In Search of Freedom: A Story of Pure Courage
The Nazis broke into the house of Stanislavsky Lech, who was Jewish, took the entire family out at gunpoint, put them on a crowded train, full of the stench of death and despair, and sent them to Krakow.
Then, before his eyes, Lech saw his entire family being shot. Somehow, he managed to live from one day to the next, in a numb, unconscious state, like a zombie. Impatiently, he awaited his own death. But one day he realized that his own death was not an inevitable truth. In fact, he could do something about it: he could try to escape.
Once he had made his decision, he did not know how to carry it out. He only knew one simple thing: his decision was irrevocable, and somehow he had to find a way to act on it.
As the weeks turned into months, he questioned his fellow inmates. “How can we escape?” he would ask. It became an annoyance, an irritation. “It’s useless,” they repeated. “Stop hurting yourself,” they pleaded. Some would openly abuse him; others would walk away in silence.
In turn, he rejected her answers, her silences, her dominating despair. There has to be a way, she told herself, and I will find it. This is my revenge: by surviving I will show that the Nazis are not invincible and that they are not in total control of our wills and that they cannot do what they want with us.
Every day a dialogue ran through his head. “Today I choose to escape from this nightmare. I will not continue to be a victim. I will not accept these conditions. I am a man, with rights and dignity, and I will seek, God help me, a way to let the whole world know what is happening here. I will escape. There is no question in my mind. How can I escape today, maybe right now? There is a weakness in their security.
They can’t watch us every minute. There is something I need to find, and I will find it today, something I have overlooked, something that will bring me freedom. There’s a weak link in here somewhere. I will find it.”
The urgency of her question struck at his heart and mind in every waking moment, following him into his dreams.
Then one day, as sad as any other, he saw what had been in front of him all along. The Nazis let the bodies of naked men, women and children, shot because they were too weak to work in the labor camp, pile up on the ground before a truck came and took them away. With typical efficiency, the truck would only come when there were enough bodies to fill it.
Hiding behind a bush, he stripped off all his clothes, then dove into the mound of corpses. He lay motionless, pretending to be dead, the sickening smell of death all around him.
Hi for a day. More bodies were thrown on top of her. He didn’t flinch. Finally, the truck arrived. Rough hands pushed his limp body into the truck.
Many more hours of horror passed in the truck. Finally, his body was thrown into an open pit.
He waited until dark before leaving.
The sweet smell of the night, the cool breeze, filled her lungs as she ran twenty-five miles to freedom.