“Shoes off!” he barked. But just then, a Nazi rushed in to inform her tormentor that a Jew had escaped, and both jetted off. Vladka dressed quickly and slipped out, telling the guard at the door that she had passed inspection. She went on to meet comrades on the Aryan side and began her work establishing contact with non-Jews, finding places for Jews to live and hide, and procuring arms.
Most important, the ZOB was determined to eliminate collaborators, who they felt made the Nazis’ job so much easier. Throughout the ghetto, they hung posters declaring that the organization would avenge any crime committed against the Jews—then promptly made good on the threat by killing two leaders of the Jewish militia and council. To Zivia’s amazement, the assassinations left an impression on the ghetto Jews, who began to respect the ZOB’s power.
A new authority ruled the ghetto.
The fighting group was a few weeks away from launching a full-scale uprising. According to one of the Bund’s leaders, Marek Edelman, they had set the big date: January 22.
*
When the Nazi Aktion began on January 18, Zivia was shocked. The comrades had no time to convene and decide upon a response. Several members weren’t sure where they were supposed to be stationed. Most units had no access to arms except for sticks, knives, and iron bars. Each group was on its own, unable to connect.
But there was no time to lose. Two groups improvised and launched straight into action. If anything, the lack of time for committee discussion pushed them to mobilize.
Zivia didn’t know it at the time, but Mordechai Anilevitz quickly commanded a group of male and female Young Guard fighters to go out into the streets, let themselves be caught, and then slip in among the rows of Jews being led to the umschlagplatz. As Anilevitz approached the corner of Niska and Zamenhofa Streets, he gave the command. The fighters whipped out their concealed weapons and opened fire on Germans who were marching nearby. They threw grenades at them while screaming at their fellow Jews to escape. A few did. According to Vladka Meed’s account, “The mass of deportees fell upon the German troopers tooth and nail, using hands, feet, teeth, and elbows.”
The Germans were stunned. “The Jews are firing at us!” In the confusion, the Jewish youth kept shooting.
But the Nazis regained their composure and retaliated quickly. Needless to say, the rebels’ handful of pistols was no match for the Germans’ superior firepower. Reich soldiers chased down the few ZOB fighters who’d managed to run off. When Anilevitz ran out of bullets, he snatched a gun from a German, retreated into a building, and continued to fire. A Jew in a nearby bunker pulled him in. Only Anilevitz and one female fighter survived. The results were tragic, but the influence of these actions was tremendous: Jews had killed Germans.
The second group was Zivia’s. Commanded by Antek and two other men, this unit took a different tactic. Most of the remaining Jews were in hiding, which meant that the Germans had to enter buildings to find them. Instead of an open-air battle, which they were sure they’d lose, they decided to wait for the Nazis to approach and shoot from inside. Zivia figured that ambushing the Germans would inflict the most casualties.
She stood on the alert at one of the Freedom bases in an apartment building on 56-58 Zamenhofa Street. Forty men and women took up positions. They had four hand grenades and four shotguns among them. Most were armed with nothing more than iron pipes, sticks, and the makeshift acid-filled lightbulb firebombs.
Zivia and her comrades knew that they were fighting to their deaths, but waited eagely for the Nazis to arrive so they could do their damage and go down with honor. For six months, the Germans had been systematically murdering Warsaw’s Jews, and not a shot had been fired at them.
Absolute silence, except for a few piercing cries of people being forced to the umschlagplatz. As Zivia stood waiting for the confrontation, anxiously gripping her weapon, she felt terrifically adrenalized—and yet, at the same time, deeply sad. Later, reflecting on that moment, she described her inner turmoil as “a kind of emotional stock-taking at the final moments of my life.” The friends she would never see. The aliyah she would never make.