Page Title

Jessica Behmaneshen
Harkham Hillel Hebrew Academy
Beverly Hills, CA

                                    Battle of Our Lives
                     A Fictional Ghetto Resistance Story

December 23, 1942
     “Where’s Mom?” I shouted at my brother. “She should be here by now. All she went out for
was some bread. That shouldn’t take so long, unless they’ve already taken her …..”

     Hello, my name is Uri Salowitz, and I’m fifteen years old. In most books I’ve read, the
character says that they live on a farm or a house in the city. However, my story is much
different. Sure, I used to live in a beautiful house with lots of flowers and a wishing well; it only
counted as a wishing well if you ever had money to drop into it. Now, I live in something called
a ghetto. This ghetto in particular is the Warsaw Ghetto. Everyone here might be different, but
there is one thing that makes us all the same, our religion. We are all Jewish. The reason we
are all in this ghetto is because of a repulsive and abhorrent person named Adolph Hitler. I’m
not really even that sure if he can be referred to as a person because last time I checked, a
normal human being does not slaughter millions of innocent people. But anyways, let me tell
you a little more about myself. I am the oldest child in my family. I have three younger brothers:
Moshe, Asher, and Benji. My father was taken to a concentration camp because he did not
follow the orders of a Nazi. I am still not sure what has happened to my mother because she
still hasn’t returned from getting food……. I think.

     “Mom’s gone! They’ve probably tortured her! Or worse, maybe they took her to Auschwitz!”
Asher cried to me.
     “Asher calm down, you’ll scare Benji to death. You know Mom, I’m sure she was probably
out all night talking to a friend and spent the night there.”
     However I was sure Asher didn’t believe that as much as I did not even believe it myself.
     “Uri, I want Mommy. I’m hungry!” Benji said.
Moshe was the one to respond to him for me. “Shut up Benji! We are all hungry and we all
know how much you miss Mom. So just let it go! You’re never going to see her again!” Moshe
snapped. Ah Moshe. He has been such a grouch ever since we’ve moved here. All of his
friends were Christian, and ever since they left him, he has been nagging everyone.
     I grabbed him by the ear and demanded his reason for being so rude. “Moshe! You are
thirteen and have been acting like an eight year old. I understand how hard it is to lose friends,
but your family needs you right now. I hate it here, too, but remember what Dad said before he
left, ‘No matter what happens, keep your chin up and keep fighting.’”
     I knew this really did not have anything to do with how Moshe was acting, but it had a
bigger impact on what Moshe and I were a part of. Ever since September, all Jewish youth
ages thirteen to twenty-two were to attend meetings known as the JRF meetings. JRF stand for
the Jewish Resistance Fighters. Our commander, Mordechai Anielewicz has been secretly
having discussions of rebelling. We’ve been tortured enough, and it is up to us to fight back
and get the respect we deserve. So, the date of battle has been set for sometime in January.
We will gather the weapons and fight. The only problem is that we’ve been losing youth more
and more every month. I just hope that they haven’t taken my mother as well.

January 5, 1943
     The news had spread last week. Fifteen more Jews were sent to camps. One of them
indeed was my mother. I couldn’t sleep or think about anything besides the fact that my mother
might be burning in ashes or suffocating in a gas chamber. That is why something is being
done. It’s been planned for January 22, 1943, that we, the JRF, will fight off Nazi Officers.
Whether we kill all or lose and get sent to the camps, we will know that we have tried to save
ourselves. Today, I went to go visit my friend Shlomi at the block. Now, it’s about two blocks
away from my house. Last week, before they made it smaller, it was about seven blocks from
me. The block is where teenagers meet. That’s where I met my girlfriend, or what I like to call
my girlfriend, Rivky. She’s my age and we’ve known each other since we were kids. Rivky has
also joined the JRF, and wow can she shoot! If I get out of here one day, I hope to marry her
and look back at these days as an old nightmare.

January 18, 1943
     “They’re coming! With Weapons! Hurry get back to your homes. Uri get Mordechai now!”
Shlomi cried. It appeared that Nazi groups decided to make a surprise attack on us at night. I
ran like lighting toward Mordechai’s house, and alerted every house on the way. I finally
reached Mordechai’s house and knocked so hard that I left indentations on his door.
     “Uri, what is going on?” Mordechai asked with a frightened face. Was the fear on my face
showing that much?
     “Nazis! They’re coming with weapons! Right now! We have to coordinate everyone now!” I
cried. I could feel the blood leave my face when I told him. Without a word, he went inside,
grabbed his gun and led me toward the back of his home.
     “I wasn’t expecting to use these, but now I can see we have no choice.” Inside the back of
his home were four boxes of bullets.
     “Grab two boxes and take them to fighting base. Hurry, Uri, we don’t have much time.”
They were quite heavy, and when I finally looked up, Mordecahi was gone. He must have gone
ahead of me because I could feel myself moving slowly.
     When I finally got to the base, almost everyone from the JRF was there, including Shlomi,
Moshe, and Rivky. I met up with them, and they were all talking about how much shock they
were in. Then there was a loud noise. It sounded like two pots being banged together.
     “Attention everyone, as you all may know, there are Nazi officers coming to attack. How
many are there coming? That’s unknown. But I’m sure they have enough to remove us all. One
thing is for sure, we have something on our side that they don’t have. We have G-d on our side
to protect us. And even if don’t make it, He and the next generation of Jews will know that we
left a mark here.” He took a few deep breaths, and then continued to speak.
     “Everyone load your guns. If you have extra, don’t be greedy, share with one another.”
When everyone was finished, we went and hid in our fighting places. It took about an hour,
until we finally saw men with fire torches on horseback, coming toward the ghetto. When they
were finally close enough for us to use our gunfire, our group’s leader, Solomon, gave the
signal for us to shoot. I looked at the enemy, saw no shame on his face. Then, I pulled the
trigger.