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4 Deportation T he rumors threw us into a state of panic. Various versions circulated: one claimed that only some would be expelled, namely, the refugees, old people, and children. Another version was that all the Jews were to be deported from Warsaw, with no exception. People reminded each other of the fate of Jews who had disappeared from other towns. Parents cautioned, “Don’t talk so loud. The children will hear.” But in no way could they protect us from the fear we heard in their voices or the horror inscribed in their taut faces. “Are we going to die?” we asked without fully understanding death. I saw stiff, lifeless bodies abandoned on residential stoops and sidewalks every day, and I took turns killing and being killed in make-believe play with friends. But I was too young to comprehend the finality that death really is. As a matter of fact, death did not terrify me as much as the possibility of being separated from my parents. I desperately wanted for us to live. But if we had to die, I wanted my parents to assure me that we would all meet death holding on to each other—like a joint transfer to the unimaginable. Horrifying reports of massacres of Jews in Vilna, Biala Podlaska, and other communities stifled the air we breathed. Other hearsay opened a chink of hope. “Did you hear the latest news? Hitler is dead.” There was talk of an armistice, of peace being declared, and Deportation 25 for a short time we breathed easily. The worse things became, the greater the hopes that people placed on the war’s ending. I rehearsed in my head what I would do if Nazi soldiers came to get us. An impossible challenge. The soldiers, loud, rude, and fully armed, made me feel tiny, bare, and completely inadequate to interfere or speak my mind. I wanted to see the monsters bound, stabbed, cut, crumpled, slashed, and excoriated. But if they entered our house and I uttered a single word, they would surely shoot my neighbors to set an example, and worse— they would shoot my parents and me. So I fought them at night in my sleep. I clawed at their eyes and ripped at their faces when they went after my parents, sister, or friends. And I reasoned with them at the same time because I still believed that somewhere behind their unfeeling faces were hearts and a conscience. They were people, weren’t they? I knew Tata did not jump at their throats for the same reason—to protect us and other Jews from punishment. And Mama would surely strike them with a heavy frying pan if she knew we would not be killed on the spot for her act. “Should we pack our things?” Fredka and I volunteered to our parents. We had prepared a list of our favorite dresses and most essential items of clothing: sweaters, boots, coats, mittens, and outfits for every season. Mama told us, “No, no. It’s not necessary. Go and play instead.” Tata reassured us, “We will take care of everything. We will let you know of all that is important. Not to worry.” Fredka and I also recognized the uselessness of packing, only to be forced to hand everything over to the soldiers. To be practical, we dressed in multiple layers of underwear and dresses. We slept fully clothed in case the German soldiers descended upon us at night. Mama and Tata said, “It is not necessary, but if it makes you feel better, it’s okay.” I made a small bundle of my cherished trinket collection that I kept in a drawer in Mama’s beautiful vanity with the tall oval mirror. My collection consisted of birthday cards from friends; fountain pens and mechanical pencils I valued too much to use for every day; the shiniest, smoothest, reddest-tinged, most perfect chestnuts; and my very most treasured collection of small perfume boxes. I wrapped my treasures carefully in a neat parcel and kept it close at hand in case I had to grab for it and run. Deportation began in the month of my thirteenth birthday, July 1942, when the Germans ordered Czerniakow, the head of the Judenrat, to deliver thousands of men, women, old people, and children to the Umschlagplatz (transfer station). The Judenrat followed the order by publishing a notice that a segment of the ghetto population would be resettled in the east...

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