Irena Part 2

Introduction:

The long night of conversations over the pleasantries of relatively fresh baked deserts (even if there was hardly any sugar in them) was a sweet rarity that warmed Irena’s body and spirit. It was special times like this that made her temporarily forget, (even if it was partial) the fear and the horror that surrounded her and gripped the once beautiful city of Warsaw.

It was hard for anyone with a conscious to indulge in bread that wasn’t old and stale while so many in the Ghetto - just a few streets away, were currently starving - But there was no guilt this night, there was no shame, nor regrets. The small company of loved ones with talk of better times was a true gift to Irena - far better than any wrapped present could’ve given.

And with heavy eyes, it was in this mood that Irena finally laid her head down to sleep. And quickly, she was dreaming:

…dreaming of her youth with familiar and unfamiliar faces in both recent and distant memories. As past experiences seamlessly converged into new dreams, more and more children began to appear, filling the scenes of Irena’s resting mind. And before long, there were multitudes of young ones - so many that Irena nearly felt lost. She could no longer discern if she was in the dream or just a spectator of it. And although at the time, Irena herself was childless, the pleasant emotions of motherhood, like pride, comfort, and joy, were strongly evoked by the throngs of happy children who all seemed to be gathering around an elderly woman. A woman so old, short, and white, that it was difficult for Irena to discern who she was. The ancient woman hardly moved, but when she did, Irena noticed that it was slow, awkward, and looked even painful. And it was in the midst of this euphoric perception of feeling like a mother, that there came an unwelcome and disturbing pain. Irena could feel it in heart and perceived the old woman did as well. It was like the prophet Simeon when he spoke to the proud mother of Jesus, saying that her son’s rise and fall would pierce her own soul like a sword.

Irena’s restful dream ended with a nightmare that was just beginning…  

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Suddenly the harsh pounding on Irena’s front door jolted her awake! She knew exactly what was happening and who it was, but it didn’t ease the pounding in her chest. Irena had rehearsed what she would do in this circumstance over and over and like clockwork, she reached down from her bed and grabbed the glass jar.

What was in the jar was more valuable than her own life, and for that matter, more important than the three lives of the other women in her house now - that was her mother Janina, her mother’s sister, and her good friend, Janka. They had spent the night in celebration of Irena’s naming day. But the only thing that mattered now was making sure the Gestapo would not find the jar! And they were about to break the door down.

With jar in hand, Irena ran to the kitchen window which sat above the unkempt bushes 20 feet below in her small backyard. As she lifted the window sash to toss the container  down, she saw two guards standing below looking up at her.

Dear God!

This had been her plan - This had always been her plan - to discard the glass jar into the shrubs where it would be kept safe! Irena knew the SS guards were there for her alone so as a pry bar began to splinter the thin front door, Irena threw the precious container to Janka.

“These are our children - They must not be found!”

The door violently burst open just as Janka awkwardly stuffed the jar down her shirt. Nine SS guards swarmed into the small dwelling furiously barking orders. Their presence filled the entire complex with absolute terror, let alone the 4 women inside the small apartment. And that was the precise point! It was three o’clock in the morning and every neighbor’s eyes were on Irena’s flat. After three long hours of turning her small home upside down, searching for anything and everything to incriminate Irena, the Nazi’s finally stopped. It was now six o’clock in the morning and despite all their efforts to find something, the guards missed a bag full of cash and identity documents that had been in fairly plain view, but was now covered by Irena’s broken bed frame. Irena thought it was a miracle. If there were any silver-linings in this nightmare, it was that the Gestapo didn’t find anything, they only wanted Irena, and they never knew about the glass jar still hidden in Janka’s blouse.

As the sun just began to give its light, Irena was ushered into the prison car waiting on the street outside. It was crowded with SS guards, most of whom had already dosed off. Irena had to sit on the lap of one of the agents. It wasn’t far after the sedan had left her apartment, that Irena had time to gather her thoughts about where she was being taken - the infamous Pawiak Prison. It was built in the early 1800’s by the Russian Empire and served to retain any criminal or political prisoner in Warsaw. When Poland gained independence in 1918, the prison held its own country’s criminals. But now it belonged to the Gestapo. It is thought that under the brief but brutal stint of Nazi rule, from the one hundred thousand prisoners that were kept there, nearly 40,000 had been murdered on its premise. With the remaining 60,000 being transported to death camps, the chance of surviving an incarceration was basically non-existent. Irena knew this, and as much as anyone could, she began to ready herself for starvation, interrogations, and beatings that would make even the strongest wish for death.

And Irena couldn’t have prepare herself any faster. The first day of her time as a prisoner was just like anyone else’s. It began with a brief and relatively mild time of questioning, where she denied knowing anything about Zegota (the underground Polish resistance that supplied Irena’s efforts in saving the children) followed by a purposefully excruciating beating. Batons, fists, whips, and soldering irons were just some of the tools used to make the prisoners more apt to confess in the future. Irena would never really tell about her time in prison, but her legs were traumatized - if she survived the prison, the lashings and beatings she took to her lower extremities would undoubtedly stay with her for the remainder of her life.

As Irena limped back to her cell down the stone walkways at Pawiak she happened to see a few of her old work partners and even friends who she thought had died or who had simply disappeared. This small comfort heartened her to know that even in this prison she was not completely alone.

As the long day came to an end and night fell, Irena along with the other women in the small cell, leaned against each other in hope to find just a few hours of sleep, yet a small and delusional thought harassed her that this had all just been a bad dream. But when the 8:30 morning execution calls were made the next morning, any illusion that this was not reality, quickly vanish. At 9:00 there was “breakfast” - this consisted of a thin slice of moldy bread with some coffee. Soon after, Irena’s named was randomly called. She was to go see the prison dentist. Irena didn’t know what to make of it since she had no need for a dentist. But as she was escorted to the small infirmary, she wondered if this trip to the dentist was something for her favor. She turned out to be correct.

After being seated, Irena was given a small slip of paper by the dentist (a doctor Irena knew before the war with whom she was politically sympathetic with). She unrolled the piece of paper and quickly read the clear and brief message: “We are doing everything we can to get you out of that hell.” A flood of hope surged through Irena’s beaten body. She was undoubtedly strong and determined to never confess, but the secret message greatly encouraged her. Even if the odds were against Irena surviving the prison, the smallest amount of optimism gave her even more reason to stay resolute. And she would need it.

For the next few months, Irena was subjected to more questioning and more beatings in hope that she would eventually break and confess something or anything about her dealings with the Polish underground resistance. But her answers were consistent - she was a simple social worker who knew nothing of Zegota. When Irena and her cellmates  were not being interrogated or walked around the prison, they would scrub and clean the uniforms and underwear of their prison guards in the laundry room. One day, a psychotic guard who found their work unsatisfactory, lined the cleaning crew up against the wall and shot every other woman in the head with his pistol. The two women on each side of Irena crumbled to the ground.  

Between the brutal cross examinations and the horror that accompanied their forced  labor, this schedule become fairly routine and had now lasted for 120 grueling days. While interrogations and beatings were not everyday, giving the women a slight reprieve, it was only short lived as they were sure to return. The only shred of hope the women shared was that they would not hear their named announced for the morning executions. Until one day, four months after Irena was taken prisoner, on January 20th, Irena’s name was finally called. She was one of about 15 women that day to be executed. Any hope Irena might have had in being rescued was now gone and the nightmare was soon to end.

And as each minute passed, Irena, along with the others, had really noting to do but except their fate. Soon after hearing their names, the group of women were loaded onto a truck that was headed for Szucha. This was a nearby Gestapo holding facility not only where interrogators waited for prisoners, but firing squads as well. After being escorted i