William J. Watson, MSc, MD, CCFP, FCFP, Staff Physician (Retired), Honorary Consultant, Family Medicine, St. Michael’s Hospital Associate Professor Emeritus, Department of Family and Community Medicine and the Dalla Lana School of Public Health, University of Toronto.

When he took off his shirt for his physical exam, I noticed a large scar on his right shoulder.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“Oh, I got that during war”.

“Please tell me more.”

And so, during the course of a routine medical visit, I unexpectedly learned about a Holocaust survivor’s incredible story.

I had the distinct privilege of meeting one such individual who was new to my family practice.

At 84, Peter was coming in today for a check-up, accompanied by his wife.

He was overall in good condition, but frail and walking slowly down the hall, using a walker, with a slight stoop. Three years earlier, Peter had suffered a heart attack and was admitted to our hospital for treatment. Vascular tests showed a coronary obstruction, and a stent was inserted. At that time, his family physician had retired and he needed a new one. One of my cardiology colleagues asked if I would take him on as a new patient and I obliged.

Peter went on with his story.

“In 1939, our small town of Jody was besieged by the Nazis, and they were starting to round up Jews from all over Poland into the Ghettos for eventual transport to concentration camps.

A small group of us decided we would rather fight than be taken away or murdered. We knew if we were captured, we would either be tortured, shot or sent to the camps.
We had to avoid capture and hide from the SS, the local police or hostile neighbors. Amid horrible conditions of deprivation, we would hide in the forests surviving on whatever roots and potatoes we could find or were given to us by friendly farmers. We didn’t know who we could trust”.

Lacking any experience in war and not even able to shoot a gun, Peter signed up for the Polish resistance, and was quickly trained on how to use a rifle. He was motivated to learn, and he gradually became one of the best snipers in the resistance.

“Our job was to shoot any Germans we encountered, blowing up bridges and trains wherever we could. During a fierce gunbattle, I was shot in my right shoulder. The bullet was later removed in the medical tent, and after a few weeks, I was back out in the battlefield. The wound took a long time to heal. It left me with a big scar”.

“That’s an amazing story! You survived a lot in those horrific years! What was it like for you?” I asked.

“As a Jew, I knew if I got caught by the Germans, I would be either shot on the spot or sent to the camps. We Jews, we were the best fighters because we had the most to lose and we knew our fate if we were captured. The resistance force was mostly Christians, but they were often getting drunk, and not that serious. The Jews were the best fighters!”

I looked at my watch and realized we had been speaking for 20 minutes, and I had to end our visit soon for the sake of my incoming patients.