CHAPTER 30

THE WAR CONTINUES 1943–1945

Our lives are connected as always with the events unfolding in Europe. Our estrangement from the continent of our births has not released us from the destiny of our people. We are bound together through the faith that has been both our heritage and the cause of persistent persecution. Despite the trials our people remain cemented together by our deeply rooted respect for Jewish life. A kindred link binds us, a link I felt first as a small child in Vienna, standing in the synagogue, watching those around me engrossed in prayer, understanding even then that we are somehow all the same.

We devour the news about the battles that have torn Europe apart and watch, with personal concern, the latest developments. Hitler’s victories have seemed inevitable. His evil grin splashed across the front pages fills us with renewed anguish. The twitching small black moustache and arm raised in victorious arrogance beneath a flapping swastika flag cause us endless dread.

Every evening Poldi gives me the information he has heard during the day. One night he says sadly, “There is no good news coming from Europe. We know that much of what we are getting is propaganda, fed to the Japanese by the Germans, but even our sources have nothing hopeful to report.”

“Do you really believe the Nazis will win?” I am alarmed at his tone.

He bites his lip, then answers, “I don’t want to believe it. All we can do is hang on to the thin possibility that they might still be defeated.”

“But with the Americans in it now too, won’t there be more hope for our victory?”

“Nini, we have experienced so many disappointments and setbacks that it is hard to truly believe in salvation. We are all asking for a promise that no one can give, that we might be liberated.”

“And even here, the Germans would try to kill us?” I ask, fearing the reply.

He answers, “Already concentration camps have been set up here in Shanghai – I have seen them myself – where the Japanese are interning their Chinese prisoners. I’m afraid that it won’t be long before they round us up, each one of us in Hongkew, and drive us in there.” I understand his meaning, once in those camps there would essentially be no further hope.

Miraculously at the time of our weakest resolve and darkest fears, there seems to be a change in the direction of the war. The Axis armies are beginning to fail. The Americans’ entry into the war does seem to have made a difference, and we are beginning to hear of Allied victories. Small bits of encouraging news sift through the ranting propaganda from Berlin, and from this we derive courage to hope for a turn of fortune. Now, with cautious smiles, we listen to a different tone in the newscasts and hug one another for support and encouragement.

In 1943 the Russians are able to win the Battle of Stalingrad and to defeat twenty-two divisions of German troops. D-Day on June 6, 1944, brings millions of American, British, and Canadian soldiers to the shores of Normandy. Italy has signed an armistice agreement. By August, Paris has been liberated. On the Russian front the Germans have been pushed back, and in a fierce struggle the occupied countries, one after the other, are freed. With the combined might of the Allied forces, tons and tons of explosives are dropped on Germany, and finally on May 7, 1945, there is unconditional surrender. Word spreads quickly of the German defeat. Hitler has been found dead, having committed suicide in his bunker. Mussolini has been hanged in public.

We hear of the tyrants’ ignominious deaths and are struck dumb with disbelief. We rejoice in a kind of trance. After the years of suffering, we are unable to fully comprehend the end of our flight. Are we free? In Hongkew the news is greeted first with some jubilation, then sombre disappointment. The Japanese have refused to surrender. They are still at war, and we are still captives.