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In this moving memoir, a young Polish Jew chronicles his life under the Nazis. In the vain hope of protecting himself and his family, Calel Perechodnik made the wrenching decision to become a ghetto policeman in a small town near Warsaw. The true tragedy of his choice becomes clear when during the Aktion he must witness his own wife and child forced to board a train to the Treblinka extermination camp. Filled with loathing for the Germans, the Poles, his Jewish brethren, and himself, Perechodnik fled the ghetto to shelter with a Polish woman in Warsaw. In the course of 105 terror-filled days in hiding, he poured out his poignant story. Written while Nazi boots pounded the streets of the neighborhood and while his tortured memory was painfully fresh, this memoir has a rare immediacy and raw power. Shortly before his death in 1944, he entrusted the precious diary to a Polish friend. The document was eventually deposited in the Yad Vashem Archives in Jerusalem. Left nearly forgotten for half a century, it was finally published in Poland in 1993. We owe a great debt to historian Frank Fox for bringing us this sensitive translation, which reminds us anew of the power and truth of historical memory.… (més)
Perechodnik era un uomo mite e benestante. Era nato nel 1916 in una cittadina della Polonia centrale, in maggioranza abitata da ebrei e si era laureato a Parigi. Dirigeva un'impresa di costruzioni, aveva moglie e una bambina piccola. Per salvarsi, quando i tedeschi invasero la Polonia, si arruolò nella Polizia del ghetto, divenendo complice dei tedeschi. Arrivò ad accompagnare moglie e figlia al vagone che le portava al campo di sterminio di Treblinka. Resosi conto della situazione, fuggì a Varsavia, rifugiandosi nel retrobottega di un negozio di polacchi che, a pagamento, lo nascosero. Lì iniziò a scrivere questo memoriale dal maggio del '43 all'autunno del '44, quando morì in circostanze misteriose durante la rivolta di Varsavia. (fonte: amazon)
This is, as far as I know, the only Holocaust memoir by a Jewish ghetto policeman. In exchange for keeping order in the ghetto and carrying out the Nazis' commands (such as rounding up the required number of people for transport), ghetto policemen got better food rations, better housing and they were some of the last to be killed. Many considered them to be Nazi collaborators, as bad as or worse than the SS themselves.
It's unclear where Perechodnik stands in all of this; he actually doesn't write much about his work as a policeman, which is disappointing. Mostly he focuses on the loss of his family, particularly his wife and baby daughter. His policeman status didn't grant them immunity forever, and he was wracked with guilt that he sat by and let them go to their deaths.
I don't find Perechodnik a very likeable man, but his story is certainly compelling and, like many such memoirs, may very well induce tears. ( )
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
It is May 7, 1943.
Citacions
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
pg. 154 Against the background of the burning Warsaw ghetto I saw with my own eyes the twilight of Polish Jewry. I saw the death of all those whom in time I had envied. I understood the futility of the struggle. It occurred to me that sooner or later I too would be forced to share the fate of all the Jews. I thought to myself that in such a case no one will be left to weep and to honor the memory of my wife, that no one would transmit to posterity her suffering, that maybe no one would demand vengeance for her innocent life, for the death of millions of Jews. Then--on May 7, to be exact--I decided to write down these events.
Darreres paraules
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
I ask for only one thing: Carry out faithfully my testament of revenge, and remember at times the luminous figure of my wife, Anka, and the angelic picture of my daughter, Athalia. What were they blamed for that they fell victim to German sadism? What were they blamed for that they fell victim to Jewish cowardice? And I? I must go my thorny path with a refrain on my lips: It does not matter if my boat does not reach the shore as long as I pursue my course.
In this moving memoir, a young Polish Jew chronicles his life under the Nazis. In the vain hope of protecting himself and his family, Calel Perechodnik made the wrenching decision to become a ghetto policeman in a small town near Warsaw. The true tragedy of his choice becomes clear when during the Aktion he must witness his own wife and child forced to board a train to the Treblinka extermination camp. Filled with loathing for the Germans, the Poles, his Jewish brethren, and himself, Perechodnik fled the ghetto to shelter with a Polish woman in Warsaw. In the course of 105 terror-filled days in hiding, he poured out his poignant story. Written while Nazi boots pounded the streets of the neighborhood and while his tortured memory was painfully fresh, this memoir has a rare immediacy and raw power. Shortly before his death in 1944, he entrusted the precious diary to a Polish friend. The document was eventually deposited in the Yad Vashem Archives in Jerusalem. Left nearly forgotten for half a century, it was finally published in Poland in 1993. We owe a great debt to historian Frank Fox for bringing us this sensitive translation, which reminds us anew of the power and truth of historical memory.
)
Google Books — S'està carregant…
(4.28)
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