In a few days we will commemorate the ‘Big Action’ of the Kovno Ghetto. I would like to share with you part of my childhood diary that describes the ‘Big Action’ and the impressions of my visit last year to the 9th Fort.

On October 28, 1941, ten thousand Jews of the Kovno Ghetto were selected to die on the killing fields of the 9th Fort. Sixty-three years have passed since; yet I remember every horrid detail of that day as if it happened yesterday.
Sixty three years have passed, yet the passing years did not alleviate the pain the dread, the immense feelings of grief and utter helplessness, as we stood all thirty thousand of us, the inhabitants of the Kovno Ghetto, waiting to be selected to life or death. We stood utterly defenseless before two Germans deciding our fate. SA captain Jordan, and Gestapo Sergeant, Rauka.  For two thousand years have the Jews been subjected to endless persecutions, but what was taking place on that day in the Kovno Ghetto was something unprecedented in its evil. Two German bureaucrats were standing totally indifferent and bored, deciding who was to live and who was to die.  The required quota was 10,000, one third of the Ghetto population. We stood like cattle being prepared for the slaughter, and there was nothing we could do about it. In the annals of man’s inhumanity to man, this action was one of the worst, for sheer cruelty, inhumanity and the cold blooded singling out of children, the infants, the weak, the sick, and the old for murder.
I was thirteen years old at the time, and what I remember most is the utter feeling of helplessness. We were doomed because we were helpless.
I remember making myself a promise that if I were to survive that purgatory, I would make sure that I would never have that devastating feeling of helplessness. That was one of the important reasons that brought me to the shores of Israel in1948 to fight in its ‘War of Independence’, and since then, thank G-d, I have never felt that feeling of helplessness again.
 

War of Independence 1948
Crossing the Line

A poem by Solly Ganor. Herzelia Pituach, Israel . 25.2.1997

Unzer Heimale in Lite, dos Land fun Mord un Schite.

Wu es loift di Sheshupe, un der Nieman fliest,
Fliessen oich taichen fun Yddishes Blut,
Taichen fun Blut un Yamen fun trern,
Zeier letzten gebet ken ich noch hern:

Eli, Eli, lama azavtani, lama azavtani, Eli mein Got.

Durch die blutige wegen un shteskes  fun Lite,
Wern toizenter Yiddn getrieben zu der schite,
Zei wern gejogt in nakete reien,
Es hilcht durch dos land zeiere letzte geschreien.

Barg aroif fun Slabodker Ghetto,
Tsit zich der weg zum farsholtenem ort,
Gepeinigte Yiddn tsum toit farmishpet,
Wern gefirt tsu dem ninten Fort.

A gezind zalbe acht un kvorim nur zwei,
Wen es kumt on der toit wu lign dan zei,
Drei mitn taten un drei mit der mamen,
Hentlach un fislach geflochten tsuzamen.

Oif die grine lonkes fun Lite,
zingen Litwiner Birutes lider,
Un unter die lonkes in blutige griber,
Lign bagrobn unzere shwester un brider.

Wu es lofit die Sheshupe und der Nieman flist,
Flisn oich taichen fun Yiddishes blut,
Taichn fun Blut und Yamen fun trern,
Zeier letzten gebet ken ich noch hern"

Eli, Eli, lama azavtani, lama azavtani, Eli mein Got.
 
 
 
 

Visiting the 9th Fort.

The road to the 9th Fort hadn’t changed. It was exactly as I remembered it. It lead from Paneriu Street upward towards the dreaded killing grounds around the Fort. Shimon was driving the car slowly uphill, the same road that so many thousands of my beloved people walked on their last walk on earth over sixty years ago.

I was thirteen years old at that time and was condemned to live for a while. I stood inside the ghetto by the fence, as so many of us did, and watched with horror as our relatives, our teachers, our doctors and rabbis, who only yesterday walked among us, walked to their death.
Some things of horror are so traumatic that they remain engraved on your mind to your dying day. I watched them on that dark wintry morning on October 29,1941, as they moved slowly uphill, a gray mass of dear people condemned to death, for no other reason that they were born as Jews.

I saw a man with tears running down his face grab the barb wired fence with his bare hands and screamed on top of his lungs:
"Farwos reboino shel oilim, farwos!"  "Why, God Almighty, why? The barbwire pierced his hands and blood was dripping on the fresh snow, but he was pressing the wire harder, as if begging for more pain.

On the other side of the fence, a young Lithuanian guard raised his rifle and took aim at the men. It was forbidden to come so close to the fence, but an elderly guard approached him and pushed down his rifle. We could see on his face that he was effected by what was happening, as from time to time he looked up at the mass of people going to their death and shook his head. I guess the enormity of the crime being perpetrated with his collaboration must have had some effect on him.
After a while he raised his rifle in the air and shouted:

"Go home, Jews, go home. We can not allow you to stand so close to the fence!"

There were twice as many guards around the fence as usual, but they all showed restraint. They must have been effected by what they saw.
You had to have a heart stone not to be effected. Slowly the crowd dispersed without a single shot being fired.
 
 

It was hard to believe that only a day had passed since we stood all thirty thousand of us on Demokratu Square waiting to be selected to life or death.

Excerpts From my original manuscript:

Ghetto Diary.  October 28, 1941.

"We decided to retire early that night because we knew that the next day was going to be long and cold and we would be needing every ounce of strength.
I was tossing and turning trying to drive away the frightening thoughts. I heard my mother crying and father trying to comfort her. There were deep sighs and choked sobs and all kind of strange noises in the house.
When I finally fell asleep I had terrible nightmares. I dreamt that I was falling endlessly into a dark and bottomless abyss and those thousands of strange demons with red eyes and long snouts were leering at me and laughing. I must have screamed out loud because my sister Fanny shook me quite hard to awaken me.
"It is all right, darling, it is all right. It was only a nightmare."
I woke up wet with perspiration. It was still dark outside, but the East showed the faintest line of gray.
I woke up to a terrifying reality. It was by far worse than any nightmare. At least from a nightmare you can wake up, but this reality probably meant death.
Anushka prepared some hot coffee substitute while we all got warmly dressed. It was time to go. We all embraced and kissed each other. We couldn’t hold back the flow of tears. I especially cried when I said good bye to aunt Anushka. I thought that she had the least chances of survival because she didn’t have a Jordan Pass and I loved her so much.  She looked at me with her kind eyes and smiled.
"Don’t worry, darling, we will see each other in the evening." She said and gave me a big kiss.
Before we left the house I looked at room we lived in and it suddenly became so incredibly pleasant. The bed I slept in looked so warm and cozy.
If I could just curl up under the blankets and go to sleep for ever..  Then I noticed the book I was reading lying on top of my pillow. I impulsively slipped the book under my coat. I don’t know why I did it; I certainly wasn’t going to read where I was going.
The streets and fields were covered with an early morning frost. It was going to be a cold day. I pulled the flaps down of my leather hat to protect my ears from the cold.

Hundreds of people suddenly emerged from the houses all around us. In the semi darkness they looked like gray ghosts. Many were carrying their small children on their arms or pushing a perambulator through the sandy streets. Some supported the elderly parents or carried on a stretcher the very ill. No one wanted to remain inside the houses and be shot.
Then I heard a strange hum that came from the people. When I listened closer I realized that many were reciting psalms.
Strangely enough I was thinking about Cooky. In the evening his mother appeared in our house and told us that she was very worried about him because the workers from the day shift didn’t come back from the airport and no one knew why. In a way I was envious. Cooky had guessed right. The Germans in charge of the airport kept the workers back because they needed them and didn’t want them exposed to the action. I also thought about Lena. Their chance of survival may depend on their cousin the policeman. In previous actions the Jewish policemen managed to save their families. I also thought about my cousins Arik who was hiding with a Christian family and little Rony who a few days earlier was taken out of the ghetto by Mariane. Why couldn’t it be I hiding somewhere outside the ghetto, instead of marching to my death? This and many other thoughts were going through my mind as we were approaching the Demokratu Place. Thoughts ranging from utter despair, where I saw myself falling dead into horrible pits full of dead bodies, and thoughts of hope that perhaps the Jordan Pass may save my life.
Then again the terrible fear of death would rise in me like a floodwater overwhelming my being. My mind was screaming for me to run, escape vanish in thin air, anything but walk with this doomed souls. But my feet assumed independence and just kept on going one step after another.
Arriving at Demokratu Place we were directed by the Jewish policemen to our assembly point. It was one of the first groups on the Place. A man in the first row carried a banner with the words written in German: Ghetto Administration Workers.
We were ordered to form rows of ten. In front stood the members of the ghetto committee and the police with their families. Since we were only four another family joined us, consisting of a woman with two children and an old couple who were her parents.

The woman was working with father at the supply and distribution department.

"Rachel, where is your husband? " Father asked the woman.
"He went to the air port yesterday morning and didn’t come back. " She told father looking anxiously around.

Suddenly a tall man appeared running up and down the column. He was wearing and old suit smeared with mud.
Father was the first one to recognize him and called out:
"Moshe! Here! " Father beckoned to the man. The man ran over and embraced Rachel who was standing next to me.
"Thanks God I found you! We were running up and down the whole field looking for the families.
We had to work two shifts because the night shift was not allowed out of the ghetto " Moshe said completely out of breath. I barely recognized him. I met him a few times in the supply department when he came to see his wife.
He was dirty, with a graying beard, and smelled of sour sweat and urine. He looked like an old man.
‘The poor bastard must have made in his pants.’ I thought turning my head away towards Fanny who was standing next to me.
Suddenly I remembered that Cooky was among these workers who returned from the airport! ‘Poor Cooky, he completely miscalculated the situation. And now he too must be running around among the columns of people looking for his parents. And I envied him that he managed to avoid this action! ‘ I thought feeling guilty.
Day light found the whole ghetto population of about twenty eight thousand men, women and children standing in neat columns waiting for the German executioners to finish their breakfast.
It was a cold morning and a few snowflakes came drifting down from a gray sky. A few hours passed and nothing happened. We were cold and our feet began to ache. All around us we could hear babies cry, and children begged their parents for food. Many began to recite psalms and that melancholy melody spread among the condemned throughout the field. Here and there old people began to collapse and fell to the ground while their families tried to lift them up.
Around nine in the morning we suddenly heard a strange sound. It reminded me of the wind moving through tops of trees in a forest. It was the sound that escaped from thousands of mouths when they saw the German and Lithuanian battalions surround the Demokratu place. They were armed with machine guns and they looked grim. Many of the Lithuanians seemed drunk.

Then two figures resplendent in new uniforms and shinny black boots approached us. They were the ghetto Commandant Jordan and the Gestapo man Rauka. These two were to decide our fate.

Rauka placed himself in front of our column and without any further ceremony began his bloody job.
The members of the Jewish Committee and the ghetto police were standing in front of the column. They and their families were sent to the left, to a specially assigned area. Behind them came all the departments of the ghetto institutions. As we were filling past him he began to send the elderly, the ill, women with small children, some of them boys my age, to the right side, where they were assembled in a separate area. Families were torn apart, the young and the healthy to the left while their elderly parents or small children were sent to the right.

The heart rending cries of the separated family members filled the air, while those who tried to reunite would be knocked down with rifle buts by the Lithuanian guards. It immediately became obvious who were to live and who were going to die. A few showed him Jordan Passes, but he only tore it out of their hands and threw it down into the mud.
My heart began to beat wildly. Suddenly I felt awfully small. The precious life certificate that I held in my trembling hands became worthless before my very eyes. In a few minutes our turn would come and I could already feel the cold breath of death on my neck. Neither father, or mother or sister Fanny could do anything for me.’ Within a few seconds my fate would be sealed.’ I thought wildly.
‘If I could stop the time and go back for a short time into the past.
If only.. There.. There is snowman’s hill behind grand father’s house..
It is covered with pure white snow that glitters like a million candles in the afternoon’s sun..Lena is laughing, her hazel eyes full of Joy.
‘Where are the charcoals you dummy? You were supposed to bring the charcoals for the snowman’s eyes, remember? ‘ Itamar’s laughing face pushed itself in my mind.
‘Come, Solly, my boy, come with me to Palestine, the only place in the world where a Jew can defend himself..’ My uncle Melech’s dark eyes were laughing at me.
‘A fanatical Zionist, an impractical dreamer..’ Father said, shrugging his shoulders.
Page 7

‘This place is doomed, doomed! Don’t you see that the ground is burning under your feet? What are you all, blind?! ‘ The envoy from Palestine spoke heatedly..
‘If only I could turn the clock back.. If only..’ I thought.
"Forward March!" We started moving.

"Oh, God! Give us a little more time, just a little more time.." I prayed silently.
A red face, pale blue eyes, his right arm extended as if he were conducting an orchestra, Rauka stood before us. The executioner!
Three rows, two rows, one row before us.. Left.. right.. left.. right.
I didn’t even hear the screams of the separated families. My heart stopped beating. I was drowning in fright.
Then we stood before him. He seemed bored, his eyes looking indifferently at us.
I wanted to scream: " We are people, for God’s sake! We are fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.

We have our dreams, our ambitions, and our lives given to us by God! You stand there with your pudgy hand sending us to die?! You are not God! You are just a fat, red-faced German. How dare you to deprive us of our lives? Who gave you the right? "
But the words of raging protest only echoed in my brains. Not a sound escaped my frightened lips.
Rauka quickly scanned our line and pointing his hand at Moshe and his family said:
"You! Dreck Sack, and the rest of your garbage, off to the right. "
Moshe who stood next to me began shaking like a leaf. Because he stood so close I could actually feel his trembling that reverberated through my body like the death throes of an animal. It made me nauseous and I thought I would vomit my breakfast at Rauka’s feet.
Moshe and his large family began to move in the direction indicated by Rauka.
I stood frozen to my spot not daring to breathe. From Rauka’s gloved hand a thumb shot up in the air and pointing at me he made a short ark in the direction of Moshe and his family.
"You too." He hissed at me. Two words that might as well have been bullets from a gun. I was a dead man. A tremor shook my body. The same type of tremor that shook Moshe.

Moshe who had moved a few steps turned around and our eyes met. He had dark brown eyes that looked at me with compassion.
"He is not my son. He belongs to the other family. " Moshe said pointing at my father. These words that saved my life will live with me till my dying day. It symbolizes the nobility of the mind of our people who even at the brink of death tried to save others.

 Father, mother, and Fanny who stood like hypnotized, woke up and they all said that I belonged to them. At the same time I whipped my glove off from my right hand and extended to Rauka my Jordan Pass. I noticed how for a second his yes widened at my sudden movement. Later I thought how easily I could have shot him if I had a gun. Perhaps he thought the same thing.
 Rauka was already busy with the row behind us. Like in a trance I moved with my family with Fanny holding on to me with all her strength. >From the corner of my eye I saw Moshe and his family being chased by the Lithuanians to the right. His older son, who was about my age, was looking at me and there was reproach in that look. Perhaps he thought that his father should have saved him instead of me.
 All those gathered on the left stood like transfixed watching the ever-growing number of the condemned. We were the lucky ones, but for how long? But those who are saved from imminent death don’t ask questions like that. All you feel is elation.
The future has no meaning at moments like this. So intrinsic is the sense of self-preservation, that survival of ones life is above all else.
As the day wore on and thousands upon thousands of people, many of them young and needed craftsmen, were being sent to the right we began to have our doubts as to our first impression that the other side was the bad side. And when they began to march them out to the Small Ghetto, our hope was rekindled that perhaps this time Rauka didn’t lie. Perhaps, just perhaps, they were really going to separate the two populations of the working and non-working as he said in the beginning.
But why then, would they send so many young and able workers there?
This is how the historian Joseph Gar describes the events that took place on Demokratu place. Quote:
"After Rauka finished sorting out the columns of the ghetto institutions, he speeded up the tempo of the selections. Columns after columns and rows after rows of people walked past him and he, with a small stick in his hand directed them either to the right or to the left.
Page 9

From the beginning it became evident that Rauka was judging the people basically from their physical looks, their clothing, cleanliness, and size of the family. The younger, stronger and better-dressed people, with smaller families, that had less children or aging parents, were sent to the " good" side.
The elderly, the ill, the weak looking people, families that did not have a man as the head of the family, families that were badly dressed or didn’t look clean, he sent to their death.

After a while he didn’t pay any attention at all, whether the people were working or not, not even well known craftsmen who showed him certificates from various German institution weren’t spared. The various certificates prepared by the Jewish workers made very little impression on him. Not even the Jordan Passes that saved so many lives in the previous actions were honored. Rauka had his own criteria that was to live and who was to die.
Some of the Jewish craftsmen who showed their certificates signed by high ranking German officers, were told by Rauka with a cynical smile:
"Very well, there we will need just the type of craftsmen like you."
He would say pointing to the Small Ghetto.
But when he would get from his adjutants information that the number of Jews that had arrived at the Small Ghetto were much less than expected, he would send whole columns of people to the bad side, irrespective of where they were working.
Around lunchtime Rauka sent for sandwiches and even while he was eating he continued sending people to their death. He just couldn’t take a break from his work.
 As the day wore on and there was still a lot of work to be done, Jordan himself joined the party and began selecting the people. The only difference between the two murderers was that Jordan recognized his own certificates, and anyone showing one to him was sent to the good side. There were hair-raising scenes when the murderers would decide to separate between families. Parents from children, and husbands from wives. Heart rending cries of despair could be heard throughout the huge place as families were torn asunder.
The tragic day seemed endless. Everything that took place on the square, seemed strangely wild, inexplicable, like some terrible nightmare. But unfortunately, it was not a nightmare, but the most tragic reality."
End of Quote.
It was getting dark and still we were standing awaiting our fate.
 

Fortunately, we had prepared some sandwiches and brought with us some bottles of water, which we shared with the people around us. Some of the elderly, unable to stand any longer sat down on the cold ground.
The square began to fill up with dead bodies of the old and the sick who couldn’t endure anymore the rigors of the day and gave up their ghosts.  If that were going to go on much longer, pretty soon all of us would be dead. Only the two henchmen were tireless.

Standing the whole day eating sandwiches and drinking coffee brought to them by their orderlies, they were tireless in sending to their death the best elements of European Jewry.
 Finally when Jordan and Rauka got the word that ten thousand men, women and children were now in the small ghetto, they called it a day. We, the " lucky " ones were finally allowed to return to our homes. We were coming from a funeral of ten thousand of our brethren.
 Returning home we found the place upside down. The Germans were obviously looking for anyone who tried to hide. It was terribly cold in the house, as the doors were open all the time. With trembling hands mother managed to light the stove and put some water for boiling. Our momentary elation soon turned to despair when we realized that we were alone and that neither Anushka nor Jochil with his family had returned.
 We looked out anxiously at the street were thousands of people were still coming from Demokratu Place and that gave us some hope. Perhaps we were among the first to return and they would soon follow, we tried to console each other.’ But what about the others? What about the masses of people who were sent to the small ghetto? What about all our other relatives? ‘ We asked each other.
 ‘ What about Lena and Cooky? Did they survive? ‘ I thought with dread in my heart.
Then suddenly the door opened and uncle Jochil with his family stood at the entrance, and there, a few seconds later, aunt Anushka’s face appeared too. For a moment we looked at each other as if we were seeing ghosts. The same thought must have passed through their minds that we were among the unfortunate ones. Then we fell into each other’s arms and cried, each one telling his experiences of the day.
 Jochil and his family, who stood in the column of Fima’s brigade, were among the earlier groups to be selected. At that time Rauka still had patience to sort out the people. Jochil and his family of four, all relatively young and well dressed, seemed to fit his criteria by which he made his decisions.

A row in front of them and a row in the back were all sent to the bad side because they had too many small children or old parents.
 Anushka, who stood among the air port workers, didn’t fare so well. To their bad luck, just before they filed passed Rauka; a messenger came from the Small Ghetto, which made Rauka furious. Apparently there were not enough victims there as yet.
"All of you shit heads, off you go!"
"He screamed at us, sending row after row of air port workers and their families to the right. When our turn arrived he didn’t even bother to look at us. He just kept his arm extended to the right, and before we knew what was happening the Lithuanians drove us with clubs and rifles on the way to the Small Ghetto.
Suddenly, Greenblat the police man, you know, Lena’s uncle, or cousin, whatever he is, appeared out of nowhere like an angel from heaven and pushing me with great force brought me to the good side. He used to be my customer before the war and we often played cards socially. I must go and thank him for saving my life. " Anushka said. Then she came over and gave me a big hug:
"You see, I told you that we will meet in the evening, and you wouldn’t believe me."
Although we were dead tired we couldn’t sleep that night. We were all worried about the family and friends and the fate of the thousands sent to the Small Ghetto.
It was a long and gruesome day for all of us, young and old. Although we already knew the murderous intent of the Germans from previous actions, we still couldn’t believe that they would murder so many thousands of people in one go.
‘Therefore, perhaps there is some hope. ‘ We consoled each other before we went to sleep.
I woke up in the morning to the terrible screaming of my sister Fanny. She stood by the window crying hysterically:
"They are marching them to the Ninth Fort! God in heaven, they are taking them to their death! " Fanny cried and fell to the floor in a dead faint.
While mother and Anushka tried to revive Fanny, we all rushed to the window and there before us, was the most gruesome sight my eyes had ever seen. It wasn’t as gory as what I had witnessed before, but its implication was a thousand times worse. In my imagination I could see these unfortunate thousands being shoved into the huge mass graves, and layer upon layers of dead and wounded covered with freshly dug up earth.
I could hear the muted screams of the wounded as they were struggling for their last breath under the masses of people.

In the early morning gray we saw ten thousand people being led to the Ninth Fort. From where we stood we could see them clearly as they were marching uphill on the road to the Ninth Fort. Miles and miles of people on their last walk on earth.
Driven by an inexplicable force, together with other thousands of people we rushed to the ghetto fence to say good bye to our nearest and dearest on the other side.
It is impossible to describe the heart-rending cries of the people from both sides of the fence as people recognized friends, relatives, sometimes, parents, brothers and sisters. How can ones heart take in these terrible scenes without breaking to pieces? How can ones mind remains sane while witnessing such a tragedy? One had to be stronger than iron to survive it. The whole day the masses of people were forced to march to the Fort. Hundreds of well-armed Lithuanians and Germans took up positions along the road and would shoot anyone who tried to escape.
Unable to look anymore at the dreadful scenes, which took place before our eyes, we returned home completely dejected. All the time I was looking at the other side trying to see if I could recognize any one I knew. I was afraid to think of Lena and Cooky. I was even more afraid to go to their homes and check. I knew that eventually I would have to do it, but I couldn’t do it the same day. In a way I was hopeful about Lena. If Greenblat managed to save aunt Anushka, surely he would have done the same for his family. But what happened to Cooky? He was among the workers who returned from the airport and many of those unfortunates, because of their dirty cloths and tired looks were sent to their death.
 Even as we were returning home we couldn’t help looking back. >From every spot in the ghetto we could see the endless columns of the doomed moving slowly up the mountain. Although I was warmly dressed I couldn’t stop shivering. When we returned home I slipped into the bed with all my clothing on, but I was still cold. Finally I fell into a long and dreamless sleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but I woke up to the terrible cry of the whole family. I was completely confused and couldn’t understand why they are standing by the windows and crying. When I got out of bed and neared the window, I understood the cause of their terrible grief.

Although it was quite a few miles away we could hear from the direction of the Ninth Fort the unmistakable chatter of multiple machine guns. Our brethren were being shot there at this very moment! The shooting, sometimes fainter some times louder, continued incessantly, without let up, hour after hour, day and night. It takes a lot of bullets to kill ten thousand people. We tried to shut out the terrible sound by stuffing our ears, but that didn’t help much.

At times I wished that I had gone off with Moshe and his family, at least the horror would have been finished once and for all. Staying alive meant the I will have to go through those terrible selections who knows how many times until the day when my luck will run out, and I’ll be making the same journey to the mass graves of the Ninth Fort.
The next two days were the most terrible days since the war began. The surviving population of the ghetto ran around like a mad mob, looking for relatives and friends, covering their ears to shut out the terrible sound of machine gun fire emanating from Ninth Fort.. All of our family, the Shtroms, were saved, some of my school friends were saved as well, but many were sent to their death.
We heard that some of our neighbors at Kalviu 13 were on the good side. Among them the Rogol sisters, Frieda, Riva and Miriam.
Miriam was of my age and she was my childhood love.
The Greenblats, Rachel, Lena, Vova, and their mother. Were sent to their death. Lena’s death was a terrible blow to me. During the short time in the ghetto we became very close.
There were many more of our close friends, teachers, doctors and rabbis who went to their death.

The spirit of the people was at its lowest ebb. Suddenly all our hopes were dashed. If there were one thing we firmly believed was that as long as they needed our workers for their war effort they would keep us alive. But many thousands of able and young workers were sent to their death, therefor that theory collapsed like a house of cards."

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And now returning sixty-three years later, I was driving up the same road that our nearest and dearest walked to the 9th Fort.
The events as I described them above kept flooding my brains in its gruesome details.
Again, I was about to tell Shimon to turn the car around and flee from that dreaded place, but an inner voice told me to face the horrors of the past no matter how difficult it was.
Approaching the fort I saw green lawns surrounding the area. A newly constructed building stood in the middle of the lawn.

Shimon stopped the car and went inside. He came out with a pass allowing us to drive up all the way to the fort. The director of the fort, hearing that I am one of the survivors of the Kovno Ghetto, came out and shook my hand.

"Usually we don’t allow cars to drive up there." She said apologetically.
The fort itself, built of red bricks a century ago, hadn't ‘changed, judging by the pictures we saw since the end of the war.
It stood massive and threatening, full of horrifying shadows, its foundation soaked in Jewish blood. My whole being revolted against entering this evil place.
It took all my will power to force myself to go on. My life’s companion, my wife Pola, walking by my side, was a great help in somewhat calming down the turmoil in my soul.
Before entering the Fort, we were brought to a monstrous sized monument built of metal. The monument looked like a huge bird with hundreds of wings in which were embedded the suffering figures of human beings.
It was built by the Soviets, and somehow it added to the atmosphere of malevolence of the place.

The plaque attached to the monument spoke of Soviet citizens who perished in this place, without mentioning that they were Jews.

Only after the collapse of the Soviet Empire, some plaques were added in Hebrew, Yiddish and other languages, that the victims were mostly people of the Jewish faith.

Entering the Fort gave me the feeling as if I was entering the mouth of a bloodthirsty monster. I was full of apprehension and a deep revulsion.
‘What was I doing in this purgatory? Why am I here? Will I survive this place of horror?"
These thoughts kept going through my mind, but as if in a hypnotic trance I continued to walk inside the Belly of the Beast.
As if in a haze I walked through the various rooms with inscriptions on the walls by people who were incarcerated here before they were executed.
There were inscriptions of people from all over Europe and some even from Monaco.

They were dragged here to be shot before the murder factories of Auschwitz, Sobibor, Chmelno and others were built in Poland, were they used gas instead of shooting people.
There were photos from various communities and the Kovno Ghetto and one room, to my horror, contained a photo of myself.
It was in the room dedicated to the Japanese consul Chiune Sugihara, who saved thousands of Jewish refugees from Poland by issuing them visas to Japan. I had no idea why they decided to include the story of the Japanese consul on the 9th Fort, and why my photo appeared there.

I was later told that idea came to them, that if it weren’t for the Japanese consul, all the ones who were saved by him would have been buried on this Fort.
We continued walking through the fort until we came to a maze of labyrinth like corridors. They were narrow, and their ceilings were built in an arch and very low.
These corridors were winding through the depth of the Fort, lit by dim electric bulbs. I felt a menacing presence of evil in these corridors, and heard all kinds of whispering noises. They sounded like voices from far away. The corridors were badly ventilated and I broke out in a sweat.
As if suggested by the whispering voices, suddenly a horrible thought occurred to my mind and I asked Chaim the guide, walking beside me:
"In the big action of October 28, 1941, ten thousand people were brought here and shot. How could they have shot so many people in such a short time? And were did they bring them, straight to the mass graves?"
Chaim to took some time to answer me. Finally he said in a whisper:
"Didn’t you know? They were brought here and stuffed into this labyrinth of corridors, one on top of the other. Then they were taken out five hundred at the time and shot at the mass graves."
Suddenly the whispering became louder. I felt as if I was transported back in time and was standing among the mass of people squeezed together, waiting to be executed. I had the feeling that I was suffocating.

"Take me out of here. Quickly.. Take me out of here."
I said to Shimon.
The lights became dimmer and I felt that the menacing evil in this labyrinth is going to envelop me in its grip. It felt like the touch of death.

I was about to pass out.  I don’t know how long it took us to get out from these haunted corridors in the open air. I took a deep breath and was glad that I came out alive. The sun was just sinking in the West and an evening breeze was blowing through the blue grass.
The grass looked smooth and healthy and stretched all around the Fort, covering the killing fields where our people were buried. A thought occurred to me that the ashes of our nearest and dearest dispersed in these fields were feeding the grass, contributing to its beauty. Somehow the thought was comforting.

End of the Fifth and last Part of ‘Journey to Lithuania’.

Solly Ganor
Herzelia Pituach,
Israel. October 19, 2004

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