Disagreement Theodore. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. In Bolivia through Palestine

After making sure that my grandfather and sister died (my mother talked with witnesses who saw my grandfather in a shot crowd), we decided that it was time for us to get out to Lodz, to our father. It remained to prove that we are Polish citizens: after all, by this time we again selected Polish citizenship and issued Soviet passports. My mother found her student documents in the archives of the University of Vilnius, in which it was written: a citizen of the Commonwealth. All. The problem of departure was solved.

In Lodzi we got off the train. My father was waiting for us on the platform. And he took us right into the restaurant. It was something amazing. Because I only realized that I was hungry for five years. That is, ate enough, but poor -quality food, which did not give me anything except that the boiled potato gives a person. And Poland was like before the war. More precisely (apparently), as under the Germans. And Lodz was a specially selected city, German. Because the owners of the industry were Germans - since the days of them. The city has never bombed. And the restaurant was no different from what I remembered by Vilna. Behind each chair stood a separate Cologne and instantly changed plates. I put a knife and a fork on the table for a moment to rest, and suddenly such a paw sank down from behind my shoulder and took a plate from me. I mortally wanted to hit Celner - I felt like a dog from which they took the bone. But the waiter immediately put another plate in front of me, even deeper, filled with food.

And so it went. And while I ate, I looked around. People were well dressed - a new bourgeoisie and a new bureaucracy. And ate. Ate. Because in the war and after it they eat more than in peacetime: you are like you are afraid of hunger. And my parents spoke between themselves, said, said - incessantly, like machine guns, telling each other about everything that happened during the separation. They forgot about me. In the end, suddenly my father realized that I was sitting and silent, turned to me and said:

- Todik! - Todik is my family name. “We are now again in Vilna.” There is everything you want. What would you like?

It was clear that he expected from me that I would want a motorcycle or a car. And I told him to this: "Zionistic movement is legally?" He answered with surprise: "Yes." I said: “Good. Take me there. " Father objected: “Rest a little. In a few days I will present you to the movement. ” - "No. Tomorrow".

I could not wait. I just spent several months in Vilna's beloved, who turned into a huge cemetery. My beloved relatives were killed - because they are Jews. And so I am sitting in strange Poland, which looks like Vilna before the war ... In me there was an endless sea of ​​pain, anger, anger, willingness to fight with everyone who would become in the way. In general, I was in my youth, and then I just wanted to grab someone by the throat. I still did not know who exactly, but the pain demanded a way out.

And in the evening of the next day, I was in a large basement beer, where they drank beer, sang songs in Hebrew, danced and cheerfully fun - in my at that time, like small children. The man is eighty of my age. Later they described me how I looked that evening. I stood in the corner, with my back against the wall, in the heavy female fur coat of my mother, with a Ushaka, pushed into one eye. Then he began to walk around the halls and gloomily looked at everyone who danced, played, studied the pictures of Palestines that hung on the walls. No one came up to me; They told me after: “We understood that you did not have to approach you. We saw what eyes you look at us. ”

And at the end of this silent evening for me, I asked one of the guys: "When are you meeting again?" He answered me: “You know, it turned out so successfully. Tomorrow Friday, we meet Saturday together. Here is the address. If you want, come, we will be happy. ”

The next day I came to the specified address in the evening. Narrow pass, very high houses. Such a typical log, the industrial city of the nineteenth century. I moved between these houses when two rifles buried me straight in the face: "Hands up!"

I raised my hands. Evil raised. Then there was a guy who invited me there. I asked: "Why are you so on the platoon?" And he said: "And you go to the second floor, then you will understand." There were four coffins on the floor. Three guys of my age and one girl is slightly younger. They explained to me that they were traveling to the Czech border on the way to Germany and further. They were detained by NSZ fighters - national armed forces, that is, the Polish extreme right, who did not submit to the London Polish government. They ordered: "Jews and communists are a step forward." And our guys were shot.

We buried them at a re -created Jewish cemetery. A couple of thousand people gathered - at that time there are a lot. The colonel of the UB , the political police, spoke. He said: “This is a war, and people die in it. But we will win. ” Next, the representative of the Jewish community said. His voice caught me from himself, I wanted to hit him in the face - just to shut up. He tearfully explained how all this was unfair, that after the death of so many Jews they are still killing them - and that we ask for the protection of the Polish government. After him, one of the comrades of the dead spoke. He said: “They said from us that we were asking for protection from the Polish government. This is a lie. We do not ask for anything from the Polish government. We do not want to have anything to do with the Polish government or with any of the Poles. All that we want is to leave quickly from this damned country, and we wish its people that they burn and died, as our families burn and died. This is all that we have to say to this country and this people. ” He was quickly hidden behind his comrades and a day later was transferred across the Czech border. Indeed, according to the law, he was responsible for the insult inflicted by the People’s Commonwealth.

So I began to work with the movement, and two weeks later I was elected deputy head of the Lodzinsky branch. Somehow they asked later: "You were the youngest, why were you elected?" And I replied: "There was more anger." I hated everything that in my mind was associated with the sufferings of Jewry; My friends called me "unlucking Theodore."

By the way, about smiling people. We were tormented by the question of what with Jehuda: in Vilna, we became aware that a group of illegal immigrants was caught on the border with Poland. In Lodzi through his father, we first went to the organization of Jehuda; They said that they did not know anything about him, he left and disappeared from the radar. But two days later - a knock on the door, Yehuda entered. It turned out that he learned about the arrests on the border, bought false documents and under the guise of a gypsy, which catch up with his camp, arrived in Vilna, and through Vilna to Lodz. He said that he was engaged in the transfer of people across the border.

I asked:

“But the border closed, right?”

A smile that I knew well is everything that I got back. Such a person ...

Two days after the funeral of our guys, I went to school. It was already the middle of the school year, there were no places in the city classes, so they sent me in the suburbs. I entered my class, the teacher asked: "Surname?" I named the surname that I used since childhood: "Zadshnur!" - And the whole class turned to me. It was clear who I was by nationality.

- Name?

- Theodore.

- Where did you study?

- In the second state, Samarkand.

- Religion?

- Atheist.

The whole class shuddered and again turned in my direction. The Poles, generally speaking, are religious, but there was another thing that I understood later. Everyone decided that I was hiding my Jewry and instead of saying a “Jew” to a question about religion, I answer “non -religious”. But then the last question was:

- Nationality?

- Jew.

In the class, as if the bomb exploded. There was not a single Jew in the class. More precisely, as it turned out later, few were, but hid their origin.

Soon I talked with my desk neighbor. Everything went well until he said about the boy from another class: "This little and dock did this and that." (Polish “Jew”-“Jew”.) In response, I knocked it with my fist on the floor. He screamed scaredly: “What do you want from me? I didn't say anything like that! " I answered him: “Now you will say“ Jew ”, in a part. After all, no one is calling you with a Pole! "

This I earned glasses, which I did not understand then. Poles love courage, this is part of their national culture. Do not feed them with bread, give them courage. After that, I fought several times, and all the anti -Semitic things ended. The class accepted me. I was their special Jew to whom they were proud of. How now I hear a whisper behind my back: “Do you know what Jew we have? Fucking! And not only fights, but also receives five in Polish literature. ”

Gradually, I began to calm down, the frantic anger against all the non -Jewish began to go out. Although only in Israel this angry feeling disappeared: "How dare you live when we all died out!" And for my classmates, I became a strange beast, because they, in general, have never seen Jews. They knew that they should be hated, or consider them deficiency, or to consider traitors, servants of the Soviet regime. But they practically did not meet a living Jew. And through my attitude to me they changed their attitude to the Jewish problem as such. What was clearly expressed during my mattress, that is, the final exam for high school. It is quite solemnly furnished in the spirit of Polish culture. There is a presidential decree, and all sorts of other things.

A month and a half before the start of the matan, I told my mother that my things are bad: I am at a physical education department, and at the same time I have two in mathematics and physics, because I did not study, unfortunately, I devoted all my free time to movement. And not free time too. “You see, mother,” I began to explain, “the Jews have the reproduction of the intelligentsia, and it’s even good that one intellectual will be less.” To which my mother replied that she herself would not leave Poland and would not allow me to leave if I do not give up a matmor. Moreover, she (which I learned later) went to the leadership of the movement, found the general secretary, comrade Kundu. She was accepted with full respect, since my dad was an important Zionist. And Kunda called me personally. And he said on behalf of the leadership of the movement that it was decided that I was obliged to pass the mature.

- You are the leader of the youngest group in motion. If you do not surrender, everyone will know this, and parents will stop allowing their children to participate in the movement. So here is the order of the leadership of the movement: hand over the mature.

I argued for a look, but I understood that he was right. Mom hired a tutor from a polytechnic - a good, smart guy. And in the remaining six weeks we caught up with my marks to the triples. And they continued to work. So the physicist in the mate itself I already passed to the four.

But that year, the Polish government, formally coalition, practically controlled by the communist united working party, collided with the resistance of most Poles. Therefore, an additional exam was introduced, which never existed before that, "Poland and the modern world." And the exam was taken not only by the teacher, but also by the representative of the company. The representative of the company was, of course, the appointment of the dominant party, and he had the right to remove the man from the mattress, whom he would consider insufficiently prepared. What made it possible to weed out the political enemies of the existing regime, to prevent them from entering universities and thereby changing the composition of the future Polish intelligentsia.

The system was built on the fact that we first passed two written exams and only those who passed them were allowed to oral. Two written ones that I had to surrender are mathematics and Polish culture. Well, I coped with mathematics, and we were given two topics on culture: “The eternal friendship of the Slavic peoples” and “Krasinsky as a major poet of a period of romanticism in Poland”. I was not ready for the great friendship of the Slavic peoples-not because I had something against the Slavs, but because the answer suggested a flattering and false description of how the Poles and Russians love each other. So only Krasinsky remained, who was undoubtedly one of the three main poets of the Polish Renaissance along with Mitskevich and Slovak, but at the same time a brutal anti -Semite, unlike my beloved Mitskevich.

And I decided for myself the question of how to cope with this, because I knew the biography of Krasinsky well and remembered that during the Polish uprising Mitskevich was on the side of the rebels and because of this was forced to emigrate, and Krasinsky, being the son of a Russian general, did not do anything for an uprising. I built an essay on the fact that, being the son of a traitor of the Polish people, he, compensating for this, became inevitably an enemy of the national minority. My Polish language was very good then, and, of course, I love Polish literature, so the work turned out to be worthy.

I finished rewriting it, when the head of the regional department of education appeared in the hall, who traveled all schools with the inspection on this serious day. He walked through the ranks of the students, saw that I had actually completed my work, sat beside me and began to read my text. I looked at him in a certain eye. And he saw how his lips trembled from the restrained laughter, because I not only scolded Krasinsky, but also made it humorous. He looked at me. I looked at my last name. I clearly understood what was happening here, as I am dealing with the anti -Semite as much as possible. And he said:

- It’s well written. But I would still add something about the positive characteristics of Krasinsky.

I thanked for the advice. He left. And I, without changing a word, passed the essay. He received four instead of five. And he went to take oral exams. We moved from table to table. Mathematics, physics, chemistry. The last was the exam “Poland and the modern world”. Near my teacher of social science, who was silent as a fish, a representative of society was sitting. I sat opposite. The face is intellectual, his hands are as if a worker. Gray hair. But the most important thing is a red triangle on a shirt. This meant that a person was a political prisoner before the arrival of Soviet power. That is, a communist, but real, of those who paid for their communism.

Well, he started. "Surname?" - "Zaydshnur." - "Where were you during the war?" - "In the Soviet Union." - "served in the army?"

I had to admit that he did not serve; This did not agree with my documents that I bought to get to this school of accelerated education, and according to which I was three years older than in reality.

- Why?

I just shrugged. He did not linger, went on at the same pace. Question, question, question. "How many republics in the Soviet Union?" - "Fifteen". “What is the sixteenth republic?” - "No sixteenth Republic." - “I didn’t ask. I asked: what is the sixteenth republic? " I had to answer that this expression adopted by the Polish underground and means that Poland loses independence and in reality becomes part of the USSR. He nodded.

- What is a collective farm?

I quoted the definition from Soviet legislation, which I studied in Samarkand.

- And what is kibbutz?

I almost flew off my chair in surprise. Here is the educated, damn it! And answered with a joke:

- This is the Palestinian publication of the collective farm.

We both smiled.

- Well. What mark would you put yourself? Or I’ll ask in another way: what are you going to do after a mattress?

Of course, I was waiting for an answer: I will go to such and such a faculty. And I answered differently:

- I am leaving Poland in two weeks.

- Where are you going?

- Ultimately in Palestine.

- So, you are a Jewish nationalist?

- Yes, I am a Jewish nationalist.

And suddenly a smile flew off him.

- And how does this correlate with loyalty in relation to the people's republic?

- A Jewish nationalist may be a loyal citizen of the People’s Republic.

I went out, my comrades in the classroom surrounded me: “What is happening? He held you much longer than any of us. " - "I seem to be cut off, I told them that I am a Jewish nationalist." - “Are you crazy? Who are you playing with? Do you know what it means? Do you understand what he will do with you? " “What will do, he will do.”

After we lined up in a row in front of the examination committee, and we began to read out the results. I was the last: in the Polish transcription, the post -nour begins with Z. Results: passed. Great. Times, of course, were still dietary, the era of homulpers.

Several people cut off, but successfully passing the exam went to drink together to the nearest restaurant. They collected all the money that we found in our pockets, bought a bottle of vodka and a bottle of wine. Because according to the laws of the Polish scout movement, it was forbidden to drink vodka. And I and three more classmates were scouts. Suddenly the owner of the institution appeared (the establishments still had the owners, not the government) with a huge tray of the sandwiches. We screamed at him: no, no, we did not order. Because there is no money left at all. To which he smiled at a wide smile: “This is from the institution. Panov after mattress? "

And we began to feast. The first toast was pronounced for a happy life to all of us and for the best future. Drank. And then I got up and said:

- I am leaving Poland in two weeks. You know where I'm going, you know why I'm going. We have repeatedly talked about this at the breaks. You will all exchange addresses so that the connection remains forever. I can’t give you my address, because I don’t know where I will live. I can only wish you all the best.

In response, one of my classmates rose, now former. His name was Zbyshki, I still remember his face. And he said:

- I am an anti -Semite. You all know. And you, theodore, of course, know. Но я хочу сказать, что я перестану быть антисемитом, если встречу еще таких евреев, как Теодор. За вашу и нашу вольность.

Я помню, что тогда расчувствовался. Я рос в мире, в котором плохие отношения между евреями и поляками были частью жизни. Считалось нормальным, что евреи не жалуют поляков, а любой поляк не любит евреев, хотя на самом деле это было не так: мама часто вспоминала, что один из виленских профессоров, поляк, дворянин, протестовал против системы, согласно которой еврейские студенты должны были стоять в то время, как поляки садились. Профессор тоже перестал садиться и изо дня в день читал свои лекции стоя. Позже он спрятал у себя в имении несколько семейств еврейских и спас их этим. Так что было и это, и это. Но большинство, по-видимому, действительно не любили евреев, не зная их. И напряжение было взаимным.

Я же во время пребывания в Польше научился уважать поляков очень. Да, когда два народа живут в одном и том же месте, нет нужды во взаимной любви. Но уважение нужно, и уважения — хватит. Я уважал поляков за укорененную демократию, за то, что их шляхта избирала своего короля во времена, когда в Европе ничего подобного не было. И я научился их любви к свободе, готовности подставить глотку под нож, если надо защитить патриотические принципы.

Но мне предстояло с Польшей расстаться. Тем более что польское правительство старалось не препятствовать выезду евреев за границу: чем меньше евреев останется, тем лучше. Со своей стороны мы создали сильную подпольную организацию, которая занималась нелегальной переброской людей за рубеж; мы имели даже вооруженную самооборону, членом которой я, конечно, стал. К моменту завершения моей учебы отец уже выехал во Францию; мы отправились вслед за ним.

Идея была, разумеется, в том, чтобы через Францию попасть в Палестину. Но на подступах к Палестине стоял тогда английский флот и не пускал никого. Еще шла эта отчаянная борьба, в которую я в конечном итоге ввязался сам. Рассуждал я примерно так: английский флот сидит где не надо и не дает нам прорваться на родину. Значит, надо выбить этот английский флот оттуда и убрать всех этих сволочей, которые нам мешают. Правда, позже выяснилось, что среди горячих, завзятых членов молодежного сионистического движения, в том числе его руководителей, было немало таких, кто ушел в Америку. Я до сих пор не понимаю, как они могли.

Да, мне было ясно, что миром дело не кончится. Но я не боялся неизбежно предстоявшей войны и не видел другого пути, кроме спешного выезда в Палестину для участия в боях. И вот пришел день, точнее, ночь, когда в Париже все евреи слушали радио и следили на голосованием в Организации Объединенных Наций — создавать или нет государство Израиль. Страна за страной голосовали. Америка за, Куба против, Колумбия воздержалась. Это было мучительно долго; чаша весов колебалась — есть у нас большинство в две трети, нет у нас большинства в две трети; мы сидели и ждали. И вдруг — итог! Резолюция принята, за — более двух третей голосов! Взрыв чувств.

Мы отпраздновали это событие с большим треском: сняли огромное здание, мой отец говорил — и очень хорошо говорил — от имени исполкома сионистического движения. Он нарисовал образ будущего совершенно невероятной красоты. Израиль будет необыкновенной страной, царством мира и справедливости, потому что нас так мучили, потому что мы столько людей потеряли и теперь проявим миролюбие ко всем. И к меньшинствам тоже, подчеркнул мой отец. Председательствующий произнес: «А теперь послушаем, что молодежь думает. Я вижу, что сын Меира стоит в группе вожаков молодежного движения. Теодор, ты говори». I said:

— Война начинается сегодня.

И как холодным ветром повеяло по толпе; я продолжил:

— Все, кто может носить оружие, немедленно должны выступать в сторону Палестины. Будет не хватать людей. Будет нехватка оружия. Это главная проблема на сегодня.

Толпа это восприняла очень холодно. Но мне было ясно, что я прав.

И в тот же вечер у меня произошел скандал с отцом — самый страшный в моей жизни. Мы возвращались домой вместе: отец, мама, я. И я предупредил их, что уже начал принимать меры, чтобы меня перебросили нелегально в Палестину, причем немедленно. На что отец заорал на высоких тонах, что я еще ребенок и не имею права принимать такое решение. Я ответил: «Я больше не ребенок. Я ребенком был раньше».

Он начал орать, а я говорил все тише и тише, злее и злее. И это было страшно — что он мне наговорил и что я ему наговорил. Он пригрозил, что с помощью полиции снимет меня с поезда на Марсель. (Потому что морской путь лежал через Марсель.) В ответ я бросил, что если так, то я откажусь от его фамилии, Что было для него страшным ударом: ведь он гордился своей фамилией. Я уйду и никогда не вернусь. И больше не захочу его видеть.

И еще я напомнил ему присказку о сионистах, которые всегда готовы послать другого еврея в Палестину — за деньги третьего. И повернулся к маме с вопросом: «Мама, ты молчишь, что скажешь?» И она мне ответила: «Я очень боюсь за тебя. Ты — единственный мой ребенок, кто остался. Но, если ты не сможешь по-иному жить, ты должен ехать. А я могу только одно сделать — поддержать тебя в твоем решении».

Назавтра я ушел из дома. Исчез. Сначала отправился в тайное место, где наша организация, которая готовила людей к пересылке в Палестину, выдавала нужные бумаги. У меня была «Алия D ». Это значило, что два прекрасных профессионала выспросили все мои данные и подготовили бумаги, согласно которым я отправлялся в Боливию к моему дяде учиться у него международной торговле. Приложили документы, которые подтверждали это. И объяснили, что если меня попробуют остановить на границе, то я должен заявить, что по пути в Боливию заехал в Тель-Авив к матери, потому что она умирает от рака.

Добирался я до Палестины кораблем, который назывался греческим именем «Марафон». Передо мной стоял вопрос: что будет дальше? До сих пор я жил в ожидании того, что попаду в Палестину. И вот я еду в Палестину. And then? В чем теперь моя жизненная цель? И решил, что еду для того, чтобы воевать. Но без языка (а иврит свой я забыл почти полностью) я буду обузой. На подходе к Хайфе я определился. Сразу же, до всякой войны, отправлюсь в один из кибуцев обучиться ивриту и понять для себя, хочу ли я потом в кибуц вернуться. И после этого — на фронт.

В порту Хайфы на борт поднялся британский чиновник, который посмотрел в мои бумаги, скорчил удивленную гримасу и спросил: в Боливию? Через Палестину? На что я ответил, как меня учили: «Да, у меня мама умирает, я должен с ней попрощаться». Он поставил печать.

Я сошел по трапу и двинулся к выходу из порта. Жаркое солнце слепит... Тут из тени вышел молодой человек и спросил: «Вы Зайдшнур?» Я ничего не ответил, молча продолжал шагать, поскольку нас тренировали, как действовать. Когда же он назвал меня вымышленным именем из паспорта, я подтвердил: да. И на всякий случай уточнил: «А вам чего надо?» Тот жестко приказал: «Именем “Хаганы”, — так называлась боевая организация, возникшая в Палестине еще в начале 1920-х годов, — ваши документы».

Я ему отдал свои фальшивые документы, он мне выдал другие, уже израильские. Я забрался в бронированный автобус. И поехал навстречу будущей жизни.

To be continued

Read also:

Chapter 1. Vilenchanin
Глава 2. Посланник Иегуда
Глава 4. Война и мир
Глава 5. Здесь и сейчас