"A Second Before the Grenade Exploded, a Miracle Happened": Ilan Jacobi's Astonishing Survival Story

For some reason, when we mention the Holocaust, the difficult stories of Polish and German Jews sent to concentration camps come to mind. However, when you talk with Ilan Jacobi, he reveals a Holocaust story of a different kind. "I survived World War II, but not in Poland or Germany, rather in Italy," he says, surprisingly.

"In fact," Jacobi recounts, "I was born to parents who fled Germany and Berlin before the borders were closed, which means in 1938. In those days, it was still possible to cross the border, and they traveled from Berlin straight to Rome."

Grandson Claudio – Ilan Jacobi

"Moving to Rome saved our lives," Ilan emphasizes, "all thanks to my wise grandmother who announced to everyone that she was leaving, no matter that all her brothers and in-laws insisted on staying in Germany. She said, 'I am leaving with my husband and daughter and her husband,' and so they left everything and moved to Rome without any possessions."

Indescribable Hunger

Ilan himself was born in Rome, immediately upon their arrival. "I spoke German with my grandparents all my life, hence I am fluent in German; I am also fluent in Italian as it was the language I used with the locals. I learned English over the years, and Hebrew, too. Another language I know is Yiddish, which I learned thanks to the neighbors," he explains with a smile.

The year Ilan's family arrived in Rome, the Nazis had not yet been to Italy. "Actually, until 1943, it was relatively calm. On October 16, 1943, everything changed. Suddenly, the Nazis came to the ghetto and declared a large action against Jews. That day I was outside the ghetto with my mom and grandparents, and thanks to that, our lives were spared. My late father was in the ghetto and was sent to Auschwitz, where he met his death."

(Photo: shutterstock)

After realizing the severity of the situation and the great danger, the Jacobi family decided not to return to the ghetto. "We managed to escape by train to a neighborhood outside Rome," Ilan details, "where we were received in a monastery that cared for us and even gave us tickets for food. I was four and a half when I was accepted into the monastery's kindergarten, where a nun took care of me with real dedication, even though she knew I was Jewish. Thanks to this monastery, we all survived – me, my mom, my grandparents. Only we remained from the huge family we had on both sides; all the others perished in the war."

Grandmother Mina Jacobi and Grandfather Hugo Jacobi

"We witnessed miracles and wonders all along," Ilan emphasizes, "The mere fact that we managed to escape outside Rome by train was entirely miraculous. The Nazis knew Jews would certainly flee through the central station. It was obvious, and their detectives flooded all the train stations. How is it that they didn't ask us for IDs? How is it they didn't check who we were? I truly have no idea. But it was a great miracle because if they had identified us, we would have been sent directly to Auschwitz."

Did you stay in the monastery until the end of the war?

"We spent most of the war years in the monastery. It wasn't ideal, but it was the only option. The main problem I remember during those years was the terrible hunger. My entire childhood was accompanied by an unceasing sense of hunger because there was nothing to eat. One day, Grandma discovered eucalyptus trees growing in the area, and she suggested we pick the eucalyptus leaves, peel and soak them in water, so it would give the water a soup flavor. Grandma would make us eucalyptus peel soup every day, and grandpa would taste it and say, 'You know, my dear wife, today the soup is tastier than yesterday.'"

"The hunger was really hard," Ilan adds, "It's a feeling that cannot be described. I remember asking for a simple bun from my mom, but mom said, 'There isn't any.' So, I asked for 'half a bun' and 'a quarter of a bun.' After the war, mom told me it was amazing how, as a four-year-old child, I knew how to calculate halves and quarters, all thanks to the coveted bun. By the way, we would go to bed very early every night so as not to feel the hunger. That was the only solution."

A concentration camp barrack, Italy (Photo: shutterstock)

Due to the severe hunger, Ilan developed a disease with symptoms similar to epilepsy. "I would faint, saliva would flow from my mouth, my throat would swell, and my eyes would pop out. This illness accompanied me for years, even after I immigrated to Israel. Only when I became an adult did it disappear, *baruch Hashem*."

"My Life Was Saved in a Moment"

Ilan shares about his mother: "Mom was a true heroine. She worked as a seamstress during the war and thus met a Christian friend named Martha who would come to her to sew clothes. The friend helped her infiltrate a gathering place of Nazi officers. Mom really risked her life going there, but she managed to bring back some food, without the Nazis ever dreaming that by giving this poor woman food leftovers, they were actually feeding Jews."

Mom Hilda Jacobi

Shortly before the end of the war, the Jacobi family was taken from the monastery and moved by the Vatican to a hidden apartment. "It was a small and very uncomfortable apartment," Ilan describes. "We lived there with two sisters who suspected from the start that we were Jews. Martha, my mom's friend, was a member of the Italian underground, and she suggested to my mom to forge police documents to show we were Christians. Mom agreed, and when she was summoned to the police, she trembled with fear. She told me she felt her legs were 'made of cotton wool,' but in the end, she got the signature, and when she showed the documents to the two sisters, they were completely shocked. From that day on, they were silent, and Grandma dared to say, 'So far, you've been taking over the shared kitchen in the apartment; from today, I will be the one to enter first...' And indeed, we saw a significant improvement in our situation from that moment."

Nevertheless, Ilan had no ordinary childhood memories. "The children in kindergarten always felt that I wasn't like them. Although we always told the cover story that we were refugees from Switzerland, which sounded credible because we spoke German, the kids still kept their distance from me. I had no friends in Italy."

At the end of the war, Ilan recalls a particularly emotional moment: "After the war ended, we moved to a neighborhood outside Rome, and then, at the age of seven, I had a *brit milah*. I hadn't undergone it earlier because my mom was very afraid that at kindergarten, they would discover I was Jewish, but at age seven, I underwent the ceremony at a Jewish religious hospital in Rome. I remember the bandages and remember that it hurt, but I also remember being very excited."

The miracles continued to follow Ilan even after he immigrated to Israel. "We arrived in Israel a few months after the state's establishment," he recalls. "As soon as we arrived, we were sent from the immigrant camp near Hadera to Bat Yam, by truck. They dropped us off and said, 'Choose a house.' Mom was busy examining the houses on the street, and meanwhile, I, a nine-and-a-half-year-old child, a survivor of the war who understood nothing about life, saw a chocolate bar shaped like an etrog on the ground. I picked up the chocolate and found it was hard. I said to myself – 'It's probably hard outside, and tasty chocolate inside.' It had an iron handle attached, and I thought that if I lifted the handle, the chocolate would come out. Less than a second before I lifted the handle, one of the greatest miracles I experienced happened – a JDC man noticed me holding a live grenade, snatched it from my hand, and threw it beyond the bunker of the house's yard where we were. The massive explosion sound still echoes piercingly in my ears today. It's clear to me that this person saved my life, and what a risk he took upon himself. After all, the grenade could have exploded in his hand."

The Triumph of Life

Nearly seventy years have passed since Ilan immigrated to Israel. Over the years, he has worked as a teacher and even served as a lecturer in English and history at Tel Aviv University.

"I also had the privilege of participating in a ceremony where the head nun who saved our lives in the monastery was recognized by Yad Vashem as a Righteous Among the Nations," he shares, "I was invited with my family to this ceremony at the monastery in Rome, and we were extremely grateful. The next day, an article about the story of the Jacobi family from Israel was published in all the newspapers in Rome. It moved me very-very much."

Ilan with his descendants and grandchildren during the last Sukkot

His grandparents passed away in Israel one after the other. "I lived with my mom until she was eighty-seven and didn't leave her even for a day," Ilan adds, "Even after she fell ill with Alzheimer's, I made sure to hire someone to care for her and to be with her all day. My heroic mother eventually passed away from an infection."

"Today I am a pensioner," he concludes with satisfaction, "trying to be a good grandfather to my eighteen grandchildren. I am proud and happy that all my grandchildren belong to the Haredi sector, as do my children. Words cannot describe the happiness that fills me when I see my lovely grandchildren come to me with a good grade, a fallen tooth, or an interesting story; I truly see their joy of childhood. Joy that was so lacking in mine, and I know – the people of Israel have prevailed."