CHAPTER 41
An Attempted Murderous Assault on Me
It happened in the summer of 1929. A group of us Bundists had traveled to a summerhouse in the village of Marianka, about four miles from Mińsk-Mazowiecki. This was a prosperous little village founded by German settlers. The houses were comfortable and the natural surroundings beautiful. Also, it was not very far from Warsaw. Someone recommended this comfortable little spot, and several Bundist families went there: Leybetshke Berman and his family, the Perensons, Misza and Karola Scher (they were also relatives of Lucia’s), the teacher Poliak, and my family and I. The women and children stayed there the whole summer; the men, who worked during the week, came out on the weekends. My vacation was in July, so we decided to spend it there. Several Bundist comrades arrived from Warsaw on Friday, as usual. Toward evening we took a stroll: Leybetshke, Perenson, and I. We strolled the paths through the fields and the forest trails, talking about various things, and when twilight came, each of us went our separate ways, back to his own cottage.
It was already rather dark when I arrived at my cottage. Lucia told me that a young man had just been there asking for me, saying that when I got back, I should be told to go to Moyshe’s store, that someone was waiting for me there. The store was a typical village general store where you could buy almost anything. In addition, it was a sort of summer club for the young people. They congregated there in the evenings, drank seltzer mixed with fruit juice, cracked sunflower seeds, and rendezvoused. Sometimes older people, who had come to buy something, also stayed a while and joined in the conversation. Since I was a little tired, I didn’t feel like going there. If someone needed to see me, I thought he would probably come here.
It didn’t take long, perhaps about twenty minutes, and someone knocked at the door and an unfamiliar young man entered, thin, of medium height. He told me that at Moyshe’s store there were several people who would like to see me. They had been waiting a long time, and so would I mind going there with him? The store was a little distance away and I still didn’t feel like going there, so I said, “Since my place is quite comfortable, it would be better for them to come here.” The young man would not agree to this and insisted I go there with him. I again refused, and he began to argue with me and wouldn’t leave. He began to reproach me, saying it isn’t right to let comrades wait so long.
I held to my argument—why does it have to be in the store? Why not here in my cabin? We continued arguing thus, and I continued to refuse for the tenth time. He then suddenly said to me with chutzpah, “You must come!” Now suddenly I grew very suspicious—what does he mean, “I must come!”? Now I categorically refused to go with him and got up to accompany the boy to the outer fence. When we stepped down from the verandah, he made a suspicious gesture with his hand and turned his flashlight on. In that moment there appeared before me a tall Pole. I immediately realized what was going on here. With one leap I was behind a tree. The Pole shot at me but did not hit me. Still behind the tree, I grabbed my revolver and shot back at him. Both of these intruders then disappeared into the darkness.
I went back into the cabin. The peasant who was the landlord came running to ask what had taken place here. I told him everything. He said he had a permit to carry a rifle and he in fact had one—just let someone else dare to come here again!
About an hour later I could hear voices from the forest, which was not far from our cottage—three or four drunken voices talking Polish, saying, “It’s that window.” “No, it’s that other window.” I went over to the landlord and told him about it. He immediately went out with his rifle and shouted: “Whoever dares to cross my fence will not come out alive!” At this you could hear the bunch in the forest, with curses and invective, moving farther away.
I went back into the cabin, fastened the shutters, and lay down to sleep, but Lucia and I couldn’t sleep that night.
In the morning Leybetshke Berman and Perenson came. They had only this morning found out the whole story. They stayed with me just in case it might be necessary to help defend me. Around ten o’clock in the morning, Khayim Kirschenzweig arrived on his bicycle, out of breath. He was one of the most energetic Tsukunft activists, a member of the Warsaw Committee of Tsukunft, and Vice-Commander of the Bund’s Tsukunft Militia (he died in Melbourne, Australia, in 1953). His parents and his whole family also were staying in a summer-house in the region, but much closer to the town of Mińsk-Mazowiecki.
That morning he had overheard talk that the Communists were preparing a demonstration against me. He had rushed over on his bicycle, he said, to warn me of the danger and to tell me I should immediately go back to Warsaw. I calmed him, telling him I had no intention of running away.
In a few hours there did indeed appear on the path in the field a band of about 100 young people. They stayed at a distance and began to shout in unison: “Down with Bernard!” “Down with the Social Fascists!” They shouted like that for a while and then withdrew.
Khayim Kirschenzweig, when he saw I would not leave, telephoned the party in Warsaw, telling them all that had happened. The next morning a group of our militiamen came to protect me (among them, Leyzer Levine, Shaye-Yudl, and Monyek Dembski).
Monday morning I received a phone call from Noyekh saying I was urgently needed in Warsaw and that I should come immediately. When I arrived and went to him he informed me, with his familiar mild severity, that he forbade me to go back to Marianka.
I could enjoy the rest of my vacation wherever I wanted, but not there. I decided to go to Zakopane. I took my Janek with me. Lucia decided to stay in Warsaw.
