Lithuania was flooded with all kinds of Yiddish newspapers and journals. Each political party published its own paper. One was apolitical “Die Yiddishe Shtimme.” Krak was no exception, and one had a choice of newspapers there. Of late, Moshe received “Die Folkshtimme”, the communist newspaper. At first, he was reluctant even to touch it, but curiosity go the better of him and he decided to see what was being published in a workers’ paper.
“Nu, Esterke”, he said to his wife. “See how happily the people in the Soviet Union live. Everyone is provided with work and housing, one is free and all are equal; there are no rich, no poor, can you imagine what kind of life they lead?”
“Moshele, you probably believe that everything written in the paper is true. I don’t believe it”, Ester answered.
“Yo, but if it is printed, it may in fact be true. Like the saying ‘If the bells are ringing, it signifies a holiday.”
From then on, Moshe didn’t cease thinking of the wonderful life in the Soviet Union. Some nights, he would sigh deeply. He sometimes also felt a twinge of doubt about the truth of the reports, but deep in his heart he could not repress a longing, a hope of a better life. He dreamt of living to see that Jewish labourers would not have to worry about the daily bread and could rest assured about their future.’
Moshe would often stint himself of his own needs in order to provide for his children, so hungry, without sleep, so that his children should not want. His wife would joke about it.
“If God doesn’t help with a good income, it pays to be thrifty, and frugality is often better than being a good earner.”
“It doesn’t matter, Esterel, our street will also have its day in the sun.”
Mendel, the tailor, came of late to visit Moshe, to pour out his heart.
“Moshe, have you heard the news? Meir, the bear-chaser’s son has sent a letter from the U.S.S.R. Somehow it seems to be like a bunch of lies. Or is it in fact the truth?”
“Have you read the letter?” enquired Moshe.
“No, I personally haven’t read it, but Moshele, the Loksch, said that he has.”
“And what did Meir’s son write?” asked Moshe. He never called anyone by his nickname, as he felt is was derogatory.
“Meir’s son writes that he’s living in a paradise.” Mendel almost shouted out the words.
“What does he mean by paradise” Does he know what paradise is like or even hell? Has be already been there and then came back to earth?”
“Don’t laugh, Moshe, he writes that he has four suits, a separate government flat for which he pays some kopeks and which has running water and a closet, a bathroom with a bath, a kitchen with all the accessories, central heating and is furnished. He is assured of regular work and earns a good salary, and if his employer should wish to fire him, he has no right to do so. No Jew is badgered and Jews enjoy the full rights of freedom.”
“That’s no news to me. I’ve read it all in the papers. But it seems to me that there’s a taint of propaganda about it.” But deep in his heart he still believed that it was all true.
“In other words, you don’t believe what he writes in his letter.”
“Yes and no. In order to actually believe such things, one must make a personal investigation.” Moshe replied, “but neither you nor I are able to do so. And I only believe what I see with my own eyes!”
The three shutters in the little of wooden house opened up easily this time. Moshe slept badly that night. He opened up the of top windows and inhaled the clear outdoor air. The air was worm and fresh. The sap of the green bushes and trees gave off many aromatic scents. Thin rays of sunlight filtered into the bedroom and lit up the sleeping faces of his children. That was June of 1940.
On that day, rumours abounded that the regime of Smetona (president of Lithuania) had fallen, and that power was now in the hands of the proletariat. The whole of Lithuania was occupied by the Red Army. the news travelled fast also to Krak. And, in fact, Moshe was one of the first to learn of this.
But his mind was still not at ease. He was suddenly beset by doubts.
“My dear Moshe”, said the elder Shimon, the bookbinder, his clever father, “this is no freedom. Look at the dark clouds gathering in the sky. This doesn’t portend any good. It’s a pity that only a few are aware of it.
It seems that now we’ll see the beginning of a tragic time for the Jewish people.”
“What are you saying, Dad? Look what’s going on in the street. Joy and singing everywhere. Have you ever seen such a thing?”
“That’s the trouble, that I’ve never seen such a thing before. Don’t think that everyone is so happy with the arrival here of the Russian Army. Take a good look, my boy, at who is so happy. Don’t forget that a true Lithuanian citizen has nationalistic values – the striving for freedom and independence.”
“Well, we have attained freedom.”
“Is that what you think? That is your painful mistake. This is no freedom it’s slavery. The landowners, the Jewish businessmen, the intelligentsia are all silent. They’re taken by surprise and haven’t yet grasped the tragedy of their immediate future. That’s why they are reacting with apathy. But the inner protest will grow from day to day, and this won’t bring us Jews any luck to say nothing of inflated freedom.”
This was a father taking to his son, and not just any father, but one who had lived his life and experienced it’s vicissitudes. A Jew, a tzakid – a righteous man – a teacher with an instinctive intuitions, who took a sober view of the future and made an unerring analysis of the past and the present.
The religious Jews, the elite of the shtetl, gathered in the synagogue and prayed quietly, not discussing the situation. The Lithuanian non-Jewish elite, the aristocracy, the landowners and those who just felt concerned, assembled in the churches.
On the first days of the Red Army take-over, the shops remained closed. And who were those who frolicked in the streets? Jewish and non-Jewish youngsters, children and craftsmen – they immediately found red ribbons which they stuck into their lapels, or put on red ties. But there were also youngsters in the street wearing black flowers in their lapels, black ties and black ribbons on their arms. There were no Jews among the latter. These were the Skotein (Shauliston) or else members of the Lithuanian “Tautininksi” fascist organization. Their faces showed a grim determination and readiness to throw themselves into the battle against the new-found freedom.
Freedom for political prisoners, bread, peace and work – these were the slogans paraded in the streets. Gradually, more and more people showed support for the slogans, and their popularity became more widespread.
One person had found a red flag and was waving it for all he was worth.
The few policemen in the shtetl attempted some half-hearted arrests, but no one was unduly disturbed by this. On the contrary, the police themselves were uncertain as to what they had to do, since there were really only two of them in the village. They did not have the boldness to make any decisions nor did they receive any directives from the higher authorities, and hence they took no action.
On June 21, 1940 the folk proclaimed its decision to accept Soviet rule in the land and “to request” the U.S.S.R. to take over Lithuania as it was. At the same time, all political prisoners were released. The large business enterprises, factories and plants were taken away from their owners. Officially, this was known not as robbery, but as “nationalization”. The large tracts of land owned by landowners were confiscated. An agrarian reform was instituted throughout the country and the expropriated lands were distributed among the poor land laborers, or peasants.
Divisions of the Red Army flooded Lithuania. Their entry was received with mixed feelings. The majority of the population was singularly indifferent, while some received them with flowers and song – mainly the freed political prisoners and the leftists, who suddenly came out of hiding. Among them were now a few Jews, while a large percentage of the communists were indeed Jews. The streets of the large towns rang with music and Soviet songs, such as “Katyusha”, “Solika”, “Yesli Aoftra Va’ina” (In the Morning a War) and many others. The shtetls were rather quieter, but the winds of change spread there rapidly.
Moshe sat at home and did not go out into the street. He couldn’t decide how to react to the new powers. True, times had always been hard earning a livelihood – but if it would now be better he was not at all sure. He was always in conflict – the new versus the old, with the old mode of life, his problems with the authorities. And maybe his father was right, after all, since he was indeed such a wise man. Could one really believe the words of the hymn – “He who was nothing will now become mighty.”
Moshe had always dreamed and hoped for a new life, and when it came, he was assailed by doubts.
“Go out, Moshe, into the fresh air and hear what is going on in the outside world”, his wife’s urgings broke in on his thoughts. And take your son with you.”
“What hasn’t he seen?” asked Moshe. “There’s enough turmoil in the streets without him”, said Moshe, unwilling to take his son.
