Potrzebna Totalna Dekonstrukcja „Humanitarnego sukcesu” Białych Autobusów!

Potrzebna Totalna Dekonstrukcja „Humanitarnego sukcesu” Białych Autobusów

Współczesna historiografia akcji Folke Bernadotte’a wymaga radykalnego oczyszczenia z propagandowych naleciałości okresu powojennego. Kluczowym narzędziem tworzenia szwedzkiego mitu „sumienia świata” była m.in. zaawansowana manipulacja statystyką, która miała pokazać szwedzki heroizm i ukryć niewygodne prawdy. M.in. co było priorytetem akcji.

Czy było to rozgłoszone na cały świat ratowanie ofiar Holocaustu, czy np. bezpieczna ewakuacja osób, obywateli niemieckich z „niemiecko-szwedzkimi koneksjami”.

Akcja Białych Autobusów była oficjalnie skierowana do obywateli skandynawskich – Duńczyków i Norwegów, w których uratowano ponad 7700. To jedyna część akcji, której cyfry nie były zbytnio manipulowane.

Statystyki Szwedzkiego Czerwonego Krzyża – Inflacja liczb: od 60 000 do brutalnej prawdy!
Bezpośrednio po wojnie szeroko operowano liczbą 60 000 ocalałych, którą Szwedzki Czerwony Krzyż (SZCK) musiał z czasem wielokrotnie i drastycznie korygować (o kilkadziesiąt tysięcy w dół). Ta „ucieczka od prawdy” trwała dekady, a każda kolejna redukcja liczb obnażała fakt, że Białe Autobusy były operacją znacznie mniejszą i bardziej selektywną niż chciano wierzyć.

Duński Czerwony Krzyż zajął się tymi kobietami które dotarły w maju 1945 do duńskiej stacji granicznej Padborg tzw. „Pociągami widmo”. Szwedzki Czerwony Krzyż jedynie przejął opiekę nad tymi kobietami na ostatnim etapie drogi do Szwecji.

Mechanizm dodawania do swoich statystyk przybyłych do Danii „Pociągami Widmo” (Stacja Padborg)
Twierdzenie o uratowaniu 7 000 Polek z Ravensbrücku jest w dużej mierze historycznym nadużyciem. Szwedzki Czerwony Krzyż (SZCK) włączył do swoich statystyk tysiące kobiet, które dotarły w maju 1945 do duńskiej stacji granicznej Padborg tzw. „Pociągami widmo”. Transporty te nie były zorganizowane przez Białe Autobusy, lecz stanowiły element chaotycznej ewakuacji obozów zarządzonej przez samych Niemców pod naporem frontu.
Duński Czerwony Krzyż zajął się tymi kobietami które dotarły w maju 1945 do duńskiej stacji granicznej Padborg tzw. „Pociągami widmo”. SZCK jedynie przejął opiekę nad tymi kobietami na ostatnim etapie drogi do Szwecji. Przypisanie sobie ich „ocalenia” to klasyczne zawłaszczenie cudzego losu w celach wizerunkowych. Wśród tych kobiet, które przybyły pociągami, widmo do Danii były również polskie Żydówki.

Narodowość ważniejsza od cierpienia
Podczas gdy liczby uratowanych Polek czy Żydówek były „pompowane” post factum, jedna grupa pozostawała stałym i pewnym punktem akcji: około 3 000 – 3 500 Niemców ze szwedzkimi powiązaniami.Ta grupa uprzywilejowanych obywateli Rzeszy była ewakuowana jako pierwsza, a następnie systematycznie przez cały czas trwania akcji.
Ewakuowanie to stawia akcję Bernadotte’a w jednym rzędzie z działaniami admirała Dönitza (Operacja Hannibal). Obie operacje – choć z różnych pozycji – skupiały się przede wszystkim na ratowaniu „swoich”, wykorzystując więźniów obozów jedynie jako kartę przetargową w ostatnich dniach wojny.

Ulica Waliców nr. 10 i 14 - Irena Librader - Rywka Boszes i Władysław Szlengel.

Waliców 14 to kamienica w lewym dolnym rogu. W narożnym domu, Waliców 10, mieszkała dr. Rywka Boszes, która poprzednio była bursistką w Domu Sierot Korczaka. Budynki istnieją do dzisiaj.

Z wielkim zainteresowaniem czytałem po szwedzku książkę Ireny Smigielski (De stulna åren). Dlatego przypomniałem sobie kartkę umieszczoną na drzwiach wejściowych - mieszkania przy ul. Waliców 14 w Getcie Warszawskim. Kartka z informacją, jak dzwonić do poszczególnych lokatorów - wśród nich Władysława Szlengla - i Lurie (Jerzy). Pod nazwiskiem Lurie mieszkała z matką, Irena (Librader ) Smigielski.

Irena to "Aneri" z Małego Przeglądu Janusza Korczaka. Współpracowniczką posługującą się pseudonimem Aneri w „Małym Przeglądzie” Janusza Korczaka była Irena Librader.

Należała ona do grupy najbardziej rozpoznawalnych, stałych autorów pisma, obok takich postaci jak Lejzor z Gęsiej, Emkot czy Edwin. Była ceniona za swój styl reporterski; w archiwalnych numerach można odnaleźć m.in. jej obszerny reportaż „Zorganizowane społeczeństwo”, w którym opisywała świat dziecięco-dorosły z perspektywy młodej obserwatorki. Choć niektórzy czytelnicy w listach do redakcji zarzucali jej styl bycia pełen pozy lub „napuszony”, pozostawała jedną z „legendarnych” postaci redakcji.

Warto dodać, że pseudonim „ANERI” jest anagramem imienia IRENA.

Gazetka Szlengla

19 stycznia 1943

Akcja w mieście...

                   Akcja u Schultza

                            Akcja u Toebbensa...

 

Pierwsze ożywiające nerwy wiadomości.

 

Opór! Padają strzały. Żydzi mają granaty. Żydzi mają broń. Na Niskiej podpalono dom. U Schultza rzucano granaty.

 

Są zabici esesmani.

Niemiecka karetka pogotowia krąży po dzielnicy.

Getto przestaje być knieją trzebionej zwierzyny.

S t a j e  s i ę  f r o n t e m.  

Legenda urasta. Mit nabrzmiewa. Opowiadają o walkach. O wycofywaniu się żandarmów.

 

Esesmani nie wchodzą do piwnic. Na skrzyżowaniu ulicy rozpłaszczył się trup pierwszego esesmana.

Pejcz leży w rowie.

 

Z getta wywieziono szpital. Wszystkich chorych i całą obsługę szpitalną. Siostry, lekarzy, wydział zdrowia.

 

Na sali chirurgicznej leżących w gipsie wolno (jeden po drugim) zastrzeliwano.

The Ships are Sailing... - Mietek Zylbertal, a friend of Janusz Korczak, described how Maapilim were trying to get to Eretz Israel before WWII - "... the ships sail and will continue to sail. And they will reach land. They will surely reach the shore, the only shore."

Moshe Zylbertal, "In the Presence of Korczak" (Memories) 1944.

Five years have passed since the last encounters with Janusz Korczak on the soil of Poland, on the threshold of the ghetto and the slaughter. Between Korczak and Zylbertal, members of the pioneers' movement in Poland, who lived in closeness and shared daily work, there were also personal ties that did not cease even after Zylbertal arrived in Eretz Israel. They corresponded, exchanged opinions, and kept in direct contact.
Six years after Korczak and Wilczyńska went on their final journey, we find it appropriate to present these memories to the Hebrew reader as a drop of yeast and a small legacy to follow in their path and their devotion to the child. Tel Aviv, April 1948.

Mietek (Moshe) Zylbertal, a friend of Janusz Korczak, described how Maapilim were trying to get to Eretz Israel before WWII.

In 1938, Korczak wrote in Młody Czyn, where Zylbertal was one of the most frequent contributors.

Mieczysław (Mietek Z) Zylbertal (1909–1993) was a Polish-Jewish educator and activist who served as a conversational partner and friend to the legendary educator Janusz Korczak. Zylbertal was active in the Jewish scout movement Hashomer Hatzair. Actually, as early as the late 1920s, he tried to recruit Korczak as a lecturer for the movement's teacher seminars. In 1938, Korczak wrote in Młody Czyn, where Zylbertal was one of the most frequent contributors. Korczak invited Zylbertal to participate in the newspaper, Mały Przegląd (The Little Review). Zylbertal emigrated to Eretz Israel before the outbreak of World War II. It was to him that Korczak sent his famous letters during the 1930s, in which he discussed everything from his existential anxiety to his thoughts on moving to Palestine himself. Their correspondence is today one of the most important sources for understanding Korczak's inner life during his final years. In a letter from March 1937, Korczak confided in Zylbertal about why he chose never start his own family, and instead to dedicate his life entirely to orphaned children.

                                                                The Ships are Sailing...

When I was already in the port, gazing at the gray sea and the white ship that was to take me to a foreign land—a worker I knew approached me and whispered in my ear: "They caught three hundred people tonight..." and left—

And I felt an emptiness in my chest and a strange, moist mist in my eyes—

And later I saw them. On a ship as wretched and black as their fate. They were crowded and silent. Like a wall, a wall of misery and endurance. On the bow of the ship, I saw its name: "Sanda"—but I read "Hope". On the high mast fluttered a poor, tattered flag, but to me, it seemed like a proud banner of liberation.  

And so I stood, staring at this ship-fate, which wandered the seas and ports as a living symbol of Jewish wandering, as a protest of people who lacked firm ground under their feet and a clear sky over their heads.

On the black body of the ship burned a patch of red paint—like a bleeding heart, while the people stood crowded, gazing at the shores of their homeland.

No one cried, no one lamented, no one wrung their hands. There was silence; a terrible, piercing silence.

These people knew that this was the end of the journey. That foreign violence would be of no use; a blunt, lawless, ridiculous attempt to close the road home.

I thought: They are not the first and not the last. Thousands of years ago, their ancestors returned here from Egyptian bondage, tormented, beaten, and driven—but in their hearts was joy, and on their lips, psalms of freedom.

To this country, the hearts of those tortured in Spain yearned; here came masses of the faithful from Turkey and the Balkans, listening to the visions of the ill-fated Sabbatai Zevi. To the distant homeland, scorched by the heat of the sun and prayer, came sons from frozen Siberia and from the wide Russian fields, where, by order of the Tsar, there was no room for Jews.

They came here from all sides, across the Caucasus mountains and the Syrian desert, across the Mediterranean Sea and the sands of Egypt—young, sacrificial people—at the news of the heroism of Tel Hai...

Here they come, they come, they come, tens, hundreds, and thousands of young and old, women and children, burned by a longing for freedom, for work, for life—

And again, ships sail across the seas. Without a flag and without a name. Without fuel and without bread. Driven by the gale of hatred that has broken out in the world, the fire of longing for the mother-homeland burns in their boilers.

And they sail. Neither prohibition nor violence will stop them. No foreign, brutal force will push them away. For this is their raft, their land, their fate.

Perhaps not always worthy, late, perhaps prodigal sons. But sons, children. Blood of blood. — The thread of history.

And that is why the resistance is poor, small, and ridiculous, because the ships sail and will continue to sail.

And they will reach land. They will surely reach the shore, the only shore.

    Mietek Z.

Płyną okręty...

Gdy już byłem w porcie zapatrzony w szare morze i biały okręt, który miał mnie zabrać na obczyznę — doszedł do mnie znajomy robotnik i szepnął do ucha: „Złapali trzystu ludzi tej nocy...” i odszedł —

A ja poczułem pustkę w piersiach i dziwną, wilgotną mgłę w oczach —

A później widziałem ich. Na statku nędznym i czarnym, jako ich los. Byli stłoczeni i milczący. Niby mur, mur niedoli i wytrwania. Na dziobie statku widziałem nazwę jego: „Sanda” — a ja czytałem „Nadzieja”. Na maszcie wysokim trzepotała marna, zniszczona flaga, a mnie się zdało, że to dumny sztandar wyzwolenia.

I tak stałem wpatrzony w ten okręt-los, który błąkał się po morzach i portach, jako żywy symbol żydowskiego tułactwa, jako protest ludzi, którym nie stało twardej ziemi pod nogami i jasnego nieba nad głową.

Na czarnym ciele okrętu płonęła plama czerwonej farby — jak serce krwawiące, a ludzie stali stłoczeni i wpatrywali się w brzeg ojczysty.

Nikt nie płakał, nie lamentował, nie załamywał rąk. Była cisza; straszna, przejmująca cisza.

Ci ludzie wiedzieli, że tu jest kres wędrówki. Że na nic się zda obca przemoc; tępa bezprawna, śmieszna próba zamknięcia drogi do domu.
Pomyślałem: Nie pierwsi są i nie ostatni. Tu wracali przed tysiącami lat ich przodkowie z niewoli egipskiej, umęczeni, bici i zgonieni — a w sercach była radość, na ustach psalmy wolności.
Do tego kraju rwało się serce męczonych w Hiszpanii, tu szły masy wiernych z Turcji i Bałkanów, zasłuchanych w wizje nieszczęsnego Szabbataja Cwi. Do dalekiej, spalonej żarem słońca i modlitwy ojczyzny, szli synowie z mroźnej Syberii i z szerokich pól rosyjskich, gdzie z rozkazu cara zabrakło miejsca dla Żydów.
Tu przybyli ze wszech stron, poprzez góry Kaukazu i pustynię syryjską, przez Morze Śródziemne i piaski Egiptu — młodzi, ofiarni ludzie — na wieść o bohaterstwie Tel-Chaj...
Tu idą, idą, idą dziesiątki, setki i tysiące młodych i starych, kobiet i dzieci, których pali tęsknota do wolności, do pracy, do życia —

I znów po morzach płyną okręty. Bez bandery i bez imienia. Bez paliwa i bez chleba. Gna je wicher nienawiści, jaka rozpętała się na świecie, w kotłach płonie ogień tęsknoty do matki-ojczyzny.
I płyną. Nie powstrzyma ich ani zakaz, ani przemoc. Nie odepchnie ich obca, brutalna siła. Bo ta ich tratwa, ich ziemia, ich los.
Może niezawsze godni, spóźnieni, może marnotrawni synowie. Ale synowie, dzieci. Krew z krwi. — Nić historii.
I dlatego marny, mały, śmieszny jest opór, Bo okręty płyną i płynąć będą.
I dobiją. Dobiją napewno do brzegu, do jedynego brzegu.
Mietek Z.

Janusz Korczak to future ZOB-leaders - "My love, my knowledge, my power, and my faith – in faithful service to You and with You..."

One of the documents my father "Pan Misza" rescued following the deportation of Janusz Korczak’s Dom Sierot was a carbon-paper typescript copy of a letter Korczak sent to his friends at 34 Dzielna Street. For years, I have returned to this specific letter, answering Korczak’s own plea: to decipher it. This process has spanned more than three decades, and yet I still feel that some of Korczak's most profound, hidden ideas remain just beyond my reach. 

Why did Korczak ask Chalutzim to "decipher" it? Korczak often used a "coded" or poetic style to bypass the literal and speak to the soul. By asking his young friends, future ZOB leaders, to decipher this, he was challenging them to realize that "Power" (Siła) and "Faith" (Wiara) are not just words, but tools that require "searching for error and unconscious lies."

January 30, 1942. A note to the chalutzim, 34 Dzielna St. [?]

To the dear chalutzim, for a free moment to decipher.
    I want, because I love. – I want, therefore I know how. I want, therefore I can. – I want, because I believe.

    I want only for myself, because for myself only, not for others – do I love, know, know how, want, and believe.
    My love, my knowledge, my power, and my faith – in faithful service to You and with You, in arduous work for You, on the weary path to You and toward You.
    I know, and I believe.
    How beautiful is knowledge when it wavers, when it does not trust itself, when it searches within and around itself for error, neglect, and even unconscious lies.
    How beautiful is faith without doubt, without reservation, without the fear that I might be wrong.

Shalom

One particular sentence was especially challenging in his note:

My love, my knowledge, my power, and my faith – in faithful service to You and with You, in arduous work for You, on the weary path to You and toward You.

The Offering of Self - Torch

Korczak is an old, physically exhausted man. By listing his "love, knowledge, power, and faith," he is handing over his entire life's "capital" to these young pioneers. He is telling the future leaders of the Uprising: Everything I have built as a pedagogue and a human now belongs to your cause.

In the context of January 1942, this sentence represents Janusz Korczak’s spiritual and ideological "passing of the torch" to the young resistance fighters of the ZOB (Jewish Fighting Organization).
At the time, the He-Chalutz and Dror headquarters at 34 Dzielna St. was the epicenter of young Zionists who were transitioning from social work to underground military planning."...in arduous work for You...": The word "arduous" (żmudnej) highlights that the resistance was not just a heroic moment of battle, but a grueling, daily labor of organizing, smuggling, and preparing in the face of starvation.
"...on the weary path to You and toward You.": This is the most profound part."To You" (do Was): He is physically walking toward their headquarters, joining their ranks.
"Toward You" (ku Wam): This has a messianic or historical meaning. He sees these young Chalutzim as the future of the Jewish people. Even if he does not live to see a free world, his path leads toward the future they represent.
In January 1942, as the "Great Action" (deportations) loomed, this note was his way of saying: "My life's work is now your armor." He was validating their path of resistance, even if it differed from his lifelong pacifism.

Janusz Korczak’s note (January 30, 1942), to the Chalutzim at 34 Dzielna St., represented a spiritual and ideological 'passing of the torch' to the future leaders of the ZOB. By offering them his 'love, knowledge, power, and faith,' Korczak was providing his moral blessing to the young resistance fighters, transforming his lifelong pedagogical capital into their existential armor.
This gesture is even more profound when considering the specific timing: during this period, Korczak was visiting the Main Shelter at 39 Dzielna St., a place known as the 'dying room' (Umieralnia) due to its catastrophic conditions. Despite his failing health, Korczak wrote to the Judenrat offering to take over this 'terrible place' and work there two days a week throughout February 1942. His message to the young pioneers was not just theoretical; it was a demonstration of supreme 'power and faith' in the face of total despair, bridging the gap between his educational mission and the underground's preparation for the ultimate struggle for dignity.

Korczak is much more direct,  although a bit coded, in his letter to Harry Kalisher. Also, this document was among the documents rescued on August 5th, 1942, after the deportation of Korczak's Orphanage.  Korczak is ending the letter written on March 25, 1942, with the words:

 Praca Twoja jest drobna w porównaniu z tym, co jest do zrobienia i co byś pragnął zrobić, ale wielka w obliczu tego, co leży odłogiem i czeka, co zbiera żniwo śmierci i cierpień bez miary. Uważaj swoją pracę za egzamin i szczebel. Nie próbuj przeskoczyć sam siebie przed czasem. Zanim kurtyna zapadnie – potrzebna będzie Twoja młodość, energia i siły. – Niedługo czekać będziesz na nowe wezwanie i nowe zadania. Prawda, że mogę liczyć na Ciebie i na Was jako na bardzo bliskich, dojrzałych towarzyszy broni? Męski, żołnierski uścisk ręki Tobie i Różyczce.

In English:

Your work is small compared to what needs to be done and what you would wish to do, but it is great in the face of all that lies fallow and waits—that which reaps a harvest of death and measureless suffering. Treat your work as an exam and a stepping stone. Do not try to leap beyond yourself before the time is right. Before the curtain falls, your youth, energy, and strength will be needed. You will not have to wait long for a new call and new tasks. Is it true that I can count on you and your circle as very close, mature comrades-in-arms? A manly, soldierly handshake to you and to Różyczka.

This last passage is extraordinarily powerful, especially given the context of the Jewish Resistance and the upcoming uprising. Korczak’s choice of words like "comrades-in-arms" (towarzysze broni) and "soldierly handshake" (żołnierski uścisk) shows he knew exactly what kind of "call" was coming for the youth at 34 Dzielna Street and forwarding it to Harry and people around him."Before the curtain falls" (Zanim kurtyna zapadnie): This theatrical metaphor is haunting. Korczak, always a man of the arts and education, uses it to signal the final act of the Ghetto (deportations to the death camp).

"Korczak is no longer only admired and respected, awakening the heart and mind, but somehow closer, breathing the same air and the same thought." - "Młody Czyn" - 1939.

Hashomer Hatzair (Hebrew: השומר הצעיר, "Young Guardian") is an international Jewish youth Scout organization. It was founded in 1916 in Vienna through the merger of the Tzeirei Tzijon movement (which consisted of self-study circles with Hebrew lessons) and the Hashomer "Guardian" organization, a Scout organization based primarily on the British model of Scouting. In Poland, the sixteen-member founding group in Poland included Janusz Korczak (Henryk Goldszmit).

Korczak was actually found as an Eretz Israel specialist and was, after his two visits there, invited to different cities in Poland to give talks. He was also writing in different youth Zionist newspapers and "Szomerzy" - the Shomers and their activities in Poland was almost every week the subject in Korczaks´newspaper Maly Przeglad.

P e o p l e  a r e  g o o d *
by Janusz Korczak

I know this girl. I know her father, who died, and her overworked mother. I have met them many times on the beautiful pages of Korczak's stories.
And once again, an encounter: "People are good." Characters as if known for a long time — a child whose head is filled with wise and difficult questions; adults, forever busy, with sadness in their eyes.
Many beautiful thoughts and strange questions — so simple, yet unfathomable. These are the extraordinary questions and thoughts of Janusz Korczak, which run like a red thread through his works:
The heart. "So much to love, and only one small human heart?"
"What is a homeland?... Perhaps two thousand years is not that long after all?"
"Why do people think that if someone doesn't know, doesn't have a skill, they must immediately be stupid? Not at all. They will learn, and then they will know."
So much simplicity and so much heart. It is a wonder: so much care and so much love for one small human heart...
And yet, this story is new. For the first time, there is a breeze from Eretz [Israel] in it. First time — a kibbutz. For the first time — chalutzim, shomrim, the sun that dries the lips, and "shalom," which gives heart.
Korczak is no longer only admired and respected, awakening the heart and mind, but somehow closer, breathing the same air and the same thought.
The story is beautiful — and it brings us joy. Everything there is seemingly like in the rest of the world: children have quarreled, a friend is teasing... And yet, it is different: a boy broke a tree branch — he did not hide it, he told the truth. No one scolded him; they said, "Well, it can happen to anyone." In the kibbutz, there is no money — everyone works equally, and they receive food, clothing, and a place to live.
Here, they understand better than anywhere else that "if a person does something wrong, it is because they do not know how to do otherwise, because they do not understand." One must teach, one must explain.
In the story, it is written: "to live in Palestine, one must deserve it." Perhaps that is why there are already some people there who allow us to believe that "People are good."
Mietek Z.
Mietek Z might be Mieczysław Zylberberg -to check!

* Ludzie są dobrzy (People are Good), published in 1938, is a poignant, short story by Janusz Korczak. It is a fictionalized account of emigration, reflecting Korczak’s own visits to Palestine in 1934 and 1936.
The story is told from the perspective of a young, orphaned girl who leaves her home country to travel to Palestine with her mother. Despite the difficulties of loss and migration, the title reflects a, perhaps fragile, belief in the goodness of people.
The book was published by the Palestinian Library for Children. It was partly a gift to readers of the Mały Przegląd (Little Review) magazine, for which Korczak was a mentor.

Oddychający tym samym powietrzem i tą samą myślą! pisze o Korczaku Mietek Z w recenzji w gazecie szomrowskiej "Młody Czyn" w 1939 roku.

Spring 1940 - Sabina Leizerowicz at the Sewing room at the Korczak´s Orphans' Home on Krochmalna 92.

Sabina Leizerowicz, or "Pani Saba" as she was called (second from the left), was one of Janusz Korczak’s most loyal associates. She was also my father's favorite among the staff. She was a sewing teacher, and her classroom was located on the same floor where the young teachers lived (the mezzanine). Sabina Leizerowicz was murdered along with Janusz Korczak, Pani Stefa, and the 239 children. She was 32 years old. Sewing room at the Orphans' Home on Krochmalna 92. Probably April-May, 1940. The photo is one of 462 pictures taken for the JOINT organization. Behind the open window of the sewing room, the so-called "Small House" (Mały Domek) is visible.

In Janusz Korczak´s Orphans’ Home at 92 Krochmalna Street, in March 1940 (during WWII). The Society for the Promotion of Vocational and Agricultural Work among Jews (ORT) organized a tailoring and linen workshop, open daily except on Saturdays (Shabbat), from 9:00 AM to 2:00 PM. The workers (20 people)—aged 14 to 24—were mostly current or former residents of the Orphans’ Home and the boarding house on Krochmalna, the Orphans’ Home at 7 Grzybowski Square, and the Youth Home at 27 Twarda Street. The head of the sewing room at the Orphans' Home was Ms. Saba Lejzerowicz.

Stefa Wilczyńska described this project with the following words: "Seven workers," she writes, "eat lunch on-site, covering this expense by sewing for the establishment (lunch is calculated at 1 PLN). The girls work with enthusiasm and are making progress.

Mechanizm tworzenia mitu Białych Autobusów

Mechanizm tworzenia mitu Białych Autobusów 

Jerusalem Meeting - Shmul Gogol recognized!

Shmul (Szmulek) Gogol

Jerusalem Meeting - Shmul Gogol from Janusz Korczak's Orphanage recognized!

This anecdote captures a profound moment of post-war reunion:

At one of the first International Korczak Conferences, a young man from the Israeli Korczak Committee was assigned to drive my father back to his hotel after the final academic session. They sat in the tiny car in complete silence. After a moment, my father looked at the driver and shouted, 'Szmulek!' The driver looked at my father and cried out, 'Pan Misza!' They stopped the car and, weeping, began to embrace. Neither of them had ever suspected that the other had survived the Holocaust.

Shmuel (Szmulek) Gogol was born in Warsaw in 1924. After the death of his mother and his father's expulsion from Poland, he was raised by his grandmother, who eventually brought him to Janusz Korczak's orphanage. He lived there for several years, and it was there that he received his first harmonica as a gift from Dr. Korczak himself.

Gogol eventually fled Warsaw during the war. After hiding in various locations, including with family in Maków Mazowiecki, he was captured and deported to Auschwitz. His harmonica was seized immediately upon arrival, but he later traded his meager food rations to another prisoner for a different one. Soon after, a Nazi guard heard him playing, and he was forced to join the Auschwitz Orchestra, playing as Jews were marched toward the gas chambers. While he played, Gogol saw members of his own family being sent to their deaths; from that moment on, he closed his eyes whenever he performed.