It was in the waning days of the Warsaw Ghetto. The Elbaum family -- Yisrael,
Chaya, and their only child, Tamar -- had secreted themselves in a bunker. There
they were relatively secure, but now the problem arose that they had depleted
their small stash of food. Someone would have to emerge to the streets and try
to acquire some bread in order for the family to survive.
The only logical choice was little Tamareleh. A young child was much less
likely to be noticed by the Nazi beasts than an adult. Early in the morning,
before dawn, Tamareleh crept out, to begin her search for food for herself and
her parents.
Alas, her parents had no way of knowing that this same morning the Germans
would be conducting one of their notorious roundups. They broke into houses and
arrested every Jew they spotted on the streets, herding them all into
Haumshalagplatz Square. A shudder went through the Ghetto; from Haumshalagplatz
there was only one known destination: the hellhole Treblinka.
The Nazis had already captured and assembled a large number of people -- men,
women and children. The cries of the children separated from their parents broke
the hearts of all the adults. Nevertheless, they held back the little ones who
tried to run home, for fear that the vicious Nazis would shoot them on the spot.
Word of the raid reached the Elbaums. They became paralyzed with worry for
Tamareleh, for hours had gone by and she had not yet returned. They couldn't but
think that -- G-d forbid -- she, too, had been captured. They stared at the
entrance to the bunker, starting at every small sound from that direction.
As the minutes and hours ticked away, Yisrael and Chaya felt as if the sky
was about to fall on their heads. The only light in the oppressive darkness of
their lives was their precious little Tamareleh. Their strong love for
her was all that kept them going, and now they had to face the inescapable
conclusion that she was among the forlorn souls segregated under the
German guns in Haumshalagplatz.
With fierce determination they slid out from their hiding place. They
understood they had no viable options to save their daughter from the vicious
Nazi beasts; all they could hope to accomplish was to put themselves in danger
too. But it was not logic that was determining their choices. Their parental
drive could not be suppressed.
Then Yisrael had an idea. He remembered that an acquaintance of his, named
Perlstein, was a member of the Jewish police of the Ghetto. He even knew their
daughter and at times had showed her affection. Perhaps the kapo could be
her rescuer, they hoped. They were so excited they wished they could tunnel
through the walls of all the intervening structures to reach Perstein's
dwelling! In that building, 9 Dejilna Street, lived most of the Jewish policemen
and their families.
When Perlstein answered the frantic knocking on the door, he was surprised to
see the Elbaum couple standing there. They quickly poured out the tragic story
of Tamar’s capture, and he took it very much to heart. For a few minutes a
heavy silence dominated the room where they spoke. They could see that the
policeman was racking his brain to try to come up with a plan to rescue little
Tamareleh.
Suddenly Perlstein’s features became very animated. He swept his police
uniform cap off of his head, pulled his police identification card out of his
pocket, and thrust the two of them into the hand of an astonished Yisrael Elbaum.
"Take these and run to Haumshalagplatz. Run!" he emphasized, "Before it
is too late. Tell the policemen there that your daughter is among the captured,
and they will help you to get her released and take her away. This is an
unwritten law among us -- no snatching the children of the policemen."
Perlstein understood very well that by this maneuver he was endangering his
own life. But the beseeching faces of the frantic couple compelled him to offer
this slender chance, despite the personal risk to himself.
Yisrael stared at Perlstein as if he were a dream apparition. It seemed such
a simple, yet foolproof plan. His heart began to beat with hope. His wife began
to cry in happy expectation and his eyes, too, filled with tears. Could it
really be that in a short time they would have their precious Tamareleh back?
They tried to express their gratitude to Perlstein but the words wouldn’t
come. In any case, he cut them off quickly, insisting there was no more time to
talk. They must hurry.
Yisrael put on the police cap and stuck the document in his pocket. He was
halfway out the door when Perlstein called his name. He turned his head and the
kapo said to him: "One moment. There is one thing that I forgot to tell you.
It is already so late. That means that the captured at Haumshalagplatz have
already been counted. So you will have to catch another child on your way to
replace your daughter, in order that the Germans will still have their quota and
won’t notice anything is amiss."
The unexpected words struck Yisrael like a bludgeon. His hands fell to his
sides; his shoulders drooped. He froze in the doorway as if he were paralyzed.
Finally he turned around slowly to face his wife and the policeman. With a
shaking hand he removed the police cap from his head and the identity papers
from his pocket, and placed them carefully on the table. He gripped the nearest
chair and slowly slid down onto it.
His face was white, bloodless. Hope had been crushed into bleak despair. He
felt that the rapid shift from extreme to extreme threatened his sanity. He
began to weep. Between sobs, he screamed: "My precious daughter, my beloved
only child ---- No! No, I cannot. I must not, my daughter. Only you am I
permitted to sacrifice. Not someone else’s. Only mine. Only my own..."
