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Poland had been conquered.

When news spread that the Germans were coming, the Jews of the small towns west of the Bug – the Russo-German border – began to flee in panic, trying to escape to Russia.

The first to leave were those who were already acquainted with the Germans and their horrendous behavior in the towns they occupied. Of course, no one imagined that they would exterminate six million precious, fine Jews in such a terrible manner – people who had committed no crime and were not guilty of anything.

German soldiers arrived in Horodlo in September 1939. Those Jews who had not gone were still living in the town.

Immediately after their arrival, the Germans ordered all the Jewish shops to be opened, and all the merchandise to be flung out on the street, to the Gentiles' glee. They came from all parts of the city carrying sacks for their loot – the result of Jewish efforts. They were busy pillaging the shops all that day. However, they retreated that same night, and were replaced by the Russians, who held the town for two weeks. The Russians then returned to the eastern bank of the Bug River, which had been designated the political border between Germans and Russians.

Our town was on the western bank of the river, and thus became a border town occupied by the Germans.

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As the Russians fell back from Horodlo, a number of the town's Jews fled, including my aunt Chana Tenenboym (my father's sister) with her husband and their three children, my aunt Perl Zavidovich and her three sons, as well as my grandmother Zisl Zavidovich.

My parents hesitated and could not decide to leave. It was hard to leave behind whatever possessions they had, the result of years of hard work. In short, we stayed in Horodlo. Only my brother Moyshe joined Grandmother and escaped to Ludmir.

Moyshe Perlmuter, Dovid Zaydel

It was not long before the Jews of Horodlo began to suffer many hardships. German soldiers burst into Jewish homes and took whatever they could. The Ukrainian mayor and the Polish policemen shared the Jewish property.

Jews began to be snatched up for forced labor. They were beaten and tortured en route to the labor site, and the work itself was accompanied by humiliation and abuse. They were bullied, and their beards were torn out

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From right: Chaya Zisberg, Broche Zavidovich (Tchesner), Perl Zavidovich, Chana Tenenboym, Bluma Goldberg, Moyshe Zisberg, Fradl Perlmuter, the daughters of Chayim Tsuker, Yekutiel Zavidovich

Bullied and denigrated as we were, we were ashamed to show our faces; we could not bear the sight of the Gentiles, who mocked us and rejoiced at our misfortune.

Four weeks later, we received the first word of the death march of the Jews of Hrubieszow and Chelm. Using cunning and trickery, the German murderers removed several thousand Jews (including Leybl Zuberman) from their homes, gathered them in the marketplace, and marched them to Belzec, while the murderers rode alongside them.^[1] Thousands of exhausted and dejected Jews stumbled on, beaten and tormented by the Germans. Laggards were shot on the road, while people helped and supported others along the dreadful way. Only a few arrived in Belzec, after a two-week-long march with no food or drink.

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The savage Germans took no pity on these few survivors. When they came to Belzec, the Germans announced that they could drink from the town's well; when the miserable souls crowded around the well to quench their thirst, the killers opened fire, murdering them all.

This mass murder caused intense sorrow, and everyone was overcome by profound misery. Jews from all the surrounding towns observed Shiva for the dead, and mourned the devastation caused by the Germans.^[2]

The German rampage caused a terrible panic among the Jews of our town. Everyone realized that staying under the Germans would lead to mass death. The Jews of Horodlo wanted to flee to the Russian side, and sought ways to do so. However, it was already too late.

A small number of Jews, my father Note Perlmuter among them, were able to cross the Bug. Gentiles ferried them across in boats, for a large sum of money.

This act of rescue also ended in terrible tragedy. Many Jews sought various means by which to cross the border, and paid Gentiles large sums to row them across. The Gentiles exploited the plight of these unfortunate Jews. Once they were in mid-river, the Gentiles capsized the boats carrying the refugees. Some drowned, and their bodies floated on the river.

After that escape, most of the remaining residents stayed in Horodlo with the Germans.

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Among these were my mother, me, my two brothers (Mordechai Yoysef Elazar and Yekutiel) and my little sister Broche Tsirele.

The Germans ordered women to report to forced labor as well, and instructed the Judenrat^[3], the body that carried out their orders, to round up the men for work.

I declared myself in charge of our home, and reported for work in my mother's stead.

At the height of winter, when the days were coldest and iciest, we – the town women – worked at washing floors and toilet stalls, as well as doors and windows. We had to work quickly in order to avoid the terrible blows that landed on the weak workers.

One of those killed by these blows was Shmuel Rozenblum (known in the town as Shmuel, Beyle's son). At that time

Girls from Horodlo at forced labor 1) Sarah, Mindl's daughter. 2) The daughter of Yitzchok Meylekh. 3) Mirele, the daughter of Fishl's son Yisroel

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the Germans ordered us to wear a white patch with a blue Star of David. Anyone who was caught without the Jewish patch was severely punished.

At seven p.m., Jews were forbidden to be on the street. This was hard to bear, especially in summer, as it was still full daylight at that time. We had to close the shutters, lock the doors, and endure stifling air in rooms lit only by small kerosene lamps. There was no chance of fresh air.

Hunger and shortages led to the outbreak of typhus, which rampaged through the community, leaving hardly any Jewish home untouched. The town physician was forbidden to care for Jewish patients. It was also dangerous to warn Jews about typhus, for fear that the Germans would find out. The lack of medical treatment caused the death of Sarah Itte's husband and son. The Germans would raid Jewish homes and search for sick men.

I, too, was sick with typhus during one of these raids. When my mother noticed that the Germans were near the house home, she dressed me quickly and stood me up holding a book, leaning against the oven, so as to appear healthy. The act was successful, and we survived the search. But the fear of searches had an effect on me, and I became even sicker.

These were our conditions for two years, until the beginning of 1941.

That year, during the High Holidays, the Germans ordered the demolition of the synagogue, which had been constructed of large, sturdy stones,

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and forced the Jews do the demolition work, under the direction of Polish builders. They also removed the gravestones from the Jewish cemetery, dismantled the fence around it, and turned it into pastureland. The brick-built Jewish shops were also destroyed.

It is worth noting that the first assault on the synagogue was carried out earlier, by the Poles. Gentile boys threw stones and shattered the synagogue's tall, vaulted windows. Then the adults began to rip out the wooden frames of the doors and windows.

As we watched the demolition of our synagogue, which was sacred to the entire town, the heartache was indescribable. We considered it symbolic of the destruction of the small, long-established Jewish community of Horodlo.

In addition to our spiritual suffering, we underwent terrible physical torture. As we were loading wagons with loose bricks, “Polish architects felt like pestering us” and flung shards of brick at our heads. The Polish and German policemen guffawed, and encouraged us to work by horrific blows.

In June 1941, the Germans attacked Russia: they crossed the Bug, and took Ludmir within a few hours.

Ludmir was a large, beautiful city. Its Jewish community, long considered one of the most important communities of Poland, was enlarged during the course of the war thanks to Jews who had fled there to escape oppression by the German enemy. It is hard to imagine the terror of the Ludmir Jews when they realized that they were once again in the hands of the Germans.

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As soon as they came in, the Germans perpetrated a horrific murder in our family. A soldier buried my aunt Malke (my mother's sister) alive, together with her little seven-year-old daughter Broche-Gitl. It happened when Broche-Gitl ran outdoors after the curfew order, and Aunt Malke ran after her in order to bring her back home. At that moment a German soldier appeared, shot, and wounded Aunt Malke in the leg. The terrified child ran to her mother; the killer dug a pit and buried them both alive. My aunt's husband and son were able to approach the spot after dark, but both were dead by then.

This hideous murder and the two precious martyrs who had been killed so gruesomely were mourned by all of Ludmir.

My uncle Motl Zavidovich was murdered a week later in Lwow^[4] immediately after it had been invaded by the Germans. He was taken away “for labor” when the Germans first took the city, and never returned home.

The death of all the Jews of Ludmir was fast approaching. The Jews

Avner Tsuker and his wife Malke

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Sarale and Chanale, Mordechai Zavidovich's daughters		Mordechai Zavidovich and his wife Malke

Among those slaughtered that day were my brother Moyshe Perlmuter, and Berl Grosburd, as well as the brothers Ben-Tziyon Zuberman and Yisro'el Zuberman, and their brother-in-law Re'uven Shtayn. All three were snatched up for forced labor burying war casualties, and never returned.

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The Situation in Horodlo After the Attack on Russia^[5]

Conditions in our town worsened from day to day. New orders against Jews were announced daily, and death was the penalty for the slightest infraction. Normal, everyday actions counted as infractions, such as walking in the Christian neighborhoods, leaving the house after 7 p.m., possessing a bit of flour, etc.

The Jewish households gradually ran out of food, which was unobtainable at any price. We survived by bartering household objects and clothing for food. However, after two years of shortages and oppression, and exchanging possessions for food, homes were emptied of valuables.

I was busy with these exchanges, not wanting my mother to deal with such negotiations for fear she would be exposed to danger. I believed that if I would be arrested and killed for bartering, my mother would continue living for my younger brothers and sisters.

The cold winter and shortage of firewood forced us to dismantle the walls of the warehouse. After that was gone, we tore up the wooden floor of our shop, the wooden stairs, and other wooden objects in our home. The Christians dismantled the wooden fence and carried it off, as they did with all the Jewish-owned fences.

I recall the events of those days at our home. A Polish woman named Ladja, the daughter of Wlodka (who would light the ovens for Jews on Shabbat), demanded that my mother sell her my last winter coat, which I was wearing. “You'll be killed in any case,” she reasoned. “Rather than your clothes going to others, you should sell them to me.” A shudder ran through us as we heard these words.

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Expulsion of the Horodlo Jews

A pall settled over the town. There was a sense that terrible things were in store. We heard from various sources that the Jews would be sent to unknown locations, from which they would never return. We also heard that people were being sent to the concentration camps. We stopped undressing before sleep, for fear Jewish homes would be invaded during the night, as had happened in other towns. We packed rucksack in order to be ready for expulsion. We drifted around like shadows. The bad news from other towns froze the blood in our veins. This was the horrific situation, on Pesach of 1942.

Eight days after the holiday, our town suffered the fate destined for the entire Jewish community of Poland.

“The Jews are being driven out of Horodlo!” was the fearful cry that spread throughout the town. Naturally, the Gentiles came running to “take” the remnants of Jewish property, which the Jews were forced to sell for next to nothing.

In addition, the Ukrainian mayor went from house to house, to list household items to prevent their sale.

I went to a peasant named Matjewko Budniewski, offering our wardrobe for sale. I remembered that once, on a visit to our house, he had expressed his admiration for that handsome piece of furniture. Now he took the wardrobe and promised to pay one thousand zloty – a very good price. I was surprised at the amount, and expressed my astonishment in words. Budniewski responded, “The wardrobe is really worth that much. I want to pay full price, and not exploit the problems of others.”

I feel it is necessary to mention this fact, because the wardrobe sale marked the start of my

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acquaintance with the Budniewski family – a relationship that later saved my life, as will be described below.

We still hoped that the expulsion order could be rescinded, by paying a ransom in Hrubieszow, where the murderers' central command was located, and where the evil decrees originated.

Some members of the Judenrat went to Hrubieszow to try to annul the decree. On their way back – after their efforts with the Germans were in vain – the enemy detained them near the village of Kobyle, separated Petachya Blat from the group, and killed him. Petachya Blat was the first martyr of Horodlo.

The news of the failed mission and the murder of Petachya Blat crushed the Jews of Horodlo. The town was seized by terror. Jews mourned, and fell into faints. We

The wedding of Yosef (Yuzhe) Rozenblum

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gathered at the home of Sore Mindl Rozenblum to say Psalms (people had prayed at her house constantly since the war broke out). We hoped that the murderers might withdraw the frightful decree.^[6]

But the edict was enforced.

Eight days after Pesach (1942), all the Jews – men, women, and children – were ordered to assemble in the marketplace for deportation.^[7]

The sisters Sheyndl and Fradl Rozenblum

It is impossible to imagine the horrifying scene when an entire community – men, women, and children – was taken out of its

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homes and town, where they had lived for generations, and taken, exhausted and demoralized, to an unknown destination. I remember my mother and her children – her little chicks – leaving our home. When they had gone some distance, my mother looked back in the direction of the house, sighed, and said, “Only God knows whether I will ever see my home again.”

I was one of those who was able to get a job, and thus could stay in town. I hoped that I could supply my mother with food, once I knew their new location. When I parted from my dear ones, I thought my heart had shifted within me. I stood, staring at my mother and sisters, who were going further and further away…

I returned through the empty marketplace, sobbing. I wouldn't have cared if the Germans had heard my sobs and killed me. Eventually I came to our house, but entrance was now prohibited. A Christian named Nazhli stood at the door and said, “What do you want here? The house is mine now, and you have no right to enter.”

The few who remained requested a house to live in, and were given one. We were among them.

All the Jewish houses were now occupied by Christians. Many houses had been plundered and destroyed by the new residents. The streets of the town were shockingly different.. The town and its streets seemed to be mourning the destruction. I looked in the direction of our home and gazed at the trees that my brother had planted; they had budded, and were covered in spring blossoms… My heart contracted at the sight.

Fear and terror reigned everywhere. We were afraid to be in our own home town.

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Massacre of the Remaining Jews

Several days after the expulsion, the Germans arrested Rokhl Blat, Avrom Zaydl (Rivka Zaydl's son), and Moyshe Berger, took them to the Jewish cemetery, and murdered them.

A few days later, the Germans sent Khayim Vayntroyb, with a letter, to the village of Matsz, where he was murdered. Two days later, the murderers sent Avrom – Taybele's son – to the same village, with an identical letter. When we told him to try to run away and hide, he responded, “Where would I run, where would I hide? I wouldn't escape my fate in any case. Things will happen as they must.” This was the period when Shmuel (Shmulke), the rabbi's son, was killed, and buried near the Polish school.

We were overcome by dismay and panic at the loss of personal safety, and afraid of our own shadows.

After about a week, I found out that my mother and the children were in Uchanie, together with all the Jews of Horodlo. We also heard that there had been a dreadful mass murder of the Jews of Uchanie. We were told that the Germans had taken the local Jews to the Jewish cemetery and shot them. Among the dead were twenty-two Jews from Horodlo. The two who survived were ordered to bury the dead. These were Yankv Zeydl (Rivka Zeydl's son Yankele) and the son-in-law of Motl Soyfer (Rishle's husband). Their description of the barbaric carnage was blood curdling.

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The Last Jews of Horodlo are Sent to Uchanie

Eight days after Shavuot (1942), after the peasants had finished planting, we young people were also expelled from Horodlo and taken to Uchanie.^[8] I was elated to meet my mother, brother, and sisters once again, in Uchanie.

The children of Note Perlmuter

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Life in Uchanie

The Jews of Horodlo had changed considerably in appearance since they had been banished to Uchanie. The few men had been forced to cut their beards, which transformed their appearance. The town rabbi, however, was an exception: he guarded his beard until the last day of his life.

Gitl Fayl and her children

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The shortage of firewood was even worse. Even if we somehow obtained some potatoes, there was no way to cook them. My mother would walk into the forest – eight kilometers away – to bring a bit of firewood, risking her life. We often heard of people who had been shot for the very same “sin.” Nevertheless, the instinct of life was stronger than any threat or danger. People sought ways to stay alive, hoping to overcome the edicts and hardships.

We were not allowed to be together for long. A week after I arrived in the village – about two weeks after Shavuot, the 24^th day of Sivan – the Jews of Horodlo were taken on their last journey, to the extermination camp of Sobibor, one of several such camps the Nazi murderers constructed.^[9]

The death march of the Horodlo Jews is engraved on my heart, and I can never forget it. On that bitter day, they took the Jews of Horodlo to Miączyn, near Zamość, and gathered us at the train station. Men in their prime were ordered to one side, whereas the elderly, mothers, and children, were crammed into the freight cars, and egged on by blows and shots.

Oy vey! Where are the words to describe the horrifying scene that I witnessed that day in Miączyn? We see our dearest ones jostling and squeezing to climb into the freight cars as quickly as possible, so as to escape the murderers' bullets. We, standing to one side, cannot do anything to help them escape this calamity. The cars are very high, and the unfortunate deportees have trouble climbing up into them. People pull and push each other up, and the murderers fire at them constantly.

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Here and there, human corpses drop out of the train cars; these victims were shot while climbing in. I see my unlucky mother dragging her children and helping them into the freight car; in the crush, she runs back for the package of food and the bottle of water she took when we left Uchanie. A German murderer notices her in the crowd, and aims his pistol at her. I could not help myself and screamed, “Mama! Run! Save yourself!” Hearing my scream, the murderer turned his gun aside, pointed it at me, and fired. What happened next was strange. Frumet (the daughter of Eli, Yidl's son) was standing next to me, and tugged at me to stop me from screaming. The tug forced me to bend down. This happened simultaneously with the shot, and the bullet flew over my head. The German motioned with his hand, and my mother was able to climb into the freight car.

The cars are bolted shut, and the train moves slowly, taking away our suffering, unlucky nearest and dearest, on a road of no return. Our staring, terrified eyes follow them sorrowfully, painfully.

We spent the night sitting on our bundles, while the corpses of those murdered in this Nazi operation were strewn all around. We wept and mourned the bitter fate of our dearest ones, along with the rest of the Jews of Horodlo. All were exterminated in the most gruesome, horrific manner, by the German bloodsucking monsters.

The day after this horrible event, a committee of murderers, reclassified the remnants as “capable of work”

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or “weak.” Those capable of work, including me, were sent back to Uchanie; the “weak” were taken to the Staw concentration camp (near Chelm). That was a nightmarish camp. The miserable souls were naked as the day they were born. Reports of the horrors of the camp came from Yaakov Zaydl, who had also been among the unfortunates taken to Staw, but managed to escape and join us. Another escapee from the camp was Itshele, Moyshe Boymayl's grandson. The camp elder, a Ukrainian murderer, realized that they had fled. During the chase, he caught Itshele, returned him to the camp, and hanged him in view of the inmates.

When we came to Uchanie, I entered the room where my mother and the children had lived during their stay. I found souvenirs of my dear ones, and was deeply stirred: the small hat of my younger sister, my mother's reading glasses in a corner, and her prayer book with its pages discolored from her tears. Here was a small bundle of firewood for cooking, gathered in the forest by my mother at the risk of her life, and brought indoors. I could no longer look at these souvenirs, which evoked the pain my family underwent, and lost consciousness. I don't know how long I lay there, in a faint; but when I came to, I realized that I was still grasping the bundle of firewood.

We, the Horodlo survivors, were taken back to our town from Uchenie, and then began working on the Starzyn estate.^[10] We found Jews from the village of Stryszów, as well as a few who had managed to escape from the Warsaw ghetto.

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The Atmosphere in Horodlo

It is interesting to describe the atmosphere in Horodlo as we walked through the town en route to our work at Starzyn. We had arrived in the town on Sunday, the Christian day of rest. When the Christians heard of our arrival, they began scurrying around in panic. Their astonishment was clear, as was their fear that we would stay in the town and they would have to return the goods that they had stolen. We sensed the danger in their glances. Only one Christian woman seemed truly happy at our return, especially when she saw me. This was Katja, the wife of the peasant Matjewko Budniewski. The moment she saw me, she gave me a hug and a kiss, ignoring the angry looks of the Christians who gathered around us.

We worked on the Starzyn estate all summer. We were given very little food, and were unable to change our clothes; we had only work clothes. Occasionally, we were able to pay a brief visit to Horodlo (disregarding the great danger of such a “ramble”), and asked the Gentiles for foodstuffs, as compensation for the goods they had stolen. One of our group – a daughter of Hershl Fraynd – was arrested on the way to Horodlo and shot dead.

During our time at the estate, we occasionally heard news of the Jewish ghetto of Ludmir, and information about the Jews in the city. Thus, we heard that Grandmother Zisl Zavidovich and my aunt Chana and her family were still alive. Once, I received a short letter from Grandmother, sent with a Gentile. That was the last letter and sign of life from our family in Ludmir.

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Very soon, the murderers carried out another Aktion, in which many Jews were arrested.^[11] Among them were my remaining family members in their hideaway (they were hiding in Ftidjen, near Ludmir).^[12] They were murdered and buried in a mass grave, together with the victims of the Ludmir community.

Fradil Zavidovich (Fishl Zavidovich's daughter), and Fradil Tenenboym (Moyshe Tenenboym's daughter)		Mordechai Zavidovich and his daughters Sore and Chane

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I was also told about the death of my two cousins, Moyshe and Yekutiel Zavidovich, the sons of Levi-Yitzchok and Perl Zavidovich. These relatives had been hiding out throughout the war at a Christian's house. Shortly before the war's end, they were murdered by the same Gentile who had hidden them.

News of the fate of my two uncles (my mother's brothers) also reached me: Yekutiel and Fishl Zavidovich, and their families. They had lived in the Warsaw ghetto until the ghetto uprising.^[13]

Autumn arrived, and with it the end of our field work. Once we had harvested the potatoes and other winter vegetables, the Germans ordered us to report in Hrubieszow, the district capital, the next day. I decided to flee. That night, I sneaked out of the farm and headed toward Horodlo. I went to the house of Matjewko Budniewski, and asked them to help me hide. Once I heard their positive answer – they agreed to conceal me – I felt more at ease. His wife added that she had had a premonition that I would arrive, and had prepared a hideout for me. They took me to the barn and showed me the hideaway they had prepared under the haystack, before the harvest. Katja – Budniewski's wife – said that my mother had appeared to her in a dream and asked her to hide me, so that there would be a survivor of her family, which consisted of her and her five children. The Budniewski couple had had no children during their ten-year marriage, and Katja had just reached the seven-month point in a new pregnancy. They believed that this blessing had occurred because they were concealing me. They therefore looked after me with devotion until the liberation.

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I lay in the refuge, which was quite dark. But, thanks to a crack in the wall, I could see daylight and watch life on the street. I could hear the peasants talking, and so learn about news and various events. In this way, I learned of the bitter fate that had overtaken my friends, the unfortunate survivors who worked at Starzyn, and did not flee as I did. When they reported to the authorities that next morning, they were taken to Hrubieszow, where they were murdered. The date was January 10, 1942. Some weeks later, I learned that several of my friends had in fact fled the estate that night, but had nowhere to hide. The poor souls wandered around like stray animals, and no refuge was offered. Not only that: they hid in haystacks, but the savage Gentiles found them and turned them over to the Germans. Among these unfortunates were some Jews from Stryszew, and some from Horodlo: Fishl Shek, his brother-in-law Mendl, and Yaakov Zaydl. Yaakov Zaydl had escaped from many dangerous situations and suffered unspeakable torture during the war, but had managed to dodge the danger until the last moment, when he was exposed by the Gentiles and murdered. Kopl's daughter Mirele was captured because of Stach Shmitzki, who pulled her out and handed her over to the Germans.

The space where I hid for two years was the size of a bed. I had to be seated the entire time, as standing was impossible. The entire time, I spoke to no one, and no one spoke to me. The days and nights moved at snail's pace, and seemed endless.

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It was so cold in winter that the water in a jar near my bed actually froze, and in summer the heat was stifling. The Germans often conducted searches, and I could not relax. The fear robbed me of my appetite, and I grew thin to the point of emaciation. I was depressed and wept constantly, thinking of the fates of my mother and young brothers and sisters, and the fate of all the Jews. The gruesome events live on in my memory, and often materialize before my eyes.

At this moment, I remember the horrible night in Miączyn. I see my mother trying vainly to retrieve her shabby bundles and bring them on board the freight car. The Germans are firing in every direction, and she is forced to leave the bundles behind. Suddenly, my little brother Yosele asks, “Mama! Where are my tefillin? When he hears that they had been left behind, he pushes through the crush, finds the bundles and the tefillin, and places them inside the clothes he is wearing. He adds a phrase of Kiddush Ha-Shem: “If I am alive tomorrow morning, I will need to lay tefillin.”^[14] It was clear that he grasped our situation. How important the tefillin were to him, and how deeply he loved them! After all, he had only become Bar-Mitzvah the previous Passover.

These mournful, depressing thoughts stayed with me during that desperate year I spent in hiding.

The new year, 1943, came, with fateful news. The German army was retreating from Russian soil. As a result, a large group of retreating German soldiers arrived in Horodlo, preparing to function as a town along the Bug borderline. My situation now changed, for the worse. The Germans

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confiscated all the peasant barns for their own use, including the one over my hideout. At night, I compressed my body, and tried not to fall asleep, so as not to be noticed by the Germans who were sleeping in the same barn. I could not risk even the slightest movement.

The danger that I would be found out increased as the German army horses ate their way through the hay over my refuge. Budniewski, the peasant owner, realized that the horses would consume all the hay before the next harvest, and ordered unripe hay to be cut in order to cover my hiding place. This aroused the curiosity of his neighbors.

The last weeks before liberation were especially difficult. I felt my strength ebbing, and my powers of resistance were almost gone. Thunder came from the front, and airplanes were attacking loudly. A bomb falls on a house, which disappears in smoke. Panic reigns outside as the peasants rush about aimlessly. Budniewski, the peasant, creates an emergency exit for my hideout, to serve in case of fire, and I felt that my legs could no longer carry me, let alone run. I could barely stand upright.

Now the Germans are retreating. They've crossed the Bug westward, setting fires as they go. The residents are ordered to leave Horodlo. The peasants pack their bundles, with commotion and panic. What can I do on my own, if the peasant family – my benefactors – are forced to leave? The explosions of gunfire and bombs grow stronger, and I hear the agitated Germans scurrying.

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I am constantly overrun by fearful thoughts, which cloud my consciousness… I want to fall asleep … it would be easier… anguished, I fell asleep. When I woke from a deep sleep, I saw that the Russians had arrived in town. Is this really the end of my suffering? Is this actually freedom? I emerged from my hideout, gulping the fresh air and daylight. I asked someone about the date, and was told that it was July 23, 1944.

Warily, I considered the situation around me. The first thing I wanted to know was whether there were still Jews alive! Had my comrades-in-suffering been able to save themselves? My dearest family, where are you?!

Soon, several of us had assembled: Fishl Gertl, Leybl Berger, Shmuel Berger, Abish Berger, Dovid Berger, and Yaakov (Yankl), the son-in-law of Mote the melamed. A handful of survivors from an entire community. But our vile enemies were remorseless, and attacked the few survivors; two were murdered: Yaakov Berger and Yankl, Mote's son-in-law.

We realized that we could not remain in our Judenrein town, and went west, to join the Jewish survivors who had come out from their hideouts, from the forests, and from the Russian steppes.^[15] I was overjoyed to find my father, Note Perlmutter, among the wretched refugees. We were convinced that we couldn't stay here any longer, and began searching for safer shores.

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Below is the text of a postcard that Chana Zavidovich (daughter of Mordechai Zavidovich) wrote to this writer. She describes the murders and massacres perpetrated by the Germans, reports that her mother and her sister Sara had been sent to an extermination camp, and asks that Grandmother Zisl go to the grave of Grandfather Leybl to ask for his intercession.^[16]

The card is dated August 1942, and was sent from Lwow to the Starzyn estate, where this writer was working. A translation from the Polish follows below.

Lwow

Dear Fradl!

I want to inform you that I am now an orphan, like you. Mother and Sara left on August 10, 1942, on the same road as your mother. I am staying with my mother's friend. I have enough food, but I am very miserable. Madame Shechita is queen.^[17] There is no news from Warsaw which makes me very worried. If you write to Grandmother, ask her for me to go to Grandfather Leybl for me, and tell him everything. Write more often, as I am very lonely, and a letter from you will console me a bit.

Be well,
your Chana.
P.S. I have no news at all as regards my dear father.

[Page 159]

Image of the Polish text on the postcard

[Page 160]

Image of the Polish text on the postcard

1. Belzec was a German death camp, built as a center of extermination for the Jews of Poland. Return
2. Shiva is a traditional week-long period of mourning observed by first-degree relatives of the deceased. Return
3. The Judenrat (literally Jewish Council) was an administrative body comprised of local Jews appointed by the Germans to help them manage the Jewish population before they were ultimately murdered. Return
4. Sometimes spelled Lvov, today known as Lviv, Ukraine. Return
5. The German invasion of Russia took place on June 22, 1941 Return
6. Jews have traditionally recited Psalms for solace, guidance, catharsis, renewal, etc. Return
7. Pesach that year was on April 4, 1942. Return
8. This was on May 30, 1942. Return
9. June 9, 1942. Return
10. I was not able to identify this estate and have done an approximate transliteration. Return
11. Aktion was the German Nazi term for a military or police operation of mass assembly, deportation, and killing. Return
12. I was not able to identify Ftidjen. Return
13. The uprising was during April-May 1943. Return
14. Kiddush Ha-Shem (“sanctification of the holy name”) is any action by a Jew that brings honor, respect, and glory to God. The tefillin (phylacteries) are put on by adult male Jews during morning prayers. Return
15. Judenrein is the German term used by the Nazis during the Holocaust to designate areas that had been “cleansed” of Jews. Return
16. This widespread custom consists of praying to God and asking for compassion on account of the merit of the dead. Return
17. The Hebrew shechita, which normally denotes ritual slaughter, is often used for a massacre of Jews. The Hebrew word is transliterated in Polish on the postcard, possibly for fear of censorship. Return

[Page 161]

When the first news came concerning the German attack on Poland and the bombing of Polish cities by German aircraft, fear and depression settled over the Jews in Horodlo and throughout Poland.

The anxiety over the possibility of occupation by the Germans, whose hatred of Jews knew no bounds, was immense, although the complete annihilation of Poland's Jews was beyond anyone's imagination. Quite understandably, the Jews of Poland, and those of Horodlo among them, received the news about the rapid advance of the Germans, and the rout of the Polish army, with trepidation.

Horodlo was occupied by the Germans about three weeks after the war began. Upon their arrival, they broke open the locked Jewish shops (helped by Polish youth) and flung the merchandise out to the Poles, who gathered for the loot.

I was at Pinches Berger's house, when the Germans burst in to ransack the house. The German captain who accompanied the soldiers told us, “We came to Poland for the Jews. We'll exterminate you like mice.” However, they did not attack the Jews physically yet, and were satisfied with grabbing Jewish property.

The next day, the Germans retreated from Hrubieszow, and were replaced by the Russian army. But only six weeks later,

[Page 162]

the Russians returned to the eastern bank of the Bug River, and the Germans came to Horodlo once again.

A small part of the Horodlo Jews took this chance and left the town along with the Russians.

As soon as they arrived, the Germans ordered a list to be made of all the Jews in Horodlo. Jews were also forced to wear a white armband bearing a Star of David. The Germans began to hand out Jewish houses and expensive items of clothing. Jews were ordered to report daily for forced labor, which was accompanied by torture and humiliation.

In May 1940, the Germans appointed a Judenrat and put it in charge of supplying Jewish forced labor according to their demands. On May 20, they required “Jews who were suitable for physical labor to be sent to Bełżec.”^[2] The town was panic-stricken. Jews sought hiding places for fear they would be sent to Bełżec, and the Germans prowled among the Jewish homes, hunting for concealed Jews. When I saw German soldiers at our door, I slipped out of the window into the courtyard, jumped over the garden fence to the bank of the Bug River, and hid in the grass. I lay there until the end of that particular Aktion.

However, it was not always possible to evade the conquerors. One night, they knocked at our house door.

[Page 163]

When we opened the door, about fifteen German soldiers burst in, holding Petachya Blat captive. They woke the entire family and drove us out into the adjoining garden (including my mother and her small children). The east end of the garden was bounded by a curved wall that extended down to the Bug River. They stood us in a line and said that they knew we had thirty thousand marks, and demanded that we hand it over to them. When we said that we had no money, they told Petachya to convince us to admit that we had the money, and to give it to them. Suddenly, they pushed Petachya and me down the steep hill. We rolled down to the river, and were so badly bruised by the clods of earth, thorns, and shards of glass that we could not get up. We were ordered to climb back up the hill. My mother and the young children were told to go back home, while my father and I were taken to headquarters. Once there, we were tied up, and the torture began: endless blows on my shoulders. I lost consciousness several times, and was revived each time by the shock of cold water cascading over my body. My shirt was shredded by the beatings. The captain told me that I would not leave the room alive if I did not hand over the money – ‘think of your own life'. I told him that he was torturing me in vain, as I had no money. Then he took my father into a small cell designed for torture. We stood in the cell all night, as there was nowhere to sit. Water constantly dripped on our heads. The next day, at 10 a.m., the captain opened the door and asked us, mockingly, “Are you refreshed after the shower?” We were ordered to leave the cell, driven into the courtyard, and forced to jump through the sports equipment on the grounds, to the accompaniment of blows. We were then released.

[Page 164]

At the Outbreak of Germany's War with Russia

After war broke out between Germany and Russia (in June, 1941), a new edict was published: each Jew had to show that he was working for a Christian peasant. Anyone who could not prove this would be expelled from town. Jews began rushing to the peasants asking to be hired, and willing to pay in return for a work certificate. My family and I were hired by Swietlinski (the town elder), as was Petachya Blat's family. This temporarily saved both families from expulsion.

Various decrees were published daily, and transgressors were placed on the death-list. This was in addition to the evening home curfew law. Any Jew found outdoors after curfew was risking his life. The Jews realized that their lives were free for the taking by any bully.

As we stand in Swietlinski's courtyard, two German youths go by on bicycles. One calls to the other, “Look, Jews!” They come into the courtyard, draw their revolvers, and order my father Avrom Zaydl – who just happened to be there – and Rokhl, Petachya Blat's wife, to follow them. They took them to the cemetery, and murdered them.

One summer day in 1942, the Germans published an order expelling all the Jews from the town to Uchanie. This was the worst of decrees, which we had feared for a long time. Yet not everyone realized that general expulsion meant the extermination of Jews in the death camps. Obeying this order, all the Jews – men, women, and children – reported to the marketplace. The entire community was then deported to Uchanie.

[Page 165]

The terrible scene of their departure from the town where they and their ancestors had lived for many generations, not knowing where they were going and what the murderers would do to them, defies description. It was shocking to see the unfortunates leave the town, shuffling along on their way to an unknown destination. Exhausted physically as well as emotionally, the oppressed exiles reached Uchanie, where thousands of exiled and tortured Jews like them, expelled from nearby towns and villages, were assembled. They were crammed into small, tight rooms, where other families, including mine, were already quartered. We awaited the newcomers in fear. Yet it was hard to imagine that the next stop would be the death camp.

Our lives were free for the taking in Uchanie as well. One day, a few cars carrying SS agents drove through Uchanie and noticed Jews assembled in the marketplace. They stopped, exited the cars, and selected fifty Jews. These Jews were ordered to lie on the ground, and were murdered with machine guns. They then ordered us to clear the area of bodies, while they themselves sat by the well and ate sandwiches.

The order came after eight days: we were to gather in the Uchanie marketplace. About two thousand people assembled. We were loaded onto peasant wagons that had been brought for this purpose, and taken to Miączyn, without being told where we were going or for what purpose. As we were riding along, the Gentile coachman asked me, “Do you know where you're going? You're going to the crematoriums.” I repeated these words to the rabbi, who did not want to believe me. When we arrived at Miączyn (an intersection fifteen kilometers from Zamość),

[Page 166]

we were taken to the railroad station, where a train of fifteen freight cars was waiting. A band of SS murderers came and ordered the women and children to climb quickly into the cars. The murderers started to fire in all directions, including the mass of wretched Jews. A stampede began, there was nowhere to flee, and many were killed on the spot. I was near Rabbi Yehuda Leyb HaLevi Berman (may his righteous memory be for a blessing), the Rabbi of Horodlo, who was shot by the Germans and who dropped over me. The unfortunate women and children rushed around in the crowd, trying as best they could to climb into the cars in order to

“Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me” (Psalms 22). The German murderers and their victims.

[Page 167]

Sheva Hirsh (daughter of Hinde, Simtshe's daughter)		Tova Goldberg

Malka Valakh (daughter of Moyshe Mandil)

We stayed there all night, not knowing what they wanted to do with us. The next morning, a group of Germans came, classified the survivors, and divided them into two groups. One group

[Page 168]

consisted of youth, women, and men. The other group included the feeble elderly, as well as boys and girls below working age. This second group was wrenched away from us violently, and also taken to the death camp. My 13-year-old brother Yehuda was in this second group, and parted from us with heartrending screams. 

We were told that we survivors would be sent to do farm work in the vicinity. The same day, estate owners showed up, selected people for work, and took them away. The Jews from Horodlo and Stryszów were not chosen for labor, and the Germans ordered us to start working on an estate near Horodlo. We returned to Horodlo and went to Straszyn, where we worked for approximately five months. The owner designated me as his personal coachman. In the course of this position, I witnessed an unspeakably distressing murder incident that still chills me to the bone. This indescribable event underscores the depth of cruelty to which the Germans sank.

The gruesome, indelible event unfolded as follows:

One day, the landowner ordered me to drive him to Hrubieszow. When we arrived, he went off to run his errands, while I stayed back to watch the coach, which was standing near the Jewish ghetto. I used this chance to talk with a Jew who was standing nearby. Suddenly, Germans came up and ordered us to go with them. We were brought to the cemetery, and taken to a group of Jews who were digging a pit – for a purpose unknown to us at the time. Shortly afterwards,

[Page 169]

61 young Jewish children were brought in. Their tiny arms were bound together, and their cries reached the heavens. They were followed by a German murderer with a band of killers. After some preparations, he began to smash their tiny heads with a rock and to throw their bodies into the pit. This horrible, barbaric murder shocked all the remaining Jews, and crushed them completely.

When we had been in Straszyn five months, the estate manager, Pisecki, came over to me and said that a German had arrived on a bicycle and wanted to speak with me. Naturally, I fled in panic into the field, not knowing what to do. After waiting some time, I went back to the estate manager and asked him to find out what the German wanted. He came back after a while and told me that the German had brought me a letter. I went over to the German, who told me that he had come from Ludmir, knew my brother Tevl, and was giving me a letter from him. In the letter, my brother Tevl and sister Rivke wrote that I should come to them in Ludmir, and that it was safe to talk with the German.

The German suggested that I ride to Ludmir on his bicycle. Of course, I managed without his offer of service. I left the estate and began walking over a rough road until I reached the Bug River. I knocked on the door of a peasant named Bilecki, close to the river, and proposed that he help me across, in return for payment. As he had no boat, we swam across the Bug. I made two bundles of my clothes and possessions. Bilecki carried the larger bundle with the clothing. As soon as we had crossed, Bilecki returned to the other bank with the bundle; I was left in nothing but underwear.

[Page 170]

My Visit to Ustyluh and My Arrival in Ludmir

I started out for Czerniawka and stayed overnight with a peasant named Tarbil. Waking up early, I left for Ustyluh. There, I met Eliezer Halperin's son, who told me about the catastrophe that had overtaken the Jews of Ustyluh as well.

Shloyme Blat and his family

I worked at odd jobs in the Ludmir ghetto, but life was not safe

[Page 171]

nor were there any opportunities. There were roundups nearly every day, and Jews were taken to be murdered at the nearby village of Piatydni. It was clear that the Germans had pledged to annihilate the distinguished Jewish community of Ludmir. This community had grown larger thanks to the Jews who had fled there during the Russian occupation.

Mordechai (Motl) Zuberman, Itshele Zuberman and I had agreed to escape from Ludmir and find a safe site in the Horodlo area. Motl disguised himself as a peasant carrying a box on his shoulder when we left Ludmir, dressed in our own clothes. We had decided to leave separately. The first problem was going through the Russian police station, near the military post at the entrance to town. We tried to go through carefully, but, unfortunately, were noticed by a Ukrainian policeman. He fired first at Itshele, who dropped; then he began chasing me. I squeezed through the fence of the police station, and tried to shelter behind the buildings. Each time, the Ukrainian found me. Having no choice, I jumped over the last fence, swam across the Huczwa (a small local stream), ran dripping wet into the small wood, and stretched out on the ground, believing that I had shaken my pursuer. Yet, glancing back across the stream, I saw the Ukrainian undressing and getting into the water, leaving his rifle on the other side. I decided not to flee any more but rather to fight him. I found a sturdy tree branch, and greeted him with a fight challenge. He immediately turned back to the stream, dressed himself, and left the area, while I followed his every move.

Once I had rested and calmed down a bit, I

[Page 172]

continued on my way to Horodlo. Imagine my astonishment at encountering Motl Zuberman once again! He told me that he was never stopped en route, as all the passers-by took him for a peasant.

As we were passing Piatydny, we heard machine-gun fire and loud screams. These were the screams of Jews from Ludmir, who were being taken to their deaths. We continued on our way, pained and fearful. Motl took the road to Chelm, while I went to the Starzyn estate.

Back at Starzyn, I met Jews from Horodlo again. Among them were my cousins Shmuel Abish and Shmuel Berger, Fishele Gertl, Bashe Berger, Fradl Perlmuter, and others. I asked the estate owner and the manager not to let the Germans know that I had returned, and began working there.

About three weeks after my return, the Germans announced that we had to report to the command center at Hrubieszow. This was approximately in December 1942. The day after this order, we rode in carts supplied by the estate's owner. Arriving in Hrubieszow, I went to visit my 74-year-old uncle. He was surprised to see me, and asked me why I had come to Hrubieszow and not found a hideout. Incidentally, Fradl Perlmuter and my cousins Abish and Leybish Berger, as well as Genia, did not join us on this trip and decided to hide.

At dusk, Fishl Gertl, Fishl Shek,

[Page 173]

and Yaakov Zaydl came to my uncle's house and told us that they knew the Germans were preparing to carry out mass murder the next day, and they thought that it was better to leave Hrubieszow. We planned to meet up at midnight. We sneaked out of Hrubieszow that night, en route to Mruczin. We had to cross the ice-cold stream of Laczewy, and arrived in Horodlo at dawn.^[3] We stopped near the hay and grain barns, and looked for a hiding place. We went into Wobriszewicz's barn, climbed up to the hayloft, and lay down. Searching for food, we found a piece of bread in a peasant jacket that was hanging there, and divided it between ourselves. We were motionless the entire day. At night, we decided to go into Wobriszewicz's house and ask for food. He was very surprised when we appeared in the house. I told him that we had escaped from Hrubieszow, were looking for food, and asked permission to hide in his barn. He gave us food, but wanted us to leave the barn, as he feared the Germans. We had no choice, and left our hiding place for the fields. A blizzard was raging, and the snow pelted our faces. Despairing, we asked ourselves where we could go. I suggested returning to Starzyn and hiding in the lofts of the long stable buildings. I assumed that those lofts were rarely visited, and we would be able to stay there for some time.

We arrived in Starzyn exhausted, and hid in the loft of a stable. Down below, the horses were munching on white beets. One of us climbed down and took a few bunches of beets from the feeding trough; that was our food.

The next morning, we heard steps approaching, and realized that the newcomers were speaking Yiddish. Raising our heads, we saw Itshele from Stryszów with his son, followed by

[Page 174]

three more Jews from that village, whose names I do not remember. They were frightened of us and began to run away. In low voices, we called them by their names, and they turned back and came up.

We developed a plan to assure us of food and bread. Someone from Stryszów told us that he had fabric for a woman's dress, and that we should plan to barter it with a peasant for food. Who would do it? We cast lots, and it fell to Fishl Shek and me. Fishl Gertl announced that he had taken a solemn oath never to leave my side, and insisted on coming along. We said that a band of three would arouse curiosity, so Fishl Shek stayed in the stable while Fishl Gertl and I left.

We went to Horodlo, and knocked on the door of a peasant named Yashke Meruniya. Once inside, we spread out the fabric and proposed the exchange. The peasant's wife told us that she had no bread at the moment, and instructed us to spend the day in her barn loft. This would giver her time to knead the dough and bake bread, time-consuming though it was. We did as she said. Late the next night, she gave us a few loaves of bread tied up with string, and we left Horodlo for Starzyn. I remember that we asked her for a bag and promised we would return it to her, but she refused for fear that we would be murdered, and she would lose the bag.

As soon as we started on our way back, a powerful wind came up, and the snow that began falling was so thick that it wiped out the way to Starzyn. As we came to Murciak's brick kiln, we could not see the way. We tried to discover the way as best we

[Page 175]

could, but in fact we kept going around the kiln. We realized this only at dawn.

At that point I told Fishl that we would not be able to go on by daylight, and we needed to find a hiding place. We went to Wlodka Dobrovolski's barn, which was far from his home, and found it to be securely locked. Fishl climbed up on my shoulders, removed the bunches of hay from the thatched roof, and let himself in; he then opened the window at the barn's end. We climbed into the loft, and had a good rest.

We spent the day peering through the cracks, and heard Kwiszniewski, Dobrovolski's neighbor, tell him about the horrific scene he had witnessed as he drove his cart through Starzyn: the bodies of nine murdered Jews. He recognized Fishl Shek, Yankele Zaydl, and Itshele Arnshteyn. He also said that he had heard that their hideout in Starzyn had been discovered by the estate watchman, who had reported it to the Germans. They were then killed.

Thus, we found out that our unfortunate friends had been caught, after all the suffering and dangers that they had been able to evade. We knew that returning to Starzyn was out of the question.

We lay in that temporary hideout for about a week, living on the bread that we had gotten in exchange for the fabric. Yet, we were discovered one night by the barn's owner, who feared the Germans and ordered us to disappear.

Once again, we faced the terrible problem of finding a hideout that would be suitable in the freezing conditions. We remembered the many barns and stables near Swietlinski's, and started out in that direction. We climbed into

[Page 176]

Swietlinski's hayloft and lay there. We would emerge at night and knock on the doors of certain peasants with whom we more or less acquainted, and ask for bread. Among those we visited was Tomki Bilecki, whom we asked for food.

Once, he told us that he could give us no more bread, unless we stole a sack of flour from one of the peasants and brought it to him. He would then bake us bread. We began thinking of the best way to get a sack of flour. Our problem was solved the next night, when we went to ask for bread at the house of a peasant named Slavtinski and noticed a sack of flour in the entryway. Naturally, we did not go inside the peasant's house but heaved the sack onto our shoulders and brought it to Bilecki.

In the meantime, we had noticed that there was a locked underground cellar in the barn where we were staying. Fishl was able to open the top of the cellar with a special key, and we discovered a winter store of apples, which we used to refresh ourselves.

We lay in this refuge for sixteen weeks. Our boldness and readiness to take risks increased during those weeks. Bilecki, the peasant, demanded that we join him and his brother in an attack that they wanted to carry out on the administrative director in Rivne.^[4] He also trained us in the use of rifles. Sure enough, he called us over one night to join them in the operation, and gave us two rifles. The Bilecki brothers ordered us to knock at the door of the administrative director's house, and go inside; they would cover us and stand guard outside. We knocked at the door. “Who's there?” came the question. “Open!” we said in German. They apparently took us for Germans. The door was opened by the director, who found himself

[Page 177]

confronting our rifles. We ordered him, his wife, and another man who was there, to face the wall and stand motionless. Then Bilecki came in and began taking various household items and foodstuffs. We heaped the loot onto our cart, and quickly left. At Bilecki's house, we asked for some of the goods; he cut off a small piece of meat and gave it to us. He even took the jacket that Fishl had taken from the director's house.

We would go out almost every night, looking for opportunities. One night, we heard the footsteps of a man singing in German. A German soldier was staggering as if drunk, singing soldiers' songs. When he drew near, we emerged from our refuge and ordered him to put up his hands. We took his fur jacket as well as his revolver, objects that we needed in our situation. We laid him on the ground and tried to tug his boots off, but without success.

On one of our nocturnal rambles, we were almost captured by the Germans. The peasant Lucilo Farkavich, from whom we often begged for food, apparently informed on us to the Germans. One evening, as we approached his house for a bit of hot soup, we noticed that the building was dark. That seemed somewhat suspicious. We became more careful and pricked up our ears to catch any sign of disturbance on the street. Suddenly, we heard the rustle of people moving. We bent low immediately, as a spotlight came on and illuminated the surroundings. This was followed by a hail of bullets directed at us. We responded by firing our guns, whose barrels enhanced the sound, so that one could think that we were firing heavy artillery. The Germans did not

[Page 178]

dare to approach us, and we retreated very warily.

We set ourselves up in the loft of Swietlinski's barn, but here, too, we were discovered by the owners. This is what happened: one day, Swietlinski's wife was milking the cow in the barn, with her husband standing nearby. We hear her say, “Edziu, what smells so bad?” “You're imagining things!” he responds. When she leaves the barn, leaving her husband there, he says to himself, “Yes, the barn stinks of human excrement.” We see him searching for the source of the smell, and discovering the place where we performed our bodily functions. He came up into the loft and found us. We begged him to keep his discovery to himself, and not share it with anyone. We also asked him to allow us to continue hiding there.

The next day, he came up to the loft and told us that he had had strange, sad dreams about us, and asked us to leave.

Once again, we faced with the problem of a hiding place. This time, we did not know which way to go and where to seek refuge.

We went into the Christian cemetery, and found a locked crypt. Breaking the door open, we saw that it belonged to a princely family. We moved the two coffins aside and lay down. However, we couldn't stay there for more than two days, as the air was so bad and polluted that we couldn't touch the food we had brought. Leaving the crypt, we went to the priest's housekeeper to seek shelter. She proposed that we hide in the church cellar, but we couldn't stay there either, as creatures with glittering eyes scampered around at night, frightening us even more.

[Page 179]

Leaving the church cellar, we remembered that Koblocha, the peasant, owned a neglected ruin that no one visited. By this time it was summer, the days were hot, and we thought that the ruin would be suitable as a summer hideout.

We hid in the ruin, believing that no one would discover us there. But, once again, we were discovered through an odd coincidence: Golombuski, who lived near the ruin, was missing a hen. He asked Koblocha's granddaughter to climb up to the ruin's attic and see if the hen was there. She climbed up, found us, became terrified, and let out a loud shriek before running back home. Koblocha climbed up to see what had frightened her so badly. I sprang up and calmed him down, telling him that we were only hiding here, and asked him to be quiet. He went back down and told the neighbors – who had gathered after hearing the girl's cries – that nothing unusual had happened. After the neighbors had scattered, he climbed up again, plucked a few hairs from our heads, charred them in a flame, and told his granddaughter to inhale the smell (a superstition which was meant to calm fears).

That evening, he came up to the attic and told us that we could hide in his barn, in return for supplying him with stolen goods. We began roaming around at night, looking for stolen goods to bring to our benefactor. In fact, we found various surprises: flour, grain, clothes, and once, even a calf. In return, he would make food and bring it to us in the hideout.

His wife knew nothing about us, and Koblocha

[Page 180]

for his part, was careful to say nothing to her about our hiding place. However, she was surprised at the number of objects that her husband was suddenly bringing home, as well as their unexpected affluence. Apparently, she decided to find the reason. One day, she came into the barn – something she had not done for a long time – and discovered us. Her husband, who also arrived, and found her in the barn, slapped her face. We became frightened at the family dispute that had erupted over us and could become a problem. We kept the wife inside, until we had convinced her husband to ask her forgiveness, and they reconciled over a glass of brandy.

During one of our nightly “strolls” we were almost captured again by the Germans. This was when we risked a burglary in their command post.

We knew that the warehouses of the command post contained many necessities, such as food and clothes, and decided to steal from these warehouses. We tried to break the gate open, but the massive locks proved too difficult to tackle. Then, Fishl climbed onto my shoulders, crept into the warehouse through the small window, and began flinging out food and clothes. However, he ran into trouble when it was time to climb back out through the window. Holding my breath, I waited for the results of his efforts. After a struggle, he was finally able to climb up to the window and jump out. However, we did not know that the gate was secured by an alarm system. We had apparently activated the alarm wiring; less than a hundred meters away, we were fired on from several directions. We lay on the ground silently. When the shots stopped, we quickly slipped away towards the barn, holding the sack of food and bread. When we

[Page 181]

sliced the bread in order to eat, we found bullets inside. These were the bullets that the Germans had aimed at us, and that had lodged in the bread. We had been saved by a miracle.

The next morning, Koblocha brought us a German newspaper, with a report of our attack on the command post warehouse. It was presented as a robbery attempt done by partisans.

It seemed that we would stay in this hideout until the end of the war. It was April 1944. We were hearing about the German army's defeat on the battlefield, and we knew that Germany's downfall was near.

Ya'akov Gruber

[Page 182]

our entry and exit hole. Some hay slid out, along with our revolver and the belt to which it was attached. The Germans immediately rushed to the command post to report the incident. We promptly fled into the fields, towards Murciak's brick kiln. Wandering through the fields, we did not know what to do next. In the distance, we saw a peasant spreading fertilizer over his fields who was driving a cart harnessed to two horses. We approached and recognized Dumek Amndrich. He greeted us and said, “Fellows, stay strong, because the defeat of the Germans is very near.” He gave us news of the war, and the collapse of the German army, news which cheered us up a bit.

We stayed in the field until evening. After dark, we left to try and hide with a Gentile named Michalka Koszczak. We told him that the Germans would soon be defeated and the war would be over, and we would then reward him for his consent to hide us in the attic of his house. We were able to convince him, and he agreed.

That was our last hideout, after a long period of living through suffering and hardships, and being hunted like animals. Looking out of our refuge several weeks later, we noticed some unusual military maneuvers. Soldiers wearing unfamiliar uniforms began coming from the other bank of the Bug. Our host appeared in our refuge and announced that the Russian army had captured Horodlo, and the Germans had retreated. We emerged from the hideout. After a very long period of suffering, we stepped out onto the street in broad daylight for the first time. We were lonely and miserable. Everything looked strange and crushed. – ‘Where are you,

[Page 183]

Jews of Horodlo?!’ we asked. Had other Jews been able to save themselves from the massive annihilation??!

We went out to search for Jews. During that day, several survivors who had lived through the deluge, like us, gathered.

We knew that we could no longer live in Horodlo. Some time later, we left the town and went west, to the displaced persons' camps, seeking a safe shore.

Translator's Footnotes

1. A Judenrat (Jewish council) was an administrative body established in German-occupied Europe during World War II which purported to represent a Jewish community in dealings with the Nazi authorities. Return
2. Bełżec was the first Nazi German forced-labor extermination camp in occupied Poland. Return
3. I could not identify Mruczin and Laczewy. Return
4. The town of Rivne (Rovno, the capital of Volhynia), became, under the Nazi occupation, the administrative center of Ukraine. Return

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