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The ignorance pervading the chapter pertaining to the heroism of the Jews during the years of the Holocaust is noteworthy. It embodies a combination of both a national and personal insult.

– B. Dinor

The fury of Jewish resistance to the Nazi conquest consisted of two aspects: the stand in the ghettoes, and the war in the forests. Just as Mordechai Anielewicz came to symbolize the movement of revolt in the ghettoes, so did Dr. Ezekiel Atlas come to symbolize the fighting on the part of the Jewish partisans. In the ghettoes, the decrees and outright murder, uprooted the will to resist from most of the Jews [so confined]. The recognition that it was impossible to defeat the Germans, and that there was no refuge to be sought from total annihilation, sapped the will to live among many. They saw no purpose to offering resistance whose only end seemed to be suffering and annihilation. The Jewish leadership in most centers of Jewish life were immediately wiped out at the outset of the Nazi conquest, in the first actions against the Jewish intelligentsia, and afterwards there was no leadership left in those centers. Despite this, individual groups were formed, who attempted to preserve the one reaction left to a human being with any sense of self-worth and dignity, that also survived in the ghettoes – a great spiritual readiness to fight. But these groups lacked weaponry, and especially a location, where they could organize themselves for battle. Each partisan unit was compelled to seek ties with the populace in the villages. The Jews, who were surrounded by enmity, lacked any standing with the populace, to the point that it was not possible to sustain oneself in these hostile rural surroundings. Various groups pervaded the forest: Polish fascists (A. K.), Ukrainians (Bandera), Byelorussians (Samokhova) and unorganized bands of pro-Soviets. There were deep-seated antagonisms that existed between them, but among them they also had a general unwritten agreement – the annihilation of the Jews.

Therefore, the organization of the partisan movement was much more difficult for the Jews than for any other people. The essential foundation of effective partisan force was to operate in small groups, and with surprise. In line with this, success depended greatly on the luck of the individual and especially on the good luck of the leadership.

Dr. Ezekiel Atlas was a fearless partisan. Everyone who knew him was mesmerized by the persona of this Jewish leader, by his enormous dynamism, his boundless commitment, modesty and simplicity. A thin man of medium height, with blue eyes that looked out beneficently and brightly, he first and foremost gave the impression of being a physician, and not as the leader of the partisans, that for the most part required a cruel and arrogant demeanor. But when he was instructing his young men in the understanding of the struggle, and the heat of vengeance, it was not possible to recognize him [as the same man]. His voice was penetrating and his visage was calm. In battle, there were no bounds to his willingness to undertake personal sacrifice, or to the strength of his spirit. Among the substantial ranks of the partisan movement, his unit was but one of many. But one must not forget, that before this movement arose, there was no opposition to the mighty German war machine. The bottom line assessment of the Germans was that the partisan movement weighed in as a heavy factor in their eventual defeat.

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A Jewish Partisan Unit

Dr. Ezekiel Atlas was born in 1913 in the town of Rawa Mazowiecka in Poland. After completing his medical studies in Milan (Italy), he returned to Poland and worked in a hospital in Lodz. With the outbreak of the war in 1939, Dr. Atlas and his family fled to the east, and reached the town of Kozlovshchina in Byelorussia. With the cooperation of the Soviet regime, he organized a hospital there, and served as its head. He became well known in the area as a skillful doctor. With the invasion of the Nazi army, he attempted to flee into Russia with his family, but all avenues of exit were sealed off by the German army, which had accelerated its penetration like a deeply imbedded spike. He remained as a doctor in Kozlovshchina, and increased his visits to the surrounding villages, establishing ties to the farmers, who admired him greatly for dedication to the sick under his care, and his willingness to help at all times, whether day or night.

In the beginning of the spring, all the Jews of Kozlovshchina were wiped out, and among them the family of Dr. Atlas – his parents and sister. The Germans let the physicians live at that point in time, as 'necessary' Jews. The German wing was greatly fearful of typhus – a disease that always accompanied armies in Eastern Europe.

Because of this, Dr. Atlas was sent to a sanitarium location in Wielka Wola to combat typhus. In Wielka Wola, which is in the Slonim area, Dr. Atlas continued to extend assistance to the rural populace and also to the initial partisan units that had been formed, and with whom he formed fast relationships.

On July 22, 1942, the Germans organized a slaughter in the town of Dereczin, that is near Slonim. About two thousand five hundred Jews were killed, and only about 300 fled into the forest. The survivors blundered through the unfamiliar forest, without hope, hungry and without strength. That day was picked by Dr. Atlas as the day to realize his desire: the establishment of a Jewish partisan unit to wage war and exact vengeance. From the refugees of Dereczin that were able to bear arms, he formed a fighting brigade. He centralized the old, women and children in a 'family compound.' The first three rifles that were brought by Dr. Atlas breathed life into the members of the brigade. Armed with rifles, the Atlas troops went out with their leader to wage punitive actions against the nearby villages that were cooperating with the Germans. The possessions of the families of the police were confiscated, and both utensils and foodstuffs were brought to the family compound in ample quantity. The Doctor spent entire days in the villages, and was able to obtain weapons from the farmers of the area. The loyalty that was shown to him in every quarter because of his role as a doctor, helped him greatly in obtaining weapons, and with the organization of an information network in the area. The youth of the villages, and the cattle herders were valuable sources of weapons which was terribly hard to find in that period. In 1941 the Russian army left behind a great deal of weaponry, during its disorganized retreat, that the farmers, and especially their youth, had hidden in the ground. Atlas would bring arms from them every day. The strength of the brigade continued to grow. Six light and two heavy machine guns were procured. Cannons also were procured that the Russians had left behind, and shells for them were also found. Among the young men in the Atlas brigade, there were cannoneers who served in the Polish army, and also those who could repair an abandoned artillery piece. Even the 'family compound' was allocated several rifles in order to be able to defend itself.

The sustenance of a 'family compound' initially created a burden for the partisan [fighting] group, which had to be nimble and mobile, but with the passage of time the compound was transformed into a workplace for the partisans and a supply point, repair of clothing, white goods , shoes, etc.... During sieges, they would prepare subterranean hideouts which also contributed to saving many lives. The partisan district that Atlas was active in stretched from Slonim to Novogrudok. This area was covered with heavy, thick forest, surrounded by natural swamp, and served as a natural base for various

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Jewish, Polish, Byelorussian and Soviet partisan units. Between the course of the Neman and Shchara Rivers, can be found the great Lipiczany forest – that served as the base for Dr. Atlas's unit, and Jews from all the surrounding towns reached there: from Dereczin, Zheludok, Byelitsa, Kozlovshchina, Novojelnia, Molchad, Dvorocz, Zhetl (Dyatlovo), Novogrudok, Lida, and others. When the first of the Jews arrived in the forests, they ran into unorganized units of Soviet partisans – the remnants of the Red Army. These units had only robbery and plunder on their agenda. Under these circumstances, the groups of Jews stood in danger of being annihilated. [Indeed], it was in this way that a small group of partisans under the leadership of Alter Dvorotsky of Zhetl was totally wiped out. The value placed on Dr. Atlas by the rural population, and the regard for him among the unorganized units, helped to overcome the anti-Semitism that pervaded the forests and confronted those who came out of the ghettoes.

On August 10, 1942, 16 days after the Dereczin massacre, Dr. Atlas led a group of 120 partisans against the town to exact vengeance for the Jewish blood that had been spilled. The operative plan was to surround the town and cut it off from Slonim and Zelva, to neutralize the police station of 160 policemen and 15 gendarmes that were in it, and to divide up the weaponry among the refugees. Together with the unit of Dr. Atlas, the attack on Dereczin was joined by the Soviet unit of Boris xxx, and the unit of the local farmer – Bulak. Shmuel Borenstein, the author of the book, The Brigade of Dr. Atlas, who participated in the battle, writes: “It was exactly four o'clock. Dawn broke. Machine guns began to bark and the ground shook from exploding grenades... we stormed ahead. From the other side of the gendarmerie we were answered with gunfire... The young men with the Atlas brigade ousted the frightened police from the station, and were led ashen-faced and shaken, with their hands in the air. From the side, I saw Jekuthiel Khmelnitsky with a machine gun in his hands, his head disheveled and blood running from his nose...his shirt was torn, and he laughed a wild hysterical laugh and shouted as if he were insane: “Hey, do you like this -- hah?!” And the police were shot down on the exact spot that two weeks earlier the Jews were murdered. Beside the gendarmerie, a hard battle was fought. Shelkovich the shoemaker who had gone to battle with just a stick in his hand, now had a new German submachine gun... the boys loaded the wagons with the wounded, the weaponry and rest of the booty – and returned to the forest... the German army that arrived from Slonim found the town in flames”...

After Dereczin came the turn of Ruda Jaworska. This village lay at the intersection of roads between the partisan forests. Substantial forces of Germans and Ukrainians captured this town, something that caused the differences among the various partisan groups to be set aside. Allied units of Jewish and Russian partisans stormed the town. The resistance of the enemy was unusually strong. Bogdush, one of Atlas's boys, heaved a grenade into the Ukrainian trenches and wiped out a heavy machine gun nest, took control of it and turned it against the enemy. The breaking of this guard's nest by the Atlas unit was a determining factor in the outcome of this difficult conflict. The Nazis fled, leaving behind many dead and a lot of weaponry.

In the course of the following weeks, Atlas managed to drive the Germans out of his district. He attacked the locally billeted enemy force in Halinka, and Sankveshchina, and neutralized them. The attack on Kozlovshchina was not carried out with complete success. The Germans entrenched themselves well in the surrounding towns, and the partisans ran into strong resistance. A frontal attack was not advisable, since it was fraught with the possibility of heavy losses. The most effective partisan tactic was the approach of 'hit and run.' Atlas attempted to exploit every opportunity for surprise. In instances when he ran into superior enemy forces, he would attempt to refrain from direct confrontation.

Within our district, the partisans operated without

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constraint. Every village had a resident partisan representative. His job was to secure food and lodging for those fighters that were asked to come into that area. In these villages, it was forbidden to take supplies. The German forces, step by step, lost their dominance the region, and in the end their control became limited to the major cities and towns only. After the enemy had been cleaned out of the area, Atlas committed himself entirely to the acquisition of explosives for purposes of engaging in sabotage. He began to send out sabotage units beyond the forests to strike at critical military targets: railroad track, railroad stations, manufacturing facilities and warehouses. In a short period of time, all the dairies ceased to operate that supplied the Germans with butter and eggs. Similarly, a cement factory in the village of Rosh was blown up. The destruction of the bridge across the Neman, which for a long time cut the connection between both sides of the river, brought him much praise from all wings of the partisan movement in the district. Every day, Atlas wound bring wagons filled with cannon shells that had been left in the fields, or in the middle of the Shchara River, near Wielka Wola. He removed the explosive from these shells, created mines and deployed them for use.

The battlefront was far away on the banks of the Volga, and away from the front we saw an unending procession of German train transports taking weaponry to their army. One of the well-known acts of sabotage carried out by Dr. Atlas was the blowing up of the bridge at the Ruzianka railroad terminal, at the time that a train was crossing it, that led to many enemy dead and wounded. In another incident, he had a German airplane destroyed at his command, on the occasion of its landing due to a mechanical accident, about 30km from his base. The connection of the Brest-Baranovich-Moscow line was disrupted frequently by Atlas. All train lines were totally taken out of service after an unending series of sabotage attacks. The caravans that brought supplies to the front were attacked by Atlas units. The Germans ran out of ways to secure the rails. In order to make an approach to the tracks more difficult, they cleared about 300 meters on either side of the track. Any citizen seen in this stretch was shot on sight. The Germans [also] built bunkers along the rail lines, and manned them with continuous guard patrols. Patrols, using mine detection equipment constantly patrolled the length of the tracks. The increased the number of trains during the day, and cut down on the night runs. Responsibility was allocated to the villages. Local residents were designated to be responsible for the condition of the strip of track near their village. In the event of an act of sabotage, these designated people were taken out and shot. These acts of terror did not achieve their intended result, rather they intensified the hatred of the enemy, and accelerated the rate of escape into the forests and adherence to the ranks of the partisans. The Germans resorted to siege from time to time. On December 15, 1942, the Germans, accompanied by Ukrainians from the Vlasov Battalion,^[1] a combined force of about a thousand men, launched a punitive expedition against the partisans. Atlas seized a position and took a stand beside the town of Vala-Zuta, which was beside the Shchara River. A part of the enemy force decided to cross the river. When the column, together with its vehicles found itself in the middle of the river, Atlas opened fire on it with a cannon and machine guns. More than seventy Germans and Ukrainians were killed in battle, and much booty and war spoils fell into partisan hands. A short time afterwards, three thousand German and Lithuanian soldiers laid down a siege line in the forest. Acts of terror and torching villages, mass murder – all these contributed again to bolster the partisan movement. Dr. Atlas's brigade retreated, and broke up into smaller units. After two weeks, when the enemy left, the units returned to the forest, reorganized themselves anew and resumed their war against the enemy. The December siege was especially difficult. Winter, and falling snows made movement especially hard. There were many victims in the family compound. The German force numbered thirty thousand men. They had airplanes, tanks and heavy cannons with which they ceaselessly shelled the Forest.

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The People Did Not Go Like Sheep to the Slaughter

The fate of the village residents was like that of the Jews. The Germans ordered them to dig deep pits, then forced them into those pits and shot them there. This slaughter was carried out indiscriminately, whether one was a partisan sympathizer or their opponents -- the Kulaks. The brigade of Dr. Atlas continued with its routine, guarding the passage over the Shchara River near the town of Wielka Wola. The Germans concentrated heavy automatic weapon fire on the brigade. Only during the brief lulls was it possible to crawl a couple of meters. The battle continued in this location for two days. Conditions grew increasingly dire. Atlas looked for a way to break through the encirclement. In this battle Atlas was wounded in the leg. The bullet appeared to have pierced the femoral artery. Blood ran from his wound without stop. Notwithstanding the efforts that were expended to close the artery, the doctor could not save himself.

He lasted long enough to pass command to Eliyahu Lifshovich, and exhort him: Revenge!... and lost consciousness. He died about a half hour after being wounded.

Despite the sense of resignation that came with the death of the leader, the brigade succeeded in escaping the danger of the encirclement and regroup at a new base. The year 1943 was a year of diversionary actions done at Soviet direction, and a reorganization of the partisan movement, with the establishment of [new] units. From a practical standpoint, there was no longer any need for Jewish partisan units. The Atlas brigade passed under Russian command, but it continued in the Jewish tradition, and the name of Dr. Atlas continued to serve as its symbol. In the Forest [forest] they continued to call them 'Atlasovtsii' – the Atlas Boys.

The value of Dr. Atlas in the Lipiczany Forest was not only in the military sphere. He laid a foundation for bringing together those Jews who fled the ghettoes that stood in flames, and strayed aimlessly through the forests. He would bless them on their arrival, comfort the bereaved, and above all, give them the feeling that an armed Jewish presence was looking over them. Added to this he was a physician. The Angel Raphael to the ill and wounded.

It is up to the historians to reflect the role of Dr. Atlas in the telling of the Holocaust period. The assault on Dereczin, in which those who fled death and escaped to the forest from the ghetto, attacking the town two weeks later, and arranged their own slaughter of those who murdered their fathers and children – this story is worthy of inclusion in those chapters that are chosen to be read in books about the Holocaust by young people. Those chapters of Jewish heroism in the Holocaust years are worthy enough to find their way into the hearts of our young people, so that they know that the Jewish people did not go like sheep to the slaughter, but fought for its survival and honor.

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I returned late at night. For a long time I couldn't fall asleep. The third anniversary of the war was drawing near. A period of great tribulation had gone by me. It is difficult for me to admit it, but I have finally accepted the idea that my parents and brother were dead. At this moment, I speculated about the people I had left back in Dereczin, who were close to my heart, who are oppressed by daily suffering. And my reach is entirely too short to lend them a hand.

At dawn, a noise wakens me from my sleep.

– Something is going on around us – the lads are up.

That evening Misha returned, who had been sent to reconnoiter the area. It became clear that our suspicions were proven correct. It became known to Misha from the words of the area farmers that from early morning on, the Jews of Dereczin were being shot.

His notification to us hit us with the force of hammer blows. At that precise moment, we sought to be by ourselves, and we waited impatiently for the silence of the night.

I recollect the words of one of the Russian boys who saw me in my sorrow. In his desire to console me he said:

– Soldier! At another time, you were saved from there. It was hard for them to understand our pain.

We left immediately for the Boralom Forest. We were hurried in our pace. A terrible fright ate at us regarding the fate of those close to our hearts. We tried to imagine the morale of these refugees, who fled into unfamiliar forests, leaving behind the dead bodies of their fathers, mothers, brothers and children. We wanted to console these unfortunates and offer them what encouragement we could.

We ran into the first group of Dereczin residents as we entered the forest. A little girl jumped out at us from behind the trees. I recognized the daughter of my friend, the teacher, Landau. I hugged the nine-year-old girl in my arms. Despite the fact that I was wearing military garb, with a rifle on my shoulder, the little girl recognized me immediately. She clutched me about the neck, because she sensed that I would protect her. Two big black eyes that gazed out in terror, moved me emotionally.

On that terrifying day, at the hour that the Germans entered their home, little Manya was hiding behind a wooden box. With her own eyes she saw how strange men took to beating her father, mother and grandfather. A sixth sense told the little girl to sit behind the large box without making a sound. The Germans took the weeping people outside by force. Manya knew that something awesome was afoot, because those nearest to her were leaving and would not return. She had an immense desire to scream out, to approach these evil people, and ask them to stand down from her loved ones. But the scream remained stuck in her throat. Afterwards, everything was silent.

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Quickly, shots pierced the silence. Manya understood: now they are murdering [her] father, mother and grandfather. Germans are entering the house in an unending stream, searching for [more] people. A fat gendarme even glanced at the large box, behind which she was hidden. She saw him, and the look on his face, but he did not see her. At night someone stealthily entered the house. It was her uncle, who had come out of the bunker to see what had transpired. Together they stole out of town and went out to the forest.

The things that the refugees told us surpassed anything and everything that one could imagine in their terror and cruelty. At somewhat a distance, a woman sits, with a dulled facial expression. Her young face, ringed with graying hair, makes an eerie impression.

– I have sinned, I have sinned, – the woman repeats, stubbornly, over and over again.

And here is a young man sitting, saved from death by a miracle. With his own eyes, he saw his little son pleading with the murderers:

– Look, I am so young yet, and I haven't lived very long in this world, let me live!

The smoke billowing above the trees indicated to me which direction to take me to the refugee camp. In about a half hour I was at the place. How different this camp was from the partisan camp! Here, no man sang; there were no joyful, motivated people. The refugees sit sullen and silent: they cannot take their minds of the incidents of that terrifying day for even a moment. Every one of them left behind the people that were most dear to them. And here – there are parents without children, children without parents. Family life that had been constructed over a period of many years was completely destroyed in one day. And now: an unfamiliar forest; wide-open skies with no roof over their heads.

Yesterday, the commander of all the partisans of the area came to this place, Boris Bulat.^[1] He promised to absorb all those able-bodied men capable of bearing arms into the partisan ranks. The remainder would constitute a 'family camp' as they were called: they would get a couple of rifles for self-defense, and they would be provisioned by the partisan groups.

July 28, 1942

One evening we went out as a complete group to do battle. The commander explained to us the purpose of the expedition. In the village of Jaziorki Velika about four kilometers from Dereczin, there was to be a wedding of a police officer with the daughter of a farmer. We were to use this opportunity to kill as many Germans as possible. This was the first time I participated in a mission of such danger.

At nine in the evening, we approached Jaziorki. With us we had two machine guns, several submachine guns, and two grenades apiece. First, the commander sent Kolya, a veteran soldier, and myself to reconnoiter the area. Silently, and by crawling, we drew near to the shed at the edge of the village. From afar we heard the clang of cymbals, the stamping of dancers' feet and the sounds of carousing drunkards.

I was boiling:

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– They have just barely erased the traces of Jewish blood from their hands, and already they are celebrating!

– Who's there? – a frightened voice asked.

– Open up, partisans. – Kolya answered quietly.

Kolya returned in about a minute, and we went back to our waiting comrades, and conveyed to the commander what we had learned.

The commander organized the people. At the edge of the village, near the shed where Kolya obtained his intelligence, two men were left with machine guns. They were given responsibility to guard the road to Dereczin. We, who remained, drew closer to the objective on the field grounds behind the sheds. The dark of the night worked in our favor. At the end, we found ourselves about twenty meters from the point where the wedding feast was being held. Indoors there were many people, and the din was loud. In front of the house, sat young boys and girls who were enamored of each other. In the middle of the street, the figure of a person became visible to us because of a lit cigarette.

– It appears that he is standing watch, and was detailed to this place, – the commander whispered.

– Just a little longer, and the joy here will be unparalleled – Misha whispered to me.

– They are ours! Misha called out gleefully. Also, from the direction of Dereczin we heard the sound of heavy machine gun fire.

– Apparently he felt that he was safe from all harm, if he was smoking at his post – said Kolya.

– Well, it looks like we did it – Misha said to me. – We don't have to go to the quartermasters: they have to come to us, – he continued, as he looked with raised spirits at the new boots, which the lads put on in place of the shoes that were falling apart and hurting their toes.

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– And now lads, – he said, let's go: reinforcements inevitably will come from Dereczin.

A day after the Jaziorki mission, I received some gladdening news from the mouths of two new members of our brigade that were inducted from the Jewish refugee camp: A Jewish fighting brigade was being organized on the other side of the Shchara River. The head of the brigade was Dr. Atlas, and my friends Bella & Izzy are found there, who were saved from the slaughter, and other companions who were taken into the underground organization in Dereczin. I immediately turned to my commander, and he granted me permission to leave camp for a number of days.

August 1942

At the noon hour I was on the banks of the Shchara River. On the opposite side of the river, the great Ruda forests loomed, that served as the refuge of the partisans. The town of Wielka Wola was there. I knew that the nearest occupying German army force was billeted in Kozlovshchina. But the Germans and the [local] police had learned a lesson not to infringe on “Red Territory.” Not inviting trouble, I asked the ferryman who took me to the other side of the Shchara, but the Germans are not visible here.

– These dogs are frightened of us, enough to leave – answered the farmer with pride.

– Hey, comrade! – I called out.

Finally we turned to the side. Under the branch of a tree stood a sentry, with a machine gun beside him. Even this was an old familiar friend, the Dereczin baker, Jekuthiel Khmelnitsky.

I covered several more tens of meters along the path, and found myself in the camp of the Brigade of Dr. Atlas. All around us were tents. Next to the fireplace, beside the water pails, the young woman cooks stood and labored; under the trees, men were sitting, occupied with cleaning weapons.

– Shmuel! Shmuel! – I heard cried to my side.

Bella told me her story. With a trembling voice, she spoke of “that” day.

– With daybreak the Germans arrived in town by autos. The police surrounded the ghetto with a tight chain of sentries. She, Bella, hid herself at the last minute, along with Izzy in the eaves of the roof.

With a great effort, they drew up the access ladder behind them, and from below, the shouts of the Germans were already reaching them. Through the cracks in the floorboards of the attic, they gritted their teeth and watched what was going on below. A transport vehicle stood in front of the house. The Germans drove the residents into the street and forced them up into the vehicle, accompanied by curses and tumult. Bella's mother cast a glance up at the attic. This was her parting blessing to her daughter.

Crying and wailing broke out on all sides. From the other side of the flour mill, shots were heard. On the square that was in front of the mill, the Germans were shooting Jews. Those who were hidden waited until nightfall. Then they descended on their ladder, now having only one alternative: to the forest.

After many adventures, they reached the Boralom Forest. Here they joined up with the Lifshovich family, and Jekuthiel Khmelnitsky. They decided to set their course for the opposite side of the Shchara River. Along the way, they were joined by additional refugees. Finally, they reached the village of [Wielka] Wola. From the distance, farmers working quietly appeared in view. The sun beat down on us. The children of the village scattered at the appearance of the strange visitors. From all around, one could hear the scraping of doors as they were being shut. From out of the windows the curious village women peered.

Suddenly a voice speaking in Yiddish was heard:

– Jews, wait!

On the third day, the Doctor returned, bringing with him three additional people from Dereczin: the brothers, 'Nioma & David Dombrowsky, & Herschel Zlotagura. They too, ran into Atlas as they fled the town.

– Lads! – the Doctor cried from a distance – I bring good tidings! The partisan group recognizes you as a fighting unit, [and] from this day forward I am your commander.

From that point, Jekuthiel Khmelnitsky and the Lifshovich brothers told us about the negotiations that Dr. Atlas conducted with the Russians. He sought to create a fighting unit from the Dereczin refugees. The Russians were reluctant and evasive, arguing that most of the refugees from Dereczin coursing through the forest were women and children, and it would be better to find a single general solution.

In the end, Atlas returned with the first three rifles. A new spirit started to pervade the hearts of the people. They immediately set to work.

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Armed with two rifles, the lads went out to “pay a call” at the family of a specific policeman who had demonstrated extra zeal during the Dereczin massacre. They returned bearing needed vessels and foodstuffs. By schedule, the Doctor would spend entire days and nights in the villages. He was able to obtain arms from the farmers. Atlas derived special value from his relationship with the shepherd boys. In 1941 the retreating Red Army left a great deal of war materiel behind, which the farmers, together with their children, buried in the ground. A day didn't go by when the Doctor would not receive some of these arms. At this point, the Atlas Brigade numbered about twenty people, and in short order, all of them were armed. They even had a machine gun.

Dr. Atlas was indefatigable. No one knew when he rested. He was constantly worrying and on the run, remembering everyone and everything. From the first moment on, he led his brigade with an iron discipline.

– We are soldiers – he would say. – Soldiers taking revenge. On the day of the slaughter, on July 24, our normal lives ceased. If we remained alive, its only purpose is to exact vengeance from the enemy.

– This was the single thought, and the only thought that filled our hearts, and what gave us the motivation to live on – said the partisans of the Atlas Brigade.

September 8, 1942

When I returned to my camp, I found that all the paraphernalia was packed and loaded on wagons. The group was ready to move out.

– We are going to a new location – Herschel told me.

Consequently, it was difficult to conceal the location of the camp from people in the nearby area, particularly the shepherd boys, who would bring their flocks to graze in the tracts of the forest. Even the farmers, who would come into the forest to cut wood, would periodically trip across a concealed partisan sentry point. And even if up to now we were attacking the Germans and causing them damage out of proportion to our real numbers, and they did not know our numerical strength and were filled with fright at the mere thought of entering the forests – we didn't ease up for a minute regarding our focus on the work we were doing, and why we found ourselves at the enemy's neck. Danger lay in wait for us frequently. But the camp served as a point of tranquility, except for being there too long. It was for this reason that the lads were sent out to seek out a new location for us, and when they returned, the order was given to move.

The new location was in the Boralom Forest. We hurried to get there, with the thought of reaching the road that we needed to use in the dead of night. And at night, we reached the place designated for the camp.

Tired from the journey, I was late in getting up the next day. The camp was already alive with activity. The lads put up the tents, the cook was making the rounds of his pots according to his routine, and the food dump was set up in a shed made of tree branches. Only the tall straight pines that I saw in

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place of the white birch proved to me that I was in a new location.

In this forest, at a different point, the 'family compound' of the Jewish refugees from Dereczin was also located. I walked off to visit them at my first opportunity.

From the time of my first visit to their camp, many changes had occurred. It could be felt that people had come to terms with their terrible misfortune. Talk about the massacre had entirely ceased.

This camp did not have a military air about it. The huts, set up to serve as dwellings for the people, were spread out; the people were divided into groups, with several families in a group. Each group, generally consisting of about ten people, would cook its own food. Foodstuff was in very short supply, not like at the [fighting units of the] partisans. I found old people and children too, who had been saved from slaughter. Here and there, I would see Jews standing in prayer. As was the case in the Atlas Brigade, there were many here, old and young alike, who yearned to take revenge on behalf of those who were murdered. A number of people had already procured arms. Most had bought them from farmers with their last pennies, from the pittance they managed to take with them as they fled: a few rifles were also given to them by the partisans.

At the time of my visit, I sensed a stirring of action in the camp.

– Dr. Atlas is coming! – my friend called out in a loud voice.

I looked him over with care. The horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose bespoke a doctor more than a partisan commander. His visage was very young, his carriage erect, the features of his face and head matched: his eyes blue and friendly. His hair thinning and tousled. His legs were somewhat long, but his step was small. And I swear that his day-to-day gait did not look steady (which was not the case during battle, as I would later discover). Frequently, a smile would appear at his lips, then his lips would rise, revealing closely spaced white teeth. When not in battle, he would not speak in a loud voice, but [in a voice] that was ringing and compelling. When he was puzzled about something, he would push up his glasses and arch his eyebrows.

He wore extremely modest military dress: high boots on his feet, of too large a size, and at times the fabric would work its way out of the boot. In contrast to his dress which was not particularly elegant, he was armed from head to toe. He also carried with him a submachine gun with seventy rounds, which was at that time of the highest value in the forests, an automatic pistol, a reserve clip for the submachine gun, a leather military briefcase, and the tops of grenades stuck out of his jacket pockets.

Atlas turned beneficently to the children that gathered to see him. Afterward, he signaled with his hand to the adults that he wished to speak with them: silence reigned.

– Fellow Jews! – Atlas called out, and now his voice and face changed. The benign, soft appearance disappeared, as if it had never existed. He brought his eyebrows together and his voice became sharp: – I can take twenty of your men into my brigade. I have weapons for them. Thousands of our brothers, who have been murdered, burden us with a great responsibility. The brigade that I command is a 'Brigade of Despair.' We, all the members of this brigade, see ourselves as 'lost.' We harbor no other thought other than to take revenge. Which of you is prepared to follow me?

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I returned to my camp, enchanted by the persona of this Jewish commander carrying the hope in my heart that I would be able to join his camp.

Several days went by in which nothing noteworthy happened. And suddenly on August 7, a young man on horseback arrived at our camp, from the central partisan command. Our commander read the letter that he brought with interest.

We felt that something important was afoot. Vanya ordered Herschel and myself to prepare for a journey. We were to accompany him to a task, and immediately, the entire group was to leave in a couple of hours, fully armed, under the command of Kolya, to the designated rendezvous point.

After departure, Vanya told us that, with the concurrence of the central command, he was to Assume temporary command of the groups of Jewish refugees. Herschel and I were to be his deputies.

On the way we passed a partisan group that had dispersed into the forest. The lads had a heavy machine gun.

– These are the partisans from the other side of the Shchara River, – Vanya explained.

At this point it is necessary for me to underscore a specific detail regarding the way of life in the forests: in the forest, important news moves with lightning speed. A great ferment was evident among the Jews. An acquaintance of mine told me that since morning, all the partisan groups were entering the Boralom [Forest]. It cannot be other than they were getting ready for a “most important” mission.

Vanya ordered Herschel and me to immediately organize a fighting unit out of those people that seemed capable of bearing arms, and commanded that we make ready to move out. Oh! – how few were the rifles; the hands of most of the men were empty. When the older people saw what was going on, an emotion welled up inside of them. And here, an elderly man came out, Shalkovich name, a shoemaker from Dereczin, drew close with sprightly steps, a cane in his hand, and said:

– We know to where you are heading. Our place is also there. There, we should be able to exchange the cane for a rifle.

The women took quiet leave of their husbands, and parents of their sons. Once again, we went out on our way. It was already late afternoon by the time we reached the edge of the great forest. Next to the fires, the various brigades stood. From afar, I could see Dr. Atlas at the head of his brigade, preparing to leave the place.

I drew near to him. Dr. Atlas gave the first-aid kit to Bella and said:

– You will be the field nurse. To his warriors he said: – Know friends, we are going into battle!

This Boris lost his right hand at the front; despite this, he was an excellent marksman. He gave us a short speech:

– Today, lads – he said, – an opportunity is given to you to exact vengeance from the Nazis. Before dawn, our united group of partisans will arrange to launch an attack on Dereczin.

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went our commander, Vanya Zaitsev and the compass is in his hand.

At 3AM, before dawn, we finally reached the church that was situated at the edge of the town. The commander ordered us to lie down on the ground. From the side, on both the left and right flanks, one could see the silhouettes of people, and the heavens with their attitudes toward the town. They also lay under them.

– Those are the units of Dr. Atlas and our Kolya – Vanya explained in hushed tones. – The Atlas brigade had the mission to silently take out the German guard posts on this side of the town. The town is completely surrounded by our people. The telephone line has surely been cut by now. Apart from this, large forces of ours lie in ambush, toward Zelva and Slonim.

– At 4AM the signal to begin fighting was to be given – a foot messenger advised us from central command, who reached us by crawling on his belly.

– Lads, to the battle! In the name of our motherland!

– Jews, forward! In the name of our beloved!

I asked Vanya for permission to operate on my own. In about a minute, I was at the side of the house, in which the Hilfs-Polizei was located. The lads from the Atlas brigade extracted the Byelorussian policemen, the servants of the Germans, from the building. The police walked pale and trembling, with their hands in the air, and their eyes held the look of the fear of death. From the side, I saw Jekuthiel Khmelnitsky, a machine gun in his hand, his hair disheveled and blood dripping from his nose, his shirt torn, and trousers disarrayed, and he was laughing hysterically and yelling in Byelorussian:

– Ho, it's good for you, ha?

They were shot, and fell on the spot where two weeks prior, they had murdered our loved ones.

Afterwards, we returned to the gendarme station.

There, heavy fighting continued. On the road, I saw the two Baranovsky brothers from the refugee camp being carried wounded on stretchers. Shalkovich the shoemaker who went out to battle with a cane, now had a brand new German submachine gun. With an excited face he told me what had happened:

As soon as Yudel & Ephraim Baranovsky reached the town, they immediately ran over to the residence of the German munitions officer. On the day of the massacre, this murderer killed their only sister and elderly parents right in front of their eyes. Now was the hour to take vengeance. Even though they were unarmed, the brothers broke into his residence. The German managed to wound both of them before he fell from a partisan's bullet.

We decided to put the town to the torch, in order to prevent an occupying military force from being billeted there. We threw incendiary grenades into

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the houses. They went up in flames. Those living in the houses came out crying to us, falling on their knees and begging for their possessions to be spared. But our people didn't pay any attention to their entreaties. And there were those who replied: we don't have anything either. And you drank no little of our blood...

And the Jews among us, who owned houses in the town, sought to burn them as well with their own hands.

From all sides, policemen were brought out and taken into captivity; there were those who were shot on the plaza in front of the flour mill, as previously described. All points of resistance were neutralized, except for the one large building in which the gendarmerie had barricaded itself. These Germans, who had no other choice, fought for their lives, and gave battle with an outpouring of great ire.

Suddenly a group of the lads burst through the gates of the gendarmerie. I recognized these as the Atlas troops. I ran after them, shouting, 'Hurrah!' We entered the foyer of the building, from which the gendarmes continued to fire at us. One German appeared at the ground floor stairs. The sound of an exploding grenade filled the air. On the ground, in a pool of blood, a number of our men lay writhing. Among them I recognized Herschel Zlotagura. We took the dead and wounded out to the street.

The battle continued. The gendarmes continued to hold their positions. This was a stone structure that was well fortified, and we tried in vain to penetrate it from the outside. Boris Bulat stood beside the house, and next to him stood a Jewish partisan, Abraham Koplovich. Abraham was continuously throwing incendiary grenades up above, into the room where the gendarmes were. At this time, our scouts arrived and told us that large forces of Germans were drawing close from Slonim and Zelva, to reinforce the gendarmes. The sound of a trumpet was heard – giving the signal to retreat. It was 7AM. In the distance one could see people fleeing.

– These are our [men], open the doors to the jail, – one of the partisans called to us.

In departing the town, I stayed behind for a moment on that plaza in front of the flour mill. On the ground lay tens of dead police: a fitting revenge...

On the road leading to the forest stood a legion of farmers, who came out to welcome us and wish us well, to offer us hard liquor, white bread and pancakes. Even we were elated by the outcome of the battle. We knew that we had put an end to the occupying German army in Dereczin.

August 14, 1942

Several days afterwards, news began to reach the forest concerning the consequences of the victory. The German army that came from Slonim to the rescue of the gendarmes, found the town engulfed in flames. The police had largely been killed; those who remained alive, emerged from their hiding places after the partisans had gon e a distance, and dispersed in terror to the four corners of the wind. The Byelorussians and Poles who served as the appointed members of the German [civil] administration also fled. Apart from the police that were put to death, five additional Germans were killed, and six others were heavily wounded. The Germans put their wounded into their vehicles, and quickly left the town.

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After the occupying army in Dereczin was neutralized, the entire area became free [to us]. The partisan victory spread for tens and hundreds of kilometers around. The booty taken in the battle was of considerable value: a great deal of weaponry, and the food stores of the Germans fell into our hands.

Once again, I arranged a visit to the brigade of Dr. Atlas, and I had a conversation with the lads. They were particularly happy about the weapons that they had taken from the enemy. Jekuthiel Khmelnitsky was occupied at that moment with cleaning a submachine gun that had fallen into his possession during the battle. When he saw me, he called out to me:

– Shmuel, Shmuel, how do you like my new little 'machine?' Pretty? No?

That same evening our spirits were hurt because of the death of David Dombrowsky, who had been wounded in Dereczin. Before he died, he called his younger brother to him, 'Nioma. In a hushed voice, almost a whisper, he said to his brother:

– Nioma, I am going to die before my time; I have not adequately taken revenge from them, those murderers, having taken only little. Remember that it is your responsibility to take revenge on my behalf.

No man cried. But here and there, one could see clenched fists.

At the end of two weeks after the battle in Dereczin, on the 24^th of August, with the coming of dawn, our entire camp assembled: our scouts that we had sent out came back and advised that large forces of Germans had arrived in our area, and they are preparing a sortie against the partisans. We set out immediately at a quick pace for the other side of the Shchara River. Apparently, according to the plan of our central command, we were to reach the other side of the river and conceal ourselves there in the large Ruda forests. It was clear that there was no purpose in trying to confront the superior German forces directly with our meager resources, since they outnumbered us by ten times, and were equipped with tank and cannon.

The day was light by the time we reached the tall and thick bulrushes by the banks of the river. From the shore, the voices of the Germans reached our ears. The throbbing rhythm of the tanks and the mobile armor proved to us that we were uncomfortably close to the aggressor. We could hear heavy gunfire coming from the Boralom Forest.

We took a stand. It was clear to us that we were surrounded by the enemy. The shots that were reaching us from the trees gave evidence that the Germans had entered the forest perimeter. The place where we found ourselves was now dangerous, but it had one redeeming feature: it was difficult for the Nazis to conceive that partisans were hiding in the high growth.

Every minute, our scouts would come to us, tired and exhausted from running, bringing reports that were not encouraging. The Germans had established control in all of the villages in the area, and had exacted punishment from the farmers. Their core forces were in the forest. Pavel Bulak's troops were under siege, and the sound of the shots reaching us were the sounds of the battle taking place there.

We lay down and concentrated from the heavy undergrowth. We saw steel-helmeted German troops

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walking behind a small tank at the river's edge. They could stumble upon us at any moment.

However, we could see that the Germans were also possessed by fear: without stopping, they kept shouting in a loud voice:

– Hey, bandits, give yourselves up!

The following day, I learned the details of the battle of the day before. The Germans found the Jewish [family] refugee camp. The farmers of the area had revealed its location! Very few succeeded in escaping.

The majority were annihilated, and were also tortured cruelly by the Nazis. And the Bulak brigade extracted a victory. In this battle, one Jew, Joseph Mayerovich especially stood out, who had come to our environs as a refugee from Poznan. During the battle, he climbed up a tall tree, and despite the fact that the bullets did not cease to whistle past his ears, he didn't move from there, and relayed his intelligence about the points from which the enemy's machine guns were operating, and from which side the Germans were approaching. The Germans pulled back, carrying several tens of their dead and wounded. In this battle, ten Jews who were refugees from Dereczin, were killed, who had joined the Bulak brigade.

(Excerpted from the Book, 'The Brigade of Dr. Atlas')

Killed in the Forests: Sima Shelovsky, Liba Miller, Mirel Ogulnick

My father, together with me and my brother Moshe, went into the forest to a [fighting] partisan company. Our mother, together with the two smaller children, Beileh & Abraham, remained in the ‘family compound.’l We provisioned them.

After a month in the forest, we made it through the first of the bloody German sorties. I happened on that night, to be sleeping at my mother's in the family compound. My mother woke up from her sleep and told me that her younger brother Herschel came to her in a dream, and said: ‘flee, or they will kill you!’

And that is what happened. Our settlement was attacked by Latvians with large dogs. Out of terror, we lay there, my mother, myself, and my younger brother and sister. With us was Nekha, [the daughter of] Yankel-Aryeh, and her little daughter. Peysha, the husband and father, they had lost along the way, and they were certain he was no longer alive. And so, all of us are lying there until they come for us, and they shout: ‘Hende Hoch!’ We rise to our knees, with our hands in the air. They start to shoot. The first bullet hits my mother. Out of terror, we all fall on one another. I am lying on my mother's body. I hear how the murderers say that we are all already dead. They go away.

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In the Forest Without My Mother

I remain lying for a while, and I feel that someone else nearby is still alive. I raise myself, and see my little brother still alive, but his face is covered with the blood of our mother. I gird myself, wipe off his face, and embrace him, being certain that he is the only one else who remained alive. At that point I hear my younger sister's weak voice: ‘I'm alive too.’

All three of us sit around our mother's dead body. Nekha and her little girl are also lying dead near us. We don't know what to do, or where to go. We know nothing of our father and older brother, but deep in our hearts we believe that they are alive.

Night falls. Little sister has a bullet wound in the hand. We begin to go, not knowing where our tearful eyes and tired feet are taking us. We go a piece and then sit to rest – only now to we understand our bitter misfortune: we have lost our mother.

The three of us sit there and weep. Suddenly we hear footfall, and someone is passing through the forest. I say to the children: ‘Let us ask, who is going there, in any case we have nothing to lose. Maybe they are ours?’ I thought to myself, if they are our people going there, perhaps we can fall in with them. And if they are Germans – at least it will be an end to our suffering.

A miracle happened, and they were Jews, Shmeryl and his two children. We ask him where he is going, and he says, to cross the Shchara, believing that the partisans have gone there. We ask him to take us along, and he agrees.

We walk the entire night. In the morning, we remain seated on the other side of the Shchara. It is hot, and the sun is burning down on us. My little sister is faint, and I have nothing to administer to her. We send the small children to see if they can find some berries, in order that I can have something I can give my little sister as refreshment in her mouth. They go away, and return almost immediately to tell us that partisans are moving on the [nearby] road.

I run there, to the road. My elation is indescribable, when I see Moshe-Chaim there with Dr. Atlas. I tell them about my little sister. Dr. Atlas comes to her and administers first-aid. He tells us: ‘Go quickly, not far from here the partisans are camped, and they have a doctor with them who will know what to do for your sister's wound.’

I was so overwhelmed by this encounter that I forgot to ask about my father and brother, but Moshe-Chaim tells me that they are alive, and are at another point, together with the partisans. They tell us to go as quickly as possible to the area where the partisan camp is, because as soon as it gets dark, the partisans are making preparations to move off into a second forest.

We walk at a faster pace, content with the knowledge that our father and older brother are alive. It is not possible to describe our reunion with them. We all cried out of pain for our mother, and for the miracle that somehow left us three children alive.

My little sister was taken to the hospital. I, along with my younger brother, go to the ‘family compound.’ Our older brother Moshe, provides us with some food. He often goes out on missions, fighting against the Germans, taking revenge for the blood that was spilled.

Periodically, when he has to go out on such a mission, he comes to take his leave of us. Each time he comforts me: ‘Don't cry, Gutka, I will return. I saw our mother in a dream, and she said to me, that I must go take revenge on the German murderers, and in addition she said to me, that I will come back. Don't cry, my sister.’

I cannot forget the last time I took leave of my brother. Before leaving on a particularly difficult mission, he came to say goodbye. He wept, saying quietly to me: ‘Who knows if we will ever see each other again.’

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I never saw my brother again. It was 1942. Immediately after this, a great sortie was launched by the enemy on our forest position. I, my father, and little brother were together. We know nothing concerning little Beileh, who was in the hospital. We hear nothing about our brother Moshe.

We run in the forest from place to place. When the attack is over, we all come together. We ask about Moshe – everyone has seen him, but nobody knows where he is. Everyone says that the forest-hospital is OK, but we still know nothing about our little sister. And so the days go by.

One time at night, I have a dream that I am home, and that I am going to the Schulhof. My grandmother approaches me and asks me why I am crying. She says to me: ‘You have lost your mother, but you are not alone. There are thousands of Jews in your situation. But, do not weep for your brother and sister, they are alive. You will see your sister shortly, but you will not see your brother.’

The following morning, I relate this dream to Leah Lozer's,^[1] with whom we live together in the earthen bunker. As we sit and talk, my father comes running and shouts from the outside: ‘Come quickly, Beileh is here!’

Imagine my happiness when I saw my little sister returned to us with her hand healed! But along the way, she had lost a foot to frostbite.

But my joy did not last very long. A short while later, the Germans captured a little Jewish boy, and forced him to lead them into the forest, to the partisans. We hear shooting, and we don't know what to do. As usual, we run toward the [fighting] partisan group – and fall into German hands.

I see the death of my brother and sister. I say to my father: ‘We don't have the children any longer.’ My father says to me: ‘Soon we won't be here anymore as well.’ A couple of minutes later, my father also falls from a bullet.

I see all my beloved ones lying dead before my eyes. I run, run into the forest, and I hear that I am being chased. I see that it is a gentile from Dereczin. He catches up to me and grabs me – he is a German policeman. I recognize him, having been together with him in a class.

I beg him to spare my life. He answers me that he cannot spare my life, and that all the Jews must die. He orders me to lead him to the compound. As I begin to go, I think that I must not take him to the compound, there are Jews there who are old and weak, that did not have the strength to flee – and he will shoot them all.

I decide to go no further. I fall down on the snow and say: ‘Shoot me, I can't go any further!’ He empties an entire cartridge of bullets around me. I lie still, not moving. He is certain that I am dead, and he leaves with his comrades. I pick myself up, not knowing if I am dead or alive.

I stand alone in this huge snow-covered forest, full of the dead, Jews who have been shot, fathers, mothers and little children. Everything about me is dead. The night is lit up, but for me there is only darkness in my eyes, my head, and in my heart. This was the darkest night of my entire life.

I go, not knowing where my feet are dragging me. I go in sleet and snow, and I return to the [family] compound. I find there, all the people who remained in their places and didn't attempt to flee anywhere. The Germans did not reach the compound. Only I, and my dearest fled into the hands of the Angel of Death.

This is how I came to be the sole survivor of a large family with many branches. Was it perhaps ordained that one member of this family would stay alive, in order to tell about the killing of the entire family? Was it ordained perhaps that some memory of our family would be preserved?

My husband and I, and our two beloved children hold onto the thread to faraway and beloved Dereczin. We will never forget our little town and its martyrs.

Translator's Footnote:

1. Yiddish diminutive for Elazar Return

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