On our way back to the base from one of the raids we returned to the same abandoned house where we had found the books. We took whatever we could; every book on those shelves was valuable. Again we saw in our mind’s eye the remarkable people who had lived in this house, far from any Jewish community, in the heart of a tranquil, wide-open landscape. Every time we come here, their images appear before us. Dear Jews, Kamil calls them, who left us this great treasure. Were it not for them, this green wilderness would be the end of us.
I am reading Heinrich Graetz’s magnificent History of the Jews. It’s still hard for me to see the whole picture, but I am eagerly reliving the conquest of the Land by the Tribes of Israel, their first exile, and their wondrous return to the homeland. And then their second, terrible expulsion and their dispersion among the nations. As I read, I can share Kamil’s sense of awe.
I’ve already noticed that I’ve picked up Kamil’s rhythms of speech. I can’t presume to resemble him or emulate him, but the tempo of his speech comes out involuntarily whenever I utter a sentence or just think. Ever since I’ve been going with him on raids, his voice whispers in my head—and apparently not only in mine.
Manfred, one of the fighters, believes that Kamil has a hypnotic power, and one must not get trapped in his net. Every sentence of his should be examined. He is only a man, and like all of us he makes mistakes and misleads, or tries to pull us toward what he thinks is right. It’s best to keep your distance from such a hypnotic influence and preserve your independence.
I told Manfred about my reading of Graetz and my amazement at the ongoing existence of the Jews. From earlier conversations with him, I should have known that a word like “amazement” is not part of his vocabulary.
“Why is that amazing?” bristled Manfred. “Every creature wants for whatever reason to live and multiply, from amoebas to human beings. Admittedly, the Jews have done this with skill and guile. All through their exile, they have not confronted their enemies face-to-face. They learned to evade and escape, not always elegantly, until they got to where they got. No miracle here; it’s biology or, in other words, the instinct to survive.”
With that, he stripped away my amazement and left me naked.
Manfred often quotes Darwin. “You should go back and read Darwin, and you won’t talk so optimistically about mankind,” he says. Kamil stays away from Manfred and doesn’t speak to him directly, only through Felix.
Manfred has no one among us to talk with. The communists do listen to him, but he doesn’t like them. Their practical agenda, he argues, is brutal. He says that Darwin opened a window into the understanding of nature, but the communists adopted Darwinism as a way of life. The militant proletariat is the zenith of their aspirations.
IT SHOULD BE MENTIONED that we now number forty-seven souls, each with his unique countenance and destiny. Truth be told, togetherness is strong and tight here. Whoever goes on a raid with his squad hands over part of himself to the squad, and the squad gives him something of its unified essence. And when you return in the early morning to the base, you are not the same person who went out at night.
But at the same time everyone here carries within him the burden of his own life. We are wary of confessing to one another. Even the fighters who go out on missions with me—such as Werner, Manfred, Karl, and Danzig, not to mention Paul, who was lost to us—what do I really know about them? Kamil and Felix are also enigmas wrapped in mystery. We escaped from a place where we should have stayed to help and support others, and we have been haunted by guilt ever since.
Kamil says that God in His mercy has brought us to this place and given us the books of the forefathers; alas, we don’t have the time to study them in depth. Without the books, we are orphans. For Kamil, each movement and action acquires an added significance. I have often heard him shout in the middle of an operation, “We are not alone; there is something higher than the highest!” On one of the raids there was a surprise attack on us by police who are collaborating with the enemy. There were many of them, and we retreated under heavy fire. Kamil suddenly raised his voice and cried out, “Do not fear, the Lord of Hosts is with us.”
LAST NIGHT I witnessed the following conversation. Michael went to Grandma Tsirl and asked, “How do we know that God is in the world?”
Grandma Tsirl looked at him with wide-open eyes and said, “Every tree and animal and person testify that the world has a Creator.”
“Why don’t I see him?”
“Because you have to train your eyes, so they will see the miracles the Creator performs at every moment.”
“How will I train my eyes?”
“You have to say what is written in the prayer: ‘God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob,’ and then add, ‘show Your face also to me.’ ”
“How many times a day should I say this prayer?”
“Three times a day.”
“If God is everywhere, is he also in me?”
“Of course, my little bird.”
“Why don’t I feel him?”
“You, my little bird, are a wise boy, and when the time comes, God will shine His face on you.”
“Thank you, Grandma Tsirl.”
“For such a thing you don’t need to thank me, my dear.”
“And, Grandma, are geometry exercises his miracles, too?”
“Everything is His miracle. He is in all places and all acts, even in the places most hidden.”
“From now on I will start to train my eyes, Grandma Tsirl.”
“May God protect you and all of us.”
MICHAEL IS LOVED not only by Maxie; he is dear to all of us. He is a child who brings our hearts back to our homes and to ourselves at his age. He does everything thoroughly and precisely, but at the same time he is a child who likes to look around, play jacks, and laugh.
“He has an excellent head,” says Maxie. “Arithmetic comes easily to him, yet who knows what other hidden talents he may have. I sometimes think he has a gift for language. He speaks very little about his home, but his whole manner shows that he was loved by his parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents. I have the feeling that nothing escapes his notice. He once asked me if after the war we will live together, as we do here. I told him, ‘Each of us will go back to his family.’ ‘Why can’t we live in a commune, like here?’ he asked. I didn’t know what to say, so I said, ‘Let’s wait and see.’ ”