September 18, 2005
By Rabbi Jacob G. Wiener
After Kristallnacht, I returned to my hometown in Bremen, in northwest Germany. A number of Jews had been released from concentration camps. I had been set free after eight days of imprisonment. I was then in Würzburg, Bavaria, where I had gone to school. The Nazis called these arrests “protective custody.” From whom did we need protection?
The few Jews who had come back to Bremen formed a small congregation to help with emigration and establish a somewhat normal life again for ourselves.
The Gestapo demanded information about the activities of our small community because they wanted to increase their control over the Jews. They ordered us to send a contact person two or three times weekly to report on the status of our affairs. Being one of the younger ones—I was about 20—I was appointed to be that liaison.
I remember my first visit to the Gestapo office very clearly. The building was along the street called Am Wall (“at the rampart”). It was built along the medieval trench that surrounded the city. The building itself was without a house number. There was a small bell at the top on the right-side main entrance door.
Cautiously, I pushed the button. The gate opened silently. Inside I entered a large lobby with a big stairway leading up. In front of it was a big poster with a picture of a man holding two fingers upon his lips. Underneath was a German word written prominently: Schweigen (silence). A voice from upstairs called out, “Komm Rauf, Jude, Zimmer 205 [Come up, Jew, to room 205]”. That was the office of Mr. Parchmann, the Jew Hater, in charge of Jewish Affairs. The office was cluttered with papers and chairs. He sat behind the desk, his feet on top of the table, smiling.
“Setz Dich, Jude [Sit down, Jew],” he said, pointing to a chair and speaking in a degrading tone.
It seemed to me that he enjoyed mocking me.
Then he took out an envelope and emptied its contents. “Here are some of the items we found in your house.”
Of course I understood the irony behind his comments. Those were the items the murdering Nazis had pocketed after they killed my mother. The items were of no value to them. Among them was a small passport photo my mother had taken just a few days before, when she still had hope we all could get out of Germany alive.
I reported to Mr. Parchmann on a regular basis. He would always ask me in a devilish manner how the Jews were getting along. I asked to obtain release of those Bremen Jews still in concentration camps, to hasten the process by which they could emigrate. He asked me how many Jews had already left or were about to leave Germany.
Again, I have no idea of any reason for forcing the Jewish community to be in contact with him, other than to exhibit his power over Jewish life and death.
I usually stayed at Parchmann’s office for only 10 or 15 minutes. I was able sometimes to obtain the release of a few Bremen Jews, especially youngsters. Besides this, my agenda was to ask his permission to set up a school for Jewish children. After Kristallnacht all Jewish schools were closed and Jewish children were forbidden to be taught at all.
“Now that your government does not allow Jewish children to go to school anymore, our congregation plans to set up its own school for children. We want to prepare the children for when they leave Germany,” I told Parchmann one day.
Mr. Parchmann sneered at me. “You must be daydreaming,” he snickered. “Do you think we will ever let you start a school where you will spread horror stories about our great nation and then tell them to the world? We are a law-abiding nation. We act according to the law, which has the stamp of our Leader.”
So I answered: “We also act according to the law, our G-d given law, the Torah. That’s what we will teach.”
Mr. Parchmann enjoyed baiting me and reveled in the power he possessed. Meanwhile, the German population lived in fear of the threats, terror, and intimidation that characterized Nazi policies.
I continued to visit the Gestapo at the house on Am Wall.One sunny February morning I entered the fortress-like building again, with pleas for the release of three youngsters from concentration camps. I prayed that G-d would soften the heart of Parchmann. Even a pharaoh’s heart had yielded eventually to let the Jewish people go.
I attempted to present myself in a self-assured but somewhat reserved way. I had learned that the threatening attitude of Parchmann was exacerbated if he viewed any person exhibiting self-pity or appealing to his emotions.
“Today I have had enough of you, Jewish swine,” Parchmann shouted. “You want those three pigs out? Out they shall go. I want all of you Jews out. It sickens the Führer (Hitler) to have you Jews infect our pure nation.”
“Fine,” I retorted. “Our school will help us get out.”
“You good-for-nothing…” he began.
I interrupted. “Would you want to feed someone unproductive? We will be preparing our children in order to be able to leave.”
“Do what you want,” Parchmann burst out. “Use the old rundown dilapidated gym building near the river at Dyke Street. Not in the mornings when German youth are taught—that would be race-mixing. In the afternoon after German school ends.”
“We will use it,” I said. “Sign us up for it.”
“It’s yours,” he replied, “but see to it that you all scram out of Germany soon.”
And so, suddenly, we had a schoolhouse to start our plan of educating our children again.
The school was in existence until 1941 when the rest of the Jews still living in Bremen were transported to Minsk in Poland, where many were killed or suffered the lot of the many millions subjected to the Nazi goal of making the world Judenrein (“purified of Jews”).
©2005, Rabbi Jacob G. Wiener. The text, images, and audio and video clips on this website are available for limited non-commercial, educational, and personal use only, or for fair use as defined in the United States copyright laws.
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