The Fighter by Jean Jacques Greif Read Free Book Online

commander gives Albert a day off so he can see his sister. Albert and Paule take the train and flee to the Free Zone in the south of France. Albert knows someone in the city of Montauban, so they settle there. Albert’s wife and daughter join them after a few weeks.
    The Germans pound the streets of Paris with their heavy boots. I don’t feel like going out for walks anymore. In November 1940, posters appear with instructions for the Jews: we’re supposed to go to our neighborhood’s police station and register. The posters threaten “severe punishment” for whoever tries to slip away. One thing we know about Germans: when they say “severe punishment,” they mean it. It isn’t as if I had a choice. With a name like Moszek, the Polish version of Moshe or Moses, I can hardly pretend I’m not Jewish. My mother, my brother Jacques, my friends at the club, everybody registers. The police employees write down our names and addresses, then stamp the word
Jew
on our residence cards.
    Six months later, on May 12, 1941, I receive a summons by mail:
    Prefecture of Police
    Mr. Wisniak, Moszek Ajzyk will report in person, with a member of his family or a friend, on May 14,1941 at 7.00 hours, 2, rue Japy (sports hall) for a review of his situation. ID papers will be requested. Any person failing to report on the designated day and hour may expect the most severe punishment.
    I know the Japy sports hall quite well. I boxed there! It is not far from our home, so I walk there with Rachel, after dropping Élie at my mother’s. This summons is strange. Why should a family member come along?
    Rachel worries.
    â€œMaybe we should have found a way to join your brother and sister in Montauban.”
    â€œYou’d leave your job? And what about me? Would I find new customers over there?”
    As we come closer to rue Japy, we see other Polish Jews. Hundreds of people are gathered inside the sports hall. I find my brother Jacques and several of my friends from the club. The cops ask our wives or friends to go to our homes and bring back a suitcase with our clothes and our things, because they’re sending us to a camp. So we know why someone had to come along. I see tears running down Jacques’s face.
    â€œMy little Rosette was still sleeping. I didn’t even say good-bye to her.…”
    â€œAs for me, I won’t be at home for Élie’s birthday: he’s going to be two tomorrow. Rachel planned to bake a cake. She bought two little candles. I built a small wooden truck,with iron wheels. The bastards! They really fooled us.… If they had mentioned a suitcase, we wouldn’t have come. We would have tried to hide, or we would have escaped to Montauban. What a clever trick:
come with someone…
”
    â€œThe Germans told the French police how it’s done, I guess.”
    â€œYou believe the French can’t think up such a scheme? The police are the same everywhere!”
    One hour later, Carole (Jacques’s wife) and Rachel bring us our clothes. When we ask the cops where we’re going, they answer, “A camp,” but won’t say more. Where is this camp? In France? In Germany? How long will we stay there? Rachel thought about that. She put a thick woolen sweater, my coat, and my winter boots in my backpack.

Chapter 8
A small town named Pithiviers
    Here I am, carrying my backpack just like in the old camping days, boarding a bus with my brother Jacques and other Jews. I ask Rachel not to worry and to give Élie a kiss for me. She is comforting Carole, who is crying loudly.
    Through the windows of the bus I see Parisians on the sidewalks. They are going to work or hurrying home. They worry about money or whatever. They should rejoice at being free! We cross the Seine River. I see the high towers and proud steeple of Notre Dame Cathedral. Although I’ve lived in Paris more than ten years, I’ve never visited Notre Dame. I promise