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On September 1 1939, when Hitler's Germany began its war with Poland, I was on active military duty in the 10^th Ulaner regiment stationed in Bialystok. Our regiment receive an order to move to Lomza to set fire to the city in case it fell into German hands. After, we moved back to the river Niemen where we encountered a Jewish partisan group. They persuaded us, Jewish soldiers, to lay down our arms because the Red Army was due to march into western White Russia.

M. Pelz, writer of these memoirs, after liberation

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mostly Jewish soldiers from the Polish army, who because of antisemitism and persecution were forced to leave their units.

My unit, where I was the only Jews, arrived at Grodno. There we saw Soviet tanks. The officers issued an order that we should go into battle against the tanks with swords alone. Understandably, such an unequal contest did not last long. We all ran away in great panic. Not until the border with Lithuania did the regiment reform, taking in the beaten- up and fleeing military groups. In the new regiment, they spread antisemitic leaflets, and every Jewish soldier was cynically given to know his origin. “Zido Komuno!”^[1] –was heard at every occasion.

It appears that the officers finally realized that from such an army they would not benefit. So they lined us up, and asked who was sick or wounded. These were immediately sent to hospital. The rest were paid, held for three days, and then ordered to go wherever they wanted. Me and 16 other soldiers rode away on the cavalry horses. Near Ostrow, we came on Soviet tanks. The Russians confiscated our horses, and told us to go home. They also told us to carry a white kerchief–the symbol of capitulation.

After wandering about, I came to Bialystok, and went to see my townspeople–the brothers Beinish and Israel Migdal, sons of the lumber merchant, Isaac Migdal. They had been living for the last few years in Bialystok. Unfortunately, they weren't able to tell me anything about our shtetl. The lack of knowledge and uncertainty about the fate of my family drew me to Markuszow. I set off for the river Bug on foot. Since the bridge had been blown up, I returned to Baranowicka. Jewish militia in the city connected me, as a freed Polish soldier, with the local Soviet authorities, and I arrived in Brest-Litovsk via Bereza in one of their automobiles. The city was flooded with refugees from western Poland. I looked for my townspeople but found no one. Many refugees however knew that Markuszow had been bombed, and was completely burned down. This news strengthened even more my desire to go home.

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I went to Wlodawa. The Lublin Jews who were there tried to dissuade me from going to Markuszow. They described the German atrocities in Lublin and in other places warning me of the danger. I allowed myself to be persuaded and returned to Brisk. There, the Soviets arrested me, because I was still wearing the uniform of the Polish army. When the detainees were being transported to the railway station in order to be sent to another place, I was able to slip away from the transport. I got work in a mill and temporarily settled in.

I did not, however, stop thinking about my birth shtetl. The fact that I had no news of Markuszow threw me into despair. I was strongly drawn to go home to my parents, and siblings from whom I had been separated for many months because of my military service. Once, by chance, I met a fellow townswoman in the street, Rivkah Zilberman. She told me she had come from Markuszow, and that since my parents had been sure that I had been killed at the front, and I was no longer among the living, they sat shiva for me. That made it clear to me that I must, at all costs, get to Markuszow.

Along with my friend who had served in the same regiment as I, a resident of Kuzmir, Shmuel Rosenblit, we left for Domaczewo. With the help of border smugglers, we crossed the Bug and found ourselves on German-occupied Polish territory. We set off through the forest, and to our great surprise, we were stopped by a Soviet patrol. We were taken to a guard station where there were many Jews. Many of them had been accused of smuggling watches. The following morning, they asked us where we intended to go. As I had earlier learned that they sent you in the direction opposite to the one you wanted, I said I wanted to go to Russia. They therefore, put me with the group that was selected to go to Germany.

On December 20 1939 we crossed the river Bug in boats. As soon as we touched the shore, the same farmers who had been paid well for crossing the river, attacked us, beating us mercilessly, and stole everything. We barely got away with our lives. Not until night did we reach a small house in the forest, ate something, and for the rest of the night wandered on until Parczew. There we hired a female Jewish

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carriage driver to take us to Lubartow. After driving on for a few minutes, we were stopped by three Germans.

“Are you Jews?”
“Co pan gada?”^[2] We answered back in Polish.

The Germans let us go, and we arrived at Lubartow. We did not want to go into the shtetl knowing that there was not one Jew left there. We went off to Markuszow on foot. In the village of Wola Przybyslawska we encountered the wife of Kafe Zisel. I asked her to prepare my parents beforehand for the news that I would be coming home shortly.

At the end of December 1939 I arrived at my hometown having left one and a half years ago. The ruins of the burned-down and bombed houses made it difficult to find the way home. Only in the center, by a miracle, a few houses stood, and among them–our house. I directed my steps there. On the way, I met several shtetl Jews who greeted me warmly, like a “guest from another world.” And who can describe the joy, emotions, and deep experiences of my parents and the whole family who saw me hale and alive, after having sat shiva for me. They led me into the house with love and tenderness, and many Jews in town came by to wish my parents mazel tov, and a sholem aleichem to me. And just as they wanted to know what was going on in the wider world I had just come from, so I burned with curiosity to learn everything that had happened in the shtetl since the outbreak of the war. I learned about the great wave of refugees that had rolled through Markuszow in the early days of September, the march-through of the retreating Polish army, and the frequent bombings with incendiary bombs that destroyed the shtetl. After the first flight over Markuszow, the majority of the Jews fled to the surrounding villages. My parents had hidden in Staroscin. When it had quieted down a bit, they came back to only ruins. Even the German authorities could not establish themselves in Markuszow because of a lack of suitable houses. They headquartered in Garbow, 5 km from us. Thanks to the German absence, the Jews could move around freely and occupy themselves with

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food supply. Markuszow and its surroundings were always known as a wheat center. Transports to starving Warsaw took place in those days. A number of Jews did good business from it. I related my experiences and then asked, “Why are you still here?” I told them that I came from a land where people walk around with their heads held high, and there isn't the fear like with local Jews, that the only goal I had for coming back was to take my family over the river Bug, and get them settled on Soviet soil.

A number of Markuszow Jews wanted to tear themselves out of the German control, but the fear of a closed border held them back. I succeeded in persuading my brother, Eliyahu, my brother-in-law, Velvl Laterstein, and several other Jews to go to the Bug. The river, already frozen was strongly guarded on both sides. They returned disappointed and despondent. I did not, however, give up on getting away from the Germans, and I strongly pleaded with my parents they should let my younger brother and I leave. My parents, like most Jewish parents in those turbulent times, did not want to be separated from their children. It was hard to oppose the parents' desire–and we stayed put.

Winter 1940. Huge blizzards blocked the roads. The Germans settled themselves in the new shul building in Markuszow. They began to detain Jews for certain kinds of labor. At first–peeling potatoes for their kitchen. After–clearing the snow from the road. They also took women, youngsters, and old people for this work. They apportioned a section of road for each person, and established a standard for how much needed to be cleared in a day. While grabbing Jews they would beat them and constantly shout “verfluchte Juden.”^[3]

With time, they stopped grabbing Jews on the street for labor, and turned the job over to the Judenrat. From the Gestapo and gendarmerie in Pulawy an order arrived to create a Judenrat in Markuszow. To our astonishment, the Jews in the shtetl received complete freedom

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to determine its composition. It was constructed along the following lines:

Shlamke Goldwasser–president (he was a grandson of of the Markuszower rav), Itzchak Fishbein–secretary (ex-representative of Betar commander, a young man), and as member–Mechl Wiener, ex- chairman of the Markuszow community, Chaim-Yosl the shoichet, and Sender Fishbein (Vevi's). Now the Judenrat required the Germans to go through them if they wanted Jewish workers, and they would supply them. A list of work-capable people was made, and during the great frosts, they were forced to clean the Markuszow-Pociecha road. After, they brought large rocks to this place and Jews had to break them up to provide material to widen the Warsaw-Lublin road. We received work cards that allowed us to buy bread from the Polish baker. The overseers for the work were Poles from Silesia who behaved very badly toward the Jews, but with bribery and alcohol (they liked drinking) it was possible to somewhat soften the stony hearts.

After finishing the roadwork, we were taken to the train station to Pulawy where we unloaded heavy rocks from the freight cars.

Lives were at risk in the shtetl under the German occupation. Many Jews had returned and had begun to rebuild the ruined homes. Most of the time the building material consisted of wood, tin and even lime. This was of course illegal building activity. The bribed Polish police was aware of this but kept silent. There were two informants, Poles, who used to tell the Germans everything. A significant bribe forced them too to ignore certain events.

The Germans frequently demanded geese, butter, eggs, and whiskey from the Judenrat. These demands used to be made every Monday, when the market took place. The cost of such “gifts” was high, and Jewish Markuszow had to cover all the expenses. For the price of these food packages, it was often possible to avert subsequent anti-Jewish decrees.

The decree of requiring the wearing of arm-bands did not pass us by either. Every Jew over the age of 12 had to wear the yellow armband with the Star of David.

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Children of 12 were considered of work age, but the Judenrat succeeded in making it lighter: only 14-year-olds and up were to be sent to work. German demands, however, always increased. The more they got the more they wanted. The Judenrat's coffers emptied out. It was hard to keep up with the murderers' desires. The Judenrat had to tax the better-off Jews who brought the money with little enthusiasm to the treasurer of the Judenrat–Shlamke Goldwasser. He bought the packages for the Germans.

Then an order came out from the Pulawy labor office to send out 35 Jews to work in the Janiszow camp near Kuzmir.^[4] The Judenrat was able to negotiate the number. Twenty-three Jewish youths from Markuszow, and I among them, went off to Janiszow.

The camp was on the banks of the Vistula, surrounded by barbed wire. We worked under the supervision of Ukrainians, and one SS officer. Our work consisted of digging canals and ditches to regulate the flow of the Vistula in order to prevent flooding. We were half-naked while digging the sandy earth, and thinking about the end nearing when we would be exchanged for another group. We also worried about those left behind in the shtetl from whom we had been torn away. The system instituted in the camp did not permit for too much introspection. Five AM–the call to wake up. They counted to verify the number of slave-laborers. After, we made coffee with the river water, and got a half of a kilo of bread for the entire 24 hours. Arriving at the work site, everyone was given a section of canal and ditches to dig, or to fill the bulwarks of the Vistula. After a 9-hour workday, when the work assigned was completed, we marched back to the barracks where we received a bowl of soup. Thanks to the food we brought from home, we did not suffer from hunger. We also bought food for money in Janiszow. Our beds consisted of planks, 3 tiers. We covered ourselves with the blankets that we had brought with us. The barracks were unheated, and a biting cold ate at everyone's bones. While bathing in the river, we washed our lice-filled shirts.

They did not beat us in the Janiszow camp, although from time to time they made us line up and perform exercises, or run, or

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forced us to clean the place within 5 minutes.. There were also Jews in the camp from Wawolnica, Kurow, and Konskowola.

When the first 23 workers had left the shtetl, the Judenrat promised to exchange them for another in a month's time. Our parents did not want their children to work away from home, torn away from their homes. After we had been working in the camp for two weeks, the Judenrat member, Chaim-Yosl the shoichet, traveled to Janiszow on a broad wagon pulled by two horses, and brought food and clothing for us, as well as “presents” for the overseers. Chaim-Yosl assured us that the agreement would be kept, and we would be freed when the time came and another group would be sent. When the four weeks passed, and there was no news from Markuszow, four of us, after bribing the guards, went to Januszow in order to telephone home. Jews lived freely in Januszow, didn't wear armbands, carried on business unmolested, and didn't even know about the forced labor by Jews in occupied Poland. The Jews of Janiszow at the time still wore their beards and did not feel at all the harsh anti-Jewish ordinances.

I went to the post office and asked them to call my father to the phone at the Markuszow post office. In a few words, I told him about our conditions in the camp, and asked when they would exchange us. My father replied that he does not rest and was always demanding of the Judenrat that they keep their word.

The Judenrat kept their word, and were only 7 days late. After 5 weeks of working in the Januszow camp, 15 other youths from Markuszow replaced us. For providing such a small number, it was necessary to intervene with the labor office in Pulawy and a larger bribe. I made my way home.

Pesach 1941. German soldiers appeared in Markuszow. In groups, they went into Jewish houses. In one house they found the son of Chaim shoichet hiding in a closet, and shot him then and there. A big panic ensued in the shtetl, because there was nowhere to run to anymore. We were surrounded on all sides. When the Germans finally left,

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we consoled ourselves with the fact that it had only cost one Jewish life. Almost the whole shtetl took part in the funeral of the murdered Jew, and the sorrow over the young life cut down mixed with fear of the future.

On the eve of the outbreak of the German-Russian war (July 22 1941)^[5], military echelons, autos, tanks, artillery and encampments stretched constantly through Markuszow. During such passes through, the Jews would lock themselves in their houses or in hiding places. Day and night, we heard the loud noises of the war machines, the singing and cries of the soldiers traveling to the front.

Once, such a military echelon stopped in town. Everyone locked themselves in their houses and prayed that the uninvited guests leave as quickly as possible. In the late hours of the night, we heard banging on Jewish doors, and we were all scared to death. German soldiers were dragging young girls from their beds, and were doing whatever they wanted to them. Markuszow Poles helped them in this contemptible work, showing the Germans where to find pretty Jewish girls. The next day we were still locked up all day in the houses afraid to go out in the street as long as the Wehrmacht was still there. They finally left the shtetl and we could breathe easier.

The moment Germany began the war with the Soviet Union, antisemitism became much stronger both from the occupying power, and from the local Polish population. The bigger the success on the battlefield, the more extreme anti-Jewish decrees became. During the first winter of the Russo-German war an order was issued that all Jews had to give up their furs to the German army. He who did not carry out the order would be shot.

All the ways to get to the German authorities with whom we used to be able to deal with and to negotiate were cut off. The Markuszow Poles also openly and impudently expressed their impatience with the Jews, wanting to get rid of them faster. There was another reason for this: many Jews had hidden their possession with the Christians. So they were keen to inherit Jewish wealth as soon as possible.

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In spring 1942, 5 trucks with gendarmes arrived in the shtetl and ordered all Jews to go into their houses. The elder called out the Judenrat, and ordered them to immediately make a list of all Jews, without exception, who were in the shtetl. The chairman of the Judenrat, Shloime Goldwasser, managed to get the Germans to postpone the list for another day. Of course, moving the date, even one day, cost the Markuszow Jews a lot of money.

The next day we already knew that that same night the Germans and Ukrainians had surrounded the neighboring town of Korew, and the Jews there were taken away to an unknown destination. Several thousand Jews were thus torn from their homes, and sent to their death.

The following day, the Judenrat was called to Pulawy and calmed down by telling them that there was no danger threatening Markuszow Jews. Their only desire was that every Jew in Markuszow, young and old, should be ready to work wherever he was sent.

We were not allowed to rest for long. As soon as the murderers left Korew, they came to Markuszow and ordered all the Jews to appear at the square opposite city hall. The order stipulated that any Jew found in his house would be shot. From early on, we saw parents and their young children going to the city square. By 7 AM the whole shtetl was assembled there. Three cars carrying gendarmes and Ukrainians quickly arrived. Their order was curt: to arrange ourselves in rows–men, women and children separate. A lament arose. Unhappy mothers, despairing fathers and confused children were separated, but quickly began to search for each other with wailing and cries. The murderers stood with their weapons pointed and rubber truncheons and sternly made sure their orders were carried out. Everyone was filled with fear, because no one knew the goal of the bandits. This time the hellish spectacle did not last long. They surrounded the group of older people and led them to the shul building. There they remained under strong guard. The rest were told to go home. They quickly left this tragic place and many then left the shtetl.

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The captives were then led to the train station in Naleczow on foot.^[6] Those who had no strength to walk were shot along the way. In that way the Markuszow water-carrier, the wife of Pinchas Israel Itche's, Yehoshua-Tuvye Friedman, and others whose names I can't remember now were killed. When the driven Jews arrived at the station, they were immediately forced into freight cars that were already waiting, and took them to an unknown destination.

After the first transport was sent out, it was forbidden for the remaining Jews to live in the center of town. They stuffed us into the back streets. The crowding in the small rooms was extraordinary. Over 10 people were forced to live in one room. There was not even enough room for a bed. Everyone slept on the ground. Those able to work were taken to work every day: paving the road to Klody, or unloading freight cars in Pulawy, mostly–large rocks.

Locked in the ghetto, we often saw trucks traveling in the direction of Lublin. Cries from the trucks were heard, and from time to time, shooting. Jews in other shtetls were locked up in ghettoes.

In order to exist, we began to sell off things, because Markuszow farmers did not want to sell a kilo of potatoes for money. They only demanded merchandise, things, especially valuables. We now had to access the things hidden with the Poles they were loath to return. They knew that Jewish wealth would belong to them. Hunger and need reigned in the houses of the ghetto. Added to that, the baker, Shifra, was arrested because several loaves of bread were found in the cellar. She was taken to Pulawy, to the Gestapo, and each one of us was afraid that they would shoot her there. They also called the Judenrat to Pulawy, and we felt that a difficult fate hung over our heads. Shlomke Goldwasser returned from Pulawy and reported that Shifra the baker would be freed. We imagined to ourselves how much money and gifts such a freeing had cost. It didn't bother the Germans to let their victim go

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for a few more days. They knew that sooner or later we would be killed. That's how they played their cat-and-mouse game.

Since the case with the baker, everyone was afraid to have any spare bread. They therefore bought small coffee grinders to grind corn or wheat kernels, and secretly bake rolls on the glowing stove. While doing this, someone from the household would stand watch to make sure no uninvited guests showed up.

On may 7 1942, the Judenrat secretly informed us that, whoever was able, should save himself, because according to the sad news, on the 8th of May, the shtetl was to be emptied of Jews. Most of us knew what that meant. As a result, we quickly packed our bags and ran to wherever our eyes could carry us. For various reasons, the Markuszow Poles did not display much enthusiasm for helping us hide, and everyone was on his own. My parents and brothers went to the Babawisker forest. Through the night, almost all the Jews left the ghetto. My brother and I stayed not far from the shtetl in the hope that we might be able to save something from our home. But we were not successful this time. When day was dawning, we left for the village of Dabrowica, in the Jastkow gemina where our sister, Feige-Malke Letterstein was living. As soon as she saw us, she broke into tears, and asked about our parents. Unfortunately, we didn't how to answer her. After calming down, we explained that the Jews from the shtetl had run off in all directions, and that our parents had gone to the Babawisker forest. From there they would go somewhere further. I told my sister that our dear mother asked us to separate, because she and father, being older people, could not do what we younger people could. We always had a lot of respect for our parents, and in this case too, we obeyed our mother. After spending a day with my sister, I went back to Markuszow via back roads to find our parents. We now had the opportunity to see how the Markuszow Poles, especially the youth, spied along the roads and in the forests in order to discover Jews

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and hand them over to the Gestapo. They were rewarded for that. So proceeding with the greatest care, we came to a place where two Markuszow shkootzim^[7] sprang out. They related how Gestapo were looking for Jews everywhere, and that we had better get away from there as quickly as possible, it was awful here. For this information they requested a reward: to give them the money we had on us. They were Bogdan Opolski and Heniak Zgodzinski. To the question posed by my younger brother, whether they wanted all that we possessed, one of them answered, “Tak Zydzie!” (Yes, Jew!)

In a flash, we threw ourselves on them both, and beat them so well that they lost their enthusiasm for our money. We continued on our way, and we came to a forest where there were many Jewish families. They reported that our parents were on the other side of the forest. My father just asked for a little water to drink, and declared that all were exhausted, and could not go on further. We would stay in the forest and what God decides will be.

We did not, however, want to leave our parents. We succeeded in changing their minds, and at night we all went out on our way. That same night we got to Dabrowica, and settled the old one in at our sister's. In the villages of the Jastkow gemina, they had not yet started to deport the Jews. My two brothers worked as carpenters in the village and received food for us all.

At the end of June 1942 an order was issued that all Jewish residents of the Jastkow gemina had to present themselves to Belzec where they would be settled. As the farmers learned about this new decree, they no longer wanted to keep Jews, because to do so meant the death penalty. There was no other choice than to transfer to Belzec. About 100 families in the area had no other recourse. My sister and brother along with my parents decided to go away to Belzec, and whatever would happen to them would also happen to the children. I decided that I would go to another village in order to find a bunker for my family.

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At that time there was a nobleman's estate where there were young Jewish people working. Since there was a Gestapo detachment on that estate, 100 people were needed for field work. I decided to stay there.

That same evening, my younger brother, Motl, came and told me about the tragic fate of the Jews who were taken to Belzec. They were transferred to Lublin to the Majdanek death camp. At Belzec, armed Germans and Ukrainians were waiting and shot children and old people on the spot and drove the others into trucks. It's impossible to imagine such a bloodbath if you did not see it with your own eyes. My brother managed to sneak in amongst a group of young Poles, invited them for a coffee, and there over a glass of alcohol, waited out the storm.

We also quickly established that I would stay on the estate, and he would go to the forest where the first partisan groups were beginning to be established.

About one hundred boys and girls were found on the Jastkow estate. We worked hard in the fields from 6 AM until 12 without any breaks. For lunch we would come to the courtyard. Our overseers were Poles, armed with rubber truncheons. We slept in a separate house surrounded by barbed wire. The food was not of the best, but we hoped it would not get any worse. At night, we were guarded by the Polish workers, and it was hard to get out of the place. Nevertheless, one night I risked it, wanting to see my brother, and also to find out about the partisans. Aside from this, I knew many farmers in the area, and I wanted to get some provisions for me and the guys. I was present along with everybody at the morning roll call, but it seems someone betrayed me, because I was called out of the ranks, and given fifty blows of the rubber truncheon. They immediately lay me down on a bench, pulled down my shirt, and they rained fiery blows on my back. I had to bite my lips and not cry out, because that meant a greater punishment. Blood spurted from the open wounds, but I had to go to work the following day.

News came to the estate that

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partisans were operating nearby. The Germans behaved more strictly with us, we were surrounded by guards while working, and particularly at night. Six armed Ukrainians did not take their eyes off us. In spite of the strengthened watch, it was made known to me at lunch that my brother was in the dining room. He had come with three other partisans to our barrack where we slept, because there was no one there at the time, and they told our girls who worked in the kitchen about the reason for their coming. At lunchtime, the girls let them into the dining room because no outside people came there. The six^[8] partisans had small arms. If my memory does not deceive me the six partisans were: Motl Pelz, Itzchak Plashowitser, the brothers, Yosef and Lazar Kozak, Shaul Wichter, and Yerocham Gothelf. They were ready to take with them several men from the estate. We held, however, that it would be worthwhile waiting in order to organize ourselves better and go to the forest in a larger group. Afterward, we learned that the same night the partisans left us they had a run-in with Polish police and drove them off. At the same time, they warned the police if they didn't interfere with the partisans, they would be left alone.

The regime on the estate became harsher. We sensed a difference in the behavior of the Germans, Ukrainians and Poles to the Jews. The overseers began to display callousness and hooliganism. Once when we were returning to the barracks from the fields, one of us sat down next to the fence to rest. Without warning, a Ukrainian shot him and killed him on the spot. The actual bosses of the estate, the SS, on hearing the echo of the shot came running, and after they were told that a Jew was shot, they enthusiastically lauded the Ukrainian murderer. Still not appearing to have settled down from the event, they took a sick comrade from the barracks with the promise that they would take him to the hospital. They, however, took him 2 km away from the camp, and shot him in the field. Now we understood the intentions of the murderers, and we began to consider various plans to get away to the forest and join up with the partisans. Before that could happen,

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we began to smuggle weapons into the camp itself. Our goal was to come to the partisans with weapons n hand. In such cases, every new fighter was welcomed with open arms.

As soon as we received our first pistol, there was some thought of attacking the Ukrainians, taking their weapons, and escaping to the forest. After going over all the details of the plan, it became clear that we were putting the lives of a hundred Jews in danger, because not everyone was capable of participating in an open battle and escaping the camp. There were also some men and women there. Therefore it was decided to leave the camp one at a time. I was the first to say goodbye to friends and comrades. In the month of November 1942, while the Ukrainians were asleep, I stole out of the barrack and disappeared in the darkness of night. It was even dangerous to be out on the roads, because snow had fallen and all my footprints were visible. But going back was not an option. I went off to the Jastkow forest, and from there to the Wole forest where our partisans were supposed to be found. According to the sign and address my brother, Motl, passed on to me during his visit to the camp, I went to the farmer, Smolak, and gave him the password, “Kozaks” (that was what the partisan group called itself, after the name of a resident of the village Wole-Przybyslawska). This farmer was connected to the partisans. Smolak told me to wait until night when the partisans would come and link up with me. He led me to the forest where I met many Markuszow families that were hiding in bunkers.

The people told me that they have been set up in the bunkers for over a month. The Germans had not shown themselves in the forest the entire time, and relations with the farmers were not bad. The farmers provided food, and through the partisans they received news from the outside world. The partisans arrived in the forest around 8 o'clock in the evening. I was overjoyed to see my bother, Motl, and our friend, Yakov Gothelf. They brought greetings from other Markuszow Jews who were hiding in various places. They took me to the Kozlowka forest, not far from Kamionka.

A new world was revealed to me here. Right at first arriving, I saw the partisan group which consisted mostly of Markuszow

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Jewish youth. There were two Russian officers with them who had escaped from German imprisonment. It was really cold then, and all of them were sitting around the fire frying pig fat. There were also two girls in the group–Manye Laterstein and Sima Bronska. I was right away given a French rifle, and put on guard duty next to a tree. The rest went to sleep. After four hours I was relieved, and I went to rest for the first time in my partisan lair: a shallow ditch in the snow, my jacket on the ground, and my coat as a cover. The cold did not permit sleep, but there was no choice.

In the morning, the camp woke up. Every partisan got his ration at breakfast: a piece of bread with pig fat, and a little hot water from melted snow. After eating, we began to work out plans for the day. I described my life on the Jastkow estate, and proposed that we should get all the Jews out of there because danger threatened them. I explained that the guards were Ukrainians, and they practiced target shooting on the Jews. It would be right to rescue our brothers from there, transfer them to the nearby Wole forest where other Markuszow Jews were to be found.

End of September 1942. On a cold, frosty day, several of us left the forest, off to the neighboring villages with the goal of acquiring weapons and distributing them to the forest dwellers who were living in bunkers and striving to join the armed camp.

We came to the village of Saslawic late in the evening. According to previous information, we had the address of a farmer who had weapons. Because of the bad weather and the late hour, we spent the whole day at the farmer's. However, we held the farmer and his wife under house arrest, because we had a suspicion they would inform the Germans of our visit. On the second evening, we freed the farmer and left his hut in spite of the big snowstorm. Ten at night we went to another farmer who was supposed to have a rifle. The snow whipped our faces, and the wind whistled fearfully. We got to the place, surrounded the house, and David Ettinger and I went inside. We left

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Itzchak Fishbein and Yerachmiel Rubinstein on the road to guard, and Shmuel Laks stood at the window. As soon as the farmer opened the door, Yechiel Gothelf and Hershl Fishbein came in after us. We demanded the farmer give up his rifle that he had hidden from the first days of the war. The farmer denied having any kind of weapon, but we gave him to understand in a partisan way that it would be healthier for him to give up the instrument–until he took us to the stable to dig up the rifle. In the meantime we heard a shot, and a few minutes later we confirmed that Shmuel Laks had fallen down dead at the window. We opened fire, but without a target because the night hid everything. It was clear that we had to leave this place as quickly as possible. We placed the dead body of the partisan on a sled and took him to the nearest woods. We dug a grave with our rifles

Markuszow partisans in Lublin after liberation From left to right: Chane Kestelman, Mordechai Kershenblat, Moishe Pelz, and Shmuel Rubinstein

As soon as we got back to the forest, Laks's wife, Leah Bronska from Markuszow, asked us about Shmuel. We wanted to convince her that he had left with another group of partisans. But she had a premonition that the worst had happened, and she said that she could not imagine her husband would not first want to see

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his wife and child. She broke into spasms of weeping and it moved us all so much so that we decided to tell her the truth as bad as it was. Great was the tragedy for Leah Bronska and we felt how ineffective our words were of consolation and assurances that we would always remember our fallen comrade, take revenge for his young life, and take care of the orphaned wife and child.

Right after this, a resident of Staroscin, Yosef, came and in tears related how farmers from his village had found some of the hidden Jews, and with clubs in their hands, had driven them to the German station in Markuszow. We immediately grabbed our weapons and headed out to the road leading to the shtetl being certain that we would succeed in freeing the captives. Unfortunately, the road was empty and our brothers were already sitting behind bars in the Markuszow jail (“kozeh”)

It was a Sunday afternoon. From our stakeout we could see the farmers returning from church to their warm homes. We could not let go of the pain and trembling over the fate of the imprisoned Jews. We made a reckoning of what it meant for them. We returned to the forest and ordered all those who had no weapons to go to another forest. We had a mind to teach the farmers who had helped the Germans in their murder business against the Jews.

Before anything else, we planned an attack on Markuszow jail, and freeing the captives. We knew, however, that there were German gendarmes in the shtetl, and that such an action could fail. So we had to give up the plan, and began the search for those farmers who exchanged the life of a living Jew for a half-kilo of sugar–the German payment to their helpers. When the farmers learned that Jewish partisans were looking for them, many hid, and in most of the cases we did not succeed in uncovering them. So we set fire to the houses of those traitorous farmers, made attacks on the village, and let the residents understand that Jewish life was not worthless. The nearby villages now understood that handing a Jew over to the Germans was associated with mortal danger, because in the forest there was a well-armed Jewish partisan unit that would take revenge.

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Later we learned that the following day, Monday, in the middle of market day, gendarmes arrived from Pulawy. Under machine gun guard, the captured Jewish families were taken to the cemetery, made to remove their clothes and stand naked next to an open ditch, and were shot. The Germans invited the farmers who had come to the market to this “spectacle.”

Simcha Ettinger before being shot managed to shout, “My son is in the partisans, and he will take revenge for shedding innocent Jewish blood!”

The oldest son of Simcha Ettinger, David, was in the partisans with me, and always wanted to be the first at the most dangerous missions. He fell along with seven comrades in March 1944 just before liberation.

In 1943 we joined the well-organized partisan army of the Polish workers' parties (AL). Their headquarters were in Warsaw, and from there they carried out partisan actions across the country. We also heard that not far from us, in any case, in the Lublin region, there was another Jewish partisan group. One day, a colonel Miatek, representative of the AL came to see us, spent a few days with us, and proposed carrying out important acts of sabotage against the Germans. In order to demonstrate our readiness to join with the AL, we took his suggestion to tear up the rail lines at Motycz, because military transports to Russia went through there. The line was guarded by Ukrainians, but since they knew that there were partisans in the region, they hid at night and didn't carry out the usual patrols.

We left the forest and went off in the direction of Motycz. On the way we passed by the village of Garbow where there was a mechanical factory. We got in there, took various implements and French keys. Then we went to the train embankment. Four of us began with extraordinary swiftness to unscrew the screws that held the rails together. After completing the work, we quickly withdrew, hid not far away, and waited. After half an hour, with noise

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and commotion, the train arrived. When it came to the sabotaged spot, it went off the rails. The German echelon was now lying destroyed. There were dead and wounded soldiers under the smashed cars. Who can describe the joy that reigned on looking at the destruction to which we had contributed for the first time?

Our group (battle name “Holodi”) began to carry out new sabotage acts against the Germans. We lurked on the highways, shot at German columns, killed and wounded their soldiers, destroyed many autos. For the Germans it was now hard to move wherever we were. From time to time we would organize attacks on forces, communities, and recruit posts, destroying the mobilization papers to dig trenches, for forced labor in Germany, or for contingents of products for the German army. We destroyed a bunch of dairies, and for a while, freed the farmers from providing milk and butter for the Germans. At the first indication that a village was getting ready to hand over a consignment of pigs to the occupier, we went into the village, confiscated the pigs, and divided them up among the partisans and the impoverished villagers. In such a case, of course, we left the farmers a message that we, Jewish partisans, had seized the pigs, and distributed them to those who fight against the hated enemy. Our reputation and authority grew greatly among the farmer population. Now we were shown sympathy and help from all sides.

The German occupation power thought differently. They did not want to make peace with the idea that a frank and free partisan group should rule in their hinterland, especially a Jewish one. They began to prepare major attacks against us. First they sent Polish police with scent dogs, afterward, Ukrainians to search the villages and alert the Germans to any movements. There were, however, farmers friendly to us, especially among the prior members of the communist party. Those farmers let us know in advance of any appearance of German soldiers, or their Polish or Ukrainian helpers. In that way we knew who, when, and how many, asked about us, and sometimes, also about certain plans of the enemy against us. Such information, received in time, always made us able to

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stay away from the given place, and avoid crossing the path of the Germans which would not always end with our victory. But more than once we forced to mount a defense, and not let them into the forest. We knew that German soldiers, who demonstrate so much discipline, and criminal efficiency in cities and villages, become big cowards when they see a forest. That's why they changed to a different tactic: they would set fire to the woods when there was even a suspicion of partisans being there. They would also set fire to fields of wheat if they thought that fighters were hiding among the stalks.

The growth of the partisan movement under the influence of the leftist parties, as well as the constant advance of the Red Army at the fronts, activated a series of avowedly fascist organizations of a military character in occupied Poland that were ostensibly fighting the German occupier, but whose entire energies and strategies were actually engaged in murdering individual surviving Jews in cities and forests. These groups, known under the name of AK (Armia Krajowa)^[9] and NSZ (Narodowe Sily Zbrojne) (National Armed Forces), organized in many villages, fields and forests lairs and observation posts in order to spy on the Jewish partisans, and then mercilessly exterminated them. Our situation got more difficult, because now we had to deal with an enemy that knows the ground, and the environment, well, and also benefits from the support of the local population. In order to make it harder for them to find us, we agree to split into two groups. One group went to the forest, and settled into a well-masked bunker with two entrances. For someone uninformed about the existence of the hiding place, it would be impossible to discover. Twenty-eight boys and girls from our shtetl settled in there, and found a refuge for several weeks.

Three friends and I later left the bunker and went to the village of Ozarow to a farmer acquaintance of Yechiel Gothelf. He lived in the colony, and in a free empty field there stood a lone little house. We dug a bunker there, and lived in it for over three weeks. In that time the Germans carried out several raids in the village and

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the colony. Once, we could hear them talking, and could sense them sticking bayonets into the ground around the hut. They were very close to us, but since the entrance was in the outhouse, the Germans had little enthusiasm to search in such a place too much. And maybe it never occurred to them that people would want to hide there. Aside from that, snow covered the whole neighborhood, and wiped every sign of the underground bunker. We were lucky this time–and the Germans left with nothing.

Christmas 1943, we decided to get out of the bunker and find food for ourselves and for the ones hiding in the forest. All four of us went to the estate of the nobleman, Gutanow, whose owner was now a German. We stole two pigs, in order to give one to our host, the Ozarow farmer, and the other to take to the forest. At one AM we got on a sleigh and took off. The snow was deep, and a cold wind blew. But for us it was not a bother, because everyone was adept at handling the cold and the blizzards.

While riding along in the freezing night, we saw two figures in the distance. We quickly descended from the sleigh, lay down on the ground, and when the two approached closer, we yelled out in Polish, “Don't move, hands up!”

With hands in the air, the people began to get closer, and we immediately recognized our Markuszowers: Shmuel Melhendler, and Israel Meir Rosenzweig. With great joy they began to kiss us, and didn't know how to express their joy at this unexpected reunion. They related that now, exactly like every other night, they were looking for a place to spend the night at a different farmer. They had heard from the farmers about a Jewish partisan group, and their only goal was to meet these armed Jews. Our question, if they were ready to go with us, was met with a denial, because each one had a family hidden in various places, and they had to care for them. Shmai Melhendler's mother, and her younger brother, Motl, were hidden in one place, and Israel-Meir's sister and father were at another place. Their only desire was–weapons. We granted them a pistol with 7 bullets and asked them

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to be careful. We said good-bye and went on further to the bunker in the forest. This time it so happened that we drove through the fields of Garbow. Suddenly we saw a larger group of armed people. We jumped off the sleigh, took a position on the ground, and saw that the others were doing the same. They were yelling at us to come closer, and we yelled at them to come to us, hands up of course. It occurred to one if us to ask for a sign that they were Jewish partisans.

“Amcho?”^[10]
“Amcho!” a joyful voice replied.

They were 8 partisans from the forest bunker we were now traveling to with this fortune: a slaughtered pig. We all embraced, and this night was one of wonder: in such terrible times, two encounters in a field, and with our own…But the news we received disrupted our joy, and our fists clenched. According to a denunciation by the soltis,^[11] Germans, armed to the teeth, accompanied by Polish police, Ukrainians and dogs, entered the forest, found the hiding places, pumped in smoke, and asphyxiated everyone.

This is how yet more Jewish heroes from Markuszow were killed.

We went to stay with a farmer, and began to hatch various plans. One thing was clear to us: we had to leave the Garbow area, because they knew too much about us in the whole area. Every one of us was known, and further operations in the region were filled with danger. We quickly decided to transfer to the Lubartow neighborhood, because there were big forests there. But even there we were not destined to spend much time. After spending several days there, the Germans discovered our new place, and began their persecutions. On a dark night, we left Lubartow with the greatest precautions, crossed the river Wieprz, and got to the village of Przypisowka which was under the control of the Polish Workers' Party. There was also found a strong fighter contingent of the AL, led by the famous partisans, Yanek and Matchek. Now we were attached to the AL, and left for Ostrow-Lubelski with the unit. The shtetl was ruled by the partisans.

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There were also Russian fighters there, either having come over the border, or parachuted in from airplanes. They possessed first class weapons. There was a larger unit in Ostrow under the leadership of the legendary hero from the Soviet Union, Kolpak. We approached the Russians to allow us to join a Soviet unit, because our manpower and weaponry were too puny to carry out the new tasks. Their answer was: You will get weapons, but everyone must fight on his own turf.

Several days later, we got an order to meet a Soviet airdrop delivering weapons at night. We were supposed to set fire to straw at the location to show the airplane where to drop their valuable baggage. Halfway through the night we heard a roar, and from the sky there began to fall heavy packs. As soon as the planes left, we opened the packs, and we found to our great delight all kinds of weapons suitable for partisans.

Later we found out that the following day, German airplanes were seen over the same area, and noticed a pack that had landed in a tree. They opened fire on it, and a fearful explosion occurred. That exploded the material that was meant to destroy German echelons, and damage their train communications.

Enriched by the new weapons, we headed back to the villages in the Markuszow neighborhood, because there were some Markuszow girls still hiding in several bunkers: Dina Gothelf, Bluma Rubinstein, Bella Teitleboim, the woman, Itke, from the village of Staroscin and her seven-year-old child (They all survived, some in Israel, some in America). The danger from the Poles was now lessened in our neighborhood, because the AK had temporarily halted its murderous work against the Jews. But first we had a duty to care for our shtetl people, and to repay the farmer who had hidden them. By the end of 1943, we had found all those who had hidden in the bunkers in Wole. We provided them with food, with an encouraging word, told them about the developments on the front and–again continued the partisan march. The AL laid the most important and responsible duties on us knowing that the Jewish partisans would carry them out properly.

When we left the bunker to go over to a neighboring village, I began to experience a bad headache. I turned to my friends

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and asked if I could be excused for a little while, because in an encounter with the enemy, I would not be able to fight. The partisan, Isser Rosenberg z”l, (pseudonym, Ignace) went quickly to a village to find a secure place for me. It didn't take long and he returned happy to have found good quarters, I should not worry, because the partisans would not forget about me. The most important thing was for me to rest for 2-3 days and regain my strength. Isser Rosenberg arranged it with a number of farmers that each one should keep me for a given time, if the partisans failed to return quickly.

I was now all alone with the farmer. The condition of my health got worse, and the headaches became greater every day. My joy was great, therefore, when a group of partisans came to visit. They related how they had managed to detain a Pole who had been sent by the fascist Polish organization, NSZ, to spy on hidden Jews and partisans. Our boys took him into the house where I was staying, and identified him as Stashek, the brother of the Markuszow barber. We took his gun away and let him go. So Isser was sitting on my bed and telling me the whole story, and showed me the confiscated weapon. In the meantime, a partisan came in, began to examine the gun, and manipulate it. Suddenly a shot rang out, and an unintended bullet shot out of the gun and into Isser's heart. He fell on my bed and breathed his last.

We quickly harnessed a horse and wagon, put the body on it, and I–half dead from the illness, the high fever, and the tragic event, was set up next to him. We left for the forest to the bunker-grave of the 28 Markuszow partisans who had been asphyxiated from the smoke the Germans had pumped into the bunker of the Markuszow Jews, and buried Isser Rosenberg –the Jewish fighter of Markuszow.

When we had given the dead man his rites, they took me to a farmer, laid me in a stable, and told the owner that I was sick with Typhus. In reality, I did have Typhus. I lay there

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in the stall for 15 days, without Markuszower help, almost without water, and no one believed that I would survive such a severe illness. I did however overcome the Typhus–and became healthy again. One cold night they took me away from the stable and transferred to the village of Wole, 25 km away from the place I had been until now. In that village there was a bunker where a Jewish family, Shmuel Aaron Rosenstein, his brother-in-law, Moishe, and David from Lublin (they all live now in Rishon L'Zion) were installed. Along with me, they brought the partisan, Itzchak Plashower who had founded the first partisan group with my brother, Motl (fell in battle with the Germans in 1942). The Rosenstein family behaved to me with a lot of loyalty and care in this difficult time. Thanks to their devotion I became completely healthy in 6 weeks.

Ten partisans came to take me from the Rosensteins and move over to the partisan country in Ostrow-Lubelski. In order to make such a long journey we had to create a caravan–horses and wagons and provisions. So we headed to the Kozlowka estate which was in the hands of graf Zamoyski, ordered them to harness four horses and wagons, took a pig, and left in the direction of the river Wieprz. The deep snow increased the difficulty of the trip. After driving for a couple of hours, we stopped at the village of Dombrowka, in the Lubartow powiat. We set up in several houses near the forest, unharnessed the horses, and led them into the stable. We set up a guard that changed every hour. We spent the night there, and in the morning ate the prepared breakfast. Aside from the food we had with us, we had to drink a little alcohol, the only and the best cure for partisans on the road, especially on such a cold day.

When one of us went outside, he noticed a few figures in the forest, dressed in white smocks in order not to be seen on the snowy terrain. Before he could warn us of the impending danger, we heard shooting, and we saw the stable encircled by fire. We felt we were surrounded on all sides. But it was clear to each of us that no one could fall into

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the murderers' hands, and so we returned fire, and tried with all our might to escape from the siege. Bullets were flying everywhere, and we saw our first victim–Veve Laks who fell covered in blood on the snow. After him, a German bullet struck David Ettinger, who finished himself off not wanting to fall into the hands of the Germnas. Then the two brothers, Abraham, and Gershon from Plaszowic fell. Seven young Poles who had voluntarily joined our group also died in the battle. Only a few of us were able to avoid death, and get away from that terrible place. We lay hidden in various places until evening, because our fear that the Germans were hunting us was justified. It was only at night, when we came to the village of Grobina and saw that everything was surrounded by flames. This was the modus operandi of the Germans: wherever they saw partisans, they destroyed everything with fire. They ordered that the dead partisans be buried in a mass grave.

Two days later, we got to our group, and related the tragedy. Shmuel Laks did not want to believe that his brother, Veve, was dead. We calmed him down and consoled him, but everyone knew that the same death awaited us all.

In the shtetl of Ostrow, there was concentration of Polish, Russian, and a small number of Jewish partisans from the surrounding area. Since everyone knew the Germans were preparing to clean out the district of partisans, it was agreed to leave the shtetl, and head off toward Carpathian Russia. We were now a large army, and during the nightly marches our caravan stretched for kilometers. It is quite likely that the Germans knew about our march, because German airplanes flew over our heads and shot at us.

We came to the Parczew forests. There the Germans surrounded us, and pinned us down under strong fire for two days. Then they set fire to the forest, in order to chase us out. But nothing came of all the German plans. We suffered no losses, and at night we continued on our way to our designated target. We arrived safely in

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Markuszow, marched through the shtetl, and approached the Naleczow train station. There in the middle of the day, we set up camp. It's interesting that the Germans did not mount an attack. At night we continued on our way until the village of Rablow where we decided to rest because everyone was exhausted after the unending march. Around eight AM, we noticed German scout planes over the village followed quickly by bombers who dropped a lot of bombs on the village. Then a large division of Wehrmacht surrounded the village, and started an artillery barrage. Fortunately, there were many valleys there, and we could lie there hidden. As soon as the Germans began to storm the village, we were ordered to mount an active resistance. The Russian partisans, the “Tchapyevtses,” had taken a very important strategic position, and kept the Germans at bay. The other groups as well took up positions, and we, the Jewish partisans defended a heavily treed terrain.

It seems the Germans had decided to definitively annihilate our partisan army that day. They brought reinforcements. We thought our situation was hopeless. Many partisans fell in battle, even more were wounded. In the middle of the chaos of battle, a group of Germans appeared not far from us. It seems they had lost contact with their unit. We opened a strong fire on them, and killed almost all of them. Then we took off their uniforms–the most important trophy for a partisan.

When night fell, the Germans lit up the whole area with rockets, and strengthened their grip on all sides of the village so that not one of us should get out alive. The situation became terrible until an order came that it was every man for himself. So we, a group of twelve Jewish partisans decided to break through the German lines of fire. We went towards the valleys, but we quickly came under fierce fire. We decided to attack then–and to our good fortune, we broke through the German attack and–out of danger. On the road, we met another group of Jewish partisans who had two wounded: Micholai and Andzay (both now in Israel). All together we came to the village of Wojciechow at midday, acquired some horses there, and went to our old place–Wole forest. In the bunker

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we settled the wounded and told our girls about the events of the Rablow battle–one of the largest the German army had fought with the partisans. I, as a soldier in the Polish army, who had in 1939 taken part in the battles at Mlawa, could comprehend the meaning and significance of our resistance at Rablow. We sat under a large tree in the Wole forest and talked about the previous battle. As partisans, we discussed the entire matter from the standpoint of military tactics and strategy. But we couldn't talk about this too much. We had to think about what comes next, how to search for surviving partisans, if they had succeeded in breaking out of the siege. We received news that some of our guys had made it to the other side of the Wieprz. We went off to look for them, found a few, and from them learned about another group in the Janow forests. So we went after them, with skirmishes with Germans along the way. We were very worn out and exhausted. We knew that the German army was retreating in panic, but precisely because of this, wanting to have a clean path for their retreat, they persecuted the partisans with great implacability. So it continued until liberation.

July 1944. We are in the Parchew forests. Once we heard a loud noise. From among the trees, we saw heavy German artillery, machine-guns, and autos rolling along the road. We were certain they were going to surround us again. Who knows if we would be in a position to withstand the assault of such a large military force? But the Germans continued on their way. A little later, a Polish cart appeared. We stopped the farmers and asked what they knew about the increasing movements of the German army. The farmers joyfully said, “You are free! The Germans are retreating. They are running away!”

We did not believe it. The farmers assured us that they themselves had seen Russian tanks 8 km from here. As proof they pulled out a jam container which now held axle grease. There was Russian writing on the can. This time we had no doubt that the hour of liberation had come.

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We remained in the forest, because although the Soviet army was found near us, we could still see from our current place retreating German military without the discipline and order with which they used to distinguish themselves during their advance, when all Europe lay trampled under their bloody boots.

Markuszow partisans (From left to right) Eisenberg, M. Pelz, M. Kershenblat, Sh. Rubinstein

After the liberation of Poland, I filled various positions in the police in Lublin, Bylice and Cracow.

In 1947 I immigrated to Israel.

1. Jewish communist Return
2. “What are you talking about?” Return
3. “Cursed Jews” Return
4. Kazimierz-Dolny Return
5. The actual date was June 22 1941. Return
6. About 13 km distance Return
7. term for gentile boys Return
8. According to the previous sentences, there were only four partisans. Return
9. Home Army Return
10. Are you Jewish? Return
11. Village elder Return

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