PAST IMPERFECT

On July 19, 1941, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill launched his "V for Victory" campaign in Europe

British Open 'V' Nerve War; Churchill Spurs Resistance By James MacDonald Special Cable to The New York Times RELATED HEADLINES Germans Claim Gains On Wide Front, Reported 200 Miles From Moscow; Russians Fight Hard To Stem Drives: Nazis Drive Ahead: Forces Advancing From Bessarabia Reported Across Dniester: Finish Gain Announced: Soldiers Said to Have Pushed to North Shore of Ladoga in Severe Battling Red Defense Firm:Smolensk Suburbs Still Held--Gain Against Finns Is Listed: Baltic Victory Reported: Foes Declared Beaten Back on Bessarabian Front--Stalin Defense Chief U.S. To Take Over 100 More Tankers To Aid The British Transfer Speeded: Ickes Meets the Owners Tomorrow to Plan for Shifting 25 Ships: Some To Go to Iceland: With England Taking Norse Vessels, Atlantic Coast Faces 50% Cut in Oil Supply Bolivia Rounds Up Pro-Nazis And Bars German Minister: La Paz Spokesman Charges Attempts to Engage in Subversive Activities: State of Siege Ordered: Socialist Publisher Detained -- Nation Reported Calm as President Acts R.A.F. Lines Bombs Into Nazi Convoy:Blasts Four Ships in North Sea and Another Off Norway--Pounds Dunkerque Docks OTHER HEADLINES Henderson Moves For A Cut Of 50 P.C. In Auto Production:Tentative Program Would Also Affect Refrigerators and Washing Machines: Clash With OPM Is Seen: Issue May Go to Roosevelt -- Aim of Action Is to Save Vital Defense Metals Lewis Repudiated by Labor League:Nonpartisan Unit in Jersey Demands a Constitution and 'Duly Elected Officers' Ickes Meets the Owners Tomorrow to Plan for Shifting 25 Ships London, Sunday, July 20 -- Britain launched a unique nerve war against Germany last midnight with the double purpose of undermining German morale and solidifying anti- Nazi sentiment among the various countries conquered by Reichsfuehrer Hitler. It was a war in which the battle cry was "V for Victory." Millions of people in Europe were called on to use the alphabetical letter V [meaning victory] on every occasion possible. They were urged to chalk or paint the letter V on the walls of buildings, in the street and in public conveyances. The mobilization of the vast army of men, women and young people in Continental European nations overrun by the Nazis was begun by a radio broadcast by the mystery man known as "Colonel V. Britton" who read a special message from Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Mr. Churchill's message was as follows: "The V sign is the symbol of the unconquerable will of the occupied territories and a portent of the fate awaiting Nazi tyranny. So long as the peoples continue to refuse all collaboration with the invader it is sure that his cause will perish and that Europe will be liberated." Quotes From the Bible Colonel Britton told his listeners: "Splash the V from one end of Europe to another. Take a vow to continue faithfully this fight in the best way you can for your country's independence and honor and that of the other nations enslaved by the Nazi regime. "It is dark now. Darkness is your chance. Put up your V as a member of this vast army. Do it in the daytime too. Your friends will be doing it from one end of Europe to the other. The V army must be disciplined. When the moment comes it will act in such a way that the Germans will be powerless. But wait for the word." Colonel Britton asked his audience to open their Bibles, read the fifth chapter of the Book of Daniel, beginning at the fifth verse and continuing to the finish of the chapter. This chapter tells the story of "the writing on the wall" at King Belshazzar's feast. Daniel interpreted the writing for Belshazzar as follows: "God hath numbered thy kingdom and finished it. Thou art weighed in the balances and art found wanting. Thy kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and the Persians." The V sign first made its appearance in France following the suggestion made during a broadcast in French by the British Broadcasting Corporation. According to reports reaching this country, the French people quickly adopted the suggestion and the letter V-- French for "victoire"--began appearing mysteriously everywhere, much to the chagrin of the German authorities. Spreads Across Frontiers The idea spread across the frontier into Belgium, where the V also came to mean "victoire." Then it was taken up by the Netherlanders, to whom the V means "vreiheidt," or freedom. Later someone conceived the notion that the opening notes of Beethoven's Fifth symphony--the symphony that has often been described as a musical rendition of Fate knocking at the door--represented the Morse telegraphic code for the letter V, because these notes are three dots and one dash. Therefore, this new army of oppressed European peoples has been taught even the Morse code for the letter V. Colonel Britton instructed his audience last night to "tap it out whenever you can, so that your comrades of the army will hear it and so that the Germans hear it too. They have to pretend now that they like it, but they don't." At first the Germans were angered when the letter V began to appear everywhere or be tapped out on shop counters with knuckles or beer glasses or pencil stubs. Then, according to reports reaching London, Propaganda Minister Dr. Joseph Goebbels tried counter-propaganda by spreading word that the V meant "viktoria," meaning German victory. It is for this reason that the Germans have to pretend that they like to see or hear the V even when the authors are subjugated peoples. The Germans made a radio broadcast which was picked up here yesterday saying that the idea was their own. The announcer said: "In Prague the sign appears on walls, in movies, on street cars and buses. The same thing has happened in Cracow, Warsaw and other Polish towns, and in Denmark, Norway, Holland and Belgium--in short, everywhere German troops are to be found." It was said in London that the Czech newspapers had been ordered to print a large red V on every page. The Prague Cafe Clavia has been renamed Cafe Viktoria, and the Postal Ministry is placing a red stamp on all envelopes which reads: "Viktoria. Germany is victorious on all fronts." Originally Britain's nerve war by the V campaign was scheduled to begin on July 14, but for some reason or other it was postponed until July 20. The public was told not to attach special significance to the date as a day in which some important development would take place, but rather that they should regard it as the beginning of a nerve Blitz. The British people have begun to adopt the idea. Several suburban trains arriving in London yesterday had V's chalked on the coaches and engines. Some London Sunday morning newspapers today used the letter V in crossword puzzles in place of black squares. Nazis Launch Counter-Move Amsterdam, German-occupied Netherlands, July 19 (AP)--A German counter-offensive against the British "V for Victory" campaign was started in a big way today throughout the Netherlands. Residents of Amsterdam awoke this morning to find a large thirty-foot white banner flying from Queen Wilhelmina's former palace with the inscription: "V is for victory, for Germany is winning for Europe on all fronts." Similar banners were flown in other public places. Netherland newspapers carried accounts of the German "Viktoria" campaign and printed large V's on their picture pages. White posters with orange V's also were plastered on walls. Small billboard boxes on lamp posts had maps of German-occupied countries topped by a V. Netherland radio news bulletins were preceded by the V tapped out in the Morse code, and were ended with Beethoven's Fifth (V) symphony. Flags with orange letter V's hung from German official and party offices. Reports from Oslo said a similar counter-campaign was underway throughout Norway. Nazi Arms Train Blown Up Stockholm, Sweden, July 19 (U.P.)--A train loaded with ammunition, including some cars destined for German use, exploded early today at Krylbo, a railroad station on the Gulf of Bothnia on the main line to Finland. Thirteen persons were injured by the explosion, two seriously. A police investigation was launched by two experts from Stockholm. Inhabitants of the town, awakened by the explosion, thought they were being bombarded. Witnesses said at least 300 artillery shells were exploded, and a boy more than a mile from the station was injured by a shell splinter. A night passenger express train for Stockholm was standing in the station when the explosion occurred. It caught fire, but passengers escaped without injury. It was understood tonight that the transit of a division of German troops across Sweden into Finland was completed a week ago without incident. Only 100 German soldiers were said to remain in Sweden.

Past Imperfect

A reporter’s investigation into her mother’s wartime years unearths more than she anticipated

By Eryn Loeb

Erin Einhorn grew up knowing that her mother, Irena, owed her life to a non-Jewish family who cared for her while her parents were imprisoned in Auschwitz. But Irena never wanted to talk about the details, insisting that she didn’t think the story was particularly interesting. In 2001, determined to find out more, Einhorn (who was then twenty-seven) traveled to Poland intending to retrace her mother’s early life. What happened during the year she spent there is the subject of her gripping new memoir, The Pages in Between.

In Będzin, Poland, Einhorn visited the house that her family owned and lived in before the war, which was also home to Honorata Skowrońska, the woman who sheltered Irena, during and after the war. Walking up to 20 Małachowskiego for the first time, translator in tow, Einhorn wasn’t sure what she would find; she didn’t even know if any of the Skowroński family would still be living there. In fact, Honorata’s son, Wiesław, did live in the house, and remembered Irena as his sister. He and his family were glad to see Einhorn for reasons that were more than just emotional: they needed her help to take legal possession of the house her grandfather had promised them so many years ago, in exchange for saving his daughter’s life.

Einhorn (now a reporter for New York’s Daily News) delved into dusty historical archives for documents that would flesh out her family’s story, of which many different versions emerged. During her year in Poland, her mother died suddenly, further complicating Einhorn’s search. Sparring repeatedly with the Skowrońskis (who were certain she wasn’t doing enough to help their cause), she struggled to bring resolution to what turned out to be an amazingly complex land dispute, one bound up with uncomfortable questions about memory and historical responsibility.

What’s your first memory of learning about the Holocaust?

I can’t remember not knowing about it. I’m sure there was a time when I was too young, but it was just always there. My mother remembered her father telling her, “You were born in Poland in 1942, and things did not look good for the Jewish people.” I didn’t have a moment like that.

When you look back on the story you wrote for your high school newspaper about your mother’s life [reprinted early in the book], what strikes you most about the difference between it and your memoir?

The high school one was wrong! I was just telling the story as I heard it, as it was told to me. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to try to verify any of it. Parts of it really aren’t verifiable, and most of the things in this book aren’t verifiable, either. The book is also more about me. In my early drafts, I had taken myself out of it. It was written as an observation or description of the things I was seeing around me. I didn’t do a lot of inward reflection—and in fact, I was appalled at the notion that I might. I had an interesting experience I wanted to share with people, but I thought I could do that without making myself part of the story.

When you were turning your experience in Poland into a book, did it change your understanding of what happened while you were there?

I asked myself that a hundred times. I kept journals the year I was there, and a lot of the passages in the book were derived from the journals. I was there in 2001, I wrote the first draft in 2002 and 2003, and I’ve done many revisions since then. I’m curious about the process of the memoir and the memory, and how much the memoir becomes the memory. I don’t know how you separate them. It begs the larger question on the definition of truth, too.

I kept journals from the age of fifteen until that year. I haven’t written a single page in a journal since then.

How did you go about reporting your own story?

I guess I went into it feeling like I could be more objective than I ultimately was. I thought I was walking into an interview: I found these people from my mother’s past and I was going to interview them about it. It didn’t occur to me that they would have these practical needs, problems that my family helped cause, that they would want me to help solve. They drew me into the story, in a way I hadn’t bargained for. I tried to write as objectively as I could, I tried to see their side of the story as much as I could. I can’t imagine I succeeded.

When you were doing research in Polish archives, at what point did you know there was a story you could draw from the documents?

Honorata Skowrońska, Irena Frydrych, Beresh Frydrych (Irena’s father)

I really never had any interest in genealogy, and I’d never thought that your birth records could say something about you. But the day I found my mother’s birth record, it had all these subtle—and unsubtle—things in it. It had my grandmother’s name, which was Sura Leah, and then it said “Sarah,” which was the suffix that Jewish women in that part of Poland had to put on their names. And then there was a word that my German friend who translated the document had never heard before, but she looked it up and it turned out that it was basically a pejorative word that meant “Jew.” Then it said “single,” which was a shocking piece of information, and it also had her father’s name, and the names of the witnesses. It was an extraordinary lead.

When I first arrived in Poland I had one thing on my mind: war, the Holocaust. And so the thing I always visualized was swastikas on the buildings, and corpses hanging from trees. I had this real tragic view of Poland, because that was all I could imagine that happened there. It was so powerful that it obliterated everything that had come before. So one of the things I found most exciting about tracing my family history back to the beginning of the nineteenth century was that now I could visualize this other time and place where Jewish culture was thriving.

Your mother never wanted to talk about the Holocaust, while some other survivors can’t stop talking about it.

I think that in general, Holocaust families feel a strong sense of connection—they all have a story that they need to tell. My mother was the daughter of survivors who wanted to talk about it, which means that at ten years old, she was sitting at the dinner table hearing those stories. I think she was haunted by that. My grandfather’s three siblings who were in the United States before the war, who all lived, one day discovered that half their family was gone. They needed to know about it, and they would come over to [my grandparents’] house and they’d want to talk. And it wasn’t just people who were in our family, but also the neighbors. People felt this intense need to know, and my grandparents were people who wanted to tell. My mother just couldn’t handle that. You can’t blame her.

You describe the nostalgic view some people in Poland now have of Jews. What are the dangers of this kind of nostalgia?

It’s not real, and it falls apart when it’s actually tested. It’s the same idea I had in my head about the hero family that risked its life to save a Jewish child. I had this clear idea of right and wrong, good and evil. But that family also has their black and white: that my grandfather betrayed them, he neglected them after the war.

Erin (third from right) with the Skowroński family in 2001

Jews’ feelings toward Poles are extremely complicated. Jews saw their Polish neighbors as their brothers. They had coexisted—sometimes peacefully, sometimes not peacefully—for hundreds of years. And then, when people had to make terrible choices, a lot of people made what the Jews thought were the wrong choices: they betrayed their neighbors. When you talk to a survivor, they usually tell you about [a few] people who in some small way helped them in their journey. They were isolated examples that were overwhelmed by all the people who did nothing, out of fear for their lives. I try not to judge those people either, because who’s to say what we would do if presented with the possibility of risking our lives and the lives of our children? So I understand where the anger came from in my grandparents’ generation. What can you say to Poles today? Are they blameless? It’s kind of like, how should white Americans feel about slavery?

In the book, you maintain an insistent focus on the present, even while you’re spending so much time digging through the past. How do you do both of these things at once?

The story really was about the present, about what’s going on now, all of the unresolved consequences, the ongoing complications that are still affecting people, the unresolved emotional issues in the lives of people like my mother, and also in my life. The various legal problems, the whole issue of property, the things that remain. But the past never really became real, either. As hard as I tried to live in the past, as hard as I tried to see what it was like, I couldn’t come close to it. I think about what my grandfather would have written, if he had chosen to write his story. It would have been a story dictated by and frozen in the past—a searingly painful story of violence and brutality and murder, viciousness and betrayal. My mother’s memoir would have been the opposite: a woman trying to make a new life for herself in a new country, trying to craft an identity for herself as a woman without a painful past, focused on the future to the exclusion of everything else.

I think what I was able to bring to it was a sense of residing in the present, informed by the past, looking to the future, trying to figure out: What did we learn? What do we know? What can we do about it? And a sense of the role that memory needs to play, memory not only of the crimes committed, but memory of what was lost, and maybe what we can try to rediscover.

Eryn Loeb is associate editor of Nextbook.org.