Wartime Rescue of Jews by the Polish Catholic Clergy

I felt a soft touch on my arm although I had not heard approaching footsteps. And these words:

“Come, child. You need a wash and you must be hungry! And you are surely tired, so must rest.

“You are in a reasonably safe place, but not to the extent that you can feel completely free. Here is our other underground chamber.”

I turned and saw two men in clerical clothes. I looked at them and rubbed my eyes, unable to believe what I was seeing. I fell on my knees again, saying:

“Praise be to our Lord. Is that His Excellency, Bishop Niemira?”

“Yes, child,” came the reply. “We were arrested by the Gestapo at one time because of the children we rescued. But they released us. We have our chambers upstairs. They do not know about this hideaway, fortunately. That is why the new father, whom you did not know, is keeping vigil here. We only come here occasionally. It is not safe for us to be away from upstairs for long, or the Germans might discover this place.

“We have been waiting for several days for a larger group of those heroic ghetto fighters, then you came alone. Fr. Sebastian has told me everything. I have forgotten your name, child. I know you and your parents. Wait—just a minute, just a minute—especially your Mama. Ah, I know! After that Gestapo investigation my brain has dimmed a little. Yes, you’re from Pawia, right? Oh yes, Mme. Zuzanna is your mother. A splendid woman!”

“Does your Excellency perhaps know something about my Mama? Is she alive?”

“Oh, yes. She has been very ill. She is with Mme. Oziemblowska [Oziembłowska] at present. She gazes at the burning ghetto in which she has long since buried you—and you are alive, thank God!”

“Yes,” I replied. “Only thanks to the merciful Almighty, that is true, was I able to reach here. And for this favour I am grateful with all my heart.”

“You will have to change your clothes before you can get out of here. Father Sebastian will give you anything at his disposal. I have, however, something in mind which I want to suggest to you, dear child. You were given the name Halina at your christening. That is not a Catholic name. I saw, however, how you prayed. … Have you been confirmed?”

“No,” I answered.

“Then, I will confirm you myself. But not today, only tomorrow—and not in the morning but here, at night. Later you will leave here with God and go to your mother. It is a great pity that those for whom we’ve waited have not reached here. And now goodnight with God, darling. Father Sebastian will tell the rest.”

His Excellency Niemira blessed me, raising his worthy hands above my head, whispering a prayer. When he finished, he whispered:

“I am proud of you! You are a brave girl. May God be praised.”

“Amen,” I replied. I rose from my knees, but with such difficulty that if Fr. Sebastian had not supported me, I would have found myself on the floor. I had no strength left.

Fr. Sebastian led me down a similar shaft to the one which had brought me here to another, lower underground chamber. These were mattresses there and blankets for those who had been expected. There was a basin with water and a little soap, also a wash cloth and a lot of women’s and men’s clothing on a chair in the corner.

Fr. Sebastian told me to have a wash, choose something for myself from among the underwear and clothes to change into. When ready, I was to pull on a string in the corner which would ring a bell letting him know. He would then provide me with a meal. I now felt acutely how tired and hungry I was. There was a wooden ladder here coming down. There was a small shelf on one wall on which stood a Crucifix and a small candle shone. So it was not dark. …

A few moments later Fr. Sebastian came down, carrying a tray with a modest meal. Hot grain coffee, one slice of black, clay-like bread and an army biscuit. …

“Eat, dear child, with a good appetite,” said Fr. Sebastian. “There’s not much of it, but our circumstances also are such that we must ration ourselves. And this is not supper, but breakfast—for it is morning now. You would not know it here, without a window. This is a special hideaway. … You must sleep, for you are very tired. It is quiet here. Should anything unexpected happen I will wake you and let you know. Here are some matches. I will douse the candle as I go out. … Good-night! Stay with God!”

… when I opened my eyes the candle burning on the shelf with the Crucifix again cast its soft light, penetrating the darkness. Father Sebastian was sitting by me, stroking my cheek.

“Come, child, get up! Before you get another meal you must offer yourself to God. Everything is ready for your confirmation, which His Excellency Niemira will administer to you himself. Here you are—here is a rosary if you would like to pray first. The ceremony will be upstairs.”

“And my confession?” I asked.