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Our home town Gniewashow was less known than other towns of like-size pre-war Poland; indeed it was rarely marked on the maps.

For us, however, the few who survived the horrors of war and destruction, this little town was our world, a world of memories and emotions, of our childhood, adolescence and youth. It was our home where devoted Jewish mothers and worrying Jewish fathers led a difficult struggle for their very survival and the maintenance of a Jewish way of life. It was the native ground of our dreams, loves, ambitions; the place where we cherished dreams and pursued ideals, some of them our own and some that we got from others …..

This town of ours, little known in the world, situated in the heart of the Kielz district, was the spot where our cradles stood; there we began our studies, both secular and Jewish; in the cheder or schulle; there we went to the Mikve – for the ritual bath or down to the river for a real swim! It was in Gniewashow that we first became aware of our public and political obligations; there we matured and initiated, with our own meagre resources, the Zionist club or the trade-union branch. That's where we loved dearly our school and the house of prayer, the humble Chassidic “shtibl” as well as the secular library, the dramatic club and the many other clubs where we held our endless discussions and

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Arguments about religion and “heresy”, Zionism vs. communism – until everything was utterly wiped out by the cruel bands of Hitler's hangmen and their native collaborators.

A memorial volume such as this is not merely a chronicle recording the tale of destruction and ruin; it is also a history of Jewish thought and creative endeavour as well as a record of Jewish struggle. It is an attempt to record the life of one community's achievements from its early beginnings down to its last tragic days.

We tried to give a fully recorded account of the contribution made by the sons and daughters of our town to the rebuilding of Israel, before and after the establishment of the state.

The publication of this memorial volume in Yiddish, Hebrew and English, holding more than 600 pages, was more than an arduous task for the mere few dozen families of our townsmen now living in Israel and in other countries. It was made possible, against all odds, only due to the exemplary dedication of townsmen who regarded it their sacred duty to contribute their written memoires as well as the financial means necessary for publication.

We consider it our pleasant task to express our gratitude to our editor and friend, David Shtokfish for the tireless efforts in the fulfilment of his job and to his colleagues Abraham Knaani, who edited the Hebrew section and Yosef Wilfand of Kibbutz Ein Hashofet, who did the translations and edited our English section.

Now that we have completed the preparations of the SEFER GNIEWASHOW for publication, we feel that we have

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erected a living and lasting monument dedicated to the sacred memory of our dearly beloved ones, some of whose graves remained unknown and unmarked. We fervently hope that this volume will be a fitting memorial for our fallen martyrs and sacred dead of our beloved community.

The Memorial Book Committee
Tel-Aviv, February 1971

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According to documents found in historical archives, the founding of Gniewashow dates back to 1693 when the local nobleman and landowner, Ian Gniewosh decided to found a settlement on the land near the village of Alexow. This settlement developed rapidly into a town and was chartered in 1712 by the Polish King Augustus II. It expanded in the direction of the neighbouring town of Granitz, established by another landowner called Granish.

It seems that there was little friendship or tolerance between the two townships, for as old records show, there is evidence of many efforts by the count of Granitz, Karol Mishkovsky, to develop his own town which also attained the township status under a charter by King Augustus III in 1735.

The recorded information about the progress of these two towns during the following hundred years, which is the period of the great partitions of Poland by its neighbours – Russia, Austria and Prussia – is rather meagre. We do know, however, that during the Napoleonic Wars, the two towns were practically devastated by fire and sword.

The same lot befell them in 1914.

*

There is rather interesting data about the population and its national composition during the recent century.

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Thus we know that in 1861 the population of Granitz was about 945 of whom 819 were Jews, whereas, the population of Gniewashow for that year was 584 souls of whom only 264 were Jewish.

It appears that historians of that period had little sympathy or interest for Granitz for the documents say that: “Granitz had meagre chances for development and was not regarded as a positive settlement”. This remark may be the reason for later reports in which there is no mention at all of the name Granitz and in 1880, it is reported that “Gniewashow together with the former town of Granitz” have a population of 2359. This means that Granitz was simply swallowed by Gniewashow and there is no mention at all of any union or merger.

It is clear that both towns were intended primarily as trade centres and were so designed with ample room for periodic fairs and shops. But the lord of Gniewashow succeeded in taking control of the centre and did not permit any competition by Granitz.

Nor was the competition between the towns confined to its rulers. The Jews too, in the two respective towns, had a long tradition of separate institutions, cemeteries and also two Rabbis. This would-be religious competition naturally had definite economic background.

*

When Warsaw became the capital of the Polish Kingdom in the 16^th century, new trade routes were formed among them, the Lublin-Warsaw route which leads to the Vistula River. The right bank of the river was already well on its way of development and progress. There was the old trade route from Kuzmir to Warsaw along the River bank.

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The left bank, however, developed later.

Following the final partition of Poland, the territory to the right of the Vistula came under Russian domination and many Jews who fled the terror and persecutions of the Russians came across the river to live under the more lenient rule of the Austrians.

Thus, the two towns, Gniewashow and Granitz, began to develop and even thrive as trading centres and the benevolent rule of the local administration encouraged Jews to settle there as tradesmen and artisans.

Later, Gniewashow was also the seat of the county Judicial institutions, the postal station and also the location of a primary school.

In 1827, there were already 95 homesteads and a population of about 882.

In 1861, there were already 157 homesteads and 1529 inhabitants of whom 1083 were Jews.

In 1880, there were 93 houses (3 of them brick buildings), 1066 inhabitants and together with Granitz – 2359 inhabitants.

Only little change is recorded, however, in the progress of the two towns since the turn of the century.

*

During World War II, the Germans annihilated the entire Jewish population and completely destroyed the whole town so that by 1946, the population of the twin town dwindled to a mere 1022 and, in 1960 – to 955.

The official records, as mentioned in the 1965 edition of a two-volume register of Polish Towns (Miasta Polskie w Ticzoncletsu), mention Giniwashow and Granitz as

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“villages that were once townships” in the District of Kielzi, about 27km south-east of Koczenitz by the Vistula River.

About the Jewish population during the German occupation, we have the data reported by the Bulletin of the Jewish Historical Institute of Warsaw (July-December 1955, N°s 15-16 in Polish). There we read the following statistical data:

Number of Jews on September 1,	1939: 1,580
During the year	1940: 1,800
March	1941: 2,300
May	1941: 2,750
October	1941: 2,987

It is clear that fluctuation of these figures depended largely on the number of Jews brought here from nearby towns in preparation for their transfer to extermination camps.

By August 1942, the number of Jews amassed in Ginievashow came up to 6,580. During the period of the next six months, March to August 1942, 600 of them were sent to the Demblin Camp, and about 5,000 to Zvolin. On November 15, about 1,000 were transported to Treblinka. On that day, it may be said that the history of this Jewish community that had lasted for 250 years, came to an end.

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I, Aaron Glassman, the son of Moishe Yankev Glassman, would like to relate something about my family.

First, I should like to tell about my father, Moishe Yankev. My father was a shoemaker. This was his trade. He worked all week. On Thursday mornings he would leave for the village to deliver the shoes he had made for the peasants. This would take all day and usually also into the night. He would then remain in the village for the night and return home on Friday morning before dawn.

Whether he was paid for his labours or not, my father would leave the product of his work, (often, he was not paid) bringing back home the foodstuff which became the staples of our diet: beans, kasha, potatoes and fish. This food was shared with neighbours had had less food for the Sabbath. Once, he brought home a fish that weighed eleven pounds. Imagine the sensation in our shtetl? He asked my brother Shimon to bring it as a gift to the Rabbi in Yvangorod. My father also wanted the Rabbi to give my brother his benediction for he had a weak heart.

My father never worked on Fridays for that day, after 12 o'clock, was already considered the Sabbath. Then, it was my father's job to see that the Shul and the Beth HaMidrash were lit with Sabbath candles. He would go from house-to-house, rain or shine or snow, carrying a box in which he collected the candles for the Shul and the Beth HaMidrash.

In the summer, my father used to work at an orchard

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for about 10 or 12 weeks. During this period, he saw to it that enough money and candles were left with the “Shames” (the beadle) to assure proper lighting of the Shul and Beth HaMidrash while he was away. This was an important part of my father's life during all the years that I can remember.

I corresponded with my father until the war came. During the war, I received one postcard. I don't know when or where he died.

I had another brother, Usher who had two sons and a daughter. One of his sons died as a political prisoner under Pilsudsky. About the other, I do not know anything. He and his family perished.

One of my brothers who left Poland before World War I, hoping to get to America, survived. He came to Argentine where he settled with his wife and raised a family there. They are still there.

This portrait of my family would hardly be complete without a few words about my mother. She was a hard working woman who raised a large family, lost some children due to infectious disease and inadequate medical care so typical of town-life in those days. She was always patient and imbued all of us with a strong feeling for our religious and cultural heritage.

Now, a word about myself: I have been in America since 1913. My wife and I have two married daughters and four grandchildren.

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I, Jacob Bernofsky, known as Baginowsky, left my hometown at the age of 15. I left behind me my father, Usher Zellik, my mother Faiga (also known as Faiga Yerels), a sister Houdis and her husband Herschel Steinfield who lived in Warsaw with their four children … an unmarried sister called Dvorah and two brothers: Shloime and Schima.

My father was a shoemaker by trade. He specialized in men's shoes made to order and his clients were mostly the peasants of our town and the surrounding villages. Although he worked very hard, he could hardly make a decent living for the family by his work alone. It was difficult to bring up such a large family and give the children a proper education by modern standards. The best he could do was to care for their Jewish education.

In order to add to the family income my parents began to do some business which meant work in addition to shoemaking such as the raising of geese for sale in the winter and spring and other such pursuits. After this, they also went into fruit growing during the summer season, leasing an orchard from some landowner.

At harvest time, the whole family would work very hard gathering the fruit and bringing it to market in the nearby towns. We carried fruit baskets on our backs and it took several hours to reach our destination. We brought apples, pears and plums. When we were fortunate, we

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could dispose of our fruit at a profitable price and this made us very happy … but very often, we had to sell at a loss.

Life was simple and even primitive but for the three months of June, July and August, sometimes even part of September, we enjoyed outdoor living.

One year I remember especially well. It was early spring when my father went to lease a fruit orchard at a nearby village named Sarnof. When a neighbour of ours called Moishe Hershleibs heard of this, he hastened to the very same orchard and offered a higher bid than my father. When my mother heard of this man's bid on the same orchard, she feared there would be a fight between the two men.

Hastily, she decided to send my elder brother, Israel, to avert a fight. While rushing to them he became greatly over-heated and paused for a cold drink. This was the cause of his appendix attack.

When my mother realized how serious his condition was, she rushed him to Yevongorod because we had no doctor in our town. Unfortunately, he could not be saved and died at the age of 17.

After the tragic death of my elder brother Israel, I decided to leave the town of my birth and see the big world ahead of me. I left home and came to Paris, France and after staying a short time, I decided to go to America.

Five years later, I brought over to the U.S. my two brothers Schlaima and Schimma.

After they came, we sent more money to bring the rest of the family to America, but they used the money to furnish

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Their homes and refused to come. As a result, when Hitler marched into Poland, they all perished.

The memory of our town, Ginivishow will forever remain with me.

As for myself, I married in 1920. I have two daughters and a son whom I raised to adulthood and am now enjoying seven grandchildren.

I am enclosing a picture of my father, mother and younger sister Dvorah.

Delegation of our townsmen at Treblinka (1960) unveiling tombstone in memory of our martyrs exterminated at that camp

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On Friday, Sept.1 1939 when the war broke out, I had to report at the office of the Military Authorities in Radom. German planes were already bombarding the town. When I returned home to Ginievasho, I found my shop pillaged.

Saturday morning, Sept.21, on my return from morning prayers, I found my store had been torn open by Germans who were helping themselves to whatever they could lay hands on and peasants from nearby villages were also pillaging. On Sunday evening, two Germans were stationed to guard the store. During that night a Volksdeutsch of my acquaintance came to warn me that all my merchandise would be confiscated the next day. I began to put away as much as I could.

The next day, all able-bodied males were conscripted to do forced labour. We were hauling rocks and stones from one place to another and other useless jobs just to show us that we were under their command and especially to degrade us morally.

A few days later, a peasant named Liass from a village near Radom informed the German authorities that a Jew had hidden merchandise with him. Thus he established his own reputation as an honest Pole.

*

During the first winter of the war, my mother became ill. We could not get medical aid and she died soon after.

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At the end of 1939, all Jews were expelled from Paolov. Refugees from Paolov were housed in our town. When the Germans forced the Jews to live in ghettoes, we lived in very congested homes.

In 1942, the Germans ordered all Jews to shave their heads. Religious Jews like me suffered miserably. Those who disobeyed had half their beard shaved and were forbidden to do anything about it such as to cover their faces with kerchiefs, etc.

August 1942 all Jews were expelled from Ginievashov. They fled to nearby towns and villages where there were no ghettoes. I hid in the house of a Polish friend for the price of 100 zlotys per person per day. After two weeks, we took refuge in a small town – Hotch – 35km from our own hometown. In the surrounding woods there were groups of Polish Underground Partisans. One night, they broke into our home and robbed us of all the cash in our possession. We escaped to a small town – Chepallov, where we had relatives. The local Jüdenrat refused to register us. We, therefore, had no residence permit and consequently no work permit. If discovered, we would have been shot. We begged permission to work without pay only to be able to remain.

Later, on hearing that the Jews in a nearby town were being evacuated, we rushed back to Hotch. Later, there was an order from the German Police Authorities that Jews were not allowed to stay in Hotch either. One night, we were attacked by Polish bandits. Everything we had was robbed and handed over to the Germans. A friendly Polish peasant led us during the night to Zwalla where we remained in hiding for two weeks in the sheeps'pen of another peasant. He

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in turn took us to another peasant who owned a water-mill where it was convenient to hide. Punishment by the Germans for harbouring Jews was very severe.

*

My brother's son and three other young men hid in the home of another Polish peasant who later informed the German gendarmes about us. But aided by the peasants, for a goodly sum of money, we managed to escape with the aid of a family named Stach Wasslavsky who sheltered us a whole year. He was well rewarded for a new building was registered on his name.

We were again betrayed by a peasant family and had to move on. I went to my friend. The peasant gave him merchandise for which he gave me cash. We went to another village where we were sheltered by peasant for a short time. We lived in a pig-bin hidden in straw. During the day we dare not move; only at night we would come out for an airing and to ventilate our hide-out. Our host also prepared warm meals for us and bought us bread. All these services were well paid for; but we also knew they were risking their lives. They also helped us sell our merchandise from time-to-time for which service they were also well remunerated.

In 1944 while still in our hide-out, we were informed by partisans from the forest that the Russian army was approaching and would take over very soon. Many Polish refugees also came to where we were hiding. One Polish peasant said: “Now that the Russians are coming, there will be a Jewish government!”

The next morning, German soldiers ordered everyone to

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leave in 5 minutes. We, the Jewish families, disguised as Polish peasants, mingled in the crowd of Polish refugees, but one of them warned us that we might be betrayed by someone. We were a group of seven people all related. We hid in the forest. We then went back to our friendly Polish peasant. After three days, the Germans arrived. They searched everywhere and from our hide-out, we saw they were coming very near to us. They discovered us. We said we were Polish refugees and that saved us. The Germans left us in peace.

A few days later, we went out into the fields at night to gather beets, cucumbers and potatoes. Our Polish acquaintances permitted us to cook our food. One day, some Germans shouted at us: “Who are you?” We ran away and hid. At another time, an acquaintance bought meat and bread for us.

On January 15, 1945, we noticed Russian soldiers had come. We saw Poles who were also looking for hide-outs. When they saw us in our hide-out they were astonished to see there were Jews still left alive. Every one of us suffered from some illness. My little boy died.

After Passover 1945, we left for Lodz. I registered one of my sons for a Kibbutz and he left for Austria on his way to Palestine. I went back to Ginievasho but I didn't dare appear on the streets during daytime. So the summer passed.

There was someone in Ginievasho who wanted to buy my house. We arranged to meet in Lodz to arrange the sale officially. We went to the Polish woman with whom we had left merchandise. She would give us neither merchandise nor money. Meanwhile, we saw Russian police and felt more secure. Later, we were told by Jews who had

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Been there that these Russian police were actually Poles and two of them Germans in disguise. When they arrived at the police station, the Poles disarmed those in charge, cut the telephone wires and went to look for Jews to kill. They brought their victims to the police station and shot them there. Among those shot was my wife and four other close relatives. May they rest in peace.

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