Not everyone aboard the Maharhash exhibited the same sense of fortitude and vigor that emanated from Jan and Natalia. Throughout the hull of the ship there were men and women who, on the surface, appeared fit and prepared for a new life in the fields of Palestine. A closer look, however, revealed a much more complex picture. On the outside, the ragtag group of survivors looked like people who were coming back to life. They had certainly exhibited uncommon survival skills to have reached this point without giving up. But the scars would never go away. You might not notice them at first. But once you got to know any of them, it became clear that they were scarred in ways that outsiders could never imagine.
At each end of the ship sat two Haganah men and a female nurse. They were tasked with maintaining order, comforting the survivors, and regaling them with tales about life in Eretz Yisrael. They were trained well. They were told not to ask about the past, not to inquire about deceased family members or life in the ghettoes or the camps. They were there to keep calm. They were models of a bright future in a land far removed from everything they had just experienced.
The trip was bound to last for three or four days. Of course, that depended on the routes that would need to be taken to avoid British patrols. Many of these illegal immigration voyages were foiled when British patrols caught them and sent the passengers to internment camps on the neighboring island of Cyprus. The Brits played themselves off as fair arbiters to the world community regarding life in Palestine. In truth, they had acceded to the demands of their oil rich Arab partners, who were adamant about curtailing Jewish immigration to Palestine. But the Haganah had a good feeling about this ship. They had been granted assistance by a clerk in the Greek bureaucracy to help pull the wool over the eyes of the British, and they were cautiously optimistic that they would safely reach their destination. As far as the British knew, this Greek supply ship was headed to the Middle East to deliver delicacies ordered by the British High Commission itself. Nevertheless, the crew’s main objective was to avoid British patrol ships at all costs. They couldn’t risk being subjected to an inspection, even with all the proper permitting and paperwork in their possession.
Three days aboard a ship with nothing to do was no picnic. Fortunately, there was enough food and drink for all the passengers. The Haganah crew was friendly, and the sleeping quarters each evening were warm and comfortable. During the days, several of the men discussed politics and argued over how the Jewish community in Palestine should confront Palestine’s British occupiers. A group of older men spent many hours absorbed in a competitive chess match. Some of the younger women became acquainted reminiscing over childhood stories from before the war. Several of the survivors tried to keep to themselves, taking breaks to meander around the ship. They nodded meekly to the Haganah staff, who were always prepared to be of assistance. They smiled at the rabbi whenever he strolled by. For these new hopeful immigrants to Palestine, considering where they had come from, there really wasn’t anywhere else they would rather be. Yet, despite their fortune in being plucked from the ashes of Europe, the nightmares of the past were never too far behind.
The first day was pleasant enough for the most part. From past missions, the Haganah staff knew that nighttime could be most excruciating. Many people slept satisfactorily. The motion of the boat was calming for some. But for others, even perfect accommodations could not stave off the night terrors.
Jan went to bed with a smile on his face, knowing that the last thing he would see each night before he closed his eyes was the peaceful smile of Natalia. However, once he fell asleep there was not much she could do to help him fend off the demons. The first night he awoke moaning audibly and dripping in sweat. His dream world brought him back cruelly to the brutality of his past.
“My foot, my foot,” he wept. It was as if he was trying to scream, but his body would only permit a faint whisper. “My foot, my foot.”
Natalia was at his side at once, her heart pounding. “What about your foot, Jan?” she asked quietly.
“Please, don’t,” Jan whispered, his eyes unfocused. “Please don’t, please don’t.”
Rabbi Groh rushed over to crouch alongside Natalia. She was grateful for his presence, as Jan was not responding to her at all.
“Don’t what, Jan? What don’t you want us to do?” the rabbi softly asked, leaning close to Jan’s profusely sweating face.
“Please, no! I didn’t mean to offend you!” Jan cried, tears streaming from his eyes.
“You could never offend me, Jan. We are only here to help you,” the rabbi offered.
But it was clear Jan did not hear Rabbi Groh. He was lost in the world of the subconscious. This wasn’t the first time Rabbi Groh had sat with someone lost in the prison of his own mind. He had been in countless difficult situations. So many hours he had spent in hospital rooms, at the scenes of auto accidents, or sitting with someone after the tragic loss of a family member. Although feeling somewhat out of place with the survivors, his pastoral instincts in that moment kicked in. He whispered a few words to Jan, and then slowly he uttered a Hebraic formula.
“Shema Yisrael, Shema Yisrael, Shema Yisrael.” Several of the survivors who had now gathered around the rabbi smiled at each other. Jan did not smile, but he was calming down. The rabbi said again, “Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad.” Then he said it a few more times. The rest of the small crowd joined in, and they were now chanting these words in unison. Gradually, Jan regained control of his dream world, and eventually he fell back into a deep and quiet sleep. Natalia remained next to him with Jan’s right hand resting comfortably atop her knee while she gently caressed it with her hand. The rabbi smiled at Natalia and rose from his spot next to Jan. Several of the survivors patted the rabbi on the back. Natalia looked at him warmly and said with a smile, “Thank you, Rabbi. You have brought him peace.”
“I wonder what he meant when he said, ‘Please don’t’?” the rabbi asked Natalia.
“We all have our memories. Moments when we thought we were taking our last breath. I can remember too many to count. When you go back to those places in your dreams, it is overwhelming. I don’t know which moment Jan was just dreaming about, but I know how terrifying it is when your mind brings you back to that place. All day we do our best not to think about it, but once we fall asleep, we are defenseless against our thoughts.”
“I am so sorry to hear this, Natalia. It must be so scary to go to bed each night,” the rabbi said with as much empathy as he could muster.
“It is. But I just try to think about Palestine, and what my new life will be like. If I can fall asleep with a smile on my face, I feel like I have a better chance to survive the night in peace,” Natalia explained.
Rabbi Groh took her hand, smiled, and said softly, “May you always have a smile on your face when you fall asleep at night.”
“Amen, Rabbi. Amen,” Natalia responded. “I don’t know where Jan just was, but I hope he is released from there soon.”