[Page 184]

When World War II broke out, I was a boy of sixteen. I did not properly understand what the terrible war meant, and did not foresee the bitter fate that awaited the Jewish community of Horodlo and Poland as a whole.

The Germans took Horodlo on September 26, 1939, and instituted a regime of terror immediately upon their arrival, imposing forced labor. They appointed a Judenrat, which included Petachya Blat (may his memory be for a blessing), Mendl Lerner (may his memory be for a blessing), Shmuel Berger (may his memory be for a blessing), and Shmuel Goldberg (may his memory be for a blessing), and made them responsible for supplying Jews for forced labor. The Judenrat members managed to evade this task. But when no one reported for work, the Germans beat and tortured the members of the Judenrat.

The Germans generally set the Jews to do tasks that were difficult and shameful, and humiliated them in various ways. They harnessed Jews, instead of horses, to wagons loaded with earth, and forced them to pull the wagons to the German command post, in the Polish school; they were also forced to sing derisive songs.

The workday most commonly ended with the following terrible scene. The Jews were usually brought back from their labor in

[Page 185]

a procession that stopped at the marketplace, where they were then shot at indiscriminately from all directions. It is hard to describe the ensuing shock and panic, and the stampede of the Jews, who fled for as long as they were able.

Sometimes, S.S. soldiers from the county would come and demand that a number of Jews go with them “for work.” Those who went never came back. One night, Germans came to our house and demanded that my father send his sons with them for work. We were hiding in the attic, and could hear our father saying that he did not know where we were. We were afraid that the Germans would search the house, and quickly slipped out of the attic into the night.

It was a bitter, unexpected day when the decree to drive out the Jews of Horodlo came from the German county authorities in Hrubieszow. I remember that a Ukrainian Gentile appeared in our house, and proposed that my father sell him our house; in any case, it would belong to others after the Jews were banished. I can still hear my father's reply, “I believe that Hitler (may his name be blotted out) will not be able to exterminate all the Jews, and those who remain alive will exact revenge for the Jewish blood that was shed.”

The day of the expulsion, all the Jews were collected in the marketplace. We were taken to the town of Uchanie. Once there, we were placed in a sheep barn, and kept there for two weeks. Naturally, the Germans gave us no food or other necessities. We subsisted on the little food we had been able to bring with us from home. We did nothing in Uchanie, and awaited the future with great dread.

One day, the Germans informed us that we had to move on,

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and we were taken to Miączyn. Exhausted and dejected, the crowd of expelled Jews trudged, accompanied by the German murderers on horseback. When we arrived in Miączyn, we saw that we were being led into a sheep barn that was surrounded by barbed wire fencing. On our way into the barn, we were harassed and tormented. German soldiers stood at either side of the entrance and beat the incomers severely.

The same day, at dusk, the Germans forcibly took away the women and children, beating them savagely, loaded them onto railroad freight cars, and took them to Belzec – the ghastly death camp, from which they never returned. It is difficult to describe the savagery of the murderers as they separated the families. It was a black, bitter day, as the entire crowd was shattered and devastated.

Night fell. We lay unmoving, anxious and fearful, unable to sleep.

The next morning, a German Commissioner of Police arrived with a group of murderers. After a short consultation with the Germans who had taken us to Miączyn, they sat down at a table near the entrance to the second sheep barn, which we had not noticed earlier. They began classifying the survivors, who consisted solely of men; the women and children were no longer there. Each of us left the barn and passed through a double row of soldiers until we reached the ”classification commission.” Young people were sent to the right, the old and the weak to the left, where they were placed inside a fenced area. The Judenrat members were also taken to this area.

After the classification was completed, several hundred young people were left. The Germans informed us that we would return to

[Page 187]

Uchanie, and would have to obey the orders of the Judenrat. They also warned us against anyone trying to escape. If one person was missing, they would kill the Judenrat members. After these threats, they ordered us to stand and return to Uchanie. Our

Peshi Ayzen

Ts. Barenholts		Rokhl Royter

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parents and dearest ones were left behind in the other barn. We asked the Germans to allow us to kiss our loved ones and part from them, and were turned down. Accompanied by German guards, the group of young people slowly walked to Uchanie. We stayed there for eight days.

Owners of the large estates came and selected people for work. The managers of the Keszinowski and Starzyn estates also arrived, and chose Jews from Horodlo for work on their properties. My three brothers and sister-in-law Genia (the wife of my brother Shmuel, both now living in Haifa) and I, along with Eliyahu Rozenfeld and his sons Mukl and Aharon, Eliezer, and Chantshe, were chosen for work at the Starzyn estate. We were joined by Sara (Mindl's daughter), Shifra Shek, Leybl Berger, Fishl Gertl, Zalmen Rozenfeld, Gutta Rozenfeld and other young folks from Horodlo.

We worked on this estate the entire summer.

Shimshon Fayl		Eliyohu Berger

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5. The Escape

One day, at the end of the work season, the estate manager came up on his horse, called me aside, and told me that the Germans had ordered him to deliver the Jews who worked for him to the German command post. I asked his permission to leave the job in the middle of the work day, and he agreed. I went to the site on the estate where the Jewish workers would gather to eat, and gave them the news. I said that I believed we should flee that very night. My uncle Eliyohu and his sons said that they had no strength for more wandering, regardless of the consequences. I agreed with my brothers and with Genia to make a break for it that night. We prepare bread and other food items, and ran away from the estate in the dark.

We made for the fields, heading for the village of Janki, about three kilometers from Horodlo.^[1] At Janki, we went to the area of the barns. Under cover of the darkness and silence, we went into a barn full of hay, which belonged to a peasant woman whom we knew. We immediately burrowed into the hay and lay still. We emerged at night, but spent the days in our hideout, being very careful to stay hidden.

On our nighttime excursions for food and water, we erased our tracks as we returned to the barn. We hoped that we would be able to stay there for a long time without being discovered.

Once, the peasant's daughter noticed tracks leading to the barn loft. She followed the tracks and discovered us. She was very frightened at first, as she had stepped on one of

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of our faces, and let out a shriek. We calmed her down and asked her to keep silent, so that the Germans wouldn't find us. We also asked her to let us stay there as long as possible. Two days later, she told us that people in the village knew about our hideout, and insisted that we leave the place.

We left that night and went to the village of Czołki (seven kilometers from Horodlo). We tried our luck with a Gentile we knew: we knocked at his door and asked him to hide us. However, he closed the door in our face, saying that he was afraid of being punished by the Germans if he hid us. We begged him to let us stay a day or two, to replenish our energy, but he refused. He did give us bread, and told us to prepare a “bunker” in the fields. He knew, after serving in the Russian army, that an underground cave would stay warm in winter as well.

We retraced our steps, and arrived at the outskirts of Horodlo. Searching around Murczak's brick kiln, we found nowhere suitable. We thought about the best course of action, and decided to dig a covered underground “bunker.” A mound off to the side, which people did not visit, seemed right. The bunker we dug was large enough for four. We concealed it with the clothes and rags we collected at night, and began living under the surface of the earth, emerging only at night. Under cover of darkness, we went into peasant farms, and took chickens to roast inside the bunker, over a fire in a bucket. We

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sometimes dared to knock on a peasant's door at night, and ask for bread and other food. We ended up spending the entire winter like this, lying in the bunker.

On one of those nights, we returned to Janki. We remembered that a peasant women owed my parents money, and decided to approach her and demand repayment in food. The Gentile woman seemed willing to help us, and said that she was going to bring us bread. However, she did not come back for a long time. We wondered about this and deliberated what we should do. One thought we had was that she might have gone to bake fresh bread for us. Suddenly, we were shocked by the appearance of a number of her relatives; they demanded that we surrender to the Germans. Instinctively, I charged at the door, broke it open and jumped out. I was followed by my brother Shmuel, and the two of us started running. Shmuel was nearly caught by the end of a scarf that he was wearing. Luckily, he was able to wriggle out of the scarf, which remained in the hands of his pursuer. We fled into the darkness, and they gave up the chase.

Spring was here. The air grew milder, and the snow began to melt. However, this pleasant season created a problem that we had not foreseen. Our “bunker,” which was on a down-slope, became filled with water from the melting snow. We were forced to spend all day sitting in cold water, as we were afraid to come out; we suffered from the damp and the cold. It became clear that we would not be able to continue using this hideout.

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At nightfall, we set out for the village of Rybne (three kilometers from Horodlo).^[2] We knocked on the door of a poor peasant. After appealing to him and promising that we would do him favors and bring him many valuable objects, he allowed us to hide in the attic of his barn.

We would leave our hideout at night, steal chickens and potatoes from the peasants in the vicinity, and even kernels of grain, and bring it to our peasant. With time, he appreciated us more, and even prepared cooked food for us. He was extraordinarily cautious – not even the members of his household knew about us.

We stayed with this peasant until May, and then went into the fields to search for a refuge, heading for Starzyn and the property where we had first worked. We met the field watchman, and told him that he had to pretend not to notice us. If he did not cooperate, we would liquidate him. We told him that we were part of a partisan group numbering 500. The watchman actually behaved accordingly, and we stole foodstuffs from the property. We even milked the cows in the cow barn, and roamed the wide fields.

This continued for two months.

At that time we met a Gentile who told us that a Jew was hiding nearby just as we were doing, and that this Jew wanted to see us. That very evening, we were joined by Velvl Stryszever and his rifle. Our confidence increased a bit. Our raids on the peasant farms became more daring, and the food we gathered was quite valuable.

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8. The New Winter Hideout

As winter approached, we were able to promise the peasant payment for hiding us in his horse barn. Our hideout was now quite comfortable; and we were experienced at hideouts. We lay there during the day, and roamed around at night, bringing the Gentile many tidbits. We spent the entire winter in that hideout.

It was summer once again. We left our hideout and returned to our summer refuge in the fields. The roads were full of retreating Germans, and we understood that the front was drawing near. Anxiously, we awaited liberation by the advancing Russians. We were well hidden in the grain fields, and were careful not to be discovered by the many Germans in the area.

At night, we would come out of the grain field to see what was happening in the vicinity. We went as far as the village of Łuszków, which was now very near the front.^[3] En route to Łuszków, we saw a German vehicle parked at the side of the road. We approached gingerly and saw that the driver was asleep over the wheel, his gun beside him. My brother David slashed the canvas and drew out the gun.^[4] We ran off quickly and returned to our hideout.

We were able to see that massive bridge over the Bug at Ustyluh was in flames, and understood that the Germans had retreated from that town.^[5]

My brother Shmuel and sister-in-law Genia then went to seek food on the Rogl property. After the war, they told us

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that they had approached a peasant, who told them that they could stay on his property at night, because the front was close by. The next morning, he showed them how to go over to the advancing Russians.

At this point, we parted, and did not see them until the end of the war.

Once again we – Velvl, my brother David, and I – hid in the grain fields.

During that period, we were almost caught by the Germans. As we lay in the field, we heard the grain stalks rustling in an unusual way. Velvl raised his head to see what was happening, and told us that two German officers were riding towards us in the field. We quickly rose and began running. The Germans fired at us with their revolvers, as Velvl took a hand grenade from his pocket and hurled it in the direction of the Germans. The grenade exploded with a deafening crack and covered the Germans in a cloud of dust. We fled as soon as possible, running non-stop across the fields, until we came to our first hideout – the “bunker” near the brickworks. We stayed there until dark.

After nightfall, we checked the vicinity. When we realized that all was calm, we stood up and went to the Rogl farm. No one was there – it had been abandoned. We climbed up to the attic of one of the barns and spent the night there.

The next morning, we saw that the front was raging around us and the farm was caught in the crossfire. Peering through the cracks of the barn, we saw Germans scampering around like lunatics, holding their rifles, while the Russians were bombing and firing incessantly. Our

[Page 195]

barn caught on fire. We leaped from the attic to an adjoining building, noticed a cellar underneath it, and quickly went in. The cellar was already occupied by dozens of peasants and their families who had found refuge there. They called us to come near, and gave us bread and milk.

Suddenly, someone announced that the building's roof was on fire. Everyone fled from the cellar in a panic and ran to the fields. We lay in the grain all day, hearing the shots and explosions resounding.

Tova Tsukerman (known as Tova, Mekhl's daughter)[6]

“Halt!” someone shouted in Russian, pointing his rifle barrel at us. We raised our hands. Russian soldiers approached and asked, “Who are you?” We answered that we were Jews who had been hiding from

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the Germans. They let us go, instructing us to move away from the front and go to Ustyluh. From there, we continued on our way to Ludmir. The destruction and desolation was evident in both these places, which had been the home of large Jewish populations. We met some downcast Jews in Ludmir. Clearly, that city was no place for us. We decided to return to our home town, Horodlo.

Yitzchok Ling		Shmuel (Velvenyu's son)[7]

[Page 197]

We stayed in Horodlo for about a year. During that year we tried to do business with the peasants across the Bug River. We would go to Ludmir, buy horses from the Ukrainians, and sell them to the peasants around Horodlo. Sometimes, we would take them to sell in Hrubieszow. However, this business culminated in great tragedy. My brother David (may his memory be for a blessing), who was the most active and the boldest in this enterprise, was captured and killed by Polish anti-Semitic gangsters on one of his trips to Ludmir. We mourned him bitterly. After having survived so much suffering before being liberated, he was murdered.

We realized that Jews no longer had a place in their home towns. We moved to Hrubieszow, where we would await the end of the war, and then join the Jewish survivors who planned to go to the Jewish homeland.

Translator's Footnotes

1. Janki is located south-southeast of Horodlo on the road to Łuszków. Return
2. Modern day Hrebenne, located southwest of Horodlo and west of Janki. Return
3. Located southeast of Horodlo. Return
4. The car's window was apparently covered with canvas. Return
5. Destroying the bridge behind them to slow advancing Soviet troops. Return
6. The possessive that follows her name could indicate either her husband or her father. Return
7. There seems to be a typo in the name; as Velvl is mentioned several times in the text, I've made this correction. Velvenyu is an affectionate diminutive of Velvl. Return

[Page 198]

The first German soldiers to arrive in Horodlo following its conquest were border guards. Their main task was to watch the new border between Russia and Germany – according to the treaty between the two countries, it ran along the Bug River.

These soldiers occupied whichever Jewish houses they fancied; the Jewish occupants had been turned out into the cold wintry streets of 1939. A considerable number of these former occupants died of hunger and cold during the first winter of the German occupation.

I remember that January 1940 witnessed the first horrific acts and systematic torture directed at Jews. Simultaneously, the Germans published announcements threatening retaliation and penalties towards those who helped Jews in any way.

Before 1941, when the Germans attacked Russia, the murderous actions of the Germans were limited, and stopped short of mass murder. In June 1940, the border guards were replaced by other soldiers, with the mission of establishing a Nazi regime in the town.

As the German army advanced further into Russia, the Germans began to ensure that the existing roads were in good shape

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and that new roads would be paved. That was when Jews were forced to remove the gravestones from the Jewish cemetery to use as paving stones for the road between Horodlo and Stryszów. When the gravestones were gone, the peasants in the vicinity brought their livestock to graze in the destroyed cemetery.

I also remember that the Germans turned the synagogue into a horse barn. Once, when a horse had died, the Germans forced the rabbi to arrange a funeral for it, wrap it in a tallis, and bury it in the Jewish cemetery.

Conditions for the Jewish residents worsened from day to day. A leader of the Jewish community was designated as accountable to the Germans, and responsible for supplying workers according to their demands. The German demands, however, were vast and horrific, and the Jewish community leader was unable, as well as unwilling, to fulfill them. Therefore, Germans themselves raided the Jewish homes and snatched Jews up for labor; as a by-product, they murdered Jews who were weak, elderly, or anyone they did not like.

During one of these raids (April 1942), which took place in the morning, my father, Ben-Tziyon Fuks (may his memory be for a blessing) was snatched and murdered by the Nazis, along with four other Jews. Before being murdered, these unfortunates were forced to dig their own graves.

This state of affairs -- of oppression, decrees, and murders of Jews -- continued until June 1942.

In June 1942, the Germans began the total liquidation of the Jews of Horodlo.

One day, all the Jews of Horodlo and its environs were taken out of their homes, assembled in one place, and taken to Miączyn. When we poor souls arrived in Miączyn, we were concentrated near the railroad station. We were told that we would be sent to different work places.

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The following is what happened to the Jews of Horodlo and its environs, in Miączyn:

We arrived in Miączyn in the late afternoon, and found the bodies of many Jews who had been murdered sprawled there. They had been killed by the Germans for not climbing into the rail cars fast enough during that day's liquidation operation.

One day before we came to Miączyn, Jews from the nearby towns of Uchanie, Grabowiec, and other sites had been brought in. When we arrived, fifty thousand Jews were still crammed together in a small area near the railroad station. Twelve freight cars stood in another part of the station.

The Nazis issued a new order to the mass of despondent souls: they had to separate into two groups, one of Jews less than 18 and over 50 years old, and the other of Jews between the ages of 18 and 50.

This was the most tragic moment for the Jews of Horodlo and the surroundings, on their last journey to the death camp.

The families were ruthlessly separated and divided according to age. Men and children under 18, and men and women aged 50 and over, were forced violently into the freight cars of the train bound for Sobibor.^[1] Men in the other group, between the ages of 18 and 50, were mostly loaded aboard other freight cars, after having been separated from women in the same age group. I was then under 18, but I thrust myself into the older age group. Our train left Miączyn that night, heading for Chelm, where we arrived the next morning.

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On arrival in Chelm, we were taken off the freight cars and marched to Staw. When we came to Staw, we numbered about 200. Our homicidal guards took us to an abandoned flour mill. I was immediately taken to work in the kitchen. Conditions in the camp were horrible, and the death rate among the prisoners was high. I knew I wouldn't be able to survive, and decided to escape. After extraordinary efforts, I finally got away, arrived in Chelm, and went into the Jewish ghetto. There, I met Petachya Blat's two daughters, who had been living there for some time. The Blat sisters helped me economically. Eventually, I escaped from the ghetto.

After leaving the Chelm ghetto, I lived under an assumed name until the war's end.

After the war ended, I decided to leave Poland, with its blood-soaked soil. I left for America and came to New York. I'm now living here with my oldest brother Shmuel and my oldest sister Sara. My parents were murdered in the Holocaust, together with my younger sister Toybe. My uncle's family of seven was completely wiped out.

Translator's Footnote

1. Sobibor was an extermination camp built and operated by Nazi Germany as part of Operation Reinhard. It was located in the forest near the village of Żłobek Duży in the General Government region of German-occupied Poland. As an extermination camp rather than a concentration camp, Sobibor existed for the sole purpose of murdering Jews. Return

[Page 202]

The sun appeared on the ashen-blue horizon, which seemed to have awoken from sleep on a spring night. Once again, it spread its rays and light over the world, as it did every year, as though nothing had happened and no unusual event could take place.

We, a large group of Jews, stand in the marketplace of the Uchanie ghetto. We've been waiting since the late night hours, overcome with the fear that fills in our eyes. One question hangs in the air: What awaits us? What will happen?

However, these unfortunate souls actually knew what awaited them. Even the small children felt it. Here they stand, the young saplings, sleepy, shivering with cold and hunger, wearing identification tags so as not to get lost in the crowd of evacuees. They are silent. It is very still, except for an occasional groan accompanied by the question of an ill, weak person: “What will happen to me, if I cannot walk when the order to move comes?” Here and there mothers weep, swallow their tears, and hug their small children who ask for bread.

Obtaining bread was an important project for the Jews of the ghetto. Anyone who possessed bread was considered blessed and happy, even if the bread was crude and baked with bran and flour that had been ground in the old-fashioned way, using stones. The problem of finding

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bread occupied the thoughts of the ghetto population, and continued to worry us even as we stood in the marketplace for the last time, awaiting the order to set out on our last journey.

A sudden murmur broke the general silence. “Here they come!” people told each other, and a large number of German savages appeared riding their horses, holding whips. A cold sweat drenched us as we saw the murderous faces.

My mother gathered the children in her arms, as if wanting to protect them from the oncoming evil. We children pressed ourselves against Mother, hiding behind each other like sheep around their faithful shepherd as ravenous wolves appear.

“Into the wagons!” the order slices through the silence of the group. All obey in terrible silence and docility, and climb into the wagons. The peasant drivers whip the horses and they start moving.

Where to? Everyone knows where we're going, but no one dares to say the truth, and articulate the horrible thought.

We weren't allowed to stay in the wagons for long; the drivers ordered us to get off so as not to exhaust the horses. The mass of oppressed, hungry, and thirsty people dragged itself towards extermination.

I glance at the crowd of evacuees, looking like a group of corpses just arisen from the graves to which they will soon need to return. But even in these last despairing moments, the life impulse wakes and arouses hidden hopes. “Something might happen after all, and we'll escape,” the hopeful thought creeps in. At the same time, we look up at the sky and a murmured Sh'ma Yisro'el^[1] is heard, hoping for a miracle.

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Thus does the world look on silently, as innocent masses are taken to the slaughter.

The sun shone warmer, as if mocking, and warms the group of parched people, who peel off articles of clothing one by one, attempting to ease their pain and exhaustion.

We meet up with small bands of tired, crushed Jews, returning from the same journey as us. They are a small part of a Jewish group that was on its way to extermination, but were selected for labor, and temporarily saved. They shout out, “Run! Run! Don't go in the direction they are driving you!” But where and how can we run, if all the roads are blocked, Gentiles are watching every Jewish movement, and turning in Jewish escapees. And the journey continues…

It is midday. The sky is covered in clouds and a powerful wind suddenly comes up to shake the world and attack it. The forces of nature seem to have come to help the dehydrated, suffering people, and to ease their thirst. The wind strengthens and becomes a full-fledged storm, stirring up clouds of dust and sand that obscure the sky. We cannot see each other, and we hear only cries and screams. The horses try to break loose of their harnesses and disobey their masters. Mother and I stretch our arms over the children, so that the wind doesn't push us apart.

A hopeful thought occurs: Could the storm separate us from the German murderers? However, when the storm was over we realized that we were still in the hands of our torturers.

Night fell. We come to the railroad station of Miączyn, somewhere near Zamość, in pitch dark. Our feet trudge through deep mud. Our clothes are

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damp and cling to the skin. My little sister wants to take off her clothes; she is cold and wet… Mother is considering how to do this, how to get a change of clothing.

However, we weren't allowed much time for thinking and considering. The murderers set us up in rows, administer beatings,, and then fire at the rows of sufferers.

Confused, I ask Mother how the children are doing. I hear no screams or groans. The people in the rows are so tightly pressed against each other that there is no space for the dead to fall down.

The final order comes. Mothers and children are to climb into the dim train cars, and the young people are to remain.

My last question to Mother is, “What shall I do, Mama?!” She replies, “Save yourself, my child! Perhaps a trace of my family will survive.”

Her words were fulfilled. We, a handful of boys and girls, were kept back for labor and hardship. However, through all the anguished years that followed, Mama's words rang in my ears.

We stood there, the remnants, and watched, in pain and sorrow, as our dearest ones exert their last bits of strength to shove each other up into the dim freight cars. They move as fast as their waning strength allows, in order to avoid the German bullets that strike the sides of the cars.

The freight cars are closed up.

That was the last time that I saw my dear mother, my brothers and sisters.

The train began to move. We, the remnant, sent aching glances at the fast-disappearing cars, which carried so many beloved, sacred souls to the crematoriums of Sobibor that were built by the gruesome murderers, the human scum.

It was the 24^th day of Sivan, 5702.^[2]

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Let the Jews of Horodlo remember, wherever they may be, and may the Jewish people remember, the sacred, beloved souls, blameless and pure, who were annihilated by these despicable creatures.

A memorial assembly commemorating the martyrs of Horodlo, Tel Aviv, June 17, 1957

Translator's Footnotes

1. The Sh'ma (Shema) is a central prayer in Judaism, said three times each day by observant Jews. Return
2. June 9, 1942. Return

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