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A. The Story of Aron

The story of Aron-Max, son of Manes and Lea Schwab. Born in Zborow–12 years old at the time of the interview.

Aron is sitting by me, turning his profile to me. His sharp facial features draw a dark shadow on the window, where a spring view is visible.

I ask:

“Do you want to tell what you had experienced during the war?”

“What for”– he confronts me–“Would it change or rectify anything?”

“I believe it can.”

“And I do not believe it will,” he says bitterly.

I turn to him softly:” Aron, one should not remain silent about evil; it mustn't be forgotten or lost. We need to fight evil.”

“But how would a story by one child help?”

“It will help. It is precisely the story of a child that will help. A child's story can open the hearts of people more than stories of adults.”

I do not think Aron was convinced. My logic was not acceptable to him. He possesses a more mature logic–the logic of a 12-year-old child who had experienced H…r's horrors. Nevertheless, he relents…

“We lived in a small town called Zborow. I remember my father, the tinsmith, and my bigger brother, Nachum, who studied in high school. He graduated during the

Russian regime and became a teacher in a village.

Despite being seven years old, I was not accepted to school because I was short and thin. I also had a mother, sister, uncles, aunts, and a grandfather. Every one of them was killed in the first Aktion on July 1st, 1941.

There was a large pit not far from our home, which was created by one of the bombs. I could see the pit well from the window in my room. The Germans brought there all the Jews they found in Zborow–close to 900 men–and murdered them all by shooting.

Among them were my father, grandfather, uncle, neighbors and acquaintances, friends, and relatives who were like family in our home. They always used to give me candies and teased me with laughter.

I remember them well…”

Aron stops his story for a moment and sinks into reflection. Suddenly, he turns to me and says in an excited voice:

“Nobody thought that something like that would happen. Nobody was ready for that. It fell on us like thunder from the sky.

In fact, the first two days after the Germans' entrance into Zborow passed in total quiet. They just passed through the town and did not harm anybody. On the third day, new cars arrived at the city and parked as usual at the market square. The children went out to observe the Germans curiously. I was there too. I saw the Germans who went around the cars, washed themselves half naked, and were dressed in black uniforms and hats decorated with a symbol–a skull. Their collars were decorated with the same symbol.

After that, each of them approached a physician and received an injection in his arm. A short while later, those “blacks” raided the town and began taking the Jews from their homes. They are taking them to work–they said–and ordered the Jews to take shovels with them.

My grandfather had a proper hideout–in the attic. When he heard that the Germans were taking the Jews to work, he went down and took a shovel. He was used to work.

Not far from us, in a hut, the Germans found a Jew who hid and refused to go with them. They pulled him out and shot him in front of everybody. After that, everybody was afraid, and they went out with the Germans willingly.

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The Germans let me and my mother stay home, but we were forbidden from moving away from there or looking in the windows. My brother was not fooled by the instructions of the Germans and hid in a small cell in the attic, where a small circular hatch was located. He saw everything from there.

My brother saw the Germans taking the Jews out of the town, positioning them at the pit, and then forbid them to move or say anything. Only the shouts of the Germans echoed through the air. The Germans settled on a hill above the pit, where they positioned a machine gun. Every few minutes, in regular pauses, the barking of the officer pierced the air, and immediately after that, a barrage of gunfire and the Jews fell into the pit.

In the meantime, they continued to bring additional groups of Jews, who were forced to stand in line, look at the operation, and wait for their turn to stand at the pit.

It lasted from 10 in the morning until 2 at night. The entire town rattled under the noisy gunshots. Nobody dared to go out. Even the Poles were afraid to get out to the streets.

At 2 at night, the murderers raided the homes again and ordered the women to get out. The women were sure that it was their turn, but the Germans ordered them to go to the field, bury the corpses, and cover the pit. The women worked all night and the following day. Every woman searched for her dead, dragged their corpses, and cried. Some women had to drag out four or five corpses.”

(Aron covers his face with his hands and cries.)

“From 900 Jews, only one survived. His wife found him alive among the corpses. She removed the stack of the dead above him and walked him home.

The Germans left the town and went on their way. On the following day, the Poles and the Ukrainians conducted a feast in the Jewish homes. Dressed in their best clothing, they brought an orchestra and even their wives, daughters, and other women. They had drinks, liquors, wines, pork, and fine sausages. All the restaurants in the town opened their doors to the partygoers. Later, they gathered near the jail-house where another large pit was located. They pulled out another 120 Jews from their hideouts and tortured them to death.

I heard about that from my friend Lolek Feffer, the only survivor of that pogrom.

The story about Lolek was as follows: His parents owned an inn-restaurant in our neighborhood. Lolek hid in the attic throughout the Aktion that lasted the entire day on Friday (all the Aktions in Zborow were held on Fridays). On Saturday, quiet prevailed. Lolek came down from his hideout and left home to play with two Polish friends, who used to always eat and drink at his home. He asked them whether there was quiet in other parts of the town. They told him to come with them to see. They led him to that pit opposite the jail. He saw there many Jews standing with their arms tied. They also tied him. In the meantime, the Ukrainians and the Poles continued to bring more Jews out from their hideouts. These Nazis collaborators did not stop eating sausages and drinking liquor. Later on, they began torturing the Jews and shooting them for fun in various parts of their body. Lolek was also wounded, but since he fell down, they thought he was killed and left him alone.

He later told me that he thought he was dead upon getting hit, but later, he opened his eyes and saw many people around him. He recalled what he saw in the movies when a person pretended to be dead and decided to do the same. That was how he survived.

At night, when everybody left, he crawled out of the pit and dragged himself home. His mother could not believe her eyes when he entered. For her, it was like seeing somebody coming from his grave.

Concerning that Aktion:

Before the Aktion began, the Germans turned to Zborow's municipal council. Important people served on that council, including the priest, a physician, and a pharmacist. The Germans demanded that they would sign a document in which they expressed their agreement to the extermination of all the Jews in the town.

One boy, a friend of my brother, passed by chance near the council's house. He swept the streets and happened to hear voices emanating through the window. Thus, he paid attention to what was said. He saw the council's people sitting around a table covered with a red tablecloth.

I am not sure, but I think that they all signed the document.

After that Aktion, nobody left their home for a whole week. Everybody was afraid and hid. Hopelessness took hold of the Jews.

A week later, quiet prevailed.

Germans arriving from Tarnopol imposed a penalty of half a million Zloty on the Jews. They also ordered the Jews to hand them all the pictures, carpets, and furniture. At that time, a Judenrat was founded to collect the penalty on the specified deadline.

Later on, the Germans organized a [forced labor] camp in Zborow and brought Jews to the camp from Lvov and the surrounding areas. Later on, three camps were established.

The SS people came to Zborow to rob the apartments and shops of the Jews. They searched the cellars and attics, knocking, beating, and taking anything that fell into their hands. After them came the gendarmes and detectives. They looted whatever the SS left behind.

Cars with Germans arrived at the Judenrat every once in a while, demanding such and such gold, crystals, or furniture, threatening to murder all the Jews if the quota would not be filled.

A Jewish police force was established then to enforce the collection of the things demanded by the Germans.

The Jews in the labor camp worked in the construction of the road. The food portions given by the Germans were meager. They beat and kicked their prisoners all the time. The winter was very harsh that year. Twenty Jews died daily in the camp, many from the cold. The Germans kidnapped other Jews and brought them to the camp.

My brother learned tin smithing and worked as a tinsmith near the camp. A Ukrainian woman, my mother's acquaintance, worked as a cook in the kitchen of the camp's commander, Klaus. Thanks to her help, my mother arranged for my sister to work in that kitchen as a potato peeler. I was idle. I did not go to school and did not study. My brother was busy and did not find the time to teach me. I sat in my brother's workshop the whole day and watched the tinsmiths working.

In the meantime, one Aktion after another took place in Zborow. The Jews who were still alive and those who were not transferred to the labor camps confidentially prepared hideouts and bunkers.

My brother also prepared a bunker for us. It was in a cellar that had an opening in the kitchen. My brother closed that opening with bricks and placed sand and dirt to conceal it. He pierced another opening through the stovetop. It was actually my idea. A wide square stovetop stood in the kitchen. We raised the cover and the ashes net to enter the cellar. My brother hung a small ladder there to ease the descent. When everyone went down, they would place back the cover and the net–and that was it.

The hideout was well designed. It was dark and damp but was ventilated as air penetrated through a chimney. There was room for 15 people in the cellar.

A big Aktion took place once. They kidnapped not only men but also women, children, and the elderly. Whoever was caught was loaded onto trucks and expelled to Belzec to die in the crematorium. Fifteen hundred people were taken in one day.

We sat at our bunker then. Many Jews were pulled out from their shelters and got shot. Among others, in the hideouts were the parents

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and brother of the little shepherd, Ela. They were all executed. I know that for sure, as I heard it from a Ukrainian boy who was an eyewitness.

The father of Ela, who was called in town the “Ruddy Jew,” had a Ukrainian lover who wanted to save him at all costs. In the beginning, she hid him and his entire family in a bunker under the barn. Later on, she found a better bunker at the neighbor's farm. Twenty other Jews hid there with them. Ela was not there as she was given to another Ukrainian in the village. I do not know who made the information about the bunker available to a Ukrainian who served the Germans. In any case, he provided that information to the Germans. They brought an entire company to capture the Jews. They surrounded the building and the neighboring buildings and pulled the Jews out to the garden, where they were ordered to dig a pit, and that's where the Germans shot them. However, the owner of the farm refused to have the Jews buried on his property. They fought with policemen and claimed that they did not want “that the Jews would stink up their garden.” The Germans pulled the bodies from the pit and transported them to the cemetery.

Later on, fights broke out in the village about the properties of the murdered Jews. The same owners of the farm who did not want “the Jews to stink up their garden,” robbed their properties and did not share with anybody, and that resulted in quarrels and fights.

My friend told me that when I shepherded the cows with him. His father was among the deprived. He also told me that Ela's older brother, Shimek, managed to escape. He reached the river, jumped in, and swam. He would have reached the opposite bank and hidden there in the same hideout but for a Ukrainian farmer who noticed him. The latter rode his wagon there by chance and told the Germans. They shot Shimek while he was still in the river.

Ela does not know about that and thinks that her brother is alive. She came to me yesterday and asked me to write a letter to her brother for her. What was I supposed to do? I wrote the letter for her.

The Shkutzim [a derogatory term for Gentile children] told me that they saw Shimek's body floating on the water while his head rested on the sand in the stream, but they pushed it back from the bank back into the deeper water.

A Jewish policeman found out about our hideout. I do know who told him. From that point on, we could not hide there and we tried to find another hideout. In the end, my brother decided for us that we should stay at the same hideout but construct another opening for it. The hideout was not as safe as before since somebody knew about its existence–the bunker's safety was undermined—but what else could we have done.

We plugged the old opening through the stove and began using it again. The new opening was constructed in one of the rooms, also through a heater. It was a heater covered with zigzagged tiles, which stood in the corner of the room. A narrow gap existed between it and the wall, which one could hardly squeeze through. My brother constructed a movable tin partition through which we could enter the hideout. My brother worked hard on building the opening; he worked alone without any help for many nights.

The opening was worse than the previous one, particularly the entrance and the exit. One had to squeeze through the narrow gap, lift the tin cover, and slide into the hideout. Unlike the previous opening, there was no ladder or any support. We had to support each other. When my mother went down into the hideout, she fainted. Another woman broke her teeth during her exit. When something was needed, I was sent to fetch it because I was small and thin and could easily pass through the narrow gap.

In the meantime, the Germans continued to conduct “kidnappings” and find hideouts. A rumor spread that the town would shortly become Judenfrei (without Jews). At that time, a kind of “quarter” already existed in Zborow, meaning an open ghetto. It was not surrounded by a fence since the Germans lacked the time to construct it. However, it was forbidden for Jews to reside outside of that quarter or get out of it; anybody violating these rules was subject to the death penalty. The Germans brought into Zborow Jews from all the neighboring towns and villages and, at the same time, reduced the area of the quarter. Twenty Jews resided in one room. Besides us, 15 additional Jews lived in our home.

My mother turned again to that Ukrainian acquaintance who worked in the kitchen of Camp Commander Klaus and asked for permission to move to the camp's street not far from the camp itself. The cook, camp commander, a Jew named Bin with his family, another Jew who was the stockkeeper, and several other people. The gendarme barracks were there too.

My sister and brother already worked at the camp, and my mother wanted to work there too. The nepotism helped, and Ima was allowed to live near the camp. It cost a lot of money. Ima handed the Ukrainian everything she owned, including silverware and the like. I do not remember the details.

My mother moved to the apartment where Klaus's driver and his family lived. My mother's biggest worry was me. She was uncertain and did not know what to do with me. The permit to live on that street did not include me since my right to live had already been denied. When the Germans encountered a Jewish child, they shot them on the spot or sent them to the crematorium.

I could not stay in our house anymore since they had reduced the size of the ghetto, and our street remained outside on the Aryan side. Later, they took apart the house altogether. I saw it with my own eyes. When the Germans confiscated a Jewish house, or the house was located outside the ghetto, they sold it to the Ukrainians or the Poles; I am not sure how much they sold it for; probably very cheaply. The Ukrainians or Poles took apart the house for the bricks and wood.

My brother hid a suitcase in our old hideout and wished to take it out of there. He sneaked out of the camp, went down to the cellar, and fetched the suitcase. All of a sudden, Klaus appeared accompanied by a Jewish policeman. My brother was forced to let go of the suitcase and climb to the attic to hide. Klaus became very angry when he saw the suitcase in the corridor. Obviously, he took it and began searching for the “criminal.” My brother was sure that his time had come, but in the meantime, Klaus saw a Jewish boy who passed innocently in the street. He attacked him, caught him in his neck, and began choking him and beating him on the head. Klaus and his entourage stripped the boy naked and forced him to run through the camp while they beat him to death.

The price paid for the suitcase was high.

Nevertheless, the hideout was excellent. Before the house was taken apart, Bin took Klaus there and made a bet with him. He said he would give Klaus a thousand dollars if he could find the hideout in the house. Klaus took the bet and searched for a long hour but could not find the hideout. Klaus became angry and threatened Bin. The latter became frightened and promised to disclose the opening if Klaus did not harm him.

I had to sleep in a different place every night: In the ghetto, by my mother, and sometimes in the cowshed of acquaintance women farmers. I mostly stayed with my mother. I slept days and nights. I was asleep during many of the Aktions. I was idle and lonely. Sometimes, my mother brought me some food. When she could not do it; there were days when I did not eat anything.

Life was not important for me at all, but I did not want to be caught by the Germans. I did not want to give them the satisfaction of taking away my life.

The time came when I could no longer stay with my mother because the Ukrainian homeowner had already hosted another Jewish boy, Itzek, who shepherded her cow and performed the housework. In addition, the son of that Ukrainian, Pavel, was close to Klaus.

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Despite that, he did not cause any harm to Itzek and me, although he knew about us. He even liked Itzek.

The last Aktion took place after that when they murdered the rest of the Jews.

First, they gathered all the Jews in the camp–there were about 300 of them–and ordered them to dig pits outside of the city. The Jews were told that the pits were required for a sewer, but when asked to spread unslaked lime, they understood that the pits were not for a sewer; however, it was too late by then. They were surrounded by a tight chain of Germans. The Germans shot the 300 Jews who dug the pits, and later on, they brought additional Jews.

The Germans brought Jews to Zborow from other places. These people did not know what was happening. They collected them in the central square, stripped them naked, and led them to their graves in rows of five.

The entire city watched it. The farmers said that they saw the Germans shooting at a prominent rabbi and throwing his body in the pit. They claimed that his blood permeated and rose from the grave for three days.

Pavel said that he saw with his own eyes how the Jews tore paper dollars to pieces and swallowed gold coins. He claimed that he did not touch Jewish belongings, but that was a complete lie as my mother told me how much Jewish property he brought home and how many Jews he killed with his own hands.

The German Gendarme was located not far from my mother's apartment, on the camp's street. Jewish girls worked there washing clothes, cooking, and cleaning. They lived in the attic. One time, one of them woke up and heard that the Germans ordered them to gather in the yard for a count. She understood that the Germans intended to exterminate them. She jumped over the fence that surrounded the Gendarme's building, separating it from the yard of our building. She hid in a small shed filled with wood and wooden boxes. That night, Itzek and I slept at the barn and heard the shots. The Germans saw her jumping and shot at her but missed. They later searched in every corner and even in the shed [barn?] where we hid but did not find anybody. Itzek and I got very scared. We burrowed ourselves deep into the hay and lay down without moving. The Germans entered the barn, illuminated it with their flashlights, stabbed the hay with their daggers, and pressed it down with their heavy boots but did not discover us. The Germans cursed the girl and got out of there–they only feared that the other girls would escape. Besides—they knew that her fate was doomed anyway.

When things calmed down, I led the girl to the Freilager [the free camp]. There were two camps in Zborow. The other one was a forced labor camp called Zwangslager [forced labor camp].” Both camps were strictly guarded by the Gendarmes. They differed only in their names.

That girl had a brother in that camp, so she went to work with him. In the end, both of them perished, as the Germans killed all the camps' residents. As far as the girl who worked in the house of the gendarmes, they murdered them all during the same night. I saw with my own eyes how they transported their bodies to the pit on a cart. They were all very young–17-18 years old.

In the meantime, my mother realized she could no longer hide me with her friend. The Gendarme Building was located nearby, over the fence. The Germans shot Jews there every day. My mother sold her last tattered clothes, gathered some money, and paid a woman farmer in the village to hide me. That village was located 6 kilometers away from us and was infamous for its murderers.

The woman farmer promised to hide my mother when the time came, and I went to stay with her only under that condition. Without that, I would not have agreed to stay with her. I hid in her attic for six weeks. The attic was open, without any cells or hideouts. It even did not have hay in it. Whoever entered the attic did not have to work hard to find me.

After six weeks, I heard muffled explosions and many shots. The villagers returned later and said that the camp had been exterminated.

It was as follows:

The Freilager's Jews revolted. They bought a machine gun from one of the farmers and smuggled it into the camp. I do not know how many more weapons they had in addition, but they certainly had some as they prepared for a revolt. A deserted old bakery stood not far from the camp. They made it into an arsenal, positioned the machine gun there, and camouflaged it well.

The final extermination was supposed to take place on Saturday. The revolt was planned to take place on Friday night. They intended to distribute the weapons on the same night, when the people came back to the camp from work, surprise and attack the camp guards, kill them, and escape. Only Jewish young men resided in the camp.

By chance, Klaus made his patrol of the camp on Thursday night and entered the bakery. Three young men were busy preparing for the revolt there at that time. When Klaus and his entourage surprised them—it was too late to retreat. Klaus inspected the house and found a wooden box with weapons. One of the young men jumped up, went to the machine gun, and opened fire.

I do not know whether he killed or wounded any of the Germans, but Klaus requested an urgent reinforcement. The house was immediately surrounded, and the Germans shot at it from all sides. The young man returned fire with the machine gun, but he was killed a short while later. The Germans threw a bomb into the house, and it caught fire immediately. The two other young men broke out through the flames, climbed to the roof, and escaped through the river. The Germans shot at them but missed. One of the young men, Tzalko Vinter, who hid with me for some time, survived the war. He told me this whole story. The other young man, whose name I do not remember, was killed one day before the entrance of the Russians. The Ukrainians handed him over to the Germans,

After the burning of the fire, which served as the arsenal, the camp's Jews remained defenseless. The Germans sped up the Aktion. They surrounded the camp at 4 am on Friday. A reinforcement of Ukrainians from Russia who served in the German Army was also brought over.

Trucks collected the Jews from the Freilager and transported them to the same pit outside of the city. In one truck, the Jews attacked the armed German guards with their bare hands. They choked the Germans, threw them, and dispersed quickly. Many of them were killed, but some managed to escape.

Nevertheless, none of the escapees survived since there was nowhere to escape or hide. The Ukrainians handed them over to the Germans.

I heard the fate of the Jews from the Zwangslager. I was told that the Germans gathered them all into a large hut, poured gasoline, and ignited it. Whoever tried to escape was shot.

My mother, who lived not far from there, saw everything. She took my sister and escaped to the forest. A day later, the Germans surrounded the house she lived in.

My brother, who was in the Freilager, attempted to escape through the fence, but the German shot him.

I never saw my mother again. I only know what the villagers told me about her. She probably went with my sister to the forest. Later on, the winter came, and they did not have anything to eat. When my mother was forced to get out of the forest to look for food, the Ukrainians captured her. I do not know what happened to her after that.

At that time, I stayed in the attic of the aforementioned Ukrainian woman. As long as there were Jews in the town, and my mother paid her, she provided shelter for me. One day, she returned from the city

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and said that all the Jews were expelled. She expelled me too from her home. She came and said: “Go away from here anywhere you want!” I responded: “Is it not that you had received money to hold me until the war ended?” She remained quiet and did not say anything. Later on, I heard her telling her husband to go to the police and hand me over to them.

I ran away from there at night.

I went to Zborow. I did not know what to do. I could not enter the city and could not stay there. I did not have anywhere to hide.

When I was in the city, a Ukrainian saw me and said: “Jew, Jew, give us dollars!” I did not answer and tried to escape. A gang of Shkutzim gathered around me and demanded dollars from me. I ran as fast as I could. I jumped into the river and crossed it swimming. They ran after me but could not catch me.

I had several boys, acquaintances in the village, who showed me a place in the rye field where I could hide. At the same time, a German passed through there looking for Jews, but the boys did not tell him, and then they disappeared.

In the meantime, those Shkutzim arrived from the city and found me hiding in the rye field. Among them was the son of our former neighbor, Nuretzki, whom I was friendly with. I always brought him food from home. I reminded him of those days. I did not ask him for anything, only to leave me alone. He was their leader. He stood there for a minute, pondered, waved his arm, and left. The rest did like him.

Later on, I found out that they constituted an organized gang that robbed Jews and handed them over to the police. They became experts in discovering even the most concealed hideouts. The gang included seven boys aged seven to thirteen, headed by Nuretzki.

I hid again in the rye field. I sat there for a long time but could not stay there forever. I had to find food. I sneaked out secretly, crawling on my stomach. A Polish farmer woman named Kwashintzka saw me crawling like that and took pity on me. She brought me food behind her house, and I ate my fill.

I later went on my way. I had to go somewhere and find something. I could not continue to stay with Kwashintzka, so I just progressed forward without having any idea where I was going.

On my way, I saw a villager reaping hay. I approached him and asked if I could work for him. He stopped his work for a moment and glanced at me. It turned out that he knew me well and knew my father. He gave me food and told his children not to tell anybody about me. I had to shepherd the cows with them.

I shepherded the cattle all day or worked in various works in the field. I ate my fill most of the time. Only the cold bothered me since I did not have shoes. It was the late autumn. I stepped barefoot on the stubble, and my feet were scratched and wounded.

I befriended the boys, and they used to tell me about what was happening in the towns, events I knew nothing about.

Two months passed. It was a pleasant period, but I could not continue to stay calm. One SS collaborator Ukrainian noticed me and began to follow me, as he hoped to be rewarded for catching a Jew. I was forced to stay away from him and hide even during the day. I could not work, and the boys could not help me because they, too, feared him. Only the woman who hosted me in a dug-out hideout risked herself and helped me. She used to warn me when she saw him and hid me by her. I did not want to risk her too much, so I changed my hideout often.

The Ukrainian chased after me, and I always managed to escape. He used to ambush me like a cat ambushing a mouse. One time I was tired and entered the home of a Ukrainian woman at the edge of the village and begged for shelter. She told me that she was already hosting a Jewish girl. She was Ela, who shepherded her cows, goats, and poultry. I saw Ela in the field but she did not recognize me.

One day, the Germans surrounded the town and area. They were told that partisans were hiding there. I did not know about it and wandered around in the fields. However, the Germans kidnapped particularly those who roamed around in the fields because they suspected them. They took with them anybody who did not have identification papers.

One German approached and began to interrogate me about whether I saw any Germans in the city. He was dressed in German uniform but introduced himself as a partisan running away from the Germans. I immediately realized that he was lying since his facial features were of a German. I told him I did not know anything since I did not visit the city. I felt that he suspected me of being a Jew. I was awfully thin, like a toothpick, and wearing tattered clothing. Only Jews were dressed like that. However, he did not talk about it. He asked me where I lived and where I was from. I concocted a story that I was from Borislav, my house was bombed, and my parents killed; since then, I have been working in that village with different farmers. He ordered me to go to the city and led me to the market. It was crowded with German cars and was infested with Germans. I had to wait quietly for my fate to be determined. I could not even dream about escaping. Two Germans stood by and guarded me.

The Germans began stopping passersby and asking them whether they recognized me. Two testified that they knew me and that I was local. Two others, a farmer and a young one, claimed they knew that I was Jewish. The Germans did not know whom to believe. They called an old German, probably an officer, and told him the whole story. The officer ordered me to tell him my story from the beginning. He interrogated me with all sorts of questions to see if I was not lying, but I stubbornly repeated the fake story about Borislav. I did not mention any names to avoid causing harm to anybody. I pretended to be illiterate and stupid.

He asked me to say kukuritza [corn in German]. Since I could not pronounce the soft “r” like the Poles, they again began to suspect my story and consulted among themselves.

Finally, the officer told me to walk forward without turning my head. I began to march forward without looking at anybody. Many Poles, Ukrainians, and Germans stood around, waiting anxiously to witness the outcome.

I was indifferent. I was not afraid. I knew that the shot would burst any minute. I marched slowly.

They did not shoot me.

When I returned to the village, safe and sound, the boys did not believe their eyes. The only way I could have been set free was to bribe the Germans, but they knew I was penniless. They looked at my bloody feet and the tattered rugs that covered me and decided that I did witchcraft for the Germans. Who heard about a case when the Germans freed a Jew who fell into their hands?

The cold got more intense, and it was arduous to wander around in the fields. The winter approached, and the dug-out pit was filled with potatoes, so I could not sleep there again. The cold wind blew, and the earth froze at night. It was impossible to sleep in the open. The woman farmer allowed me to sleep in the kennel in her yard.

It was warm in the kennel, but it was small. When the cold intensified, the farmer brought me a blanket to the kennel. The farmer was a Pole named Shumska, a gaunt and ragged old woman with a bony and long face, like a man who struck fear into everyone. Everybody feared her. Her carpenter and her seamstress daughter resided with her. She became a widow during the First [World] War, and she became the owner of a small estate.

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She managed the farm by herself. She secured her home with tremendous effort, educated her children, and taught them craftsmanship. She herself was illiterate.

I taught her to sign her name and read the newspaper to her.

I found her shelter by that woman. Despite letting me sleep only in the pit and kennel, for me, they were priceless, better than palaces and luxury homes. That woman saved me from sure death, hunger, the cold, and from the hands of the Gestapo. I did not expect it from anybody. She knew well that she was risking her life, but that did not prevent her from giving me shelter.

She hid me not only from the Germans and the Ukrainians but also from her neighbors, the village children, and even her own children, who did not know about my existence for many months.

I used to leave the kennel before dawn when everybody was still asleep. I would leave the kennel and move away from the farmer's yard. I would return at a late hour of the night, when the street emptied, and push myself crawling into the kennel. I would touch and feel the ground and sometimes found a stew, supposedly intended for a dog. Later on, I would tuck myself in like a cocoon, cover myself with the blanket, and fall happily into sleep, and total forgetfulness for some hours.

I lived like that for two weeks until quiet returned, and I went out again to shepherd the cows.

One time, during shepherding, I sat with the boys on the ground and played cards. Suddenly, we noticed two farmers approaching us. They came and began to question us whether we saw a Jewish boy hiding in the village. They said that if found, “it was possible to earn 300-500 zloty” for anybody who caught him.

One of the boys who played cards with me became frightened and flashed terrified eyes at me. It was a big mistake because the farmers understood immediately and looked at me. I looked so miserable with worn out and torn clothing, which did not leave room for any doubt that I was that deplorable Jew. The two farmers caught me and began to kick me with their shoes. They dragged me to the police station in the town. Deep despair took over me. There was not even a glimmer of hope that I could get rid of them.

However, a Polish woman rescued me for a short while. When we arrived in the town, we passed by her house. She went outside to feed her poultry and saw them dragging me. (It was probably not the first that a Jew was dragged in front of her house.) The woman probably recognized me, and she took pity on me. She began talking to them, trying to evoke their conscience: “Why are you dragging a child,” she said, “Do you not have G-d in your heart? Imagine somebody dragging your child to his death! Give the child a little more time to live.” She promised them liquor, begged them, and did not give up until they stopped dragging me and supposedly left me alone.

I returned to the other side of the river and looked for a hideout. I failed to do so because those two farmers followed me. In the end, when the streets emptied out of passersby, they caught me again, led me through another road to bypass the house of that Polish woman, and brought me to the police.

However, only one policeman was at the station. All the others went to “hunt” Jews outside of the city, where a well-camouflaged bunker was discovered. It was located in a field, under a destructed German tank that got stuck there. Somebody snitched to the police, and they encircled it. They threw hand grenades into it. The lone policeman who remained in the station did not show any interest in me as he followed the happenings at the bunker. He just locked me in a cell, and that was it. The policeman walked out of the house for a moment, and I broke the cell doors, jumped over the fence, and disappeared.

When I was thinking today about that event, I wondered about myself and how did I have the power to break the cell doors. They were made of wood, yet they were fairly strong. Nevertheless, when a person wants something with all his heart and soul, his powers are doubled.

I came to the yard of my mother's former homeowner and hid in a haystack. I lay in that pile for a whole day, but I knew that lying there was not a solution. Therefore, I rose at night and gathered courage. I went to the homeowner and asked her to hide me. She immediately called her son Pavel, who knew already that the police were looking for me.

They advised me to turn to their Ukrainian neighbor, Klaus's mistress, because she had all of our belongings. Although Klaus was not stationed in town any longer and she thus lost her status, she could, if she wanted to, hide me with her as there was plenty of space there. I asked her to give me shelter for five or six weeks.

However, she did not agree to lodge me even for a single night and threatened me that if I did not leave of my own will, she would call the police.

I was forced to leave and return to the other bank of the river. Snow had already covered the fields. Everything was white, bare, and exposed. Here and there, some sparse bushes stood blackened against the snow background. The cold was intense, and my organs froze.

It was an early hour of the morning when I went out. I was extremely tired and walked aimlessly and hopelessly. The Polish woman who saved me once from the hands of the kidnapper saw me suddenly and told me to return to Shumska because she heard her saying that she would hide me until the end of the war if I managed to escape that time from the hands of the murderers.

I went to her in the early morning. As soon as I entered, my eyes lit up. I realized she was happy to see me and wanted me to stay with her. I knew then that she was willing to help me with everything.

My situation was improved since nobody besides these two women knew about my existence. I was considered dead by everybody else because the Germans killed a Jewish boy at the same time in the police station. Even the two farmers who specialized in kidnapping Jews thought so and gave up looking for me.

Shumska housed me in the attic under a haystack. She brought me food every day and was forced to do so without allowing her son and daughter, who lived with her, to notice. She also resorted to various ploys to prevent people from climbing up to the attic. She was continuously fearful because of me.

She held me in that way for two months. She saved food from her own share and risked her life so I would not go hungry. After two months, I was forced to come down and look for another hideout. The Germans planned to search all the houses because a Jewish bunker was discovered in the town, where the Jews defended themselves for a long time.

When the police conquered the bunker and a single policeman went down, he found only one corpse. The rest of the Jews escaped through uncovered tunnels. The Germans announced that they would conduct searches of all the houses in the town. In the end, they did not have time to do so since rumors started to spread that the Soviet Army was approaching. All the German “heroes” lost their minds. However, there was still no end to my trouble.

My homeowner, Shumska, was forced to leave her house for a week until the storm blew over. She advised me to go to the camp's street since it was “safer there.” She also claimed that my mother's entire property was there, and I would be able to find shelter there. I knew there was no sense in going there and that the people there would hand me over to the Germans. They possessed too much property that was robbed from us.

I went to the village and hid in an empty barn. I lay there for two days without food, freezing to death. After that, I went out to beg for food. I knew that it wasn't wise to wander around in the village where I was considered to be dead.

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However, these were the most bitter days, and I had no choice. Without begging for food and shelter in the village, I would have been dead from the cold and hunger.

After a week of turbulence, I returned to the attic of my farmer (Shumska).

In the meantime, the Soviet Army was approaching. It was March 1944. The Ukrainians completed the job of murdering the Jews and turned to kill the Poles. The Poles escaped westward. Shumska's son and daughter got frightened, and they, too, moved west.

Only Shumska did not want to move. She decided not to abandon her farm no matter what. She remained alone with me and was even happy about that. Finally, Shumska could take care of me peacefully and bring me food openly. She liked me more than her own children, and I also got attached to her. She spent every free minute with me and shared with me all her worries. I read newspapers to her and explained various matters to her. It was good for me during that period.

The Soviet Army reached a location about ten kilometers away from us and camped there for three weeks. The Germans retreated. German escapees could be seen everywhere. They raided houses and farms, killed cattle, and took poultry, eggs, and butter. They confiscated the farmers' horses and kidnapped men for forced labor in Germany or at the front. Actually, nobody knew where these men were sent.

Shumska's house contained spacious rooms. The Germans organized the battalion kitchen in her house, and German officers resided in two of these rooms.

That was a blessing in disguise. During that period of hunger, we received plenty of food. Also, other Germans could not conduct searches in the house and the officer in charge ordered his staff to throw out all the annoyers. Thus, I stayed in the attic, and Shumska brought me German food.

Three weeks later, the Russians attacked and bombarded Zborow day and night. The Germans fled in panic; they closed the kitchen and left only 200 Germans in Zborow “to defend” the town.” These Germans established a bomb shelter near our home and settled in it.

It was impossible to stay in the attic. The horrific and loud explosions deafened my ears. I came down and hid in the kennel. A German came out once from his bunker and saw me lying folded in the kennel. He wondered and began interrogating me about what I was doing there. I told him stories that I was an orphan and my parents were killed in the bombardments. He believed me and even brought me a slice of bread.

The town emptied out. I could finally get out of the kennel. Shumska took me with her to her bomb shelter. We sat there for three days. Soviet soldiers arrived on the fourth day.

It was on June 17th, 1944.

From that point on, I could work for Shumska without fear and repay her for all her good deeds. Some Jews wanted to take me to the West, but I refused and stayed with Shumska. I stayed with her the whole summer, fall, and part of the winter. I helped her with her work in the field and household chores. I worked for her to the best of my ability. I took care of her when she fell sick and was bedridden. I also wanted to help her with cash money. Therefore, I went to that Ukrainian woman, the mistress of Klaus, and demanded that she return to me some of the belongings my mother left with her for safekeeping. She responded that she did not receive anything.

However, an adult witness came forward. He knew not only how much Jewish property she received but also about her urging of Klaus to set hungry dogs on sick Jews in the camp. He also witnessed how the dogs tore the Jews' flesh while they were alive. She was sitting near Klaus then and laughed.

One of the farmers who handed me over to the German soldiers was caught. I was called to testify against him in court. I recognized him immediately. He captured many Jews and handed them over to the Germans. I think that he was hanged for his deeds.

Only about 40 Jews remained in Zborow and its surroundings. Nobody wanted to stay. None of my relatives survived.

Everybody headed West and demanded that I accompany them, but I did not want to leave Shumska alone. My cough intensified, and I did not have any clothing. Shumska tried to persuade me to go because she was very poor, and could not give me anything.

I left her with a heavy heart and was accepted into a boarding school in Krakow. I was alone, with no relatives.

I want to go to Eretz Yisrael. I am only sad that I could not stay with Shumska and help her. I wrote to her several times and even sent a telegram but did not receive an answer. I wanted her to know that I did not forget her.

France, May 1946

Shumska

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In the margins of the story:

The boy sitting across from me was thin and small, whose chest was as narrow as the one of a 9-year-old boy, and his head was big. His eyes were clever and experienced, and his lips dripped with bitterness and sarcasm.

The contrast between the immature body and the appearance of maturity on the face stood out. That contrast was like a testimony of 100 witnesses. Said things were almost unnecessary. The tragedy of the children of Israel in H….r's inferno was folded in that contrast.

And then came the words–cruel and realistic descriptions of the crimes of the Germans and Ukrainians as they were, accurately, without any cover or illusion.

Not a shred of childhood innocence will be preserved in Aron's words. Their impression was, therefore, not of a story a child tells in his innocence. They were also arranged in proper chronological order.

In his story, Aharon does not only describe the events. He also explains the murderers' motives. He does not delude himself about the human values–that's where his sarcasm is derived from. Aharon has an excellent memory, and he knows a great deal about his town, Zborow. His story should serve as the destruction scroll of Zborow's Jews–a kind of memory book for his town's community.

Despite his sarcasm and unwillingness (in the beginning) to tell, Aron provides an encompassing picture of the destruction–as if he had the duty to provide it. He tells us the story as if he is the last remnant of his tribe, a single survivor of a city and its Jewish community.

In the framework of the overall destruction, he tells us about his family and himself.

In his story, the phenomena common to all the surviving children stands out: heroism in its various forms.

Aron is chased after mercilessly. He does not have a place to lay his head, where to eat, or hide. Everybody ambushes him: The Germans, Ukrainians, farmers/amateur hunters specializing in Jew capturing (receiving a bottle of liquor for their work), and even young children, his former school friends.

Despite all of that, Aron does not lose hope, or retreat. He continues his struggle for his life.

On my question: “How could you bear all of that? Where did you take the strength?” Aharon gives an unequivocal and conclusive answer:

“Life was not important to me at all, but I did not want to be caught and give the German the satisfaction of taking my life.”

Actually, that was the essence of the Jewish Resistance Movement. The fighters knew that their fight was not about life. It was a fight about something many times more superior and important–the honor of the nation and humans.

Aron did not perish because a human hand was extended to him. She was a simple and illiterate woman who worked hard to secure her livelihood on a tiny plot. That woman hid Aron not only from the Germans, Ukrainians, and neighbors. She hid him from her own family members.

Aron survived and stayed with the woman who gave him shelter. Her own children left her and moved westward. Only Aron stayed, taking care of her during her illness and helping her in her work in the field and at home.

Ahon fell sick in his lungs. His coughing intensified and he got a high fever frequently. In that condition, he walked around barefoot, with torn clothes. His patron decided to part ways with him for his own good.

Aron traveled to the West. Since he was very sick, he was admitted to our “The Children Home” in Zakopane. His recovery lasted several years.

Aron recovered, and he is today one of the prominent agronomists in Israel.

9 years old at the time of the interview

Ela is a little country girl with flaxen hair and blue eyes. Her face is clear, projecting an aura of trust.

Every morning, she wakes up and escapes her “Home.” She goes to the field and sails in the tall weeds that adorned the old palace in Kombo (France), which serves as a shelter for orphan children.

I sneak out of the house and follow her in the green thicket. I call her from afar:

“Ela, Ela!”

An echo returns from the distant forest on the horizon.

Ela stops.

“Have you at least eaten breakfast?” I ask.

“I drank milk,”–she answers–“and I have the bread with me here.” She shows me the two thick slices of bread smeared with butter.

“Is the food tastier eaten here?” I point at the shiny azure mirror above and the green sea around us.

“I was always hungry in the field,”—she explains—when I lived in the village, I used to go out to pasture, and they never gave me food for the outing. The cows and the goats ate their fill and I was hungry looking for food. Oh, if only I had bread, then like now…”

“Do you want to tell me about all of that?”

“About everything?”—she wonders, lifting her golden eyebrows like the bristles of ripened sheaves.

“Yes, about everything.”

“Ok,” she agrees. Let us sit on the soft hay. There are no thorns here.”

We kneel and sit down among the tall green stems, and above our heads near to us, the blue-sky dome.

“We lived in Jaroslaw. I was little then. I had parents and two elder brothers there…

Later on, the war reached Jaroslaw, and we moved far away to Zborow, Ukraine.

We lived there in two rooms, and we had a Ukrainian maid who hung the “Holy Mother” on the door of one room, and on the door of the other room, she did not hang anything.

Father and Mother hid under the bed with the “Holy Mother” hung on its door. The Germans did not enter that room and only searched in the other room where there was no “Holy Mother” hanging on its door. After searching they nailed the door shut.

On the third night, the Germans came again and took everybody, Mother and Father, the brothers, and the maid. I woke up and heard their screams, and later I saw them dressing in the dark. In the morning, there was nobody at home,

Our neighbor woman took me and said that the Germans put them all in jail. They stayed there for three weeks and returned blackened and thin. I hardly recognized them.

Later on, we moved to a small village where we were forced to hide in a farmer's barn. We had to hide because Mother and Father looked like Jews. We sat in a small hole in the ground under the barn. The mice gnawed there all the time. I was the only one who was allowed to get out of that hole.

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Because I did not look like a Jew, they sent me to the village to bring milk.

Later on, everybody talked about a pending Aktion. Father and Mother were fearful and ran away from the hideout. They left me with the maid's little child, and I was tasked with cradling him while our maid fell sick. She lay down in bed, and could not speak.

The parents returned later on. The news about the Aktion turned out to be just a rumor. They enter the room and close the door with a key.

Mother sent me to the village in the afternoon to bring milk. When I returned with the milk, I saw that my mother was sad, and so was my father. My brother was crying. I looked and saw the maid lying on the bed, all yellow–she was dead!

When the maid died, Mother was afraid that they would be blamed since she was not Jewish. Mother and Father hid in the hole again. My eldest brother escaped somewhere, and my other brother, Chaim, went with my parents. Mother told me then: “Go to the neighbor Ukrainian woman and do not tell her you have a mother and father.”

I went to the Ukrainian woman and told her I wanted to shepherd her cows. She agreed and assigned big and strong cows to me. The cows did not want to obey me. I was afraid of them. I only liked the goats because they were small, and when I touched them with a stick, they went after me. The cows were very strong and always tended to go sideways. I did not know what to do for them to obey me. I was given the cows to shepherd, but I did not know how to do it.

I had to accept the cows and did not notice what happened around me. I then heard about 20 shots. I did not understand anything. I looked around and saw a small child from the village running and holding the picture of my father.

I turned to him and asked:

“Where did you take that?”

“They killed him,”—he said,—“Do you know him?”

I did not want to tell him I knew the person in the picture because he would have immediately understood that he was my father. “No, I do not know him but you were probably just saying that. They did not really kill him.”

He then led me to the garden of a farmer, and I saw there my mother, father, and brother, Chaim, lying dead in a large pit. When I saw them naked and dead, I wanted so much to cry…but I did not cry because they would have also thrown me into that black pit. Twenty killed Jews lay there in the pit and it was filled with blood. Later on, a cart came and transported the bodies somewhere.

In the beginning, I cried continuously. I saw my murdered mother in front of my eyes. I would go secretly to the wheat field and cry my heart out. On the outside, I did not want to show that I was crying because people would have understood immediately…

I stayed three weeks with that Ukrainian and shepherded her goats and cows.

She later told me: “You are too small for me. Go away from here. I need another shepherd.”

I went alone on my way. I walked around in the fields and did not know what to do. I did not have anything to eat and was very hungry. I ripped off the sheaves and chewed on the rye seeds.

I wandered like that for a long time—I do not remember how long, maybe two days or three. It was still far from Zborow. I slept among the wheat stalks, folding like a cocoon against the cold of the night.

I found another Ukrainian and shepherded her cows. I had a pleasant time with her. She also gave me food to eat.

But one time I returned the cows from the pasture too early because I did not know what the time was that I had to return them. The Ukrainian threw me out, and I was forced to leave. When I left, her husband ran after me, undressed me, and took my dress and a kerchief that his wife gave me. He also hit me until I could not stand on my feet. I did not have shoes, and my feet were wounded. From there, I went to another village. A Ukrainian woman gave me cheese pancakes. She did not allow me to sleep at the house, and I was forced to sleep outside in the cold. My feet froze, and I could not feel them. These were the last days of the fall. The wheat had already been harvested, and there was not even a handful of straw left to keep oneself warm.

I saw one day another Ukrainian plowing her field. I begged her to let me work for her. She agreed but she did not give me food. She had a small child who received the best food.

I slept in a dark narrow chamber infested with rats and was afraid the whole night. Sometimes, when all the family members were asleep, and I could not fall asleep because I was hungry, I rose secretly and went to the pantry to get a slice of bread. They caught me twice and hit me hard for that. But what could I have done—I was hungry. In the morning, they did not give me anything to eat and no food for the outing.

In the evening, upon my return, they gave me several potatoes and some water but no bread. My hunger intensified, especially in the field during shepherding. Only the Poles would sometimes bring me something to eat.

I had to shepherd two big cows and three goats. I also had to watch over the chickens.

When they made rye brandy liquor at home, I was forced to watch over the fire in the stove. After returning the cows from the pasture, I was forced to weave braids from straw and push them to the fire in the stove the whole night. I sat on a small stool by the stove and watched over the fire throughout the entire night. My eyes would stick shut, and my head fell, and the woman yelled at me for that the whole time.

The Poles were leaving westward. I cried as I was thinking: “If they leave, who would bring me a slice of bread to the field. I would die from hunger.

All of a sudden, a bomb fell in the yard, killing the horse and a cow. The war had arrived, and everybody ran to the cellar. I sat in an unsuitable cellar containing cracks and hatches. The Ukrainian woman, her husband, and their child went down to a suitable cellar, built from bricks. I was not a fool, so I prayed to G-d.

I sat in the cellar for a long time. The bombs thundered and pounded continuedly. I was fearful. I slept over a pile of potatoes and put my head down on one of the cellar's stairs. There was a large quantity of carrots. I soaked the carrots in water and ate them.

The most terrible thing was the cold. I did not have anything to cover myself. I was dressed in a flimsy dress that reached my knees. I wore it during the day and slept in it at night. I waited to fall asleep so that I would not feel the cold.

One day, early in the morning, somebody knocked on the cellar's hatch and called in Russian: “Vikhodi” (come out).

I got out and saw that the Russians had arrived.

I did not know even that I was Jewish. I prayed the whole day in front of the Icon of Christ and kissed the ground three times a day. The icon had Jesus pierced with nails, and the Ukrainian told me to pray to him because the Jews murdered Jesus.

Later on, a man came to us, claiming he was my uncle. I did not want to believe him. “I already have an uncle,” I said, pointing at the Ukrainian. He tried to convince me to go with him, but I did not want to. Then, he told the Ukrainian that he was Jewish, and so was I.

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But the Ukrainian farmer told me not to go with him because the Jews would take me to Palestine and would kill me there.

Many people came to our home the following day and wanted to take me with them because they were traveling westward. I agreed because I never traveled on a train and was curious. Otherwise, I would not have gone with them.

The Ukrainian did not even want to wash me before the trip, so I brought a tub filled with water from the river and washed myself up. Later on, they gave the Ukrainian 200 Guldens. I was angry: “It is not enough that they did not let me eat—they still gave her money.”

We went on our way. I felt good. They gave me a dress, shoes, bread and sausage. I could eat as much as I wanted. I was only sorry I could not eat much because my stomach hurt. I had the “runs” the entire trip, and there was nowhere to “run” because we traveled on a cargo train (without toilets) and without stops.

Later on, they handed me over to a children's institute in Krakow. I did not know anybody. I went out before dawn and waited at the street tram station, perhaps an acquaintance would come. The nanny, Mrs. Basha, was still asleep, and later on, they could not find me.

But no acquaintance came, and I had to return to the institution.

I longed for the field and the goats. [In Ukraine] I had a small white goat, which I loved a lot. I longed for her and cried.

I feel better now, and I do not cry anymore.”

In the margins of the story

Ela finishes telling her story and sneaks out to the fields toward the darkening forest at the horizon edge.

Perhaps she will encounter a white goat grazing on grass. Eliyusia will stroke the silky hair, touch its mouth, and somewhat calm her longing for the pastures and goats.

In the meantime, I write her story word by word reliably and stenographically and wonder how well the simple, meager, and unpolished words of a little girl from a remote Ukrainian village who never stepped into a school express human experiences, so simple and natural and at the same time they are extreme, tragic, and exciting.

Short are her sentences, sparse and fragmented, but each word is held in its place with a nail. Sometimes, one word contains a sea of calamity, famine, and loneliness. These words also constitute an echoing witness to the tender girl's struggle against the great destiny, like a person blown away like a leaf in a storm.

Things happened here that are beyond our comprehension under normal circumstances. Hidden forces are uncovered here that in other times would not have risen.

Eliyusia shepherds the cows and 'does not know anything.' Suddenly, she hears shots (she hears 20 shots, but she probably hears the number from the villagers who had counted the bodies). She sees a small boy from the village holding a picture of her father:

'I turned to him and ask: Where did you take that?'—'They killed him,'—he said—'Do you know him?'—but I did not want to say that I knew him because he would have immediately understood that it was my father. 'Therefore, I told him that I did not know him…'

When she saw her father, mother, and brother killed in the pit along with other Jews– 'she wanted very much to cry,' but she did not cry in front of strangers, lest they realize that she was Jewish, and would then kill her and throw her body into the pit. She went on to cry in the rye field so that nobody would see her in her bereavement and crying.

And the girl—five years old—if we compare her to a girl her age, can we imagine that she would be exhibiting such a defense? Only a great danger can draw hidden physical and spiritual forces from the depths of the human soul (we recall Aharon breaking the doors at the police station).

Eliyusia's response came from pure instinct only. That is an unconscious sense of self-defense, the first bud of the struggle against her destiny, which she would be winning in the future.

Ela is looking for work, wandering, hungry, stealing bread, and getting hit. It is difficult for her to work the whole day from 4 in the morning and then also work at night weaving “braids” of hay for the heating of the oven, when the homeowner is secretly producing rye brandy. The fat and big cows do not obey her, and all her love is devoted to a white goat that follows her.

The images pass before us as if on a screen, like the work of an author who gave form to his imagination. Everything is palpable, clear, and simple, but still distant as if unbelievable!

Eliyusia overcame everything: Hunger, cold, work that exhausts human energy, and hatred of the people around her.

She won. She escaped the death sentence imposed on her by the Germans and their hidden and visible friends. She came back to life. She sprouted and flourished again like a fresh flower.

Eliyusia is in Israel and is not different from other children her age who did not encounter that cruel fate. Ukraine, the oppression, hunger, orphanhood, and beatings—all are behind her and in front of her—the faith of life.

From the Scenes of the Deportations

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We were in Zborow until November 20, 1942, when the Jews were imprisoned in the ghetto. We left before day break. The snow fell deep and we traveled by sleds, heading towards who knew where towards martyrdom. We just wanted to get away as soon as possible, not to be jailed in the ghetto. I was a dangerous undertaking. Going on the run at that point, not knowing where or to whom to turn, was an act of suicide, but to us at the time, it seemed an escape from death.

By then, Jews from surrounding area had been rounded up and herded into the ghetto to await imminent “liquidation.” There were as yet no Aktions, and I used the time to procure “papers” (documents) for myself and my wife and child. I knew that we needed “good” (sufficient) documentation, or we would fall into the hands of informers and blackmailers. We knew that many like us had already been caught with false Aryan papers and no one knew how or where they were killed.

The widow of Dr. Litvak and her son Lesyo (?) had made their way to Lemberg, where she was caught and killed, and son was attacked by Ukrainian schoolmates on the street and beaten to death. The pharmacist, Spindel, and his wife and daughter, who lived in the vicinity of Lublin with false Aryan documents, fell into the hands of the Gestapo and were all shot to death. Polish blackmailers turned them in.

In Zborow, I met my colleague named Warshawsky, a former teacher in the Zloczow gymnasium. He introduced me to the Roman Catholic priest, Jan Pavelitsky, who got me documents for my wife and child. My wife's name would be Maria Kunish and my daughter, Janina Kunish. Both had Catholic birth certificates. Maria Kunish was a bit older then Anna Doll, but that's how it had to be. On the forms I brought from Jezierna,

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I filled out identity information with a photograph of my wife, under the name of Maria Kunish. This, together with the birth certificate, comprised her “authentic” documentation. I had my own birth certificate translated into German and notarized-not in Zborow, where the notary was Ukrainian, but in Tarnopol by a Polish notary. The priest, Pablitzki, sent one of his people to Tarnopol and he got it done there. The original, I burned.

My wife had quite a few acquaintances 1n Zborow as she had previously worked for two years in the pharmacy, and many of them knew my father-in law, of blessed memory. Zborow and Jezierna were like a room and its alcove.

To repair the town's sidewalks, the German use tombstones from the Jewish cemetery. At one point, they seized several Jews, including the Rabbi, marched them to the cemetery and ordered them to tear down the tombstones and load them onto waiting wagons. The Ukrainian police gave the command: take them down and load them up! Not one of the Jews moved. The Rabbi, stepped forward, stood before the gravesite of his grandfather, may he rest in peace, and chanted the Kaddish and El Male Rachamim. The surrounding fields and woods resounded with the “Yisgadal ie- yiskadash...” And when ended the chant with “And we say Amen!” he burst into tears and the Jews responded “Amen.” He asked the interred to forgive him for disturbing their peace, turned to the other Jews and told them to follow the order. While he recited the prayers, the waiting Gentiles knelt to their knees and crossed themselves and the guards stood still as if in salute. Now they took to shouting and threatening the Jews. The work began and took all day to finish. The tombstones were loaded and were used to repave the sidewalks, from which Jews were routinely barred, and pious Gentiles avoided so as not to step on the tombstones. Rumors flew that from the desecrated gravesites moans and wails could be heard at night and fear ensued.

[Page 177]

For some 20 years, the pharmacists Lusia and Marek Reiss ran the pharmacy in Zborow and were known and respected by young and old, women and men, Jews and non-Jews. Medication was provided for free if needed, and sometimes a few groshn (pennies) for bread was added, and for they were revered by Jews and non-Jews alike. The Germans evicted them from the pharmacy and their home, but they did not lose their resolve, and strove to offer comfort and consolation to others. In the wake of every Aktion, Lusia would visit the bereaved families, bringing bread and sharing with them her last bite. She would speak of salvation being near. She was believed in and looked upon as an angel bearing good tidings. Her words of comfort were passed on from mouth to mouth... until she herself fell into the hands of the murderers.

Losha and Marek Reiss

[Page 178]

She was thrown onto a truck crammed with captured Jews bound for the extermination camp in Belzec. Lusia knew this would be her last journey, her last glimpse of the pharmacy where she had worked for years, the little house in which she lived, the people whose joys and sorrows she shared. Acting on instinct, she stood up and began to shriek at the Gestapo guards: “Murderers! Shame of the 20th century. For our sorrows, for our suffering, for our innocent blood spilled, you will yet be made to pay... from our blood, from our bones, retribution will rise.” Then she turned to her fellow Jews and said: “Raise your heads. Do not fear the murderers. We die in sanctification of God's name! As she called out “Long live the Jewish People!” she was struck on the head by a guard and fell dead, remaining in Zborow, the town she loved and where she spent the best years of her life. Her husband, Marek, heard she was on the truck headed for the extermination camp, and pleaded with the Judenrat (Jewish Council) to save her. When he was told it was already too late, he took his own life. After the Aktion, the two of them, Lusia and Marek Reiss, were buried together in the cemetery.

November 1942-17, months since the Germans began their murderous mission-Aktions, oppression, labor and extermination camps–brought results. The number of Jews dwindled and those who remained were packed into small, cramped spaces, several families to a single airless room, and confined to the ghetto. This was all in preparation for the final solution, full liquidation. Zborow, as I said before, was where the Germans had rounded up the Jews from the surrounding area, and after July 1942, the fate of Jezierna Jews was bound to the fate of the Jews of Zborow and vicinity.

[Page 179]

Dora Mantel, who survived Hitler's hell, told many stories about her experiences, but from my conversations with her I saw that she still had a lot to tell, and each time she adds new material to her stories.

In Zborow, Dora put on a white coat and became a nurse in the ghetto. The children used to call her “Mrs. Dora.” When we write about the Judenrat (Jewish Council), Ordnungs Dienst (storm–troopers), Lager–Verbindungsmanner (camp–intelligence agents), fighters in the ghetto and the partisans, we should also tell how Dora helped the sick, neglected, and unfortunate Jews in the ghetto and helped relieve their terrible suffering.

The Tzifris family lived in a tiny dark room–husband and wife and a few children. He had been a cobbler, but now lay paralyzed. His wife lay with a high fever; the neglected children ran around dirty, naked, and hungry. Desolation and need reigned in the tiny room. Dora happened to come in; the children cried and begged for food, the mother looked at her children and wept bitterly and the father gazed open–eyed at the ceiling as if help would come from above. Dora rolled up her sleeves, washed the father and the children, brought them some food and medicine for the mother. She visited them every day.

The Rebbetzin. She was a refugee from western Galicia who came to Zborow. Her husband, the Rabbi, died on the way, and their children were murdered in the Aktions [campaigns to murder Jews]. She lay alone on the floor of a little shed, her head full of lice, her whole body full of sores. Where she lay there was a fetid odor like a corpse repository. She lay there all alone. Whoever opened the door immediately ran away.

Her hair was greyish–white, her face pale, but she had a majestic appearance. She prayed with her prayer book in hand all day long. Forgotten by God and man, she lay there. Dora came to visit her. She went in and the old woman raised her head, looked at her closely and began to cry. “Who are you, my dear daughter?” she asked. She had not seen a soul for a whole week.

[Page 180]

Dora washed her, brought her medicine, changed her clothing. The old woman would bless her and tell her that for these good deeds Dora would merit life. Her ancestors, rabbis and virtuous men, would bring her case to the Master of the Universe and ask that she live and be well. She repeated this prayer every day.

A week later, during an Aktion, the old Rebbetzin was murdered. “I can still see her to this day, the old Rebbetzin who prayed for my welfare, and I hear her weak voice, her prophecy that I would remain alive,” says Dora. “Every year, on the date of the last Aktion, I light a memorial candle for the old woman's soul. She blessed me, that I should live, and I was indeed saved from the murderers,” Dora continues.

In the Zborow ghetto, there was a “hospital” for epidemic illnesses (typhus and cholera), in the synagogue. The Torah scrolls, the lecterns, tables and benches had been removed. On the floor, on a bit of straw, lay the sick men, women, and children, one next to the other, like herring in a vat, half naked, with high fevers. Every day, the Burial Society would drag out the dead bodies, and their places were taken by new victims. It was horrible to see. Lice bit them, fleas leaped over them, bed bugs crept all over, and the helpless sick people lay there. The only Jewish doctor would come in once a day and Nurse Dora a few times a day. She was well known. When she entered, the sick people would stretch out their hands and ask for help. She had a comforting word for everyone and tried to help everyone, but what could she do?

Hundreds of people expired in the dirt and desolation, in the fetid odor, with the smell of dead bodies. The conditions created by the epidemics liquidated a sizable number of the Jews in the ghetto.

Dora also told how the camp commander killed 19 Jews who had committed a terrible crime–they had brought food into the ghetto, and she, the 20th person on the list, miraculously remained alive. She believed that the old Rebbetzin, with her rabbinical and virtuous forefathers, had been intermediaries for her survival.

[Page 181]

Antoshu Suchinski was a rare soul. Neither a priest nor of any stature, he was a simple young man of no means, who was blessed with a heart full of mercy. During the Shoah, he was moved to action by rare, deeply felt instincts, for which he has been honored with the designation "righteous among the nations."

Antoshu was raised under harsh circumstances and did not learn to read or write. He suffered from a debilitating illness as a young age and never regained full strength. But though physically weak, he was blessed with spiritual strength, and his noble instincts were buttressed by his Baptist faith, which supported his inclination and provided him with an understanding and appreciation of the value of mankind and all manner of life.

Though he did not know how to read, he could recite biblical passages. Under Nazi rule, Anoshu was sent off to a labor camp in Germany, where he heard terrifying rumors about the annihilation of the Jews. Shaken to his core, he did not rest until he managed to find a way to return to Zborow, his hometown. Here began his blessed mission-to help and rescue six souls, including the Zeiger family, which today resides in the United States and has remained in contact with him and supportive of him through the years.

Itche Zeiger, Whom He Saved		The Savior Anton Suchinski

I. Zeiger, of blessed memory, who, with his family, was rescued by Antoshu Suchinski, proved his merit by coming to the aid of slave laborers at the R. V. Plant. He earned praise for his refusal to collaborate with the leaders of the Judenrat, who sought him out for his courage and physical strength. But Zeiger was not lured by them and preferred to undergo the same treatment as his tortured brothers and sisters.

The many hardships he endured during Hitler's war took their toll; his health deteriorated and his last years were filled with illness and pain. He died in the United States in 1971, leaving a wife and two sons.

[Page 182]

Dear Landsmen, we gather here at the memorial for our town's martyrs, for the tree-planting ceremony in their memory.

The deed itself–the planting of 100 trees, was accomplished a while ago, but due to the Shmita year, the ceremony was postponed until today. By planting trees, like any other activity in which we partake in memorializing our town's community, we wish to express in part our deep pain over the bitter fate of our brothers and sisters and our aim that their memory will live forever.

Nothing in this world can serve as restitution for their deaths; however, there is no doubt that among the elements of the pioneering creation allegory in this land, the contributions, aspirations, and longings of our dear ones played an important role. All of these were crystallized and strengthened in us, leading to the desire to build and create the spirit of heroism and sacrifice.

The freed and developing capital of Israel and the gateways of which we stand today testify to that. Also the green landscape here and the heroism stories of our people are testimony. It is, therefore, sevenfold sorrowful that our dear ones, our flesh and blood, most of whom went out on the path with us, did not live to witness this magnificent sight in front of us.

Let the trees we plant now flourish and serve as a memorial for our dear ones who did not live to see the fulfillment of their aspirations.

The Memorial Stone in Ya'ar HaKdoshim, Zborow's plot #188, gate 16

[Page 183]

Based on the verbal and written testimonies of the survivors, particularly those of Leib Kronisch, z”l, and may he live long, Tzvi Fuhrman, a group of Jews headed by Levi Remer was secretly organized in the ghetto to defend and fight with weapons against their oppressors, the Germans and Ukrainians. The names of the other group members known to us: Binyamin Plisner, Moshe Hammer, Silberg, Dolek Raubfogel (who was killed at the entrance to the underground's bunker), Josef Zeigersohn, Margolis (a relative of Leib Kronisch), and two dear and educated young men, Risak from Lwow, and Henk from Warsaw.

In the following article, the story of their failure and the tragic death of people in the group is told.

A Ukrainian who presented himself as a partisan claimed he wished to form a connection between the Jews and the partisans. The story sounded logical to the members of the underground, so they nominated a youth to be the connection between the partisans and themselves. They handed notes to the youth (non-Jewish, who served as the connector) containing various pieces of information to hand over to the partisans. Those notes were given directly to the Germans.

A few days before the Germans decided to liquidate the ghetto for good, they invited Yakov Fuchs to the police station. They began interrogating him about the underground, and after they were unsuccessful in getting anything out of him, they broke his legs and arms and then murdered him.

A short while after that, during the early hours of the morning, the ghetto was surrounded by the Germans and the Ukrainian police, and the final liquidation had begun. Levi Remer turned to the Jews and urged them to rise up and escape, but nobody responded to his call. At that point, the underground people opened fire on the Germans from the roof of Lana Praeger's house. The Germans retreated and called for reinforcements. They brought fuel to the house, dipped rags with the fuel, lit them up, and threw them at the house, which immediately caught fire.

Bomek Adler, Binyamin Plisner, Josel Zeigersohn, Moshe Hammer, and Margolis jumped out of the burning house. Bomek Adler, who knew about the bunker at the home of Moshe Schechter, where Tzvi and Dvora Fuhrman, and others hid, escaped to there. The Pole, who resided at that house and who hid the Jews, helped him to enter the bunker. Binyamin Plisner and Moshe Hammer were murdered in the vicinity of the bunker by the Ukrainian Krasotzky. The people who hid in the bunker heard him entering the house and asking the Pole for water to wash his bloody hands. To the Pole's question as to the reason for the blood, he answered that he had just killed Binyamin Plisner and Moshe Hammer with a pick-axe.

Two other escapees were caught a short while later and executed. Tzvi Zeigersohn and Silberg survived until a short time before the liberation.

The circumstances around the death of Levi Remer are unknown. He was probably killed on the roof of the house along with the others whose names we do not know.

[Page 184]

The first time was in 1939 when the Soviets conquered all of Eastern Galicia's cities, immediately outlawed all Zionist activities, and closed all the clubs of the various parties and youth movements. Levi did not put up with that. He took upon himself an enormous risk that could have cost him his life. He moved to Lvow and established an underground center of the Gordonia movement. In Lvow, he found a friend from the days of the Hakhshara [training for pioneers], and together, they organized a quiet activity that lasted until the Germans opened war against the Russians.

We learned about his revelation and greatness from Holocaust survivors. The details were few, but from them, a unique figure emerges who did not give up and did not put up with extermination without resistance. He rose up and gave a speech that urged the Jews to immediately leave the ghetto because the Germans were coming to exterminate them. He and his friends did not settle for just talking and opened fire on the Germans with the few weapons they managed to acquire. They did not have any doubt or illusion about the results of that battle, but they felt that they had to save the honor of their tortured people, and so after an exchange of shots, they fell in battle. Later on, people said that the weapons were malfunctioning. The weapon sellers had just cheated them.

Levi Remer grew up in a poor home. His father died when he was a child, and the burden of taking care of four orphans (three sons and a disabled sister) fell on the shoulders of his mother. When the sons grew up somewhat, they began to work part-time and ease the burden of their mother. All the sons possessed “golden hands,” but Levi excelled, particularly in art painting, which allowed him to earn some money. He also found time to study in a Hebrew school (in addition to the Polish state school), where he discovered his great love for Hebrew literature and immersed himself in reading fine Hebrew literature. He agreed to give private lessons to various students and earned some money from that too.

Levi was one of the first members of Gordonia, and the movement's club became his second home. Here, he covered the walls with his pictures and quickly became a beloved consoler. He participated in all Zionist activities in the city and particularly, he helped the Hebrew school.

All his friends made Aliyah one by one but he first made sure that his brothers made Aliyah and hoped that one day he could do the same with his old mother and disabled sister. He was not ready to leave them alone.

Where is the poet who would sing the life poem of that young Jew, and where are the words that could express that tragic speech he gave before falling in battle? May his name be remembered among the names of Israel's heroes.

[Page 185]

Binyamin Plisner, z”l

Binyamin could not put up with the fact that the Germans and their collaborators, the Ukrainians, would exterminate them without resistance. He rose up against them with his friends, and, using the few weapons they acquired, fought until they fell.

He was one of the founders of the Hitachdut party and one of its activists. He was also among the founders of the first soccer team in the city and one of its players. That same team invoked a dispute and fierce resistance from the religious circles.

There wasn't an area in Jewish public life in the city that Binyamin was not active in. He always did everything modestly, without standing out and without asking for honors. His delicatessen became a club for young Zionists. Although this interfered with his livelihood, he held back and accommodated it with love. He never raised his voice against anyone and always knew to explain his ideas quietly.

We raise his memory with love, sadness, and pride. May his name be remembered among the heroes of Israel.

A Map of the Railroad Tracks that Led to the Belzec Extermination Camp

[Page 186]

Tzi Katz

In the beginning of September 1939, when the Germans attacked Poland, and many of the people in my little town called Kamionka Strumilowa [from 1918 to 1939; after WW2 called Kamianka-Buzka, in Ukraine, near Lvov] were very scared; many of the young Jews including myself decided to escape east to Russia.

Fleeing, we suffered great hunger but we did not dare ask the local Ukrainian population for help. This was because we had witnessed the hate and anti-Semitism of the Ukrainians as they awaited the coming of Hitler. The nights were cold and we did not have shelter. When we arrived at the Russian border, we were refused entry.

To our surprise, the war ended when the Germans and the Russians signed a treaty and divided Poland between them, and we could go back to our homes. But we also realized that this situation was not going to last for a long time and that the Russians had started to send to Germany all kinds of goods. This continued until the war between Germany and Russia broke out in 1941.

This came as a big surprise to us. At that time, many Jews were a little leery about fleeing to the east remembering that in 1939 they were denied entry into Russia. [The Molotov-Von Ribbentrop Pact-a secret protocol-was a non-aggression pact between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union that enabled the two powers to partition Poland between themselves. This pact was signed in Moscow on August 23, 1939. It was terminated on July 30, 1941]. My brother Szulim Katz and I and a few more young men decided to flee no matter what. It was not easy because the Russians were retreating using all available means of transport. I took a horse and buggy that I had used at my job. We kept it for a few days until we ran out of hay and then we continued by foot to Kyiv, about 500 km [312 miles] away.

On the way we experienced many adventures. We were often stopped by the Russians because they thought we were German spies planted by the Nazis. It was not easy to convince them that we were refugees. We did not have any documents on us and they did not believe that we had come all this way on foot.

In Kyiv, we said goodbye to some friends who did not want to enlist in the Russian army and preferred to continue to the east. We (two brothers) enlisted in the Russian army and a few days later we started our journey east. We did not have any military experience, but we had the desire to push back the German army and it was so strong that it helped us overcome all kinds of obstacles that came our way.

We started wandering from one place to another because it was the time of the biggest German victories. At times, we would run into German soldiers. I remember an incident where some of the Russian soldiers and I were sent to a small town called Sorochyntsi [birthplace of the writer Nikolai Gogol] near Myhrhorod [Poltava Oblast, Ukraine] to bring bread from a bakery. When we got there, we saw German soldiers in the bakery. They had come for the same reason. We were scared and ran back to our camp that was ready to move forward again.

The next stop was at the outskirts of Kharkiv. I do not remember how long we were there but it was a short time because Kharkiv was conquered even before Kyiv was conquered and Kharkiv is about 500 km [312 miles] east of Kyiv.

We went all the way close to Stalingrad. Our military battalion was positioned in two villages, Nyjehni and Gorodishche Solonnovesk. The conditions were extremely bad. It was the winter of 1942-43, and fighting took place in and around Stalingrad.

[Page 187]

The temperature was about 40° F below zero. On top of this, there were pandemics and illnesses. Lots of people died. The medical care was very bad or non-existent. There was no medicine. There was no way to get supplies. We could not start our machinery because of the bitter cold and the only means of transportation were sleds.

The change in the battlefronts came after the Stalingrad battles when the Russians started to push back the invading military. Our unit was sent over to the east, very far, all the way to Cheklov—probably to give us some rest. Even after the short rest, we were left very far from the battlefield.

Then after Cheklov, they shipped us over to Guryev on the shore of the Caspian Sea. The weather there was horrible. In summer, the temperature was 104 F, day and night. I just want to point out that the entire time I served in the Russian military, we never felt any anti-Semitism and there was no discrimination toward the people that fled from Poland. We had the impression that they did not care where each of us came from.

In Guryev, we stayed until 1946, a year after the war ended. Although the Russians were short of soldiers on the battlefields, they kept us back. This was probably because they used to refer to us as the westerners and they did not fully trust us. This type of behavior only applied to other minorities, but not toward the Jews.

At the beginning of the war, we did not feel any discrimination until we arrived in Guryev. To me, the way they treated us did not change even though they knew that I enlisted so I could be repatriated. I do not understand what caused this change. As far as I know, the people from Poland and Bessarabia were doing their jobs just like other soldiers. We stayed in the Soviet Union for a long time but what happened to our people who stayed under Nazi control was much worse than our situation. We just did our job and do not deserve any special recognition for what we did.

[Page 187]

The Righteous Among the Nations in Our Town Translated by Moshe Kutten Jan Pablitzki – Polish priest Wladek and Steifa Leshchinskh,       her sister Helka, and       brother Genik Shinkeivitz       Pedko Potorski – Farmer Shumanska – Woman farmer in Tustoglowy Kasha Rezomkvitz – Woman farmer in Tustoglowy Bigos – Farmer Kurchovski and his wife – Teacher The names of all of them were mentioned in the book except the name of Bigos. He hid several of our town's Jews.

[Page 188]

With the entry of the Soviets into Zborow in 1939, four members of the Beita”r movement, me among them, organized making Aliyah to Eretz Yisrael. We planned to illegally cross the border with Romania and travel to Kolomey [Kolomyia] for that purpose. We united there with a Beita”r group from Pabianitz. Together we traveled to a town called Zablotow. There, we contacted a woman smuggler to lead us to the other side of the border, but the Russians caught her, and she snitched on us. When we passed to the other side of the border, we found ourselves in the hands of the Russians. They arrested us and transferred us to Poplienik, where we met many of the Beita”r people and people from other movements. We were moved to Kolomea, Stanislawow, Lvov until we arrived in Vinnitsya. There, the indictment against us was issued. Altogether, we were more than 50 people in the room when they ordered us to stand in formation and read the sentences. Everyone signed their own sentence. They sentenced me in absentia because, at that time, I lay in the hospital from the beating I received during the interrogation. They beat me to snitch on the people I was with.

One of my friends who stayed with me at the hospital told my friends that I had died. They gathered a minyan and said kaddish for me. They proceeded to distribute all my belongings to whoever needed them. When I returned in September, I did not find any of my friends or belongings. The jail authorities decided to put me in the cell of the Polish police. When I entered the cell, I found there some Polish policemen acquaintances from our town (Mandyuk, Zureivitz, and others). In October, I received my sentence–eight years in a labor camp. After my appeal, they reduced the punishment to five years in a labor camp. I was transferred from one jail to another in the cities of Vinnitsya, Kiev, Kharkov, Moscow (Taganka Prison), Kirov, Gorki, Arzamska [?], Penza, Ufa, and at the end, I arrived in a labor camp about 7 kilometers [4 miles] from Ufa on 11/30/1940.

When I stayed at the jail in Gorki, the wardens asked if anybody wanted to write letters. Until then, my family had never received any news from me. I was isolated among the political prisoners. I used the opportunity to write and give a sign of life to my parents. I wrote a few words and sent the letter. The letter arrived, but I did not receive an answer because I left Gorki a few days later. I wrote a second letter home from the labor camp in Ufa. That time I received an answer, and it became known in Zborow that I was alive and healthy. I received many letters after that from my parents, Moshe Shapira, Schmil Hollander, and Levi Remer, z”l.

We worked four hours a day and then studied for another four hours. We did not receive any newspapers. They only read articles to us. Nevertheless, I knew what was happening on the outside. In October, they changed our schedule, and we began working six hours a day and studied four hours. At the time, the war was at its peak. I was the lone Pole and the only Jew in the camp. One day, the prosecutor of the Bashkirian Republic [of which Ufa is its capital] arrived at the labor camp. As a manager of a barracks, I turned to him and told him that I heard the Polish natives had received a pardon. As the only Pole in the camp, I asked him to free me and send me to the Polish army. On 12/28/1941, I received a pardon and left the camp.

After leaving the camp, I met one of the wardens in Vinnitsya's jail, and he guided me on how to reach the Polish Army. I served in the Polish Army and reached as far as Yengiyul [in Uzbekistan]. I fell sick with typhus there. A Polish polkovnik ordered the removal of all Jews (we were 18) from the ranks, claiming that Jews had nothing to do in the Polish Army.

I was freed from the Polish Army and looked for ways to make Aliyah to Eretz Yisrael. After many hardships, I boarded a ship, and in 1948, I set foot on the soil of the motherland.

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