Mr. Tress decided to go below deck and clandestinely light the Chanukah candles. He was joined by his three religious colleagues and, Friday evening, shortly before Shabbos began, he surreptitiously lit the candles. No sooner had he finished lighting when “an announcement was made for all civilians to come on deck for boat drill.” Mr. Tress could not extinguish the candles because it was Shabbos. He also knew that it would be dangerous to leave them unattended. He decided that the other three participants should attend the drill while he would ignore the order. Instead, he remained behind “to watch the candles for safety’s sake,” all the while hoping that his absence would go unnoticed.
Mr. Tress traveled to London, Paris, Germany and Austria. Wherever he went, he met with survivors in dire need for assistance. At times, he was overawed by the sheer magnitude and desperation of the pleas. Discussing the survivors, he later recalled, “In the entire land, I did not see one complete human being… My heart broke again and again…” Witnessing first-hand tragedy of such epic proportion, there must have surely been times where Mr. Tress doubted his ability to accomplish. Was it really possible to make a difference?
The answer came a month later. Upon his return to the United States, Mr. Tress found a telegram waiting in his office. It was sent by Private Manuel Goldfisher who was based in Vienna. Goldfisher wrote, “Forty-three welcome packages received here to date but of all of them, the most welcome and timely was the one with the Chanukah candles. These are the only ones of their kind in town and the first Chanukah lights that many of these people have seen in many a year. For [the] spirit and Chanukah feeling that they have brought here for all these people, I thank you.”
When darkness is overwhelming, a small shining light can brighten the path forward. Whether it occurred in a Displaced Persons Camp in Vienna or below deck on a boat in the Atlantic Ocean, the light of the Chanukah candles never shone as brightly.
