[Pages 577-578]

[Pages 579-580]

[Pages 581-582]

Summer 1939, every day we wait impatiently for the newspapers. In the evening at Kamenitzki's place we discuss the international situation, people are making little speeches and arguing, they read between the lines, predictions are expressed, and the situation becomes more serious.

We remember that it is now twenty five years after the First World War. A war mood is felt around us. The First World War is often remembered, and now we are approaching a second one. As soon as we remove the agricultural produce from the fields, then it shall start. Actually, at the end of August 1939, all civilian communication is halted, everything is taken over by the military, and a mobilization of certain ages is declared and it begins on Friday, the 1st of September.

We recall Abrasha Araronvski, whose father perished in the First World War, and he, Abrasha, perished on the first day of the Second World War. (Note: Abrasha perished while serving in the Polish Army).

New committees are being created and they are made up exclusively of Poles, and their task is to supply all the necessities that the army requires during the war; there is an order to supply smelting iron and old rubber. In order that it should not take too much time to be collected, we are instructed to place these products on the sidewalk outside the house. Which house did not have old boots and broken products which need to be thrown out? Everything was placed outside the house, as Poland was burning from all sides, but the items were never collected, and they were lying about in an embarrassing way.

The days go by slowly, full of fear, refugees are beginning to arrive. We welcome them very warmly, because at every moment we could be in their position, where shall we run? They report about the extraordinary strength of the German army, with what an amazing momentum they move forward, and today or tomorrow they might well be here, they also tell us of terrible murders of Jews.

It is the first day of Rosh Hashanah, and all the synagogues are packed with worshippers, and before the blowing of the shofar, Reb Reuven Obershtein of blessed memory, (Note: a victim of the Shoah), gives a sermon, the previously stifled crying becomes a frightening howl and continues for a long time.

Baranovich is being bombed and distance explosions are heard. Jews, especially young men, who are in great shock, are arriving in Mir. We are almost the last stop, where else can one run? “To the Soviet frontier” - that is the answer. We will find all ways to be as far away as possible from the Germans, but there is one iron wall between us! On 17^th September, the iron wall starts moving, and instead of us running to them, they came to us! It began at dawn, with the appearance of aeroplanes; we regarded them as enemy aeroplanes and we see vehicles racing past. They are moving at such a great speed, that we only see the dust that is raised. As it turned out, the aeroplanes were Soviet aeroplanes, and within a few hours, the Soviet tanks were already with us. The surprise was so great, that young and old poured out into the streets to welcome our saviours.

[Pages 583-583]

None of us had enough energy to think about the long term, we were satisfied with the present situation. The Soviet officers as well as the soldiers were very polite, they patted the children on their heads and promised the adults a happy and serene future, and we didn't want anything else but a bit of peace and quiet.

Our previous rulers have been brought down to their knees and couldn't walk around proudly anymore, and with false smiles on their faces, they bowed down to every Soviet tank.

I have to admit, that we thoroughly enjoyed their present situation; a day before, we were second class citizens. Immediately the next morning and the following days all the officials were arrested, as well as the many guests of the Polish regime, who had arrived into our town.

Already the first evening, we no longer had to darken the town, and the radio announced; it is dark in Berlin, it is dark in London but where we are it is light and joy.

As always in such cases, we were missing certain items. If one lives, one has to eat, and one fears hunger. It didn't take long and the situation slowly became normal. Previously when we were certain of hunger, people have human weaknesses; people started buying, and we were not very fussy with what we bought. One deals, one purchases and one grabs bargains. The reason for grabbing was that the military began buying everything that was available. A soldier who was wearing a scarf was asked; why does a soldier need a lady's scarf and he answers that this is a gift for his wife. Therefore it was obvious that they had no common household goods and when we asked why they don't stop asking about buying whatever is in sight, they answer “have you not seen our tanks?”

One started looking around at the undesirables. A group of Polish military colonialists, known as the Orsadniks, lived close to Der Mir. They settled here after the First World War and were allocated land and farmed the land. They were very diligent and very worldly. They were the first to be nationalized as a future Collective Farm (Kolkhoz).

The first few days after the arrival of the Red Army, the stores were closed. We did not know which currency would be in circulation. Subsequently, an announcement was made, that a Soviet Ruble will be equal to four Zlotys.

The shopkeepers were ordered to open the stores. Long lines formed outside the stores. Understandably, the first items that were sold were all leftovers and old stock, which did not remember the day they were produced. We start talking about “buying” or “swapping”. It was now a question of what they are giving out and what they are distributing?

There is a great demand; we have sellers, re-sellers and buyers. There is a possibility of earning a couple of rubles; and people started travelling to larger towns to acquire stock. Whatever was brought was snapped up; yesterday's beggars became rich overnight, but later on a heavy price was paid with our new reality.

Bialystok, from the first day, was proclaimed the capital of White Russia. The west must be connected to the east; the question must be put to a vote (nothing happens without mutual consent). Every town sends its representative to Bialystok, in order to “raise the hand” (to vote). Nochim Brock (Note: a victim of the Shoah) was sent from Der Mir. He is an honest worker, who never exploits anyone. Nochim's prestige grew tremendous and he was looked upon with new respect.

[Pages 585-586]

After the voting in Bialystock, Der Mir, was appointed as a regional town of Baranovich Oblast with a daily newspaper, two elementary schools with White Russian as the official language, one Yiddishe Folkshul in the house of Rabbi Finkel and partially in the building of the Talmud Torah; head of the school; Auerbach, teachers; Ficus, Gordon and Mania Shwartz-Bisel.

A permanent regime was installed with its rules and regulations; nationalization was installed. Some of the people started feeling insecure; they received documents which certain paragraphs did not augur well for the future. Certain people did not receive any status and were looking for employment in order to legalize their status, but there were no opportunities.

Der Mir did not have enough facilities to absorb the new system which had arrived, and in fact that is when the nationalization really began. What was nationalized? Larger businesses, pharmacies, and later houses. Offices or accommodation for the new upper class were installed in these houses.

After the arrival of the Soviets, the Mir Yeshiva with Rabbi Finkel, the head of the Yeshiva, was evacuated to Vilna.

In the building of the Yeshiva, a club was installed, which served as a constant meeting place. One of the activities in the club was a choir, which was organized by Yossel Kranovich (Note: a victim of the Shoah). The choir was attached to the “White Russian Ensemble of Song and Dance”.

The entire Rabbinical literature which remained in the Yeshiva, as well as over six thousand volumes that belonged to the Mir Library, were transferred to the old building. The solution was; first destroy and build, we saw how it was destroyed. The peasants used the books and gemorras as paper; Each one of us had already had a full load of problems, and it was not easy to adapt to a new regime. Even, if the new regime was decent and just, we bitterly watched as our cultural treasures were being destroyed. The children were very happy; they immediately were dressed in red young pioneer uniforms. Propaganda films were often showed. The youngsters immediately felt comfortable with this new situation. When they finished with the middle class (because in my opinion there were no bourgeoisie in our shtetl), they started to organize the artisans in the Batei Midrash. The members of the Batei Midrash tried to object in a peaceful manner, but nothing helped. Minyanim were organized in private homes. The previous small shop keepers, who managed to liquidate their little shops, now became an unemployed class, and survived from their savings.

The peasants were not nationalized; they did not possess large, beautiful homes or businesses. They had a different kind of shock; they were petrified of the Collective Farm (Kolkhoz). Simultaneously they had to supply the regime with everything that they possessed, and they parted with their possessions with a very heavy heart. That is why the authorities would arrange music and fly a red flag. The following morning there was an announcement in the local newspaper that “such and such” a village had supplied the regime with produce, while dancing and singing.

[Pages 587-588]

The external appearance of the shtetl changed; the market, which was always the central business centre, lost its lively appearance, the few rows of closed shops gave the appearance of an unnatural holiday.

For a certain period, there were no longer the weekly Monday market fairs; the peasants stopped selling their produce because they did not rely on the value of the Soviet currency. When the market was reopened, they remained out of town.

The park and the castle from the Middle Ages which belonged to the Count Mirsky, and which had been locked for many years, was opened for the people and served as a place for walking and relaxing, and the castle which belonged to the above mentioned Count, was converted to a hospital.

There was a tendency to acquire “heavier” clothing; instead of elegant shoes, coats and clothing, each person acquired a fur jacket, boots, felt boots and galoshes. In those days, the merchandise was not available according to the season, it would happen that on Shavuot the felts boots would be available and for Chanuka summer sandals would be available.

The same occurred with food; we started consuming much richer food; this was how our lives continued for twenty months, until the fatal date of 22 June 1941, which was the beginning of our end.

I was born in Krynichno, part of the Mir community. In Mir, I married Peretz Gorodejski, and lived in Mir for nineteen years. We had three children; two sons, Khaikil, of blessed memory, Yosef, of blessed memory, and a daughter, Sonia, of blessed memory. During the bombardment of the town by the Germans, my family and I walked to Krynichno, to my father. We were there for seven months. I felt very fortunate that we were in Krynichno and not in Der Mir, because in Der Mir people had already been left alone, and I was still with my whole family. However, dark days began to appear upon us too.

One Saturday morning there was a knock at the door of my father's house: a Polish person brought us a written message from Binye Grinwald, the baker; we should leave the house and tell the rest of the Jews that they should do similarly, and we should not go back to them. We started wondering what this meant; exactly at that time, there was a gentile lady in my father's house, from a place called Yenetzke (Initsa), which is six kilometers from Krynichno. I said that I will travel with her and sleep over there, and the following morning I would travel with her to Der Mir in order to understand what the written message meant. I got dressed warmly, as it was very cold, and I posed as a gentile. In the morning we arrived in Der Mir, and I went to the Judenrat. There I met Eliezer Breslin, and I asked him about the written message that Binye had previously sent. He told me that here in Der Mir, there is a Commandant named Oswald, and he informed us that we should tell the Jews in the villages that there will be a “sh'chitah” (slaughter). As the evening approached and I had to get back, Eliezer Breslin accompanied me and he promised me that if he would hear that if a “sh'chitah” (slaughter) had occurred in a village, he would hire a gentile who would travel to Krynichno to inform us that we should leave our homes. I went back to the gentile and went to sleep. In the morning, my brother Berel Krynicki arrived, and said; “my dear sister, you no longer have anybody to whom to return”.

[Pages 589-590]

On the same day when I left, six Germans and local police arrived and rounded up three families; amongst them, were my father, of blessed memory, my mother, Peshe, of blessed memory, my husband and my three children, and my brother's wife, Gittel, of blessed memory and his three children, Khaikil, of blessed memory, Yehoshua, of blessed memory and a daughter Rachel, of blessed memory, as well as our cousin, his wife and four children and Shmerel Lis, of blessed memory, and his wife and daughter. They were all shot and buried behind one of my father's buildings.

My brother and I left for the ghetto in Stolpce, shrieking and crying, if we had gone to Der Mir we would have also been shot, because we were known to Serafinowicz, the Commandant.

We went to the Judenrat and we informed them about everything that happened to our loved and dear ones, and then with the leader of the Judenrat, Wittenberg, a very nice person, we went to the Commandant and informed him (of what had occurred). Then he called us in and the Commandant said to us: not to go behind the town, not to speak to anybody and to behave tactfully, ‘do you understand, my dear swines’. Afterwards, Wittenberg from the Judenrat, brought us into a house in the ghetto, in which there were thirty two people.

How did my brother survive that day? Before the Germans arrived my brother delivered a load of grain, barley and wheat to the local mill. The Germans took everything from my father and brother including the cows and the horses: they did not think of resisting, but we were hungry and the family had grown, because my family and I were also with my father, so my brother asked a gentile to travel with him to the local Mill to fetch the flour. When my brother came back with the flour, the wife of the gentile came out of her house and said to my brother: ‘Fanya Berko! Six Germans and local police went to your house’, and when my brother heard this, he said to the gentile: “if that's the case I no longer require the flour”. He went and stood upon a hill, about a kilometer from his house, and saw how they surrounded the house and started shooting. He heard the screams of our family, as well as the words Shma Yisrael. My brother wanted to go there, but the gentiles informed him that the family is no longer alive, he should rather hide himself. He went into the forest to a gentile. At night my brother got up and went through forests and fields to reach me.

In Stolpce we suffered from hunger and dirt. We worked at the railway station for eight months and we very well understood that the darkest days are drawing closer for the Jews of Stolpce. The Jewish population no longer existed in all the surrounding villages - Judenrein. At that time I was employed by a daughter of a general, by the name of, Tamilyawski: It was not a very sweet existence: she liked me, but, she also liked the fact that I should work as much as possible, and she never provided me with any food.

We decided to escape to the forests thinking that we had many gentiles acquaintances, and each gentile will allow us in to warm ourselves and give us food. One morning my brother arrived and said that we should already go to the forests, because all men are being transferred to Baranowicze and Minsk. If we went to the ghetto to take something with us we were then already not allowed out. I went to my work and in the ghetto a husband and wife, from Turets, N'yome and Tzirel Mendelewski, attached themselves to my brother. The wife, Tzirel lifted the barbed wire of the enclosed ghetto, and allowed her husband and my brother to escape and they all came to me and from there we went to the Niemen River. It was twelve o'clock, midday, we crossed the river fully dressed and ripped off the yellow patch. We walked the whole night until we arrived into the Krynicho forest. On the way we popped into the ‘home’ of a gentile acquaintance, she gave us a big loaf of bread. During the day we lay in the forest and in the evening we went to another gentile and received more food. Going back, we dug up potatoes and carrots from our fields.

[Pages 591-592]

The pain was very great when we passed my father's house; at that stage a gentile was already living in the house, and thirty meters from the house was the mass grave, of our nearest and dearest. However, as the human desire to live is very strong, our lives continued.

When we were sleeping in the forest, at dawn we heard very loud gunfire and someone screaming; this was the Mir police who saw a group of Mir Jews. This occurred approximately one kilometer from where we were; we actually searched for these Jews but were unable to find them. The scream emanated from a boy named Schreiber, who the police injured, the remainder of the Mir Jews escaped. We left and went to another place. When, in the evening, we arrived at a gentile's house, he told us where the Mir Jews are and amongst them was my cousin by the name of Eliezer Krynicki and Yosef Paderski. They come to this gentile asking for food. We asked the gentile that he should take us to reunite with them but he brought them to us. And thus we became a group of seven people; two women and five men; my brother was the commander; what he commanded everyone obeyed. We made huts and we remained there until there was a great frost and the Niemen River froze.

It was decided that we should build a “zemlyanka” an underground bunker; but with what and how should this be done? My brother instructed us to take bags and a shovel. Our cousin's house was three kilometers away which was deserted. We took apart the oven, took the bricks in the bags, and crossed the Niemen River and brought the bricks. Lime was required as a building material; it was decided that the five men and I should look for lime; the other woman remained in the hut, as she was in a different situation. We went at night, as we were scared, not only of the Germans and the police, but also we were concerned about the partisans, as the partisans also murder Jews. As we were going together, we saw a partisan with an automatic rifle, and he called us to him. We immediately understood that the situation was not pleasant and we approached him. He asked us where we are located; we told him that we were three kilometers away. In fact, we were one kilometer away from that spot but we could not say where we actually were. He asked whether we had arms and we answered no, and then he asked us where we are going now. We said we were going to buy bread, then he instructed us to give him the money in our possession. We didn't have much but whatever we had we gave him, and then he started searching our pockets; and I was the first one that was searched, and he only found a handkerchief which he then threw onto the ground. Then he searched Yosef Paderski; when I bent down to pick up my handkerchief, he then pointed to me and said that in five minutes I shall be shot. When my brother heard this, he thought to himself that his whole family has already been murdered and now he only has one sister left, and the partisan wants to murder her as well. So what must be done? As he had a strong rod, he smashed the partisan's head a few times, the partisan managed to shoot once and my brother carried on smashing his head with the rod. Simultaneously my cousin, Eliezer grabbed the rifle and I grabbed the rifle from Eliezer and I said to Yosef Paderski; let's run with the rifle. As we were running we heard three shots, and I was certain that my brother was had been shot. As my

[Pages 593-594]

brother was smashing him on the head, the partisan took out a revolver from his pocket and said; “now we will talk”, and he shot three times, and my brother and the rest of the men ran away. When I came back to the bunker, everyone was there, and a new problem arose. Where should we go?

The bandit was beaten but not killed; he will recover and he will find us. So we went two kilometers with the rifle and with the thought that we will build a second bunker but what materials can we use? We have no saws and no choppers and it was freezing. We only have one spade, so we dug a hole and thus we ended up sitting in this bunker.

How did we survive? Our five men in the middle of the night would go to familiar gentiles and steal potatoes from the cellar; the cellars were very close to their homes. It was extremely risky. During the night they would bring between thirty to forty pounds of potatoes and when we consumed the potatoes they would bring more. From the potatoes I made “latkes” pancakes, potato porridge and even “kneidlach”. We couldn't complain about the appetite.

The wounded bandit had six wounds in his head as a result of my brother's rod. When he recovered he started searching for us. He willingly beat several Jews requesting that they tell him where we are located. When the snow melted, my brother found two youngsters who had been shot; certainly shot by him. My brother buried them.

We become unwell from all the potatoes we are consuming without salt. A few weeks ago, we gave a poor gentile money in order that she should bring us salt from the village. We have to go at night to collect the salt and the Nieman River had been frozen earlier. When it got warmer, the ice in the middle of the river melted, and on the banks there was still ice. How on earth can we cross the Nieman River? My brother said we should chop down ten trees; high but not very thick, and carry them to the river at night, then place them on the flowing water and then we can cross over. We chopped down the trees, take two logs and we go in the middle of the night, I, too, with them. We are all going. The wife remains alone in the bunker.

It was difficult to see where to go as there was a snowstorm. Nevertheless we went and arrived at the River Nieman. We throw the logs from one side of the river to the other side; we cross the Niemen River and we arrive at the gentile. We wake her up, and she feeds us and gives us the salt. We ask her what news there is. She then tells us that there were many Germans and they came across a partisan, and they shot him. We ask her who the partisan was, and she tells us that his name was Mitke, and he was the one we had beaten.

We very happily went back to the bunker. My clothes were entirely hard and frozen; besides that I had a massive boil on my cheek; I cured myself with very primitive methods. Before Purim, when the snow starting melting, water started flowing everywhere, and in order to avoid

[Pages 595-596]

the water, five partisans and a commando arrived at our base. When Tzirel Mendelewski came out she saw the partisans and she said “Berel, we are leaving”. When I heard this I said to the remaining four men, grab the automatic rifle and let's run. They listened to me and we ran through the mud above and there was still snow. My shoes fell apart. I was completely barefoot. My brother and Tzirel remained near the bunker, as Tzirel was already in her ninth month and she couldn't run, and my brother did not want to abandon her. Her husband ran with us, when we had run quite a distance, we heard my brother calling me, then I said that we should hide the rifle, and this we did and we went back. We showed the partisans a path for them to leave to get to their destination and they left. We were very happy that they did not harm us, but in a few days again we saw partisans, but this time it was different; five partisans stood next to our bunker with assorted weaponry, even with a grenade launcher. They ordered us all to leave the bunker, and they asked all our names. They immediately beat up and bloodied Yosef Paderski. They demanded Mitke's rifle, because when they saw us the first time, they understood that we had beaten Mitke and taken his rifle. Two armed partisans told me to stand aside, in order that I would tell them where the rifle was and then they would take us to the “otriad” (a partisan detachment). However, if I will not disclose what they wanted to know, they will shoot me. However, previously, under any circumstances we decided not to disclose that we possess the rifle.

I told the partisans that they can do what they want to do, my life is not dear to me and they can shoot me, but we do not have any rifle. I heard shots from the bunker, and I thought that they shot one of our group and then they would shoot us all, but they shot no-one except for one of our group, who they beat with the butt of the rifle. They left and took Yosef Paderski with them and they told us that we should not go anywhere, as they will always find us. When they took Yosef Paderski away, about one hundred metres from us, they instructed him to run away, and then they shot in the air, and that was the end of the episode.

[Pages 596-597]

It was either a Thursday or Friday when Tzirel Mendelewski went into labour. I became the midwife. I told the men to leave, but her husband remained with us. I cut up a sack, and spread it out on the ground. The bunker is dark, we illuminate the bunker by taking bark from the birches and when they dry out we light them. This causes a lot of smoke initially and with these candles her husband provides the light. I helped her as the midwife and a little golden baby boy is born. It was decided that his name is Yossele, because her first son was shot by the Germans, and his name was Yossele.

We are now a group of eight people; my brother goes at night to the gentiles and finds a little box from which pigs and cows had eaten. It was brought to the bunker, and my brother, with a knife made a crib with four ropes. He attaches it to the beams, and they start rocking their son. I poured warm water into a big dish and I bathed the child.

After the child was born, we had no means of having him wrapped. The father decided to go to a gentile, whose home is a kilometer away, to ask for some “shmattes” (rags). The snow was melting and there were big pools in the meadows. This is before Purim and it is still very cold. He comes to the gentile and she gives him a whole bag of “shmattes” (rags), and he goes home happily. We wait a long time, the father of the child does not come, my brother says we should go and see what happened; perhaps he is drowning. My brother takes along Eliezer and Yosef Paderski and they take a large stick and they proceed. They come to the end of a pool and then they heard a voice shouting ; “Jews, I am drowning”. They moved closer and they saw that the father of the child was standing in water up to his neck and he is drowning. My brother passed him the stick and drags him out. He is pale and trembling and they proceeded to go home all sopping wet.

This is what happened; in the meadow there was a deep swamp; a type of round, standing rivulet. When the water flowed one could not see where the swamp was, and he landed directly in the middle swamp. Had my brother not gone to search for him, he certainly would have drowned.

At night, the son cries; he is hungry. His mother eats very little as she doesn't have much to eat and she does not have milk to feed the child. The child cries and we cannot sleep. We all keep quiet and the father rocks the child and curses that he would have been better off drowning instead of landing in such a situation; that a child should be born under such awful circumstances. We all laugh at him and time passes. The child grew and it is already after Pesach. We decide to go to a second forest, to find the Mir Jews and to get further information. We get up at night; myself, my brother and our cousin Eliezer. We go at night, because during the day we could meet up with partisans or police. We cross the river; we come to the forest where the Mir Jews are. We discovered that the Mirrer experienced a tragedy; their bunkers were destroyed and they fled. Four people were caught by the Germans and chased into the river and they drowned.

We go further into the forest and we find a bunker. My cousin proceeds a few steps and he heard the sound of snoring. He came back and he said that there may be wolves down there; my brother asked him to go down again, suddenly Farfel from Nesvich appears out of the bunker with a son and daughter in law, as well as Tevil Razovski from Der Mir and Pinye Mendelovitz. They were very excited to meet us and they took us to the other Jews of Der Mir.

There were another sixty people and they lived above ground. We spent a whole day with them and we returned later that evening. From that time onwards we would visit them every week, and later we decided to move to their camp. My brother built a hut, and we were together with the Mirrer.

[Pages 598-599]

There we also met Hirshel Pernikov and his wife, Sarah. Sarah was near the end of her pregnancy. At the time that I joined them, she was in labour. I was called to attend to her, she was lying in a collapsed bunker. I heated up a bucket of water and I sat and waited. I ask her husband if he has matchsticks and he confirmed that he had. He tries to strike the matchsticks but they did not light. The husband then went to look for matchsticks in a second camp. This is a kilometer away. Both of us remained in the bunker and it was already dark. A little girl was born, and I bathed her in the bucket of water, which had already become quite cold. I wrapped the baby. At the moment the ceiling started collapsing over our heads, tons of earth had been lying on top of the roof of the bunker, and I feel that we would soon be covered by earth. I said to Sarah; “come out because we soon will be totally covered”. Sarah got up and we crawled out of the bunker; the baby is in my arms and I took a sack and spread it out on the ground and I instructed her to lie down and wrapped them in the sack. I then took off my fur and covered them. It was already night time and her husband came back with matchsticks. We decided to ask other people to carry her to another bunker, but that bunker also collapsed. What should we do? We decided to take them to our camp. Next to my hut a new hut was built. We decided to put them into the new hut, about a kilometer away. I carried the baby and four people carried Sarah. We came to the hut at midnight. We put Sarah into the hut and I took the baby. In the morning I brought the baby to Sarah.

We spent the whole summer in that camp, and we had enough to sustain ourselves. This was the 15th of July 1943, there was a military operation in the whole area. In the morning the Germans were everywhere, but we did not know about this.

When my brother and I went into the village to ask for bread, a gentile asked my brother “where are you going? There are Germans everywhere”. We returned to the forest and warned all the Jews. We grabbed our belongings and go to a second forest. The group of Jews surround us, as they don't want to leave us, because my brother knew the whole area.

Tzirel Mendelewski was carrying the baby, who is already four months old.

There was shooting and screaming throughout the forest. The Germans advanced and see a new path. They followed this path into the forest where we were sitting quietly. We were extremely fortunate that the baby was asleep. We were a group of twenty five people, and for five days we were surrounded by Germans until they left.

A month later we decided to leave the forest where we were and go to the Naliboki Forest. It was seventy five kilometers away and we walked all the way. We all walked including the two women with their small babies. Two days later we arrived at the Bielski Otriad. However, Bielski and his armed fighters were not at the Otriad. Kessler, the Commander, was at the Otriad. The same day that we arrived, Bielski and his fighters also returned, the “family” grew and there was a total of twelve hundred people.

Bielski took over command. Workshops were built; there were tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, hairdressers and even watchmakers.

I was part of the group of tailors. I worked a lot as I was responsible for the whole production and I was thanked in the report which was read by Bielski the Commander. Not everyone received this recognition. I also stood guard at the post many times in the freezing cold. Younger people than me did not stand guard, as in general one needed to have favouritism.

We spent a year at the Bielski Otriad and it was already July 1944. The Germans began to retreat. The partisans captured living Germans.

[Pages 600-601]

It was then organized that all the armed partisans should remain outside the camp. My brother was amongst these people as he had a rifle which I had given him. This was a gift from my present husband, Berkowitcz, when he came to visit us from the Chkalovskaya Brigade. My brother came and went to sleep and I went to the workshop.

Suddenly we heard shooting; our armed partisans started running because they heard Germans and they wanted to capture them. When our partisans were running in one direction, one hundred Germans came running from the other direction and there was a massive shootout.

I carried on sewing until I heard the Commander shouting; “pass the mortar”. Then I understood that this is not a joke and I ran to wake my brother. When I was running bullets were flying like hailstones; I ran into the bunker. My brother quickly dressed and took the rifle. At that time an injured tailor from Novugrodok, crawled in through the window. His name was Simcha. In a few minutes time, a German appeared at the window. My brother shot him and he was injured in the leg. The Germans were close and started shooting at our bunker. My brother then said; “Esther, run after me”. We ran out of the bunker. The bullets were flying like rain. We ran through the mud and waited until it quietened down.

When we came back to our camp, eight Jews had been killed. Amongst them, was Avraham Shizuk.

The worst days were the days before we left the forest, as from all directions there was shooting and we did not know in which direction to run. In our Otriad there were many old people and little children, and thus the panic was even greater than normal.

On the third day after the Germans had arrived, we all left the forest in the direction of Novogrudok. We walked for two days and in Novogrudok we were issued with temporary documents. Each one then left for his village.

My brother and I with our knapsacks on our backs met Russian soldiers, who were on their way to Der Mir. We arrived with them in the shtetl.

With a great pain in my heart, I approached the place where my house had been and where I had given birth to my three children, and where they grew up.

It was difficult to recognize, that once there was a house with three stables. The gentiles planted potatoes and beans which grew very well.

A New Commander

Fearful and concerned faces; what occurred, a new decree? Yes, a new Commandant from Turetz has arrived. An oppressor, a murderer and a bloodthirsty leech. The terrible news is passed on by word of mouth, and we avoid going outdoors; being invisible is the best solution.

The day is ending.

After nightfall we feel more secure. In the dark it is easier to cope. There's a knock on the window; there is a messenger from the Judenrat; on the morrow at 8.00 a.m. everybody between the ages of 15 to 60 must assemble in the market place. It was a sleepless night, and from our previous experiences, we knew what to expect when told to go to the market place.

Quietly in our hearts we part with the nearest and dearest. The thought arises; whether tomorrow we will all still be together, who knows, tomorrow..... tomorrow.....

The first victim of the new Commandant was actually not a Jew; a peasant from a neighboring village, and another peasant was angry with him and he therefore handed him over to the new Commandant. When they came to murder him, they actually decided to mentally torture him.

The peasant was a very powerful man, and he screamed so loudly that the whole village heard everything. They decided in order to quiet him that they would use another method; they tied a belt around his neck and simply strangled him. We saw at night, how they were carrying kerosene lamps in a nearby garden, and that's where they buried the new victim. From this house, several Jews were taken to do the burial. In the morning at 8.00 a.m., everyone poured out of their homes, fearful and resigned to their destiny. Fortunately nothing happened on this day. The new Commandant displayed a nice gesture and did not harm anyone; he simply ordered everybody to go daily at the agreed time to their workplace.

He knew very well that the Mir Jews would not escape, and he would always have the opportunity to wallow in their blood. It is worthwhile to note that at early days following his arrival in Der Mir, a teacher from a nearby town, a certain Vladimir Petrovich Tzorik, was able to influence him. When the Commandant would start misbehaving with the Jews, we would immediately approach Tzorik, and he was able to influence him positively and he held back. Later, Tzorik did not help either and we stopped approaching him.

[Pages 603-604]

Coffee Beans

It was a regular Friday. However, for us it was no longer a regular Friday as we are now under an evil regime whose motto is to destroy the Jews. A higher ranking military man comes and he asks for the host. I declare myself as the hostess. There is a plastered cellar. He requests the key. I give him the key and he indicates with a wink that I should accompany him. I am certain that he will shoot me in the cellar. Why not? I remain calm, and my panic stricken family follows us, and I understand that they think the same as I do. He asks me to open and to go in ahead of him. The coward is scared of an explosion, and perhaps even the walls will start shooting at him!? He checks out momentarily the interior and then goes out and I follow him. I lock the door and he takes the key and leaves. Everything is done by gestures, without talking. The family are happy that I survived but we cannot understand why he took the key. This means that the show is not over. At midday he sends back the key. Everything is okay.

It is now evening and everyone is at home. It is now the quiet hour. Everything is dead quiet, no candles in the windows, only the moon was shining. Suddenly there is a signal from a whistle. We look around and wonder what this means. In the distance we see human silhouettes. As they approach we see military people as well as two civilians. They approach directly to our house. It is the same military with several soldiers. One of the civilians is a man called Gliksman, a refugee from Lodz as well as Ephraim Sinder. The two Jews are dead scared. When Gliksman was initially taken, he was taken to bid farewell to the family because they will never see each other again. Probably he told Ephraim Sinder the same.

The officer immediately calls me. I approach him and two words are uttered; Coffee Beans!! I tell him that we do not have any coffee beans, and I offer him all sorts of other things that are worthwhile. His answer is “coffee beans”! Minute by minute he becomes angrier and we are totally confused. Amongst the fighters there was someone who spoke Polish, “save yourselves and give him coffee beans”, but where do we get these? Finally an order was given; “alle raus!” (everyone out). Everyone leaves the house, children and adults. The sleeping children, the small, unfortunate babies, who still do not understand anything. We wrap them in blankets, the mothers are petrified that the children should not catch a cold. We take them out of the house, and everyone stands in line. The rogue stands opposite us and plays with his revolver. He gives us to understand, that if he does not receive his request “something will happen”, the familiar phrase, that is that we should not rely on his good intentions. I was the only one to find coffee beans. I run to the nearby neighbors to see if anyone has coffee beans, and some do not have, and the ones that do have, are not prepared to give us as they keep them in reserve in the event that he may have to barter the coffee beans for himself and his family. I run around like a “poisoned mouse” and time does not stand still. The brain works intensively, how “on earth” can I save them? Again and again I run into the house and I rip the walls with my eyes – a miracle should occur!!!.

Suddenly....... my eyes spot a tin box full of sweet of things. With full force I tear the box open, and I also find a forgotten box of cocoa. My only hope. I run out with great pleasure. I give it to him and he smells it and feels it; “chocolate”!!! Great. We were ordered to disperse. He is not miserly to give me a few good beatings on the head, which at this moment I did not even feel. Exhausted and ashamed, but nevertheless fortunate, we all enter the house. Whispering quietly, thank G-d we endured with fear.

[Pages 605-606]

In the morning we discover that we were not the only ones with whom the sadist played his game.

It is early morning in the summer. We are all lying spread out on the floor. Not an inch of empty space. We sleep restlessly. Suddenly a bang on the door and the door bursts open. A tall German with a murderous face stands in the doorway. We tear ourselves up from our places, in a moment we are fully awake and sleep disappears. With a whistle and hand motion which means; “get out of here”, and we understand what he means. We leave the room in a hurry. Our hearts beats as we jump out. He looks around, what he needs to do, and by the way, whoever is in his way, he beats us with steel hands with all his might. He orders us to prepare two rooms where he wishes to accommodate his senior officer. With the greatest precision, we fulfill his command. We wish to prevent any reason that may anger this wicked man.

When we finish the work, we see on all the doors leading to this room, swastikas, as well as the words “entry for Jews is forbidden”.

We are shocked; this is just the beginning – we think. The house is filled with people. Having taken away two rooms from us, the house becomes even more crowded. Nevertheless, who notices this? We speak quietly holding our breaths; even the little children maintain their silence. Regarding food and daily work – is not relevant. The only wish is that the wicked man will not think about us.

That day I had the courage and the desire to “bite” the rogue; and therefore to prevent terrible consequences. There are still people that needed protection; the whole family was still alive. I followed him with my willingness to do whatever he requested. He gave me his boots to polish and I polish them, he asks me to wash and repair his socks I also did this. I do not know if he wants to subjugate me or simply rather that I should do it, instead of him doing it himself. The fact is that after all the work is finished, I notice that the swastika had been removed and also the words “for Jews”. The only thing that remained was “entry forbidden”. At that moment it is a great satisfaction for us.

It came to mind Thank G-d we endured with fear.

[Pages 607-608]

The morning after the “shechitah” (slaughter); no living creature in the streets. Only the police were moving around freely; and even the peasants avoid being seen. They believe that if they started with the Jews, then it will end with them, the peasants. Nevertheless, the peasants were still alive, dwelling in their homes, sleeping in their beds and eating until fully satiated.

A stable German regime was established, headed by Meister Hein. The first time that he traversed the shtetl, he noticed that from every spot bloody silhouettes of the victims were screaming, he then remarked that a “huge pigsty” was created here. Jews were shot as if they were dogs in the street. When Meister Hein organized the slaughter in the village Liochovitz, (Lakhva) all the Jews went to the graves in groups of “four”. There must be order! It must be admitted that Meister Hein was not a natural sadist; however, when he received an order, he fulfilled it precisely.

Here and there we hear shooting. We are shaken by every shot, we are going to be eradicated, and the peasants believe the same, are optimistic that they will once again benefit.

The fear stemming from the last action, leads us without any liveliness. Even our own shadow frightens us, as we walk around our empty streets, dead quiet like a cemetery.

When we became very tired and really did not have enough strength to be no longer fearful, we were at peace for a while with our situation and thinking what makes us so special that we can avoid our fate? There was one difference; when we go, there will be nobody left to remember;

With us it will end.

And the children? The sad situation of the small children is that they have accepted their fate, depressed by the thought that they will be left shot and lying dead, and that the peasants' children will make fun of them after seeing their dead bodies. A thought arose in their young minds and a feeling for revenge arose. The Judenrat registers the 850 surviving Jews, who are displaced in various parts of the shtetl. An order was given to place us in one section of the village so that they can keep an eye on us, and be under constant surveillance. A small fenced ghetto was erected, it was known as the A.G. Jewish Quarter, which was comprised of parts of the following four streets: Shulhof, Zawalna, Tartarski and Visake. The peasants, who lived in this area, were re-settled into the few Jewish houses that survived the fire. Naturally, they are not too happy. Had this occurred before the fire, they would have been very pleased to swap their small and low huts with the larger Jewish houses. Now he has no place for himself, and no stable for his animals; however, he knows that his evacuation will not last very long; he has already seen what happens to Jews.

Besides the German authority there was also the civilian authority in charge of the Jewish quarter; the mayor, Belanowicz,, an upstart originally from Lodz, whom we had no fear of; in the worst situation it will just cost money. He actually receives a monthly retainer from the Judenrat, and if the retainer doesn't arrive on the due date he sends workers to fence in the ghetto; when the payment is made he recalls the workers.

[Pages 609-610]

When we return from work but not in a “foursome” or if we left a few minutes earlier, he appears in front of us and takes out his watch. We then understand that he will start his performance. Within a short a time, he comes to the Judenrat, shouting and cursing, informing them that he needs bed sheets, and, thus, this is how he plays his games with us.

We are living in very crowded and cramped conditions. We should G-d forbid not be taken out of these cramped conditions, and we should be cramped and uncomfortable until salvation. This word “salvation” does not leave our lips. We wish that we should all live to see salvation, but salvation is not rushing to arrive.

Every day we go to work to various places. When we leave we are not at all sure that we shall return. Germans drive past and can freely and easily emit a hail of bullets from their machine guns. This has happened more than once. We work in a place that is ten kilometres from town, and winter, as usual is heavy with frost and snow. We clear and clean the roads, we pile up walls of snow, much higher than we are, in order to have a wide thoroughfare in the middle. We are very talented, and hopefully the Germans will appreciate it and allow us to live. What did we not do in order to remain alive? The expected live span is very short; it could be a day or an hour.

When we come back from work, we grab something to eat. The majority of the people are on their own, torn away from their extended families. They also have to supply for oneself the meagre food; everything was done in a hurry. We form a minyan (prayer quorum), and kaddish is said; children for parents and parents for children. We pray the afternoon and evening prayers and we say ‘the Lord your God is true’.

There is no spare time. Tomorrow is another day. If we will survive until tomorrow we will have to work once again, so we put ourselves to sleep but we spend a sleepless night.

During the sleepless nights, when we would lie with open eyes until the grey morning, and dreaming about a rescue, and a thought would arise; maybe this is only a nightmare.

Russian prisoners are being shot; they are not weighed down with small children or parents and they therefore run into the forests and whisper to each other about Partisan encampments. Legends are created about them; that they are in contact with Russia, and that arms are dropped to them from aeroplanes, and, in fact, at that time, it was only imagined stories.

The partisans in the years 1941 and 1942 were a nonexistent force. Very few of them even had arms; often they came to the peasants to collect food, with a sharpened piece of wood in a holster, instead of a revolver. However, we, in our desperation, would grab any minor thought that would raise our hopes. The only thing that we were capable of doing, was to think in one's head, where the murdered could not reach. We would really fantasize about these things when we discussed aeroplanes; thus if aeroplanes arrive, they fly back to their origin. It would have been the happiest moment for us, so that the few surviving Jews would be saved. A moment of impossible happiness. When we will survive the liberation, we will deal harshly with everyone. The Free World will be guilt-ridden about us, and shall compensate us for all our terrible suffering.

The first thing we intend to do is to capture Hitler. We comforted ourselves with these thoughts during these difficult times; we could not estimate the relevant punishment. Every punishment we thought of was just not enough, but we will find something and, once we finish with Hitler, we shall deal with the police, and all the gentiles who exposed the hidden Jews in the critical times. And, afterwards….

In the meantime, a few Jews were captured and were shot. Unfortunately, they came across a group of gentiles.

[Pages 611-612]

This all occurred when the Commandant Serafinowicz was ordered to arrest White Russian activists. He decided that for him it would be easier to shoot a few Jews, because the White Russians might, in the future, take revenge upon him, whereas none of the Jews would ever remain to take revenge.

He then decided to attend to the Jews. On a Sunday, which is also for us regarded as a day of rest, he chased out all the Jews including the Judenrat. There is a heavy frost and the sun shines brightly.

The Haman (Serafinowicz), alone on his white horse, chases us, and we run with our last strength. He laughs when he sees our response and he enjoys the fun.

The winter is coming to the end. Days are becoming longer, the sky is clearer and the sun is warming. When the ground became warm, a stream of blood, appeared from the mass grave, which was on the road to Stolpze.

The Germans told the Judenrat that the Jews should cover the blood with chlorine, because they cannot stand the sight of Jewish blood, and they are even afraid of dead Jewish blood,

And an epidemic might occur, and an epidemic does not choose its victims. We then go and make our martyrs blood “harmless”.

Pesach. Our beloved festival of Pesach, where did you lose yourself? Not that long ago, a year ago, we were actually together with our families. Who could have imagined such a great disaster? Jews sit in shock and are weeping loudly, and mourning again and again their young mutilated children, families and friends.

The gentiles demand their homes, they do not wish to suffer because of the Jews. The Jews anyway have to be shot, so let it be done as soon as possible, and a delegation travel to Baranovich to meet with the officer in charge of this area. There, they received a reply that they should wait, as it will not take much longer until all the Jews will be shot; nevertheless one should wait. They ordered that the Jews must be led out of the town into a permanent ghetto and this is now the first step to make our shtetl Judenrein.

The first few weeks after the arrival of the German army, there was no continuous local government. From time to time there were victims. The first victim was Shepsel Zuchavitzki, the second victim was Hendel Gilmuvski. They dragged Chatzkel the butcher away and he never came back. Subsequently, the SS staff chose a Judenreit, as well as a civilian Polish local government, which was later replaced with a White Russian local government.

We were under the command of the SS that was based in Stolpce, and they would often come into Mir. Various commands were given that the Judenreit had to obey, very often under difficult circumstances, for two reasons; firstly, the village was never a wealthy village, and secondly everything was burnt. Nevertheless, we made every effort to satisfy these criminals; as time passed their appetite grew, and they were no longer satisfied with just coffee, soap and leather. They demanded gold, silver and furs; Jews that had cattle were forced to give them away. In general, they robbed us as much as possible, but as long as it only involved money, we were able to endure this. At that time they were even polite.

One of the functions was also to supply free labour at different areas, which the government requested. If a peasant wanted a Jewish worker he had

[Pages 613-614]

to approach the local magistrate and pay for the Jewish worker, and the Jewish worker was not at all compensated. Our lives became worthless, as well as our labour and our possessions. There were cases where Jews managed to reach an agreement with the peasant, where the Jews refunded the money to the peasant, in order to spend the day with that peasant and not to be in the village. There were very few peasants that were trustworthy.

All the people between the ages of 15 and 60 were regarded as capable workers. The first ones in the lines of work seekers were always Todres Feinstein with his wife, Malka. People thought that all these capable workers had a chance to survive. The elderly and children would remain at home. These elderly people had enough time to consider the situation, which did not bode well for the future. They could not find any comfort as they could see the danger that their children were in. Their only hope was that in the event of a massacre, the capable workers would not be shot and the young ones would be chosen to live. And, hopefully the war would come to an end in the meantime. Anyhow the children would be saved. As if they would happily accept their fate! Amongst all these hopeful people, were also my parents. Unfortunately their wishes were not fulfilled. All were executed, adults and children, as well as the old and the young.

There were rumours that the total population in villages were murdered. We, therefore, searched for reasons, as we did not want to accept that the only reason is that we are Jews. However, if there was a reason in those villages, we intend to prevent this happening to us. It was impossible to know exactly why it happened, because there is no direct connection. The danger is approaching. We are not at peace, how can we save ourselves, we have little children, who don't know what is about to happen to them? Impossible. Many have already made a decision; either everyone lives or everyone dies. No one of the family should survive, in order that he should not cry his whole life, even if he saves himself. And, this is how hope and desperation occur day and night.

Saturday, 8 November 1941 the SS people arrived stormily to the Judenreit, screaming and shouting. Everything was thrown and chucked about. The Judenreit could not calm them, it was impossible to try and calm them with anything. After having stormed in they drove away. Having got rid of them we were able to breathe more easily. However, for how long? They knew very well that tomorrow they will see us in a different way altogether.

Saturday night. We are returning home. Those from work, those from the kind gentile, to whom in a panic we ran to save the family. The family gathers around the table. Everyone is very happy to see each other. We are so fortunate. Everyone is sitting around the table; we are eating and discussing the happenings of that day. After the meal we lie down in our soft beds, but sleep doesn't come. This is our last night with family, the last night before our destruction. Sunday the 9.11; a damp and foggy dawn. It is not yet broad daylight. Suddenly there is gunfire. We jump out of bed, there is havoc, and everybody is running! It is already too late. The village is surrounded from all sides with a dense cordon formed by police and Germans. They start going for the Jews. There is no longer any time or opportunity to decide, the brain is now paralyzed. Running away is no longer in our thoughts. Hiding in the house – where? In the chimney, in the attic, in the cellar or in the annex? You cannot find any place to hide, wherever you will hide they will search for you and they will find you. For me, personally, it was a most fortunate day. Together with my son we ran to an unknown peasant. He took the risk and hid us in a pigsty under the manure. When the pigs were satiated they would lie down on top of our legs, they would roll up their bodies into a little heap, which protected us. It appeared to us as if the animals wanted to help.

Whatever was in the warehouse of the Judenreit, was all plundered. Tables and chairs were smashed, the books were torn and the members of the Judenreit were chased away. Those managed to hide and those who still had strength to do a calculation, as in this world it is impossible to live,

[Pages 615-616]

went to the market place from where the road led to the grave.

There is shooting all over, including the market and the streets. Before you will die you will become a lunatic because of the horrific sights. People collapse in puddles of blood. The lucky ones die immediately and the others suffering until a magnanimous policeman let him have the final help, a bullet. The police do not have enough time.

They have to plunder and murder. The opportunities were beyond belief. Here is a creature spreading murder; here a familiar person and there another unknown person.

The Mir cantor, Reb Wolf Skliar o.b.m., together with the son in law of the Rabbi, Reb Chaim Yitzhak o.b.m., walk through the streets

The cantor Shkliar

In this way he wanted the Jews to understand what is about to transpire.

The streets are overflowing with people; everybody is being led to the market. Henoch the carpenter is walking with his family of five. Before they reach the market, they become a threesome, having lost the older two sons on the way and for the mother and the father two worlds have been lost. Their emotional situation is subdued so that they cannot even react, while they are standing amongst many Jews who are saying their final confessions and shaking hands and requesting forgiveness from each other. Those, who under normal circumstances, were even considering the possibility of death, nevertheless went directly to their graves. Possibly it is easier to die together.

Standing in rows, the people are chosen; who for life and who for death. The fittest were separated to live, while old people and other Jews to death. People are departing with silent glances.

Between the first rows of Jews and the Germans, there was a machine gun as well as a dish, wherein Jews have to discard the rest of their gold and silver belongings. They probably never had very much and very little has remained. Amongst the Mirrer Jews was the Mir Rabbi, Rabbi Kamai o.b.m. as the Rabbi's wife subsequently told me, they both decided to proceed willingly on that critical day to the market, that is, not as part of the convoy. On the way, there was a possibility of hiding themselves. On that day, she managed to save herself. The Rabbi continued towards the market, his motive for doing this is that if even something will happen to one single Jew, while the Rabbi is present, he must be with his flock and share their fate. As was subsequently reported, he gave the people moral support. How did such a weakling, the Mirrer Rabbi, become so brave? With his shrunken body, small, thin hands, nevertheless with his bright eyes and his good hearted smiling face, upon which rested the grace of the Kamai family.

The rows become more congested. Here is Maishel Pasmanic and his family. He is holding the hand

[Pages 617-618]

of a little child. “My little boy, are you cold? We will all be very warm soon”, is the answer.

Bentzi Iliya Chaim and his family are present. Chaim Lees says to him; “Bentzi let us throw ourselves at the machine gun!” – “not worth it” – is the answer. Total surrender. Already more dead, than alive.

Rivka, Chaim Velvel's wife is running with three children. One collapses and dies. She does not turn around and carries on running with the other two.

And, there, at the gravesites, which are all on the outskirts of the town, there the bloodbath is in full force. The murderers are working unceasingly. Now, they bring Henach the butcher was brought with his very large family.

In front of the mother they shoot her youngest son. She faints and Henach supports her.

Lazer Monta with his wife and daughter are also there. They have to wait until the grave is prepared. He lights up a cigarette and also give cigarettes to the Gentile gravediggers. “khloptzi kapayte skarai (׆guys, dig quickly”). Let it come to an end now.

They bring more and more Jews to the grave next to the old building, and with the final Shema Yisrael they become silent.

And thus the blood bath lasted twenty four hours. A white snowfall occurred and covered the gruesome destruction.

Chanuka 1942. It was a difficult winter. One morning, two of the permanent “residences” of our “zemlyanka” an underground bunker, departed; Sima Berger (in Mir known as Sima Berkes) and her future son-in-law, Avraham Shmuel Malishevski. Masha, Sima's daughter remained with us. They went to the surrounded villages to beg for a few slices of bread and a few potatoes from the peasants. The whole day passed and they did not return. Normally one would return a few hours later, having received help. We are very concerned. We move around with heavy hearts. We do not want to believe that something has happened to them. We comfort ourselves hoping that they went to a distant village, or lost their way in the forest. As long as one did not think what occurred or actually occurred. In the morning they still did not return. We find out that in one of the nearby villages they were caught and were taken to Mir. We already know all the details.

We do not tell the truth to Masha. Nevertheless, she understands very well why they have been delayed. She cries, but does not give up hope.

Avraham Shmuel being very agile would surely have tried to escape. He cannot abandon Sima on her own with the murderers, and remains with her. They are brought to Mir, which is already Judenrein on Sunday. The peasants, who were in a jubilant mood on their day of rest, received a pleasant surprise; they caught a few familiar Jews, and they were merrily greeted. The news about this extraordinary “bargain” spreads like wildfire. Others manage to run from their homes to catch a glimpse of this extraordinary sight; Wow!! Sima and Avraham Shmuel.

The peasants as well as the captured, know very well what awaits them. They put them into a “ podval” (a simple cellar in a Jewish home). A few days pass; they want to know where the remainder of the Jews is, as their existence bothers the Third Reich. However, they are unable to extract anything from these two. Familiar police come in to them, they are dreaming about what kind of “ inheritance” they will receive; each one of them wants to have the pleasure of shooting Sima and Avraham Shmuel. By the way, they propose to exchange their boots; instead of

[Pages 619-620]

their good boots they give their old, torn boots. This is a very “polite” action, as anyway they no longer need anything ……

And one night, possibility the last night, Avraham Shmuel started examining closely the cellar; what could be of assistance? He spotted the only stool, which was there. He grabbed one of its legs, with which he tried to separate the frame from the grille of the window. The frame was loosened, but it was only early evening. Because it was still early he had to risk remaining in the cellar until midnight. After midnight, when the guard left, to warm himself and to have a few winks, being certain that their victims won't run anywhere else, that's when the miracle occurred. The leg of the wooden stool became a tool to break the grille. Avraham Shmuel, who is by trade a locksmith, shook up the frame, which was released together with the grille. He went out, and pulled Sima behind him. At dawn they managed to reach our dugout, having suffered from fear of death. During that night, when we were lying and drowning with thoughts about their terrible their fate, which will eventually become our fate, we suddenly heard them shouting their loud shout;

- Good morning, brothers.

These were the rescued Sima and Avraham Shmuel. It was a most joyful moment, accompanied by crying hysterically. This incident encouraged and motivated us not to become despondent, and it is possible that even with us miracles will occur. This happened exactly on the seventh day of Chanuka, and remained for us the miracle of the seventh candle.

Yes, do you want to know the taste of a buckwheat “latke”? Thus, in order to know the taste, the first thing you have to do is be a Jew under Hitler's occupation; being often so hungry, one would not consider this great disaster; running in the forest, day and night and being lined up in order to be shot, either by Germans or Partisans. The sole difference between the Germans and the Partisans is only in their name, but when it came to murdering Jews, either of them did it with the greatest of pleasure.

Either being soaked in the rain, or frozen by the cold weather, being muddied and lice ridden, and with great fear to leave the forest in order to go to the village for a little bit of food, walking with a few potatoes on the boney back; the heavier that the sack is, it was so much easier to carry, crossing the river in the rain and wind beating us from all sides, tearing the rag from one's head, as if even mother nature was against us.

Near the forest, there was a new house. Is this really a house? It's a palace! When one draws closer to the palace, one is completely exhausted, and one needs to rest here.

The surrounding of the new house is a witness of a normal and peaceful life of its inhabitants; as much as it could have been normal and peaceful in these days. The stables, the horses and the chickens – all in their proper places and even the dog and the cat in their spots; the dog is in his kennel, the cat on top of the oven. The timber under a roof, packed up in an orderly fashion, and the little wooden chips carefully swept away.

By Khariteh, the peasant, there must be order even during his holidays, during his work days or when he is at rest. He is not a Jew, so it is different.

[Pages 621-622]

The main thing, it was a house; there it is truly paradise; dry, clean, warm and properly nourished. There are beds with high pillows, a table, stools, and the house has windows with glass panes; though our eyes were no longer accustomed to look through glass. I have completely forgotten that such a thing as glass exists in the world.

In the house there is something else; something that covers everything – this is a shelf with large loaves of bread, which emits a wonderful aroma, it makes my head spin, and I devour them with my eyes.

And, he, the peasant, does not even take notice of the bread. Why doesn't he chew it? One assumes that he is not a stupid Gentile, but he really has a peasant's brain, and does not know what is really good. Had I been in his place I would do nothing, I would only chew bread, with real huge bites. I come into the house humbly, because we are not rare guests (one comes out and two go in). The oven is heated, the fire crackles very happily, and buckwheat latkes are being baked. When he sees me, his face becomes serious and even a little sad. He moves a stool next to the oven for me, so that I can dry out – and warm myself. He gives me a big buckwheat latke.

Many years later – now being fully satiated, I cannot forget Khariteh's compassion in that gruesome situation.

I survived the horrific Hitler's hell, which European Jewry experienced; I survived in the hamlet of Dolmatovshchina^[1]. That is where my parents lived and that is where they perished together with most of the family, as well as many other Jews.

The hamlet of Dolmatovshchina was well known to everyone in Mir. Every day, the grain merchants, cheese and butter merchants, butchers, horse dealers, good friends as well as acquaintances would come to Dolmatovshchina to do business. It was great fun to travel from Dolmatovshchina to Mir. However, all this occurred before the arrival of the terrible Hitler-authority. We suddenly were torn apart from each other.

We were as weak as the flies on the wall. It was a very cold autumn with terrible rain, and at that particular point in time, the bandits began their actions. The solution was the “cleansing of Jews”. Terrible news reached us from the surrounding villages.

We heard that Horevichi, Yeremichi, Berezhno and Turetz no longer exist, and that the murderers are approaching the gates of Mir. Really, a week after what happened in Turetz, 19^th of Cheshvan 5702 (9^th November, 1941), the massacre occurred in my dear village of Mir.

On Sunday morning being chased, they brought us to work in the Zuchowicze fields, and hearing the regular firing that emanated from the area of Mir, we immediately understood the terrible disaster. In the evening when the Zuchowicze Germans arrived, elated after the ‘joyous occasion’, they laughingly told us that they sent the largest portion of Mir Jews on vacation.

I decided to go and see the remaining and unfortunate Jews of Mir. A few days later I informed my parents that I was going to see the situation of Jews in the Mir Ghetto. My father gave me his blessing and wished me that G-d will let me be successful, my mother shed a tear.

The next morning I decided

[Pages 623-624]

to go, but the question was, how does one go? Going as a Jew was too dangerous as I was wearing the two yellow patches, the symbol of being a Jew. My parents advised me to go as a gentile, and not to go take the regular paths.

The whole night I prepared for my journey, and at 5.00 a.m. in the morning I left our area via a side path. It was a very cold and misty morning and for me it was very useful. I walked with firm steps and I encouraged myself; nevertheless my heart was beating furiously. Occasionally I would look at my surroundings to see where I was in the world, and I saw on all roads many peasant couples. I realized and reminded myself that today is Monday, the market day in Mir. The peasants are transporting cheese, butter, eggs, chickens and all sorts of grains to the market, in order to earn a few zlotys from the Jews.

I reminded myself about the terrible reality that these peasants from surrounding villages are travelling to plunder. Everyone was waiting for the Jewish possessions; Poles, Tartars, Russians, White Russians, Ukrainians, Lithuanians and others.

The evil Hitler-authority, gave everybody the right to shoot, hang and to beat and just to make fun of the Jews. It was actually regarded as a good deed. Each one was travelling in order to lick a bone dripping with fat. The Mirrer Jews were shot and their shoes were ripped off from (their feet) them, the last pair of shoes and the last shirt.

I was totally involved in my very bitter thoughts, that I did not notice that not very far from me, a group of people were walking under a very strict guard. Who are these people? Where are they being taken, and what crime did these people do that they are being led in such a convoy? No, these are a few frozen, hungry, oppressed Mirrer Jews. They are being chased to forced labor. They are walking with heads bowed, with the terrible yellow sign on the chest.

They walk and ask G-d for a quick death. They are being led by police hooligans and being headed by the terrible bloodsucker ‘Matchook’ and other ‘fine personalities’.

I quickly left the road and joined all the other pedestrians, who were going to the market. I wanted to make sure that the bandits would not notice me. A cold shiver went through my body, when I reached the understanding that the whole street was packed, and each one had something on his wagon, bloodied eiderdowns, cushions, blankets, linen, kitchen utensils and other things; tables, chairs, dressers, samovars, candlesticks, prayer shawls, from which they subsequently made blouses and kerchiefs. These damned animals were having a great time. They will now become wealthy, they have the right to take away Jewish homes, taking apart walls and transporting them to their villages.

I cross Zuchowiczer Street with a broken heart and in a sad mood. I completely forget that I am an unfortunate Jewish child and am wearing the yellow patch under my peasant clothing and not walk “like an animal” in the middle of the road, but as a human being on the sidewalk. Suddenly a scene comes to my mind; a beautiful winter morning, the peasants travelling to market. The stores are overflowing, the merchants dressed in short zakopianske fur coats, with smart fur lined boots or regular boots and warm hats. They wander around the streets in a great hurry, each one wants to overtake and beat the other, and each one wants to earn something, having waited a whole week for the market.

The artisans displayed their equipment; metal and wooden vessels, fur lined boots, shoes, boots and children's items. Hat makers display their hats. There is a whole fair around the broad booths; the pale bakers, lacking in sleep, carry every few moments their bread, buns and bagels. One can hear the drunken singing of the peasants coming from the liquor booths, a sign that they are about to leave.

[Pages 625-626]

The “aktioner” runs from booth to booth in order to capture a Jew who is breaking the law.

It is late; it is becoming difficult to go from one street to the next; all the hungry, frozen market people are running home to eat and to warm themselves.

Deep in thought I go through all the streets; Vilner Street, Valfoviche's building, which housed the large library, the Jewish Helping Hand Bank, Visoker Street, the world famous Mir Yeshiva, to which all young men would come from all over the world, to improve their knowledge and to satiate themselves with Torah and wisdom. I imagine that I see the faces of the yeshiva leaders; the Grand Rabbi, Eliezer Yehuda Finkel and the overseer, the Grand Rabbi Yerucham of blessed memory.

Not far from here the Junior Yeshiva was located, as well as the Talmud Torah and Beit Ya'akov, as well as all the houses of learning, the White House of Learning, the large cold synagogue, the artisans synagogue as well as the Chassidic synagogue. The streets are terrifyingly quiet, similar to what it once was like on Yom Kippur eve. I think; where are you my dear ones, where is the Rabbinical world, where are you; shopkeepers, merchants, honest artisans, who earned their daily bread in a difficult and bitter way for the unfortunate little children; where on earth are you all?

Nasti, the seamstress, (a gentile woman) she undoes the thread of my darkest thoughts. She stops me in the empty streets, and she makes out as though she is crying while looking at me. She pretends to me that she is a very good friend of the Jews. She informs me that there are no Germans in town, she also advises me of the latest news from the frontlines that the Germans are being defeated and are retreating and are taking their revenge on the Jews. I do not take seriously her pleasant words and friendliness, I understand that she also has in her possession many Jewish items; and, she, the “good friend”, would also want to be rid of the remaining and unfortunate Jews. She offers me a piece of bread and asks that I should eat it but I am unable to swallow it.

I ask her that she should take me through a quiet side street to the castle, to the ghetto where my brethren are located. She shows me a path near Zawalna Street, through the cemetery. When I approached the cemetery, I was completely shocked; everything was broken and in ruins. The murderers made sidewalks from the tombstones as well as foundation for the houses. The terrible hooligans even disrupted the peace of the dead.

I finally arrive in the ghetto, completely heartbroken as a result of my experiences. My dearest brothers and sisters were living in the hellish surroundings, having been fenced off with the barbed electrified wires, expecting sudden death at any moment. Their faces were all changed (for the worse). They already looked like corpses and were waiting for death. It was most difficult for me to converse with the mothers of little children. They continued shouting; “what can one do with the children? Where do we find the strength to lead them to the massacre? Why the little children, why? What were our sins?”.

The older people have totally lost their strength after having received terrible blows which they got from the Germans during the forced labor, as well as from starvation. They said that it was a heavenly decree; everyone wanted to escape but where? The peasants would not allow Jews anywhere. They were waiting to catch Jews. There were still no partisans and the terrible autumn winds and rain had begun. There was no place to hide for young people, and in particular, for pregnant women, women with children and for old and sick people.

There was a curse for the murderers on every tongue; there was one final request by everyone; whoever survives, take revenge for our pain and innocent blood.

Translator's footnote:

1. Dolmatovshchina, Belarus is 16 km east of Mir (about 10 miles). In 1921 the Jewish population was 22. https://www.jewishgen.org/Communities/community.php?usbgn=-1942493&scale=K back

Copyright © 1999-2024 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 25 Aug 2024 by JH