Bunker "Krysia"

"Is dying difficult?" the writer Yechida Hirschant was asked that evening [Kassow, 351]. Not to engage in a discourse with him on the meaning and cost of life in times of peace. Because when the question was asked, a different era was underway: the Holocaust. This thread—when, amidst all the differences, one thing was certain: the inevitability of death—was permanently embedded in conversations. Especially among the prisoners of Pawiak. Hope and time were sufficient—solely and despite everything—to endure uncertainty. The news that such a well-known and exceptional figure had been held there spread rapidly among the Jews. Simultaneously, they began searching for a solution that would give their fellow prisoner a chance to avoid death. By, at least temporarily, leaving the prison walls for public work. With other condemned workers, but without his loved ones: his wife Judith and son Uri. Then he made his final decision. Had he surrendered, had he shown himself steadfast, had he overcome fear, or, on the contrary, had he succumbed to it? Regardless, he refused the help offered. He remained, only to become one of the forty victims murdered by the Germans the next day – on the morning of March 10, 1944, in the ruins of the former ghetto. This was Emanuel Ringelblum …

Too active in the ghetto's public life—in the spheres of care and assistance, social work, and to some extent also politics—he was recognizable. Thus, from February 1943, he was "sentenced" to life—literally—"underground": in the "Krysia" bunker [Engelking, Lebionka, 2009, 24]. This shelter—built with funds from Jewish families and institutions—was considered a zone of exceptional security in an era of lawlessness. Approximately forty people could stay at any one time on its approximately 35 square meters (35 square meters). The beds were spaced along the walls. A long table bisected the space. A small section served as a kitchen (used only at night), while a separate section—behind a screen—served as a toilet. The people of "Krysia" had double protection—their underground "home" was additionally camouflaged by a large greenhouse. During the day, they were required to remain silent and motionless in an enclosed space. At night, whenever possible and as required by safety, they would briefly leave the bunker to talk and eat. Mieczysław Wolski, owner of a garden center at 84 Grójecka Street (the "Krysia" bunker was located in this area), and his teenage nephew, Janusz Wysocki, provided immediate relief to the Jews (they delivered food, removed waste, and ensured their safety). Wolski's mother and sisters provided spiritual support. The men also acted as intermediaries between the Jews hidden in the bunker and those operating "on the surface."

Despite its advantages, including the most important one for those imprisoned – the chance of survival – there was no shortage of mental and health problems in "Krysia." The former were especially prevalent among people who had been in the same place for months, without a break. There were arguments, quarrels, and spite. Orna Jagur, present "underground" until the first days of March 1944, saw and felt directly the weight of the tragedies unfolding there: people condemned to exist in a world so far removed from the one they knew before the war as to be unreal. She described hopeless conditions: filth, mustiness, and vermin, insane stares, fears, anxieties, neurosis, and excitement. In a letter to Adolf Berman, Judyta Ringelblum wrote bluntly: "There is a terrible depression here – an indefinite prison. Terrible hopelessness" [Paulsson, 180].

Emanuel Ringelblum , though present in "Krysia," lived the life of the residual ghetto. On the eve of the uprising, to be an eyewitness, he left the shelter and went to the ghetto. He disappeared for many months. Only in the summer of that year did news reach Warsaw that he was alive and a prisoner in the SS labor camp in Trawniki. Thanks to the efforts and actions of "Żegota" and the Home Army (Emilia Rozencwajg "Marylka" and Teodor Pajewski), he returned to the shelter in August [Engelking, Libionka, 2009, 72]. And from then on, he remained with everyone until the very end.

The end of the "Krysia" bunker was the result of a tip, likely filed by a Pole. On March 7, 1944, the Wolski family property was surrounded by Gestapo and Blue Police units. They knew perfectly well where the "enemy" was hiding. That's where they directed their first steps: "The bunker's entrance flap was lifted, and one by one, the figures of the unfortunate convicts began to appear in the opening. First came the mothers with their children—the poor children squinted, blinded by daylight and sunlight they hadn't seen for so long—some were crying with fear. The mothers helplessly hugged them. Then, one by one, the adults emerged, in a deathly silence, occasionally interrupted by a woman's sobbing, drowned out by German screams" [Kassow, 350]. They were taken to Pawiak prison and tortured for two days. They wanted to force confessions and hear accusations that would lead them to the next "guilty." Without success. As a last resort, early in the morning of March 10, 1944, the prisoners were herded into the ruins of the former ghetto. And executed. Among them were Emanuel Ringelblum, his wife, and his son…

Emanuel Ringelblum perhaps foresaw the approaching end of the Jewish community in Warsaw. Therefore, he worked tirelessly. Throughout the entire period—from November 1940 to March 1944—when groundbreaking events for the Jewish population intersected (the so-called Grossaktion and the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising), he was devoted to reconstructing a comprehensive picture of Jewish life under Nazi occupation. His brainchild was Oneg Shabbat—a team of several dozen people conducting various archival and research activities [Ringelblum, 473–490].

In Oneg Shabbat's work , the principle of comprehensiveness was paramount, while objectivity was to be the secondary objective. Research and historical process overlapped, and a reality was analyzed that was not yet past but ongoing, living, engaging the researcher, his family, his community, and the entire dying Jewish community [Sakowska, 164–165]. All activities were divided into four areas: general, economic, cultural-scientific, literary-artistic, and social assistance. Official documents (announcements, copies of correspondence, postal forms, ration cards), personal materials (identity cards, certificates, registration cards, diplomas), scholarly works, correspondence, and photographs were constantly collected. The most valuable were the diaries. Although the founder and leader of Oneg Shabbat fell victim to Nazi crimes, a great work survived: the Ringelblum Archive… In 1999, it became part of UNESCO's Memory of the World.

Bibliography – chronological order:

– E. Ringelblum, Chronicle of the Warsaw Ghetto, Warsaw 1988;
– R. Domańska, Pawiak – torture and heroism, Warsaw 1988
– R.Sakowska, People from the Closed District, Warsaw 1993;
– G.S.Paulsson, The Hidden City. Jews on the Aryan Side of Warsaw (1939–1945), Kraków 2007;
– B.Engelking, D. Libionka, Jews in the Warsaw Uprising, Warsaw 2009;
– SDKassow, Who Will Write Our History? The Hidden Archive of Emanuel Ringelblum, Warsaw 2010;
– B. Engelking, D. Libionka, The Warsaw Ghetto: A Guide to a Non-Existent City, Warsaw 2013