The Nazis Never Imagined That a Zoologist Saved 300 Jews Using Animal Cages | Jan Żabiński
September 15th, 1944. 6:47 a.m. Warsaw Zoo occupied Poland. Obermira Fritz Hartman walks up the gravel path toward the director’s villa. Three Vermached soldiers follow him, their boots echoing in the morning silence. They have received a report. The zoo director, Yan Jabinsky, is involved in suspicious activity.
Nighttime movements, excessive food consumption, and inexplicable noises. Hartman, a veteran of dozens of inspections, smiles with confidence. Polish resistors always make the same mistakes. He passes through abandoned enclosures. The zoo is a graveyard of empty cages, damaged buildings, silence where roars once were, perfect for hiding people.
What Hartman doesn’t know is that less than 50 m from where he stands, inside supposedly empty cages in the lion’s underground tunnels in the old monkey house, 17 people are holding their breath. Jews, resistance members, children, and entire families. That morning is only one moment in an operation that has already saved more than 300 Jews from the gas chambers run by a 39-year-old zoologologist named Yan Jabinsky and his wife Antonyina, who turned their love of animals into a human rescue network.
Over the next 4 hours, the Vermacht will search every building in the zoo. But they will never find the 17 people in hiding. And in that failure, they will discover that a man whose life had been devoted to protecting animals used that same destroyed zoo to save human lives. This is the story of how a zoologologist turned animal cages into sanctuaries of salvation.
Chapter 1. Eden before the storm. The Warsaw Zoo was founded in 1928. 16 hectares on the eastern bank of the Vistella River with 5,000 animals from 500 different species. One of the most modern zoos in Europe. Jean Jabinsky was born on April 8th, 1897 in Warsaw into a Polish Catholic family.
He studied zoology at the University of Warsaw, graduating in 1925. His thesis on the reproduction of mammals in captivity established his reputation as a serious scientist. In 1929, at the age of 32, he was appointed director of the Warsaw Zoo. The appointment was controversial because he was young and favored unconventional methods.
He believed animals should live in natural spaces, not in Victorian ironbar cages. By 1935, he had transformed the zoo completely. He built enclosures that mimicked natural habitats with moes instead of bars, dense vegetation, and running water. The animals thrived under his care. The jewel of the zoo was Tusinka, the elephant.
Acquired in 1931, she became a national celebrity. Warsaw children waited in line for hours to ride her, and she became a symbol of Polish modernity. Jan married Antonyina Erdman in 1931. She was 23. He was 34. Antonyina was not a formally trained zoologologist, but she had an intuitive connection with animals. She could calm a nervous lion with her voice, feed a baby monkey rejected by its mother, and detect illness before the veterinarians did.
The employees called her the animal whisperer. They lived in the director’s villa, a two-story house in the center of the zoo. From their windows, they could see giraffes, hear lions roaring at night, and watch peacocks wandering through the garden. In 1932, their son Rizard was born. The boy grew up literally inside the zoo, taking his first steps alongside gazels.
By the age of five, he could identify a 100 species by sound. By 1939, the Warsaw Zoo received 1 million visitors a year. It was a cultural institution, an educational center, and the pride of Warsaw. The Jabinsky family had built in Eden. But in August 1939, John noticed subtle changes. German visitors in the zoo taking photographs of buildings rather than animals, asking about basement, service tunnels, and emergency exits.
Spies. On September 1st, 1939, at 4:45 a.m., Jan would discover why. Chapter 2. The apocalypse of the cages. Luftvafa bombs fell over Warsaw without a bu declaration of war. The zoo located on the eastern bank of the Vistula River lay directly under the bombing route to the city center.
The first bomb struck the elephant house at 5:12 a.m. John and Antonyina woke to the explosion. From their window, they saw the building in flames and heard something even more terrifying than the bombs. The screams of terrified animals. Tusinka the elephant ran out of the burning building with scorched skin and her trunk raised in panic.
She ran straight toward the Vistella River, plunged into the water, and never resurfaced. Her body was found days later drowned by panic. Jan and little Rizard, 7 years old, ran into the zoo. The scene was apocalyptic. Destroyed cages, dead animals, and others running wild. An adult male lion paced freely along the main path.
Two brown bears had escaped into the city and venomous snakes released from shattered terrariums slithered toward nearby residential buildings. John made impossible decisions. Injured animals with no chance of survival had to be euthanized. There were no veterinarians available and no anesthesia, only a service pistol. He spent the next 36 hours shooting animals he had raised from babies.
A Bengal tiger with both hind legs shattered. A giraffe with a broken neck and dozens of primates burned beyond recovery. Rissard, 7 years old, saw his father cry for the first time. On September 27th, 1939, after 3 weeks of bombing, Warsaw surrendered. The Nazis arrived at the zoo on September 30th.
The officer in charge was Lutz Hec, director of the Berlin Zoo and Hitler’s chief zoologologist. Hec was a committed Nazi, a party member since 1933, and he inspected the Warsaw Zoo with calculating eyes. The best animals are going to Berlin, he announced. The rest will be liquidated. This zoo is closed. Over the following weeks, train cars carried surviving animals to Germany.
Zebras, bison, camels, and rare antelope species. Everything of value was stolen. By November 1939, the Warsaw Zoo was empty. 5,000 animals reduced to zero. Empty cages, damaged buildings, and absolute silence. John expected to be dismissed. Instead, the Nazis made him an offer. Hec returned in December 1939 with a proposal.
Jabinsky, you’re a good zoologologist. I’ll allow you to keep your position, but the zoo will serve the Reich. You will raise pigs to feed our troops. It was a calculated humiliation, turning a prestigious zoo into a pig farm. But Jan saw an opportunity. I accept, he replied immediately. But I will need access to the Jewish ghetto to collect food waste for the pigs.
Peek considered the proposal. It made sense. The ghetto generated tons of organic garbage every day. Granted, you’ll be given a special permit. John had secured official access to the Jewish ghetto with permission to enter regularly and documentation explaining his presence. The Nazis had just handed him the key to his rescue operation.
They didn’t know it yet, but they had made their first fatal mistake. Chapter 3, the largest prison in Europe. In October 1940, the Nazis created the Warsaw Ghetto. 3.3 km surrounded by a 3 m high wall where 450,000 Jews were forced to live. The density was 136,000 people per square kilometer. For comparison, Manhattan has 27,000.
Conditions were designed to kill. Official rations were 184 calories per person per day. Impossible to survive on. Thousands died each month from starvation, disease, and random executions. John began his visits to the ghetto in January 1941. Officially, he collected food waste for his pigs.
His truck marked Warsaw Zoo, crossed the ghetto gates three times a week. Nazi guards let him pass without detailed inspection. It was an authorized operation. Why search garbage? On his third visit, Yan was approached by Morrisy Franco, director of the ghetto library. “Dr. Zabinsky,” Franco whispered. “Is it true your zoo is empty?” John understood immediately.
It has many empty buildings, basement, and tunnels. And would you help? Jen looked around. Nazi guards were 30 m away. Tomorrow, same time. Be ready. The next day, John arrived with his truck. Frankle climbed in with two assistants supposedly to load heavier waste. But when the truck left the ghetto, there were three extra people hidden under tarps covered in garbage.
The stench was unbearable and nauseating, the perfect camouflage. The guards at the gate barely looked. Who would search wreaking trash? John drove straight to the zoo. The three people were hidden in the basement of the old lion house, a space originally designed to hold lions during the winter. It’s temporary, John promised.
Until we find safer, permanent places, but temporary would become months, and three people would become dozens. Antonyina developed a brilliant communication system. The villa had a piano and Antonyina was a talented pianist. Every morning she played and different songs meant different things. Deutseland Uber Alis meant Nazis in the zoo. Everyone hide in absolute silence.
Oh, Solo meant all clear and safe to move. Beethoven meant food is ready. Come to the villa at night. Offenbach meant imminent danger. prepare for evacuation. The refugees, hidden in scattered buildings throughout the zoo, could hear the piano from their hiding places. They didn’t need to see anything to know whether it was safe to emerge.
Razard, now 9 years old, served as a messenger. He was a child. The Nazis didn’t suspect him, and he could walk freely, carrying messages, food, and warnings. Yan and Antonyina identified the perfect locations to hide people. The Lion House had a basement 6 m underground designed to hold large cats during the winter, access through a hidden hatch, natural ventilation, and space for 8 to 10 people.
The monkey house had a system of cleaning tunnels connecting multiple buildings. dark and damp, but safe with room for four to six people. The bear pit had a pump room with a camouflaged door behind rusted machinery and space for five to seven people. The villa had a guest room where some refugees lived openly with false identities as zoo employees.
The birdhouse had an attic above the aviary, accessible only by a removable ladder. Hot in summer and freezing in winter, but invisible. At any given time between 12 and 17, people lived hidden in the zoo. Chapter 4. The network expands. By mid 1942, the zoo operation had evolved significantly. John coordinated with multiple resistance groups, Jagota, the army of Kryoa, and Jewish youth resistance groups.
The zoo became a transit station where refugees arrived from the ghetto stayed for days or weeks and were then transferred to more permanent locations. Farms in the countryside, Catholic monasteries or basement in area Warsaw. Jan developed a rigorous protocol for the e operation. Step one was extraction from the ghetto.
Jon entered with the garbage truck. Refugees hid under waste and the exit was through a minor checkpoint during the guard smea shift change between 6:00 and 7 in the morning. Step two was quarantine at the zoo. The first 48 hours in isolation were used to confirm they weren’t being followed and to provide basic medical care. Step three was false documentation provided by Jagota.
Photos were taken in the villa and papers were delivered in 3 to 5 days. Step four was evacuation to the permanent location, usually at night and never with more than two people per trip. Samuel Kennvine was 8 years old when he arrived at the zoo in April 1942. His mother had died of typhus in the ghetto and his father was executed for smuggling.
Samuel was alone. The resistance extracted him. But there was a problem. Samuel had stopped speaking due to selective trauma. Not a single word in 6 weeks. For a Jewish child trying to pass as a Polish Christian, silence was a death sentence. Nazis tested identities by asking questions and without an answer, they assumed someone was Jewish.
Antonyina took the case personally. Samuel, she said, “Do you know why animals don’t speak? Because they don’t need to. They communicate in other ways. Watch.” She took him to the pigsty. The pigs grunted and shoved one another, communicating hierarchy without words. See, they talk just differently. For weeks, Antonyina worked with Samuel, not forcing him to speak, but showing him that silence could be strength, not weakness.
Slowly, Samuel began making sounds. First imitating pigs, then birds, and finally, 3 months later, words. His first words were, “Thank you, Mrs. Jabinska.” Samuel survived the war and immigrated to Israel in 1948 where he became a veterinarian. I learned from animals, he would later say that survival doesn’t always require words. Sometimes it requires silence.
Antonyina taught me both. Raquela was a historian and a member of the Oeneg Shabz project, a secret group documenting Nazi atrocities in the ghetto. In August 1942, when mass deportations to Trebinka began, the network decided Rashella had to be evacuated. Her knowledge was too valuable to lose. Jon extracted her using a daring method.
Rashella walked out through the main ghetto gate dressed as a Polish worker with false papers while Jon waited 200 m away in a parked truck. But Rella carried something that put the entire operation at risk. One of her archival notebooks. I can’t leave it, she insisted. It contains testimonies from 300 people.
If the Nazis find it, all those testimonies die with me. John understood and didn’t argue. Raquela spent six weeks at the zoo and every night in the lion house basement by candlelight. She worked on her archive documenting names, deportation dates, methods of murder, and survivor testimonies. When she was evacuated in September, John promised her, “When the war ends, we’ll recover your notebook. We’ll publish it.
The world will know.” In April 1943, before the ghetto uprising, John buried the notebook in a glass jar beneath the old oak tree near the elephant enclosure. In May 1945, after liberation, Raquela returned and John dug up the jar. The notebook had survived with every page intact. It was published in 1954 and became one of the most important historical documents of the Holocaust.
The operation came at a cost. Financially, feeding an extra 12 to 17 people required money. John used zoo funds But it wasn’t enough. Jagota provided subsidies of 500 zlottis per month. But even so, the family spent their personal savings. Psychologically, Antonyina developed chronic insomnia, waking three or four times a night to check that the refugees were safe.
Rizard, 10 years old, had constant nightmares. Jon smoked three packs of cigarettes a day. His nerves shredded. Physically, Antonyina lost 12 kilos in a year, and Jon developed a stomach ulcer. Both aged visibly, but they never considered stopping. As John wrote in his diary, “Every morning, I wake up wondering if today is the day we’re discovered.
Every night I give thanks that it wasn’t today. And every day between those moments, I know we are doing the only thing that matters. Keeping humans alive in a world that wants to kill them. Chapter 5. Four Hours of Terror. We return to the moment where we began. September 15th, 1944. 6:47 a.m.
Ober Sturm Furer Fritz Hartman and three soldiers walk up the zoo path. Someone had reported them. An employee angry about not receiving full pay had reported suspicious activity. John sees the military vehicles from the villa window. His hand strikes the piano. Not specific keys, just loud, discordant, urgent sound. The emergency signal.
Across scattered buildings in the zoo, 17 people move fast. In the lion house basement, eight people rushed deeper into a secondary chamber John had personally dug with an entrance hidden behind old tool shelves. In the monkey tunnel, four people crawl to the far end, 40 m underground. In the bear pit, five people squeeze into the pump room.
All of it happens in less than 90 seconds. Hartman enters the villa without knocking. Dr. Jabinsky, surprise, inspection, order of the commonant. Yan, wearing a house robe, feigns surprise. Inspection for what? Antonyina appears from the kitchen drying her hands with a towel. Good morning, hair Ober Stormfurer.
Would you like coffee while your men work? It was a calculated tactic. Appear cooperative, not defensive. Hartman accepts the coffee. A bad move that gives Yan and Antonyina time to assess the situation. The Nazis brought only three soldiers. A small inspection, not a mass arrest operation. That was good. But Hartman carries a detailed map of the zoo, showing every building, every basement, every tunnel.
That was very bad. The soldiers search methodically. At 7:15 a.m. in the lion house, Soldier Miller descends into the basement with a flashlight. He sees the space where the refugees normally lived. Blankets, plates, and books. Hair over Stormfurer. There’s evidence people have been living here. Hartman comes down and examines the space.
Jabinsky explanation. Jan had prepared this story for months. My temporary workers polls from the countryside. They come during the potato harvest, stay for weeks, then go home. It’s cheaper to house them here than to pay for a hotel. Where are they now? They left yesterday. The harvest ended. Hartman isn’t convinced and orders Miller to look for a hidden space.
Miller taps the walls and moves shelves. But the secondary chamber, where eight people are holding their breath, is behind a shelving unit that weighs 200 kilos. Impossible to move without tools. Miller doesn’t move it. At 8:30 a.m. in the monkey house, two soldiers enter the service tunnel with flashlights.
They advance 20 m and the tunnel narrows and grows darker. It’s unstable here, one remarks. It could collapse. It was a lie, but it sounded plausible. The building had been bombed in 1939. They retreat without exploring the last 40 m where four people are crouched in absolute darkness. At 9:45 a.m.
in the bare pit, Hartman personally inspects the pump room. The metal door is clearly rusted. He tries to open it, but it is sealed shut by corrosion. Key, he demands. Lost, Yan replies. That room hasn’t been used since before the war. The pump doesn’t work. It’s just old machinery. Hartman could have ordered the door forced and would have found five people, but he is frustrated and tired.
The inspection has taken hours and they have found nothing concrete. Search the rest. He orders his soldiers. He does not order the door forced. At 10:30 a.m. in the villa, 12-year-old Rissard is in his room when a soldier walks in. “What are you doing, boy? Schoolwork.” Rizard replies calmly. The soldier sees books and notebooks.
Everything seems normal. What the soldier doesn’t see is that under Rizard’s bed, there is a metal box containing 47 photographs of Jewish refugees who had passed through the zoo. If the soldier had looked under the bed, the entire family would have been arrested, the 17 refugees discovered, and the entire network dismantled.
The soldier doesn’t look under the bed. At 11:00 a.m., the verdict arrives. Hartman gathers his soldiers in the courtyard. Report, he orders. Lion basement, evidence of recent occupancy, but empty now. Tunnels unstable, not fully explored. Pump room closed, apparently unused. Villa clean. Hartman looks at Yan. Dr.
Jabinsky, there is evidence you are housing people without reporting them to the authorities. That violates occupation regulations. Jan keeps his voice steady. Temporary workers, all registered polls. I can provide documentation. You will provide it tomorrow in my office at 9:00 a.m. Of course, hair Obertorm Furer.
Hartman and his soldiers leave. Jan waits until the vehicles disappear in the distance, then plays Oh, Solomo on the piano, the allclear signal. Over the next 30 minutes, 17 people emerge from their hiding places. No words are needed. Everyone knows they have been minutes from death. And yet they had survived again. Chapter 6. 63 days of hell.
The Warsaw Uprising began on August 1st, 1944 at 5 in the afternoon. The Armia Crayola launched a rebellion against Nazi occupation. 40,000 Polish resistance fighters against 15,000 German troops. Yanjabinsky joined immediately. not as a combatant because at 47 with a stomach ulcer and failing eyesight he couldn’t handle a rifle effectively.
He joined as a liaison officer coordinating communications between resistance groups scattered across Warsaw. Antonyina remained in charge of the zoo with 14 refugees still hidden. The uprising lasted 63 days. For the zoo, it was 63 days of nightmare. The Vermacht, furious about the rebellion, bombed Warsaw indiscriminately.
Residential buildings, hospitals, and churches. Everything was a target. The zoo on the eastern bank of the river sat in the middle of the fighting. On August 5th, an incendiary bomb hit the villa and a fire began on the second floor. Antonyina and Rizzard evacuated the 14 refugees to the Lionhouse basement, then fought the blaze with buckets of river water. It took 3 hours to put it out.
The villa survived barely. On August 12th, German troops set up a machine gun post on zoo grounds 50 m from the lion house. The 14 refugees in the basement couldn’t move or make a sound because German soldiers were literally above their heads. Antonyina brought food at night, crawling along the floor to avoid being seen.
This situation lasted 11 endless days. On September 13th, Jan was captured by the Vermach in the ruins of St. John’s Cathedral. He wasn’t betrayed, it was bad luck. A German patrol found him with a resistance radio. He was beaten, interrogated, and identified as a resistance liaison officer. The typical sentence was immediate execution.
But John had an advantage he didn’t know he had. Loot Hec, the Nazi zoologologist who had looted the Warsaw Zoo in 1939, intervened. He still respected Yan as a scientific colleague. Jabinsky is valuable, he argued to SS officers. He’s an expert in animal breeding. He could be useful after the war. It was an absurd argument, but amid the chaos of a collapsing Warsaw, it worked.
Jon wasn’t executed. He was sent to a prisoner of war camp in Germany. When Antonyina learned that Jon had been captured, she faced an impossible decision. 14 refugees were still in the zoo and without Jon the operation was far more dangerous. Ryzard, now 12, could help, but he was a child.
Jagota offered to evacuate the refugees to other locations, the safest option. Antonyina refused. Jan promised these people they would be safe here. I won’t break his promise. During September and October 1944, Antonyina ran the operation alone. She fed the refugees, protected them, coordinated with the resistance, and every night she played the piano, not only signals, but real music.
Shopan, Beethoven, and Mozart. Years later, one of the refugees, Henrik Goldsmith, explained, “Atanina’s music reminded us we were still human. In that basement, in the dark with Nazis meters above, it was easy to forget. But when you heard Shopopen floating from the villa, you remembered there is beauty in the world and that it is worth surviving.
” On October 2nd, the uprising ended. After 63 days of fighting, it collapsed. 40,000 Polish resistance fighters were dead and 150,000 civilians were massacred by the Vermacht in retaliation. Hitler ordered the city to disappear from the face of the earth. The zoo miraculously survived, damaged, but not destroyed.
The 14 refugees survived. John was in Germany in a P camp, not knowing whether his family lived. Antonyina was in Warsaw, not knowing whether Jon lived. But together, they had achieved something extraordinary. Keeping everyone under their care alive. Chapter 7. Liberation and the Legacy of the Cages.
The Red Army liberated Warsaw on January 17th, 1945. Antonyina and Ryizard were still at the zoo with the 14 refugees still hidden. For 3 days, the refugees remained hidden even after liberation. Antonyina wasn’t sure the Soviets could be trusted. Finally, on January 20th, when it became clear the Nazis were completely gone, Antonyina played O Sole Mo one last time.
The 14 refugees emerged. Some had been hidden in the zoo for two full years, 730 days in cages designed for animals. They blinked in the sunlight, and many wept. Sarah Kennvine, Samuel’s mother, embraced Antonyina without words. What words could ever be enough? John was freed from the P camp in Germany on May 9th, 1945. The day Germany surrendered, he walked from Germany to Poland, a journey that took three weeks.
He arrived at the zoo on June 2nd, 1945. Antonyina saw a man of 48 who looked 65, thinner and visibly aged, but alive. The refugees were his first words. “All alive,” Antonyina answered. “They all survived.” John collapsed not from exhaustion but from pure relief. Over the next four years, Jan and Antonyina rebuilt the Warsaw Zoo.
The Nazis had left ruins, destroyed buildings, empty cages, scorched earth. But slowly, the zoo came back to life. In 1946, the first animals arrived. Rabbits, goats, and a pony. In 1947, the lion building was rebuilt. In 1948, the first giraffe arrived since the war. In 1949, the zoo officially reopened to the public.
The irony wasn’t lost on Yan. The building where they had hidden Jews now housed lions again. But these lions lived in peace because the Nazis were gone. Postwar estimates confirmed the numbers. 298 Jews saved by the zoo network with complete documentation plus an additional 50 to 100 people based on testimonies. The conservative number was 300.
Each person represented a life not delivered to Avitz, a family not completely destroyed, and descendants who exist today. In 2019, researchers at Yadvashm identified more than 2,400 living descendants of people saved by John and Antonyina Jabinsky. 2,400 people who exist because a zoologologist and his wife decided to turn animal cages into human sanctuaries.
On September 21st, 1965, John and Antonyina were honored as righteous among the nations by Yadvashm. The ceremony took place in Jerusalem and was attended by 37 people who had been hidden in the zoo. Sarah Kennvine, now 67, spoke. In 1942, my son Samuel stopped speaking. Trauma broke him.
Antonyina taught him that silence could be strength. Samuel survived and today he is a veterinarian in Hifa with three children and seven grandchildren. That is what John and Antonyina gave us. Not only survival, but a future. A tree was planted in their honor in the forest of the righteous. John wept as Antonyina held his hand.
“We weren’t heroes,” John whispered. We only did what the animals taught us, protect the vulnerable. John continued as director of the Warsaw Zoo until 1951, retiring at 54 due to deteriorating health after years of wartime stress. He wrote around 50 books on zoology, taught, and hosted a hugely popular radio program about animals in Poland.
Jan died on July 26th, 1974 at the age of 77. Antonyina lived 37 more years. She lived quietly in Warsaw, painting, writing memoirs, and receiving visitors from around the world who wanted to meet the animal whisperer who saved humans. She died on July 20th, 2007. at the age of 98.
Razard became a filmmaker, producing wildlife documentaries. He died in 2019 at the age of 87. The director’s villa at the Warsaw Zoo is now a museum. Visitors can walk through the rooms where the refugees ate, see the lion house basement where eight people hid for months, and touch the piano Antonyina used to send signals. The monkey tunnel is sealed for structural instability, but photographs, testimonies, and stories are preserved.
An exhibit shows 298 names, each representing a life saved. Beneath it, a text reads, “In this zoo designed to protect animals, humans found refuge. The Nazis built cages to imprison. John and Antonyina turned them into sanctuaries to set people free. The story of Jan and Antonyina Jabinsky represents something profound.
The Nazis built a death system supported by a modern state, industrial technology, and totalitarian ideology. Against that, a zoologologist and his wife had empty cages, love for animals, and an impossible determination. As John wrote in 1968, 3 years before his death, people ask why we risked everything for 300 people and why not more? The answer is simple.
300 was the number we could reach. If we could have saved 3,000, we would have. But with a zoo, a truck, and empty cages, we saved 300. And those 300 people were worth every risk. Because in every life saved, we defeated the Nazis. In every person who survived, we proved humanity is stronger than hate. The Nazis had armies.
We had animal cages. In the end, the cages won. In 2019, the Warsaw Zoo organized a reunion. 2,400 descendants of people saved by John and Antonyina attended from 47 countries. Doctors, professors, artists, engineers, mothers, fathers, and grandparents. Each existed because in 1942, a zoologologist decided that cages built for lions could protect humans.
The grandson of Samuel Kennvine, now a veterinarian in Tel Aviv, spoke. My greatgrandfather stopped speaking in 1942. Antonyina taught him to speak again, not only words, but that life is worth it. That the future exists and that goodness survives evil. I am here today because she believed that we are all here because John and Antonyina believed 300 lives mattered.
The Nazis lost, the cages won, and history remembers. The Nazis never imagined that a zoologologist would save 300 Jews using animal cages, but Yan Jabinsky did. And 80 years later, 2,400 people lived to prove it.