewish man!” A mob gathered around them. “We should kill you Hebrews, all of you!” One lady yelled, “If Hitler doesn’t get the job done, we will.”
Without thinking, without a moment of hesitation, Renia slapped the woman across the face. Then slapped her again. And again. “If I’m actually a Jew,” Renia said between whacks, “you should know what a Jew is capable of.”
“Call me a Jew again,” she threatened, “and you’ll get more of the same.”
Two undercover Gestapo agents arrived at the scene, which actually came as a relief. “What’s going on?” they asked.
Renia told them the story in Polish; a boy from the street translated. “The woman is not in her right mind if she suspects that I am a Jew,” Renia said, calm, then whipped out their fingerprinted papers. “Check our documents.”
The Gestapo asked her full name, age, birthplace. Of course, she’d memorized everything, as had Ilza. Like all those in disguise, they spent hours rehearsing each detail of their faux lives; you could wake them in the middle of the night, and they would recite entire fictional lineages. Another gendarme approached. “If they don’t speak German,” he said, “then they must be Polish. All Jews know German.”