Herschel's Log - Entry Five.

Herschel’s Log

December 10, 1943

            Peter and I met with the council of elders today, to ask formal permission to carry out an uprising, and I’ve felt uneasy ever since. Of course, if the people wanted to move the Resistance forward without the council’s consent, there is not much they could do to prevent it. But Peter I and both know better than to disrespect the former Judenrat. The soldiers dissolved the council while I was away, broke off negotiations with the Jews and stopped even pretending to respect the leaders in the community. But even stripped of their official power, the elders still represent the survival of our religion and culture, and we would be fools not to respect that.

            Still, I’ve never liked going up in front of the council. Not just because they remind me of our dwindling numbers, though they do. The Judenrat was a council of twelve at the time of the invasion, and there are five left. My father, Peter’s father, and Rabbi Stolarz, the town’s outspoken religious leader, were among the seven we’ve lost.

            I don’t like facing them, because I’m ashamed of myself. I know what they think of me. Doctor Kaminski and Pan Pasternak genuinely think I have it in me to become my father. Pan Sobol looks at us pityingly, like he knows we’re in over our heads. Pan Lehrer thinks we’re fools for trying. The fifth member is Rabbi Seidel, who’s been at least ninety for as long as anyone can remember, and is only alive today because when the soldiers couldn’t find him in the first liquidation, they assumed he was dead already. They’ve all voiced their disappointment in me, though some for running away, and some for coming back. I’m never sure who makes me feel the worst about myself.

            We brought them to the war room. I let Peter do most of the talking. He can argue with such energy, they usually would rather let him do what he wants than try to quarrel with him. They like him better, anyway. In another life, Peter certainly would have joined their solemn ranks. He’s been here all the way, and he’s religious and respectful of tradition. He even grew his unkempt, red-brown beard out, in preparation for the meeting. I think he’s planning to keep it. He looks so much like his father with that beard. I look like my father when I grow mine out, too, which is exactly why I shave whenever I can.

            In any case, the elders didn’t really have much to say. The general consensus was that we can do whatever we want, if it makes us feel better, but there isn’t much confidence that we’ll accomplish anything. Doctor Kaminski is the exception. He’s one o the younger council members, though four years in the ghetto have made him look as old as any of them. He still wears a pair of glasses he bought from my father, so it hurts to look at him. He already does so much for the underground; there are far more sick and dying people than he can attend to. But he also knows his chemistry, and chemistry means bombs. Molotov cocktails, that kind of thing.

            I’m going to send him to Jim, because that sounds like the kind of thing Jim might know about too, and because Jim might actually be useful if he knew how to treat the kind of diseases that this ghetto breeds. Jim’s floundering a bit so far, but he’s trying to make himself as useful as possible. I haven’t seen much of Gabe since the rally, but I’ve heard he’s making good progress on the sniper team, too.

            Tentatively, at least, I can admit I was wrong: the boys are doing good work.

            I’m beginning to see that Erich is going to be our most valuable weapon, in that he has actually supplied most of the weapons. In just this first week he nicked two pistols and an extra radio, without even being asked. Peter grumbles every time Erich does something well, but he’s in no position to turn away free guns. Erich’s donations bring our stockpile to six. I’m going to ask if he can get his hands on some chemicals or gasoline for the explosives, though I don’t know what kind of luck he’ll have.

            I think he wants to be more involved, and I want to let him. His helpfulness is not wearing Peter down an inch, though. I actually wanted to bring Erich to the council meeting, if nothing else then as further proof of his loyalty. Peter shot me down, though. It might not have been the best idea �" there are a million ways a meeting between Erich and a council of Jews could have gone wrong �" but Erich deserves a bigger piece of this uprising.

            I’m going to test the waters, give him some semblance of command over a team. Maybe hand-to-hand combat; I’ve heard him go on about bare-knuckle boxing. Hell, I know for a fact he can dislocate an arm with hardly any effort. That’s what I’ll do, set up a team of volunteers for unarmed fighting, see how that goes.

            Erich says no official word on liquidation yet, though Dietrich expects it any day now. That gives us probably six weeks. Sometimes I have to remind myself that this is really happening; I’m really back here, trying to be a leader, again. But I wanted this. I called up the Resistance, not Peter, and not the elders, so I don’t have a choice but to come through.