A Musician in Wartime Warsaw
In the early days of September 1939, the sound of classical music filled the airwaves of Warsaw, broadcast live from a local radio station. Władysław Szpilman, a Polish-Jewish pianist, had been performing at the piano when Nazi bombs began falling on the city. The station was hit, forcing Szpilman to flee into the streets. Shortly after, news arrived that Britain and France had declared war on Germany. This brief glimmer of hope encouraged Szpilman and his family to stay in Warsaw, believing safety was on the horizon.
However, conditions rapidly deteriorated. The German occupation imposed harsh restrictions on Jews. Employment was denied, businesses were seized, and all Jewish citizens were ordered to wear blue Star of David armbands. Szpilman’s family, once comfortable, was gradually stripped of dignity and possessions. The piano that had sustained him for years was sold along with other belongings in exchange for zlotys that barely provided enough to survive.
Life Behind the Ghetto Walls
By November 1940, Szpilman and his family were confined to the Warsaw Ghetto, an overcrowded and squalid space where disease, starvation, and violence became part of daily life. Despite the horrific conditions, Szpilman secured a position playing music in a café frequented by wealthier members of the ghetto, who relied on smuggled goods to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Life outside the café, however, remained bleak. One afternoon, a young boy attempting to squeeze through a gap in the ghetto wall was savagely beaten. Though Szpilman intervened, the child was already dead. On another evening, the Szpilmans looked on in horror as a family across the street was murdered by SS troops during a round-up—an elderly man thrown from a window, others shot without cause.
On 16 August 1942, the family was ordered to assemble at the Umschlagplatz for transport as part of Operation Reinhard. Treblinka awaited. At the station, a Jewish Ghetto Police officer, a friend of Szpilman’s, pulled him away from the line. That moment separated him from his family forever. They were taken to the extermination camp, while he remained behind. Though saved from immediate death, Szpilman was plunged into further uncertainty and sorrow.
Forced into slave labor, he continued to exist within the ghetto under deteriorating circumstances. Resistance efforts were beginning to stir, and Szpilman contributed by smuggling weapons hidden in sacks of food. These risky missions nearly led to his capture. Eventually, assistance came from Andrzej Bogucki and Janina Godlewska, non-Jewish friends from the pre-war era. They offered Szpilman refuge in an apartment where he could hide.
Hiding Through Uprisings
From this hidden location, Szpilman observed the events of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in April 1943. The flames of rebellion soon burned out, and silence returned. A woman in the same building discovered his presence and attempted to betray him, but he managed to flee before she could alert the authorities. With help from Dorota, a musician he had known before the war, another safe house was arranged by her husband. This new apartment, situated in the heart of the German quarter, featured a piano—but any thought of playing it was stifled by the need to remain silent. Starvation set in, and jaundice soon followed. Dorota and her husband visited him one final time, bringing a doctor to treat his worsening condition.
The Warsaw Uprising began in August 1944. From the apartment, Szpilman watched as the Home Army launched an assault against a nearby Schutzpolizei hospital. The battle engulfed the area, and his building was ultimately destroyed, forcing him once again into the open. In search of shelter, he moved into the abandoned hospital across the street. Months passed, and the city was reduced to ruins.
An Unexpected Lifeline
While scavenging for food, Szpilman stumbled across an empty house and discovered a jar of pickled cucumbers. As he struggled to open it, he was found by a German officer. This man, Captain Wilm Hosenfeld of the Wehrmacht, questioned Szpilman and learned that he was a pianist. Rather than turning him in, Hosenfeld asked him to play. Szpilman performed Chopin’s “Ballade No. 1 in G minor” on a grand piano inside the home. The officer, moved by the music, decided to help. Over the following weeks, Szpilman was hidden in the attic. Food and a warm coat were provided. In January 1945, with the Soviet Army advancing, Hosenfeld visited Szpilman for the final time, assuring him that he would one day listen to him again on Polish Radio. The officer left behind supplies before disappearing with the retreating German forces.
Following the liberation of Warsaw, Szpilman narrowly survived a confrontation with Polish troops who mistook him for a German due to the coat Hosenfeld had given him. Though nearly shot, his identity was confirmed in time. With peace slowly returning, he began to rebuild his life.
Post-War Echoes
Months later, captured German soldiers were held at a Soviet POW camp. Among them was Hosenfeld. He approached a fellow prisoner, a violinist, and asked if he knew Szpilman. The violinist said he did. Hosenfeld passed along a request for help, hoping Szpilman could secure his release. Szpilman was brought to the site, but it had already been abandoned.
Returning to music, Szpilman resumed his career and performed Chopin’s “Grand Polonaise” to a large and appreciative audience. The performance marked not only his professional return but also a quiet testament to survival through unimaginable circumstances.
A final note reveals Szpilman lived until 2000, passing away at the age of 88. Captain Wilm Hosenfeld, the man who saved him, died in Soviet captivity in 1952.
