[Pages 725-726]

[Pages 727-728]

Map of the expulsion, the wanderings, and the destruction

[Pages 729-730]

At the end of June 1940 rumors spread in our city that the Russians served an ultimatum to the Romanian authorities (the fascist and antisemitic Antonescu government) that within four hours they had to depart from the land of Bessarabia. Not having a choice, the civilian and military Romanian authorities hurried “to pack their suitcases” and began a confused exit from the borders of all of Bessarabia, where they had ruled boundlessly since 1918. The town remained without any government for a few days between the withdrawal of the Romanian army and the entry of the Russians. These were days of fear for everyone; in the memory of many were still the days of pogroms, rape, and the killings in 1918.

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The Romanians ruled over the town for 22 years. This was a government of tyranny, terrorizing, corruption, and bribery; a government of suppression of freedom for the individual and of arbitrary imprisonment.

Meanwhile, the people had become accustomed to this regime and its orders. Residents of Yedinitz managed their daily business as usual and earned their bread, some easily, and some others with difficulty. The schools, the cheders, and the gymnasia continued to exist, and a lively public and national life went on. There were in our town all shades of the rainbow of trends and Zionist youth organizations. There even were Communists; left-wing circles of all kinds which operated in the Jewish Street. Suddenly, all at once, everything stood to be destroyed.

With this situation, new hopes were also raised in the space of the town, the hopes of freedom, equality, and the release of stress coming from the chains of the oppression of the Romanian government. A wave of happiness and cries of joy flooded everything, especially to those who prepared and even suffered from it for years, for the coming of “the great hour,” the hour of the entry of the Red Army and Soviet rule.

“When the first Soviets appeared in the street,” says Sara Litvak, “the happiness which held most of the residents surpassed every boundary. People kissed each other and tears of joy were seen in their eyes. This was a kind of crazy happiness that infected many, many. It is unnecessary to mention the faithful, the previously ardent ones, and among them those who suffered greatly under the tyrannical hands of the Romanians. They wore red bands on their chests because finally, they were among the heads of the “in-laws” to welcome the guests from whom they expected so much, and for these moments of happiness they paid an expensive price.”
A few hours after the appearance of the Army (they entered on Friday night), there was a proclamation in the streets that all the residents had to gather the next day, on the Sabbath, in the market square (the “Torhobitza”) to listen to the news of the liberators and their new redeemers.

Yehuda Kafri was still a young lad and was present at this gathering. He says: “At this gathering, at which I was present, there were thousands of Jews of all ages and all kinds, a Jewish officer (“commissar”) appeared and turned to the population in Russian spiced with Yiddish.”

[Page 730]

He said, among other things: “We came to free you from the Romanian slavery in which you were found until now. From now on, you will be free, and it will be good for you.”

The air was full of a Communist spirit, and each one tried to prove his faithfulness to the new regime in various ways, written or oral.

There were gatherings almost every day in which they explained the order of the new regime and its advantages.

Immediately, new city authorities were appointed. The heads of the government were all, at its beginning, local people. Most of them and their relatives had been sworn Communists. Among them are the recognized names: Shulda Karik, Gittel Feldman, and others. The new bosses emphasized that finally their great hour had arrived and began to “roll up their sleeves” and prove the strength of their regime. Their first step was to prepare an account with the “rich” of the town, to take them out of their homes and confiscate their possessions. After that, they themselves settled into the confiscated houses. Thus, for example, the new ruler Shulda settled himself in the house of Chaim Gokovsky and his wife, the dentist Fraizer, whose daughter he married. Shulda determined that entry to him would be from the front of the house and it would not bother the people who came to visit at Gokovsky's house, including the patients who came to the dentist, if they would come through the back door by way of the yard.

Indeed, the regime of the local leaders did not last long. For some reason, they lost favor in the eyes of those appointed over them from on high in the central government. They changed them at the order of a superior that they brought from outside.

By the way, this Shulda, they say, was of gypsy-Moldavian origin, was born in the town, and saved the Gokovsky family. He took all the members of the family with the withdrawing Russians. After the War, the family returned to Yedinitz. Gokovsky died. His wife Dr. Fraizer and her children settled in Czernowitz. Shulda himself, who spent many years in Romanian prisons as a Communist, had a lung disease. Nevertheless, he was drafted into the army. He was wounded in the War and died of his injuries.

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Gokovsky, who was previously a member of “Poalei Zion” and afterward became a Communist under the influence of his daughters, was disappointed in the regime. Once he expressed himself like this: “The Communist regime is similar to a covering of pure snow on which the housewife poured sewage water…”
And as has always been the custom of the Soviet regime, an immediate scarcity of food was felt. Long lines crowded into the entrances of the shops because bread and other essential products were only enough for ten percent of those waiting in line.

The entire life of trade and commerce was paralyzed. Some of the shop owners, the large ones, were sent to Siberia. The shops that re-opened turned into government cooperatives, and their previous owners (among those who remained) worked in their shops as hired help. The craft industries and their various types of professions became “artisans” and cooperatives, and the craftsmen became salaried employees.

It was particularly difficult to find work. If someone was pointed out as being a Zionist it was a disaster for him. To get work it was obligatory to give details about the history of the life of the applicant. The entire Jewish public was drenched in constant fear.

After a short time, the schools reopened. The languages of instruction were Russian and Moldovan. A Yiddish school was also opened. Some of the teachers were from outside but there were also locals. Hebrew, as a language of instruction, was of course canceled automatically. Every cultural Jewish activity was silenced. Weddings were even held in the dark. Synagogues were nationalized and turned into storerooms. Everything that had a scent of tradition and nationalism was canceled. The books in the Tarbut library underwent an exacting classification. The Hebrew books were burned, including the ones that remained in the Yiddish language, like those of Shalom Aleichem, Mendele, and Peretz. After that, they even eliminated the latter two. They established the Komsomol organization, but in its ranks, mainly gentiles were accepted since the Jewish youth were mostly children of traders and were disqualified.

[Page 732]

The Situation of the Zionists

The situation of the Zionists was extremely terrible, especially for those known as such. Some of the youths who were in “Hachalutz” at the time went home. Members of the Zionist youth movements were afraid of what would happen! A proclamation appeared calling the youth to volunteer for work in the coal mines in Russia. Many of the youths registered for this work to save themselves from imprisonment and expulsion to who knows where. Veteran Zionists were imprisoned and expelled to Siberia (among them, B.Z. Tieman, Levi Tsigman, and others). Imprisonments and expulsions were daily occurrences.

It was the night of June 13. Without knowing for what and why, hundreds and thousands of people were awakened from their sleep in the towns and villages of Bessarabia, who were recognized as “wealthy” – shopkeepers, “kulacks,” owners of estates, Zionists, and more. They received passports in which it was indicated that the bearer was dangerous to the security of the country, that they could not be trusted, and they should be distanced from the border settlements in accordance with Section 39. They all were taken out of their homes. They were allowed to take 6 kilograms of possessions and ordered to go out on the road.

At that hour, there were also held elections for the Galil council. The teachers were sent to conduct propaganda in the city and the villages in the vicinity. The simplest people were presented as candidates for the elections (except Jews), “These are the most honest people. The party presented them and they are who to vote for,” the voters were told.

But before the new regime sufficed to establish itself, there was new “news”: “The Romanians are returning.” And if the Germans joined them, it would not be surprising that the public was attacked by fear, worry, and concern for what would happen.

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Various rumors spread in the town about the War that broke out between Russia and Germany and the return of the Romanians, the allies of the Germans, and that was no surprise. Immediately with their first invasion into the town, the Romanian soldiers began to rain shots into the yards and the houses without discrimination. The panic was great. At first, the people locked themselves in their houses; after that, a race began to search for family members to at least be together in case trouble might come. At that time the bells of the church were ringing as a sign that the town had been conquered.

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Our town fell like a ripe fruit into the hands of the Romanians because the Russians had deserted it several days earlier. The bullets that were shot without reason for the Satanic enjoyment of the soldiers, continued for two or three more days. From these shots of “joy” several hundred people were killed. Their bodies, which remained spread on the street, were loaded into wagons and brought to burial in the town cemetery.

Of the cruel and murderous boisterousness of the Romanians toward the Jewish population immediately upon their return to the town and during the first days after that, testimonies have been given. (We are presenting the testimonies in detail in the full version of the article in Yiddish.)

Already on the day after the Romanians entered the town an order was published,

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according to which all the Jews had to gather in the yard of the “Partura” offices, where an important notice would be given to them. Most of the Jews remained in their homes, closed tight under lock and key, and those who did appear were arrested and imprisoned on the spot. In the suburbs where the Christian population lived, Romanian soldiers passed through and called to the residents in the name of the authorities to come out to the center of town because the Jews and their possessions are owner-less. Whoever will not go will be punished as a Communist. It is understood that most of the gentiles did not wait for further “invitations” and spread out like locusts in the streets were the Jews lived. Many of the Christians even pointed out to the soldiers those Jews who had been active during the year of the Russian regime or were employed in its various services. These and those were beaten and tortured with wild cruelty.

In the deeds of robbery and stealing not only the residents of the suburbs participated but also many from the surrounding villages: Russan, Golian, Ordinesti, Terebna, and others. The robbery, the pillage, the killing, the rape, and the imprisonments were frequent from day to day and sometimes all took place simultaneously. It is hard to determine a chronological order in the chain of events according to the different testimonies. Some say one or another event took place earlier, and some say later. In any case, what was told was like nothing compared to what actually happened in those days of horror to the Jewish population of the town.

These wild men went to supply their sadistic urges and carried out immoral and cruel rapes in broad daylight. Facts are preserved in the memories of the survivors about deeds of bravery of men, husbands, and fathers of daughters, who bravely protected the honor of their women and daughters so that they would not be raped by the hands of these wild men, and who paid in the end with their own lives.

Following are some events that are cruel, but also filled with majesty and bravery:

• ·The teacher Hirsch Kuzminer organized a group of men to protect their families and the honor of 40 women and their children who were hiding in a cellar; only thanks to their opposition while endangering their own lives, they were able to prevent soldiers who broke into the cellar from raping the women. But all of them were shot and died a martyr's death.

• ·Shimon Kaval (the blacksmith) fought the murderers who wanted to rape his daughters with his remaining strength. He also was killed, and after him, his entire family.

• ·Isaac Liebeck and his relatives tried to protect, but in vain, the honor of their wives and daughters. Their fate was like the fate of the others.

• ·Velvele Ludmir, with a group of young men, tried to protect the honor of the women and their daughters. All of them found their cruel death.

• ·All the butchers, and with them another 40 people, organized together armed with the tools of their trade, knives, and axes, so as to protect their possessions and the honor of their women and daughters. They fought the rioters with great self-sacrifice, but in the end, they were overcome.

[Page 734]

• ·An especially shocking event occurred to the Motzalmacher family, who owned a notions store in the market square, when the Romanians raped three young daughters of the family in the presence of their father. After that, the daughters went up on the roof and hung themselves. The poor father was unable to bear the pain and sorrow. He lost his mind and jumped into a deep well in the churchyard (the “cloister”) that was across the street (see the separate Yiddish version).

• ·In the home of the Klopman family on the street of the gypsies, a similarly shocking event occurred. After they were cruelly raped, the daughters of the family lost their minds. The poor mother tried to hang herself with a rope, but it was her bad “luck” that the rope broke. She remained alive, but she lost her mind….

The first days of anger passed with all their atrocities. The spirits calmed down a bit if it can be said, and the robbery and killing stopped. The authorities hung signs on the robbed houses of the Jews saying “Averea statului” (Property of the State). In other words, all the Jewish property was confiscated by the state. It was forbidden for Jews to freely move about on the street, and if one disobeyed this order, would be shot on the spot.

At that time, they began to draft men and take them out to work at various jobs: vegetable gardens, cleaning jobs, road repairs, and the like. The men who went out were arranged in lines and rows of six. At the head and the end of the rows were Christians. They worked the entire day until evening. The pay were beatings, curses, brutality.

This “ideal” work continued for only a week. Suddenly the frightening notice came, which, in truth, was expected to come. The residents were ordered to gather in a minimum length of time in places of concentration, some were in the central market and some other next to the “Beltzer Brik” bridge to leave the town altogether. To where? That was the question in the mouths of everyone, and there was no answer. Here and there a rumor had already spread that the direction was the Dniester. But many roads led to the Dniester, and on all of them, it was possible to meet groups of people expelled from Yedinitz: if next to the crossing of the river, next to the towns Ataki and Rezina, or on the roads of expulsion flight and the great wandering back and forth between Sekureni, Briceni and again Yedinitz, and back again.

What was the part of the Jews who lived in the villages in the vicinity? They were cut off from the town without any mail or telephone, sunk in constant fear of what would come. Rumors reached them of what was happening in nearby Yedinitz – their “metropolis.” In the end, the terrible fate visited them also: expulsions, robbery, killing, and rape.

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Of the five or six thousand Jews of the town during the first two weeks of renewal of the Romanian regime about one thousand were murdered. The survivors were expelled. They were concentrated in locations of exit, the majority next to the Beltz Bridge. Those expelled turned for their last look at the town where they were born and lived their lives, they, and their fathers, for generations. They left behind plundered houses and holy blood in the streets of the city. In Yedinitz the Romanians established a concentration camp for Jews who were expelled from other places. According to the inscriptions that the expelled residents of Yedinitz wrote on the walls of their homes, the people who were expelled from other places and came to fill the concentration camp established by the authorities in the deserted town could learn about what happened there. In an inscription one could read: “Here they slaughtered 60 Jews in one night…” “Here the fascist hangmen murdered my entire family…” or, “Revenge – this is our last request!” It was possible to distinguish that these inscriptions were written in human blood. There is no strength in the human mouth to describe the path of afflictions that led to the cross of the Dniester and in the stations until the “target,” the shocking encampments in the Cosauti and Kostyzhny. Forests and in the towns of Ataki and Vertujeni on the west bank of the Dniester. The fall season rains, winds, and storms accompanied the miserable columns lashing in their faces, penetrating to their very bones without pity. And beyond these, the Romanian soldiers brutalized them. No wonder thousands fell on the way without burial even before they arrived at “their hearts' desire” – the eastern side of the Dniester, in Ukraine. Meanwhile, winter was approaching. The column in which Yehuda Kafri walked “parked” in a village near the Kostyzhn Forest. What happened in this encampment, we will give to Kafri himself to tell:

“Near the Kostyzhn Forest about 200 people squeezed into a cowshed. Hunger and thirst grew, and there was no drinking water. They were “lucky” that the winter was in its full strength and the roof of the cowshed was covered with snow and ice. The men took down icicles from the roof and swallowed them to break their thirst a bit. But this also could only do at night when the guards fell asleep. That is how they used the hours of the night and the darkness to sneak past the barbed wire fence around the cowshed, to spread out in the fields, and gather a few potatoes and other vegetables – field leftovers. Some succeeded in reaching the farmers' houses in the nearby village, and in exchange for silver vessels and other expensive items, they obtained a loaf of bread and a pail of potato to quiet their hunger, which oppressed incessantly.”

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In the Vertujeni Camp:

One of the difficult stations was also the Jewish town of Vertujeni, near the Dniester. What happened to the expellees in this camp is told by Sara Litvak and Frieda Kuzminer:

“The town was left empty by its Jewish residents. They fled to the Russian side of the Dniester. The houses were broken into and robbed by the farmers in the vicinity. The people “arranged themselves” somehow in the deserted houses, and if there remained a remnant of a window or door, they took them down to light a fire in an oven, to warm their bodies that were wet with the bothersome autumn rain and from the cold that penetrated to the bones.

The town was surrounded by a fence to separate its Jewish residents from the surrounding gentiles. However, the Romanian guards could not prevent the gathering and contact next to the fence which happened daily on both sides of the fence, nor the “exchange market” that existed between them. The Jews sold everything they had left – clothing, shoes, threads, shoelaces – everything was sold or exchanged for a loaf of bread, a few beets, and potatoes. Everything was snatched up…People sold everything down to the last underwear on their bodies. It is no wonder, therefore, that some were dressed in sacks, worn-out rags, and there even were those who went wrapped in papers, hungry and shivering with cold. And these last ones remained without any possibility of obtaining a piece of bread to quiet the oppressive hunger. To also somehow help them, Shmuel Fradis took it upon himself to organize a collection asking for 2 lei from everyone who was able to contribute for the needy.

In this camp between the ruins, it came out that the people were to “celebrate” Rosh Hashanah. The men gathered in the ruins of what once was a synagogue. That prayer was conducted standing in the broken building, without a door or window, no human can betray. And behold, in the middle of the prayer the soldiers appeared and hurried the congregants to go out to work, and in honor of the “holiday,” they tried to surprise with their machinations. The “work” was carrying stones up and down the river, just like that, with no purpose, only to make their holy holiday “pleasant” for the Jews…
In this temporary camp the number of dead increased. Among them were: Yisrael Rosenthal, Chena Akkerman and his wife Henya; the in-laws Chaim-Froim Gutman and David Schwartz (Dudi de-Zeshart); they all died in one day.

It is understood that diseases were prevalent among the expelled. Dysentery, in particular, spread, because of the polluted drinking water.

Suddenly, flyers appeared here in the Romanian language, and in them it was said: “Evrei vor sa se intoarca acasa” (The Jews want to return home) …One day they sent the men to Cosauti. When a few days passed and they didn't return, we tried to ask the representatives of the authorities 'where are the men?' and the answer was “We don't know.” We never saw them again. Only Pinny Parnass succeeded in fleeing from that group and returned to us.”

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If the wanderers were able to “celebrate” Rosh Hashanah and pray between the walls of a synagogue which was deserted and contaminated and greet a friend with a blessing for the new year to come upon them with “only good,” then they realized they could “celebrate” the next high holiday, Yom Kippur, already outside under the heavens in the “bosom of Nature” in the Cosauti Forest.

On the morning of Yom Kippur Eve, the “residents” of Vertujeni (Vartuzhan, in Yiddish) were given a familiar order: “to move” onward. Suddenly it became clear that they were being turned toward that same road from which they came from. The rumor “We are going home!” spread among them. Indeed, Avraham Greenstein (the son-in-law of Yechiel Klugman) was able to notify with complete certainty: “Kinder – mahn gayt aheim!...” Get up – and return to the road.” Meanwhile, it began to rain. It was an additional accompaniment to ease and make the walking “pleasant.”
In the evening, they reached the Cosauti Forest. On the night of Kol Nidrei the unfortunates entered the forest, “here they will spend the night of the holiday…” sitting on the ground, in the puddles of water that formed from the rain that fell during the day; only the leaves of autumn that fell from the trees served them as protection against the pools of water in the depths of the forest. The mothers took the children in their arms, strained them to their weak bodies to warm them, and so they “received” the holy holiday.

They began to murmur portions of prayers, quietly at first, and afterward the prayer grew louder until it turned into a frightening scream, mixed with cries and wails, tearing hearts and heavens. The accompanying soldiers and guards had no control over the crowd. Even they, who were hard-hearted and cold-blooded, became confused and emotional at the shocking sight… the prayer ended; it was dark, wet, and cold. They gathered dry branches and made bonfires to boil a bit of water for drinking and to warm themselves.

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The fires spread; the entire forest was on fire, and it was all lit up like daylight as if these bonfires served as a kind of “memorial candles,” a kind of “memorial of the souls” of the fallen who found redemption for their bodies and souls already at the beginning of the road of afflictions that awaited them…
They spent several days in the Cosauti Forest. Every day, and especially every night, they had the spoils of their sacrifices. Who could count the number of dead in this forest which turned into a cemetery? Some of the dead were not even buried. Only later do they begin to calculate the size of the sacrifice upon which the cursed forest preyed.

And the “happy ones,” the exhausted and tired dressed in torn rags, comforted themselves saying that if they succeeded in coming out of here then also hell itself could not frighten them.

The town of Ataki (Otek, as the Jews call it) was another station on the road of wanderings of the expellees, or for some of them. All the houses here were destroyed and burnt. In every place, there were still signs of the pogrom that took place before. There were dead bodies in the streets, in the yards, in the cellars, and in the town squares. On the walls signs in Yiddish writing were seen, sometimes written with blood: “You who will pass by here after us, say Kaddish for the soul…!” (Here, a name is inserted) “We fell in sanctification of G-d's name… (signed)” “Here (a name) was murdered with the entire family…” The sacrifices themselves wrote this (with their own blood), or those who were present in the place put up, at least such a “monument” for them. Who can know? And here is a poetic inscription: “You, who in those days rested under your roof and slept in your beds, you will never be able to describe to yourselves our suffering…” ”Remember…remember those who died at the sides of the roads…”

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The crossing of the river Dniester is a tragic affair in itself. Again, this time is not a one and only affair or event since most of the convoys led to crossing this river to Transnistria. There are many stories of atrocities that took place at the crossing. Some of those had “luck” and arrived somehow “in peace” on the other side of the river, while others found their deaths between the waves of the river which carried the bodies and blood of the unfortunate far away.

Especially publicized was the shocking incident of the passage of that convoy, and perhaps only part of it, which came on the Vertujeni-Cosauti-Ataki road near the passage. For some reason, they divided the convoy into two separate groups.

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One column of people was turned to the Yampoli road and the other one to the Rezina Road. The first group passed safely, and the second perished completely during the passage. The circumstances are unknown to this very day. Not one person survived from this group and the rumors that circulated about this tragedy are varied and strange. The group might have perished whether by shooting, by sending them into a minefield, or by drowning them in the Dniester. Either way, the waves of the Dniester took them with the secret of their disappearance forever…

Among those who perished in this group was also the sister of the writer of these lines: Rachel, and her only son, an eight years old sweet child. This happened after they succeeded in being rescued from the preying claws at the Cosauti Forest, where they buried both her parents, Eliezer and Golda. This was also a great “merit.”

On the road to Rezina the children of the watchmaker Yakel Zilberman perished – Itzik and Esther, and their children Doka and Shulia, and the mother Zelda.

And here is a story of the “reception” that welcomed the arrivals in “the designated land”:

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“Here, on the eastern side of the river, there rose a tall mountain. The tired people were ordered by those who welcomed them – Romanians and Germans – to go up to the summit of the mountain, each one carrying with him a heavy stone to “ease” the climb to the summit, and when they arrived, they were ordered to return on their footsteps, this time without the stone. But when repeating the climb, again heavy stones were loaded on their shoulders…and this was repeated until the people were bent over and fell. There was nothing they could do, and more than a few fell and rolled down to the foot of the mountain without having to climb it again…their last road led to the depths of the river…”

And this is not the only frightening story about this crossing.

“Transnistria” – all of them thought that this would be the permanent station, and all the survivors thought, “At least here, the wandering will stop. The people longed only for a bit of rest, but it quickly became clear to them that until they would arrive at some permanent place, they would have to continue the long path of afflictions of temporary stations, dangerous and threatening, which human ability cannot describe.

Of this road of wanderings already on the fruitful and fertile land of Ukraine, Duba Grozman-Cohen says:

“With our remaining strength, we arrived in the evening at the first kolkhoz on the cursed land of Ukraine. Until my last day, I will not forget the frightening and shocking picture that we saw. In a large storeroom, broken in all directions, full of filth and infection, on the floor, in dirty polluted straw, men, women, and children were lying, fluttering between life and death – shadows of people, frozen from the cold and dying in hunger; among them – children stricken by illness, hunger and paralysis. It was possible to grasp their last request only with difficulty: “Mama! Gib a shtickele broit…”

“And suddenly! Who did I see? Here, in this hell? One of the prominent men of our town, Shmuel Fradis, of blessed memory, lying in a condition of coming to an end, alone, deserted, and suffering from pain, and only one request came from his mouth: that the Angel of Death will hurry his coming – more is impossible…”

“Exhausted and depressed, we lay terribly crowded on the floor, and in the morning, before we managed to let our eyes awaken, our accompaniers ordered us to get up quickly…and walk…we walked barefoot and naked, and the cold penetrated into every limb…and the hunger – oy, the hunger…it oppressed until madness, and there was no relief….and no help…”

There were stations on the move with a kind of “continued temporariness,” if one can say so. We were still not living in a permanent camp, like in Mogilev, Bershad, and those like them. In a camp like this, where people stayed for a longer time, it was obligatory to recognize the area, to become accustomed to the surroundings and the local people in the nearby village, to come in contact with them, to “organize oneself” as people would say, who lived in more or less normal conditions.

Such place was the “Katashun” camp, Yehuda Kafri was. According to his descriptions of the conditions there, it is possible to point out others in similar camps.

The convoy that arrived at the village of Katashun numbered about 900 people.

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On the Rivers of Transnistria The expellees from Bessarabia, somewhere on the bank of the Dniester, waited to cross to Transnistria. Many perished before they arrived there. Many drowned in the waters of the river during the crossing. The picture was taken by Romanian soldiers (from the archive of Matityahu Karp).

There were days when the dead remained in the storeroom, dwelling without permission until it was granted to bury them. Burying of the dead was also an act of bravery since it was expected to be done. For those doing the burial, it was dangerous, because either they could get infected with the disease of the dead or were to receive a bullet in the head from the guards.

With the passing of the first winter, and the cold in all its strength, it was possible to count and totalized the “balance” of the losses. The remainder: one-third only.

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When the survivors became aware that there would be an extended stay in this camp, they began to look for more “comfortable” permanent arrangements. They obtained three deserted houses, repaired them, and with the help of bribes from their supervisors, they were allowed to move to the new “neighborhood,” which compared to the previous one, was “ideal.” Over time, connections and good relations were established with the farmers in the vicinity and the residents of the camp. These farmers even employed many of the expellees on their farms, and in payment for their work, they entitled them to a hot and nourishing meal and to another piece of bread or a bit of corn for the hungry children.

Aharon Chachamovitz, for example, dug graves in the Christian cemetery, and as payment, he received a hot lentil soup, a cup of milk, and as a gift, a pail of potatoes for his family. When the general situation became “better,” the young people even began to think of … having a family life. Marriages took place between them and even marriages between the elderly were frequent.

As has been said by various witnesses, the convoys of expellees were accompanied mostly by a very small number of guards. Four or five soldiers or gendarmes would go with a convoy of thousands of expellees. They did what they wanted to the expellees: they insulted, cursed, and even killed them, and no one rebelled.

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We wonder and ask: How is it possible? Among these thousands, there were not only elderly, discouraged, pregnant women, and their likes. There also were young people whose blood boiled in their veins. How is it that no spark of objection, of rebellion, arose in them?

The answer is: apathy and unconcern.

The terrible conditions – the hunger, the thirst, the diseases, and the deaths on the roads, brought the people to a darkening of the senses. The people were apathetic to everything, and no occurrence shocked them or aroused them. Therefore, it is not surprising that people remained apathetic at the sight of the sudden death of parents and children. They left them lying on the road and continued to walk with the rest…the main thing was – not to lag behind – without a purpose and without an aim, and with no hope. Onward, onward…

With this in mind, it became clear that if someone did not completely lose his self-respect on the one hand, this was the strength of objection. On the other hand, he had sensitivity and soul-suffering at what was happening with the members of his family and decided to do something brave, to help, to somehow free his family from torture and brutality, and by doing so, all the people in the convoy who were with him, succeeded.

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The road to the “longed-for” destination - Transnistria - was paved, as has already been described, with a lot of suffering, hunger, death, storms, rain, and frost. When the convoy which Frieda Kuzminer walked arrived at the town of Bershad, she could summarize: “Since we left Yedinitz until we arrived at Bershad, a total of two months had passed; but for us, this was forever…”

Bershad

The history of those who settled in this Ukrainian town was told to us by Frieda Kuzminer, Yakel Gold, Chaya (Clara Brand) Kalmanovich, and her cousin Duba Cohen (Grozman). Duba describes:

“About ten thousand people, remnants of the Jewry of Bessarabia, were crowded into this camp. The conditions of life here cannot be described in words. People lived in deserted and burglarized houses. The Ukrainians robbed and destroyed everything that the Jews of the place who fled with the Red Army left behind. The crowding was large. The diseases of typhoid and the intestines spread. There was no medicine. From day to day the number of dead increased. Hunger grew. There already was nothing to sell and to exchange. Many did not allow themselves to obtain the “luxury” of a little corn flour.”

“In Bershad we met many people from our town who were on the threshold of death. Among these were Ephraim Schwartzman's sister Leahkele and her husband. Avraham Baron, a close friend, we found alone and forlorn, dying in an open house and in severe cold.”

[Page 742]

“The men were sent to work, some in building bridges for the German army that had been destroyed by the Red Army, and some in the quarries. Only a small percentage had the strength to do this forced labor. Most of them did not return.”

“But very slowly we began to be accustomed to the troubles, as if we were born for it, and every day the strong will to continue grew, perhaps to live…perhaps a miracle would happen, and the situation would change.”

“A small market was created in the place. We brought out the poor rags that remained. We sewed them anew and revealed all kinds of inventions. Old, torn sheets turned into tablecloths that were grabbed up by the Ukrainian women. How did we do this? Here, the Jewish strength of invention came to help us. In a place where there was a hole we embroidered a big, beautiful flower and filled the space with tiny flowers on the little holes, and here, you have an embroidered tablecloth, lovely….”

For the parents of the children, spiritual suffering was added to the physical suffering, hunger, and shortages when they saw that their children were growing up totally ignorant. How their hearts grieved at this thought. And the children themselves were gripped with pain and jealousy when they encountered the children of the local Ukrainian residents on the paths of the town happily going to school…and the girl Carla Brand (Kalmanovich) then asked: “L-rd of the world, what is our sin, the children of Israel, that we were punished like this?”

This painful problem oppressed the conscience and disturbed the rest of the “settlers” in Bershad, drawn them to do something about the matter. They drafted several people in the camp (one of the activists was Duba Cohen). They gathered about 200 children, most of whom were orphans, in a dormitory with food and clothing. They drafted several educated people and teachers from among the expellees themselves gave lessons in the Hebrew language.

[Page 743]

They organized celebrations where the children sang songs of the Land of Israel. Hopes of redemption in the Land of Israel beat in the hearts of the children. Here, you have a Hebrew school on the land of Bershad, which is in the exile of Transnistria. Indeed, many of these children merited, finally, to reach the Land of Israel. But the fate of others was bitter. As is known, in the winter of 1943 many children were put on the Bulgarian ship Salvador that rowed to the shores of Eretz Israel. When the ship was in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, it was torpedoed by a German destroyer and sank into the depths of the sea along with 350 “illegal immigrants” who were on the ship, among them 150 children, survivors of Transnistria. Salvador (“rescue,” fate mocked) did not rescue them.

The price was highly paid by the Jews of Bershad for their attempt to stand firm despite the suffering, the distress, and the unlimited torments; many fell and died under the hand of the oppressors and torturers, from the diseases of typhoid and dysentery, the hunger and shortages, and their bodies were buried in the Jewish cemetery in Bershad. At the height of the War, in 1942, the “remnant” erected a memorial monument at the large mass grave, and on it was a grand inscription-lamentation written by Rabbi Dov Yechiel (Berel Yasser) from Briceva (see the woodcut on page 811).

Another convoy, or parts of various convoys, arrived after many wanderings in the city of Mogilev. Among those who chanced to come were Frieda Kuzminer, Yoel Lieberman (der tsukernik) and his family; the Premislav family; Chaim Horwitz; Moshe Furman and his family; Yitzchak Borochin, and others. Mogilev served as a large concentration camp with dozens of thousands of Jews from different places. But until they “merited” to arrive at Mogilev, the expellees had to pass several bonfires of hell in other labor camps in the vicinity. One of these camps was in the shtetl of Skazinetz.

[Page 744]

Here the expellees were housed in deserted military buildings. The buildings were filled to its maximum capacity. Food and water were not given to them so that one saw the shadows of human beings walk around the camp like mad. They ate the leaves of the trees in the yard and the camp. After they stayed there a few days, they were returned to Mogilev and back again. Many fell, finally, on these “hikes” along the road, and the few who remained, merited somehow to arrive alive at the permanent concentration camp in Mogilev.

Mogilev was a large city, destroyed by the many bombings of the Germans. But also, the partially destroyed houses, lacking windows and doors, were filled. These poor souls began to make “order” in the houses, to clean them from the dirt that had accumulated, to cover the open holes in the windows with paper and rags, and to protect themselves even a little against the cold winter winds. From the metal they found they fixed “heating stoves” fueled with everything that came to hand, lest they freeze in the severe cold that ruled that winter (1942). The people themselves lay on the ground and padded their “beds” with the paper if any remained in their hands. There were no toilets. Nature was eased in any convenient spot. This was an ordinary thing and nobody was bothered by it, as if it had always been that way. There was no water. Washing could not be mentioned. The filth and the fleas ate the people. The plagues and death ruled without limit. Some could not stand up to the suffering and they lost their minds.

And all that was not enough for those appointed over the fate of the unfortunates. Without any differences of rank, high or low, they searched further to supply their sexual appetites on the skinny flesh of young girls and women despite their intense objection and their desperate fight. This contemptible continued their degenerate deeds also in the spring of 1944 when they already knew that the Red Army was approaching Transnistria. Then also, they tried to conduct a hunt after young girls, but these, from a personal feeling of what was likely to happen to them and on the threshold of rescue, succeeded in fleeing to the forests to hide until the total withdrawal of the Romanian army. Only then, did they return to the city to join their dear ones, the last remnants. [Page 743]

Spring of 1943, Erev Pesach. The news that arrived from the eastern front was very encouraging. It told of the defeat of the German army near Stalingrad. All this breathed a spirit of hope and expectation that indeed, the great hour had come to break through the fences of the camp in which they had been imprisoned for close to three years.

But the withdrawal of the German and Romanian armies also harmed the remnants of the camps, not by a little. The withdrawing forces saw the Jews as being guilty of their defeat and took revenge on them during their withdrawal. They themselves murdered without distinction, and to the Ukrainians they said, “Do to them whatever you want.” But the Ukrainians suddenly wanted to appear “righteous” in the eyes of the Soviets who were advancing and who did not harm the Jews.

[Page 744]

In comparison, the Russians began to again concentrate the Jews in camps when they only met them, with the excuse they remained alive because “they had cooperated, so to speak, with the Germans” and therefore, they will come now, only now, at the end of the War to be punished. Many were sent to work the mines in Donbas. After that, the Russian army and regime published in the liberated territories a notice that everyone had permission to go wherever they wanted, and everyone could hear the magic word “home.”

But there were not many people who returned “home” …and how did they look, those going on the way back? The sight was frightening. These were people of the past, torn and worn out, barefoot, tired, and exhausted. Only the knowledge that indeed they were returning to their homes breathed in some strength into them to continue to arrive at their origin, the source of their last hope.

[Page 745]

How Did the Few Survive?

More than once I was asked the question: Under these difficult conditions, in shortages, hunger, and diseases, how were these remnants, who merited to go out of the inferno with all its atrocities, were saved, nevertheless?

According to the words of the survivors themselves, several outstanding occurrences can be pointed out: subjective, spiritual, and of them, – objective, external.

Duba Cohen (Grozman) determines:

“The biggest hater of man who made a name for himself, and with it felled many of the dead, was apathy. Whoever surrendered to the horrible conditions, whoever accepted the judgment without any attempt of opposition and in whatever form; whoever did not stand against it with strength, first of all spiritually and strengthen the will to live in all circumstances, and unfortunately these were the majority, his fate was sealed to be lost, and the weak ones, were the first to die.”

This opinion is held also by Rachela and Yechiel Milner. But there were also those who succeeded in revealing spiritual sources and strategies for life to float above the foul reality and not be harmed. This was the type of people who created the “exchange market” of barter and sales. There were those whose “inventory” of merchandise was rich, varied, and valuable…there were those who were endowed with the character of a trader unique in its kind, for obtaining necessities and marketing them, and among them some who even obtained securities, silver, and gold coins to trade. From where? How? Propaganda! Some of these even reached the “standing” of “rich” and distinguished…Mendel Lieberman says that he established in cooperation with other Jews in the Secureni ghetto a small “factory” for manufacturing…sweets. Bread and sugar could not be obtained. They had, therefore, to be satisfied with candies…and some went to work for farmers in the villages of the vicinity in exchange for any prey to break their hunger and that of their families. Some young people joined the companies of partisans (in the vicinity of the Katashun Camp, for example), and some went around begging at the doors of the farmers asking for a piece of dry bread. There were more than a few instances of good gentiles who rescued souls from certain death. Yehuda Dorf and Chaya Mayansky state with decisiveness:

“It can be said with total certainty that there are many Jews who were saved from certain death thanks to the humanitarian attitude of the gentiles, who held out to the hungry a piece of bread, a bit of potato, a beet, or any other vegetables which could ease, even a little, the distress of hunger.”

“I will never forget Chaidi, a gentile who was poor, homeless himself, who actually sliced from his own bread to break the hunger of my little daughter,” emphasizes Chaya Mayansky. “More than once, that same Chaidi, strengthened our spirits with encouraging words: 'Don't move from here. Where else can you go? Here you will stay until the danger is past.' I lived for a certain time on the payment – various food products – that I received for knitted items like sweaters, socks, and the like, that I knitted in the homes of the farmers.”

And Rachel Milner (Fradis) emphasizes: “Until my last hour, I will remember my benefactors, the Ukrainian woman Anna Rodaya and the farmer Karol Branchok, who, while endangering their lives, saved my only son Shura. I will not forget them for this.”

[Page 746]

Chaya Mayansky's daughter is a happy mother in Tel Aviv and the son of Rachel and Yechiel Milner is a successful engineer in Israel.

There is no explanation for the matter. Indeed, all or most of the gentiles were merciful and pursued kindness. On the contrary, many set their dogs on a Jew who was seen at the gate of their yard stretching out a hand and asking for a piece of bread. They were afraid of being infected by the plague of lice that ruled over the “dirty” Jews (this expression was spread about those afflicted with lice).

Of the expellees from Yedinitz only a few remained as lone survivors from entire families. How was the town revealed to the eyes of these returnees? Yakel Gold tells: “The town was destroyed. We entered the few complete houses that remained. The town was completely destroyed; we did not recognize it, not a house, not a street. A small part of the returnees remained in the destroyed shtetl, and another part, the majority, continued to walk to Czernowitz to get close to the border to reach the Land of Israel.”

In our hometown remained a total of 70-80 Jewish families who began somehow “to manage” themselves under the framework of the new Soviet regime. Some of them opened shops; others organized cooperatives like in 1940. But none of the youth remained in our city. They said that at the time of the Romanian occupation only one unique Jewish soul remained: Susia, the daughter of the shoemaker Shmuel Hirsch, who lived with a Christian.

All the people of the Soviet regime were strangers who came from outside. The remnants of the local Jewish Communists tried to return to work at the government, but they failed.

The entire life of the Jewish community was concentrated in the only synagogue, but only continued for a short time.

Frieda Kuzminer adds:

“We were several hundred souls. Relatively in comparison with the other towns we met on our way, Yedinitz was less harmed, even though here the streets were also destroyed, most of the houses collapsed, and those that remained were without windows and doors, which the gentiles took down. The houses stood like wounded human skeletons. We went up to the cemetery. Even here there was total destruction. And inside, in the heart, the destruction was many times greater. We looked around us. Here, what we had…and before us, a big question mark: Now what?”

The article “The Holocaust of the Jews of Yedinitz” was written by Mordechai Reicher, of blessed memory, based on a collection of testimonies, conversations with the survivors, and archive certificates. Mordechai Reicher gathered most of the material himself for his research and back up most of the testimonies. A few interviews with survivors (with Chachamovitz and Rachel Skolnik, of blessed memory, for example), were edited by Ephraim Schwartzman-Sharon. When he was still alive, Mordechai Reicher decided that the entire work would be published in Yiddish and a summary would be published in Hebrew, which the writer himself prepared a long time before he passed away.

The Editorial Staff

[Pages 747-748]

Upper right: Market area, the street that linked the market to Taraviste street. Upper left: Part of Postchova Street Lower right: Eliyahu Rosenberg, z”l, who took this picture, described the surroundings (dated June 23, 1947): “the lower part of our home (Hirsh Ksils), the cellar, and the roof, broken windows and door, the demolished oven. Libe Manaleses home is a pit. The two-story house of Pesia, the mikveh attendant, can be seen on the Taraviste. Only the frame remains.” On the picture sitting from the left: the ritual slaughterer Yeshaya Alkis, his wife Elka and their daughter Sheindele. Standing from right: Yeshaya's sister Ester Roizman, Eli Rosenberg, z”l, Riba née Alkis and her husband Nathan Caspi (Silberman from Briceva), who made Aliyah in 1947 and today lives in Hadera. The ritual slaughterer Yeshaya Alkis, his wife Elka, their daughter Sheindele (together with her husband Entsch Izufrom Odessa), their son Tzvi and their youngest daughter Ita made Aliyah in February 1972.

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