From February to the middle of July 1942 a remarkable study was carried out in the Warsaw ghetto, a study of starvation conducted by the Jewish physicians in the two largest hospitals in the ghetto.  The results of this study have survived and become a cornerstone of the medical literature on the changes undergone by the human body when not enough food is available.  What you are about to read is the story of that study—why it was done, how it was done, who carried it out, what was found, and how it survived.

Everything about the study itself is true.  Everything about the background of the physicians who took part in the study is as accurate as I could make it.  The rest, what motivated them to do the study, how they got the equipment, and how they smuggled the manuscript out is fiction, but is consistent with what little information I had.

Thus the story you are about to read is a historical novel in the truest sense.  Together the fact and the fiction will give you, the reader, an understanding of an extraordinary scientific event that helped a people define itself during one of the saddest chapters of its existence.

Myron Winick is the R.R. Williams Professor of nutrition (emeritus) at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons. From 1971 to 1988 he was the Director of the Institute of Human Nutrition, R.R. Williams Professor of Nutrition and Professor of Pediatrics at Columbia. From 1990 to 1993 Dr. Winick was President, Chief Executive Officer, Chief Academic Officer and Distinguished Professor of Nutrition and Pediatrics at the University of Health Sciences, the Chicago Medical School.

Dr. Winick received a B.A. from Columbia in 1951, an M.S. from the University of Illinois in 1952 and an M.D. from the State University of New York (Brooklyn) in 1956. He interned at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital, completed a pediatric residency at New York Hospital-Cornell Medical Center and a two year post doctoral fellowship at Stanford University Medical School. He returned to Cornell University, rising to the rank of Professor of Pediatrics and Director of the Division of Growth and Development. He has been a visiting professor at numerous universities including University of Chile, London, Leeds, Leyden, Naples, Bari, Edinburg as well as several universities in the United States and Canada.

Dr. Winick is the recipient of several research awards including, The E. Mead Johnson award of the American Academy of Pediatrics for pediatric research, 1970. The Osbourne Mendel award of the American Institute of Nutrition for research in basic nutrition, 1979. The Alumni Medal for outstanding contributions to medicine, State University of New York, 1981. and the Agnes Higgins award of the National Foundation March of Dimes for research on nutrition and prenatal development, 1984. He is a member of numerous scientific organizations and has served on many special advisory committees at the state, national and international levels. He served as a member of the Food and Nutrition Board of the National Academy of Sciences and as a visiting scientist at the National Cancer Institute. Dr. Winick is a Fellow of the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American College of Nutrition, the N.Y. Academy of Medicine, the N.Y. Academy of Science, the Royal Society of Medicine and the Royal Society of Health.

Dr. Winick is the author of more than 200 scientific papers, 10 books (5 for the general public and 5 for the medical profession) and numerous chapters in multi-authored scientific volumes. He was the editor of a yearly series entitled Current Concepts in Nutrition (20 volumes) and a member of the editorial boards of the American Journal of Nutrition and the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition. Dr. Winick has written and narrated a daily radio program aired on 240 stations nationally entitled the Columbia Nutrition Bulletin and has appeared on numerous other radio and television shows.

  It was 10:30 A.M. when I finished my regular rounds.  I had been up almost the entire night assisting in an emergency operation.  I headed for my room, took off my shoes, laid down on top of the covers and in minutes was fast asleep.

            I was awakened by a short rap on the door.  I looked at my watch; it was eleven-thirty.  I had been asleep for only half an hour.

            "Come in."

            The door opened and one of the nurses aides came in.

            "Doctor, there are two men outside in the waiting room who want you to come down right away."

            She was pale and obviously frightened.  She held a small card in her hand which she stretched out, trembling.

            "Who are they? What do they want?" She did not answer; she just dropped the card on the small table and ran out of the room.

            I was sitting on the bed but could see her scurrying down the hall through the half-open door.  I walked to the table in my stockinged feet and picked up the card.  It had a swastika at the top and then a name: S.S. Sergeant Hans Krause.  No wonder she ran.

            I sat on the bed and began to put my shoes on.

            The Gestapo! What did the Gestapo want with me? All sorts of things flashed through my mind.  But I truly could not think of anything I had done that would interest the Gestapo.  Unless ...  could they have found out about the study somehow?  Who would have told them? It could be anyone of a dozen people.  Their spies were everywhere.  It must have something to do with the study.  Maybe they don't know -- only suspect.  I must keep cool, I must answer all questions as truthfully as I can but at the same time try to hide the study.  For if they find out for certain that it exists, I'm dead --  we're all dead.

            I straightened my tie, put on my white coat and walked toward the waiting room.

            The room was empty except for the two S.S. men seated in easy chairs.  I walked over to the taller of the two, the picture of what the German Aryan was supposed to be.  Blond, blue-eyed, fair skinned and extremely well built.  In his black uniform with his swastika armband he was indeed an imposing figure.

            "Sergeant Krause?"

            He nodded.

            "I'm Dr. Orenstein."

            He stood up, towering over me.  His companion rose almost simultaneously.

            "You will come with us."

            "But where? I have patients.  What is it that you want to know?"

            "You will come with us -- now!"

            "Let me get my coat."

            "You won't need it; just come as you are.  It's not that cold outside and we have a car."

            I nodded and followed them into the street.  The other man opened the door of the black Mercedes; I got in -- Krause followed.  The door slammed.  The driver got into the front and we were moving.

            I could see by the route we were taking that we were heading out of the ghetto by one of the two legal exits.  As we approached the guardpost the driver slowed down, nodded at the sentry on duty and then sped out into the non-Jewish part of Warsaw.

            We had been riding for about ten minutes; nobody had spoken.  I looked at the sergeant who had just lit up a cigarette.

            "Where are we going?"

            "S.S. Headquarters."

            I wanted to ask more questions but his expression told me he didn't want to answer any more.

            Gestapo headquarters.  Why? And why was I sent for in a staff car? Why didn't they just pick me up in one of their wagons? Something strange was going on.

            I looked out of the window.  I had not seen my native Warsaw in over two years.  It looked grayer and more desolate than before the war, but much better than it had looked when I was moved into the ghetto.  I recognized the streets, the shops, the coffee houses.  We passed Ziemianska, a popular coffee house.  I could remember many joyful hours inside.  Good company, other students and friends.  It was nearly empty as we passed.  We turned the corner and entered a main street.  Traffic was light and the powerful Mercedes rolled at about 60 kilometers an hour.  There were few pedestrians walking.  The light changed to red, the horn blew, and we sped right through.

            What is his hurry, I thought.  Certainly as far as I'm concerned he could take all the time in the world.

            The car pulled up before a large red building with a German eagle over the entrance and a Nazi flag fluttering from a flagpole.  A shock wave went through me as the realization became clear.  This was Gestapo headquarters; the entire block formerly occupied by buildings of the Polish government was now essentially a Gestapo enclave.  And those buildings not occupied by the Gestapo housed the civil police.  We parked and Krause motioned for me to get out.  There was a small enclosed entrance way bounded by four stone columns.  In front of the first two were uniformed S.S. guards who snapped to attention as we passed.  We emerged into a courtyard about forty feet square.  On three sides we were surrounded by the building; behind us was the only entrance to the street.  Directly in front was the main entrance from the courtyard to the building -- two large iron doors, one of which was partly open.  Two more S.S. men guarded the entrance.  Several S.S. officers stood around the courtyard smoking and talking.  Krause went over to a small group, motioned for me to wait and began to converse with a short blonde corporal.  To my left was another entrance into the building through a much narrower heavy iron door.  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to appear unconcerned, but I was terrified.  The main door opened further and two S.S. men emerged, half dragging a prisoner between them.  They pulled him to the door on my left, rang a bell and waited.  The door opened, the man was pushed through and disappeared as the door swung shut.  The S.S. men lit cigarettes and joined a group in the courtyard.  Krause motioned to me and I followed him through the main door.  Again the guards snapped to attention.  We ascended a small marble staircase, about five steps, and entered a large vestibule with benches along the near wall and booths against the far wall.  It was set up like the waiting room of a railroad station, and the booths looked like ticket windows.  Krause went up to one of the booths and said something to the attendant.  Then he turned to me, "You will wait there." He motioned to one of the benches.

            "But what am I here for?"

            "You will wait there." I moved to the bench and sat down.  Krause went back out through the front door.  I sat paralyzed by fear for what seemed an eternity, then slowly I began to take cognizance of my surroundings.  The building was a typical government office building, perhaps the ministry of foreign affairs or education before the war.  The floor was made of small marble tiles.  Two large wings to my right and left were entered by symmetrical wide marble staircases leading to the upper floors.  Directly in front of me, beyond the "reception booths," were glass windows leading to an inner courtyard which housed a small garden in the center of which was a fountain in the middle of a shallow tile pool.  Around the pool were benches, some of which were occupied by uniformed Nazis.  The whole scene was a sort of Kafka fantasy.  A tranquil garden, bathed in morning sunshine which reflected from the pool.  The misty spray of the fountain creating a miniature rainbow in the middle of the Gestapo headquarters, Poland, 1942.

            The row of benches where I was sitting was occupied by only a few people, none of whom wore the Jewish armband.  Two officers came down the stairs to my left, walked toward the door and exited without so much as a glance in my direction.  I must have been waiting for about ten minutes when I noticed a small bespectacled S.S. sergeant, anything but an Aryan, coming down the staircase to my right.  He walked over to one of the booths and spoke to the attendant.  He looked in my direction, nodded, and began to walk toward me.  "Dr. Orenstein."

            "Yes! "

            "You will come with me." We began to walk toward the staircase at the right hand side of the building.

            "Can you tell me what this is all about?"

            "You will see." I followed him to the first landing, past a posted guard and continued to the second floor.  We went through some glass doors and entered a long narrow corridor with doors leading to offices on both sides.

            We paused in front of one.  I read the name, Captain R.  Wollman.  The sergeant opened the door, walked over to the secretary, told her something and left.

            I could tell just by looking at her that she was Polish, not German.  I was sure when she addressed me in Polish.

            "Please sit down Doctor.  Captain Wollman will be with you in a few minutes."

            For the first time I really began to feel terror.  The sweat ran off my forehead under my glasses and into my eyes.  I took out my handkerchief, removed my glasses and wiped my face.  Rudolf Wollman! His very name spread fear in the ghetto.  He was directly responsible for the execution of scores of Jews and for consigning literally thousands to forced labor camps.  He was in charge of procuring slave labor for the whole of the Warsaw district.  He was known to be efficient, ruthless and particularly anti-Semitic.  And I was sitting outside his office totally unsure of why he wanted to see me and equally unsure of what was going to happen to me.

            I tried to think, to figure out why I was here.  It really couldn't have anything to do with the study.  If they had discovered the investigations or even suspected them, it would be handled by a different department.  Maybe I was to be sent to a labor camp.  To take care of the inmates.  But then why would he send for me? Why the staff car? He would just requisition one doctor from the Judenrat.  I sat in the outer office trying to think while at the same time trying to control my terrible fear.  I must have looked sick, for the secretary looked up from her desk and asked me in Polish,

            "Are you all right, Doctor? Can I get you something? Some water?"

            "No, thank you."

            "I'm sorry for the delay but the captain is very busy.  I'm sure it won't be too much longer."

            The buzzer at her desk rang.  A shiver went through my bones.  I could hear over the intercom a short German command.  "Send the doctor in, please."

            She got up from her desk, walked to the door of the inner office.

            "You can go in now."

            She opened the door.  I walked in and she closed it behind me.