Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 95 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.

Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications. 

Continuation of the contract signed between the representatives of the residents of Samson Lager and the unofficial representatives of the Austrian government:

The validity of the contract is twenty-five years, until September 2019. Until that date, all those involved are bound by the obligation to maintain secrecy, without exception.

“It’s unbelievable,” Elky said as she sat on the couch in Dena’s house. Naomi and Dena were clearing the table after shalosh seudos. “Two thousand and nineteen! In the twenty-first century! Taf shin ayin tes. Do you even realize how far into the future that is?”

“A little less than twenty-five years away,” Naomi said as she brushed the crumbs off the pristine white tablecloth. “It’s really a lot. And until then, we are all supposed to somehow integrate into Jewish communities around the world—and to be quiet about what we went through!”

“It’s going to be very complicated.” Elky put her son down on the floor, and he quickly crawled into the other room. She stood up. “We’re b’ezras Hashem making aliyah next week to Eretz Yisrael. Our whole family bought a few beautiful apartments in a neighborhood called Bayit Vegan, in Yerushalayim. What are we going to tell the people there? Who are we, where did we come from?”

“From Austria,” Dena replied, as she took out the besamim holder from the breakfront. She glanced into the other room, where her two children were playing. They were thrilled when Elky’s baby crawled into the room at a rapid clip. “From a small, obscure town, far from the city centers. That should be enough.”

“Unless there happens to be some other person there who also immigrated from Austria, and that person starts questioning where it is exactly and which schools we attended. Should I sweep the dining room, Dena?”

“I beat you to it,” Naomi said with a grin, the broom in one hand. “And Elky, nosy neighbors are just the beginning. Think about what will happen with more significant things. If, for example, my brother Binyamin marries someone from the city of…I don’t know, Petach Tivka.” She smiled, because the idea sounded to her as remote as Samson Lager was distant from Eretz Yisrael. “We won’t tell the girl’s family where he is from? Where he grew up and learned? Won’t they want to hear details about him? It won’t be the way we had it, where everyone knows everyone.”

“They’ll say he’s from Vienna,” Elky suggested, “and that he moved to Eretz Yisrael, and learned in…Which yeshivah is he going to, Naomi?”

“The Mir, in Yerushalayim. But the girl’s family will for sure want more detailed information about him.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to tell them about things, very secretly, if there’s something serious on the table.”

***

Letter affixed to a bouquet of flowers, Erev Shabbos Ki Sisa 5782/2022

Dear Naomi,

That’s it. The copy of your contract with the representatives of the Austrian government was the last thing in the stack of papers that you sent me. We’ve reached the end.

Would you believe it? Two and a half years have passed since I first met you and learned of your life story, after the period of silence finally ended. The process I went through, speaking with you and writing up your story, was long, fascinating, and most enlightening, and now that I’m just about done, I want to thank you most sincerely for the zechus and for the trust you placed in me. I learned from you, I admired you, I loved you, and at every stage, I hoped for the best for all of you.

And I have one more request.

As far as the plot, I’m still writing about your first few months in Vienna, with the three-way friendship that was formed between you, Elky, and Dena. And I feel like I can’t just stop at this point, so soon after your liberation, without a few more words. And readers, I’m sure, will also really want to know “what ended up happening with them.” But because it’s about your current life, I can’t decide myself what to reveal and what to keep hidden (and I also don’t know everything, since we spoke almost entirely about the past).

So, could you write a few words, in summation? And if you could persuade a few others who were involved to also write something—your mother, Reb Binyamin, maybe someone from the Elkovitz family, the doctor, Dena Hanter—anyone you stayed in touch with… If they could write a bit for us, even just their response to the publicity, I would be so grateful!

Thank you!

Esther Rapaport

***

“You’re also moving to Eretz Yisrael, Naomi, right?” Dena said as she studied the table that was ready for Havdalah. She preferred to look at it rather than at Naomi, afraid that Naomi would read the yearning in her eyes for her homeland. And it wasn’t only the Land she was aching for—it was for her entire life there.

At least she knew by now that even if it looked like the life of mesirus nefesh that her sisters in Eretz Yisrael were living was the right life, if Hashem had sent her here, to this lifestyle in Vienna, then this was where her tafkid was. Exactly under these conditions.

Today she no longer was scornful about what she was doing. Because no person can know what his work is really worth, and what the value of each current deed will be in the future. There was no reason for her to compare herself and her lifestyle to the life of any other person.

None of her sisters from Eretz Yisrael knew about the strong bond that had been forged between her and some of the former residents of Wangel’s camp, and about her role in this amazing story. Even her friend Charna didn’t know. In the community here, there were lots of rumors flying around about the sudden influx of new families who were not at all “typical.” Various rumors were attributed to the matter, but none of them were even close to the unfathomable reality.

So aside for a few people, no one knew the story, and they wouldn’t know it for the coming twenty-five years. But she knew it, and she also knew this: It makes no difference who heard about what you did; all that matters is what you actually did. And what came about as a result of your deed.

In twenty-five years, when she’d be in her fifties, maybe she’d go visit Eretz Yisrael, or may they would already be zocheh to be living there again. And then she’d sit with her sisters one Shabbos afternoon, or another time, and she’d tell them in a secretive tone about Naomi and her brother Binyamin.

Although really, how interested would they be about the story, at that point?

***

Email from: hanter1111.dena@gmail.com

Hello, and thank you for the story. Naomi sent me the manuscript, and I enjoyed reading it, even though I’m not really a big reader. It was good to remember things, and to reinforce the understandings that I reached then… (From the impression I got, I think you portrayed me as being more refined and accepting than how I really was. In reality, I’m sorry to say, I complained and grumbled a lot more. But alright…)

My Duvi and Shloimy, on the other hand, are both bookworms, and they really enjoyed reading about themselves as little children, including all the tension at the time.

All the best,

Dena Hanter

P.S. Both of them are married, baruch Hashem, as are their two sisters who were born after we returned to Eretz Yisrael.

***

“Did you hear that the Posen family, who flew to America last week, found relatives?” Elky cut into Dena’s thoughts.

“My husband told me.” Naomi looked at them both. “The woman who helped out Mrs. Posen in Vienna has a cousin in Los Angeles, and through her, they discovered the family connection, right?”

“Yes. Do you know that Viennese woman, Dena? Her name is Weissblum. She’s very sweet,” Elky said as she picked up her son, who had crawled back to her from the other room, where he’d been playing with the Hanter boys. “I spoke to her a few times after we came to Vienna.”

Dena gave a wry smile. “Aside for my friend Charna, I only know my mother-in-law’s friends. The Weissblums are not part of that group. But she’s a psychologist or something, and they needed her to help out with things, so she was also in on your secret.”

“And she told the story to her American relative?” Naomi asked.

“No, but the cousin sent her a picture from a family wedding, and she saw that the grandmother there looked very much like Mrs. Posen’s mother. Turns out, they are twin sisters! Can you process that?”

“It’s amazing,” Naomi said. “I’ve been thinking about it. We thought that these people were no longer alive, and they thought that we don’t exist… People were sure that their parting from relatives, years ago, was forever, and now, suddenly, they’ll be able to see each other again!”

“It is possible that most of you have relatives who are alive,” Dena remarked. “But it will be very hard to find them as long as all this must be kept secret.”

“And what will be with the Posens, who’ve already found relatives?” Elky wondered. “They’re not going to tell their cousins the real story? The grandmother won’t tell her twin sister where she’s been all these years and why she hadn’t been looking for her?”

“They’ll have to wait twenty-five years to tell them that, just like the rest of us.” Naomi spread her hands in resignation. “There’s no other choice…”

“What about the Elkovitzes?” Dena asked. “They flew to America together with the Posens, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Naomi said. “With Susie’s mother, Leo Sherer’s widow.”

***

Fax from 732-288-5578

I reviewed the material that was sent to me. Thank you for the effort that went into writing it. What can I say? I have no doubt that as a rambunctious child, it was pretty easy for me to get used to the change in our lives. Although I struggled to maintain secrecy, and I’m afraid that a few of our new acquaintances viewed me as a child with an overactive imagination, telling stories that had never happened and made no sense. Over the years, I finally learned to quiet down.

Now, despite the end of the period of silence, I’d prefer not to be identified in the story by my full name. I don’t mind if you use my first name, Dror, but I ask you to change the last name, because today I work in chinuch and am well-known in the community here. I imagine that my family wants to remain anonymous in the story too.

I should note that one of the figures who continues to have an influence on me is my preschool teacher, whom I will never forget. The connection between my family and hers remains to this day.

I’m sure that the message contained in our life story can serve as an inspiration for your readers.

Best wishes for hatzlachah.

Dror E.

Lakewood, NJ

***

“And Sol, his cousin?” Elky asked in a low voice as she played with her metal ring. Maybe at some point down the line, she’d replace it with a gold ring. Although she would find it hard to give up this memento, so maybe she wouldn’t.

“It’s not so clear, poor guy. His family is talking about staying here in Vienna, but all he keeps talking about is opening a fur processing factory. After all, the days of the Wangel brand are over…”

“Nu, so let him open one,” Dena said encouragingly as she sat down near her friends. They were waiting for the men to come back from Ma’ariv. “They have enough money, don’t they?”

“He has money. The question is if he has the knowhow and the ability…”

***

Another fax, this one from Vienna:

I ask that you not bother me regarding those days. It was a long and torturous period! Things have gotten easier for me since then, but I am still suffering. At least the compensation money made my life more comfortable, but it didn’t make it better. I still feel betrayed—and I’ll probably feel that way until the day I die.

As per the recommendation of my psychologist, I traveled to visit the abandoned camp a few times. But the sight of the thorny overgrowth there, and the rusting machines, didn’t make me feel any pleasure or any freer, even though the gates are wide open.

Do whatever you want, write whatever you want—just leave me alone.

S. Sherer

***

“His wife told my mother that they can’t sleep at night,” Elky murmured. “And my mother told them that they are really not the only ones.” She glanced at her son, who was gurgling at her. “Let’s hope that with time, the shock will ease for all of us. I’m not even talking about myself.” She lowered her eyes for a moment. “You saw how I was at the beginning…”

“I also didn’t fall asleep at first in the guesthouse in Bad Hofgastein,” Naomi said candidly. “I functioned well during the day, but at night I couldn’t sleep two hours straight. I fell asleep and woke up, fell asleep and woke up. Only after Dr. Katzburg gave me something did the nights become more normal.”

“She asks that she not be called Dr. Katzburg anymore, because it’s a violation of Austrian law,” Elky murmured. “She doesn’t have a real degree.”

***

Dear Author,

I received your request.

I retired two and a half years ago. Until then, I worked at Hadassah Ein Kerem Hospital for seventeen years as an internal medicine doctor, after finishing my degree at the University of Vienna. During this time, I got remarried, baruch Hashem, to a wonderful man.

Regarding my impressions of the physical and mental conditions of the camp residents: I did not remain in touch with all of them, but in general I can say that most of them acclimated to their new lives, some more quickly than others.

I think that in general, those among us who are believers had an easier time starting from fresh and finding fulfillment in our new lives.

Unfortunately, Iszak Zuretzky passed away at the age of twenty-one of a heart complication.

May no one know of any more pain, and may we all only experience joy, always.

Thank you for your interest,

Dr. Annie Labin (Katzburg)

***

“We could have stayed there another fifty years too,” Elky said suddenly. “I sometimes look at myself, at the clothes that we didn’t sew ourselves, at the floor tiles we are standing on, and I wonder if we really left, or if I’ll wake up in another minute from a deep sleep and feel all confused.”

“Morning has come already, Elky,” Naomi whispered. “And the sun has risen. Maybe for us it happened significantly late, but it happened. Baruch Hashem, we’ve woken up.”

***

Dear Esther,

I also look back and am amazed.

But before everything, I asked anyone who I could reach to write a bit to you. Most of them were not excited at the idea, naturally, but I hope that you did receive some responses. My mother, my grandmother, and Binyamin asked me to write in their name. So here goes:

Zeide Nachum passed away at a ripe old age eight years ago, a day after the passing of Rav Schwartzbrod, zt”l, who was his chavrusa until the last week of their lives. Babbe Sarah Liba, tibadel l’chaim tovim v’aruchim, is still alive, and completely of sound mind, and she lives with my mother five buildings away from me.

For all those who are concerned about me, my husband Aryeh and I live in Yerushalayim, and we baruch Hashem have four wonderful children. The oldest was born a year and a half after we were liberated from Samson Lager.

After we came to Eretz Yisrael, I signed up to study to be a ganenet in a seminary in Yerushalayim, and I’ve been a preschool teacher since then, baruch Hashem. Although we have a steady income from the assets we invested in when we came to Eretz Yisrael—remember that the value of the dollar was much higher then than it is now—I was never in chinuch only for the money…

My brother Binyamin is married, has a wonderful family, and is a maggid shiur in a yeshivah gedolah in Bnei Brak. He asked me not to name it, and whoever knows, knows. He has nothing to do with furs anymore, and he claims he’s completely forgotten how to hold a needle.

Who else do you want to know about? Helena? We have no idea what ever happened to her.

In fact, we have dispersed all over the world, and our story had more or less died out from the world, until I met you, and I began to recall it all over again. Together, we reconstructed those difficult years. I began to remember, slowly, even details that at the time seemed to be marginal and insignificant, like the solar eclipse. That eclipse occurred at nine in the morning, and as a result, our night was prolonged, until we finally merited the light of the sun. Isn’t that kind of what we at Samson Lager went through?

Now, all that remains is for me to thank you, Esther, for those long months we spent together, and I hope and pray together with you that our deeds should always be l’shem Shamayim and bring nachas to Him.

And my Babbe Sarah Liba wants me to add this tefillah to Hashem:

Ribono Shel Olam, our night is so extremely long. Even though yes, morning finally came for us at Samson Lager, it is not the full morning that we, along with the rest of Klal Yisrael, truly yearn for. We are still in galus, still awaiting the Geulah Sheleimah. Please, Ribono Shel Olam, speedily end our difficult night of galus by sending Mashiach. Then it will truly be morning, in the full sense of the word.

And may each and every one of us merit to breach our own walls, and to emerge into freedom.

With love,

Naomi Klein

This entry was posted on Monday, December 29th, 2025 at 9:20 am and is filed under General, Serial. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.