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The Miracle Officer

By Rachel Ginsberg | February 9, 2011

He leaned back in his chair. “Santo Rabino [holy rabbi]!” he exclaimed. “You know, I helped to rescue him from that ghetto. In general, I helped to rescue Jews. I admit that I did it all for money. Today, everyone talks about Schindler’s List. I did the same thing as he did”

Rebbe Aharon of Belz and his brother, Rav Mordechai of Bilogray, were surrounded by angels on their miracle flight out of Poland in the thick of war, with a price on their heads and the Gestapo at their backs. But while many of the stories and wonders of that journey have been rehashed by chassidim for years, one fact remained a mystery: who was that Hungarian officer who drove the group across Poland, evading checkpoints as if they were invisible? Sixty-five years ago this month, the Rebbe revealed the identity of his savior. And for sixty-five years, that revelation was hidden. Until now.

Almost seventy years have passed since the Rav Aharon of Belz and his half-brother the Rebbe of Bilgoray zy”a were whisked out of Europe and set foot on the earth of the Holy Land. The journey that rescued them from the Nazi claws could only be labeled miraculous but even today some pieces of the puzzle of that esoteric chapter in their lives remain hidden.

Much has already been published — in both English and Hebrew — about the numerous wonders that were wrought for the Rebbe; his brother Rav Mordechai of Bilgoray; and the Rebbe’s attendant Reb David Shapira on that hair-raising escape path so strewn with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. British researcher Yosef Israel illuminates the background drama in great detail in his 2005 book Rescuing the Rebbe of Belz (ArtScroll). But one point was never clarified until now: Who was the mystery Hungarian officer who drove the group across Poland into Hungary bypassing checkpoints and evading scrutiny in a way that could only be described as supernatural and what became of him after the war?

As the Rebbe himself said on occasion every Jew who survived the inferno must have been accompanied by angels on either side. How many Heavenly guardians watched over the group on their own flight through Poland to Hungary? Hashem’s Hand revealed itself on a daily basis taking the entourage through barriers that could not logically be passed along dangerous roads and through borders swarming with the forces of destruction — and eventually bringing them to Eretz Yisrael where the shoot of the majestic chassidic court that once was Belz would sprout and flourish anew.

Rav Aharon of Belz the “Wunder Rabbiner” was at the top of the Gestapo’s wanted list of rabbis targeted for extermination during the Nazi occupation of Poland. Through the efforts of Belzer chassidim in Israel England and the United States the Rebbe and his half-brother Rav Mordechai of Bilgoray twenty-two years his junior managed to stay one step ahead of the Nazis in one miraculous escape attempt after another — first being spirited out of Belz and eventually winding up in the Bochnia ghetto. Both men had already lost their entire families to the Nazis. Rebbe Aharon’s eldest son Moshe was burned alive in the Premishlan shul at the same time as Rebbe Aharon was in hiding in that town. Later Rabbi Moshe’s wife and five children were murdered. Rebbe Aharon’s eldest daughter Rivka Miriam and her husband Rabbi Shmuel Frankel both perished along with five of their seven children. The Rebbe’s other daughters Adel Twersky and Sara Bracha Rosenfeld with their children and two other sons Rabbi Yisrael and Rabbi Yehudah Zundel and their children also perished.

The holy brothers were eventually whisked out of occupied Poland and into Hungary by a reliable Hungarian counter-intelligence officer who was willing to rescue Jews for a price. Shorn of their beards and peyos they were disguised as Russian generals who had been captured at the front and were being taken to Budapest for questioning. Meanwhile rumors had spread in the ghetto that the Rebbe had disappeared. To curb the suspicions one of the close chassidim dressed up in Reb Aharon’s clothing and sat in his room with the door opened a crack imitating the way the Rebbe immersed himself in prayer and study. The ploy bought the escaping party just enough time to evade the authorities before they realized the Rebbe was gone.

While the chassidim and the Gestapo still believed the Rebbe was in an adjoining room he his brother and his attendant were in fact racing through the 250 miles of the Polish countryside in a Hungarian diplomatic vehicle experiencing their own set of miracles. Much of what took place on that incredible drive will remain forever a mystery but the Rebbe himself would recount three examples of Heavenly intervention as they drove through one checkpoint after another without being detained.

The Rebbe talked about an “eerie mist” that enveloped the car throughout the journey which seemed to render the car invisible. On arrival to Budapest the officer himself testified that the car was rarely asked to stop yet he had no problem navigating the vehicle — in front of it all was clear.

In another instance the car suddenly stopped dead. The officer who saw what had happened was wringing his hands in despair because to fix the problem would require a professional welder. Suddenly an old man appeared striding toward them. When they explained the problem to him he took a screwdriver from the leather sash tied around his waist tinkered under the hood and the motor sprang to life.

Years later the Rebbe told this to the Sadigurer Rebbe who responded that “a man with a leather sash wrapped about his waist” is a reference to Eliyahu HaNavi. The Rebbe it is told didn’t respond but smiled enigmatically.

One of the oft-repeated miracles the chassidim tell took place at the Hungarian border checkpoint. Up to this point at most of the border checks the officer managed to wave some mysterious documents at the guard who ushered them through. Now the border guard stopped them for inspection but wasn’t satisfied with these documents. Pointing his gun at them he ordered them out of the car. Suddenly out of nowhere three senior officials appeared and instructed the guard to release them immediately and to let them continue on their way.

The Bilgoray Rav when he used to tell this wonder-tale would add “Those three officials were none other than our fathers the three Belzer Rebbes may they rest in Eden ...” — his father Rebbe Yissachar Dov; his grandfather Rebbe Yeshiele; and his great-grandfather Rebbe Shalom.

In Ungvar the holy brothers’ first stop after crossing the border the Hungarian officer’s mission was concluded. The Rebbe and his brother spent eight months in Hungary waiting for highly-rationed “certifikats” from the Jewish Agency to enter Palestine which they received in January 1944. Less than two months later the Nazis invaded Hungary and deported its 450 000 Jews.

And the enigmatic heroic Hungarian officer? Where did he go what became of him and … what was his name? No one knew. The secret was buried with the Rebbe himself. Until now.

The answer to the riddle was actually revealed in two parts. One was a recently discovered packet of letters uncovered by the Belzer monthly journal Ohr Hatzafon and the other was an incident recounted by Mishpacha editor-in-chief Rabbi Moshe Grylak about his brother-in-law Reb Mordechai Landau z”l.

“Accidental” Witness

Mordechai Landau was the nephew of Eliezer Landau, a legendary figure and confidant of Rebbe Aharon of Belz, who, due to his foreign citizenship, was able to live outside the Bochnia ghetto. Reb Eliezer, who is credited with saving thousands of Jews, discovered the Hungarian officer when all other avenues of escape failed, was responsible for his payment, and was the liaison between the officer and the Rebbe. His nephew, Reb Mordechai, followed in his uncle’s activist footsteps and he, too, lived through the Bochnia ghetto and rescued countless Jews. After the war, he moved to Sau Paulo, Brazil, and his law practice became famed throughout South America.

Rabbi Grylak, who is married to Reb Mordechai’s sister, said that about twenty years ago, his brother-in-law — who had expanded his law practice to Venezuela — received a visitor to his Venezuela office in need of legal services. This is what Reb Mordechai Landau related to Rabbi Grylak:

“This very impressive non-Jew entered my office,” Reb Mordechai told his brother-in-law. “He was tall — at least six foot six. Despite his advanced age — he was in his seventies — he exuded health and strength. He spoke in Hungarian-accented Portuguese. He needed some legal advice, but I noticed that he wasn’t calm; something was bothering him. It seemed that he was trying very hard to remember something, to put something together from the past.

“‘Listen, your family name reminds me of something. Something from the time of World War II. You remind me of a family who lived in the Bochnia ghetto, in Galicia. Someone named Landau from Bochnia still owes me a huge sum of money.’

“I was astonished. Could this dignified Hungarian expatriate be the legendary officer? Did Uncle Eliezer, who was no longer alive, still owe him for the rescue or was he bluffing? Out of caution, I was afraid to tell him about my past and my rescue work in the ghetto.

“But the man knew Jewish names, places, and more, and he revealed a bit of his own identity: ‘I was a high-ranking, senior officer in the Hungarian army. In the framework of my job under the Germans, I knew that ghetto well.’ He knew what he was talking about. He knew the ghetto, inside and out.

“Suddenly, the man asked me, ‘Have you heard of the Belzer Rebbe?’ I nodded in the affirmative.

“He leaned back in his chair. ‘Santo Rabino [holy rabbi]!’ he exclaimed. ‘You know, I helped to rescue him from that ghetto. In general, I helped to rescue Jews. I admit that I did it all for money. Today, everyone talks about Schindler’s List. I did the same thing as he did.’

“The man continued: ‘I met the Rebbe alone. He blessed me and promised me that because I had helped in his rescue and in the rescue of other Jews, I would never know evil, all the days of my life, and would live a long life and die a natural death. Believe me, that wasn’t a simple promise in those days — to die a natural death. The war was raging everywhere, and no one knew what would happen to him the next day.’

“Then, with a dramatic gesture, the man unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his chest. ‘Do you see?!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you see all the scars?! I was critically wounded dozens of times, during the war, and I came through it all, in the merit of that blessing! I have no doubt of it! After the war, too, I was a race car driver, driving at insane speeds — sometimes the car flipped over, but I came out alive. Here in South America there are many “holy people” who shower blessings on all those who are naïve enough to turn to them. It’s all nonsense. But if you would have seen him, that Rebbe, his eyes, all of him, you would have known what a true santo is.’$$separate quotes$$”

During their conversation, more chapters of this Hungarian’s colorful life came to light. After the war, he fled to South America. During his years in Venezuela, he rose to the position of deputy minister in one of the governments. The deposed Chilean dictator General Pinochet was an in-law of his. When the former Hungarian officer once wanted to visit Eretz Yisrael, he was prevented from doing so, due to security considerations; there were intelligence reports that he had a friendly relationship with … Saddam Hussein.

The Hungarian left Mordechai Landau’s office without revealing his full identity, his real name during the war, his job, at what stage he joined with the Belzer Rebbe. But somewhere in South America, there might still be living a Hungarian national, alive in the Rebbe’s merit.

The Letter

The providential meeting between the Hungarian officer and Mordechai Landau was the first hint that the officer was indeed alive and well. But what was his name? What happened to him after the war? No one knew. Until last month.

On the first day of Shavuos, 2008, a ninety-six-year-old man by the name of Shlomo Greenberger, z”l, passed away in the United States. He had served as the head of the Ranshofen Displaced Persons Camp Committee, in Austria, after the Holocaust, and when he passed away, a collection of letters was found among his possessions. One letter from the archives found its way into the hands of the editor of Ohr Hatzafon — it was from the Belzer Rebbe to the Hungarian officer, addressed to the Ranshofen DP camp. But the contents of the letter were a mystery, until the Ohr Hatzafon staff located someone who remembers the camp and the politics. They found Reb Binyamin Klein, a Munkacz-born chassid who’s testimony supplies the missing chapter of the drama.

Reb Binyamin relates that one day a long-haired non-Jew arrived in the camp and asked to be accepted there as one of the members. He presented himself as the Hungarian officer who had saved the life of the Belzer Rebbe and the Bilgoray Rav from certain death. He explained that when the Russian forces conquered Hungary, he had fled for his life, since he’d served in the past as a senior officer fighting against the Russians.

He had fled to Austria and been in a Christian DP camp. But when his new neighbors there learned a little about his activities on behalf of the Jewish People, they started persecuting him. He had been compelled to leave the camp, and to ask for mercy from the committee of the Jewish DP camp of Ranshofen.

The heads of the committee approached the matter with the attitude of “kabdeihu v’chashdeihu” — treat him honorably but suspect him nonetheless. They were in no haste to believe him. Having no choice, the wandering officer sent a letter to the Belzer Rebbe in Israel, in which he asked for validation of his story. Only six months later did the hoped-for answer arrive from the Rebbe’s home, in the form of a grateful and emotional letter. On the strength of that letter, the officer was accepted into the camp, and became an inseparable part of it. Reb Binyamin, may he live long, still remembers him well, eating with him at the table of his uncle, Reb Azriel Klein, z”l, in the camp in Ranshofen.

The Revelation

This rare letter, published for the first time, was addressed to the Hungarian officer, whose full name, Laszlo Gerecz, is finally revealed. In an accompanying letter, the Rav of Bilgoray asks the head of the Jewish committee of the camp, Reb Shlomo Greenberger, to translate the letter, written in lashon kodesh, to the officer.

The two letters were addressed to: Laszlo Gerecz, c/o Shlomo Greenberger, Jewish DP Camp 609 — the Ranshofen Jewish Committee. The sender was: Rabbi A. Rokeach of Belz, POB 2138, Tel Aviv, Palestine.

This is the text. The words speak for themselves:

B”H

To the honorable, elevated officer, Mr. Gerecz, Laszlo of Budapest:

His honor’s letter arrived to the hand of my brother, the holy Rebbe of Belz, shlita. My brother felt special excitement to hear of his honor’s wellbeing. We too are, thank G-d, alive and well. My holy brother, shlita, extends his blessing to his honor, for a sweet and happy life, with all his family, and that his wishes should be fulfilled to his benefit.

Regarding his honor’s question, my holy brother, shlita, has told me to answer that he does not object to the publicizing of the story of our leaving the vale of tears, with Heaven’s help, but carefully and modestly.

I, the undersigned, also hasten to greet his honor with blessing, and with gratification to hear of his wellbeing and that he was saved from all that has passed over him.

With honor and appreciation,

Rav Mordechai Rokach, son of our master and teacher, ztz”l, of Belz, only of the holy community of Bilgoray B (past)

4 Adar II 5706, Tel Aviv, Eretz Yisrael, may it be built and filled, speedily in our day, Amen

In the accompanying letter, he wrote:

B”H

To the honorable Jewish Committee c/o Mr. Shlomo Greenberger:

Herewith I send the letter to the above officer, and with a request to pardon me and to give it to him and to translate it. Greetings to you all, and a blessing in the name of my brother, the holy Rebbe of Belz, shlita.

The small one, Mordechai, son of our master and teacher, ztz”l, of Belz, only of the holy community of Bilgoray B (past)

4 Adar II 5706, Tel Aviv, Eretz Yisrael, may it be built and filled, speedily in our day, Amen

Accompanied by the Belzer Rebbe’s blessing for “a sweet and happy life, with all his family,” the officer, whose name we now know, left the DP camp and headed for Italy. From there, he continued on to South America, where he settled and prospered. The “chance” meeting in Venezuela with a son of the Landau family shed additional light on the graced biography of the man who risked his life to save the holy brothers.

Until Mashiach Comes

Another recently discovered piece of the puzzle: During the brothers’ stay in the safety of Budapest, a letter arrived for them from two of the Belzer Rebbe’s surviving grandchildren, the bochurim Shlomo and Pinchas Frankel, sons of the Rebbe’s son-in-law, Rav Shmuel Frankel, Hy”d. The non-Jew who had been hiding them was giving them only two more weeks, and they were turning to the Rebbe to rescue them.

The Belzer Rebbe wanted the Hungarian officer to travel back and smuggle them across the border. He asked Rabbi Moshe Weingarten, z”l, the only one who knew where the officer lived, to ride to him during Shabbos and plead with him.

But the officer refused any further adventures, saying, “On my first trip, I witnessed so many open miracles. But I know that miracles don’t happen every day.” After many pleas, the officer agreed to send his son, who was even equipped with a precise map. But when the son arrived there to rescue them, he found that there was no longer anyone to rescue. The Nazis had gotten to them first.

Rav Aharon of Belz lost all his family in the Holocaust — a large, extended family of dozens of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. But he never spoke a word about this, fearing that this might be interpreted as not wholeheartedly accepting Hashem’s Will, and simultaneously understanding that the kedoshim were so elevated that any comment would be detracting from their holiness. When he sat shivah for his brother, the Rebbe of Bilgoray, zy”a, the Beis Yisrael of Gur consoled him, “May you know no more suffering.” The Rebbe answered forcefully, “Heaven forbid, I have never known suffering.”

On their journey from Budapest to Eretz Yisrael, the holy brothers passed through Bucharest, Romania, and stopped to rest at the home of their relative, Rebbe Elazar Twersky of Foltichen. Their host, a grandson of Rebbe Yissachar of Belz, zy”a, served a large banquet in their honor.

During the meal, the host spoke at length with the Rav of Bilgoray, reminiscing about the the glorious court of Belz that had been turned to ashes. The Belzer Rebbe sat lost in thought, separating himself from the conversation. Suddenly, a heartrending moan escaped from their host’s throat. “Oy vey! What was — was. The good days of Belz will never return,” he said, and groaned again in his great distress.

At once the Rebbe shook himself from his deep thoughts and said: “What are you saying? Heaven forbid to say such a thing. My grandfather, ztz”l [the first Belzer Rebbe] promised that Belz would be a corner where Hashem’s Name would be known until Mashiach comes. So how can you say such a thing?” And the Rebbe repeated, “Until Mashiach comes.”

Rachel Ginsberg contributed to this report

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 346)

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