September 1938, two weeks before Rosh Hashanah.

    I'm coming to part with the people of Zabludow before I make an aliyah (immigration) to Israel. I was born and raised in that town, there I got the moral values of Judaism, norms of behavior, a lot of love, and human warmth. During my childhood I breathed its smells, sounds, and its spirits, and they haven’t left me even until this day.
    Weekday, twilight time, and fall is nearing. I’m going from house to house to part with the people of the town and to get blessings for the way. Every stare, handshake, and kiss penetrate and carve into my soul. Outside it is already getting dark, and I have to hurry to the bus that goes to Bialystok, where I finished my study in the high school. And what a wonder, in the town square, where the bus is standing waiting for me are people from Zabludow. My eyes are fixed on them, and I feel as if they want to join me on my long trip, and not leave me on my own. Their hands reach out to me, waving hello, and they are blowing me kisses. And who would think that this will be the last glimpse of them, and I will never see them again. Those hands accompany me all my life. They reach out to me in my dreams, in days of happiness, and of sadness, and they scream "don’t forget us, we are part of you!"
    I am leaving the town, whose lives are going along as usual, even though in the big world the winds of war are already blowing. The town Zabludow is still in some sense like ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ by Garcia Marquez; full of legends and strange stories, customs and traditions, that have nothing to do with the bursting of the modernization of the twentieth century. And still, in a quiet and non-feeling way a revolution happens in the town of Zabludow -- Especially in the area of education. Thanks to the genius Rabbi Jochanan Mirsky, of blessed memory. Also the world’s outlook is changing. Zionism is replacing left wing philosophy. Zionist youth movements and training camps of Hapoel Hamisrachi who brought the first settlers to Eretz Israel. Also in everyday life there are external changes influenced by the regional city of Bialystok. From her and to her buses flow in and out of the city in very high frequency.
In Zabludow you can still manage without a watch, almost every child knows how to look at the shade of the sun and tell the correct time. You can easily know the day of the week, the coming of the holidays, and changes of seasons. There is almost no need for a calendar. Life is proceeding in a circular motion like the hands of a watch. Starting at one certain point and return after one full circle.
    In Zabludow you wake up on Sunday to the ringing of two church bells, the Catholic, and the Pravoslavic, each of whose bell chimes differ. You wake up and you know it’s Sunday: come the farmers from the area, their shoes on their shoulders, hurrying to prayers. With the end of prayers they scatter to the tavern and to the bakeries, of which most are owned by Jews, to eat and drink, and the wine is spilled like water. Smell of heavy liquor is in the air, and a day such as this is able to end up in fights, knife stabbing, and even murder, this is a day full of tension. Monday: gallops of the horses and wheels of wagons screeches from the weight of the merchandise, wakes you up at dawn. And you remember it’s market day! And there isn’t a bigger pleasure than to browse in the market. And what’s not there? In the horse market the dealing is with the best horses. Fixing horseshoes, looking at their teeth to determine their age, touching and checking. They want to buy the best, and in the square itself to the length of the left side next to the store walls sit the baboushkot, with their products; high quality butter, all kinds of cheese, eggs, vegetables, also wild berries, blueberries, strawberries, cherries, and what not? It’s hard to detail the bounty of the merchandise; carts overflowing with potatoes, apples, pears, onions -all the agricultural products from the villages, and of course, carts loaded with firewood for use in the winter. Market day is a fun day, especially for the children, for even the clown is not absent with his music box, nor the fortune-tellers, the beautiful gypsies with their colorful clothes, and the photographer. A happy day and the house is full of goodies. Tuesday : more relaxed. We clean what the horses and cows left on the big stones of the square and the children are looking for horseshoes, because they say that the horseshoe brings luck. Many men are preparing to set out in the opposite direction, to the nearby villages and the distant markets in the towns and bigger cities away from Zabludow and, like in the stories of Mendele Mocher Sefarim [Mendele the bookseller], they drag themselves in the nights in the rain and in the cold in order to bring from far away their daily wages home. These are tough lives. The men come home at the end of the week tired and weary. Sometimes their success brightens their faces. Sometimes they come home downtrodden and dismayed. Wednesday : Shabbat is nearing. Visiting the Rabbi’s house to buy yeast (it’s part of his livelihood). The yeast is sold by the Rebbetzin [Rabbi’s wife], whose head is wrapped in white kerchief. She stares at everyone in order to know who didn’t come, - meaning that a certain family will be left with no challot [Shabbat bread] for Shabbat, and the family is in distress. There is consequently need to supply this family their needs anonymously, because the town is like a big family; no Jew will suffer the shame of hunger; the responsibility is collective.The baking for Shabbat starts already on Wednesday, and continues until the late hours of Thursday. The smell of challot and yeast cakes is felt in every street and people’s mouths water. There are a lot of houses that are also baking bread. Thursday: is dedicated also to cleaning, scrubbing the wooden floors, waxing the floor of the living room in red floor wax, and of course for cooking. Friday : last preparations for the approaching of Shabbat and the ritual of the cholent [Shabbat Stew]. They prepare it with attentiveness according to the traditional recipe, and in the special pot. On top of it comes the lid, potato peels, tied in rope, writing the name on the pot, and in the hours of the afternoon it’s ready to be taken to the hot ovens. In Zabludow there isn’t a street without a bakery, and each one of them has its own uniqueness. And who doesn’t remember Friday night? The whole family is sitting around the table, the candles are lit, and the challot are covered. Everyone is dressed in Shabbat clothes. The Jew who returned from a long, weary journey bent over and downtrodden, sits like a king, and his wife like a queen, perhaps for one night, for a fleeting moment- and the children are princes and princesses, that way they’ll remain until the end of Shabbat. Shabbat: waking up early with heightened spirits. In the morning they set out for synagogue, and what a wonder, the same Jews, crouched during the weekdays as if their stature grew. They stride with broadened shoulders, in their best clothes, as if their worries left them. Everyone in a different world, each holy, upon returning from morning services their heavy cholent is awaiting them with the rest of the delicacies.
    Afternoon most people stroll to the boardwalk. In the main streets there are some pretty narrow sidewalks, where people walk back and forth for hours. They meet, stop, and talk until the dark hours. The week is over and at the end of the Shabbat, when weekdays are approaching, sadness falls over you, a deep sadness, a typical Jewish one. The town goes out of its routine in a wedding, or G-d forbid, a funeral; almost everyone accompanies the couple to the Chupah and they take part in their happiness - and the whole town accompanies its dead, and sheds tears with open hearts. No one is apathetic, neither when a fire breaks out. Young, old and children are running to the place where the fire broke out, holding buckets full of water, and more than once they realize that after running the bucket is already empty. Before I left the town there were already fire fighters; that’s the story of the week.
    And the seasons of the year: there are so many yearnings for those who remained alive, the smell of spring still makes one drunk, and that’s the smell of blossoming lilacs in May. The cherries are in blossom as are all the rest of fruit trees; the whole town is colorful. Doors open and women and children again sit in their spare time on the bench, or on the front porch. Some kind of laziness, mixed in with romance wraps you and some unexplainable hope in the heart. You would want to separate yourself from the town, to fly to the big world, but you know, here you’ll stay, stuck all your life, and only few will succeed to leave its boundaries. Some will go to Eretz Israel, others to far away countries, few would travel to the big city, and those who do, would the best people of the town, and then the town would be impoverished of its spiritual materials and resources.
    The summer- the very hot summer sometimes brings unpleasant smells, life is taking place mostly outside, harvesting the crops and the smell of the hay is in the air. On Saturdays the forests around are full, people are escaping from the heavy heat to the forest, taking with them food and hammocks, after a tiring walk it’s possible to rest in the shade and enjoy the wind and the smell of pine. The town also has a river, bathing and swimming are not a common sight, but you can see women and young ladies bringing their dirty laundry, scrubbing the laundry on a wavy board in the river’s water, and the laundry comes out fresh and with a good smell. Sometimes, during the summer, after a very hot day, it rains with big thick drops, and then there is relief. The nuisance of the summer are the flies, and there are many, fighting them endlessly with a sticky, sweet paper, that the flies are attracted to, with glass jars full of water and underneath sugar that attracts the fly, with a rubber stick or just a plain towel they try to get rid of them through the window or door.
In the summer fruits and vegetables are plentiful. You can also refresh yourself by drinking cold sour milk that they bring from the cellar because there is no refrigerator; there is neither ice nor running water. Usually this is a happy season.
    The autumn: brings sadness and gloominess, heavy rains come down sometimes throughout the whole week, the town is in the midst of falling leaves, sunken in mud, and the yellow leaves float in the puddles. The water doesn’t flow, because the town does not have sewer systems. Life goes slowly, when evening comes the streets empty, and the people stay more and more in their houses, but the Jews who earn their living from peddling are still wandering to far away places with their carts, in spite of the harsh weather. In the winter: the town is usually covered with snow, and wrapped in white, the youngsters love this, and the coldness doesn’t scare them, they slide on the ice in the few ponds and ride sleds tied to the horses that are the winter transportation. It’s a pleasure to take a walk in the evening when the stars reflect on the frozen snow. Sometimes the cold gets to minus 33 degrees Celsius. The house is warm, the big stoves, covered with white tiles are working all day. The stove is the center of the house; the common dish is soured cabbage with a side dish of potatoes. In spite of the cold, youngsters take walks in the evening outside and love blossoms in the winter because they warm the heart and the body. During the walk you hear here and there music or songs that come from houses. The common sound is that of the mandolin, also there are two pianos in the town and one violin on which is played by Chiale Baker, the student of famous violinist Shmuel Leib Zesler. Shmuel Leib Zesler son of the lassoer [?] that has performed a lot abroad, but tends to come home before Rosh Hashanah. Then his father’s house windows open up and from them comes out the beautiful tunes of the Kol Nidre, many people from the town gather round his house, listening quietly, and wipe tears away.
    It’s hard to finish without mentioning the holiday atmosphere, each holiday and its special character. The holiday that is carved especially in my memory is Passover. The preparation for the holiday starts in Purim, baking of the matzos turned into a festive ceremony. They wouldn’t kosher enough bakeries and most of the families used to bake their matzos by themselves. For that reason, families would get together, depending on the turn they helped each other. The baking was also done by turn; the whole holiday stood in a sign of renewal and cleansing. Clownish types would say: it’s a miracle that the holiday of Passover exists, otherwise they would die from dirt. There is no holiday that didn’t leave its taste and smell in everyone from the town for life.
    I brought up here, on the tip of the fork, a whole world that stayed deep in my conscious and in my subconscious which spilled on these pages, almost in an unstopped flow. This world that got destroyed and erased in a brutal and cruel way by the Germans, in which my whole dear branched out family was eliminated; to them and to the people of the town I dedicate those lines. Each and every one of them I will remember with great love and ache until my dying day.

    We have never had delusions about anti-Semitism because it was rooted deeply in the consciousness of our neighbors the Polish. But the relationship was cordial with mutual respect and a greeting of the traditional raising of the hat. There were mutual congratulations in times of holidays and business relationships were out of necessity. They also worked together in leather factories that were owned by Jews. Full cooperation existed also in times of crisis the town faced like natural disasters, fires, etc. The Polish were not our only neighbors, there were also white Russians; whole villages were populated by them along with the Polish villages.
    In normal times we didn’t have any problems of anti-Semitism from the villagers because they were full of hatred toward their Polish government, and they left us alone. On Sundays, during holidays and market days the villagers, Polish and white Russians would come to the town with their carts and their women sitting on the top of their carts holding things for sale. Usually a colorful hen or chicken would bring some money for small expenses. When they arrived at town they went to prayer. The Polish went to the Koshchul [?Catholic Church] and the Russians went to the Pravoslavic Church that stood in the center of town in the Market Square. After the prayer they filled the taverns and the teahouses that were mostly owned by Jews and were a good source of livelihood. I can’t remember any anti-Jewish fights, with serious violence, except small fights when they were drunk. In those rare occasions Jews had the upper hand and they remembered the results for a long time. Our Polish neighbors from the town stood aside and didn’t intervene, and in most occasions they encouraged the Jews by saying that the villagers became obnoxious and that they have to learn a lesson.
Here and there, there were reserved friendships between the Jewish youth and Polish youth. Usually it was during sport meets on the field, or at coed dances.
There was no love among us, but there were fair relationships- all that up to the beginning of the thirties.
    With the appearance of Hitlerism in the neighboring Germany and with the spreading Nazi beliefs, different winds started to blow in the town. It was spreading slowly but significantly. The main active cause was the Polish intelligentsia, especially the youth that started to flock to the colleges and universities with the active help of the government. Anti-Semitism started to break through the surface. Rumors were spread that in certain houses of our neighbors meetings were being held and groups were being organized. It was said that their main goal was to spread the anti-Semitic poison among the calm citizens. The effect was felt mainly in the economic area. In the beginning maybe with a bit of unpleasant feelings and hesitation but all the while it was obvious. The turning point was sharp and the relationship was not like in the past. Most of the towns Jews were making their living from business especially with the surrounding villages. They produced a variety of agricultural products besides food. They produced wool, linen, furs, leather, etc. The business took place directly in the markets or the Jews used to go to the villages by cart, or by foot.
    Some of the town Jews made their living in shops of industrial products, like different fabrics, leather for shoes and boots, house dishes, working tools, especially agricultural and all kinds of glittery haberdashery. There were also workshops for tailoring, shoemaking, carpentry, and blacksmithing, the villagers enjoyed some of the profit. The hired proletariat worked in leather factories which was the main industry in the town. Prosperity in the town started with the end of the harvesting at the time of gathering and threshing. The decline was in the time of plowing, seeding and waiting for the crops. During this time that is called by the nation ‘the dryness’ Jews stood in the doorway of their businesses doing nothing, and they waited for the customer who didn’t show up, or browsed in the market with the hopes that maybe someone will come. The youth that matured never found their place in all this, resources were very limited, and were hardly enough for their fathers. Immigration was impossible therefore the youth browsed aimlessly and in boredom in the hope for better times without knowing what will cause the desirable change. The future did not look bright and the overall condition seemed to come to a dead end.
    The ideological advanced youth was divided into two groups: the first one- their wandering eyes looked to the east, to the new revolutionary world, and the second one also looked to the east, but a different east, the one that our ancestors turned to with prayers and longing. Those hopes had little chances; they hoped for a solution, but there was no way to make it a reality, and all that happened during the first years of the 30’s, the final solution they did not see even in their worst nightmares. Europe became astir, on one side the threatening Nazi-Germany, and on the other side the Soviet Russia, and in the middle the free European countries, together with the United States satisfied and looking for peace and quiet.
    Day and night we were glued to the few radios in the town, knowing that our fate was in destiny’s hands. All of us, including the Orthodox, hoped for the Soviet victory, but actually we were in a state of bystanders. Until the storm got to us, and we were pulled unwillingly into the awful turbulence that had spread all over Europe.
The intense propaganda against Poland was working full time. The progressive leaning toward pro-Germany didn’t help Poland, especially in the anti-Jewish part. Poland stood on a verge of German invasion; a general draft was declared, including Jewish youth, the town was in turbulence, nothing was clear and certain, there were rumors that were dismissed in a minute, one thing was certain- one word that shook each and every heart was in the air- war. And so, in the month of September, 1939, the Germans invaded Poland and started the first step in World War II. Fear and anxiety was everywhere, rumors were all over, there was a great worry for the youth that was drafted quickly because of rumors about the fast progression of the Germans and the flight of the Polish army. Wounded units crossed the town, German planes spread fear by flying over the houses, and ambulances with wounded ones crossed the town without us knowing to where and from where.
    The arrogant Polish army all dolled up and shiny lost its glamour, here and there soldiers went around with mixed clothes, part civilian and part uniform, and there was embarrassment all over, in the local government, and in the population. Stores closed, there was a shortage of basic foods, and there was no way to make a living. The villagers kept their produce, because they lost their trust in money. A few of the youth left the town and ran away in a northeastern direction without knowing exactly to where.
    There were rumors that the Germans were already in the neighboring Bialystok and in Bilsk, on the other side of Zabludow, and we were in the middle without any rulers. It was a situation of anticipation and depression, and then suddenly, and at once, as if according to an unheard order all the tumult stopped. There was a frightening silence all around, we stayed in the houses, shades closed and we looked through the cracks to see what was going on in the empty street, alert and tense to every change. Suddenly we heard the noise of an approaching car. With great speed it entered the Market Square, it was loaded with German soldiers and with their weapons drawn against the windows and openings of the houses.
    It turned around and went back the same way that it came. It was probably a patrol car. After a few minutes it appeared again, and inside there was a Polish resident who had been captured and was seated in the car, in order to be sure that the towns people wouldn’t sabotage the car. Soon the town was full of German soldiers carrying their weapons and equipment. In each corner they put machine guns ready to fire, we looked at them fearfully.
Slowly people began to appear in the streets, first the Polish, and then us too, but with great hesitation. In some of the houses opened commentators who would give exit permits. Some rooms from the best houses were taken for the garrison officers.
    In our house they took one room for a young officer that was quite Polish, he even asked my mom to cook home made food for him. Before he ate he made us taste the food, to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. After two days of his staying with us I dared to ask him, in my innocent way if Jews served in their army; his answer was negative, but he added that Jews work for his army. He also said that I don’t have to be afraid of the regular army, which is the Wehrmacht but when the SS and the Gestapo come our situation will not be too good. Of course I didn’t know what exactly would happen to us.
    During the day, somehow we continued our lives, in spite of the fear and shortage, but at dusk, and when the curfew is set we locked ourselves behind lock and key, no one comes and no one goes. Here and there we heard screams because of robbery, but without any drastic actions, just the rhythm of the guard’s steps with their boots that spread fear, disturbed the silence.
    The rumors continued as usual in times that history is being formed, day by day, hour by hour. The main question that we faced, and were supposed to determine our faith was where do we stand in the famous Ribentrop and Molotov agreement. We didn’t know to whom we would belong and where the border will be drawn. Pundits and prophets of doom appeared everywhere, we were shaken by the stormy waves of history, helpless and trying to make our way in the unknown, and during those thoughts the Germans disappeared over night, as if they didn’t exist, just like the ground opened up and swallowed them whole. We woke up in the morning; there was silence, and no sign of the Germans. At first we didn’t believe our eyes, and when the astonishment was over, then came the joy. Some of us were more reserved, saying that it’s too early to celebrate, maybe it was a tactical maneuver, and the Germans are able to return.
    For now we are left with no government, a mixed civil militia was formed (Polish and Jews) in order to keep the people’s possessions. The connection with the neighboring Bialystok was weak, people were afraid to go out of the town. There was again an unknown feeling, again anticipation for the upcoming things, and especially to the Soviet arrival. The departure of the Germans was a sign that we were under the Soviet government. To our knowledge they were supposed to come from the northeast, from the Zjaddon forests. Most of the day was spent on the attic, looking in that direction. I also participated in the observation, because we lived in a duplex building, a rare one in the town.
    Meanwhile a few people came from Bialystok and told us that the Soviets were at the train station outside of the city. With pride and satisfaction they told us how the Soviet soldiers forced the German soldiers to unload cars full of merchandise that was stolen from the station’s storage. One villager that arrived from the other side of the town, from Bilsk, told that the Soviets are there too, again we were in the middle, with a feeling of deprivation, that we are the last to know. Again we blamed the fact that there was no railroad track connected to our town.
    After a few days of waiting and observing, without a government we saw a convoy nearing. We told everyone the good news, and the rumors spread like fire. The streets were filled with people and children, exactly the opposite than what happened when the Germans entered the town. On the other hand the Polish hid in their houses, not in fear, but in embarrassment and deep pain because of their lost independence, especially to those who they never liked and nicknamed them moscals. We didn’t doubt the fact that they preferred the Germans to the Russians.
    The convoy entered the town; there were some army trucks full of soldiers, some wearing military tunics that were the same color as the neighboring villagers’ tunics. Wearing gray wool hats with ear muffs to protect from the cold, and in the middle there was a red star, a symbol of the red army. In their hands they were holding long, old rifles, with long narrow spears that we recognized from pictures from Napoleon’s war in Russia, at first sight we were disappointed from their appearance, comparing to the German commissars who were wearing leather clothes, nice and tall, the way we imagined them. We hesitated to approach them, if from embarrassment, or because we didn’t know the Russian language very well.  Out of one of the trucks came a soldier, probably their officer, dressed a little differently, with a different kind of hat, with a metal red star, and some crossed leather stripes on his tunic, carrying a big pistol in a wooden case. He approached us, and blessed us that we were freed from the fascists. He asked us when the Germans left the town, and how was their behavior toward the citizens. After we answered his questions he went back to the car.
    In short time army units started to pour in from the same direction with their equipment and weapons: infantry, cavalry force, artillery corps, and Cossacks in dark blue uniforms in fur hats. They were handsome, well built, and attached to their horses, as if they were born together, and the most astonishing- there were Jews among them, Cossack Jews, Circassians in colorful uniforms, and short tunics, decorated with pistol bullets on both sides of the chest. There were Kalmyks, Tatars, a mix of people that we’ve never seen. Armored cars and tractors. That sight changed our first impression by a lot. Since noontime, and during the whole day and night, the units continued to stream west, to where the border was supposed to be, according to the agreement. The tumult got quiet; a few units were left, at the garrison, that worked the next day to put in loudspeakers in the Market Square and a big wooden stage in the middle for the army bands and some delightful Russian music that was heard throughout the town. We rejoiced without knowing what lay ahead of us. The new regime was a puzzle to us, but we felt that we were saved from the Germans, without knowing exactly from what we were saved (that we knew only in the second edition of that world war).
    Among the small garrison, we noticed some uniforms that were different from the others, they were more glorious than the rest, they had different hats, with a red stripe going around it, they were well built, and healthy looking, like officers, but without any signs of rank. They didn’t mix in with the rest of the townspeople, like the other army people, they were reserved and they had more superior manners. It turned out that they were the people of the N. K. V. D., the successors of the famous che-ke, the order makers, and the founders of the Soviet regime.
     The civil and half army government settled in the old city hall (the magistrate): drafted civilian Soviets, most of them party members ruled there, and their leader, as we found out, was a Jew by the name Margolin. It was the holiday season: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkoth. It was a strange feeling- on one side opened up a new world that brought an end to our suffering as Jews, and on the other hand there was a strange emptiness, maybe because of the holidays that were not celebrated as in days past. In any case the celebration was over very quickly and the dull reality set in.The town factories were confiscated, among them also our flourmill and its belongings. The stores closed, and our source of livelihood was totally blocked. Other new sources of livelihood, according to the Soviet resources, were not created.
    The Polish villagers and town farmers hid in their farms and hid their produce. They slaughtered their cattle in an unorganized, uncontrolled way, for fear of confiscation and distribution among everyone. They feared the creation of Kolchoz (collective farm), which they hated very much. As a matter of fact, the first part of the "international song" came true: the Old World got destroyed, but the building of the New World was not yet started. Because of the confiscation of the houses for different organizations, or because of their capitalist status, the Soviet took people out of their houses, including my parents who lived as tenants in a two-floor house, and turned it into a government financial institute. We were moved, six of us, with all our belongings, to one room at my mother’s sister’s house, that used to be a store, and which had closed.
    Like every new and strange regime the Soviets needed collaborators (this time upon ideological background) from the population, which they could find easily, especially among us Jews, and from the white Russians, who saw themselves as the main partners in the upcoming changes. I’m not sure if their motive was ideological. The way they saw the Soviet regime was basically wrong. Their conception of a revolution was literally turning the world in a way that the lower class would be going up, and the upper class would be going down: now the capitalist will be the servants and the oppressed. They were so innocent that they put the previous owners of the factories (which were full of valuable products) as guards, but with a small difference that each one of them will guard at night on each other’s factory.
    Their innocence was based on revenge, and not on ideology, but it didn’t last long, the time took its toll and stability started to occur, and from the chaos started a new reality, more directed and with a goal. The reaction of the Jewish population to what was happening was diverse, and even extreme, and there were a few reasons. The main ones were: their economic and social status in the past, their reaction to religious and to the Zionist idea and also the direct effect of their real or fake status. Therefore some of the Jewish residents were active supporters, the main part was apathetic, and there was also a part that hated them-of course in secret.
    Most of the people that tried to be a part of the new government came from the poor population, with an undefined livelihood, but cannot be defined as a proletariat because they never worked as employees, and therefor were never used directly by their employers. The proletariat employees, which most worked at the leather factory, were the ones who were hurt economically. In normal times they had a normal income, and they made an honest living; to them the new government didn’t react with generosity.
    Meanwhile- the economic situation got worse and worse and the problems of the growing youth did not get solved from any point, there was no livelihood and only few found jobs by the government. Most of the shops were closed, and the few government shops that opened did not provide almost anything. When there was something for sale it got divided among anyone with government ties. There was a shortage in almost everything, especially in everyday need, like food, clothes, and basic house needs. Every rag became valuable. Trade became popular because there was not too much trust in money. The pessimists said- that’s it and the optimists said- with the stabilization of the political situation the economic situation will stabilize too.
    In spite of that there were advances in the educational and cultural sector, elementary school got expanded, teachers and educators, part of which came from Russia, succeeded in creating motivation among the students. Excellent students’ names appeared on a bulletin board in the school, and all sorts of school pamphlets. They declared competitions with prizes, and new ways and opportunities came up for higher education. All kind of classes and courses opened up during after school hours. School became the center of each student’s life, the language of the white Russians was declared as the official language. Classes and courses for adults were put up for subjects such as music, drama, dance and all that accompanied with political propaganda about the superiority of the Soviet regime. The influence of the regime on the school age youth was great. The influence on the rest of the population was different. The elderly continued with their traditional way of life. As in the past, the houses of learning were their center of life. Everything that happened around them didn’t interest them; they looked at the enthusiastic people with a nod of their head saying that it’s not the end of it without knowing what they were actually predicting. The adults couldn’t decide, they were holding on to the past, while waiting for the future, maybe after all, a better one. Most of the youth turned their backs on the tradition that became weak anyway, and all that without a strong foundation and with feeling of non-stability and doubts toward a vague future.
    The town filled up with military personnel’s family and Soviet clerks. Over time some of them became friendly, especially [toward] the Jews. The Polish except for a few of them, stayed away from the Soviets and saw the Jews as collaborators and traders that their time will come, because they hoped that the Germans would return…
    Jewish refugees started coming into the town from the area conquered by the Germans with horrible stories about the Germans’ attitude toward the Jews, about humiliations and beatings leading to death, expulsion and causeless murders. It was hard to believe that things like these actually happened, it left us with anxiety, but we thought that maybe those descriptions were exaggerated a bit.
    I rarely arrived home from Bialystok, which is where I worked, because my home was very crowded and there was no room to sleep, and all of that until I got drafted to the army. The western world undermined firmly the drafting citizens from conquered areas, but without success. I was drafted and sent to the heart of Russia, to a different world, different people, and a different way of life. Letters from home arrived regularly, and in them I was told about happenings at home and in the town. Mom told me with satisfaction that my father was permitted to work in the previous family business - the mill - even though other family members were taken away from it, because my father’s professional expertise and also because he was well liked by different people with different status. They also wrote to tell me that one of my brothers worked in Bialystok in the textile industry, and my other brother worked in the leather industry in the town. My little sister studied hard and succeeded in them. In our childhood we heard that before World War I, in the days of czarist Russia, a dam was built on the small river that crossed the town (miltina). During World War I the Germans bombed the dam and the lake that it created ran dry. Now the Russians re-built it for the pleasure of the people of the town, small events such as these were very interesting in the small town. They also wrote me that they missed me and they were waiting for the moment that I’ll get vacation time and go home.
    I got home five years later… there was no house, there were no residents. They disappeared as they had never been there, with no grave or stone to put my head on and cry, their dust and ashes were spread across the sky. To gather them in the end of days will be a difficult and perhaps impossible mission.

A. The last days of the Soviet regime

    As one of the few Zabludow sons that survived and as an eyewitness I take it upon myself, as a holy obligation, to describe in the Yizkor book our long-lived city and her last years’ bitter struggle for life. A struggle filled with horror and torture before the Nazi oppressors destroyed it. May their [the Nazis] name and memory be erased.
    May the citizens of Zabludow forgive me for calling them by their nicknames since I no longer remember many of the family names.I would like to say, "May you be strengthened" to our friends, Zabludow’s citizens in Argentina who published the "Yizkor" book in memory of our city that was destroyed. Future generations should know what Amalek did to us.
     On Thursday, the 19th of June 1941, I arrived with my cart to a place where an airport was being constructed on lands that belonged to the Catholic and Orthodox Church and were confiscated by the Soviets. I was one of the cart drivers that hauled rocks to the construction site. There I was notified that the original site was too small for the airport and it was decided to confiscate parts of the Christian citizen’s fields and the Jewish cemetery.On my return home I notified my father, Israel Moshe (may he rest in peace) of the terrible news. He ran immediately to the Rabbi to convey the news. The Rabbi was of the same mind as me that he alone could not help much and proposed to send a delegation of elderly citizens to Margolin who was in a position of authority for the city. My father was acquainted with Margolin since he and Margolin’s father studied together in the Yeshiva in previous years. They talked and decided to talk to Margolin the following day on Friday to ask him to remove the terrible decision. But early the next morning, when we were ready to leave for work, we heard that the "wealthy" Jews were removed from their homes and supposedly taken to Russia. And these were: Zvia Robbins and her children and the families of Chaim and Eliezer Velvel Miller. They only took Eliezer Velvel’s wife since he and Chaim were previously arrested and imprisoned in Russian jails. Eliezer was imprisoned in Minsk, released when the Germans invaded, returned home and after a short time died.
    Those who were expelled to Russia were lucky and most survived. Nachum Lapetshei and Reuven were rescued. The butcher Zelig Yanovsky, who was imprisoned, was released but died on his way home. On the day that we were notified of the expulsions we couldn’t work well. Everyone was afraid because there were rumors that expulsions would continue next week. In spite of all these events, the delegation proceeded to Margolin. His reaction was friendly and he asked to return on the 23rd of June. The elderly, as was their custom, joked and predicted that if they are dealing with the dead then this is their end. And their predictions came to pass.
    Many Russians who worked at the airport and also officer’s wives whose husbands were off on military maneuvers lived in Zabludow. On Saturday the 21st of June there was a Russian holiday. They celebrated and at night they had parties with dancing and they drank till they were drunk. We too, the young crowd, stayed awake till morning.
    I returned home and thought to go to sleep. Suddenly I heard a strong explosion. I ran outside. I didn’t see a thing. People stormed out of their houses in panic. They said this was the army maneuvers. I responded that this could not be possible. This was an echo of real explosives that, apparently, were being directed at Bialystok. I discerned well this explosion, since I was at the war front in 1939 with the Germans. A minute did not pass and my assumption bore out. Christians who came out of Bialystok said that the Germans had indeed bombed the city. The Nazis had surrounded the city on the 22nd of June 1941 at the time the citizens were asleep. They bombed all the Russian quarters. In Bialystok, bombs fell on the zoo where the Russian army had encamped nearby. The fish market as well was damaged and many civilians had been killed. The airplanes had also appeared above Zabludow where they overflew the city at low altitudes. However, they did not bomb our city.
    The city was in turmoil. The Russians started packing. The Jewish residents did not know what to do since the Russians were disconcerted by the sudden attack that had befallen them. Many children from our town were, at this time, outside of their homes and especially weaker children staying at rest homes at a place called Drusknik. Their worried and helpless parents looked for help. The panic increased. Leible Tavels was going back and forth looking for someone who was willing to go with him to Hurashitz where his daughter was visiting with in-laws. But no one was willing to accompany him since the road to Bialystok was already in bad condition. Since I knew the village roads very well, I took it upon myself to bring the girl.
    I just entered the fields with my wagon and I saw scared soldiers lying in the fields. They allowed me to pass. But when I arrived to the big forest, army units blocked my paths. I could not proceed…A similar picture came to my mind in the days of the Polish army in 1939. We would lie in the forests hiding from the bombs. At this time a huge army found itself in the same situation and this army does not have the strength to withstand the enemy.
    I drove back home. It became dark in Zabludow. When I got home, I was instructed to join the army immediately at the garden of the wealthy mansion. Many men from the surrounding villages gathered and we were ready to be sent to the front. Margolin, the city’s deputy, spoke to all and said: "There is no importance to the fact that the Germans had crossed the border. We are retreating, although at some point we will attack. Suddenly, in the middle of this speech, a German air squadron appeared and started to bomb the airport. Many bombs fell on the city. Immediately the whole area, where the Catholic and the Pravoslavic Church stood, caught fire. Two of Nachum Mendel Zaltzman’s daughters were killed immediately. Shalom Chaim Ostrovsky’s grandchild, Leiba Bartash’s son, Rachel Binder’s son and many Christians. On Monday, the first victims fell. The Russians dispersed quickly and there were no army units to join…That night the army dispersed to the four winds and the Germans bombed non-stop and spread fire on the roads.

B. The German invasion of Zabludow and the first horrible acts.

    The next day, on Wednesday, there were rumors that the Germans entered Minsk, and us, the few Jews, didn’t have any choice but to stay in place. Those who tried to escape to Russia were forced back; many of them died on the roads. In Zabludow there were big merchandise warehouses, the Christians entered them and robbed them. We tried to at least prepare some food, but the urban Christians stood against us. In spite of that Avrahamel Baker and I took a sack of flour forcefully and hid it, the Christians took carts full of leather to their houses, the didn’t miss any opportunity, meanwhile there was no government in Zabludow and the Jews possessions were made unclaimed property.
    On Wednesday evening Avrahamel Baker came to split the flour, and people were saying that the murderer Nazis entered Zabludow through Bilsk Street and that they were now going around and making order in the town in order to prevent robbery. Anyway there was nothing left to rob; we hid underneath our house’s balcony. Avrahamel asked me "do you have a gun? Give it to me, I must end my life. Anyway our lives aren’t worth much; we know what they are doing to the Jews everywhere"… I dissuaded him from doing it, but what’s the use of my intervention, if we will be murdered later on…
    The first patrol group of the Germans left the town and warned: to keep the order, and tomorrow morning the army will come.
    In the middle of the night we heard again shots. In the morning, my father, alav-ha-shalom, may he rest in peace, took his tfillin and went to the small beit Midrash. The big batei Midrash were confiscated by the Soviet regime and were turned into warehouses for crops. Suddenly he heard shots in the streets. People were hiding in basements. My father came running and shouting to get out from the basements; the whole city was burning, we tried to save whatever we could from our house, but whatever we saved was for nothing, because later on we were forced to leave everything…
    I quickly connected the horse to the wagon and I brought out my paralyzed uncle, Abba Daniel, from the house. It was impossible to drive in the city, all the houses were burning, I went through the park and there I saw Zeidka Melawidski lying on the ground and moaning, I ran to him and he told me that a minute ago a German shot him. I put in his mouth a piece of sugar and ran to the river to bring some water; but when I came back it was too late. I went to the hiding place behind the windmill, and there I found many people from Zabludow with their bundles. I left the wagon with my sick uncle and ran home; maybe I could save something… I met my father, his hands and face were burned, he wanted to take out the books from the house, I saw, near by, the old lady Lapetshei lying there dead after being shot. Wounded people were running looking for help; it was like a horror scene. The town was totally burnt: the batei Midrash around the old synagogue, all the houses, even the bathhouse that was surrounded by walls was burnt. Only the very old synagogue stood still, and the fire didn’t catch it. Me and my father, may he rest in peace, are looking, wondering, and imagining- it’s a miracle!
    It was but an illusion, suddenly the hooligan Nazis arrived, may their name and memory be erased! They spilled gasoline around the very old synagogue and they lit it on fire… that is how the very famous Zabludow synagogue burned and was erased from earth. A synagogue that existed four hundred years, one of the rare surviving art structure. The only remaining was the big rock that stood in front of the synagogue, now standing there like an orphan.

C. The torturing of the town Jews and their attempt to run away.

    That’s what the Nazi’s did the next day to the Jews in Bialystok. They forced two thousand Jews to enter the synagogue and they burned it, everyone was burnt…including our teachers that taught in Tachkemonie School. Who doesn’t remember the teacher Kapustein and other teachers? Also burned alive was the famous chess player Aharon Zabludovsky.
    And in Zabludow we didn’t have a roof over our heads anymore, whoever could save anything brought it to the Christians, in all Zabludow there were left on a few houses in Bilsk Street: the Rabbi’s house and beit haMidrash. A large amount of Jews gathered there and lay there close together. The Germans forced their way into Rabbi Jochanan Mirsky’s house, may he rest in peace, they dragged him to the street and started beating him… a few Christians tried to help and with a lot of effort they were able to release him. The Nazis confiscated the Jew’s horses and wagons, they told the Jews to go to their offices to get the compensation. Some went and they got a bitter ‘reward’, by miracle they stayed alive. I, from the beginning didn’t want to go, my heart warned me of the trap.
    Later on we started gathering the dead and bringing them to burial in the cemetery, Leshca Gorosh’s wife got killed, Bartzia Bartnovski got shot when he came out from the basement, Chaim Feivl, the water pumper was burned in beit haMidrash, he was hiding in the attic.
    Many of the Jews from Zabludow ran away to the near towns where they had friends. To Narba went: our Rabbi Jochanan Mirsky, may he rest in peace, with his daughter and grandson Jacob Zesler. Moshe the author and his wife, Babca Chaya daughter of Dvorka and her family, Chaya Ashka, the baker, with her sons, and some more families. To Bilsk: Leib-Hersh, the barber and his wife, Chenneh Herschel Zesler and his family, Moshe Hersh Glatshtein with his wife, Zelig Herschkesh’s wife and her children, Pesach Flicker and his family, Yankle Hoppervorn and his family, Yitzchak Bagel and his children, Avremke Tentzer and his children, Esther and Bayla Formen, and other families that I can't remember their names. To Bialystok went: Moshe Baruch Zesler and his family, Feivl Zesler and his family, Amtasha and Shmuel Leibtshik, and their families, (his son was killed), Dovid Epshtein, by himself, his wife and little daughter were killed, all the Dralis family, Eliezer Reznik and his family, Eizer Tzerolnick and his family and brother, and some more people.
    Some people escaped to Bialystok because they were afraid that the Polish would tell on them that they had jobs at the Russian regime, Noah Feder was already in the ghetto in Bialystok when the Germans caught him and killed him. Many families ran away to Arla and Michaelova among them: Leeka Casanski and their families, David Arlenski’s family, Shmockler Sander and Zalman’s sons, Eeche Meir’s children and their mom, Ese Scharbabre with his child and wife, Feivl Patlin and his family, Nachum and Miama Arelgoat and their families, and Bishka, Yoel’s son "Dar Starker" the strong and his family. But the Germans found Bishka and Miama Pashami and shot them, and so Zabludow’s Jews spread all over the nearest towns and cities. People who were travelling with wagons, their horses were confiscated and they had to push the wagons, their cows were also taken. In Zabludow the Jews were ordered to give their cows, but my mom said ‘whatever will be, will be…’ she is not giving her cow to them, and so she took the cow to Bialystok. She got to Dieleed, near Bialystok, without problems, but then the Christians robbed her violently, she fought them until she broke her leg and fell helplessly. She lay on the ground the whole night, coincidentally Itshke Sukionic saw her, and he was also was on his way to Bialystok. Itshke quickly told my brother-in-law, Chaim Menashe Parashovski, the news. He quickly took a hand wagon and immediately went to help my mom; he took her to the hospital in Bialystok. I will never forget the sad scene that I saw when we went out in the morning from Zabludow; we were a few Jews with our bundles on our shoulders. We were chased by all kind of scams, grabbing the bundles from the hands of the weak and beating them to death…that was our situation when we dragged ourselves from our dear Zabludow…we were humiliated, robbed and persecuted…and that’s how we got to Bialystok.

  D. The first miracle.

    I came to my sister Chana’s house. Right then the order came out that the Jews have to wear the yellow patch. I put on the patch with the Star of David and went to the hospital to see my mom, on the way there were Christians, laughing at the Jews that were wearing the yellow badge… the first visit passed with peace.
The second time I was caught by the Germans, they beat me to exhaustion…I’d like to say how I was saved from a certain death. I think it was a miracle, the first miracle.
    They were talking about making a ghetto in Bialystok, so I went out with my sister’s son, Avrahamel to Reemecatz to buy some food from some farmers that I knew. We were hiding in the crops, we saw, in the village, Chaim Gerber, Bartash and the husband of Leiba Bartash, Nachum. Germans were in the village; they left Nachum pass. They thought he was Christian. They killed Chaim because he looked like a Jew.
    We heard the shootings and immediately went to the path leading to the village that we knew very well. Some farmers gave us flour, barley, and butter that I thought to bring to my mom in the hospital. Early in the morning they took us through the path where we could go to Bialystok, but there was no way to pass by Halmond village that was near the city. The minute that we got close to the first house, with hope that we could hide in the granary, suddenly we heard the German language, before we had time to look we heard an order "Stop! Damn Jews!" We stopped immediately, I felt a strong blow to my face and I couldn’t see a thing. The Nazis ordered us to throw our bundles, I begged them to leave us alone, I said "our house was burnt, I'm bringing a little food to my sick mother in the hospital" it didn’t help, they told us to take their motorcycles.
They were walking behind us with their pistols aimed, taking us to the forest…I felt that my moments alive were limited. I whispered to Avrahamel "let’s throw the motorcycles and run to the forest. We have nothing to lose, we are already going to die if we don’t do anything, maybe it wont be easy for them to shoot us with a pistol" suddenly one of the Nazis stopped me and ordered me to go to the nearest tree. When he started tying me to the tree I released my hands with despair, I raised my hands upwards to the sky and I screamed "My G-d, help us!" "How is it that, you are not a communist, you believe in G-d?" asked the Nazi, and immediately loosened the rope from my hands, I showed him my Russian passport where it says number eleven, the sign for merchant people.
    The Nazis decided to bring us to the Gestapo headquarter that was in the ‘Olanim’ base (cavalry force). There were lots of Russian prisoners of war, they took us to their officer and said "we have two Jews prisoners of war" I wanted to say something, but I felt a strong blow from behind and I fell to the ground, they kept hitting me until I fainted. When I opened my eyes I say that I was lying in a river of blood, I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. The Nazis picked me up and one of them pushed me out with his rifle. I thought, this is the end, they are going to shoot me, and the Nazi left me out and went. I dragged myself to the road; some Christians that stood there and saw me started crying. How I looked made them pity me, I was very wounded, with one eye closed, I thought I was blind. The pain was unbearable; I looked for Avrahamel but couldn’t find him. Maybe they beat him to death. The thought troubled me. How shall I go home without the boy? Then I saw a Nazi hooligan pushing Avrahamel out, he was ‘broken’, wounded, and exhausted. With a lot of effort we dragged ourselves to my brother-in-law’s house. They didn’t recognize us. We were bloated, we couldn’t sit or lie, they covered me with bandages until I felt better. A few days later I went to the hospital, Dr. Rottenberg was very surprised. How could I have gotten such horrible beatings, and still survive? On my next visit to the Bialystok hospital I did not see Dr. Rottenberg, he committed suicide when they decided to build the ghetto.

  E. The suppression of Zabludow’s Jews.

    We lived at my sisters house in Bialystok on Mitzcevitz street, the Nazi’s started to enclose Jewish whole Jewish quarters, they used to kidnap the men and promise to release them for ransom. They collected the money, but we never saw the kidnapped men, one Saturday they kidnapped about two thousand men, among them were Zabludow people: Feivl Zesler and his son, Velvel Glatshtein and his son, his son-in-law Shlomo Gorosh, Leib Yashtkikes, the husband of Etel Shaitsheeks, her two sons and son-in-law and some other people from Zabludow. The Nazi’s demanded ransom, the women gave them their rings and earrings, and were hardly able to gather the demanded money, but our dear men did not return… those victims were called ‘the Sabbath victims’. A song was written for their memory, later on we learned about their fate. They were taken to a place in the mountains that was called ‘Patrasha’. They were forced to dig a grave, and then they were shot.
    Meanwhile an order came out. The Jews had to move to the ghetto, everyone tried to find a place there. We, the people of Zabludow didn’t know what to do. Most of us didn’t want to go to the ghetto, there was a rumor that the ghetto would be closed, on the other hand they said that it was impossible to establish a ghetto in Zabludow and it was possible to live in the leather factories and in other houses. We decided to go back to Zabludow. But first I helped my brother-in-law move to the ghetto, I will always remember the sad picture of moving to the ghetto. The poor people of Bialystok went sadly, dragging their small possessions. Christians watched, laughing, while trying forcefully to grab their bundles, beating them and the Germans watched and laughed…
    In spite of my warnings, my father ran to my sister-in-law Menucha. He wanted to have a minyan in her room in order to say Kaddish for the memory of his son, my brother Leib, to his misfortune the Germans caught him and cut half of his beard off along with his cheek.
    After I helped move my brother-in-law to the ghetto Isar Zerolnick and his family, and my brother-in-law Michal and his family were waiting for me, and we all went back to Zabludow. Close to the town we met some Christians, and they told us that the Nazis gathered Jews in the big local market where there once was a water pump. Stalin’s statue was standing there, the Nazis ordered to behead the statue, and shatter the rest of it. They beat the Jews cruelly who were busy taking out the order. Later on they ordered to do a Jewish burial… they had to take the head to the cemetery and bury it… and so Stalin was buried in a Jewish world. During the burial, again they beat everyone, we stood there, embarrassed, we didn’t know where to go, it was to late to go back to Bialystok, and we had no choice but to go to Sarnatzkin’s factory. We met their few families and stayed to sleep there. The next day we started to get organized, finding housing for each family. We walked around the burned houses, we took out iron plates from the rubbish and we made a cooking stove. Other families went through back ways to the village to get some food. I managed to get a job from Vintzig Volnetzvick, the Christian; his workshop was in the last house in the shoemaker’s street. His son-in-law, Chashick, promised me that if I stayed with him I wouldn’t have to work for the Germans, I slept in the barn and meanwhile I could get at least some food for my father and sister. There were families who gave their sons to the Christians to be employed as shepherds. They were satisfied that their sons wouldn’t suffer from hunger.
    Once in a while we heard bad news about the Nazis horrible things, and the Jews in Zabludow were ordered to establish ‘Judenrat’. Shimon Weissotsky got the role of being head of the ‘Judenrat’. Other members of the ‘Judenrat’ that I remember are: Zalman Rogivsky, Yaacov ‘Deban’, Aharon Crutnik, Reuven Baker, and others. Elchanah Epshtein was the secretary, and Yudel Packstein was the police. Each day people were sent to pave roads. Many worked in the Bialystok Volcovsic road. The German company, ‘Cercov’ was in charge. Zabludow’s Jews were ordered to supply ten men each week. The workers sometimes came home on Sunday; Zabludow’s Jews asked them to buy food from the farmers. I used my employer Velosoviches wagon to bring the food; I risked myself, because I went as a Christian, without the yellow patch.
The hardest job was in the winter. The Germans wanted to widen the road by three times from Bialystok to Moscova; they never got to see the new road. Meanwhile they needed more stones to build the road, and therefore the Germans started to take apart the Jewish Cemetery. We used to secretly enter the Rabbi’s and the ‘Tzadikim’s’ tents, and cry bitterly about our catastrophe.
    I already said that Zabludow’s Jew scattered in the abandoned factories and also in houses that weren’t burnt: in Shafsella Weisofsky’s house and Yaakov Coplinsky’s building, David Levin's house was confiscated by the government, the Bilsk Beit Midrash and the Rabbi’s house were taken by the Christians.
    The town now had a curfew. One evening the butcher Shalom Epshtein, left his house, and to his misfortune he bumped into the Nazi officer. He was stopped, was taken home and was shot in front of everyone. We lived in Sarnatsky’s factory; one evening we went outside for a minute; me, Eliyahu Patkin, Zeidka Baker, David Glatshtein, and a craftsman that lived across the street. Suddenly the Gestapo appeared in front of us from out of nowhere. They ordered us to go to their office in the morning. They said "don’t forget anyone". We ran to Shimon Weissotsky for his help. He promised to go with us and talk to the Gestapo. In the morning we went to the Nazi’s office, they took us in, one by one, and beat us without mercy until our souls left us.
    I asked Shimon Weissotsky not to send me often to work, but it was to no avail. He did so in spite of the fact that I saved his life in 1939, when he hurt his leg during the war with the Germans. Everyone had left only Moshele Brenner and I stayed with him, and we carried him all the way to a farmer’s house. That’s why we couldn’t find our army unit, and the Germans captured us, and miraculously, we were saved. The farmer took Shimon to the hospital, and when he got better he returned home. From then on I held a grudge against Shimon, had he forgotten everything?

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