“We’ve obtained a few papers,” Hershel repeated. Each one allowed a person entry into an internment camp; allowed one person to live. They were fake passports from allied countries where Germans were being held captive. The holders of these allied passports were to be kept by the Nazis in special camps and were intended to be exchanged for Germans in those countries—one of numerous passport schemes that they’d heard of in the past years. Perhaps, they hoped, this one was legit. It took months to organize and obtain these documents, a hugely expensive and dangerous process that involved sending secretly coded letters with photos to specialist counterfeiters. Who would get one?
Or should no one take them?
Defense or rescue? Fight or flight?
This was a debate they’d been waging since earlier in the war. A few Jews with even fewer guns were not going to topple the Nazis, so what was the point of resistance? Were they fighting to die with dignity, for revenge, for a legacy of honor for future generations? Or were they fighting to inflict damage, to rescue and save—and if so, whom? Individuals or the movement? Children or adults? Artists or leaders? Should Jews fight in ghettos or forests? As Jews or with Poles?
Now a real decision had to be made.
“Frumka!” Hershel called from across the table, staring right into her dark eyes.
She looked back at him, just as firmly, though keeping quiet.
Hershel explained that a directive had come in from their revered leader in Warsaw, Zivia Lubetkin. Frumka was to use a passport to leave Poland for The Hague, home to the UN’s International Court of Justice. She was to represent the Jewish people, tell the world what was happening. She would then travel to Palestine and serve as an official witness of Nazi atrocities.
“Leave?” Frumka replied.
Renia looked at Frumka, her heart racing. She could sense Frumka reeling too, almost see her sharp mind at work beneath her quiet face. Frumka was their leader, the rock supporting them all, both the men and the women. Who would be asked to go with her? What they would be without her?
“No,” Frumka declared in her firm but gentle way. “If we must die, let us all die together. But”—and here she paused—“let us strive for a heroic death.”
Hearing her words, her assurance, the whole room sighed audibly. As if the entire building had been resuscitated, the members began tapping feet, some actually smiling. Frumka placed her fist on the table, as simple and quick as a gavel. “It’s time. It’s time to get energized.”
And that’s how they had their unanimous answer: defense.
Renia, always ready, sprang from her seat.
Part 1
Ghetto Girls
Heroic girls. . . . Boldly they travel back and forth through the cities and towns of Poland. . . . They are in mortal danger every day. They rely entirely on their “Aryan” faces and on the peasant kerchiefs that cover their heads. Without a murmur, without a second’s hesitation, they accept and carry out the most dangerous missions. Is someone needed to travel to Vilna, Bia?ystok, Lemberg, Kovel, Lublin, Cz?stochowa, or Radom to smuggle in contraband such as illegal publications, goods, money? The girls volunteer as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Are there comrades who have to be rescued from Vilna, Lublin, or some other city? — They undertake the mission. Nothing stands in their way. Nothing deters them. . . . How many times have they looked death in the eyes? How many times have they been arrested and searched? . . . The story of the Jewish woman will be a glorious page in the history of Jewry during the present war. And the Chajkes and Frumkes will be the leading figures in this story. For these girls are indefatigable.
—Emanuel Ringelblum, diary entry, May 1942
Chapter 1
Po-Lin
Renia
OCTOBER 1924