Today, in Israel, we solemnly observe "Holocaust Remembrance Day." As part of our annual tradition, we highlight lesser-known Holocaust sites, often overlooked during the 'March of the Living' typically undertaken by high school students and institutions. This year, our focus is on Ponary in Lithuania

The German invasion of Lithuania on June 22, 1941, marked the swift onset of the Jewish destruction. The methodology employed in Lithuania was chillingly distinctive. Upon entering cities or villages, the Germans rounded up the local Jewish population, either on foot or in carriages, herding them into nearby forests. Utilizing assistance from local Lithuanians who identified Jewish homes, they led them to death pits concealed within the woods. In the depths of these forests, the Jews were forced to dig vast pits. Subsequently, the "helpers" – local Lithuanians – lined up rows of 10-20 Jews at the pit's edge while the Germans heartlessly executed them. The fallen, both dead and wounded, were left in the pits to create mass graves. Minutes later, another row was lined up, repeating the horrifying cycle of execution

Among the most harrowing massacre sites was the Ponary forest. Over three years, it witnessed the slaughter of 100,000 people, including 70,000 Jews. These numbers are unfathomable – a staggering population akin to that of a medium-sized city in Israel was exterminated in Ponary, a space barely larger than a parking lot adjacent to a city mall. Our hearts ache for the tragedy of Ponary

Today, Ponary lies on the southern outskirts of Vilnius. During the Holocaust, it was a village embraced by forests, located approximately ten kilometers from Vilnius's heart. In the wooded expanse near Ponary, the Nazis and their allies found pre-existing pits – eight large ones initially dug by the military engineering corps to store fuel barrels. The site's suitability stemmed from its proximity to the city and the cover provided by trees, shielding it from Allied bombings. A railway traverses the Ponary forest, offering efficient transportation for the fuel

By late June 1941, the Nazis commenced the deportation of Jews from the Vilnius Ghetto to Ponary, systematically executing them on the pit edges. Each pit spanned approximately 30 meters in diameter, akin to a basketball court, with depths reaching the height of a two-story building. The enormity of these pits is discernible from photographs depicting people standing at the upper left corners of the frames

Following the decimation of the Vilnius Ghetto, Jews from other regions were transported by train to Ponary. Upon arrival at the Ponary train station, they were disembarked and led on foot to meet their tragic fate in the death pits. As they alighted from the trains, some Jews were handed postcards by the Germans, instructed to deceitfully write about the fictitious beauty and pleasantness of this so-called "labor camp." Once these messages were penned, the victims were mercilessly executed in the pits. Tragically, by the time these optimistic postcards reached their intended recipients, the senders were already lost

Today, the Ponary forest exudes an eerie serenity. Towering trees cast somber shadows upon the ground, their branches veiling the gray skies. Even the heavens seem draped in mourning. The air feels heavy with sorrow long before one arrives at the killing pits. Near the forest's entrance, a stone plaque stands silently in remembrance

In recent times, a Hebrew sign has been added beside it. A pathway from the entrance leads to the solemn memorial of the death pits

During our visit to Ponary with 'Gesher Tours,' we disembarked from the bus at the parking lot. Our guide, Akiva Sela, led us along the railroad track, guiding us to the central memorial at the site. It was a brief stroll, less than a five-minute walk. Towering about three stories high, the memorial stood tall, encompassed by a vast concrete base with three steps ascending to its foundation. Small stones left behind by earlier visitors adorned its base. This monument, a relic from the Soviet era, bore witness to history. As Akiva shared insights by the monument, the haunting rumble of a passing freight train echoed nearby, casting an eerie backdrop to our somber reflections

In 2005, a plaque commemorating the visit of Israel's President, Moshe Katsav, was affixed beside the memorial

As we traversed the paths near the pits, an overwhelming silence, almost tangible, enveloped us. Only the soft crunch of our footsteps on the snow and ice dared to disrupt the pervasive quiet. A pair of birds swiftly darted amidst the forest's branches, a rare sight. It struck me that even the birds refrained from their usual chirping in the solemn Ponary forest. Indeed, apart from that fleeting pair, no other birdsongs graced our senses. A black raven lay motionless on one side of the path, almost as though its presence was to heighten our awareness of death

Arriving at the edge of one of the pits, the freezing air wasn't solely a result of the wintry cold; it was the atmosphere itself. It stemmed from the weight of thoughts and efforts to visualize the tragedy, the bodies of Jewish victims heaped at the pit's bottom. Quietly, we roamed amid the pits, encountering large memorial stones adorned with explanations in the Lithuanian language

Part of the commemoration on Holocaust Remembrance Day is a haunting melody, a lullaby for a child whose father perished in Ponary. It's called "Shtiler, Shtiler" (Quiet, Quiet) in Yiddish, and in Hebrew, "Ponar." Penned by Shmerke Kaczerginski in Yiddish, translated by Avraham Sutskever into Hebrew, and sung by Chava Alberstein, the song begins:     i

Quiet, quiet, my child, be quiet

Here, graves emerge

Planted by those filled with hatred

From distant lands

Paths lead to Ponar

A path of no return

Without return, my father went

And took the light with him

According to the Yad Vashem website, the Ponar song was a "lullaby for a toddler in the Vilna Ghetto." Such chilling verses would render sleep elusive

The poignant words of the song "Ponar" also closed Gideon Hausner's speech during the Eichmann trial

On our return, we revisited the central memorial for a memorial ceremony led by Akiva Sela. Sheets bearing the lyrics of "Ponar" were distributed, and the clarinetist, Eliezer Rosenfeld, knelt beside the monument, playing the poignant melody composed by Alexander Tamir. We joined in with subdued singing, some humming along to the tune. The solemn notes elicited a gentle sway among the men, reminiscent of the "V'Nislach" prayer. Akiva recited a Psalm, followed by one member reciting Kaddish, and another chanting the prayer "El Male Rachamim."   i

Ponar village rests a mere 300 meters from the death pits. While the villagers might not have witnessed the atrocities, the sounds of gunfire surely echoed through their lives. Journalist Kazimierz Skubiszewski, a resident of the village, recounted hearing sporadic gunfire, mainly in the afternoons. He detailed witnessing neighbors setting up stalls near their homes and at the local market to trade second-hand clothes. It was a disturbing and repugnant revelation that every time the Germans departed, villagers scavenged the death pits, stripping bodies of clothes and shoes for trade

There were few instances of Jews who survived, albeit injured, remaining beneath the bodies of the slain. Under cover of darkness, they carved a path among the corpses, clawed their way out of the pit, and relying on their dwindling strength, staggered toward the distant glimmer of lights emanating from village houses. Skubiszewski recounted offering water and milk to those who sought refuge at his door, tending to their wounds and urging them to depart before the imminent arrival of the Germans, who would have undoubtedly executed him. However, most of his neighbors, despite providing shelter to the survivors, promptly dispatched family members to summon the Germans to remove them. The Eichmann trial transcripts hold chilling testimonies from survivors of Ponar

As the Germans confronted the impending loss of the war, they resolved to obliterate evidence of their heinous acts, issuing "Directive 1005." Jewish prisoners were coerced into unearthing bodies from mass graves, incinerating the remaining bones and evidence on-site, and dispersing the ashes across various locations

The implementation of Directive 1005 extended to the Ponar forest. Approximately a hundred Jewish prisoners were herded to Ponar, divided into groups, each assigned distinct roles. The primary task force was charged with extracting bodies from the pits. Even today, remnants of a device remain in one of the pits—a contraption used to hoist bodies to the pit's edge

Another group focused on extracting gold teeth from the skulls brought up from the pit. Labelled the "K'nockn Kleyber" (Collectors of Dispersed Bones), this group predominantly comprised young boys. There existed groups designated as "Building Mounds," responsible for emptying the dead's pockets, surrendering the money and gold to the Nazis, and piling the bodies into towering heaps conducive to burning. Further groups were assigned as "Bone Crushers," "Fire Lighters," "Bone Grinders," and "Ash Filters." A specialized unit, the "Shpurn Fargleiter" (Track Markers), diligently collected scattered ashes from fields, restoring the landscape to its semblance of normalcy. Additionally, they shoveled earth back into the pits and strategically placed individual body parts, enabling the Germans to claim minimal Jewish casualties at the site

The German execution of Command 1005 evokes profound unease

A daring escape was orchestrated by five members of the incineration brigade. Over three arduous months, they meticulously carved a tunnel using their bare hands and tree branches until it extended beyond the compound. Once completed, they alerted their fellow captives about the escape route. Eighty individuals opted to flee, forming groups of ten. Upon emerging from the tunnel outside the forest, infernos erupted from the watchtowers. Only 11 of the escapees survived. One of them testified that his group had incinerated "between 56,000 to 68,000 bodies." Subsequently, the Germans replaced the escapees with a new group of Jewish prisoners to continue erasing the evidence of their actions

The atrocities committed by the Lithuanians were exceptionally brutal, at times surpassing the savagery of the German Nazis. Shockingly, the Lithuanians executed Jews even before the German invasion of their homeland. Presently, children from the Ponar village desecrate the sanctity of the ominous forest, transforming paths leading to the pits into cycling trails. Some pits have been repurposed into playgrounds and picnic areas. Indeed, the Talmud's condemnation of "Lita's earth" is profoundly justified—they stand accursed!    i

Please improve the following text: However, one cannot generalize about all Lithuanians. We must maintain proportionality on this painful subject. A scientific study conducted about a decade ago on the Holocaust in Lithuania divided the Lithuanians into three groups: the good, the bad, and the indifferent. The researchers concluded that around 80% of Lithuanian Gentiles were indifferent to the tragedy that befell the Jewish people. Some of the common folk hadn't even heard about the Holocaust in real time because they weren't interested in the news. The remaining 20% were divided roughly evenly between "good" and "bad."   i

The "bad" were those cruel murderers who had committed atrocities even before the Holocaust, engaging in theft, rape, and violence against their fellow non-Jewish neighbors. They were chronic alcoholics, criminals, anarchists, mentally ill, and deranged, the human trash of society. Not all of them were anti-Semitic; many were just interested in the possessions of the Jews. To loot the homes and stores, they killed the Jewish homeowners or assisted the German Nazis in evicting them. There were many such bad people in Lithuania, but it's important to remember that they comprised only about 10% of the population. It's unfair to blame the entire Lithuanian people for their despicable actions, just as we don't want all settlers to be blamed for the provocative actions of some hilltop youth

On the other hand, we must remember the good Lithuanians. The research reveals that about 10% of Lithuanians actively involved themselves in helping Jews. In Lithuania, there were tens of thousands of locals who provided their Jewish neighbors with food, clothing, medicine, or agreed to look after their possessions or their children until they returned from transports. But they feared the Germans' wrath and the fear of slander by others if they hid Jews in their homes. "Yad Vashem" recognized 900 righteous Lithuanians among the Righteous Among the Nations. Lithuania's population during the Holocaust was approximately 2.5 million, so the number of 900 righteous individuals was relatively high compared to the population size. But besides them, there were thousands of other good Lithuanians who were not recognized as Righteous Among the Nations. According to Yad Vashem's criteria, one condition for qualifying as Righteous Among the Nations is risking one's life for the sake of Jews

Lithuania is also the only country outside of Israel that established a day to commemorate the Holocaust. They mark the Holocaust in schools and national ceremonies on September 26, the date of the liquidation of the Vilnius Ghetto

Any Jew who visits Vilnius must also visit the site of the murder pits in Ponar, regardless of Holocaust Remembrance Day

The writer was a guest of 'Gesher Tours'.    i