In September 1945, American Jewish soldiers gathered at the Kunming Airport in China for Rosh Hashanah services. Service members flew in from all over China to attend the services, and a major general addressed the congregation with a message of tolerance and wishes for a happy new year. The holiday provided a chance for Jewish soldiers to come together, across all ranks, for a reminder of home. The hall was “packed to the doors,” a cantor chanted Rosh Hashanah prayers, and a chaplain delivered a sermon. Marvin Kastenbaum fondly recounts the conversations following the services in a letter, telling stories of Rosh Hashanah holidays back home.
I attended Rosh Hashanah services last night and this morning. They were really swell. The “Hangar Playhouse” in the Kunming Airport, where the services were held, was packed to the doors. Fellows flew in from all over China to attend, and every rank, from colonel down, was represented. This morning, a major general addressed the congregation extending to us a message of tolerance, and wishing all of us a happy new year.
Kastenbaum went on to mention the Unetaneh Tokef, a prayer traditionally recited on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. He also joked about traditional Jewish foods: lokshen, an Ashkenazi egg noodle soup; gefilte fish; the Central European kosher plum brandy Slivovitz; and tsimes, an Ashkenazi sweet root vegetable stew. The familiar phrases brough a touch of home for the soldiers abroad.
The services were impressive. The cantor did a good job with “ne-son-neh Tokef,” and the chaplain preached a real Rosh Hashanah sermon. Transportation was provided to and from our areas.
Some of the talk that went on after the services sounded like this: “Boy if I were home now, I’d be sitting down to a nice bowl of ‘lokshen’ soup, and ‘gefilte’ fish. For an appetizer they’ll be some of my Pop’s ‘shlivovitch’ and for dessert some ‘tsimes.'” I had almost forgotten what Jewish sounded like.
Kastenbaum attended Yom Kippur services as well and recounted to his family the chaplain’s sermon. The chaplain spoke of a European refugee camp in Shanghai, which housed a group of Polish Jews who had escaped the Nazis through Russia. The group started a Yeshiva in Shanghai and had waited four years to see a U.S. Army uniform.
About 20,000 Jewish refugees made it to Shanghai in the 1930s and 40s. Many were able to obtain visas through the Chinese Consul General in Vienna, Austria. Once they reached Shanghai, they formed communities, opened schools and shops, and built lives as best they could as they had had in Europe. In 1943, the Japanese forced the Jewish community into a small “designated area for stateless refugees” in the Hongkew District, more commonly called the Shanghai Ghetto. Although the Jewish community had a good relationship with their Chinese neighbors, living conditions in the ghetto were poor, and after the war ended, some Jews stayed but most left for the United States, Israel, Europe, Australia and other places to reunite with family.
Marvin Kastenbaum in Shanghai.
Yom Kippur services were really good, and the fast wasn’t too bad. The chaplain preached a sermon on Sunday evening, the subject of which I’d like you to relate to Pop and Rabbi Epstein. During the ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Chaplain Fine flew from here to Shanghai. He went there to visit a concentration camp in which 20,000 European refugees had been interned by the Japs. The camp was set up at the request of the Nazi government. While at the camp, he came across a building, in which a Polish Yeshiva was set up. The students were 400 Talmudists who escaped from the hands of the Nazis and migrated from Poland through Russia and Siberia and settled in Shanghai. They had with them the old “Gemaras” which they carried all the way from their Yeshiva. The chaplain said that they may be the only European Talmudic students left in the world. He had the honor of addressing the group in his uniform, he felt a little out of place, and he tried to excuse himself for his appearance, explaining that he was sent here to China by the American Army to conduct services for the American Jews here. Upon completion of his little speech to the group, the head rabbi, “a man with a long white beard and ‘pay-yes,'” rose to speak. He welcomed the chaplain and said for him not to feel out of place in the uniform of the U.S., because this little group had waited four long years to see just that uniform. The old rabbi spoke for five minutes, in which, as the chaplain said, he wrung tears from the eyes of all those present. In concluding, the old rabbi said, “Om Yisrael Chai.”
It may be that in the near future I will go to Shanghai. If the opportunity affords itself, I will go to the Yeshiva there and see it for myself. I’m sure I’ll be able to describe it better, if I see it myself.
