The amazing Story of Shmuel the Glazier, as told by Ovadya ben Malka to Yael Shahar:
âShmuel the Glazier was from somewhere in Poland and came to the [camp] after theyâd taken his entire family. No illusions. Lasted about four weeks in Quarantine. Winter was coming on, but he was pretty sure he neednât worry about it. He gave himself about ten days [to live]. One can usually tell, just from the signs.â
“…So Shmuel knew he was going down and he knew already not to expect a miracle. But it seems they do happen occasionally, to some people. The next morning at Appell, a German officer showed up, accompanied by a couple of Poles in civilian clothes. It was announced that a workshop was being opened up and they needed some skilled workers: âTwo electricians, four carpenters, and a glazier.â
âNow one of the unwritten rules of that place is: never volunteer! Never! But poor Shmuel, what could he do? He knew how things would go with him if he didnât get out of Quarantine. The evidence was all around him. He had to take a gamble. âElectrician is out,â he thought to himself. âIâd electrocute myself the first time I tried to connect two wires. I can do that tonight right here with less bother. And carpentryâŚI scarcely know one end of a hammer from another; the others will out me in no time. But glazier? Well, I donât know what a glazier does, butâŚnothing to lose anyway.â So he raised his hand and the overseer took his number. Shmuel was out of Quarantine!
“He and the other six volunteers were escorted under guard out the motor gate and down the road toward the Stammlager. There, the Germans had set up a little industrial complex right on the main roadâfactories, small tool shops, carpentries, the works.
âThe first thing that meets Shmuelâs eyes when heâs escorted through the door to his new job is a huge room full of unidentifiable machines. Glass cutting machines, beveling machines, machines that did God-alone-knew-what. The Germans must have denuded every factory in the region to gather together this lot.
ââGevalt!â says Shmuel to himself (for he was an Ashkenazi Jew, albeit from a decent neighborhood). âI have no idea how to operate any of this!â
âBut of course, he didnât let on. He was playing for his life. He walked around the room, examining the machines, making little expert grunts and comments on the make and manufacture. âAh yes! A good make! HmmmâŚbut this oneâŚa piece of crap.â He examines the huge sheets of glass stacked up on racks and gives the outer sheet a flick of his finger, then puts his ear to the glass as if judging the quality of the âping!â
âThen he turns back to the Polish foreman and says, with an air of authority, âAll right, youâve got some excellent resources here, but most of these machines need two men to operate. Iâll need an assistant. But listen! Make sure the man has at least three years of experience, because I donât work with amateurs!â
And that’s how Shmuel lived to tell the tale.
âA toast to Shmuel the Glazier, may his name be long remembered in Israel!â
Amen! And may we all be blessed with Shmuel’s chutzpah and resourcefulness in the event, God forbid, that our survival depends on such qualities.
From A Damaged Mirror: A Story of Memory and Redemption. Learn more: HERE!
Get the best of Accidental Talmudist in your inbox:Â sign up for our weekly newsletter.