Miriam Chaszczewacki

Before us is a continuous description of the period of horrors that passed over Radomsk, given by a girl with alert senses and an open eye.

The diary, which excels in the revealing of the heart of a teenage girl, is saturated with an atmosphere of infatuation and romance, fleeting moods, youthful agitation and a strong thirst for life.

All of these are depicted against the terrible background of the period as something unnatural, but in that is the value of the diary. With a talent to turn - in the midst of the terrible tension and the dread of death hovering over everything - to youthful antics, to falling in love, to dance parties - precisely in this the value of the diary as a valuable human document.

The author of the diary, in her wonderfully developed public sense, in her talent for discernment and in her deep connections to the suffering residents of the city, reveals herself to us as unusual.

The concern she shows for the fate of her diary, a concern expressed in tenderness is touching, the anxiety that a savior will be found for it, so that it will serve as a testimony to what they had gone through. The desire of this young woman to penetrate beyond self-incompetence, to encourage her dead lips to talk to the living unknown, while she herself would already be beyond life - what supreme heroism is required for this, how high the degree of connection to the public and society must be in order to achieve this.

In the author's talent of vision, and her integrating into the life of the city, has an important contribution to the knowledge of the life that was conducted in Radomsk during the extermination period.

The diary was partly written in pencil and partly in ink. It was translated from a Polish manuscript by A.S.

…we decided to increase our work. The two leaflets we issued were full of hope and slogans like “head up” and “we will pass.” But this does not satisfy us, we need books and newspapers, and these are not available.

Some time ago we split into two groups. Y. and I decided to continue giving Hebrew lessons. We were very happy about that. If we can say so, the work brought us great happiness. We distracted ourselves from the terrible conditions that surround us, from the reduction of the ghetto area that completely cuts us off from the rural environment. We did not want to know about politics, we did not care about the occupation of Yugoslavia by the Germans, we were busy, and that was the main thing…

Today we were reminded of our situation. The neighbors warned us that our group meetings are too loud. We must be careful. It is impossible to hold the Hebrew lesson.

… it is so difficult for us. We promised ourselves not to think about the situation we are in. We dedicate our time to studies. We repeat the Hebrew songs. They add strength to us. But, it is difficult to forget how horrible and bitter our situation is.

I promised Roszka, Franya and Pola that I will continue giving lessons in Hebrew. It is good because I will be busy, it will help me to forget.

It was sad in the last group meeting. We couldn't sing. We sat and listened quietly to Y. who translated the song Yamim Bochim [The Days are crying] to us. I keep repeating the words: “Nevertheless, and in spite of everything Eretz Yisrael”…


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Tuesday, 29 April 1941

What a disgusting weather prevails outside, as if we stood in the middle of winter. The incessant rain and the mud take over the soul.

Unfortunately, there is talk that we are expected to have a shortage of bread and potatoes.

I am starting to believe, and I have known this for a long time, that the days of youth are an invaluable treasure. Although the days of our youth are spent in such miserable conditions, who, like me, believes in the future. We often repeat songs that sing about a beautiful and better tomorrow. Lately we have been repeating the song: “May the sun dwells in your heart” which calls in its last lines:

“Sing the song from your lips
And with courage bear the burden
The sun will dwell in your heart
And you will overcome everything…”

Last Friday I made everyone at home laugh when I said: “I am 16 years old and “he” [referring to Hitler - the translator from Polish] is 50 years old or older. If so, I will live longer than him”… It's easy to say that, but in reality - who knows?

…I teach Hebrew to Franya, Roszka and Pola. They want to pay me. Therefore, I will have something to pay for my lessons with Miss H. and maybe have some left.

Again, there is a shortage of bread. My father hardly eats. Food prices have skyrocketed. Every day food packages are sent from here to other cities. The letters that arrive here tell of terrible things. In Warsaw, people are dropping like flies. The abyss is widening.

The days outside are very beautiful. Spring indeed. Only our hearts are heavy and not ready for the approaching spring…

Yesterday my mother started to manage the pre-kindergarten in Mrs. B's new apartment. But, unfortunately, Mrs. B's child fell ill, and my mother cannot continue today.

We still haven't received the papers (probably referring to the papers that grant the right to work - the translator from Polish), but they don't have much value.

Ala is about to take dressmaking pattern classes with Wagda G. Her ambitions were different, but does she have any other choice? Her sister is marrying a man. The parents are getting older and someone has to provide for them.

I am very worried from the stopping of the pre-kindergarten that I am not capable of concentrating my thoughts.

I must write a lot and also touch political events. Hass fled to England. The Polish press writes that he was not in his right mind. Now they officially announced that the war with America is inevitable. According to them, America demands that France will not hand over its bases in Syria to Germany. This will eventually lead to a collision.

The food situation has eased somewhat but the prices are very expensive.

I am always sorry that I don't write enough. I am just lazy about everything that's going on. I don't know - after all - if there is much importance to the events taking place now. As for the political events, only after the end of the war, we will get real and faithful concepts about them.

Excerpt from the original manuscript (21 April 1941)

The prices of food items have decreased somewhat although it is not known for how long. A loaf of bread has already risen to 30 zloty. A kilogram of potatoes is 3 zloty. Today the price is only 2.80. The bread is divided into small portions as if it was an expensive cake. My father refuses to taste it at all. For breakfast we cook gruel or millet (the price is 20-21 zloty per kilogram). We eat potatoes for dinner. Sometimes we change the times: we eat dinner in the morning and breakfast in the evening. Lunch consists of potatoes with kefir or white sour cream. The milk ration we receive is one and a half liters per day.

I am very busy now. Before noon I help my mother in the pre-kindergarten. For this reason, I moved the lesson to Heinik to 5 o'clock in the evening after my lesson with Miss Hala.

Franya, Roszka and I are now an inseparable trio. We meet every day and read together with Falic and Dulik, stories in Yiddish from the jubilee collection of the newspaper Haynt [Today].

A week ago my father sent a letter to his sister in Russia. I am impatiently waiting for the answer.

It is difficult to begin and systematically describe the order of events of the past week, and give the history of those days.

First of all, I should point out that on Sunday, 22 June the war with Russia broke out. This event influenced what happened to us.

Sunday, 22 June, was a day of joy for us. After all, we greatly longed for this war, and all the time it seemed that they were in great friendship.

The next day rumors spread about the arrest of stateless people, Russian citizens and even former Russian citizens.

My father slept that night at home (the author's father was a native of Lithuania and a Russian citizen - the translator from Polish). The next day, at about 10 in the morning, a taxi stopped in front of our house…

Uncombed I ran out of the house and when the police entered they found no one. The policemen created a scandal. They left and half an hour later came back. They came every half an hour to see if father is not at home. We could not return home for fear that if they will not find my father they will arrest us.

In the meantime, father left the city and two days later managed to reach Czestochowa. Nachum hid with the S. family, mother, R. and I lived with Estusza. I was there for almost a whole week and regretted not taking the diary with me. I was in a depressed mood and worried that we would never return home, and that we would always be forced to live with strangers. Finally, on Monday, father returned from Czestochowa, and despite our pleas not to do so, he went and handed himself over to the police. The police detained him until Thursday. In the end, they released him on the condition that he must report to the police twice a week.

I wrote here only a small part of what we went through. The anxiety was so great and the worries so many that it was difficult to give everything faithfully.

I am too lazy to write, and think I will be satisfied with writing only once a month.

Indeed, I have no happy things to give. My mother was sick lately. She had a cold, suffered from diarrhea and her face looked bad. In the meantime Thursday is approaching, the day of the opening of the pre-kindergarten. After all we have to exist from something.

A while ago I was photographed with my girlfriends. I have to admit, that at this moment I have no other worries in my heart apart from the concern that the photograph will be successful.

I really like receiving letters and I correspond with the Ala who is now in Gowarzów. Our trio (Franya, Roszka and I) correspond with Bashka, the leader of Franya's group in the summer colony.

We also correspond with her two other friends from the summer colony who live in Czestochowa.

My uncle also lives in Czestochowa. He married a woman from this city. I am very curious to know this aunt.

Such is our life: the day before yesterday, hunting for people and kidnapping to work, yesterday the engagement of my aunt Rozia with Mr. G. and this evening my uncle returned from Radoshitz. He fled from there because Jews are being kidnapped for work. On the way he went through hell, he was severely beaten. When he told about it I couldn't stop crying.

We are getting ready for parties and evenings out. Can people of another nation capable of living under such conditions?

We try to believe that somewhere there are free Jewish youth who are not subject to insults and free from suffering.

I often ask myself if life will have the power to erase the two years that have passed on us (and who knows how much longer we will continue under these conditions). Will we ever get better? Will there be a reward for our great suffering?

If it weren't for the fact that I have a cold and lying in bed, I might have stopped the diary. I am so careful my time (for lack of money), that I regret the few moments I dedicate to my diary. And indeed, I am very busy. I give several hours a day to the pre-kindergarten. We also added stenography lessons from a self-study book to our lessons. In addition we learn English. Estusza's sister - Roma, also studying with our trio (Estusza, Franya and I). We learn the English language from German Jews, a strange and absent-minded man. Sometimes he forgets his glasses and other times his gloves. He is very nervous, and there is no wonder about that. So much had happened to him and his wife during this war until they arrived in Radomsk.

Now I am sorry for not writing on time in my diary. Now it is difficult to remember everything. I will have to do this very short.

Over a month ago there was a hunt in the city for political suspects. The Gestapo went to the houses with a list of men and women (mainly communists). They arrested not only those on the list, when they did not find the man on the list they took another in his place. They arrested young and old people who could barely stand on their feet. They arrested Mark R.'s aunt who was suspected of communism, but also arrested his father and uncle without giving any reason for their imprisonment.

The detainees were taken out of Radomsk in an unknown direction. According to the rumors they were transferred to Czestochowa. For a certain period no news came from them, but, a week ago, telegrams begun to arrive a day after they announced the death of several detainees. The death notices were signed by the commander of the Auschwitz camp. A place from which there is no return. According to the rumors, the arrested women will be released, but so far there is also no information about them.

The entire city is in mourning. Someone was taken from each family: a father, brother, sister or mother. A couple, who left behind a young child, was also taken.

There is a faint hope that there is no truth in the telegrams that “they” send, and that some of the “dead” have returned. Unfortunately, I don't believe much in all of this.

And another small detail in the chain of disasters.


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The Germans captured the lands of Poland that were occupied by the Russians, penetrated deep into Russia and are at the gates of Moscow. It goes without saying that none of us is happy about this news. And yet, there is Jew who was happy when he heard about the occupation of Lwow by the Germans. Unfortunately, his joy was in vain.

And here is the story of the event.

A few days before the outbreak of the war, our friend Bronka, Dorffman's daughter, traveled to the Eastern Basque Mountains. With the outbreak of the fighting she got stuck there and moved to Lwow which was occupied by the Russians.

Now, with the occupation of the city by the Germans, her parents rejoiced in the hope that their daughter would return to them. It is no wonder that the egoistic feelings prevailed in their hearts. But it was not easy for them to receive their daughter. It took months of effort to get a certificate of passage to Lwow. A week ago Mrs. D. went to Lwow, but returned home without her daughter. Bronka was murdered (how awful to write that). Terrible murders happened in Lwow. The Germans, in cooperation with the Ukrainians, conducted pogroms against the Jews and Bronka was also murdered in these pogroms.

Is there any medicine for the aching heart of the bereaved parents?

Day and night I think about Bronka. I look at her face and think who knows whether to count her among the lucky ones.

God's ways are hidden. Bronka always suffered from lung disease. We often thought that she would die in her youth. And here, a much more terrible death awaited her.

Last month I turned seventeen. This is my third birthday during this war. How many birthdays will I have?

We are now studying Adam Asnyk's poems. I really like his poems and know a many of them by heart. The poem closest to me is “The Enchanted Rainbow Fairy Tale.”

“From the cradle it follows me,
The Enchanted Rainbow Fairy Tale
And whispers in my ear
Breathtaking words.

Born in the evening hours
From a mother's calm talk,
It will kiss incessantly
The girl's mouth in her dream.

And with me it wakes up,
And together with me it grows up
Happy from the cradle
I ascend to a magical world.

Above mighty seas
Above silvered rivers
The rainbow will carry me in bright colors
To a world full of wonders.

It will open with a magic word
An opening in a wall of diamonds rocks,
I will enter before and in front of me
To the land of giants and strange creatures.

And they closed the gates behind me
Magicians or idols
And so I was doomed
To wander here in hidden paths.”

Wonderful is the poem. I heard it when I was in first grade and I remained fascinated to this day.

It turns out that our English teacher is a poet. He read before us a poem that is dedicated to women. Nice Poem. He promised to write something for us. This teacher of ours is very strange. I will come back to him.

And now for politics:

From 8 December America is in a state of war with Japan, and according to their press the Japanese only gain victories.

The first defeats appear in the east. It is being said that the Russians returned and conquered many of the territories that were lost to them.

For now, this matter does not affect our situation. But, as usual, Jewish optimist promises himself wonderful and meaningful things.

A decree was issued that the Jews must hand over coats and fur collars to the German authorities. The decree states that a Jew who wouldn't hand over these items by 6 January will be executed. The decree forbids the sale of these items to non Jews, and in the event of handing them over both will be executed, the giver and the receiver together.

A new fashion was created, coats with collars made of white or gray fabric. Many sew velvet collars to themselves. After I remove the fur from my winter coat I will be left with the thin fabric and, unfortunately, a harsh winter is upon us. Rumors are circulating that we will have to hand over the wool coats as well. It would be terrible.

The decree to give “them” [the Germans] warm items indicates that they are freezing on the Russian front and that encourages us. They were almost completely expelled from Africa.

Hanukkah week is approaching and we are planning something for that Shabbat. I hope we succeed so that the preparations will not remain just a plan.

I am a little unwell.

Yesterday I lay in bed and although I got up today I still can't leave the house.

The ball on Shabbat Hanukkah was a success. We danced the whole time. Barak sang wonderful songs. In particular I liked the Yiddish tango whose content is roughly like this:

Where will I go when the ghetto is closed
And on its gates the damned guard
The world is big and open in all directions
Only for me it is small and narrow like a grave.

A few days after the ball we went to comfort Bella P. in her mourning for the death of her father from typhus. He was so young and full of life. I returned from the visit broken and depressed. Bella herself does not seem shaken by her severe loss.

Is there any wonder about it in our conditions?


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Thursday, 12 February 1942

Rumors circulating in the city that Jews will be prohibited from going out into the street from twelve noon to one. In the meantime this has been denied. Only yesterday, probably in connection with Kunel's [probably one of the most important Germans - the translator from Polish] visit, is was not allowed to leave between the hours of eleven to three.

A few days ago my mother found a small package by the door. After we picked it up it turned out that it contains explosives. We informed the police about it. They came and interrogated us, but everything went well.

The event instilled fear on us. Only I, to my surprise, was quiet and kept my cool. I got the reputation of having courage, but I know that is not the case.

I am not very particular about early and late in my writing and I don't keep the order of events. I would like someone to write down the events in their order and that I would accompany them with my reactions and my impressions. The question is which is better: to write down my reconciliation with Irka or to tell about the events concerning to all. I understand that it is more appropriate to write about the latter, that is, about the events that take place in the city or in the surrounding area. However, the truth is that I am closer to the first type of writing - about intimate things that happen in my limited circles, although this writing is not of great importance.

I stopped being interested in politics, because there is no end in sight. Only our situation is getting worse. Last Thursday a number of women and men were murdered in the Jewish cemetery. They were arrested some time ago for finding furs in their possession that according to the order they had to hand over to the authorities. The murdered were two couples from the same family. They left little children behind. Among the murdered was a woman who crossed the ghetto's border without a permit.

I have no strength to repeat the details of this miserable day. Hopefully this will be the end of our disaster.

Many Jews were expelled from Bełchatów and other cities in the German Reich, and many of them were murdered. Some of these deportees also arrived in Radomsk.

Fortunately for us, the fear of rising food process and hunger in the pre-harvest period was not verified. The prices, not only did they not go up but also went down. Of course this is a great relief for us.

Among the deportees who arrived in Radomsk is also Manya L.'s cousin, a 21-year-old young man. He only finished seven elementary grades and does not speak Polish well, and yet, I like him. Other girls like him too. I have to be careful not to fall into the trap. There is a great deal of stupidity in these infatuations. But there is no wisdom and no advice against it. I, in any case, keep my secret because I like him.

It's half past ten at night. The days are long and tiring and yet everyone is still awake.

I was attacked by the desire to write and I write while lying in bed. It's been a few days that I want to write, but my time is so limited and I don't get around to it. On Thursday, after eight in the evening (curfew hour), I was standing on the balcony of our house, as I am used to. The street was empty. My attention was drawn to two people in civilian clothes. According to the annoyance they showed at the sight of Jews it was evident that they were Germans. At the window of the nearby house stood Manya's aunt, the one who told me that she knew both of them. One is V. and. and the second S. When they saw us we quickly went inside out of fear. We already got to know their nature.

The death of Hela Fajner reminded us again of our situation.

Hela Fajner arrived in Radomsk with the deportees from Lodz. I became friends with her and we walked a lot together. She was miserable. Her parents died of typhus. I learned about it after she recovered from this serious illness. Hela lived with a married sister, but made a living from trading in the village because in her facial appearance she looked like a Polish woman.

Last Wednesday, Estusza told me that there are rumors that a woman was shot outside the ghetto. When I returned from my classes, I learned that there is truth in these rumors and that Hela Fajner was arrested in connection with this. I did not paid much importance to the matter since I was sure that she would be released soon.

At three in the afternoon, on the way to classes, we were talking about the events in Torun where one of my friends' relatives was murdered. Suddenly we noticed Hala Kopel who works in the community committee. She came toward us and looked shocked. To our question what had happened, she told us that S. is the one who murdered the woman and that he also murdered Hela Fajner. It is easy to understand how much this news shocked me. I could not come to terms with the death of the young friend I had just met yesterday.

Every day and its horrors. On Thursday, Mrs. H.'s cousin arrived from Tarnów with her daughter. Terrible riots took place there. The woman and her two-year-old daughter were saved thanks to the fact that they were hiding in an attic.

For four days she lay with her two-year-old daughter under an upside-down bathtub without eating. When she returned to her home she learned that her mother and sisters had been murdered. She tells terrible things: about piles of dead and about a brutal massacre.

I don't have the energy to write about it.

Franya told me the details of Hela Fajner's death. When the police arrested her she knew what was waiting for her.

Before her execution, she kissed the hands of the murderers and begged for her life, but in vain. Will the murderers come for their punishment?

We are in a cage with no way out and we have no savior. Every day with its cruelties its and murders. Nevertheless, we live and in our heart beat the hope that we will overcome, get through all this and stay alive.

Indeed, great is our will to live. In fact, on the unfortunate day when Hela Fajner was murdered, I laughed a lot in my conversation with S., I think about him too much. I am afraid because I am falling in love with this guy. I think I like him because he is new to our city, or maybe because he's not arrogant, but a humble guy from a small town. It is quite stupid. I speak highly of independence and freedom, my heart stops beating when I see him. When I leave the house I think about meeting him and walking with him. I am angry with myself, because I clearly see his flaws, but all this was of no use. It upsets me that I don't see any attention from him. I would like to be cure of this “disease” (and maybe - not so much…).

I am surprised that I wrote all this. I am the one who is considered sober-sober and careful not to reveal my feelings.

It turns out that both of us, Estusza and I, are in love with S., a ridiculous situation. Two soul mates are in love with the same guy. What is most surprising is that this thing does not affect our friendship at all, on the contrary. Our love for him and the conversations about him bind us even more tightly.

As for S. himself, sometimes it seems to me that he is more inclined to Estusza, sometimes shows closeness to Mania. In any case, he seems completely indifferent to me. Well, I won't cry about it.

On Saturday night Roszka held a ball on the occasion of her birthday. It was very pleasant. I was not at all like myself - a person who is


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settled in his mind. The next day, Sunday, we were at Estusza's ball, we danced a lot. Also S., who at the previous ball did not dance (his mother was murdered some time ago), accepted our invitation and participated in the dancing.

It's been a month since I have been participating in a sewing course and recently I sewed myself (more correctly: ruined) a shirt.

This time I will tell about a little prank we pulled on S. and the girls:

Manya, Roszka and I wrote three letters to three girls: to Estusza, Franya R. and Ala and one letter to S.

The content of the letter to each of the girls was as follows:

“I have a request for you. For a few weeks I want to ask you something, but until now I have not had the opportunity to do so, because there is always someone near us. I would be grateful if you would agree to my request and come tonight at half past seven to Belvedere Gate facing Rolany.

Yours waiting -

Signature”

The letter was sent to each of the aforementioned girls with only a name change.

And to S. we wrote:

“Please don't try to guess the identity of the writer of this letter. In any case, she is one of your admirers. If you are interested in getting to know the writer of the letter, come tonight at half past seven to Belvedere Gate facing Rolany.

Anonymous”

I had no desire to bring Estusza, my soul mate, into the matter, but Manya also had the same claim regarding Franya. Therefore, I agreed and edited the letters: the letter to S. was written in Roszka's handwriting and to the girls in Leibek's handwriting.

During the lesson at Miss Hala the letter was delivered to Estusza, who quickly went through it and immediately handed it to me. I pretended to be surprised, although, of course, I was well aware of its contents.

During the entire lesson I was much more confused and excited than Estusza. She believed in good faith that the letter was genuine. This matter embarrassed me a lot, even though I really wanted the prank to succeed. I regretted when I saw that Estusza does not cast any doubt on the authenticity of the letter, and does not suspect that her soul mate is setting a trap for her. This matter upset me when I saw that immediately after reading the letter she handed it to me. I could hardly hold back from revealing everything to her. I did not want to betray my other girlfriends.

After the lesson, Leibek informed us that all the letters were delivered to their addresses before half past seven. We walked, Estusza, Manya and Ii in the direction of Belvedere Gate. Immediately we saw Franya R. appearing from the Rolana side. She looked somewhat disappointed to see us. Ala also appeared after her. When she saw us, she said she was looking for her sister…

It was already after seven thirty and S. has not yet appeared. We were sure that the prank was not successful, when he suddenly approached with quick steps. Seeing us, he moved towards the gate facing Rolana. I immediately ran to inform Estusza (who in the meantime had gone home) and ordered Leibek to follow what was happening.

Master of the Universe, how ridiculous and small are our parties and antics compared to our difficult situation. From the surrounding cities come rumors about deportations and murders. These rumors do not stop and we are filled with anxiety that our turn will also come and that we will not be saved from the fate that awaits us. Alas for us! They expelled all the Jews from Bełchatów. Our friend S. received a letter from his friend in which he informs that all the Jews were round up and put on cars. The strange thing is that there is no note of despair in the letter, he talks about an upcoming meeting, it seems, after all, that people have not lost hope.

They are planning to establish workshops which might be our salvation. Apparently, for this purpose, all the participants in the sewing course were called to appear at the community building tomorrow at eleven o'clock.

I return to our prank with the letters.

Leibek said that he met with S. after receiving the letter and he asked me if he should go. I answered - Leibek told me - “Of course you should go, it's a real gold commodity.”

I laughed a lot. But it was eight in the evening and the police dispersed the walkers. Therefore I could not go and find out about the end of the affair.

About a quarter of an hour after eight Manya's little cousin brought me a note from her. She wrote me that everyone is at the Belvedere. They understood everything and everyone is laughing. I was very happy because I felt uncomfortable, especially in regards to Estusza.

The next day we laughed a lot when we learned that everyone suspects Roszka (the letters were written in her handwriting) and don't even suspect that Manya and I are the ones who “fixed” the whole thing.

That's how the matter ended. I wrote about all of this because who knows if I will get to the age where I will read my memories from the days of my youth, who knows what will be the fate of my diary…

Three years have passed since the first bomb was dropped and there is still no sign of the end of the matter, although the end of the Jews is probably getting closer.

I cannot describe the horror. The days are very “hot.” Hot in both senses. A heat wave prevails as if this month was a reward for the last rainy month that passed. On the other hand, the tension of these days caused a “hot” atmosphere. I write these words in the past tense, as if all this has already passed, but in fact, the tensions grew and increased.

The Jews are evicted from their apartments in Limanovsky, Kowarsky, and Wilson streets. On the other hand the Poles are taken out from Rolany, Stodolna, and Vonuzova streets. The Germans' intention is to separate the Jews and the Poles. This does not bode well. The Poles are very angry because the vegetable plots, the gardens and orchards, are next to their places of residence, but they will have permission to visit their fields.

It is said in the city that the Poles are to blame for the deportations, because they turned to the authorities in Radom and said they would cleanse Radomsk of Jews.

Recently, the terrible rumors that brought us all to despair have quieted down a bit. They say that America is intervening on our behalf and that it is threatening to retaliate for the Germans' cruelty towards the Jews. America will adopt similar methods to Germans living in America. According to these rumors, the units of the “Aussiedlung-Komission,” whose job it is to destroy all the Jews, were disbanded, but who knows if there is any truth in these rumors.

The “Aussiedlung-Komission” units are composed of Latvians (Latvian gangs) who excel in brutality that surpasses (if this is even possible) that of the Germans and in their lead are men of S. S. dressed in black uniforms.

Friday and Sunday of the previous week were horrible. Panic struck us all. Rumors arrived from all sides that the Latvians are in Kielce


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and Włoszczowa. Horrific news from Warsaw came to us. They are getting closer. The stranglehold is getting tighter.

Labor camps were created in the nearby villages and many signed up for them, although they know that hard work is expected of them

We stopped the lessons at Hala's. Whose head is free for that? Who knows if calm will come and we could continue our studies.

S. received letters from his friends in Lodz Ghetto, a sign that they are alive. He is usually in the company of men and we are now in a state of “stranger relation.” Estusza and I are angry because they claim that we are in love with him.

In the meantime, S. and Estusza were expelled their places of residence and moved to a place where they would have to be together (they are lucky).

I don't know how to start, how to describe the fear and panic prevailing in the city. Actually I have to separate from my diary. It may sound childish, but who knows if this isn't the last time I write in my diary.

Deportations are taken place throughout our district. The Germans call them Humanitarische Ubersiedlung (Humanitarian Relocation). Thousands are murdered in these deportations. They push the people into rail cars. Only a few remain in each city.

Terrible things are being told about these rail cars. A boy from Warsaw, who escaped the deportation, told that two hundred people were pushed into a rail car that can accommodate ten. People suffocated to death. It was impossible to take out the dead, and the few who arrived alive at the destination were put into the “final” camp and three days later were destroyed.

Most of the cities around us have already gone through this agony. It is still quiet here, but it is clear to us that this is only a question of o a few days. In a little while the disaster will come to us too. Something has already started, because the deportees from all the surrounding towns were transferred to our city. Now we have to take care of finding them places to live. Fortunately for us, the deportees brought with them plenty of food, so that for the time being they are not in danger of starvation.

Our situation is bad and bitter, and I sometimes envy Bronka Dorffman who was murdered in Lwow and did not go through all the anxiety associated with waiting for certain death.

Is there anything more terrifying than the certainty that death is getting closer? How wretched and childish the legend of the sword hanging over Damocles seems to us now.

I talked with S. about organizing a force to resist the deportations. We cannot be led to slaughter as they have done in other places. He promised that he would talk to others about it and that he would come to me the next day at three. Today he came to me. When he entered, dressed in black, I was very frightened. I thought that here, here they came… I have been very nervous lately. Is there any wonder about that?

Our days are numbered. Deportations have already started in Czestochowa In three to four days it will start here. How terrible is this certainty of the approaching death. But is death the most terrible thing. The “corridor” towards it worse: the torture in the crowded and suffocating train cars.

Yesterday, on Yom Kippur, most of my friends and I fasted, although I don't know why. If yesterday's prayers and cries failed to shake the higher power, then what else can help us? Basically, what higher power am I talking about, a power that looks indifferently at what is being done to us.

Today Mark came to part from us. He is going to a labor camp in Czestochowa. This is a railroad construction camp. It is possible that by registering as a laborer in this camp he will be saved from death. It is hard to believe that he will be able to withstand the hard work and the terrible conditions prevailing in this camp.

Three young couples came to my grandfather. They came to get a divorce. This is the right step, because, who knows what awaits each of them. Perhaps their traces will be lost and the women, who remain alive, will not be able, according to Jewish law, to remarry unless they prove through witnesses that their husbands did indeed die, and who knows if such witnesses will be found.

Maybe it's foolish, but when I am on the brink of death I worry about my diary. I don't want it end up in a wretched way in an oven or a landfill. I would like that someone, even a German, to find it and read it. I would like my writing, which contains only a small part of what we have been through, to serve as a testimony to our unfortunate situation. And actually, if I will die - what do I care about all that?

Yesterday someone expressed the idea that we would take to the streets chanting: “We want to live! We will not let ourselves be executed!”

It has been a whole week that our dying has been going on. There is a shortage of rail cars. In Czestochowa the deportees are only loaded once a week, on Tuesday, and it slows down the operation. There are still three streets left for deportation. Let's hope, therefore, that we have a quiet week ahead of us. “They may appear on Saturday or Sunday. The past week seemed very long to us, as if it had lasted many months. During this week we almost got used to the idea of the approaching death, as if we are waiting for it. But this is not true because it is possible to get used to death, especially at the age of eighteen. After all, we have not yet tasted the taste of life and how little we have enjoyed it

Yesterday the three of us, Manya, Ala and I, sat in the yard. The nights lately have been incredibly beautiful. The heat is very heavy. We sat and looked at the stars, as if we wanted to read our fate in them. Then, we began to list all the wonders of the world and the pleasures of life, that we would never see and taste.

I am sick and lying in bed (not, God forbid, from the fear of the approaching death). Therefore, I don't hear the rumors going around the city and I am not affected by the street atmosphere. Nevertheless, I am not quiet because the threat has not cease from us.

All the time we are in a state of anticipation, of anxious anticipation, because here, here they will appear. But, so far, thank God, it has ended in fear only.

Unfortunately, there is no escape from what awaits us. We know very well that we cannot escape from it.

We do not know what the situation is in Czestochowa, if they have finished their “work” there.

All the newspapers published the “leader's” speech in which he declared that previously the Jews mocked him, but now if one of them is still laughing, it won't be long before there will not be a single Jew who laughs (I wish “he” would stop laughing first).

Everyone is leaving the city, going to the villages to collect potatoes. The community council gave us a place in the village of Kobiele Wielkie free of charge, but we have no desire to travel. There is no rescue in all this. Before the Aktion they gather all the people from all the camps, and there is no possibility to escape because each estate owner is liable for his workers. Yesterday, Ala, from our group, traveled all alone to Kobiele Wielkie. She is certainly not well there. I wish her all the best.


[Page 308]


Monday, 5 October 1942

I am not well yet and I continue to lie in bed .I am afraid that I will get up just in time for the Aktion. It could be terrible.

My girlfriends visit me and sit by my bed, especially Estusza. We both have no shortage of topics to talk about. We are soul mates and there are no secrets between us. S. is sleeping at home now and not at Manya who left the city with her family. He spends the evenings with Estusza.

She tells me about their conversations and his behavior. Today she told me and Franya that yesterday he gave her a kiss. She said that she was not very angry. She was just uncomfortable and felt a little embarrassed.

Franya said that this is how all boys behave, she knows something about it.

By the way, the conditions that we are in can influence our behavior. In view of the approaching death, the desire arises to taste a little a taste of life at the last moment.

Estusza's story did not make any impression on me. Was it caused by the general situation, or my feelings towards S. have changed. In any case, I am amazed at how indifferent I am to all this.

Terrible things are taken place in the city and we don't know what to do. It is possible that my father could obtain a transit certificate to leave the city, but what will we earn a living from, after all, we are completely without means.

I take my diary again to write in it the following things.

I was lying alone when suddenly Avner's mother and Miss V. entered my room. My uncle immediately left the room. At this moment Estusza entered. I told her that I had the impression that the visit of the two women was connected with the news about my aunt from Czestochowa. And indeed, a moment later Miss V. returned and told us that Roszka's brother S., who works on the other side of the ghetto, received from a Polish laborer an envelope with my grandfather's address and the request: “Please give it to my parents. They will pay.”

When my uncle returned with the envelope in his hand, it turned out that there was a letter inside from a stranger intended for our neighbor who lives downstairs. The letter was written by a woman who informed us that she was in the train car with her children and that her husband was in the city and working in Rakover's factory and she asks to inform her husband about her situation…

We did not understand the letter to my uncle, who suddenly noticed a few sentences written inside the envelope. They were written by my uncle from Czestochowa and included the message: “I am writing this on Simchat-Torah in a rail car. They discovered us.”

According to the letter we understood that they were at home yesterday, and they were probably discovered in their hiding place because it says, “we were discovered.”

All illusions were shattered. We no longer have anyone to send letters to.

But, it is what it is.

Today I got a little better, but I am still lying in bed and taking advantage of the time we still have.

Yesterday everyone returned from Kamieńsk and we had to share our apartments with those who came. A family of acquaintances also lives with us: Mrs. V., her sister, her mother and a foreign woman. Poor people, indeed one fate awaits us, but we are still in our home and sleeping on our beds. (I would have given the beds to “them” as a gift together with the bedbugs).

We probably don't have much time left to sleep on our beds. We are getting ready to hide. We have a suitable place, but there will be about seventy people there. Among them are old people and children. I want to take my things with me, but I doubt if they will let me. I have to take the diary, although I doubt if I would be able to write anything in it.

Yesterday we received a letter from Ala. She writes that she is working hard from morning to evening, sleeps in barn and there is no shortage of food.

They say that all the people in the labor camps in the villages will be returned today or tomorrow, a sign that danger is imminent.

Others think that the murderers will appear on Friday, but my father says that they will only arrive after the Shabbat.

Delegations on behalf of the murderers appear every day at the community committee. They take things and money from there. According to the rumors, they promised to start with us next week, after the Shabbat, but you can't count on that.

The diary ends here. One more page was left in it with few lines of blurred writing in a different handwriting from the handwriting of the diary's writer.

The anonymous wrote:

On the evening of 24 October 1942, she presented herself, together with her mother, before the policeman on Limanovsky Street and asked to be taken to the Jewish community. They told that for a week they hid in a bathroom and for three days they hardly ate. The two were immediately taken to the police station and the next day they were sent together with the transport in a car to Czestochowa.”

During a wedding that was held in the ghetto on Lag Ba'omer 5700 (26 May 1940) Setting (from the right): Ester Goldberg, Blager Feiga, the bride Ester Rosenfeld, Atel Radoszicki, Doba Werthajm Standing (from the right): Malka Fajerman… Rosenfeld (the bride's sister), Yenta Wraclwaski, Hinda Kamelgarn, Dina Eibeszic, R. Kupersztok… Fajner (daughter of the teacher Yitzchak)

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