Survive and Tell (cont.)

The Graduation Parade

During the graduation parade, Moshe HaElion was awarded the title of “Outstanding Cadet”. Many of the graduates felt that Arieh Singer was more worthy of the title. In the following years, this assumption proved to be correct. To this day I do not know and I cannot understand why HaElion was chosen, even though he was very good. He should have, perhaps, been given the title “Exemplary Cadet”, but in no way outstanding cadet.

Arieh Singer excelled in everything he did after the course, as a commander, artilleryman, engineer, as a friend and, in recent years, in overcoming the difficult disability that paralyzed most of his body and left him without the power of speech. His wife, Rina, wrote a book describing the disease and the partial rehabilitation.

The day after the party, we walked about the base as if in a dream. All the instructing officers seemed different. More human, smiling and, perhaps, saying to themselves “what idiots those people were that we 'screwed' for 9 months”, but they undoubtedly added, “We are proud of the outcome”. The non-commissioned officers now saluted us.

The greatest satisfaction came from the RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major) of the base, Moshe Kleinbaum, who made sure to salute us and shout, in a British manner, “Sir”.

The graduation parade was a special event. We practiced and practiced until we reached perfection. The cadets were given command duties and the Outstanding Cadet was appointed captain over all of the graduates.

The Commander of the training command, Major General Haim Lascov, and the Chief of Staff, Igal Yadin, attended the final parade. Of course the Chief Artillery Officer, Colonel Meir Ilan, and the Commandant of the Base, Lieutenant Colonel Dan (Klapter) Hiram, were also there. This was a big celebration for us and for the entire base. The Artillery Corps was proud of our achievements.

The families of the graduates were invited to the parade. I sent an invitation to my parents who arrived in the car that was made available for all those who were invited. We did not meet the families until after the parade and presentation of rank. When we were dismissed at the end of the parade, there were those who had neck ache from looking left and right in order to be sure that the ranks, shining like gold, were in place, on the shoulder. We were very proud of ourselves and our hearts were full of the feeling of strength that intensified as the course drew to end.

I met my parents in the grove that was adjacent to Officer's Training Command offices. My mother hugged me and cried. My father showed his satisfaction through the smile of a happy man, but my mother expressed her happiness and pride through tears. I suppose that while she was hugging me, she was reflecting on the difficult and hard years in which they had struggled to survive. I am sure that she was also thinking of the grandson of the Shochet from Corjeutz who had become officer in the armed forces of the State of Israel.

It was impossible to stop her tears, which increased the more she got used to seeing me as an officer. This was the way my mother knew how to express her joy and love, in tears. I wish that I could also cry from the bottom of my soul. Since we left the house, I have only cried on a few occasions. It is strange that very sad things make me become tearful and want to cry and, somehow, this gives me a wonderful feeling. I know how to laugh and enjoy a good joke, but I do not know how to cry. I can remember each of the times I cried.

After the war, I watched a Russian film: “At six o'clock after the war”. The film depicts a scene in the Second World War involving two friends who were officers in the tank corps. One of them was injured and lost his leg and asked his friend to tell his girlfriend that he had fallen in battle. They had an argument that moved me immensely. I identified with the two heroes and my heart was filled with grief for them.

I again cried at the end of the series that was shown in the USA on the subject of the Holocaust. I did not cry throughout the film, even though many of the pictures flashing across the screen were very familiar to me, but only at the end of the film, as a kind of release, I wept openly.

I cried again, this time next to my mother's grave on the day of her funeral, when Leventhal eulogized and magnificently described her special personality. This time, I cried with grief. Moreover, I expressed remorse and begged forgiveness for the injustices that she had experienced during her life, by practically everyone, including myself.

To this day, I am tortured by the fact that I was not by her side when she needed me and that I did not appreciate, as many others did, her personality, her exceptional compassion and love for others and her willingness to make sacrifices for her family and for any person, whoever it may be, even if he/she was a complete stranger.

My mother never had a happy life. At a young age, she lost her mother and was raised by a stepmother. Her father spent most of his time studying the Torah, being a Shochet (Ritual slaughterer) and running the businesses. Her younger brother had a similar destiny. Mother married at a very young age and quickly had children. She lived with my father in the village of Terebna and, from there, moved to Lipcani. Even though my parent's financial situation was sound, they never knew how to live well. They worked hard and lived modestly. All profits were invested in order to increase their assets. My father's brothers often stayed with us at our home in Lipcani, as did his parents. When my grandfather became sick, he stayed with us and, of course, the main bedroom was made available for him.

My mother's relationship with her father and stepmother was shaky. I do not remember her ever visiting them or them visiting us. Her brother was very close to her and she loved him very much. My mother adored her brother's wife, Masea, which is unusual for sister-in-laws. Her brother was unsuccessful in business and, with my mother's influence, he acquired a job at the flourmill as a flour distributor because he owned a lorry. If he had known how to drive, he would surely have driven the lorry and not just accompanied the deliveries.

In Lipcani, especially during the last years, the standard of living improved immensely. A fulltime maid and other servants lightened the physical load. Cultural life was improving. Parties were held at the homes of the rich and, of course, my parents were invited. My mother and father even learned how to play cards. A grand ball was held once or twice a year, usually dedicated to charity purposes and I remember how excited my mother became while preparing for these events. Mother was active in the OSE Organization – a women's organization for aiding Jewish children (similar to “Hadassah”).

She got on very well with her sister-in-law, Olea, the wife of Moshe, father's brother. They never quarreled –they were friends but, even though they lived next door to each other and the children were good friends, they never met socially. I remember mother saying the Olea would buy dresses of the same material, so that no one would know that she had bought more than one dress. The reason for mother's remark was in view of the brother's partnership.

This affiliation really was very strange. The brothers decided not to take wages but only what was necessary in order to exist. This system does not suit a partnership, even if the partners are family or even brothers. The basis for this system was that everyone shared the same outlook, the same belief, the same needs and the same conscience. The system was unsuccessful and they would most probably have revised it eventually, but with the arrival of the Soviets, in 1940, this problem was solved. The Russians confiscated everything and the families were left penniless.

My mother accepted the change calmly. She did not complain or cry. She accepted the situation as a reality that could not be avoided, and went straight to the task of organizing life according to the new conditions.

In the village of Boyan she continued to be the focus of the family and took care of everyone. When war broke out, she visited my sister Dora in Chernowitz. Instead of saving herself and my sister the suffering and risks involved, she decided to return home with my sister. There was no transportation available and they walked from Chernowitz to the side of the Soviet army, who were hastily retreating.

After a few days, we made the same journey back whereby the person who suffered the most was my mother. She had been beaten more than the rest, had lost a lot of blood and had taken on the responsibility of her children's suffering, the children she had brought into this cruel world.

At her sister-in-laws, in the ghetto and later at Transnistria, she saw herself responsible for everything. She used all her strength and initiative to prepare food, maintain personal and general hygiene and, moreover, morale.

She was very optimistic and hoped that a better world would come. She had a wonderful sense of humor and most exceptionally – a love of fellow man. She was not at all afraid of the government; she did not like sycophancy to the nobility and did not mind associating with the “masses”. My mother connected to people with ease and they quickly became her friend. She also loved to hear and tell stories and she always had a youthful disposition.

Our home was a boarding house for relatives and friends, both in Moghilev where we had nothing, and in Boyan where we again enjoyed an abundance of food, and then in Cyprus and in Israel. She always helped others and shared what little she had. She placed herself last on the list, not in view of low self-esteem, but because of her love for others.

My father loved her and admired her but always made her life difficult. He was very demanding with regard to cleanliness and food. These demands were very extreme. My mother was forced to personally knead the dough because he only trusted her to clean her nails and hands properly and because he thought that only she would maintain utmost cleanliness with regard to all aspects of the bread baking process. My father left the task of educating the children to my mother. He was only called upon when punishment measures were required in order to instill discipline or so that a child would not die of starvation. Whenever mother and father had an argument we, the children, supported father - not because he was right but because he knew how to play the angry and miserable part so well. My mother had no choice but to concede.

When we reached Israel, she immediately looked for work, even though her dream was to open a shop or, at least, a grocery store. Neither my father nor us, the children, did enough to realize her dream. In all, she was always right with her natural and healthy instincts. She wanted to be financially independent and to live with dignity. She worked at the army laundry, she worked packing Matzot during the months prior to Passover and, above all, loved taking care of babies whom she regarded as her grandchildren. The families for which she worked regarded her as part of the family and the children she looked after regarded her as a grandmother.

My mother also dealt in matchmaking, as a hobby, and when she received a fee for matchmaking, gave it to her children. My parents lived in a house on Arlozorov Street in Haifa, next to the offices of the Rabbinate. It was a ground floor apartment. At the back entrance there was a small garden that my mother nurtured and loved, but she also suffered from the lack of privacy because this was not a self contained house and, therefore, she asked my father to close off some of the area to make a balcony. My father greatly opposed this and presented many reasons to strengthen his stand. Even though we, the children, understood mother's wish, we did not help her to persuade father. This made her very upset.

In this apartment, which was much better than the apartment at 57 Hillel Street, there was one disadvantage. The kitchen and the bathroom were shared with another family of 3. When this family moved a few years later, father and I built a separating wall and my mother gave a sigh of relief. Finally, we had an apartment consisting of 2 rooms, with separate kitchen, bathroom and toilet. This made her very happy, but her happiness was incomplete because she did not have a balcony.

My father often suffered with medical complaints that obliged him to be hospitalized and my mother always stayed by his side. First of all he had an operation for a hernia without any particular complications. Then he fell at work and his arm was in plaster. Since 1941 he suffered from gallbladder stones and only in the 1950's underwent surgery to remove them. He kept the stones as a souvenir.

In 1968 my father suffered from an enlarged prostate. I managed to organize an operation at the “HaSharon” Hospital. My mother came to live with us in Kiron in order to be near him. I used to take her every morning, but my mother preferred to travel by bus so as not to burden me and in order to be independent. For almost three weeks she was by his side during the day, until he recovered.

My mother loved to come and visit us. When I was on a course in France, Rivka came to visit me, so my mother stayed at our house with the children, Anat and Ofra. She was on better terms with the neighbors during this month than we ever were.

My mother was not a sick woman and enjoyed perfect health. She only suffered from minor ailments such as watery eyes and sneezing during certain seasons of the year, most probably due to an allergy. In the last few years of her life she complained of stomach pains. She went to doctors and was disappointed when they could not help her. They did not even send her for tests. Her complaints of pain increased and she asked me to help her because she was really suffering.

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