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The conditions of life in America do not allow me to give an exact and comprehensive report on the struggle of the Markuszow partisans carried out over a period of two and a half years against the German enemy. I will therefore just describe a period of two weeks that generally reflect our struggle and the painful road on the way to the day of liberation.

Actually now, March 30, 1954, as I write these lines, ten years have passed since the death of my two friends and fellow fighters from Markuszow, the unforgettable David Ettinger (Dudek), and Veve Laks (Vladek), the son of Leibish Beck. At the same time, Moishe Yeger, the commander of our otriad named Emilia Platter, also fell.

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We were the only Jewish partisan group operating in the Lublin area, and everyone in the whole region knew we were Markuszowers. Of course, the Germans had only one designation for us–bandits, and promised big rewards for capturing us alive.

Om March 12 1944, we were withdrawing from a very successful operation of the night before against a German post in the village of Jamy not far from Lubartow.

Shmuel Rubinstein as a Polish officer after liberation

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the village for a few days, because the Germans would not let such a defeat go, and they would take out their anger on the village.

The next day, we were 40 km from Jamy village, and we received news from the wireless radio that on March 13^th, we would receive for our use, people, weapons, and money via an airdrop. We just had to prepare a suitable place for the drop. The people were coming directly from Moscow, and had an important mission to carry out in this area. It was not hard to find such a place, because we were not new to airdrops. We straightaway agreed on a spot. On schedule, and under our cover, the Soviet airplanes dropped people and packs of weaponry, and things necessary for the partisans.

On March 14^th, we had a meeting with the newly arrived instructors. They advised us that our first task was to transport two of their people to the Kielce region to prepare an espionage and diversion action against the retreating Germans. We knew that the way from the Lubartow region to the Kielce region involved crossing the Vistula, and would not be easy. We understood the importance of getting the two instructors to the other side of the river, in order to be of use there to the Russian army.

We set off at night. The darkness was lessened by the snow falling, which also made our movements more difficult. We had one goal: to get to the Vistula as quickly as possible. I decided that, on the way, I would visit the bunker in Wole where there were Markuszow families hidden with a farmer. Among them were my sister, Blima, my sister-in-law, Beileh, and Dina and Ita Gothelf. After I had given them a little food and the most important news, I returned to the agreed-upon place where the rest of my company was waiting for me.

Together we continued along, and on March 15^th in the morning, we came to the village of Meszno. There was no better place to wait out the day, because Meszno was a small village surrounded by forest on all sides. There were 60 of us, among whom the Markuszowers were: Mechl Laterstein (Michal), Shmuel Laks (“Dzad”), Mordechai Kershenblat (Martchin), Yechiel Gothelf (Heniek), my brother, David Rubinstein (Stach), David Ettinger (Dudek), Veve Laks (Wladek), Hershl Fishbein (Woitek), the writer of these lines (pseudonym, Sevek), the commandant of the group, Moishe Yeger, and others. We were well armed, and on coming into the village,

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we immediately took over two huts that were standing at the edge of the forest. The farmers told me the truth that, because of the sunny day, we could not march further and had to wait there until evening. Whether they wanted to or not, the farmers had to receive us and give us aid. In the final analysis, we were also fighting for Poland's freedom, and denying us help meant courting danger. They just asked that we not post guards outside, because it might draw the attention of a passerby who would then alert the Germans. The farmer himself was ready to keep watch outside, while we stayed indoors and watched through the windows to see who was coming around. We agreed to that. We brought straw into the house to lie down on and rest. The farmer went outside right away, to keep an eye out. We ate, lay down with our weapons as pillows, stretched out on the straw, and left Hershl Fishbein (Yechiel Sender's son) on guard. It was four in the afternoon, and we hoped that, barring interruptions, we could get a couple of hours of rest.

I was suffering from bad headaches then and fever, but I did not ask for any medical help knowing in advance that there wasn't any available. Our only remedy for all the illnesses in the forest was alcohol that the Russians used to supply us. I was therefor happy to have the opportunity to sleep a little.

No sooner had our eyes closed, than Woitek wakes us with a cry that a light was seen in the window of a hut. Our commandant, Yeger, Woitek, and I, raced outside to find out the reason for the sudden illumination. As it turned out, several farmers had returned from a party in a neighboring village, and turned the lights on in their houses. We calmed down and went back to our location.

How long I slept then, I don't know. Woitek woke me again, but this time more hastily than before. I clearly heard him say in Polish, “Guys, get up quickly, get your weapons because the Germans are here in the forest.” We quickly made an analysis of the situation

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we found ourselves in now. A false step, or hasty actions, threatened death. We didn't have time to get completely dressed; we gathered our weapons, ready for any eventuality. Since we didn't hear any shooting, we relaxed and finished getting dressed. A farmer reported to us that 16 harnessed carriages of Germans had come up to the forest and then continued on deeper on foot. Every second wagon had a machine gun. Clearly, the Germans were coming after us. Nevertheless, we supported each other by telling jokes, in order to drive away the unease and sad thoughts. Suddenly, we saw a column of Germans coming out of the woods about 300 meters from us, guns ready to shoot. We quickly went out the window to the yard so the Germans would not see us, and took up positions behind the barn.

“No shooting,” Yeger ordered, “Until the Germans are 20 meters away.”

This was the right command in the situation, because the only effective thing we could do was to fire suddenly on the Germans, and then quickly withdraw. With bated breath, not feeling the cold, we lay in the snow. The column of Germans leaving the forest was still not ended. We saw them marching one behind the other. We, of course, could not allow the farmer and his family to leave, or our shelter would have been exposed immediately.

In the meantime, we checked our rifles, which in a few moments, were to play such a crucial role in our destiny. The column of Germans, sixty of them, got closer.

Our astonishment grew as the column did not wend its way over to our direction, but marched through the whole village and went off to nearby Staroscin. Soon we saw plumes of smoke and flames of fire from some huts. As the farmers later explained, the village was punished for failing to provide food for the Germans.

Seeing that the threat was not directed at us, we decided to move to the forest, so that we did not put the hospitable farmers in danger. We camouflaged our positions, and sent off a guard on horseback for observation. Here in the forest, my headache returned more intensely, and I waited for the return of the scouts with the news that the Germans had left the village, so that I could

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return to the hut and rest. A short time later, our two partisans returned and reported that the Germans had finished their arson activities in Staroscin, and were off to another village to deal with those farmers for failing to provide their quota. Since my headache was not going away, I drank another glass of whiskey, and asked my friends to allow me to lie down in a hut. Maybe I would get better. I yearned for the warmth of a home that would maybe drive away the illness. My friends did not reply, but when I got up to go, they assured me that in case of danger they would alert me immediately. I struggled again through the deep snow with my best friend–my machine gun–on my shoulder. It had shown me already so much help and loyalty at difficult moments. I came back to the same farmer we had left two hours before. I told him I didn't feel well, and I had to lie down, but not in a soft bed where I would fall into a deep sleep. I lay down on the hard bench, the rifle hanging from my neck, and asked the farmer that, in case of something suspicious, he should quickly wake me, so that I could join the company in the forest. I fell asleep.

How long I slept, I cannot remember at all. I remember exactly how I quickly awakened, and felt an emptiness in the house. No farmer, wife or his children. Although my head was aching mercilessly, I oriented myself quickly, and determined that things were not normal, because where was it heard of that children should leave the house on such a cold winter day. I forgot about everything, and the solitude brought me to my feet. With my gun at the ready, I approached the window, and saw how the village looked deserted. Not a living person. None of our guards, and the farmer who was supposed to stay at the edge of the forest had disappeared. I went outside with the greatest of caution to orient myself to the situation. I stood still for a while deciding on which direction to go. Suddenly the stillness was interrupted by the loud noise of machine guns shooting. I reckoned it was coming from the depths of the forest. It was clear now that I didn't have a moment to lose, but that I had to find a way to save myself, because any rash step could be the end. It was clear that my friends were now engaged in battle with the

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Germans. Nevertheless, I decided to go to the forest knowing from experience that the trees are the best protection for partisans. There was a 200-meter field between the yard and the forest. I had to crawl or run through that distance unnoticed by the Germans. I ran a few meters and then threw myself down on the snow in order to make my way–crawling on my belly, the rifle somewhat above my head. The forward progress was slow, my strength beginning to give out. I got up again and ran some more. But the deeper snow made it almost impossible. At that moment, I heard shooting, and bullets flew over my head from different sides. I was caught in a boiler, surrounded on all sides.

I fell to the ground, aimed my rifle and returned fire on the enemy. It was quite possible that the Germans wanted to take me alive, because they began to edge over in my direction. Seeing that my bullets hit their target, they also lay down on the ground, and continued to shoot at me with more intensity. I took advantage of the moment when they were changing their position to continue creeping to the forest. My rifle was doing its job, but I was planning to save the last bullet for myself, because falling into their hands was the end, but with terrible tortures and pain. I stood up and again ran the few steps that separated me from the forest. I could find shelter there, because the Germans knew that death lurked behind every tree. I was almost at the edge of the forest, just one more effort, a few more steps–and I am saved.

My calculations were premature. Not far away, a band of Germans with fixed bayonets ran towards me. I heard a shout, “Drop your weapons, hands up!” No, I did not obey the savages. My answer was a burst of bullets. The Germans hit the ground again; I used the moment to run. But where to? I could not go back to the field. Another group of Germans were lurking there. Deeper into the forest was impossible, there were bayonets and bullets waiting there, leaving only running along the edge of the forest. I ran with extraordinary speed. I heard the familiar melody of machine guns. At that time, March 15th 1944, I could readily distinguish the difference in sound among the various types of weapons. My legs carried me forward. But not for long. I felt a warmth, and then a wetness, in my boots. Both leg were pierced by bullets. Done for. I couldn't take another step. I fell to the ground and prepared for the final battle. I loaded my rifle and got my hand-grenades ready. My revolver as well lay ready in my pouch.

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It would have to finish me off. I lay there and waited for the enemy. But wonder of wonders! No one appeared. The stress of waiting and the moments that had just passed took away the pain in my wounded legs. I didn't feel the blood running. I lay on the now, the sun blinding me, thinking it was a shame to die on such a nice day. But if I had to say goodbye now to life–I would send some more bullets into the Nazis. But it was quiet as if nothing had happened. I looked at my watch with the conviction that it was certainly three in the afternoon, and that night would soon fall and shelter me under its dark wings. My watch, however, said it was only 9:30 am. Now I began to feel the open wounds in my legs, the dripping blood, and general weakness. I still had to make an effort to get closer to the forest. I was already inside, among tall pine trees, when I saw a pile of twigs on the ground. I would rest there. There was no talk of going further. I tore strips off my shirt and bandaged the wounds. After applying first aid, I lay down under the branches. I lay there for three hours in great pain. The stillness around during that time meant the Germans had withdrawn. I now had to come up with a plan on how to get out of there, deal with my wounds, and continue my partisan life. One thing was clear: crawling back to the village was out, because the situation I found myself in would not be better with the farmers than with the Germans. When night fell, I crawled toward the road, and with weapon in hand, I waited for a farmer to pass by, and force him to take me to another village. Crawling on my belly, I suddenly heard the quiet sound of boots squeaking on the snow. I readied my rifle and lay there waiting. A few steps away from me, three of our partisans passed by: Shmuel Laks (“Dziad”,) Yechiel Gothelf (“Heniek,”) and Hershl Fishbein (“Woitek.”) I could not utter a word from great joy and surprise. My friends were getting further away. I lay there in despair in case they hadn't noticed me. A thought flashed through my mind: maybe I should shoot, and attract their attention. I quickly understood that a shot could betray me and my friends. The Germans could hear it as well. However, I didn't see another way out. I took out my revolver, lifted it in the air, and put my finger on the trigger. It seems that Hershl Fishbein must have turned around, because I heard his voice calling the others. They gave me first aid, re-bandaged my wounds, and began to tell me about the events of the day.

They rightly evaluated that the group of Germans that had attacked us in the field,

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had been sent there to keep us focused solely in their direction, while another group attacked us from the rear. Both German groups, however, met with stiff resistance. After our situation became more complicated and dangerous, Moishe Yeger ordered us to withdraw. Just he and Hershl Fishbein would try to hold back the attacking Nazis. Clearly, both knew that such an action meant certain death for them. Yeger and Fishbein continued to shoot at the Germans while the rest of the partisans looked for better positions in order to open a concentrated fire on the enemy, and allow the two to retreat. As soon as Yeger took the first steps back, a German bullet pierced his heart, and he fell down mortally wounded, able only to shout at Hershl, “Woitek, save yourself, I am done for.”

Woitek just managed to drag him away, and right after, our commander breathed his last.

The three partisans took me to the village of Wola Przybyslawska not far from Markuszow, and settled me in with the woman farmer, Nalewejek, where in addition, my sister, sister-in-law, Dina and Ita Gothelf were hidden. I lay there at the farmer's for several weeks almost unconscious, with high fever, and poor expectations of surviving. In any case, the farmer woman told me later that she was certain that I was going to die. Nevertheless, I got back on my feet, and returned to our partisans in order to continue the battle up until liberation.

I will never forget the day of March 15 1944 when we forever lost our dear friend and commandant Moishe Yeger; when we experienced such a severe attack by the Germans; when I was wounded in both legs, and left a lifelong memory. And another thing–that day, the Germans had to retreat with six dead while we lost one–Moishe Yeger.

Notwithstanding the terrible blow the Markuszow partisan group had received by the loss of our commandant, and by my inability to continue to take part in missions, the group did not give up its stated goal: to extract revenge for Jewish blood. Just a few days after the battle at Meszno, they got together at a village near Lubartow in order to further consider ways to

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get the two parachutists from Moscow over to the other side of the Vistula. About 15 men, among them the Markuszowers Mordechai Kershenblat (“Martchinek”), Shmuel Laks (“Dziad”), Mechl Laterstein (“Michal”), David Ettinger, z”l (“Dudek”), and Hershl Fishbein (“Woitek”) got the two parachutists safely to the location, and returned to their base in a village not far from Ostrowce in an area known as a partisan kingdom.

On the night of March 29^th to 30^th 1944, they marched single file, one behind the other, in order not to leave many footprints on the freshly fallen snow. After marching all night, they came to Grabina Kolonia near Lubartow. This settlement consisted of five huts surrounded by forest on all sides. In the morning the partisans knocked on the first door, and although they didn't get a clear answer from the farmer about a welcome reception, the partisans entered his house. Actually, the farmers at that time found themselves between a rock and a hard place. The fear of the partisans was no less than the fear of the Germans, but not more, because they were filled with hatred and contempt for the Germans, whereas for our guys there was a certain sentiment if not sympathy on the part of the village population. After sating our hunger, we lay down on the prepared straw with the weapons at our side. Around 11:00 am, the watch woke up the partisans to eat what the farmer's wife had prepared from their produce. In general, the partisans behaved like the well-known expression, “Where the Gypsy sleeps, he does not steal.” The guys ate up the home-cooked meals, and waited for the coming night to again go out on our way. In the end, we had made it through half a day already, and what concerned the second half, we worried less about, because it gets dark early in winter, and every passing day is just a victory for partisans.

Around one am, when the partisans were cleaning their weapons, and chatting amicably about various things, a loud cannon blast was heard. One of the five huts instantly caught fire. It seems a snariad^[1] had hit it. We immediately grabbed our weapons and looked for a good position. The cannonade did not, however, stop, and in the space of a few minutes, all the huts were standing in flames. In such a situation it was hard to find a secure place from which to defend, especially as the shooting wasn't stopping. The Germans were probably well prepared for the attack. As soon as the artillery barrage began, the machine guns began to spit

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in the direction of the partisans. They tried to advance on all fours in the forest, and had actually gained several dozen meters. David Ettinger and Veve Laks were badly wounded in the legs. It was impossible for the whole group to move out. Wladek and Dudek knew that they were preventing the rest of the company from seeking shelter in the woods. They therefore begged the group to get away without them, and they would attract the attention of the Germans with their fire.

The partisans insisted they could take the two wounded to the forest. They, however, refused. Their knees were shattered, and knowing the hopelessness of their situation, they had one goal now: saving their friends. So they lay on the snow reddening with their blood, and thanks to their firing and the shots of the retreating, the rest succeeded in penetrating further into the forest. They breathed more freely. But the sounds of machine gun fire meant that the German attack was not over. But they also heard the shots fired in reply by the two wounded friends–a sign they were alive and not allowing the Germans to take a step forward, making them pay with their lives.

After having gone several kilometers from the site where the two fighters remained, they decided to wait until things quieted down. After a while with no further sounds of shooting, they went back to the previous place, but not directly. That would have been too risky. So they took a circuitous route, and came to a village to find out from the farmers about the situation.

The farmer they stopped at told them with emotion and reverence about the last minutes of Dodek and Wladek, how they had killed dozens of Germans before they died. The Germans took the adult men from the village to dig trenches. They then used the farmers as a shield against Jewish bullets. The farmer reported that as soon as the Germans opened fire on the partisans, they forced the farmers to stand in the foreground and screen the Nazis. When the shooting from the partisans died down, and the attackers thought that many of them had been killed, they told us to stand aside, and they went to finish off the remaining Jews. We just heard a few shots. Suddenly it became very quiet. Nothing from the two was heard either. Now the Germans were completely certain that no partisan was left alive.

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When they got to the place where two red flecks of blood stood out, and saw the partisans lying there motionless, they let out a triumphant cry. Suddenly, the two corpses came to life. Their hands, as if on command, hurled grenades, and a large number of Germans said goodbye to their murderous lives. It's true that Dudek and Wladek also died from the grenade explosions that they themselves flung at the Nazis. But their death was paid for manifold times with the death of many Nazis.

Tears appeared in the farmer's eyes. Words failed him to describe in detail the Jewish bravery that he and other Polish farmers witnessed. When we let the farmers go back home, they talked only of the actions of the two well-known partisans, and spoke their names with great respect.

This is how on March 30 1944, two of our Markuszow fighters ended their lives. Their heroic death served as inspiration for continuing the fight against the murderers.

I only selected a two-week period of our partisan life, because in that time we lost good comrades, and dear sons of the Jewish people.

Honor to their glorious memory!

1. I have not been able to find a translation for snariad Return

The shtetl of Markuszow had about 3,000 people, about 2,000 of them Jews.

In September 1939, the Germans bombed the shtetl and almost the entire shtetl was burned down. The residents fled to nearby villages. When the Germans occupied the shtetl, the residents

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returned, but had no place to live. They lived in cellars, and holes. The better off began to rebuild their homes with several families occupying each one.

The house that we lived in was also burned down, and my mother, sister, and I moved into my aunt, Dvoireh Laks's, house along with their family.

I worked on road building for a German company, “Baumer and Lesh,” that the Judenrat had assigned me to. And from this we supported ourselves.

I did not, however, want to work for the Germans, so I later went to a village to work for a farmer.

In April 1942, the Germans issued an order for all the Jews to assemble at the gemine^[1] square. We already knew from other shtetls what showing up meant, so many young people fled from the shtetl. Only a few older men and women and a few youth showed up.

The young people were, however, immediately let go, and the rest were brought to the government school building (powszechnie) where they were held overnight. My friend from the shtetl, Itche Grushchanski, lived at his grandmother's with his mother and two sisters. His father was in America. They supported themselves on what the grandmother and grandfather earned. Itche loved his grandmother very much, so he went to the Germans and asked to change places with her, to go in her place. The Germans did actually take him, but they did not set the grandmother free. And so about 400 people were taken to Opole. Many were shot along the way.

The next day, a group of people went out to collect the dead, and bury them in a Jewish cemetery.

From then on it was quiet in the shtetl; no Germans were seen. It was the quietest time. This lasted for three weeks.

At the beginning of May, another order came out that all Jews, without exception, had to assemble. The order was given to the Judenrat, who made known to us a day before, that the following day they would have to assemble, and they added on their own, that whoever was able should save themselves. And this actually happened. During the night, many Jews left the shtetl for good, and hid in the villages and forests.

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My sister and I fled to the farmer I had been working for. My mother left with my aunt and her family. After four days of hiding, we went to find our family, and we found them in Kamionka near Lubartow. There were more Jews there.

Three days later, the Germans conducted a raid in Kamionka and took me, and a lot of other Jews, to a camp at Leczna. We travelled on foot for 40 km. The Germans rode in wagons, one in front, and one in back, and us in the middle. The wagons went very fast, and we had to run. If someone, however, was unable to keep up, he was shot by those in the rear wagon. Someone asked along the way if he could move a little to the side and do his business. He got permission, but as soon as he stepped out, he was shot.

Along the way, we once stopped at a well to drink water. Everyone was suffering from thirst. It was mid-day in the month of June, and going along in such a hurry it was understandable that everyone rushed to the well. The Germans used that as a pretext to beat everyone over the head with rubber truncheons.

In Leczna, we worked on a farm, straightened out ditches, built a firing range, etc. One day, the Germans noticed bees in a tree. So they ordered one of us, a man in his fifties, to climb up the tree and deal with the bees. It was a very tall tree. They brought a ladder, and ordered him to climb to the top. When he reached the top of the tree, the Germans took away the ladder and he fell to the ground breaking his arms and legs. The murderers still ordered him to stand up, and when he was unable to, they put him in a small wheelbarrow, took him to the river Wieprz that flows by there, and threw him in…

After three weeks working there, I ran away.

I went to Kamionka to see my mother, and again went to the villages to hide from the Germans who were looking for me. But in a little while, the shtetl, Kamionka, was made judenrein, and wherever you tried to run, the same thing was repeated. There was no place to turn to. At that point, my mother bade farewell to my sister and I, and asked us to hide somewhere. She herself, not wishing to be a burden, went off to the designated place in Belzec^[2] near Lublin.

I hid in various villages until I came to the Wole forest near Markuszow. There I found Jews from the shtetl. However, I suddenly became sick. I felt terrible pain in my chest, and could hardly move. I knew of a place where my uncle, Mendl Ettinger, and his family, were hiding, and barely made it up to the attic of a farmer. But that same night, two young Poles with rifles came to the attic, dragged us down outside, put us up against the wall of the houses, and threatened to shoot us. They didn't say a word being afraid we would recognize them. They communicated with gestures. So they showed us with their hands that they wanted money, pointed the guns at us as if to shoot us if we didn't give them money. My uncle and I easily recognized the guys. One was the brother of the farmer who my uncle gave all his money away to, even building him a house. That very farmer had refused to let my uncle spend the night there a few nights before. The young guys, it seems, followed my uncle to find my uncle's hiding place, and now they were coming to extract money from him. We didn't give them any money, however, and they went away. They were Bronislaw Kozak, and Boleslav Banaszek, both from Przybyslawica.

This confrontation with both of them was useful to me later. Thanks to that, I was taken into the partisans. It happened like this: After I left my uncle after that night, I ran into a few of my friends: Shmuel Laks (in Israel today), his brother Veve Laks (fell in battle with the partisans), and Shmuel Rubinstein. We had already heard of partisans in the forests, and we were looking for a way to get to them. A couple of days later, we met several partisans at a farmer's–three Russians, and a Pole. We asked them to take us with them. They turned us down because they had no weapons for us. So I went off to see the two guys who had attacked us. We took their rifles, and took off for the partisans. I also took along with me my sister and her friend, Sima Bronski, 22 years old. They were both killed later along with 40 more Jews, as I will later relate.

My partisan life began in November 1942. My sister and her friend, my three friends:

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the Laks brothers, Shmuel Rubinstein, and I left for the Zalbe-Zeks forest. Forest life began full of hardships, danger, lurking in lairs, small zemliankes (bunkers dug in the earth). Often, very often, we had to sleep under the open sky. In winter, we would sometimes wake up covered in snow. We often had to lie in mud, or crawl through swamps. We were often hunted and persecuted by an enemy immeasurably stronger and better equipped. It was a hard and terrible life yet full of inspiring and exalting battle.

When I think back on those days, after so many years, I don't remember the struggles, the stresses, the dangers. I remember, though, and will never forget, the high-minded feeling that we all shared when we took a rifle in our hands, and became free people because of that. We defended our lives, our human dignity, and our honor. We not only defended our lives and our honor, but we took revenge for all our dead, for all our murdered families, for our entire people. We helped to defeat and destroy this very war machine, the bloody Nazi powers.

Maybe at that time, when we were in the forest, those thoughts were still vague, but we felt it to be true. Above all, we were driven by the thought, “Never surrender! Resist!”

The beginning was a difficult one. We were 7 men in all, and we had 4 rifles and 20 bullets in total. We lived in the Kozlowka forest (Lublin territory, 7 km from Lubartow) from where big actions could not be entertained. We treated each bullet like a gem. It was our only guarantee. Our main activity was to procure food. That was not so easy in those days. We often had to threaten with our weapons to get a piece of bread or a piece of pork. We only left the forest at night.

The partisan movement in those months was not widespread. We had no connection to other groups. Slowly, the situation began to change. A big change came in December 1942 when about 100 Jewish prisoners-of-war escaped from Lublin, from the Lipowa 7 camp. They were trained soldiers and came with some weapons. Their leader was Koganovitch who later fell after a short

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time, about 6 weeks later. The prisoners divided themselves into smaller groups, and established ties. Most of them fell heroically in the countless battles that took place in the span of two years.

Our group also received about 10 men from the ex-prisoners-of-war. Now we were a force. The leadership of our group was undertaken by a trained warrior, a Soviet first-lieutenant (starshi lieutenant) from Kharkov who escaped from German imprisonment. We called him Toliek. His memory is cherished by all the partisans of that neighborhood.

At the same time, there was another group in the area led by a Markuszow young man, Kershenblat. That group consisted of 12 men, operated not far from us, but did not stay together long. In December 1942, or January 1943 they were betrayed by the farmer they were staying with. Of the twelve men, ten fell in battle with the Germans. Kershenblat and one more joined our group.

We knew the neighborhood extremely well, and under Toliek's command, our group developed an active agenda. I soon experienced my first battle. It happened like this: Our commander, Toliek, ordered us to take away a machine gun 12 km from us. We were 5 men. When we got to the spot, day was already beginning. Someone noticed us, and informed the Polish police that were based 5 km away. The police soon arrived and the shooting began. We easily drove away the 7-8 policemen who ran away accompanied by the jeers of the farmers. That same day, we marched 25 km, and in broad daylight, crossed the Lublin-Warsaw road being cleared of snow by the farmers. Around them were stationed German guards. The Germans were so surprised that they didn't dare stop us. When we stopped to eat something a while later, the Germans attacked us.

This time it was a more serious fight than with the police. For the first time, I heard bullets whistling around me. I shot in the direction the bullets were coming from, as if half-asleep, but at the same time all my senses were weirdly alert and tense. After about three quarters of an hour the shooting stopped. The Germans withdrew. The road was clear. But one of us, an escaped

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prisoner-of-war from Lipowa, was wounded in the leg. He died soon after from his wounds. At that time, we had no way to help the wounded, no drugs, no medical help.

The next day we were back at our base. Toliek praised us a lot. We were very proud of our first trial under fire. That same day, however, we were forced to leave our base, and go deeper into the forest. A German division which was coming from the front for rest, was combing through the neighborhood seeking partisans and Jews who were hidden in the forest.

From October-November 1942, the Wole forest, 5 km from Markuszow, was home to about 500-600 hidden Jews, most from the small shtetls in the Lublin territory. When the decree to go to Belzec came out, they fled to the forest and to the very small villages. They had no weapons. The partisans helped them with food and money as they were able, but more than that they couldn't do. There were not enough weapons. Just a few of these hidden Jews survived the war.

I personally know 60-70 Jews, men and women, who survived the war in the Parczew forests. The partisans helped them with food, and even left a rifle and ammunition with them to defend themselves. A rifle was worth more than anything then.

The significance of a weapon became especially clear that day. That same day, actually, when the Germans captured 50-60 unarmed Jews in the forest, they also attacked a bunker where there were also 6 Lipowa prisoner-of-war. The 6 boys defended themselves heroically. They caught the hand grenades the Germans threw in and threw them back. With their machine guns, they were able to block the entrance to the bunker, and hold them off for 8 hours. When it got dark, the Germans had to withdraw. Only one of the heroic boys–with the name of Stengl–died of his wounds. The other five survived.

In the winter of 1942-1943, we carried out a bunch of actions along with another group of 10 armed Jews led by Ephraim Bleichman. The group had earlier operated in the Lubartow-Kamionka area. We used to meet regularly several times a month. One time, a few of us were at a farmer's. We ate, and drank

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some whiskey. Around 8:00 am, a car suddenly arrived in the farmer's yard, and two Germans came into the yard demanding eggs, and butter. Without waiting for an answer they proceeded to go into the house. We didn't even have time to look around. Quick as lightening, two of us got behind the door. As soon as the first German opened the door, Ephraim Bleichman stabbed him with a bayonet. The second German had a machine-pistol (automatic). He ran out and began to defend himself. We chased after him. One of us, a small young kid, grabbed the long, tall German and began to wrestle the automatic from him. Meanwhile we came up. We killed the German immediately. That's how we stole our first automatic weapon.

In February 1942, we created a new bunker with all the “comforts.” That means, a store of water, plank beds, etc. There were about 10 of us partisans. About 30 young Jewish kids, mostly Lubliners, lived on the base with us. They had no weapons. There were also several girls among them including my sister.

At the time, we got connected via a farmer with the leader of the underground PPR^[3] (Polish worker's party) in the area. We knew him by the name of Genek. Through him, Toliek got connected with the Armia Ludowa organization (the left-oriented Polish partisan movement which was led by communists), and through it was selected as the director of all the partisan groups in the Lublin-Markuszow-Lubartow triangle. The Jews hiding in the forest also came under his command. Toleik was planning to begin large diversion activities against the enemy, but fate decided otherwise.

After having been there for a few weeks, a group of four guys went off to get a machine gun. They took 4 of our 10 rifles, and promised to return in three days. When they had not returned, Toliek sent me, two Jews and a Pole out to look for them. We left at 3:00 am. After a two-day search we located them, and told them that Toliek wanted them back immediately. They finally agreed, and after two days we all went back to our base. When we got there, we were greeted by a strange, sinister quiet. With beating hearts, we approached the bunker. But nothing remained, everything flattened to the earth.

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A terrible feeling enveloped us. We began to run hither and thither, not wanting to believe that all our friends were dead. But we quickly learned the horrible news. Six hours after we had left, strong German forces surrounded the bunker. There were machine guns on all sides. There was no possibility of getting out of the bunker. The armed ones defended the bunker until the very last. The Germans then distributed straw around the entrance, and set it on fire. The smoke filled the bunker and suffocated the people. Those who had not suffocated were finished off by the Germans. Everyone was killed, the six partisans and the thirty unarmed kids. Among the dead were my sister, and our commander, Toliek. This occurred on February 19 1943.

Eight of us were left. We chose an escapee from Lipowa, Yeger, as commander. First of all, we had to get through the winter. But we were not satisfied with the concerns of merely existing. The desire for vengeance seethed in us. We began to look for new alliances. Two Poles, escapees from Germany, came to us. Through the winter months, we had a series of smaller skirmishes with individual policemen or Germans. We had one clash with a group from the AK^[4] (the Polish military organization led by the government-in-exile in London) which had killed two Poles in Litwinow (Pulawy powiat).

In spring 1943, we finally found Genek and renewed contact with the Armia Ludowa. Genek sent us to a certain place where, he told us, Mietek, (underground name of colonel Moczar) the leader of the whole partisan movement in Lublin territory, was supposed to be coming. We went to the designated place, and met Mietek. He brought underground newspapers, proclamations, and also relayed greetings from a big Jewish partisan division under the leadership of Chil. (Captain Chil, alias Yechiel Grinspan).

Our group was given the name, “partisan group under the name Emilia Platter,” the name of the renowned female Polish fighter. Mietek advised us to stay on our base in the meantime, and lead the actions from there. From that point on, we knew we were no longer alone. One month later,

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the well-known Jewish partisan leader, Bolek (Colonel Aleph), came to visit us. Our base was in the Parczew forests on the other side of the river Wieprz. On the other side, there were Polish groups, and Captain Chil's group. We developed active sabotage tactics.

We frequently carried out attacks on the Polish police, on German cars on the roads, and derailed German troop trains. At first we unscrewed the rails by hand. Later we got explosives.

Our group now consisted of 10 men. There were among us people with various political convictions. As far as I can recall, it never led to political discord. We lived in brotherhood, closely connected by the daily struggle.

Soon, Ephraim Bleichman's group united completely with ours. We were now 17 men. Right on the first day of Bleichman's group arriving, we had occasion to repel an attack in the village of Lugow by the NSZ (Narodowe Sily Zbrojne–a fascist Polish organization that collaborated with the Armia Krajowa and the Germans).

We continually strengthened our war actions. We blew up German trains with the aid of 16 kg unexploded airplane bombs that were lying around here and there from 1939. Through all of summer 1943, we conducted big and small operations. We operated in an area with a diameter of around 60 km. Sometimes we got as close as a couple of kilometers from the city Lublin.

I would like to describe several of these battles.

In summer 1943, we attacked my hometown, Markuszow. The Germans had established a barter facility where the farmers would bring eggs and receive sugar. We had an order to attack the station, and to divide the sugar with the farmers. While leaving, we were attacked by a German division. It was already getting dark, and in the darkness, we were able to break through their lines. One of us, a Kamionka lad who had the automatic, was killed. Two men were wounded, one lightly, the other seriously. The latter is in Israel today (1952). It is a mystery to me how he could have overcome his serious wounds. (When I last saw him, he still had a bullet in his body).

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I also remember an attack we conducted in the summer of 1943 on a small German garrison in Gut Leszic (on the border between Pulawy and Lublin powiats). This particular garrison had always interfered greatly with our sabotage activities. We decided to get rid of it. Our connection in the village was the blacksmith who gave us information on the garrison: Every morning farmers would come to the fields to dig potatoes. The guards were used to them. We had to take advantage of the opportunity to get rid of the guards, and kill the rest. We left with sixteen men. Shmuel Rubinstein, and a young Polish partisan volunteered to disarm the guards. We hid in the wheat field. While disarming the watch, the Pole fired a shot. The Germans heard this, and began shooting. The shooting lasted for two hours, and we had to withdraw. We killed one German. We had no losses ourselves.

Relations with the farmers improved considerably at that time. In February 1944, we received the order to go to the base in the Parczew forests where Captain Chil's group was located. The Polish groups also left with us. When we got there, we encountered a lot of Russian and Polish partisans.

Soon after arriving, we received a mission to lead two paratroopers across the Vistula at Opole. Eight of us partisans went: 5 Jews, 2 Poles, and 1 Polish woman. After traveling 5 km, we stopped at a house near Wole forest. In the morning, I was on guard, and I saw a line of Germans coming out of one side of the forest. I woke up the gang. The Germans, however, passed quietly by, went further into the village, and set fire to a house. We took advantage of the opportunity, and went into the forest. We lay there for 3 hours. Then we sent out a scout. But as soon as he left, the Germans appeared as if from under the earth. Shooting began. We got up on a hill, and defended strongly. Bullets flew around us. Our commander, Yeger, lifted his head up for a second in order to take ammunition out of his bag. He gave a shudder and fell down dead. It wasn't until it became dark that we got out of there.

I have to relate the following episode: My friend, Shmuel Rubinstein, felt very bad that day. It was the start of Typhus. He fell asleep and didn't hear the whole commotion. When he

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awoke, there was no one in the house anymore. He picked up his rifle and went out. What did he see? Germans everywhere. But Shmuel didn't panic. Instead of running away, which would have meant certain death, he grabbed his rifle and began shooting. The Germans, who were no less surprised than he, were confused for a moment. He used that moment to get into the forest. He was, however, wounded in both legs, and had to lie down. He had hand grenades and a pistol. The Germans were afraid to go into the forest. At night, as we were passing by, we heard him call, “Stop, or I'll shoot.” We recognized his voice, and were greatly relieved. The Germans were no longer here. We hid Shmuel with a farmer while his wounds healed, and at the same time, he got over his Typhus.

When we got back to the base, our group of 4 Jews and 2 non-Jews received an assignment to accompany the Polish activists, Drobner (a leader of the PPS), Hanneman (PPS), Osubka Morawski, and Spichalski, across the front. They took them across the Bug to a Russian partisan group and came back safely. Of the 4 Jewish comrades, I remember Wladek Wohlstein (today, 1952, in Israel), and Morel (in Poland). I don't remember the other two.

In March 1944, while returning to the previous base, we had a hard, loss-filled, battle with the Germans. There were 16 of us. The Germans arrived around 3 in the afternoon. When we ran out of our quarters, bullets came flying at us from three sides at once. The Germans also fired at us with light field-artillery. That was the first time we experienced what artillery fire was like. For the first time, confusion arose among us. One hundred meters from me, my comrade, Veve Laks was lying down his knee shot through. He was unable to move anymore. He pleaded that we take his rifle and leave his pistol at his side. He defended himself to the last bullet, which he saved for himself, so that he would not fall into the enemy's hands alive.

In the same heroic manner my comrade and cousin, David Ettinger, of Markuszow fell. He shot himself with his last bullet.

A bullet slammed into the cartridge belt I was wearing. It is a miracle that the bullets I was wearing did not explode and blow me to pieces. None of the bullets were any good after.

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Of the 16 men, 7 were killed, and 6 wounded. Only three emerged unscathed.

On May 15 1944, Rola-Zymierski^[5] visited our base. He gathered all the groups on the base together and gave a speech. There were about 600 of us then, 400 Russians, and 200 Jews and Poles. There were about 40 men from captain Chil's group. Rola-Zymierski promoted me to corporal. Soon after, we received the order to leave the Parczew forests and transfer to the Janow forests. 20-30 men were left from captain Chil's (Yechiel Grinspan) group.

Several hundred men left. We were not badly armed, and we had a radio. The first leg was from Parczew to the Kozlowka forest. From there we went over to the Wole forests. There, for the first time, the Germans shot at us from airplanes. At the same time, strong German divisions surrounded the forest. At 6:00 am, a big battle began which ended with a big victory for us. Thirty to forty Germans were killed. From the forest we saw how the German airplanes were landing to pick up the wounded officers. We would have killed them all, but they were protected by a river on one side. After a 14-hour battle, the Germans retreated. We had only one casualty.

From the Wole forests we travelled all night to the Vistula. Four in the morning, we came close to Naleczow in the village of Rablow. We had barely got ourselves set up there when 6 German planes flew in and began shooting at the village. We all ran out to the field. The airplanes were flying very low. Their bullets caused a fire in the house where the general staff was quartered, destroyed the radio, and killed the operator. Fortunately, there was a small forest nearby. We went in there. The airplanes continued to circle over the forest shooting it up with bullets. Soon the trees were no more than sticks, but this was only an introduction. Cars with German soldiers began arriving from the SS Viking division. They also had light field artillery. They assaulted the forest for a couple of hours, shrapnel exploding around us. Six airplanes constantly circled

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over our heads, sending volley after volley at us from their machine guns. Our order was not to respond, but to conserve ammunition. A few hours later, our commander, Captain Zemsto, ordered us, with incendiary bullets, to set fire to the village behind which the German artillery was positioned. Maybe the Germans had not properly set up their artillery, because the shells always flew over our heads. We waited like this until night. Seeing as we did not respond, thinking perhaps we had all been killed, the Germans ordered an attack in the evening. They entered the forest. We were waiting for that. Our nerves were stretched to the limit from lying for hours under bombardment. Now they could be released. We began a fusillade that it was a pleasure to see. Like savages, we threw ourselves on the Germans, clubbed them with our rifle butts, with sticks, stabbed them with knives. Frightened, they began to raise their hands in surrender. But it did not help them. We killed around 150 Germans. We lost 40 men killed or wounded.

Our situation was still terrible. Leaving the forest was impossible. We were surrounded by a numerically stronger and better-equipped enemy. Captain Zemsto therefore ordered us to split into groups of 10 men. Every group had to take one wounded and break through the encirclement. The plan actually succeeded. A lot of the groups managed to break out in the Janow forests, and some, including our group and our commander, returned to the Parczew forests. Captain Zemsto, however, did not get there. While withdrawing, he was killed by an errant bullet.

After returning to the base, we had to reorganize our groups again. They joined us (together with captain Chil's group) temporarily to the large partisan group, commanded by the Soviet general, Baranowski. Now the partisans were no longer isolated clusters, but a well organized, well-armed, disciplined army led mostly by Soviet officers parachuted in. We were now in the thousands. The following episode was characteristic of the new situation: One day, the Germans attacked our headquarters, and threw a couple of grenades into the building. Someone said they should abandon the position, but Boronowski said,

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“Those days are over. Russians do not retreat anymore.”

During the few weeks we were in Baranowski's otriad, we found ourselves in a hard fight with the German forces. Our group was stationed as the vanguard on a road, when quite unexpectedly, we were attacked by Germans. After a battle during which we lost 6 men, we were forced to withdraw back to the main force in the forest. Soon German airplanes arrived and began to bomb the forest. The bombs, however, failed to create any great damage as they exploded over our heads upon touching the leaves of the trees. Near us, there was a strong, Russian combat otriad, commanded by colonel Charney, (distinguished by the title, “Hero of the Soviet Union”). We dug trenches. The Germans tried to break through a few times, but our machine guns kept them away. About 100 dead Germans lay around our trenches. Many Jewish lads distinguished themselves in the fighting.

As day broke, Charney and his otriad left the forest for the village. The partisans went up on the roofs and fired at the German rear. We could now leave the forest and return to our base in the Parczew forests, accompanied and protected by Soviet airplanes.

In May 1944, a group of 80 paratroopers landed from the new Polish army created by the Soviet Union. Their leader was, as far as I can recall, major Klim. They didn't stay long, and soon went to another neighborhood. After the above-mentioned battle that we carried out in Baranowski's otriad, the paratroopers returned after they had fulfilled their mission. We were now in captain Chil's group along with 50 men, and they took us out of Baranowski's otriad again and joined us back to the battalion in the Armia Ludowa commanded by Mietek.

The front got closer every day. A paradoxical situation was created. The closer the front came, the harder conditions became for the partisans. Between the German and Soviet

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armies, the field was getting smaller and smaller, and the partisans had less and less space to maneuver. Aside from that, the Germans now had their big forces here, their armies from the front with artillery, tanks, and aviation. Nevertheless, we now developed battle activities larger than if they had not been there. We had already participated in open battles against entire divisions, destroyed trains, blown up bridges behind German lines, and captured and destroyed German ammunition and supply storehouses.

The last few weeks before liberation, a Polish colonel, Grzegorz, took over the command of the section we were part of. Our headquarters and base were now in the shtetl, Ostrow.

At that time, several German divisions that were coming from the front carried out a huge raid against the partisans, surrounding the entire forest. There was no exit from any side. Our group was behind a cemetery. Suddenly, we were confronted with very strong German force. After a firefight of about a half hour, we withdrew to the Parczew forest which was full of partisans then. The Germans had surrounded the whole forest. Bitter struggles erupted everywhere. The Germans tried to break into the forest and “clean it out.” The partisans on their side wanted to break out of the encirclement. Baranowski and his Russian otriad succeeded in breaking out. The units of the Armia Ludowa received the order to carry out the often well-proven tactic of breaking into smaller groups, and get out like that. Our unit of about 100 to 150 men came up against such strong opposition that we had to retreat into the forest. Night had fallen, and in the darkness we lost touch with each other. We ended up 8 people (among them captain Chil's brother and wife). We spent the night in the forest and vowed to break out no matter the cost. When we got to the edge of the forest the next morning, the Germans had gone. We soon found the others.

Now the situation became very strange. We had been hearing the cannonades day and night of the Russian artillery getting closer. Our hearts were jumping for joy in anticipation of the impending liberation. But at the same time, we were getting squeezed between the two fronts. We could not move. There was shooting from every direction. It was good to remember that we had fought up to

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the day of liberation, and it was hard to be lying somewhere immobile while bullets from the Germans and Russians shooting at each other were flying over our heads. All this time we had had no fear of death. In truth, we never even thought of the fact that we could die. But now the desire to live, and to finally see liberation, was great. Once we lay a whole day in a meadow while the Soviets and Germans carried on a duel. Luckily, the bullets flew over us. At night, we went on further. In the morning, we saw a column of German tanks. We quickly went back into the forest. The tanks went by, but one stayed behind. When we approached with drawn weapons we saw that the crew was already dead.

Around us, shooting was still going on. On the next day, it became quiet. A bizarre, unusual silence we had not heard for weeks. We met a farmer who said, “You can come out now.” The Soviet army was there. We were liberated a day before Lublin. We were near Wlodawa at the time.

The Soviet army received us very well. The soldiers and officers embraced us and kissed us. By the 26th of July, my friends and I were already in Lublin.

It felt strange for us to see a big city, walk through the streets, live in a house with furniture, with electric lights, and see women wearing city clothes. But the war was still going on. Before anything else, we had to continue fighting the enemy. There was little time to think of anything else.

Our partisan life was ending. We felt that we had carried out an important mission. We not only saved our own lives, but we took revenge for our dead, and saved the honor and dignity of our people.

I am certain that many Jews would have taken part in the partisan movement if they could have overcome the difficulty that was the most important at the beginning: where to get weapons. A rifle, a revolver, in 1942 those were the most valuable things. A lot of young people would have become partisans in the little shtetls I was personally familiar with had they had weapons. Later, at the end of 1943 and in 1944 there were already enough weapons. But by then, the Germans had already concluded their bloody work. In the Lubliner territory, there were virtually no Jews left…

1. Municipal administrative division Return
2. Belzec was the third largest extermination camp Return
3. Polska Partia Robotnicza Return
4. Armia Krajowa. Home Army. Perpetrators of many Jewish murders. Return
5. General Rola-Zymierski,1890-1989, communist agent and leader of Polish Army created by Soviet Union. Return

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At the first deportation to Belzec^[2], I found myself with my mother among the unlucky who were sent to their death in this camp. My father alone was hiding in the “kryjowka”^[3] he made himself in the house.

As we approached Belzec, and saw the camp from a distance, my mother and I ran away, and in spite of the fire the Germans opened on us, we managed to get to the village of Plouszowice near Lublin.

In that village, a farmer hid us in a hole in the ground where he usually stored his potatoes in the winter. We stayed in that hole for about 6 weeks, until one night father met a farmer he knew well when he went out looking for food. The farmer hugged and kissed my father and reminded him of the time when he, Reuben Rasset, had helped him out during a hard time, lending him 80 zlotys to buy wood to finish his house. He repaid it a while later.

He displayed a readiness to hide us from the Germans. Incidentally, the farmer was a big crook and a swindler, and interestingly, such farmers displayed the readiness to sacrifice themselves to help a Jew.

At first, the wife was against her husband's plan, but later, when my father gave them money for everyone, she became a little softer.

It's possible that the farmer knew my father had money and helped us for that reason, but the fact is there were Poles who betrayed Jews when the money ran out. Fortunately, it was different in our case.

We dug a large hole in the stable. It had one entrance. There was always a special scaffold of lime that fit into the entrance hole, and was covered with straw above.

We lived through the war, with certain interruptions, in that hole, until the Soviet army entered Lublin.

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About those interruptions, I will relate several episodes that I remember.

There were other Jewish families in the village of Plouszowice aside from our family of six, which, just like us, survived the war in hiding. The farmers in the area around us knew about that, but none of them could point out, not to the Germans and not to the collaborators, our hiding place.

In the area of the village, Plouszowice, several Jews founded a partisan band under the leadership of a certain Mordechai from Markuszow who they called Martchinek (Mordechai Kershenblat). This Martchinek and his partisan band, in which there were many Markuszowers and Lubliners (Unfortunately, I don't remember their names), constantly carried out attacks on the farmers, and forced them to give them food and weapons. The farmers had to comply, but at the same time they were looking for a way to get out of it.

One day, when the whole band of partisans was in a farmer's house, he sent his daughter out to the Germans to inform them of the opportunity to destroy the partisans.

The SS quickly surrounded the house and began to shoot with machine guns at the partisans. Martchinek, the leader, was the only one to get away from the shooting and hide in a neighboring stable.

The Germans saw this, and wanted to set the stable on fire. They did not, however, carry out the plan, not wanting to bring harm to the farmers. They left the farmers on guard with the task of killing Martchinek as soon as he left the barn.

Martchinek left the stable several hours after he saw the Germans leaving. The farmers came at him with axes and scythes, but Martchinek had a few grenades with him and killed about 15 of them, and forced the rest to flee. Then, for revenge, he set fire to several farmers' houses.

While running away from there, he came on another of his band, Itzchak, who had managed to escape from the German raid.

Both found out about our hiding place, and came to us. We, of course, hid them. The farmers, however,

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found out about this, and wanted to force our landlord to turn us all in.

Our farmer did not want to give us up, but after he and his family started to receive beatings, he ordered us to leave the hiding place.

We had no choice but to obey.

Martchinek suggested we go to the forest nearby where there were Jews hiding in bunkers. We did not go along with his suggestion, but hung around the village for six weeks before the previous farmer took us back in.

A while later, Martchinek came to see us again, and told us that the Germans had found out about the hiding places in the forest where he suggested we go, and had set fire to all the bunkers, and killed all the Jews.

With the arrival of the Red Army, we left our hiding places, and with our own eyes we saw the Germans that the Russians had captured in the death camp, hung in Majdanek. We lived to see the day of vengeance.

1. From the Book of Lublin. Return
2. Belzec was the first killing center in Operation Reinhard. About 500,000 Jews were killed there between November 1941 and December 1942. Return
3. Polish word meaning “hiding place.” Return

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