advertisement

SSN on Facebook SSN on Twitter SSN on YouTube RSS Feed

1 Comment
Politics

Ileana Ros-Lehtinen Wants Answers on What Happened to Holocaust Hero Raoul Wallenberg

January 28, 2017 - 6:00am
Ileana Ros-Lehtinen and Raoul Wallenberg
Ileana Ros-Lehtinen and Raoul Wallenberg

With this month marking the 72nd anniversary of the disappearance of Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg, who saved tens of thousands of Hungarian Jews during World War Two, U.S. Rep. Ileana Ros-Lehtinen, R-Fla., wants answers to what happened to him. 

Ros-Lehtinen, the chairwoman of the U.S. House Middle East and North Africa Subcommittee, teamed up with U.S. Rep. Nita Lowey, D-NY, to introduce a resolution urging the U.S. government pressure Russia on information regarding Wallenberg’s disappearance. 

In the later half of 1944, Wallenberg, then serving as a Swedish envoy in Budapest, issued thousands of Swedish passports for Hungarian Jews and sheltered them in buildings classified as Swedish territory. Captured by the Soviets when they took Budapest in January 1945, Wallenberg was reported to have been executed by the Soviets in 1947. Recent Freedom of Information Act requests have shown Wallenberg was working with American intelligence. 

After his disappearance, Wallenberg was honored by the United States and other Western nations. In 1981, U.S. Rep. Tom Lantos, D-Calif., the only Holocaust survivor to serve in Congress and who lived thanks to Wallenberg’s efforts, sponsored a bill making the Swedish diplomat a citizen of the United States which passed, making him the second honorary citizen in American history. He was also honored with the Congressional Gold Medal in 2012. Other nations--including Australia, Canada, Hungary and Israel--have declared Wallenberg an honorary citizen. Israel has named him  one of the Righteous Among the Nations, the gentiles who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust. 

Ros-Lehtinen explained why she brought out the resolution. 

“For over 70 years, the mystery of what really happened to Raoul Wallenberg has haunted the memories of his loved ones, of the countless he saved from the horrors of the Holocaust, and of the many who have fought tirelessly to uncover the truth,” Ros-Lehtinen said. “We have honored his courage and his humanitarian spirit over the years, and now we have a chance to honor his memory by bringing closure to this tragedy. I want to personally thank Marie Dupuy and Louise von Dardel, nieces of Raoul Wallenberg, for their cooperation and support for this initiative and for continuing the tireless efforts of Raoul’s parents, Maj and Fredrik von Dardel. I also want to thank the many, many researchers and volunteers who have never stopped seeking the truth, particularly Dr. Vadim Birstein and Susanne Berger. It is my most sincere hope that this resolution will help finally resolve one of the most tragic mysteries of the 20th century by bringing it the attention it deserves.”

“Raoul Wallenberg was one of the world’s unsung heroes during the darkest chapter in human history, and we must continue to demand answers regarding his tragic disappearance and death,” Lowey said.  “It’s the least we can do for a man who risked everything to save tens of thousands of Jews from the Nazis, including our late colleague Congressman Tom Lantos.  Part of Tom’s legacy instructs each of us to never rest in the pursuit of justice.  That is why Congress must continue to press Russia to resolve the outstanding questions regarding Raoul Wallenberg’s fate and finally bring closure to the family and loved ones of this truly remarkable man.”

U.S. Rep. Ted Deutch, D-Fla., the ranking Democrat on the U.S. House Middle East and North Africa Subcommittee which Ros-Lehtinen chairs, is co-sponsoring the resolution. Other co-sponsors include U.S. Reps. Eliot Engel, D-NY, Kay Granger, R-Tex., Pete Roskam, R-Ill., and Chris Smith, R-NJ. 

Comments

I first heard of Raoul Wallenberg some 40 years ago from an elderly gentleman whom I would met a couple of times a week in the nursing home I visited. I would read Mr. Christman the headline stories of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL. He was always so quiet as he sat in that wheel chair, starched white shirt rolled up just enough so one day I was able to see the tattoo of a number on his arm and listened while I read to him. It was not long before I realized it didn't matter what I was reading. Rather, it was the human connection that he so longed for. On the table next to his bed on the right side, lined perfectly with the shape of the table was a yellow, legal pad where he kept a list of everyone who had visited him, how long they stayed. The list was short, too short for a man who had lived a life such as his, but the truth was the truth. He probably wasn't the kindest father or the sweetest husband. Perhaps, he was neither as very few people came to see him. One Friday after I completed my reading, he asked me to stay and have the Sabbath dinner with him. I happily agreed. This was the first time he had shown any sign of anything towards me. I remember that day like it was moments ago. He asked me to Bless the Bread and handed me a black Yarmulkes. He looked down at the plate and waited. Several long moments passed, and I said, "Mr. Christman, I don't know how to 'Bless the Bread.'" Well, maybe your parents not raise you to be such a good Jew," he responded. He looked me directly in my eyes, those worn, yet beautiful blue eyes, faded from the years and the life i would soon begin to hear he had survived. "Mr. Christman, I'm sorry... I'm not Jewish." The world around us caved in. His eyes dropped to the plate in front of him and didn't budge. I reached for his arm and he pulled it away. A tear, a single tear, trickled down the left cheek of this man I had grown to love. I was crestfallen... Several dead moments passed while Mr. Christman continued to cry and the orderly removed him from the table and me from the center. I continued to visit "Mr. C," as I called him, for a couple of weeks and never missed a word of his paper. But, his head never raised to acknowledge my presence and my name was never entered onto his legal pad. I was determined to get my friend back. I went to a local synagogue and asked the Rabbi to teach me how to "Bless The Bread." I made notes in my notebook and spelled everything out phonetically. The Rabbi was kind and knew what I was doing. He told me what little he knew of Mr. Christman's life and did not offer me any encouragement as men who had been through what Mr. Christman had wanted very little to do with any non-Jews. There was just too much pain... Pain certainly wasn't new to me either. Four days out of high school I had joined the Army during the height of the Vietnam War to attend the USMA at West Point. I tore my knee up jumping out of a perfectly good helicopter one dark night in the jungles and my life seemed to spiral downhill. I held my best friend as he cried at night when the malaria got bad. He would shake and sweat and CRY. We had all done things no 18 year olds should do... and the mind has a wicked way of remembering the things you most often want for forget and even twist them in ways to create more evil. And, I knew Mr, Christman's mind was stuck in something he had no control over. I knew his nights were Hell... the nothingness around him spoke volumes. It was Friday and I was determined to either break this prison of Hell hiding behind those now lost eyes or just move on, stay away and let him be. I completed my reading just as they wheeled him into the dining room. I followed, uninvited, but determined. I sat next to him. His eyes fixed on the plate below... I wasn't even there to him. he learned to keep people out years before me... in some nightmare I could only imagine. I removed from my pocket the yamulkes the Rabbi had given me when we completed our lessons. I put my hand on top of my head and recited from my heart and soul the words that would hopefully bring my friend back to me... "Baruch atah A-donay, Elo-heinu Melech Ha’Olam Hamotzi lechem min haaretz. Blessed are You, L-rd our G‑d, King of the Universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth." I paused, my head down, there was dead silence. Mr. Christman picked up the bread and tore a piece for him and a piece for me. He handed it to me, our eyes looked deep into each other's souls. My eyes filled with tears. For the first time we got beyond my reading to him and we explored our souls. His first words in what appeared a lifetime were uttered, "Call me Zayde... it's been many years." We never had a difficult moment between us again... I know this news item is about Raoul Wallenberg and what happened to him, but my Zayde's story was filled with bits and pieces of Mr. Wallenberg's life and his heroic actions in saving thousands of Jews from the Nazi crematoria. Zayde knew so much... horrific things that people do to people that can never be understood. Mr. Wallenberg was a constant theme. We wrote letters to his family in Sweden many times hoping to find some unknown news or be able to add a piece of the puzzle of what happened to him. Over the two years before Zayde passed there were literally a thousand pages of stories of the pograms he witnessed in Russia, the brutality no one should experience or initiate on another... There was no safe place for the Jews that Zayde could trust. Raoul Wallenberg was in story after story. I spent two years researching every avenue we used to find anything about him. There were no computers back then. And we spent our days together separating the folklore from the reality the best we could. It was a cool, pleasant day in March and what I remember the most about that day was the huge smile Zayde had on his face as I pushed him through the garden of the nursing home. I picked a Gardenia so fragrant I hated to remove it from its pedestal on the plant, but I did and handed it to Zayde. He smelled it and his mind moved to a place far, far away. He smiled, something he rarely did and motioned for me to come closer to him. He whispered in my ear, "We must never forget... Make the Living Remember." I smiled and looked deeply into his eyes for a long moment. "I'll do my best Zayde... I promise to do my best." He died two days later. My thousands of pages about "My Zayde" were destroyed in a terrible house fire I was fortunate to survive. The pages are gone, but the memories are strong and longing to be told. Mr. Raul Wallenberg from our discussions of many, many days ago, was taken by Stalin's men, not jut the Russian Army, but men close to Stalin. Stalin, for some reason unknown to us made this very personal. He was taken to a prison and isolated and never seen again. There are stories and I know they number in the thousands because the Wallenberg family always returned my letters with answers looking for that next step. They just wanted closure... The world needs closure. But, sometimes, we must keep waiting. For me, my Zayde, and you good people on your quest to carry this noble deed on, I pray we find closure. It's time. Peace, love and Blessings for your success, manny@mannyjohnson.net

Comments are now closed.

politics
advertisement
advertisement
Live streaming of WBOB Talk Radio, a Sunshine State News Radio Partner.

advertisement