May 31, 1944 was a somber day in world history — when an ancient community was forever extinguished from the face of the planet.
This particular anniversary is especially personal to me for a number of reasons. My late father was born and raised in Hania, on the island of Crete. He lived in a neighborhood near the Venetian Harbor known as “Ovreaki” or Hebrewtown. (In the Cretan dialect, it’s “ovreos” not “evreos” as other Greeks say when referring to Jewish people).
His family was one of a few Christian families who lived on Kondilaki Street. I’m not sure how they ended up on a predominantly Jewish street with two synagogues within a few hundred yards from each other, but this environment certainly shaped his worldview about society, multiculturalism and even humanity.
My father died young — he was only 69 — but not before I was able to spend hours with him, hearing his stories about being a teenager in Nazi-occupied Crete.
One of those stories he shared was the story of the extermination of Crete’s Jews — people he was born and raised with and played with as a young boy — until one day when they just disappeared.
There had been a Jewish presence on the island for over 2,300 years. They had a storied history and were a part of Crete’s history — the wars and conquests, the good times and the invasions. By World War II the community had dwindled to several hundred — all centered in Hania and most living in Ovreaki.
With the arrival of the Nazis in late May of 1941 came immediate orders against the Jewish population. Rituals were outlawed and German officers demanded a census of the Jewish population — name, occupation and address. For three years they lived under Nazi occupation in fear.
On May 31, 1944 in the middle of the night, the Nazis surrounded the Jewish neighborhood around the Venetian harbor, blocking all access with trucks and armed guards with dogs. Megaphone announcements ordered all citizens with Jewish identity papers to bring a single suitcase of belongings and report immediately to the street.
My dad described the scene to me as violent — Nazi German soldiers pushing women and the elderly to move quicker, while anyone who questioned or confronted a Nazi was hit with the butt of the rifle. They were herded to a central meeting point and placed on trucks and transferred to the prisons at Ayia — a village outside the main town of Hania.
After a few days in inhuman conditions — as reported by many Hania Christians who made the trek to the prison to try and negotiate for friends’ freedom or to bring food and other items to their Jewish friends, 265 Jews of Hania were transported by truck several hours to Iraklion.
Once in Iraklion, they were loaded onto a decrepit steamship called the Tanais — together with about 500 other political prisoners, Cretan resistance fighters and Italian prisoners of war (Italy had since surrendered and the Nazis quickly turned on them).
The ship carrying the human cargo was headed to Piraeus, where the prisoners would be transferred via train to Auschwitz.
But on June 9, 1944, half way to Piraeus, a terrible irony would befall the ancient community.
An Allied British submarine called the Vivid spotted the ship, which was flying the enemy flag, in the waters between the islands of Folegandros and Santorini and launched a series of torpedoes. Within minutes — the ship sank to the bottom of the Aegean Sea, together with its human cargo. In a matter of minutes, a community that had survived more than two thousand years on the island was extinct, forever.
Today, all that remains of the Hania Jews is a refurbished synagogue in the old neighborhood and a memorial to those who drowned on the Tanais — the last Greek Jews of Hania.
My father remembered walking on Kondilaki Street the following morning. He saw people ransacking and looting the homes of the Jewish residents who had to forcibly abandon their homes.
Women were taking kitchen pots and pans from their former neighbors’ homes and groups of men were seen looting beds, chests of drawers and other large furniture items. It was an ugly scene that would stay with him forever— the ugly side of human nature.
The streets were filled with random items— books, religious ornaments, clothing— as if a violent storm had hit only Kondylaki Street.
“It was like they had just disappeared,” I remember my father telling me.
In memory of the Jews of Hania — and all of the victims who died onboard the Tanais.
Is The Pappas Post worth $5 a month for all of the content you read? On any given month, we publish dozens of articles that educate, inform, entertain, inspire and enrich thousands who read The Pappas Post. I’m asking those who frequent the site to chip in and help keep the quality of our content high — and free. Click here and start your monthly or annual support today. If you choose to pay (a) $5/month or more or (b) $50/year or more then you will be able to browse our site completely ad-free!
Click here if you would like to subscribe to The Pappas Post Weekly News Update
13 comments
Once again Mr. Pappas thank-you for your personalizing and humanizing a tragedy of history. How will the world look back on today's barbarism fifty years from now.
very strong horrific memories, we become animals in an instant, may God forgive all those who destroyed pacific islanders for an evil couse
great post
I remember my yiayia talking about that neighborhood. She left in 1932 and was devastated when she heard what had happened to the Jewish families from Hania. She had lived there as a teenager. It was the Jewish women who taught her to cook, as her own mother had died when she was only 12. Being the eldest girl in the family, she stepped in as cook, cleaner, etc. Very nice post, Greg.
There are many stories of the horror of the Nazi's my husband comes from Zante and the link mellow will tell you the courage of the Greeks.
http://www.jpost.com/Jewish-World/The-miraculous-story-of-the-Jews-of-Zakynthos
Good article Greg. I have read other accounts of this Nazi atrocity in Hania, but his personal account relayed from your father is very moving. The tragic sinking of the ship by the Allies is beside the point; it was a Nazi atrocity nevertheless, and they most likely intended for the ship to be attacked and sunk, saving them the trouble of transporting the Jews and other prisoners to the death camps. My mother lived with her Uncle and Aunt one street over from Kondilaki, but she moved away before the war.
I am ashamed to be part of the human race my heart bleeds for these people and till this day they still have learned nothing not a dam thing its a shame and very sad what happened to these people and again the human race shame
You should not be ashamed. There were a lot of good people that helped when and where they could, even risking their lives to do so.
thank you for sharing this personal story from your grandfather.
Greg, there was one male Jew from Chania who escaped as a young boy. A young single Greek woman “adopted” him and passed him off as her child. His first hand account appears in a documentary called “Kisses to the Children” by Greek filmmaker Vassilis Loules. The film also follows four other Greek Jews who miraculously escaped, largely through the efforts of fellow Greek neighbors. Here’s the trailer: https://youtu.be/QfRWVjtQMGs
I’m a little late to this posting but really appreciate learning about your father’s first-hand account of what the round up of the Chania Jews was like. Many of my relatives perished aboard the Tanais. If my grandfather and his immediate family hadn’t immigrated to New York from Chania in the early 1900’s they would have been on that ship too. Thank you for fleshing out this very sad chapter of the history of the Jews on Crete.
I too am seeing this much after posting, but it’s just as poignant. My 2nd Great-Grandparents the El_Hais and the Francos lived on Theofanous Street, and I just got back from a trip visiting what the facade of their ancestral home for the first time. It is my understanding that some of my Francos , Sabaton, Rebecca, and perhaps Fernandi & David, were killed when the Tanais was sunk. It was an emotional experience visiting Chania as my late mother once did, hoping to find some trace of of our ancestry in a covered up cemetery that is now covered over by a schoolhouse. Thank you for your caring..Thank-you for your humanity. Amidst the horror, Thank God there is still some Goodness in this World.
I am very late to discover this post. Nonetheless, thank you for this because I have been searching for information about this ship for quite some time.
My great grandfather and his son also perished aboard the SS Tanais and this tragedy – along with some unanswered questions – still haunts our family to this day.
It is comforting to read about the Tanais. It helps keep the memory alive of all the people who perished on that ship.