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kitchens for a bowl of soup. I want to open a business, to earn
a few zlotys and to once again live like a regular person.” An
interesting idea struck Leiby. “Alexander, why don’t we open a
store together, in partnership?”

“No, Leiby,” Alexander shook his head. “Poland is no place for
the Jews. You have to get away from here.”

“I have to get away? But what about you?”

Alexander blushed a deep red, as if he had been caught red-
handed in criminal activities. “I have to stay here to assist other
Jews who want to leave,” he whispered. “Every day, we arrange
‘trips’ to the border and help people to get onto a train, and
eventually, after a long journey, they arrive at the DP camps in
Germany. ere, at least, they’re safe. And the younger people
can go on from there to the port cities in Italy and France and
perhaps sail away on oating barrels to the Promised Land.”

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