Original subtitles

Before the war, my whole family lived in Lodz.

- What became of them? - I don't know.

Maybe they died during the ghetto revolt.

My mother's last letter dates from one month before it.

I have no idea.

May your return be peaceful Little bird

You who are returning from the warm country

Do you know how your voice moved me

When in winter you left my home

Sing, tell me, my beloved bird

Of that faraway land and all its wonders

Tell me if in that warm, beautiful country

Pain and grief reign as they do here

Are the dewdrops on Mount Hermon

More like pearls or like tears

How are the clear waters of the Jordan river

And how are the hills and the vales

And my brothers who sow tearfully

Do they reap a joyful harvest

Oh, if I had wings, I could fly

To the land of dates and almonds

Rosa was my student.

My father and I,

we volunteered in 1939,

but he died in Mauthausen.

I was saved. After the war, I went to Sosnowiec.

The neighbors told me that in 1939, in late winter,

they were all taken away, no one knows where to.

Rosa was lucky.

She was sent to Siberia.

To Siberia? How did she survive?

Do you speak Russian?

Yes, some.

With Rosa you have to speak Russian.

How were you able to survive in Siberia?

Now I almost miss the snow-clad mountains,

the winter, the vast forests, the snowstorms.

Here it's always warm.

- Now it's cold. - Right now, yes.

I never thought I'd be so cold here!

But we'll manage.

Come with me!

You four get behind those bushes.

Ygal...

hold this position over here. Where are you going?

The British! Quick, get your bags on the trucks!

Klibanov, I'm talking to you!

Take these people to the kibbutz.

But there are others! We have to wait for them!

No, we'll all get caught.

- Did you see Rosa get off the ship? - Don't leave. There's more.

We'll meet in the Farunkel.

What are you doing? Let's go! Move!

- What about her? - Take her.

Mussa, take her!

Forward! Hurry up!

Come, follow me!

The British are coming!

Everything all right?

I'm exhausted.

- You have any water? - No.

- Have you seen Janusz? - No. Have you?

The last time I saw him was on the beach.

Then everything got all confused.

Got any food left? Nothing?

My suitcase got left on the beach.

- Everything? - Yes. Food and all.

- You know where they're taking us? - No.

- So what now? - I don't know.

They'll have a place to put us up.

Mussa!

Wait for us!

I want to cry

I want my tears to reach the whole world

To cry over my fate and the fate of my people

Flow, O my tears, on those who left

Without even being able to say good-bye

Dad is petrified. Mama is crying.

They hold me tightly: "Don't leave! Don't leave us!"

A real Jewish mother.

And my little brother Elinke says to me,

"I'll go with you. I'll watch over you."

He wants to watch over me and my sister.

Dad drags me away from them. I have to flee that place.

No time to waste. Night is falling. It's Chavuot.

I leave the house. They all come with me.

I leave and reach the tram line.

They head back home.

I never saw them again.

I jump in the tram and grab a handle.

Incredibly, I don't fall off.

The driver opens the door for me, and I collapse inside.

He says to me, "Get under the bench!"

I do what he says. Under the bench.

We reach the gate that separates the Aryan-goy side

from the agonizing ghetto.

I see a German soldier get on. He asks the driver

if he saw anyone board or jump on the tram.

The man answers, "I saw nothing. I know nothing."

From below, I see his boots.

He passes, passes again, and again...

He's gone.

We go over to the Aryan side. It's another world!

Kids go to school. The goyim are well-dressed.

I don't understand. Are we on the same planet? No!

I'm amazed. People seem to notice me.

I'm astonished. I sense that people look at me.

If he'd turned me in to the Germans,

he'd have gotten four pounds of sugar and a quart of vodka.

They got paid for that, you know?

I jumped over the wall and landed in a big hole.

I prayed and told myself: I'm past the first obstacle.

Now I've made it.

Suddenly, a Pole comes over and asks, "Are you a Jew?"

I tell him, "No, I'm a Pole like you."

He says to me, " Don't lie. I can tell a Jew a mile away.

Give me all your money, then we'll go to the Gestapo."

"I have very little left." He says, "Give it to me anyway."

I gave it all to him, money, gold, everything.

Despite that he says, "Good, now we'll go to the police."

I cried and begged him: "I want to live!"

He took pity on me and let me go.

But I was caught.

Three policemen finally got me under the bridge.

They took me to the station,

where four Gestapo men sat eating apples.

They stared at me like I was a target... "Why are you standing up?"

I told them, " That way I'll be easier to shoot. A good target."

They said, "You can't be normal."

I told them, "I'm normal. I want to live.

I didn't kill anyone or steal anything. I want to live, like you."

They told me, " Leaving the ghetto is punishable by death.

A bullet in the head."

But one of them, an officer, said,

"You've got typhus. We won't kill you.

You can go back to the ghetto, where you'll die anyway."

Then there was the revolt, the sewers, the forest.

End of my story.

It took some time. These people are tired, worn out.

I hope you're not angry, Mussa.

No, but take them to the kibbutz. I've got my own load to carry.

All right.

Maybe you can take him.

What does he do?

What does he do? Your profession?

What can you do?

- I'm a cantor. - A what?

- He sings. - Oh, a cantor!

Why don't you sing us something?

- Sing. - All right.

He sings well.

Hold on, my friend!

We're not in a synagogue. Something more cheerful.

A Purim song!

Thanks.

Tell him to stop.

You don't stop working.

What you don't do will never be done.

Aren't you cold?

Cold? A little.

Milek, call Ygal. We're moving on.

We'll break camp.

I'll go on ahead.

Bye, Isha.

We'll wait a bit.

Jerusalem...

Jerusalem is to the east.

That's west... south...

north... How do you say north?

Sorry it happened this way,

but that's how it is.

Can't be helped.

We'll wait a bit for the others.

If they don't come, I'll take you.

They're going to Jerusalem. It's under siege.

- What's "under siege"? - A blockade.

There's no food.

You'll come with me to the kibbutz. There you can rest.

What's a kibbutz?

Kibbutz. Commune. Socialism.

We're all building a country together.

Don't worry, young lady.

If you're a cantor, why don't you have a beard?

Even as a child,

I felt I was leading a double life.

He lived a double life.

I felt capable of doing lots of things,

but religious life kept me from them.

He felt he was gifted, but religion blocked him.

We're all from religious and kosher homes,

but thank God, we got rid of religion.

I don't understand. If God loves us so much,

where was he when they were killing us in the camps?

Seeing what religion did in Europe, where was God?

- Was he on vacation? - You don't understand.

Now I have no father or mother.

Thanks.

Some candy.

I can't go on living like this.

We'll be all right.

We'll be all right. They'll take care of us.

Come along.

Can we throw this away?

Yes.

Yes, take this. I'll help you.

Thanks.

Come along.

- This is Rosa. - Hello.

Can we go?

Let's break camp.

Already?

Let them rest.

They just got here.

Go on. Get your things.

Get your things. We have to move on.

Milek, put out the fire.

We've been separated so much.

I don't want us to be separated again.

If you want to live,

you also have to forget.

If you want to survive,

you must forget.

Come on.

Let me feel the wind.

Soon life will go on.

For the first time, I'm happy.

We have to get going.

Come on.

Come on.

Janusz.

Go with them.

Come along.

Believe me, I don't regret coming here.

He's saying that way is west.

- Come, I'll help you. - Thanks.

Come on.

Give that to me.

Careful.

I've got it. Don't move.

Careful!

Give me the bag.

Follow him.

Be careful. Wait. Give it to me.

Klibanov, who are those people?

- Arabs. - Arabs?

- That's what he said. - Then let's run.

We're almost there.

Where you going?

We're fleeing.

- Who from? - The Jews.

And you?

- I'm fleeing. - Who from?

The British.

Are they with you?

What did she say?

They’re Jews!

Jews! The ones who took our land!

I'm a schoolteacher!

Go away! Go!

What are you doing?

Put down that stone!

Are you crazy?

That's enough! Stop it!

Go away!

No one is to harm them. Leave them alone.

- Go away. - Let them through.

Come along.

Leave them alone.

Don't be afraid. Keep going.

Keep going, women.

We're there.

That's the camp.

We'll rest and then go on to the kibbutz.

Wait! Don't run, kids!

Hanka!

Janusz is here!

Don't say too much. Just tell them what's important,

that this is a tool we use in our struggle...

You'll have to learn to fight. Umet voevat.

You don't know this tool.

It's a very basic semiautomatic.

Like a Polemiot, if you know that gun, but smaller.

It's a British weapon, a 9-mm, called a Sten.

Never mention its name.

It's a tool.

Never say the words "weapon" or "Sten."

Chort vozmy. Even by mistake.

It's a tool, manufactured secretly. Vpodpolie.

Don't talk about it.

Learn how to hold it, how to cock it,

how to load it.

The butt... priklad... that's the first part.

There's the frame, the mechanism.

The third part is the barrel... dulo.

In the mechanism, there's the safety catch... kurok.

On the other side is a square opening.

You all see the opening?

That's where you insert the magazine.

You insert the magazine and load. Yabloko. See this tab?

The weapon is now loaded. You aim and shoot.

For a single shot, you pull the trigger once.

For bursts, you use the automatic mode. Najmi kurok.

Until the magazine's empty. There's a knob here.

You take out the magazine.

Here it is.

You grab a new one and go back to work.

You reload and start shooting again.

You keep the other magazine

and refill it... puliami... the first chance you get.

Without ammo, this tool is useless... v zadnizu.

Mr. Klibanov, when you fight, what do you shout here? Hurrah?

Not hurrah.

"Follow me!"

"Follow me. Forward!"

What do you shout instead of "Long live Stalin"?

Long live Stalin?

Long live Ben Gurion!

You say Ben Gurion?

To our homeland! Long live Ben Gurion!

Waiting is the hardest part, Menahem.

We'll get permission to go to the kibbutz.

There you'll eat and sleep.

I can't wait. I want to fight for my country.

We're waiting for permission to go to the kibbutz.

There you'll eat and sleep.

Rest well.

If there's a problem, you know who to contact.

Please let me pull the trigger.

Please let me throw my grenade.

When I attack, they'll all burn!

I'll sow death all around me.

Soon you'll see, Ishmael. I'll water my land with your blood.

Your body will be laid out at my feet.

It will be your corpse.

Lion of Judah,

I hunger not for bread

nor thirst for water,

but to see your bodies riddled with bullets.

That's what my soul demands.

You'd kill all those who are against you?

He who isn't with you is against you.

That's your credo.

Remember: There's no life after death.

My mother and sister were killed

after the whole community was deported.

My father died on Yom Kippur,

wrapped in his prayer shawl.

I dug a hole and buried him

so the dogs wouldn't eat him.

The shots come from the Arab village less than a mile away.

Two hills separate us.

We'll form three groups to climb up to the village.

Amihai and his group, led by Milek, will stay here.

Yonathan's group will go with me. The others will go round the left side.

Don't lose sight of each other! Be careful! Let's go!

Menahem, no! Where are you going?

Let him go!

Get down!

Get down!

Spread out!

It's started, but don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid, brother.

I waited a long time for this moment!

I waited a long time, you know.

I've already been shot at. I've faced death.

All around me, nothing but Germans. I am sixth in the row.

Dad's in front of me. He looks alive, and says to me,

"Run for it!"

Run for it? Where to? The Germans are everywhere.

Let's run away together. It's easier.

And the children? You can't run with the children? I'll stay.

Early in the morning, they dragged me out of the bunker.

I had put on some boots, like these.

But I hadn't tied my laces.

How could I run? Where to?

Suddenly I see Germans coming down from the watchtower.

They light a cigarette.

And I say to myself, "This is it. My time has come."

I started running.

They shot at my hat. They riddled it with bullets.

I ran as hard as I could.

That's all... I can't go on... the woods...

I couldn't breathe anymore.

But I was afraid to turn around and see them.

I couldn't even think anymore.

If they're going to catch me, let them do it.

Then I turn around to look,

and they turn on their heels and leave.

Either they're tired or they're afraid of something.

I remained there for half an hour.

I hear shots...

That's how it is, brother. And you say death, death...

We're in God's hands, and death is pursuing me.

So there. Now we're immortal.

We're going to live, brother. And how!

Esther!

Tend to him!

Come with me. Move on!

Leave him. Move on!

I'm going back to the camp. Help her, okay?

Ygal, get close to that rock and stay there!

Yardena, take cover beside Ygal.

Hurry!

They're in the house. I'm gonna throw a grenade.

Shall I radio for reinforcements?

Cover me.

Spread out!

Ygal, you got any ammo left?

Where's Mussa?

Yardena!

Check her pulse, Ygal.

Hold her, Ygal. Where's your rifle?

Where's your rifle?

Forward, Milek!

Gideon, take your men around the right!

Get up to the stone wall!

Get over by the stairs!

Take your men and attack on the left!

- Know where the shots are from? - No.

Come with me!

Forward!

Come along!

What's your name?

- Menahem. - Menahem what?

Menahem Teitelbaum.

Now you're Menahem Tamari.

Tamari?

Forward! Let's move on!

Menahem Tamari?

Gideon!

This way! Down here!

Cover us on the sides!

Slowly... don't be afraid.

Easy now.

- Wait. - What do you want?

- Mussa, what about them? - What do you want?

What'll you do with them?

They're old. They'll slow us down.

- Leave us alone, for God's sake! - Where did the others go?

- What others? - They left, right before your eyes.

Wait!

Leave him!

- Tell him we're taking his donkey. - What do you want with me?

- Where are the others? - What others?

Where are they now?

When the village was taken,

they all fled to Jerusalem.

It's our land...

We're taking the donkey. I'm talking to you!

Where did they go?

When the village was taken, they fled to Jerusalem!

They'd heard about the Jews! They were scared!

They looked for a safe place. What do you want with us?

This is our land! Go away, you Jews!

Give me back my donkey!

What do you want from us?

We're not trained like you. We're not organized.

Our weapons are old and rusty. We all want to be leaders.

Enough! I'm sick of all this.

I'm talking to you! Where are they? Understand?

I'll tell you, my friend. On the road, they met some soldiers.

They begged them for help

to get back home! The soldiers refused.

"Our orders are to help you get to Jericho and Ramallah!"

So who ran away?

Leave us alone!

Leave us! It's our land!

What did he say?

Their leaders told them to flee. Not to stay and fight.

Get in there!

Where are the ones that left? Where's their camp?

I asked you where their camp is!

The night of the big attack on my town,

things became clearer.

What?

It was a terrible, cruel night,

full of silent men and praying women.

In the morning

there was a big truck

in front of our house.

People were throwing their bags and possessions onto it.

We quickly got on the truck.

It took off before we'd even got settled on it,

and my beloved town disappeared in the distance

behind the winding road leading to the border.

The orange groves sped by, one after the other,

and sadness took hold of us.

Gunshots in the distance...

We left to the sound of gunshots.

There was no other farewell.

Stop this. Go back.

Go back there.

We'll stay here in spite of you, like a wall!

We'll wash dishes in bars!

We'll fill glasses for the masters!

We'll scrub your kitchen floors

to wrest bread for our youngsters

from your blue clutches!

But we'll stay here in spite of you, like a wall!

We'll be hungry, we'll be in rags,

but we'll defy you!

Here we will stay, in spite of you, like a wall!

We'll write poems.

Our demonstrations will fill the streets!

We'll fill the jails with our pride!

We'll father generations of rebellious children!

We'll remain here in spite of you! Like a wall!

Load him in the first-aid truck.

It's Menahem!

- Your name, please. - Sholem.

Sholem what?

No, don't take him. Don't take him.

Your name?

What?

Take him to the truck.

Cover him.

Stretcher bearer!

Janusz.

Orderly!

We have no history. It's a fact.

I don't know how to say it in Hebrew.

But that's it.

The goyim made our history for us!

We didn't want to be like that.

It wasn't our way.

They forced us, whether we wanted it or not.

That's why, I'm telling you, I'm against it!

I don't recognize it.

It doesn't exist for me.

You can't imagine how much I'm against it,

how much I reject it!

Try to think. What's it made up of?

Oppression, slander, persecution, martyrdom.

Deadly boring! Totally uninteresting!

No glory, no action, no heroes, no conquerors!

Just poor wretches pursued, moaning, crying,

always begging for their lives.

I'd make it forbidden to teach our children Jewish history.

What for? I'd tell them,

"The day we were kicked out of our country,

we became a people without a history.

Class dismissed!"

Some find it heroic,

the way we've endured our sufferings.

To hell with that heroism!

It's the heroism of despair. When there's no way out,

anyone can be a hero, whether he wants to be or not.

Do you understand?

That kind of hero sooner or later can't stop telling everyone,

"See what I endured in silence? Who can do better?"

You see, we suffer and we enjoy it.

Because without it, we'd cease to exist.

That's what I want to say. Suffer, suffer, suffer!

So grief becomes more valuable than joy.

We moan instead of acting.

We prefer slavery to redemption, dreams to reality,

hope to a future, faith to common sense,

and so on. It's horrible!

Suffering is what makes us Jews.

It proves we're brave and heroic,

more than any other people.

We don't act. We don't master our destiny.

There's a meaning to it. It means:

You'll never manage to break us.

You won't be able to destroy us.

No power on earth can do it.

There are limits to power, but not to the power of suffering.

That explains everything: exile, martyrdom, the Messiah...

all three united, so the Jews will never know salvation.

So they continue to wander from country to country,

pursued by hate. Exile, exile!

How they love it! How they cling to it!

It's their most precious treasure, more precious than Jerusalem.

Exile is our pyramid, with martyrdom as its base,

the Messiah at its tip,

and the Talmud as the Book of the Dead!

Millions of men, a whole nation

that sinks into madness

for 2,000 years.

What a people, admirable yet at the same point so dreadful!

Dreadful to the point of insanity!

It's madness with a purpose: the belief in the Messiah.

A simple myth that changed everything.

They'd have gone back to Palestine or elsewhere,

forced to make plans for their future,

to get out of the nightmare.

You don't need to do anything.

The Messiah will come and take care of everything.

You're even forbidden to do anything! For-bid-den!

Shall we remain exiles for all eternity

waiting for heaven to send someone to come save us?

I... I think...

that Israel isn't a Jewish country anymore.

Not now, even less in the future.

Time will tell.

Everything's done for.

Finished.

They change your names.

Get on, Mussa! Let's go!