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Standing: Mekhl Kanner, Avrom Varman, and Mordkhe Puterman
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[Page 126]
Translated by Yael Chaver
[Page 127]
[Page 128]
[Page 129]
When talking about survivors of Krasnystaw, the reference is usually to those who were living in the town when the war broke out in 1939. However, this terminology is not completely accurate.
Actually, with a few exceptions, the only survivors were those who left Krasnystaw before the German savages took control of the town, or immediately after their arrival. These people realized only at the last minute what their fate would be if they stayed in town; they fled to the Soviet Union, the only country where refuge was then still possible.
But there were many Krasnystaw residents who had gone to other countries years earlier. They had realized that they could not build a life in the town. They saw that the Jewish masses were gradually being pushed out of all the professions and could not make a living. The repressive Polish regime was forcing them to leave the town or be condemned to a life with no chance of advancement. They therefore decided to leave for other countries, where they believed there would be more freedom and other possibilities to realize their potential. I believe that those who left for America or other countries overseas years earlier had been much more prescient and willing to take risks than those who fled after the war broke out, right before the impending catastrophe. Obviously, those who
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had left to become Jewish settlers in the Land of Israel were really adventurous and revolutionary.
Thanks to their bravery, they and their children were saved from certain death and decline, and should thus also be numbered among the survivors. Fate willed that those who had left Krasnystaw earlier would now become the main rescuers of those who survived destruction by the Nazis.
In fact, this is true not only of the Krasnystaw survivors but of all the Jewish survivors of the destruction. If it weren't for the Jews in America, most of whom are from Poland, the survivors would probably not be alive today. The material help from our brothers in the U.S.A. helped us, the survivors of the gas chambers and crematoriums, play a role in the resurrection of the Jewish people after the most recent destruction.
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Standing: Mekhl Kanner, Avrom Varman, and Mordkhe Puterman |
The enormous efforts being made to maintain and restore the lives of the few surviving Jews of Europe are closely linked with the dedication and goodwill of our American brothers. Help is reaching us through different channels: general national institutions as well as associations of natives.
This Yizkor Book, which is a monument to our murdered martyrs, must certainly also contain material about the survivors. May it be a consolation when we recount that our enemy could not destroy
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the entire Jewish nation, and that the survivors are continuing to spin the thread of Jewish history.
This is not the place to write about the general international efforts to support revival. We would only like to mention the unusual, extremely important work that the survivors' associations carried out to help their members with direct and timely material aid, as well as the organizational work of the survivors in the camps.
Our Krasnystaw natives in America do not lag behind the natives of other towns. Each person supports the general institutions, such as the “Joint,” the Keren Kayemet, Keren Hayesod, and other national funds, and also donate directly to their fellow natives in the camps on the cursed, blood-soaked soil of Germany.[1]
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The main significance of this help lies not only in its material value, as important as it is. The few survivors, who felt so bereft after the destruction, needed, above all,
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the encouragement and cheer supplied by a warm word, to enable them to continue their lives. Above all, they needed a warm brotherly hand to demonstrate that they had not been forgotten, and left lonely and neglected.
The main reason the survivors decided to organize in associations was their desire to meet once again with familiar people from their hometown. People wanted to huddle close to each other; they all felt orphaned. For this reason, as well as the desire to mourn those martyred – brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, and friends – in community, our Krasnystaw survivors' association was formed.
Fate had decreed that in 1939, when the Nazi flood overwhelmed Poland and drew near to our town, a certain number of people had the opportunity to save themselves in the Soviet Union. About one hundred people then fled at that time, and are today the only survivors of the Krasnystaw Jewish community. Those who stayed in the town and were overtaken by the Nazi occupation were gruesomely murdered and annihilated. Miraculously, three young women also survived: Esther Muterperl (daughter of Itshele Muterperl); Esther Knobel (daughter of Abish Knobel, and Tzipora
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May 12, 1948, in Bad Reichenhall (Bavaria) |
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Zigelshifer (the daughter of Yitzchok Zigelshifer) who was tortured so severely and was so weak that she died in Germany. A few young people also survived, due to the fact that they were shipped to Germany for hard labor and lived there under Aryan names. All the others were taken, together with the Jews from the surrounding towns, to Belzec, where they were murdered. Many of them were murdered in Krasnystaw proper.
Only those who had fled to the Soviet Union and had lived there for five years under various conditions finally returned to Poland. The few dozen Krasnystaw natives who returned from the U.S.S.R. after the war were like twigs broken off an enormous tree.
It was mostly the young who went to the U.S.S.R. Older people did not go. No one could have imagined that the Germans would murder everyone in the devilishly refined manner that they did – old, young, men, women, and children. The older people thought, “Jews are accustomed to having problems, and people prefer to die in their own beds.” They couldn't imagine that the murderers wouldn't allow people to die in their own beds, and that the dead wouldn't even be buried in a Jewish cemetery.
Those in the Soviet Union had no idea of the scope of the disaster. People heard what Hitler had been doing to the Jews, and their hearts contracted with worry for the fate of their nearest and dearest: mothers, fathers, and families. But these thoughts were shoved aside: “Such cruelty is impossible,” “the world won't be silent.” In each of us there lived a spark of hope that we would make it through the dark days and meet our nearest and dearest once again.
That was also why all the Polish Jews hurried back once the war was over. But they did not find their dear ones, only emptiness and desolation. The Krasnystaw survivors went back to their town fearing for their lives, as rampaging gangs of ruffians were freely attacking Jews there.
The Jewish homes were now occupied by non-Jews, and there was no trace of family members. The survivors fled as though from an epidemic, chased by the dark, bloody nightmare of destruction, and wandered all over Poland. It was then that they decided to leave Poland with no clear destination, and ended up in the displaced-persons camps.
Thanks to two enterprising people, a meeting of Krasnystaw survivors was held in Bad Reichenhall on May 5, 1947. Many tears
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were shed that day. People swore to remember the martyrs forever.
People sought consolation among our fellow natives in America and elsewhere. It was not material help – although that was also needed – as much as warm words of sharing in grief. I would like to emphasize that the first words of sympathy came from the Committee in Los Angeles. The first letter from the chairman, our dear Ben Tsukerman, was worth more than the greatest treasure. The Los Angeles Committee also sent material help, through Ben Tsukerman. Although Los Angeles was the home of only a few of our hometown survivors, they sent more help than any of the other committees combined. Hundreds of food packages and dozens of packages with clothes arrived, thanks to Ben alone.
Ben Tsukerman also sent money to each survivor. I would like to emphasize the manner in which this help was extended: always whole-heartedly, and with care for the recipients' humanity.
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Ben Tsukerman, the distinguished chairman of the Los Angeles Committee was the chief force behind the creation of this memorial book.
The main achievements of the Los Angeles Committee are, without question, preservation of the memory of the murdered Jews of Krasnystaw as well as the help extended to the survivors.
The work of the Krasnystaw survivors' organization in Germany would certainly not have been possible without the help of Ben Tsukerman and the Los Angeles Committee.
Our fellow survivors in New York as well, headed by President Sam Lichtenshteyn, did not forget their sacred duty towards their unhappy brothers in the DP camps. The New York Aid Committee is continuing its assistance by sending money to many individual survivors.
We heard that an Aid Committee was formed in Argentina as well, headed by Mr. Gershn Shtern. Unfortunately, we have as yet not been able to be in close contact with the Argentina Aid Committee due to distance and communication issues. However, we are convinced that all the Krasnystaw survivors, wherever they are, are committed to carrying out the last will and testament of the martyrs: making sure that the memory of Jewish Krasnystaw shall not disappear, and that the Jewish people shall continue to exist.
May the participants be blessed!
Translator's footnote:
By Aryeh Shtuntsayger
Translated by Yael Chaver
In November of 1944, I was sent from the USSR to Lublin as a soldier in the Polish army. Naturally, my first thought was to take advantage of the chance to travel to Krasnystaw. I had already heard in the USSR of the disaster that had overtaken our people and the destruction of Polish Jewry. But the reports were so gruesome and unbelievable that everyone felt they had to see it with their own eyes. I had a lingering spark of hope: “Maybe it was exaggerated, maybe the decimation wasn't that total.”
When I arrived in Lublin, the first thing I had to do was to report to Headquarters. The commander told me at the train station that Headquarters was located in the notorious Majdanek death camp. Curiosity drove me there as soon as possible. I wanted to see the death camp where millions of our brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers were murdered.
The camp was about four kilometers from the city, covered an area of 14 square kilometers, and was surrounded by a double barbed-wire fence. Dozens of barracks stood in straight rows. This was where the unfortunates condemned to death were kept while alive. The camp was in perfect order. Paved roads separated the barracks. There was no sign of the terrible tragedy that played out here, between these fences. Almost all the barracks were now populated by soldiers. I
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looked around intently, hoping to find a trace of those who were murdered. On the right, I noticed a partly ruined building with a protruding chimney.
The soldiers told me that it was the crematorium. I went up to the half-destroyed structure: the oven was almost intact. Inside, there were huge iron grates with perforations. I was told that these were meant to allow the fat to flow off the burning bodies into a channel; the fat was later used to make soap.
Mounds of human bones and ash lay around the crematorium. Shoes of all sizes, including women's and children's shoes, were strewn around the warehouses.
The moment I had a chance the next morning, I went to the city, with the sole aim of finding an acquaintance, or just any Jew. I was very familiar with Lublin before the war. There were many people I knew there, as well as family members. I went to Lubartowska Street, where my uncle had had a sausage factory. Naturally, not only could I not find the factory or my uncle; I could not see any sign of Jews throughout the full length of the street, which had been populated by Jews. All the Jewish shops now bore Polish names. My heart contracted when I saw the street calmly going about its business. The Jews had all vanished, yet everything seemed so normal…
I asked a Christian whether there were any Jews anywhere. He told me that there were Jews in the Peretz-House.[1] I went there, and found about 200 Jewish men and women who had survived the concentration camps. Most of them were Polish Jews; there were also some Jews from Hungary. All were from locations far from Lublin, and none from the Lublin area.
I told those Jews that I was planning to go to Krasnystaw. They advised me not to go, because at that time Krasnystaw was the center of the A.K. and the N.S.Z.[2] No Jew's life was safe there.
Downcast, I returned to Headquarters. I was then posted to the Fifth Special Battalion, and sent to the front at Dêblin, near the Vistula River. But I clung to the notion of visiting Krasnystaw. A few months later, as soon as I could get a furlough, I went there. For added security, I took my adjutant along. He was a Pole who looked Jewish and was strangely friendly. His Jewish appearance may have contributed to his affinity for Jews.
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Armed with a Parabellum and a TT, as well as several hand grenades in my pocket, I drove to Krasnystaw.[3] My adjutant carried an automatic.
The moment I got out of the car in Krasnystaw, I felt terribly lonely. Where should I go? I had a look at the town. It had hardly been damaged in the fighting; the buildings were whole. But on that cold, gray winter day the town looked sad and neglected. The buildings around us, mostly Jewish property, were dilapidated and filthy. Apparently, the facades hadn't been repaired since the Jews were driven out of town. The main square that had been so beautiful was now derelict, and the fence around it was broken.
I decided to visit my home first. But as I went into the courtyard, my heart sank. Here, where Jewish children had played, all was deathly silent. The windows used to be hung with curtains decorated with crystals. I walked around the courtyard for a few minutes. No one came out. It was desolate.
My mind filled with thoughts, and my heart beat strongly. Here, in this corner, my father and I built a sukkah every year. Over there is where I used to sit and read on summer evenings, or play the mandolin. And this is where my little sister fell and was badly bruised while playing.
I left the courtyard, practically at a run, and did not go into our apartment. I knew that I'd never go there again. But I decided to take a good look at the town; I knew every corner of it very well.
It happened to be a market day, and I went to the marketplace. No Jews were around. Christians dealt with the very same merchandise that Jews used to handle. I walked between the stalls. One Christian was selling used goods, which he had probably “inherited” from Jews. Others came by to inspect the merchandise. He demanded a high price. When the peasant women began to negotiate with him, he shouted, “After all, I'm not a Jew who sets a high price!”
I felt another stab in my heart, and was tempted to throw a grenade at the Christian and his merchandise. But I restrained myself, and kept walking. No one realizes I'm Jewish, I suddenly thought.
The old hazelnut tree still stood in the middle of the marketplace, as it did when I would climb it as a child to pick the nuts. Later, I went to the town's
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House of Study. The structure was a ruin, and the windows were boarded up. It now served as storage for the local Cooperative. I was heartsick when I remembered that here, in the House of Study, I had been a student for several years. We students owned the street. Now it was empty and sad, and the boarded-up windows were scary in their blindness and destruction.
I continued to the “club,” where I had spent the best days of my life. It was a center for discussions and readings, where nearly all the young people of Krasnystaw went to relax and hang out. The club was my school for social matters, where I took my first steps as an organizer and social activist, and developed my outlook on life. The club and the House of Study planted a profound, ongoing reverence forouse of Study, House of books in me and in many other young people of Krasnystaw. This was where I went to an evening dance for the first time, and was first excited by girls. The library was destroyed in the first days of the war, as soon as the Hitlerist vandals entered the town. A Christian was now living there. It was the same in the Turiisk Hassidic small synagogue. The square, where almost every Jew in the town had played as a child, was now bare. The nearby schoolrooms for small boys was where Reb Leyzer the melamed taught for forty consecutive years. Images of my earliest childhood danced before my eyes.
I went to the bridge, the location of my first date, my first evening walk with a girl, and my first bashful kiss… The road to the bridge, which also led to the train station, was paved with gravestones robbed from the defiled Jewish cemetery. As soon as I noticed this, I felt as though I was walking over live coals. I turned to the right and walked through the Groblie neighborhood, which had been populated almost exclusively by poor Jews. Scenes of Shabbat afternoons filled my vision: the hard-working, perennially worried Jewish women would sit down for a rest on thresholds and the earthen benches adjoining the walls, and share good-natured gossip about each couple that passed by. I passed the small bridge near the Groblie House of Study. There was no trace of the House of Study now; it had become a vegetable garden. The Jews of Groblie would cross the bridge every Shabbat afternoon and go to the hill, to drink their fill of the crystal-clear, ice-cold water of the spring. Not one of these hardworking Jewish laborers remains; they have all vanished. I felt ants crawling over my back, and shuddered.[4] My brain seemed unresponsive, as though weighed down by a layer of lead. But I had decided to see everything, and continued walking.
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The smithy, where Zaynvl the blacksmith and his brother had worked, was still there, but the building was now locked.
There was only one more site that I had to see: the Jewish cemetery. I walked to it.
It was outside the town, on the border of a pine forest. This was where my grandparents rested, and where pious Jews shed their tears during troubled times, begging the deceased to intercede for them “there,” with God, for the sake of their children.
The cemetery had been defiled in a terrible way. The fence was destroyed, shards of gravestones littered the ground, and the graves were trampled and buried. I could not look at the appalling sight; my eyes filled with heavy tears that rolled down my face. The few peasants who walked by stopped to watch the Polish soldier who was standing there weeping. They soon realized what was happening and went on their ways. I was seized by the strange feeling that I needed to leave as quickly as possible. “The Christians must not see my tears,” I thought.
Night had fallen in the meantime. I went to the train station, hoping to find a train to Lublin. I wanted to flee from the town as soon as possible; my town had suddenly become a completely alien place, and I felt terribly lonely and crushed. But there was no train. I had to wait until morning, and started thinking about a place to spend the night.
I met a young peasant at the train station, a blacksmith named Halas, with whom I had gone to school. He didn't recognize me, and thought I was Polish. He came up to us, expressed his esteem for the “Polish officer,” and invited us to stay with him. I went to his rundown hut.
That evening, my adjutant played his mandolin, and a couple of young Christians came by to talk with the “Polish officer.” They told me they belonged to the AK; I decided to be careful. To make sure they wouldn't suspect me of being Jewish, I had to clear my face of all agitation and sadness. I explained that I came from this region and was passing through. I asked them what had happened here during the years of occupation. They calmly told me about the extermination of the Jews, as though it was a natural, ordinary thing. The host boasted the he had not benefited from Jewish property, and was as poor as he had been before, unlike other people. Because of this, I was not completely sure that I was unrecognized; the Jewish face of my Christian
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adjutant was suspect. I spent the night wide-awake, revolver in hand.
I went into town very early to locate a car, but had to wait for several hours. As I walked, I was recognized by a few Christians. One of them, a former bricklayer, came up. I immediately noticed that he had a problem speaking to me. He was awkward and uncomfortable. I wanted to try and recognize his voice, and asked him, “Do you think I should come back here and settle?” “Yes, you could do that,” he said, “there's space. But…” he stopped, then continued, “There are some horrible people here, and that makes it terrible.”
I sensed that he was telling the truth. Jews did not bother him, poor bricklayer that he was. But the others, who had enriched themselves by grabbing Jewish houses and Jewish businesses, would not permit a Jew to live here, knowing as he does how they obtained their wealth.
I had no thought of paying another visit, because my heart wouldn't survive in this atmosphere; it would break.
The car arrived. I got in quickly, so as to leave the place as soon as possible.
When the car began moving, a terrible curse burst out of my chest, a curse with no addressee. It would lurk here, and locate those who helped in the destruction.
But this nebulous curse depressed me even more.
Translator's footnotes:
By Noyekh Griss
Translated by Yael Chaver
When my father visited the Land of Israel before World War I, he promised several people from our town to bring them the precious gift they asked for: a small bag of soil from the Holy Land. It was the gift they most wished for. They believed that they could only complete their lives through uniting with the soil of the Holy Land, and it would fulfill their deepest desires.
The deep and widespread faith, expressed in innumerable legends, that Jews needed to become one with their soil after death, if not in life, guided most Jews and was expressed in various ways. It was this faith that gave rise to all the forms of Zionism.
Whereas Jews had once brought soil for pious men and women, a delegation from the Land of Israel had now brought its soil to the grave of the Warsaw Ghetto heroes, emphasizing the continuity between their battle and ours as links in the chain that calls for our freedom to be Jews and to live as Jews.
Thanks to the current auspicious democratic conditions, it has become possible to erect a monument to the fighters of the Warsaw Ghetto. However, there are dozens and hundreds of cities, towns, fields, and forests throughout Poland, France, Hungary, Germany, Romania, and Belgium, where it may not be possible to erect monuments. There are graves that will remain unknown, and there are people who do not know where their relatives' graves lie.
That is not all. We need to not only honor the memory of the deceased, though millions were murdered and no trace of their remains exists.
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The survivors have another duty: to immortalize an entire generation in a way that will express their immense bravery when they died to sanctify the nation.
It was no coincidence that, on the 42d day of the heroic fight in the Warsaw Ghetto, when the ghetto was in flames, Jews barricaded themselves inside the last four-story building still standing
“When the flames enveloped the first floor, the Jews climbed to the second floor, and then continued to climb, fleeing the inexorable fire, up to the fourth floor. The enemies yelled in vain, 'Come down! We'll grant you your lives!' The last defenders of Jewish honor did not wish to live as slaves; the battle continued.
“Suddenly, the savage German soldiers stood as though turned into stone, with their weapons in numb hands. The scene on the eerie unearthly street was strange: the last four defenders, remnants of the heroic fighters, came out onto the highest balcony. Each was wrapped in a flag – one in red, another red and white, a third blue and white. The fourth was not a flag at all, but rather a tallit.[1] Enveloped in their flags, they sounded a heartrending, unearthly cry: 'Am Yisro'el Chai!'[2] Then they flung themselves into the fire” (Yudel Mark, Ruins Recount).[3]
Am Yisro'el Chai was the battle cry. Where else but here would the dream of Jewish fighters come true? Where else but here should their heroism be commemorated?
The names and actions of Anielewicz and Hannah Szenes, as well as Braslav and Frumkeh should be engraved in the future “Hall of Heroism.”[4] Others whose voices should be heard are Meir Hazanovitch, Trumpeldor, Brenner, Yoysef Lewartowski, Leyb Yaffe, and Dr. Kahane of Kielce.[5] The same is true for the millions of European Jews and the hundreds of Jews in the Land of Israel who recently fell so that our people might live.
There is no doubt that the Jews who fought in the battle against Fascism will be properly honored in each country separately.
The new Poland serves as an example. The underground fighters (Maquis) in France received medals. When Spain is free again, the Jewish fighters of the Botwin Company will be among those honored.[6] But there must be a site and an institution that will collect the Jewish contributions, and build the monumental structure of Jewish heroism. People have been thinking about specific monuments in all cities and countries, and various institutions have been created for this purpose. However, I remember the great impression made on the Polish Historical Commission
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by our delegate's information from the London Conference on Yad Vashem in 1945.
He told us about the gigantic project that would build a mausoleum in Jerusalem, a Temple of Heroism that would function as a historical research institute and would include a library, an archive, etc.
We gradually began to think of ourselves as a branch of the Central Jewish Institute. Almost all the researchers thought that their work would take place in Jerusalem. It was similar in Prague. I visited the Museum, and was interested in materials from Terezin. I was told that the materials were already in the Land of Israel.
The Historical Commission in Germany is also collecting material, and does not plan to stay in that accursed land.
The center for documentation in Paris is also strongly connected with Yad Vashem, as are many other institutions.
The Yad Vashem idea is outstanding in its simplicity and obviousness. It will redress the souls of the millions who were buried without a grain of soil from the Land of Israel; those who are unburied, and whose ashes nourish the fields of Europe.
Yad Vashem has several other important missions. It must be an institution that perpetuates the idea of passing knowledge on to younger generations, and makes sure that national memory persists.
There are people who would like to forget everything that happened, and do not think that the tragedy could return. People are leading their lives as though nothing had happened. This is terrible. A people with a short memory, that does not wish to learn from the past, and forgets its dead, is destined to disappear. This cannot be allowed to happen. Yad Vashem must therefore be a flexible, wide-ranging institution. It must combine the static elements of emotional memory so important for the Jews with a powerful dynamism of national historical significance for the people.
The nation must understand this and help, so that all the elements of this grand plan will be transformed into plans and actions.
Translator's footnotes:
Translated by Yael Chaver
| Ayzen, Simcha | Gut, Shimshon |
| Aynvoner, Chayim and Rivka | Grinshteyn, Sheyndl |
| Aynvoner, Betzalel | Gershteyn, Avrom |
| Eydelsberg, Eliya | Dreyer, Yoysef |
| Eydlsberg, Nochem | Dreyer, Royzeh |
| Eydlsberg, Moyshe and Nekheh | Dreyer, Mirl |
| Avrukh, Sheyndl | Dresher, Meir |
| Avrukh, Shmuel and Chayeh | Holtshacker, Dovid |
| Avrukh, Soreh | Hartshteyn, Borekh |
| Avrukh, Tsirl | Hokhboym, Azriel |
| Obenshteyn, Noteh and wife | Hokhboym, Azriel[1] |
| Obenshteyn, Yoysef | Valik, Rokhl |
| Obenshteyn, Goldeh | Vaynrib, Moysheh |
| Ayznshteyn, Perl | Vaynrib, Matess |
| Oksenberg, Pinkhes and Rokhl | Varman, Avrom and Esther |
| Ayznshteyn, Perl | Zilberman, Tsvi |
| Bergerman, Yitzchok | Zaltsman, Hersh and Sheyndl |
| Bergerman, Yitzchok[1] | Zaltsman, Dovid |
| Bergerman, Akiva | Zaltsman, Leybl |
| Burshteyn, Leybish and Sima | Zitser, Hersh |
| Burshteyn, Toybeh | Zinger, Tsudik |
| Burshteyn, Soreh | Zaltsman, Pesyeh |
| Bukhshteyn, Shmuel | Zaltsman, Shmuel |
| Bukhshteyn, Dovid | Zaltsman, Mendl |
| Bekher, Noyekh | Zaltsman, Tsirl |
| Batalion, Dovid | Zaltsman, Hindeh |
| Bukhbleter, Berl | Zaltsman, Leya |
| Boym, Feygeh | Zaltsman, Miryam |
| Belik, Hersh and brother | Turkltoyb, Nochem |
| Birnboym, Dvoyre | Turkltoyb, Leybl |
| Gerekht, Moysheh | Lev, Rokhl |
| Grobshtok, Hersh | Luft, Goldeh |
| Grobshtok, Motl | Luft, Rivka |
| Grobshtok, Tsirl | Lander, Shimen |
| Grobshtok, Feyge | Lander, Meir |
| Gartler, Nochem | Lerner, Khone |
| Goldberg, Yoysef | Lerner, Aaron |
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| Muterperl, Esther | Raykhman, Miryam |
| Mandltort, Faleh | Rozntsvayg, Mendl and wife |
| Mandltort, Yisro’el | Shok, Dovid |
| Mandltort, Hersh-Leyb | Shok, Aaron-Yitschok |
| Mandler, M. F. | Shok, Uri |
| Nirenberg, Yidl | Shok, Uri and Chayeh |
| Stok, Motl | Shok, Yankev and Tsipora |
| Fingerhut, Soreh | Shok, Rokhl |
| Fingerhut, Mordkhe | Shok, Mendl |
| Prekhter, Borekh and Esther | Shok, Mekhl |
| Prekhter, Moyshe and Esther | Shok, Libeh |
| Prekhter, Eliya | Shok, Moyshe |
| Prekhter, Beyleh | Shok, Osher and Etkeh |
| Prekhter, Miryam | Shok, Leybl and Soreh |
| Peltz, Tsudik | Shok, Yitzchok and wife |
| Perlmuter, Yoysef | Shok, Moysheh |
| Fleshler, Reuven | Shok, Simcheh |
| Flusman, Yekutiel | Shtuntsayger, Mordkheh |
| Futerman, Avrom | Shtuntsayger, Moysheh and Yocheved |
| Futerman, Mordkhe and Hindeh | Shyuntsayger, Aryeh |
| Feldman, Berish | Shtuntsyger, Brayndl |
| Finkel, Perl | Shtuntsayger, Soreh |
| Kenobl, Esther | Shtuntsayger, Gitl |
| Kanner, Mekhl | Shtuntsayger, Dovid |
| Kanner, Leyzer | Shtuntsayger, Yisro’el |
| Kestlman, Yankev | Shtuntsayger, Yitskhok |
| Kornbrener, Yekutiel | Shtuntsayger, Binyomin |
| Rozenblat, Yankev and Rivka | Shtemer, Yeshaya |
| Raykhman, Leyzer | Shvarts, Khaneh |
Translator's footnote:
Translated by Yael Chaver
We express our heartfelt thanks to all those who have helped this project thus far and continue their active work and support for their surviving brothers and sisters of Krasnystaw, enabling the publication of this book, the only monument to our murdered martyrs.
Below we present their names. We send them our good wishes and wish them much luck. May their sacred, noble work be crowned with success.
The Krasnystaw Association in New York extends whole-hearted thanks to all the members who actively supported and contributed to help our brothers and sisters in the camps, and sends regards to the following members in New York.[1]
| Sam and Helen Lichtenstein and family
President of the Krasnystaw Association of New York
Gedalia and Sima Kats and family |
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The Yankev Statman Memorial Fund in Los Angeles extends its heartfelt thanks to all its members and all those who actively and materially supported the Fund's sacred work to help all Krasnystaw natives everywhere, and to safeguard the memory of our martyrs, by erecting a monument and by publishing this Yizkor Book. We send our best regards to the following persons.
| Los Angeles | |
| Yankev Statman (may he rest in peace) | |
| Rivka Statman and | Frank and Jenny Simon |
| Irving Statman | Fayvel Boymfeld |
| Max and Becky Bergman | Yoysef and Regina Zayd |
| Moyshe and Andree Goldberg | Sam and Masha Vership |
| Shloyme and Celia Tsukerman | Chayim and Fanny Haken |
| Tsaduk Tsukerman | Mr. and Mrs. David Gordon |
| Yoysef and Rokhl Simon | Philip and Shirley Roznblum |
| Canada | |
| Berl and Malka Maymon | Mr. and Mrs. Leyzer Gold |
| Yoysef Maymon | Leyzer and Khane Grinberg |
| Chicago | |
| Leybl and Frida Lerman | Max Kahn |
| Netanel and Mrs. Maymon | Geni Kahn |
| Mendl Kahn | |
[Page 149]
| Detroit | |
| Tsukerman Family Members: | |
| Ben and Minnie Tsukerman | Aaron Yoysef and Yocheved Hershteyn |
| (President of the Yankev Statman Memorial Fund) | Louis and Annie Zak |
| Binyomin and Rosie Tsukerman | Louis and Rose Grand |
| Max and Polly Tsukerman | Mr. Velvl Zak |
| Harry and Nettie Tsukerman | Yisro'el and Mashl Tsukerman |
| Yankev and Ida Tsukerman | Esther Miller |
| Yitzchok and Rosie Tsukerman | |
| New York | |
| Alter and Mildred Hokhman Esther Muterperl Mr. and Mrs. Henry Bergman Mr. and Mrs. Shloyme Leybish and Chayeh Ayzenberg Doris Ayzenberg Mr. and Mrs. Max Hertz Mr. and Mrs. Hersh Fayvl Kuni Mr.and Mrs. Berger Mr. and Mrs. Sam Epstein Yitschok Tsukerman Mr. and Mrs. Fayvl Hershteyn Prof. Jacob Yaffe and Esther Gitl Yaffe Yankev and Yitskhok Dresher and families Mr. and Mrs. Chayim Hershteyn Sam Schwarts and family Louis and Mrs. Silverberg and family |
|
[Page 150]
We heartily thank our townspeople overseas, who extended a helping hand to their surviving brothers in the camps.
Special thanks to the Chairman of the Krasnystaw Organization in Los Angeles, Mr. Ben Tsukerman, for his remarkably warm attitude and understanding of the needs of Krasnystaw survivors and for his initiative in publishing this Memorial Book.
| Yankev Shok, Chairman | Hersh Zaltsman |
| Aryeh Shtuntsayger, Secretary | Leyzer Kornfeld |
| Mordkhe Futerman, Treasurer | Meir Dresher |
| Avrom Varman |
Translator's footnote:
[Page 151]
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