Mila 18 - Leon Uris

Only Christopher de Monti and I know the location of all the cans and boxes. We have placed the most urgent priority in getting Chris out of Poland, for he alone is our greatest hope of bringing world attention to the holocaust which has befallen us. However, there is an unparalleled man hunt for him on the Aryan side, and getting him out of Poland will be nearly impossible.

One bit of good news. Although Finland is an ally of Germany, she has adamantly refused to turn over her Jewish community (of two thousand) to Eichmann. In fact, old Marshal Mannerheim has threatened to use the Finnish army to protect the Jews. We hear similar reports of defiance, particularly from Denmark. Also, we hear that Bulgaria and Rumania will not yield Jews to Eichmann’s fanatical pressure. Lord, Lord, what couldn’t we do with the protection of the Polish Home Army, which now has a quarter of a million men!

With the Good Fellowship Club archives hidden, I feel that my work has come to an end. I am so lonely without Susan and Momma. I am almost blind from the years of working in the cellar in bad light with these notes. My hands and shoulders are swollen with arthritis from the dampness. I am in pain all the time. How much longer can we go on? How many of us will escape? Two? Five? Fifty? How many? And what of Joint Forces? A fool’s army. No one in their wildest dreams believes we can hold out against assault for more than two or three days. So what is the use? When will we fight? Or will we fight? Who among us will dare to fire that first shot against them? Who?

Entered as the first entry of a new volume by Ervin Rosenblum on January 15, 1943.

Chapter Two

BLOND, BLUE-EYED, TRIM, intelligent, industrious SS Oberführer Alfred Funk stood, posture correct, at the head of a polished table. Listening in rapt attention on his left sat Rudolph Schreiker and Dr. Franz Koenig. Opposite them, Gestapo Chief Gunther Sauer and Sturmbannführer Sieghold Stutze, newly appointed as security police head for all of Warsaw. Not so rapt in his attention, Horst von Epp, bored, stared out of the window at the opposite end of the table.

Funk had carried verbal orders from Berlin to Poland on the “Jewish question” for so long that meanings were understood beyond their thin veils. He spoke in an uninspired monotone.

“Those who remain in the ghetto are Communists, criminals, perverts, and agitators.”

Four of them agreed. Von Epp played with a paper clip.

“Himmler has decided that for the sake of common justice we must erase this blot. We will proceed shortly with the final phase of the liquidation of the ghetto.”

Each of the men immediately translated the order into his own personal sphere of action.

For Rudolph Schreiker the removal of the Jewish problem in his area would be a relief. It was getting far too complicated for him to understand; besides, many of his business dealings could be buried in the ghetto.

Franz Koenig had been way ahead of it, anticipating the ghetto-liquidation order. He had already negotiated new war contracts, using labor at Trawniki and Poniatow.

Sauer took the order with unconcern. A policeman is always busy. Old problems are solved, new ones pop up. The Gestapo never rests, never will rest. Put out one fire, two more ignite. It did not matter.

Horst von Epp wanted the meetings to break up so he could get to a telephone and check to see if the new girls had come in from Prague.

Stutze was the most outwardly concerned. To him would fall the actual job of digging the vermin out. The Jews had shown great ingenuity in hiding themselves, and with an entire winter to dig in he would need more help.

“You are, of course, aware that the Jews are subterranean,” Stutze said. “One can walk in the streets of the ghetto for hours without a sign of life. They live like moles. According to their Civil Authority records, there are forty to fifty thousand of them left. And one cannot overlook the fact that they have been arming themselves.”

Funk cut Stutze short “You do not suggest that Jews will fight?”

“Of course not, Oberführer,” the Austrian said too quickly. “But you yourself said that criminals and Communists have taken refuge in the ghetto.”

“I have full faith that your Reinhard Corps will be more than equal to the situation,” Funk concluded abruptly.

Stutze blanched. Funk had put him in such a position that he could not request additional troops. “Of course, Oberführer.”

“Fine ... fine,” Funk said. “Tomorrow evening I should like to hear your plans for completion of the liquidation.”

“Of course, Oberführer.”

“You, Dr. Koenig, shall submit your requirements to have the machinery in your factories transferred.”

Koenig nodded.

“Until tomorrow evening, gentlemen.”

They came to their feet sharply.

“Heil Hitler.”

“Heil Hitler.”

“Herr Sauer ... a moment please.”

The Gestapo chief returned to his seat. Horst von Epp also remained. When the others were gone, Funk turned to Sauer.

“On this matter of the archives in the ghetto of which I spoke to you on my last visit. What have you been able to ascertain?”

“Not too much. The Jews protect these historians with an uncommon devotion. Not even their Militia will inform on them. Fear of retribution, I suppose.”

“What’s this about?” Horst asked.

“The Jewish mania for diaries. We have unearthed thousands of them in reservations around Poland and particularly in the special-treatment camps. We have long been aware of an entire organization here writing records.”

Well, well! Horst thought.

“We cannot proceed with the final liquidation of the ghetto until these records have been found,” Funk continued. “Hitler himself gave me specific instructions to see that these Jew lies are found. We cannot permit their distortions to be published.”

Sauer was unmoved by Funk’s double talk. The general sensed it. “Isn’t it enough,” Funk pressed, raising his voice to a sharper pitch, “that this filthy pack of lies about our labor camps was smuggled out of Poland?”

“Perhaps,” Sauer said softly, “the Führer should take the matter up with our Italian friends to learn how this was done.”

“It is the job of the Gestapo to learn these things and stop them before the crime is committed.”

Horst became fascinated at the sudden sharpness of argument. Someone had to give.

“We want positive information on these ghetto archives,” Funk snapped.

“Certain people,” Sauer answered, “were in such a hurry to cover their business transactions, they did away with the Big Seven prematurely and in a single fell swoop destroyed my entire system of informers.” The implication was obvious. Half of Warsaw’s Nazis wanted Max Kleperman’s lips sealed.

The policeman rubbed his eyes and meditated, speaking as if to himself. “If anyone in the ghetto knows about these papers it would be Alexander Brandel, but he has not been seen all winter. We know there is a bunker under Mila 19. We have not been able to determine the entrance.”

Funk, anxious to oversimplify the matter and get rid of Sauer, whom he could not bully, made an abrupt decision. “I shall have Stutze find this Brandel immediately. Then we can proceed with the liquidation of the ghetto.”

Later that evening Horst walked down two flights in the Bristol Hotel to where a brace of SS guards flanked the door leading to Alfred Funk’s suite. Funk’s orderly let him in.

“The Oberführer is taking a bath,” the orderly Said. He mixed a drink for Von Epp and disappeared into the bedroom.

Funk bathing again. Funk bathed before and after all conferences. Some days he took five or six baths. Often, when a good party was moving into its second stages and the women were getting deliriously vile, Funk would excuse himself and run off to a shower.