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In June 1941, the Soviet military units left the town. Only a few of our people joined the Soviet ranks, and those people managed to survive the Nazis' claws.

The town was bombarded by the German air force throughout the night. Houses were damaged, and there were also casualties. The Jewish population hid in the cellars and various hideouts and anxiously waited for what was to come. The shooting ceased the next day. A German patrol moved into the town, and behind it, there were units of the German military. The Ukrainians began flocking from the villages and the suburbs to welcome the Germans and to rob Jewish property.

I and my family resided in my apartment then, along with a young refugee couple. A Haredi family—a father and six children—lived in my other apartment. They were refugees who escaped Western Galicia for fear of the Nazis. They arrived at Zborow, where they found refuge. The Nazi invasion shocked us, and we were imbued with the fear of death. Nobody dared to, but I took courage and went out. Total quiet prevailed outside. There was not a soul around. Suddenly, an SS soldier came down from an adjacent hill and approached me. Thinking that I was Christian, he opened a conversation with me. He suddenly became alarmed when he saw a Jew with a beard standing by a window. He turned to me, puzzled, and asked: “What is this?” “Do you still have Jews here? How is it possible?” I had not yet known the beast of prey in the form of the Nazis, and in my innocence, I told him that I was also Jewish. My luck was that he still had a human spark in him. He invited himself to visit my home. I did not have a choice and reluctantly agreed. When my husband and the refugee couple saw the SS soldier, they became frightened. He was polite; however, he told us what to expect, and we realized we were hopeless.

Two days after their intrusion, the Gestapo men, accompanied by Ukrainian representatives, broke into the homes of the Jews and forced the men to get out to the street under the excuse that people were required to work. That was how the hunt for people began. The poor men did not realize that this was their last day. The Gestapo concentrated the men in a yard near the house of Meir Adler. The Germans subjected the men to all sorts of torture, and in the end, they shot and killed them. That was the first Aktion^[1] in Zborow. My husband was lucky. On that day, a German officer employed him for some services in his room. When he sent him to fetch water, he was almost caught as the Aktion was still ongoing. He managed to hide under a tank until the late hours of the night. When he returned, my joy was so great that it was indescribable.

Heavy mourning befell the town. People stayed imprisoned in their homes, mourning and crying after their dear ones who were cruelly cut down. There was mourning in every home. We knew that our fate had been sealed, and there was no escape from death, which would come sooner or later. However, we did not despair. We had a strong will to live. We were willing to give up on all life's pleasures for the right to live. Our lives became “free for the taking.” We were subjected to inhuman humiliation, disgrace, and torture. We got used to hearing the groans of the tortured and the cheers of the murderers. We were forced to bow our heads and obey the satanic orders of the cursed Nazis and Judenrat.

A Judenrat was established, and it served as a tool in the hands of the Nazis. Its role was to obey,

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provide workers, be responsible for the fulfillment of the contribution orders, and execute all the demands of the Nazis. The most horrific role of the Judenrat was to provide people for extermination by the Nazis. A Jewish militia was established adjacent to the Judenrat, and they quickly adapted to the Germans. They followed them and terrorized the city's Jews. Clashes between the Judenrat and the Jewish police militia on one side and the Jewish population raised the tension. Dramatic confrontations took place. That was the most sorrowful and tragic chapter in the history of the Jews under the Nazi regime.

The Nazis' final objective was to wipe out the Jews from the face of the earth. The satanic plans were prepared for execution gradually. In the beginning, the Nazis seemingly appreciated the working people. They allowed them to live until their turn came. Therefore, everybody tried using all sorts of means to obtain unpaid work, even if the work was extremely hard.

We were lucky, thanks to my brother, Moshe Jung, z”l, who resided in Lvov then and was responsible for supplying the Germans with raw materials.

My brother, z”l, also organized a group of people in Zborow, in the house he used to live in, who were employed in that work. The group included my husband, myself, Shlomo Liebling, his wife, his mother, and Eva Segal. Others joined the group from time to time. We were considered the happy ones. In addition to the Jewish star, we had to wear the firm's symbol, and that allowed us to go around freely. The supervisor of the group was a Polish official. Kurchovsky was an honest man who treated the Jews kindly. However, the tin symbol did not help us during an Aktion. We were then subjected to dangers like everybody else. That motivated us to establish a bunker in the office. It was built under the floor. The opening to the bunker was under the official desk, covered with a rug. During an Aktion, we and the workers would go down to the bunker and wait there until the storm passed. Our bunker was established in complete secrecy.

In the meantime, the situation worsened. New horrific decrees were issued daily. Killing, robbing, and raping were daily occurrences. Children who lost parents and parents who lost children wandered around like pursued animals until the ax fell on their necks, too. Among these poor people was Eli Gutfleisch, a child of our neighbor. We took him into our group, and he worked for us for some time. When an Aktion took place, he would come down with us to hide in the bunker. One day, Eli came to us and announced that he was joining the Jewish police force. We were dismayed and tried to convince him not to make that mistake. Nothing helped; he had made up his mind.

From the time Eli left us, my husband lived in constant fear. When the next Aktion came, my husband's brother, z”l, did not allow us to go down to the bunker. With a lot of effort, he managed to secure a shelter with a farmer, and we, myself, my children, Mrs. Liebling, and Eva Segal, moved there. My husband's brother, z”l, and the rest of the workers stayed in the office. When shots were fired and the Aktion began, my husband's brother, z”l, and the rest of the people left the office and thereby saved themselves. A short time after they left, the Gestapo men penetrated the office accompanied by Eli Gutfleisch. Eli turned directly to the bunker and opened it. To his surprise, he found it empty. Kurchovsky, who was innocent and did not know about the existence of the bunker, was arrested and beaten with murderous blows. He was released later after a great effort.

Among the refugees in Zborow was a physician, a sickly man. One day, he came to our office and asked my husband's brother, z”l, to transfer a letter to his wife by a messenger. My husband promised him to do so. In the meantime, a rumor was spread that the physician had escaped. That was a severe crime according to the Nazis' rules. In return, the Nazis demanded that 20 people be handed over to be executed. The story about the letter that the physician gave to my husband also became known and the Germans suspected that we helped the physician to escape. They took my husband's brother, z”l, to a forced labor camp. A few hours later, a Jewish policeman came to also take me and my children.

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Hebrew Kindergarten in 1938

The ghetto was established.

The Jews were ordered to abandon their apartments and move to the ghetto. It was located in narrow alleys. Zborow's Jews and masses of refugees from other locations concentrated within those narrow places. We lived near Moshe Karl, the tailor. The crowdedness was horrific–from 10 to 15 people in a room. Hunger took its toll. The sanitary conditions were horrific. A typhus epidemic erupted as a result. Many died daily, and the people wandered around like shadows, not allowed to get out of the ghetto, which was surrounded by a barbed wire fence guarded by the Ukrainian militia.

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The ghetto was filled with fear day and night. We felt like we were imprisoned in a cage without a sliver of hope, waiting for the bitter fate, imbued with perpetual anxiety and unbelievable suffering. People did not trust each other. The Jewish person became a miserable and oppressed creature.

Rumors were spread about the liquidation of the ghetto. We knew that we were without hope. My husband made an effort to arrange for the establishment of a bunker, hoping to be saved from death by a miracle. It was not easy. Most of the farmers fraudulently took the Jews' money and, in the end, handed them to the Gestapo or murdered them with their own hands. My husband's brother, z”l, contacted a farmer, supposedly one of our friends, and gave him a downpayment for a bunker. In the meantime, we found out that lawyers Bund and Herman stayed in a bunker hosted by that farmer. After a short while, the farmer handed them over to the Gestapo. We were in despair. No farmer could be trusted.

A Baptist boy named Antoszo lived in our neighborhood. He was a sickly boy from a poor family and ate only vegetation. He took pity on any living creature and used to provide food to various creatures, even mice. People despised him and thought him to be crazy. During peacetime, Antozso used to visit our home, and he especially got friendly with the maid. I always treated him to a meal since he was always hungry. We let his elder brother's cow graze in our yard, and he appreciated that a lot because other neighbors expelled him from their yards. They both always heard a good word from my husband's brother, z”l, who used to give them a cigarette, and they remembered it.

That Antoszo, who was blessed with a human heart, suffered when he witnessed the cruel activities of the Nazis, and the suffering of the Jews, decided to help us out of devotion. He came to my husband one day and told him that he had decided to arrange a bunker in his yard without receiving any compensation. He only asked to provide him with money for the food he would bring to the bunker. My husband didn't consider his offer seriously and was reluctant, perhaps out of doubt as to whether this poor creature could help people who were on the brink of death at every step. I differed in my opinion. I told my husband that we should not disparage his offer. We were hopeless and had nothing to lose. Indeed, we decided, without hesitation to hide in the bunker Antoszo prepared for us. We were 8 people, our two children, Shlomo Liebling, his wife, his mother, and Eva Segal. When Mendel Segel and his two sons were shot in the first Aktion, Mrs .Segal asked us to accept her daughter under our wings. Even though it was not easy in those days to do a favor for somebody else, when our lives were in danger, my husband promised to fulfill her request. Eva joined us, and we went through the road of suffering and horrors perpetrated by the Nazis together. We took care of her daughter like she was our own child. Eva stayed with us until 1946. We provided her everything: food, clothing, and even travel expenses. After the liberation, she traveled to Uruguay to unite with her mate.

The bunker prepared by Antoszo was very primitive–just a regular hole in the ground under the cowshed. His wretched house stood above the cowshed. The bunker had two entrances guarded by Antoszo like a precious treasure. He used to smear the entrances with a substance that gave off a bad smell, aiming to drive the Gestapo man away. When the latter came to Antoszo's house, accompanied by dogs, to search for Jews, they left immediately due to the foul smell and the pranks he did playing a crazy person.

Before going down to the bunker, Antoszo pondered about getting food for us since he felt unsure about that task. He offered to have a neighbor, whom he considered loyal, join and help him. That proved later to be a fatal mistake. We left the land of the living and went down to the dark hole, with no light and no air.

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The area in the bunker was very limited. It was only possible to lie down on one side. Worms crawled, and all kinds of flies buzzed around us. Mice also bothered us. I was very frail due to malnutrition and worries. Worms stuck to my worn-out body, which caused terrible pains. I lost the will to live. There were moments when I wanted to get out of the bunker and surrender to the Gestapo. My husband ended up pulling out the worms with his hands, which brought me relief. At night, Antoszo lowered a pail with our meager food and collected our excrement, which we had to do in the bunker.

The neighboring farmer who promised to help in getting the food for us participated for some time but changed his mind.

Time passed slowly. We stopped differentiating between day and night and the seasons. About eight months had passed. At a late hour one night, we heard steps near the bunker's entrance, and a shot was heard. The bullet penetrated the cover and hit Mrs. Liebling, who was killed instantly. Eva Segal was hit in her waist and suffered a severe hemorrhage. My husband's brother, z”l, took off the shirt he had worn for months and dressed Eva's wound. Suddenly, the bunker was opened, and the neighboring farmer who promised to get us food appeared accompanied by another farmer. We were shocked to see their faces. They looked like robbers. They ordered us to give them money. I gave them all the money we had, but the amount did not satisfy them, and they threatened to kill us all. I begged them to kill me first. Surprised and terrified, we began to shout loudly. To our surprise, the two disappeared. We found the reason for their disappearance from Antoszo, who had come out of his hideout after they left. He told us he had noticed the farmer was plotting to harm us. Antoszo threatened him that he would snitch about him to the Gestapo if he dared to hurt “his” Jews. Despite the friendly relations between the Nazis and the Ukrainians, the Nazis did not appreciate the involvement of others in discovering bunkers and the execution of the death penalty. They were the masters in these activities. The two farmers were sure that Antoszo ran to hand them over to the Gestapo and therefore left the scene.

After the bunker was discovered, we obviously could not stay there any longer. We looked like skeletons, creatures from the land of the dead. Half-naked, with feebled knees, we went out in the darkness of the night, without knowing where to go. It is hard to describe the feelings of people who see a wide world in front of them without a single safe step for them. We went out of the city. My husband's brother, z”l, was the strong one. With his help, we progressed on our way. He alternated between dragging him and carrying him on his shoulders. We slowly arrived at the yard of a farmer who used to be our friend. My husband knocked on his door, and when the farmer saw us he crossed himself, because a deadly fear befell him, and that was for a reason. Our appearance created a dangerous situation for him. Despite that, he took pity on us. We stayed with him, in a hideout for two days. In the meantime, a rumor spread that we has been murdered. We decided to return to Antoszo. When we arrived, Antoszo jumped for joy, since the rumor about our deaths had reached him, too. He hid us temporarily in his brother's pig sty. At night, he dug a new bunker, similar to the original bunker, in another location in his yard. That time, he was careful not to partner with any of his neighbors.

We went down again into the bunker. That time we were fewer people. Shlomo Liebling and his wife tried their luck using forged papers to get out of Poland. They failed and paid with their life for their failure.

We continued our miserable lives in the bunker. On one of the nights, when Antoszo brought down the pail with our food, he told us that Feigele Stock had been seen in the area. The neighbors decided to hand her over to the Gestapo for fear of the Nazis. I asked him to bring her over to us. He objected for fear of the neighbors,

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and did not want to endanger us again (in addition, he was worried about the food). I did not let go until he agreed. We agreed that he would hide her, at night, in his attic under the straw and bring her down to the bunker at night. When Antoszo opened the bunker, and Feigele saw my bearded husband and the dark pit, she raised her voice and shouted. I asked Antoszo to return her to the attic and bring her back at dawn. That time, I came out, and she recognized me and went down to the bunker. Since then, until 1946, she stayed with us. We provided for her and took care of her like our own child.

The front approached. With anticipation and anxiety, we followed any news we obtained from Antoszo. The city was about to be bombed, and the residents received an order to evacuate. Antoszo came to tell us that he was forced to join the ranks of the escapees. He left us with a heavy heart.

We were abandoned for two weeks, cut off from the world. Hunger, thirst, and the foul smell in the bunker bothered us tremendously. We reached a state of unconsciousness (we wetted our lips with urine and even drank it). One of my children was on the threshold of death. Only when we opened the bunker did he recover somewhat. During the second week, we did not feel the hunger and thirst anymore. We did not know what was happening around us. SS units stayed around us. We heard their discussions during the change of the guards.

And then, the big moment arrived. We suddenly heard a rustling noise near the bunker opening. We got frightened since we thought that we had been discovered. However, we suddenly heard Antoszo's voice: “Are you still alive? Know that you have been saved.” It was the best news. We came out of the bunker and besieged Antoszo's feet and kissed him all over. We were lost for words to thank him and relate our appreciation to our savior.

On the first day of the liberation, we still held on due to the excitement. However, the next day, we collapsed. We could not move our legs, which we did not use during our time at the bunker. We were not humans but shadows of our own selves, really on the threshold of death. We could not walk for months. My children felt hopeless and were not joyful that we had survived. However, our health improved slowly. We did not come out unscathed. Each of the survivors was injured physically and mentally forever.

From Jewish Zborow, a flourishing town in the past, only ruins and mass graves remained. The joy of meeting a few other Holocaust survivors was great but mixed with pain and sorrow about the victims, who perished cruelly and did live to see the defeat of our greatest oppressor, who overshadowed in his cruelty all other historical haters.

We waited for the moment we could stand on our feet to leave our town, saturated with the blood of our martyrs. We moved to Krakow. My husband's brother, z”l, fed all of us, and we treated the two girls like our own children. Feigele Stock transferred to a group of Holocaust survivor youths who made Aliyah to Eretz Yisrael. Eva stayed with us awhile later until her trip to Uruguay.

We continued on our way to my sister in the United States, who made all the efforts to unite us.

We did not forget Antoszo, the noble person who endangered his life to save us. I kept corresponding with him throughout the year. His letters are filled with love and appreciation for the support I am sending him. He will always be remembered among the Righteous Among the Nations. We will never forget that poor person with a big soul.

Translator's Footnote:

1. Aktion–from Wikipedia–(German: Aktion) is a name for a series of violent actions by the Nazi forces in residential areas or concentrations of Jews, such as the ghettos. The action was intended for the purpose of transport–forced collection and shipment from their locations (their permanent residences) to concentration and extermination camps, which were managed by the forces of Nazi German: The Gestapo, the SS, and others, with the assistance of local police forces, during World War II. Return

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My name is Tziporah Schindelheim (nee Stock). I was born on January 1, 1932. My father was Moshe, and my mother—Ella. I was their only child.

I remember that when the Germans came, they called the men to work. My father escaped because he felt that the call was not for work. A few hours later, shots were heard. The Germans shot the people who were taken to work. My father returned home in the evening. I was only nine years old then. My mother and I stayed at home and hid where we stored potatoes.

Yad Vashem Martyrs and Heroes Remembrance Authority Jerusalem Jerusalem 3 Tishrei 5,735 November 19, 1974 To: Mrs. Tziporah Schindelheim 45A HaGefen Street Haifa Dear Mrs. Schindelheim, Re: Antos Suchinsky—Poland We are happy to notify you that the committee for recognition of the Righteous Among The Nations decided, in its meeting on September 10, 1974, to award the aforementioned person—the highest recognition award, a medal, and the right to a tree [in his name]. The committee also recommended turning to the International Jewish Congress regarding monetary support for him. The award would be given to the savior by our embassy, only when diplomatic relations are established. May you be inscribed in the Book of Life. Respectfully, Dunia Rosen Manager, Department of the Righteous Among The Nations Jerusalem, Har HaZikaron, P.O.B 4 Cables: Yad Vashem Tel. 531202

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We covered the opening with a table and opened the windows and doors so they would think we ran away. We heard the steps of the Germans. They came, searched, and cursed. We stayed in our hideout until they left.

After a few months, they established a ghetto on one street. The whole family, including my grandparents and uncles, moved into the ghetto—and that's where we lived. After a while, my father and I went to a labor camp while my mother stayed in the ghetto. At the camp, I worked on the construction of a road. Several weeks later, my father found out that my mother was killed in an Aktion. When it became known at the camp that the Germans were going to make the city Judenrein [free of Jews], my grandfather took me back to the ghetto, where he had a hideout. He went out to bring a few more things to the hideout but ran out of time. When he saw the Germans coming, he tried to escape, but they shot and killed him. The hideout was in the same house we lived in. In the evening, we came out of the hideout. Some people went to the forest. I went directly to our Catholic acquaintance, Antos Suchinsky. I stayed with him in a hideout for a year, together with the Zeiger family (that family survived and lives today in the United States). A girl named Eva Segal also stayed there. Our situation there was horrific. We could not stand, only sit. The food was meager. Antos was poor and could not provide us with much to eat.

When liberation day came, Antos told us that we were free. I was very thin when we came out from our hideout and could not get used to the daylight. I stayed with the Zeiger family for a short while, and later traveled to an orphanage in Krakow.

From Krakow, I moved to Zakopane to the institute managed by the author Lena Küchler^[1]. A different atmosphere prevailed there. Lena Kuchler educated us and took care of us. There were younger children there, and I was one of the oldest. We were told that we would make Aliyah and join a kibbutz.

I went to school in Indersdorf ^[2]. The physician decided that I was too weak and sent me to a sanatorium in Bad Wershofen for recovery and treatment. I stayed there for a few months. I recovered there and returned to Indersdorf. A group of pioneers gathered, and we were told to make Aliyah. We sailed on the “Exodus.” Conditions there were horrendous because of the crowding. We arrived in Haifa harbor, but [the British] expelled us and we had to return to Hamburg [and then to Indersdorf].We were very disappointed and fought hard against it, but that did not help us much. There were cases of death on the “Exodus.”

We arrived in Israel in 1948 and were taken to Kibbutz Beit HaShita. We were under the auspices of Youth Aliyah^[3].

Translator's Footnotes:

1. Based on Wikipedia: Lena Kichler-Silberman (January 1910–August 1987) was a Polish member of the Jewish resistance who saved children during The Holocaust and helped to resettle them afterwards. She is considered the most famous “surrogate mother” of child Holocaust victims. Return
2. From the USHMM Holocaust Encyclopedia: Indersforf was a displaced children's home in the Bayern town of Kloster Indersdorf. Located between Dachau and Augsburg, Indersdorf was part of the Munich district of the US Occupation Zone. The initial Jewish community was made up of children who had been hidden as non-Jews during the Holocaust. Return
3. Based on Wikipedia: Youth Aliyah was an organization that rescued Jewish children during WW II and surviving children after the Holocaust. The organization resettled them in kibbutzim and youth villages that became both home and school. Return

I was 16 when the Russians invaded Zborow. We moved to Lvov. A short time later, the Nazis invaded Lvov. From a spacious apartment there, we moved to the Jewish neighborhood and later to the ghetto. We all worked except my youngest sister. The attacks on the Jews and the frequent Aktions were a sign of bad things to come. They brought the realization that we were indeed lost. Whoever was still alive looked for ways to escape from the Nazis' claws.

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My father [Mendel Jung], z”l, contacted a Polish judge who was associated with the underground and was known to be a fan of the Jews. The Judge agreed to provide shelter for my mother and my little sister. He received a hefty contribution for that. We should note that the judge devoted a substantial portion of that sum to the partisans. My father, z”l, I, and my other sister continued to work. In those dark days, when death was almost unavoidable, people created all sorts of rescue plans. People concluded that splitting up families might provide better chances for survival. The few who succeeded in escaping from Poland, using forged papers, were considered the happiest. These cases were indeed rare. My father, z”l, tried to send me far away from Lvov, beyond the border. That came to happen thanks to my cousin, Moshe Jung, who had connections with the partisans. The latter provided him with a German military uniform and certificates. In return, he supplied them with forged exit certificates made by an expert. They used these certificates to transport people from Lvov to Ukraine.

The German military uniforms my cousins dressed in, their Aryan, non-Jewish appearance, and their strong spirit saved them from trouble. They would disappear, from time to time, to organize things with the partisans. They sneaked back into Lvov for fear that the Ukrainian and Polish youths would recognize them when they passed through the streets. These cousins arranged for exit visas for me and their father to Dnipropetrovsk. However, my uncle delayed his exit from Lvov.

I said farewell to my family with a heavy heart and distress, as I did not know whether I would see them again. I went on my way. In those days, the roads were fraught with dangers and obstacles. My Aryan appearance helped me. I should note that this appearance was typical of our entire family. After numerous physical and mental hardships, I arrived in Dnipropetrovsk.

Mendel Jung and His Family

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In the meantime, the Nazis' malicious actions were exacerbated. The bunker where my mother and sister hid was discovered. Lvov's bunkers differed from those in the towns where people hid underground. In Lvov, a person could, during a hiatus from the Aktions, go out, breathe fresh air, and even visit other family members. The prerequisites for that were that the person had to be equipped with a certificate with a Christian name and the person had to have the appearance of a Christian person. All of that was done in complete secrecy. Once in a while, my sister visited my mother and little sister in the bunker until she was trapped. Once when she was walking toward the judge's home, a Ukrainian followed her. Her Aryan appearance did not help her that time. The Ukrainian noticed her fear and continued to follow her, which increased her embarrassment. Imbued with a terror of death, instead of leading the Ukrainian astray, she went directly to the Judge's home. The Ukrainian immediately summoned the Gestapo, and they discovered the bunker. In the search throughout the judge's home, they also found partisans' proclamations. The judge and his wife were executed on the spot. My sisters were kidnapped, loaded on a train car, and transported to one of the places where they were killed in the cruelest way. My mother managed to escape in the tumult that ensued when the bunker was discovered. She ran around in the streets for quite some time, looking for her daughters. Nobody suspected her of being Jewish. I was told that by a young Polish couple who were our friends. I do not have any details about what happened to my mother later on, when and where she was annihilated.

That disaster shocked my father, z”l, to the core and brought him to the threshold of a nervous breakdown. My uncle Moshe Jung, z”l, gave him an exit visa and urged him to travel to Dnipropetrovsk immediately. Our meeting there was coincidental and bleak. I was astounded to hear the horrible news about losing my mother and sisters. I was shocked to see the appearance of my father, who got old in a very short time. His face was droopy and gaunt and he was ill. I brought him to the hospital immediately. They treated him nicely there as he was considered a Christian. My father fought death for several days, but his body was weakened from the hardship and suffering. He died in my arms.

It is hard to express in words the suffering of a 17-year-old youth who lost his family in such tragic circumstances and remained alone in a hostile world, surrounded by destruction and death. The sighs of the tortured and the cheers of the murderers accompanied me for a long time after I left Lvov. I did not want to live and I envied the dead. The only aspect of my life that encouraged me was the connection with my uncle and his family. My cousins continued to inquire about my well-being. They could visit me personally because chaos prevailed in Dnipropetrovsk in those days. All sorts of people arrived there from Lvov. Fearing that somebody would recognize me there, my cousins sent me to a partisan, holding a military exit visa. That partisan brought me to Odessa, where Benu Katz (now in Israel) joined me. Using these certificates, we left Odessa and traveled to Bucharest. We made Aliyah after a lengthy stay in Bucharest with the help of the Jewish Agency.

My elder cousin, Arye, lives today in Tel Aviv. His brother, Michael, z”l, was good-looking and was blessed with rare courage and unique initiative. He endangered his life to save other people. In particular, he was proficient in issuing forged certificates. One could use these papers to get out of Lvov to Ukraine. At that time, it was something extraordinary. Arye and Michael overcame mortal risks and moved their families from Lvov to Bucharest. Michael decided to return to Poland. His parents begged him to abandon his dangerous activities. He was sorry for the grief he caused his parents but his mind was made up. He said farewell only to his younger brother and left Bucharest, hoping that luck would be on his side. He left and never returned. He gave his life in the sanctification of G-d and his nation, in the land of Poland soaked with the blood of our martyrs.

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A few days after the invasion of the Nazi Army into Poland, and on the eve of the entrance of the Russian Army into our town, we experienced a pogrom executed by the Ukrainian murderers. Several Jews were murdered around the city and were later burned.

The bloody revelry of the Ukrainian nationalists was horrific. They were sure that Germany would establish an independent state for them. I recall that Stoikvitz's daughter, who was active in the Ukrainian liberation movement, marched in the streets and announced enthusiastically: “Long live a national free Ukraine! Death to the Zhydo-commune.” [Zhyd is Ukrainian and general Slavic term for Jews.]

The aspiration for national freedom was an integral part of the Ukrainians' desire to murder Jews. Indeed, news reached Pinchas Pfeffer that in the neighboring villages: Koniokha[?], Krasne, Plavce, and more, the farmers are organizing to conduct pogroms against Zborow's Jews. He hurried and told us about the Ukrainians' plan so that we could defend ourselves. Together with several other families in our community, we decided to prepare ourselves to fight against them. Beside Mordechai Friedman, who owned a revolver, and Pfeffer, who had a dagger, we did not have any weapons except for some crowbars and the like. Nevertheless, we wanted to defend ourselves and not make it easy for the murderers.

Our house, situated away from the center, surrounded by a fence and hidden by trees, seemed to us as the best location to barricade ourselves. The women, children, elderly, and the sick were housed inside the house, preparing to spend the night on the floor, while the young adults went out to stand guard, hiding among the trees.

On that same night, before dawn, hordes of Ukrainians began to flock into the town, some on foot and others by car. They carried sacks with them to carry the loot. Fear befell us seeing the large crowd, thirsty for our blood. Then, somebody came up with an idea of sounding an alarm for an impending bombing. The alarm frightened most of the robbers, who fled the town in panic.

A Soviet scouting unit arrived in town with the morning light. It consisted of a single tank and its crew. It is difficult to describe our joy in seeing the Soviets. The tank commander, with a rank of major, was coincidently Jewish. When he heard about what we had to endure last night, he calmed us down by stating that the Soviet Army was approaching the town. Indeed, the Red Army units began to arrive within a short period.

When they entered the town, a revolutionary committee consisting of Jews, Ukrainians, and Poles was established. The committee members were equipped with weapons to keep order.

Although the Soviet rule brought us ample disappointments, we did appreciate one major thing they did for us—allowing us to live, enjoy the sun's rays, breathe the air freely, and be like any other humans.

The Nazis conquered Zborow in July 1941 after a brief bloody battle. It took place on Tuesday (I do not recall the exact date). The Ukrainian population welcomed the Germans with great joy. The Ukrainians were headed by Dr. Boiko, the priest, and others. They walked around with faces beaming with happiness.

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They looked at us with contempt and ridicule and said that our time had arrived: “We will now settle the account with you, damned communists.”

On Friday morning, about four days after they entered the town, the Nazis began to take the Jewish men “to work.” Massive pits were dug near the lumber warehouse, and our poor brothers were shot and left there to die. That was the first Aktion, or in their words: “The first day of the purification of the town from Jews.”

I am not able to describe the sight. No human can imagine what happened there. The human brain cannot comprehend that. For me, it looked like a horrific nightmare. In that slaughter, only men were tortured and murdered and it lasted the whole day, from the morning hours until 8 in the evening.

When the slaughter ended, we thought that the suffering of Zborow's Jews had been finished, but that was false hope. The murderers found a new excuse to harass us, as described below.

The daughter of the butcher Kurzrock, who was a policewoman during the days of the Soviet conquest, was caught on that Friday morning when the Jewish men were amassed and she was arrested immediately. At her interrogation, she noted that a Ukrainian revolutionary was buried in the garden of the courthouse. The truth was that he had been shot by the NKVD [The Soviet secret police], but a false libel was circulated that Jews participated in his murder.

A Ukrainian delegation, headed by Dr. Boiko, turned to the SS commander and requested the murder of 150 Jews as a payback for the murder of their comrade.

The SS commander gave them what they wanted. On the following day, on Saturday, the slaughter of Jewish men continued. They were buried in a pit created by a bomb at the courthouse's yard while some of them were still alive. The cruel murderer, Rudy, who was once the school's supervisor, stood by the pit and counted the victims to make sure that the quota had been fulfilled. Every martyr was forced to kiss the Ukrainian's corpse that was taken out of his grave, and then pushed cruelly into the pit. Once in a while, the murderers threw hand grenades into the pit, but many of the martyrs were still alive when the pit was covered. One of the Pfeffer twins came out of the pit at night, along with some others whose names I do not remember.

On Sunday, we were ordered to gather at the synagogue. We were very fearful and expected the worst. We said farewell to our family and friends, as we were sure that our end had come.

As it turned out later, that time our fear did not materialize. The SS ordered the women to go back home and sent the men to work. The women were terrified. We remembered that during the Aktion on Friday, the murderers said they were taking the men to work, while in actuality they murdered them. I, and several other courageous women, followed the men from afar to see their fate. That time, we realized that the men were taken to work on road construction near Bronislavovka.

A few days later, the Judenrat was established, whose role was to fulfill the Nazi murderers' orders. The Judenrat immediately organized a Jewish police force that was later forced to take part in the most horrible Aktions.

At night, the Nazis and the Ukrainians, along with the Jewish policemen, surrounded Zborow. Half-naked people were taken out of their homes to Adler's lumber warehouse. There, the people were loaded onto trucks and transported to the train station, where they were crammed into train cars.

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What my eyes saw is indescribable. Many were shot to death trying to escape. It was a mercy killing for them.

According to the story of the train station's manager, a Pole who was a friend of the Jews, the people were pressed into the train cars until they were filled to capacity. The cries of the poor people lasted until late in the night. The cries quieted down when the weak ones choked to death and the strong ones fainted from lack of air in the train cars, which were hermetically sealed and covered with lime.

The transport of the people to Belzec was a death blow for us. Despair took over the city. Social life totally ceased. Death was reflected in everybody's eyes, and everyone whispered when they talked. From time to time, we gathered at Levi Remer's and Shmuel Schneider's and talked about Eretz Yisrael, but we felt that we would never live to reach the land of our dreams.

The Ghetto was established within a short period. We were forced to move out of our homes and concentrate in two streets near the Strypa River. Jews from Zalosce, Pomorzany, Ozerna [Jezierna], and those who lived in the neighboring villages were forced to leave their places of residence and move into the ghetto in Zborow. The resulting overcrowding, along with the hunger and distress, caused a Typhus epidemic that cost tens of victims per day. The Jewish police used to visit the ghetto daily, take out the dead on a wagon, and bury them in a mass grave.

Two camps were established in Zborow—a forced labor camp and a “free” camp, but in actuality, there was no difference between them. In 1942, a rumor reached us that the camps' Jews were digging large pits in a grove situated far from the city. According to the Nazis, the pits were slated for the storage of fuel tanks to hide them from attacks from the air, but we knew that they were slated for us, the Jews, and feared a new Aktion, which could start any moment.

The disaster reached us in March. A special SS unit accompanied by the Ukrainian and Jewish police forces broke into the ghetto and took out the innocent victims to transport them to their deaths. They concentrated them in the market square and forced them to kneel on the snow, from the morning hours until 3 PM, when they were ordered to arrange in rows of four. That was how they marched toward the pits prepared in advance.

I managed to hide at the Aryan hospital where I worked (the hospital was located in the Narodna Shkola school building). Through the cracks in the hospital's attic, I saw the march of our martyrs, and I heard their cries, which are still echoing in my ears today.

“Shema Israel,” “save us G-d,” the people cried continuously, but the shouts by the Nazi devils trumpeted the Jews' prayers: “Geradeaus und langsam vorwärts” (Straight and slowly forward).

The SS murderers were waiting in groups of 20 to 25 people when the marchers arrived at the pits. The Jews were ordered to strip naked and walk on boards placed on the pits where they were hit by the SS machine gun's bullets. They fell directly into the pit. Some people were only wounded when they fell into the pits. That was how the killing work continued, one group after the other, while the Nazis toyed with the poor ones who waited for their turn. They ordered them to perform drills and beat their heads with murderous blows. Many of the victims could not endure the hellish tortures and the beatings and broke into the pit so that the bullet would put an end to their suffering.

The Aktion ended in the evening, and the murderers returned to the town in a military parade and singing.

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Grandfather Yitzchak was a wine merchant and kept wine in the cellars. My father converted them into storage space for potatoes, which he got from tenant farmers who tended his fields and gave him half of the crops. In the fall, all four cellars were filled to the ceiling with potatoes. Through the winter, poor people came and the maid and I would go down and fill their baskets and sacks. I knew how many children every family had and we gave according to the size of the family. By the time spring came, we usually reached the last cellar. The potatoes let out shoots and the cellar smelled of spring.

Our home consisted of a huge house with a building alongside what you would call a garage. It was a long building into which in the daytime farmers drove in with their wagons to deliver the wheat, hay, and potatoes, which were stored in huge storage rooms. At night, we rented out the space for traveling people, who stayed the night sleeping in their wagons. They bought the feed for the horses from my father. The garage could hold five wagons with horses comfortably.

The Polish resistance collapsed in no time at all, and the Germans were getting closer. The population was frightened, but a miracle happened. On September 19, 1939, we heard, on the radio, that the Russians would occupy Eastern Galicia, with Hitler's permission. Even though I knew that I would lose my property and possessions, my house, the silo with 150 tons of wheat, and all the wheat stored in my warehouse, I was resigned and even happy, because we heard that under the Russians everyone would be equal.

On September 20, the Russians marched in. Their tanks and foot soldiers marched for days and nights. I spent all my free time watching this constant stream of people and armaments. It was really fascinating. The soldiers were a very friendly lot.

The storekeepers opened their stores and in no time sold out their wares for what they later found out were worthless Polish zlotys. We also found out that travel to Russia was impossible, and even if you could get there, one could not replenish the wares that were sold.

The Russians bought everything in sight. They strapped Big Ben alarm clocks on with string as wristwatches. They bought bed pans as pots and drank toilet water thinking it was scented alcohol. They could not believe the abundance of merchandise. When you asked the Russians if they had oranges they would say, “Sure, our machines make anything.” After a few days, the remaining merchandise was confiscated and most of the property of well-to-do merchants was nationalized. These people were designated as capitalists, could not hold jobs, and were threatened with deportation to Siberia. Among these Jews were myself, Shmuel Roth, Meir Roth, brothers Kleiner, and more.Everyone except the people who were nationalized got passports. My family did not get passports. We no longer slept in our house for fear of being deported, but hid out with poor families in their attics and cellars. Shmuel Roth befriended a big Russian officer and was instrumental in getting passports for the nationalized Jews. Our passports had the suffix eleven of the Constitution, meaning that the carrier was a former capitalist slated to be deported to another region.

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This suffix was enforced on Jews but not Gentiles. I had many Ukrainian acquaintances and through one, an engineer named Stojkiewicz, got a job. Stojkiewicz was in charge of all the grain and locally grown produce. My job was to travel to the adjacent villages and buy straw from the farmers, for making mats and for covering sugar beets so they would not freeze. I employed about 50 people, mostly religious people, particularly Chassidim who did not work on Saturdays. The religious people worked Sundays without the government knowing about it instead of Saturdays. While working they sang their Chassidishe songs. They made their mats in my garage.

When the collection of the sugar beets ended, we, the Kaufman family, and Mr. Schwebel organized a collective, under government auspices, to collect bottles and metal which the government reused. At this too we employed many Jews to go out into the villages and buy the metal and bottles. No one wanted to sell anything for money, so we had to buy needles, matches, and other bare necessities to trade with.

The Soviets annexed our part of Poland and held elections, in which 99 percent of the population voted. There was only one slate of candidates. The Soviets were in our city from September 17, 1939, to July 1, 1941. On June 22, 1941, the Germans started a war with Russia and on July 1, they came into Zborow.

Now I will describe the time of the German occupation. It lasted three years, from July 1941 until July 1944–three years of indescribable horror. However, I feel that it is my duty as an eyewitness to try to describe at least a tiny portion of what I saw and experienced.

On July 4, two German officers came to our house. They were originally Austrian. My wife made coffee and cake for them. To show their gratitude, they told my wife that all Jewish men were to be shot today. We hid in the attic. Altogether, we were eleven men.

The garage next to our house is where the two German officers came with their motorcycle and sidecar. They must have been in charge of the operation. When they warned my mother, she immediately took my father, a refugee man named Taube, whose family lived with us, her two brothers, and Aunt Rucheli's husband to the attic, wrapped them in mats of straw and kept them there for seven days and nights. In the seven days, the number of men grew to eleven.

My mother stood outside the small gate of the garage, having locked the big doors. Only one person could come through the little gate. She stood there with one of the prettiest richest Jewish girls in town and washed the mud and blood from German boots. Most of the time, they spit in her face, but they did not go into the house. The Ukrainians headed by their priest helped them in doing so.

The Ukrainian populace ran with sacks to pillage. When they came to our house my mother said, “How nice it is you come to see that I am well.” She knew everyone by name and they went away, shame-faced, only to rob someone else.

The first victim shot to death was Itzik Dimand, Gershon-Saul Dimand's son. He was shot even though he begged his murderers not to kill him.

The Germans laid Zalman Auerbach on a board with nails and tortured him to death. My sister, my cousins, and I were inside, but through the window we could see the young German soldiers with their sleeves rolled up and their arms bloodied, driving groups of Jews to the place where they were killed.

A bomb fell near Meir Adler's lumber yard and made a big crater. That is where the rest of the Jews were lined up and shot in groups of 20 and then another layer until all were shot. The grave heaved for days as people who were not completely dead tried to extricate themselves. Some succeeded, crawled out, and survived only to be killed later.

As we were hiding in the attic, we saw, through the cracks, Germans taking Joseph Wolfzahn, his son, his neighbor Manes Schwab, and a refugee named Ducker. They shot Wolfzahn on the spot and made the others pick up his body and run with it to the grave. We saw Zalke Winter dressed in women's clothes led to the grave and a German threatened to chop his head off with an ax. We saw Dr. Brumer, the town's Jewish lawyer, sweeping the marketplace. He was severely beaten and apparently out of his mind. The Germans brought there Sholomo-Zalman Stoltzenberg's son, Shaya. He yelled in Ukrainian, claiming to be a Ukrainian. By chance, there were no Ukrainians there and the Germans let him go. He perished in the second Aktion.

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The Germans filled the crater with Jews and opened machine gun fire on them. Immediately after that they covered the crater with dirt.

On the same day, Rabbi Benzion Schalita was shot to death while holding a Torah.

The killing lasted through the fourth and fifth of July. On the fifth, which was a Saturday, they took the Jews to a place behind the courthouse. They made them dig their own graves. Among the dead were Pinchas Pfeffer, Moshe Yidl, his two sons, and many others. Pinchas Pfeffer's son came out from the crater at night. He recovered from the leg wound he suffered in the crater but perished in one of the later Aktions. Before the shooting, the victims were stoned to death by the Ukrainians. That was how the Ukrainians thanked Pinchas Pfeffer for his son defending the Ukrainian language before a Polish judge.

For two weeks the Jewish section was like a ghost town. There was very little movement in the streets--just some people going to the pump for water or to see who was alive. This was mostly done at dusk or dawn. Finally, after two weeks, Jekel Schwab got in touch with the Ukrainian authorities. They in turn contacted the Germans. The Germans decided that if the Jews would work on the railroad daily, they would allow everyone to move around freely. They also promised bread rations. We got together and formed a committee called Judenrat. Yakov Fuchs was the president. The other members were Dr. Bund, David Herman, Hersh Shapira, Munye Auerbach, Yakov Schwab, and Binyamin Plisner. A man named Rubinstein represented the many refugees, who had fled from Western Poland in 1939 and settled in our town. I was also part of the committee. The first days everyone went to work at the railroad. We got some pay and some bread. Most importantly, we could walk about the city and buy some sorely needed food supplies.

The Germans called the Judenrat to report to their headquarters. We were worried about whether we would come back alive, but we went. Fuchs introduced us. The commandant gave us an order that we had to deliver half a million zlotys by tomorrow. If we didn't, they would kill the Judenrat. We got back, called the whole town together, and explained the situation. Everyone contributed money, and jewelry, which was sold to the Ukrainians. We delivered the money at the allotted time. Peace returned temporarily. We sent a certain number of men to work every day. They got some bread and some pay. Everyone bartered some of their possessions, clothing, and furniture, with the farmers for food. Life went on. We formed a kitchen that served food to the very poor. As the liaison officer to the Ukrainian police, I had a horse and wagon with a Jewish driver at my disposal.

I would go to distant villages and buy produce from farmers for the kitchen to feed the poor. The Germans gave us some food allotment, too. My connection with the Ukrainian police put me in touch with their commander, one of a few decent people.

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Whenever the Ukrainian police caught someone without an armband, or hiding at a farmer's, I, with a little persuasion, could get them out. If the German police arrested them, I had no such luck. They were shot on the spot. I could also get a lot of foodstuffs that were confiscated by the Ukrainian police from the Ukrainian black marketers. In return, we bought the police their black uniforms. We bought the black caftans the religious Jews wore and Feuerstein, the tailor, made them into uniforms.

At the same time, I was working for an agronomist named Stojkiewicz. The farmers of the surrounding villages were obligated to deliver part of their harvest to the German government. Stojkiewicz put me in charge of all that grain.

That reminds me of an incident. Every now and then, the Germans would come and catch some men. On one of these occasions, I was about eleven or twelve years old. We saw Germans surround the Jewish quarter. Father was at Stojkiewicz's office. He worked at a big office staffed with Ukrainians. There were also three Jews working there. Father was one of them. They did the bookkeeping jobs.

My mother put a black kerchief on my head wound, peasant style. She stuck a milk pail into my hand and sent me to warn Father. I passed the Germans with no trouble. I came into the office on the heels of a big blond German SS man. I stood on a side in the office.

The German asked for the supervisor. Stojkiewicz spoke good German. The soldiers asked the Jews to stand up. Nobody rose. He repeated the order. My father and another man stood up. They were both dark and Jewish-looking. The third one was blond and looked Aryan. Stojkiewicz said, “These Jews are absolutely necessary to the German Reich.” The soldiers saluted, turned, and walked out. Saved this time. Imagine me standing there listening to all this.

The Judenrat was in charge of the ghetto. The breakdown was as follows. Jakov Fuchs was in charge. He was in contact with the Germans and the SS. He had easy access to them, to the point where the Ukrainians asked him many a time to intervene on their behalf with the Germans. This relationship was not for free, it cost much money, diamonds, gold, and gifts. Auerbach was the liaison between the ghetto and the camp fuhrer Klaus and his assistant Kapucara. In the camp, there were a few people from our city. Most were from surrounding villages and smaller towns. We supplemented their meager diet with food from our people's kitchen. Hersch Shapira and Jacob Schwab were in charge of the baker's details. Benjamin Plisner was a cashier. David Herman was in charge of identification cards. Dr. Bund and Rubinstein had no specific tasks. I, as I mentioned, worked for Stojkiewicz, and also was the liaison to the Ukrainian police. I also was in charge of the community store. Joseph Pfeffer, Moshe Wolfzahn's wife, and Jakov Kurzrok were employed there. We had produce and vegetables in the store.

Beginning in 1942, we heard rumors that in the surrounding towns, there were Aktions. They were taking away not only men but also women and children. No one knew where they were taken. Every night, Jakov Fuchs would call the Judenrat in Tarnopol (a larger town) to find out the destination of the SS. Then with the assurance that it wasn't our town, we all went home to sleep. So on the night of August 28, 1942, we went to sleep certain that all was well.

At 5:00 am on August 29, we heard a shooting and the SS and Ukrainian police had surrounded us. At that time, we had the start of a small work camp from our city people. They carried special identification cards to show they were essential to the government. Being that Fuchs was familiar with the Germans, he was able to obtain these IDs for three-quarters of the adult population. In the beginning, the Germans honored the ID cards, but seeing that they could not get the quota, they started taking people with ID. People by then were lulled into the belief that they were secure and didn't even hide.

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I was twelve and my sister, Miriam, was nine. Naturally, we had IDs so our parents hid us. There was a refugee family by the name of Taube living with us. They were distant relatives and took over our living room. They had two sons close in age to me and Miriam. The two boys and Miriam and I were in the hiding place.

As I mentioned, our house was very big. We had a basement which was converted into a laundry room. Under the house, there were three cellars. You could go into the laundry basement through the hall or a trap door in the kitchen. My father put on the wall that had the stairway from the trap door blocks of wood for heating. It covered the wall and the stairway. The trap door was covered with a rug and on it was a barrel with our drinking water. We four children sat on five stairs hidden from view by the wood.

We heard a lot of footsteps and many voices of people coming into the basement looking for a place to hide. Not long after, we heard German voices telling the people to get out. A little later, we heard the voice of my father's mother Esther, who held one of the ID cards say, “My son told me I'd be all right.” She was led away. Then I heard them take my mother and Mrs. Taube. Miriam said, “Let's get out of here. They took Mother.” I made them all sit quietly and told them that under no circumstances were we to go out. We all got very frightened and had to go to the bathroom. I decided that we should use the lowest of the steps for a bathroom and we huddled on the remaining steps. We heard shots and screams. It seemed to last forever.

It was towards evening when the Germans pulled out and Father opened the trap door. The town was deserted. Most of the people were taken away. The ones that were left had all kinds of stories to tell. In that Aktion, my father's mother, brother Shulim Meir, and his wife Yenta were taken.

They took them in trucks and loaded them into trains, never to be heard from again. We found out later, through a Gentile that the transport went to Belzec [an extermination camp].

At the end of 1942, the Germans made the people who were left in the towns of Jezierna, Pomorzany, and Zalosce move into Zborow. I had to quit my job with Stojkiewicz and was in charge of relocation and apartments. Every available room, attic, and basement was crammed with people.

By this time, my mother's mother Lena's family (her mother, father, brother, and sister), the Taubes, and another family lived in our house. There was an epidemic of typhoid. Daily, there were dead people. A wagon would drive by and the dead would be piled on and driven to the cemetery. There was a hospital of sorts, but many of the people were afraid to go there. The Germans regularly came in and killed the sick. `Hunger also did its share to decimate the population. Daily, stragglers came into town. They were people who jumped off the trains passing our town to the extermination camps.

In my job of relocating people, I had a great helper by the name of Mordechai Marder of Jezierna. He carried cyanide pills in his pocket and told me that the Germans wouldn't take him alive. I was told later that on April 9, 1943, during an action when I was already in hiding he did kill himself when they got him.

Hunger was another factor in decimating people. I was approached once by a man named Katz from Jezierna (a town near ours from which the people were brought to our town). He asked if I knew someone who would trade bread for his gold teeth. He had been the owner of a big flour mill before the war and one of the richest men in Jezierna.

Rumors of Aktions were heard constantly from the other towns. About 15 to 20 young people got together and dug a hiding place on the hill next to David Schwab's place. The hiding place was only for men, not women or children. They laid in supplies of food and water, had electricity, and managed to survive after June 5, 1943, when the city was cleared of all Jews, and July 23, 1943, when the work camp was eliminated.

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In the spring of 1944, a Ukrainian, unfortunately, I don't remember his name, passed in the vicinity and noticed that there was no snow on the side of the hiding place while there was snow everywhere else. He called the police and they threw grenades in and killed everyone. I don't know exactly what was there but among them were said to be Hersh Shapira, a man named Silber, who was a bookkeeper for the Kleiner brothers, and Munio Kronisch, my brother Berl's son.

My father tells of the camp being eliminated on July 23, 1943. Two streets were set aside in the Jewish quarter, surrounded by barbed wire and watched by German and Jewish police. That was the camp. In the beginning, they kept only people from other cities. Then when they started to eliminate the ghetto street by street, they included men and women over the age of 14 from our hometown.

Men worked on the railroad and built new roads. Every morning, they marched them out singing the lewdest Polish songs. The women stayed behind and cleaned the living quarters and worked in the kitchen.

I lived there myself for a couple of weeks. I was only twelve at the time but being big· for my age was for once to my advantage. My mother and Miriam were hiding in the farmer's home. There was no room for me yet. Father pulled strings and they took me in. It was after a bout of typhoid fever and I was always hungry.

I had never been away from my parents before and this was no summer camp I was in a room with ten women. I slept on the top bunk and my Aunt Eva (she was not my aunt then) slept on the bottom. We cleaned the men's quarters. I had no idea what to do, but the three girls I was assigned with helped me. We had to make the beds and wash floors and windows.·

Every day there was an inspection. One of the leaders would come by. We had to stand at attention and the girl in charge had to say, “I report respectfully that we are cleaning barrack so and so.” He used to inspect everything and if he didn't like the way the beds were made he would push the bedding off the bed, with his riding crop and make and you start all over.

Sporadically, they would come and inspect our shoes. The area of_ the camp was not cemented or asphalted, just plain earth. When we heard of an inspection, we had to clean our muddy boots with spit, or we got ten lashes.>

Thank God I was only there for a few weeks. The farmer who kept my mother and Miriam met me near the camp, put me in his wagon, and took me to the village of Futory.

After my wife and children left, I left for Futory. I went out of the ghetto and took off my white armband with the Jewish star. Taking the back roads I went in the direction of Futory. To get to the village, I had to cross the stream. When I got there, a young man was watering his horses. He got hold of me. (Jews were known to carry money. The villagers robbed them and killed them.) I recognized him. His father used to work my fields and we shared the crop. He said, “Oh it's you Kronisch. I thought it was some stranger.” He let go of me and wanted to know where I was going. I gave him the name of a village nearby and walked away.

When I got to the barn, where my family stayed, I found my wife in tears. She told me that the farmer was very scared of keeping us and wanted us to leave as soon as possible. He was afraid that if we were found, he and his family would be shot. I spoke to the farmer Tyrcz and he begged me to leave.

The next morning, before dawn, I> went to the next village and visited a farmer named Futosky. He was very glad to see me and offered me food, but refused to take me and my family in. I went back to my wife with the bad news. Again, I talked to Tyrcz. He knew me well and owed me many favors. Finally, he relented and dug a hole in the barn under the pigsty. It was pitch dark in the hiding place. Every time the pigs moved, loose earth came down on us. It was like being buried alive.

Meanwhile, my brother-in-law Ire Gerber brought my sister Rachel and his son lzio. The farmer really had a fit, but I pacified him. In the hole, there was no room for the additional people.

The farmer built a double thatched roof over the barn and we were put in between the real roof and the false one. We were much more comfortable in that part of the attic.

Some of the Survivors from Zborow and Its Surrounding Areas Participated in the Annual Memorial

Kaddish Recited by Shalom Schechter during the Memorial Ceremony for the Martyrs of Zborow and its Surrounding Areas

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Calendar Written in the Ghetto

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We were in for a bit of good luck. I was just about the time of some holiday and our farmer went to confession. He confessed to the priest that he was hiding Jews: The priest told him to keep us and give us food. After that, the farmer became much more relaxed. I have to say that the Polish priest was a saint. He not only helped us, but also the Zeiger family, my son-in-law Zygmunt Margules, who was a nephew of the schochet [ritual slaughterer] Winter, and Joseph Zeigersohn, who unfortunately was killed a day before the Russians came. I heard he helped many others. The Ukrainian priest was just the opposite. He was a big anti-Semite and helped kill many Jews.

After a few weeks in the attic hiding place, behind the false thatched roof, the farmer told us there were rumors in the village that he was hiding Jews. He was afraid that the Germans would come and search his place. We understood his plight and left our hiding place and went into the fields. The wheat was not yet harvested and we hid in it, always afraid that we might be discovered accidentally. At night it rained, and during the day, the sun was very hot. When the farmer came and saw our condition, he took pity on us. He, his brother, and my brother-in-law, who had joined us by then, dug a hole big enough to hold nine people. We shored it up and went in. It was big enough for nine people lying close together. You could not stretch your legs or stand up. We took some bedding in with us. The farmer closed the lid and we were sealed off from the world. It became very hot. We could not breathe. We poked little holes for air, but it did not help much.

The next night when the farmer came and brought us some water and food, we gave him> the bedding. The farmer came the next day with horses and a plow and plowed the whole field so there would be no sign of the freshly dug-up earth. He also put little mounds of manure throughout the field and covered the trap door to our hiding place.

During the day, we had to be very quiet because farmers worked the neighboring fields. We endured the heat as best we could. The straw under us became infested with vermin, and we spent the days ridding ourselves of the. We ate at night when everyone had left the fields.

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We were, in all, nine in the hiding place—I my wife, my two daughters Lucy and Miriam, my brother-in-law Ire Gerber, his wife my sister Rachel, and their son lzio. There were also two children, my niece Lena Adler, Jankel Adler's daughter, and Zisio Schwab. We took Zisio in as security. Many Jews in hiding were denounced by others. I knew if we took in Zisio (he was the son of Jekel Schwab) we were safe. Lena came to us because she was too young to be in the concentration camp. Her parents and brother thought they were safe there. Unfortunately, they were all killed on July 23, 1943, when the camp was liquidated.

On April 9, 1943, we had the third Aktion. I include the list of people who were killed. The people of the town dug the mass grave themselves, not believing it was meant for them. With the fourth Aktion on June 5, 1943, the city became Judenrein, free of Jews. This meant that if any Jew was found, he was shot on sight. All that remained was the work camp, which extended from Chaim Hersh, the shochet's house, to the Shimshon Pollak house (about two small blocks).

On July 3, 1943, we heard shots from our hiding place coming from the town. When the farmer came that evening to bring us food he told us that the Germans liquidated the work camp. Many people ran into the bakery and tried to hide there. The Ukrainians set the bakery on fire and were shooting in. The only ones who escaped were Josel Zeigersohn and my son-in-law Zygmunt Margules. They jumped out of the burning building, were shot at, swam through a small river, and hid in a farmer's barn.

Zygmunt and Mr. Zeigersohn were taken in by the Polish widow named Mikulinska. She fed and hid them to the end of the war. A day before the Russians liberated our town, Mr. Zeigersohn was denounced by someone to the Germans and was shot.

The Polish priest was very helpful. He told Mrs. Mikulinska to keep the Jews and also gave her some financial aid.

When we found out about the liquidation of the camp, my niece, Lena Adler, became very upset and wanted to get out of the hiding place. We had a hard time quieting her down. Her father, Jakov, her mother, Ryfche, and brother, Milek, were killed in the work camp.

Every night when the farmer brought food, he also brought news of other Jews and how they perished. We found out that Jakov Fuchs (he was the head of the Jewish committee) was taken to the German high command, beaten, and shot. They found out that he was planning to break out of the camp with a group of armed men and hide out in the forest. He was buried in Redkwi's orchard. The farmer, Redkwi showed me the spot in his orchard after the war. I was also told that Moshe Hammer escaped from Roth's Bakery into Lechowitz's attic, where he was found by a Ukrainian named Krasotski, and was bludgeoned to death by him.

My brother-in-law, Ire Gerber, kept asking, “Why are we waiting? We'll be killed. Let's give up and end the misery And, misery it was. The heat was unbearable and we had very little water. We could not eat until night because farmers walked in the fields nearby during the day. We were afraid to move. By night the food had soured from all the heat.

[Page 120]

Finally, it was December. One day, we heard a dog barking and scratching on top of our hiding place. He must have smelled us . The dog was accompanied by a farmer hunting for foxes and other animals. They spotted the tiny holes we had made for air. I don't know if the farmer dug in or the dog scratched, but the next thing we knew a big hole opened up. We saw the dog and the farmer's boots. We sat shaking and waited to be found, but nothing happened. After a while, we lifted the cover off the hiding place and went out even though it was still light out. It was cold, the light hurt our eyes, and we were barefoot and dressed in rags. We all ran to a place where there were sewers from the First World War and hid in the sewer pipes. My wife went to the village to tell the farmer what had happened.

At dusk, he came and took us into a hiding place behind his house It was better in the long run because winter was coming. He would not be able to come to us when it snowed. He would have a hard time finding the spot and tracks in snow would have given away our hiding place. We stayed there until April, 1944.

The Russians started their offensive and soon they reached Tarnopol, a town not too far from ours. The farmer came to give us our food and told us that the Germans were digging trenches. Our hiding place was in their path. He made arrangements to distract the German watchman that night. At midnight, we would go out and go back into the old hiding place (which we left after the farmer dug for foxes). To mark the place at night, he left a big newspaper spread out and weighted down with stones. We walked out very quietly.

The only ones who knew the place were my father and Uncle Ire. We started following my father. To our dismay, the whole field was covered with papers and leaflets the Russians threw from planes telling the population that they would be coming soon. All night, we were picking up papers, but could not find our hiding place. It was dawn when we realized that three of us were missing-Uncle Ire, Aunt Rachel, and Zisio Schwab. Surprisingly, my cousin Izio did not follow his parents but came with us.

Dawn began to break and we still had not found the hiding place. There was an abandoned place where during the First World War the Austrians had their waterworks. We hid in there, in the big cement pipes, knee-deep in water.

I left despite my family's protestations to look for the hiding place. Now that it was light, I found the newspaper with stones at each corner marking the hiding place. I ran and brought my family to the hiding place, realizing that my sister, brother-in-law, and Zisio Schwab were not with us. A little later, I heard my sister calling my name. She somehow had gotten separated from her husband. We let her in.

The farmer showed up shortly to find out if we gotten there. We told him about Ire and Zisio. He covered us with earth and manure and said he would inquire about the missing. At night, when the farmer brought us our usual bread, soup, and water, he told us that the Germans had caught Ire and Zisio and had unfortunately shot them.

We started hearing artillery closer and closer and on a Friday in July 1944, the farmer's wife came running, in the middle of the day and told us the front was getting closer, and that the Germans were evacuating the whole village.

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She asked if we wanted to come along. I looked at us, we were pale, emaciated, and in rags. We were a sure giveaway as Jews. I told her we would stay. She went back and brought us two loaves of bread, yogurt, and a pot of beef fat and left.

The shelling intensified. We were caught between the Russian and German artillery fire. The earth shook with each shell and we were crying, especially the children. My sister chided me for making a wrong decision, saying that if the shells didn't kill us we would certainly die from hunger. I thought that if our food ran out we would be able to go out and get stalks of wheat for sustenance.

On Sunday, the shelling stopped and we did not know which side had won. A little later, we heard footsteps and two people talking. We listened to hear what language they used. They said in Russian “Look at what beautiful cabbage. It was unusual to find cabbage among wheat fields, but the farmer's mother grew cabbage on top of our hiding place. This gave her an excuse to come every day. Cabbage has to be watered often.

I wanted to go out and greet our rescuer, but my wife warned me that they might be the soldiers of the Russian General Valsov's Army, part of a Russian unit under the command of the Germans. We waited and three days later, we heard footsteps and the farmer came running.” You have been free for three days. How are you?”

We crept out of the hiding place into the sunshine. Painfully, we proceeded to Tyrcz's house. They put us up in the attic and gave us water. For the first time in a long time, we washed up. We were able to stretch out and walk. They also gave us warm food. We had not had warm food for God knows how long.

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After two or three days, I decided to go into town. I walked with the aid of a stick. The town was in ruins I met Dr. Brumer's wife and her daughter. They lived in the Brumer's house and asked us to live in one of their rooms. I returned to Futory. Tyrcz loaded the whole family into a wagon and we went into town.

We had no furniture, no utensils, and no bedding. I was well known among the Ukrainian community and many owed me a lot of money. They gave us food and things. From the boards, I constructed beds and a stove. The room was crowded. We looked around for larger living quarters.

We decided to move into Gintzi (Genencia) Dimand's house. We were one big family. We were the seven people who survived at the dugout hiding place. With us were Manes Schwab's son Max, Joseph Horowitz's daughter Gizia, my sister, Rachel and her son, lzio, Shewa Zeigersohn, and my niece Lena Adler. The house stood untouched, only the glass was missing from the windows. I closed the windows with boards inside and out. In between I put straw for - insulation. Winter was coming.

I also built a stove there, and my wife cooked every day for the whole family. We walked around in empty lots and city squares and collected pieces of wood to heat the house with them. The days were already cold, and the winter was approaching.

We lived again under the Soviet regime. The Soviets immediately recruited all men younger than 50, some to the army and others to work. I worked again in the collection of grains from the farmers. A Russian acquaintance headed the collection operation. He wanted to nominate me as an accountant; however, after much persuasion, backed by a Samogonka (homemade vodka), he agreed for me to work as a supplier. I managed to get many things from him for a bottle. That was how I arranged for good jobs for the farmer and his Polish brothers who had saved us.

We set ourselves to the task of writing down a list of all Zborow's martyrs, the dates of their deaths, and their burial places. We included some names of Jews from the area towns and refugees in the list.

The Germans conducted four Aktions on Zborow's Jews, besides the liquidation operation in the last forced labor camp. The operations took place on the following dates:

The first Aktion	9 Tamuz 5,701	7.4.1941
The second Aktion (Belzec)	16 Elul 5702	8.29.1942
The third Aktion	4 Nisan 5703	4.9.1943
The fourth Aktion	2 Sivan 5703	6.5.1943

The last liquidation of the labor camp was conducted on 20 Tamuz 5703, 7.23.1943

In May 1945, the authorities declared that any Jews or Poles who wanted to could get out and transfer to Western Galicia. Almost all the Jews registered to leave. We arrived in Krakow, where some of us went after 12 days. Other people went to Silesia. In Krakow, we could trade and earn our livelihood. However, Antisemitism was still rampant and even claimed victims.

Therefore, the Jews continue to wander west. They made their way illegally and did not always succeed. I traveled to Warsaw and acquired passports by paying a bribe to a ministry official. Using those passports, we traveled to Munich legally. There we settled in a refugee camp together with the rest of the Jewish survivors from different countries. We stayed three years in that camp from May 1946 until April 1949. I served as a member of the camp's management team and the deputy chairman. I had registered previously for Aliyah, but thanks to my brother, Aba Kronisch, who had resided in the US for 50 years, we got visas to the US, and we arrived in America in April 1949. I was 50 years old then.

In the US, I bought a small bakery where I worked for 13.5 years, seven days a week, from 6 in the morning to 10 at night, except for Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur.

In 1963, I was forced to sell my business due to the asthma I acquired from my stay at the dugout. Since then, I could not work and was using my savings to make a living.

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