The Story of David Kahane

The large-scale tragedy of the Holocaust destroyed every third citizen in the prewar Lviv, and changed the face of the city inalterably. The sad statistics scatters into the myriads of multiple personal stories, each unique but sharing certain typical experiences.

The story of rabbi Dawid Kahane fits this typical survival story paradigm. When we contextualize it into the specific urban spaces, we can trace the path, step by step, from a peaceful family life to the survival in the ghetto with the imminent threat to life and everyday routine challenges; the experience of getting into the Janowska camp and instant transformation of a person into a number, and eventually — to the rescue within the "Studion" walls.

Dawid Kahane was born on March, 15, 1903, in Hrymailiv (then Grzymałów), to a family of an owner of a small brickyard Shlomoh Kahane, and a daughter of merchant Brandl Nusbaum. He was the eldest child in the family. As a little boy, he showed a talent for learning. He received his primary education in one of the Hrymayliv schools, and in a local cheder, a Jewish religious and primary school.

Grzymałów 

From 1917 to 1923, he studied in a gymnasia in Ternopil.

In 1923, Kahane went to study in the rabbi seminaries in Breslau (presently — Wroclaw) and in Berlin. Later, he entered the Vienna University where he studied humanities, such as Slavic Studies, Polish and German language and literatures. He presented his doctoral thesis on "Judaism and Jews in the Polish Literature of the 18-19th centuries."

In 1929, he settled down in Lviv, where he started teaching religion in private Jewish and public Polish schools.

In 1930, Dawid Kahane was elected a rabbi in the progressist synagogue "Oze Tov" (at ul. Szajnochi Street, presently — vul. Bankova; non-existent).

Oze Tov Synagogue (left)

In November, of the same year, he became the head of the Research Institute for Tanakh Studies. During that time, he established close connections with the community of historians of Judaism. He was actively engaged in the religious Zionist movement "Mizrachi."

In 1936, Dr. Dawid Kahane became a rabbi assistant for military men of Jewish origin in a Lviv Garrison.

Main entrance to the Citadel military barracks (1920s)

In 1937, he married Nechama Engler, a daughter of a famous Lviv real estate dealer Israel Engler. In February, 1939, they had their daughter Ruth.

With the outbreak of war, and with the inclusion of western Ukrainian lands into the Soviet Union, Dr. Kahane continued to lecture in a Lviv school for some time, before he was dismissed in May, 1940.

The attack of the German Nazi on the Soviet Union and the rapid arrival of German troops to Lviv in the end of June, 1941, started a new turbulent stage in the life of Dawid Kahane. The common humanitarian hardships were aggravated with the imminent life threat and slave labor. When in the end of July, 1941, a Judenrat was created, he realized that a ghetto was going to be established for Jews in the city.

Marking of a territory of the so called Jüdische Wohnbezirk (Jewish residential neighborhood)

"I understood that sooner or later I would be driven out of my apartment and decided to embark on a search for another one. The judge of the Zniesienie [Znesinnia] district, Rabbi Hersh Rosenfeld, offered to share his apartment with my family. He live at Jan Styk street [presently — Zustrichna], which everyone expected would be included within the ghetto bounds. I didn’t procrastinate much longer. I turned over the apartment to the first Pole who presented the “order,” packed the remaining furniture, and, together with my parents-in-law, moved to Jan Styk Street. It was late September 1941."

Photo: ul. Jana Styka, presently — Zustrichna (2019)

"The [street] with the apartment that I had moved into recently was not included in the ghetto. Thus all my labor and torment were in vain. Together with thousands of other Jews I had to set out to look for a place to live. I looked for three consecutive days but found nothing. I almost succumbed to despair. Where should I go? To whom could I turn? Where could I find a corner for my wife’s elderly parents and for my little girl?"

But as soon as in October, 1941, it was clear that the rabbi's expectations failed.

"Only on the fourth day did my superhuman efforts bear fruit and I managed to find an apartment in Zniesienie. Located in a tiny house, the apartment consisted of one room and a kitchen, which we rented with another family. The house was located on the outskirts of Zniesienie, not far away from the swamp. Its damp walls hurt the eyes. There were no other choices and I felt lucky to have found anything. Eleven people lived in two tiny damp rooms. One could hardly move around the place as the floor was strewn with belongings".

In the process of moving into the ghetto, Kahane was a near miss from getting to the slave labor camp in Kurovychi. A caretaker from the previous apartment informed on him to the gestapo. After that, Dawid had to stay inside his apartment all the time:

"A dozen times a day we would hide in the cellar, trying to evade all kinds of man-catchers. We were too afraid to go out. "The sword without and terror within" (Deuteronomy 32:25) — impossible to stay home and impossible to go out".

"My courageous wife went everywhere selling what was left of our possessions for a little food for our family".

When the "Action Under the Bridge" took place, and a main phase of relocating to the Jewish quarters was over, the police control was lifted from the railway bridges separating this area from the central part of the city.

"Only then did I summon enough courage to go out. I began frequenting the Religious Affairs Department, located in the former building of the Jewish community at 12 Bernstein [now Sholom-Aleikhema] St. on a regular basis."

Vul. Sholom-Aleikhema, 12 (2018)

In January, 1942, along with other rabbis, Dawid Kahane started working in the department of culture of Lviv Judenrat (the name disguised the department for religion). Despite the official ban on activities of the rabbis and group prayers imposed by the occupation authorities, Dawid Kahane, along with other rabbis and the staff of the department, tried to provide for the religious needs of the Jewish community in the city, both ritual (shechita, baking matzah, circumcision), and legal (administering marriage and divorce).

In addition, he was actively engaged in the process of collecting and storing Jewish heritage (mostly, religious items and books) in the department’s basements.

In February, 1942, Kahane had to move places again, along with his family. 

"In early February rumors began about a further constriction of the ghetto area. A Housing Department official revealed to me that the city commandant had said that Zniesienie must be cut off from the ghetto because of its many parks and its Aryan residents who could not be evacuated. This meant that we had to prepare for fresh wanderings, the third uprooting. I didn’t waste much time thinking, and set out right away in search of another apartment. Soon enough I moved to 12 [more likely 21] Zamarstynowska Street I put up my wife’s parents not far away on Balonowa Street. I hauled all my “great” possessions on a toy wagon within a few hours."

Zamarstynivska St.

In the yard of the building at vul. Zamarstynivska, 12.

They stayed in this location until the end of summer 1942.

In August, 1942, Dawid Kahane, the same as many other Judenrat officials, realized the reduction of the ghetto was coming soon, and another police operation ( the "Aktion") was looming, respectively. That is why he started searching for ways to save himself and his family outside the ghetto.

"My colleague Rabbi Dr. [Kalman] Chameides and I decided to seek refuge with the Ukrainian Metropolitan Andrei Sheptytskyi. There was nothing unusual about this; on more than one occasion Jews sought protection of senior church officials who often evinced understanding for their tragic situation. We had already resolved, in line with the express with of the Religious Affairs Department, to ask Metropolitan Sheptytskyi to hide several hundred Torah scrolls which had been left in the cellar at 12 Bernstein Street. On this occasion we also intended to submit a personal request – to be given refuge at his residence for the duration of the Aktion. The metropolitan had made a name for himself as a righteous man among the nations and we hoped he wouldn’t turn us down. 

We asked for an interview with the metropolitan through a Ukrainian priest, Dr. Gabriel Kostelnik, with whom I had become friends in the course of my many years of educational work in Lvov. The next day we set out in the direction of Jura [St. George] Square to the metropolitan’s palace.”

St. George Church (1930s)

The Metropolitan warmly welcomed the envoys and agreed to accept the Torah scrolls for hiding. In addition, he expressed his readiness to shelter them and their families. Klyment Sheptytskyi, a brother of the Metropolitan Andrey: "first [...] gave me a letter to the head of convents, the Abbess Iosefa [Olena Viter], who was to take my three-year-old daughter to her convent. He also promised to think about arrangements for other children and asked us to keep in touch with him. This visit on August 14, 1942 [presumably mistaken date, the visit most likely took place on August 7 – T.M.], settled my fate and the fate of a number of Jewish families.”

Two days later, on Sunday, August, 9, Dawid Kahane succeeded to get to the convent at ul. Zbarazka, and made arrangements with sister Josefa to hand out his daughter under her care as soon as on the next morning. However, due to a sudden start of the anti-Jewish operation, they managed to do it only with the help of his good friend on the Arian side of the city, professor Kharkali.

Kahane and his wife spent the first days of the action in a camouflaged bathroom.

"I spent three days in the bathroom and each day was pervaded with the same paralyzing terror. We stayed in the hideout from dawn till night. At night we would go out to stretch our limbs. Our wives would cook some soup. The stomach refused to accustom itself to the Aktion and after three days of hiding in a bathroom, we were hungry. There was not a crust of bread or potatoes or vegetables in our apartment. I began thinking of doing something to get some food. It was clear that the Aktion would last a long time. Staying in our hideout without going out was tantamount to death by starvation. Seeking shelter at the metropolitan’s residence was out of the question. The Jewish district remained sealed. There was only one way of getting out of the cage – to become a phony policeman. For the duration of the Aktion it was possible to get hold of a policeman’s cap and a forged certificate from the Jewish police."

Kahane approached with this request his neighbour Dr. Avraam Roisenman, a deputy head of the Jewish Aid Service (JOD).

"The next morning he brought me a cap, a yellow police armband, and a service book issued by the Jewish Ordnungs-Dienst stating that I was posted at the Second Commissariat at 132 Zamarstynowska Street as assistant policeman."

Zamarstynivska, 132 (school building)

With the documents, the rabbi could freely move in the streets.

"On Thursday, August 20, before noon, I went out to the street for the first time and reported to the chief of the Second Commissariat. The ghetto streets were empty. Not a living soul could be seen. Now and then a german or Ukrainian policeman passed by, escorting a small group of Jews to a collection point. Here and there shots rang out. The cart of the Burial Department went from house to house collecting the dead. Nothing happened on the streets. All tragedies occurred within apartments, in cellars, attics and compartments concealed by furniture. From time to time a cry rose from the depths, shots were heard accompanied by the familiar sounds of heavy steps – then deadly silence again descended on the streets".

After the "Great Aktion" was over, and a closed ghetto was established, Dr. Kahane, as facilitated by Klymentiy Sheptytskyi, managed to organize a hiding place on an Arian side for his wife, under a fake identity.

Since the Department for Religions stopped functioning and the Judenrat work IDs stopped securing any protection against displacement, the rabbi had to get an official employment at a leather factory LPG (LePeGa) at Horodotska Street.

"In order to be able to maintain contact with the Abbot Kliment Sheptytskyi, with the help of my acquaintances I obtained a pass issued by the well-known German firm LPG (furs and leather), which enabled me to leave the ghetto and stay in the city. The LPG coordinator assigned me to the leather factory at Grodecka [Horodotska] street as a tanner. Again, as in the days of my youth, I had to learn. The factory was a short walk from Jura [St. George] Square, where greetings from my wife and daughter were conveyed to me on a regular basis”.

In the meantime, in a closed ghetto, they started assembling workers in certain buildings or blocks allocated for a factory where they worked. As a result, the territory was transformed into a labor camp — the Julag. At the same time, the police “vacated the residential area from the nonproductive elements” during the permanent "Aktions," and Dawid Kahane was a near escape.

Awaiting for resettlement to the houses allocated for LPG workers, the rabbi had to move places for the fourth time "[a] filthy alley with the ludicrous name Zamarstynow [now Pokutska St.]".

Pokutska Street (2019)

Nonetheless, the rabbi failed to move to the LPG barracks. On the morning, on November, 17, 1942, the factory administration sent Kahane to the ghetto to arrange the affairs with the relocation of the company works to a new place. At Kulisha Street, he was arrested by the Ukrainian Aid Police (UAP), despite the special pass. For breaking the rules banning Jews to walk in the streets alone, Kahane and other people caught on that morning were convoyed to the 1st Commissariat of the UAP.

"The station yard was filled to overflowing with detained Jews. Every few minutes a policeman brought in a fresh batch of Jewish detainees. Later we were locked up in dark and filthy cells, men and women separately. Upon entering the cell each prisoner was served with a blow from a rifle butt so that he wouldn’t forget, God forbid, where he was. Once my eyes got used to the darkness, I was able to see our cell – eight meters long and six meters wide. It was packed with Jews, including the elderly, youths, and children. Some were seated on the floor or leaning against the wall, others were standing and talking quietly among themselves. Now and then the door opened and a policeman shoved in several more Jews. Gradually the congestion in the cell became so great it was difficult to breathe. What were they keeping us here for? What is going to happen to us? A man and his seven-year-old son stood next to me. The boy was trembling all over and kept asking his father: “Daddy, Daddy, when will we get to go home?”

The door did not open again. The guards must have realized there was no room left in there. The whispering talks were subsiding. A child fell asleep. Everyone would think about the same thing: what will happen to us? But no one dared to ask that aloud.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a Ukrainian police officer entered, with two police goons along.

"Out! Everybody out! Line up in a column, five in a row!” Within a few moments we were lined up in a column, our bodies drawn taut like soldiers. “Men over fifty, children under fifteen, step out of the column! Selection!” Everybody understood the significance of this term. The young will in all likelihood be sent to a labor camp. The elderly and the children – disposed of in the junk yard. The rigid, drawn up column collapsed. An S.S. man appeared.: “Los! Los! Faster!” Heartrending scenes unfolded. Children started crying, refusing to part from their fathers. The Ukrainian policemen separated them by force. Commotion, cries, curses, blows and more curses. Half an hour later the inner yard of the police station at Kaziemirowska Street was cleansed of “unproductive” Jews. Only the young and healthy remained."

Soon after, Dawid Kahane, along with other fellow sufferers, were convoyed in a column to Janowska camp (Zwangsarbeitslager-Lemberg, ZAL-L).

From November, 17, 1942, to May, 23, 1943, Dawid Kahane stayed in the  Janowska camp .

Janowska Camp (aerial photography, 1944)

"At the end of Janowska Street, near the Kleparow railway station, the column halted in front of a large gate with a sign saying: “Der S.S. und Polizei Führer im Distrikt Galizien. Zwangsgarbatslager in Lemberg” (S.S. and Police Fuehrer in the Galicia District. Lvov Forced Labor Camp). The S.S. man spoke to the guards and after a few minutes the gate – the hell gate – opened with a creak. Several hundred more victims stepped onto the camp’s soil that was already drenched with the blood of martyrs.

On the way to the camp I remained in a state of shock and paralysis. The harsh sound of the gate slamming shut jolted me back to my senses. I was a prisoner in the Janowski camp. Two different sayings entered my mind. One was from the Bible: “Take off your shoes from your feet, for the place whereon you stand is holy ground." (Exodus 3:5). The other was the one Dante had inscribed over the gates of his hell: “Abandon all hope, ye that enter this place.”

The first thing a newcomer inmate faced was the selection and further examination at a camp reception point.

"We were ordered to empty our pockets and lay everything we had on the table: documents, money, valuables. All I had was one hundred zloty and a work certificate".

After prisoners were registered, they started arranging their appearances:

"Three people walked out of the reception office. One carried a bucket and a brush; the second, a small knapsack; the third, a table and a chair. The one with the knapsack, apparently a brigade leader, wearing a yellow armband, ordered that the table and chair be placed next to us and addresed us as follows:

“As newly arrived prisoners you are required to have a haircut as prescribed by the camp regulations. From now on long hair or a crop of hair is forbidden. The barber standing here next to you will cut your hair down to the skin. Then the painter will paint red stripes on both sides of your trousers, as well as on the back of your jacket and your coat. It is forbidden to remove the paint which, by the way, is indelible. After the haircut each one of you will get a yellow triangular badge, a number sewn onto a piece of cloth, and a round disk with the same number on it to be worn around the neck. The yellow badge and the number will be sewn onto the left side of the front of your outer garment. After you are all trimmed and spruced up you will go to the baths. There also your clothes will be disinfected".

After marking, the prisoners were sent for disinfection and lice control to the baths at Szpitalna Street. There, they had to experience another, more scrupulous search and beating from the camp guards (so-called "askars").

After the disinfection, prisoners were convoyed back to the camp.

"At the checkpoint booth we were counted and it turned out that two prisoners were missing; they apparently had managed to escape either from the baths or on our way back. We were stricken with fear. The escape meant that we would have to witness an execution at the start of our career in the camp. Whose lot was going to be cast this time?

The askars responsible for our numbers threw angry glances at us and marched us across the roll-call yard to Barracks no. 5 in the inner camp.

Barracks no. 5, the darkest and dirtiest of all the barracks in the camp, served as the living quarters for brigades of the simplest unskilled workers. The “Ostbahn brigade” occupied most of the space.

 In addition to the “Ostbahn brigade,” there were five brigades of simple camp workers and one brigade employed in the city at construction. In my estimation about three hundred people lived in the barracks. A few light bulbs dimly illuminated the large rectangular toom with three rows of six-story bunks. Prisoners walked in the passageways between the bunks as if inside long dark tunnels, offering for sale assorted goods: a slice of bread, a piece of herring, sugar, a small potato, or a small cup of coffee sweetened with sugar. There were also sellers of luxury goods: sausage, sweet bakery goods, chocolate, even liquor. For the most part the latter were young, alert, adn resourceful men who took advantage of their work in the city to smuggle into the camp all sorts of merchandise. Now and then  they peddled more dangerous merchandise such as underground broadsheets or Polish and Jewish underground newspapers which lifted our spirits and injected a little optimism into the hearts of the tormented and broken Jews.

Like the other barracks in the camp, Barracks no. 5 had its own orderlies and camp policemen in charge of order, sanitation, and security.

[...] Barracks no. 5 was packed with prisoners. No one was prepared to share his narrow sleeping board. After prolonged bargaining, a camp policeman, my former student, helped me find a place on the sixth level in the middle row. The old-timers greeted us with indifference, sourness, and even dislike. A new transport meant more congestion in the barracks and less space on the already crowded sleeping boards. Slowly the barracks began to fill with human shadows – prisoners returning from work. Only a few evinced any interest in the new arrivals. Most of them went past us apathetically, their dull, glaed eyes meeting our nervous and restless glances. Completely worn out and exhausted by their day’s work, they dropped on their filthy lice-infested bunks and fell asleep instantly"

However, on that night, the rabbi did not manage to fall asleep fast.

"I am lying on the sixth, top level of sleeping boards. A faint glow seeps inside near my bed – probably the light of projectors sweeping the camp now and then. My nervous hands feel the tin disc suspended from a string around my neck. It is stamped with a number, my “dog tag” (Hunde Marke). In the faint light filtering through the narrow porthole I see the digits making up my number: 2250. From now on I have no name, I am just a number, 2250".

The next day, on November, 18, 1942, started for new prisoner No 2250 according to the set camp rules, repeated day by day during the following months. At 4:30 a.m., they put the lights on and a daily police guard was waking the rest of the barrack.

"Drowsy but a bit rested, the prisoners hurriedly hauled themselves off the sleeping boards. The race to the latrines and baths commenced. Long lines quickly formed at both establishments; people were in a hurry to get rid of unnecessary burdens. To make thte life of the prisoners as miserable as possible, both the latrines and the baths were deliberately built very small and far apart from each other. Those who managed to get quickly through these two stages of the morning ran to take their place in the longest line of all – the line to the kitchen. Breakfast was modest by any standard: black coffee and a slice of bread with something called jam spread on it. Camp regulations allocated seventy-five minutes for for these activities. I must say that there were only a few times when I was able to complete them all. Many times the kitchen window had been shut before I got there to get my miserable breakfast".

After the morning procedures, prisoners had to quickly assemble at the Appelplatz — a central plaza in the camp.

"At 5.45 A.M. all the prisoners stood at attention in the roll-call yard. Everyone dreaded this morning ceremony. There was always a prisoner who had escaped. There was always an excuse for punishment. For each escaped prisoner the S.S. man on duty would shoot three, four, or five Jews. Whip in hand, he strolled among columns of prisoners, stalking his prey. Then he would point at them with his whip: you, you, you! This order meant “Step out and move to the front!” Then the order was given: “About face!” (Dreh dich um), followed by a pistol shot which reverberated in the ominous stillness of the dark dawn and the prisoner fell to the ground. These scenes repeated themselves almost every day".

"All this took place in the light of the projectors and lasted until 6:30 A.M. Then each labor brigade was given its assignment for the day. At about 7:00 A.M. the brigades began leaving for work. We, the new arrivals, were not allowed out yet. We were told to reamin in the roll-call yard for registration. Skilled workers such as tailors and mechanics, especially automobile mechanics, were immediately assigned to the DAW brigade. The feeble and sick were incorporated into the cripples brigade. The remainder, me included, were assigned to the brigade of unskilled workers employed at all kinds of dirty jobs. Those assigned to the cripples brigade made a terrifying impression; more dead than alive, they moved with their heads bent, their hopes gone, and their faces indicating that they knew the fate awaiting them in the near future".

During the first few months in the camp, in November-December, 1942, Dawid Kahane, along with a small group of other inmates, were assigned to cleaning and refurbishing the housing in the buildings on the territory of the former cadet school.

"Engelhart of the S.S. brought us to our place of work at a building at Kadecka [Kordecki] Street where Polish officers once lived and a cadet school operated. We were assigned the job of cleaning the houses, painting the rooms, furnishing the apartments, and tending the weed-filled gardens. We were escorted and guarded by two Jewish policemen and two askars. The furniture had to be transported from the Supplies Department of the Judenrat. As the manager of these houses, Engelhart of the S.S. was responsible for reconverting them to living quarters".

At the same time, Engelgard was cruel with the prisoners, and often made them work until late hours, which left them without a dinner in the camp. Two weeks of enduring these harsh conditions saw two of the four group members die..

In the middle of December, Kahane was appointed to dismantle the headstones at the old Jewish cemetery to be used for paving the sidewalks leading to the houses of the former cadet school.

Old Jewish cemetery (presently non-existent)

"We were busy pulling down tombstones and paving paths with them for a whole week. Later other crews were assigned to this work".

Difficult conditions of stay in the camp and the hard labour manifested themselves as soon as after a month. The same as thousands of other prisoners, Kahane caught a typhoid. 

"At that time I didn’t feel well. I kept on working, hoping that the pain would pass. In the meantime my temperature rose and I could barely lift my feet. Earlier I had struck up a friendship with one of the several physicians in our brigade, Dr. Szor, from the town of Rzeszow. In the evening he examined me, took my temperature, and determined that I had contracted typhus. I had two options: to report my illness to the camp authorities adn be hospitalized or to ignore it and carry on working. Entering the camp hospital meant certain death".

"The hospital was located in a barracks declared unfit for housing prisoners. There was no sanitary equipment whatsoever and apparently no medicines or medical instruments. It was winter and the barracks were not heated. Its director, Dr. Maksymilian Kurcrok, was a warm-hearted Jew but he too was a camp prisoner; he had no means to treat his patients except with comforting words. The S.S. men Brombauer and Bormann were the rulers of the hospital. Now and then they would come inside, remove the sickest or the unconscious and shoot them. Only a handful came out of there alive and intact. It came as no surprise that under these conditions sick inmates avoided being hospitalized, tried to hold out, and kept working. Fellow prisoners showed great devotion in caring for their sick comrades. The most dangerous moment was after the roll call, at the checkpoint at the main gate. Once the S.S. man on duty spotted a sick prisoner, he would immediately remove him from the column and place him in between the double row of barbed wire fence, thus passing the death sentence on him. Comrades of sick prisoners, the entire work crew, went to great lengths to shield them from the eyes of the S.S. man at the checkpoint. I chose to work, and all the members of my crew helped me, particularly my two guardian angles, Dr. Szor from Rzeszow and my friend Gross".

"Using various ploys Dr. Szor would acquire caffeine and sometimes other medicines for me. At the checkpoint he and the boxer Gross locked hands with me and passed me through. In this way I got through my most difficult period in the camp, the days of my illness".

"In early February I was transferred to the VIB (Vereinigte Industrie Betriebe[– United Industry Enterprises]) brigade. This was the easiest assignment; some members of the brigade even stayed in the factory for the night shift.

VIB produced for the Wehrmacht. Our factory was located at Zamarstynowska Street and manufactured cutlery for the German military at the front. Skilled workers made aluminum casts of spoons, forks, knives, and teaspoons, whereas we polished them, first on a machine and then manually. Our supervisor was a Polish Volksdeutsche by the name of Schtentzel. Always irritated and unsatisfied, he walked among the worktables and kept demanding higher daily output. But all in all I was very pleased to be working in the VIB brigade since it gave me access to Jews from the Julag".

During the entire spring, Kahane continued working at the VІВ company. In terms of a comparatively lighter work mode, he had several opportunities to escape from the camp.

"At the end of March I was surprised to receive a written note from my wife, brought to me by one of our brigade members. At that time she was well hidden in the Studite convent and knew of my incarceration in the Janowski camp. Terrible rumors about the camp prompted her to search for a hiding place for me. Risking her life she waited for several days near the camp gate until she managed to slip a note to one of the prisoners. She wrote that she succeeded in securing for me "a good place at the mother’s, where they wait for you.” This meant that the prioress (mother of the convent) was willing to hide me. In those days it was relatively easy to escape from the VIB brigade but this could have cost the lives of several fellow prisoners. I struggled with my conscience all night and decided to stay in the camp".

"On May 23, 1943, I worked the night shift. Usually workers from the camp reported for duty in the morning. That morning when workers did not come, we realized something was wrong. Several hours later we learned that the camp was under siege and horrific spectacles were taking place there. The Germans were in the process of liquidating six or seven thousand Jews in the camp, to prepare space for healthy Jews from the ghetto due to arrive several days later after its liquidation. After an hour or so the VIB workshop manager received instructions over the telephone to send all night-shift workers back to the camp. We knew what this meant. Everyone decided to try to save himself in any way he could. No attempt was made to defend ourselves or to organize an escape.

I remained hidden in the cellar throughout the day. When darkness fell, between seven and eight in the evening, I decided to set out for the metropolitan and ask for shelter".

Kahane managed to get to the St George Cathedral. After a friendly meeting with Andrey Sheptytskyi, he was placed in the Metropolitan's personal library.

"In one of the corners a hiding place was prepared for me. It was surrounded with books on all sides and a person entering the library could not notice that someone was hidden behind the books. I was not given a bed, but a lounge chair on which I could sleep or rest. For the time being I remained there".

"I stayed in the metropolitan’s library in Jura [St. George] Mountain through June 1, 1943. On the night of June 2, Hrtzai [Hrytsay - ed.] informed me that that very night I would have to leave the palace and move to the Studite monastery at Piotr Skarga Street. It was not safe for me to stay on Jura Mountain. There were too many people, including Germans, coming on business to the palace, which was the center of the Uniate Catholic church."

The Metropolitan palace (2013)

Late at night, a monk Hrytsay, with his brother Teodosiy, upon a preliminary plan, in line with all due security measures, took Dr. Kahane, under the name of Brother Mateusz, to a St Josafat "Studion" Monastery. Initially, he was placed into a cell, to be later transferred into a specially prepared shelter at a monastery attic. A hiding place where he stayed during the following three months was a size of a medium room, and had two small windows.

The Studion building on Ozarkevycha St. (2019)

In mid-September, following the denouncement about hiding the Jews in the monastery, Germans held an unexpected raid.

"They turned everything upside down: the monks’ cells, the library, the large refectory, the secretariat, and they even searched in the chapel. Finally, they demanded the keys to the attic, but fortunately didn’t find anything. All ended well. However, the metropolitan had decided to trasnfer me back to his palace."

The rabbi was put back to the hiding place in a library of the Metropolitan Andrey Sheptytskyi. Here, according to his testimony, on September, 26, 1943, he started writing his memoirs.

In the end of October, 1943, for the threat of being uncovered, Dawid Kahane was transferred back to the library of the Studion monastery. In case of search in the library, a special hiding place was arranged. There was a special code signal of an electric doorbell.

"During the winter of 1943-44 we went through six searches. Six times we heard the bell ringing. Six times we experienced the dreaded close calls of hiding Jews. The Germans, however, never suspected anything".

In hiding, Dr. Kahane, along with the monk Tyt, worked to arrange the Studion library and translated certain fragments of the Old Testament. From November, 1943, the rabbi found a huge consolation in teaching and mentoring the younger son of a rabbi Ezekiel Levin, the 11-year-old Nathan. In this situation, Kahane spent the remaining six months of the city’s German occupation.

“On July 27, 1944, Lvov was liberated. The Red Army took over the city. At long last I am free again like any other man”.

After Lviv was liberated from the Nazi occupation, Dawid Kahane worked as a rabbi of Jewish community for some time (in the registration bureau of the few surviving repatriate Jews) in the only surviving synagogue in the central part of the city. Formally, he held a position of a senior librarian in the Jewish library in Lviv.

A synagogue building at Vuhilna Street (2007)

In February, 1945, along with the family, he left for Warsaw. In a new place, he continued his active work, and in 1947, he became a chair of the rabbi council in Poland and of united Jewish communities. A year after, he became a chief rabbi of the Polish Army (in a rank of a colonel).

When in February, 1950, a spiritual care was cancelled in the army of the Polish People's Republic, Dawid Kahane moved to Israel. After being conscripted to the Israel Defense Forces, he became a chief military rabbi in a religion unit. Since 1952, in a rank of a general, he was elected a chief rabbi of Israeli Air Force. He worked on the position for the following fifteen years.

After serving in the army, in 1968, Dawid Kahane was invited by a local Jewish community to leave for Argentina, where he chaired the rabbinate and the rabbinate court. In 1975, as a senior person, he returned to his homeland, where he had been a rabbi of the Chief Army Synagogue in Tel Aviv, and a member of the collegium to honor the Righteous Among the Nations at the Yad Vashem Institute.

Interview with Dawid Kahane, 1991.  Source 

At the same time, he wrote his memoirs, which first edition was printed in 1978. Also, in 1981, a book was published "After Deluge" — about the attempts to revive Jewish communities in the post-war Poland. A long and active life of a rabbi Dawid Kahane came to an end on September, 24, 1997.

Sources

  1. Eliyahu Jones, Żydzi Lwowa w okresie okupacji 1939-1945, (Łódź, 1999), 296.
  2. David Kahane, Lvov Ghetto Diary (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1990), 162.
  3. Жанна Ковба, Людяність у безодні пекла. Поведінка місцевого населення Східної Галичини в роки "остаточного розв'язання єврейського питання", (Київ, 1998), 266.
  4. Жанна Ковба, Останній рабин Львова, (Львів-Київ, 2009), 184.
  5. Рабин Давид Кахане. Щоденник Львівського гетто. Спогади рабина Давида Кахане, Упор. Ж. Ковба, (Київ, 2003), 267.
  6. Курт Левін, Мандрівка крізь ілюзії, (Львів, 2007), 478.
  7. Michał Borwicz, Uniwersytet zbirów, (Kraków, 1946), 114.
  8. Мирослава Керик, "Стратегії і способи порятунку євреїв у Львові в 1941-1944 роках", Вісник Львівського університету. Серія історична, 2007, Спеціальний випуск, с. 546-566.
  9. Waitman W. Beorn, "Last Stop in Lwów: Janowska as a Hybrid Camp", Holocaust and Genocide Studies, Vol 32, Nr. 3, Winter 2018, pp. 445-471.
  10. Яків Хонігсман, Янівське пекло: короткий нарис історії Янівського концтабору у Львові, (Львів, 2003), 64.
  11. Helen Caplan, I never left Janowska, (New York, 1989), 150.
  12. Kai Struve, Deutsche Herrschaft, ukrainischer Nationalismus, antijüdische Gewalt. Der Sommer 1941 in der West Ukraine, (Berlin: Oldendourg Verlag, 2015), 740.

Boundaries of the ghetto and of the Judenlager recreated according to the materials of research undertaken by Taras Martynenko.

Quotes cited from  Lvov Ghetto Diary  by David Kahane (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1990)

Images

Photographs by Olha Zarechnyuk (2019), Yaroslav Tymchyshyn (2016, 2018), Ihor Zhuk (2013), Oksana Boyko (2007)

Archival photographs: Österreichishes Staatsarchiv, sygn. AT-OeStA/KA BS I WK Fronten Galizien, 15851; Biblioteka Narodowa (polona.pl); Urban Media Archive: collection of the Lviv Historical Museum, collection of Ihor Kotlobulatov.

The publication also uses a 1936 map of Lwów, from the collection of the State Archive of the Lviv Region (DALO) 2/41/7; as well as 1944 aerial photography of Lviv from the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), rg373_gx8249_sk_31-32-50-51

Related

Oze Tov Synagogue (left)

Main entrance to the Citadel military barracks (1920s)

Vul. Sholom-Aleikhema, 12 (2018)

Zamarstynivska St.

In the yard of the building at vul. Zamarstynivska, 12.

They stayed in this location until the end of summer 1942.

St. George Church (1930s)

Zamarstynivska, 132 (school building)

Pokutska Street (2019)

Old Jewish cemetery (presently non-existent)

The Metropolitan palace (2013)

The Studion building on Ozarkevycha St. (2019)

A synagogue building at Vuhilna Street (2007)

Interview with Dawid Kahane, 1991.  Source