Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 71 of a new online serial novel, Nine A.M., by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
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From the only copy of Sefer Chovos Halevavos in the camp, Shaar Habitachon, end of the second perek:
When this matter becomes clear, and understanding of the true kindness of the Creator is strengthened, the person will trust Him and give himself over to Hashem’s will. He will leave the running of his life up to Hashem, and he will not suspect that Hashem is judging him improperly; nor will he be angry regarding that which the Creator chose for him, as Dovid Hamelech alav hashalom said (Tehillim 116:13), Kos yeshuos…”
“We intentionally chose this subject,” Binyamin said quietly, raising his eyes from the small, yellowing sefer. The handful of people in the courtyard of the shul were all older than him—some by a bit, some by a lot—and yet they were listening attentively to his every word. “It’s by the instruction of the Rav, shlit”a,so that in everything that we speak, think, and do together, we should remember these things.” He closed the sefer.
Elkovitz, to his right, added in a whisper, “And everything we spoke about here tonight must remain secret, Rabbosai! Don’t forget that.”
Not another word was said. Anything relevant had already been conveyed. Now they all dispersed quickly and quietly, each one to his home.
Only the moon illuminated the path that stretched out in a straight line ahead, and Binyamin was alarmed for a moment when Mottel’s shadow appeared in his way.
Mottel stopped Binyamin. “Nu, did you finish learning?” Apparently he was coming from the clinic.
“For today, yes,” he answered. “A gut voch, Mottel. How is your little son?”
“B’ezras Hashem, we hope he will be better soon,” Mottel replied. “I was happy to hear that my father has the zechus to be part of this select group. I would certainly understand if it was a group of only older people, but the minute you are one of the participants…” He scowled ominously. “I know I’m not the only one who would like to know, based on which criteria was your group chosen, huh? Elkovitz is there, nice. And so is your uncle, Yidel. And I see that even your brother-in-law Aryeh is among this select and scholarly group.”
It was an obvious jibe, because Aryeh had lots of qualities that were very obvious, but none of them fell into the category of being scholarly or learned.
“Mottel, I believe that in time, the group will expand,” Binyamin said. “The Rav recommended a small number of people, and if you want to know, your name did come to mind, but I thought you’re too busy with the baby, and the bris…”
“The bris has been pushed off for now, indefinitely,” the young father said. “And my wife is still in the clinic, so I actually do have spare time these days. But I probably have to be polite and thank you for the fact that my name came to your mind. Really, yasher koach.”
Mottel was not usually cynical, so the fact that he was now meant he was either very preoccupied or that he was genuinely insulted. Binyamin searched for the right words, but Mottel muttered something hastily and walked off, without giving him a chance.
Information sure got around fast in this little camp!
Or maybe it wasn’t all that fast; if Mottel had eaten with his parents on Shabbos, for example, he might have heard that his father was going to learn with the new group. True, they had been asked to maintain secrecy, but the note they had been given did not stress that they should keep it a secret from their families.
And it was only expected that the news would get out.
Binyamin sighed. He had no interest in appearing divisive or controlling, but he was afraid that that was going to happen anyway. And if that would happen, he’d have to ask the Rav if they should dismantle the group and work in other, more secretive and circumspect ways, or if they should increase the number of people who knew the secret.
The latter was a bad option by any metric.
Setting aside the risk for a moment, even those who had come today had hardly believed what they’d been told!
“You can’t expect us to do something that will endanger everyone’s lives before we have clear proof that you are right,” Daniel Landau had whispered angrily. Baruch Herzlich and Yosef Posen had joined the gentle offensive. Only Yidel, Chani’s husband, was quiet. Elkovitz added some of the details he knew, and Aryeh backed him up.
Binyamin didn’t give up. “We will prove everything, b’ezras Hashem. But in theory, can you think together with us about what we should do if it is indeed true?”
“They have weapons,” Herzlich murmured in his direction. “So in any case, even if their stories are false, they are very dangerous.”
Binyamin looked at him. “I’m not so sure…”
“You’re not sure? But they are from the Wehrmacht! They have uniforms, and weapons!”
“They are not from the Wehrmacht, even if it will take us time to digest that. The Wehrmacht doesn’t exist and hasn’t for decades, since the Nazis fell.” He looked around, at those who were eying him with skepticism, and at those who nodded with him in agreement. “They are not from the Wehrmacht, even if they got some old uniforms or secretly sewed themselves something like it. And weapons? Has anyone ever checked Wangel’s gun from up close, to see if it’s loaded?”
“In the early years, there were some very unpleasant stories here!” someone cut him off.
“You’re right, in the early years there were,” Binyamin agreed. “But since then?”
“Well, since then, we’ve been very careful. We know that this is the only place we have to live.”
“That’s what we thought,” Binyamin corrected him gently. “And besides—maybe in the past they had some weapons, but it’s possible that today, their ammunition could already have been used up, right?” The men were quiet. “And in any case, we are the majority, and weapons are something that can be produced.”
“I hope you don’t mean something like that foolish uprising in the Warsaw ghetto.” Yosef Posen’s eyes flashed with fury. “Should I send you to my father, may he live and be well, to hear some stories from those days?”
“I know the stories,” Binyamin said somberly, “and I am not planning anything of the sort. We are going to have to apply more brains than brawn here.”
“Like what, for example?” Yosef asked. “You have to realize, I cannot even think of putting my family’s life in danger because of some delusions.”
“So we’re back to the same point,’ Elkovitz said, knocking on the table around which they were seated. “Your faith in the story. But if you get clear proof that what we are saying is correct—then will you help us? Think about it: There are Yidden in the world! There are Jews in Vienna! Alive, well, and not living under any oppressive regime!”
These words kindled a spark in the eyes of the other men, and Binyamin knew that Elkovitz was right with this tactic. Aside for the brains, they needed to speak to people’s hearts.
Mottel Kush’s figure grew smaller in the distance, and Binyamin quickened his pace as he continued walking home, aware that curfew would begin in less than a minute.
Who would share this news with Mamme? Right now, that seemed like the most complicated prospect of all.
Because while all those at the meeting had ultimately given their agreement, in theory, to help, Binyamin knew that the burden of proof still lay ahead of him. How would he persuade the men that he was right? Could he take them all to his hiding place at the top of the hill so that they could listen in to his phone call with Hanter in real time? It wasn’t practical, and it was dangerous. True, he had said tonight that he wasn’t sure that the Wangels were all that dangerous, but he wasn’t foolish enough to check it out with himself as the potential victim.
***
“With the assumption that this young man is not just mocking us for some reason,” Bentzy said to his father, “what can we do?”
“Practically? Nothing, at the moment,” his father said. “Exactly what he asked. But I am going to start thinking. And why do you think he’d be pulling our leg?”
“I don’t know…I thought of a few childhood friends of mine who would possibly do such a thing.” He shook his head, as if trying to banish the thoughts from there. “But it’s—just not. That would really be too foolish at our age. One phone call, nu, nu, but this is already too much.”
“Right. Personally, I think he sounds truthful.”
“So we won’t go to the Austrian Police, fine.” Bentzy stood up and leaned against the tall file cabinet in the corner of the room. “But what about the Israeli consulate? Don’t you think that we have to speak to someone? If he is right, and they’ve been living there for fifty years already—this is a terrible scandal!”
“We’re not going to contact the consulate either, for now,” his father replied, his eyes fixed on the silent telephone. “This young man sounds very sure about what he is saying, and if he asked us not to report to anyone just yet, then we’ll wait patiently. After all, we can’t know how the consulate will react to this story, because if they don’t believe us or don’t take it seriously enough, they might reach out to the Austrian authorities, and it can finish badly for those poor Jews over there.”
Bentzy smiled. “I see that you believe him completely.”
“Yes.” His father took a toothpick from the ashtray in the middle of the table. “Yes, he sounds sincere and trustworthy.” He switched on the recording again. The small reels began to turn, and the voice of the young man filled the room. When the recording came to an end, Mr. Hanter disconnected the device from the phone and put it in a drawer. “It’s better if this is not accessible to anyone else,” he said solemnly. “I’ll take it home with me at the end of the day. We should take very good care of it. These recordings are our only proof.”
“I find it really hard to believe that the consul will accept one word of this story.”
“If we find someone professional and serious…I believe he’ll at least look into it.”
“You can also invite them to be here for one of his calls,” Bentzy murmured. “If they could ask him questions directly and not only listen to a recording, they might have a different impression.”
“But the way it sounds now, he’ll panic and won’t cooperate. Did you hear how he recoiled when I suddenly joined the call? So caution is definitely in order right now.”
Bentzy nodded. “I guess we’ll wait for tomorrow morning, if he calls again then.”
“Yes, but in any case, I think we should inform the secretary and Dena that any other strange call of this type should be transferred to the executive office—to me or to you.”
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