Potato-Short Story

He stands on line, waiting for roll call to be over. He shivers slightly, both from cold and from fear. He knows, beyond a shadow of doubt, that if the guards find his hidden treasure, that’s it. His life is over. After all, he’s smuggling some contraband into his barracks. And what is this item, a treasure to him, and contraband to the Germans,ימ''ש ? What is this that’s worth his whole life? A potato. Not even a whole one, but half of a potato, smuggled out of the kitchen.
He had risked his life, both by going there without permission, and by taking the potato. But it’s so very important to him, so he did it anyway. And now, here he is, waiting impatiently to go into his barracks. Finally, the endless roll call is over, and he sighs with
relief. He made it into his barracks alive. He lies down in his narrow bunk, squished between the other men. As soon as the guard closes the door behind him, he turns to the men lying on either side of him. “Look what I have here! A potato!”
They slowly turn to face him, clearly fatigued and worn out.
“What in the world do you need a potato for?” “Don’t you know what tonight is?” he asks. “Tonight is the first night of חנוכה!” “And so? What does a potato have to do with חנוכה? You’re not planning on making latkes here, are you?” “No! Of course not! How could I make latkes here? The Germansימ''ש will for sure find me and kill me! This,” he informs them, “is going to be our מנורה! Yesterday, I got oil from the kitchen, and now, we’ll light the מנורה. Watch this!”
He takes his spoon, his one, precious spoon, and starts digging in the potato. He makes a tiny hole, and slowly pours the oil in. The message quickly passes through the barracks.
“We have a מנורה!”
Tired heads are raised, and smiles spread across weary faces. Slowly, ever so quietly, the men get up and crowd around him to see. He pulls some threads out of his uniform, and twists them together to create a wick. He sticks his homemade wick carefully into the oil, and picks up two stones that are lying on the floor to start the fire with. Tensions in the barracks are rising, as the men דאווען with all their hearts that the guard doesn’t decide to walk in
now.
And then, the moment they’re all waiting for has arrived.
He rubs the two stones together, and starts a fire. With it he lights the wick, and in a voice choked with tears and quivering with emotion, he recites the ברכות.
''ברוך אתה ה'... אקב''ו להדליק נר של חנוכה''
His barrack mates answer אמן as one, their eyes filling with tears.
''ברוך אתה ה'... שעשה נסים לאבותינו בימים ההם בזמן
הזה''
Again, their voices ring out, as they quietly yet determinately answer אמן. ברוך אתה ה'... שהחיינו וקיימנו והגיענו לזמן הזה''”
This time, the אמן is filled with the tears of them all. The men stand grouped around the מנורה, watching as the small flame struggles to stay lit, as it fights to bring light and dispel the dark, as it tries to remain aflame even when it seems like there’s no hope. And they too, are filled with faith, with conviction, that they will persevere and remain alive, though all the world wants them dead. They will be that small flame to burst through the dark and bring light to the future.
Though they are so few, and the Germansימ''ש so many, they’re filled with בטחון that ה' will help them. After all, isn’t that what happened in the חנוכה story, the נס they’re celebrating right now? It was רבים ביד מעטים then, too. If ה' could do it then, for the חשמונאים, surely He could do it now, for these pitiful inmates. This thought fills the barracks with hope, as the men realize that ה' will help anyone. All they have to do is ask for His help.