It is morning in the Ukrainian ghetto. Like every morning there is great tension in the air! What lies in store for the coming day? What will be decreed? Who will be taken to work and never return? Who will fall victim to the terrible hunger? Who will succeed in obtaining a morsel of food to feed his family? How will we get through another day?!
Suddenly, we hear the voices of the Jewish policemen (Capos): “The Germans are looking for Chaim the glassmaker!!”
The Germans’ command is like a decree of life or death. I quickly leave the narrow room in which six Jewish families are crammed. All eyes follow me as one accompanies a person to the scaffold. My wife’s barely audible crying echoes in my ears. “Who knows what they want?” My heartbeat quickens.
I am taken to the room of “the Jewish militia” where a number of German officers are waiting for me. They explain that during the recent bombings the glass in a number of German army cars were shattered and the winter weather requires that they be repaired immediately. The cars are parked in the army base across the River Buk. The moment I hear the name of the camp, I know what everyone who lives in the ghetto knows: A Jew who is taken there and does not return on the same day, never returns. The more immediate problem is that I had never in my life fixed the glass of car windows! In my youth, I had learned to repair house windows, a trade that became important during the Ukrainian winter and the constant bombings. . . . But, I never learned the much more complex job of cutting glass for car windows.
I dare to explain to them that I have no experience in this kind of work. But my words are cut off by a command accompanied by words of insult about the Jews:
“Either you come with us and do the job, or we’ll shoot you right now!!!”
Like so many times in the past, the angel that watches over me takes the reins of my mouth in his hands. It is as if someone other than I is speaking from my throat.
“I agree to come, on condition that you promise me that I’ll return to my wife by nightfall. If you aren’t ready to promise this by all means! It’s best that I don’t even attempt to do work which I’ve never done in my life. You might as well finish the job already and kill me now!!”
A mocking grin flickers in the officers’ eyes. After some hesitation—the senior officer answers:
“Certainly. You have the word of honor of a German officer, that if you succeed in your work, you will return to your wife before nightfall.”
I am quickly lifted onto the commander’s jeep and taken to the German army camp. There are a number of parked cars with shattered windows. I am given materials (glass panes, glue, etc.). A guard with a loaded and cocked rifle is appointed to watch me and I am told that they will return by nightfall to check if the job has been completed.
Rivers of sweat stream down my forehead, my heart pounds: An unspoken prayer rises in my heart.
Lord of the Universe! Ribono shel Olam! How can I successfully complete a job I have never done in my life? “Do not lose control!” commands the voice of the angel that bursts from the depths of my heart! They bring me bread and cheese and even though my eyes have not seen such foods for a long time I cannot touch anything.
How can I cut curved glass for cars, when I’m accustomed to cutting straight lines with my tool! How does one take apart windows from a car? Will I be able to repair so many cars in so short a time? Again my angel intervenes; an idea pops into my head! I request and receive big pieces of cardboard. I take apart the non-broken windows from their place and place them on the cardboard. I cut carton pieces the size of the pane. After that I put the carton on the glass. And so, I have a pattern with which to cut the glass. I work with the speed of lightning. . . .
Unanticipated physical and spiritual powers erupt within me. Not fear, but tranquility . . . not even one glass is broken. To my surprise I am able to fit one glass. Though it wasn’t a perfect job, it was still a wonder! The glass closed the window and fit into the frame! I check the position of the sun. My hands work quickly. The angel speaking from my heart hurries me: Quicker! Quicker!
The sun is already setting.
A group of officers arrive. They check my work. In all the cars the glass was fixed. They realize that the job is not perfect, but are astounded by the speed and performance of a non-professional.
The sun sets slowly. Snow had fallen in the morning, but the sky is now clear. The officers are talking among themselves. I approach the senior officer and remind him of his promise to return me to my wife by nightfall. The officers around him are scoffing. One of them says to me with a snide wink:
“Come with us and you can have a warm bed to sleep. It’ll soon be night. It’s very cold and the roads are full of snow and are all blocked.”
Here the angel inside me summons the strength to ask:
“And what of the word of honor of a German officer?”
The senior officer jumps to his full stature. His whole body is stretched. Fire flashes in his eyes. He hitches horses to a sleigh, seats me in the back, and commands one of the soldiers to accompany me and so we plow through the snow, in the sleigh on the way back to the ghetto. Despite my situation, I constantly ask myself: Does the Divine spark burn within him and is that the flash in his eyes? Or is his pride and haughtiness the Divine instrument that will save me?
We’re on the way “home” to the ghetto that is rotting with hunger and sickness. We reach the wall of the ghetto at dusk. And from between the barbed wire surrounding the ghetto the curious and innocent eyes of two Jewish children dressed in rags peer with fascination at the German sleigh hitched to horses—a sight that they have surely never seen in their lives.
The senior officer stops the sleigh.
He gets down off the sleigh with his companion and they exchange a few words. They take their rifles and point them towards the children. I immediately understand! Target shooting competition! Eyes of Jewish children are the target! I freeze in my place, my whole being trembling. On the one hand, they are about to fulfill a promise to a Jew, despite the freezing cold and the difficult situation; and at precisely the same time, cruel, unfathomable murder. Training in target practice by shooting at the innocent eyes of Jewish children. I try to open my mouth, but it is hinted to me that, should I emit a sound I will join the children. The children do not understand what is happening. They continue to look with the wide open eyes of children at what is happening in front of them. I close my eyes, shots are heard.
I don’t remember exactly what happened after that. I only remember that I woke and found myself in the ghetto surrounded by my wife and fellow Jews who proclaimed “Blessed is the one who revives the dead.”
The words reverberated in my temples, Ribono Shel Olam!! There is no more need to explain the source of “the word of honor of a German officer.”
This article was originally published in the Spring 1989 issue of Jewish Action.