For a moment I was petrified but then I ran after him. Sadly, my pleading
and explanations proved entirely useless. He unceremoniously grabbed me by
the collar and pushed me toward the stairs whenever I tried to explain what
I meant. I did not give up though. My despair was giving me energy and courage.
Willy-nilly, I went to the office, where I explained my case. I was sent to
the clerk on duty, who in the end went with me into the duty room, where that
soldier was sitting with a few colleagues. The clerk had a word with him and,
to my relief; the soldier finally produced the crumpled piece of paper. But he
could not deprive himself of the satisfaction of crossing out the contents of
the pass with a red pencil, thus making it invalid. He then handed it to me,
laughing and joking with his companions. I went to the commander’s office,
even though the pass only permitted me to return home. Except for one, all
the officers who were there were friendly. I explained what I meant and told
them how the soldier had prematurely invalidated the pass they had issued.
I showed them the crumpled piece of paper. The matter was immediately settled:
I was issued a duplicate and then they called the stationmaster to tell
him to validate my pass the next day.
The next day I paid a visit to the stationmaster, who was a really stern
man. An ironic smile never left his face, its expression so cold, cruel, cunning,
and fiendish that I felt chills whenever he looked at me. I can remember
that ‘character’ perfectly. By way of introduction, he greeted me with a question
as to whether I knew that one had to say Guten Morgen¹²⁰⁸ and Heil Hitler.
I muttered something and handed him the papers. He put appropriate stamps
and signatures on the papers. When he saw the words “to school” he said that
there would be no more Jewish schools and that our lenient treatment was
coming to an end [. . .] he warned me not to dream [18] about another such
pass. It was valid until 13 November and then Schluss!¹²⁰⁹ I took note of that
and thanked God as I was leaving the room, and in this way the matter was
settled until 13 November.
On 10 November in the morning, I arrived in Zduńska Wola as I used to.
I was struck by how deserted the streets were. Yet on our street there was the
usual hubbub. At home I learned about what had happened. The day before, on
Thursday around noon, people heard the sound of a siren. Obviously, nobody
1208 (German) good morning.
1209 (German) end, finished.
