[Pages 118-129]

When the war broke out, I lived in the town of Svisloch in the Grodno region. My parents Kalman and Liba Slapak, their unmarried daughters Reizel and Rachel, my brother Leibel Slapak and his wife Beilka (nee Zaltzman), the parents of two year old Rivka, all lived there. Three of my father's brothers and their families also lived there.

I, my husband Boris Ceitlin and our four month old baby lived next to my parents. We all worked together with Father in his sawmill, and earned a comfortable living.

The Second World War broke out on September 12, 1939, and Poland fell within a few weeks. The Germans and Russians partitioned Poland. In this partition, our town fell in the Russian section. The Russians immediately began to execute their plans. Obviously, we were not pleased by them. They destroyed our typewriters and telephones. Early one morning, armed soldiers came to us as father was standing, reciting his prayers. They told him to stop his prayers, for he had “prayed enough”. They imprisoned him, but they sent him home the same day. However, there was no end to the tribulations. They came each night to requisition flour – specifically at night as if to vex us.

After a short time, the keys to the enterprise were taken to us. It was confiscated, and we were not even allowed to walk over our threshold. The situation worsened from day to day. We were afraid of exile to Siberia. Therefore, we decided to move to Vilna, my husband's hometown and the place where many of our family lived, in order to disperse ourselves among them and free ourselves from the tribulations that fell upon business owners.

We packed up a few of our household belongings and moved to Vilna to live with my father–in–law. My husband found work in a government enterprise, and we were not lacking in anything.

The Nazis attacked Russia in June 1941. They conquered eastern Poland, including the city of Vilna. Then the tribulations began. A dizzying set of edicts were issued each day: the yellow badge, the ban on walking on the sidewalk, the ban on purchasing in stores. On Sunday, they would get drunk, beat Jews and pillages their houses. On the other days of the week they would snatch up men for work, as it were. In truth, they imprisoned them in the Likishki Prison. When the jail became full, they would bring them to the Fanar forests surrounding Vilna and murder them. In this manner, they murdered thousands of men who were snatched up in the yards and the houses. After a short period, they decided to concentrate the Jew in a ghetto. How did they make the ghetto? They falsely accused the Jews of shooting at the Germans. As a punishment, they killed many of the Jews who lived in the Jewish center of Vilna, and then they brought into the ghetto all of the Jews who lived in the rest of Vilna. We, who did no live in the center of Vilna, were brought to the ghetto with the rest of the Jews on the Sabbath Day. The Lithuanian police carried out the expulsion. They went into the houses. People were permitted to take only as many clothes as they could carry. Then they were expelled into the direction of the ghetto. Obviously, they attempted to take large packages, but in the tiring journey, walking without rest, they abandoned most of their belongings, which became booty for the gentiles. They were prodded along the way, and my 2 ¼ year old child walked on foot in fear from Vilkomirska to Starashona – a journey of several kilometers.

At first, two ghettos were set up. These were not sufficient for all of the Jews. The first people went into the houses, were they slept adjacent to each other at night. The rest remained in the yards – also crowded. From the window, I could see people standing crowded together as salted fish in a jar. This situation also did not go on for long. That night, the “homeless” people were removed and brought the place where they were brought. In this manner, “space” was made in the Vilna Ghetto.

The rest were registered by the Jewish council that was appointed in order to maintain contact with the German authorities and to execute their edicts. Aside from this, there was also a Jewish police force.

Life in the ghetto was particularly difficult, with crowding, lack of food, and fear of death. A portion of the ghetto residents worked in the ghetto institutions (hospital, children's homes, council, police, etc). Another portion was called out to work in organized groups, in accordance with the needs of the Germans. Each group was led by several leaders, who led them to an unknown place. It was forbidden to walk alone. I left my child in the children's home, and went out to work in the gardens. My husband worked in brick manufacturing. I was happy with my work, with the thought that I would be able to bring a bit of food to the ghetto, where there were no stores, no distribution of food, and which was cut off from the outside world. There was extra protection over the men, and my husband was not able to bring anything. However, the women brought some food to the houses, despite the ban. They would gather some vegetables, hide them in discrete places, and bring them into the ghetto. Or they would sell haberdashery to the gentiles, and obtain some food in return. The gentiles did not obey the ban on selling to the Jews, for they wished to make a profit. Toward evening, they would hide it in their sleeves or dresses, with their hearts trembling with fear. Black haired women such as I would plod along slowly to the ghetto. We would be frisked at the entrance to the ghetto, and if they found something, the guards would steal it and administer beatings.

In the meantime, the Germans began to execute their plan for annihilation. One night, they decreed that everyone had to gather next to the ghetto gate and to register their work certificates. Everyone ran to the gate. The murderers opened the gates and brought out a group – a quota to be murdered. These did not return. All were murdered. They would exchange certificates every two weeks, and at every exchange, they would carry out an aktion of murder. The number of residents of the ghetto continued to shrink. There were not enough certificates for everyone. Those who did not receive certificates were sentenced to death at the next aktion. When the yellow certificates were being issued, my family did not get one. I do not recall the dates, but I remember that this was in the first few months of our living in the ghetto. After the yellow certificates were issued, they summoned the certificate holders to the ghetto police. This took the entire night. The “game” began early the next morning. Those who would conduct the murder aktion were standing near the gate. Those who held the yellow certificates stood in a line and went out the gate. They were very exacting, and examined each certificate. I took my child on my shoulders and stood in the line of the holders of yellow certificates, for I had nothing to lose, and even a German could make a mistake. At first I did not succeed, and the German thrust me back into the ghetto. I was desperate. I said to myself: death is better than a life of torture and fear of death. I wished to enter to the group of those designated for death, but my husband insisted that I try again, for perhaps I would succeed in saving the child. The second time, I succeeded and left the ghetto. All of those who went out were sent to places of work, but I had nowhere to go since I did not have a certificate. Out of fear, nobody wanted to join me to their work group. I began to walk randomly through the streets. The first street was Zvolne. I walked outside all day with my child in my arms, alternating between napping and crying, apparently from hunger and thirst. I asked a Christian girl who was standing on the sidewalk to buy a few apples for me. She refused. She only fulfilled my request after great urging. In pain and agony, I somehow went through the day. I had nowhere to turn when it got dark, and I became desperate. I attempted to return to the ghetto. I saw hundreds of guards next to the gate waiting for the command to enter the ghetto and gather up all of those who did not have the yellow certificate. When I saw this, I returned and went to my Christian neighbor. Nobody saw me. My neighbors received me in a friendly manner, even though there was a death threat upon them if I would be found in their home. They served me food and gave me a clean bed. I did not eat or drink all night. The next morning, the Christian neighbor went to ascertain the situation, and to find out if I could return to the ghetto. He told me that all night, Jews were dragged from the ghetto. Those who had yellow certificates remained in their places of work, and their families returned to the ghetto. At the gate the guard asked me where my husband was. When I answered that he was at work, he let me in. My husband told me how he was saved from being killed. A large group hid in the cellar. The guards found them, but they accepted a bribe and left them. When those left, other guards came, and took what whatever those poor people had left. When there was nothing left to take, they too, sent them all to be killed, including my husband. At that moment, a merciful nurse passed by, who knew my husband, and had a yellow certificate. She said that this was her husband. There were not personal certificates in the ghetto. Thus my husband was saved that time.

We were in a very bad situation. We could not go out to work. We had no food, and there were rumors of a new aktion in the near future. We were not the only ones in this situation. The only alternatives were suicide or flight from the ghetto. In 1941, there were still places of relative quiet. We planned our flight from this ghetto. We got in touch with a yekke^[2] – an army man – who would take us to Oshmyana (White Russia), a city near Vilna. The mass murders did not begin in White Russian until 1942. He told us that he would be waiting for us at 6:00 a.m. on Sadova Street next to the ghetto. But how would we succeed in getting out of the ghetto that was surrounded by guards. We got up at 2:00 a.m., and looked for some opening, but could not find one. Every gate was filled with people who were in our situation, who were also searching for a means of salvation. Between 5:00 and 6:00 a.m., when the gate was opened for the first group of workers, many broke out of the ghetto, including us. The guard of the gate could not control all of them. We did not take out any bags in order not to arouse suspicion.

After we left the Vilna Ghetto, the small ghetto had already been liquidated, and there were only about 3,000 families left in the large ghetto. These were families that possessed the yellow certificates. The German told us to enter a large truck covered with a tarpaulin. He received his money, and took us. We reached Oshmyana, first to the German guard and then to the ghetto. We arrived in Oshmyana in September 1941 and remained there until March 1943. The Jewish community of Oshmyana received the first refugees pleasantly. They provide them with housing and other material aid. That week, the guard changed, and refugees were no longer allowed into the ghetto. They shot them all. Despite this, during the first weeks, refugees streamed toward Oshmyana every day, but none of them succeeded in entering the ghetto. There were heavy guards on the roads. The refugees were caught and murdered. People were taken from the ghetto to dig pits and bury the dead.

We lived with great crowding there. There were two families in one small room. The physical situation was particularly difficult. We were called out to work every day, and food was not distributed. We would take clothes off from our bodies and exchange them with the gentiles for coarse flour and potatoes. Even the child did not taste any sugar. Jews were taken out and murdered on several occasions during our time in the ghetto. The murder aktions were carried out primarily against old people. All the people of the ghetto were commanded to gather in one place, young and old. They were taken to a place outside the city and killed with shots. At first, the plan was to murder the women and children whose husbands and fathers had previously been murdered. However, as a result of negotiations, the Germans agreed to murder the aged rather than the women and children. A death pall fell upon the Jews in the ghetto on account of the rumors that arrived from White Russia, that Jewish communities were being liquidated one by one.

Suddenly, the Germans changed the boundaries in such a way that Oshmyana was severed from White Russia and annexed to Lithuania, which was already judenrein since 1941, except for a few people in the ghettoes of Vilna and Kovno. In March 1943, the Germans informed us that they were liquidating the ghetto in Oshmyana and transferring all of the Jews to Vilna or Kovno, in accordance with the desire of each person. Confusion arose. The people had already lost their faith some time ago, but there was choice, one had to decide. Some registered for Kovno. We, natives of Vilna, registered for Vilna. The authorities ordered wagons from the Christians to transport us. Later we found out that all of those who registered for Vilna arrived in peace, but those who registered for Kovno were shot in Fanar.

In March 1943, we arrived back at our first ghetto, and the hell began anew. Once again there were registrations and work permits, and 8 people were put up in a small room. I went back to my former work in the gardens. The living conditions in the Vilna Ghetto were as described previously. In July 1943, rumors arrived about new murder aktions, and in August, we awaited the impending disaster. According to the rumors, this time, people were not taken out be murdered from the ghettos, but rather from the places of work. Signs of this were that the smaller work places where only tens of people worked were cancelled, and everyone was concentrated into two large work camps: the train station and the Provnak – the airfield that was 7 kilometers from the city. Approximately 2,000 people worked in the two work places. I was designated for Provnak. I went on the first days. Pits were dug all day. I did not go on the second day. When I went to sleep at night, the Jewish police arrived, took me out of bed, and brought me to the police station of the ghetto, where I sat all night. (This is what the police did if someone did not show up for work, the next day, they were forced to go.) I was not the only one. The next day, a representative of the Jewish council appeared and told us that we do not have to be afraid of the “aktions”. The rumors were false, and should not be afraid of going to work. That day, they did not force us to go to work. They told us to go home and eat, and whomever wishes should go to work. I believed the representative of the council. The proof was that he did not use force. I ran home, had a bite, and took my child to the children's house. This time he hugged me strongly, cried, and did not want to stay in the children's house. I went with the hope of finding some food for the family. Women wept on the way to work. Armed Lithuanian and Latvian gentiles walked on the streets. The women did not stop wailing. They said through their weeping that we are “guests” in the world.

When we arrived at Provnak, they closed the gate. Armed Germans dug around the fence. Wailing broke out at this sight. Some people began to jump over the fence. The guards started shootings, and some were injured. The shots stopped when people stopped fleeing. Then the commander of the Jewish council arrived (his name was Gennis). He calmed us and promised us that we were being brought to work. Having no choice, we believed him. Transport wagons were ready there. We were loaded like animals, and the doors were closed. The windows were covered with wire. We traveled for three days and three nights. Food and water were not distributed. We finally arrived in to the Vaivara camp in Estonia. We had left Vilna on August 6. The camp was surrounded by a wire fence, and there was a guard day and night.

There were bunks in the camp for sleeping, with three levels, bottom, middle and third. 70–80 women were in one room. There were two camps, one for men and one for women, with a wire fence between them. The director of the camp was an S. S. man called Shenbel. He arranged role call, selected staff (heads, secretaries, kitchen, laundry, bath). Most of my neighbors in this camp were divided into various work groups. I worked in paving roads, the railway or the forest. About a month later, a second transport was sent from Vilna to Estonia – these were the families of the first transport, including my husband and child. The children had their own block. It was possible to see them after work.

We were woken up for work between the hours of 3 and 4. We were given a bit of black coffee and lined up for role call. We would stand for hours until the camp commander appeared. We would stand in the heavy rain, and the rain would penetrate to the flesh. Then they would drill the men with useless exercises (during the role call, the men and women stood in the same place, and the children were supervised in the bunks): taking of the hat, putting it back on, and the action had to be done at one time. If someone did not succeed, he would be beaten until he bled. After these tortures, we went to work under the supervision of the guards.

We would work under the command of taskmasters all days, and suffer harsh blows. In the evening, we would return under guard to the camp. There would be another role call. Supper was coarse bread and thin soup. Then we would go the bunks and the beds.

There were groups that worked among civilians. If, out of hunger, someone asked for a piece of bread in a house or from a passerby, the supervisor would write down the number. (In the camp, we were not designated by patches, but rather by numbers on the arms or chest.) At night, this information was given over to the camp director. Then, the role call would last for hours. This person would be beaten. For this purpose there was a special table in which the head and legs of the person would be placed. He would then be beaten on the back with thick sticks until they were broken. The screams of these beaten people would ascend to the heavens.

There was no water in the Vaivara Camp. They would bring water in cars for cooking, however there was no water for washing. We had no change of clothing, for we were snatched up for work when we only had our work clothes. Therefore, we became infected with lice within a short period of time, and a typhus epidemic broke out as a result. Then the camp was declared closed. We did not go out for work. I was among the sick. No special care was given to the sick, no medicine or any special food. As time went on, the weak ones died, and only the strong remained alive. I do not know for how long I was ill. When I regained consciousness, I examined my body, and it was putrefied. Lice swarmed on my body, and I could not sleep at night. Once, they brought me water and let me wash myself. Clothing was also distributed. The women looked like animals, emaciated, without hair. Pills were distributed in the food that shut down the menses, so tat the women did not have any period from August 6 1943 until the liberation on March 10, 1945.

We remained in Vaivara until January 1944. Then, the camp was liquidated. Those ill with typhus and the children were sent on a train to an unknown location. My husband and child were among them. They were then lost to me forever. Those who had become healthy went on foot. The stronger held up the weaker so that they would not stumble along the way, for those that stumbled were shot in front of everyone.

I walked in the deep cold for the entire day. Toward evening, 150 men and 150 women remained in the Jevi camp. The rest continued on.

I was in Jevi for two months. I worked in the station in the cleaning of snowy railway tracks. Later, the Jevi camp was closed, and they brought us to Ereda. There, I worked at backbreaking labor. All day long I worked in Thon in the building of bunkers. The living conditions were equivalent in all of those camps. In all of them, the supervisors were members of the S. S., who were appointed for that with one objective. Except for Vaivara, there was warm water, baths, and separate camps for women. The Ereda camp was closed around August 1944. Then, the Germans were already suffering great losses. The Russians were advancing. They wished to transfer us to Germany. The camp commander counted us. I did not stand up straight during the role call. The commander lashed out at me and beat me on the head with a wooden stick, to the point where I was dripping with blood all over. After the role call, we were loaded up onto transport wagons and brought to Reval^[3] to be loaded upon ships. To our dismay, there was no ship for us, so they marched us on foot for a few hours to a field, where we camped out for several weeks. On the first night, we slept out in the open. Later, they brought boards, stuck them together into shelters as if for dogs. 10 – 12 people slept in such a shelter. We were brought back to Reval a few weeks later. That day, Jews from the various camps in Estonia arrived in Reval. We were all loaded onto transport ships. We arrived in Danzig, after three consecutive of days of travel without a piece of bread or a sip of water. There, we were loaded onto small boats. It was so crowded that it was impossible to sit, so we crowded together standing. We were certain that they would take us to the depths of the sea to drown us. However, we reached land in the morning. After walking some distance on foot, we arrived at a large concentration camp called Stutthof. This was true hell. We were not taken to work, but rather tortured randomly. First, they sent us to bathe. Before entering the bath, the “doctor” examined us to see if we had any gold or precious stone. (The gold and furs were already taken from us in 1941.) After that, the SS. woman shouted at us to open our mouths, so she could check if we had anything under our tongues. She also checked under our arms. We washed up. Simple, torn clothes were distributed. We were cold in those clothes, so we did not hurry to go out early in the morning for role call. Then the S. S. women attached hoses to the taps and poured cold water upon us so that we would run to role call. We stood at role call for several hours despite the cold. Then everyone was distributed a slice of bread – the food for the day. We were not allowed to enter the bunk, so we sat outside all day. There was another role call at noon. After that, we were given some foul water upon which was floating some vegetable or a piece of beet. We ate the solid part with our hands, and we drank the liquid from the bowl. There was sand beneath the bowl. Sometimes, there were some leftovers after the distribution. This would be distributed. Sometimes, women struggled for the leftovers, but the distributors hit them over the head with the mixing spoons until blood came from their heads. One woman was left with a wound in the shape of a spoon on her forehead, which was dripping blood. There was another role call in the evening that lasted for hours (3 role calls a day). Once, as I was trembling from cold at the time of the role call, I placed my hands under my arms to warm them. Immediately, the S. S. rained blows upon me.

A selection took place in Stutthof every day. A large number of army men appeared, and all of the women had to pass by them as naked as on the day of their birth.

The army men would check them appropriately. If a wound or blemish were found on someone, they would be separated to be brought to be burnt. I passed through several selections. From there, transports were sent to hard labor. They chose the young ones and those with strong muscles. I also was sent with a group of 300 women. We were sent to the Roshin camp near Danzig. Before we went, we were taken to the bath, and clothing was distributed. Each person received a shirt, a pair of underwear, a dress, a coat, a kerchief for the head, a pair of socks and a pair of clogs. They told us that they had dressed us for two years. The appearance of this camp was like that of the rest of the camps, fenced with wire, and carefully guarded. There were blocks of bunks with hard beds, and a warm bath. The 300 women were divided into groups for hard physical labor. Some of them changed railway posts, a very difficult task. Two women were required to prepare six posts a day. They had to loosen the screws, remove the stones from around the posts so that we could remove them, replace them with new posts, screw them in, and strengthen them with filler stones. A train passed by in the evening to check if the work was done properly – that there were no vibrations as the train moved.

Another group worked in building, in the loading and unloading of bricks and cement. They had to prepare the building materials. I worked in building. This work was easier than the railway work. Another benefit was that British prisoners worked at this task, and they would receive packages from the Red Cross. The prisoners would send us a little bit of food and letters of support every day, encouraging us that our suffering would not last much longer. This eased our suffering. Ten women worked at this place. An S. S. woman guarded us. The work director was an elderly German from the simple folk. He would serve as a go–between between us and the British. He distributed the packages in such a manner that the S. S. woman would not notice. The women who worked in changing the posts fell like flies. Already having been previously tortured, and with inadequate food, they could not carry out the work. The supervisor would list the weak ones, and every two weeks they would be sent to Stutthof. Some strong ones were also sent.

In the meantime, the months of December 1944 and January 1945 approached – the months of cold. Since we were wearing light clothes, we tried to wrap ourselves with think blankets beneath the dresses, which was forbidden. When the S. S. women detected this, she imposed a collective punishment onto the entire camp. That day, no food was distributed in the camp. There were many such days. Later, they sent us coats. My coat was a Hassidic kapote. Then, a typhus epidemic broke out in Stutthof, and it was impossible to send out the women to work on the posts. Then the building women were sent to work on the posts. I worked in the Danzig station (Langfrau). I felt my energy dwindling day by day. One day, two of us had to collect the iron grates. My partner had no strength, so we only carried a small amount of iron. The S. S. woman noticed this, and slapped us both over the face, without paying attention to the civilians in the station. After a short time, I stopped working, for I had no more energy to screw crews, and my feet would no longer carry me.

In the meantime, the Russian front approached, and they transferred us from this place. We walked on foot the entire day. We slept in a barn at night. Thus did we walk from village to village. In the morning, they would distribute a dish made out of potato peels at the place we encamped. That was all for the day.

Thus did we travel for two weeks. We finally camped at a small camp near a village. We did not work. However, we almost had nothing to eat except for a small piece of bread for two days. If we stood near the fence, sometimes a piece of bread would be tossed at us. However, the camp director and the S. S. women did not permit us to stand near the fences. Once, a piece of bread was thrown to me over the fence. People realized this, and the starving women gathered around me, fell upon me, tore off my kapote, pushed me to the ground, and wanted to take the piece of bread by force. I struggled with them, and during the wrestling, the piece of bread broke apart, so neither they nor I had it. We nevertheless remained friendly, because this was only due to hunger.

We went to sleep as usual on March 9, 1945. They woke us up at night and commanded us to continue walking. A heavy guard watched over us, made up more of policemen than women. The road was full of army people and weapons. We thought that they would shortly shoot us. They brought us into a barn. We slept. In the morning we saw women – not from among us – sleeping. Some of them were ill with typhus. They told us that they had been resting in this manner for six weeks, and some of them had died. A terrifying scene was standing before us. Later, the head of our camp came to comfort us, telling us that we would not remain there on account of the filth and illness. Since we were clean and healthy, he promised that we would continue along our way in the morning after breakfast. Two hours passed. Suddenly we realized that our guards had disappeared. We looked around. The roads were full of tanks, including Russian ones. This was on March 10, and it was near the city of Lenburg. We were confounded at this sight. We did not rejoice, for we were certain that after what we had seen over the past few months, with the streets covered with corpses (these were people who died along the way), what would be the chances of finding our families? Very slim. Nevertheless, we did not remain in the barn. We went to the village. The Russians gave us food and drink.

We remained in Germany for a month without doing anything. After that we, a group of women from Poland, set out toward Poland. We arrived in Warsaw on May 1. We registered with the central committee. They gave us addresses of ruined houses where we would be able to sleep on the floor. Thus it was. We slept on the floor. We ate the leftovers of what we had brought from Germany and searched for family. I traveled to Bialystok a few times hoping that I would meet someone. To my dismay, Svisloch was within the borders of Russia and Bialystok was within the borders of Poland, so it was difficult to get to Svisloch. I returned to Warsaw. They advised me to work at a Jewish children's shelter in Otwock. I received work. At first, they did not receive satisfactory effort from me. I was lacking in strength. They had a proper director, Bilicka Blum, whose husband had fallen in the Warsaw Ghetto. She and her two children were saved, as they disguised themselves as Aryans. She realized my situation, and ordered me to eat and drink in order to first regain my strength. That is what I did. I regained my health, and worked there until August 1946. I could not longer live in Poland, since I saw the Jewish destruction at every footstep. I decided to travel to Israel and to live among Jews. I put a bag on my back, stole over the Polish–Czech border, and later over the Austrian border. I arrived at Bad Reichnhall in Germany. Incidentally, when I was in Otwock, I wrote to the magistrate in Svisloch to ask about my family. I received and answer that my parents had been killed in the Vishvinik Factory, and my sisters were sent to Volkovisk, and from there to Treblinka or Auschwitz with the rest of them. In Germany, I traveled to Berchtesgaden, Hitler's residence. I enjoyed looking at the ruins, with a feeling of revenge. There was no remnant of the evil den.

Bami Serlin		Yafa Drancinska of blessed memory

1. This title is a paraphrasing of Lamentations 3:1. Return
2. Generally a term for a German Jew. Here it seems to imply a German gentile who was friendly to the Jews. It is seemingly someone who was willing to help the Jews – obviously for a price. Return
3. A camp near the capital of Tallinn. Return

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The Yahrzeit of the Svisloch victims falls on Cheshvan 22. They were pulled out of their houses and dragged to the market place, sorted to death. Part of them later were dragged to the Wishenik forest to be killed; there the children were thrown alive in a mass grave. The remaining people were sent to Wolkowisk and from there to the gas chamber of Treblinka, Auschwitz, in the crematorium, where they were burnt to ashes.

I can see all of them alive in front of my eyes, when I left Svisloch one year before the war, when you could feel the breath of Hitler and the Polish antisemitic fascists. I see from my small street Berik Jaslewitsh walking back from work at the Jewish tannery. I see, from my window across the street, the Hebrew school “Tarbut” where 300 children learned. They used to run happily in the street whenever there was a recess. I always used to look at them and thought: what will these children do when they finish the school? The Poles do not let the Jews to do anything. I see the old and weak music teacher Goldberg with lung problems, a Zionist. He always used to come to me and say silently: I wish that in the new world the 5-year plan will succeed, it will be good for the Jews and for the entire world, and a flare of hope illuminated his pensive eyes. I see the Chumash teacher, Chaim Shlomo, an old man with a grey beard. He had another work, every Friday, to give “raffle tickets” to poor people for Shabbat meals. His word was holy for all the house owners in town. I see Motke the bathhouse attendant opening a large empty stable to house the poor people who used to come

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on a half-covered cart together with grandchildren. Motke did not charge them. I see them going to the old house of study across the synagogue. In the morning all the three sextons used to bring a Jew who was missing for the quorum (minyan). Across the street lives the Rabbi. He came out. I approached him to help me to fill the documents needed for my son to emigrate to Argentina. He did it for me willingly and said: “He should travel in good health, here things are not going well”. I see Melech the synagogue sexton, the whole week in the tannery, on Friday evening running fast all over the streets and the alleys, the laps of his long coat opened with his haughty beard, his illuminated eyes, shouting under all the Jewish windows:” Women, it's time to light the Shabbat candles”. I see the children of the Jewish Weltlicher school and count, six classes with four teachers for whom there was never enough money to pay next year. I see the drama. Gathering by the synagogue, the Yiddish evening classes, the box events, the theater who used to light the town with songs. I see the synagogue management divide itself and going to demand the member fees of 10 groschen a month. The teachers, the children, the youth and the administration were full of hope of a better tomorrow. I see the big market place where the Jews were selling various goods, around the market shops, in the middle booths between the goods, several terracotta pots and other similar items. And for all this you had to pay taxes, the bailiff often used to take out everything from the home, up to the last stool. I see the young people standing at the market intersection and their only thought was: emigration at any price. I see the butchers standing with a sullen face when Madam Frister passed the law through the Polish parliament against the Jewish ritual slaughter. From sixteen butcher shops, only six remained. I see Avraham Laiser standing in the market tall like an oak

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surrounding young people so the gentiles were frightened to assault the Jews which was a usual phenomenon during the latter time in Poland. I see my neighbors in a market day going to borrow a few zlotys in order to buy something. They are all living in my memory, but no one is really living.

[Pages 132-134]

… I lived in Svisloch before the war, and I owned a tannery in partnership with Mendel Wiganski (Mendel–Pesile's). I was married and a father of children. My parents, three brothers and three sisters also lived in this town. They were all married, and all of them had families. Einstein, the husband of my youngest sister, was sent to Siberia by the Bolsheviks. He survived and lives in Tel Aviv. All of the rest perished.

I was in Svisloch during the Nazi invasion of Poland. Svisloch fell into the hands of the Bolsheviks. They nationalized my factory and appointed me as technical supervisor. I remained in this position for a few months. I was then fired, despite the fact that I was needed by them as a professional. They did this in order to demonstrate to the workers that they were distancing the owner from his factory. After that, I obtained a position as an accounting director in Volkovisk. From there, I was transferred to Pisk, and from there finally to the estate of Borisovchizna near Luna, in the division of military aviation.

The Nazis bombarded us at dawn on June 22, 1941. The son of Shlomka Michaelkers of Svisloch worked as a barber in this division. The civilians fled to the fields when they bombarded the airport. During this, I met the aforementioned. As I was talking to him, I expressed my opinion that if the Bolsheviks would be defeated, it would be appropriate to accompany them on their retreat to Russia. His answer was, “You do not know the Bolsheviks, I am afraid of them”.

The army announced to us that every citizen is permitted to retreat with the Russians. I agreed to this, and the son of Shlomka remained there.

Thus, I traveled with the Russians. We suffered difficulties along the way, for the Germans pursued us. Nevertheless, we succeeded in breaking through the way. I worked in the division that served the frontal aviation as a citizen. I was a storekeeper in the army kitchen. This situation continued until August, 1941.

After that, they drafted me and sent me to the brigade that was camped in the field near Moscow. After the brigade completed its formation, it was sent to the front. Our brigade acted as a veterinary clinic about 50 kilometers behind the front. We would administer first aid to the horses, and afterward send them to be decapitated.^[1]

The Germans advanced quickly, and the front came within a few kilometers of us within several days. To my good fortune, I did not fall into the hands of the Germans with my brigade, for before that, I was sent (on October 3, 1941) along with five other soldiers to accompany several wagonloads of injured horses to the hospital in Tula. I was not able to return to the brigade, for it had been captured by the enemy.

They then began to arrange new formations from the remnants of the captured brigades. During the months of October and November, 1941, I was in a brigade that stood behind Moscow. Finally, I was enlisted in a brigade of several hundred soldiers who came from regions that had formerly been part of Poland and of Germans that were Soviet citizens. All of these were considered as inappropriate to serve on the front. All of us were sent to a work group in Siberia. The trip took about a month. We reached Shadrinsk in the region of Sversdlovsk. The cold was particularly harsh. We were transferred a distance of 100 kilometers into the forest on winter wagons. Bunks were prepared for us there. After two days, our division was sent to cut down trees in the forest. I and a few others were assigned as accountants in the office.

We had very difficult times in Siberia. We half starved in the first year. Afterward, our condition improved slightly until the salvation arrived at the end of the war. We were then permitted to return to Poland. On March 13, 1946, I left the village where I had lived for 4 ¼ years. There was no means of transportation. I set out on foot to the station at Shadrinsk in the harsh cold (a distance of 100 kilometers). From there, on March 18, I joined a group that was gong to Poland. On April 15, the eve of Passover, the group arrived to Chozhov (in the region of Kharkov). At the station, I heard that there was a possibility of joining up with a kibbutz, which would enable me to make aliya to the Land. I submitted a request, and was accepted t the kibbutz of “Hanoar Hatzioni”.

That night, we conducted a lovely Seder. For the previous several years, I was unable to do so. I did not even know when the holiday of Passover was.

I tarried a few months in Poland. I set out with the group on July 1946. We crossed the border to Germany in an illegal manner. We were delayed in the British Zone, and we only arrived at the American Zone at the beginning of October, 1946.

I worked as the secretary of “Hanoar Hatzioni” in Munich, Germany. I lived in Rotshveiga near Munich. This was an estate where Jewish youths trained in agricultural work. There I met my wife, who had spent the war in a camp in Czechoslovakia, and was liberated by the Russians.

In Germany I received help from America, sent by the generous activist Avraham Ayin, who searched for the survivors of our town and provided them with the necessary aid. I will never forget the material help and spiritual encouragement that we received in those days.

We arrived in Israel on October 10. My wife and I obtained work in an educational institution.

We are satisfied as Israeli citizens. Our desire is that we will not be disturbed in the development of our small country.

Sara Ayin (in Canada), Moshe Rubin (in Israel), Yehuda Serlin and Anshel Anchins who perished

1. This sentence is not worded very well. I expect it means that they administered first aid to some horses, and killed other ones. Return

[Pages 135-139]

February 6, 1958

Dear friend, Ayin,

I was enjoying very much reading your answer. It was also a big joy to read such a good Yiddish. I am ready to answer you herewith, on your questions.

You asked me what was my job as an announcer. In the DP camps, there were two committees. One was from the survivors and the other one was from the “UNRA”, that means the American authorities. Because we did not have any Jewish print available right after the war, a department was created to be able to read the news to the camp's people aloud through a microphone. With the permission of the UNRA we told the people news from the world and also news from the camp. We had an editor whose responsibility was to the UNRA.

You must understand the kind of situation we were in right after the war. Some of our people were just not like normal people yet after the Holocaust. On some people the camps left psychological marks more than on others. I have to admit that right after liberation none of us was normal 100% at liberation time – if you let a man out of a cage where he was starving, was dirty like an animal and let him free from slavery.

We wound up being free and not so free. We found ourselves living in camps originally built for the German army and where German soldiers lived until the last minute. The camp was fenced around with one gate for coming and leaving, guarded by an American patrol. This was not yet full freedom. I can remember once I decided to leave the camp and go down–town. I asked for permission. They wouldn't give it to me and not explaining to me why not. Once I decided to climb over the fence where the fence is low. While climbing, I heard some shots. The guards were shooting. I could have been easily killed by a bullet after liberation, just for wanting to be on the other side of the fence. There is quite a bit to tell of how the liberators behaved to us after liberation. The liberators worried that we should not encounter German people. They complained that the Jews take their milk and butter away.

Herewith I am writing you answers on your questions; I lived in Warsaw with my family, my wife, of blessed memory and my dear two little girls, one girl age 6, and the other 2 years old. The picture of my family when the Germans separated us is always before my eyes. I was together with my family just until 1941. The first day of the Hebrew month of Av when Germany attacked Poland, Warsaw would not surrender and the fighting lasted a few more weeks. We could feel already the smell of the barbarians but also hoped impatiently for an end to the fighting. On top of the bomb–raids, there was also a big shortage of food supplies. For a drink of water we had to reach the Vistula River. Hell for us Jews began as soon as the Germans occupied Warsaw. We also had to take care of the Jews from the surrounding small towns. We also had many refugees from the big city of Lodz to take care of. From all directions, people were eager to come to Warsaw. All the sufferings we went through is hard to write down on a piece of paper. We have the German atrocities and bad treatment by our own Polish gentiles.

A short time after the occupation we could move around freely but not for long. The murderers organized and started a Ghetto. The Ghetto had been surrounded with a brick wall in a small part of the old Jewish neighborhood. Any Jew found outside the Ghetto walls was shot on the spot. The problem of starvation, epidemics and death was spreading fast. This went on until the day of Lamentation in the year 1941. One morning on a Wednesday, Poles showed up on the streets telling us that all Jews from Warsaw would be transported to the East. Nobody did understand the meaning of it, but next day train loads packed with Jews left Warsaw for Treblinka and other Gas–chambers. One thing we knew: that the transport did not go too far since next day the same cars with their numbers came back to Warsaw for another load.

My wife was taken away on the 8^th day of the action, while I was sitting in a shop and working for the Germans. My working permit allowed me to say good bye to my wife and children at “Umshlag–Plats.” That was the name of the place where from Jews were sent to their death in the Gas chambers. This is the way I continued my life in Warsaw for a year longer before the Ghetto uprising. At the time of the uprising I was hiding with another 60 people in a small room on the 6th floor. When the Germans found out about the hiding place, they set fire to the whole building. With big effort, we were able to escape with our life through the roof, but we were all caught. Half of us were shot right away and the rest of us were driven to the Umschlag–Platz and from there to the death camp in Budzen, Poland. In Budzen I stayed for one year. The war front came closer and closer. We had to take apart what we built, an airplane factory. After that, they sent us to Lublin to work in an ammunition factory. In Lublin, we wouldn't stay for long because the murderers had to retreat west. Unexpectedly, one morning they pushed us into railroad cars and transported us into Germany. We have no idea where we were going. For a time we were going from one camp to another all around Dachau. We worked hard as slave labor. Every day we had victims who died, up to the day the Americans liberated us, May 1^st 1945. We were an contingent of 3000 people. The plan was to get us somewhere farther. We had no idea where to. We were sure they would finish us off. We counted the minutes before liberation. My family was no different than the rest the Jewish people.

I tried to begin to get in touch with survivors of my extended family. I remembered my sister's address in Canada. Through a Jewish serviceman in the American army I let my sister know that I'm one who survived from my whole family. There was also another way my sister found out that I survived. After the liberation, the Americans put us survivors in a camp. Landsberg, was its name close to Munich. Once came through that camp the Jewish brigade, which was organized in then Palestine. In the Brigade was a man who was my sister's son, Yacov Golner. While he was sitting on his tank and waving to us, he recognized me in the crowd. You can imagine our joy. He stayed with me only one day. This was the second way to inform my sister that I survived the war. Also you my dear friend Ayin, I won't forget you as long as I live. The joy I had when I received a package from you. At that time the feeling that somebody in the world is concerned about me is not describable, this I will never forget.

In Landsberg I stayed about 2 years until my family did everything for me to be able to immigrate to Canada. I married here and settled here and made a nice living, but was never happy. The memories of my past gave me no peace of mind. I always see my family before my eyes, and there is not a minute passing by without seeing them.

This is a short story of my past adventures. I would write a lot more, but my nerves and patience are in the way.

Be well, and regards to your family. Your friend, Yacov Panter.

[Page 140]

The activist Avraham Ayin of blessed memory

The heart that beat throughout the years in the fullest sense has stopped. He would answer the call of any of the natives of our city, from all sides. The mind cannot imagine the full tapestry of interwoven lost threads during the era of the rescue. His heart and mind were all that were left in the years following his paralysis. These stood for him in his difficult struggle to find the far–flung people and to offer them support, compassion, and assistance in living.

His arena of endeavor was among the circles of the natives of our town. He did not seek fame despite his expertise in expression.

The generosity of his heart flowed from the wellspring of the most fundamental and natural love. His feelings grew from roots that were not spread out wide, but were of utmost depth in their place of growth. His family, relatives and childhood friends, who shared their breath in the pure, aromatic atmosphere of the shady forests, together gathered the sounds of the song of depression and weeping. They together heard the stories of the mighty ones of Israel from ancient Biblical times, and joined them together in the chain of holy martyrs who were murdered in Sanctification of the Name of G–d.

Why not the breadths and far off places? In his town he found the actualization of the good and fine, the strength of spirit and fine traits, of willful effort, of Torah and Jewish wisdom, of yearnings and longing for redemption, of sacrifice and mutual assistance, and finally of the Jewish tragedy of the “lamb brought to slaughter”. His small town was a microcosm of the entire Diaspora. If you look into it through a magnifying glass, you see the entire Diaspora, with all of its shadows and lights – the straightforward Jewish soul, in its pride and oppression.

Through poverty and want, without stamps for letters, he forged connections with Holocaust survivors. He not only brought them encouragement, but also actual assistance.

His soul was the most noble of the souls of the righteous, afflicted generation that were oppressed with persecutions, with paralyzed limbs, as if to further express the sublimity of the soul, the nobility, and the strength of spirit that overcomes the flesh.

May his memory be etched in this modest corner of the Yizkor book of our beloved town, and may his deeds serve as an example for his generation and for future generations.

[Page 141]

In the summer of 1941 when the Nazi's attacked Russia, I was already 7 years sick. I was sitting at my house, spending my time reading, listening to the radio, and keeping busy with my family. Because I was sitting so much in the house and didn't go anywhere, contact with my landsmen was broken off. From time to time some men or women would come to visit me. Even in 1939 when my shtetl was occupied by the Russians I was still in touch with my hometown. But in June of 1941 when the shtetl was occupied by the Germans my connection with the town was torn apart completely. In the summer of l942, my niece, Fegel Karasik, Yochke's daughter, sent a telegram and paid for a return answer and asked what happened to our family. The answer was that everybody is alive. From then on we didn't receive any more news. We did not know what to think about it. The news from the newspapers was terrible. According to the news we assumed that Hitler wanted physically to annihilate the Jews and that we are helpless to do anything about it. That's the way it went up until the year 1944 when the Russian Army broke the German Eastern Front and started to move forward to the West. Then a piece of hope was awakened in us, and maybe it is not yet too late. When I wrote my work, Sislevitch, for the YIVO I wrote in my forward that I hope that the murderer's hand would be too short to annihilate everything and everybody, and soon Jewish life will flourish again in my hometown. But, unfortunately, my hope did not materialize. From around 3,500 Jewish souls which lived in Svisloch when the Nazi's occupied the town, there were 4 left (as you will see in the continuation of my writing).

In the summer of '44 when the Russian Army took Minsk and after that Baranovitch, I took interest in the war fronts and looked in the newspapers for the war maps and hope started to grow in my heart.

I see in the war map from the “Times” newspaper that Slonim was also taken by the Russians. A day later Volkovisk was taken by them. A few days later I can see that Sislevitch was taken by the Russians and that the Russian Army is going forward to Biolystock. I was happy and I thought that now maybe I will be

[Page 142]

able to make contact with my hometown, and when the Russian Army stood already by the Vistula and by the gates of Warsaw I decided that now is the time to write, and I wrote the first letter to my family. A few months went by and I didn't receive any answer. I wrote a Russian letter to the address of the Gorodskai Committee and asked them about my family. I wrote them that if they are not around anymore, they should give the letter to any other Jew in town. I begged (in the letter) them to write to me about what happened to my family and to all the Jews in town. I wrote a letter to the same committee in Volkovisk that they should write to me any information they had on the Sislevitcher Jews. No answer did I receive. I was desperate. It was before Passover 1945. I decided to look for other means to get news about my hometown.

I wrote a letter to Russia to a relative of mine for which I had an old address and hoped that maybe I will get an answer. But until now my letters were just like a voice in the desert, but now my hopes came were fulfilled. I received an answer that she, my relative, met a partisan woman who together with the Russian Army had marched through Sislevitch. She told me that all the Sislevitcher Jews were led away to Volkovisk or Bialyostok, and there are no more Jews in Sislevitch. From the newspapers I know there is a Jewish Committee in Biolystock. I wrote a letter to them and asked if they knew anything about Sislevitcher Jews. At that same time I also wrote a letter to my relative in Russia. I sent her the address of a Christian acquaintance in the next village, about 1 mile from Sislevitch. I begged her to write to that Christian, who was a close acquaintance of mine, to see if he knew anything about the Sislevitcher Jews and my family.

From the Biolystocker Jewish Committee I received an answer that there were no Jews from Sislevitch in Biolystok; and if any survivers would come, they would let me know. A short time thereafter I received a second letter from my relative in Russia. It was the first sad news from my hometown. She wrote that she had turned to the Christian whose address I had given her, and he answered her in the following way: “Sunday, November 1, 1942, the Nazis gave orders to the Christians and all the surrounding villages that they must provide the Nazis with 200 horses and carriages to take out all the Jews from the town. When the Christian man received the order he came to my younger sister in town to say good-bye to her. When he got there she was crying and she said that 'life is disgusting. The Jews from Slonim were killed already. Let them kill us already. We can't live this way'. She also asked him to promise her that if he survives the war he would let me (Ain) and my brother in America know the Yartzeit of our mother, who had just died two weeks before the order came. My sister Chashka brought her to be buried according to the Jewish burial traditions. The next morning, November 2, 1942, all the Jews were driven out from their homes and brought to the Horse Market. There they were sorted out. Old men and women and small children separate, and all the young and middle aged people separate. The middle aged and young were taken away to the Railway Station, packed in cattle cars and sent away to Volkovisk and Biolystok. What happened to them I don't know, because until now no one came back. The old men and women and children were put up on the horse buggys and led away to the nearest forest, Vishnek. There deep graves were ready for them. Everybody was ordered to undress until their underwear. They were led closer to the graves and shot. Little children they killed with wooden poles.” The Gentile wrote to me in Russian: “D'yeti obevalee derevyanemee kotshalkey” ( a detailed description of what happened in the forest I have given to the Volkaviska Yizkar Book first published and edited by Dr. Mosha Einhorn in New York, in 1949).

The news from the Christian acquaintance was for me a terrible blow; I understood that no one is left from my family. I therefore decided to look for and help other Jews from my town who survived in every way I could. I worked out a systematic plan. First I contacted organizations like the HIAS, Joint Distribution, Jewish Labor Committee, Etc., so that they would let me know when they will get some news about the Sislevitcher Jews. On the other hand I began to look for contacts

[Page 144]

with the Sislevitch Lansmen in America and Canada. That was not too hard because in 1937 a society of the Lansmen started up in New York on the initative of the Lansmen Jacob and Brocha Elkin, Reverend Yosif Kapelush and his son Avrehmle Kaufman. The Society was named
“Freind Fun Sislevitch”, and it was active until World War II. The Secretary of the Society was Abraham Kaufman. He used to come and visit me from time to time, and he provided me with the names and addresses of some lansmen.

And third I started to read long lists of surviving Jews in the Yiddish newspapers. I wrote letters to the Jewish Committees in Warsaw and Lodz; and all that work didn't give me any results. My wife and friends were making fun of me. “Who are you looking for? They are all dead.” But I was stubborn and never gave up the labor. Day in and day out, week in and week out, I looked in the newspapers and wrote letters with the hope that my work wouldn't be wasted; that at the very end I would see results. At the same time I turned to landsmen whose addresses I had (and asked that) if they hear something new, even rumors about Sislevitcher survivors, they would let me know.

At the end of 1945 there came to me a landsman and friend, Menachim Finkelstein, and he brought with him a printed page in Hebrew published by the Volkovisker landsmen in Eretz Israel, which his nephew had sent to him. In that page somebody witnessed Jews who survived the Nazi camps in Volkovisk . He had 2 names of Svislicher Jews in the list, Neome Levin and Alte Shevelevech who survived; but where they are right now the man didn't know. He had heard a rumor that they went back to Poland. In that same news page it's also mentioned that a Dr. Moshe Einhorn of New York is now in Israel. I also found the address of the Secretary of the Volkovisker Lansmen in Israel, Shlomo Barishkovsky. I wrote right away a letter to him asking about the two Sislivitcher Jews and asked him to find out more details. He answered me “that more than what is in the newspapers, they don't know. Nothing else.” But, maybe when Dr. Einhorn will come back he will tell me more about it.

[Page 145]

At the same time I was still reading with thirst the lists of the surviving Jewish people in the Yiddish papers. Once I found lists in the “Foreword” of many Grodno landsmen. The list was sent to the newspaper by the Jewish Labor Committee. I found between the names Berl Lom, with a notice that he had a brother in America. The American Nathan Lom I knew very well because he was my wife's cousin. I also had his address. He lived in New Orleans. I sent right away an airmail letter to Nathan Lom and advised him that he should turn to the Jewish Labor Committee for more information. Also at the same time I wrote a letter through the “JOINT” to Berl Lom in Munich. I told him who I am and where I came from, and asked if he knew anything about my wife's sister who was in Grodno.

The time flew and it was already after Sukkot. I learned that Dr. Einhorn came back already from Israel and that the Volkovisker Lansmen were calling a meeting in the building of the “Forward” to listen to a report about everything which Dr. Einhorn had heard and found out in Eretz Israel. I asked Avramle Kaufman, the Secretary of our Sislevitcher's Society to invite all of our landsmen to listen to Dr. Einhorn's report. But his report was not more than in the previous mentioned pages.

The year 1945 went out and 1946 came in, and there was no more news about the Svislicher Jews. I wrote letters to the landsmen in Israel and also in American and Canada and I thought maybe God will have mercy, maybe I will receive some news from somewhere. And I did.

In the beginning of March, 1946, I received a letter from Eretz Israel. From a lady, Chana Epstein, who wrote to me that she received my address from the Secretary of the Volkovisk landsman, Karlin, and her cousin Riva Laya, who is the daughter of Chaim Shlomo, the religious teacher. From home I knew her family and her Aunt Chana Karlin who lived in Brooklyn very well. I wrote to her and she begged me to help her find her relatives in America. Her mother's name was Chvolkaa, and her maiden name was Slopok. She is searching in America for her mother's sister, Chana. Right after I received that letter Chana

[Page 146]

Karlin with her husband who were also Sislovitchers came to me. The letter from her niece I gave them to read. I then gave them her address in Israel and begged them to write immediately. She did do that. With this, the first work for Chana Epstein was finished.

On the second day I received a letter from Munich from Neome Levin. He wrote to me that he received my address from Berl Lom, that he is a Sislivitcher, and who his parents were. He begs me to find his mother's sister who came from Koseva by Slonim. I knew that in America and Canada there are landsmen who would know about his relatives. I received his letter from Germany at 8:00 in the morning and at 1:00 at night I received an answer from my relatives Cayla and Hershel Zakute in Montreal. They let me know that they had already sent 8 letters from Montreal to landsmen in America and Canada. Three days later I knew where to find Maryasha Panter, a cousin of Neome Levin (Feivle and his wife are cousins). I wrote to Feivle that he should come to me and he came right away. I knew him when he was still a little boy. Now I saw for myself he was a grown-up intelligent person, who had graduated as a radio engineer from McGill University in Canada and here in America he works for the American Broadcasting Company. He took Neome Levin's address and promised me he would do everything he could. He gave me also the names and addresses of Neome Levin's relatives on his father's side who were all in America.

Now I had another problem of how to send over to Neome Levin the addresses of his relatives. The American Post (mail) didn't take any airmail to Germany and to write to him through Jewish Institutions would take too long. So I found a way out of it. I turned to an American family who had a son in the American Army in Germany. I asked them to write a letter to their son, to give him regards from me, and the address of Feivle Panter. That way Neome Levin received indirect regards from me with the address of his cousin here in America. I asked him also to write to me often and I would do everything possible for him. I

[Page 147]

still had to find out his aunt's address in America. And I managed that also. The New York Jewish Newspapers, especially the “Forwards” had long lists of missing relatives. They also carried clips of letter which survivors write to their friends and organizations in America. I want also to note that in the work to find Jewish survivors, relatives and friends in America, a lot of the help was done by Jewish soldiers in the American army in Europe. That is to give credit to the American young boys in the army and the amount of time and effort, and sometimes money, by their going to the D.P. Camps, talking to the survivors and getting additional information and sending it to America. That is the way I received regards from survivors in different camps.

Now we shall return to Neome Levin. I summarized it and sent it to the Yiddish Newspaper, the “Forward” and the “Tog” and there they were published. In that way his mother's sister in Chicago saw the notice and replied right away, giving her Naomi's address.

Now another problem arrived, and I needed to write a lot of letters. Every day more, and I sent them by airmail. A letter like this to Eurpoe would cost $.25, and a letter to Israel $.70, and I had no money for such big expenses. At that time I had already been sick for 11 years. My economic situation was very bad. A family of 4 and we had to live on $90 a month. My children were still young. The older one was 16 (years) and in high school. The younger one was 14 years (old) and still in public school. Even though they were young, when they returned from school they went to work and brought home a few dollars. They were brought up well and every cent which they made they brought home. At that time, in 1946 and right after the war, when the inflation was high, it was hard to get by on $90 a month with a family of four. Rent and electricity would cost $40 a month. Thanks to the savings and efficiency of my wife we were able to get through on a small budget.

But I could not afford a few dollars a week for airmail correspondence. Chana Epstein from Israel asked me why I send with regular mail and not airmail. What could I tell her, that I

[Page 148]

didn't have money for airmail? She would have probably looked at me like I am lazy. In the rich United States a man has to worry about sending with airmail ? But how is that Jewish expression, “God sent the medicine, the healing before the plague.” Thanks to my work for the YIVO I had a chance to come in contact with a lot of landsmen to gather material for the YIVO. Once by Lansman Menachim Finkelstein I brought a guest to my house from Montreal, Canada. He was Abraham Cohen, who had a nickname Avremel Kotchkeyer. I knew him already from my childhood. He spent a few hours with me. When he said good-by he took $5 and told me “I want to have a part of your work” I refused to take the money and explained to him that from some people I will never accept money. He went back to Montreal and sent me a letter with the $5 and explained to me that I have no right to deny him a part of this work.

Some weeks later I received a letter from my relatives in Montreal, Kayla and Hershel Zakuta with a money order for $40, with an explanation that it was from some friends that had gathered together in their home. I knew all of them from the old home and they collected the sum to help in the work of connecting survivors in Europe with family in America. I decided that I will accept money from an organized group. So I had already $40 and I could afford with that money to send more airmail than before.

In time more survivors appeared. I found out that connecting them with family in America is not enough; that we had to help them get material goods. In that way I started to organize a relief society for the landsmen from our town. As soon as I came to that idea I wrote a letter to Jacob Elkin. He was the chairman of the “Friends of Sislevitch” and likewise to the secretary, Avramel Kaufman, and his father, Yosif Kappelush. They came to me and we all decided to call a meeting of the “Friends of Sislevitch.” The meeting was called for Sunday, May 19, 1946. Only 10 landsmen showed up for the meeting. Many didn't receive the invitation on time because the girl who was supposed to put the invitations in the mail box didn't.

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A committee was picked after the meeting and they came to me . They handed me $131, and gave me the authority to use the money for survivors in Germany as I saw fit. I sent, right away, six food packages to our survivors in Poland , Italy, Eritz Israel, and Russia. Because the survivors didn't stay in one place for long three packages were lost.

Now I started to think about how can we look up more lansmen in America. I used the “Forwards.” I used to write summaries in the newspapers of letters from the survivors. I sent it to a co-worker in the newspaper, I. Metsker, who used to print (them) in his Friday's column in the public news page. To the end of the letter I used to add that “whoever wants more information should contact me and I will give them the home address. After this I received a lot of letters with questions from many lansmen. Some letter writers remembered me from home, others asked me who I am. I will give you here an example. I received a letter from a little town, Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania. The man asked me who I am and what I know about his family in Sislevitch. It was signed by a man, Philip Miller, but he forgot to tell me who he was. I looked around at the letter, I turned it upside down and around. He had on a business card the printed address of a jewelry business . I figured out that if he has a jewelry store he was probably a watch maker in the old home. I started to search my memory of Sislevitch watch makers. Who of them could have changed his name to Philip? I remembered that the watchmaker Alter Kurtze, a boy, his step-brother used to learn that trade and his name was Fivel. New! Fivel must be Philip. I wrote to him right away with these words: “You asked me who I am and you don't write me who you are. So, new! I find that out myself who you are. Your name was Fivel the son of Deborah Sokolniker. I have the information for you about your step-brother Alter Burde. I wrote to him what I know about his relative. The next Sunday he came to my home. I told him again what I know about his step-brother. When he left he told me to tell him whenever there is a meeting of the Svislicher landsmen.

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A second time I received a letter from Minneapolis. The letter let me know that there are a whole group of Sislevitch landsmen (in Minneapolis) who would like to get more information about their hometown. It was signed by a Mr. Mayer. In our town there was nobody with the family name of Mayer. I answered him right away by airmail that he should write to me who he is and give me the name of this town's landsmen. He answered me in a humorous way that he, himself, is not from Sislevitch, but his wife was. He gave me the names of the landsmen in Minneapolis and finished it by a humorous note that “for the work I do I probably get paid with a Shabbos blessing.

A third letter like that I received from Chicago. It was signed with the name Bogan. I didn't know who he was. But I knew that in Chicago there were many landsmen. I sent him a list with the names of all the survivors for which I had an address and told him who of the survivors wanted more information. I also wrote to him that if any of the landsmen wanted more information to write directly to me. At the end I asked him who he is. He answered me that at home his name was Bogomilsky, and that I knew his family from home. This is the way I always received connections with a lot of landsmen in different cities in America and Canada.

I started to think about organizing groups of our landsmen in the big cities in America and Canada. In that way I didn't have to write to individuals separately about similar matters. Besides that about private things. For example when you have to tell someone about their Yartzeit, or when a general thing happens in the history of Sislevitch. In cases like that I would like to write to the leaders of the group and save myself a lot of work. I succeeded in that. The first group was created in Montreal Canada. The activists were Kayla and Hershel Zakuta, Yosif Ain, Avramel Cohen, Jack Gersho, Maryasha Panter, and Mosha Lewis, mine old good friend from the “Bund” in the old hometown. Mosha Lewis (Svishka and Moshka Haskells) had a prominent place in Jewish social life in Montreal. He was the Secretary of the Jewish Labor Committee in Canada. The second group was organized in Detroit. The active people in that group were Riva

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Laya Grodman (Chaim Shlomo, the religious teacher's daughter) and Lowell Liss, Isaac Hershal, the butcher's son.

Later on this group became, and remains, the most active group around. They used to, and still have regular meetings. They still send regular packages to needy Sislevitcher people in the land of Israel, Poland and Russia. They also contributed a lot to the general relief fund in New York which was under the leadership of Jacob and Braha Elkin, Rev. Joseph Kapulish, his son Avramal Kaufman, and also myself, the writer of these lines.

In New York, Hayman Mus was also active. He was not from Sislevitch, but his wife Rifka comes from there, and she is the daughter of Jacob and Bracha Elkin. Hayman is a very educated man and has a rabbinical degree from Yeshiva University. He also has a diploma from college as a lawyer. He used to help us out a lot with the meetings.

Also in Chicago was an association of Sislevitchers. Rifka Olaynik, Lillian Cohen (Laya Alexanderofsky) and her brother Lev, and Feivel the Goralnik's son, were all active in that society.

Summer passed and it was close to the month of Heshvan when the Nazis killed all the Sislevitcher Jews. That happened on the 22^nd day of Heshvan in 1942. I decided to use the Yartzeit to wake up the conscience of our landsmen.

I prepared a system of circular letters to all of our landsmen all over the world so they would observe the Yartzeit.

I did not have an official office with the relief effort. I invited to my house the President, Jacob Elkin, the Secretary Avramel Kaufman, and also Yosif Kapolish, blessed be his memory.

I showed them the system of the letters and suggested they print that letter with 500 copies and add the date of the meeting, and the address of the hall. They would bring back to me the printed circular and I would send them around to all landsmen.

They did everything I asked them to do.

I sent away all the invitations to all the landsmen. I also sent packages of the circulars, forty to fifty per package, to the groups in Montreal, Detroit, and Chicago, and asked them to hold a yartzeit meeting in their town. I also sent them reports of

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everything we had done for the survivors of our hometown and a report of the New York meeting. In addition I have written in general about the destruction of our hometown and attached copies of the letters from survivors so they would have something to read for the meeting, and in that way make people interested in its history.

I did plan everything for them in every detail.

Elkin and Kaufman rented a big hall in the building of the Forwards.

The meeting was on a Sunday, and I don't remember the date anymore. The Friday before the meeting I announced in the Yiddish Newspapers the meeting and they did it for free. The announcement called on all the landsmen to come and give an hour to the martyrs of our town.

Sunday morning before the meeting Avramel Kaufman came to me and we worked out the plan. I gave him the written report of the relief work for the survivors and also some of their letters to read before the meeting.

Because of my illness I didn't go to the meeting. Only my wife went. I sat at home and waited for the results.

And my hopes were realized.

The meeting was a risk. The hall was overflowing with people. The landsmen came not only from New York, but from the whole metropolitan area, Mass., Conn., New Jersey, and many other states, and we collected over $900. The money was not as important as conscience and sentiments of the landsmen being awakened. At that meeting landsmen met each other that had not met for decades. Memories of the olden times of the town were awakened. People were laughing, crying, and hugging and kissing each other. Prominent people were also at the meeting and included the last rabbi from our little town, Rav Yosif Rosen, blessed be his memory. He was the Rabbi of Passaic, New Jersey, and made the eulogy for our martyrs. The Reverend Yosif Kapolish, blessed be his memory, a cantor, said the Yizkor, and everybody cried bitterly. After the Yizkor he repeated with the whole crowd the Kaddish for those killed.

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At the end of the meeting they picked official officers: Jacob Elkin, President, Avramel Kaufman, Secretary, and they elected me Secretary-Treasurer for Relief. They picked also an executive Committee. After the meeting, the whole committee came to my home. They gave me a detailed report of the meeting. They decided to put the money in a bank and they authorized me to use my judgment in helping the survivors with that money.

I received reports of the Yartzeit Committee Meetings from our groups in other towns. In Montreal the group printed my letter and added the date and place of the meeting. The meeting also had good attendance and collected money. Right after the meeting they sent me $100, and a second time $500. In Detroit they collected money and sent me $100 a few times. In Chicago they had a memorial meeting and I received money for the relief effort.

Now that we have money for the relief effort I started to organize a plan to make the best use of the money. Their letters made it clear that they are especially in need of 3 things: 1) food, 2) clothes, and 3) contact with their relatives all over the world.

Previously I have written about contact with relatives.

When it came to food packages I wouldn't rely only on myself. So I turned for advice to my friend Jacob Pat the Executive Secretary for the Jewish Labor Committee, and to the Society of the Russian Jews in New York. They gave me some direction, and I did a little bit according to myself.

The results were quite good. The packages sent arrived at the right addresses and the survivors were very happy. To Europe and Israel I sent the packages through CARE, to Russia through the Society of the Russian Jews or with shipping companies recommended by them.

I didn't have a hard job with the food packages. I sent to the companies checks with the addresses of the survivors and they made up the packages.

But what could I do about sending clothes? We had to pack them and take them to the post office or to the shipping companies. Because of my sickness I couldn't do anything so I turned to my landsman in Detroit….maybe they could do this. The

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answer was a positive one. They took on the whole job. They would collect clothes and money to send them to the survivors whose address I had given them. Here was proof of the loyalty and devotion of the small group from Detroit under the leadership of their President Riva Laya Grodman, the daughter of Chaim Shlomo, the teacher. They worked like bees. The collected the best clothes, and gave away their best things. Everyone opened their closets for Riva Laya and they gave her everything she asked for. We also needed money for sending the packages. A package to Russia, for example, we paid not only postage but also a tax to the Russian Government. The ladies started up card parties or dinners and that's the way they made money to send the clothes packages. The whole effort went like a song (smoothly).

The President, Jacob Elkin, the Secretary Avramel Kaufman, and the Reverend Joseph Kaufman came to me very often to find out about new survivors who had contacted me. We used to help each other think about what else we could do to help survivors.

Once Jacob Elkin and his wife Bracha came to me and asked me to put a telephone in my home. I told them I could not afford one, so they told me it would be a Relief Effort expense. I categorically said NO because I would never allow myself use of money collected for survivors. Then the Elkins promised that they, themselves, will pay for the telephone. They said, “We need the telephone; it's not for you. It is for the work. We want to know all the time how the work goes.” So I had no way to argue.

Jacob Elkin was a friend of mine since boyhood. I also knew his wife from home. Here in America they had become very well off. They installed a new phone in my home. The telephone bill was always sent to their place of business.

Later on it proved to be that the Elkins were very right. The telephone was a big addition and saved a lot of work. Instead of writing and waiting for an answer for 3 days, I could get information in 5 minutes.

The Elkins still came to my house often as guests. At one time they told me that I should get paid for my relief work. I categorically denied this and explained that as long as I had no

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money to give, I gave my work, and they gave the money. They told me, “No, your work is worth a lot more than money.” So I said “eventually I will get paid.” So they asked, “Who is going to pay you, the Shabbos blessing?” They looked at me and Jacob Elkin said “Making fun of me?” I answered him that I am not making fun of anything and explained to him that it says in the Shabbos Blessing (Mee Shabayrew): “Everybody who is active in the needs of society honestly, God should bless him and pay him.”
They smiled at me and never talked about it again.

The work in 1947 was more lucky. I found more survivors. We needed more work to find their relatives and connect them, one to the other. We need to write more letters, etc., etc.

One side of the wall where I did my work became a wall of tears as they found out their loved ones were lost. On the other side their loved ones were found alive.

My home had a lot of visitors. People use to come from all walks of life. Rabbis used to come, doctors, lawyers. Every Sislevitcher Landsman or ladies who went through New York never left without visiting me.

For our survivors who are spread over many countries, Russia, Poland, Germany, Italy, England and Eretz Israel, the Sislevitcher Support Society was like a beam of light, which shined on their road until they came to places where they settled.

I used to write to them the friendliest and heartiest letters. I used to comfort them, give them courage, calm them down, so that their troubles would soon end. They will still tell all the stories in happy times. A lot of them still keep my letters and I watch over them as a baby.

Quite a few of them are still in contact with me until today. I am already 5 years in the Jewish sanatorium for chronically sick people. I have quite a few visitors from England, Israel, and many towns in America and Canada.

As you will see in my second chapter I prepare to write, if I have enough strength to dictate to my neighbor, the patient, if he will stay long enough to write. I cannot write by myself anymore. My fingers are too weak to hold a pen in my hand.