The Light of Days summary

In September 1939, Germany invaded Poland. Immediately, Renia’s hometown of Jędrzejów was under the gun. The family fled. Their destination was the town of Chmielnik, 21 miles away. It was across the Nida River – hopefully just far enough out of reach of Hitler’s army. 

It was a full day and night of walking on foot, with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Air raids had left dead bodies scattered along the road to Chmielnik, and the family arrived to find the town already decimated. The town was 80 percent Jewish, and the Kukielkas had relatives there, but it was clear that they were still in harm’s way. 

The rules in the ghettos were constantly changing. At first, anyone could leave for work or food. But then that stopped. There were also no walls around the ghetto to start with. But soon, they arrived – as did curfews, restrictions, and more restrictions. In Warsaw and in other ghettos, a Judenrat was established. This was a Jewish-run office that presumably acted as a liaison between the Nazis and the Jewish communities. They were supposed to represent the Jews, but they rarely had the will or the power to stand up to the Nazis. Still, it soon became a rule that to leave the ghetto, you needed a pass from the Judenrat.

Even with the rules, walls, and travel restrictions, there were ways out. Bribing guards was one of them. Other times you could find ways of going over or under a wall. But if you were going to travel illegally, it was often safer to be a woman – preferably, one who could pass for Aryan.

In the summer of 1940, the Jędrzejów ghetto was already being overrun by typhus. The males who were strong and healthy were being sent to labor camps. Then came the notice that the 400 wealthiest families, including the Kukielkas, had to pack up everything and move to Wodzisław by day’s end.

By the time these families arrived, the cold was setting in. Wind was cutting through everything. Mothers were screaming as their babies turned blue. Families huddled together in a synagogue to try and keep warm. Groups of drunk German soldiers started showing up in town with the names of 30 people they would drag into the street, beat, and kill. The terror was reaching new levels.

Even with a passport, and the new name of Wanda Widuchowska, a simple train ride could be filled with danger. Renia was able to get some food and a change of clothes from a family she knew, but she couldn’t stay – the neighbor was already suspicious.

Renia headed to Kazimierza Wielka because there were rumors that Jewish people still lived there. But on the train, she had the worst luck. Sitting across from her was a man she recognized from Jędrzejów. He didn’t say anything, but it was obvious he recognized her. When he stood up and walked away, Renia thought, for a moment, she was safe. But then the whispers began to tumble back down the train toward her. “Yes, she’s a Jew,” she heard someone say.

By the time Renia reached Będzin in October 1942, the spirit of resistance had been steadily building. The Freedom movement and The Young Guard had joined forces. Strong connections had been built between Będzin and Warsaw. And, thanks to the efforts of Zivia and other youth group leaders, the Jewish Fighting Organization – better known by its Polish initials, ZOB – had just been formed.

Earlier that year, word had begun to reach Freedom members about the mass killings taking place at concentration camps. Then, in mid-April, the first Aktion took place in the Warsaw ghetto. Known as the “Bloody Sabbath,” it led to 52,000 Jews being taken away. After that, it was clear that the Nazis were planning to kill them all. The leaders of the youth organizations decided they had to fight back, and the ZOB militia was born in the summer of 1942.

The successes of the ZOB in Kraków further emboldened the Warsaw branch, which grew to be several hundred strong at the start of 1943. They began to put up posters throughout the city, stating in no uncertain terms that the ZOB would retaliate against anyone who harmed Jews – even if it was another Jewish person. They made good on that promise. At the time, the Judenrat and the Jewish militia were still collaborating with the Nazis, and after the ZOB assassinated two militia and council leaders, people in the Warsaw ghetto began to pay more respect to the young resistance fighters. 

All of this was leading up to the first Warsaw ghetto uprising. It was supposed to take place on January 22, but the Nazis surprised everyone with another Aktion on January 18. With people getting rounded up, a group of armed men and women let themselves get captured, and when they were told to line up in the town square, they quickly took out guns and grenades and unloaded upon their captors. Only two fighters survived the German retaliation, but the impact was revolutionary.

April 20, 1943, was meant to be a happy day for Hitler. It was his birthday, after all. But the same couldn’t be said for Warsaw. Two days prior, another surprise Aktion had taken place in the ghetto, and the ZOB had been caught off guard. They’d been planning a large-scale uprising, and now they knew that the time was upon them.

Since the mini uprising in January, more guns had been smuggled in, some of them sent by sympathetic organizations such as Poland’s Home Army resistance. The ZOB had also learned to make Molotov cocktails in their weapons lab, as well as explosives from old water pipes. Those explosives were placed under the street at the entrance to the ghetto. When the tanks and the 2,000 Nazis came marching in, the bombs went off. Body parts went flying through the air. As the soldiers scattered, more explosives came raining down upon them. The Germans retreated, and the first night was full of celebrations.

In many ways, the resistance in Poland lived on in the forests. The forests were the home of the partisan fighters, also known as the Polish resistance, who were generally indifferent to helping the Jewish resistance movement. The partisan men were also unwilling to take in women as anything other than cooks, cleaners, or sexual partners.

Still, there were several Jewish resistance fighters in the forests, too. The FPO, or United Partisan Organization, was started by Jewish fighters who fled to the eastern border town of Vilna. The group was highly active in sabotaging train lines, as well as smuggling people and weapons. And women like Ruzka Korczak and Vitka Kempner were central in carrying out those missions.

Renia knew that two people traveling with papers forged by the same person could be in trouble. That’s why Renia and Ilza sat in separate train cars. But it wasn’t enough. The guards recognized the forgeries. They’d seen too many of them by this point. 

The two women were caught and brought in for questioning. Renia told the police that she’d never met Ilza before. What was all of this about? She was Catholic. A Pole. She’d gotten her travel papers from work. They were not forgeries.

On March 6, 1944, Renia Kukielka reached Palestine. She was 19 years old and had been sure she was going to die many times in just the past twelve months alone. But, somehow, she’d survived. Other female comrades survived as well – including Zivia, who had stayed alive in Warsaw until it was liberated by the Russians. She eventually made it to Palestine as well, but her survivor’s guilt stayed with her always. Even though their stories quickly became popular, and Renia’s story was part of a book about women’s lives in the ghetto published in 1947, their heroics soon became lost to history.

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