Wartime Rescue of Jews by the Polish Catholic Clergy

Early the next morning Mama went outside the wall on a special mission to the nuns …

She had not been able to arrange anything with the nuns. The Germans had extended their attentions even to them. So she went to the Church of St. Augustyn [Augustine] at Nowolipki and found there not only the parish priest but also His Excellency, Bishop Niemira. She explained our situation to them. It was agreed that they would take the children. So she was comforted in this respect …

We decided to ask engineer [Joachim] Jachimowicz what possibilities there were for the boys. Especially since they could be exposed to danger without Polish documents. They must accept that risk. And, of course, the condition that they take a vow not to give away how they found themselves on the other side.

Because I was still unable to give the boys any help I stood guard in the evening when they managed to get the children through the passage-way to the other side. Mosze came back happy and delighted, announcing that everything went off fine and the children were in a shelter beneath the church.

“So many children, oh boy!” he added. “I thought they wouldn’t have room for ours. The nuns took them away at once. I told them I’d come for them when the storm had passed over our place. You know, Hana, that tall, older one … well, I’ve forgotten his name. You know, that … sort of rabbi of yours … you know …”

“Ah, you mean Bishop Niemira?” I put in.

“That’s him!” Mosze picked up. “He patted me on the arm and said: ‘I’ve heard about you! I’ve heard what a brave boy you are. Remember—we’ll find a place for you here as well in case of need. Just come to me.’ I thanked him as best I knew how and ran off because there wasn’t much time left to get back through the passage-way.” …

On my way back to my room I looked in on Mama. … She told me that she was very worried about the next day, especially about me and the boys. … She began to explain further:

“Lala, my dear. For a long time now I’ve been trying to get papers—not only for you, but also for others—but it is not easy. … Remember one thing always. In case of anything, sometime, about some need, or at a difficult moment—your last chance is to reach His Excellency Bishop Niemira. You are to remember that. But as long as I am by you and with you and I do whatever is within my means, it is not ye time to go to him. He has problems of helping others on his mind at the moment and the most important thing is to tear out of this hell at least some of the youngest children who can be saved.” …

[May 1943]: I was at Nowolipie and from here it was not far to the church [of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary] at Leszno. …That was my one and only chance of escape. My old church of St. Augustyn at Nowolipki had ceased to exist as a church long since. …

And so I moved off, alone and deserted, over holes, craters and burial grounds of embers and rubble in which people lay buried. …

In this way I covered a good distance from the place of slaughter. Somewhere beyond the corner of Karmelicka St. I found a half-buried cellar. I did not know what I might find there. But it was from there that, in 1939, tunnels led to a larger shelter—and from there right under the church. I did not have a torch or light of any kind. The question was—would I find the way? Had the tunnels collapsed or been filled in? …

A small hole at the entrance. I just managed to squeeze through. … So, very carefully, I lowered myself bit by bit, finally to touch the ground with my feet. …

Complete silence—a deathly hush. But suddenly it seemed to me that I could hear a murmur above this ceiling. I could not believe my ears. Should I call out? Try to find out if there was someone there? No. better not risk it. I had no weapon with which to defend myself if it came to that. …

Using both my hands and my head, I exerted all my strength to find out whether this flap really could not be moved. It did move a little and I even saw a weak ray of light through the gap, but I did not have sufficient strength to lift the flap clear. It was heavy. …

Finding one more cross-piece, I climbed higher by using it, bending down as I felt the flap against my head. … I had to open it completely. But what if it fell with a crash? I could feel cold air coming through. Perhaps this really was a prison dungeon? Such thoughts raced through my brain. … I could not go back—back to what? Where? So it was God’s will. Whether to die there among the corpses in the dark—or here. Surely better here, even if it was a prison. …

So … One, Two, Three! The flap fell to the floor with a crash which echoed in all directions. I disentangled my arms and legs from the ladder. A weak ray of light was coming as if from a candle shimmering in the distance. It helped me to find a grip and pull myself up. … Suddenly I felt someone’s warm hand touch mine and help to pull me up. For a second I lacked the strength to look up and see who this could be. … Stretched out on the floor, I saw a man’s gray head leaning over me, the body draped in a dress reaching the ground. A warm voice—such a warm voice!—spoke to me quietly:

“Dear child, how did you get here? Are there many with you? We’ve waited so long!”

When the initial impression wore off I could not believe that I was alive, that my eyes were seeing a man who was a priest—and that the place I had reached was a church.

He put his protective arms round me and led me to the other end of the second cellar where the small candle was burning, asking about others for whom he had been waiting, who were supposed to come here. That was why the entrance had been blocked, because they knew the password which they were to use so that he would open the flap. …

He was surprised by my appearance and although I was very tired I told him as concisely as I could how I had got there. I mentioned the bodies lying there, which I could not see in the darkness. …

He stroked my hand and told me to sit down in a soft armchair. He excused himself for a moment, saying he would bring me some warm [grain] coffee. When he had gone I saw in the candlelight that the place was not large, but there was an altar. It was a small chapel in which this priest had sat waiting for those people from below the ground. He must have been a good man.

Deep in thought, I did not sit in the indicated armchair because I was too dirty. I knelt before the small alter, empty but for a Sacred Cross and the one candle. I lost myself in a prayer of thanksgiving … I also prayed for those who had remained in that “Dante’s Inferno” on earth and for all those who had not reached here. …