“Can I wear tefillin in the bathroom?” That was the question US Private Nuchim Lebensohn wrote to Mike Tress, president of the Agudath Israel Youth Council, in a letter dated November 18, 1942.
Lebensohn was not your typical young American GI. Polish by birth, he was forty-three years old and married when he was drafted into the US Army in 1942. Lebensohn was initially assigned to Camp Upton, New York and then to Camp Wheeler, Georgia. With a strong religious background, he fought for his principles. In his letters – many of which were written in fluent Yiddish – he described delving into issues such as kosher food, Shabbos, davening, and shaving with powder so as not to use a razor.
However, it was his question regarding tefillin that was the most intriguing. “There are times when I’m on kitchen duty for fourteen hours, making it practically impossible to put on tefillin. Just yesterday, I faced this nisayon. I was called to the kitchen at 5:00am… I placed my tefillin in my pocket and prayed to Hashem that I wouldn’t miss putting on tefillin.”
He then described how he was dispatched to assist in a warehouse which enabled him to “withstand the Satan and wear tefillin and hat.” He concluded, “You may believe when I say that I rejoiced like the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur upon completing the avodah in the Bais HaMikdash.”
Having provided those background details, Private Lebensohn asked his question. In a circumstance where he is unable to put on tefillin because he is on duty, is it better to do so in the bathroom, or not wear tefillin at all?
The question was relayed to Rav Shlomo Heiman, Rosh Yeshiva of Torah Vodaas, to adjudicate. While Rav Heiman’s response is not referenced in the existing letters, Lebensohn’s letters richly describe his experiences.
While in Camp Upton, Lebensohn was approached by Private Nathan Dinkels who asked him if he would learn the sefer Machaneh Yisroel with him. Machaneh Yisroel was written by the Chofetz Chaim as a religious guide for the Jewish soldier in the Russian Czarist army. With its practical halachic solutions, it quickly became the “bible” for every religious Jew in the armed services throughout the world.
The only common place the two found to learn was in the public area near the public telephones, and Lebensohn proudly noted, “Not only does no one comment, but some, perhaps, even regard us with respect.”
One evening, as Lebensohn headed to his barracks at the end of his duty shift, he heard someone calling his name. He turned and saw an old acquaintance, Private Ernst Lichter. Lichter requested that Lebensohn learn with him as well. With lights out rapidly approaching, their only recourse was to learn by the light of the latrine. They promptly began to do so and learned a chapter of hilchos Shabbos.
Details of this impromptu shiur spread and over the following days it grew to include about a half-dozen enlisted men, including Private Kindels, who Lebensohn described as “a steady attendee.”
Knowing how fiercely religious Lebensohn was, Private Kindels tried to convince him not to attend the Sabbath services in the chapel. Lebensohn, however, insisted, saying it was better to pray with his irreligious comrades than in the dark barracks. His opinion quickly changed, however. In a letter, he described “turning red with embarrassment” when long after nightfall, a Jewish woman lit the candles and blessed the congregants. Services were then accompanied by an organ. Shabbos day was no better, and mincha was recited when it was already Motzei Shabbos.
