 |
|
Translated from Hebrew by Miriam Bulwar David–Hay
Donated by Anne E. Parsons – Department of History, UNC Greensboro
|
Zeev, son of Batya and Pinchas Portnoy, was born in Tuchyn in 1932 and endured all the days of the war in his childhood. Zeev Portnoy lives with his family in Herzliya. |
Our house stood next to the market behind the house of Rabbi Golova. My father was a tailor. I had three sisters: Gittel, Manya and Ettel. In our house also lived our grandmother Itta. My sisters studied at school and from the age of four I began to go to cheder[1]. In the year 1938 I moved to the state religious school that was set up in the house of Gittel Shatz.
With the entry of the Soviets in 1939, my father continued to work in his occupation, but not as an independent tailor, instead in a cooperative that was established in the house of Rabbi Glazer. In 1940 I began to study in a school that had been set up by the Soviets in the former hospital building. The languages of study were Yiddish and Ukrainian. My sisters also studied in the same school. There were continuing classes there, a type of people's high school.
In June 1942 the Germans invaded. The Soviet army placed cannons on the hill that was next to the Catholic church. They did not see much use because the Soviets withdrew from the city after a few days.
The Jews of the town were at a loss and did not know what the day would bring. The traditional Jewish leadership had been silenced long ago. Many young people were conscripted or left to work in other places. For this reason there was a shortage of youths who could organize something or suggest some idea. A small number of young families, tens perhaps, escaped eastwards into Russia. Older people and those who had families with small children were fearful of going out towards the unknown.
Yehuda Rotenberg spoke to people's hearts that they should flee. He warned that the Germans would destroy all the Jews. But there were those who mocked him and who said that “that Communist” should go. They said there were also Jews who would drink “Lechaim[2]” when they saw the Soviets in their retreat. From a certain perspective this was understandable, because there were those who had suffered humiliations during the time of the Soviet regime. The Ukrainians in the local Soviet government were anti-Semites and treated every Jew like a capitalist and an “exploiter.” The Jewish fellow who was in the local government did not have the courage to defend his neighbor who labored hard to earn a living for his family.
When the question came up in our family of whether to run away from home, my mother remembered that she had been born in Nowogród Wołyński[3], during the Petliura riots[4] towards the end of the First World War. She arrived in Tuchyn as a war refugee. Now we decided to remain in place. The attitude was: “If we are to be sentenced to death, let it be with honor and at home.”
[Page 77]
Of course no one had any idea of what was ahead. And despite this, my father enlarged the basement, built a wall of boards, and concealed it with firewood and straw. The place was intended to be a hiding place in difficult times. We expected to pass between the raindrops somehow.
After the departure of the Russians, still before the entry of the Germans, the Ukrainians began [acting up], coming especially to “settle accounts” with those Jews who in their opinion had neglected them in the past. At the beginning of July 1941, the Germans entered. A local government was set up of Ukrainians, with a German commandant at its head. In those first days the Ukrainians gathered up Jews from the intelligentsia. Among them were Meir Zilberberg, the dentist Gamer, Rozenberg, and others. Everyone was murdered with harsh tortures.
After a day or two the Ukrainians organized a pogrom and murdered Jews in the street and in the houses. Many were severely beaten. A great deal of property was robbed and destroyed. An order was issued to wear on one's sleeve a white band with a Star of David. Later on, the band was exchanged for a yellow patch on the chest and on the back.
A Judenrat was established, headed by Getzel Szwarcman. Meir Himmelfarb was his deputy. The members of this committee were obligated to fulfill the demands of the Germans. In the beginning they [the Germans] demanded that they be supplied with boots, furs, jewelry, and so on. Their “orders” grew and swelled and the Jews were left without anything. After that they took Jews, ostensibly for work. Not one of them ever returned.
Rumors came that in the surrounding towns they had murdered all the Jews. Among the refugees who had arrived in Tuchyn in 1939 was an engineer from Lodz by the name of Gross. He succeeded in convincing the commandant that if was worthwhile operating the workshops for wool and felt and the tanneries and so on, and to supply the products to the Germans. The workers received work cards that in practice were “life cards.” The employees felt secure that they would not be sent to work outside the city. A situation was created in which many Jews in the immediate surroundings were murdered almost to the last one, but the Jews of Tuchyn remained in their houses, not even in a ghetto, and worked for the Germans.
With this, it is clear that robbery and murder were daily phenomena. But most of the Jews stayed living in their houses. There was justified fear that this situation would not continue for long, but even so from time to time a sliver of hope would pop up: Maybe He will take pity? … They hoped for a quick salvation.
Refugees began arriving from the neighboring towns. It was prohibited to absorb Jews from outside, but the Jews of Tuchyn did not heed this order. The Judenrat supplied fake certificates to these remnants [the survivors from other towns] and they were set up with work. In the village of Shubkiv close to Tuchyn a German had settled on the farm of a Pole. He invited my father to work for him at tailoring. Every day he would bring my father from our house to work and bring him back [at the end of the day], and thus it went for the whole week. Father would bring food items home. For us this was a relatively good period, but it did not continue for long.
When it became known in Tuchyn that in the neighboring towns there had been aktzias, and that in several of them all the Jews had been exterminated, those with means began seeking places of shelter outside the town for their families, or at least for one member of their family. My father gave a Ukrainian by the name of Tados a sewing machine and furniture, on condition that he would agree to accept me to work on his farm. I would herd the cattle of the farmer and return home in the evening.
Before Rosh Hashanah 1942, the Germans fenced off a number of streets in Tuchyn. The fenced off area was designated for a ghetto. The Jews closely followed the activities of the Germans. It was clear that our turn had arrived. On the eve of Yom Kippur an order was given for the Jews to move into the ghetto.
My father told me then that he would not collect me to return home from the farm of the peasant. It was clear that they were going to imprison the Jews in the ghetto and afterwards to exterminate them. The German who had employed my father fired him and advised him to escape
[Page 78]
from the town. On the same day they began to concentrate all the Jews in the ghetto. I did as my father ordered. I did not return to the ghetto. I stayed with Tados. From a distance I saw the town go up in flames. There were shouts and cries. I heard shots and Jews began to arrive in the field of Tados. Many passed by me. They called me to join them and I did not know what to do. After all, I was only nine years old. Among those fleeing was my aunt Sara, who called me to join, but I fulfilled my father's instructions and I remained in Tados's house. The Ukrainians chased after the fleeing Jews and killed every one they succeeded in catching. Tados came to the field to take me to his house. The cows returned to the barn by themselves. The shouting and the weeping continued for the whole night. Children lost their parents. There were cases in which the parents were murdered and the children wept bitterly. Tados sat me on the stove so that I could warm up. A terrible fear fell upon me. I did not stop crying. Tados's mother tried to calm me and told me they would protect me.
Late at night came Fishel Rozgovits, who was eight years older than me. He suggested that I join him and that together we would search for shelter in the nearby forest. He also warned me not to trust Tados. And indeed, that same Tados and his brother had been policemen at the time of the entry of the Germans, and after they robbed much Jewish property they left their work in the police force. Their houses were full of valuables of Jews.
I rejected Fishel's offer and remained with Tados. I fell asleep at a late hour and, unusually, also woke up at a late hour. Tados was already working in the yard. When I went outside I heard shouts and groans of injured people. The Ukrainian police and ordinary farmers chased after escaping Jews. With pitchforks and sticks they killed children and the elderly. They had an opportunity to let loose the desire to murder that was part of their blood.
Tados was busy unloading the cart, which was laden with furniture and different objects of Jews. He called me to help him and said that after this he would bring me to my father, who was waiting for me next to the synagogue. He drove me in the cart. On the way I saw bodies of Jews and among them injured people to whom no assistance was offered. Ukrainians were busy with collecting the bodies and transporting them to the brickworks of Shmuel Zilberberg. There they threw them into the abandoned pits that had been created as a result of the digging for material for bricks, and covered them with a layer of sand. In return for clearing away the bodies, the Ukrainians received the property of Jews.
In Tuchyn, Tados let me off from the cart next to the entrance to the park, next to the gendarmerie. He shouted at me and explained to me that this was my place. I knew that my end was nearing. There was no time to prepare plans. At any second I was likely to be murdered. I began to run with all my strength. I wanted to get to the open field. The main thing was to get away from the town. I got to the Orthodox church, which stood on a hill, with a barbed fence around it. I lay in a ditch next to the fence, and out of great tiredness I fell asleep.
I woke up at night and began to walk. I walked the whole night. In the morning I reached the village of Voroniv[5]. I went into the house of Stepan, a Ukrainian who knew my father. Father had given him some of our property, for any trouble to come. Stepan welcomed me, gave me hot food, and dressed me in peasant's clothing. He filled a cloth rucksack with food and took me in his cart to the Pustomyty forest. There I met many Jews from Tuchyn. Not one of them knew anything about the fate of my family. Families had scattered. Parents did not know if their children were alive. Children were searching for their parents. Whoever succeeded in fleeing from the murderers was granted his life for a time. Whoever lagged and did not succeed [in fleeing] was murdered in cold blood. Those who gathered in the Pustomyty forest tried to organize. The adults sent the children to ask for food from the villagers. The Ukrainians turned Jews in to the gendarmerie and in return received Jewish property. There were those who drove them away, or who set their dogs on them. Despite this, there were also peasants who gave us food. It also happened
[Page 79]
that a farmer would keep a Jewish boy in his home and employ him at herding sheep. It is clear that this was not for long because there were always jealous Ukrainians to be found who would inform on those who gave shelter to Jews. There were exceptions from the norm for the good from members of the different sects: the Baptists, the Subbotniks[6], and so on. They always fed the persecuted and gave them shelter, at least for a few days. But they too had to be careful of their neighbors, who in any case treated them with suspicion. There were farmers who warned me not to go near to certain houses because their owners were likely to turn me in to the Germans.
At the same time I met up with Hershel Oksengoren. In Tuchyn his family lived near my parents' house. From time to time we both found work with one of the farmers. One farmer gave us both shelter in a hayloft. We would sleep during the day and thresh the grains at night. One day the farmer informed us that we had to leave his farm because the matter of our existence had become known to his neighbor and his life was in danger. We returned to the forest, to the place where we had been beforehand, and we were shocked. All the Jews had been murdered. There were killed people in the bunker and others were scattered in the forest. We left from there without any defined destination. On the way we met a group of Jews. They had two rifles.
It happened that Jews ambushed German or Ukrainian police, killed them, and took their weapons. Now, from a distance, we saw two Ukrainian policemen riding on bicycles. The adults in the group planned to ambush them and remove their weapons from them, but to their misfortune the Ukrainians acted first and opened fire on them with automatic weapons. My friend Hershel and I were on the edge of the group and we managed to jump into a ditch. Most of the members of our group were killed. Hershel was lightly injured in his leg. I bandaged the wound as best I could. We returned to the Pustomyty forest. Again we wandered from village to village and asked for food. We were happy when we received work for a number of days at a farm on the edge of the village.
One day we were staying in Voroniv at the house of a [female] farmer from the Shtundist[7] sect. The owner of the house fed us and warned us not to stay in the place. She advised us to go to the village of Filipki next to Mezhyrich[8]. According to her, there were many Shtundists there who would allow us to stay with them and to work. And indeed, we were organized with work there. We hoped to rest a little from our wanderings. One evening we were given dinner and Hershel, who kept tradition, went out to the yard to pray. He did not want to pray inside the house of a Christian. Suddenly I heard shots. I leaped outside and saw Hershel drowning in his own blood.
I escaped from the place and again wandered in the forests, in places where beforehand there had been concentrations of Jews. I did not find a single Jew. I decided to go to Voroniv to my acquaintance Stepan. He told me that a neighbor of his had taken over the olive press of Fridel from Tuchyn and he would recommend that he employ me. The man employed me for a week. I would sit on the cogwheel made of wood that started the whole “factory” and hurry the horses along.
I hope to stay in the place for some time but things turned out differently. One day Tados and his brother arrived to produce oil. Tados was astonished when he saw me. He was sure that he had killed me long ago. He told me that Jews were returning to Tuchyn, they were no longer being killed, and life was returning to its normal course. He invited me to move in with him until matters would become clearer. I believed him. He drove me to Tuchyn and asked about the objects that my father had hidden. I told him that Father had buried merchandise in the basement. Tados suggested that I go to the house of the tailor Hershel, son of Chaim Gittelman.
In Hershel's house I found a number of Jews, worn out and in a state of complete exhaustion. There were Berl Valdman, who was the beadle in a kloyz[9], Berl Pontik, and more. They lay on the floor unconscious. The only one who was able to speak was the teacher Baro. He told me that he had arrived earlier from Voskodavy[10]. My parents were murdered in front of his eyes. According to him, the Germans had announced that Jews were allowed to return to Tuchyn, but when many were gathered together, they would bring them to the brickworks of Zilberberg and would shoot them. Even though he knew this for certain, he had come here.
[Page 80]
He wanted to die. He had no more strength to continue.
I told Baro that Tados had offered for me to come to his house, and he advised me to accept the invitation. As if I had any other option? Before I left the town I went into my parents' house. I found it broken into and destroyed.
I went to the fields. Between the cemetery and the bath house I saw dogs dragging the limbs of human beings in their mouths. I came to Tados's house. He was busy unloading the property of my family that he had brought in his cart. His mother welcomed me as if in friendliness and promised to take care of me. Again I began to work for them. Most of the time I herded the cattle. Despite all the lessons I had learned in the last months it did not occur to me that Tados was likely to turn me in to the gendarmerie. After all I was only nine years old.
When I returned with the cattle from the pasture they gave me food. Suddenly I heard shots. I understood that they were killing Jews as Baro had told me. I was always alert and my senses were sharpened. Even while I was eating my eyes were focused on the window, to see the doings outside. And here I saw two policemen on bicycles. They turned to Tados, who was in the yard, and he pointed in the direction of the house. I understood that he was the one who had informed the police that I had come to him, and now he was telling them that I was inside. I ran to the door but Tados's mother blocked the exit and said that this time I would not escape. The gendarmes bound my hands and my feet and sat me on the bicycle. I was a small boy and thin.
|
|
| The Portnoy family (in the 1930s) |
They drove me to the gendarmerie. On the way they stopped and went into the house of a worker in the flour mill, and left me on the bicycle. Ukrainian youths gathered around me and treated me like an animal in a cage. They swore, spat, and pinched me. My hands were tied. I heard shouts from the yard. Later on I learned that the policemen wanted to kill me in the yard and throw my body into the river, but the [female] owner opposed this and berated them. She did not want blood to be spilled in the yard of her house. If they were men of the law, they should bring me to their headquarters.
They took me to the gendarmerie and locked me in a small room that had a window with bars on it and a door to an office. There were
[Page 81]
abandoned clothes and objects there, apparently of Jews who had been “taken care of” there. On the floor and on the walls were signs of blood. It was clear that these were traces of Jews who had been murdered and that this end was awaiting me too. After about two days, they brought a Jew into the room who was in shock. He did not speak and did not respond to my questions. He only wrote on the wall the word “Korec[11].” Korec was a city 40 kilometers [east] from Tuchyn.
The policemen would take us out to the yard three times a day. There we were able to drink water. They fed us the leftovers from their meals. One day the officer ordered that we be brought out of the room. He ordered my adult neighbor to dig a pit. It was clear that the pit was intended for the burial of both of us. The officer took me to their dining hall. He ordered me to chop wood for the kitchen, and went inside to eat. After he dined, he ordered that wood be brought to his apartment, which was in the house of Hershel German opposite the mess hall. The amount of wood was large, and therefore I went there and back a number of times. The officer watched that I would not run away and made me place the wood for drying. He followed me from the window of his house. At a certain moment I heard that the officer moved to a different room and I said to myself that this was my window of opportunity. In any case, there was nothing to lose. In a moment I crossed over the fence. I ran into an orchard and in the end I arrived in a fallow field. I did not know if they were chasing after me and I continued to run. Where to? I had not thought about that.
After a long run I saw that I was on the road to the village of Rysvyanka[12]. I arrived in the fields behind the house of Avraham German. There in the time of the Soviet regime they would dig for peat. I went down into one of the pits that had been created by the removal of the peat. I fell asleep and woke up into a wet and freezing night. I was confused. I did not remember how I had gotten there. Slowly, slowly, I reconstructed the events of that day. I remembered that in the morning they had prepared a grave for me. It goes without saying: I had saved my life. For how long? Who knows?
I was barefoot. My feet were hardened by the mud and the thorns. I knew that I had to take advantage of the night to reach a place of some kind, to rest and to dry my filthy clothes. The truth is that I did not know where to go. I needed to grasp on to something, even if it was not realistic. I saw a bright star and I went out in the direction of the star. It seemed to me that the star was advancing, and maybe even winking at me? I walked for hours in the same direction. I was alert and tense to the point of no limits. Every rustle frightened me, every shadow of a shrub was in my eyes a person about to ambush me. I walked in fallow fields, I trod in mud and in sand. With the light of morning I arrived at a dirt track that led to the village of Voroniv. It seemed that I had succeeded in traveling such a long way without being caught, and this was thanks to the thick fog on that night. And perhaps the star had led me on a safe path? Who can know?
Again I went into the house of my acquaintance Stepan. He was astonished and frightened. Despite this, he served me food and gave me clothing. My clothes were torn and worn though. Stepan filled a rucksack with food for me and led me to the nearby forest. He did not hide his feeling that danger was hovering over his house. When Jews were found in the house of a villager they would burn the house over its inhabitants. It was no wonder that villagers were afraid to help the Jews.
Again I was in the Pustomyty forest. I searched for Jews in vain. In places that only a few months ago were humming with Jews I found only bodies. I wandered in the forest for a number of days and in the end I arrived at a farm near the forest, not far from Kostopil[13]. It was the village of Ozirki. The owner of the house was a shoemaker and he also had a farm. I asked for food and they gave me some. The shoemaker agreed to accept me for work even though he understood that I was a Jew. I helped him on the farm and in the shoemaking workshop.
A few days passed and Germans came to the village to collect from the villagers the quota of food that they had to supply. The inhabitants did not hurry to hand over the best of their crop and there was a flare of tempers. During the disturbance a number of the inhabitants organized and killed the Germans. The next day a unit of Gestapo arrived from Rivne
[Page 82]
and burned the village over its inhabitants. Only a few people managed to escape. I fled with the shoemaker's family to the forest.
The next day the shoemaker returned to the village to see how the punitive action had ended. It emerged that the Germans had finished their handiwork and returned to Rivne. Based on this, his family returned to their home, which had not been damaged. My benefactor and employer returned to work on the farm and as a shoemaker and I assisted by his side. He suggested to me that I adopt the name of a Polish youth of my age who had been murdered during the punitive action. While we were working he would review for my ears the personal details of the killed youth. Everything went smoothly except for the surname, Kriscinski[14], which I found difficult to pronounce. The shoemaker wanted my welfare and was interested in my learning my new name as quickly as possible. Therefore, each time that I pronounced the name incorrectly, he would prick me in the hand with an awl. The name became engraved not just in my memory, but also left a scar on my hand until today.
After a number of days the shoemaker packed a bit of food and clothing for me, took me in a cart to the other end of the city near Pustomyty, and left me by myself. I went into a nice house surrounded by a garden. I expected that a wealthy farmer would be happy to employ a farm laborer in return for food. My requirements were modest. The [female] head of the house expressed interest in my ethnicity. I told her about the village of Ozirki that had been destroyed and about my Polish family that had been murdered, as the shoemaker had taught me. The woman went ostensibly to bring me food but came back with a cane and attacked me with blows. I barely managed to escape. I learned a lesson not to go into the houses of rich farmers.
The poor farmers would generally give a bit of food and ask me to leave immediately. And I do not wonder that they were scared to allow a Jew into their yards. Through lack of choice I wandered from village to village, asking for work on a farm or shelter for a few days. I arrived in the village of Ryasnyky, not far from the town of Hoshcha[15]. By chance I went into the house of the elder of the village. The head of the house was not there but there were a few women there who had come to sort out various matters. They were interested in me and I told my story for the I-don't-know-how-many-eth time. When they heard about the village of Ozirki and the bitter fate of the inhabitants they all ran to help the orphan.
In the meantime, the elder of the village returned and announced that he would decide who would take me in. The next day he invited a couple of childless farmers and suggested to them that they adopt me as their son. They agreed, took me with them, and treated me as if I was their son. They took care of all that I was lacking and already there awakened in me a spark of hope that at long last an end had come to all the wanderings and the stresses. But the good days did not last long. On Sunday the farmer went to visit his brother and took me with him. There were children of my age there. We played and the adults conversed amongst themselves. I do not know what they spoke about. In the evening we returned home and nothing was said to me. The next day the woman told her husband that she had dreamed a strange and frightening dream. She feared that there was trouble in the house. The husband said that maybe I was ill and took me to the clinic, as if he was concerned about my health. All the way he held my hand. A suspicion awakened in me that he was not holding my hand out of friendship but out of fear that I might run away. I began to understand that the whole story about the dream was nothing but a show. I had heard stories about children of Jews who were brought to the clinic and there it was discovered that they had been circumcised. From that moment on, I began to think about escaping.
At the clinic the farmer met up with some acquaintances and they spoke amongst themselves. I looked around me and searched for an opportunity to slip outside. A woman went into the doctor's room and I went in after her. I passed through into the nurse's room and from there outside. I ran with all my strength in the direction of the town of Hoshcha. When I grew tired I went into one of the houses. Maybe I would be able to rest, and maybe they would also give me food? In the yard and in the house there was Jewish property and the house looked like a furniture store. The farmer welcomed me with apparent warmth. I told my story about Ozirki, the burning of the village by the Germans, and the murder of its inhabitants. The farmer told me that he had come to the village from western Poland, in accordance with the population exchange agreement between
[Page 83]
Russia and Germany. He had a large farm and also worked at shoemaking and for the most part he had work. I stayed with him. He had cattle and I would take the cows out to pasture and from time to time would help him in the shoemaking workshop. The man promised to sew boots for me. It was the end of 1942. A thought flashed through my mind: Was it possible that everything I had been through lately had taken place in just three months and no longer? It seemed to me that for years already I had been wandering like a hunted animal.
Seven days passed or maybe 10, and a farmer came to order boots. He saw me and asked who I was. My employer told him my story about Ozirki but the farmer said that a week earlier a boy had arrived in the village of Ryasnyky who told a similar story, and it had emerged that he was a Jew who was misleading everyone. My landlord decided to check if there was truth in the suspicion of his customer. My benefactor had told me yesterday that if it turned out that I was a Jew, he would hand me over to the Gestapo and he would receive Jewish property as a prize. This was a profitable business. He tried to drag me to the barn, and I struggled with him. In the end he locked me in there and went to call the police. I knew that my life was in danger; therefore, with the last of my strength, I broke two planks from the wall and I fled.
I ran in a field and the shoemaker chased after me on a bicycle. I passed next to a sugar factory in the village of Babyn[16]. There I saw a breach in the fence and I went inside. Women were cleaning sugar beets there. I sat down next to them and I worked like them. They were interested in me. Again and again I told the same story. It already came out of me like a recording. One woman said that a neighbor of hers was looking for a worker and that he would be happy to take me. I continued cleaning the beets and suddenly I saw a police car enter the yard and in it was the shoemaker who was chasing me. I slipped out before they noticed me. I went out to the road through the breach from which I had entered. A military truck was parked there. I climbed into the rear compartment and the vehicle moved from its spot. I did not know where we were going. For whom was that important? The main thing was to get away from the place.
I even managed to nap in the compartment. The vehicle stopped with a noisy screech. I jumped out without the driver noticing me. I was in the center of a large village. There were nice houses with tin roofs there. I knew from my own experience that there was no going into the houses of wealthy farmers. Therefore I walked until I reached a wretched hut belonging to an elderly couple on the edge of the village. They fed me and were not interested in me and in my personal details. They told me they had no children and that they were Volksdeutsche[17]. I did not understand the term “Volksdeutsche” and also I did not ask questions. Afterwards they said they were designated to receive the established farm of a Czech who had been expelled, and that if I would agree to join their family they would be prepared to register me as their son. The whole story about the village of Ozirki came off the table and was not mentioned again.
From that day on, I became a Ukrainian by the name of Kiriliuk. I moved with them to Kvasiliv[18]. There they received an orderly farm. The three of us worked from the crack of dawn until late in the evening. The produce they would hand over to the Germans.
After a short time a German appeared and registered the children for school. There were three classes. We learned German, mathematics, and military drills. I learned until noon and after that worked on the farm. One day a young German appeared in our school and organized a branch of the Hitler Jugend[19]. Educators arrived, there were social games, there was a choir, and the guides were happy with our achievements. From time to time we were made to appear in various settlements and to demonstrate our achievements. I was in the lowest class but within a short time they moved me to a higher class because of my progress in my studies. Sometimes I would accompany the farmer's wife on her travels to Rivne to hand over the produce and to receive products for the house and the farm. One day at the entrance to Rivne I saw a group of Jews apparently being led to extermination. Most of the inhabitants of the ghetto had been liquidated long ago and there remained only wanted professionals whom the Germans had kept behind, and now they too had arrived at the end of the road. My landlady, who was a Volksdeutsche, accepted the
[Page 84]
extermination of the Jews as understood in advance. I was forced to pretend indifference. This was in the summer of 1943.
Every time that it seemed to me that I had somehow organized myself, an event would occur that would shake me up strongly and I would be forced to start everything anew. And that is what happened also this time. As members of the Hitler Jugend we received an order to part from our families. When I went to say goodbye to my farmer, he became angry and said that he had adopted me so that I would work on his farm and he was not interested for me to serve the Germans. After much shouting, he threw me out of his house. Once again I was a boy without a home.
I returned to the boarding school and told the principal that I had been thrown out of the house of my adopters. The principal expressed interest in the reason for my expulsion and I told the story that I had invented. The principal offered for me to stay in the boarding house overnight and in the morning I would have to present myself at the Ukrainian gendarmerie in Rivne or at an institution for homeless children. At the gendarmerie I saw the policemen who had caught me at Tados's house and I made off from there before they managed to notice me. I turned to the management of the institution for homeless children and they accepted me without problems. They filled out forms and asked about my past, and I had to make no mistakes in the details I gave them. I had already managed to be both Ukrainian and also Polish. I received clothing that had been plundered from the Jews and I was sent to a children's home.
In the children's home there were children of different ages, from the age of one year to the age of 10 years or more. There were only two [female] carers. The big children had to look after the small ones according to the instructions of the carers. It seemed to me that the story of the village of Ozirki that the Germans had burned over its inhabitants was more dramatic than the story of the Volksdeutsche, and thus I again became “Kriscinski” the orphan, whose parents had been murdered in a punitive action. On Sundays we would wash ourselves in a tub, dress in festive clothing, and go to church. I was worried that in the church there would happen to be policemen who recognized me. Therefore I burst into bitter sobs when we were about to go to church. The carer decided that I was ill and that I should lie down in bed.
After a number of weeks an instruction was received to transfer the big children to a children's home in Klevan[20]. In the new place there were Polish, Ukrainian and Russian children. There was strong hatred between the Ukrainians and the Poles. “Zhid[21]” was the accepted curse word. I became used to responding to the expression “Zhid” with equanimity. Our nutrition was terrible. The heads of the villages would supply food that was meagre, sometimes rotten.
The manageress was a Ukrainian woman who was strict and tough. Despite a prohibition on leaving without the permission of the manageress, children would take off from the children's home, visit the homes of villagers, and ask for food. Sometimes we would work a bit on a farm in return for food. The manageress hated the Polish children. There was a case in which a Polish boy went to a village to work and the manageress turned him in to the Ukrainian gendarmerie, who sent him to load planks into a train carriage. He met his death there. We did not know if he was killed in an accident or if he was just eliminated.
Twice a week there would appear in the children's home an Eastern Orthodox priest and a Catholic priest to teach lessons in religion and prayer. They would conduct tests and those who excelled would receive a prize of a cross, a medallion, or images of saints. Most of the students did not take an interest in the religion lessons. There were always only a few students remaining in the lesson. I understood that I had to remain in all the lessons so that they would not suspect me. In a short time I became known as an excellent student.
I was also in the church choir and I was even made the right hand [assistant] of the priest. All those attending the house of prayer recognized me. Sometimes I thought that without any intention I had gone too far, but I had no way of withdrawing. Every Sunday one of the worshippers would take me for a festive meal. To the church would come Poles, Hungarians and Germans. On Saturday afternoons we would wash in pairs in the tub and we would go naked to the manageress to receive clean underwear. I always remembered my father's words to be careful so that they would not discover that I was circumcised. Therefore I would go to the manageress wrapped in a towel. She would become angry that I was dirtying the towel and behaving in a different way
[Page 85]
from the rest of the children. I willingly agreed and even emphasized that I was different from the other children.
One Saturday I decided not to go bathe and instead I went out through a breach in the fence and walked to a village to ask for food. I arrived at the house of a nun. She showed interest in me, [and] asked about life in the children's home and about my past. She was impressed by my story, collected baked goods from her neighbors, and gave them to me. In the end she said I was allowed to come to her house whenever I wanted and even to bring friends with me. My friends received with joy the food that I brought back. The next Saturday a large group of us went there. The manageress noticed that many children were missing and waited for us next to the gate with a man from the gendarmerie. We were caught red-handed. She took the food to the kitchen and warned us that if we repeated our deed she would turn us all over to the gendarmerie. That was a serious threat. The next Saturday the gang was scared to go. Only I went with a Polish youth. We came back early and gave all our booty to the gang.
Opposite our children's home there was once a high school. During the war years Hungarian soldiers were housed there. Sometimes, when I had free time, I would look with curiosity at the Hungarians. One day a soldier approached me and in his hands were a mess tin and two boxes of matches. The soldier did not know Polish. He said the word “milk” to me in Polish. It was clear that he wanted milk in return for the matches. At that time goods such as matches, soap, and so on were rare to find. I ran through the breach in the fence to the neighboring village. In return for [giving] the matches I received milk and eggs.
When it became known to the soldiers that it was possible to conduct an exchange trade, I became their supplier. I would run from the Hungarians to the village and back again, and everyone was satisfied with my service. In this way I arrived in their kitchen. The cook knew Ukrainian. He had control over many products and he was interested in doing business on a wide scale. I told him that our manageress was tough and treated the Polish children badly. He offered for me to work in the kitchen.
I agreed. I would clean the boilers [i.e. hot water tanks], peel potatoes, and do every other job. All the soldiers knew me. The children of the orphanage, when they saw me there, began to come to me and ask for food. I responded to them willingly. When it became known to the manageress of the children's home that I was in the camp of the Hungarians, she came to bring me back. They did not allow her to enter the camp and she presented a complaint to the commander of the unit.
He ordered the expulsion of every child who would come from the children's home. The cook ignored the order. One day, when I was busy with cleaning a boiler that was bigger than me, the commander came to the kitchen for a surprise visit and found me. He rebuked the cook and ordered that I be expelled immediately.
I moved over to the signal corps. The soldiers, who had already known me for some time, received me willingly. At night I would sit beside the communications device and the soldier on duty was able to nap to his pleasure. When there was a buzzing on the device I would wake him up. I was also a wanted guest in the stables. There I helped with cleaning the horses. One day the deputy commander came and saw me looking after his horse. He remembered me from the Catholic church. Now he walked me to the kitchen and ordered the cook to enable me to wash up, and after that to send me to him. He showed signs of affection towards me. He issued an order to dispose of my tattered clothes and to give me a uniform in my size. He even promised to take me on his vacation trip to Hungary. In the meantime I continued to work, sometimes in the kitchen and sometimes at cleaning the horses, and the radio operators would sometimes invite me too.
Some time passed and the unit received an order to move eastwards. During the time when the equipment was being moved to the train station in Zdolbuniv[22], the commander who had previously ordered my expulsion happened to arrive. Now he repeated his order. I wandered in the area until the evening, and when the train moved I climbed on board into a carriage full of horses.
[Page 86]
We arrived in Myropil[23]. There the radio operators adopted me. The soldier on duty at the communications device was able to sleep in peace when I would replace him. One night the communications commander came to visit and found me. Out of great fear I began to cry. I knew that if they would expel me again I would not have anywhere to go. The surrounding area was foreign and hostile. A fierce hatred burned between the Ukrainians and the Poles. The officer, who was Catholic and who also spoke Polish, understood my situation and calmed me. Even back in the church I was in his eyes a proper Pole. My situation touched his heart so much that he ordered me to come to the officers' mess the next day. There he received me with affection. I was organized with work in the kitchen of the railroad track guards, together with a Polish fellow by the name of Vladek. We worked in the kitchen and took care of the chickens and the animals that were raised in the storehouse. Everything was good and nice except that the cook was strict and easily angered and at every opportunity he would land blows on us.
In the summer of 1943 they transferred the supply department to Myropil. One day a senior officer came there. He saw me and asked the cook what a boy was doing in the kitchen. The cook told him that I had come with the signal corps and that I was helping him. After a number of days the commander's assistant came with an order to bring me to him. I did not understand the reason for his interest in me. He imposed a free day [on me] and spent the whole day with me sunbathing in the sun and from time to time photographing me. The officer went on vacation and I returned to my occupations in the kitchen. Two weeks passed and again I was invited to the officer. He told me that he had spent his vacation at his home and had discussed with his wife the matter of adopting me, because they did not have children. He had already managed to take an interest in my past, and now the only thing needed was my agreement. I knew that that in all the investigations into my “past” nothing had come up except the lies that I had fabricated. I did not reject the offer. And as if I had a choice? Uniforms were ordered in my size and a party was organized for officers in honor of the event. From then on the officer would take me with him on all his travels.
One day an order was received to withdraw from the place because of the approach of the front. We moved to Proskurov and from there advanced in the direction of Stanislav[24]. The unit focused on stationing in a village next to Stanislav. The area was rife with Bandrovists[25] and their officers invited the Hungarian officers to a party. During the party the captain held me on his lap. One of the Bandrovists who was dallying near us remarked that I looked like a Jew. And for some reason I burst out crying. The truth was revealed and the captain burned with rage enough to slaughter. How had I dared to mislead him and to cause him such shame? To my surprise, to my “defense” actually came the Ukrainian officer who had raised the suspicion of my Jewishness. He said that if I had succeeded in surviving until now, it was appropriate that I should be able to continue to roam like a dog also in the future. I made off from there quickly. At least [escaping with] my life was my bounty.
I wandered here and there and I did not know what I would do. I saw a soldier transporting firewood from the forest and I joined him. He was happy for the assistance and all that day I worked at loading logs and unloading them. The logs were intended for heating the apartments of the officers who lived in the priest's house. We brought the wood and the priest came out to show us the storehouse. When I saw the priest I kneeled and immersed myself in prayer as they had taught me in the children's home. The officers were out of their minds with anger and truly wanted to kill me but the priest defended me. I told him for the I-don't-know-how-many-eth time the “story about the village of Ozirki.” It seemed that I had already convinced myself that my origin was truly from Ozirki. And what emerged, but that the priest too was from Ozirki! He knew about the liquidation of the village by the Nazis and he told the officers that we were both from the same village and that my parents had been his neighbors. He related details of the catastrophe that had fallen upon the inhabitants of the village. The priest had left Ozirki years ago, and also he had not been there for a long time, and he had no reason not to believe that I was not really the same Polish youth whose name I carried.
My officer heard from his friends about my meeting with the priest, and now he was sorry that dragging behind me were the suspicions of
[Page 87]
the Bandrovist officer. He reconciled with me and again I drew closer to him. Not many days passed and an order was given to go out to the front. In the headquarters it was decided to transfer the priest and his sister to a camp for Poles in Hungary and to send me to the house of the adopting captain. Another Polish youth was also supposed to go to work in the house of our escort. They prepared suitable documents for us and in the train we reached the border of Hungary and Poland.
The inspection was strict. In the end they shut us in a basement. The next day a Gestapo officer came, took the documents and the letter that we had been given, and handed us over to the Ukrainian gendarmerie. After checks of the documents and a long investigation, they sent the priest and his sister to Majdanek[26], while I and my Polish friend were sent on to Hungary. We arrived at a camp in the village of Sianky[27]. Jews from a nearby labor camp were working there. Through the railway station would pass transports of Jews from Hungary to labor camps and to extermination camps. The Hungarians would carry out searches of the deportees and would rob them of all their property. They would leave only the clothing that they were wearing.
The officer of the camp interrogated me and my Polish friend and sent us to work in the kitchen. Sometimes they would order me to gather up the objects that they had plundered from the Jews and to sort them out for the purpose of storage. Soldiers would leave for vacations and more than once when they returned they would not find their units, which had in the meantime left for the front. These soldiers would be attached to other units and they too would be sent to the front. The mobility was immense there. The soldiers would pass their free time with card games. I and my friend would follow the games and over the course of time they began to allow us to join in too. It also happened that we won the money of the soldiers and this matter annoyed them. They argued that we had cheated them and they landed blows on us, and they also issued a complaint against us.
The officer ordered that we be imprisoned in a basement. There was a container there to heat water for the soldiers' showers. I and my friend were frivolous youths and at every opportunity we invented games for ourselves. We decided to empty the container of its water. In our eyes it was just a prank. In reality it was not so funny. The soldiers went to shower and in the taps there was no water. More than that, several of them were burned when they touched the searing hot pipes. Again a complaint was presented to the officer. They took us out to a field, tied our arms and legs, and they laid into us with vigorous blows. We returned beaten and dripping blood. They laid us down in a coal storeroom. The Jews from the labor camp saw our situation and took care of us. I had the chance to introduce myself to them as a Jew and they were happy that another Jew had been found.
After that incident they separated the two of us so that we would not make mischief. I went to work in the officers' kitchen. In charge was a young Catholic deputy who on one occasion offered for me to visit the village church. There we became acquainted with a Polish family, a mother and two daughters. They invited us to their house. The deputy did not know Polish and I served as his translator. From then on we were wanted guests in their home.
One day the daughters asked the deputy to prepare a cake for them for the birthday of their mother. We brought the cake. The daughters set the table and I helped the owner of the house [the mother] in the kitchen. Suddenly someone knocked on the door. I opened it and panicked. Standing before me was a person thin and neglected in tattered rags. I thought that perhaps he was a Jew. He called out my name and then I recognized the priest who had saved my life. He was broken and humiliated. His sister had died and he managed to escape from Majdanek at the time of the bombing[28]. Now it was made known to me that the priest's mother was the sister of our hostess. How fate plays tricks on us! It is hard to describe how this shadow of a man only a few weeks ago had been a minister of religion with an imposing appearance.
He told us about the hell called Majdanek. He asked that we help him to reach the village of his birth and to die next to his mother. Over the next few days he returned as much as possible to his former strength and acquired an appearance that would not arouse suspicion that he was a fugitive from Majdanek. Our hostess asked the deputy to help him get close to the front line. After a number of days the deputy took a jeep and brought the priest on to it. I also came along for the journey. We came close to the front
[Page 88]
and there we parted from the priest. He went on his way and we returned to the camp. An order was given to retreat to Hungary because the Soviet army was advancing quickly. All the time there were bombings.
The Hungarians were in continuous retreat and the officers decided to get rid of me. When we reached Miskolc[29], the officer ordered that I be handed over to the village elder. He brought me to his sister in the neighboring village. Her husband was a cripple. They had a daughter my age. They adopted me and registered me for school together with their daughter. Until noon I would study and in the afternoon I worked on the farm. They treated me nicely. Sometimes we would visit the village elder.
Meanwhile, the Soviets entered the village. The Russian officers would come to the house of the village elder, demand people for work, and take care of various other errands. Once they head me speaking Ukrainian. They were interested in where I had learned this language and if there were other speakers of Ukrainian or Russian. I said that I was born in Ukraine and that during the war I had wandered as a refugee and that another Pole had arrived with me. Still on the same day they took me and my friend Vladek and moved us to a camp in which were concentrated Russian prisoners, or Vlasovtsys*[30], and other Russian speakers who were suspected of collaborating with the Nazis. The camp was very strictly guarded. The counter espionage [unit] interrogated us, sometimes accompanied by blows. In the end they brought us to a camp in Budapest in which were concentrated people who had been liberated from Nazi camps. During the interrogation I noticed that the investigators knew things about me that I had not told them. It emerged that my friend Vladek had informed on me.
Here I must point out another fact: In the year 1940 many Germans moved from the Soviet zone of occupation to Germany, according to the population exchange agreement between Russia and Germany. The Germans sent many of the children of these Germans [the ones who had arrived from the Soviet area] to special schools and returned them to their places of birth as German agents. Now the Soviets suspected that I was one of these and I absorbed many blows and insulting nicknames such as “German scum.” I did not expect that with liberation would come problems such as these. It is strange that it did not occur to me to tell them that I was a Jew. The truth is that after everything that I had endured I tried to forget the past. It was as if my parents' home had been wiped from my memory. Reality taught me to be once a Ukrainian and once a Pole.
After some time they sent me and six other children to the NKVD[31]. There they gave us documents that on the face of it enabled us to return to our places of birth. They ordered us to present ourselves to the NKVD in every place where there were delays. I declared that I was originally from Rivne, and they sent me to Rivne. Until we reached the train, four youths disappeared from the group.
The sergeant who accompanied us handed me the documents and we boarded the train. We traveled to Chernivtsi[32] through Romania. The train traveled slowly. When we arrived at the border near Chernivtsi we gave our documents to a military policeman. The soldiers contacted the sponsors and ordered us to wait. A truck with soldiers arrived. They brought us to the NKVD. There they sent us to a warehouse to change clothing, instead of our lice-filled clothes. It was a pity for us to part from our clothes, which were in our sizes, and therefore we wore our new clothing over our old ones. For some reason a silly spirit entered us to wrest control from the soldier who was waiting for us and to run away. When the soldier came in to call us, we fell upon him and beat him with blows. Soldiers arrived. They took us prisoner and brought us to the camp of the Bandrovists. They interrogated us by day and by night. The food was sparse in the extreme. I remained there for close to three weeks.
Once the officer took me to hoe the garden of his apartment. I went into the house to ask for food. I was always hungry. And what did my ears hear? A pleasant melody that seemed to stem from the next room. I peeked inside and I saw a Jew wrapped in a tallit[33] standing in prayer.
[Page 89]
After everything that I had been through and after I had cut myself off from my past, I was shocked to the depths of my soul. A Jew wrapped in a tallit? This was a sight that was not from this world. On my way back to the camp I saw Jews walking from the synagogue. This was in the spring of 1945.
After a number of days I was released from the camp and I received a letter for the NKVD in Rivne. The movement of the trains was spasmodic. It took two days until we arrived at Shepetivka[34]. I went to search for food. I had no money. On the way a Ukrainian woman stopped me. She saw that I had on me flannel cloths with which we would wrap our feet instead of socks, and she wanted to buy the fabric. With the money I bought a jug of buttermilk and bread.
I feasted to my heart's content in the market and fell asleep. I dreamed about my family and I saw my father in the image of that Jew wrapped in a tallit that I had encountered two days ago. The memory of my family, which seemingly had been uprooted from my heart, returned to me. I then remembered that my mother had a brother who had lived with his family in Novohrad Volynskyi, not far from Shepetivka[35]. I decided to travel there. I did not know any address nor the family name. I knew only that my uncle had once been a hatmaker. I went to the train station and waited many hours until the train arrived. In the morning I arrived in Novohrad Volynskyi. After much searching I found the hatmaker's house. It was indeed the house of my uncle.
There were many Jews there who had gathered together after the war. A few turned to me with questions, what was I selling and what did I want to buy. I saw my uncle in the next room, sitting and cutting fabric for hats. I recognized him by his appearance. He did not pay attention to me when I arrived. Another Jew – this did not add anything and it did not diminish anything.
I asked him if he was the owner of the house, and he answered in the affirmative. I said that I was interested in speaking with him [alone]. He surely thought I wanted to offer him a deal of some kind and hinted that I should go into the storehouse. There I asked him if he had relatives in Tuchyn. Yes, of course! A brother, an uncle, and a sister [called] Batya! I took off my military cap, which was hiding my face, and I said: “I am the son of Batya!” My uncle fainted from the excitement and in the house they thought that I had murdered him. People came to meet me and among them was my aunt, who recognized me immediately. That was on the 11th of April, 1945.
Under the advice of the family, I stayed with my uncle for a time and began to work with him. Sometimes I would sell hats at the market. It was hard to enter into the new routine of life. I could not sleep at nights. All the horrors that I had seen over the course of three years passed before my eyes like in a film. I dreamed terrifying dreams. I would shout in my sleep. I felt that I would not be able to continue like this. After four weeks had passed, I informed them that I was going to Tuchyn to see with my own eyes what remained there. Maybe I would find a family member or a friend and maybe someone would tell me details about my family. My aunt did not agree that I should travel by myself and joined me.
We arrived in Rivne. There we met up with Michael Zeitchik and his family. My aunt stayed with them and I continued on to Tuchyn. I wandered around the building of the local government. I hoped to meet Jews. To approach the center of the town, the place where masses of Jews had lived, all of whom were murdered with cruelty, I did not have the strength in me. A woman came towards me and asked who I was and what I was searching for. I told her that I was a native of Tuchyn and everything that I had gone through. It emerged that she was Jewish and also that she had known my family. She was the wife of a Soviet official by the name of Kapustin who had arrived in Tuchyn in 1939 to organize the local government. I was invited to their house. In the meantime, the husband also arrived. They were interested to hear about the sufferings of the Jews during the war.
The next day was supposed to be “Victory Day[36]” and Kapustin and other [Communist] party officials traveled to the villages to inform the committees that would conduct the ceremony. I joined them. He promised to bring me to Rivne. That same night Bandrovists attacked the NKVD people in Tuchyn. It was good luck for Kapustin that he was traveling. All the officials
[Page 90]
of the government who had remained in Tuchyn were murdered.
The next morning Russian soldiers arrived to search for the Bandrovists. They ran into us in civilian clothing with weapons, and suspected that we belonged to [criminal] gangs. They arrested our entire group and brought us to the NKVD in Rivne. There they knew Kapustin. Of course they apologized and released all of us. As strange as it may seem, events such as this were common at the tail end of the war.
I arrived in Rivne [and went] to Zeitchik's house. There they had been worried about me because they had heard about the rampage by the Bandrovist gangs in Tuchyn. Especially scared was my aunt. On the same day we returned to Novohrad.
I stayed in Novohrad for half a year and worked with my uncle. During that time his daughter married and went to live in Leningrad[37]. Her brother-in-law offered that I move there too and that he would organize for me to study in a famous school there. I studied for half a year in a preparatory school in Leningrad and in the fall I was supposed to begin regular studies at school. But in the end the plan was canceled for various reasons and I returned to my uncle's family in Novohrad Volynskyi.
In Novohrad I worked at different jobs until 1952. And again I traveled to Leningrad, this time in order to study at a school for commerce. I studied and I worked. In the year 1955, I met up with my cousin Zeev Shpigelman. He told me about family members and acquaintances whose existence he had heard about. Natives of Poland were then able to return to Poland. I left for Poland and within a short time I arrived in Israel.
The memories of the past accompany me until today with all their terrors, and there were days when I could not find any peace for myself until I gave expression in poetry to my feelings, the feelings of a boy who was orphaned and alone, in the language of my mother and my father, which was also the language of my childhood[38]. I see in the following lines an inseparable part of my testimony[39]:
When the German came along,
I was still small,
My father and mother were taken away,
I was left alone.
Since the German came along,
He took away our life,
[And] spread torments and weeping.Since then I have wandered
Over the whole world,
Sleepy and hungry
In winter and in the cold.
Where should I go, where should I stand?
Not here and not back
In pain and in loneliness.Left [alive] only for tortures …
Gevald[40], this life is wearisome for me!
Oh people, take pity on me:
Death is near, the hater is making preparations.
A little orphan – my turn is nearing, oh woe!
From their grave do my father and mother hear my cry?
Translator's footnotes:
|
JewishGen, Inc. makes no representations regarding the accuracy of
the translation. The reader may wish to refer to the original material
for verification.
JewishGen is not responsible for inaccuracies or omissions in the original work and cannot rewrite or edit the text to correct inaccuracies and/or omissions.
Our mission is to produce a translation of the original work and we cannot verify the accuracy of statements or alter facts cited.
Tuchin, Ukraine
Yizkor Book Project
JewishGen Home Page
Copyright © 1999-2025 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 31 Dec 2024 by JH
