“Moshe, my dear:, Esther begged of him. “It’s a pity for the boy to remain indoors. Let him too breathe the free air of this new life.”
You foolish woman, thought Moshe. How naïve she is, just as if she were a minister in the new regime.
Yankele, their son, was not at home, and not wanting to quarrel with his wife, he let himself be talked into going out into the street. He put on his Sabbath suit and on the doorstep bumped into Yankel.
“Oh, look Dad, what’s happening in the streets! Just see how the underworld is embracing the Red Army and adorning their horses with flowers.”
Moshe, like most of the Jewish community was acutely aware in recent years of the spread of incitement against Jews. Anti-Semitism was rampant in the land and Fascism had penetrated into every aspect of life. The fascist Brownshirts hooligans had picketed large Jewish stores and incited the Lithuanian population to boycott them. In particular, a lot of effort was invested in this despicable activity by the semi-military organization, the so-called Shaulson and the fascist Smetani Organization – the Nationalists.
The daily Lithuanian newspaper, “The Lithuanian News” and “The Lithuanian Sound” had in recent years conducted from time to time an incitement campaign against the Jews against Russian-speaking people who were employed by some of the Jewish intellectuals. An incitement campaign was also conducted in the columns of the above newspapers against Jewish merchants. Such instigating’s were given a boost particularly after the occupation of the Memel (Kleipeda) Region by Nazi Germany.
The Shtetl Krak was no exception to this onslaught. It too had had a taste of the anti-Semitic attacks. So that when the Red Army marched in a new hope flared up among many Jews that everything would change for the better, and there would be an end to all their suffering. Moshe too could not suppress some feelings of sympathy towards the new order, though he as in no hurry to express this opinion. Even with his own wife he held back from sharing these thoughts.
“In any case”, Moshe finally allowed himself to be persuaded, “I’ll take Yankele out with me, since he’s already been in the street and seen it all.”
And indeed the streets were filled with gaiety and revelry; there was music and song everywhere. But not every heart was flowing with joy, even amongst the Jews. The rich Jews, the merchants, kept their shops closed for the present. But the next morning some of them opened up. Many of the shopkeepers after all lived from the meager profits from their trading. And if the shop is closed, there is no income at all. The Blackshirt gangs, the fascists and Shaulson members looked with hatred upon the joyful street scenes. Also, many landowners seemed to have abandoned their previous equanimity. The earth beneath their feet had become slippery. Here and there words of warning were issued;
“We’ll see for how long the Jewish rats will have the strength to continue such celebrations. ”
“We’ll show you how to receive the Red Occupation with flowers.”
“Not for long will you have the upper hand”, they mumbled. Those most bitter were not afraid to threaten:
“revenge will get you sooner or later.”
But they didn’t dare to raise their voices high against the new order. Moshe and his son wandered through the narrow side streets like tourists. “Dad, has the Red Army taken over for good and will we finally be able to breath more easily?”
“My dear son, I think the Red Army is our army now. It is strong enough to remain forever.”
“But dad, you taught me that nothing is forever, that everything has a beginning and an end, isn’t that so?”
“Yes. Only the Almighty in heaven knows the real truth. Maybe you’re right.” Moshe wanted to convince himself that he was right, but an inner voice nagged at him:
“Don’t be in a hurry to take action, you even have doubts about what to say.”
Rumors were rife that all the rich, the nationalists and the Zionists were to be sent off to prison in Siberia.
Zalman, the shopkeeper, sat in his store behind half-closed doors with a face white as a sheet, looking neither alive nor dead, and every slogan pierced his heart like needles. As he directed his gaze through the window into the street, what he saw made him jump up as if he were burnt by boiling water, and he would then return to sit even further back behind the table.
“Poor Zalman, I pity you. You’ll be sent to the end of the earth, where there are no motorcars, no airplanes, and few horses; no human being can be seen there, no cock will crow nor any wind will blow.” Upon hearing these ominous words, Zalman sensed the presence of the Angel of Death. But he must put on a good face, nonetheless, and as he was no fool, he answered nonchalantly:
“Thank God, at least I wouldn’t be there on my own, so I certainly shan’t get bored.”
Early the next morning, Zalman hastened to the Shul to ask for God’s help, to recite a relevant psalm, believing that this would bring him salvation.
Moshe did not believe the wild rumors. He understood well who were spreading this propaganda, who were the inciters with their poisonous tongues. These were the same hooligans who were inciting against the Jews. These doctrines were hardly self-inspired. They were largely the work of Nazi Germany, inspired by Hitler and his accomplices, may they be forever cursed.
Moshe wandered further and further. The fresh air caressed his face, the scent of the flowers overpowered his nostrils and the birds sang their familiar tunes. He seized Yankele by the hand and pressed him close.
After the long walk over the shtetl, his mind was not set at ease. As he lay in bed, his thoughts ran over the recent events and he could not fall asleep. He recalled his youth, the years of fighting and imprisonment. Now he was not in the best of health. He could feel the pounding of his heart, some pain in his head, his hair changing color with the years and streaked with grey. Time had passed so quickly, there had been no opportunity to improve the lot of the people as a whole. No, things could not continue as they were, the way of life must be changed, to spite all the anti-Semites.
Moshe had decided to take himself in hand, to start the new life by actively participating in the communal activities of the shtetl, in upbuilding socialism. Maybe it really would make life easier. He had recently read a book by the Russian writer, Maxim Gorki “Man is the Source of Pride” and “Love work, no other power can make man a worthy and wise human being than the power of work, collectively, friendly and free.” Why had he suddenly recalled Gorki’s words? Perhaps friendliness, freedom and collectivity would indeed make man happy.
The next morning, quite early, Moshe again took out his only festive garb eele from the cupboard – his suit and hat. Very, very rarely would he ever deck himself out in his best clothes, mostly on holydays. He gulped down two glasses of tea with a slice of bread and butter and again went out into the street. He went over to his friends to unburden himself. Among the workers he had considerable authority. He was neither communist nor socialist, but he was known to all as a hard worker, a man without malice, always ready to help his fellowman. They would often turn to him for advice and to share their innermost thoughts. For each one he had a ready word and appropriate counsel. He received everyone hospitably and with open arms. And that was indeed why he was one of the first candidates to be proposed to the shtetl committee. The Krak residents trusted in him and put their fate in his hands and chose him as a member of the Soviet committee for their shtetl.
Moshe spared no effort in creating a new world.
“Look here, Moshe, my dear son, I hope you won’t have any regrets about this activity”, warned his elderly father, Shimon, the wise bookbinder.
“What then, was it better with those vicious fascists?” said Moshe, on the defensive.
“Dear son, one mustn’t live only for the present, one must give some thought for the morrow too.”
“It is in fact the future that will be better for us Jews.”
“You will soon bite your tongue when you learn of the “Improvement”.”
“What then do you think, I must sit at home and count the pennies I need to support my family?”
“If you would have been elected chairman of the Jewish congregation, would you also have put in so much effort?” asked his father still unrelenting.
“Under the previous regime, yes father, but not today.”
“Then you can no doubt already see how good it is for our Jews and I’ve been proven right, no?”
Moshe couldn’t find any answer to this, for deep in his heart there was a hidden doubt. Perhaps he should really not have undertaken such a responsible task. Still, as a Jew in the Galut! He was accustomed to submissiveness and also working with a will, so that he was embarrassed to withdraw from the position. He also at times received warnings from the underworld.
Once he found an anonymous note on his worktable: “We’ll still come to terms with you, you Jewish vermin.”
But Moshe was not alarmed by this. He was confident that the Red Army was strong enough to defend him, and the Soviet regime would not permit the Lithuanian nationalists to carry out their threats.
The poor non-Jewish peasants received land thanks to the agrarian reformland which they had previously worked on as serfs for the landowners – and also those who had never owned any land before. Cooperatives were established and all workers were provided with work. At the same time, persecutions began of factory owners, tycoons, responsible government officials of the previous regime, Zionists, leading personalities of the Shaulson and Totininke organizations. Some of these had gone underground with their opposition activities. Apart from these, ordinary members of the Lithusanian Nationalist Movement remained free and quietly readied themselves for resistance. A wave of arrests led to some of the detainees being sent to Siberia. The Yiddish newspapers disappeared except for the communist “Folkshtimme” (Voice of the People). The yeshiva and Yiddish theaters were closed down, as was the Jewish high school. Hebrew became an invalid language.
Nevertheless, everything was blooming; songs, mainly Soviet in Russian or translated into Lithuanian blared incessantly from loudspeakers. But all this served to incite the fascist elements, and nationalistic feelings fomented, not only among the Lithuanians themselves but among the national minorities particularly the Jews.
