The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII (5 page)

"Many fell. One would fall under a blow or slip on the sandy ground, toppling others who would trip over him. The dogs were set on those who went down. Many couldn't get up and the dogs ripped at them, ripped them open. There was blood on everyone.

"We ran as hard as we could. Some were trampled to death, I think-small children and the old. Some parents carried their children through. We tried to pick up separated children as we ran, but they beat anyone who tried to help. It was impossible.

"A few tried to break out. They were shot in the attempt. By the time we were a few meters into the corridor most of us were dazed. The run seemed endless. Once I tried to look back. It was horrible. Bodies lay the entire length. Dogs biting, whipping, clubbing, shooting, I think a third of us never got through.

"I don't know how long that corridor was, but at the far end we stumbled into a large clearing. Stunned beyond pain-and worse, beyond any chance for resistance-we stood in that clearing, bewildered, bleeding, uncomprehending-like cattle.

"'Take off your clothes! Off! Everything off!' Again the command came, 'Take off all your clothes! Everything off, now!' Not one of us moved. Soldiers came and started ripping clothes off. Someone resisted. A shot rang out and she dropped dead to the ground. It began to sink in. 'Everything off, Jews! Your shoes, your stockings, your filthy underclothes. Take off everything, you filthy Jews!'

"We took off our bloodied rags, ripped by the whips. We dropped our things where we stood. In a few minutes, we were all naked. Children sobbed. Women wept. We all looked at the ground, not wanting to see each other. I didn't want to see my mother and sister naked.

"I remember a small child crying near me. I picked her up. She pointed toward her father and I took her to him. He held her close. We bled and shivered and stood helplessly while the Germans and Ukrainians laughed and amused themselves.

"When everyone was naked the Germans passed among us taking any rings or jewelry, eyeglasses-then they herded us together. 'Now move, fast! Go through that opening!' Ahead of us were two high mounds of earth. To get through we had to go single file. We were still too dazed to understand..." Solomon paused and then added, "And if we hadn't been dazed, I still don't think we'd have imagined what was to come next.

"If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget what we saw when we passed through that opening."

Solomon stared vacantly.

Sosha wondered whether he remembered they were there in the yard with him. He began to speak almost without emotion, as if the voice were not even his.

"We entered a ravine. It looked to have been a sand quarry. To the left was a very narrow ledge, which ran along a sandstone cliff. To the left was a flat plateau and on it aimed at us across the ravine, were a number of machine guns.

"They marched us out. I was still somewhat dazed. We all were. Didn't really focus on what was happening. Someone up front who refused to go farther was immediately shot with a pistol and pushed into the ravine. My eyes followed him down-it was the first moment I realized the ravine was full of bodies. Thousands of bodies piled there. They weren't deporting us. "My God, they're killing us!" I shouted.

"My eyes came back to the path. It was covered with blood-puddles-very slick, some sticky. We were walking barefoot in the blood of our people. Then we stopped. I still didn't fathom it all.

"A machine gun started to fire, then another. They moved toward me from both ends of the line and I saw people fall into the pit-like dominoes, one after the other. I suddenly realized-my family-and I called out, "Mama! Papa! Where are...

"As I turned to look for them I slipped on the blood underfoot. I fell into the ravine-struck my head. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I recall, wondering if I'd been shot-wondered if I was dying..."

Sosha and Ivan sat speechless.

There was no doubt in their minds that Solomon had lived through it all. How could it have happened, they each wondered. They'd all heard of pogroms, but that was mob violence. As awful as pogroms had been through the ages, this was worse. This had been planned-arranged-orchestrated...

"How did you get away?" Ivan finally asked to break the silence.

"The next thing I remember-it was dark-very dark. I became aware that I was shivering from the cold, something cold and damp on my back. I tried to move, raised my head. Bits of dirt fell from me. Dear God, I'm buried, I realized. I lay my head back down. I can breathe. I'm alive. I must be alive...

"The machine guns were silent. Now I heard another sound, shoveling, men talking, dirt falling. They were burying us. But it was late, dark and apparently they were just throwing a thin layer of dirt over us; leaving room for tomorrow's victims. I looked again. There they were, several, maybe twenty meters past me. Flashlights were showing workers where to throw the dirt. I heard a loud moan. One of the flashlights picked out the spot where the moans were coming from. A shot rang out. The moaning stopped. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. The stench of blood, urine, excrement and vomit reached my nostrils, the smells of death."

Solomon was silent, head bowed. A pained expression crossed his face. "I gave thanks to God for my life," he looked almost ashamed, guilty, "while below me and all around me my people were dying, had died, lay dead." He could only whisper the words.

Sol took a drink of his tea, not noticing it was cold. Tears were heavy in his eyes.

"God was with you, Sol," Ivan said, "God was with you that day."

They were words that could only have been spoken in retrospect. Surely, few there, at Babi Yar that day could have thought God was with them-anywhere near them. More likely their thoughts cried out, God why? Why have You turned against us? Why do you let them kill us? Even the children! And me-why me? And then Sol thought, Yes, God, You were with me that day. But were you with the others? What of the tens of thousands of others? "Why only with me?" he asked out loud.

"You must rest now," Sosha said. "I insist."

Sosha carried in the tray of leftovers. Ivan followed her with the chinik and glasses. "I think I'll hitch up the wagon and drive toward town," he said.

"Today?"

"Now."

"Why?"

"Close to Kiev, I might be able to find something out. We must know more about these Germans. I still don't understand how all this could have happened. I have to ask some questions."

"Ivan, be careful. If you reveal that we are sheltering Sol..."

"Don't worry, Sosha, I'm no fool. I think I'll go talk with Retski. He lives near enough to Kiev-and he's always arguing politics. If anyone knows what's going on, he'll know."

She watched her big husband hitch up the horse. After all the years of marriage, she still admired his huge stature. He stood well over six feet and weighed well over two hundred-fifty pounds, but solid, muscular pounds. She often teased that his hands were like shovels and loved to put hers up to his and be amazed at the difference in size. His hair was still red, only streaked with a little gray. Bright brown eyes peered observantly out of his rounded, typically Slavic face. His voice was deep but gentle, as was the rest of him. He'd been a good father, she thought and a better husband.

Ivan was gone for almost four hours. The early October sun set as he returned. Sosha had begun worrying. Sol slept for two of the hours and then waited anxiously with Sosha. She put supper on the table. Ivan related what he'd learned that afternoon.

"Retski confirmed that people are being slaughtered every day at the ravine. He said it still goes on, from dawn to dusk. He says it hasn't stopped since the 29th of last month. But what I can't believe is that he's in sympathy with the shootings. 'Good riddance with the Bolsheviks and Jews,' he kept saying."

"Are his sympathies with the Germans?" Sosha asked.

"You know Retski - his sympathies are with no one. He calls them fascist pigs, whatever fascists are. He is against all political groups."

"What does he say about all that's happened?" Sosha asked.

"Retski, as usual, had a long explanation, but it's probably mostly true."

"Do you think he had any idea that we are hiding anyone?"

"Believe me, Sosha, when I tell you I was very careful, especially after I learned of his feelings about the ravine."

"Go on with what he told you," Sol prompted.

"Well, according to Retski this all had its beginnings when Stalin and Hitler made a secret pact in 1939."

"And how does Retski know about secret pacts?" Sosha asked skeptically.

"If it has to do with politics, Retski finds out. And you know, in these matters, he's usually right. Anyway, he said it was a situation of one tyrant dealing with another tyrant and as usual the people pay the price.

"Hitler and Stalin had agreed that if Russia did not interfere with the Nazi invasion of Poland, they would divide the country up between them after Germany's victory. Stalin would get the eastern half of Poland; but more important to him, he felt he was bargaining for time and security on the Western border of Russia. Some bargain, huh? The only problem, Hitler is even less honorable than Stalin. His forces invaded Russia on that entire front. And Poland is now all under Nazi rule."

"What does Nazi mean?" Sol asked.

"I asked that same thing of Retski. He just spoke of Nazis when he referred to the Germans. He explained to me that we in the Soviet countries knew only what Stalin and the government wanted us to know. Stalin did not allow the Soviet Press to reveal much about Hitler's activities in Europe. What we heard about or read was praise for the secret ally. That is why, Sol, that your father praised them so. But in 1933 the Nazi political party, Hitler's party, took over the German nation that had been at the pinnacle of civilization, as your father said. Little news of what Germany has done since the Nazi takeover has gotten through to us.

"Now the German war machine turned against the Soviet Union. As the Russian troops clog the roads, most of the people feel relief, as you did. For those who have not felt the heavy hand of the Germans yet, the prospect of 'civilized German' rule holds more promise than what we've known under the Bolsheviks."

"And they are still shooting in Babi Yar?" Sol asked.

"That's what Retski says." Ivan bowed his head as he continued, "I am afraid he confirms what you have told us. All the Jews are killed. He says that the many Ukrainian people watched..."

Sol interrupted, "Yes, I saw that the next day. They watched us..." Sol choked, "...die. I must tell you about that, too. He confirmed that all are dead?"

"Yes, Sol, I'm afraid so. By the end of the second day, when you-went through-36,000 had been-shot. At the end of the third day, about the time I found you-56,000 were dead. Yesterday, at the end of the week-in just five days-they had murdered the last of the Jewish population of Kiev." Ivan looked up at Sol, "I'm sorry. They doubt that very many escaped. Only those who got away before the round up." He paused, then, "Sol, you are possibly the only person who got out of the Babi Yar ravine alive. Retski says over 100,000 Jews died there."

"He's in sympathy with that?" Sosha asked with disgust.

"Worse, he thinks most of Kiev is in sympathy."

"I don't doubt that at all," Sol said casually.

"You're not surprised?" Sosha was astonished.

"No. We Jews have never been loved here-or anywhere, I guess. And when I saw how the people reacted when we were rounded up. I know they could not have done a thing to help us, but they taunted us, spit on us, had to get in their last bit of hate."

"Do you feel up to telling the rest of your story?" Ivan asked as they neared the finish of their dinner.

"Yes, I'd like to get the rest told, if you're ready for it. There isn't much more to tell. I think I told you we were being buried. Anyone who moved or made a sound was shot. I lay very still for a long time, afraid to move-afraid to breathe. I was only under three or four inches of dirt and sand. My face was mostly uncovered. I was naked and cold. I listened. Finally silence. It was time to escape.

"I raised myself up, constantly fearing I might be seen-waiting for a bullet to tear into my back. As cold as I had been, the dirt must have been protecting me, because as it fell away the cold bit deeper into me. My eyes couldn't adjust to the dark. If there was a moon, its light wasn't falling into the ravine-an advantage, I guess, if there was a guard about. I groped my way over the bodies. The thin layer of dirt could not hide the carnage. My hands touched now a thigh, now a face, a hand, now a riddled chest-all chilled and sticky with blood. I was afraid I might vomit and some soldier would hear. But my stomach was empty. I crawled.

"At last, I came up against one of the sandy walls. Which, I couldn't tell. My sense of direction was gone. I stood up. I felt for the top but couldn't reach it. Then I tried to walk across the bodies, using the wall to balance and guide me. At every step, I reached up for a handhold. Loose dirt fell into my face. Nowhere could I reach the top. My feet pressed down on the soft bodies. Soon the cold, disorientation, despair and fear all gripped me. I could find no way out!

"Then I had an idea. I bent down and reached into the earth and grabbed a body. Limp and heavy, there was no lifting it. I got down on my knees and dragged it onto the body beside it. For the moment, I was thankful for the blackness of the night. I felt, grabbed and dragged another body onto the first. Then another and another each on top of another. Another. Another... It took a long time. It was exhausting, gruesome work. I cried as I piled up my dead..." the words choked off. Neither Ivan nor Sosha could say anything to interrupt the silence that followed. They could hear Solomon's quiet weeping. At last he calmed himself and continued,

"Finally, I climbed on top of the pile and reached for the top of the pit. I could reach it. It took all my strength, but I pulled myself out of the grave.

"I discovered myself to be on the narrow ridge off of which we'd been shot. The blood was still not dry. It felt cold, thick and sticky. Again I felt the urge to vomit. I had to drag myself up on it and could feel it coat my stomach, my chest, my legs.