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Dr. Kaplinsky was transferred on November 2, [1942] along with the other Jews of Mosty' to the Volkovysk bunkers (see his memoir, ‘With the Jews of Mosty' on their Last Journey,’ in this book). In what follows is – an accurate portrayal of what transpired in the bunkers, and the last journey of the Jews of Volkovysk to the extermination camps in Treblinka and Auschwitz.

We were transferred to Volkovysk from Mosty' in the dead of night, and only on the morning of the following day could we look at our surroundings and assess our new circumstances, which were overly depressing. It became apparent at the outset that the transfer of the Jews from all the towns in the Volkovysk district was accomplished at the same time. This transfer was accomplished in a number of ways, and the worst of all was the method the Germans heaped on the backs of the Jews of Ruzhany. It was not only that they had to walk 50 kilometers on foot, but they also behaved towards them in a barbaric manner. They separated the children from their parents, and during the two sets of two days that this forced march from Ruzhany to Volkovysk took place, they permitted mothers to feed their children only once. Also, along the way, the marchers were beaten heavily, and about a hundred of them who collapsed along the way from exhaustion, were killed. In Svislucz, it amused the commissar to play ‘Russian Roulette.’ He took out 200 Jews from the lines and shot every tenth one just ‘for sport….’

The Jews of Volkovysk itself were ordered to present themselves at the bunkers within two hours, and in all the outskirts of the city, and on all street corners, police and SS troops were posted for observation and containment. The German command in Konigsberg issued the following order: “All the Jews of the Bialystock District are to assemble at concentration points to be announced. Each Jew is permitted to take with him food for 48 hours. Working clothes, money, jewelry, and valuables may be taken in unlimited amount. The objective is to be transferred to centers of work.”

Approximately 20 thousand Jews were accommodated in the bunkers as follows: two blocks comprised of 15 bunkers were allocated to the Jews from Volkovysk, with each bunker holding five hundred people. The rest of the bunkers in the area were allocated to the Jews of Amstibova, and Yalovka. One block, consisting of 6 bunkers, was allocated for the Jews of Svislucz; a block of 8 small bunkers with low ceilings – for the Jews of Ruzhany, and the Jews of Zelva, Piesk and Mosty' were allocated two large horse stables.

During the first hours, rumors spread about that we had been gathered to be sent to Bolivia, which was prepared to take us…directly, but not much time went by before the camp commander, Tzirka, called for Fuchs and Daniel from the Judenrat in Volkovysk, who received the following notification from him: This concentration camp was temporary only. From here, the Jews will be sent by transport, 3,000 at a time, to a large labor camp that has been set up only for Jews. The transfer will last for six weeks, and until that time, there is a need to instill order in the bunker camp. Fuchs was appointed at the head, and Daniel – his deputy. It was required that each bunker have its own leader, and he was responsible to provide a list of the ‘residents’ in his bunker, concern himself with arranging and distributing the food. Every person would receive a daily ration of 170 grams of bread and a plate of soup. Health and sanitary conditions would be supervised with the assistance of the medical resources within the camp itself.

On the following day, a committee of senior Gestapo officers arrived by car, accompanied by the district physician, and the head of the city of Volkovysk – Winter. Since the camp lacked water. The head of the city promised to provide the Jews with water, with the help of the fire engine. A small amount of potatoes and groats were also promised, that would be taken from the cellars of the Jewish houses. The pessimists among the Jews argues, after hearing these promises, that the fate of the Jews had been sealed, and they were being treated like fowl before the slaughter, but there were also optimists who did not cease from keeping hope, and that everything would turn out all right, and not to give up.

Nothing came of all the good promises. What did reach the camp: several casks with lime, for use in the lavatories, and several boxes containing bottles of insecticide against lice. After a while, the issue regarding water was settled to a degree, and then hunger started to afflict us, after the food that the

Jews had brought along ran out. It didn't take but a few days before an epidemic of lice spread throughout the camp to an enormous degree. This was at the height of the fall season.

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The physicians among the people in the camps divided up the work, and organized a dispensary and a sort-of small hospital for the sick. On the fourth and fifth day, the people were taken in by an illusion that not everything was done for, and this on the basis that the young people were taken out to do various jobs. Because of this, the possibility was created to smuggle in foodstuffs, yet the hunger continued and grew. When it was discovered that a wagon load of potatoes was being delivered to the camp, the ravenous Jews fell upon those wagons, with each individual trying to appropriate a few potatoes from himself, but immediately shots were heard from the German guards. They shot directly into the mob, killing and wounding many, because they saw in this mass surge on the potatoes as a ‘breakdown in law and order.’ It seems that hunger overpowered the fear of being shot, because these scenes of riot were repeated several times a day. People did not hesitate to put their lives in danger for the price of a few frozen potatoes.

It is difficult to describe the ambience and living conditions in the camp which were largely sub-human. I worked at that time in directing the health services of the camp, and I could see what was going on from up close. The day started in the camp while it was literally still dark outside. Those who were going out to work, would gather outside in the yard at an earlier hour. The women looked for ways to warm up a little bit of water for the children. There was a great deal of movement in the area of the primitive latrines. The latrine within each bunker was set aside only for the children and the elderly, and all the others had to attend to their bodily functions out of doors. Beside the latrines, which was not more than a large barn with a place for 20 people, there were two rows – for men and for women. After a row of men came out, a row of women went in, and God-forbid, someone needing to return. A young lad attempts to convince the women and says: “Go in together with the men, there is nothing to be ashamed of, because in any event they are going to throw us into the same grave….”

It was the practice, that after dawn came, each individual would prepare his own bedding place, and afterwards go to get water, or stand in line to get the rotten bread. In all the bunkers, tens of Jews would get together for communal prayers. The Rabbis decreed community fasting. The Selikhot prayers were said, prayers were said with great conviction, and a great wailing goes up when the prayer Avinu Malkeinu is reached. The leader of the prayers cries out bitterly when he reaches the phrase, ‘grant us salvation speedily,’ and the wailing intensifies with the verses, ‘do it for those who suckle at the breast,’ and ‘do it for the babies in the house of the people.’ And the cries pierce the heavens. The worshipers stand oppressed and pushed together in mud, one with a prayer shawl and phylacteries – assuming he had the foresight to take these things at the last minute – and another without. The bunker is sunk in dimness, and with the last of their strength, the worshipers knock at the Gates of Mercy which are shut.

Tzirka appears in the bunkers several times a day. This is a cynical and cunning murderer, who attempts to appear before people as someone concerned with the sick and their needs. He returns with frequent promises, that in the new camp there will be better conditions. The workers return from their places of work towards nightfall. One will be carrying a slab of wood, a second – a few onions or leeks that he had managed to ‘arrange,’ and there will be a lucky one who will be holding a slice of bread he had gotten from some peasant. With the descent of darkness, everyone goes into the bunkers, and everyone tries to illuminate his corner of the bunker in accordance with his means to do so. Not a few, attempted to use the insecticide for lice as a fuel for lamps. Everyone is crawling around on the bunks, and a long time goes by before everyone gets themselves arranged

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somehow for sleep on a side, because there is no room here for any other position. A Jew sitting in a corner recites the Psalms by a flickering light, a second is reciting the Shema out loud from memory, a woman is talking to herself without end, and another woman, much younger, rocks a sick baby back and forth in her arms, this being the third day with no stop to her recitation of a refrain of ‘I want to go home…’ Many continue to pick off the lice – a task that will never end. This is the regular picture that is repeated every night.

On November 11, the camp was suddenly sealed off, and no person was allowed to leave for work. Many theories, some peculiar, immediately spread to explain this event. There were those that connected this to a major political event, and spoke of a German surrender (this assessment seemed to fit the facts…), possibly a Polish rebellion, etc. On the other side, there were those who predicted that the final liquidation was coming night. In several hours, it became clear that the closing of the camp was related to a sanitation inspection by an appointed committee, which had just arrived for this purpose. Three Gestapo officers dressed in their military finery and fat as pigs, descended into the rotten and filthy bunkers, and without hiding their contempt and revulsion for the ‘filthy Jews,’ ruled that the camp was infested with lice and it was necessary to put it under quarantine. Afterwards, we found out that a German soldier who had stood guard, had gotten sick, and there was a suspicion that he had contracted typhus. The implication was that he had caught it from the Jews, and that it was necessary to implement drastic measures. Fortunately (if it is even possible to use such a word in this place under such conditions) the soldier recovered and the suspicion against the camp of the Jews was lifted.

Sioma Gallin ran the kitchen, a community activist, recognized and respected in Volkovysk, alert, full of life. Sioma did not lose his optimism, even under the most trying circumstances. His constant refrain was – “We'll get them yet.” On one day, as he was getting water from the fire engine, he got into a conversation with the driver, a local Christian, and the latter gave him a little bit of benzene for his lighter. The Gestapo guards saw this, and threw Gallin to the ground and proceeded to rain blows on him with their rubber truncheons. After he was all swollen and bleeding, they carried him back to the bunker. Towards nightfall, that ‘cold brigand’ Tzirka came to the bunker, and pretended to take an interest in Gallin's condition, and he demanded of the doctors that they should not, God-forbid, neglect him… I visited Gallin at nine that night. His suffering was great, breathing with great difficulty, and was able to get an utterance out his mouth only with the greatest difficulty. At eleven at night, the bunker was startled by wild shouting from the Germans: “Gallin Raus! Gallin Raus!” A Jewish policeman from the internal guard hurried to tell Gallin that the Germans are demanding that he come out immediately. The bunker was deathly quiet. Everybody elevated themselves from their places in order to see how this situation would end. Approximately five hundred eyes were glued to Gallin who, with the last of his strength, attempted to get himself up off his bunk. With a tortured voice and his last energy, Gallin called out to the Jews who didn't take their eyes off of him: “Yiddn – zeit alleh gezunt!” (Be well, Jews!) – and he disappeared into the darkness. The sounds of Gallin's cries and shouting were heard immediately, after which three shots rang out in the air. A heart-rending cry came from the mouth of Gallin's wife in the bunker, which told everyone that the beloved and dear Sioma Galin was no longer alive. As soon as people arose the next morning, they found the body of this great optimist, and dear man, discarded at the entrance to the bunker.

Once again, they confined us to the bunkers for about three weeks, without anyone knowing why or for what reason. Tzirka would say at every opportunity that there were difficulties with the transfer and therefore our departure for work was being delayed. In the meantime, they renewed the process of taking the young people out to do work, and the Christians knew how to take advantage of this work in order to extort gold coins and money in exchange for pieces of

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bread. In addition to the affliction of hunger, the cold began to take its toll. Anyone who tried to steal a board of wood from a fence for purposes of keeping warm – was shot immediately. On one late Friday night, a proclamation was issues that all the residents of Ruzhany were to prepare themselves to travel at two o'clock in the morning, and the responsible leader of the bunkers was required to create a list of their names, ages, occupations, etc. As previously mentioned, the Jews of Ruzhany imbibed the most heavily from the cup of hemlock. Their conditions were the worst of all, from the standpoint of filth and mortality rate. They were also the first to go to their death.

On the following morning, the Ruzhany block was empty and locked. Only on the third day were about one hundred young people taken to clean out the block. Among the remaining utensils and rags they found several tens of stiffened corpses of individuals, who by virtue of their infirmity or sickness, were unable to join the transport, and the Germans abandoned them to a beastly and barbarous death.

The second transport left three days later, and Zelva was in that rank. This was the only transport that left in the daytime. The Jews of Zelva and its surroundings arranged themselves in rows in the pathway between the Volkovysk blocks, which were surrounded by barbed wire. They stood for several hours in the mud, snow and rain. The Jews of Volkovysk gathered around them, and it is not possible to know if those who were leaving envied those who were staying behind, or the opposite… At that time, someone from Volkovysk, who was remaining behind in the camp, had the idea of giving something to those who were leaving, through the barbed wire, as a going away gift. Quickly, several hundred people from Volkovysk followed his example, who pressed against the fence in order to give their donation to the Zelva Jews. Hundreds of scrawny, veined and stiffened hands, were pushed through the fence in order to receive a dry piece of bread, a potato, and onion, etc. The hands of many were cut to the point where blood flowed, and the gifts of solidarity and affection were mixed with blood…. the Jews of Zelva disappeared quickly in the same way as they were walking in the same direction that the Jews of Ruzhany went only a few days before.

A little at a time, the bunkers and stables in which the Jews of Porozovo, Mosty', Piesk, Yalovka, and Amstibova resided, were emptied out. At intervals of 3-7 days, Jews were taken out by the thousands in the night, and those that remained behind in the bunkers, would ‘clean out’ the emptied places, gathering up the rags, broken utensils, and the corpses of those permitted to die a lingering death. By the end of November, only the Jews of Volkovysk and Svislucz remained. A transport of several thousand Jews from Svislucz, and about 1,000 from Volkovysk (2 bunkers) left at the end of the month, such that at the beginning of December, there remained approximately five thousand Jews, mostly from Volkovysk and about 1,000 from Svislucz.

Where did these transports go? – This question gnawed away at the minds of all those left behind. The members of the Judenrat attempted to clarify this question with Polish railroad employees. First they were told that the transports went to the west, but afterwards, it became clear that the transports were going through the Bialystock railroad terminal to Malkinia, and in the end – Treblinka. There was no clear information about Treblinka, but ne thing was certain about that destination: “All arrivals will never return.”

At the beginning of December, news reached the camp that precipitated a very real upheaval in the lives of the Jews who remained in the bunkers. A group of workers from the bunkers worked in Petroshovitsa, a few kilometers from Volkovysk, whose work was in the construction of various buildings. The Judenrat leaders, Fuchs and Daniel, had been several times to see the German managers of the work at Petroshovitsa, and bribed them accordingly under the condition that they would influence the central command not to liquidate the remaining bunkers, and that they should leave behind 1,700 Jewish young people for construction

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work until August 1, 1943. After a negotiation, an agreement was reached on this matter, and that among the fortunate ones, about one hundred women would be permitted to stay. Several hundred places were also promised to the Jews of Svislucz, but because of this, the Germans did not agree to allow children among those who would stay behind. The selection of the 1,700 was a task to be done by the Judenrat, and this fact intensified the confusion and panic that coursed among the Jews, who faced two alternatives: Treblinka immediately, or an extension of less than six months in the bunkers. The arguments on this matter before the members of the Judenrat took on the appearance of a struggle for life or death. The bunkers took on the appearance of a Garden of Eden to the Jews, and the extension of six months – an eternity.

Hundreds of Jews besieged the bunker of the Judenrat, each pleading for their lives and the lives of their families. Fuchs and Daniel wrote and erased, ceaselessly. And they made frequent changes. And this is the way it went on, endlessly. Blood relationship, friendship, begging, threats, screaming, weeping – all these were part of the struggle to be included in the list of the 1,700. And during this time, Tzirka would walk around between the bunkers, observe what was happening, and inquire if the list was complete yet.

After a week, they announced that all those who were included in the list of the selected ones had to move from their blocks to the bunkers previously occupied by the Jews of Ruzhany, and the transfer would be conducted under the watch of the Gestapo and Jewish guards. People ran back and forth as if they were crazy. They tried with all their might to find ways to save themselves by getting into the Ruzhany bunkers. Fathers who had small children, fed them a quarter pill of tranquilizer (Luminal) and while the children slept, carried them over to the new quarters. Towards evening, Tzirka came into the lager in order to take a count, and again the children had to be given a new dose of Luminal leaving them asleep in the sacks, so that Tzirka and his two aides wold not detect their presence. A few tens of older ‘illegal’ children were hidden on the lower bunks, out of hope that they would be able to blend into the ranks of the ‘fortunate,’ who were being allowed to remain.

Three Gestapo officials with rubber truncheons carried out the first count among the remaining people, and then went off to eat their dinner, leaving the final inspection for later. A fearful silence reigned throughout the block. There were those who listened with a pounding heart, wondering if the tranquilizer they had given to their children in the sacks was still working, but most of the remaining people were sunk deeply in their own thoughts about their relatives and dear ones who remained behind in the Volkovysk bunker, who are waiting any day now to be sent to the death camp. Two hours later, the officials returned with Tzirka, finished their count, and Tzirka then said that he has the required number. At two in the morning, the members of the Judenrat came into the bunker with the Jewish police and with that the selection ended.

On December 8, a new and last period began in the camp. From approximately 20 thousand Jews that were here only a few months ago, there remained a little more than 1,700 that began to organize and settle themselves anew. One of the prior Volkovysk blocks with 8 bunkers, and a wooden shack were allocated to the ‘lucky ones.’ The transfer process was a lengthy one, and lasted about a week. Initially, a German exterminator disinfected the eight bunkers, after which groups were transferred from the Ruzhany bunkers to the baths, and from there to the bunkers that had been allocated for their use. This was the way they wanted to rid themselves of the lice epidemic.

I was in the first group who came to look upon the scene of the abandoned Volkovysk bunkers. A frightening picture unfolded before my eyes: At the entrance to the block, near the small house used by the Judenrat, was a veritable mountain of corpses, one on another. Bloodied heads, broken arms and legs, half naked and pushed together bodies of people, who were killed in the final liquidation. In and around the bunkers there were many sacks, parts of various utensils. Everything was tossed about and scattered, and almost everything had blood stains on

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it. Between the bunkers, an old woman with gray hair ran about, screaming out loud: “Why did they not take me too?” She ran up to each and every person, and implored them, begging to be turned over to the Germans, so they would kill her. All the bunkers were empty, except for Bunker Number 3, where we wee struck dumb when we found approximately 70 elderly and sick people who apparently could not find the means to reach the transport. Most were left frozen, with their eyes fixed on one spot looking like they were insensible. Only a few of them began to move a little when they saw us, asking for bread or water. A few days later, Tzirka invited two doctors and demanded that they poison all of the old and the sick in Bunker “Number Three.” “You know,” he told the doctors: “we have a quick method to kill them with machine guns, but why should we cause such a tumult?” The doctors categorically refused to do this. “We have time,” the cold-blooded murderer said, with a cynical smile. It was only the following morning that we were dismayed when we smelled the burning sulfur coming from Bunker Number 3. Mos of the dead in the bunker were in various contorted positions and one could see the suffering they underwent from the looks on their faces. Tzirka celebrated his victory. He didn't need the noisy assistance of the machine guns…

After the period of the transfer ended. The Gestapo guard was removed, Tzirka left the lager, and control of the lager was transferred to the hand of the Wehrmacht, and control of the remaining seventeen hundred remaining Jews was transferred to the hands of the army. Every morning the soldiers would come and take the men to work, and in the camp, and the members of the Judenrat and the Jewish auxiliary police would stay in the lager (about twenty men), with the doctors, the kitchen staff and the overseers of the bunkers. The food portions were now improved, because the Judenrat members were allowed to go into the city, and they would buy from the Polish bakers. The guard that escorted them to and from work, would turn a blind eye to the various dealings that the Jews had with the Poles, and this, thanks to bribery. In general, it is possible to say, that the Jews in the camp displayed an ingenious skill in adapting themselves to these new conditions: hey smuggled in iron stoves, that served both for cooking and warmth, twice a day they distributed warm water, warm soup was given in the afternoons, etc. Unrelated to these improvements, the filth got worse, and the disinfectants didn't help, so that the epidemic of lice hit a level where more than 800 people were affected by it. It is noteworthy to mention the dedication and sacrifice shown by the doctors and nurses, who organized three hospitals in the bunkers, with disinfection equipment. They were also the firs to get infected from all manner of diseases, and yet they continued to do their work and their mission.

Six weeks went by from the beginning of the new arrangement with the 1,700 ‘privileged ones,’ who held on to the word that it would end on August 1. The Jews in the camp got used to the idea that the camp was something permanent. Their entire desire was to get to the spring, when the dirt would diminish and the various epidemics would fly off. On January 23, 1943 Tzirka re-appeared in the lager. Before people became aware of the purpose of his visit, his presence alone threw everyone into a state of great panic. The news of his arrival spread from bunker to bunker with lightning speed. One thing was clear to everyone: The accursèd Tzirka was not bringing good news. And so it was. Tzirka came to the Judenrat, where he told the members that all the prior transports were settled, and the time had come for the remaining people in the camp.. He emphasized – that this last transport will be easier than the prior ones. H promised to provide prior notification for the departure schedule, but, for now, he requested an accurate list from the members of the Judenrat of those found in the lager, and to have it copied on a typewriter.

On January 25^th, Tzirka notified that the transport was set for the following morning, and there is no way to describe the pandemonium that erupted on the heels of this announcement. Hundreds of the sick, some running fevers of 40oC (104o F), began running about between the bunkers out of a suspicion that because they were sick, they were going to be liquidated out of hand. Most of the people, oppressed and resigned, began to get ready for the trip, and tried to provision themselves with an extra slice of bread

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in their bundles.

A great deal of movement was observed among the families of the members of the Judenrat. After it became known that the camp would be liquidated on January 26^th, these began to make preparations to go to Bialystock with their families by clandestine means, because there, according to various reports, a normal live went on, more or less. However, the Jewish police noticed this unusual activity. The head of the Jewish police immediately arrived on the spot, and he warned that no one should dare to escape, because they would not succeed in any event. Internal control then passed from the Judenrat to the Jewish police, and during the night of the 25th, the members of the Jewish committee were put under house arrest.

At 3PM on January 26, hours before the liquidation of the camp, I succeeded in escaping together with my friend and comrade Dr. Resnick (see my letter about him – “That Long Day” – in this book). Were it not for this, we too would have been among the 1,700 last ones, who were taken to Auschwitz.

After the last ‘action,’ 1,300 people remained in Volkovysk, I among them, but quickly our turn also came. The Germans decided to transfer us to Birkenau (Auschwitz). The SS troops told us that we were being sent to a labor camp. They put us into transport trains, compressed and crowded in the cars, without air to breathe, and without food. From time to time, when the train would stop, the SS troops would give us snow with which to slake our thirst.

When we reached Birkenau, the train cars were opened, and whoever didn't get out quickly from the train car either was severely beaten, or bitten by dogs. The screams were terrible, but in the depths of one's heart, each person hoped that some kind of miracle would occur, and they would remain alive. The Germans immediately separated the men, who went into a separate line, from the women and children. The SS troops went past each line and indicated who was to go the right, or to the left, without any one of us knowing which side was better. At the end of this ‘selection,’ 130 women remained among 200 men. All the rest were taken to be incinerated in the crematorium, and among these were many members of my family, acquaintances, and friends.

The women were taken to a women's camp on foot, balancing themselves on the snow that covered the entire area. They shaved our heads, stripped us naked, and admitted us into a steam bath. After this, they tattooed the numbers on our arms, and from that time forward we ceased to be women and were transformed into numbers. The sanitary conditions in the block that was allocated for our use were terrible. There was no drinking water at all. Most of the women contracted typhus, and other diseases, and fell like flies. Every morning, before we went to work, we received only a mug of tea, and that was our intake until evening, when we would receive a slice of bread, and some drippings that had been made into a soup.

The number of women in our block diminished with each passing day, because anyone who was incapable of going to work was taken immediately to the furnaces. When we went out to work, we were escorted by SS troops with dogs, who watched our every step intently.

We did a variety of work: removing stones and bricks, handling arms, gardening. The best work was gardening, and whoever had the fortune to be selected for this work was lucky. It was possible to ‘organize,’ as we said, a few potatoes, a carrot or two, and share this ‘booty’ with the other young women in the block. Frequently, inspections would take place at the entrance gate, and whoever couldn't get rid of these ‘organized’ vegetables would receive

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25 lashes as punishment. An orchestra was located at the gate, and we were forced to march into the camp in cadence to German music. Those whose strength gave out, and fell during such marches – were taken out of line and sent to the place from which there was no return – the crematorium.

One day, a ‘selection’ took place at the camp gate. I was walking in line then with my friend, Nionia Kaplan. She was very weak, and every step she took was with great difficulty, and she had a feeling that she was ‘finished.’ I held her by the arm with all my strength, supporting her, and in this way we managed to get back into the camp (Nionia lives in America).

The good camaraderie encouraged and perhaps even saved many girls. Five girls from Volkovysk and its vicinity ‘stuck together:’ Nionia Kaplan frm Volkovysk, Rachel Tykoczinsky from Sokolka, Sally Levin from Slonim, Alta from Svislucz, and me. I will not even attempt to describe how we survived under those terrifying conditions. It is beyond my powers, even now that over forty years have passed since then.

When the Russian forces began to get closer, and the Germans began to feel that their retreat was inevitable, they initiated our ‘evacuation,’ in the direction of Germany. That was when our ‘death march’ began, and anyone who fell by the wayside was left to die. We were taken to different camps. My last camp was Neustadt – Galba. We dug there. Trenches, but we began to sense that the war was coming to an end.

Before the Russians entered the camp, the Germans tried to liquidate us by sealing the camp, sealing all the windows and doors with barbed wire, and we were certain that we would never leave here. To our good fortune, they did not complete their plan to exterminate us. On the last day of the war, May 8, 1945, the Russians reached us and we were liberated.

Knowing that my entire family had been exterminated at Auschwitz, I did not want to return to Poland. I had nothing to search for there. I crossed into the American sector, and afterwards – to Belgium. There, I met Shayna Lifschitz along with soldiers from Volkovysk that had served in the Jewish Brigade: Chaim Sheref, Moshe Kossowsky, and others. In 1946, I reached the Land of Israel on the ship, “HaKhayal HaIvri.”

Original footnote:

1. Chaya Weiner is the sole survivor of the multi-branched Weiner family of Volkovysk. Her father, Yaakov, and uncle Moshe were among the active members of the Fire brigade. Return

Dr. Noah Kaplinsky

Dr. Yitzhak Resnick

The day of January 26, 1943 is etched into my being as the longest day of my life. Both of us started that day as ‘residents’ of the concentration camp in which only 1,700 ‘chosen ones’ or ‘special ones,’ remained, out of 20,000 men, women and children, that has been concentrated on November 2, 1942. Once again, we were a cohort of Jews, getting ready for the final ‘transport.’ From mouth to ear, the rumors flew, that the destination was – Auschwitz. People were occupied packing, gathered together a little ‘nothing on top of nothing,’ that they possessed, moving like wraiths on the frozen ground of the camp. The sick, and there were many of these in the camp, with high fevers, falling faces and bulging eyes, with the speckles that the typhus had covered their limbs with, put on the appearance of being healthy and attempted with the last of their strength out of a will to proceed, to go, but not to be left in place. They were prepared to do anything to join the trip to the unknown. Despite all the rumors about this ‘unknown,’ a small spark was lit within each person, encompassing the hope: maybe, despite all this, the salvation will come from there?

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News of a great German defeat at Stalingrad arrived. Perhaps this was the beginning of the end – many thought. For us that day ended when we fell like sheaves of wheat, silent and crestfallen, tired and drained, at the house of the gentiles who opened the doors to their houses to two aimlessly wandering Jewish souls, two wanderers who had fled from death, whom anyone could do with them as they pleased.

At the end of that day, we found ourselves alone and bound together, torn apart, yet also united, light-years away from relatives and those distant, from our flesh and blood, from the entirety of the Jewish people, exposed to a mysterious, vanished destiny.

Can you remember, Yitzhak, how many events overtook us on that day of January 26, 1943? First of all, we stood ourselves with the group of workers, that went out each day under a German escort to get the ‘Jewish horses,’ (that's what the two horses were called that were stabled with a gentile near the forest). A young German soldier, with a rifle on his shoulder, escorted about 10 young Jewish men who were supposed to bring back bread for the remaining 1,700 residents of the camp, that had been designated for ‘transport.’ The Judenrat deliberately added us to this group with the understanding that it was our intent not to return. On the prior day, I had presented our interest to Noah Fuchs (the Judenrat leader). I said to him: “Up to the last minute of the existence of the camp, we have done everything in our power to make it as easy as possible for the people during the months of epidemic and plague. Now, that everything is being liquidated, we are seeking freedom for ourselves.” We receive this permission, with a blessing to go on the way.

We reached the shelter of the gentiles frozen from the cold. We breathed easier in a warm, human house, the likes of which we hadn't seen in many months. The woman of the house, perceptive, understood the signs: a fire was lit, and water was boiled, eggs were fried up and strong drink appeared on the table. Not much time went by, when the German joined his ten ‘subjects,’ ate and drank a lot, while we only gave the appearance of drinking … the breakfast turned into a big party, and ‘our’ German got lubricated as usual, and began to sing, grabbing the gentile woman and dancing with her around the table, which was standing in front of one of the Jewish workers, giving him his rifle and shouting: “Run to the partisans!” and returned to drinking and dancing until he became subdued and fell asleep in some corner of the house.

All of this did not fit our plan. It was only at this point that the day began for us. It was about ten o'clock. I was nothing short of foolishness to attempt to flee the town at a morning hour like this. We were supposed to wait for nightfall in order to flee in the wake of the onset of darkness. We sat, somehow, near the sleeping German and waited. We were not hungry and we were warm.

We fell into thought about those we had left behind in the camp, preparing for the ‘transport.’ We felt choking in our throats, as if stones weighed on our hearts. Th German awoke from his sleep in the afternoon, found himself in the environs, and became surprisingly energetic, alert and started to give orders: harness up the ‘Jewish’ horses, ride to the nearby bakery, load up the bread, and return to the camp. You undoubtedly recall how we started to slow down our pace, until we ‘lost’ the German with the horses and the workers. The critical moment had arrived – we could flee and run without interference.

I remember my sins today. Suddenly I stopped. I felt a pang in my heart. I said to you: “I am going, Yitzhak, go alone, I am going back to everyone.” You didn't pressure me, you didn't argue. You said quietly: “We will go back together.”

It cannot be believed, but the fact is: Despite the fact that the path to freedom stood open to us, in a short period of time with the wagons, and in a quarter of an hour we returned once again to the camp behind the barbed wire. The reception we got when we returned to the camp from this ‘freedom,’ was laden with complaint, anger and dismay. From all sides we heard one word – “have you lost your minds?” What could we reply? With our own hands, we sealed the little aperture that had been opened to freedom.

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Did we have the nerve to think at that time that the very sealed crack would open itself yet again? – no. Despite this, that very thing happened which we thought to be impossible. Someone – I can't remember who was then the bearer of this good deed – came to us on the run, and said: “ Hurry, hurry, the wagons are leaving to bring additional bread.” It emerged that in the morning, they had not taken into account how much bread would be required for the anticipated ‘transport.’

After only a couple of minutes, we were walking in the direction of the gate. My brother walked behind me, and speaking to my back said: “Go in peace, that at least one survivor from among us remain alive to tell what happened.”

After a ten-minute walk, we were already separated from our ‘group.’ We stopped behind a corner house amid the wreckage of the Russian houses. In the bat of an eye, we took off the yellow badges from our chest and back, and we were transformed into two young men walking quickly through the wreckage to the city limits.

It was after three o'clock in the afternoon. It was starting to get dark. There is not a living soul in the wreckage. The cold intensified. The snow crunched under our boots. Not much time passed, and we ere out of the city. With the setting of the sun, vast tracts of fields appeared before us covered in deep snow. We found our way by the light of this snow. We are walking in the direction that you chose. You recognized all the byways and paths, you are showing the way, and I am following in your footsteps. On both sides of our path, fields covered with snow are spread out. Only occasionally, do we pick up signs of some small, isolated house, a shack with a dim light shining in its windows. How I envied the residents of those shacks, sitting in a warm room, eating a warm meal after a market day, living literally like human beings. By our walking, our eyes discerned the sleds of gentiles moving across the frozen snow-covered ground. Perhaps they were going in the direction of the market. We continued to walk, as if we were indifferent to this movement, vigorously, with strength, almost with pride.

The feats we had performed during the day began to show their signs. We got tired. Legs ceased to serve us. I saw well that it was difficult for you to walk, because it had only been a few days since you had gotten over the speckled typhus. Your stride became slower and slower, and yet there was still a long way to go, long and far. I am thinking in the meanwhile, that I had not yet had the speckled typhus that was raging in the area. I was the only one among 17 doctors not to get infected. Perhaps I am carrying the disease in me? There is no choice, we must exert ourselves a little more. A wagon went by. I raised my arm and requested a ‘lift’ from the peasant who was driving it. He was responsive to me, and pulled hard on his reins. The sled stopped, and we got on. We rode for about four or five kilometers on this sled, and during this time we struck up a conversation between us and the peasant. He took an interest in discovering who we were, and where we were heading. I was the spokesman, as we had agreed previously, since you were known in the area. Your silence through all of the ride evoked surprise from the peasant who even asked: “Why does your friend remain silent all the while?”

I made use of all my powers of imagination. I told him that we were conscripted laborers, and that we worked not far from Warsaw, and that we had been sent to Zelva. The peasant then asked: “Why are you on foot? This is a long distance, and you won't get there until night.” I answered: The incompetents there apparently didn't know the distance to Zelva, and we won't have a choice but to stop in some village.

“The only village you will be able to stop in is Krzemienica” – said the peasant – “But you should know that Krzemienica has a police station and a gendarmerie.”

We discerned in this peasant, who from the outset didn't seem to trust us, as trying to find out who we were, and he looked to see how we would react to his information. I acted dumb, and replied: “If so – that's very good. They will most certainly let us spend the night, and send us on in the morning.”

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When this interrogation ended, the peasant ‘recalled’ something else, and said: “You know that today they shipped out the last of the Jews from Volkovysk. He awaited my reaction, and again I played dumb and said: “ In reality, we didn't think there were any Jews left at all.”

I thought that with this, the subject had been exhausted, but the peasant didn't think so. He added an ‘historical explanation,’ saying” “The truth of the matter is that Jews have no savior and they are not of any use to anyone.”

At a fork in the road, as he prepared to make a right turn, we debarked from the sled, thanked him in sincere terms – “May God be With You” – and began again to go on foot, and this was not easy, but we were anxious to get rid of our ‘inquisitor.’

It was about eight o'clock in the evening, when the village appeared before our eyes. A round, full moon rose in the sky, and by its light, and the light of the deep, shining snow the covered the entire area, it was possible to see for a radius of several kilometers as if one was looking at one's own hand, and as is known, the light is the foresworn enemy of those fleeing, and on the run.

I already recognized the village that we were getting ready to approach, because you had explained well to me, down to the last detail, what the layout of the village was, and who its residents were. In order not to run into people on our way, you and I walked by a roundabout way, through fields. I recollect what was written in the book of Exodus – “…and the Lord led them not through the land of the Philistines, for it was nigh…”

The last part of the trip to the village, several hundred meters, was very difficult to traverse. The fields were covered in deep snow, and each step would cause our legs to sink in up to the knee. We spit blood with every step we took. All our thoughts were focused on one thing: we could not cross the open field, because our silhouettes would stand out against the ground. Every second seemed like an hour to us, but despite all these difficulties, we reached the village itself. Here you were as if in your own home. You walked with extra confidence, and I followed you step by step, in the expectation that we would encounter people who were your relatives who had invited you here.

I was a stranger here, a stranger for sure. When several days ago, you had proposed that we go to ‘your’ town, to Krzemienica, I had many doubts. I placed great stock in your proposal. I knew you had friends here with whom you had relationships going back to your childhood. Apart from this, I knew that other people in the camp pressured you to take them instead of me. Among other things, I thought of the difficulties that await those good people who were supposed to provide us with a hiding place in their homes, when they see the uninvited guest, “a son-in-law to feed,” – as would be said in Yiddish…. I raised all of these difficulties to you, and I even warned you that I could be an impediment to you along the way, but you were clear in your mind and you stood behind your proposal. Somehow or another, I went with you – and I have no regrets.

I recollect it was about ten o'clock when I knocked on the door of Shiviatsky's house, by which time the first set of difficulties were over. The elder Shiviatsky did not want to honor his daughter's invitation. Afterwards I discovered that he had said to you angrily: “What else, you brought a friend along too?”

I didn't know about the negotiation that was taking place in the house. I sat in the dark hallway, holding the mug of sweet drink that someone had given me. I felt a tremendous tiredness from everything that had happened to me that day, and a sort of light-headedness. I thought I had lost all sense of time and place. I thought about my relatives and the ones who were most dear to me, that were doubtlessly being transported in stifling train cars to some unknown fate. I don't know for how long I sat this way, silent and sunken in thought. Suddenly, you emerged to me with decisive and clear news, as usual, and you said: “Come, Wanda is going first,– with you 10 meters behind her, and after you – me.”

We went out. The night was now colder and clearer than before, when we had first arrived. The snow

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groaned as if from pain after each one of our steps. We nearly reached the gendarmerie, when our guide disappeared. We reached a courtyard – with me behind you. You knocked on the door of Chernikova's daughter. When she heard your name, the cry of ‘Oy!’ escaped her lips, and the door was immediately opened. Before you had a chance to tell her, that you were here with a friend, she said: “Come, get inside!”

There was no small amount of fear in these words of hers, but also a great deal of warmth, humanity, and the expression of extending hospitality to guests. She asked: “Would you like something to drink? To eat?” After a brief pause: “Right now, we would like to sleep, tomorrow we will discuss everything.”

And this is how we reached the end of that long day. An epoch of 18 months was begun. The two of us, two embers rescued from the great blaze, tied to one another, for life and death.

Thirty years have passed since then. When I take stock of those times, I know that despite the many years hat have gone by since we fled together, my affection for you has not diminished, but rather has grown stronger and deeper, and cannot be expressed in words. Everything that I have written here is but a pale reflection of that reality, and I have tried to portray it here.

Our two houses, our two families are a result of that one long, miraculous, day.

Yours
Noah
Holon, February 3, 1972

We present the words that were spoken by the renown author, Yaakov Rabinovich, when the first news about the destruction of Volkovysk arrives, The words are presented as they were said.

The memorial stone over the grave of Naphtali Herz Nakhumovsky in the Volkovysk cemetery. Right – the widow of the deceased, Left – his daughter Resha Milkov. The picture was sent by Elchanan Nakhumovsky from New York.

Volkovysk was also a city that brought up or produced from her Batei Medrashim, enlightened people and writers as well, and famous writers that maintained contact with her from many sides.

She was also full of charity. There were marvelous incidents of this nature. Yeshiva boys that studied there, and Jewish soldiers that worked there – valued its generosity and character.

She was then also a working city. In essence, the entire district was a working area. In my youth, there was not a single craftsman in the city who was not Jewish. There were also Jewish smiths. The maids in Jewish homes were all Jewish. There hardly was a form of work in which the Jews of the area did not engage in. After the great fire of 5646 (1882), Volkovysk was re-built from scratch with brick houses, and all the construction was done by Jews, in

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which practically no stranger had a hand.

In a transition period, there was still Torah there, even though the attentions and the inclinations of the younger generation had changed. At the beginning, the children from the better families learned to work out of idealism, and those generally went to America afterwards. After that came a time when the city filled with the Bund and Yiddish, even while work was declining more and more. A time finally arrived when not only were the gentile stores in the majority, but there were also gentile craftsmen. The emigration to American and to the Land of Israel took workers out [of the city], and even the houses were full of Polish and Russian maids. There practically were no more young Jewish women [for this work].

And yet once again, after the prior war [sic: World War In], there was again a change in mood. Zionism grew strong, together with connections to the Land of Israel, and the education took place mainly in Hebrew. A Hebrew Gymnasium, including Polish subjects, a Tarbut High School, and as a result – a generation was raised that knew Hebrew, even though most of the teachers were from Galicia Volhyn.

When I visited in 5785 (1933), after having been absent for 26 years, I found great changes. The community was standing as if on the exit threshold, especially the young people. While the pioneering spirit could not be sensed in the city, the inclination to go to the Land of Israel was widespread. There was not a family who didn't have someone in Israel. And the will to emigrate to Israel engulfed Bundists and non-Zionists. I happened on an interesting phenomenon: Bundists, simple ordinary people, were sending their children to Hebrew schools, while the intelligentsia preferred a Polish education. I had the impression that even in the Yavneh school, there was more Polish than Hebrew.

The use of the Polish language spread among the Jews more so than Russian had in the prior period. In my letter to the newspaper, Davar, I dwelt on this phenomenon in connection with the Polonization of the Byelorussian base – Polonization of the entire youth.

In the Jewish section of the city I didn't recognize any buildings or extensions. In this location, the city was built practically as a new Polish city, and parts of it were beautiful indeed.

Despite all the changes that had come that were not good, nevertheless, there was a feeling of a Jewish settlement. A city with a Jewish legacy, with Hebrew education, with Zionism, with charity, and in general, like most of Poland, and especially like Polish Lithuania, and Volhyn – Judaism with a clear desire for a Hebrew-based culture and the Land of Israel. The older generation, even if the Rabbis fell under the influence of the Agudat Israel, were not jealous of their prerogatives, tolerant, pleasant and inclined to the Land of Israel.

The heart tightens when one remembers both the cemetery with all those dear Jews would found their resting place there. What was its fate? It is difficult to think about all this. I spent some good times in Volkovysk, even in these last hours. It is hard to speak, and it is not easy to write. The pain is very great.

The appointed moment has arrived, which all of the people with blood flowing in them have yearned for, especially aching Jewry – the moment allocated to memorialization.

The cannons of victory are thundering in Moscow, church bells are pealing loudly, announcing the victory in Washington and London. Everyone has

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forgotten, for a short minute, the suffering, pain and incidents that caused millions of innocent people to be killed. All are joyous, and everyone thanks his Maker that he has remained alive.

Coincidentally, I am sitting in a pained and darkened mood beside the radio, withdrawing into myself. I apprehend the sounds bursting forth from the radio, but my heart is pained, and other voices, voices from there reach me, from the town of my birth, Volkovysk, from where who knows what remains of it, and whether anyone of my relatives survived, or my Jews.

Volkovysk was a little city, but how profound are the memories that I have bound up in it. I look for and find the album with the pictures from my childhood, and begin to turn the pages, and from the stimulation of the pictures of those bygone days, I immerse myself completely in the near-distant past. Here is a column of pictures from the night of the Seder of a family gathering. Here we are, seated about the table, all members of the family, with our father at the head of the table. At the sight of this picture, something begins to stir in my heart. I am reminded of how the family would arrive before the holiday. They came from Warsaw, Vilna, and other cities to celebrate the holiday together. Everyone's faces shone with light. Handshakes, kisses – and here is a picture of the Jewish Synagogue, and it too arouses a wave of memories. My gaze falls on a picture of the Jewish hospital, and I see this institution, in which many died and many were cured within its walls, as if it was standing literally before my eyes now. - - - And here is a picture from the summer: the Burkehs, the Mayak, the Volya, the Schlossbarg, the Poritzim Gasse, the Bog of the Priest. Each and every location reminds me of something, more than just something. I peer at a photo of a party at the Burkehs, a party that is well guarded in my memory: on a big porch, around a large table on which a samovar stands, my friends are seated, all smiling and laughing. I begin to think: which of them are still alive? And here, in a second photo, we see the hammock hung between two trees, with groups of young people spread out carelessly on the grass, enjoying the ambience - - - and her is the Volya River, in which nobody had ever drowned. Its waters flow quietly, and the small boats on it sail gently – the pictures follow each other quickly. Now come pictures of a different nature – pictures that remind me of the winter in my city buried in snow. I flip the pages. A picture of the Keren Kayemet committee appears before my eyes, and beside it – a picture that reminds me of the going-away party that we organized for our members that made aliyah to Israel.

I also found a picture in the album of the reception we arranged for our friend, the actor, Raphael Klatshkin when he came to visit his hometown. There is also no lack of pictures of the two very popular ‘institutions’ of their day: Pigalgal's Café, and Chaya-Yenta's Kiosk, in which the best tasting ice cream was sold.

Now come several pages of the Maccabi. I dedicated no small amount of year to the Maccabi movement, and when I look at these pictures – I relive those years anew.

I am reminded of the Maccabi flag celebration that was transformed into a celebration for the entire city – I continue to turn the pages, and I reach the last picture, a picture that is not in my album, the terrifying picture of my Volkovysk going up in flames. In my mind's eye, I see heartrending images of mothers screaming beside the bodies of their children, of dying infants in the arms of their parents. I see concentration camps, and the extermination camps, gas chambers – there are no more pictures, but there also are no more friends, neighbors, companion, and acquaintance, my entire city no longer exists.

The album falls from my hand, my tears fall on the pictures of friends and relatives.

May my right hand lose its cunning if I forget them, my dear ones.

Original footnote:

1. In his day, the writer was the head of the Maccabi soccer team in Volkovysk, a dynamic and lovely young man, and outstanding role model for many young people. This item was published in 1945 in the periodical of the Organization of Volkovysk émigrés. Return

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