[Page 252]

Friday, September 1, 1939. In Makow Friday was the traditional market–day. At 9 AM, the radio announced that war had broken out–Germany had invaded Poland and bloody battles had begun. I ran out into the street and met up with my friends, Moishe Villenburg and Shloime–Yidel Lichtenshtayn. Moishe Villenburg had just gotten married, about three weeks prior to the invasion. He told me that he had to take off immediately to Yablona–Leghionova, near Warsaw, because his wife was staying there with her family. I used to get together with Villenburg frequently to figure out what we would do if and when war broke out. At around lunch time the peasants scattered from the market–place, planes were flying overhead and the air was heavy with worry and, indeed, panic. That said, some of the local Jews congregated in synagogues, while others huddled in their homes depressed, wondering what tomorrow might bring.

As it got darker, the curtains were drawn, the Shabbos candles flickered out and the houses fell dark.

At the time I was working as a truck–driver for a vehicle owned by Shimon–Meier Rosen. It was part of a trucking and delivery business owned by two partners: Yoel Grossman and Dovid Kasten. There were two freight haulers, I was one of the drivers and the other was a Pole. On the night the war broke out (late Thursday into Friday morning) I pulled into town from Warsaw with a full load of merchandise. The workmen unloaded the wares in the yard. That Friday evening the Polish police approached me with an order to leave immediately to take their families to Warsaw. I tried to explain to them that it was the Sabbath, and that besides I was sick and exhausted and that I did not want to abandon my family at this time. But they responded “Hey, this is war we are ordering you to go, so go!”

That same Friday night Polish policemen and their families began pouring into Makow–Mazowiecki from (the nearby town of) Pruzhnitz. I bade farewell to my mother with a heavy heart and took off with the Polish policemen. We loaded up the officers, their families, wives and children, and their baggage. People sat on top of their bags and belongings and we took off for Warsaw.

[Page 253]

The trip to Warsaw

I finally began to sort out my thoughts about this bizarre trip. While the stress of violating the Sabbath was disturbing that was hardly the worst of it. The police chief from Pruzhnitz, who sat beside me during the trip cradled his revolver and warned me “Look what I have in my hand. If anything goes awry on this trip you'll take a bullet in your head.”

It was dark, but I did not dare turn on the headlights as I drove under cover of night back from Warsaw, a distance of about 86 kilometers. Along the way we passed numerous Polish soldiers and military personnel along with crowds of refugees pouring out of Warsaw.

Yet all of us arrived in Warsaw without a hitch. We dropped off the passengers and their baggage at the designated addresses. I was thinking of leaving back to Makow immediately after I let them all off. Just as I was about to depart a Polish policeman approached and said “I am commandeering you and your vehicle. Let's drive and I will tell you where to go.” We drove to the Police Station on Tziapla Street, but immediately after the policeman got out, I started the engine and took off. I drove all the way to the house of Israel and Nathan Montcheckovsky (currently in Israel, adopted name of Shachar); they owned an auto–parts store behind an iron gate. I bought a car battery from them and then on to get petrol at Franzischkahner street so that I might make it home.

The Montcheckovskys asked me to get word to their brother–in–law Ezra that he should send his family food to Warsaw. As I was about to leave, there was a searing sound from German airplanes overhead. And then a horrific explosion. When the air fell silent I began the drive home and by 9 AM on the Sabbath I dropped off the vehicle at the garage in Makow.

I did not head home directly for fear that I would get mobilized for yet another trip out. Instead I went to my uncle Yosef Hendel's house to sleep. I dispatched my cousin Shmulik to my mother's house to let her know that I had arrived home safely, and that should anyone inquire as to my whereabouts she should tell them she had no idea where I was.

[Page 254]

Bombs Raining Down

As soon as the police learned that I had driven off, they arrived at my house to look for me. When the search came up empty they summoned another driver, Srulik Skuza, and commandeered him along with my vehicle to drive–it was not clear where. At some point Skuza made his way back to Makow without the vehicle. He told us that during the bombardment the car caught fire near the Romanian border.

That Sunday morning an order was issued from the Magistrate that all young men were to leave town immediately and show up in Pultusk for military service. I left for Pultusk along with my three brothers and several friends. And so we were enlisted. However, there was nothing they could do with us as there were no available arms or weapons. They told us simply that our mission was to defend Warsaw.

Along with my three brothers, my sister Michaeleh and cousin Shmulik Hendel and Moishe Bachrach we packed up our bags and loaded them onto a wagon and headed to 41–43 Chlodna Street in Warsaw, the address of my sister's brother–in–law. There was an empty room on the sixth floor. We were to stay there temporarily. Ultimately we were there for 4 weeks during the German bombardment. Each evening we lined up at the bakery for bread rations. One night as we were waiting in an alley way for our bread the Germans began blasting the neighborhood with artillery fire. I told my brothers that we had best get out of there immediately because from the direction of the firing, it was pretty clear that we were the targets of the assault. As soon as we left we saw a shell fall at the precise spot where we had been standing immediately before we ran off. Those who remained there were killed on the spot and many others were wounded.

There was an incident when I was with my brother Pinyeh and his brother–in–law Fishel Lichtenshtayn on Smotcheh Street. Bomb blasts ensued. We began running past the gate at Leshna–Passage and I noticed someone racing past on a bicycle and pointing hurriedly. I understood that he was signaling us that the Germans were right there. We ran frantically through the gate and the shell exploded directly behind us.

Two or three weeks thereafter we were visited by one of our hometown friends, Tuvia Sehgal. He told us that while retreating from the front he threw away his rucksack and all of his belongings (except his rifle).

[Page 255]

On the way back he found a pair of Tefillin, put them on and began to pray. He claimed that this act helped him to avoid the bullets. He told us of the horrific battles at the front and reported that the Germans had broken through every line of defense.

On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur our delegate, Councilman and Jewish Community leader Meyer Ostroff, organized a Minyan at Chlodna Street at the home of our relative Mr. Tannenbaum. During the day, when the Germans were around, the streets were deserted. It was a scene of consummate devastation. Broken streetlights and dead horses, interspersed with human corpses, littered the streets. We stood by the city gates and watched as the Germans arrested Polish officers. They ripped off their badges and medals and began beating them mercilessly. Several days later bread trucks came in with deliveries. The Germans yelled out “Jews Away”. I hid my hat, so as not to be recognized as a Jew, then stole a piece of bread and took off running. Shortly thereafter the Poles began informing on the Jews. The Germans began shooting. I barely made it out alive.

The Germans put up notices on the streets declaring that all refugees were now permitted to return to their homes. My brother Yerachmiel, Shmuel Hendel, Moishe Bachrach and myself got together, along with several other friends from home–Shmuel Dzhenkevitch, Moishe–Yehuda Freschberg, and others–and made the trip back to Makow. We left Warsaw around 5 PM. We got to Yablona–Legionowo. That's where I ran into my friend Moishe Villenburg. I was so happy to meet him. He offered me a piece bread. He gave the same to the rest of the group and told us that his motorcycle lay hidden away. He suggested that we both ride back home to Makow together. I responded “No, it's probably best to go on foot. Come along with us.”

We set off on the way together. When we got to the train station the Germans stopped us and put us in jail. We came across many others in the same situation. The Germans held us in detention several days. During the day they put us to work polishing machinery, cleaning the rooms, and shining soldiers' boots. We also “organized” bread loaves and packs of cigarettes. One time they had us dance around the machines and told us to sing Jewish songs. Moishe–Yehuda Freschbergen performed a “Pshepooska” (dance) for 10 of the older Germans. The next morning we headed off in the direction of Makow.

[Page 256]

When we got to the River Narov we saw that the wooden bridge was destroyed. We got as far as a pontoon bridge that the Germans had put up. However, the German patrol refused to let us across and we turned back to Nowy Dwor by way of Nashelsk, where we came up on another bridge about 20 km from Nashelsk. The Germans refused to let us make that crossing as well. However, Moishe Freshberg reached out to the German commandant who let us go and we finally reached Nashelsk.

Nashelsk was the home of my grandfather and he lived there with my grandmother Esther–Itta. They owned a bakery there together with my uncle Yechiel. When we got to their house my grandfather was standing in front of the oven baking fresh loaves. When he saw us coming he burst out in tears and began doling out warm bread “fresh out of the oven.” We ate it heartily. Grandfather invited us to spend the Sabbath at his place.

That Sunday afternoon, around 5 PM we left for Makow. We got to within 5 km of town and ran into some peasants who asked us (in Polish) “Jews, where are you going? There isn't a single Jew left in Makow!” We decided nevertheless to continue heading into town. We came across my mother and her cousin Golda Hendel. I asked them “Mamehleh, where are you going?” And she replied “A certain family just got in from Warsaw. I wanted to go past your place to pick up a grinder (for food preparation)”. I told her what the peasants had just relayed to us and she retorted “That's a bold lie. Everyone is here and everything is just fine.”

We went over to the Hendel's place. The Bachrachs were also there. Everyone, the Bachrachs included, visited together at the apartment on Grobarskah Street.

My older brother Yerachmiel was terrified of the Germans. He did everything he could to avoid going out in the street. I was a lot more open, however, and knew how to interact with the locals. That said, my mother would often lock us in the house (she shut the lock from the outside). That was because the Germans would dash around town like forsaken mice and round up people for work details. I took on a job as an electrician.

[Page 257]

American Joint Distribution Committee letter, sent through the Jewish Institute of Warsaw to Israel

[Page 258]

When the ghetto was set up I had the opportunity to get out and, more importantly, to get back in. That allowed me to bring in food from the outside for my family.

On Yom Kippur 1940 the German issued an order to create a ghetto for Jews within the town limits. Subsequently a harsh wave of hunger broke out. Typhus ran rampant. I was to remain on the job per the instructions of a German officer named Schuman, recently arrived from Germany. He was dressed in civilian clothes and became the overseer in charge of the electrical facilities in town. He also took over a stately house (“Potshekalnia”), formerly the home of Yakov–Moishe Skurnik, who had already left town before the war broke out. The building now housed an electrical supply store as well as Schuman's office.

One day I was asked to take in an assistant, Fayvel Skaleh. I took him in gladly. It turned out, however, that he engaged in an escapade of intrigue against me with Schuman, and in the end I was deposed from my job along with my brother, and Skaleh took my place. After removal from my position I was demoted to forced labor details. Next, I was dispatched with a group of 40 other Jews to small towns across the countryside about 15 km from town. We were tasked with the removal of huge boulders from the surrounding sandy landscape. This is where we ended up sleeping and the only daily meal we had was a couple of potatoes with watered down kasha.

When the Germans came into Makow, they began to ransack the biggest and oldest synagogue in town. They ripped out the Ark, the beams, the wooden flooring and benches and they replaced it all with a school. Eventually, as the Germans began building houses for themselves they tore down the school and dismantled the entire building. It was transformed into an empty lot. The German ghetto commissar eventually turned the lot into a “playground” for his sadistic pursuits. In the evenings he used to round up young men and women and meted out whippings and beatings. Among his victims were Abraham Blum (of blessed memory), Tovtsheh Rosenburg and her sister Chantsheh (of blessed memory), a girl from Dshinkevitsch, and many others. The severity of these beatings was such that the victims were temporarily paralyzed. They had to be treated with cold compresses for hours at a time.

The ghetto Commandant also issue an edict that all Jewish men shave their beards and that the women shave the hair off their heads.

[Page 259]

The first woman who cut off her hair was Avraham Garfinkel's wife. Garfinkel was the Chairman of the Judenrat and therefore called on his wife to serve as an example for the women.

I shuddered and was overcome when I saw how frightening the women looked with their shaved heads. Tears streamed down my face to my neck. I thought I took leave of my senses, as I was ashamed to look the women in the eyes. To fulfill the German orders the men went ahead and shaved off their beards. Even the older men complied. There was only a single Jew, one of the most prominent men in town, Yaakov–Dovid Hendel, a Torah scholar and brilliant leader, who steadfastly refused to shave it off. “I refuse to give them the pleasure” said he. Day and night he slept down in his basement, not daring to stick his head out into the street. He ignored the gossip as well. “Look here, in the darkness of the grave, I will get myself up and out and not a single hair from my beard will be removed”. So he claimed.

Makow 1945, a look at the murder site

[Page 260]

“We are putting our trust in the Almighty. We trust he will take heed over our wrath and frustration.”

I recall an incident one Friday evening when the Germans rounded up some Jews and placed them under arrest. The German police officer in charge of guarding the prisoners entered the detention center in the middle of the night and beat the Jewish prisoners. Later, a second police officer came in to take his shift and relieve the first. He found the guard ostensibly asleep, face down on the table. He approached the unresponsive officer and nudged him with his hand. Before the second officer uttered a word, the first fell over and collapsed on the floor, like a corpse. He was dead.

The Jews were up against another threat, namely that they would be accused of killing the German officer. Instead a miracle happened. The doctors who conducted the post–mortem on the dead policeman declared unequivocally that he died of a heart–attack. The Jews saw the hand of God in all of this. Specifically that he, the policeman, met his fate because he falsely laid the blame on the innocent Jews and therefore paid the price.

Three young guys from Pultusk happened to be in the ghetto. One time they ventured out in search of food in the town of Shelkoveh[?], about 9 km outside of Makow. I remember one of the guys, his name was Yosef Rubin, also known as “Scap”. The police caught them in Shelkoveh and planned to shoot them square between the eyes, in the street, and in front of the crowd. The three begged the police for mercy and not to shoot them publicly but to take them into the woods and to execute them there. Once they reached the forest, “Skap” and his two friends assaulted the policemen, disarmed them, beat them up and ran off. All three made it back to the ghetto, although “Skap” had suffered a severe head wound. A Jewish doctor from Berlin, who had been dispatched to Makow to attend to the sick, ended up tending to Rubin's injury.

Three days after the incident Steinmetz, the German Commissar for Makow, made it his mission to find “the wounded Jew”. He called out the doctor and asked him if he had attended to the injured Jew. The doctor responded that no, a Jew fitting that description had not turned to him for medical help. Shortly thereafter Steinmetz went to Yosef Rubin's home and confronted the bandaged Rubin.

[Page 261]

Steinmetz ordered him to get out of bed and come with him. “Skap” was then tortured in a most sadistic manner. When he could take it no longer, Rubin sent word to Avraham Garfinkel asking him to intervene with the Germans to have him shot and thus put an end to it. But the torture continued for several days until the Germans drove him out of town. When “Skap” sensed that he was sufficiently distant from Makow, he mustered whatever energy he still had, tore out of the grasp of the three police who had held him down, and bolted out of the back of the vehicle. The Germans opened fire on him and he fell dead.

But that was not the end of it. Ghetto Commissar Steinmetz was out for revenge. His rage and anger remained unabated. Back in the ghetto he found 20 Jews and sentenced them to a public hanging, all as payback for Yosef Rubin's (“Skap's”) brazen act of defiance. In addition, he sentenced the Jewish doctor to hang. In all 21 Jews paid with their lives for this defiant act against the German police.

I headed off to work in the town of Chiechanow along with 300 other Jews. We had a number of jobs working for various German firms. They divided the group into three barracks. Each morning they did a roll call and broke us up by group and by firm. Each group was headed up by a representative whose assignment was to greet the Germans. One time I was selected as the head of my group. On our way to work we passed a field, where we were tasked with digging holes in the peat deposits. The area was patrolled and overseen by a division of the Hitler–youth. These hooligans split up amongst us and brutally beat each and everyone. We brought this to the attention of the (German) camp chief and he personally escorted us away from them to avoid further violence.

The Gestapo headquarters were in Chiechanow. The place was effectively a slaughter–house. Whoever had the misfortune to end up in that building did not make it out alive. Whenever you passed by the house you were required to remove your hat and keep it off 10 meters before and 10 meters after passing the building. If the German guards noticed that for whatever reason someone did not comply with this order, that individual was taken into headquarters, never to be seen alive again.

[Page 262]

There was an incident in Chiechanow wherein the Germans came across a prayer Minyan. They led these Jews, wearing their prayer shawls, into Gestapo headquarters. It was mid–day on Shabbos. They ordered the Jews to bring their Teffilin and to pray in front of them. After this spectacle they beat the Jews while driving them out into the street.

I remember another occasion in Chiechanow when they hanged a group of Jews in the municipal sports stadium. The Germans issued a public invitation for an event that would be taking place in the stadium. The admission fee for this event was one German mark. The German public grew very agitated; why should they pay an entry fee for a spectacle which should have been free of charge?

There was the case of an 18 year old fellow by the name of Kviteyko who claimed to be sick and refused to report for work. “I have had it with the Germans”, he claimed, “and I refuse to do anything for them. They will ultimately murder us anyway, so why should I let them exploit me?”

The camp commander assembled a number of us (Jewish prisoners) and warned the young man that if he continued to defy the work order he would be shot directly. The Germans urged Avraham Garfinkel (of the Judenrat) as well as the young man's parents to persuade the young man to report for his work detail. None of those interventions proved productive. Despite all pleas to exempt the young fellow nothing worked. And up until the evacuation of the camp he never worked again. After a while and once he had settled in, he decided that he really did want to work but this time his entreaties fell upon deaf ears. The camp commandant unequivocally refused to sign him to any detail. Around September of 1942, on an afternoon, the first evacuees of the camps in Chiechanow and Mlawa began to trickle in. The commandant informed us that the entire Jewish community of Chiechanow would be arriving in our camp. He gave a speech ordering us not to mix and mingle with the new arrivals. We were not to conduct any business with them, nor undertake any dealings involving money, gold, silver and other valuables. He warned that anyone participating in such activities would be immediately shot.

All of Chiechanow's Jewish residents were subsequently brought to the camp. The next morning, at the break of day, we were driven to Mlawa. They transported us by car. Earlier on they transported the Chiechanow Jews and then us, the last lot to evacuate the camp. Over the course of unloading the transport several Jews were shot to death.

[Page 263]

The Jewish Police Chief's Wife is Shot

The Jews from Chiechanow were taken to the Mill while we, the workers who had just returned from the work camp, were marched away to a barn. There was a selection. The Chiechanow Jews in the Mill included men, women and small children. Anyone who straggled was shot on the spot. The work detail group in the barn were dealt with after everyone else. In the evening I managed to sneak out of the barn in search of a place to sleep. I had a friend from Mlawa who was a policeman in the Jewish force. His name was Alter (I don't remember his family name). Later that evening he brought me to the police station. While I was there the Jewish police chief and his wife came by to see the place. A pair of German policemen showed up immediately thereafter. They exchanged some words with the Jewish police. The Jewish police chief's wife called out to her husband “I am heading home.” Her husband remained at the station headquarters. Not two minutes later we heard two shots ring out from the outside. One of the Jewish police ran out immediately to see what had happened. The officer returned, his head lowered, to report to the Jewish police chief the horrific news, that the two German police who had just visited the station shot the chief's wife.

I asked my friend, the Jewish policeman, to please take me back to the barn. I couldn't sleep at all that night. I couldn't help but think and shudder at what happened only hours earlier.

The next morning I witnessed yet another murder. Several German policemen headed up by the Chiechanow police chief marched into the barn. They took out the Kvietko kid (the one who refused to report to work for the Germans) and shot him. The German police came all the way from Chiechanow exclusively to fulfill that mission.

Shortly after Kviteyko's murder, rumors began to circulate that a transport from Mlawa was imminent (the entire Jewish population of Makow remained unaffected at the time). In fact, one transport from Mlawa had already departed.

[Page 264]

We were in the second transport. We appealed to the Judenrat of Mlawa that since transport from Makow would eventually be scheduled, we had hoped to stay behind and unite with our families before departing. But our appeals fell on deaf ears. Their response was “You must leave with the next transport taking off tomorrow morning.” I really wanted to stay back and wait for my mother, brother and the rest of the family–in–laws, aunts and uncles. But they herded us down to the train station together with the Chiechanower and Mlawa groups and loaded us into the cars. They chased us down and beat us brutally. Anyone who resisted or hesitated was shot on the spot. The desperate screams and beatings reverberated to the skies, it seemed. I was the only one of my family who survived the ordeal– solitary, broken and helpless. I never saw any of them again.

We traveled past Radom, Czestochow, and Czestochowa, and saw the horrific destruction; broken doors and windows, mattresses, pieces of furniture, shattered kitchen wares, linens, scattered and strewn everywhere. This was utter destruction as one would expect in a battle. At that moment we began to realize the extent and magnitude of our fate and misfortune.

That night we arrived at Birkenau, exhausted, beaten up, delirious from lack of food and drink, physically and spiritually decimated. Over the course of this trip we had absolutely nothing to eat and drink. The children succumbed to hunger and thirst.

In Birkenau we stared at the illuminated barbed wire that lit up the area like daylight. We knew what awaited us, although we still hoped against hope that we were being taken to a labor camp.

The SS thugs were lined up at the train car. They pulled on the levers of the train doors and yelled “Everyone move out of the train cars”. One of the SS men issued orders “Right, left….”. We were then mobilized in lines and led to the camp. Men were grouped separately, and then children, women and the elderly separately. During the selections children were torn away from their mothers, wives from husbands, and the elderly from children as well. The yells and shrieks were other worldly. I was among a select few that were marched directly to a camp. However, we were not led to a barracks. Instead we spent the entire day and night outside. This was in October, 1942. It was a very severe cold autumn, as I remember. It rained non–stop. We stood under a steady stream of water as in an endless downpour where the cold water kept on pounding, completely soaking one's clothes and penetrating the flesh. I was shivering from the cold and my teeth did not stop chattering.

[Page 265]

That evening they led us to the bath house and ordered us to strip down. When we bent down to take some water to quench our thirst, they clubbed us and warned that whoever dared to drink would be shot then and there. The water that came down from the shower was cold as ice and then one by one we exited and went to a nearby station where we were given “striped robes”, the prisoner's uniform. And from there we went to our blocks.

We were tattooed on our arms as soon as we were assigned to our blocks. My number was 75267. And that became my name and identity. Whenever that number was called out I had to present myself. Immediately after being tattooed they doled out our food rations: a portion of soup with unpeeled potatoes. Even though I was absolutely ravenous, I simply could not bring myself to put that food in my mouth and I gave it away. Next they chased us out to our “bunk–beds”. They were stacked vertically on four levels, one on top of another. I ended up on the fourth level, together with four other inmates (five of us to a bunk–bed). The bunks were made of circular pieces of stock wood layered with straw. We were laid out like sardines in a flat–can. When any one individual turned on his side, the other four had to turn over in unison. Each group of five was given two covers; they were called “Canadian cots”.

Those who slept on the lowermost level could barely breathe, because the air was so vile from the crowded and sweaty bodies; the windows could not be opened and the stale air created a most awful stench that permeated the entire barracks. Some of the inmates simply did not get up the next morning; they died overnight.

Overnight men turned into animals. They scrambled and scuffled to claim a place to sleep, a piece of bread, a cup of soup. In the wee hours, at around 2 or 3 AM (of course no one had a watch!), they parceled out bread (a part of a loaf, divided into strips). They also issued a stick of margarine with a spoon of jam.

[Page 266]

In the morning they counted and lined up the prisoners for the work detail. If this were a work camp the operation would be led by a Kapo and Assistant Kapo. If we were outside the camp we would be led by SS men. For every 50 inmates there were at least 4 SS men; with companies in excess of 50, more SS men.

As I was heading out to work that first day, I notice a dense and heavy odor. At first, I had no idea where it came from. But then when I returned to the barracks and met up with the other inmates and inquired about the unusual, pervasive smell I was informed that there were deep and extensive pits in front of the camp where people had been incinerated. They were set on a wooden platform, the pits were dug and trucks came by and dumped off live bodies. Germans armed with machine guns were at the ready on both sides of the truck and shot into the pits and then the bodies were incinerated. So now I finally understood where the overwhelming stench originated and what was really going on in the camp.

Upon my return from work to the camp barracks I witnessed countless inmate corpses sprawled out. Bodies were steadily dragged from the work detail, many of them already dead, some dying. No one made any attempt to save or attend to them, they were just dragged across the leafy way right in front of us.

When I headed off to work on the second day, I saw two Polish foremen assault one of the Jewish inmates. They beat him fiercely with wooden clubs as long as it took for him to expire. And we just stood there and stared at the bloody spectacle. And not a one of us said a word.

And on the third day–the same thing, different group. This time two Poles grabbed one of us and beat him over the head. When he finally fell over one of them set the club across the victim's neck and stomped on both sides of it, choking him to death. This was all done simply to terrorize us.

That was the situation over the course of my two weeks in Birkenau; I was assigned a variety of jobs. Soon after, my number was called out for transport with another 300 inmates (I was 27 years old at the time). They marched us out on foot directly to Auschwitz. I found out that I was brought there to work on electrical operations (when I was tattooed I was asked if I had any specialized training and I told them that I was an electrician).

[Page 267]

Upon arrival at Auschwitz I went through the shaving and body hair removal process again. Not a hair was left on my skin. They made us smear our bodies with a gel like substance. Then they issued us new “clothes” (the “striped” inmate wear) and assigned us to blocks. The next morning they dispatched us to our work assignment: demolition of old structures. Next they sent me to a detail that dealt with water and plumbing operations. We dug out drainage basins in open fields and laid down pumps and pipes, etc. The routine in Auschwitz was much the same as in Birkenau: torture, death, and beatings. It seemed a bit more straightforward here, more surgical, if you will. Previously, we slept two in a cot (a mat underlain by wood). Subsequently, it was a one person set–up. On that first night we ate and were ordered to go directly to our bunks. Barely a half hour later a yell rang out “Everyone up immediately and strip down”. The commands came directly from the “house orderlies”. We roused ourselves up and were chased and herded outside butt naked and ordered to run to the shower dorm to wash ourselves without washcloths, towels or soap. We took an ice–cold shower and were herded right back to the cold barracks. That routine was repeated five days in succession. Get naked, run to the shower, and run right back outside in the cold and snow to the barracks. This “stroll routine” was too much for many and some gave up; eventually more and more ended up as corpses laid out along the way. I got paired up with a partner, Yitschak Yonastovitch from Makow, and we were dispatched to dig pits. As we were working, the Uber–Kapo passed by (a husky German) and yelled at us to pick up the pace, and to emphasize the point he threw a rock at us. The rock hit me hard and dented my head. The blood poured out over my face but the frost caused it to freeze in place. The Unter–Kapo (a Czech) inspected the wound and said “there is nothing you can do.” That evening I felt the pain worsen, and went down to the barracks floor, found a heated spot, and warmed up. A Polish fellow helped me cleanse the wound so that it would not become infected.

Some of the Jewish inmates tried to escape. They were caught and summarily shot dead. The next morning, as we were marched out to our work detail,

[Page 268]

we saw that their bodies were laid out at the camp gates and covered with scraps of paper and shredded book fragments to emphasize that they were shot and discarded. After that incident the Germans added a triangle beneath the tattooed numbers to isolate the “Jew”. They also issued an order that we were not allowed to wear any cap or hat during cold and rainy weather (they took them away from us) and we were exposed to the elements hours at a time, bareheaded. It was especially trying during the freezing weather. Over time, inmates periodically tried to escape and the routine was to line up all camp inmates near the kitchen area where the captured escapees were rounded up; a public hanging followed. We watched the entire procedure. It was a public warning that whoever tried to escape would meet their fate either by a bullet or a public hanging.

After a month or two in Auschwitz, I learned that the Makower Jews were routinely taken to Birkenau. I started to ask around if anyone had heard word of my older brother Yerachmiel.

While looking for him I ran into Yitzchak Philut. He was in very bad shape, barely breathing. I said to him “Yitzchak, hold on as long as you can, don't give in, maybe we will make it out of here.” I managed to get him some bread and left him, knowing full well that a similar fate awaited me.

Subsequently I found out that Zaks, a 15 year old kid, was working in a masonry “school” (training shop). A few days later word got out that he was shot and killed. The reason: they found a cup of butter in his work bag.

I also came across Yakkov Shteinberg and Avraham Garfinkel. As I walked through the camp one evening, I saw that Garfinkel put out a call to assemble a Minyan for the Mincha–Mayriv daily prayer.

There were days when orders were issued prohibiting movement out of the camp. I used this opportunity to move around the compound in search of relatives and friends (from home). I got friendly with a fellow from Pruzhnitz. It turned out that he was well acquainted with my parents and worked in an SS facility sorting out their uniforms and outfits. When I told him who I was, we got closer and one day he invited me over to his area and gave me a quarter of a loaf of bread!

I was assigned to do interior wiring and electrical work in the Krupp Factory. One day I got injured on the job and could not return to the job sites immediately. I took advantage of the lay–off to ask my cousin Moishe Bachrach, then at Birkenau camp, to come see me at my barracks if an opportunity arose.

[Page 269]

Several days later he came over to our kitchen to get food and supplies for a German officer stationed at Auschwitz. He brought me a pull–over and then told me that (cousin) Yossef Hendel and his family of 7 managed to jump off the train to Auschwitz and escaped to the town of Bendin[Bedzin]. They stayed there until Bendeen was evacuated and were then taken to Auschwitz.

My cousin told me that many of the Makower Jews ended up working in the ovens and crematortia complex. They told him that they collected the ashes and filled up urns, pots, and cups laying them out in pits beyond the perimeters of the crematoria.

For the longest time I heard nothing about my older brother Yerachmiel. Subsequently I learned that he was dispatched to the coal–fire furnaces at Buna where he was murdered. I also found out that all five of the Lichtenstein brothers were murdered in Birkenau.

As soon as my wounds healed I went back to my job at Krupp. There was clandestine talk about preparations for revolts at both Birkenau and Auschwitz. The timings and logistics were unclear. What was clear was that when the word came down we should be at the ready.

I had a friend from Lodz whose name was Mietek Halberstam. He called me over one day and said that since I was an electrician my job would be to get ahold of pliers and wire cutters, as necessary, to facilitate the operation. One morning shortly thereafter we heard powerful explosions in Birkenau. We did not know exactly what was going on and where the explosions were taking place. But something was happening. Suddenly, a wave of SS men broke into the plant. It seemed like there was one SS man for every inmate. They surrounded the factory (the factory had about 1400 workers). The SS ordered us to stay quiet and not to speak amongst themselves. I was outside at the time along with my German supervisor. Most did know the details of these explosions. Then Camp Commander Kaduk entered the factory and threatened that if we did not disclose the names of those who headed up the explosives operations in Birkenau, all 1400 workers would be dispatched to the ovens and crematoria. Naturally, we stayed silent.

[Page 270]

And even if we had known who the leaders and explosive suppliers were we would never have given them up (the SS remained convinced that the explosives were issued and delivered directly from the Krupp factory).

In our factory there was a Jewish Kapo by the name of Schultz who worked with us on the night shift. He gave up the names of the 4 young women who supplied the explosives. It turned out that each evening when the women left work for Birkenau barracks they got ahold of explosives material and brought them back to work they following morning. They supplied the explosives to the inmate leaders and revolt planners. The aforementioned 4 women were taken by the SS and hanged in front of everyone. We subsequently found out that the “brigade” (revolt leaders), consisted of crews working in the crematoria, and they had planned the entire operation. If memory serves me, this all happened in 1944. We eventually learned that the revolt was structured as follows: When the German Uber–Commander came to the Sonder–Commando and announced that there was an imminent transport (code for execution) they grabbed the Nazi murderer (the first one who got his hands on the German was Yaakov Skurnik) and they threw him in the oven directly, grabbing his revolver. They powered up the coal furnace and seized other weapons from the SS men. Absolute panic ensued. The other SS men in the area began to run away, not knowing where the billowing fire came from. Prison inmates had grabbed SS weapons and opened fire. Some of the Sonder–commando managed to escape. Eventually, however, all of the revolt participants were caught and shot to death.

It was in January, 1945 as the Red Army approached Auschwitz, that the evacuations began. The Germans moved us out towards the train station. They loaded us onto freight cars and we headed toward Mauthausen, Austria. I was among the last inmates in Auschwitz. We began to remove tripods and equipment from the plant but the Germans could not get mobilized and organized. They ended up leaving equipment, machinery and everything. As we abandoned the camp we heard the artillery barrages from the Soviet advance. It took us the entire night to walk the distance to the train station. Countless inmates collapsed and died on the way out; they were simply too depleted to drag their feet any further. Those who fell were shot in place by the SS men while those who could move on were loaded onto (the train) platforms. And that's how we made it to Mauthausen.

[Page 271]

We stayed there several days, crowded one atop the other in the camp barracks. We were naked, barefoot, and starving. We lay in the barracks for two days. Next, they dispatched us to Ebensee (Austria). They put us to work in a factory on a mountain–top but the echoes of the bombing were in earshot there as well. A few days later they transported us again, this time to the Gusen camp (Austria). They put me to work on an electrical detail at a Messerschmidt factory. An order was issued one evening that instructed us to appear at a location marked “Entry for all Jews”. We immediately assumed that this was a liquidation order. Each of us grabbed a piece of bread on the way in, thinking “let us at least not perish because of starvation”. The German “house–orderlies” then came in muttering “if only we were Jews”…. Word got out that we were being turned over to the Red Cross. Each one of us was issued a ration of bread and a packet of butter and we marched on. We ended up back in Mauthausen, which had by then been occupied by Gypsy inmates. Once there we saw corpses littering the camp–grounds all the way to the base of the mountains. They led us to a barracks for the overnight. Once there we met up with newly arrived Jews from Hungary. They had just come in with a new transport and were still in possession of their belongings and food supplies that they had prepared for the trip in. I remember one inmate who approached an unsuspecting new arrival and robbed him of all his food. He pointed in the direction of Mietek Halberstam, my friend from Lodz. At that moment Camp Commandant Kudek entered the facility, took out his revolver and shot him on the spot. The incident occurred three weeks before the liberation.

We were next taken from Mauthausen and ended up in the camp at Gunskirchen (Austria). As we proceeded to march in the pouring rain we took notice of the approaching vehicle of the Red Cross. The team in the vehicle began to observe us carefully. However, they took off in the opposite direction just as quickly and we were left and taken to the barracks in Gunskirchen, where we remained until liberation.

Several days later I was in the barracks and suddenly I received a package with food and supplies. It was to be rationed 1 packet for every 20 people. That rationing was clearly insufficient for a camp population that was slowly dying of starvation, which we were. And yet we began to feel that somehow, in this final hour, someone would come for us and our fortunes might turn. It was certainly high time for that.

On a bright Shabbos day we were issued rations. All the while there was heavy fire in the background. We received word that we were free. There were no Germans around anywhere. The SS took off like mice. Even the sadistic murderer Kaduk was nowhere to be seen.

[Page 272]

But we were so beaten down, decimated, and downtrodden that our responses to the wonderful news of our liberation were muted. No strength to move or act. Our memories of a warm home, a clean bed, a tasty meal, and even civil human interactions….these were long gone. We just wanted to hang on to life a bit longer and to take revenge on our oppressors. I, along with Hersh Leib Kurnik from Makow and Fishel Yatzentovski from Pultusk, decided to go to the SS barracks and to spend the night there. Once there we slipped into the clean sheets and warm covers and slept like babies. The next morning I turned to them and said “light up the fire, I'm off to get water, sugar, and we'll make a nice hot glass of tea.” On my way back with the water I ran into an American soldier. He turned to me in Yiddish and asked “Who are you?” I told him who I was and where I was from and it turned out that he was a cousin of Dr. Soloveichik from Warsaw. He took out a bag of biscuits, sugar, and sweets and gave it to me. I became ecstatic in the barracks, after all the dark years of suffering this was the first time I could freely enjoy a hot glass of tea and biscuits….Later we received rations of canned meats. I warned my buddies that we needed to be careful and not eat the meats since our stomachs had adapted to such extreme hunger over the years. My words were not taken seriously, however, and we cooked up a mid–day meal. Before long the three of us got sick. The two responded very badly and my reaction was somewhat less severe. I took them to the hospital. After that I never saw them again. I was informed that both of them had passed. Along with other camp inmates we were moved to Linz, Austria. I spent two weeks in the hospital there. After recovering somewhat I made my way to Bindermichl D.P. camp and I stayed there until 1947. And then during the “Brichah” [illegal immigration of Holocaust survivors to Palestine] I got on the ship “Hatikvah” to Genoa. However, the British captured the ship and diverted it to Cyprus. I found myself in yet another camp where I remained until 1949, and that same year I finally arrived in Israel. I was married in 1950 in Ramat–Gan. I currently have a wife and two children and am settled in Herzliyah.

I remain the sole survivor of my entire extended family.

  Mak”w Mazowiecki, Poland     Yizkor Book Project     JewishGen Home Page

Copyright © 1999-2024 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 09 Apr 2021 by JH