Though the shooting continued, and many were killed by phenol injections, hanging, malnutrition, and disease, the apex of this horrifying tale of human depravity was reached with the construction of special camps whose only purpose was murder. Gas chambers and crematoria were designed for mass slaughter, carried out efficiently and cleanly.

From all the conquered countries of Europe, Jews were gathered and transported, either to locations throughout the Reich for needed slave labor, or to such death camps in Poland as Auschwitz. In addition to mere slaughter, many Jews were selected for fiendish and usually fatal medical experiments at the hands of Nazi scientists. Before or after the chambers and flames and ropes and bullets had accomplished their work, the clothing and shoes and bones and gold fillings and jewelry of the victims were gathered and collected—bones for fertilizer, clothes for the German poor, gold and jewelry to deposit in the banks of the Reich.

Emigration became impossible. There was no place to go. Getting out of Poland or Germany served no end, for all Europe had been taken over by the madness. Jews whose identities were known could only hide from the SS and Gestapo squads or seek escape in a safe house. Some moved into attics or basements with sympathetic friends or relatives.

Danger lurked everywhere. There were few corners of refuge. Underground networks began forming, some in association with the anti-Nazi resistance movements in each country, others independently. All who chose to participate in this invisible humanitarian effort to preserve Jewish life immediately put themselves at huge risk.

Spies were legion. One could not even trust family and neighbors and friends.

Some chose to remain in their homes, at their jobs, hoping against futile hope that the roots of their Hebrew lineage would not be discovered. Others attempted to change their names and obtain forged documents. But all waited in constant terror for the heavy-booted tramp of Gestapo feet, knowing that if the truck came to the front of their house, its destination would be death.

60 Nighttime Vigil

60

Nighttime Vigil

In an upstairs bedroom, a father and mother huddled in the darkness with their seven-year-old son and five-year-old daughter, waiting for the lonely hours of the night to pass.

They could no longer merely go on with their lives and hope to elude discovery. The man called Jakob knew it was too late for that. The Gestapo would be here tomorrow. Tonight was his last chance, his only chance, to remove his children from Wloclawek and, he prayed, to safety.

They would take only what they could wear. Such were the instructions he had given his wife. Only one small handbag of a few needed personal belongings he would carry with them. Appearance of travel or flight, if they were seen, would result in being reported.

When Jakob had returned from work only three hours ago he quietly announced to his wife that what they long feared had come upon them at last.