A Moment Of Decision From Ljubljana Slovenia To Trieste Italy
A Moment of Decision
FROM LJUBLJANA (Slovenia)
TO TRIESTE (Italy)…
By Joseph Gottfried
Much has been written, in
many languages and in many forms about both the reasons for and the events of
the Holocaust. Future generations will "see" all this through the
prism of time. However, the individual nar-ratives of those who survived, those
who managed to save themselves are as fascinating from a micro perspective as
the view from 30,000 feet. From the European territories formerly called
Yugoslavia, for example, 1 out of 7 Jews survived the cataclysm. Their small
stories, the split-second decisions that then influenced the course of the rest
of their lives, may be of interest.It is almost incomprehensible, yet time and
again one MOMENT OR DECISION MADE IT POSSIBLE FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OR FAMILY TO
ESCAPE THE VIOLENCE OR DEATH CAMPS!!
HERE IS ONE SUCH MOMENT.
After the conquest of the Balkans in 1941, Germany and Italy, divided Slovenia
into German and Italian sectors, with Ljubljana (Capital of Slovenia) falling
within the Italian sector. My school buddy from Sarajevo & Dubrovnik,
Silvio Finzi, and I were hiding in Ljub-ljana at the time.
On July 15, 1943, Italy changed its political direction and joined with the
Allied effort. Almost immediately, the question arose whether the Italians
would defend their part of Slovenia, or, whether they would withdraw to their
borders. If they decided to withdraw, the Germans would be able to enter
Ljubljana to take control of entire Slovenia.
For Silvio and me, this was a time of insecurity and, as time passed, the
situation became ever more dan-gerous. There was talk of German military
concen-trations north of Ljubljana, and travelers brought news of German
patrols near Medvode and Domzala.
Here and there we heard that Italian civilians were leaving Ljubljana, so we
decided that we, too, should leave the city and try to reach Trieste. We packed
only the most necessary items into two small suitcases and, with the permission
of local authorities, purchased train tickets to Trieste, normally a 3-hour
voyage.
The train was full, mostly with Italian passengers. The coach car had
individual compartments with doors that opened to the OUTSIDE. Everything
seemed to be going well, and the train stopped near the Italian border at
Sezana. Parallel to the tracks, about 60 to 70 yards away, we spotted a tiny
village. As the train slowed and pulled to a stop, German soldiers appeared
along both sides, patrolling up and down, about one soldier per 2 or 3 cars.
Soon, the train conductor appeared and told passengers -"This train is
returning to Ljubljana for document control."
At that moment, we understood that if we stayed on the train and subjected
ourselves to German inspection, we would certainly be doomed! The end! I turned
to Silvio and told him—-“Follow me! I will open the compartment door when the
soldier walks in the opposite direction. We will hop off quickly (through the
OUTSIDE door) and I will ask the soldier in German whether we are allowed to
BOARD this train.” That is what we did. When the soldier turned around and saw
us behind him, he immediately confronted us. “What do you want?” he demanded. I
asked him in German whether we could get on this train, as if we had just come
out of the station. He blustered in that authentically gruff Teutonic manner
that “Nobody can go on this train” and that WE SHOULD IMMEDIATELY RETURN FROM
WHERE WE CAME.” So, following his “orders,” with palpitating hearts, we
retreated to the nearby village.
We knocked on several doors until we found a lady who offered us a small room.
Through her window, we could see the railroad station. The train we had just
escaped from returned to Ljubljana. After a few hours, we walked over to the
station again and were informed that the same train was expected to return
later in the day. We wondered whether the Germans were still around, but we did
not see them anymore.
Late in the afternoon, as predicted, the train returned, but this time, with
far fewer passengers. As if nothing happened, the two of us boarded the train
again and within an hour, reached Trieste.
The next day, we went to the police station to report our arrival in Trieste.
There we spoke with a police official who, although sympathetic, told us in no
uncertain terms that we could not safely remain in Trieste. He advised us to
leave the city and head for the interior. The official explained that we would
most likely be sent to a camp for "internati civili" (interned
civilians) or "campy libery" (free camps.)
We appreciated his advice, but two days later, we were on a train full of
Italian soldiers returning home. We were 23 years old and on our way to Rome!
Our story continued, and there were many similar moments of decision. Perhaps
next time, I will tell you about them…
Lamed-E
A Quarterly Journal of Politics and Culture Selected and Edited by Ivan Ninic
Shlomo Hamelech 6/21 42268 Netanya, Israel Phone:
+972 9 882 6114 e-mail: ninic@netvision.net.il