Montevideo/Shanghai

THE MONTEVIDEO CONNECTION

NEW YORK CITY 1954

The two women were sitting by the small table in front of the Café having their coffee at lunch hour.

Rachel, with her slicked back hair and crafted waves, turned to her sister Riva and asked “How are things doing between you and your husband?”

At first Riva looked away. But then she turned and stared at her sister’s dark eyes “Do you really want to know what is happening?” Despite Rachel’s silence, Riva continued “Remember I mentioned to you the other day that I complained to Phillip that he never compliments me when I make an effort to get dressed and look nice for him?”

“I recall something like that” Rachel responded.

“Well today I came down to breakfast in my nightgown, and guess what he said ‘Oh Riva what a beautiful dress!’ can you believe this? The man does not know the difference between an evening gown and pajamas!”

After getting her feelings off her chest Riva turned to her sister “And by you?”

“Well I am investing many hours into my research. I think I mentioned to you that I am writing a book about the Prophet Isaiah?” “Several times dear” Riva casually retorted, in a disinterested tone.

After several sips of coffee Rachel popped up and asked “Did you hear anything from Montevideo?”  “Not recently” responded Riva removing some lint from her fur coat. Rachel continued “In her last letter, Mother mentioned that Aliza is planning to move to Israel in the near future. I think it will be wonderful for Mother. She is at times lonely, especially since Yitzale moved out.”

As the conversation progressed, a large-built middle-aged man sitting by a table adjacent to the sisters lowered his newspaper and asked the women “Are you the daughters of the old Mrs. Kolitz of Jerusalem?”

“Yes” exclaimed Rachel with excitement as some saliva departed her mouth.

The fellow smiled and added “So how is your brother Chaim doing? And what about Tzvi?”  

After cherishing the perplexed look on their faces, he added “and what about your brother-in-law, the chief rabbi of Uruguay?”

The smirk on his face lasted for some time. “Let me enlighten you...”

ERLANGER GERMANY 1933

As he was pushing his glasses back to the top of his nose, Hillel Mannes rode his bike into the university campus and made his way to the registrar’s office. He was quite tense on the last moments of the journey recalling the vile anti-Semitic atmosphere he faced during the previous semester. After leaning the bike on the back wall of the red brick building, he strolled to the front door and noticed a sign stating “Hunde und Juden konnen sich nicht registrieren” -dogs and Jews cannot register. Standing by the door in disbelief, he noticed a group of young men standing a few yards away looking and pointing at him. He walked back to the back of the building and started to ride. As he reached the intersection of Brucker Street, he noticed a familiar face from school. The facial expression on his friend indicated awareness of the latest developments.

“So Schwab, how are you going to deal with the new reality?”

Mannes and Schwab grew up with similar ideals and backgrounds. Both came from homes that practiced and valued traditional Judaism, yet as German Jews, considered a secular education and a university degree as essential. With the new laws that banished Jewish students from German schools and universities, the two where in a similar predicament. Being that the road to a secular degree encountered unexpected obstacles, both viewed a rabbinic college, or a Yeshiva, as a reasonable alternative.  

With a lifeless tone, Schwab turned to Hillel “I am on my way to the Mirrer Yeshiva. And you Mannes, it does not seem that your thesis on ‘The Talmud and Freud’ is going to go too far.” Hillel’s dissertation on theories of the unconscious mind and its roots in the central text of Rabbinic Judaism, were well circulated among his friends.

Hillel smiled, got back on his bike, and turned to Schwab “Perhaps Telshe...” referring to the renown Yeshiva founded in a small town in northern Lithuanian under the guidance of Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Bloch. After wishing his colleague success with his studies, Hillel continued his ride on his old bicycle.  Little did he know that his journey, will last for over thirteen years.

ALYTUS LITHUANIA 1937

Rabbi Aharon Milevsky walked into his house and placed his satchel on the table as his wife Paya walked into the room. “So Aharon how was your trip to Kovno?”

Removing several books and notes from his satchel and without making eye contact he responded “All good!”. Paya walked over, placed her hand on the books, indicating to her husband that she was not content with his respond.  She lifted her face looked into her husband’s eyes, and asked in a firm and determined voice “What did the Kovno Rabbi say?”  

After hesitating for a second he responded “He said that I was right!”

“Oy vey” Paya cried out “Uruguay?! I do not know of one person, in all of Lithuania that would even dream of going there! No one even heard of the place!”

“Nshame!” exclaimed Aharon as he picked up his four year old daughter and kissed her.

The young girl turned to her father with excitement “So we are moving?”

Paya made her way to the kitchen, as Aharon motioned to Nshame to go to the back room. “I told you, that He is not a threat to Germany, He is a threat to all of Europe. Everyone thinks I am crazy to leave my position here, yet, the Kovno Rabbi agrees!”  

“So let him move to Montevideo!” she cried out.

“I actually made him an offer” responded Aharon with a smile.

“And?” Paya asked in a cynical tone.

In a firm tone Aharon turned to Paya and proclaimed “He said a young Rabbi should go, and we will go!” Looking at his wife’s showing pregnancy he added “At the right time, of course.”

Little Nshame was at the door, enjoying every word of the conversation.

TELSHE LITHUANIA 1940

A balding Hillel Mannes was returning to town from doing some work for the Agudath Israel periodical Idisher Lebn. Hillel understood the viewpoint of the Yeshiva in Telshe that every moment of the day should be applied to the study of Torah, to the exclusion of all secular studies. Yet he cherished his own acquirement of a secular education in University. His ability to communicate Torah values by means of his writing skills was a tool he was happy to utilize, and the Agudath Israel periodical was the venue of choice.  

As he passed by Mrs. Trachtenberg’s house on Taikos road, he noticed a new face in town. He took a short glance and moved on. Mrs. Trachtenberg noted his interest in the young Polish refuge, Yenta Wrubel.

Yenta was quite happy to finally settle in one place. After almost being caught by the Russian border patrol as she was crossing from Poland into Lithuania, and the lack of hospitality in Eyshishok, a place to call home was all she wanted. Despite losing her father and leaving her mother and family in Poland she had a very positive attitude and was extremely optimistic. The positive vibes emitted by Yenta caught the attention of Hillel.

After the meting between the two was arranged, they met. Yenta was very comfortable and open with Hillel.

“Well I am thankful to be here in an independent country. After being on the run and the terrifying exit from Poland, I see myself remaining in Telshe for some time”

Hillel was surprised to find such an unflustered attitude by a person in exile. “Where do you get this idea that we are safe here? This can all change in a moment!” He stated with his heavy German accent.

“Well,” Yenta countered “everyone seems calm. All the neighbors are calm. Even the Rosh Yeshiva believes that there is no reason to panic. The head of the Yeshiva stated, that we will not leave here with a lack of dignity, like refugees on the run.”

Hillel felt that he must make his views of the situation clear to his future wife. “Well I do not agree! The other day Rabbi Weinberg of Berlin was in town. He asked members of the Yeshiva why they do not realize that the ground is burning under them. They of course responded like what you are saying ‘We will leave with dignity!’”  

As they continued to walk Hillel added “I am beginning to focus on getting out of here! Ideally my preference would be to reach America. A new branch of the Yeshiva is being opened by Reb Eli Meir in a place called Cleveland.  

Yenta nodded several times, saying to herself quietly:  “America.” After a moment she added “I have family in America. If you want I can cable my uncle Sam Litt to see if he can help.” Hillel smiled as an indication of his approval.  

The engagement took place without representatives from their families. The community in Telshe was there instead. Telegraphs were sent to London England, and Rutki Poland, to inform their families.

A few weeks latter Yenta was making her way to visit her fiancé. She was impressed with his intellectual abilities and with the fact that he came from a cultured environment. For a Polish girl a German Jew -or Yek- was considered a catch. Yet his pessimism regarding the situation in Europe was bothering her. She hoped that perhaps he will change his outlook and just wait it out like the others in town. As she walked into the house she found Hillel sitting by the table with a glass of tea placed in front of him, getting colder by the minute. His sullen facial expression was obvious to Yenta. She knew that his determination to leave did not abate one iota and that her detailed oriented fiancé has spotted complications. “The obstacles are overwhelming!” Hillel sighed. “What do you mean?” asked Yenta “The affidavit from my uncle Sam Litt from New York is waiting for us at the American Consulate in Moscow. We are going to America!”

“Well, A lot more is needed to get out of here.”

After noticing the perplexed look on Yenta’s face, he added “The affidavit is to get into America: however the Russians, who recently stripped Lithuania of its independence, will not give us an exit visa unless we have a transit visa to pass through Japan.”

“Why Japan?” wondered Yenta.

“We have a war to the west: the only way we can get to the United States of America is by traveling east, which of course will require a trip through Japan.”

After several moments of silence Hillel added “I will be traveling to Kovno. I heard that a former member of this community Chaim Nussbaum has something going there.”

As a Dutch citizen Chaim Nussbaum was confident that he will find a way out of Europe. After an inquiry at the Dutch consulate, he discovered that if a person desires to enter the Dutch colony of Curacao, an island in the southern Caribbean Sea off the Venezuelan coast, a permit from the local Governor was needed, not a traditional visa. Nussbaum asked the consul of the Netherlands to Lithuania Jan Zwartendijk to provide a paper stating the aforementioned fact: No visa required to enter Curacao. Realizing that such a paper could be quite valuable for others, he requested several such certificates. Technically, it was only a piece of paper stating a fact. Yet Nussbaum felt that perhaps it can be used to set in motion an exodus plan.

Providentially the plan worked. The Nussbaum certificate was utilized by many, like the Mirrer Yeshiva, to begin the process of exiting Russian controlled Lithuania. Carriers of the Curacao Visa Approached the Japanese Counsel in Kovno requesting a transit visa to pass through Japan. The vice-consul of the Japanese Consulate Chiune Sugihara was presented the visas. However, he knew that the Curacao visas were worthless, since the local governor of Curacao rarely granted permission of entry to foreigners. Nevertheless aware of the fact that Jews were in danger if they stayed behind, Sugihara granted visas on his own initiative. Sugihara provided visas, spending all day on them, producing a regular month's worth of visas each day, until early September 1940, when the consulate was closed by the Japanese government.

Rumors of being able to obtain visas in Kovno reached Telshe. Hillel decided that a visit to Kovno and locating Sugihara was a route he must take if in fact they were to get out of Europe.   

It was a cold September morning and Hillel was not in the greatest of moods. Yenta handed him some money as he began walking down Stoties road to the train station.

As the train pulled into the station in Kovno, he noticed a very large crowd leaving the area. Rushing of the train he dashed through the mob attempting to figure out what was happening. After looking around for some time he approached a Yeshiva looking individual “What is this tumult all about? What is happening?” The fellow responded as he was hurrying away “Chiune Sugihara from the Japanese Consulate just departed. The people and crowds you see were getting a Japan visa.” Hillel realized that he will be returning to Telshe empty handed.

As the days went by, Hillel spent his time sending cables to acquaintances throughout the world, asking them to assist in getting a Japan transit-visa and thus, get permission to leave Lithuania, from the Russians. Yenta began to think of different ways to find favor in the eyes of the Russians and somehow be granted permission to leave.

Dumas Rocius new home was a familiar landmark for Yenta. During her first few weeks in Telshe, before the house was confiscated by the Russians, Yenta rented a room there from Mrs. Trachtenberg. Once the Communist arrived the beautiful wooden residence was handed over to the local party chairman, Dumas Rocius. For virtually everybody he was a person you avoided eye contact with. However Yenta had a gut feeling that a relationship with his wife Kasia would be beneficial.

“How is your day going Yenta?” Kasia yelled out in Polish, from the deck, as Yenta walked over. Being that Yenta was the only one in town that she was able to converse in her native Polish, seeing her excited Kasia immensely.  

“Things are OK” responded Yenta. “I have a small gift for you Kasia.” she added as the box of chocolates was placed in Kasia’s hand. Yenta understood that their friendship must be greased at times with some luxuries. “Thank you, come Yenta have a seat. It is always so nice to talk in our language.”

After looking at the box for a moment, Kasia continued “At times it is lonely here away from home.” Switching to an upbeat tone, she added “But you know my husband is now a very important person... with powerful friends” Yenta tried very hard not to indicate to Kasia that in her mind Rocius remains a simple janitor. “Even the chief officer in Kovno, Petrauskas, is his best friend!” After a few moments of silence as they were looking at a group of Yeshiva men passing by, Kasia turned to Yenta “And how are you?” Yenta sensed that she had an opportunity to make her friendship productive. “Well...” as she lowered her voice “We are not in such a good situation. We want to get to America. Not because it is not good here but rather to be with family. However we do not have any connections to the NKVD and they most probably will not grant us permission to leave.” Kasia, after scrutinizing the sour look on Yenta’s face, nodded with confidence. It was time for her to show her newly acquired powers.

Yenta ran into the house, where her fiancé was sitting and reading, with great excitement. “What is it?” wondered Hillel noticing Yenta’s enthusiasm. Yenta lifted the envelope “A letter that will get us out of here!”

It took several days to get everything together but eventually they were on their way. As Hillel was loading the valises onto the train Rivka Bloch waked over with a cylinder shaped box in her hand. “Safe trip to America Hillel. Can I ask you for a favor?” Hillel nodded “Can you give my husband this Scroll of Ester when you see him?” “Not a problem” he responded. She nodded with a dismal look in her eyes and left.

Hillel looked out the window as the landscape of Telshe passed by. He turned to Yenta “I wonder what will be with the rest of the community.”

As the uneventful ride was coming to an end and the train was pulling into Kovno, Hillel’s facial expressions were indicating that he was unsettled. “You know that this letter from Rocius to the NKVD is worthless if they ask for a Japanese Visa?”

Yenta looked back at Hillel and smiled “We did our part. You appealed to so many people to try to get a transit-visa. Now it is up to God!” Hillel was uncomfortable with the response. He viewed it as a simplistic Polish approach to a complex situation. Nevertheless he did not say anything and got up to begin disembarking.

The hustle and bustle by the refugees at the entrance to the NKVD office was overwhelming.  People pushed and shoved to make their way to the public entrance, bearing in mind that the office, and a ticket to freedom, might close at any given moment.

Hillel walked slowly towards the doorway observing the mayhem with bewilderment.  

As he walked up the stairs to get in, a large hand was stretched out blocking his access. “Are you on the list?” asked the bulky fellow with a grey fedora. “If you want in, your name must be on the list!” he yelled out, pointing to a sheet of paper on the wall. Hillel walked over and noticed a long list of names. As he pulled out his pen, a fellow walked over to him and muttered “Don’t bother, they wont get to you today anyway. You need to come early in the morning. That is the only way you have a chance!” As the guy walked away Hillel was getting quite uneasy concerning their prospects.

The next day Hillel was by the list at 5:00am. When he retuned less than two hours later the list was gone only to be replaced with a new one. Annoyed at the predicament he turned to the person standing by the door “What happened to the first list?” The fellow, not too fond of the firm German accent responded: “Someone did not like it.”

The following day, Hillel waited by the door until he finally got into the building.

Once he was inside he looked out over the crowed and noticed Yenta arriving. “Yenta!” he yelled several times until she noticed. When she approached the door Hillel turned to the guard “She is with me.”

As they walked through the crammed corridors they noticed an official looking individual sitting by a desk. Hillel walked over and asked “Petrauskas?” the fellow looked up, raised his eyebrows and pointed to a set of stairs. When they reached the top of the stairway they noticed two large doors with the name Petrauskas on one of them. Yenta knocked and the door swung open. Yenta handed over the letter to the fellow, as he motioned the two of them to enter the boss’s room. The boss Vladislav Petrauskas was relaxing at his desk smoking a cigar. The large individual with his waxed handlebar moustache did not appear, to Hillel, as one than likes to work to hard. Petrauskas looked at their file and the letter from Rocius. After a moment he signaled to the official standing by the door, who in turn told Hillel: “Go downstairs and wait until your name is listed on the bulletin board.”

After hours of wait, late in the night Yenta noticed an official walking over to the board. As he walked away she spotted their name on the board. They stepped into an additional large waiting room, only to be welcomed by another crowd. No seat was available so they both remained standing. After some time the official in front called out their names. Hillel, after taking a few steps towards the office, noticed a familiar face walked out. “Naftoli?” he asked, surprised to see the son of the renowned Rabbi Elchonon Wassermann. “Hillel” he exclaimed, “I just saw your name a minute ago on a cable.” Hillel was not sure what he meant. Naftoli added “On the desk of the Russ I saw a cable from Kobe that landing in Japan will be granted to Mannes by presenting American Visa.” Hillel was astonished as he stepped into the official’s office.

After looking over the documents, the bureaucrat turned to Hillel with the question the latter was waiting for. “Where is your Japanese visa?” Without missing a beat, he responded “I believe that the Japanese authorities have cabled and given me permission to enter Japan.” The official glanced at Hillel and Yenta and slowly opens the drawer, took out the cable and after reviewing it for a couple of moments stamped the passports without a word. As they walked out of the office Yenta turned to Hillel “How did Naftoli know?”

“He must have asked the official to see the cable for himself, and then noticed our name.”

Yenta continued asking “but the timing, how do you explain that?”

“We did our part: the rest was up to God!” Hillel replied with a smirk.

Within a very short period of time, Hillel realized that their journey to the east is facing a new challenge. The response from the official at the Intourist Office, to their request for tickets to Vladivostok, the Eastern border of Russia, was short “one hundred and fifty U.S. dollars per ticket.” As they stepped out of the building, Yenta noticed the look of gloom on Hillel’s face, and immediately came up with the familiar idea “We will send a cable to my uncle Sam in New York.”

After a few steps Hillel interjected with a tone of some optimism “We will tell him to give the money to the Telshe Yeshiva office in New York, and we can get the funds from them locally!” The idea sounded faultless. Yet days went by, and the money was not there.

“Hello Rabbi Wessler” Hillel yelled into the phone at the post office as he was trying, for the forth time, to find out what was happening. “We need the money today!” he cried out “our exit visas are for two weeks only. They will expire tomorrow!”

Two days later Hillel walked into the apartment and turned to Yenta “Finally... they will give the funds, but only as a ‘loan’.”  Hillel was unhappy with the situation. The funds were handed to the Telshe representative in New York, yet now he had an additional financial responsibility to repay the organization.  

“And now one of us will have to go to the NKVD office for a visa extension.” Yenta got the hint and nodded. A couple hours later Yenta walked in with a smile “They will have the passports stamped by Monday.” not knowing how she did it, Hillel was nevertheless pleased. “We will be on the train Monday!” He responded with certainty.

As Yenta finished placing the food in the wicker basket for the trip, she walked over to the room where Hillel was zipping up the suitcase. “So we meet at the train by noon?” she asked “Yes, and good luck at the NKVD office.” Hillel stepped into the kitchen and glanced at the basket. “So I will be schlepping that as well? ...See you at the station.”

Hillel was standing by Parodos road attempting to flag down a taxi. After a few minutes with no success, he hailed a horse-driven wagon. The gratifying feeling of saving the expense of a taxi evaporated when he grasped the pace of the horse. “Can you please speed up” he asked “I have a train to catch!” The driver had no intention in overworking his partner.  Hillel was grinding and clenching his teeth throughout the short journey, which seemed to take forever. The wagon arrived at the train station with fewer than three minutes to spare. Hillel looked up towards the platform and noticed Yenta in panic. Nachman Appel, a cousin of Yenta, dashed over to Hillel and began caring the luggage and the basket of food up the three floors to the platform. They both stepped into the narrow train doorway as Hillel yanked the suitcases in. However, they were not able to get the basket thru the door. Hillel was standing inside looking at Nachman holding the basket outside as the conductor blew the whistle. “Take it to the baggage wagon!” Hillel yelled. However, it was too late: the train was moving. Yenta looked out the window and waved to her cousin as he shouted out “I will send it on the next train to Moscow...”

It took them both several minutes to recover from the dash to the train. “I think I had enough with visits to bureaucratic offices” she said. After looking out the window for a few moments Yenta added “I had a major adventure at the NKVD office. They could not find our passports.” Hillel’s look to Yenta was a clear sign that he is waiting to hear the happy ending. “Well... I had no choice but to yell and scream until the head of the department stopped everything, to find them under a pile of documents.” After Hillel’s nod she added “Your late arrival to the train was also not helpful.” Hillel was too tired to go through the story of his delay.

As the train was approaching Moscow Hillel said to himself aloud “First stop American consulate!” turning to Yenta he added “With the American visa in hand we will have no trouble getting a Japan visa and permission to go through Japan. And then finally we can reach, the United States of America.”

They got out of the Taxi just in front of the American consulate. As they walked into the small waiting room they heard wailing from the official’s office. The door swung open and a couple walked out. The female was crying hysterically as the bureaucrat addressed them in calm voice “I am sorry without the papers you must return to Siberia!” Hillel observed the commotion with great uneasiness. When their turn finally arrived, they were quite nervous yet certain that all will go as planed. Sam Litt provided the State Department in Washington with all the documents they requested. A cable confirmed that everything necessary was done. All they needed to do was pick up the visa from the consulate.

The official was looking at their file for some time as they waited silently on the wooden chairs. “Well...” the official said as he closed the file “no visa for you. The financial statement from your new congregation in New York is missing.”

“What do you mean? Everything was sent by Mr. Sam Litt?” The official ignored Hillel and yelled out “Next!”  The devastated couple walked out, realizing that arguing will get them nowhere.

The next few days, Hillel spent his time in and out of the post office sending cables to several people he knew. One day Hillel walked in and inquired if anything has arrived for him. As the postal worker handed him a envelop he noticed that it was sent from Sweden.

A brief note inside stated: “Try to get a Japan Visa with this Curacao document, regards Shlomo Wolbe.” Hillel recognized them name. Wolbe was a disciple of Hillel’s father.  

The official at the Japanese consulate in Moscow lifted the paper and threw it. “Worthless” he said. By now the Japanese figured out that Curacao document were fictitious and not an entry permit and thus, of no value. Hillel was back to square one. Even after several cables, telling everyone he knew, that they are stuck in Moscow, nothing came in. Sitting on a bench at a park Hillel turned to Yenta “I do not know what to do. But one thing is for sure: there is no way we are going back to Lithuania!”

“Well...we cannot stay here.” Yenta countered “We are not legal here and I do not want to end my life in Siberia!” After some thought Hillel got up and said “Well, we will continue eastward to Vladivostok. I will cable uncle Sam to send the affidavit with all the papers to the American consulate there.” His tone showed signs of exhaustion. Yet they both understood that it was time to continue their journey on the Trans-Siberian Railway.  

The ride from Moscow to Vladivostok took eight days. The outside temperature during the month of March, was many degrees below the freezing mark. Hillel would often sit on the bench, in the heated coach, and watch the Siberian landscape bearing in mind that they have no guarantee that they would be let out of the country. Like the rest of his people he felt unwanted and lost.     

At one of the unexpected stops, Hillel got of the train to buy some bread from a stand that was just a few yards from the station. The locals realized that he was limited with time, so they allowed him to go to the front of the line. As he was walking back he heard the conductor whistle. Hillel ran as fast as he can, and with seconds left, he barely, made the train.

On the fifth day of the ride, Hillel was fairly anxious. He decided to take a stroll into the other cabins. As he entered into the Kupe Class cabin he noticed a group of men who were dressed in customary Yeshiva garb. “So you are a Yek?” asked one of them “Do you know Avrohom Neuhaus?” pointing in the direction of a fellow immersed in his book. Hillel introduced himself to Neuhaus, and although they did not know one another, Neuhaus studied by Mannes’ father in Frankfurt, and they had many friends in common. “What’s you Visa situation?” asked Hillel. “Well,” he answered in low and calm tone “after getting an American Visa I received a transit Visa from the Japanese. And you Hillel?” Hillel shared with his new friend the story and quandary he was in.

After a couple of minutes Neuhaus turned to Hillel “Can I see your passport?” after comparing his own passport to Hillel’s he said “I have a solution to your problem. Our German passports are identical. I can remove the page from my passport that has the Japanese transit visa, and replace it with the same blank page from your passport. When we reach Vladivostok I can approach the Japanese counsel and after presenting my American Visa I should have no problem replacing the visa!” Hillel was tempted by the offer, yet he felt uncomfortable with it. Pointing to the characters on the passport page, that were in Japanese, he asked “What if the Japanese, identifies you by name?”  Neuhaus was determined to help. As he jumped up he stated: “We will find that out!” Neuhaus walked through the train to seek out someone to translate the words. After ten minutes he returned and declared “I confirmed with two Japanese, the name of the bearer is not mentioned.” Hillel shook his head. “Your offer is very gracious, however I cannot do it. What if there is no Japanese counsel present in Vladivostok? I cannot risk your welfare.” Neuhaus tried to argue as Hillel returned to his cabin. Hillel was impressed with the altruisms of Neuhaus despite the personal risk it involved.

The next day a young fellow walked over to Yenta and Hillel and introduces himself as a Jew from Birobidzhan, a region that was established by the Soviet Government as a Jewish home. After a few words between them, the young man looked at Hillel’s boots and pointed, “I will give you two hundred rubles for them.” Hillel purchased the leather boots in Lithuania before the journey with the intention of selling them for a higher price in Russia. However the asking price for such an item in Eastern Siberia was much more than the two hundred rubles being offered. Nevertheless, Hillel sold the boots to the young man. “Are you traveling alone?” Yenta asked. “No” my father is down a few cabins. He is very pious man. He has not eaten any meat since the revolution in 1918. Kosher food is a big part of his life, and we have no ritual slaughterer in Birobidzhan.”

Yenta took out a piece of salami from her bag “Give it to your father.” The fellow jumped up in excitement, and ran to present to his father the treasure. He returned after a few minutes with a disappointed look on his face “My father is not convinced that it is actually kosher.” Hillel hand him his Hebrew prayer book, to prove to the old man that the meat came from an observant Jew. The young man returned later on with the prayer book and a big smile. “My father is a happy man today!”

The following night was the holiday of Purim. Hillel read from the Scroll of Ester given to him by Rivka Bloch. Afterwards, it was handed over to the Yeshiva students, for them to read, and fulfill the ritual command.

The voyage had finally come to an end. They got off the Train with nowhere to go. Yenta located others with the same dilemma, and a lively discussion ensued. “Waiting is not an option” a middle-aged man cried out “It is illegal for us to be here and within weeks, we will be sent to Siberia.” As Hillel walked over to join the gathering, another person added “I received a cable from a relative in Moscow that the Russians are not allowing Jews to board the Trans-Siberian without a Japanese visa. In other words they are aware of the fact that we are here with no where to go. Evidently they see us as a problem!” Hillel realized how fortunate Yenta and he were that they did not have trouble traveling east. Yet a dejected mood of all present was obvious. The conversation was not leading to any solutions so Hillel motioned to Yenta and they started walking away. Suddenly he heard someone mention Shanghai as an international city with no entry permit required. Although the Japanese controlled China, they did not interfere with the governing of the city. Thus Shanghai was an option. However the communication between Vladivostok and Shanghai was very limited and it was very seldom that ships came or went that way. Hillel recalled receiving from his father back in Germany a list with several contacts around the world. After looking through the valise he found it. He turned to Yenta: “I will send some cables today, one of them to Shanghai.” For Hillel America was the destination of choice. Nevertheless he prepared for a short term plan B as well.

After several days of waiting they decided to take a stroll by the seashore. Observing several fisherman unloading goods from their vessel, Hillel turned to Yenta “We are running out of funds. The few rubles from the boots have been consumed by Hotel Intourist.” Yenta placed her hand on one of the button of her blouse and after removing it she handed Hillel a golden ruble. “My mother sewed one on, in case of emergency.” Hillel smiled. The funds bridged them over for a few additional days.

One afternoon Hillel noticed that an American ship was anchored at the port, and the sailors had shore leave, a time that sailors get to spend time and money on dry land. “Anybody speak some English?” one of them called out. Hillel walked over and offered his services. “Where can we exchange our dollars for rubles?” The fellow asked. Hillel saw an opportunity to make some money. “You can go to an official exchange and get five rubles per dollar: However, I think I can help you do better.” The sailor trusted the Jew and gave him ten dollars to exchange. Hillel recalled seeing one of the other refugees dealing with currency and got from him fifteen rubles per dollar. He returned to the sailor “I got you thirteen rubles for each dollar.” The sailor was delighted and shared the incident with other sailors. Hillel was pleased that he was able to gather some essential funds.

Passover was approaching and the gloomy atmosphere was apparent. One morning one of the refuges was drinking a black coffee at a wooden stand and noticed Hillel walking by. “Hey you!” the fellow called out. Hillel recognized him as one of the group. As Hillel approached him he started sharing with him the latest. “There is no question that the Russians are aware of our group. Locals tell me that from past experience shipment to Siberia could take place on any given day. However I do have some good news. I have done some research and found out that a coal boat makes a stopover in Vladivostok on its way to Shanghai.”

“Every how often do they actually visit Vladivostok?” Hillel inquired. “A local fisherman will be providing me some answers later today.”

When Hillel met up with the fellow in the afternoon he did not get any encouraging news “Well, further investigation revealed that such Journeys occur once or perhaps twice a year.” The day ended with Hillel more apprehensive than in the morning.  

Additional bad news arrived the following day. A cable came in from Shanghai informing the refugees that although visas were not required they needed entry permits to Shanghai. With no traveling vessel and no guaranty of admission, the situation was bleak.

Passover was celebrated in the traditional manner. Potatoes were easy to obtain, regarding the Matzo, they had some luck. A rabbi by the name of Moshe Shatzkes known as the Lomza Rov, was passing through Vladivostok on his way to America via Japan. Meeting the group and seeing their lack of Passover basics he left several pieces of unleavened bread for the refugees. However the festive atmosphere of a holiday was lacking: they all felt depressed. They dreaded the thought that if things do not change miraculously they were on the way to Siberia.

Friday the eighteenth of April 1941 was the seventh day of Passover. Hillel was on his way to the makeshift synagogue when he heard the news: the coal boat ARTICA will be passing Vladivostok on its way to Shanghai! The information was cabled to the Intourist office from Shanghai. In addition Rabbi Ashkenazi of Shanghai obtained entry permits for all the forty seven refugees stranded in Vladivostok. The emotions that morning were high. Tears of joy streamed down their faces as they were singing the prayer of praise the Hallel.

On the following day, the day of departure, Hillel was a little apprehensive. From what he was picking up from other refuges, the conditions in Shanghai were not the best. The city, he was told, was a crowded, unsanitary, and crime-ridden “hellhole.” Yet he was hopeful that it will not take long until they get the missing documents from Uncle Sam Litt, and continue to America.

As they were preparing to board the ship, a Russian customs official approached the group and with the assistance of two solders began searching through their belongings. Hillel was nervous, due to the fact that he was involved in illegal activity, namely: exchanging foreign currency. Yenta tucked a twenty dollar bill into a feather pillow that she brought with her from Poland, and Hillel after observing their detailed search of others was concerned that the money will be found. Fortunately all they discovered was one US quarter, and they confiscated it. Hillel had difficulty controlling his smile as he boarded the ship. As the Russian shore was shrinking in the distance Yenta turned to Hillel “It is so wonderful that Russia is part of our past.” Hillel facial expression conveyed mixed feelings. He was mindful of the challenging future.    

MONTEVIDEO URUGUAY DECEMBER 1941

Sitting at the head of the table at home, Rabbi Milevsky was observing his two daughters converse in Spanish. Yiddish was the official language at home, yet even the four-year-old Aliza was fluent in the south-American lingo. Paya walked into the room, and handed her husband an envelope. The rabbi was gazing at his wife’s expecting stomach as he opened the envelope. The first word he noticed on the telegram was “Shanghai.” He was not surprised.

The Rabbi began getting involved with relief for Yeshiva refugees while they were still in Vilna. The majority of the students who escaped from Poland in the early days of the war, and were in Vilna, had no money for basic needs. Rabbi Milevsky was contacted by Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, the leader of the Yeshiva community, and when the former learnt of the grave situation, he immediately got engaged in raising funds for their needs, and anticipated rescue out of Europe. In May 1941, when Milevsky learnt that his colleague Chaim Schmulevitz, was in the Far East, he had a hunch that he will be called back into action.

After examining the telegram, he got up, put on his hat and jacket, and walked towards the door. “I am going to talk to Eliya Weinreich, it is an urgent mater.” Before Paya had a chance to get some more information, he was gone.

The Rabbi was deep in thought as he marched down the narrow sidewalks of Soriano Street. The task presented to him was vital: human life will depend on him. He knew personally many of the refugees in Shanghai and was determent to do his part. Yet he needed help. The only person to turn to in such circumstances was Eliya Weinreich.

“What can I do for you Rabbi” asked Weinreich sensing that the visit was for an important cause. Milevsky got to the point without delay. “Are you aware of the fact that hundreds of Yeshiva students, escaping the clutches of Hitler, made their way to Shanghai?” Weinreich nodded in silence.

“Well” the rabbi continued: “the outbreak of the war in the Pacific is causing detrimental consequences on the Yeshiva refugees in Shanghai. The break in communication between Shanghai and the United States, because of the attack on Pearl Harbor, has put an end to incoming relief aid.”

“What do you mean?” asked Weinreich.

The Rabbi got up walked a few steps and looking out the window he added. “The United States State Department prohibits all communication and transition of monies to countries under enemy occupation. The Japanese control Shanghai. Thus the Vaad Hatzalah in New York has abruptly ended all fund transfers and cables to Shanghai. Rabbi Kalmanowitz and Rabbi Kotler in America have been doing a tremendous amount for them. Unfortunately new venues must be put in place, and fast.”

After a few moments of silence the Rabbi removed the telegram from his pocket and turned to his trusted friend. “We are in a neutral country and I just got a cable from Rabbi Chaim Schmulevitz, Dean of the Mirrer Yeshiva in Shanghai. They need our help!”  

“So they what us to communicate with New York and be an in-between” Weinreich stated. “Precisely!” Milevsky stated as he walked over to his new partners and shock his hand. “Come over tonight to my office we can begin our operation.” Milevsky nodded and left.

“So how do you fit into the picture?” Paya asked her husband as she was relaxing on the rocking chair. The rabbi was pacing up and down the room with a cigarette between his fingers, as he explained. “Funds are actually available in Shanghai banks. However the only way the locals will release the money is by depositing the same amount in US banks in accounts owned by these people from Shanghai.” After a few puffs from his cigarette he continued “Deposits are being made in the United States due to a fundraising endeavor by the Vaad, however transferring information to the Far East is a big problem. It is illegal to transfer funds and impossible to cable areas controlled by Japan, from the United States. Uruguay on the other hand, declared neutrality back in 1939 therefore it is possible to receive the information from North America and forward it to Shanghai.” Watching his wife’s face warily he added “However, we must be cautious.”

Paya placed her hand on her stomach and with a tone of annoyance and concern inquired “Are you telling me, that you plan to get involved in illegal activity?”

The rabbi retorted “It is not illegal...perhaps questionable.”

Paya was not satisfied. “I am expecting our third child in a month, and you have nothing better to do than put you life and our future in danger? No way! I will not accept this!”

The rabbi, in a firm tone made himself clear “We are dealing with a life and death situation. The world is in a state of chaos! We have no idea what is happening in Europe to our families and people, but let me tell you, I have a bad feeling concerning the situation. If we, here in Uruguay have relative calm, and the ability to do something, to help, we will do it!” Paya understood very well that the “we” is steadfast to the mission.

The two girls were in the side room following every word of the conversation with great interest. “Is Papa going to be in trouble?” asked the four-year-old Aliza with unease in her voice. “No...Not from the government... maybe from Mom.” Nshame replied.

Sitting in his office late at night the rabbi elucidated on the details of the operation to Weinreich “So I received an additional cable from Rabbi Kalmanowitz in New York. He of course is active with the Vaad Hatzala.”

“Who are the other rabbis involved?” wondered Weinreich.

“Well several rabbis and lay-leaders are part of the act. Rabbi Aharon Kotler, who incidentally arrived only quite recently to the United States, is without a doubt a driving force.”

After a sip of tea, the rabbi continued “Now what we must figure out is a way of getting information from the Vaad in New York to Montevideo, and in turn to Rabbi Chaim Schmulevitz in Shanghai, without the censors becoming suspicious.” Weinreich raised his hand and interrupted with a smile “When you say ‘information’ what do you mean? If all we need to do is tell Shanghai that funds nave been deposited in New York, a dollar amount is all you need to cable?” The rabbi nodded “So here is where it gets complex. The monies collected or pledged in the United States are earmarked. They are assigned to particular groups of refugees, usually associated with specific Yeshivas. The information must be detailed yet discreet, but first we most figure out a code.”

Weinreich was not sure what was expected from him. He had a feeling that listing was his function for the time being.

The rabbi continued “Now it can work as follows:” Weinreich nodded recognizing that the rabbi had already put it together.

Rabbi Milevsky continued “When it comes to names it will not be a problem. For instance: if we need to notify Shanghai that funds should be given to the Mirrer Yeshiva, we can write ‘regards Mirsky.’ For the Kletzk Yeshiva we will note ‘regards Kotler since everyone can connect Rabbi Kotler with his Yeshiva.”

“And what is the plan for conveying amounts?” wondered Weinreich.

Milevsky got up, and with a grin of satisfaction explained “The code will be based on the first chapter of the book of Exodus. Each of  Jacob’s sons listed as having gone down to Egypt will be given a numerical value in ascending order: Reuben, Shimon, Levi, Yehuda Issachar, Zevulun, Binyamin, Dan, Naftali, Gad and Asher. Reuben will be the code for one hundred dollars, and each name after that represented an additional hundred. We will cable Shanghai and New York to study the weekly portion on January tenth, when we read the beginning of the book of Exodus. They will figure out the rest.” Weinreich was impressed with the plan: however he was waiting for his assignment. After a moment the rabbi gave it to him “Reb Elya, we will need some resources for cables, and in addition I would like us to fundraise for the immediate needs of the refugees. Weinreich got up shock Rabbi Milevsky’s hand. “Whatever is necessary Rabbi.” As he walked out, the Rabbi sat down and began preparing the telegrams.

Working into the late hours of the night, the rabbi would stop every once in a while, walk to the window and look outside, deep in thought. It was a hectic period in his life. The past four years in Montevideo were quite a surprise. At times he felt like he is on a different planet. The infrastructure of Jewish life that was taken for granted in Lithuania, did not exist in Uruguay, and the rabbi had a lot of work to do. In addition he felt he had a responsibility to help the Jewish people around the globe and in some ways believed that he was spared to fulfill a unique task. Shanghai became for the rabbi more than a place on the map but a statement that signified purpose and his personal mission.   

The next few days the rabbi made several visits to the post office. He would walk with pride to Plaza Cagancha Road, with a sense of significance. He was mindful of the magnitude of the operation.

It was Tuesday January thirteenth 1942. The rabbi was sitting at the table smoking a cigarette as the girls were playing a card game. His wife was expecting their third child any day, yet the rabbi had other things on his mind. Earlier in the day on his way back from the post office he noticed three men in suits observing him from the other side of the road. Although he was accustomed of locals scrutinizing his rabbinic garb, he perceived something different regarding these men. He tried to get his mind off of the issue, yet he knew that he will be facing a problem.

After noticing his wife sitting for an extended period of time on the couch he walked over to her and asked “Everything OK with you?” she did not respond as the rabbi became aware of her heavy breathing. Before he was able to figure out the next step, he heard a knock on the door. The rabbi walked over to the front door and after hesitating for a moment he open it. As soon as he saw the three men, he realized that he was in a quandary. Nevertheless, he remained confident and calm as he faced them. “Are you Rabbi Aharon Milevsky?” the shortest of the three asked. “Yes and how can I help you?” the rabbi retorted in an unyielding tone.

The short visitor continued “My colleagues are from the United States. They work for the government.” The official was waiting for a reaction from the rabbi. After discerning the stoic and emotionless expression on the latter’s face he continued. “You have been frequenting the post office quite often.”

“Yes” countered the rabbi.

After a few moments of silence the tall fellow to the right became impatient and spoke up in a broken Spanish “Look we are aware of something going on with you, and cables.” With annoyance in his tone, he continued. “My government is at war with Japan. You,” as he pointed at the rabbi “are collecting information from the United States and forwarding data to an area controlled by Japan.” The agent looked into the apartment and noticed the two little girls listing carefully to the exchange. He looked into the rabbi’s eyes and added “If you are concerned about the welfare of your family, we highly recommend that you immediately discontinue your activities.”

As the three walked away into the dark, the rabbi closed the door and noticed his wife walking with difficulty in his direction “What was that all about?” Her voice was loud and stern.

The rabbi trying to avoid eye contact responded: “Nothing to worry about.”

After a moment of silence, looking at her physical condition, he asked “Tell me how do you feel?”

Paya was fuming “How I feel? Let me tell you how I feel. I feel like you are placing this family in danger for the sake of others!” Nshame motioned to Aliza indicating that it was a good time to leave the room. After a few moments of rhythmical breathing, Paya calmed down, yet she continued her inquiry “So tell me, are they going to put you in jail?” The Rabbi raised his eyebrows and responded “All they are trying to do is find out more about the cables and intimidate me so that I should stop. They will not succeed!” Raising his voice a bit he added with conviction “I am here for a reason. I am the rabbi of this country, yet I have a responsibility to all Jews. What I can accomplish during this dark period of our history, no one else could.” The rabbi ceased his lecture when he realized his wife was in intense labor.

The next morning Paya and the rabbi celebrated the birth of a boy. Over the ensuing days the rabbi was engrossed in preparation for the circumcision ceremony. At the same time he continued with occasional stopovers at the post office.

It was a festive morning at the central Synagogue: the rabbi and his wife had their first boy.  All members of the community got in line to wish their spiritual leader congratulations.

“What was the name Rabbi? I could not hear from the back” asked the elderly fellow in his European accent. “Uziel” the rabbi replied. “Oh how nice.” As the rabbi was about to greet the next person in line, the old man continued “What does the name signify?”

“My strength comes from the Almighty!” the rabbi responded. The fellow smiled as he walked away.

When the rabbi noticed the subsequent individual, he lost his composure for a fleeing moment. The presence of one of his ‘visitors’ from the previous week, at the celebration, was not what he expected. “Congratulations and my best wishes to you” the dark-suited government official uttered in a caustic tone. “May you merit to enjoy your family for many years to come.” he added as he walked away. The rabbi was stoic during the brief encounter, but was able to continue his duties in welcoming the crowd.

Several hours later, as he was leaving the post office he noticed the trio standing by the street corner observing his moves. He ignored them as he continued his way home.

On the following Saturday as the rabbi was on his way to the synagogue for the afternoon services, he noticed José at the corner café paying attention to his radio. The rabbi was following world events for several years and an opportunity to get an update on the situation was something he would never miss, even on the Jewish Sabbath. “Anything new happening in the world?” the rabbi asked. “Uruguay has just broken relations with the Axis.” The proprietor of the café declared with animation. For José it was just a piece of news. The rabbi on the other hand recognized at once that his exceptional task has just come to an end.

Immediately following the Sabbath he ran to the post office to see if communication would still be somehow possible. As he walk out in dismay he noticed the ‘team of three’ getting into a car and driving away. He felt disappointed and frustrated. On his dispirited walk home flashbacks of the ‘Weinberg affair’ were coming back to him.

It was only a few months earlier that he attempted to rescue one of the greatest authorities in Jewish law: Rabbi Weinberg of Berlin. Originally from Lithuania Weinberg spent several decades in Germany as the head of a rabbinic seminary, only to flee after Kristallnacht in 1938. As the Nazis marched into Poland, he was trapped in the Warsaw Ghetto with the rest of the Jewish community. In August 1941 word reached Rabbi Milevsky that the great luminary was in peril. Due to the importance of the Berlin Rabbi, he decided that he must act. With assistance from one of the local German Jews, he addressed a letter to the German ambassador to Uruguay, Dr. Otto Langman, requesting, that the great educator and teacher Dr. Jechiel Jacob Weinberg currently being held in Warsaw be released from General Guberman jurisdiction. Franz Rademacher the head of the Foreign Office's Jewish desk in Germany rejected the request offhand. He sent his reply to Langman in Montevideo and delivered copies of all communication to Adolf Eichmann. In the mind of the Rabbi of Montevideo the refusal was a personal failure and a harsh defeat. From the first days of the war in Europe he was determined that he will be the one to assist and save many. It was his calling and mission and he was determined to do his part. For the ambitious rabbi defeat was too painful to bear.

He was sitting in a dejected mood looking at his cappuccino at José’s café. The radio was on in the background yet the rabbi was deeply absorbed in thought. “This war is terrible!” José grumbled. The rabbi looked up as the owner of the shop continued: “They even had to cancel the World Cup because of the nonsensical fighting. It is so depressing not to have the Mundial!” Initially startled by the statement the rabbi nodded in approval. José was not finished “You should know Rabbi, that I was present at Estadio Centenario during the first Mundial when we beat Argentina. Boy, was that a day. I will never forget the moment when El Canario scored the goal” The rabbi noticed the sparkle in his eye as he continued “The fans from Argentina were in tears for the duration of the long ferry ride back to Buenos Aires.” At that moment the rabbi’s face lit up he had an epiphany. “Can I bother you for the newspaper José?”

After scanning the paper he turned to José “The ferry to Argentina, right?” José was not sure what the rabbi meant. The galvanized rabbi thanked his Uruguayan friend, and set his mind on the neutral country only a ferry ride away: Argentina.  

Looking out the window at the magnificent Río de la Plata, the rabbi was absorbed in thought throughout the ferry ride. Relocating the operation to Buenos Aires was not an easy feat. On the one hand he was mindful that he might need some assistance from the local community in forwarding cables to Shanghai. On the other hand the content of the telegrams being sent out, must remain under wraps. Nevertheless he was able to stay positive and confident that he will do his part and attain personal redemption through the reestablishment of communication with the Far East.

On his first visit to a local post office he learnt very fast that his journey will be anything but smooth. “No problem sir we can send a cable, can you please show me you citizenship card.” After presenting his documentation, the postman nodded in disapproval “You do not have Argentinean citizenship! According to the law only a resident of Argentina can send cables.” The rabbi realized that he will require much local help to carry on. He had no choice but to visit the man he was hoping to avoid: Rabbi Glen Heinerman.

The tension between the two rabbinic authorities began a few years earlier, when Rabbi Milevsky was a newcomer to South America. It all started with a simple question asked to the Lithuanian Rabbi. Leon Erdman from Montevideo was on his way to Buenos Aires for a business meeting. On the day of his departure from Montevideo, after the morning services in the Synagogue, he approached the rabbi for some guidance regarding kosher food, specifically meat, in Argentina.   

Rabbi Milevsky alluded to a level of weakness in the Argentinean Shechita and kosher supervision. The statement was based on a general approach and a personal opinion of the rabbi. He held that if a community wishes to achieve a high standard kosher slaughter, or Shechita, where all details and fine points of Jewish law are observed, complete jurisdiction must be given to a dominant and powerful figure with complete authority. He believed that only the unyielding personality can withstand the pressure that exists continually in the kosher meat business. Montevideo, in the rabbi’s mind, was the only place in all of South America with proper supervision, due to his own presence.

Once Erdman arrived in Buenos Aires it did not take long for him to make mention of his rabbi’s view on the standards of Shechita in Argentina. When word reached Rabbi Glen Heinerman that the Uruguayan rabbi deemed the Buenos Aires system as inferior, he was furious. The ensuing letters and communications between the two were fairly negative.   

The visitor from Montevideo was strolling down Rivadavia road on his way to the local synagogue in the Once district. He was impressed by the sophisticated area with broad boulevards graceful public squares and monuments. After hesitating for a minute he rang the bell and was welcomed into the house of worship.

The discomfort during the meeting between the rabbis was evident. “So what brings the esteemed rabbi to the Paris of South America?” asked Rabbi Heinerman.

“I am involved in an essential effort that is without a doubt a lifesaving endeavor.”

“Oh,” countered the local rabbi with evident perplexity, “can you share some details with me, perhaps?”

“Some, but not all.” After brushing some dandruff of the lapel of his frock, he continued “As you must be aware, hundreds of Yeshiva students are stranded in the Far East in a city by the name of Shanghai. The conditions are deplorable and conceivably even life- threatening. I have a way of assisting by transmitting telegrams to the area. I have been doing it from home, however due to Uruguay’s alliance with the Allies, it is no longer possible. So I come here today for your assistance, in setting up a system where cables, that I give you are forwarded to a specific address in Shanghai.”

After a moment of awkward silence passed between them, Heinerman hesitantly asked his next question “So...you want someone from here to forward messages that somehow save lives? Can you perhaps elaborate?”

“Yes and no!” the firm voice continued “Yes: it is for the survival of many important individuals, and no: due to the sensitivity of the matter, not all information can be shared at this juncture.”    

Milevsky got the impression that he is facing a weak and uncertain character, and that a decision, regarding cooperation, will come from the players that pull Heinerman’s strings.    

“Well Rabbi Milevsky, I will have to look into the matter and consult with some people here before I give you an official reply.” It was difficult for Heinerman not to notice the serious and firm look on his colleague’s face. Rabbi Milevsky stood up and shook his hosts’ hand. As he walked out Heinerman turned to him “So where are you residing during your stay?” “I am taken care of thank you.” Milevsky took a few steps and turned back to add: “I will return tomorrow to hear your verdict on the Shanghai refuges!”  

Heinerman emitted an acerbic look at the departing rabbi. Within a few minutes, Rabbi Heinerman was on his way to discuss the issue with the president of the Synagogue: Augosto Villeñio.  

After listening to his employee describe the earlier meeting, Villeñio got up from his desk and approached the hesitant rabbi. “I am sure you agree that we cannot take part or support an operation where information is concealed from us. That Uruguayan rabbi, thinks that he is the only one saving the world. Yet let me tell you that I have been in touch with the Vaad Hatzala in New York as well. I have my own plan, to bring thirty five scholars to Argentina. I am of the opinion, and I hope your honor concurs, that we should focus on what we can accomplish and not be part of an obscure scheme.”

Heinerman walked back to his office with uneasiness. He did not appreciate being in between two dominant figures on an issue that he knew was of great importance.

Late at night Rabbi Milevsky was sitting by the table at the Agudath Israel guest room, working on codes for the next Shanghai cable. He was hopeful that following the impending meeting with Heinerman he will get the information to its destination. Suddenly he heard a loud noise and the sound of breaking glass. As he turned his head around, he noticed the broken window and the broken shards of glass all over the floor.

After the initial shock he spotted a rock at the far end of the room. Lifting it he discovered a paper wrapping the rock. It was a note that read “Go back home!”

The confident and generally self-assured rabbi was stunned. After regaining his composure he returned to the desk to complete his work. He was coming to the realization that the Argentina route is going to be replete with obstacles and difficulties.

Rabbi Milevsky was kept waiting for some time before Rabbi Heinerman made his entry. “Unfortunately I will not be able to help you.” Noticing the stern look gazing at him, he continued with his insecure voice “It is ...a complicated matter Rabbi... We have our own rescue and relief committee in the Synagogue and we cannot consign our energies on anything but our undertaking.” The tension in the room was palpable and increasing by the second as the Uruguayan continued staring at him with wide and tense eyes. As he was gazing at the host, Rabbi Milevsky opened his jacket pocket, and pulled out a paper, he held it up and stated in a piercing voice: “It is vital that this information be sent to the Far East today!” The local rabbi swayed from side to side, coupled with involuntary muscle twitches of his eye. After a few moments of silence he spoke “I think I can arrange for you something this time, only this time.”

Following the customary hand shake, Rabbi Milevsky removed a rock from his pocket and placed it on the desk. “If you can do me a favor Rabbi: I would appreciate if you deliver this item to the President of your community.” Rabbi Heinerman despite being confused agreed by means of a nod.  

The walk to the post office with Moshankel the sexton took much longer than expected. He was a heavy man, untidily dressed with long hair and he continually discharged a foul odor. Not accustomed to moving fast, the walk became a painful journey for the impatient guest from Montevideo. “So you need me to send a cable? That is all?” wondered the dandruff ridden sexton.

“Yes, and I appreciate your help” uttered the Rabbi.

“You should know Rabbi that this is a big schlep and tedious journey for me, especially since my salary is merely a few Pesos a month! The amount of time and effort that I put into my job is unimaginable. The synagogue has expectations, yet the wage is minimal!”

Rabbi Milevsky recognized an opportunity. “I understand and appreciate all you are doing. I hope to make all this worth while for you.” After receiving the few bills from the visitor, Moshankel offered his services for future endeavors “Any time Rabbi it is a great honor to assist you.”

Moshankel was far from being the ideal candidate for a task that had to be performed inconspicuously, as if it were nothing important. Nevertheless he became a part of the operation in getting the information to Shanghai.   

Over the next couple of months Rabbi Milevsky made several trips across the Rio de la Plata to monitor the activities. Rabbi Heinerman became aware of the Uruguayan rabbi’s visits, nevertheless he decided to turn a blind eye.

The success of the South American connection awarded Rabbi Milevsky a sense of personal redemption and meaning.

His state of internal forlornness dated back to the days of the First World War when, as a young boy, he had to adjust to a challenging life after the passing of his beloved mother. The emotional pain he felt during his long and lonely recovery from Tuberculosis was an experience he never fully recovered from. Consequently, he connected to personal identity and achievements more than to people. Thus failure was detrimental to him, while success was his source of meaning and life.   

The assistance for the multitudes in Shanghai became the salvation for the Rabbi of Montevideo.

SHANGHAI 1942

Hillel started of his day by trying to figure out the best way to cook a small amount of rice. Generally it was a task that Yenta took care of. Yet, on that day, she was in bed. It was unusual for her not to feel well. Actually it was the first time, Hillel could recall, that she did not get out of bed in the morning. Something told him that this was not an ailment. However the overwhelming experience of Shanghai did not let him put to much thought into circumstances that would substantially alter their future.

Hillel did not like the city. Immediately after their arrival he realized that the rumors about the place were correct: it was a hellhole. In addition to the extreme humidity and high temperature the city was a revolting place.  For the Yeshivas students, who never left the neighborhood, the reputation of the city was only something they heard about and everybody was aware of, but it didn't have much impact on their daily life. Hillel on the other hand was making several trips a week out of Hongkew, and the violent, degenerate and corrupt city he surveyed, sickened him. Unrestricted prostitution, vicious brutality and public executions were familiar parts of the Shanghai life. Opium was more accessible than bread. Spotting a corpse lying on the street was no longer considered appalling. Hillel once heard one of the foreigners saying that if God allows Shanghai to endure ‘He will owe Sodom and Gomorrah an apology’.

As he was attempting to boil some water, he heard a commotion from downstairs. The dean of the Mirrer Yeshiva Rabbi Schmulevitz and his wife Chana were the perfect neighbors. Hillel appreciated the kindness and wisdom of the rabbi. He was extremely impressed with his ability to run the Yeshiva under the most challenging and distressing circumstances. For Hillel, educating and feeding the several hundred student refugees, was a daunting task. Yet Rabbi Schmulevitz appeared to have full control over the situation.  

Hillel did not fully understand how the rabbi was able to get hold of the essential funds during war time. He knew that rabbinic contacts in the United States were assisting, yet communication with them was impossible. He recalled a passing remark that the rabbi made, as Hillel was getting some financial assistance from him, that we must be thankful to the rabbi in Montevideo. Hillel was determined to one day indeed thank that rabbi, in view of the fact that he was a beneficiary of the funds. Despite having a part time job as a tutor to children of wealthy parents, he and Yenta suffered financially. Payment was usually not on time and even when it did arrive, it was not suffice. The war took its toll on the market place and several basic foods were extremely expensive. They were not comfortable asking for assistance and as a result suffered silently. Fortunately Chana Schmulevitz became aware of the predicament of the young couple and when she learnt the level of their distress, she recommended to her husband to assist them. Accordingly Hillel was full of gratitude to Rabbi Schmulevitz, yet he remained curious to know how the funds reached their destination and what Montevideo had to do with it.

The uproar from below on that particular day was a bizarre occurrence. Curiosity made Hillel make his way down the stairs. As soon as he got out of the apartment he heard a high-pitched, squeaky voice shouting “Does Kotler want us to starve to death?” As he proceeded cautiously downward he noticed a small group of young men standing by the Schmulevitz front door with the rabbi leaning to the side and listening. When the group became aware of Hillel they paused and nodded politely. He in turn noticed the stressful look on his neighbors face as he continued his way outward. He was able to identify the young men as part of the Lubavitch faction that were in Shanghai. But the details of the issue remained unclear. Hillel had a long list of questions to ask Rabbi Schmulevitz and waited patiently for the right opportunity to ask them.

Walking down Baikal Road for Hillel was always a dreadful experience. He was never able to overcome the stench from the poor sanitation in the city. In his mind Shanghai was suppose to be a short ordeal until they worked out the issue they had with the visa. United States was the destination and departing from Shanghai, for Hillel, was long overdue. However the attack on Pearl Harbor changed everything. Traveling across the Pacific Ocean was impossible. They were stuck in a place he loathed.

On the Passover Seder, the ritual feast that commemorates the exodus from Egypt, Hillel sat and recalled the dreadful mood of the Seder of the previous year in Vladivostok. To some extent he was thankful for where they were. Yet when they chanted ‘Next year in Jerusalem’ at the end of the rite he quietly said to himself ‘Next year in America’. Little did he know that the situation was going to get far worse before it got any better.

It was early the following year when word reached the Jewish community: the Japanese have ordered all Jewish Refugees to live within a designated area of Hongkew. The refugees were well aware of the alliance between the Germans and the Japanese. Many were pleasantly surprised that on the whole the powers that controlled Shanghai treated them as humans. Various theories circulated as to why. Some maintained that the Japanese think that American Jewry has power over the United States Government. Consequently, in the mind of the Japanese, the Jews were an important chip in the bargaining process. Yet despite being aware of the possibility of confinement, the implication of the decree was rather agonizing. The Establishment of the Jewish Ghetto, and thus isolating the Jews from the rest of the city, took a financial toll and an additional blow to the morale of a populace that was already suffering.

A short general by the name of Goya was put in charge of the Hongkew ghetto. Residents could not leave the area without a pass issued by the mentally deranged Japanese assignee. He proclaimed himself to be the King of Jews and indeed they feared him. Word got out that he was so brutal, that on one occasion he got upset at a rabbi and cut off sections of the rabbi’s beard. Receiving a slap in the face from Goya became a daily occurrence. For Hillel the inability to move freely out of the Ghetto was stressful and financially devastating. The basic needs of the family increased considerably since the birth of their daughter Nechama, yet funds were not available. Gradually, he came to accept the fact he would have to turn to Rabbi Schmulevitz for some additional assistance.

At the dinner table conversation was far more present than food. Hillel was lucky to not have any trouble on that particular day getting past General Goya and spent several hours tutoring outside of the Ghetto. Before getting to his own story of the day, he asked his wife about hers. “Well, I actually had an interesting one.” Yenta put down the spoon she was feeding Nechama with and continued. “Do you recall asking me about the ditch outside how they were able to dig so deep in such a short period of time? Well today I got the answer! When I was playing with Nechama earlier today I heard a commotion outside. I stepped onto the porch and looked down. What I saw shocked me. A group of Chinese prisoners were being transported into the area. They had their feet shackled with iron chains, allowing very little movement. When they arrived they were handed shovels and they were digging for hours upon hours, non stop.” Wiping a tear of her face, Yenta continued. “When I realized that they are not getting any break, or food, I waited for an opportunity when the Japanese guard was not watching and I lowered a basket with a few pieces of bread.” Hillel was not sure what to say. The supply of food at home was limited, yet the condition of the prisoners was definitely far worse. “That was very nice of you Yenta they certainly appreciated your act of kindness.” “Actually not!” Yenta stated. After a perplexed glance from Hillel she added “When the basket reached the prisoners a riot broke out. The poor men have not eaten for some time and when they spotted the food, they got into a big fight. One of them signaled to me to stop sending food, and then placed two fingers on his mouth, as if he was smoking a cigarette. So I went out and got them some cigarettes. They were very thankful.” Hillel remained silent for the rest of the meal. He was quite mesmerized by the narrative. The fact that the Japanese were treating the locals with such aggression was unsettling. He was to a certain extent afraid that his own people will one day be receiving the same type of treatment.

The following day Hillel caught up with Rabbi Schmulevitz on his way to the Yeshiva and utilized the opportunity to discuss several matters with the rabbi. “How have you been in general Hillel?” Following a polite nod of the head by his neighbor, the rabbi continued. “Not any easy time for anyone. When humans are placed in difficult situations, especially when basics are lacking, like food, they cannot be judged. The Talmud notes that judicial courts are not in session at night. Besides the fact that this statement teaches us a basic law, we can learn an important message form it: at times of darkness, do nut judge others for their actions.” Hillel understood immediately that the rabbi was alluding to the event that took place by the rabbi’s door. “If I may ask rabbi: How do the funds reach us from the United States? The Japanese are at war with them and from what I understand there is no communication between the two countries?”

As they walked through a narrow alleyway the rabbi supplied Hillel with a few details of the operation. “There are Jews here in Shanghai that have money. Lots of money. Yet they worry that the day will come and the authorities will make it their own money. So we came up with an idea that will benefit everyone: funds are deposited in the United States in accounts belonging to rich Shanghai residents. In turn they shell out money locally. These people here in Shanghai are extremely happy with the arrangement since they want to get rid of local money. Having the same amount deposited in the United States is a big favor for them. Consequently all that is being transferred is information.” The picture was coming together for Hillel. “And you found someone in a neutral country to forward the information?” He asked. “Yes. Uruguay to be precise. An old colleague of mine, Rabbi Aharon Milevsky, from my days in Slobodka is serving as the Chief Rabbi and he is running the operation. He is extremely committed and indeed, he is a life saver.” Hillel decided to continue with his questions, despite his gut felling that he was getting to audacious. “So how are the funds distributed locally? Who is the decision maker regarding fund distribution?” The rabbi smiled slightly at his neighbor and continued “In New York Rabbi Aharon Kotler and others are raising the funds. They are earmarked. I do not have a say on the matter.” After looking into Hillel’s eyes he added. “Of course when I do notice a need by a member of the community, I find a way to assist them.” After a few steps Hillel decided to share his understanding of the tumult. “So when a faction is up in arms for not getting allocated funds, they blame the source.” The rabbi patted Hillel’s back. “Remember, we are going through a dark period in our history. People are suffering and we cannot judge them. I may not agree with all decisions made by others.” Looking into Hillel’s eyes the rabbi added “Yet when I sense a need I do what ever I can to help. I find the funds.” As the two departed Hillel was not sure if the statement of not judging others was directed at the Lubavitch faction, or perhaps he did not agree with the allocations determined by Rabbi Kotler and was telling himself not to judge the rabbi in New York.

The next day Hillel found an envelope with some cash under his front door. Indeed Rabbi Schmulevitz was able to detect were there was a need    

NEW YORK 1942

For Howie Ernst the walk to his office on Seventh Avenue was a stroll of anticipation. Working for The Office of Censorship was stressful yet meaningful and always interesting. On a daily basis he would be making decisions that were critical for the safety of the nation. He was always aware of the fact that sensitive information leaving US shores, could be detrimental to the war cause. The welfare of his beloved country engrossed all his thoughts, and he was fully dedicated to the cause.

He grew up in a home that emphasized appreciating the present more than valuing the past. Accordingly, loyalty and gratitude to the United States was his full identity. Yet he was never reluctant to share the fact that he was Jewish. Earlier on he deemed the traditions he recollected from the home of his grandparents as archaic. However as he grew older he began valuing them and became more and more nostalgic for that old world. He was a quick learner and mastered at a young age the languages that were spoken by the Jews in the Lower East Side: Yiddish and Hebrew. By the time he finished High School he became proficient in German as well. Little did he know that one day, he would utilize his knowledge of foreign languages to help his country in a time of conflict.

By the time Howie reached his desk he was already handed several memos and tasks that demanded immediate attention. As he sat down with his cup of coffee and was thumbing through the papers he noticed one of his subordinates standing by his desk. “Sir I need you to look at some items that I have been gathering for the past few weeks.”

Despite not seeing the foreign writing for a long time, Howie had no difficulty identifying and reading its content. “I assume that is Hebrew, Sir.” Howie nodded.

After looking through the first page carefully, he pointed to the envelope as he asked “Tell me Lou, what information do you have, about this Uruguay address?” “Well Sir, I have done my research and I can tell you the following: several enigmatic cables were sent to and from this address. Due to the cryptic nature of the cables we contacted our foreign post men in Uruguay. They in turn identified contact between the Montevideo address and Japanese-controlled areas of China.” The report surprised Howie. He did not expect Hebrew to be used in transferring information to the Japanese. “Lou, what else did the envoy to Uruguay tell you?” “Well Sir, They identified a Rabbi Milevsky considered to be the Chief Rabbi of Montevideo, as a hub man. He was sending coded Cables to Shanghai. The envoy tried to intimidate him, but it did not go too far.” Howie had difficulty controlling his smirk.

“Sir I would like to mention one more thing. This Rabbi Milevsky ceased sending cables from Montevideo due to Uruguay’s alliance with the Allies. However they have reason to believe that he is continuing his communication by means of Argentina. Accordingly Sir, they want one of the Hebrew readers to go through the letters being sent from that address, put together a report, and proceed with a request to the Uruguayan Government to detain the Rabbi.”

Howie was convinced that there was nothing malign in the letters. Yet he was puzzled over why a rabbi would be using codes. After a few minutes of looking at the papers he turned to Lou: “Do me a favor, send out a memo that any letter to or from this Soriano address in Montevideo comes to my attention. No exceptions. In the meanwhile tell the envoy in Uruguay to put things on hold until they hear from me otherwise. Get it?”

“Yes, Sir” Lou responded and walked away. Howie was extremely curious about the cables and spent hours by his desk reading them in detail and attempting to put the pieces together. He became familiar with many names: Rabbi Kotler, Rabbi Kalmanovitch and Rabbi Schmulevitz. Over time he began recognizing names of family members as well. By the end of the day he was convinced that he had the complete picture. Jewish Refugees in Shanghai were getting funds through an organization in New York. Rabbi Milevsky in Montevideo was the conduit. After putting together the complete picture, Howie struggled a bit. He knew that the affair was illegal yet he recognized that it was benign and essential. Legally he was to report immediately all details of the correspondence. Morally he felt it should be ignored and consequently allowed. He stepped out of the office for some fresh air and tried to imagine how the rabbi in Uruguay would look. The image of his maternal grandfather came to his mind. By the time he left work that day he made up his mind: All information that relates to Milevsky will unceasingly come to his attention and remain with him. Howie was comfortable with his decision: the law of the land can be flexible, moral law, cannot.

Over the next few months Howie began to enjoy receiving the letters. After getting to know all personal particulars of all family members he felt like he was one of them. He envisioned the day when he would be able to actually meet his new family.

MONTEVIDEO URUGUAY MARCH 1944

Sitting on one of the many wooden benches in the Plaza Independencia Park, Rabbi Milevsky was watching his two-year-old son Uziel feed breadcrumbs to the multitude of doves. He knew that he only had a couple of minutes to enjoy watching his child, given that Eliya Weinreich was to arrive any minute and they would have to get down to business. When he arrived, he sat down next to the rabbi. “He is growing up quite fast.”  Weinreich stated pointing to the young boy. “Yes no question about that. You should know that he is very smart, he reminds me of Nshame at that age.” The Rabbi beamed with pride. Weinreich smiled politely. Following a few moments of silence The Rabbi began briefing Weinreich on the latest developments. “I did not ask you to come to address the Shanghai connection. Things are running overall smoothly. Although the cables are in code we are comfortable to actually spell out the details in letters being sent to New York. Thus details are confirmed and thankfully we have no miscommunications. Yesterday I received a detailed letter from Rabbi Kotler. He is thankful and satisfied with our operation. You know he is pretty adamant that only the selected groups get the funding.”

A vast flock of birds flew over their head as the Rabbi continued “The new concern relates to a group of Jews imprisoned in a place called Vittel in France. Details are coming in piece by piece: however I think I can reconstruct the whole picture.” The Rabbi stopped his monologue, and exhaled to relax his tense muscle. “Are you feeling all right Rabbi?” Weinreich quickly asked with a concerned voice. The rabbi turned to his companion with a pessimistic look in his eyes “I do not know how to say this: Jews are being transported to camps and then simply vanishing!”

Noticing Weinreich’s perplexed look the Rabbi was about to continue as his son walked over and asked: “Papa, are we going home soon?” the rabbi smiled as he addressed the boy “Just a few more minutes.” Returning to the dark topic the rabbi got to the point, “There is clear evidence that thousand upon thousands of Jews are being deported from ghettos yet there is no information regarding their condition at their landing-place. I have no doubt in my mind that the thousands of Jews that we are not hearing from over the past few years are no longer alive. Believe it or not sometimes I even want to start saying the Kaddish memorial prayer for my father.”

Weinreich was silent for some time, but at last asked the rabbi “Tell me about Vittel.”

Uziel made a return visit to his father indicating that he wanted to get back home. The rabbi got up from the bench and took the boys hand as they walked towards Soriano Street. Weinreich followed behind as the conversation continued. “Several months ago a group of Jews from Warsaw were transported to Vittel. From what I understand they were spared as a result of the fact that they are holders of Paraguayan passports.”

“Are they Paraguayans?” wondered Weinreich. “No, they are not from South America. Most of them never even heard of Paraguay.”

Looking at Weinreich he continued “Money! Money can get you all kind of things. They paid cash to the representatives of the Paraguay government and obtained the papers. One report claims that the going price was more than three hundred dollars!”  Raising his voice slightly the rabbi got to the main point. “The Germans have been cautious not to agitate the Paraguayans and thus far, have accepted the holders of such papers as foreign nationals. Perhaps they had in mind to exchanging them for German nationals, I do not know. Vittel is in fact a spa resort the conditions are far better than in the ghettos. However the latest development is pretty disturbing. From what I understand, one Jew actually attempted entry into Paraguay on the merit of the aforementioned passports. The Paraguayans got nervous that Jews will come in droves. So the Government informed the Germans that they do not recognize the validity of the papers. The result is that unless the Paraguayans change their policy, the Vittel prisoners have lost their protection. The latest cable I received notes that they have already been threatened with deportation.”

As they reached the rabbi’s house on Soriano Weinreich was ready for orders from his chief. “So what do you have in mind Rabbi?”  

After sending the boy into the house with the nanny, Yoselda, the rabbi detailed his plan “The Vaad in New York are doing everything in their power. They are trying to get the United States State Department to pressure Paraguay into recognizing the passports. However, I think we can achieve success with the traditional South American solution to all problems: bribery!” Weinreich smiled as the rabbi walked up the stairs and said, “Tomorrow noon come to my office” Looking at Weinreich as he took a step backwards he added “and bring some cash.”

Sitting by the dinner table the rabbi watched Nshame playing a finger game with Uziel.

As the meat dish was placed on the table by Yoselda, the rabbi decided that he would amuse his family with the story behind the roast beef. “I want you all to know that we are very lucky to have such wonderful food on our table.” As he took a portion from the serving dish, he continued “This meat is of the highest quality. It is of course the only meat that is slaughtered with the highest standards of kosher law in all of South America. In addition it is delicious and healthy.”

“I do not like meat” mumbled Aliza as the plate passed by her. The rabbi ignored his daughter and after taking a few bites added “In the old country we never had such good delicacies.”

Paya, who continuously complained about being away from ‘home’ in Lithuania interjected “We had lots of good food in Lithuania.”

Nshame stopped chewing and opened her wide eyes anticipating an entertaining exchange between her parents. The rabbi, taking great pride in the beef that he brought home turned to Paya “what exactly was so good back in Lithuania?”

Paya “We had lots of things like... sour soup made of beet...” the rabbi interrupted “Are you telling me that you prefer borscht over roast beef?”

“I love borscht!” proclaimed Aliza.

“No, Aharon all I am saying is that we had good things in Lithuania... like cabbage soup pickled beets...” The rabbi lost his patience. “Paya we had no meat and no dairy the whole winter, we were Pareve for a half a year! The varieties of dishes were basically all potatoes and beets.” A few minutes of tense silence followed, until Uziel announced “The roast beef was delicious.”

The General was observing the rabbi as he addressed his visitors “Mr. Weinreich it is a pleasure to introduce you to my esteemed and close friend General Sebastian Tyrell Martinez.”

Sitting upright General Martinez nodded and smiled. He was surprised that the rabbi considered him to be a close friend, since they only met briefly, twice. The rabbi was an enigma to the general, not only by virtue of the unfamiliar religion, but also due to his personality. He appreciated the rabbi and considered him to be a charming character and was happy to come to the meeting. The rabbi turned to Weinreich and began “When I first met the General, he mentioned in passing that the Uruguayan military has close working relationships with other militaries throughout South America, and if remember correctly Paraguay was one of the countries mentioned.” General Martinez nodded again.

The rabbi turned to the general and asked “How high up are your connections?”

“My friends in the military have the ear of General Higinio Moríñigo who is serving as president.  If you recall he won the elections last year.”

“He was the sole candidate on the ballot if I am not mistaken.” Weinreich chimed in with a scornful facial expression. “Correct.” Martinez responded showing no emotion.

The rabbi spent the next few minutes elucidating on their needs and wondered what it would take to get the General to pay a visit to Asunción.

“I am happy to do whatever is necessary to help. I believe that if I visit the right people, I can persuade them to recognize the passports of the Vittel prisoners. You do understand, of course, the need for money and secrecy. There will be expenses in connection with the operation. At the same time, please bear in mind that although General Moríñigo and the Paraguayan government officially severed diplomatic relations with the Axis countries two years ago, large numbers of Paraguayan military officers, and I believe government officials as well, are sympathetic to the Axis. Secrecy is indeed essential.

“General,” Weinreich declared “worry not about the funds and silence is guaranteed.”  

Following the handshakes they accompanied General Martinez to the car waiting outside and thanked him again as he departed. The rabbi appeared to be satisfied as Weinreich said good night “Thank you Elya.” the rabbi called out as his true ally walked away.   

    

Ten days later Rabbi Milevsky was placing several items and documents into his satchel preparing for another short trip to Buenos Aires. “Don’t you think that this is not the best time to leave? We are only a few days away from Passover, can’t it wait until after the holiday?” Paya was standing by the doorway addressing her husband, as he continued putting his items together. “There seems to be a glitch with my cables operation. I cannot wait. Information must be forwarded to Shanghai immediately.”

Paya had learnt long ago that there was no point in arguing with her unwavering husband when he was determined.

After saying good-by he stepped outside into the pouring rain and began making his way to the ferry. It was the beginning of fall in South America and rain was not uncommon for early April. It took time for the rabbi after arriving from Europe, to adjust to the idea that Passover, the holiday of spring, is celebrated during the onset of fall in the Southern Hemisphere.

Sitting at a table in a coffee shop on Cordoba Avenue in Buenos Aires, Moshankel got somewhat emotional: “I cannot do it anymore!” the rabbi was trying to figure out the problem but was having difficulty. The rabbi leaned over to Moshankel and in a low voice asked, “Can you just tell me what the problem is? Perhaps I can find a remedy?”

After looking out the window for several minutes, the sexton, open up a bit. “You do understand Rabbi that I am the synagogue sexton or as they call me a Shammes, for many years already. When I was younger I used to think that I am doing it for the money. Why else would a person take a job where he must wake up before dawn every single day, to open the doors of a building for people who complain about everything he does. If I place too many prayer books on the table they protest. To little, they grumble. When the Charity Box is full they reprimand me for not empting it. When it is empty they accuse me of stealing money. So I would ask myself: why would a normal person do this? The answer: I needed a job, period. Yet, as I am getting older, I am starting to realize that my job is my identity. What I do is who I am.” Placing his hands on his vest he added with passion “I am a Shammes!”  The rabbi remained patient as Moshankel spoke, though he was not completely sure he understood the problem. Following a few moments of silence, the rabbi inquired “Are you saying that you cannot be the Shammes if you continue helping me?” Moshankel did not say a word, yet the rabbi perceived the problem. The Shammes did not want to lose his job and identity, and he was in jeopardy of losing both. The rabbi thanked the sexton as they walked out, and prepared himself mentally for another encounter with Rabbi Heinerman.

Rabbi Milevsky walked into the Argentinean rabbi’s office noticing a stressed look on the host's face as he was sitting by his desk. Looking to his right he became aware of an assertive-looking individual sitting on an armchair by the bookshelf. “Rabbi Milevsky,” Rabbi Heinerman proclaimed in a nervous tone of voice “Let me introduce you to the president of our community Augosto Villeñio!” Villeñio nodded his head slightly as the Uruguayan walked over to shake his hand. It did not take long for the President to begin his discourse. “Esteemed Rabbis, I think you would agree that at a time of crisis for the People of Israel, Jews, and especially Jewish leaders must come together and work jointly for a common goal.” Villeñio continued without looking at either party, “The Vaad Hatzlah in New York understands very well that I have a lot to offer in the rescue and relief operations. We have been in touch for years and they are grateful for what I am doing. Yet the Uruguayan rabbi wants to do things his way.” The tension in the room was tangible as he continued, “So I ask you Rabbi Milevsky why do you think that we have a responsibility to help you and support an operation where information is concealed from us?” The guest from Montevideo took a deep breath and began his rebuttal. “I have a tremendous amount of admiration for what you are doing. I admire your commitment to ‘rescue and relief’ and your leadership role. However let me ask you: I respect your time and energy so therefore please tell me, what makes you believe that my Shanghai cables are so important?”

Perplexed and baffled by the question Villeñio was caught of guard. “What do you mean? Of course your telegrams are essential: they save lives! I do not understand.”

Rabbi Milevsky looked into Villeñio’s eyes, and addressed him in a fervent and sharp tone. “You recognize the importance of what is being done and at the same time you are trying to thwart the operation?” Villeñio sat quietly for several minutes before he reacted. He continued his address although his attitude was reasonably different: it was fused with docility and deference. “Rabbi, all I am asking for is to be part of what you are accomplishing. In no way do I want to prevent any of the relief from continuing.”  

Rabbi Milevsky did not back off “What I need now is a commitment that you do not pressure the individual, that has been helping me, to suspend his assistance.”

Switching back to his usual demeanor Villeñio, glancing at Rabbi Heinerman, retorted “Well I think we can take care of that. However ...I would appreciate some information regarding something else that is taking place.” The Uruguayan rabbi was somewhat uneasy with what he saw coming. Villeñio put his hands together in a prayer-clasp as he carried forward. “You see Rabbi I know that you are in constant contact with the Vaad Hatzala in New York. They are involved in a vast array of essential activities to help and save many. Naturally they cannot do it all by themselves, they do need assistance! Therefore they turn to other individuals, like yourself, and institutions, for assistance.” After a taking a deep breath Villeñio got to his main point: “Rabbi, you are not the only one that has been contacted regarding the group in Vittel. The Vaad Hatzala is well aware that I too have contacts in higher places that can assist. Please keep in mind that we are all together in this endeavor. However I would appreciate if you are open with us and we could cooperate to achieve the task.”

Rabbi Milevsky spoke slowly choosing his words carefully “When dealing with sensitive and important issues, affairs where proper and mindful intervention can save lives, revealing more details than necessary can be detrimental.”

Villeñio responded in an antagonistic tone “Well, it is necessary for us to know what you are doing in Montevideo because we must make a decision if we should send from here an emissary to Paraguay or not!”

Leaning to his side and looking straight ahead Rabbi Milevsky retorted “Don’t send.” Villeñio sighed “Rabbi we are partners! We are all linked by virtue of our commitment to the cause and our association with the superb work preformed by the Vaad. I will assume that it is acceptable to you if I consider your emissary to Paraguay as my doing as well.”    

Rabbi Milevsky recognized that self-pride was the driving force behind Villeñio’s entire charade. The man was not so much concerned about the results of the activities. What he really wanted was to be recognized as a player. For Rabbi Milevsky the arrogance of Villeñio was more than a repulsive trait. Looking at the Synagogues President’s face he recalled a message from his beloved teacher Rabbi Nosson Zvi Finkel founder of the Slabodka Yeshiva. Rabbi Finkel, known to his disciples as ‘the Elder’, would communicate, that an egocentric being who does not overcome his natural tendency of self-centeredness could actually kill another person. Notwithstanding his personal feelings the Uruguayan rabbi got up and shook Villeñio’s hand and walked out of the office together with the local rabbi. As they walked out of the building Rabbi Heinerman, in a soft voice, mentioned to Rabbi Milevsky that there should be no problem with future assistance from Moshankel “The Shammes will be more than happy to lend a hand.”

Looking out the ferry window on his way back to Montevideo Rabbi Milevsky felt displeasure and discomfort for having provided information to a person he did not trust.

Yet he accepted the fact that there was no choice. Villeñio needed to see himself as part of the Paraguay operation, in order to allow the Shanghai cables to continue. He prayed that nothing detrimental come about as a result of the disclosure.

It was a tranquil Tuesday morning in Montevideo during the intermediate days of the Passover holiday as Eliya Weinreich made his way to the Synagogue. As he walked into the building he noticed that the rabbi was addressing a small group of people in the Synagogue library. The atmosphere was pretty relaxed and the crowd was enjoying the festival. Following months of intense work on behalf of the community coupled with his international endeavors Rabbi Milevsky rarely had the time to unwind. Yet that holiday morning, appeared to be different. It was quite satisfying for Weinreich to observe the joy and serene demeanor of his beloved rabbi. Yet looking at the newspaper he was holding in his hand Weinreich knew that the mood was temporary.   

Following the departure of the group Weinreich strolled into the room slowly as he greeted the rabbi with a slight smile. “It is so nice to see the rabbi enjoying the holiday.”

Glancing at his trusted friend Rabbi Milevsky sensed a level of uneasiness in Weinreich’s tone. “What is the problem Eliya?” the rabbi asked. “Well, the President of the Argentinean Jewish community Augosto Villeñio, is he a partner in the Paraguay operation?” Weinreich inquired.

“I did not know that he is the President of the whole community.” the rabbi exclaimed with a mocking gesture. “In his mind he is.” responded Weinreich.

“Well” the rabbi continued tightening his lips “In his mind he is a partner. I had no choice but to let him believe that. It is the price we have to pay to keep Jews in Shanghai alive.”

Weinreich looked at the rabbi’s eyes as he handed him a copy of El Diario Israelita the Jewish community newspaper from Buenos Aires. “It seems that the President wants everyone to know of his involvement in ‘Life-saving endeavors.’”  The rabbi took the newspaper and sat down to read. Within a couple of seconds the rabbi turned pale and glanced up at Weinreich with a troubled look. “Can you believe how low the ego can sink a person?” the rabbi lamented. After regaining his composure somewhat he paused briefly and turned to Weinreich “Do you grasp the severity of the situation? At this moment our emissary General Martinez is contacting top officials in Paraguay. Just yesterday I was informed that he took an airplane to a secret military base to make contact with a key person in the military. Now that word is out that there is an envoy from Uruguay in Paraguay attempting to convince the government to recognize the passports, how can General Martinez succeed in a country awash with Nazi sympathizers?”  

“The General did say that secrecy is essential.” Weinreich added in a dismal tone.

The rabbi got up and placed his hand on Weinreich’s shoulder. “Let’s pray and hope for the best, what else can we do?”

On his walk home the rabbi was experiencing some anxiety coupled with intrusive thoughts and flashbacks. The feeling of helplessness and a lack of control over the situation brought back several memories of painful events of his past. Atrocious images of his colleagues in Hebron being massacred in late August of nineteen twenty nine were haunting him. Men women and children being killed brutally with staves and axes, was an image he could not shake. Being that he only returned to Lithuania from Hebron a month before the event, he suffered a bit of survivor guilt. The emotional pain subsequent to the massacre left an impact on him for many years to come. The inability to undue the damage caused by the publicity of the Paraguay operation, returned the rabbi to a difficult mental state.

Two days latter news arrived confirming that the pessimism of the rabbi was warranted.

The local media was reporting that General Martinez was killed in an accident while visiting Paraguay. The rabbi and Weinreich had no doubt in their minds that the General was killed intentionally. Within a few days a cable from New York notified them that efforts in saving the Vittel internees are no longer necessary. The prisoners have been deported.  

Sitting in a state of melancholy the rabbi was observing Uziel playing on the floor with a miniature futbolito game. After quite a few minutes of not saying a word he turned to the two-year-old “Uziel, who is playing?” “Peñarol!” he responded with enthusiasm. Despite his young age, the boy was aware of the importance of soccer in Uruguay and by now made his selection of a local club to follow for life. Attempting to amuse his son a little bit more, the rabbi asked him: “Who are they playing?” After pondering for several moments the boy responded “Shanghai!” The rabbi was flabbergasted by the answer. Shanghai became an integral part of all conversations taking place in the house, and thus made a natural entry into the youngster’s vocabulary. As the rabbi got up and made his way to the post-office the boy’s voice calling out ‘Shanghai’ returned to him over and over again. His only son was his future and Shanghai fueled him with the needed energy to continue despite all his cerebral burdens. Shanghai in the voice of his child was his essential mental nourishment for months to come.  

SAN FRANCISCO 1946

Seeing the coast of America, the land he was waiting to reach for six long years, for the first time was an overwhelming emotional experience. Hillel in general was not the type of person that allowed others to see his inner feelings. Accordingly great stamina was required from him to conceal his excitement. After gathering their personal belongings Hillel, holding Nechama’s hand, walked down the ramp followed immediately by Yenta who was caring three-month-old Chaya. As soon as they disembarked they were greeted by a soldier “Welcome to the United States. Are you from the Jewish community in Shanghai?” “Yes!” Hillel responded. “Well, as a Jewish soldier it is my honor to welcome you to the United States of America.” The soldier assisted Yenta by taking Chaya from her, as they proceeded to the customs line. The young soldier was trying to calm the new immigrants, as they were waiting in line, with some light conversation. “So…how long did the journey take y’all?” before Yenta was able to respond Hillel retorted with a touch of sarcasm “Thirteen years!” The soldier smiled as he made a second attempt to ease the environment “What is the name of this young lady?” he asked as he boost Chaya onto his shoulder. “Well,” Yenta responded “her name is Chaya Lea, and we call her Chaya. She is named after my mother who was murdered in Poland several years ago. We would have named the older one that name, but we had no idea at the time of her birth that they already massacred my whole family back in Europe” The difficulty in finding a light topic to converse with the former refugees made the young American soldier aware of the great challenge new immigrants are going to face as they adjust to a new homeland. “I am sorry to hear about your personal loss. From what I heard the conditions in Shanghai were quite difficult as well.” Hillel preparing to face the immigration official was busy looking over several documents. After a few moments Yenta opened up “Yes it was not easy. Yet we live on. Chaya in Hebrew is life and we are grateful to God, and many individuals who helped us during the hard years. A rabbi in Uruguay…” at that moment Hillel glanced at her with a stern look. Hillel understood that the Montevideo connection was not according to the letter of the law in the United States and thus deemed it as something that should not be discussed. Yenta was familiar with that particular look, and got the message.

After looking through all documents and papers the immigration official handed them back to Hillel and said: “Welcome to the United States.”

NEW YORK CITY 1954

Howie Ernst was finishing off his monologue. “So after reading every single letter from and to Montevideo I consider myself to be part of the family!” The spellbound sisters were not sure what to say. Finally Riva started moving her lips “Well, what can I say? Perhaps thank you for not doing your job?” Howie laughed. “No need to thank. Just do me one favor share the story of our meeting with your brother in law in Montevideo. You can send him a letter with the details. Worry not; no one is going to read it before it reaches its destination.”

CLEVELAND 1966

It was a hot July afternoon as the community gathered to celebrate the wedding. The Mannes family was well known in Cleveland. Hillel and Yenta were well-liked teachers in town, thus the marriage of their popular daughter Chaya was a festive event for everyone. Few in the community ever heard of Montevideo, yet for Hillel to finally meet the rabbi that sustained them during their trying years in Shanghai was a momentous occasion. Under the wedding canopy as he watched Chaya walk around her husband-to-be Uziel, Hillel whispered into Rabbi Milevsky’s ear. The rabbi nodded with a slight smile.

Shanghai was indeed a salvation and a future for the rabbi from Montevideo.