For the accommodations available in Vladivostok, it was too many. The city was soon jammed with refugees, many of whom had to be put up on straw mattresses in a requisitioned high school gymnasium, often for several weeks, until they could find a space on one of the few ships still plying the Vladivostok-Tsuruga route. The system that had been such a boon to a few thousand was breaking down. In all of April, only two hundred and eighty-five refugees managed to reach Tsuruga; in May; only a hundred and fourteen; in June, fewer than sixty-five. But June was another story altogether.
In the spring of 1941, for the refugee relief agencies in Japan, and particularly for Jewcom which dealt most intimately with the Japanese government, the system also was foundering. The Japanese policy of leniency toward the refugees had been based on the premise that those who came in would soon go out again. This was clearly not being realized. The Japanese government was well aware - through its official links to Jewcom and through the confidential reports submitted regularly by Dr. Kotsuji - that the Jewish community was doing its utmost to find new homes for the refugees. The Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society and its European counterpart both had representatives in Kobe. Working closely with Jewcom's Emigration Committee, a handful of professionals spent days and nights interviewing refugees, cabling requests back to the United States, putting together piece by piece the money or character references or support guarantees needed for the hundreds of people who were so desperately striving to become reconnected to the normal structure of life.
bias was the principal channel of hope, but there were others. The Polish government in exile's representative in Japan, Count Theodore de Romer, was more than sympathetic to the plight of the refugees, using his considerable influence with the British to permit additional families to settle in Australia. He also endorsed the applications of some male Jews into Poland's government-inexile army which was then being formed in Canada. And there was still Wahrhaftig's Palestine Committee. By means of half-truths and the occasional leniency of the British, this organization continued to send a tiny stream of Zionists on the long journey around India to Haifa. But the would-be emigrants were numbered by hundreds, and the responses could be counted by tens.
By the end of April, the Japanese were obviously becoming less sanguine about the situation in Kobe. Little was said, but transit visa extensions began to be issued for shorter periods of time. Surely, surely everyone agreed, the United States will soon realize the gravity of the situation. But the American assistant secretary of state, Breckinridge Long, continued to insist that "in view of reports indicating that Nazi and other totalitarian agents are endeavoring to enter the United States in the guise of refugees, it (is) considered essential in the national interest to scrutinize all applications carefully." By late spring, some of the administrators in Kobe were no longer so sure the situation would work itself out.
"Ah, Mr. Warhaftig! Please do come in!"
In his Shanghai office, at the appointed time, Captain Inuzuka looked up to greet his scheduled guest Zorach Wahrhaftig, recently arrived from a brief trip to Yokohama, returned the greeting and shook the outstretched hand. He was not overly fond of Inuzuka and had not been looking forward to his morning's meeting. But the situation had gone beyond choice.
The two men exchanged courtesies over small cups of the inevitable green tea. The wet heat of the Chinese coast hung around them like a third presence, circulated, but not dissipated by the gently turning blades of the ceiling fan.
"I understand you made a very moving address to the Shanghai municipal council," Inuzuka remarked. "We Japanese have great sympathy for those Jews who have been caught by international circumstances in a place they do not wish to be."
As bland an assessment of the situation as has yet been spoken, Warhaftig thought to himself. "We understand you do, Captain Inuzuka," he said. "We are most grateful for all the assistance you have given us."
"And I do hope your cohorts in America are aware of Japan's feelings on this matter," Inuzuka continued as he took a silver case from his pocket and offered a cigarette to his guest. "I trust you are assuring them that we are doing all that we can."
Warhaftig nodded warily. He had heard from more than one source that telling Americans how well Japan was treating Jews was actually counter productive for Japan. Even Dr. Kaufman in Harbin was being considered either a fool for letting himself be duped, or worse, a collaborator, a traitor. The World Jewish Congress and Rabbi Stephen Wise's American Jewish Congress were even now, according to rumor, thinking of curtailing relations with Dr. Kaufman. But Warhaftig had enough to worry about without getting into that.
He reached for his host's silver cigarette case on the table. Boris Topas, the president of the Shanghai Ashkenazic community, had alerted him to Inuzuka's pride in the thing. "May I read the inscription?" he asked.
"Of course!" Inuzuka reacted as expected, then proceeded to recite the words himself to his guest: "'To Captain Inuzuka - in gratitude and appreciation for your service to the Jewish people. From the Union of Orthodox Rabbis - USA Purim 5701 Frank Newman.' Are you acquainted with this Rabbi Newman, Mr. Warhaftig? A fine young man."
Inuzuka had good reason to think positively of Frank Newman. The man was very young. Nonetheless, he carried a letter of introduction from the Union of Orthodox Rabbis of America. So at last, Inuzuka thought, even so many months after Tamura's setback in New York with Rabbi Stephen Wise, an American Jewish organization had sent someone over to investigate. It was a very small beginning and, in fact, young Rabbi Newman hadn't done very much since his arrival a few months before. But at least it was a beginning.
Warhaftig knew better. In the first place, though it wasn't of overwhelming importance, Frank Newman was not a rabbi and he had never pretended to be. Inuzuka had simply presumed that anyone carrying a letter from the Union of Orthodox Rabbis would be a rabbi. But that was Inuzuka's problem. More important, to Warhaftig, was the fact that although pleasant, Newman was by no means an effective force in dealing with the refugee problem. Having completed his studies, the young man had simply come to the Orient to see an interesting part of the world. His letter of introduction from the Union of Orthodox Rabbis was a courtesy, not any form of authorization.
"Newman is definitely a fine young man," Warhaftig said decisively snapping closed the cigarette case and returning it to the table. He had spent enough time on civilities.
"I have a favor to ask of you, Captain," he said. "I want to bring it up now because now I am here in Shanghai. But I hope it is a favor which will never have to be carried out."
"Such a favor is usually the best kind." Inuzuka said smoothly, slipping happily into his favorite role of "benefactor to the Jews." Warhaftig smiled politely, despising the man for his pleasure.
"As you know, in Kobe now there are still about fifteen hundred refugees. Due to the international conditions, we have very few new arrivals. But it is taking some time for us to arrange for the emigration of those already there."
Inuzuka nodded. He still received the weekly reports from Kobe.
"I am not a prophet," Warhaftig went on. "But I would not think it impossible that the time might come when Kobe would no longer be the best place for those refugees to live while arrangements are being finalized for their emigration."
Inuzuka nodded again. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind as to what was coming. But he said nothing: first the Jew asks, then the Japanese responds. To Warhaftig, sixteen hundred lives were at stake; he had no qualms of false pride.
"If such a time should come that the refugees would have to leave Kobe, would you give your permission for them to come to Shanghai?"
"Ahhhh," Inuzuka nodded slowly as if only now comprehending.
Naturally, transferring the Jews to Shanghai was the only sensible thing to do with them - he had realized that long ago. As a navy man, he had, from the beginning, been wary of having so many foreigners living so close to the Kobe docks, well-guarded as the facilities were. And as director o
f refugee affairs in Shanghai, his importance would not be diminished by the arrival of sixteen hundred additional charges. But nothing should ever come easy for the Jews.
Inuzuka rose and went over to the window as if to contemplate. From this vantage point, three stories above the street, he could see trolleys, cars and trucks - many more than in Tokyo - bicycles, rickshaws and pedestrians jostling for space in the mid-morning sunshine. And down every narrow wooden wharf an endless belt of Chinese coolies moved goods from waterside warehouses to open lighters which would ultimately transport their cargo to the large freighters moored in deeper water. Straight ahead of him, out in the middle depths, Inuzuka could clearly see the Japanese battleship Izumo, scene of so many meetings between himself, Yasue and Ishiguro about these Jews.
"I already have about seventeen thousand of your refugees here now," Inuzuka began, in a tone meant to convey the hardship of such a situation. "You know, I am sure, the hardship being suffered by those already here. More arrivals will mean less for everyone."
Warhaftig had heard variations on that argument in every refugee context around the world. More refugees would "create anti-Semitism in America . . . disrupt the traditional British way-of-life . . . create chaos in Australia. . . ." Wasn't anyone considering the alternative?
"Of course," he said reassuringly, "we are sure that the Joint Distribution Committee will continue to support the Polish Jews once they are in Shanghai, as it is doing now in Kobe."
"But are you so sure, Mr. Warhaftig, that the refugees will not be permitted into the United States?"
"On the contrary, Captain Inuzuka, I believe they will be. It is merely a question of time. It could be that tomorrow the Americans will change their minds. As I said at the outset, this is a favor that may never have to be asked. But if the situation were to arise. . . ."
The two men looked steadily at each other. The Polish lawyer had presented his case. The Japanese militarist knew there could be only one decision. But for effect and for the pleasure it gave him, he dragged the situation out as long as he could.
"I do understand the problem, Mr. Warhaftig," he said at last. "If we Japanese do not provide a refuge for these unfortunate people, there may be nowhere for them to go. Therefore, of course, if the time comes when they must leave Kobe and no other country is open to them, they will be welcome in Shanghai."
Wahrhaftig said nothing for a moment, then he smiled and rose to leave. "I am very grateful to you, Captain Inuzuka. Very grateful indeed."
He continued to smile as they shook hands and exchanged closing pleasantries. But as he closed the door behind him, he swore in his heart that he would never rest till the day came that no Jew would ever again have to seek refuge in someone else's land. They would have their own.
A few days after his meeting with Inuzuka, Warhaftig returned to Japan. A few days later the United States did, at last, change its immigration regulations for the worse. One simple question was added to the American visa application form: "Do you have any relatives in enemy-overrun territory?" The refugees were understandably suspicious of its intent. Who did not have relatives who had believed that, as so many times before, this too would pass, and that they would be better off staying in their homes? What kind of a question was this for a visa application; and what was the right answer?
"It's just a question," the American consul in Kobe replied blandly. He had been briefed on how to handle these refugees. "Just answer the truth."
So, with that advice, and being afraid not to answer the truth, the overwhelming majority of the refugees admitted that they did leave relatives back home. And that, for them, was the end of America. The State Department had decided that people with relatives in enemy-held lands were vulnerable to blackmail. Such security risks certainly could not be accepted into the United States. From mid-June on, a future in the United States ceased even to be a dream for all but a few of the thirteen hundred refugees who, by then remained in Kobe. By the end of that month, they were just as completely cut off from their lands of their past.
At 4:00 on Sunday afternoon, it was announced that Germany, carrying her treaty allies with her, had declared war on the U.S.S.R. Now, no more ships at all would come from Vladivostok to Tsuruga. Those parents, brothers, cousins and friends who had not made it out by now, never would. Since the end had begun in 1933, seven hundred and eighty-five thousand Jews had fled from Europe. Of these, approximately four thousand six hundred had escaped through Japan, many of them with no other backing than the strange benevolence of the Japanese Foreign Ministry and War Department. Now all had come who would ever come. A curtain of war was now closed across Europe. When it opened again in 1945, three quarters of the European Jewish population would be dead.
Like the rest of the world, the Jewish refugees in Kobe did not know that. They knew only that there was no America for them to turn toward and no Europe for them to dream of returning to. There was only Kobe, where the Japanese no longer wanted them. And there was Shanghai.
P ART THREE
SHANGHAI 1941-45
THE CHALLENGE TO SURVIVAL
13
FOR MOST OF THE REFUGEES, Shanghai was not entirely terra incognita. While they were still in Europe they had heard that a few people had emigrated to the International Settlement - though the great majority of those who had done so had come from Germany and Austria and therefore had very little connection with Polish Jews. And it was also known that there was some sort of Jewish communal life in the city. But even after the refugees reached Kobe and heard for themselves the reports sent back by the handful of refugees who had met the immigration restrictions and relocated there, Shanghai continued to have a very poor reputation. The climate was miserable twelve months of the year. The employment situation was impossible: thousands of refugees already there had exactly the same skills you possessed whatever they might be; and the Chinese glutted the manual-labor market, accepting wages one tenth of European standards for comparable work.
Rents were astronomical for even the tiniest room carved out of someone else's already-too-small apartment. And the most destitute refugees were forced by necessity to live in a heim, a dormitory housing, not seven or eight people to a room, as in Kobe, but up to two hundred. Moreover the Polish refugees felt that most of the Sephardic or German Jews running the major relief organization, the Committee For Assistance of European Refugees in Shanghai (the CFA for short) had no hearts or feelings and looked down on them as disruptive, undisciplined, obstreperous schnorrers. While they were secure in the ministrations of Kobe Jewcom and held the hope that they would soon be departing for America, most of the Polish refugees were not greatly concerned about conditions in Shanghai. In June of I94I, they suddenly became concerned.
The reaction to the prospective relocation to the Chinese port was universally negative. Hoping against hope for a miracle the United States would change its mind, Hitler would be assassinated, God would visit a plague on the entire German army - each of the refugees plotted to be the last to go. In the yeshivas, Talmudic contests were held - the losers went first. If the healthy were due to be shipped out, illness became epidemic. When the sick were to go, health bloomed. But there was no avoiding it: Kobe Jewcom was closing down.
The Kobe experience had been involuntary and not exactly luxurious; but it had been guaranteed to be temporary. Shanghai would be equally involuntary and surely even less comfortable. Furthermore, in spite of a continuing, though totally unfounded, belief that America might eventually relax its immigration restrictions, there was an unavoidable possibility that the Shanghai experience might be more than temporary.
There was, however, one mitigating factor: Shanghai was less of a closed system than Kobe. Japanese law as well as circumstances demanded passivity. In Shanghai, on the other hand, you would possess an identity card. To some extent, you would become a "citizen." In fact, in the unlikely event that you could find a job or in the even less likely event that you could start a business you were welcome to
it. At least, the refugees, who had had to be content accepting a dole from Kobe Jewcom, would have a chance to forgo charity and fend for themselves. People began to dredge their minds for the names of contacts - names they might merely have overheard in a conversation. Every conceivable opening was followed up. A shoemaker might have heard of a leather factory - a letter was sent. A tailor might know of a silk firm a cable went off. Of course, no one turned his back on other destination possibilities, and indeed by August, the number of refugees remaining in Japan was down to eleven hundred. But Shanghai became increasingly the most realistic alternative. And no one, no one, wanted to be a dependent on the dole handed out by the CFA.
By the spring of 1941, efforts were already underway in Shanghai to help these new refugees through a new organization. In large part the work of Warhaftig, Eastjewcom, or more formally, the Committee for Assistance of Jewish Refugees was predominantly made up from Eastern Europe of Russian Jews from the masses that had emigrated to Shanghai from Harbin in the thirties or from Russia itself earlier. At least this new organization shared a kindred spirit with the Polish Jews. What the Germans of the CFA saw as "undisciplined," the Russian considered "imaginative." What the Germans called "obstreperous," the Russians called "independent." And in the eyes of the Russian Jews, a fellow who had his back to the wall but was too proud to beg was no schnorrer. Centuries-old antagonism between Jew and Jew would not be erased, even in the midst of war, deprivation and mortal peril. But with the founding of Eastjewcom, the newcomers would not be without representation in this totally new, unfamiliar surrounding.
Moishe Katznelson pressed his foot firmly against his sister's so he could be sure she wouldn't wander off, and leaned over the ship's rail for a better look at the city. After thirty-six hours of moving briskly through the East China Sea, the Japanese ship had steamed up the Yangtze Delta and turned into the mud-yellow waters of the Whangpoo River. With the taller buildings of Shanghai in view on the absolutely flat right-hand bank, the captain had cut the ship's engines. Among the three hundred-odd refugee passengers already on deck there was astonishment at the weather. They had never felt air so hot and wet! Without the breeze of the ship, you could almost pick it up by the handful. By unspoken common consent, the crowd along the rail opened up skin to skin contact was too unpleasant.
The Fugu Plan Page 22
