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I came to Sokal from my birthplace, Zabuzhzhia, and it was first when I started to work as a bookkeeper and correspondent in the local print shop and plumbing factory there, that belonged to the firm of ‘Mordechai Kiehl's Sons.’ I was employed in this capacity for seven years, until I emigrated to Italy in the year 1929.

The firm of ‘Mordechai Kiehl's Sons’ belonged to diligent working and talented people. The foundation for the firm was laid by R' Mordechai Kiehl years ago, and he developed it from there, exporting his products to buyers from all over Poland and other European countries and even to America. Thanks to the newest machines, and other manufacturing methods, which enabled mass-production, he practically had no competition.

In the Office of the Kiehl Firm Rear: David Kiehl on the Telephone Desk: Yitzhak Kiehl Typewriter: Ida Finkel

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In time, Mordechai Kiehl gradually pulled back from the business and turned over the management and the business to his sons, who continued to run the business in the old fashion.

Mordechai Kiehl came from Western-Galicia and was a grandson to the Rabbi of Lizhensk. He had accumulated much knowledge and was a highly educated and very aware person – even too modern for a city like Sokal. He would be called ‘Der Mazur.’ Once during a weekday, when he had a Yahrzeit he prayed at the Bet HaMidrash. Several boys – among them Abraham'tzeh Kisnuk – threw wet rags at him, when he was leading services from the front. From that time on, he instructed his grandchildren never to pray in the Bet HaMidrash. Since that time, he became a worshiper at the Strelsk Kloyz.

His son Yitzhak helped him very much in the business. Apart from him, Mordechai Kiehl had three sons: Moshe – the eldest, who lived in Lizhensk, Yaakov, who fell in 1915 as a casualty of World War I, and Yudl David, who also served in the Austrian army during World War I, and was taken prisoner by the Russians in Lublin. He was sent to Siberia, where as a result of the Russian Revolution, he got the chance to flee to Japan, and from there he came to America, where he already had a sister, Khulya. Apart from her, Mordechai Kiehl had a second daughter, Dvorah, the wife of Asher Weniger.

When I began working at the Kiehl firm in 1922, Yudl David was still in America, and it was first in the year 1926 that he returned to Sokal. Yaakov Kiehl, who fell during the war, left behind a childless widow.

In time, because of his advanced age, Mordechai Kiehl was no longer able to manage the firm, and the entire burden fell to his son Yitzhak, who held his father in great esteem. In order not to raise any feelings of being redundant, he left him to run the rubber stamp department, which was a rather light duty. This caused the father's self-worth, as well as his financial position in the firm, to strengthen.

Just as before – Mordechai Kiehl would now also help out any needy Jew, and in doing so he never took anything, not even making a note of the borrower's name, relying on his honesty and trustworthiness.

In Mordechai Kiel's house, every pauper always received a large donation. However, when he received rabbinical or a Rebbe's grandchildren who would seek legitimacy through their pedigree, he would embarrassingly ask of them, why they do not learn a trade… after all, he personally was the grandson of a Rabbi and learned the printing trade…

In 1927 Mordechai Kiehl became seriously ill and when he felt that he was close to death; apart from me, he also permitted a good friend of his, Reuben Bergloz, who visited him frequently, to be called, and he took us both as witnesses and he then articulated his last will [and testament]:

‘My entire wealth’ – he said – ‘shall be equally divided between my children; however, the part to be allocated to my oldest son, Moshe, should be recorded in the name of his children, because by exception, only him I am locking out of the inheritance, the reason being that 30 years ago, when I made

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his wedding, I turned over my entire wealth in Lizhensk to him… at that time I gave him, and I left my business there and I myself went off to Sokal, in order not to become his competitor.’

‘In Sokal’ – Mordechai Kiehl further declared – ‘I had to start anew to build up an existence, and together with my wife we worked hard. In the year 1918, after Moshe became a widower, he immediately married a young woman and it did not take long for all of his children from his first wife to leave the home…accordingly, they are spread all over the entire world… and this, indeed, is the reason for which I want that not he, but only his children should receive an inheritance.’

Weakened and agitated after this declaration, he concluded his talk and laid down. He rested for a while, and finally said: ‘I am not going to recite a confession, because I did not commit any of those sins… During my life, I attempted to observe the Ten Commandments, and with that, I fulfilled my obligation to God and Man.’

Immediately after this he passed away.

Yudl David had a very fine and noble wife. She came from Western Galicia. From her home, she was called Malyitz'eh Karp. When World War I broke out and her husband went off into the Austrian army, he sustained himself in Jasla and when the Russians took control of this city, she fled along with her one and only child who regrettably died along the way. The profound dissolution and experiences during World War I had a strong effect on her mood from what she had suffered. Her exceptional, good and fine character created an oversight and love from the entire family which was drawn close to her with loyalty and good-heartedness.

During Work at the Kiehl Print Shop From the right: Aharon Ratzer, Zisha Horwitz, Heschel Goldberg

In the factory they had two work managers: a certain Latzlsberger who was Viennese,

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who was active in the plumbing factory and Zisha Horwitz, son of Chaim Ber Horwitz, who ran the printing operation in an outstanding fashion. Lithograph pictures and refined placards were printed there and various placards for chemical factories, for a variety of other businesses, such as works requiring dyeing, for the mining of salt and large mills. In this regard we even competed with Meir Leib's printing operations.

The Viennese director was a drunkard; but he was a good craftsman.

Zisha Horwitz, a very sympathetic youth, had in his nature to befriend Christians, which caused his father great sorrow. He prayed in the Husiatyn Kloyz, where such important balebatim such as Israel Bard with his son and son-in-law, Yitzhak Birnbaum, Issachar Ber Flam his only son, Yitzhak, Shlomo Kreminer with his sons, Abusz Schwartzwald with his son Heschel and other such prominent Jewish people prayed. Meir Glazer from Tartakov also prayed there, a girl niece of the printer Meir Leib Glazer. During the High Holy Days, he would lead services from the front. He had quite a nice voice and a fine style. When he would recite ‘L'David Mizmor,’ by sentence, Jews who had already ended their prayers in the synagogue, stood outside by the windows of the Kloyz, or the Bet HaMedrash and with bated breath listened to every word and wondered with what sweetness and sincerity he would recite them.

When, in the year 1940, the Soviet military apparatus took control of Sokal they turned over the management of the Kiehl businesses to the two work directors: Latzlberger and Zisha Horwitz.

The fate of Yudl'i David and his family was tragic. In the year 1943 I met in New York, Israel Harack, who miraculously saved himself from the Nazi Gehenna and he told me, that when he saw Yudl David with his wife, he convinced them that they should flee with him through the Carpathian [Mountains] across the Russian border. Sadly, they couldn't decide, and returned to Sokal, where in1943 they were exterminated together with all the other Sokal Jews.

I also advised Yitzhak Kiehl, when in 1937 he came for a visit to Italy, to gradually liquidate the Sokal factory and move it to Israel. He could not decide to do the liquidation of a business, that he had helped to build up over the course of years.

But who could imagine that the life of human beings would become worthless?…here… this was our collective tragic mistake, that we could not, and did not want to believe, that such a total destruction was possible… and we paid dearly for making such a fateful mistake.

Yitzhak Kiehl was tortured by the German murderers in a terrible way. Immediately after the Germans took Sokal, they demanded of him that he become a member of the ‘Judenrat,’ which he refused to do. For this he was stuffed into a Gestapo jail, where he was terribly tortured, so much so that he personally begged them to shoot him. The Germans did not want to grant him this ‘favor,’ to let him off so lightly. He suffered quite a bit more, until the executioners finally shot him. This was the tragic end to a dear and fine Jewish man.

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Immediately after World War I, I began to look around for some sort of appropriate business. My friend Buni Unger from my Heder year and Kloyz attendance came to help me, and he noticed an ad for me in the Lemberg Tageblatt, that the two Templeman brothers were looking for a teacher for their children. He alone – told me –that he had already written to one of the Templemans and was still waiting for an answer.

I immediately wrote to the second Templeman brother and several days later we both received invitations to come and take over the work.

The Templemans lived in a village, which was called Kunin, about three kilometers distance from the train station of Dobrosyn near Żółkiew. We felt like we were in the Garden of Eden there. Our work was not difficult, because getting through the lectures with the children barely took an hour, such that we had enough free time to learn and read.

After a year of being held in this village, we parted ways. Buni Unger went over to Żółkiew and found work as a bookkeeper in a fur coat business and for a short time, I took over work in a grain export firm, and immediately afterwards began to work for the Kiehls.

Later, Buni went to Lemberg (Lvyv) and in the year 1941 we ran into each other again in New York, where I had just arrived from Brazil. We met frequently and also later, when I traveled back to Italy after World War II, we remained in business contact. He died suddenly in 1960.

A nephew of his, Eliezer, a son of Israel Unger, lives in Israel today. I knew him since he was a child. Working together with him, an episode remains in my memory, which I cannot forget to this day.

In the year 1938 – when Mussolini decided to ally with Hitler ימ”ש, he issued an order, that all foreign Jews must leave Italy during the next 6 months, and the termination of the order was set at March 12,1939. In one of those bitter days Eliezer Unger, who had stopped in Italy on his way to Israel, came to visit me in my factory. He came to see me a few minutes after I had an inspector from the secret police, who had come to warn me that I should not have any false hopes to be able to remain in the country even one day longer, as this was designated in the government's record – and in order for me to consider how seriously this issue was being thought about, he handed me a handbook in which my name was printed.

When Eliezer arrived, I was still under the impression of what the police inspector's words implied, and I told him of my troubles, that I must leave everything behind and lose everything that I had built up and on top of this, I do not know where to go. Eliezer looked at me anew and asked: ‘how can a man talk about assets, when the entire world is on fire?’ I did not know what to reply, because I felt that he was right. In my heart I envied him, because he had a goal for himself, at a time when I did not know from whence will come my succor…

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The Polish government took away my citizenship because of the fact that I had already lived for 13 years out of that country. I had communicated this to the highest tribunal in the Polish government in Warsaw, but in the meantime, the Polish consulate took away my passport and I was left with no documents, which in those times was literally a catastrophe.

The years, during which I lived in Italy were good ones. True – one lived under the rule of a dictator, but one did not sense it until 1938, especially in Northern Italy, where a large part of the population was semi-fascist, but not with a full heart. The Italians are, by nature very good people, and they had no grasp of what anti-Semitism was. They first had to be taught, and Hitler ימ”ש had already sent them the genuine teachers.

For my coming to Italy, I had to thank the Fyvel brothers, children of R' Abraham, of which the older two – Yaakov, emigrated to Vienna, and the second, Leib, to Budapest. After the death of their mother in 1917, at the age of barely 43, there remained three orphans: Shmuel age 13, Meir age 10. And Joseph^[1], age 8.

The Fyvel Family, with R' Abraham seated (Standing from the right): Joseph Fyvel, in Israel, Shmuel Fyvel in America, Leon (Leib) Fyvel ז”ל, Yaakov Fyvel ז”ל, Mina Fyvel with Bezalel, living in Milano, Meir Fyvel ז”ל

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Already then – during the childhood years, those three orphans were strongly tied to me and – being older than them by a few years – thought of me as an older brother. Yaakov Fyvel wrote to me from Vienna, asking that I keep an eye on his three younger brothers… I should be their teacher and show them the path to follow. The feelings of true heartfelt brotherhood tied me together strongly with the Fyvel brothers, and this bond was never weakened, despite the fact that we left Sokal while young and lived far apart. When Yaakov Fyvel, the oldest went off from us to Italy, he immediately pulled out all his brothers.

Leon (Leib) Fyvel in Milano

Fyvel's sons, which at the time have left Sokal, left behind in their hometown a rather large family of over one hundred souls, both from their mother's and father's side, all of whom were exterminated in the Nazi Gehenna…

In Italy proper, the Fyvels suffered the severe loss of two brothers, in which one was an indirect, and the other a direct victim of the accursed Nazi Régime.

Leibl Fyvel with the surviving refugee children in Milano

Throughout the entire night the worked so hard, getting everything ready, in order to turn everything over to the buyer… regrettably a heart condition got him… and he was yet so young… he was barely 32 years old…always healthy and ready for work…

The second, already a direct victim of the Nazis was Leib Fyvel. I used to call him: ‘The Right One’ – because he had a strong understanding and a deep feeling for justice. I would say of him, that he is one of the 36 Tzadikim… He would always defer to people and everything that he did was in the form of an anonymous gift… for this reason, he never wanted to talk about, or recall whom he helped.

Since he was an Argentinian citizen, he was the only one who managed to work his way through remaining in Italy during the war. All of us traveled off…one first… Another later.. But he had decided to stay. Later on, when he recognized the error of his choice, and wanted to go to Switzerland, he was informed upon by one of his employees and the Nazi border-police seized him, and sent him to Bergen-Belsen.

To this day, I cannot grasp where he got the strength to withstand the gruesome torture in the German death-camp.

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After the war, when we once again would meet in Italy and I wanted to extract details from him about his survival and tortures in the Gehenna of Bergen-Belsen, he never answered and he would not mention the years of frightful torture. They knocked out all of the teeth in his mouth and immediately after the liberation you could see the marks of the hard blows with which the German murderers did not spare in Bergen-Belsen. The lingering sickness condition, complicated skillful operations rescued his exhausted body… in the year 1953 – on the 11 Day of Tammuz (June 24) he died.

Leib'l Fyvel ז”ל received much recognition heaped on him in Milan, thanks to his completely sacrificial and social action for the good of Jewish refugees from the neighboring countries, who became concentrated in the Italian camps. In Milan, he organized a kitchen for Jewish orphans, which he looked after with body and soul. The children came to love him so, that they did not want to start eating first, until Leib came and sat to eat with them together.

He also did not forget his landsleit in Sokal and later in Israel and to the greatest extent possible, he supported everyone from Sokal who was in need, until he found out that his physical condition was not the best.

And when he participated in an initiative after the war on behalf of Israel's good, his readiness to help in any activity, despite his bad physical condition, had no bounds.

All of us suffered strongly at the loss of our dear Leib Fyvel ז”ל… but most of all, his passing broke his oldest brother Yaakov, whom we could not console after such a severe misfortune…

And suddenly on December 12, 1966 we also lost… Yaakov Fyvel ז”ל who died on that day…We lost such a dear, gentle Jewish man… we now feel like orphaned children… because he was always our universal director and thanks to his spiritual influence and his moral strength, we held together…

Regrettably, I cannot write about him, because in a letter that the deceased left behind, he explicitly articulated his wish that after his death he should stay there, an unfamiliar point just like it is unknown all the tortured and killed Sokal martyrs.. . And were I not bound by this last will of the deceased Yaakov Fyvel ז”ל, I would have enough material to tell about his good deeds only of the last five years, during which time we were together.

All these good deeds the Fyvel brothers learned and inherited from their mother Rachel (Rokh'cheh) ע”ה. She was a true Tzaddik in female form. The poor people in Sokal, who lived in want and didn't have anything with which to prepare for Sabbath, every Thursday or Friday, lent from her two or three crowns, that she had gotten back on Monday… On Friday, she would again lend the two or three crowns to the same Jewish man… these little loans she would distribute generously and with elegant anonymity, such that the borrower never felt belittled.

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When an impoverished Jewish man did not appear before her once… she sent her oldest son Yankl'eh to his home… to find out why and for what reason the Jewish man did not come to take the loan. And when Yankl'leh, during such a visit to this poor Jew, came to understand that the latter simply was ashamed to borrow money for the Sabbath, so he no longer asked anything, but just left the two crowns, which his mother gave him every such time… there was also an instance when Yank'leh sometimes found that the man was laying sick in bed, – at that time his mother would cook up a hearty soup, which Yankl'leh then carried back to the sick person.

It was in this fashion that Yaakov Fyvel ז”ל grew up under the influence of his refined mother of rare good will…

The last five years, since I had returned from America, and took up residence in Italy, we lived as neighbors, and this allowed us to have much time full of memories of our childhood. He was a good friend and brother to me.

Now he is no longer here… I feel a great emptiness about me… regrettably the loss is irreparable…

A pity, a pity for whom we lost…

The Sokal Train Station

1. Joseph Fyvel is today socially active as the secretary of the Landsmanschaft of the Sokal refugees in Israel. Return

The Fish Family (Family of Mrs. Rena Menkes in front of their house in Sokal) Sitting from the right: Joseph Fish, his granddaughter Dina, and his wife Chaya. Friedrich Fish was the Vice Principal of the post office in Sokal

Dr. Ephraim Menkes ז”ל		Rena Menkes ז”ל

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My grandfather, Joseph Fish, was born in the village of Uhvin in the vicinity of Radekhiv -Lopatyn in the year 1844 to his father Jerucham Fish, who was a Jew of that village and a Belz Hasid, and was one of those who could absorb Hasid ism thoroughly and according to its precepts: faithful to this tradition, he sent his sons to the nearby city of Lopatyn to be inculcated with Torah in the local Yeshiva. Joseph understood from when he grew up, to continue in his father's ways, and earned a living from directing the management of parcels surrounding what was an important city at that time – Brody; it was in this period that his sons and daughters were born, the oldest of them was Rivka Leah (Rena) who afterwards married Dr. Ephraim Menkes. My grandfather, the wife of Joseph Fish, Chaya (Carla) of the Mann family was born in the town of Mosty Wielke (Ukrainian Velyky Mosty). She was part of a traditional, but advanced home and both her secular and parochial education of their sons and daughters were looked after by her parents. Accordingly, she was thoroughly knowledgeable in worldwide literature and the German language in particular. In the bookcases in the home of my grandparents you could find one next to another, traditional and classical German books on Judaism, Goethe, Schiller, Heine and others. A number of years before World War I, the Fish family moved into the Sokal district, after my grandfather became manager of the properties of the Duke (?) Radzowski in the villages of Wislawica and Mianowica. Much trouble befell the family during the days of World War I, and we were miraculously saved from the hands of Ukrainian murderers in 1918, thanks to the nobility of soul and strength of heart of the priest of Wislawica, Father Doydowyc. My grandfather then decided to move to Sokal and took possession of a small house on the corner of Wicucynskovo – Szaszkiwica streets, and he lived there to the end of his life; together with this, he continued to manage land estates until quite an advanced age. My grandfather was a strong man, one of the farmers that were highly regarded in the Sokal province; he was alert to inventions affecting his craft, and was a savvy agriculturist as a result of him working for himself, because the non-traditional studies were limited to only a few simple lessons by the ‘dyak^[1]’ in the city of Lopatyn, where they learned to read and write in Polish and German. ‘Old Fish’ as they nicknamed him in Sokal and its vicinity, was one of the first in the area to make use of chemical

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additives, in reaping and threshing, from machines (that came before tractors) and on top of this he possessed a highly experienced sense about agriculture, which caused him to be respected by the owners of other parcels of land, Jews and non-Jews, who came to seek his advice, on a variety of issues. All of this did not distance him from his Judaic studies, the source of his knowledge; in the evenings, particularly during the winter, when he was not tired from his hard work, he would review what he had learned in the Talmud, Midrash and Ayn Yaakov, revealing hidden meanings and creating his own innovative ideas. My grandfather's home had a great influence on me, in which were sustained traditional leaders that enchanted me so much. While I was still a child, I would travel from time-to-time with my grandfather to the estate in Wislawica, and I did work based on his expertise. He was able to discern a wheat field from rye, barley or other food on stalks at a distance; it was my grandfather who showed me, perhaps without meaning to, to select the direction of agriculture that I then followed as a way of life.

Joseph Fish was blessed with a long life and passed away at the age of 89 in 1933. And how different this was from the fate of my grandmother, who was murdered by the Nazis, together with many, many of our townsfolk in one of the “aktions” that they carried out in the Sokal ghetto.

My father, Dr. Ephraim Menkes was born in the city of Sambor to R' Yaakov Menkes, who was an established merchant who owned a flour mill; he was the head of the community committee for many years and was a ‘mitnaged’ in his general outlook. Like all the sons of Yaakov Menkes, my father also studied at the local gymnasium and afterwards continued with the study of Law at the University of Lvov. Like many of the members of his generation, he absorbed much culture that was German, Austrian and Polish, that were plated on the plain of traditional education that was given to him during childhood. As a student at the gymnasium and at the university, he was influenced by the liberal left-wing cadres and had a strong ardor for the Polish Socialist Party, P. P. S., although he was never accepted as a member. During World War I, he fought as an officer in the army of Kaiser Franz-Jozef on the Russian and Italian fronts, and was twice wounded in battle.

After the Polish-Russian war, our family settled down in Sokal, and it was here that my father fell under the spell of the Zionist ideal, and was convinced of its rightness. This change found expression in his concerns in relation to my mother, regarding my Jewish education, and since it was common that parents would do everything regarding the foundations of faith, even my Jewish education was rather marginal, including even the lessons in Talmud that I received from the ‘Melamed’ Rabbi Leibusz ‘Krystynopoler’ (Zitzer). One day when active members of the ‘Shomrei’ came to ask of my parents for their consent to have me join their movement, my father agreed with no reservations. Since he had already been “taken” by the Zionist ideal, he has never retracted from it, but rather deepened his roots even more and more. And the movement of our city in this respect was not trivial, which was special considering its Judaism, which kept guard even at that time, on its fundamental posture, literally as if it was orchestrated by the leading thinker of Galician Judaism, S. Y. Agnon. The Jewish atmosphere and orientation of Sokal was a return of the reign of the soul

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over the heart, if you were easy-going under its influence; this is what happened to my father, who loved the Jews of this city in their joy and in their sorrow. Instead of donating to international causes, he switched to become a follower of Keren HaYesod (a Zionist fund-collecton organization) and dedicated his spare time to community Zionist endeavors. The Polish socialist had been transformed into a follower of the ‘HaShomer HaTza'ir’ movement, that bore to patronymic (Ofieka) of the Shomrei branch, and he carried it to the end of his life. He was known as the ‘Father of the Shomrim’ even outside the boundaries of our city. Our house was open to the members of the movement, and was a lodging place for guests from the senior leadership, or just plain members of the movement who were visiting in Sokal. My father dogged our efforts, helped to overcome various and sundry difficulties, would present us to the government and even visit our summer camps, in order to come in direct contact with the youth, and also be faithful to his own credo, freed of the confines of his home, family and school.

He found an interest in Jewish folklore, and loved to hear stories full with Jewish experience from the common folk. He took pride in his Jewishness in his relation to non-Jews, and for this he gained their respect, no doubt to this orientation . And I remember very well how he once brought a new seal to his office, on which his first name ‘Ephraim’ was written on its whole face, to replace the old seal that only showed the first letter, ‘Aleph.’ As to the question regarding the reason for the change, he replied: ‘So that they know I am not ashamed of my Hebrew name, rather I am proud of it.’

And today, as my memories of that period pass before me, it is not possible for me to avoid praise for my father and mother, to whom I was an only son, and there is no doubt that they etched ideas into my back, and despite this, consented to my chosen path, the path of a pioneering Halutz, whose presence was proclaimed on all the visible walls in its own name in the eyes of these people, such as medicine, law and other outlets.

My mother, Rivka Leah (Rena) was a personality that ran deep, with a refined soul, faithful and compromising. She inherited the writing of Joseph Fish and his special virtues: love of nature, love of the people, proper leadership and organization. She completed her formal studies at the gymnasium in Brody and at the University of Lvov and in addition she acquired the drama skills in the spirit of the great actress Adina Simashko.

Of the many fields of community activity, she stuck with those that had the means to lighten the burden on people, and to permanently assist with an open door to people of the city. She encountered the poverty of people face-to-face, when the principal of the municipal school for girls asked her to provide from her skills and crafts, and organize various cultural initiatives among the students, who in large part were Jewish, and to recognize the economic circumstances of many of these girls. Her soul was excited to the point that she decided to abandon what she was asked to undertake, and dedicate herself only to social help within the Jewish society. She knew no rest when she found out that almost a third of the city's Jewish children were malnourished, and from that time onward, she dedicated all of her time to providing food for the city's poor, in particular the children, both those whose poverty was evident and those whose poverty was hidden. She was always full of energy for finding new sources she required: flower

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days, tzedakah (charity) parties, donations, and reaching out to donating local institutions. The goods consisted of clothing, additional food, organized activities for the very small poor children, and many other undertakings.

After my father died, on the eve of World War II, she began making preparations for aliyah (immigration to the Land of Israel) but did not make it, because the War surprised her; because she has been staying with relatives in Lvov for a longer time, she remained there until that bitter and terrifying day. She was murdered by the Nazi troops. Her last letter, which reached the Land of Israel by way of the Red Cross, was sent in 1942.

Translator's footnote:

1. Instructor or teacher. Return

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