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The Holocaust

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We are standing next to the open grave of masses of the Jewish people. The tragedy has not yet penetrated into our entire essence. We are mourning the entire community. We are mourning – but we are not yet able to understand the comprehensiveness of the destruction. Something was whispering: “Perhaps despite all this…” until friends from Poland came and told their stories. As they told their stories, something continued to whisper: “Perhaps despite all this…” Then the testimony came in the form of a letter from a female friend who was at the head of our movement in Poland. For years Tosia has risked her life, slinking through cracks and sneaking from ghetto to ghetto. Now she informs us that Israel is dead before her eyes. She continues her heroic struggle, but her work, as she writes, is like beating her head against a wall.

What I have said and what I will say is only a weak expression of the terrible truth. On sleepless nights, this truth stands before me in all its nakedness, and the dark reality sucks like a vampire. When a day renews itself – each day like the next – we continue to be hitched to our wagon and we follow the path of business between Merchavia and Tel Aviv, and back. Indeed, we still do not believe that the cities of our mothers and childhood have turned into cities of murder.

Rzeszow, my native city, rises up from the pyre before my eyes. Tradition testifies that it is a sister to tortured Radom. When I came as a representative of the movement to Warsaw, Kovno or Chernovitz, I used to spend day and night with Shomrim members from all strata and ages, and tell stories about one house – my childhood home – about it and what took place therein. I never tired of telling about this house, from the top to bottom, from the cellar to the attic. It was a Noah's ark and within it a whole Jewish world, with all its social classes and their different destinies. From it, Jewish immigration set out to America, and aliya to the Land of Israel. In the cellar of this house, there still was a Jew who during his youth had been a cantonist soldier who had been snatched up by the Czarist Army, and returned to us through a miracle. Efraim Hofacholk, may he rest in peace, was the guard of the “Rogatka” – the taxation boundary against liquor smugglers. This valiant old man instilled fear upon the gentiles around him. On the Seder night, fine young men would gather next to his basement window to listen to the simple but enthusiastic reading of the Haggadah, and to once again here him merge the words “Terach-avi”, “Avraham-Veavi”, “Yitzhak-Veyaakov”^[1].

Opposite him lived the jester with his seven young children. They ate to satiation from one wedding to the next, and went hungry in between. As they were immersed in hunger, they would follow after their father and sing bitter songs about the orphaned bride. In the attic lived Rubale the baker, the Bundist, as tall as a little finger. He would go out to the First of May demonstration wearing a streimel on his head. There was the Hassid who fasted every Monday and Thursday, and afflicted himself daily, to the point where he would only eat each day after 2:00 p.m. He had an only son who was a prodigy in Talmudic knowledge. My father occupied the first floor. He was a lover of Zion from before the time of Herzl, and he sustained poor people. Also on that floor was the plaster merchant who enjoyed sumptuous meals. He used to take us children during the cold of the winter, push us between his knees, and ask us to purchase cherries for him. Next door lived Reb Abba Applebaum the maskil, who was known as a miser, but who spent his last coins on travel to the libraries of Italy and Germany to search in their collections for sources for his monographs on the rabbis of Italy of the middle ages. Rabbi Elazarel was another neighbor. This rebbe, whose radiant image and silvery beard resembled the appearance of A. D. Gordon, had his Hassidim stream to him from the dark mountains of Carpatho-Rus (Transcarpathian Ruthenia). His only daughter was born to him when he was 70 years old. Every Sabbath eve, prior to Lecha Dodi, he would add in a silent emotional thank you for his daughter Chanale, and his Hassidim would listen to him with baited breath and sweet devotion.

How many historical strands met in the life in this city! In our midst there were the remnants of the ghetto, the dispute of Hassidim and Misnagdim, the wake of the Haskala, the beginnings of Zionist awakening and political emancipation, and the deliberations between Zionism, assimilationism and the Bund. There was the differentiation between the various factions of Zionism and the social classes. And with regard to the Shomer Hatzair itself – did it not send its roots out to those various strands of the preceding century^[2]? Did it not draw from Hassidism, Misnagdism (opposition to Hassidism), and Haskala – did we not fill ourselves up with this for provisions along the way as we set out for the Land?

Friends, let us arrange a Yizkor ceremony for the homes from which we came. Here is my story about one home. Was it not in homes such as these and even in cellars that we actualized the vision of wondrous emancipation from the fetters of the past? From houses

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such as these and cellars such as these the energy leaped out. From there they penetrated into the forests and arrived at the youth camps at the foothills of the Carpathians, where the pioneering dream was woven.

All of this took place and was conceived in one house and its environs. How wide were the short roads, and after so many years, how short next to them were the roads of Krakow, Warsaw and Vienna.

How is it possible that a city such as this, that whole cities such as these, were loaded upon sealed train cars, were burned in crematoria, and were annihilated with electricity within a few hours? Is our mind able to grasp this thing, can our soul conceive of it? Can there ever be comfort for our hearts? We are one of the nations that forged the human image throughout the past 2,000 years. Then an armed nation arose against us. A decade previously this nation had still voted for social democracy and Communism, and now it is performing the will of Hitler and was willing to render the bones of hundreds and thousands of our martyrs into organic fertilizer. Some said: “revenge”. And I utter the words of Bialik: “Let the blood penetrate into the dark abyss, consume in the darkness, and penetrate from there into all of the rotting institutions of the land.” I say that we are compatriots with all of those who set out to destroy the rotting institutions of the world, and to destroy this social order. This will be our revenge.

We stand before this atrocity like a wounded animal, with the back to the wall, for we are not even able to comprehend this in our soul. I recently read an article by Ilya Ehrenberg in which he quotes from a speech by Ley, one of the Nazi leaders. That wicked man states: “We must now right the wrong. During the Middle Ages we were able to put an end to “dieses wucher-volk” (this usurious nation). We could have then cut it off by its roots. Instead, we permitted it to escape to Poland. Now they are in our hands, and they will not escape again. This time, we will destroy them completely.”

This is the satanic plan.. It is carried out daily. Every day it extracts the quota of thousands of Jews and transports them to slaughter.

What can we do? We cry out and complain. Do we have anyone to complain to? We can hope that their downfall will come before the evil engulfs us completely. Some seek comfort in prayer and fasting. All we can do is a little – and there is precious little that we can do to hasten this downfall. We cannot escape from the feelings of helplessness. Whoever does not admit this is not speaking the truth to himself.

(From a speech at a meeting of the executive committee of Hakibbutz Haartzi of Hashomer Hatzair in 1943.)

Translator's Footnotes

1. A section of the Passover Haggadah. The breaks between the phrases are deliberately in the wrong place in this quote. Return
2. Referring to the 19^th century here. Return

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For death has come through our windows,
It has come into our fortresses,
To cut off children from the streets,
Young men from the squares.

(Jeremiah 9, 20)^[1]

The adage “in your blood you shall live"^[2] has accompanied our nation from the time it entered onto the stage of history. However, all the preceding bloody history pales in comparison with the horrifying extermination that was carried out by the Nazis.

Only very few of our community survived, and those that went to the furnaces commanded us to tell the story to future generations, as it says “and you shall relate to your children”^[3]. The eyes of my schoolmates, teachers, and relatives look upon me and ask: Do you not have the obligation to tell about our great suffering, and our fight for life?

We are required to relate not only about the resistance, but also about the masses that were slaughtered. To you, mighty in Torah, great in spirit, to you, my friends that stood with me in the same line and did not merit to further gaze upon the skies and the land, we dedicate these pages of our Yizkor book, so that future generations can learn about the purity of your character, your righteous lives, and on the terrible iniquity that was done to you; You, our community of Rzeszow, were the rock from which we were hewed. In you, we experienced our religious life, culture, and glorious youth immersed in enthusiastic youth movements. A city of men of spirit and workers, a city of merchants and artisans - all of you are beloved to us and holy. How did the destruction overtake you?

We will remember the Hebrew schools in which we learnt our first letter, we will remember the teachers who ingrained in us the love of the language and the Land of Israel - the cheders^[4] which inspired our youthful lives, our guides who were so full of spirit, and who told us about the Land, who themselves never merited to see it.

We, the final generation of Rzeszow Jewry, who succeeded in escaping from the claws of the Nazi beast, are commanded to erect a monument which will relate that there once was a Jewish city which was created, which struggled to survive, and now is no more.

During the course of the 500 years, the community followed the paths of morality and of a culture based on generosity, which infused the communal life. There was not one Jew who did not belong to some sort of mutual benefit or charitable organization. There was not one youth who did not participate in one of the youth movements or Hachshara^[5] camps that were located in the suburbs of the city.

Outside of Rzeszow, there were dozens of villages, where thousands of families lived traditional Jewish lives, free from any taint of assimilation, who struggled to survive for many generations in a spirit of fear of Heaven and love of fellow man. All of them were destroyed, without leaving any survivors.

Translator's Footnotes

1. This verse from the Book of Jeremiah is included in the haftorah (prophetic reading) that is read in the synagogue on the morning of Tisha Beov, the summertime fast day marking the destruction of both Temples in Jerusalem, as well as many other calamities that befell the Jewish people throughout the ages. Back
2. This is from a verse in the Book of Ezekiel, which describes Jewish people, poetically symbolized by a young abandoned baby found wallowing in its birth blood. This baby, which symbolizes the bloodied state of the Jewish people in Egyptian slavery, is promised that it would “live by its blood”. Traditionally, this is taken to be a reference to the two 'blood' commandments of the Paschal offering and circumcision, and this verse forms part of the liturgy of both the Passover Haggadah and the circumcision ceremony. Here, the verse is taken to be a reference to the bloody history of the Jewish people, and the amazing historical fact that the Jewish people has survived the many persecutions throughout the centuries. Back
3. A Biblical reference from the book of Exodus, referring to the commandment to relate the story of the Exodus from Egypt to one's children on the night of Passover. Back
4. 'Cheder', literally 'room', is a traditional Jewish elementary school where Jewish youth were taught the Hebrew alphabet, the Bible, and Jewish law. Back
5. 'Hachshara', literally 'preparation', refers to preparation for 'Aliya', immigration to the Land of Israel. Zionist youth movements would often set up 'hachshara' camps, where they would prepare themselves for their pioneering life in the Land of Israel. Back

[Page 307]

Mala Krischer Munzberg

On Thursday, September 7, a week after the Germans entered Poland, the first chapter of the tragedy of the Jews of Rzeszów began. On that day, bitter and hasty, hundreds of people abandoned their homes, where their beds and cribs stood, and became a wave of refugees moving eastward. On this day, thousands of family members were torn apart - forever.

On Friday, September 8, the city was bombed. Many houses went up in flames. The next day, Saturday morning, the Germans entered the city, and from that day on we were at their mercy and oppression.

To our surprise, the Germans, at their first meeting with us, treated us in a friendly manner. They approached passers-by in the street politely and offered them cigarettes and sweets. This behavior encouraged the residents who began comforting each other, that the Germans are not that terrible.

Under the influence of this first impression, the “poison” of Jewish optimism began to seep into the souls of Rzeszów Jews, and it was later discovered to be one of the causes of our destruction. But our joy was premature. That day the Germans began to mistreat the Jews. They beat and kicked passersby and cut off the wigs and beards of the ultra-Orthodox Jews.

A few days later, the residents of the city were required to return to their workplaces and workshops. The shops and offices opened, and life seemed to return to its normal course.

A short time later, the authorities published instructions and orders, which imposed prohibitions and restrictions on the Jewish population. Their number grew. They began to kidnap the Jews passing through the street to work, took them out of their homes and abused them. Thus, for example, they kidnapped Jews who returned from the synagogues on Rosh Hashanah, forced them to enter the Wislok River in their shoes and clothes and carry heavy wooden beams, in order to build a bridge that was allegedly bombed. After they finished, they were ordered to return the wooden beams to the place from which they had taken them.

The Jews were ordered to clean the streets and pick up the horse dung with their hands. After hard work, they were forced to perform difficult body exercises and throw themselves in the mud. The Germans kidnapped girls and forced them to wash in hospitals underwear that were soaked with pus, or to wash sacks of flour in barrels on cold winter days under the dome of the sky.

Shortly after entering the city, the Germans elected a Jewish council (Judenrat). The council, which numbered thirty Jews, was headed by Dr. Kleinman. The “Judenrat” was assigned the role of liaison between the occupation authorities and the Jewish population. It was also assigned the responsibility of carrying out all the German government's orders and instructions. For the Germans, the Judenrat was a convenient instrument for carrying out their plans. In the eyes of the Jews, the Judenrat was the highest instance, which determined their destiny into life or to death.

In December 1939, the Jews were ordered to wear a ribbon on their arm (a blue Star of David on a white background). A Jew who appeared in the street without a ribbon on his arm was expected to be imprisoned and even to the death penalty. The ribbon decree that applied to the Jewish population for the entire duration of the war, rattled their nerves and turned their lives into a nightmare. By the exit door of the apartment, a sign warned the residents of the house: “Don't forget to wear the ribbon!” Following the ribbon decree came the ban on traveling by train.

Managers, mainly Germans, “Volksdeutsche” as well as Ukrainians were placed in the stores of Jews. The keys to the stores were given to them, and the money received from the sale of the goods was deposited in a bank (Sparkonto).

The decree on forced labor applied to every Jew between the ages of 15-45 and served as a basis for transferring Jews to various labor camps.

At that time, an area was allocated in the Jewish quarter, to which all Jews were ordered to move, without exception, together with all their movable property and workshops. Even the converted Jews, up to the third generation, were brought into the Jewish quarter. Jews from the towns around Rzeszów were also brought to it. The quarter was surrounded by a wall two meters high, which separated it from the city. Two German gendarmes guarded the two gates in the wall day and night. In the area of the Jewish quarter, which later became the ghetto, were included the streets: Kazmirze, Baldahovka, Grancharska, Mickiewicha, Galonzhowska and more.

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Ghetto entrance

On January 10, 1942, the ghetto was completely closed and contact with the outside world was cut off. All sources of livelihood were eliminated. Open and legal trading stopped and underground trading began. The smuggling developed, which was involved with a lot of risk. Hunger began to show its signs in the ghetto. A special soup kitchen was opened in the house of Woxpres and hundreds of Jews were fed on thin soups there. Significantly increased the number of beggars, who were walking from one house to another asking for a potato, beans, carrot… a slice of bread did not dare to ask, as it was considered a delicacy. Overcrowding in the ghetto increased day by day. Every square meter was used in the rooms, the stairwells, the attic and the corridors. The sanitation situation was very bad. People walked around dirty, with lice all over their body, infectious diseases spread, mainly typhus and dysentery. The hospital was filled to the brim with patients, and many of them were lying in the corridors and on the floor.

And unfortunately, the Germans then started brutal terror operations. They used to break into houses and apartments unexpectedly and massacre all the residents of the house that were there at that moment.

Once they broke into Lev's house and shot almost all the residents. They did the same in Kanarik's house: they took all the people down to the basement at night, to dig in it to discover a treasure, so to speak, and a few hours later they murdered everyone while abusing their bodies.

In those days, the Germans conducted an “Aktziya” to imprison communists. According to a list in their possession, people were taken across the threshold of the house and shot on the spot. Their bodies were loaded into carts that provided services to the municipal offices.

Under these conditions, the Jews were forced to go to arduous work every day, in the cold winter, when they were hungry for bread. The work lasted about 12-14 hours a day. The Germans mistreated the workers and hit them with whips. The Jewish girls especially suffered by the governor of the district (Kreishauptmann). He was a cruel sadist, who used to select a number of girls from the groups of girls who returned from their work to the ghetto, and he personally beat them brutally with a whip. One of the hardest places to work was the fire department house. The Polish firefighters with merciless cruelty abused the Jewish women. After hours of sweeping the streets, every day a group of women passed by and beat them with whips until they bled.

During this period of time, the “Kreishauptmann” imposed on the Jewish community a contribution of one million gold coins. The Judenrat collected the tax from all the residents of the ghetto, more or less according to their financial capacity. The contribution of million gold coins was handed over to the Germans on the date set by them. With the help of the Jewish police, the Germans searched the houses and took hostages. A short time later, the Germans again imposed a large financial fine on the Jews and without waiting for their demand to be fulfilled, they murdered the members of the Judenrat, who were used by them as hostages.

In those days, rumors reached us for the first time about the expulsion of Jews from other cities. There was also a rumor that tent camps were being set up in the vicinity of Lublin for the deported Jews, from where they will be transferred to labor camps.

At the beginning of June 1942, work stopped in all workplaces and the ghetto was completely closed. Immediately after the closure, the ghetto was divided into four parts. According to this division, four shipments of Jews left the ghetto: the first on Tuesday, June 8, 1942; the second on Friday, June 11; the third on Tuesday, June 15; the last on June 18.

As a place of concentration for the deported Jews, the Germans designated the old Jewish cemetery in Hološić. The gravestones were destroyed and removed from the cemetery.

From each shipment, the Germans took out the old and the crippled and murdered them on the spot. To enjoy themselves, the Germans forced their helpless victims to dance until they were exhausted, and then shot them with sadistic mockery and wild laughter. The Gestapo robbed the deportees of their money and anything of value. The deportation work was also facilitated by the Jewish police.

After the Germans carried out the first “Aktziya” of deportation and murder – which was called by the residents of the ghetto, the “big Aktziya” - the rest of the Jews were pushed into the area of the “small ghetto”. The Jews who survived the Aktziya and were allowed to move to the small ghetto were those who managed to obtain a stamp on their identification card.

The struggle to obtain the stamp became one of the disturbing problems in the ghetto. The Jews paid any price to those who promised to obtain for themselves the “savior's stamp”, and there were many crooks and cheaters, who took the rest of their money from the unfortunates, without keeping their promise. Women dyed their hair and dressed elegantly to appear young

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and healthy. Day and night the people lined up at the door of the community, expecting that at the last moment they would receive a certificate with the long-awaited stamp. It happened more than once that stamps were given to Jews who were no longer in the ghetto, because they were already sent out in a shipment (transport).

In the “small ghetto” there were remnants of families, children without parents, husbands without wives, and wives without husbands. Its boundaries included the streets Baldahovka and Grancharska. Many people were crowded into one room, which only had room for mattresses. There was neither a table nor a chair in the room. Rarely there was only one bed.

Individual Jews, without a stamp, managed to penetrate into the ghetto; these were the illegal residents of the ghetto and were always forced to hide.

Three months after the big “Aktziya” in October 1942, the Germans carried out another “Aktziya”, which surrounded women and children. It was a prompt “Aktziya”, which was carried out unexpectedly and with the promise that the women and children would be given light work. They were taken out of the ghetto, put in death wagons and led to extermination in Belzec. The husbands who returned in the evening from their work, did not find their wives and children. To this day, the men's horrifying cries, when they realized what happened, still echo in my ears.

A hospital with all its workers and the patients was also attached to each shipment. The deportees clung to a blind belief that they were indeed being led to another place of work. I remember that once, a German (“Volksdeutsche”), named Ilgener, approached a group of girls, I was also among them, and said that he was engaged in receiving shipments from the Jews in Belzec. He told them that Jews were put in the gas chambers, and some Jews were employed in cremating the corpses. The girls didn't want to believe what they heard and with a wave of their hand, they hinted that such stories of horrors are not reasonable, and they called him a liar.

There were Jews who tried to leave the ghetto with the help of train travel permits, which they obtained illegally. The list of these people, who tried to obtain such licenses, fell into the hands of the Germans. The Germans captured them and took them to the Glogow woods. There they were forced to undress, were shot, and their corpses were thrown into the pits prepared in advance and thus all the prisoners and hospital workers were also murdered.

At the end of 1942, the ghetto was declared as a labor camp. Anyone who did not work was subject to a death penalty. The sick had to go to the hospitals; fearing that they would be deported, all the Jews went to work, even when they were sick and had a high fever, when their hands and feet were infected with skin diseases, which were common among the ghetto residents, due to a lack of food rich in vitamins.

One of the last sources of livelihood was the trade in used clothes. Since it was forbidden to take any object out of the ghetto, those leaving the ghetto wore all the “goods” on their bodies. Beyond the gate of the ghetto, the Polish merchants were waiting for them and bought the clothes from the Jews at a cheap price. They benefited from the troubles of the Jews without hesitation and without any compunction about it. With the money obtained from the sale of the last clothing, the Jews bought food necessities that they smuggled into the ghetto.

In these horrible living conditions in the ghetto, Family ties have weakened, the vileness and dark instincts rose from the depths of the people's soul and directed the actions and behavior of some persons. Whistleblowers abounded, but all attempts of the people to save themselves by doing so were in vain. Because of whistleblowers, the best of the youth from “Hashomer Hatzair”, who managed to come into contact with the branches in Krakow

Slaughter of Jews in the Glogow woods

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and in Bochnia and planed the organization of a group of partisans in the woods, were all caught by the Germans and shot to death. Only a few managed to escape from the ghetto with the help of Aryan papers. However, these were also mostly caught when they were passing through the ghetto gate, or entering the trains. Others fell into the hands of extortionists and Polish collaborators, and only a few managed to escape from the hands of the murderers with the help of Aryan papers.

On September 15, 1942, the German police unexpectedly surrounded the ghetto, and all the Jews who were still left in it were gathered in the square near Baldahovka. According to the list that the guards had, all those who worked in workplaces, which were approved by the Germans as “important”, were separated from all the detainees. The rest were put in the death wagons in Stronia and taken to Belzec.

What is told from here on about the last stage in the liquidation of the ghetto is based on the words of eyewitnesses.

After this “Aktziya”, the ghetto was divided by a partition of barbed wire into an eastern and a western part. All the Jews who did not work were moved to the western part, as well as Jews who were brought from Krasno and its surroundings. In the western part, the people degenerated with zero action and zero hope. Hunger and infectious diseases killed most of the inhabitants of this area.

These remnants were steeped in indifference and despair. For days they stood along a barbed wire fence and waited for the meager portion of rice, which was handed to them from the eastern side of the ghetto.

The residents of the ghetto in the eastern part worked outside the ghetto, at the train station (Ostbahn) and in workplaces in the ghetto itself (Gemeinschaft), where they were employed in work for the Germans.

Some time later, the “Ostbahn” factory made a separation between the Jewish workers. Some of them, whom the Germans decided to employ, received the letter W, while the rest were transferred to the western part and were added there to the Jews who were designated for deportation and death. Those who remained alive tried with all their might to obtain the letter W, which perhaps contained a glimmer of hope for escape from death and gain life.

The commander of the ghetto or camp was a German named Bacher, a cruel sadist. He used terrorist methods; he would kill Jews by shooting them while they were working. Once he sent all the Jews from the eastern part to bathe. When they returned in the evening to the ghetto, they found the rooms completely empty, and so he robbed them of their last belongings. He also separated the women from their husbands and moved them to houses meant for women separately and for men separately (Frauenlager - Menerlager).

The German Shopke, who came after Bacher, did not act with such cruelty, and therefore there was relative peace in the ghetto until September 1943.

On September 3, 1943, the ghetto was completely liquidated by SS men who came from Krakow for this purpose. The last Jews from the western part were sent away and their traces were not known. From the group in the eastern part, one hundred Jews were selected and tasked with cleaning the camp, the rest were sent to Tschavnia, in the vicinity of Jaslo, where they were shot in the woods. A small group of Jews was sent to Auschwitz, of which only a small number of people survived.

In the last phase of the liquidation of the ghetto, a group of Jews managed to hide in underground bunkers, but they were also discovered due to informers and were included in the shipment.

Thus ends the last chapter in the tragedy of the Jews of Rzeszów and this was the end of this holy community.

A mass grave in the woods of Glogow (Length 60m)

[Page 311 - Yiddish] [Page 512 - Hebrew]

Majdanek, G-d, is not a song; It is a pyre – a slaughter of the Jews That they loathed when alive: Piles of corpses that were not burned sufficiently – Silent letters about our martyrs. Woe! For with “Shema Yisrael” On his lips, our grandfather ascended the pyre; Sadder than the Scroll of Eicha (Lamentations) Is the tune of sanctification of the Divine Name Of our song. Woe to use on account of that holy Jew! Majdanek, G-d, is the grey ashes Holy, of modest old women Who uttered quietly “G-d of Abraham”; Of our simple water drawers Modest in their deportment Of our young school children And of our children of “Shir Hamaalot”[1], our young ones; Majdanek, is the legacy for generations; The tablets of the generation of the wilderness of Moses our Teacher[2]. All this they literally desecrated All this they literally destroyed. And tossed them from their hands as wooden beams Into their ovens, into their furnaces; Indeed, G-d, Treblinka, Lublin, and Majdanek – Are not in the “City of Murder” of Bialik! Woe to us and to this song of ours And alas to us regarding that holy Jew! G-d, there are not as many deaths so terrible In the “Unetane Tokef” prayer[3] – As those that took our modest elderly grandfather Walking enwrapped in his tallis and tefillin To the furnaces of Majdanek and Lublin; To the graves of Treblinka and Auschwitz Through thousands of deaths, through thousands of cities With our children and youth, in sanctification of the Divine Name. There they hung you and I On wooden posts with our feet upwards, Swinging back and forth On this simple rope, In the middle of such and such a city; Woe to us about that holy Jew! Majdanek – They stripped the Jew naked Of his beard and peyos Of his silk and fine linen; And burnt him alive Under the heavens of the L-rd. Majdanek – They removed the head kerchief Of my dear, elderly grandmother Snatching from her bony hands The candles of the blessing And slaughtered her and burned her. Majdanek – You stripped from our modest, upright mothers Their family pedigree, And ignited and burned them. Majdanek – You stripped bare our daughters Our dear brides from their wedding canopies You took them out, tortured them, and burned them. Majdanek – You removed the shoe of the Jewish child So dear And placed him alive on the pyre Like sheep and cattle. Majdanek – Cursed is this frightening song That describes the fate of the G-dly Jew! Cursed are my hands That were not burned Along with the living holy Jew!

Hebrew: Tzvi Stock

Translator's Footnotes

1. Shir Hamaalot refers to a set of 15 psalms from the Book of Psalms that begin with the words “Shir Hamaalot” (A song of ascents). The reference here is unclear. Back
2. Seemingly a reference to the Jewish tradition that every Jewish tragedy contains some degree of punishment for the sin of the golden calf. Back
3. A portion of the Musaf service on the High Holidays, which lists the various possible ways that people can die: “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed, who shall live and who shall die.. who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by beast, who by hunger and who by thirst, who by earthquake and who by plague…” Back

[Page 312]

Lotka Goldberg

The Jewish cities and towns disappeared: the energy of the bustling life of the Jewish Street and the crowded clubs of the Jewish youth organizations was lost.

On September 8, the first German patrol units entered Rzeszów. A few days later, the first orders against the Jews appeared as well as the kidnappings of people for work. It was a sad picture: old men and women, fathers of respectable families stand with brooms in their hands, cleaning the streets, the sewers, singing and dancing to the joy of the German thugs.

They trampled on our human dignity. But this was just the beginning.

New orders restricted freedom of movement in the streets; certain neighborhoods were closed to Jews; in others Jews were only allowed to walk on the road. The Jews had to remove their hats in front of every German soldier who passed by.

Furniture and apartments were confiscated. The overcrowding in the apartments was terrible, several families in one room. No one wanted to voluntarily give up their belongings, which were usually saved and kept for generations. This attachment to the “inventory” accumulated over generations – more than once cost people in their lives.

Order after order, they robbed us of our gold, silver, radios and everything we own.

The decree to wear a ribbon on the right arm completed the restriction of our personal freedom. The ribbon should have been used as a symbol of disgrace. From that moment, any bully was allowed to beat up Jews, push them off the sidewalk, treat them with no respect. Gradually, but with German precision, they deprived us of our dignity, the “humanity” within us and the right to live. I am assured that if the process of trampling on our “self” had not been gradual, slow and steady - our response as healthy people would have been different. We would have protest, even if would have been out of desperation. The rhythm of bit by bit broke us slowly but surely - it suffocated the power of resistance in us.

We lived under the illusion that if we fulfill this or that order, they will allow us to live. And the desire to live was great. Unfortunately, our calculations were wrong - and the Germans' calculations were meticulous in every detail.

They established a Jewish quarter, built bridges and stairs in order to transfer certain houses to the “Aryans”, they urged us to go to work - the “fire department” yard became a place of nightmare. They once leveled the hill next to my house in the center of the city. Dr. Ihuz looked from the window of the courthouse at the workers and chose his victims for sadistic beatings - these were mainly young and beautiful girls. The work was very difficult, we worked with a spade and a hoe in the bitter cold all day long. The work was especially difficult for the older women. Release, even if only for one day, was allowed only according to the doctor's order. One day, despite a release given by Dr. Zinman, the entire group of women was called to the German headquarters, and each of them was whipped twenty lashes. Mrs. Frenkel-Penikel, my mother's friend, came back all blue from the beatings she received. Throughout the night we changed her bandages, and the next day, despite the inhuman pain, she had to go to work.

For the most minor offense according to the German concepts, they punished us with beatings, imprisonment and death by shooting. This is how young Chaimel Mintzberg paid with his life for buying potatoes.

At the beginning of 1942, they surrounded the Jewish quarter with a high fence and closed it off. Entry and exit were only permitted according to a transit permit, and that was only for the purpose of going to work and returning from it and for very important matters.

The Germans regularly imposed fines, took hostages and despite following orders - would shoot Jews to death. The decree to hand over the furs brought with it sacrifices.

Jews from the nearby cities and towns were transferred to Rzeszów. Refugees came to us from Lodz, Kalisz, Krakow. The Germans wanted that there will be a greater concentration of Jews, so that they could be caught easily.

With the outbreak of the Russo-German war, the process of extermination of the Jews was accelerated. In June 1942, the first shipments, or as they were called: “transfers”, were sent. These shipments were made every 2-3 weeks to the east. The Polish railway workers said that the trains arrived at a certain place and then the wheel of the train passed to German locomotive drivers. The destination was unknown for a period of time. Today we know that it was Belzec. No one returned from there. It was a place of mass destruction.

The right to remain in Rzeszów was provided by the “stamp”, given by the Gestapo. There was no price for this stamp. Estheke Mintz, even though she had the desired “stamp”, when she heard about the “transfers”,

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Pass to forced labor

While working on the railroad tracks doing earthworks, I saw many shipments - one of which deeply shocked me. It was a shipment of children that was passing by my workplace. The train was delayed for a moment. We heard the shouts of children - the Polish overseers allowed us to get closer to the closed freight cars. The children put their hands out through the cracks and asked for food. We did not see the children themselves. We collected our breakfast; I ran over to the freight and handed an apple. At that moment the train moved. The child, or rather the child's hands, held the apple, but he could not get it through the crack. For a long time, the image of the suffering of the hungry child, who has the apple in his hand and cannot eat it, was chasing me.

My brother with his wife and child were among the “happy ones”, who obtained the “stamp”, while my mother and I prepared for the “transfer”. We filled two backpacks with the permitted quantity of belongings and the next day we had to be at the “Zemlplatz” (concentration yard), which was located in the old Jewish cemetery. The night before the transfer, I woke up with a decision, which probably came during my sleep, below the threshold of consciousness. I woke up my mother and told her: “No, we will not go to any “transfer”, we will hide in the small quarter, Pinek will help us. Without a “stamp” we have no legal right to live”.

The next day, we secretly sneaked into the small quarter after the “transfers” and started living as people “who no longer exist”. A few days later we came to know that there are many like us. The hunter to get the “stamp” continued – the “transfers” also continued. Various Polish firms and private German firms also tried to get workers - and our work was very cheap. One day I stood among people who were expecting a miracle – to get the “stamp” - of life. To my amazement, they called my name - and it was by chance. If I had not been present there – and my presence there was a mere coincidence - I would have lost the right to live legal life.

The “hunt” after those hiding started. When they were found, they were attached to shipments or shot dead on the spot. Living in a hiding place in the attic for a long period of time, when constant searches were conducted, was unbearable. And here came an opportunity: the Germans asked all those who have stamps on their temporary papers to report to the “labor office” in order to re-stamp the appropriate certificate. My nerves were still quite strong then and I announced that I had lost my certificate. There was a lot of risk involved in this act. Accompanied by the wild shouts of the Gestapo man, who worked in the bureau, I left with a new certificate in my hand. So now I had two papers with stamps, and now only a small “operation” was needed: changing the date of birth. Names could not be deleted or changed, so there were two Charlottes (that's my name on the birth certificate), and thus my mother obtained a temporary right to live.

Afterwards, a new order appeared, or to be more correct, a list of names of mostly women and children (who were not working), who had to show up at the headquarters. The Germans' deceitful actions were not yet sufficiently known to us, so everyone showed up on time. Everyone who arrived was transferred to Belzec. In the evening when we returned from work, and the men did not find their wives and children, a bitter cry, which still echoes in my ears to this day, was heard.

We started thinking about rescue: a hiding place outside Rzeszów. However, it was forbidden to leave the town without train passes permits.

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Messengers from Bochnia, which in the course of time became a center for forging papers and a transit point for escaping to Hungary, appeared in town. Two women from Rzeszów, who lived in Bochnia during the war, Halberstam and Hausman, I don't recall their first names, handled the transfer and sale of fake certificates. During one of her many trips, Mrs. Hausman was stopped at the entrance gate by a Gestapo man. Mass arrests began following the names list they found with Mrs. Hausman and based on the forged certificates she brought. The Germans chose a special day, I think it was a Jewish holiday or perhaps a date of a defeat on the Russian front. Among the prisoners was the hospital staff: Dr. Beyar, Estheke Rivhon who served as a nurse in the hospital, Frankel, the pharmacist, who lived in Rzeszów in the past, his daughter and son-in-law Dr. Shales (I think from Lviv) and many others. They were led to the Glogow woods, where they were brutally massacred. Poles from the labor battalions, who dug the pits, brought us the news about their last moments. Estheke Rivhon, having already stripped off her clothes, slapped the murderers with the whole truth in their faces. She died a heroic death. We, her friends, tried to hand over her little son, Manyush, who had an Aryan look, to the Aryan side - but unfortunately, we did not succeed…

All this was added as a heavy nightmare to our already difficult and bitter life - it humiliated our self-respect, but not the will to live.

Glogow woods – in front of a mass grave

Our family also experienced a first tragic event. The daughter of my brother Pinek, the eight-year-old Zhionia, was taken in the same shipment. Literally by a miracle, I survived that “transfer” - I was not included in the list of those who remained. Whereas mother, whom we hid, was included in the list, and at the very last moment, when mother's name was called for the third time, I stood in her place (as mentioned, we now had the same first names, and of course also same last name and only the date of birth did not match). The Germans lingered over the documents for a short moment, somehow ignored it and moved on.

The camp's sadistic commander, Bacher, searched non-stop, beat and shot Jews. We mostly suffered when leaving work and coming to work. When we came back one day from work, we found our rooms completely empty. We suffered greatly from lack of warm clothes, which were stolen from us.

We were somewhat relieved when he was replaced by Commander Shopke, who after the liquidation of the camp in Zaslav near Sanok (I learned about this only after the war) became more humane. The fear abated a little. The beatings stopped, and living conditions became more regular.

Two camps employed workers, and one of them was a workplace inside the camp. There were workshops for tailors, cobblers and various warehouses, which were managed by Mr. Eintracht from Rzeszów. The second place was called “Ostbahn”. It was a series of Polish and German firms that carried out all kinds of digging and channeling works near the train. At the head of the “Ostbahn” was the inspector Brimmer (German), who would willingly accept nice gifts and provided better working conditions in one place or another. Of course we benefited from that, because we would move to places where the conditions were better. And Brimmer would get his pay for that. It didn't go unnoticed by the Gestapo. Although nothing was done to Brimmer, twenty-two Jews paid for it with their lives.

I will never forget the day of March 22, 1943, when we returned in lines from the work in “Ostbahn” - the group was led by Dr. Shmeleks from Krakow. We were stopped. In the first moment we were sure that they were looking for smuggled goods, which we would receive in exchange for goods and clothes that we took out of the camp. We were placed in lines next to the “management” building (which was in the house of Zucker, the jewelry merchant) on Grancharska Street and here they began to read the names of certain people according to a list. The first was Dr. Shmeleks, to whom they handed the list, so he would continue the reading of the names. One after the other, twenty sturdy men and two young women lined up, the two Tannenbaum sisters from Germany (cousins of

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Sonia Tannenbaum). Among others, my beloved brother Pinek was also there. After he had finished reading the names, Dr. Shmeleks gave his private bag to his cousin Bella Horowitz and lined up himself. We returned to the residences shocked and very worried about the fate of this group. The strong shots we heard already revealed everything to us… we were so close and so far, and there was nothing we could do to help them. All the twenty-two people were murdered. The next day we went to work following their blood, which was splashed on the sidewalks. It's hard to understand today how we, the closest ones - mother, wife, sister - could go to work and continue to live. Something happened to us - we were so broken that it was difficult for us to express our feelings. The pain was too sudden, too intense - we were shocked. No normal reaction was possible. The senses were numbed - because how could one understand it otherwise?

And life went on - the German devil machine took care of that. Shortly after, all the jobs in “Ostbahn” were eliminated, and we returned to work in the camp.

At that time, the disabled individuals returned from the Biashiadka camp, where they worked in grueling conditions in cutting trees in the woods. It was a sad sight, seeing them passing dirty with worn out clothes between the barbed wire fences of the “East” and the “West”. In particular I remember our neighbor Aberdam, the young man who worked at the bank. We tried to help them, they were mainly disabled, whose old age had overtaken them before their time, and there is no wonder, since they worked in superhuman conditions and in severe frost.

Here we came to know what a labor camp really is - until then, in Rzeszów, we managed somehow, the barter continued, and that gave us the power to maintain ourselves. We haven't been so hungry yet.

On September 3, 1943, I woke up from my sleep to the sound of heavy steps of nailed boots - we were surrounded. Deportation and final elimination of the camp in Rzeszów. Today it is difficult to grasp what was the meaning of this single word at that time, and what was hidden in it – wandering – lack of safety… - will we survive to see the morning light again tomorrow?

A sharp whistle, the roar of the thugs and in an instant, we were taken away from everything we had, and it was so little: a bed for two-three people, a room where three-four families lived. But we were already used to it and hoped that under these circumstances we would reach a better future. We believed this constantly; we believed in the defeat of the Germans. In Rzeszów, remained only a small group of eighty-hundred people, which were called the “Ruimongs Grupe” (Evacuation Group), whose job was to eliminate all the rest. All of the people from the “West” side, along with a part of the people from the “East” side, were taken for shipment, of which no one was left alive. We learned about this only after the war. This shipment, although it included many young and healthy people, was sent straight, unsorted, to the furnace of death.

They created a group of about four hundred people, mostly young women - and only by a miracle was my mother was able to join it - was placed between the barbed wire. All night we sat on the road surrounded by a guard of Germans - trembling and worried about the next day. There was a rumor that we were being transferred to the Tschavnia camp near Jasło - because they would operate large tailoring workshops there and we would work there for the sake of the Reich. But we stopped believing the Germans. Early in the morning, after a careful review and after they shot the girl Wiesenfeld from Krakow, we left in lines the Rzeszów camp. We passed in the streets of the town, which were well known to us, the town of our childhood and youth. Will we really travel to Tschavnia? In the train station in Staroniba, we were pushed to freight cars. The crowd was indescribable – I was sitting on the floor, next to my mother and sister-in-law – there was suffocation, it was hard to breathe. Well, these were the cars, which I have so many times looked at from afar – this time I was inside one of them. A shiver went through my bones when the train moved - in which direction will it move? To Jasło or Auschwitz? The name Auschwitz was already well known to us

Deported from the Rzeszów ghetto

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- we had no illusions. But this time the German didn't lie; we were traveling in the direction of Jasło. We breathed a sigh of relief. But what was awaiting us there? We were new and had not yet been assigned to the framework of the camps – the camps of agony or death without agony. We loudly try to reassure ourselves and others, that, after all, Tschavnia is a labor camp, and that there will be tailoring workshops there, and it won't be so bad - the main thing was not to lose hope. After all, the war will not last forever, and the main thing was to hold on.

Suddenly the train stopped – there was a quick opening of the doors and terrible roars of the Germans of “get out!” while pushing us with the gun booths. The train stopped on a high sand hill, and all around it were Germans on horses, taking pictures: after all, we were a rare phenomenon, “animals” in human form. There were yelling and screaming of the Germans - we stood in a line, and we ran a few kilometers to the Tschavnia camp. I helped mom as best I could, she didn't have the strength to run. I threw the objects that they allowed us to take with us after their check as they made it difficult to run. We finally reached the destination: the camp, a large court, in the middle of which a black flag with a white SS symbol in the shape of a lightning fluttered on a high pole. I stood shocked - this flag was the symbol of death. All the hopes that those around me (and even myself) tried so hard to instill in me were dashed. Why weren't we taught to love death, and not life, why were we so afraid? Why did I tremble so much at the sight of this flag, why did it move me so strongly?

Tables were placed along the court, and next to them Jewish women prisoners wrote down the shipment that arrived. We have found there Jewish women from Rzeszów, who arrived in the camp in June. They couldn't tell us anything - they were not even allowed to talk to us - a sister can't help her sister. After arranging the formal matters, we entered the camp area itself, straight to the bath house. I was afraid, I didn't know if there was also an exit from this bathhouse. This time there was an exit - we went out to the “residential” block. It was a long wooden structure, without windows, reminiscent of a stable. On both sides were benches in three stories with a straw bed. Hunger was increasing, there was still no routine procedure of a camp. Boilers of soup were poured mainly into the ground, which served as the floor in our “residence” place, as a result of a fight over some soup. I hesitated about eating grass roots. In the course of time, we get organized - Paula Zweigenbaum dealt with the distribution of the poor groceries. The second problem was the lack of water – it was possible to bathe only in the morning. At dawn we ran to the well, and there we waited in line for a drop of water, to wash our eyes and rinse our mouths. We didn't always succeed in this. Often, when it was our turn, a whistle was heard for the morning parade, and we quickly ran to the court. From all corners came out figures wrapped in coats, and mostly blankets, and not infrequently - two women wrapped in one blanket. And so, for hours, frozen, in the rain or snow, we waited for the “rulers of the world”. They counted us, threaten and urged us to work, which was only an illusion. We carried cabinets, planks, beds from one place to another, to return them later to their first place. The work in the camp, apart from the lack of purpose in it, involved a danger in it: we could encounter one of the commanders. Jezimek (who was sentenced to death by the Warsaw District Court on February 18, 1950) with his “mandolin” (an automatic submachine gun that was hanging on his body like a mandolin) shot at a target, and the target was us. For the smallest “offense” he punished the victim by hanging the victim with his hands up on a pillar, without his feet touching the ground. And the pain of sprained joints was unbearable. Those who were hang on the “column” begged to die, but Jezimek killed them only when he had the will to do so.

Jezimek also knew how to amuse himself. He founded an orchestra, dressed them with uniforms and led them to night parties in the palace.

Malvina Kleiner from Krakow amused them with her singing. Poor Melvina was scared. Gypsy girls served the food to the tables.

The palace had fun - and we were shut up and cut off from the world, we were destroyed physically and mentally. For the escape of a Jewish driver, every tenth Jew paid with his life. This was also the fate of Mrs. Schildkraut, who was the wife of a layer from Rzeszów. She went to the gallows with a sense of honor and with her head held high. The bullet put an end to her life - and the mud along with the blood splashed forever on the murderers' faces. Her little daughter begged to die, and she didn't stay alive for a long time after her mother - she was murdered on the 22nd of September, 1943, along with several hundred old men and children.

And so, Rzeszów was gradually destroyed, its residents were killed one by one - I see them in my mind today, how they walked in line on their last path. I see them all: Minka Burar and her mother, Crissia Butt and little Pletzer, who was standing on a stone to appear big. Yes, I see my dear mother, who objected to me sharing her fate, and so that there would be at least a remnant for the family. The Ternowitz woods near Jasło can tell a lot about their last moments, their thoughts and their embarrassment. Sadness and depression subsided after that “Aktziya”, almost everyone lost someone dear to them. We walked like fossils and waited for our turn. But life was stronger - we woke up to the morning parades and the work became more and more difficult.

When we were standing on November 3rd in the morning parade, as usual, we were suddenly surrounded by Ukrainian soldiers armed with a heavy machine gun. We made on them the impression of serious criminals. We were several thousand poor and oppressed Jews. A new list, a new “transfer”, where and for what purpose? I wasn't on the list - after all, it's my fate from time immemorial - I wasn't needed, but I wanted to live. Those whose names were called moved to the other side of the court. I took advantage of the moment that the Germans were distracted and moved with a sure step to the side of the rest. Three thousand Jews, mostly young and healthy, were put into cars at the train station in Modrovka. There was a large group of Jews from our town, Rzeszów – the best of our young boys and girls. The next day we found piles of clothes, boots and jugs on the court of the morning parades. The only objects in the life of a camp prisoner. We recognized the belongings of our close friends, who had been sent away the night before. We were sure that they were all destroyed. A long time later we learned that they were taken out while they were wearing only their underwear, so they will not be able to escape. Their destination station was Auschwitz – only a small group of them remained. Most of them died by the typhus disease, which competed successfully with the furnace. One of the victims of the typhus was also the wife of my only brother, Mania, who was the sister of Mina, Shela and Pepa

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Rosenbaum, which were destroyed in previous shipments. After she lost her daughter Zhionia and then her husband, Mania did not want to live. According to later rumors, she tried to throw herself on the electrified wire fence in Auschwitz. Apparently, her life was then saved, and she later died of typhus.

A group of 500 Jews remained in Tschavnia. Our fate was determined - we really felt it physically. We were no longer rushed to work, everyone did what they wanted - no one was interested in us. There was dirt in the hut. We understood that this was nearing the end and that we would soon be in line. And indeed, a week later, when we woke up in the morning, we felt that something was happening, that the final liquidation of the camp was approaching. A morning parade was announced at an unusual time.

To live, to live - and again the same strong will to live appeared in me, as it happened many more times even after that. I looked for Manika Highbloom, who once offered me a joint escape - I don't see her, apparently, she was already hidden. I decide to look for her together with Rika Pinter. We enter our hut and at that moment she left me and said that she will be right back, she wanted to find a better hiding place. I hid in a curved hole dug under a three-story shelves' beds – I literally entered into it crawling. It was difficult to move an arm or a leg. I was lying there, stressed by the shelf and by my thoughts - I was only with myself. Until now I was in a group and we had a common destiny, now I was alone. And here a group of Ukrainians entered the hut. They read out loud. The search was thorough, but also my hiding place was safe. It was hard to imagine that someone crawled inside, under the shelf. I don't know what happened with Rika. I haven't seen her since. In the evening, I fell asleep. At a certain moment I woke up, I wanted to go out, but it was dark all around. I could not find the opening and I screamed out of fear, and at that moment, the full awareness of the situation came back to me. I barely crawled out, I approached the front door, and through the crack I see how the patients are being led out of the hospital accompanied by the entire medical team. The parade didn't come to an end, as some patients and doctors were missing. Among the patients was Banek Schwarzbard. I returned to my place under the shelf and only late at night, unable to move from lack of mobility and an uncomfortable lying, freezing of cold and hungry, I climbed to the top shelf. There I found remnants of old bread from a week ago, left after the girls were taken with the shipment. After midnight, Polish prisoners entered the block. There was a double purpose for their visit at such a late hour - they come to “organize” - to steal - in the language of the camps - the remaining objects. I was afraid that they might come across me by accident. I did not know whether to pretend that I have been placed here for surveillance, or to wait and lie quietly. I chose the second option. Early in the morning, the Poles left the block, and I decided to go out under the cover of darkness and check if there was left a group of Jews in the camp. Usually, the Germans would have left a small number of Jews to eliminate the camp. I wrapped my head in a handkerchief that I have found, I took a jar in my hand as I wanted to look like the Polish girls going to take water for a bathe. I went to the Jewish kitchen (there was also a Polish kitchen there) and moved the door. Horror fell upon me when I saw the Germans there. I quickly ran and returned to my hiding place. I could pay with my life for this exit. And again, I lay in my hiding place all day, and again Ukrainians were looking for people who were hiding. My tension was increasing more and more. If there were no Jews left in the camp, who will help me? After all, I could not lie under the shelf forever. How could I to get out? Should I reveal myself and turn to the Poles for help?

And so, I lay in the hiding place for three days and three nights, anxious and lonely and without hope. Only on the fourth day in the evening, when I approached the door of the hut, I heard Yiddish being spoken, and then I saw two men. My heart began to beat strongly - they must be Jews. I approached them, I wanted to talk, but I couldn't. My voice was swallowed in my throat. Finally, a few words came out of my mouth: from which block are they in and if anyone from Rzeszów was left. They themselves were very frightened, since according to the instructions prevailing in the camp, they were not allowed to talk to me and it was their duty to hand me over to headquarters immediately. Finally, I learned from them that those with a profession were left in the camp (there were sewing and carpentry workshops in Tschavnia): Ms. Kaleb, Banek Zucker and the Kolfen brothers. The Kolfen brothers arranged a hiding place for me in their block - I felt better there, I was not alone. They tried somehow that my hiding place would not be discovered as there were many informers in the hut.

I told them about my plan - I asked for a ladder and wanted to escape. One of the Kolfen brothers said that he will try to arrange permission for me to stay, but I no longer believed in the promises of the Germans. If I was destined to die from a bullet - I said - it would be better if the bullet hit me while I was running away.

On Saturday, November 13, 1943, at 6 o'clock in the morning, I left the hut, while it was still dark, and in the place I asked for, I found a tall ladder. I had a backpack with a towel in it - to wrap my tattered boots. I put a handkerchief on the head. I climbed to the last step of the ladder. First, I threw the backpack, and then I jumped from a height of several meters. I didn't take into account the barbed wire fence, luckily only the backpack fell into the barbed wire, while I fell next to it. I couldn't take the backpack out of the barbed wired fence, and I was afraid to stay in place even for a single moment, especially when I was within the sight of two observation towers, which only by a miracle were not guarded at that hour. I quickly crossed the path and turned to the side of the fields. My leg started to bother me; a bone was probably injured during the jump. The high boots made the movement somewhat easier. Morning twilight began. I rested for the first time in the nearby grove: I destroyed all the papers I had and continued on an unknown path. It turned out that the handkerchief I found on the abandoned shelves and in which I wrapped myself was a tallit that was dyed blue. I was on a hill, and there were railroad tracks in the valley. I got down and ran into a train employee and I asked him the direction to the train station - he examined me from top to bottom and pointed to a distant station building - Tarnowitz. The tickets' office was still closed, several people were standing in line to buy tickets, and I was among them. I listened attentively to their conversations, and it turned out that the next train was going to Krosno, that is, in the exact opposite direction. I wanted to return to Rzeszów, to find a hiding place there. I didn't want to stay at the station for a single unnecessary moment, lest I be followed, or the backpack left between the barbed wire might reveal that someone has escaped. I bought

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a ticket to Krosno. No one notices me on the train. At Krosno station, I immediately went to the ticket office to buy a ticket for Rzeszów, the train leaves only two hours later. I entered the waiting room, which was full of Germans and Gestapo men. Finally, after a long wait, the train to Rzeszów arrived. There were several children in the wagon, they were singing and collecting alms and moving from wagon to wagon. They left the wagon and after a long time they returned and said that they lost their ID card. They asked me if I didn't find it by chance. I was once again afraid that they will suspect that I took the ID card and call the police. Finally, I was left alone. We arrived at Jasło station. I remember from journeys I made in the old days in these surroundings, that there is a need to change trains in Jasło station. I got off the train, entered the waiting hall and sat next to a Polish woman. The main thing was not to be alone and not to attract attention. Jasło was known for a large number of German gendarmerie and Ukrainians (chuberiks). I started a conversation with the woman next to me and I learned that the train to Rzeszów was standing at the station and there was no need to get off it at all. Limping, I ran back to the train and I want to show my ticket at the train entrance. But, ah, it was lost. And now I need to run to the ticket office once again, to buy another ticket, which was involved in a real risk. Being within the walls of the camps, I distanced myself from the new reality, and even forgot the value of money. Any small mistake could be dangerous. After all, my Jewish face might betray me, and even the good Polish I spoke was different from that of the Poles. At the last moment I held on to the train while it started traveling. There was overcrowding in the wagons. Most of the passengers were women, who smuggled milk supplies to the town. Before the station in Staroniwa, my nervousness grew up more and more. I heard people saying that there will be a check and that the station was surrounded. I didn't have any smuggled commodities, but I myself was a prohibited commodity – I was a Jewish girl and in addition, I ran away from the camp (double death penalty).

We arrived at the station. In the midst of the crowd, the Poles jumped over the fences, to avoid the check. I couldn't jump, my leg was as heavy as lead. Luckily it was a fluke, there was no check.

The building of Eliezer Lev in the ghetto, containing the last remnants of Rzeszów Jews

Unfortunately, I didn't find anyone at Boj's house, only a cart with sand was driving down the street. I asked the driver to take me with him because my foot was bothering me more and more. The owner of the cart says that it only travels until the next round. I agreed, the main thing was to move forward. I approached the Parna Church, the carriage station, and asked if there was a free carriage, but when the coachman looked at me more closely, he probably knew who I was and refused. After a few steps I suddenly heard that someone turned to me with the question: “Lutka, what are you doing here?” I was shocked, it was the son of the former supervisor of my printing house, when it was still on Mateiko Street. When we were children, we played together, and after that we did not see each other for years. I was embarrassed. I did not know his intentions. But he behaved well, he accompanied me to the former Jewish camp, because after all, where else could I wander during the day, when already with my first steps in Rzeszów I was recognized? In front of the camp, where there was only a liquidation group of about eighty people, I met Jewish militiamen, who entered me into a Jewish bakery, which at the time was outside the camp fence. I received a hot meal there after a long time and within a few minutes I was surrounded by familiar people. All of them wanted to know what happened in Tschavnia, and how I managed to escape. I asked to be taken to the camp after dark, but in complete secrecy. I wanted to rest, check the condition of the leg and look for a shelter on the Aryan side. And here came an unexpected change in my plan, which was not on my initiative: suddenly appeared a messenger of Garlick, the Jewish commander, who informed Shopke, out of good intentions, about my departure from Tschavnia. There was therefore no need to wait for darkness to fall. I returned to the camp accompanied by an “entourage”. Shopke was waiting for me near the gate. Eyewitnesses said that there were tears in his eyes - I did not notice this. I was too busy with everything that happened to me. Shopke took me to the ambulatory where Dr. Heller and Dr. Tunis determined that my leg was sprained. Shopke asked me in detail about what happened to me in Tschavnia and the people who stayed there, and mainly about the fate of the people of Rzeszów. Human emotions flow in strange channels. At that moment, Shopke was like a father, the same man who destroyed the Jewish camp in Zaslav near Sanok. When I entered the gate of the camp, Ms. Tonka Grayover stood and shouted from afar: “cheers, the female race has not embarrassed itself”. I have not seen her again since then. A few minutes later she ran away, and I inherited her place and her bed in the room. That day several other people ran away. In the evening, I heard gunshots - … I understood that I was out of the frying pan and got into the fire. There were depression and uncertainty in the camp, and the constant escapes increased the embarrassment. The Germans discovered the “bunker”, where

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the Pudim family was hiding, they discovered more “bunkers”, and the hiders were shot dead. I lay for days without being able to move my leg, and the tension increased. I felt that I had to run, but I had nowhere to run, and even walking was difficult for me. The whole camp was concentrated then in Wyzhinka Street, in Lev's house (the milkman). I barely got out of bed and limped out. I wanted to find out how and where I could escape, but it wasn't easy without connections and without any money. A few days later I received a letter from Shyudek (Merl). While I was still in Tschavnia, I learned from Yanek Estreicher that they had built a large “bunker” and that it was only by chance that he did not enter there, because he was beaten to death because he did not want to hand over the location of the bunker to the Germans. And it is true that I was invited to that bunker by Shyudek. - It was literally a miracle from heaven, but how can one get out of the camp that is so strictly guarded? The next day I had to be at a certain time in a certain place (Mikushka) - it was the Aryan quarter of the town, so close, yet so far. I made a plan and revealed it to Lampel the barber, who helped me carry it out. Near a house on Wyzhinka Street was a large wooden hut, where furniture was sold to the Poles, and the money went into the pockets of the Germans. This hut was on the border between the Jewish side and the Aryan side. I entered the hut together with the buyers, hid in the closet, and then went out on the other side, the Aryan side, through a window, the bars of which I cut. They immediately noticed my escape and sent Ukrainians to look for me. They caught me not far from the destination. Alas! Accompanied by them, I returned back to the camp. My possessions included two gold rings and some money. I begged them to leave me alone and give them what I have. They entered the gate, consulted and said, because it is too little. Unfortunately, it was all my possessions. Finally, they agreed to bring me to the camp, but in such a way that neither Shopke nor the Gestapo will know anything about my escape. I returned back. They kept their word. In a side alley I returned to my bed, broken, unable to reach the bunker. In the evening, when we returned to our room, which as usual, was crowded with many people - Avromek Landau advised me to ask Oizerowitz, the gravedigger, to take me out in the special cart in which he took out the bodies of the dead. After many pleas, Oizerovitz agreed (at the time I didn't know that he was the contact between me and Shyudek) to take me out in his cart. The next day I entered the stable, Oizerovitz prepared a small wicker basket, which I entered with difficulty. This basket was covered with a blanket and had to be used as a place to sit. Artek Har, Oizerovitz 's assistant, helped him take out the basket. Oizerovitz sat down on the basket, and that's how you left the camp. We arrived at a large yard near Mikushka, which bordered on the other side of the houses of Mateiko Street. And there, in Stasiak's apartment, I met the first representatives of the “bunker”: Giza Wind (Shyudek's wife) and her brother Wind (I don't remember his first name). We waited until it got dark and then we entered the “bunker”. This “bunker” stretched between Shiper's house and the Kapner's store. These were old underground cellars, which passed through a large part of the city, but during the canalization works, they were partially blocked. The first entrance from the Shiprer's house side was completely blocked for security reasons, so the entrance was from the Mikushka side under Kapner's store. I met in the “bunker” about fifteen people from Rzeszów, and only there did I learn that the engineer Šiko Springar from Jarosław, who was a former member of the Histadrut “HaNoar”, is the one who found the “bunker”. During the following weeks, over ten more people joined us, so that in the end we were thirty-six people. The Germans knew about the existence of the bunker, they searched for it, but it was well camouflaged. The “bunker” had underground tunnels and all the time we were digging new tunnels, so that we could escape in case they discovered our hiding place. We led a life based on discipline. And each of us had his own role. The guard was in shifts day and night, so as not to be surprised by the Germans. Shyudek's younger brother arranged alarm lights instead of bells, and he was also in charge of the guard. The kitchen was run by Mrs. Kleinminz. We had a stock of groceries and Oizerovitz provided us with fresh groceries, until he entered together with his family to the “bunker”. Once he was noticed by informers and as a result the Germans came and searched with the help of dogs, but luckily, they did not find the “bunker”. The “rule” in our “bunker” society was in the hands of Merl Shyudek and Šiko Springar from Jarosław.

Entrance to the bunker (Shiprer's house)

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we got in touch with a Pole named Prenduta, who was known to have built a “bunker” near a stable in Wola Zindwinska, near Tarnow, and that people from Rzeszów were hiding there. After much pleading, he agreed to take us there, that same evening. To bypass Rzeszów's train station, we walked to Rudna Wilka, where Prenduta had a brother-in-law who was the station manager, and that made it much easier. Prenduta gave me a handkerchief to put on my head in order to hide my Jewish hair. This handkerchief in the day light resembled to a dyed tallit - this time in green.

And so, the tallit accompanied me twice during the escape. In the “bunker” in Wola Zindwinska I met eight people from Rzeszów: Weinbach Hanek with his daughter Halinka, Zeisel, Herman Knopf, Juzek Knopf, Manek Schlein who came to Rzeszów during the war, Masha Pate Klinger, Benek Kleinminz and now the three of us have also arrived: Avromek Landau, Manek Landau and I. The place was small and low, surrounded by straw, and you could only sit or lie down. The entrance was from the stable, where a plank was lifted from the floor. Shortly before the Russian attack approached, German soldiers were camped in the immediate vicinity and in the stable. We were in great danger, because the straw we were lying on would rustle even with a light touch. Once, a plank fell on the floor, and only miraculously, we were not discovered. But, despite everything, the conditions of existence in this “bunker” were much better than in the “bunker” in Rzeszów. There, it was always dark and there was terrible mildew. We used to dry the laundry in the heat of our bodies. Bringing water from a nearby cellar was a real risk, so the daily ration was only one cup of water and that should have to be enough for washing ourselves as well as our laundry. Here in the “bunker”, the light and rays of the sun managed to penetrate through the cracks, and there was even talk of spring (it was in February 1944), but not for us… Newspapers came here and when we read them, we understood between the lines that the end of the war was approaching - but will we also be privileged to celebrate that great day? One day we heard cannon fire. The German army retreated. The Gestapo abandoned Ternov and our joy knew no bounds. Suddenly the Russian attack stopped, the new border was not far from us. Rzeszów was already free but for us, but a very difficult period began for us right then. Once, late in the evening, at the suggestion of the landlady, we went out behind the hut to breathe some fresh air and straighten our legs, this was the first time since our stay in the “bunker”. Tarnov was bombed. A single bomb fell in the village, and its shrapnel reached our yard. A few small shrapnel were enough to kill Juzek Knopf, a 17-year-old young man with blue eyes. His brother Herman was also seriously injured, also the family of our landlords. We buried Juzek late at night in the landlords' field. The Poles, who were hiding in their hiding places, followed the strange burial. They began to whisper among themselves: who are they burying in the middle of the night? To top it all off, the wounded Herman was unable to return to the “bunker” and he stayed at the landlords' hut. By chance he was noticed by a nun, who thought he was dying and called the priest. Herman did not want to confess to the priest. The curious village's residents began to investigate who it is that does not want to confess. We had to flee to the woods. Walking was very difficult after lying down continuously for about a year, and our muscles were completely weak. We returned to Prenduta, and this time to his house (before that we were at his sister's house). A short time later, the border guards discovered us by chance (during the war, chance played a very big role). According to the order of the gendarmes, a part of us jumped out of the hiding place. Zeisel, Avromek Landau and I thought that we might be able to hide under the straw. Suddenly the Germans started throwing incendiary grenades and when the straw started to burn, we jumped from the attic. The last of the jumpers was Zeisel, he was so embarrassed that he started to run away, and he was shot on the spot. Benek Kleinminz and Masha Pate managed to escape, while Hanek Weinbach and Halinka, after leaving the woods, hid elsewhere. They ordered us to spread out over the land with outstretched hands. We were sure that now they will shoot us. I then felt the last moments before death. What was I thinking then? About the fact that a moment later I will share the fate of my mother, brother and little Zhionia. I felt the moment of parting from life. But I controlled myself. I gave the watch to Avromek - its owner. Why did I do this? Was it important that at the moment of death, the watch would not be in my hand? I did this to occupy myself and say something. To keep the last moment of life away from my mind.

They didn't shoot us. They led us to the road. At that moment, Manek Schlein broke away from us and started running in the direction of the woods, the first bullet hit him and killed him. We covered the road to Ternov by walking: the Gestapo men returned to their previous places and after the front stopped, we were taken by the border guard as war booty. It was cold outside and I walked barefoot and apart from a shirt and a skirt I had no clothing on. The Gestapo prison cells in September were dark and cold. A Polish peasant woman was also arrested with us. She was accused of baking bread for the partisans (we were close to the border). At first, they suspected us of being partisans. I lay with the peasant woman together on one bench, I moved myself under her skirt to get a little warm. I was afraid of an interrogation, I knew too much about our landlords, who during our imprisonment fled for their lives. I was afraid that I would give away the place of their escape if I will be interrogated. Apparently, the Gestapo men “softened” a bit, they didn't want to burden their conscience too much. The interrogation went calmly, and afterwards they loaded us on a car and with an escort, they led us to Płaszów. Why should they get their hands dirty, others will do it. Manek Landau, a young, a young man with light hair, who had often heard from the German guards that he did not look at all like a Jew, introduced himself as a “Mischling” (half-Jew). Unfortunately, it cost him with his life. He was loaded onto a car together with the Polish partisans from the Gestapo prison cells, and together they were taken and shot.

A surprise awaited us in Płaszów. When I entered the camp, I encountered Jews. After being cut off from the outside world for more than a year, I assumed, like many others who were in the “bunkers”, that we were the last Jews left in Poland. And here there were Jews and even Jews from Rzeszów - and the happiness was great. In the hut that served as an office, I met Oila (who during the time of the war lived in Rzeszów and is now the husband of Pela Zucker). He immediately called Shopke, who was then the commander or one of the commanders of Płaszów. They immediately released us from the death sentence

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they were about to carry out on the “hill” - the place of execution - and put us in the clothing warehouses. There I met Shianya Poyer and other girls from Rzeszów. Shopke order to dress me well so that I could be able to escape again, as he said jokingly. I was given a coat and shoes and a place to sleep on the shelf.

And I was in the camp again. I was so exhausted from all the escapes that I resigned myself to my fate. My fate would be like everyone else's. In the evening, after work, the camp was lined up. I went out for the first parade, marked with a number like all the other prisoners. In the camp we lost our individuality and became numbers. The news that we had arrived from the Gestapo in Ternov and had escaped from the “hill” spread quickly in the camp. Suddenly, a man unknown to me approached me and said: “Your number means life – you will stay alive”. I looked at him amazed. “The sum of the figures in your number is 18, that's “life”. It was at the end of September 1944, and until January 14, 1945, I remained in Płaszów, that is, until the total liquidation of the camp. A group of Jews from Rzeszów stayed with me, and there we formed a close-knit family. We were bound by one fate and one origin. At that time, the living conditions in Płaszów changed for the better, they were no longer executions, and we no longer starved. My job at the laundromat had its own advantages - first and foremost, I could wash my clothes. The diet was also better. January 14, 1945. The Russian war machine moves forward, after several months of lull. They eliminated the camp, and we started walking in an unknown direction. We passed Krakow late in the evening, and there were many options to cut off from the “transport” - many did so. However, my strength was not up to me, and I had no money either. I also had no acquaintances with whom I could stay. No one believed that the German front would break so quickly, and that within a few days the Russians would enter Krakow.

We walked through Kazhanov - the city where my father was born – arrived to Auschwitz, and a week later, after the complete liquidation of the camp, we set out on foot again, on a difficult road, where every person who could not walk properly was shot to death. Everywhere the camps were quickly destroyed, and the people were rushed forward - all the roads were full with corpses.

At the Laszlo station we were loaded into coal wagons. Dirty from the coal dust, freezing cold, we wandered from camp to camp in Germany, no one wanted to receive this frozen herd of people. Only the Bergen-Belsen camp “had mercy” on us. We went through a very difficult time there – indeed, they didn't force us to work, they didn't shoot us, but dirt and hunger reigned there. We, the Rzeszów girls, decided to sign up for any “transport”, the main thing is to stay away from Bergen. At the time, I worked together with Gina Sturmlaufer in the kitchen. There was no way to inform us about the transport, which left suddenly. When we returned from work, from the whole group of Rzeszów girls only Mina Vider remained, who did not want to be parted from us. The rest left with the transport. And so, we were left with three, and with us was Hilda Kukok from Dąbić. Together we got through the typhus and the famine more easily. With the gust of hot spring wind, an epidemic of dysentery broke out. The lack of sanitary conditions and water caused the typhus epidemic. Dead bodies rolled in dozens and hundreds on the roads.

In Bergen-Belsen, we got new numbers. I check my numbers: 21186, which summed up to 18 - “life”! I will stay alive.

On April 15, 1945, the day of my birthday, I received my life for the second time. The British army entered the camp. I am unable to be happy, I have become very weak after a severe typhoid, but I was free. I was given the right to live.

The death march

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