Seat of the ''Ghettowache'' (Ghetto guard) which was to help keep internal order. Originally composed only of younger men. The Nazi were afraid of the existence of a militarily organized, albeit unarmed corps in the Ghetto and in June 1943, dissolved the Ghettowache and sent almost all its members by a transport to the East. Then the Ghettowache was newly estabilished, consisting of 100 men over 45 years of age. In the building there was a hall where some performances were held. (Today the House of culture.)


Since Terezín is trying hard to imitate the outside world in everything, it was essential to have some guardians of the peace. This is why the Ordnenvache, popularly called the ghetto cops, was established. A ghetto cop is of the male sex, wears a heavy winter coat with a wide belt to which a stick called a truncheon is attached. He wears dark breeches and heavy boots. He has a band fixed to his shoulder with the letter W and a number. He has the same symbol inscribed on a metal badge that swings on his chest. The most characteristic part of the ghetto cop's uniform is his high cap with a badge and stripes indicating his rank. But enough of the description. Let us proceed to the daily work of such a ghetto cop. Some stand at the crossroads and don't let anybody pass who does not give them a cigarette. It is a most advantageous business and a ghetto "traffic" cop always has a guaranteed supply of cigarettes. Another type of these guardians of disorder stands in the gates to the barracks shouting "Rechts gehenI" (walk on the right) all day and all night. But since the cop on barrack duty is at a disadvantage compared with his colleague from the crossroads, he earns his daily bread in the following way: At least twice a day he introduces Kasernensperre and lets only physicians and nursing staff through. Don't get me wrong, this is not because they are the guardians of our health, it's just because they are people who have tobacco. The third type of ghetto cop lounges about on the streets, and wherever anything happéns they rush in, start to shout, swear and get more in the way than anyone else. A favorite amusement of the ghetto cops is to walk through the streets (they call it marching) or to parade before Lówenstein and bring shame on their calling.
Long live the new Reservists.

(Unknown author)


This rabble of vertebrate mammals can be divided into three large groups. First there are the pigs (largely German ghettoites). They are the ones that never, even when given the chance, let their hair down because they are afraid of getting into trouble. The second lot is divided into two groups. The first and larger group are the Wichtigmacher, the busybodies. The second and smaller group consists of the yellowbellies who are very diligent in their work and constantly afraid of a German inspection. The third group of ghetto cops and crime cops are referred to as the first-class boys. Unfortunately you don't see them too often, because they form a small minority. They accommodate everyone and, if it is in their power to do so, they help where they can. These are the men that look after our safety. And now I shall tell about meeting one of these men. "Can I help you?" asked the nurse gruftly of the middle-aged man who had entered the sickroom. "Secret police, miss," answered the bald gentleman. "I've come to search your premises. A former patient of yours, Pereles, lost a blanket about a month ago and I've been detailed to look for it. The first step in my search will be a thorough inspection of beds and the entire room: ' I should add that his first step was thorough indeed, because he even looked in my mess kit, just in case the blanket was there. After the search came the second stage of his investigation: the interrogation, which went like this:"Who knew what his blanket looked like?" "I did..." one of the boys called in a loud voice. "You?" "... not," said the boy, finishing what he wanted to say. "Don't you poke fun at the police, you twerp," said the cop. When his efforts did not produce any results, he decided to leave. At this moment Erik stepped up to him and said politely: "Sir, could you please tell me what your colleagues Sherlock Holmes and Tom Shark are up to?"
"Sorry, I don't know anyone named Sherlock Holmes or Tom Shark. You must be mistaken," replied the detective, and left amidst gales of laughter.

- Pidli (Emanuel Miihlstein)