Mitla Pass (25 page)

“Comrades! Fellow workers! Fellow Zionists! Before I speak to you about the Mendel Beiliss trial, I should like to touch on the point that all Poale Zionists should be concerned about. Today, all over Russia, we see unfolding a sinister plot of Lenin’s agents infiltrating into one Poale Zion chapter after another, trying to take over the leadership or wreck the structure of the only organization that spells liberty for the Jews. When I speak of labor and socialism and Zionism, one organization alone holds aloft our banner. Poale Zion! Lenin would have you believe that overnight a thousand years of terror against the Jewish people is over. Lenin is a liar. Lenin tells us of a land where White Russians and Ukrainians and Lithuanians are going to reverse the course of their history and embrace us with open arms, after bashing our skulls for centuries. Lenin is a liar. [Now the crowd was chanting “Lenin is a liar” on cue.] Lenin says there will be freedom and equality for the Jewish people. I say that will happen when I grow onions in the palm of my hand! The only path for the Jewish people is the path out of Russia to join our people in the redemption of our homeland—Eretz Israel! Zion! Palestine! [On mention of any of these three names, the people go berserk, so I made certain I spoke all three words in the opening of the address.] Our feet must follow the dictates of our souls and we must blaze a path to our promised land now and we must make settlements so that when this war is over, hundreds of thousands of Jews will follow our example, yours and mine.”

To say that my address was received enthusiastically is to be overly modest.

I
CONFESS
that I was still extremely bashful and inexperienced when it came to the opposite sex. Whenever I was sitting like a cripple in a living room, I could only wish I had the same dynamics as I had at the rostrum. I got many invitations for dinners and, I must admit, many flirtatious glances were cast in my direction, even though most of the girls were taller than me.

In the girl business, I had a break. My Uncle Bernie also owned the cinema in Minsk and I had free admission at all times.

If things were looking bright for me in Minsk, they weren’t looking so bright for the Russian Army. By late 1915 they were retreating with heavy losses. Much of Poland and the Baltic states was already under control of the German Army.

We could tell that casualties were heavy by the number of bloody uniforms being sent to the various tailor shops to be cleaned, patched, and reissued.

Just how heavy were Russia’s losses came crashing into my life like a thunderbolt on a Saturday morning late in the summer. On the front page of the
Minski Golos,
the daily paper, was a special order that all men born in 1896 were to report for military duty. This was my year. I thought I would be safe because the service age had been twenty-one. Uncle Bernie and I both agreed I had better get back to Wolkowysk and make a decision with my father.

WHITE RUSSIA

Wolkowysk-Bialystok, 1916–1919

T
HERE HAD NEVER
been what might be termed a stampede by the Jews to rally around the flag of Mother Russia. Forced into conscription at an early age, many Jewish boys were sent off to Siberian duty and were not heard from for years. Once the Jews were in the Army, the authorities used fair means or foul to get them to convert to Christianity.

Avoiding service in the Russian Army was considered an honorable pursuit by the Jews in the Pale. False documents were a standard commodity and no one in the Jewish community considered it ethical to profit from their traffic.

As soon as the Czar’s new edict calling up eighteen-year-olds was published, Yehuda Zadok traveled immediately to the nearby town of Lida where a close rabbi friend had excellent connections for obtaining false papers.

One of the common methods was not to report the death of young men to the authorities, but keep their documents and pass them on to someone who needed a set.

Yehuda was able to acquire the papers of a seventeen-year-old youth who had died of pneumonia. On Nathan’s arrival home from Minsk, his father presented him with his new identity, that of one Pinchas Hirsch.

Nathan’s reunion with his family was rather pleasant. He was welcomed with an affection he had never known before from his father. Right was right. The boy had worked very hard to keep the family fed and was always prompt in sending money home. He deserved some respect. Not exactly the respect one would afford a scholar like Mordechai, but respect nonetheless.

Since he recovered from his stroke, Yehuda Zadok had also changed many of his attitudes. Mainly, he became a supporter of the Zionist movement. Yehuda’s sentiments favored the religious elements, but he no longer disdained the socialist labor movement of Poale Zion which had captured the imagination of the younger people.

Their family reunion was limited to only one meal, hardly enough time to get caught up, but it didn’t matter to Nathan. He almost completely ignored the fact that his older sisters were blossoming—not raving beauties, but nice solid girls in a plain and wholesome way. He showed equal disinterest in the progress of his younger brothers. He made a perfunctory inquiry about his father’s health and, of course, never mentioned Mordechai.

What was most important to Nathan was that he had won the right to hold court at the table, now that he was respected. He used the opportunity, speaking nonstop of his accomplishment as a Poale leader in Minsk, his mastery of languages, and some of the more palatable experiences in his journeys. With only a passing comment on the outstanding meal Sophie had scraped together for the occasion, the occasion was over.

Nathan was scheduled to register for the Army in a few days, so an urgent meeting was called at the rabbi’s home. Aram Hornstein was the local leader of the Poale Zion chapter and the main mover of young men trying to avoid army conscription. The general plan was to move the escapees as far west as they could get by train. Once into Polish territory they would be beyond the reach of the Russian authorities. It was a dangerous business. In order to get to Poland, one had to pass through the battle lines. There were a number of safe houses in the
shtetl
villages forming an underground route. The ultimate object was to reach Warsaw where Poale was strongly organized.

Hornstein reckoned it would be best to move Nathan out of Wolkowysk that same night. He was to board a train when he reached Bialystok, which still had rail traffic moving west.

For fear of being spotted by the local police, Nathan left Wolkowysk without so much as a farewell to his mother. The next morning he reached Bialystok by foot and found a train heading for Siedlce, which was halfway to Warsaw but also very close to the front lines. In Siedlce Nathan was to find a Poale Zion guide named Perchik, who would take him to the German side.

The scene at the Bialystok terminal was chaos beyond chaos. Not only was the station filled with thousands of young men of military service age, but tens of thousands of Jews from the entire scope of society, escaping from pogroms which had rent the fabric of the whole country.

Along with these there were gentile boys fleeing service, as well as a huge sprinkling of Russian deserters. Everyone was suspicious of everyone else. Fortunately the Russian Army was in retreat and the civilian train no longer carried its full complement of military inspectors, so documents were scarcely checked.

Toward the end of a stop-and-go day, the bulging train pulled to a halt at a siding. It was too dangerous to continue west and soon came a terse announcement that they had reached the end of the line.

As everyone milled about wondering what to do, some of the suspicion eased as people began to identify themselves to find people of their own organizations.

“Say,” someone called to Nathan, “aren’t you Nathan Zadok?”

Nathan balked. “You’ve got the wrong person. My name is Pinchas Hirsch.”

The young man persisted; he took Nathan aside and whispered in his ear. “I heard you give the keynote speech at the Poale Regional Conference in Minsk. I am Yossi Dubnow. I was a delegate from Kaunas-Lithuania.”

Nathan looked over the tall, striking young man. He seemed like a good person to have along in such a situation. Nathan shook Yossi’s hand. Together they hunted for more Poale people and found Daniel and Avni Finkel from Slonim. The four of them decided they had just the right size group to move around quickly and they teamed up.

Although the train had dumped them some distance away, Siedlce was still their first objective. It was there they had to find Perchik, the guide to take them into Poland.

They pooled their resources and bought a ride on a farm wagon, moved through the forest by night, edged evasively during the day, stayed under cover in populated areas, and some days managed to advance only several hundred yards.

It was torturous, hungry, and dangerous going, but survival was a strong motivation. Warsaw loomed in their imaginations as some sort of nirvana—the golden city.

Yossi Dubnow proved to be clever, resourceful, and strong. In five days of cautious movement they worked themselves to the outer fields beyond Siedlce. By then, Yossi was in full and unquestioned command, although Nathan, through his speech at the Poale Conference in Minsk, had earned a great deal of respect.

As they approached Siedlce they heard the sound of gunfire. They surveyed their area for the best cover and came upon an abandoned brick factory that had several deep clay pits around it. Yossi reckoned they could hide themselves there as well as anyplace.

“What do you think?” Avni said. “Shouldn’t we go into Siedlce and look for Perchik?”

“I don’t like it,” Yossi answered. “We all can’t just go marching in. First of all, we’ll be recognized as strangers and second of all, they may be fighting for Siedlce.”

“Yeah, we don’t want to get caught in a street battle,” Daniel said.

“I say we stay here and lie low until the firing stops, at least,” Nathan said.

“One of us has a better chance than the four of us,” Yossi said. “I’ve had some military training in school. I’ll go, you stay put.”

The others agreed and found a narrow rail tunnel, large enough to pull carts of clay from the pits to the kilns. The tunnel was deep, sturdy, and would provide good cover.

Yossi set out for the nearby village of Chodow to gather information. This had to be done with extreme prudence because all sides—the Germans, Poles, and Russians—could very well turn them in. Yossi’s first objective was to see if the village had a synagogue and if so, find the rabbi or a Jewish family. As he approached Chodow from a hillside, he could make out large numbers of Russian troops deployed along the Liwiee River. They were digging in hard to stop the Germans from fording the river.

Yossi returned to the brick factory just as the day came to an end. He drew a map in the dirt. “The Germans are deployed over the river both north and south of the city. They may well try to cross anyplace along a four-mile stretch. In fact, they may even come right over the top of as here.”

“So maybe we’d better head north,” Nathan said.

“No,” Yossi answered. “We’ve got excellent cover here. I say we get into the tunnel as far as we can and ride it out.”

“Suppose the Germans send a patrol in? If they see us, they’ll either shoot us or take us prisoner,” Nathan protested.

“I say we ride it out,” Yossi repeated.

Avni and Daniel supported Yossi. As the last words left their mouths, they heard the swish of an incoming artillery shell. A few seconds later it shattered just beyond them.

“Let’s move it!” Yossi commanded. They needed no further prodding as the air was suddenly racked with a barrage. The boys huddled together, cowering as the pounding above became murderous.

Nathan suddenly gagged with fear, wept softly, and curled up in a ball, his hands over his face. Throughout the darkness he felt the reassuring touch of Yossi Dubnow.

After three hours the bombardment seemed to advance beyond them. Yossi crawled from the tunnel, up the side of the pit, and tried to make sense of what had happened. Streaks of tracer bullets arched in the direction of the little village. Yossi strained to hear. Perhaps he actually did hear the sounds of men screaming as though they were charging. Perhaps it was an illusion. The bombardment had played tricks on his ears. During the next hours, the racket grew dimmer and seemed to move away from them.

Yossi staggered back down into the tunnel and risked lighting a candle. Nathan and the Finkel brothers were glassy-eyed and sat the rest of the night with their backs propped against the cold, dripping wall. They were too disoriented from the shelling to speak or take much more than a sip of water.

As the first slant of light probed a hill behind the factory, Yossi went up again and called for them to follow. A thick, low, still cloud wove through hillocks and gulleys over a windless field. The field was pocked with hundreds of craters created by the violent artillery fire, and the smell of it was like fireworks on the Czar’s birthday.

They lay on their bellies in a hole and remained still until they were sure no one was in the area.

“We’re luckier than hell,” Yossi said. He pointed down toward the river. “The Germans must have crossed over to the north. They swept right past us.”

“Look, the ridge is burning,” Avni said.

“They must have concentrated their attack on the ridge,” Yossi reckoned. “Yesterday there were Russians digging in a defense. It’s possible the battle may be past us.”

“On the other hand,” Daniel Finkel said, “German advance units may be pushing forward, but most of their troops are probably still on the other side of the river.”

“The question is, who now holds Siedlce?” Yossi said.

They looked from one to another in puzzlement. “We can’t all go marching into Siedlce,” Avni said.

“You guys stay here. I’ll go in and try to find Perchik,” Yossi said. “If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, you’re on your own in getting to Warsaw.”

With that, Yossi picked a route through the field of shellholcs and darted off as his frightened comrades watched.