Leah joined a school in the neighbourhood a month ago but needed help settling down. She refused to accompany her 11-year-old brother and insisted on attending, provided one of her parents walked her to and from school.

That was the happiest year of her life.

As they lay in bed that winter night in 1938, Ewa inquired about her husband’s journey.

“Things in the east are worsening. The trade unions and now the government are denying jobs to our people. The economy is already faltering, and the anti-Semitic wave may spread to the west of the country as well. I will take up the matter in Parliament again. However, the cabinet seems preoccupied with the alliance between Russia and Germany.”

“Ah! I heard similar rumours at the Ognisko Kobiet meeting. Some women were discussing an impending invasion by the Russians or the Germans. Some dismissed the speculation as a government-sponsored hoax. They said that it was meant to distract from internal issues.”

“We must brace ourselves for what is coming. I fear the future holds greater challenges for our people,” Symeon added as an afterthought.

And challenging times did arrive as everyone had predicted. In September 1939, the Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, and the Slovak Republic invaded Poland. Thus began an era of unparalleled tragedy and suffering.

The constant bombing of Warsaw by German planes frightened Leah. When their home rocked from the explosions, her parents would hurry to the basement with her and her brother. They would cover her ears tightly to muffle the sound.

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“Don’t be scared, my love. It’s just rain and thunder,” her mother would say. She had covered the windows with paper and cloth. There used to be total darkness inside their house at night. However, a bright reddish hue of flames showed through the covered windows once Leah and her family went upstairs at the end of the bombing.

A month passed, and the explosions stopped. She and her brother were forbidden to leave the house. Leah was happy that she no longer had to wake up early for school, and her father spent more time with her at home.

But everybody else looked afraid most of the time. There was no longer any laughter in the house. Even her favourite uncle Urjasz, who was always joyful, laughing at small things and making everyone happy around him with jokes and anecdotes, looked gloomy and lost whenever he used to visit their house to deliver food.

Leah felt left out the following week when she saw her parents and brother wearing a white band around their arms. She wanted to identify with her family and somehow feared being separated from them because she was not considered part of the family.

“Mama, Mama, Why can’t I wear such a band?” she complained to her mother.

“My darling, this is for those who have to work outside.” Then she approached Leah and whispered to her, “We will not have to wear it next year once your father becomes the president of Poland. But, keep this to yourself. Don’t even tell your brother,” she put her finger on her lips.

Leah pretended to understand and accept her mother’s explanation. Yet something told her it was a bad omen for her family. She wanted to stay united with her family, whatever the circumstances.

That evening, she peeked through a small gap in the paper covering one of the windows upstairs when she heard loud shouting outside. She felt distressed to see a rowdy crowd clad in uniform torching their synagogue.

By then, Leah was aware that the Germans were the evil ones. They caused the unhappiness and misery in their lives.