The ruins of the Ghetto, late 1943. Image courtesy of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.
An endless parade of Nazis patrolled the streets of Warsaw, canvassing every surface with huge posters warning Poles of the “Jewish peril.” The posters decreed that any Jew would be arrested on site, that any Pole found extending aid or shelter to a Jew would be shot. Poles formed vigilante groups to guard Gentile homes against “misfortune,” an obvious euphemism for “Jews.”
Nevertheless, The Jewish Coordinating Committee still existed. Jews remained alive and in hiding in and around Warsaw, including the approximately seventy ZOB fighters who escaped from the burning ghetto. The remnants of the Committee worked as hard as they could to maintain contact with the hidden Jews, hide the ZOB survivors, and keep them all safe. The Committee had some luck protecting those already in hiding, but their reach could only extend so far; the hostile environment of Warsaw and its suburbs worked against
them, killing off the survivors, one by one.1
Stroop’s report to Himmler, stating that “the Ghetto no longer exists.” Image courtesy of Yad Vashem.
Death and destruction seemed to haunt Vladka’s every step. Abrasha Blum had survived the Uprising. He was hiding out with Vladka until he could secure a new hideout. Yet, someone betrayed them. The Polish police put Vladka and Abrasha under arrest. She managed to bribe a guard into sending word to her comrades, but when their colleagues succeeded in bribing the police into letting Vladka and Abrasha go, they were too late: Abrasha had already been transported to Gestapo headquarters, a death sentence in all but name.
Once out of prison, Vladka was an open target: the Polish police and the blackmailers all knew that she was an underground Jew. Mikolai advised her to disappear for a while.
Vladka left Warsaw for the countryside, posing as one of Mrs. Dubiel’s (the Gentile woman who sheltered two Jewish girls) relatives. Away from the city Vladka spent most of her time alone, in the woods, where she did not have to live under the constant stress of maintaining her perfect Gentile disguise. But, there was little peace to be found. All day she sat wondering why she lived when so many others did not.
“Why was I here…would it not have been better for me to have been deported with my family? At least I would have shared their final agonizing hours….My mind filled with memories, visions—of my parents, my sister, my brother, my friends, my relatives, my comrades…I heard their loud voices, my mother puttering about the kitchen. I saw her…face…she seemed to be
smiling. Yes, she could be at ease now—I was no longer starving, and now I could get enough bread for her too…if only she…stayed with me a while longer. But her face receded and harsh reality returned to engulf me with its full force. My mother was gone—and with her the street, the house, my brother, my sister. Only the gnawing grief lingered…I felt more intensely than ever the naked truth of what had befallen us.”
After five weeks, the Coordinating Committee cleared Vladka to return to Warsaw.
1 An unknown party betrayed four survivors to the Polish police. The Polish police arrested the party and paraded them through the streets in a cart. Attached to the cart was a sign reading: “They will be shot. They are Jewish bandits. That’s how all Jews will be taken care of. Those who help such people will be dealt with in the same way.” The police shot them the next day. Another group perished when their hideout caught fire. Many of the survivors hidden in the woods and suburbs around Warsaw died under questionable circumstances, often at the hands of Polish partisan groups.