Mila 18 - Leon Uris

A.B.

Chapter Sixteen

Journal Entry

THE GERMAN HAND IS being revealed more each day. The Krakow Gazette keeps hammering on a theme of “segregation of the Jews on reservations.” That is fancy talk for ghettos.

More talk about sending Jews from Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Germany into Poland.

Yesterday it became true. A ghetto was decreed in Lodz. Chaim Rumkowski was appointed chairman of a Council of Elders. Ana Grinspan is there now to see if we can organize a “self-help house” like Mila 19. There are around two hundred thousand Jews in Lodz.

At yesterday’s meeting with Emanuel Goldman, David Zemba, and Simon Eden, Goldman thinks we are heading into a week of crisis in Warsaw. He says that all the abuses up to date have been merely to soften us up. A new Nazi, Oberführer Alfred Funk, has arrived, and that means trouble because Funk is the direct liaison between Berlin and Globocnik in Lubin and is no doubt carrying a pocketful of candy on new German policy.

ALEXANDER BRANDEL

SS Brigadier Alfred Funk was the young blond blue-eyed Aryan about whom Adolf Hitler bragged. He was an intelligent and industrious man who cut a smart figure and would have been successful in any capacity he sought in life. He was shrewd and astute and dependable, unlike the bumbling bully Rudolph Schreiker, the timid conforming opportunist Franz Koenig, the half-mad Sieghold Stutze, and the cynical, lazy Horst von Epp.

Like Von Epp, he calculated that the rise of Nazism was unstoppable. Unlike Von Epp, he felt that Hitler could bring the German people to their peak position in history. Like most of the German people, he willingly chose to be a part of this “march to destiny.” He accepted the traditional German obedience to authority without question. He desired to be a large and important man and he became what he desired. Alfred Funk had a few qualms at first about Nazi methods but soon realized that the political tyranny of the concentration camps, the abolition of civil liberties, and the destruction of the intellectual opposition were merely fundamentals clearing the path for this Greater Germany. He became a deputy of tyranny with conviction. The tools of tyranny were not questions in his mind—only the best methods of using them.

Golden hair, trim body, Alfred Funk was a man of undeniable strength who was able to impose his authority. As the master blueprints came from Berlin from Heydrich and Eichmann of the 4B section of Gestapo, Oberführer Funk received the position of special liaison to Globocnik in Lublin.

When Emanuel Goldman was summoned to the city hall to see Oberführer Alfred Funk, he had already surmised Funk’s mission in Warsaw.

Funk spoke impassively. “We are concerned about the unsanitary habits of Jews. Your homes are filled with lice. Lice cause typhus.”

Funk was, indeed, starting on an interesting tack, Goldman thought. “I am not a doctor like the eminent Franz Koenig,” Goldman answered curtly, “but your regulations denying us sanitary facilities are the cause of the outbreak of lice.”

Funk stared. He did not blink or budge. The old man is tough.

The Nazi picked up a paper. “Our facts scientifically prove otherwise. Everyone knows Jews are filthy. Look at those bearded people. A perfect nesting place for lice.”

“We didn’t have a bit of trouble with them in the past,” Goldman answered.

“But there’s trouble now, isn’t there, Goldman? Now, Goldman, I want your Civil Authority to help us protect the citizens of Warsaw. Have this Orphans and Self-Help Society of yours set up delousing sheds. Each Jew will get a stamped card when he is deloused. He will have to have the card in order to receive rations. We will carry out extensive inspections of personal dwellings in order to stamp out this scourge.”

You mean looting parties under the guise of medical inspection, Goldman thought.

“In order to control this condition which the Jews have brought on Warsaw, we have blacked out certain areas of the city which will be under quarantine.”

Goldman knew ... here it comes.

“All Jews must move into the quarantine area within two weeks under punishment of death.” He shoved a map of Warsaw over his desk at the old man. It was blacked out from the northern rail bridge below Zoliborz down to Jerusalem Boulevard. The eastern boundary was a zigzag line past the Saxony Gardens, and the western boundary roughly in a line with the Jewish and Catholic cemeteries. Funk was watching him. There was no use arguing with the German.

“Goldman,” Funk continued, “you do agree we are at war with the Jews.”

“I cannot disagree.”

“Therefore, we consider that Jewish property, personal and otherwise, is legitimate booty—spoils of war. Therefore, when the move is completed into the quarantine area, you will begin a registration of all Jewish property. I have appointed Dr. Koenig as registrar and custodian of Jewish property. That goes for business inventories, bank accounts, jewels, furs, et cetera, et cetera.”

Koenig! My, he has come up in the world. ...

“One final thing, Goldman. Because you Jews have imposed these deplorable dangers and have consistently disobeyed our directives, we are fining all the Jews three hundred thousand zlotys. We are holding fifty people in Pawiak Prison to assure payment of the fine within a week. Your Civil Authority is expected to make the collection. You are to draft directives covering the things we have discussed and you will return here tomorrow for me to study them.”

When Goldman returned to the Civil Authority building at Grzybowska 28, he summoned the board immediately. Goldman relayed his conversation with Brigadier Alfred Funk to seven pasty-faced men.

“The quarantine order is merely a thin disguise for a ghetto. If we collect this mass fine for them, there will be others. Registration of property. I don’t have to explain that to you. The most dreadful part of their whole scheme is to make us issue the orders. Now, we on the Civil Authority believe we could be of some service to the community and be a protective wall between the community and the Germans. The Germans are converting the Civil Authority into their own tool for carrying out their dirty work.”

The room was stricken with fear. Everyone knew what the Germans were up to. Everyone also knew he was facing a moment when he had to search the depths of his own soul to see if it held a hidden reservoir of courage. So long as they carried out German orders, they and their families were safe. Defiance could bring them instant death. Was this worth dying for? Emanuel Goldman, their chairman, thought it was.

One by one they revealed themselves. Weiss, who had been an army officer all his life, had never been much of a practicing Jew. He considered himself an assimilated Pole. He was angry. He banged his fist on the table. “Certainly, as conquerors, they will give us the choice to withdraw in honor,” he said.

What nonsense, Goldman thought. Weiss is still playing colonel. “These are not soldiers, but Nazis,” Goldman said. “I do not know if they will let us resign.”

Now Silberberg. Once he had written plays in which vaunted ideals bounced from the rafters of the theaters. He had been terrified into conformity. He sulked. He hated himself for it. “We are not collaborators,” he said, finding his reserves of strength.

Seidman, the engineer, was Orthodox. “Misery is nothing new for the Jewish people. We have lived in ghettos before.”

As he talked he began to sound like Rabbi Solomon, but Goldman knew that Seidman spoke from conviction and not fear.

Marinski, the factory owner. He had spent a lifetime building his leatherworks. The new orders would end in confiscation of his factories, he was certain of it. He had to calculate. As a member of the Civil Authority, can I save my factory or shall I gamble that the Germans will back down if we have a show of strength? There was another thing worrying Marinski. He was a just and proud man. The right and wrong seemed clear. “We must make a stand,” he said.