smuggled weapons into the ghetto through the sewers and stockpiled them at strategic points, ready for when conflict began. I discovered my job in Sala’s workshop had given me a particular tolerance for repetitive tasks, and I’d put this to good use in a makeshift factory, developing crude incendiary devices. Others in my unit struggled with the smell of the chemicals, complaining of headaches and burning eyes, but I relished the discomfort. Every time I packed a bottle for use against the Germans, I focused on my mother’s face or on particular memories of Samuel or Dawidek. I poured my longing and my rage into each and every bottle.
For two years before their deaths, I had been terrified of my anger—but once they were gone, I reveled in it. I taped two images to the wall beside my bed. One was the clenched fist Elz·bieta had drawn for me—the words beneath it now my driving mantra: There are many ways to fight, but striving for justice is always worth the battle. The other image was the extraordinary sketch Sara had given me the day she told me that Elz·bieta was unable to return to the ghetto.
Eleonora. The last piece of our family, out there in the world but lost to me, other than the sketch.
“But why can’t Elz·bieta visit anymore?” I’d said, feeling this new blow land hard, even as I was still submerged in the foggy depths of grief.
“Her family situation has become complicated” was all Sara would tell me.
“Could you take her a note from me?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
So that was that. All I had left of both Elz·bieta and Eleonora was the sketch, and sometimes, late at night when I lay in bed, I would stare at it and wonder what they were both doing on the other side of the wall, while I was trapped in what was left of the ghetto, waiting for the Germans to make the first move to kick off our rebellion.
* * *
On the eve of Passover, Andrzej announced that he’d planned a Seder meal for our Z·OB unit.
“You’ll be amazed at the lengths I’ve gone to,” he said. Chaim slapped him on the back playfully.
“I’ll be amazed if you’ve gone to any lengths at all, given you’ve been working twenty hours a day organizing for the rebellion,” he chuckled.
“It’s going to be a real occasion, Chaim. I’ve got a beautiful white tablecloth and some candles. I baked matzo this morning, and I found a bottle of wine and even an egg,” Andrzej informed him smugly, but then he sobered. “I know it’s not perfect, but given the circumstances, it’s important. We will pause, and we will be together to reflect on the journey from slavery to freedom.”
But by late afternoon, word had spread through the ghetto that a deportation was planned for the following morning.
“Four o’clock,” Chaim told us, recounting the story he had heard from another Z·OB unit a few blocks away. “They know we are planning to rebel, although I hope to God they don’t know how organized we are.”
“They won’t expect it,” I murmured. I stood, finding myself unable to be still. “If they had any idea what we’ve planned, they’d have intervened months ago.”
“Seder will have to wait,” Andrzej said sensibly, as if it would merely be postponed until after we’d finished rebelling. But I knew, and he knew, that not one of us expected to make it out alive.
Our freedom from slavery was coming, but it would not come in this life. If we died with courage, we would die free, even confined within the ghetto walls. I was at last ready to fight for justice, although I knew I could not win.
* * *
The ghetto had become a quieter place, but it had never before been silent. Now we all sat and waited, and the anticipation was unbearable. It was so quiet and I was so on edge I heard movement from blocks away when it began just at four in the morning.
Our unit sat on the rooftop above the youth center, asking questions with our eyes because we were too afraid to whisper them with our mouths. We soon heard the sounds of men below shuffling into formation, but it was nothing like the bold goose steps we were expecting, and for hours we sat in confused silence, watching shadows shifting on the streets below us.
It wasn’t until a messenger approached at dawn that we learned what was