The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII (40 page)

That night, seven hundred and sixty seven Jews of all ages and nationalities were loaded onto the waiting ship. They were stuffed into cargo holds, crew quarters, officers' cabins and any place where people could be put below decks. At a quarter past midnight the skeleton crew fired up the boiler and the engines began to crank. As soon as the ship had cleared the harbor the Jews were allowed on deck.

A message to the port authorities had informed them that the ship had been given clearance to another dry dock which would save several days and the captain had found a cargo at that other port. By dawn, the ship was well out into the Mediterranean Sea on its illegal voyage.

The ship did not head directly for Palestine but churned toward Lebanon. Vessels headed in the direction of Palestine were watched by British patrols from the air. Once sighted, the ship's progress was charted daily. The crews and passengers watched for aircraft, but fortunately none was sighted. As they approached the waters off Palestine, the Captain started to run an erratic course, which slowed their progress but would confuse any British that did happen upon them. Slowly he worked his vessel into position to run the British blockade that night. At nightfall he dropped anchor and waited. They were still out of sight of land. The next two hours seemed an eternity.

"I don't like it. It's been too easy," the Captain said to his chief. "I've done this several times now, but I feel very uneasy tonight."

"Perhaps we shouldn't try tonight," the second officer replied.

"No. The longer we are in these waters, the greater the risk. We go in thirty minutes. But I still feel uneasy."

Thirty minutes later, the anchor was hoisted and the ship's crews began their struggle against the current. The Jews were headed home.

In another hour, a light flashed from the shore at a predetermined location and the captain set his bow in that direction. Fifteen minutes later, the signal flashed again and the captain knew he was still on course. They were minutes from their destination when a crewmember on watch yelled out, "Patrol boat closing in from starboard!"

No sooner had he called out than the approaching vessel turned on its powerful searchlights. Pandemonium broke loose on deck.

"I'm going to make a run for it!" the Captain shouted. "Full ahead!"

"We can't outrun her!" the bewildered second officer exclaimed.

"No, but I can damn well ground her. These are shallow waters with a sandy bottom. As soon as we hit, lower every lifeboat loaded full. A few of these tormented souls may get to shore. The rest are headed for Cyprus anyway. What the hell do we have to lose?"

As soon as the ship grounded on the sand, six lifeboats were put into the water. The patrol boat started after them but could only stop one before the others were in water too shallow for it to follow. The five successful, overloaded boats landed nearly a hundred-thirty lucky Jews on the sands near the ancient town of Caesarea. There they were met by Haganah members who whisked them off under cover of night.

A few Jews jumped off the grounded British ship and swam for shore. No one knew just how many tried that or what their fates were. The Greek Captain and his crew were incarcerated in Palestine at the old prison of Acre. The remaining DPs were taken to the internment camps on the island of Cyprus. Solomon was among them...

Solomon's eyes lifted briefly to the barbed wire. His gaze fell back to the ground. His thin face was worn. Barbed wire confined him. A British soldier guarded him and fifty thousand other Jews. How quickly they've forgotten.

These are our liberators?

They liberated us from the Nazis. They imprison us here on Cyprus. God, why can't we just be allowed to live our lives in freedom? There are Jews in this camp who have faced death at the hands of the Nazis every day for the past decade. Now they are thrown into this hellhole by our 'allies.' There are children here who have not known a day free of fear in their entire lives.

The sun burned down on the island. There wasn't even a breeze. The internment camp was a tent city quickly thrown up to hold the prisoners. Palestine was their only hope. But Palestine was in the hands of the British-and the British had closed the doors to the only country that would take the Jews of Europe.

Now Cyprus was their concentration camp.

For many who finally gave up hope, Cyprus became their death camp. Attempted and successful suicides were commonplace. Some of the elderly who had survived Hitler could no longer struggle against this last disappointment. Without hope, the soul died-shortly after, the body.

"They have already forgotten..."

I have tried not to dwell too much on my own story because there were so many others who suffered far more, fought more bravely, made greater sacrifices, lost everything even life itself. There were many heroes in World War II, many of them Jews. Few have received any recognition at all. Those who died are remembered, perhaps only because we won't let the world forget. But what of those who lived? Our ordeals have been mostly forgotten. "They went to their deaths like sheep to the slaughter!" That they remember. Before the war was over, the ordeal of the living was forgotten, pushed from the minds of the guilty and the complacent. Not until the formation of the State of Israel did those Jewish displaced masses find a welcome in this world.

In 1948, Israel achieved statehood and the displaced persons camps all over Europe and those internment camps in Cyprus emptied. Their multitude finally allowed the freedom to go home to the only country that truly welcomed them in nearly two-thousand years.

Solomon finally found the freedom he'd fought so hard for.

I moved to Israel as well, but I'd not been interned in a camp. After we arrived in Kiev with the Russian army, I bid my friends, Sol and Father Peter, farewell and continued with the Russian Army as they made their way west. I had no one anywhere in Eastern Europe. I worked as a battle field physician attending to the casualties where they fell. We did what we could to stabilize them for their trip back to the hospitals.

When we crossed over into Germany and the number of Russian casualties dropped precipitously, I left the army before they had a chance to send me back to Eastern Europe. I made my way south to Austria where I made contact with members of the Jewish Committee and also the Haganah. I was given a job traveling from DP Camp to DP Camp all through Europe making sure that our people were getting the best treatment possible and, more important, surveying the health status of the recovering survivors from Hitler's death camps. During my travels, I learned of horrors that shocked me even after all I'd been through. Then I vowed to do my part never to let the world forget. But for years I tried to forget. Remembering was too painful. I actively tried to put it out of my mind. My nightmares would not go away.

In 1948, I too moved to Israel. Solomon and I were reunited. We met on the field of battle in the effort to break the Arab siege of Jerusalem. But that is another story.

After the 1948 War, I became a staff physician in a hospital in Afula a town North of Jerusalem and East of Haifa. Solomon moved to a kibbutz near the town of Ramat-Yishay, not half an hour's drive from me. We have become even faster friends than we were in the forests. Shortly after Solomon joined his kibbutz he met a Sabra, an Israeli born, ironically by the name Rachel. They married and have four wonderful children-three boys and a girl, named for his departed brothers and sister and grandfather.

Father Peter became a professor of religious history and philosophy. He never was able to resolve his discord with his Church, which he'd dearly loved before Babi Yar. He died in 1956 of a myocardial infarction. His Church did put him to rest in hallowed ground. I hope he found his peace and reunion with his beliefs.

I, too, found my love and marriage. We have three wonderful "children" grown up to have given us seven grandchildren. Since 1948 life has been good.

After my retirement, my family insisted I put down on paper the memories that have haunted me all these years. And now that I have done it, nightmares of my memory are finally leaving me. If nothing else this writing has been a catharsis. But I hope it will be more than that. Though it has given me some peace, I hope it gives the rest of the world outrage enough to insist on remembering after we are no longer here to remind.

About the Author
Othniel J. Seiden

Othniel J. Seiden, or Otti as he prefers being called, typically takes on an interesting historic subject and studies it to find the most fascinating storyline.

When doing the research for "The Remnant," however, Otti found that it wasn't just one story, but the mixture of the stories of the survivors and their resistance work that really told the true story of the 'Free Jews of World War II' and the part they played in bringing down the Third Reich.

After researching the transcripts of the Nuremburg Trials and interviewing 'The Remnant' or Jewish survivors of the holocaust; Otti was compelled to write their startling and remarkable stories of World War II while the remaining members of "The Remnant" were still alive.

It is a stunning and compelling novel made of up the collection of stories of the Jews who were able to remain free and fight. Otti documents their escapes, their survival, their sacrifices, their suffering, their missions and their guerrilla warfare tactics against the Nazi occupation forces.

Otti tells most of this story in the shadow of the atrocities of the now infamous Babi Yar ravine where it is thought that nearly a million people, Jews and non-Jews alike were massacred. Its existence was kept hidden for many years after the war by both the German and Russian interests. The brave few who escaped certain death here did so by acts of amazing bravery and sheer determination to live.

Otti in this book, with these stories based on real people and historical transcripts, should dispel the myth that the Jewish people "went to their deaths like sheep to slaughter-" The Remnant and their incredible stories will erase that perception forever!

The Remnant is Othniel Seiden's fourth historical novel following The Survivor of Babi Yar, The Capuchin, and The Cartographer - 1492. Since the release of the The Remnant, Otti has released two more historical fiction books including
Seed of Avraham
and
Shtetl

All of Otti's books current are available on the website
BoomerBookSeries.com
.

If you enjoyed this book,
here is another great book by Othniel J. Seiden!

The miracle of its survival
was predicted -
guaranteed
.

The written history of the House of Avraham has been born out by the pick and shovel of 20th century archeology. To doubt its validity in the face of all the evidence is foolishness. But maybe I'm mistaken for perhaps the family of fools is even older than the House of Avraham.

Like every family, the House of Avraham is a mixed lot. There have always been a few who saw little value in the birthright - tried denying it - -gave it up - but seldom with success or to their own benefit. Others faced agony, torture, death - rather than give it up. Those who survived hopefully found their reward; those who perished - who knows what prize awaited them for their sufferings. Such are the things faith is made of.

It was predicted. It has come to pass.

www.JewishHistoricalFiction.com

If you enjoyed this book,
here is another great book by Othniel J. Seiden!

If you were a Jew you needed no last name ... we were all one big family ... and we all had the same tsuris, excuse me, I mean troubles...