[p. 927]

But after a while under the pressure of their war needs, they yielded. Sixty men locksmiths, bakers, cobblers and other artisans were released for work. Dr. Rosa Einhorn Pshenitski as a dentist whose services were much needed, was also permitted to leave and to occupy her own office. She was even allowed to take her daughter Dora with her.
        The workers were not brought back to the bunkers at night but were taken to another camp occupied by Polish Gentiles and others of the general population assigned to forced labor. Gradually the number of Jewish workers was increased. This improved the situation somewhat for the Jews, as the workers were able to secure food and supplies for themselves and to send a certain amount to the bunkers, even though the Gentile shopkeepers charged the Jews exorbitant prices. That winter it was intensely cold.

[p. 926]

narrow restricted space. A pious Jew in a corner would recite a psalm, another the Shema (Hear, O Israel), a woman would mutter to herself, a young woman would rock her child in her arms, an asthmatic would grasp for breath and cough. Finally weariness would overcome them all and for a few hours a measure of silence would reign. Thus the days would pass, fear and dread of the coming day hovering over them.

[p. 926]

asked for a little benzine for his small lighter. In some way the Gestapo learned of this and beat him so terribly that he had not the strength to call out or utter a sound. When the blood flowed freely from many wounds on his swollen body they left him lying on the ground. Some Jews went out and carried him into the bunker. Before dark that day the cold-blooded Nazi supervisor with pretended concern asked how Galin was getting along. He even bade the doctor not to neglect him. About nine o'clock in the evening, Dr. Noach Kaplinski examined him and found him in a dangerous state, barely able to speak or even breathe. At 11 P.M. when the Jews in the bunker had retired, everyone was startled by the loud shouts from without: “Galin, come outside, Galin come outside.” The Jewish police within the bunker went over to Galin and told him he must go. All lying there lifted themselves up to look and 500 pairs of eyes watched the pain-wracked form rise. A deathly silence fell over the bunker. As he was leaving, Galin stood for a moment at the door, turned painfully around, summoned all his strength and in a husky voice called a parting blessing, “May all be well with you!” He then disappeared in the darkness. Wild cries and three shots were heard, and then there was silence.
        In the morning at the entrance to the bunker they found the fallen body of the gallant spirit—one more innocent victim of unspeakable Nazi brutality.

[p. 924]

no effort to return. He met other refugees from the town and bunkers and they organized a partisan band. They made raids on the edges of nearby towns for supplies, attacked sentries, took away their rifles and ammunition and carried on sabotage. Once his band was surprised by a large German force, a number were killed, but the rest escaped deep into the forest, there to reorganize. There were several such bands operating in the immediate neighborhood. The chief source of anxiety was being seen by the peasants who would immediately report them to the Germans to be hunted down.
        Upon one occasion Polish peasants discovered footsteps in the deep snow and immediately reported the fact to the Gestapo. A considerable number of guards was sent out with dogs to trail the fugitives. They came upon a group of Wolkovisk Jews and a battle ensued. The Jews were greatly outnumbered, some broke away and made their way to another place in the forest. In the struggle, however, seven were killed, three captured. The prisoners were brought back to the bunkers and in the presence of Noach Fuchs and several others were shot down as a warning to all who might be contemplating attempts at escape.

[p. 923]

decided to leave the choice to their mother. Their mother said: “Which of you wants to go?” Simultaneously each answered: “I want to live!” The mother looked at them, a choice was impossible. The younger sister finally withdrew in favor of the older one. Shortly thereafter she too fled from the bunkers and met her sister in Bialystock.

[p. 922]

Amstibove. Their departure took place by daylight. They were lined up in the mud and snow in front of the Wolkovisker bunkers on the other side of the intervening barbed wire fence. They stood thus for four hours. A Wolkovisk Jew handed over something through the barbed wire to a Zelva Jew in line and soon out of the pitiful possessions that their awful poverty had left them, the Jews of Wolkovisk were putting their arms through the barbed wire, tearing clothes and flesh, handing over to Zelva Jews articles of clothing for warmth, crusts of bread, a boiled or raw potato—anything that might help sustain them on the road to the unknown. Finally at a word of command the line moved forward to the transport coaches awaiting them.
        These first two large movements of Jews westward, were followed by several others. After each departure the remaining Jews were ordered to clean out the vacated bunkers, removing rags and other effects.
        By the end of November, 6000 or more Jews were left, about 1000 from Swislotch, about 5000 from Wolkovisk. When Fuchs developed a bad cold that showed signs of developing into pneumonia, the Nazi supervisor of the camp remarked to him in cold-blooded fashion that he had better get well, for it was planned to place him in charge of a camp of 70,000 persons.
        There was much agitated thought over the destination of the Jews, but there was little doubt in the minds of the Jews that it was to a place of doom. In a short while they learned definitely it was to be the gas chambers of Treblinka.

[p. 921]

were to remain. Actually it meant that the Jews of the camp were to decide for themselves who was to live and who was to die. A struggle began in which the most extreme traits of human nature manifested themselves. On one hand was Treblinka and its gas chambers, on the other at least another six months of life in the bunkers. The bunkers became substitute for Paradise and six months reprieve became eternal life. It was a fearful test for frail human nature to undergo. There were those who made the wildest efforts to survive, but there were also men and women who rose to the heights of moral grandeur. Within the next few days the Council was besieged with pleas by men and women, in behalf of themselves, their wives, their children, their relatives, their friends. Fuchs and his associates wrote and erased, again wrote and erased; the list would be completed, only to be changed the following day. A person would be placed on the list of those who were to survive, only to refuse to be separated from wife and children. One would go to sleep at night assured of survival, only in the morning to find that another had taken his place. Hope flared up and died, and flared up again and died again, amidst arguments, pleadings, weeping. There were those who calmly and grimly declined to accept life from the Nazis at the price offered. The Nazi supervisor, in the meantime, would enter and demand that the list be finished and turned over to him. It was particularly difficult to make the list of women, the number to be chosen were so few, and so few could be used for the work the Nazis found useful.
        Of those who accepted death rather than survival upon Nazi terms, were the stalwart brothers Gans, Abraham Yunovitz, Engineer Rock, and many others who had been placed upon the list because of their obvious physical fitness. These men refused to part from their wives and children. The word went around: If we are to die, let us die together.”
        Naturally enough not all could rise to the heights of self-sacrifice. There were those who tried by various devious means to save themselves. The behavior of these few casts a blot on this story of noble martyrdom.

[p. 922]

list of the 1700 were order to enter a particular group of bunkers set aside for that purpose. That night at the gate leading to these bunkers stood members of the Jewish Council, the list in their hands. On either side of them stood the armed Gestapo troopers. Desperate Jews pressed forward to force their entrance past the gate. The troopers fired into the crowd, killing and wounding many, but this did not deter the people who understood that unless they passed through the gate, death would in any event surely be their portion. It was known too, that the transport to the gas chambers was to leave that very same night.
        Yitzchak Choper relates an experience of his own. He had been sent that day to town for supplies. Upon his return he was informed by his wife of the situation which had developed during his absence. Both their names had been placed on the list for survival. He sent her forward with her child to pass through the gate, he remaining behind. She stood there in the cold for three hours until her turn came. The SS trooper insisted she must leave her child behind and refused them admission. She returned to her husband and they both went to the Jewish Council to plead for the child, but were assured by the Council they could do nothing. Then Choper had an inspiration. Seizing the child in his arms he went back to the Wolkovisk bunker he had been occupying, there dosed him with sufficient luminal to put him to sleep, and placed him in an old potato sack.
        He threw the sack with the child in it over his shoulders as though it contained his effects, and pushing his wife before him, entered undisturbed one of the assigned bunkers. Others followed his example. The sacks with the children in them were piled in a careless heap in a corner, like so much baggage.
        Moshe Vloski gives a description of the terrible scene of parting between those who were to be sent forward to their doom and those who were to remain. Parents and children, husbands and wives embraced, knowing it to be the final farewell. One hour's grace was granted them. Vloski sat together with his mother and four sisters. He and his oldest sister were to stay, his mother and three others were to leave. The youngest sobbed: “Let me remain with you, I want to live.” The mother said, “Moshe, live and avenge our innocent blood.” The bunkers were filled with sobs and cries. The noise and confusion at the very last scene became indescribable, particularly at the gate. People kept pressing forward and running to and fro, holding onto their children, seeking a means of entrance to the Rusznoy

[p. 919]

bunkers, the bunkers assigned to those destined to survive. The Germans forced them away from the gate, some they shot, others they drove back with blows. Two hours later Zirka the Nazi supervisor came with his troopers to make the count. However when they heard he was approaching, the parents had hastened to give the younger children additional doses of the sleeping potion to prevent their awakening. A few of the older who understood enough to keep silent were hidden in the dirt under the lower bunkers. The dim light of the bunkers helped to conceal them. The Gestapo went from group to group, counting carefully, until Zirka called out “The number is complete”, and ordered the gates be closed. So were the “fortunate” ones separated from their dearest and nearest.
        At two o'clock in the morning, according to Roitman, SS troopers entered the concentration camp in the city which had originally been a slaughter house and ordered all the sixty workers to come with them. They were led in the direction of the bunkers. Going along they heard the sounds of cries and sobs coming from the direction of the central railroad station. They understood that the Jews had been removed from the bunkers and were already in the transport. But a moment later they were led away to the camp. It transpired that at first the group of workers were being led to the transport, but that a German officer had notified the SS commander that it was a mistake and that the workers were to be placed in the bunkers with the 1700 left behind.
        For three days, December 6^th, 7^th, and 8^th, transports kept leaving with the Jews of Wolkovisk and Swislotch.
        Of the 20,000 Jews who were assembled in the bunkers the week of November 2, there now remained only the 1700 workers together with the children they had succeeded in concealing. All the other bunkers now vacant were nailed up and where there had been intense life, however tragic the circumstances, there now was quiet as the grave itself.

[p. 918]

everything covered with the blood of the victims; the stench of blood and sweat filled the air. Outside an old woman with matted grey hair ran from one person to another pleading: “Why was I not killed? Hand me over to the Germans that I may also be shot.”

[p. 917]

the apothecary Nachum Kroll had set aside a couple of beds in one of the bunkers for the sick and set up a small clinic. Dr. Horn of Wolkovisk who later resided in Volp, was placed in charge. Several other physicians cooperated with him. When both Dr. Horn and his associate, Dr. Eliezer Epstein, were taken ill, Dr. Chaim Salman was placed in charge.
        With the spread of typhus it was seen that something more than a clinic with a couple of beds would be needed. A hospital large enough to accommodate one hundred persons was established in one of the bunkers. It was soon filled. The Jewish Council arranged for the securing of medicines and also a better diet for the sick. Nevertheless the epidemic continued to spread, although in the beginning the mortality was kept down. In the course of the epidemic practically all the physicians were seized with typhus but fortunately not at the same time; and no sooner would a physician recover when he would resume his work. The physicians labored day and night and their devotion and that of the nursing staff was beyond all praise.
        By the middle of January 1943, there were about 800 persons, of whom more than 30% were workers, stricken with typhus. The three bunkers then set aside for them proved inadequate. As a result many of the sick had to be cared for in other bunkers where they would be visited by the physicians. Living conditions for the sick were actually no better than those provided for the well. On the 26^th of January 1943 when the entire camp was evacuated, there were 400 persons still ill; 200 had recovered and resumed work; the heavy death toll accounted for the rest. During the period of the epidemic the mortality rate had mounted steadily. It was because of this—that the Nazis decided to evacuate the camp before the date originally set.

[p. 916]

difficult to make arrangements for the last group. All would be brought to another camp where they could live under better conditions. He demanded a list of all who remained in camp with information as to age, occupation, etc. He gave assurance that the ill would be borne on sleighs to the train. On January 25^th an order came for all to leave the camp the following day. It was ordered that the sick be gotten ready a couple of hours in advance of the time set for departure, at nine o'clock in the evening. The tension increased from minute to minute. Many of the sick rose up, some were in high fever and summoning hidden strength began to move about the camp. They feared that the Nazis would put them to death on the spot rather than burden themselves with helpless people. The rest, confused and depressed, occupied themselves with their preparations, arranging to take along with them an additional loaf of bread or other necessary articles of clothing, etc. Many thought of means of escape to Bialystock, as the ghetto of Bialystock was considered the most tolerable of all places under Nazi rule, and it was the dream of all in the camp to find their way there. It was reported that in Bialystock, Jews slept in beds, worked in factories, and had sufficient food. During the entire period of life in the bunkers about 200 Jews had managed to escape to Bialystock—but there too, few escaped their ultimate fate at the hands of the Nazis. The policy of the Council, however was to do all in its power to prevent such escapes. It maintained that only the more well-to-do could bribe their way out and their money was needed to prolong and make more endurable life in the camp. The Jewish police stood guard to prevent further attempts to get away. Shortly after the announcement of the departure to take place the following day, the Jewish police discovered and frustrated plans of escape by a group of persons. In this group were wives and children of the members of the Council. The women had prepared their bundles, the children had been dressed in warm clothes, and they were obviously preparing to leave. The Jewish police told them that their escape would not be permitted. Nevertheless a few individuals did manage to elude both the police and the Nazis. Among them were Dr. Noach Kaplinsky and Dr. Isaak Reznik, who, as already reported, were hidden by Christian friends until the arrival of the Red Army.
        On January 26^th 1943, at three o'clock in the afternoon, the office of the Jewish Council was crowded, everyone hoping

[p. 915]

against hope that at the last moment the command would be annulled. There was considerable confusion in the camp, people wandered about in bewildered fashion; the sick, wrapped in blankets, eyes burning with fever, walked about like ghosts from another world, many of them walked with tottering steps looking for objects upon which to lean. In the bunkers lay the very sick unable to rise.
        In the evening they got ready the typhus patients—about 200 in all. They were clothed and placed at the entrance to the bunkers to await the sleighs that were to bring them to the station platform. Many of the ill summoned strength to make their way to the station on foot. The camp all the while was surrounded by the Nazi soldiers.
        At one o'clock in the morning shouts and the noise of shooting were heard. The Nazis called out: “Come out of all the bunkers or we will shoot you down.” They actually did shoot several who were too ill to move including H. Chantov and his wife, and the wife of Noach Shein, and the wife of David Joseph Kaplan. Several others who attempted to break through the Nazi lines were also shot, among them the son of Nackdimon, the son of Niome Lemkin, and Berl Katkovsky.
        From Yitzchak Choper comes the story of the last glimpse of Rosa Einhorn Pshenitzki. He relates that his wife and son were among the sick but that there was no sleigh available to take them to the railway station. He stood outside in the darkness at one in the morning looking about, wondering what to do. Suddenly there appeared a private sleigh driven by a Pole who consented to take them to the station. Choper carried his wife and child from the bunker to the sleigh and was helping them within, when he espied the figure of Rosa engaged in searching the ground. She was weeping and told him she had lost the small package of her belongings—her last possessions which might have been useful in securing better treatment for her daughter Dora. In the snow and mud and enveloping darkness it was bound to be a hopeless search.
        All were lined up in rows of ten and marched down to the railroad. Here they were quickly forced into the dark unlighted, railway cars. They were driven like sheep without mercy, under the blows of the Gestapo. In the confusion members of families became separated from each other, some thus parting forever without a word of farewell.

[p. 914]

        Thus did the remnant of Wolkovisk Jewry depart, and so ended the history of a Jewish town rich in Jewish tradition, where had lived men and women who, whatever their human failings, had loved the paths of peace, had loved their God, and who had wished no evil to befall anyone, Jew or Gentile, in the whole troubled world.

[p. 913]

they were felons and refused. Some who desired to help were driven away by the guards.
        A number of Jews died on the way. When the guards would discover a dead body, they would cast it off the train, dropping it into the open field. As far as possible the Jews concealed the bodies of the dead, in hope that when they arrived at their destination they would be able to provide them with decent burial.
        Another two days and they arrived at the station of Auschwitz. In Wolkovisk they had been told they were to be taken to Auschwitz, but had refused to believe it. They thought they were to be taken to Treblinka. The meaning of “Treblinka” was known; but not, as yet, the significance of “Auschwitz.”

[p. 912]

        Zwi Roitman who had not quite recovered from typhus was at first sent to the left. Although he could not really know which direction led to life and which to death, he felt instinctively he was being sent to his doom. Not fully realizing what he was doing he muttered to the officer, “I am an electrician”. The officer took another look at him and ordered him to the right. Kotliarsky's young wife was ordered to the right, but when they tried to take her child from her, she refused to obey and deliberately went to the left. Dr. Yitzchak Goldberg standing in line noticed the weary, careworn physicians ahead of him were generally directed to the left, but that when the turn came of Dr. Marek Kaplan, he was directed to the right. He decided that this was because Dr. Kaplan looked physically fit notwithstanding the terrible ordeal he had lived through. Dr. Goldberg thereupon pinched his cheeks to give them color. When his turn came he was directed to the right. His brother, however, was sent to the left. Those who had been sent to the left were gathered together in one group.
        Long before the end of each line was reached, a voice rang out ordering a count, and when the SS trooper reported that in the lines on the right there were 280 men and 87 women the order was given to march them ahead on foot. The others remaining behind uncounted were ordered to join the group on the left. All the left group were then placed in automobiles. The sick were left lying in the snow and mire.
        At this point the nature of the new tragedy that was about to take place dawned upon all. Again sobs broke out. Roitman remarked upon the strange development, many of the sick and weak were allowed to remain alive whereas such strong young men as Katz, Botwinsky, Mordetsky, Siroco and hundreds of others were doomed to die merely because the allotted number of persons to be permitted to live was filled. Of the 1700 who were the last to leave the bunkers of Wolkovisk only the 280 men and 87 women were for the present, to be permitted to survive. The others were immediately sent forward in the automobiles to the gas chambers.
        Under a strong guard the men and women chosen for survival were led to the labor camp situated about three kilometers from the railway station. On the way they were passed by the automobiles crowded with their nearest and dearest bound for slaughter. It is clear that the Jews in the automobiles knew the fate awaiting them. Heartrending cries were heard.

[p. 911]

From one automobile came a cry from the father of Shlome Frack who recognized his son marching along the road: “They go to life while we go to our death.” From another automobile the voice of the daughter of Panter was heard: “Jews, tell everyone of our end. Take vengeance!”
        SS troopers on motorcycles accompanied the automobiles. They were followed by a line of cars marked with the Red Cross. Within the cars were carried the poisoned gases. Thus the Red Cross, which was intended to be a symbol of succor, was used to conceal the means of death for the innocent victims of Nazi hate.

[p. 910]

were many new arrivals, there would be about 900 persons. The Jews, as was to be expected, received harsher treatment than the Gentiles. Three kilometers from the central Auschwitz camp was Birkenau, where there were located five large crematoria. There were special cars to transport the victims from the camp to Birkenau.

[p. 909]

These calisthenics were repeated in the evening. Sometimes they were forced merely to stand in the mire and cold.
        The daily ration consisted of a single slice of bread of between 150 to 200 grams in the morning, a liter of warm soup during the day, and one-fourth of a liter of cold tea at night. Of the food set aside for an entire block of persons the supervisor Leon Stachoviak would take two thirds for himself and his assistants.
        In rows of five they were marched daily to their work to the music of an orchestra. The work for the worn-out and hungry Jews was extraordinary hard. They were compelled to labor under a strict guard, and hardly permitted to catch a breath. They built new bunkers, dug deep pits in the hard ground, and made roads. Half nude, they labored with their spades until the evening, often knee deep in mud. For the most insignificant cause, and often for no conceivable cause the SS troopers would beat them unmercifully. Those who could endure it no longer and found it impossible to continue the work would often be beaten to death where they stood or lay.
        Daily, corpses were brought to the camp. They were always brought into the camp because the German commandant demanded an accounting for every person listed and the number of persons returning to the camp had to agree with the list. The “Capo”, as the supervisor was called, who brought in a greater number of corpses to the camp would be rewarded with larger rations. The “capos” were “Aryans”, mostly Germans, who were assigned to the camp by way of punishment for some offense. Into their hands was entrusted the fate of the Jews.
        Within the camp itself the conditions were not better. The supervisors and their assistants would carry on their work in the strictest and most brutal manner. They also would beat the Jews at the slightest pretext and often for no reason at all. At every step one heard the sounds of the blows accompanied by the words, “Did you come here to live?” Under the circumstances it is not surprising that the morale of the Jews began to break down and their endurance to give way.

[p. 908]

From time to time when the bunker would be filled with people, the Nazis would come with automobiles, clear the bunkers of all persons, and take them to the crematoria. For this reason such of the sick as were not quite prepared to die, would avoid this bunker, and even those who were suffering from typhus would conceal their condition and keep away from the camp physician, for that official would immediately send him to Bunker No. 7 from which he was not likely to leave alive.

[p. 907]

compelled to wear the green uniform of the Russian prisoners. Upon their bodies were tatooed their camp number, beginning with 31,000. Then they were all driven to the same barrack, 12 to each tier. Life in the women's camp was much the same as in the men's, the same conditions obtained, except for the supervision, which was much more severe. Apparently because it was more difficult for them, their tasks were made the more onerous. The sanitary conditions were worse than in the men's bunkers. The bunkers were filthier, darker and overrun with lice. The day began at three in the morning when they were forced to go out of doors and stand in the cold until six. The morning inspection lasted three hours. At six, they were led to their work. At six in the evening they would be returned to the barracks. But from six to eight they were compelled to stand in the cold for the evening inspection. Their ration was much the same as the men's. They each received 150 grams of bread daily with a small quantity of margarine, and in the evening tepid soup. This ration was handed out to them as they stood outside. There was no line and considerable disorder prevailed at meal time, with the result that the weariest and weakest among them would often get little or nothing. The women of Wolkovisk however shared their food with their comrades taking care of those who had been unable to secure food for themselves.
        As soon as the women would leave their bunkers for work, a group of Gestapo would enter to give the place a thorough inspection. Anyone found there because of illness would immediately be brought to the crematorium
        Sheine Lifshitz relates the story of the end of Dora, the daughter of Dr. Rosa Einhorn Pshenitski. They slept in the same barracks, near each other. Dora told Sheine that her Christian nurse Stevka who had brought her up from childhood begged to be allowed to take her away to her village home where Dora could be hidden in safety and where she would be cared for. Dora refused to part from her mother and remained in Wolkovisk. Her father, ill with typhus and unable to leave with the last transport had been shot by the Nazis. She came to Auschwitz with her mother, who had been sent immediately upon her arrival to the gas chambers. She alone of her family had been permitted to survive and she had lost all will to live. She was given the same heavy tasks as those allotted to the other young women and soon they proved to be beyond her

[p. 906]

endurance. She managed barely to carry on her tasks and so continued to live on until the month of April, when she became very ill. The girls of her bunker would take her along to the work, doing her share for her daily, in order that the supervisor might not recognize her physical condition. But she grew daily worse.
        One day she was unable to rise, her feet badly swollen. The girls were compelled to leave her behind, although they feared that the worst would happen. That evening when they returned to their bunkers they found Dora gone.
        Sheine Lifshitz relates another episode as a result of which she lost her only sister. Some trifling object was lost in the women's barracks. The German commander, unable to secure a confession of guilt from anyone ordered all of them to line up in rows of five. At haphazard he selected a row of five and sent them to a barrack reserved for punishment. In that row of five was Sheine's sister. The five women were never seen again.

[p. 905]

a rope around the body and drag it over the stones to the open death trench.
        One of the frequent occurrences in both the men's and women's camps, usually on a Jewish holiday, was the inspection, under the eye of the camp physician and an SS trooper. All were compelled to stand nude in the open air. The physician would indicate by a glance the victim chosen for death. It usually meant that about fifty per cent of those in line were doomed for the crematorium. Some pleaded to be put to death with a bullet and the Germans would oblige. This selection which meant “who was to live and who was to die” was a fearful strain upon the nerves of all. Particularly terrible was the selection in the hospital. There the percentage of those chosen for the crematorium was ninety-eight per cent. Therefore, however ill they were, all who desired to live tried to keep out of the hospital if it was at all possible.

[p. 904]

great pits dug in which the bones of thousands of Jews were burned.

[p. 903]

away from Wolkovisk during the war period and had made their way into the interior of Russia.
        Most of the people came back to their home town in the expectation of finding their relatives and friends. They found their homes in ruin and learned of the destruction of the entire Jewish community.
        There are now left in Wolkovisk the remnants of 15 Jewish families, probably 25 souls in all. The Jews who have remained are for the most part the partisans and those returning from the interior of Russia. The others have found it impossible to stay, lacking the physical and spiritual strength to renew their lives amid the dead ruins of the town, over which hover the souls of those nearest and dearest. With frozen hearts and with the tragic picture of their old hometown, before their eyes they have left the place of their birth, perhaps never to return.
        Moshe Shereshevsky reports upon the present appearance of the town. He mentions the few neighborhoods still standing amidst the great destruction.
        There remains standing the quarter surrounding the new railway station near where the barracks stood, a small section of the Zamostche area, the Kartchisne area, the Pritzishe Gass and the area near the Rosh hill (Rosher-barg). Also left are a small section of the Grodno Gass and the Neie Gaessel.
        The Germans, just before their retreat, burned down the Jewish hospital, the Polish mayoralty, the old railway station, the post office, and the barracks.
        The business center facing the Breite Gass with its shops erected around an open court was utterly destroyed and the place entirely cleared, leaving only an open square. There is no vestige left of the little streets that ran down from the Breite Gass to the river. Piles of rubble are left where houses once stood. The streets such as the Breite, Ostroger, Tatarski, Cholodowski, Milner, Mitzrayim, have not a single house left standing upon them. The entire neighborhood of the Synagogue is filled with rubble except the Talmud Torah building which remains.
        The new market area was kept intact and here the peasants still come to trade. Also left is the old cemetery, grown high with weeds and grass, the fence fallen in and the finest monuments torn down, the others lying on the ground.

[p. 902]

        Dr. Yitzchak Reznick writes as follows: “Wolkovisk as a city no longer exists. Almost everything is overgrown with wild grass, weeds, thorns, and little yellow flowers. This is no exaggeration—it must be taken literally. There are to be found today many new paths, short cuts leading from one section of the town to another across the land upon which once stood Jewish homes”.
        Eliezer Kovenski writes of his visit to his home and Wolkovisk immediately after its liberation by the Russians.
        “I came back to the neighborhood of my old home in the village of Stutchin where I was born, immediately after the freeing of the town, and found no one. I saw only graves and more graves. But when I arrived in Wolkovisk, when I came to the beloved town, where my best years were spent, where I was married, where my dear children were born, I did not even find a grave. The Wolkovisker Jews have been transformed to ashes in the crematoria of Treblinka and Auschwitz. I wanted to throw myself upon the ground and weep, weep without end. A Gentile acquaintance, Bolish Shareika, met me. He invited me to his house and asked me if I wished anything to eat. 'No,' I said, 'I am sated. Thank you'. 'Give me' I asked him, 'a bit of earth out of friendship'. I took the earth and covered my head. So I went out upon the Neie Gaessel where my home once stood and sat down upon a stone. I sat Shivah for my wife, for my children, and for all my dear friends, the Jews of Wolkovisk'.
        'The Gentiles gazed upon me with sympathy, 'Now,' I said, 'Now it is well with you. There are no more Jews here. Now, now you will live forever'. They replied they were not responsible, they had nothing to do with what had happened.
        'I found the few partisans who were in town and bade them farewell, and placed my bag upon my shoulders and took to the road. I went through ruined towns and villages—villages without Jews exactly as though it were the Day of Atonement when all Jews are to be found in the synagogue for Kol Nidre. So it appeared everywhere. I turned Eastward upon the road that leads to the Land of Israel”.

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