The Second World War broke out on 1 September 1939. On that day our city was bombed by the Nazis. The Jews left Radomsk in droves in great panic, and the Germans entered two days later, on 3 September 1939.

All the doctors fled the city, some to the Soviet Union or to other cities in Poland. I was the only doctor who remained in Radomsk.

At the beginning of the chaos there was no organized medical service and I had to take care of the wounded and sick myself. A few days later, the head of the community of Radomsk turned to me and asked me to receive the patients at my home until the opening of the clinic.

In the community building on Mickiewicza Street a large room was designated for a clinic. With great difficulties I obtained the furniture and equipment of Dr. Lubelski - who was among the doctors who left the city - and opened the clinic. There was no medical staff to help, and a number of young people had to be taught how to treat the sick. Among the young people who worked at the clinic were: Nechemiah Minski and Shlomo Irzbicki. The number of patients was large.

Several weeks after the opening of the clinic I was called to the chief German doctor, Dr. Hoffman. I received the invitation for the meeting from the Gestapo and the meeting was held at the municipal hospital. The conversation was conducted in German. Dr. Hoffman immediately asked me why I stayed in Poland and did not travel to the Soviet Union since I was young and I did not have to stay. I answered him that I saw it my duty to stay here and help the city's Jews. The German doctor demands were: A. to inject a vaccination against typhoid and dysentery all the Jewish residents. B. to organize a sanitary and hygiene service, test all Jews against infectious diseases and to immediately begin the removal of lice from all the city residents. For this purpose, permission was given to use the municipal public shower on fixed days of the week. On 20 December 1939, in the middle of winter, and on a snowy and cold day, the Germans locked all the Jews in the ghetto. On this day, the Nazis expelled all the Jews to Peshadborsky Street and to the nearby streets. The keys to the apartments, shops and factories had to be handed over to the Germans. It was the first ghetto in Poland. Dozens of Gestapo men, together with Polish policemen, moved from one side of the street to the other, searched all the Jewish apartments and on this occasion rained beatings on every Jew they came across. It is difficult to describe under what conditions the Jews of Radomsk lived in the ghetto. Ten to fifteenth people lived in a room, and every shed and warehouse was used as a living room. It was a difficult winter; there was not enough coal and people suffered from the cold.

The density in the apartments was very high and the hygienic conditions were also poor. It was not possible to properly disinfect the apartments, the lice started to multiply and that is how the first cases of typhoid appeared. According to the orders of the German doctor, it was necessary to immediately start the vaccination against typhoid and dysentery and the removal of lice. According to a special notice, all Radomsk Jews were required to appear at the clinic to receive injections. Those who did not come did not receive a food card. Within two months approximately 7,500 people received the first vaccination, and the second injection was given seven days later. Each person who received an injection received a vaccination certificate. We received the material for the vaccination from the regional physician, Dr. Nitsitski.

At the same time we also started the operation of removing the lice. For this purpose, it was necessary to purchase a new device since the old device operated with the help of steam and caused the clothes to spoil, so the community ordered an electric device. A public shower was set up

A personal certificate regarding the removal of lice and the visit to the public shower

The removal of lice was done in this manner: at the entrance to the shower each person received soap, took off his clothes, hung them on a wooden hanger and handed them to the to a sanitary worker. The clothes were put into the machine and in the meantime the man bathed. Then, he moved to the other side, received his clothes there, got dressed and on the way out was given a certificate that he underwent the removal of lice.

Some of the sanitary staff with Dr. S. Hampel (in the middle)

My work as the only doctor in the ghetto was very difficult because I worked day and night. I finally turned to the head of the community, Mr. Moshe Berger, with a request to bring several doctors to Radomsk, since I was unable to fulfill the duties assigned to me.

The number of patients greatly increased. About ten months later Dr. Mieczislaw Zaks arrived from Warsaw. He was about 55 years old, married and a father to a boy. Before the war he worked in Turek near Kalisz. He had no contact with Jews. He spoke Polish and understood a little Yiddish. After several months, Dr. Różewicz returned from the Soviet Union.

In November 1940, we received an order from the Nazi regime to immediately open a hospital for contagious diseases due to the many cases of typhus in the city. There was not a house without a patient. Since the Nazis were very concerned that the disease would spread and move to their camp, they decided to immediately open a hospital. We were given a very short time to settle the matter. The Germans threatened that if until a certain date the hospital would not be opened, the doctors and members of the community would be executed.

It was decided to open a hospital with 100 beds on 18 Częstochowa Street, in the house where the gymnasium of Mr. Weintraub and the Jewish elementary school used to be. The tenants were evacuated and the hospital opened a few weeks later. Beds, sheets, pillows and other furniture were collected in the ghetto. We received additional accessories from the city of Częstochowa, and the representatives of the community, among them Mr. Klajner and Kirshenbaum, traveled there. A fence was erected around the hospitals and a clinic was opened in a small house in that courtyard.

The medical work in the ghetto was divided between 3 doctors:

Dr. Zaks received the management of the hospitals.
The writer of these lines was the clinic physician and also made house calls.
Dr. Różewicz made house calls and was in charge on hygiene and sanitation.

Several hundred people, who arrived in Radomsk after being deported from the small towns in the vicinity of Lodz, lived in the synagogues.

In the Great Synagogue, wooden beds were arranged on two floors, and hundreds of people lived there in terrible conditions. They did not have mattresses and they slept on straw. The state of personal hygiene was very bad, and people were dying of hunger, cold and infectious diseases.

The synagogue and the old and new Batei Midrash were under the medical supervision of the three ghetto doctors.

In order to see a clear picture of the state of health and the hygiene of the people who lived in the Great Synagogue and Batei HaMidrash, how they lived and what they ate, I will try to describe the realities as it was. The building of the Great Synagogue on Yoslevitz Street was a big and beautiful building with a big and beautiful hall. The ceiling was painted in blue, sprinkled with stars and painted with images of angels. In this hall, two-story scaffolding was built and piles of straw were piled on top of it, and people crowded there. In the winter it was very cold in the Great Synagogue because it was impossible to heat such a large hall. It was difficult, under these conditions, to maintain clean conditions and the people were full of lice. People's bodies were swollen from hunger and full of festering wounds that were difficult to heal. To reach the people sleeping on the upper floor it was necessary to climb a ladder, and more than once I had to examine the patients while standing on a ladder. The rate of mortality was high and there was not a person who escaped typhus fever. A certain percentage of them died in the hospital. The war against the lice was of no use, because soon after the lice were removed, the people returned to the place where they had lived before. We often tried to replace the straw and clean it, but without results. It is understood, that personal hygiene has reached a desperate state.

In 1940, at the outbreak of the typhoid fever, there was a great need for extensive sanitary operations to fight lice and the filth in the ghetto. For this purpose there was a need for a large and well-trained staff, and we started to instruct a certain number of sanitary workers. At the first meeting of the sanitary committee, we divided the ghetto area into five regions. A doctor worked in each area with two sanitary workers. Their role was to go through all the apartments and yards to check if the yards and the rooms are clean, and if there are cases of contagious diseases. Each region doctor determined the need to disinfectants the apartments and set the date for disinfection. On the day of disinfection a steam disinfection devices was brought to the house. The residents took off their clothes and they were put into the device for disinfection. At the same time the straw in the mattresses was burned and fresh straw, which was available at the community warehouses, was provided. Patients, who were suspected of having an infectious disease, were transferred immediately to the hospital.

In the event of an infectious disease, the house in which the patient lived, was closed for the period of one month and was declared out of bounds. The patient's apartment was disinfected with sulfur after closing the windows and doors.

The five regional doctors were: Dr. Rozewicz, Dr. Zaks, the writer of these lines, Dr. Port- Szpigel and Dr. Markowitz (dentist).


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Each regional doctor set a certain day on which all the residents of the house must visit the public shower for the removal of lice.

The work was difficult and responsible, whenever a patient with an infectious disease was found in a house in the region - the regional doctor was expected the death penalty.

During the inspection in the different regions, we were given an account about the terrible situation of the city's residents.

The director of the clinic was Dr. Shimcha Hampel. He founded the clinic and trained the staff. At the beginning the clinic was at the community buildings on 5 Mickiewicza Street. The number of patients who visited there was very large. The bandages and medicines were not always in sufficient quantity. After the opening of hospitals for infectious diseases, the clinic moved to 18 Shtzelkovska Street.

At first, Nechemiah Minski and Shlomo Irzbicki worked as sanitary workers. The rapid vaccination operation against typhoid and dysentery ended in two weeks. In 1940, a registered nurse named Aaronson arrived in Radomsk.

Every day we receive about 50-60 internal patients and about 10-15 surgical patients. Minor surgeries were conducted in the clinic. In the case of a more serious surgery, the patients were sent to the surgical department of the Polish Municipal Hospital.

The equipment in the clinic included a short-wave radiation device, a quartz lamp and instruments for minor surgery. The number of patients who visited the clinic increase day by day and a larger staff was needed.

The staff included: a registered nurse Aaronson, Irzbick, Zeidman, Lola, and two young women who were responsible for cleaning.

The Nazi scientists intended through starvation to kill, and biologically destroy, all the Jews locked up in the ghettos, and to create the impression that they had died a natural death. But the Jews got food in all illegal ways.

As in other ghettos, Radomsk Ghetto also suffered from “hunger illness.”The malnutrition and the food that was low in fats and proteins caused a general weakness and a lack of resistance to infectious and specific diseases. Another factor for their illness was the terrible conditions of housing, lack of air, lack of rest and the density of 15-20 people living in one room. These hygienic conditions caused the development of all kinds of skin and contagious diseases.

The Jewish doctors used all possible means against the infectious diseases. Receive medicines, officially and unofficially, for considerable sums of money. The doctors worked day and night to serve the patients. They fought against the epidemics of Typhus, typhoid fever and dysentery. The city was divided into several sanitary zones, and a constant inspection was made in each zone to improve the situation by distributing disinfectants, new straw and recommendations for additional food. Any person whose fever rose, and was suspected of having an infectious disease, was immediately sent to the hospital for treatment.

The amount of calories allocated to each resident in the ghetto was 600-500 per day, while the amount needed for a worker is 3000-3500 per day. This is to explain the state of malnutrition due to the lack of fats and proteins and the lack of calories and vitamins.

Children and adults receive vaccination shots for typhoid

1. General weakness.
2. Absence of menstruation: this phenomenon was found in a large percentage of women (75%-80%) as a result of a state of fear, lack of vitamins and malnutrition. The absence of menstruation continued throughout the ghetto period and appeared immediately at the end of the war in those who remained alive.
3. Pediculosis: because of the housing conditions, it is no wonder that pediculosis appeared in the ghetto, mainly in places where people lived in terrible conditions and in overcrowding, and lay on straw spread over boards, even though the straw was replaced often. The pediculosis caused, especially in children, skin infections.
4. Edema: a very common disease in the ghetto was edema that appeared in the limbs and face. The reason for this was the kidney circulation disorders, hormonal disorders and blood circulation disorders, lack of vitamins and proteins.
5. Gastrointestinal disorders: diarrhea was caused by the large amount of liquids that people received and by food very rich in cellulose and low in proteins.
6. Scabies: a common disease in the ghetto that caused infectious inflammation of the skin.
7. Tuberculosis: the percentage of tuberculosis patients greatly increased as a result of living conditions in small cold apartments, dampness and malnutrition.
8. Typhoid fever: appeared in 1939. The epidemic actually started in 1940 and caused a death rate of 50%-70% among the adults and 20%-30% among the children.

9. Typhus fever: this epidemic caused a very high mortality among the Jews, and there was almost no Jew in the ghetto that was not infected with it.
10. Hunger illness: severely affected young children and the death rate was almost 100%. The signs of starvation in the children were: apathy - the child did not play, did not want to walk and just lay down tired. Feeling cold, insomnia, weight loss that sometimes reached up to 50%, cessation of growth, fever below normal, brown spots that appeared on the skin, dry skin, infectious diseases, appearance of edema throughout the body, appearance of pleural effusion, abdominal effusion, enlarged lymph nodes, muscle wasting. Death appeared in a state of exhaustion.

It happened on Friday morning. I woke up to the sound of a loud explosion. My mother went out to the street to find out the meaning of this explosion, but no one knew exactly what had happened. Only later it became known that planes bombed the “Metallurgia” factory.

We lived on 12 Krakowska Street, at the home of my grandfather Shmuel Goldberg. From the radio at the home of our neighbor, Mordechai Moszkowicz (a dental technician), we learned that a war broke out at seven o'clock in the morning. I remember that my father burst into tears upon hearing the news. The explosions continued all that day and we all sat in the cellar. In the evening silence prevailed in the city and there were already dozens of dead - the victims of the bombings. The streets filled with frightened people with carts, and when they were ask where they were walking, or traveling, they did not know to answer that.

At the house of our neighbor Nagler lived a judge named Michalak. When my mother saw that he was leaving the city, she decided that we should do the same. My uncle, Zelig Yakubowich, had horses and cows. My mother advised him to prepare the carts and an hour later everything was ready for the trip. Neighbors who lived in the house sat in the cart and there was hardly any room left for the children, my grandfather and grandmother. We left the city without taking anything from home with us. This is how we were destined on the very first day of the war to go into the unknown.

We continued the journey throughout the night. The children and the elderly sat in the carts and the adults walked behind them. At dawn, the deadly bombings started again. The refugees, in the carts in front of us and behind us, decided to lie down on the sides of the road until nightfall, but we continued our journey.

About ten kilometers from our city we met my mother's acquaintance who walked to Radomsk to bring her family from there to the village. But, when she saw us she decided to return to her home. She took us to her house and hosted us there with a generous hand (her entire family in Radomsk was killed during the bombings on Saturday afternoon, when a large part of the city was destroyed, mainly the P.O.W Street and the central square next to the municipality building).

When evening came we saw flames rising from all sides - it was Radomsk and its surrounding area that caught fire. Houses and property that people acquired over generations were lost that night. We decided to flee to another village. The road was full of refugees and retreating Polish soldiers. We returned to the previous village.

Silence prevailed on Sunday. Additional refugees arrived and from them we learned about the destruction in the city and the acts of robberies in which the Poles, the people of the suburb of Kobolowitz, excelled in. Also our house on 12 Krakowska Street burned with everything in it. Hearing this, my father fainted because four families lived in this house, my grandfather and grandmother, their daughter, my uncle Yehudah Koziwoda and his wife, my uncle Zelig Yakubowich his wife and two children, and also my parents with their two children. In fact, there were signs that the house was destroyed the day before. My uncle Zelig had a dog named “Gunya” who, for some reason, was left tied to our house. On Saturday afternoon, the dog suddenly came to us after walking a distance of over 15 km, the distance from our house to the village. The dog almost lost its mind from joy and we felt that she must have escaped a horrible death. At first we still deluded ourselves, but, later, we learned about it from eyewitnesses.

On Monday we decided to return to our city which was already in the hands of the Nazis. Since our house went up in flames, we lived in the apartment of my uncle Avraham Wolf who lived at the house of Moshe Kantor on Limanovsky Street. The family of my uncle Zelig Yakubowich lived at the home of a Christian acquaintance. We slept on the floor and had nothing to eat.

Since the adults were afraid to go outside for fear of the Germans, they sent us, the children, me and my cousin Bronya, to trade with the Germans. We sold the Germans hard-boiled eggs and postcards, and with the money we earned from this trade we bought food for the family. A short time later, the number of children who traded with the Germans increased. The Polish children, who also traded with them, decided that it was worth getting rid of the Jewish competitors. When a Polish boy saw that his Jewish friend is selling to a German, he immediately shouted “Jude” and, of course, the German immediately turned to the Polish boy and bought from him. I ended my career as a seller of postcards and hard-boiled eggs in the first days of the outbreak of the war, after I was once forced to leave all the “merchandise” and fled in fear of the Polish boys.

Two weeks after we returned to the city a German soldier entered our yard. At that time I was standing at the gate and looked at the columns of soldiers who marched in the street. The soldier, who entered the courtyard was from the Wehrmacht and looked different from the German soldiers that we have seen so far. He asked for water. He then asked how all the people in the area know German. I answered him that they were Jews. He asked me if I was a Jew and, when I answered in the affirmative, he muttered something and later said: “Even if you had everything valuable in the world, I wouldn't envy you, you are lost.” We laughed at his words and said that this soldier is crazy. But later I always remembered the words of that “madman.”

Once, when my father, grandfather and my uncle Avraham Wolf returned from their “digging” in our burnt house, they could not cross the road because columns of German soldiers were marching on the road. Suddenly, a Gestapo officer left the ranks of the army. He took out his pistol and ordered them to follow him. He asked them if they were Jews, even though he could have recognized it immediately by my grandfather's beard. The officer stood them with raised arms against a wall and began to count. He held them like that for about two hours and they believed their end was near. Suddenly the officer got on a motorcycle and drove off. It is understood that the unfortunates returned home in a hurry.

In those days, an order was issued that all men, from the age of fifteen, must report to a field outside the city. The Jews prepared for the massacre. We stood on the field, Christians and Jews together, for a whole day until everyone was registered. But nothing happened. Various rumors were spread in the city. Even though people did not know what awaited them, they felt that the situation was getting worse. The Wehrmacht was replaced by the Gestapo and the SS, who were experts in one problem - the Jewish problem. And indeed, not much time has passed and the day, known as “Bloody Tuesday” has arrived. This day is engraved in the memory of all those who remained alive.

Gestapo men passed from house to house accompanied by Polish boys, who showed them where the Jews lived, and took the men out of them. A Gestapo man also came to us accompanied by a young Polish boy. My mother put my father in bed and claimed that he was sick. The Gestapo man took out a pistol to scare us, but we insisted - father is sick. Finally the German gave up and left. Out of excitement I could not sit at home and went out into the street.

Terrible things happened in the street. They gathered all the Jews in “Nowy Droga” Street (the New Road), and from they led them to Reymonta Street by the river. According to the order the men lay on the road with their heads down. Not far from the place stood tanks that started moving in the direction of the people lying on the road. The tanks reached the first line and suddenly stopped. The people were sure that their end had come. I, the boy, stood among Poles who greatly enjoyed the “spectacle.” I heard them joking about the Jews, the mushki that they will finally teach them a lesson.

But, with that, the abuse did not end. The Germans ran the Jews back and forth along the river. I remember a man named Frenkel that the hairs of his beard were plucked together with his flesh, and when he returned home after all these tortures he looked like a plucked chicken. When my mother saw him she burst into tears. But what hurt me the most, is that the Poles treated the Jews with contempt and joy, the Jews who lived together with them in our city for hundreds of years.

At the same time a Judenrat was established in the city with Moses Berger as the leader. The men were divided into three types and each of them received a patch in a different color. Without this patch it was forbidden to appear on the street.

Der Sturmer^[1] issued a special issue dedicated to Radomsk Jews, and in it was a picture of my uncle Avraham Wolf with the inscription: “Also the city doctor says that the Nazis employ us and we are no longer parasites as we were before the war, “work heals.”

In the meantime the ghetto was established. It has been told, that when the head of the Gestapo informed the chairman of the Judenrat that they were about to transfer the Jews to the ghetto - to iberzitdlenn [to resettle], the latter did not understand the meaning of the word and thought that the German said to zidelen, meaning, to insult and curse. He submissively received the “message.” Every other day decrees were poured on the Jews' heads - curfew hours, the ban on traveling by train, etc.

My father went to work to clear the rubble and returned every day wounded and bleeding. Our situation was very bad. My mother often traveled to Częstochowa as a Christian. She brought various necessities there, and from there again she brought goods, and that's how we existed. The Jews in Częstochowa had not yet felt the German arm, and my mother said that sometimes she thought that the city lives in another country.

The German guard post was outside the ghetto, on 2 Limanovsky Street. The ghetto was still not closed and people left for the other part of the city. At night, the Germans attacked the ghetto residents, abused them and grabbed them to various jobs. The guards were mostly young Poles, who suddenly became Volksdeutsche.^[2]

Once, the members of the “Parliament” decided at the home of Moshe Kantor that I should go to the Frenchwoman and listen to the news from BBC radio. I had done so, and at the fixed hour tuned the radio to listen to the news in the Polish language. Her Italian husband was a good man and he accompanied me back to the ghetto. Sometimes we went out, the Frenchwoman, her husband and I, for a walk and the Germans greeted us with “Heil Hitler.”She answered them seriously and, together with that, there was always a red rose stuck in the lapel of her shirt as a symbol that France lives in her heart.

One day the Frenchwoman was invited to the Gestapo and was questioned how news penetrate into the ghetto, and with whom she is doing business. My father felt that we could not continue to operate as before - because she helped us a lot in our businesses - and decided to leave the house.

On Christian Easter, I approached the Polish family who lived a few kilometers from the ghetto. The son-in-law of the family's daughter, who worked as a manager of a German company in Lublin, came for a visit. They talked to me as if I was an adult and we arranged all


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all the businesses. We went for a walk and entered a church. Later, the young man and his fiancée walked me home. The sun was shining and the street was full people. On the way, the young man told me about the fate of the Jews of Lublin. They were all driven out of the city and some say that they were later killed. I asked him to enter the ghetto and tell that to my father and my uncle Avraham-Wolf, and he fulfilled my request. Father heard and did not respond at all. I felt that he did not believe the young man's story, because why would they kill the Jews, and is it even possible to kill hundreds of thousands of people?

A special technique was needed to walk outside the ghetto. To walk with money in your pockets while there are countless dangers lurking on all sides required a special talent. It was enough for a Polish boy to notice you and call: “Jude” and you are lost. Every detail of the walk, the look and the whole behavior in the street, had to be imbued with self-confidence. To this day I don't know from where I got the strength to control myself, and how I was able to pass these fire tests. Not once it happened that Christian boys chased after me and shouted “Jew,” and not once I received a beating from them and returned home wounded and bleeding. I wore the hat of the students of the Christian schools. We, the children, were the only link with the outside world beyond the ghetto and provided food to the ghetto.

That same night they also arrested my father's best friend, Itche Milioner, and we also did not know where he was. Several months later a package with my uncle's name arrived at the Judenrat. When my aunt paid the required fee, she found out that she received her husband's ashes that died of a “heart illness.” He was the first victim in our family.

The Germans issued various decrees. The Jews were ordered to hand over the furs, and those who did not do so were sentenced to death. And indeed, there were victims because of this decree.

Every day many Christian women left for Warsaw with our merchandises. We hardly had time to eat or sleep, because the trains left day and night. Leibel Oleinik, the oil producer, only worked for us.

In Warsaw, said the gentiles who came to us - the Jews are taken out of the ghetto and sent eastward in sealed train cars. Bitter cries and gunshots are coming from the ghetto. A special police in black uniforms consisting of Lithuanians, Ukrainians and Germans, deal with the extermination of the Jews. Rumors began to circulate about R. I. F. soap, produced from Rein-Jüdisches-Fett (“pure Jewish fat”), about gas chambers and more, but the people of the ghetto refused to trust all these rumors. Evil has approached us. Also the Jews of Krakow were taken out of the ghetto. A Jew named Blutka sent a Pole to Blachownia after the Aktion that took place there. And from there the Jews wrote that the best place is the bunker. People began to learn new concepts and new words, and the mania of building hiding places and storing food had begun.

The situation in our house also changed and the children's opinion was considered like the adults opinion. And indeed, we, the children, felt that we had become adults, and that maybe tomorrow it would be up to us to stand up for ourselves and save our lives. My father explained to us that each one of us is responsible for himself, and we must do everything to save our lives so we could tell the world what the murderous Germans had done to us. On the same day, grandmother Sara-Rivka distributed the address of our uncle Chaim Goldberg to all the children. With tears in her eyes she warned us to guard the address saying, that maybe the day will come when we will reach Eretz Yisrael and tell him what we went through. The topic of death was a daily conversation in the ghetto. From a young Polish man, who was sent often to Częstochowa by my mother to inquire about of her family, I learned that uncle Bezalel, my mother's brother, was murdered. The Germans came to his house, took him out, and killed him. I told my father about this and we decided to hide the bad news from my mother. Several days have passed and my mother met the same young man who told her about the disaster. For several weeks my mother sat and cried day and night.

The situation got worse and worse. The “blacks” got closer the city and with them the Aktion nightmare. The Germans gathered the useful Jews and moved them to a special house near the community building. The ghetto was divided into different people, into different strata, according to their work certificates with German Eagle seal on them. Each of them was sure that he would be saved and the fate of the other was decided. People tried to get themselves papers with jobs essential to the war effort. They paid thousands for the “German Eagle” - the seal that was stamped on a red work certificate. Every day people gathered next to the Judenrat and waited for news. Gutstadt often traveled outside the ghetto, collected money and paid contributions for empty promises.

It happened on Yom Kippur of 1942. The ghetto Jews prayed fervently because they knew that only a miracle could save them from their bitter fate. The cries in ghetto rose to the heavens. The prayers were held in private homes. My father prayed at the Kantor's house.


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The slaughterer of Gidzel (Gidle), the prayer leader, also prayed in this house. In the middle of the prayer, in the afternoon, he fainted. His daughters, the teachers Yelin and Tanenboim, asked for mercy from the congregation not to save him and to allow him to die in this way so that he would be granted to be buried in a Jewish grave.

I no longer had the strength to sit in the synagogue and went outside the ghetto to buy newspapers. A young Jewish man took a risk every day and went out of the ghetto to buy newspapers. I joined him and we left together to the train station. The train arrived at noon from Częstochowa and brought the Goniec Częstochowski- the Częstochowa Dispatcher. The engine driver told the Polish boys, the newspaper sellers, that the “blacks once” were in Częstochowa and the Aktion would start there tomorrow. The Polish boys understood that our end was coming and no longer shouted “Jude.” We did not say anything. We took the newspapers and returned to the ghetto.

My father noticed that something terrible has happened to me. He came out of the house of prayer, sat down next to me and asked me why I was so depressed. I told him what I heard about Częstochowa. He turned pale and called my uncle Avraham Wolf to come out to him. When my uncle heard the news, he did not say anything. They decided to wait until the evening and see what would happen. The news spread quickly and there was commotion and excitement in the ghetto. The next day I went out of the ghetto to the brewery whose owner was a good acquaintance of my father. He quickly sent one of his employees to Częstochowa in the train to find out what happened there. Gestapo men walked around the factory's yard. The factory owner told me that he was willing to save my mother and my father. I told him that if we had no choice we would come to him.

On my way back I met my mother outside the ghetto wrapped in a black kerchief. She approached the train station and saw the full cars traveling east, and also found notes with the names of the people inside.

State of alertness near the Judenrat, Gutstadt goes in and out, travels and returns, and the policemen standing at their posts. The price of the “German Eagle” on work certificates is rising higher and higher. People began to leave for the Platzwokes, the places of work outside the city to help the farmers with the harvest. They paid thousands for a place of work.

We also decided to leave the ghetto and go to Christians until the danger passes, because we believed that Jews would be left in Radomsk.

Poles gathered near the ghetto to buy things for pennies. I also sold everything we had in our house. The Germans did not pay attention to this. All the businesses in the ghetto were forgotten. People stood from morning till evening outside the community square in anticipation of what was about to happen. We transferred all our money out of the ghetto.

A long time ago, my father and my uncle Avraham Wolf found a Pole who was ready to hide us. They went out at night to see the place which was very close to the Jewish cemetery. They liked place of the hiding. The owner of the hideout was called Janowski and has done that, of course, for the sake of money. He worried that his wife would be afraid to keep Jews in her house so he got rid of her in an original way. He chopped off a toe on her foot with an ax and sent her to the hospital.

It was decided that we are going to that Janowski, the engineer Bernstein with his wife and daughter, and a relative of Leib Szapira will join us. They took them as favoritism so that we could return to ghetto when the danger had passed. The members of my family who intended to go there were my father, my mother, my brother and I, my uncle Avraham Wolf and their two children. Their son and their daughter Tesia traveled to places of work outside the city. Also my aunt Rachel and with her four more people. It was decided that my grandmother, grandfather and aunt Feigel-Dvora will go to another hiding place, with a gentile named Novak on Sikorsky Street who received a considerable sum for them, and my uncle Zelig Yakubowich and his wife Chaya Pessa. Their acquaintances arranged their children, Mordechai and Hana, with a Pole named Sobinsky who lived on Stodolani Street. The Germans brought the Jews who worked in the villages to Radomsk Ghetto, and also the Jews who lived in the surrounding villages and the atmosphere became dense in the city. We felt that our turn came and my mother said that we must leave at once.

One morning, as in every day, we stood by the community building and saw people leaving the city, happy that they had been saved. Also in the city, many of those who worked for the Germans thought that nothing bad would come to them.

We parted from grandfather and grandmother and left the ghetto. Janowski came with a pair of bicycles and told us to be quite and follow him. Several hours later we arrived to his house. He took us to the attic of his house. The four men were already sitting there and a few hours later the women also arrived.

The next morning I sent Janowski to the ghetto. He returned in the afternoon and said that the ghetto was full of “blacks” [SS men] and it is impossible to go in and out. The Aktion started in Radom and my father and my uncle Avraham Wolf, with his children, are gone. In our hiding place they started crying and shouting .We sent the gentile again and he wandered all night to find our relatives. My father arrived the next morning with ten other people, and a three-month-old baby who always screamed when we were in mortal danger.

In the meantime, my father told us what had happened to him and my uncle Avraham Wolf.

My uncle Avraham Wolf hasn't finished his businesses and did not want to leave all his property to the Germans. He sent the elders to the bunker and in the morning they decided to leave the ghetto. But it became known that the Germans decided to bring back to the ghetto of all the people who went to the Platzwokes. My uncle waited for his two children - Motek and Tesia, and by the time they came home it was already two in the afternoon and the ghetto was locked by the “blacks.” They started shooting in the streets and my father remained stuck in it. They started to move in the direction of the place where they were going to meet Janowski, but the Germans shot at every passerby in the street. Finally, they reached the end of the ghetto by the bridge in Limanovsky Street, to Kalka's house which stood on the road to Przedbórz, but there was no way out from there. They tried to escape when it turned dark, but the Germans stood everywhere and shot at them. They miraculously escaped. A Jew named Kalka, who agreed to take them out of the ghetto, demanded that they would take him, his family and also a widow with a three-month-old baby. Without no other choice they agreed to do so.

They left the ghetto and started moving towards the hiding place. Because of the darkness they could not find the place and walked around until dawn. Janowski also looked for them everywhere but could not find them. Losing all hope that he would find the place, my father decided to ask one of the gentiles where Janowski lived. The gentiles showed him the place and the whole group came to us. But it was clear that our hiding place was “burnt.” Janowski refused to hide such a large number of Jews. My father, who understood that because of him our hiding place was discovered, sat and cried bitterly.

In the morning, many gentiles came to ask Janowski about the Jews who were looking for him at night. We were in the attic - over twenty people - hearing every whisper and, to make matters worse, the baby screamed. Janowski replied the gentiles coldly, that the Jews who were looking for him asked him to take them to Przedbórz, but he refused to do so, and they returned to the ghetto. The gentiles warned him that the whole neighborhood might suffer if Jews were found


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Identification card (with the stamp “Jude”) issued in August 1941

in his place. Janowski swore on the Holy Cross that he knows nothing and there are no Jews at his home. We listened to every word and knew that every word coming from his mouth sealed our fate.

Through the cracks in the attics beams we saw the cemetery and the Germans walking around it, and on the road we saw wagons full of Jews from Przedbórz in the direction of Radomsk.

In this attic we, about twenty people, sat without water and bread, in the heat and stench, and without the possibility of standing up because of the sloping roof, and cried for our bitter fate. We knew that the killing had begun and that death awaits us at any moment.

An entire book could be written about the two weeks that we sat at Janovsky's house, but, after all, Janovsky is the one who saved us from death and therefore I will always remember him fondly.

In this attic we, about twenty people, sat without water and bread, in the heat and stench, and without the possibility of standing up because of the sloping roof, and cried for our bitter fate. We knew that the killing had begun and that death awaits us at any moment.

Once a day Janowski climbed up to us, brought us food and gave us news of what was happening in the ghetto. From his words we learned that there are almost no Jews in ghetto, apart for the three houses in which a group of survivors live. Silence prevails in the ghetto. Jewish Radomsk was completely destroyed and only a few remained. We decided to return to ghetto since the Aktion was over.

At night we carried out our decision. We were unable to walk because we had been lying down for so long without being able to move our limbs. A Polish policeman let us into the ghetto through a gap in the fence in exchange for a gold watch. We passed the football field where the tragedy happened. Once again we were among Jews. We lived in a wooden house. The next morning we did not go out. Of all the Jews of Radomsk about one hundred and fifty remained, and about a hundred undocumented Jews were hiding. Since we returned, the whole family with children and wives, the men of Judenrat looked at us with angry eyes. They buried their relatives and we were survived. They grumbled, “The Goldbergs took over the ghetto.” Of course we lived in fear of death because every few days undocumented Jews were discovered and executed.

The Jews, who remained in the ghetto, were employed by the Germans clearing the abandoned houses and the transporting the remaining belongings to collection points and from there to Germany. My father went to work, my mother tried to renew her contacts with the Poles and we, the children, sat frightened at home and waited for death.

The relations with those Jews were not always good. We were full of resentment towards those foreigners, who took the place of our townspeople. But the ghetto was filled with noise again, Kantor's yard came back to life, and we hoped that there would be no more Aktions and we would remain alive.

I once again wandered outside ghetto and once, on my way back, I came across a procession that I will always remember. Among a group of Jews surrounded by Germans walked the Rabbi of Gidzle. On his raised head was a Jewish hat and with his white beard he seemed to me as if he had come from another planet. In this group was also my good friend, Aharon Bialystok, his mother and others. It turned out that the Nazis intended to send them to Częstochowa but, in the meantime, the Aktion ended there and now they were returned to our ghetto.

People started all kinds of businesses and we also went outside the ghetto and traded. My father started working at Zanmirovsky's lumber factory that carried out orders for the army. This time he was sure that no harm would come to him, since the factory work was essential for the Germans. We lived in one room with my uncle Zelig Yakubowich and in the second room lived my uncle Avraham Wolf and his family. In those days I witnessed how Zelig Wilhelm's son was killed when he was found about a meter and a half outside of the ghetto's border.

Evening came and there was silence in the ghetto. Only a Polish police officer was walking outside in the snow and cold. My mother called him and he came up to our house. He was a good acquaintance of my father and not once I played with his rifle. But the policeman did not know anything. My brother went to sleep and also the rest of the family. My mother and I went to Buchman who owed us money. There, too, everyone was calm and even laughed at my mother who was afraid of every little thing. Mrs. Buchman went the police chief, Markowitz, to ask about the situation. The policeman's wife also laughed.

When we walked back home we met Fishman Shlomo on the stairs. He was Jewish policeman and Markowitz's brother-in-law. My mother called him and asked him what was happening and his answer was: “Chawacze, take the children and escape immediately.”

We returned home, woke up the family and told them what we have heard. We only took one bundle of clothes with us since we were sure that nothing would happen and we would return to the ghetto tomorrow. Each of our family members walked in a different direction. We went to Shevtsik's soda factory. There, we slept on chairs and were sure that we will return in the morning and everything would be fine.

At seven in the morning my mother sent me to see how things are outside. She told me to go to the Buchman's carpentry because the Jews leave from there to work outside the ghetto. On the street I immediately saw that all the traffic was passing from the side street. I heard shouts of joy from the Poles that the sons of the dogs are being murdered again. I entered the factory and it was closed. I felt that many eyes were following me, but I behaved casually and walked away from there.

I went back to my mother, and indeed, when she stood by the window she noticed the great preparation and understood that the ghetto had been liquidated. And once again, a new chapter began in the war for life constant fear in hiding places. My father was not at home, he went to work and we did not know if he was also taken to the “transport.”

But my father managed to escape and hide with a gentile woman named Yasha who lived near the cinema. Our hiding place was located there. My father asked the gentile woman to go and look for us and when she found us we went with her to her house. In the afternoon, a gentile named Watsek entered her house. When he saw us he started to shout that he hates Jews because they once stole a crate of beer from him and therefore we must die. My mother took him aside and gave him the value of one hundred crates of beer, but he was adamant that we must die. Indeed, he feels sorry for Chawacze, he will pray for her soul but we must die. When he left he threatened to go straight to the Gestapo. And now our hiding place was “burned” on the first day of the Aktion. In the meantime, my aunt Regina, wife Avraham-Wolf, brought us their daughter Bronka and escaped when she saw that there was no place to hide. Since they had four children and we only had two, they decided that we should share and take care of Bronka.

In this manner, we, five people, were left without a roof on a freezing winter night. The gentile woman insisted that we leave her house immediately otherwise her husband would come and kill us with an ax. We left her house and went to Sowindka's house who promised to hide us in an hour of need. Her daughter stood outside making love to a member of the commando for the extermination of Jews. We somehow entered and it turned out that my uncle Zelig Yakubowich, his wife and two children, and aunt Ruchtza were already there. We do not know that, because we were sure that they were staying with Wiznik, my uncle's acquaintance. They always told us that in times of danger they would run to him.

The gentile woman let us into a wooden barn without telling us that other Jews were staying there. We got organized and slept on straw on a cold Polish night. The next day we did not eat all day. Snow fell and covered us, but, of course, we settled for that because we were sure that our lives were safe.

In the evening the gentile woman came and said that the neighbors saw us entering her house and therefore we must leave immediately, and if we don't leave, she will leave the door open and she does not care about anything. Her daughter will bring the Germans and tell them that we broke into the barn. Since she is afraid of the dead she asks us to leave immediately and die somewhere else.

My mother immediately left the house and went to search for a new place. And indeed, she found a found a place with the Paltzes, an elderly couple who lived in the workers' quarter in a one room apartment and a kitchen. We, the five of us, entered at night and slept in one room with them. When someone came in during the day we went to the wood shed behind the kitchen.

It was good for us in this place. We felt like people again and for a moment we forgot our situation. My father even dreamed that we would be allowed to live there until the end of the war. Through the window we saw children playing in the snow and the old man


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when he returned from work. From him we heard that the ghetto was liquidated and there are no more Jews in Radomsk. A newspaper article confirmed that the city of Radomsk is judenrein.^[4]

Two weeks have passed. One Sunday the family of the elderly couple came to visit and one of their sons noticed us standing in the wood shed. Our hideout burned down again. The son demanded that we leave his father's house before evening. Otherwise, he will send the Gestapo tomorrow. He apologized to us because he does not want die, he wants to see the end of the foreign rule and a free Poland.

Again, my mother and I searched for a place of refuge. We approached a gentile woman, Wtorkiewicz Hela, who promised to arrange us a hiding place by the next evening. But, she probably followed us and the next morning she came to us with her husband and took all the money from us. She threatened us that if we don't give her the money she would hand us over to the Germans.

Notices appeared on the street that a reward would be paid for every Jew, alive or dead. My father was tired of this life and he tried to convince us to surrender to the Germans, because he wants to be among Jews one more hour before his death. But my mother had a different opinion. In the middle of the day she set out to look for a hiding place. This time she went to Szewczyk's brewery. Our arrival caused panic because these people supposedly saw us dead on the road. Their joy was sincere. They told my mother to bring the children and they would see to it that we will moved to Częstochowa because a ghetto still exists there. And indeed, this was the only reasonable solution.

However, the problem was how to get to Częstochowa, a distance of 45 km, on a road infested with Germans. A carter named Walczak agreed to drive us on his sleigh and for the lack of any other option we took the risk. Since we were going to leave the next morning he took us to his house. When his wife saw us she literally fainted. When she recovered she demanded that we leave her house because she does not want her husband to die because of us.

My mother spoke to her heart, gave her everything we had including our clothes and we put on worn clothes. In the end, the woman agreed that we could stay until morning and also promised to light a candle for our souls. After all, she saw us lying dead on the snow and the fear of this night would accompany her for the rest of her life.

We left at dawn. My father dressed as a gentile and wore glasses. My brother and I were hidden in the straw and Bronka sat next to my mother. Before the sleigh moved, Holy Water was sprinkled on it and a cross was passed by the horses. To the light of day we passed through Radomsk, where my father and mother knew every gentile and every policeman, and nothing happened. Also on the way Germans and Gestapo men drove behind us and nothing happened to us.

We arrived in Częstochowa. My mother did not know where the ghetto was and how to enter it. She got off the sleigh and the gentile drove behind her. When she entered Warszawska Street, which was empty of people, she luckily met a Jewish policeman who knew her. He warned her that the place was very dangerous and showed her a place where Jews worked. The policeman stood on the side and followed her and thanks to him we were saved.

Finally we were among Jews. We learned that my mother's brother, her sister and husband remained alive and we had nothing to worry about. We decided not to run away anymore, and our end will be together with everyone since we are not better than them.

The Germans loaded them on trucks that drove to the Jewish cemetery and after them drove trucks with machine guns. Only a few managed to jump off the trucks and return to the ghetto, all the rest was murdered.

The ghetto understood that this was another step toward its elimination, but not everyone was ready to die without resistance.

Groups of pioneer youth in Częstochowa decided to fight for their lives. On 14 January, on the eve of the liquidation of Radomsk Ghetto, a young man named Fiszelewicz, together with Fajner, attempted to assassinate Rahn, Degenhardt's deputy. Unfortunately for the young man, the pistol did not work and he and twenty young men were shot on the spot. In Raków, young men tried to derail a train. But the Germans discovered it before the train arrived, and again forty people were killed. But all this did not deter the youth, who set up bunkers and collected weapons there. The young men collected money among the Jews, and anyone who refused was sent to the organization's prison. The Jewish police felt that it was no longer in control of the ghetto and feared the organization's revenge.

We, the kitchen workers, helped them in the construction of the bunkers. We brought them lumber for this purpose, as well as for the construction of the tunnel that led out of the ghetto.

We did not sleep all night and debated whether to go to the selection or hide.

Every five meters stood groups of gendarmes armed with machine guns and grenades, and Degenhardt walked between the lines. He ordered to open the lines and now we are visible. But this time he did not mean us. He was looking for those who lived in the houses where the weapons were found and those near them. Everyone had to say where he lived. That's how he collected two trucks of people that left the ghetto followed by trucks with machine guns. The unfortunates felt that their end was coming and shouts were heard: “Death to the murderers of our people, remember us!”
And we stood in the lines petrified because we wanted to live...

The trucks left and it was quiet again in the Rineczek. I heard the whispers of the women, who stood in rows near the barbed wire fences, and saw their husbands, sons and brothers, being executed.

The death trucks returned. And again Degenhardt walked through the lines and took out people he did not like. This time my brother's luck also ran out. The murderer approached him, noticed that he was standing on a stone. “How old are you?” he asked him “Fifteen years old” - my brother answered and was taken out of line.

I stood behind my brother, I saw and heard everything and kept silent... and what could I have done? Run after him and die with him? After all, I wanted to live with every fiber of my soul.

Sometime later the trucks returned empty and again people were taken out. But this time I was no longer afraid. We, thirty-six children climbed on the truck and another considerable number of adults to fill it. And suddenly Director Lidt, the general manager of the HASAG, appeared wearing the black uniform of the SS and ordered the children to be taken off the truck. We survived (among the children who were saved was another boy from our city' Aharon Bialystok, who passed away not long ago in Israel).

The trucks left without us and we remained alive.

I went through more selections. The camps Buchenwald (in Buchenwald I lost my father) and Theresienstadt. The page is too short to describe everything that I had gone through during this period until the end came to the evil rule.

Translator's Footnotes

1. Der Stürmer (lit.“The Stormer / Stormtrooper / Attacker”) was a weekly German tabloid-format newspaper published from 1923 to the end of the Second World War. Return
2. Nazi term, literally meaning “German-folk,” used to refer to ethnic Germans living outside of Germany and did not hold German or Austrian citizenship. Return
3. Aktion (lit.”Operation”) is a name for a series of violent actions by the Nazi forces in residential areas or concentration of Jews, such as the ghettos. The action was intended for transportation - forced collection and shipment to concentration and extermination camps. Return
4. Judenrein (lit. “clean of Jews”) is term of Nazi origin to designate an area that has been “cleansed“ of Jews during the Holocaust. Return
5. HASAG (also known as Hugo Schneider AG, or by its original name in German: Hugo Schneider Aktiengesellschaft Metallwarenfabrik) was a German metal goods manufacturer founded in 1863. Return

It was at dawn when a loud noise woke me up, and when I opened my eyes my mother already stood by my bed. From the look in her eyes I understood that something very bad had happened. Her face was pale and sad, she hugged me tightly to her heart and said in a whisper: get dressed quickly, we must run to the shelter, and left the room. While I was getting dressed I heard her giving instructions to the housemaid to prepare the most necessary things. I finished getting dressed and hurried to my mother, but, at that moment, the thunder returned, the windowpanes shattered and shards of glass flew at me. Someone caught me in his arms. The thunder returned.

They sat me on a bench next to my eldest brother and my sister. Our mother hands us wet handkerchiefs and orders us to hold them close to our mouths. I looked around me - dirty walls of red brick, full of spiders, and people are crowded together. Indeed, it was the cellar in our house was and all our neighbors were inside. The frightened children cried and the mothers tried to calm them down. I hear my mother turning to the woman standing next to her, - are you sure that these are indeed gas bombs? The noise returns, children burst into tears and noise, my mother shoves my wet handkerchief into my mouth. I sat like this for a long time until there was silence. My sister is sleeping, and then I asked my mother - mother, is this a war? - Yes, Junia, but please try to sleep too - Mother, is this also a war like you told us about? Will this war also last four years? Could we go to school? Endless questions and how to ask all this! My mother's face is so tired. I got up on my feet. I felt so big in this small room. Outside there is a rumble of airplanes. And quiet again… Suddenly we heard the sound of a motorcycle. My mother run outside, indeed, this is my father, he just returned from Warsaw. He traveled there the day before. I sat in my place and fell asleep.


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A dark night… Before me a pair of horses harnessed to a loaded cart. My sister and my cousin Pela are sitting on the cart. We walk slowly slowly. My father walks forward and talks to my uncle. I look behind me, the city is burning. Wherever I turn my head flames rise to the sky. My eyes fill with tears and a terrible fear attacks me, a fear I did not know before. I burst into tears. My father takes me on his arms and calms me down. In the morning, we arrived in the village where my father's aunt lived. We spent a few days there until we saw the German soldier. From this it became clear to us that Poland had been captured and the German armies are also in Radomsk, and we returned home.

The cart stopped near the house. I did not believe what my eyes saw. The house was in chaos, everything was upside down, everything was looted, the door and the furniture were broken, and there were bayonet marks on the cupboards' doors. I saw great sorrow on my mother's face and tears in her eyes. My parents started to organize the house and I escaped and ran to the street. I did not see a child face, the street was sad. Suddenly a man came towards me. His face was red and he wore black pants, a yellow shirt with a red ribbon on the sleeve. Well, this is a German? But, while I was standing and thinking, a boy passed by me and pointed his finger at me - Jude!! Jude!! Since I hadn't heard the word before I did not understand its meaning, but there was something insulting in this call. I ran home and asked my father - what is the meaning of this word? My father's face turned pale and he quietly said - Jew!

Shortly after we returned home, we were informed that a ghetto is being prepared and that all the Jews should move there. This is not possible! After all, this is my home!!! Can someone kick me out of here?! - - He can! He can! Said my mother, and I soon became aware of it.

And again a cart is standing in front of our house, but this time it is different, Germans are standing on both of its sides. We are only allowed to load a few pieces of clothing on the cart and food that we already had at home, everything else must stay. I have say goodbye to my little room, my yard that I loved to play in, I must leave because they want it that way… They, the Germans! My mother is crying… I see that she is trying to hide it from me. Indeed, my mother, I see it, I see… and promise you that I will never bother you, that I will fulfill all your requests, I will always be by your side! This was my first oath to my mother, but I did not have to keep it for long, because soon my mother was taken from me.

Ghetto…. In half a year we changed six places of residence. These were not apartments, but stables, in which we lived together with several families, until my father informed us that we were moving to live a better house.

Already then, my father, mother and brother, wore white ribbons with a Star of David on their sleeve. My sister and I did not wear it because were still little girls. One day my mother informed me that I will go to study, no, not to school, but with Mrs. Penske, who was also my teacher at school before the war. In the morning I got up early and ran to my teacher's apartment. There were already about ten children there. Our teacher explained to us that we will come every morning to study, but we are not allowed to enter in groups, but one by one. The Germans must not know that we are studying. The books must be well hidden under their coats, because otherwise they will arrest us. At home my mother explained to me that Jewish children are not allowed to learn knowledge, therefore we must do it in secret. My dear mother! After all, studying is not a crime! You always said that knowledge is the torch of life. And now we have to hide it?! The word, hide, has become a household name, everything is hidden, but we cannot hide that we are Jews! - Do I want to hide this??! ! My mother is also Jewish, and what is wrong with her, also my father, my brother, my sister and all the members of my family are Jewish. Who is to blame that we are Jews? After all, the same God created us all, or maybe another God create the Germans and the Poles… Where can I get an answer to that?

The hours I spent with my friends at our teacher's were our only happy hours. And when we left this small room, and went out into the street, the sadness immediately returned to us. People looked old and broken.

I have the impression that all grandfathers had a toothache, they all wear handkerchiefs around their mouths, but my friend, Nuyta Dombrower, laughed at me, don't you know, under these handkerchiefs they hide the beards. Beard? Is this also forbidden for the Jews? Strange! We both said this word together, and as children do, we immediately made a game out of it - first we chose the letter B (for broda - beard in Polish), and now we had to choose a flower that starts with the same letter, or choose a question that we wanted to get an answer for. If we chose the same flower, then we received a positive answer. And what should I ask? Will the show that we are learning to present be successful, or maybe I will get a nice present for my upcoming birthday, no! I want to know something else! Nuyta counts to three, and I must say the name of the flower I've chosen. In one shout we chose Z, my mother's favorite flower. I turn to my friend and ask: what were you thinking, Nuyta? What did you want to know? She looked at me and said - if there will be an Aktion or not. Although I had no clear idea about it, I knew that something was going to happen, that they would separate me from my parents, and that they would take us in closed train cars sprinkled with lime.

We went to visit one of our girlfriends to tell her about the show. The room where she lived in was in a cellar, a small room full of smoke from a broken stove. Two families lived there. The babies lay wrapped on the floor. There were no beds, and even if there were, there was no room for them. Twelve people lived in this small room. Older children sat together in a corner and one of them quietly read a book. They noticed us and went outside, and we also left for our homes. A week later we presented the show. The decision to put on a show for children came very spontaneously. We were about six or seven children, Nuyta Dombrower and her little sister Henka, Toushia Niemark, my sister, Frida and I. We organized and prepared everything without the help of adults. We decided to come to the aid of the refugee children and they had free entry. We presented the show in the large room in our house. We sold tickets and collected 29 zloty. The income was intended for helping the refugees. We gave the money to a refugee woman from Lodz who lives in the synagogue with her three small children. And her husband? She did not know where he is. In the meantime, the adults also decided to organize a “revue.” The rehearsals were mostly in our house, Hemek Aronowicz, David Meir Kornberg and my father directed it. My father decided to include my sister and me as an opening for a short sketch. I did not know how to act. I worked hard to learn a short song that we had to perform on the stage, and these are the song's rhymes:

“Yagde's little berries, we gather in the forest.”

The day of the show has arrived. The hall was full and my father played the violin. At the end of the room I heard crying, and when I turned my head I saw that indeed everyone was crying. After all, they came here to be entertained, to forget their suffering at least for a moment. Many children stood outside but were not allowed to enter. These were the children of the Lodz refugees who were brought to us and lived in the synagogue. One day Nuyta suggested that we go to the synagogue and invite these children to our home. We, a group of several children went. We stood at the opening of the hall and we couldn't believe what we saw. One large


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hall and in it bunk beds, one next to the other, and it was terribly cold there. Children cried, others shouted, terrible! horrible! Tears filled my eyes. If it had not for Frida, who pushed me out and calmed me down, I would have probably cried out in pain and sadness. Later, a girl came up to us and introduced herself, her name was Ilsa. It turned out that she was from Germany and recently lived in Lodz. We invited a number of children to visit us, and returned home. I lay down to sleep, but I was sleepless and lay with my eyes closed. I heard my mother and father talking in the next room. Only a few words reached me, “the time is too short… we must do that at night… bunker… above the ceiling… Aktion…” The adults don't stop talking about it, Aktion, bunker, people full of fear.

Every day I see tragedies happen from my window. Here is a policeman, next to him is a young man standing by the well and washing his blood-soaked face, and why he was beaten? because he is a Jew? Will he also go with the Aktion?… Aktion! Aktion! In spite of the parents' strict care, that the children would not know anything about the construction of the bunkers, because a slip of the tongue would destroy everything. My dears… I know your secret! Not once my father was absent at night and my mother too… I know about the four bunkers that my father is building in the house. We, the children, know the importance of the matter, and we will only help you! Dear mother! How sad and terrible life is! And there, beyond the sea, is Eretz Yisrael. If I will stay alive, one day I will reach my homeland whose love I have sucked from you. I try to imagine the date trees, Rachel's tomb. Will I reach you to continue a tradition of generations?! - I fall asleep and my heart is full of hope.

In the morning I got up quickly and a feeling oppressed me, I ran to my teacher, most of the children were already there. I sat in my place, and only then saw that Frida cut off her braids. “Frida! Where are your braids?” My braids?! Do I need them for the rail car? That the lice will eat me? My mother cut them off for me. They say there will be an Aktion soon. It was already in Czestochowa… We did not study that day. Our teacher did not have a convenient time for it either. I ran home and found my mother cleaning the house for the holiday of Rosh Hashanah.

My mother got us up in the morning, dressed me in a clean dress and went to the synagogue. It was a small hut, like an apartment that someone built for prayers. A lot of people in front of the house, all crying… I noticed my mother was also standing with tears in her eyes. Our aunt Keila came over and greeted us. The prayers began inside and everyone entered. The crying did not stop for long. I cried too. I hugged my mother as if I wanted to protect her… Do I have the strength to protect her?… I looked around scared. It was hard to recognize the people, white and thin face and big prominent eyes. The prayers came to an end and also the day came to an end. Someone is shaking me… I hear talking. I open my eyes, my mother is standing next to my bed and next to her my brother and sister. Dress quickly you must enter the bunker. Aktion!!! I jumped out of my bed and a strong shiver passed through my body, I dressed quickly and walked to my brother and sister who were standing in the doorway.

A lot of people pushed into our house. An old Jew with a long white beard, holding a small bundle in his hand and a large duvet, turns to my mother and begs her to let him enter our bunker. And, after him, more and more people… The bunker was full and when we, the children, wanted to go inside there was no more room. My mother took us and put us in a second bunker above the attic. We climbed a ladder, crawled into a small cell, from there through a hole into a more spacious cell, and closed the door. And so we were between the tiles that covered the roof and ceiling of the attic. It is impossible to sit. The height is 50 centimeters. A lot of people are already lying in their places. The three of us, my sister, brother and I, crawled to one corner. We lay quietly. Noise and shouts reached us from the outside. After a while everything went silent. I suddenly hear- wszyscy zydzi na plac - alle Juden raus - [all the Jews to the square - all Jews out]. And it is quiet again. A shiver went through me, quiet… The corner where we lay was on the side of the stairs, and so we heard everything that was happening inside the house. Here I heard my mother and father leaving the house… I want to shout don't go mother!… A boy starts to cry … They calm him down. And it's quiet again… My brother has a cold, he coughs, people are angry, the Germans will discover him,, the cough will reveal the bunker, my brother is coughing again. He tries to hold back, but he can't. He is coughing again and again! He tries to hold back, but he can't. He is coughing again and again! The lack of air in the bunker bothers him and causes him to cough. We hear steps from the stairs… someone left the house. The cough is coming back… the people decide to take him out of the bunker, the cough doesn't stop… I decide to go out with him. They open the door, my brother and I go out. The door closes and we are both in a small cell. Light enters through the cracks in the roof. Suddenly I hear a noise, people walking up the stairs. Strong footsteps of boots, I hear them speaking German… Dogs are barking outside… The Germans enter the house. Here they are in the attic below us… We hear knocks on the walls they probably want to discover a bunker in the house. My brother starts coughing, he asks me to plug his mouth. They will hear us!!! We will reveal all of them! I find a rag, shove it in his mouth and lie down with my whole body on his face, he can't breathe. I suffocate him. The Germans are laughing, rummaging through the things in the attic, and we are above their heads. One shines up with a flashlight, a little more and the light will fall on me, suddenly I hear: kom raus, ist keener da (come out, no one is there). I hear them going down the stairs. Quiet… I slowly got off my brother's body… He did not move. I took the rag out of his mouth, he doesn't make any movement. Did I suffocate him? I slap his face with all my might, I can't shout, it is forbidden!!! And who will help me? I quietly knock on the door and ask for some water. Someone hands me a mug with a drop of water and lemon. I pour drops of lemon into his mouth and the water on his face. My brother opens his eyes… slowly slowly he regained consciousness and the coughing also stopped. The people agreed to let us back in. We crawled to our corner where our sister stayed. She pounces on us and kisses us, happy to see us back. From outside we hear Ukrainian singing, and now I remember that my birthday is in a week, and I am 11 years old. Someone is looking

A study class of ghetto children

What is this - after all, the Aktion ended yesterday, why are they calling us again? I hear my mother leaving the room. She goes to the corner and whispers: children, we don't know what happened. Why are they calling us again, and we don't know what will happen… goodbye… and she left.

Those were the last words I heard from my mother… and everything repeats again, I hear Germans climbing up the stairs… they climb up to the attic again and searching if anyone is hiding there. They knock on the wall, speak German and laugh, go up the stairs… and the silence returns again.

I hear my heart beating…

And what is it? Who's crying outside, it is my father's voice! My father is crying, and mother, why don't we hear our mother…! Why only my father is crying?… Where is my mother? My mother did not come back?… I want to go out! I must bring her back… I shout, my brother calms me down and hugs me. It's not clear yet, we don't know yet… my father is crying… and who is not crying today… maybe they are right. Maybe… maybe… my mother will come soon???

Seven days have passed like this. But my mother did not return… In the morning my father came and took us out of the place to move us to the bunker above our apartment. During the whole time I did not feel the stench there, we used the buckets that we prepared for this purpose. We quickly passed the corridor and entered the kitchen in our apartment. There, our cousin was waiting for us and helped us to climb to our bunker. The stench was terrible here too! There is no air! You can suffocate! My father took down several buckets to empty them. I lay down at the edge; we had blankets there to cover ourselves with. Until now we covered ourselves with coats. I asked Andzia what happened to our mother. But, instead of an answer she burst into tears. And when she calmed down she said that our mother was taken to the train… to Treblinka…

After ten days my father allowed us to leave the bunker, but we must hide at home and not to be seen outside. Slowly slowly people started to get out of the bunkers. My cousin Andzia cut my braids. My mother won't take care of them anymore. My dear mother… At first I thought that there is limit to sufferings, but I was wrong, there is no limit to sufferings!!! I peeked out of the window. At the street corner stood a German soldier, holding a rifle and waiting for the hunt. My heart was filled with pain and a feeling that I cannot define. For some reason I haven't never felt it, I look at the house, my heart is filled with love and sorrow, and again I look at the German, well Junia how do you feel now? One word burst out of my mouth, hatred, hatred!!! Well, I learned that too, to hate!!! A hatred that mankind often talked about, but we, the children, were happy because we did not know it. And now, can I bear in my little heart the intense hatred for one. And great love for my people, for others. Well Junia, you have been put to a difficult test! I left the window, approached my sister and asked her: Esther, do you know how to hate? Is there anyone you hate? She looked at me for a moment, turned her head to the window and looked at the German below. “Yes, I know how to hate, those down below… our enemies.” I swore that I would never forgive this. I would never stop hating them!!! My cousin, who was now our mother, invited us for a meal, leftovers from the bunker. For the first time, after a long time, we dined at a table. Our mother's place remained empty. Only news about disasters came to my ears. About my friend Rishek, his mother and father, who were caught and shot. The cry of the earth soaked in Jewish blood of was heard in the heavens. A few days passed and the Germans informed us that we had to move to Limanovsky Street where they set up a small ghetto, and they will let us live in peace. This was the Germans' ploy. The Jews, who somehow managed to escape the ghetto, walked around destitute without money or food. The Poles were looking for them to hand them over to the Germans and receive a reward. They had no choice but to return. The transfer to the small ghetto ended quickly. The few surviving Jews were accommodated in a number of houses. The Germans chose this place as convenient for guarding and surveillance. We lived on the second floor. I think that previously it was the Epstein family apartment. Bronka lived with us and took care of us. In this manner we passed a quiet month but in great poverty. In a small shack, at the end of the yard, lived two sisters Chava and Eva Kupka, and the plumber Fishel Pariz. I think he was their uncle. And another friend name Maniek like my brother's name. I often visited them. There were almost no children left in the ghetto, and those who lived were not in the ghetto. Life was not life at all!! Everyone was broken. There was no family that remained intact. One morning my brother got up and told us about a dream he had - he was walking in the yard and when he passed by the shack, his friend Maniek came out and turned to him: your mother is staying with me. My brother wanted to break down the door, to get in and take her, but his friend stopped him. Although she is with me, you may only see her only in two days time, and the meaning of this dream? Can any of us understand it? Was it intuition or an inner feeling that led him to dream this dream, because exactly two days after that he was murdered… It was a dark evening, I was in the small shack with Chava, when two shots rang out, and after a few moments another one… A tremor passed through me, my brother and Bronka were outside the ghetto, risking their lives to get some coal to heat the stove to cook some food, and they still haven't come back… It's been a long time since we ate hot food, and it's winter outside, frosty. Chava was frightened and burst into bitter tears, who did they just kill? A rustling was heard near the window, I went outside. A number of young men were standing there, and when they saw me, they turned to me, led me to the entrance of our house and ordered me to go up to my room. I objected to that, why should I go up to my room?! What are they hiding from me?! Another young man came and I hear him say, there, under the window of the shack they now lay two murdered. The Germans shot them near the gate. A cry burst from my mouth. I ran with all my might to the window. I lifted the sacks that covered the corpses, my brother's face appeared before me and his whole body was drenched in blood… I fell on him, hugged him and kissed him… I tried to lift him… My father came and his face pale, full with suffering. He picked up his son and carried him home. They laid him and Bronka on a blanket. My sister and I were taken to Andzia Krauze. They tried to hide the horrible picture from us. But I ran away from there and returned to my brother and spent the whole night by his side. My dear mother!! You are no longer…and here is lying your eldest son… he is coming to you!!! Your only son… Mother, mother, here by the corpse of your son, my brother, I swear to avenge your blood, and never forgive it. In a month you will be sixteen years old, and what was your life like? By the wall a small insect is crawling, looking for some hole, wanting to hide from the hand of the Germans, our murderers…

In the morning a cart stopped by the house, but not things or clothes were loaded on it, but my dear brother… They lead you to eternal rest, better than ours. There you will find your eternal rest. Our mother is there, our brothers and sisters, victims of horror. Good bye to you Maniek… good bye to you Bronka… there is no one to cry for you, your family is no longer alive, murdered by the monster…

The cart moved from its place, two people were allowed to accompany it. They will dig a grave for them, and lay them together as brother and sister in one grave, and the earth will be light for them!

The next day a German appeared at our house, my brother's murderer. People saw him taking his pistol and firing. He turned to my father in German, and said: you must thank me for adding another bullet and shortened his agony! Indeed, thank you, our master, who can kill innocent and defenseless children. May your name be cursed for generations!


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Only three were left of our family. My father brought us forged birth certificates with fake names. We learned all the details by heart and also a catechism, so that we can pass the test in case we manage to escape the ghetto and live as Christians. Time passes and a new year came … the year 1943. A few survivors gathered at our place, my father played the Funeral March on his violin in memory of my brother on the thirtieth day of his murder. Then he gave a short speech and smashed his violin to pieces… Many collected pieces of the violin to sanctify his memory. One of those present told me, maybe this piece of wood will be preserved and tell about our suffering.

Several days later, in the evening, policemen were stationed around the ghetto, It was clear that they were going to eliminate it and were preparing a second Aktion! My father entered the room and ordered us to put on coats and follow him. We headed towards the gate, on the way we met Andzia. She turned to my father and said - Zanak, if you stay alive avenge our blood, don't ever forget that!!! Why do I have to die, and I am so young…? Good bye to you!!! We arrived to the gate. My father pushed something into the policeman's hand and he turned his head and let us through. There was no clear path ahead of us, my father tried several times to find some sort of arrangement for us with the Poles, but all his efforts were unsuccessful. We decided to go to a Polish woman and there we will see what we should do next. It was late at night when we knocked on her door. When she saw us at the door she was very frightened. She let us in and gave us hot tea. We were five, my sister, my father, Pola Breslauer who lived with us at that time, and a boy who managed to squeeze through the gate when my father talked to the policeman and walked with us, and me. And what should we do now? Where will we turn? And what should I do, my father was also helpless. I was a twelve year old and I had to take care of myself. I turned to my father and asked for some money. I explained to him that I was trying my luck. There is no room for all of us. Take care of Lita, protect her, she is little. I must take care of myself… Father burst into tears… That's how I heard him cry when our mother was taken. At first he did not agree. What happens to me will happen to all of us. After an argument he was convinced. Each of us should try separately. Finally he agreed and gave me money and we parted. My sister cried. My father knelt down and prayed for my success. I turned to the boy to join me, he was my age. I opened the door, it was winter outside, night, I turned my head once more towards my father and sister. Goodbye dear… I couldn't add more, once towards my father and sister… I closed the door. Goodbye my dears… I couldn't say more … I closed the door, and headed towards the train station. That's how I parted from my father and sister, and from Radomsk, and a strong hope in the future beat in my heart.

In the following years I wandered outside the ghetto, I hid, and did everything I could. And so, after a while, I arrived in Vienna as a Christian Pole for forced labor. Slowly I found connection with my father who was in Warsaw. From him I learned that my sister was caught and imprisoned. She was ten years old, but according to her forged certificates her age was thirteen. Thanks to her courage, she was able to mislead the Germans and get out of prison unscathed. After this incident, my father transferred her to him in Warsaw and gave her to a monastery for a while. In the meantime I was looking for tricks to transfer her to me to Vienna. My efforts were successful, I managed to deceive the Germans and within two weeks I received an entry visa to Vienna for my sister (I sent it by registered mail). A month later my sister was with me. She told me that the Germans transported her to work in another city, but she jumped off the moving train and came to me. I arranged a job for her with a farmer, a few kilometers away from me. Danger lurked everywhere. I met Poles who were looking for Jews, many from Radomsk. I had to be constantly on guard.

And so, two years later, we were liberated by the Russians. We returned to Poland to look for our father. There was no contact between us for about a year. Poland was already liberated, but Vienna was still in the hands of the Nazis. The war was in full force and we did not know if our father was alive…

We returned to Poland a month after the liberation of Vienna. The transportation was not yet operating in Austria, so we walked from Vienna to Bratislava and from there with a transport to Poland. In Warsaw we learned that my father, my sister and I remained alive from our entire family. The only one remained alive from my mother's family was her sister's son, Yosef Krause, who was murdered by the Poles in Radomsk after the war.

We immediately left for our father, and at five in the morning, on May 28 1945, my feet stepped again on the earth of Radomsk!, but this time as a free woman. We ran across the street to our house. And when I stood by the house, I knelt down and kissed the threshold. We were happy to reach this day, but our hearts are broken forever! For the loss of our mother, our brother, and all our loved ones, six million of our brothers and sisters!

At home we found our father and Pola, uncle Avraham and his son Lemak. Of the sixty-eight people in our family six remained. We were six survivors!!! A few days later, Yosef Krause, who was saved from seven sections of hell, arrived. Auschwitz, Dachau, Mauthausen, Bergen-Belsen and more… and was murdered in the riots by the Poles after the war. There was an armed robbery at our house and a shot was fired at my father, but luckily the bullet only wounded his ear. My thoughts turned again to Eretz Yisrael as something that can be done now. Now, my vision can come true. We started to act in this direction, and shortly after that we left Poland forever. I arrived in Berlin, then to Bergen-Belsen (a transit camp) and from there to Israel.

On 17 April 1947, my foot stepped on the Holy Land. This is my place, here, in the land of the forefathers. I must live, build and work for its existence. You, Eretz Yisrael, will be my mother, in you resurrection, and the courage of your spirit, I will absorb the love for others and my people.

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