Molchad, Belarus
Yizkor Book Project
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[Pages 335-336]
Translated by Jerrold Landau A letter from Winnipeg, Canada
Many greetings to Mr. Nachum Margolin.I am writing to you, the oldest son of the Ozersky family, the son of Shlomo the Sofer [the scribe's son]. I doubt that you remember me, for I studied in the Slonim Yeshiva and used to come home only on Passover and the festivals. However we were neighbors. We lived in the circle of stores, and your father had a store in the same circle. I was good friends with your Aunt Kroina and Uncle Yona, and especially with their older daughter, who was murdered at Passover time in Majentek[1], where the murderers killed everybody.
That tragic case remains well in my memory, for the next day I made an escape. I went out to the Zarecer forest, and from that time, I never came back to Maytchet. I went to Baranovichi, spent two months in the ghetto there, obtained a gun with 40 bullets, and organized a group of 24 girls and boys. At night, we left the ghetto with 15 guns and eight grenades, cut through the wire, and went out to the forest. Thus, I became the only survivor of our entire family.
I very much want to obtain some information about my family in Maytchet, and when they were killed. If any of you know any details about them, I would be very grateful to know. I observe the yahrzeit of the entire Maytchet community of Shabbat Chazon[2]. I recite Kaddish, read the Haftorah, and give a kiddush for the entire synagogue. I know that my younger brother Chona was murdered in the slaughter before Tisha Be'Av. I know nothing about my father and mother, my sister Malka and my middle brother Berl.
Now, regarding the Yizkor Book, I can state with certainty that you are doing a very important and holy task by perpetuating our dear and beloved martyrs, who were so tragically and cruelly murdered
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in sanctification of the Divine Name in our native town of Maytchet. The traitorous earth of Maytchet should be accursed forever, and accursed shall be the gentile neighbors who helped murder the Jews in order to inherit – Did you kill and also inherit[3]?!... No Jew should return to Maytchet again – this Yizkor Book will be the only memory of our native home and of our dear Maytchet Jews, our parents, brothers, sisters, children, and friends. It will tell about the synagogues and houses of study in which the Jews of Maytchet worshipped and studied for many generations, and about the societal institutions and activists which exemplified the finest Jewish traits of charity and benevolence; about the youth organizations that dreamed and worked to build up a Jewish nation in a Jewish Land, and thanks to which we have indeed attained a strong, independent Israel in the land of our fathers. All, everything, will be perpetuated in the Yizkor Book that will even be a place for the ancestral graves, so that every Maytchet Jew throughout the entire world will be able to remember and weep on the day of the memorial and yahrzeit…A value cannot be placed on the words of the book, and blessed shall be the hands that have carried out this holy work, that is a worthy rectification and elevation for the souls of the holy victims of the unforgettable common grave, as well as for those who survive throughout the world, who will peruse through the pages of the Yizkor Book with holy trembling and remember their fine Jewish origins. Every Maytchet Jew should support this endeavor with writings and money, just as our forbears would write a letter at the celebration of the conclusion of writing a Torah scroll, in order to take advantage of the holy merit.
I hereby submit my writing and my support, and wish you and all of your collaborators a great blessing of “More power to you!”…
[Pages 337-342]
Translated by Jerrold Landau Before I begin to write a few things about the Jews of Maytchet who lived in the independent State of Lithuania and then in the Soviet Republic of Lithuania that was annexed to the Soviet Union, I will preface and describe in a few words the general era that served as an era of salvation for the Jews. During this era, many thousands of Jews were saved and reached safe shores at a time when the Second World War engulfed the world in its full fury. This saving of Jews was done with quiet and wisdom, in a similar manner to the era of the salvation of the Jews of Hungary during the period of the war (1944)[1], which had no small number of similarities.
When Poland was trampled at the beginning of the war, a stream of Jewish refugees began to move to Lithuania, which was an independent republic in those days. Among the refugees were many pioneers and Zionist youth group members who were organized in various party frameworks and many of whom lived in various hachshara [aliya preparation] kibbutzim throughout Poland. The passage from occupied Poland to independent Lithuania was carried out through a variety of means, both legal and illegal.
After the defeat of Poland in September 1939 and its partition between Germany and the Soviet Union that was arranged by the foreign minister of Germany (Von Ribbentrop) and the foreign minister of the Soviet Union (Molotov) eight days before the outbreak of the war, and which specified that Germany would receive the western portions of Poland while the Soviet Union would obtain the eastern portions; Vilna and its environs, among other places, fell into the hands of the Soviet Union. In October 1939, rumors spread through Poland that the Soviets were preparing to transfer the district of Vilna and adjacent regions to the government of Lithuania. Therefore, many Jewish refugees began to move to Vilna with the hope and belief that a neutral country such as Lithuania would serve as their gateway to the wide world. These rumors came to reality on October 27, 1939, when the Soviets transferred all the areas around Vilna to Lithuania and established a closed border between the area of Soviet occupation and Lithuania. The border line ran through the town of Radun[2] on the Soviet side and the town of Eishyshok (Eišiškės) on the Lithuania side. Thus, many Jewish refugees found themselves in independent Lithuania; some whom had arrived prior to the closing of the border, and others who had crossed the border illegally after the closing of the border.
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On Friday, September 1, 1939, when the Second World War began with the German invasion of Poland, I was in the town of Slawków in the district of Zaglębie in western Poland. There, I was a member of the Hamizrachi Hachshara Kibbutz, preparing for my aliya to the Land of Israel. A few days after the outbreak of the war, I, along with several other youths, joined the stream of refugees moving eastward. My aim was to reach my parents' home in Maytchet, and at the end of September, after many tribulations and after I stumbled into the German Army and later the Soviet Army along the way, I reached home.
Maytchet was then under Russian occupation, and, as a Zionist chalutz, I felt myself as a bird in a cage. Then, the rumors that were spreading through Poland about the transfer of the Vilna area and district to Lithuania reached me; and my father, may G-d avenge his blood, advised me to get in touch with my girlfriend – today my wife – who was then at her home in Kovel, and to go to Vilna together with her. Since I did not yet know about the organization of the chalutzim over the border, I hesitated. I considered the situation and came to the conclusion that in the end the Soviets would conquer the entire state of Lithuania, and our situation would then be even more difficult, since aside from being Zionists, we would be considered to be deserters. In the meantime, I worked to solidify the economic situation of our family, and I was accepted at a government courses to prepare workers for co-ops. However, in the latter half of December 1939, after completing the course, which had included no small number of segments on the doctrine of Stalin, concluded, I felt that my place is not with the Soviets, and I decided to do everything I could to leave Maytchet. At that time, rumors spread about sneaking across the border between Russia and independent Romania. Therefore, I decided to set out immediately for Kovel, and to decide together with my girlfriend how to proceed. Indeed, at the end of December I reached Kovel where a surprise was awaiting me: messengers came and informed us that my comrades from the kibbutz were gathering in Vilna, and there was a great deal of activity by the active members of the movement to sneak across the border to Vilna. These messengers gave my girlfriend an address in the city of Bialystok where, as had been said, we would be able to join with the organized members to cross the border to Vilna.
I remained in Kovel for one day as I deliberated and thought about the matter with my girlfriend. Leaving the city had to be done in secrecy. The separation from the family and leaving our parents during such a difficult time was a very heavy factor – and my girlfriend, despite that she had spent more than two years in a hachshara kibbutz, was still connected to her parents and her family. In addition, would we even reach our destination during such a disorderly time? After much deliberation, we received the blessings of her parents and set out. We waited all night at the Kovel railway station for the train to Bialystok. As we were waiting in the railway station we met a friend, also a native of Kovel, who had been with us in the kibbutz and with whom we had made the journey from the kibbutz to Kovel, primarily by foot, after the outbreak of the war. We told this friend about our plans and gave him the address in Bialystok. Indeed, he also arrived in that city a few days later, on his way to Vilna. My girlfriend's parents waited with us at the railway station, and when the train arrived toward morning, we pushed ourselves with difficulty onto the train and set out for Bialystok.
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In the afternoon of that day, we arrived in Bialystok and went to the address that we had. It became clear to us that this was the address of a female member of our movement. In her house, we met other members who had been together with us on the hachshara kibbutz, as well as members of other kibbutzim. They were happy to greet us when we arrived, and our arrival encouraged them and increased the hope that we would all succeed in crossing the border to Lithuania. The members were near despair after we waited a long time for the emissaries who were supposed to come from across the border to transfer additional groups, but were delayed in coming. After a few hours, a member arrived who also had been with us on the kibbutz and was also active in the smuggling operation. He told us of the many difficulties that had taken place in the last few days. It was hard to maintain contact, the emissaries did not return again from across the border, and it seems like crossing the border became impossible – in short, we were out of options. After we dissected the situation, we came to the decision to leave Bialystok immediately and set out for Lida, the closest city to the border. We immediately sent someone to the railway station to purchase tickets, and after we gathered all the members together, we went to the railway station in Bialystok. After a few hours of waiting, the train came and we travelled to Lida.
We reached that town in the morning hours, and went to a synagogue where most of the refugees had gathered. On the way to the synagogue, I saw from afar two girls from Maytchet, and it seems that they were in Lida for the same purpose that I had come to that city. However, since I did not want it to be known in town that I was close to the border, I evaded them so that they would not recognize me. In the synagogue, we again met a few members who had been with us in the kibbutz, and they were also happy about our arrival. All of them remained in the synagogue, whereas I along with an active member of the smuggling operation set out to determine the possibilities of crossing the border. Since we did not succeed in finding such possibilities, we decided to set out toward the border by foot to go to a town or village adjacent to the border, from where we would determine the possibilities of crossing the border. When we set out from Lida we met a farmer who was on the way from Lida to his home. In conversation with him, it became clear to us that his brother-in-law who lives with him smuggled people across the border. We joined up with the farmer and went by wagon to his house, which was 12 kilometers from Lida. His brother-in-law was not at home, for he had not yet returned from his nighttime “activities”. We slept over at the farmer's house and the next morning we decided to return to Lida to bring the people, and we would all wait in the farmer's house until his brother-in-law returned.
Thus it was. We returned to Lida by foot, and took the rest of the members. We were a group of six males and two females. Another friend went with us to familiarize himself with the route so he would be able to utilize it a few days later, since he was waiting for his relatives who were supposed to arrive in Lida. That day was a wintery day – a typical end of December day. A thick snow fell, and we walked in single file with a distance between each person so that we would not be noticed. We reached the farmer's house and waited until nightfall, but his brother-in-law had not returned yet. Since the farmer was concerned about housing so many people in his house, he advised us to go to the house of another nearby farmer. A group of Jews were housed there, together with a Jewish border smuggler, who was a resident of the town of Eišiškės on the Lithuanian side of the border.
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This group had attempted to cross the border the previous night, but they did not succeed, due to a comb-out by the Red Army. We got in touch with the border smuggler, whose name was Shevach, and he agreed that we should accompany him – of course in return for a specified payment. I immediately gave him a sum of money up front, and we agreed that he would receive the remainder after we would cross the border.
That night, Shevach hired two sleds and we set out on the way. We passed through a forest and reached a certain place where he sent the wagon drivers and sleds back, and we continued on foot in single file. Along the way, we had to pass through the main road leading to the town of Radun, however we suddenly noticed horsemen of the Red Army going through the road. Therefore, we lay down in the snow and waited until the road was cleared of the horsemen. Then, we crossed the street and continued along our way until we arrived in the town of Eišiškės toward morning, tired and broken. We were brought to Shevach's house. He informed the people whom he had to inform, and the entire group of about 20 people dispersed to various houses. Two girls of our group were transferred that very day, which was a Friday, by public bus to Vilna. Of course, this transfer was made possible by the use of names and certificates of local girls. The men, I among them, were brought to Vilna on Saturday night by wagons.
Of course, we were not the only ones who arrived in Vilna. Hundreds of male and female chalutzim and other religious youths from chapters of Hechalutz, the Mizrachi movement, Hashomer Hadati, and Bnei Akiva in Poland gathered in that city, as well as religious youth from Germany who had been deported to Poland prior to the war due to their Polish origins. At that time, I remained in the kibbutz absorption center on Kiovska Street. After some time, institutions were activated, houses were rented, and all of the chalutz refugees were distributed according to their former group affiliations. Committees were chosen, and we attempted to enter into an orderly life. Additional members came as refugees also in January 1940, and all of them were absorbed into the kibbutzim. Of course, all of us were registered in the offices of the civic registry, as if we had arrived in Vilna before the day that it was transferred by the Soviets to the Lithuanians.
After we were divided up into various kibbutzim in Vilna, our common livelihood was made possible by various temporary jobs and by assistance from the American JOINT[3]. All of the refugees, without differentiation, received the same assistance. The JOINT organized communal kitchens for the solitary refugees, and distributed various provisions to the families and the kibbutzim. After four or five months, the government of Lithuania issued a directive, according to which some of the refuges had to leave Vilna and move to outlying cities. This fate befell me and other members, and we left Vilna. I joined a Jewish farm 12 kilometers from Kovno, where a kibbutz of our movement existed and we were employed in agricultural work and packing provisions that we received from Jewish suppliers in Kovno.
After a short time, in June 1940, Lithuania was annexed to the Soviet Union as a Soviet Republic. The regime changed and we succeeded in leaving the agricultural farm while there was still time. The group was separated, and we dispersed in small groups in the nearby town of Godlawo, (Garliava) a distance of seven kilometers from Kovno.
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Our group consisted of four males and one female. The males worked in Kovno. Every day, we walked or drove with saws and axes to Kovno, where we worked at cutting trees, whereas the female worked as a homemaker. Despite the breakup of the kibbutzim and the dispersal of their members to smaller groups, a constant communication was maintained between the groups and the central institutions. We, the members of the kibbutzim, prepared ourselves even for the possibility of persecution due to Zionism, as well as for oppression and imprisonment. The members of the headquarters prepared plans for the eventuality that we might have to go underground. Group heads were appointed, and means of communication were prepared, including a secret writing code for the case of need.
We remained in Lithuania for one year. The first half was in independent Lithuania, and the second half was in the Lithuanian Soviet Republic. During the year, the activities of the Offices of the Land of Israel in Kovno increased. Various central personalities rose to the leadership of the office, including Dr. Zerach Warhaftig[4]. People worked through all means available in order to obtain aliya permits to the land of Israel, entry visas to various countries throughout the world, and other transit visas. I recall that I went to the Japanese consulate in Kovno and left with an entry permit (or transit permit – I do not recall exactly which) to Japan. Hundreds and thousands of refugees did as I did. The Dutch consulate also placed its stamp on passports, permitting the passage to various islands[5]. At a time of need, we had our own “consul” who issued passports, visas and permits of various sorts. All this was done in haste until the set date when all of the foreign embassies and consulates in Kovno were ordered to close their offices and move to Moscow. I was sent to the British consol and received a passport with a permit for aliya to the Land of Israel on virtually the final day.
After the period of the issuance of passports, visas, entry permits and transit permits ended, the principal period of obtaining transit permits through the Soviet Union began. This period was a very difficult and demanding period. We did not act as individuals, for there was no possibility of us working as isolated individuals. To our happiness and good fortune, Dr. Warhaftig stood at the helm of the movement that acted with exceptional dedication, and whose levelheadedness was businesslike and logical. I will mention the following story as an example: We had to bring the list of candidates for aliya, whose names had been certified by the British consulate of Kovno, to the central office of the Soviet underground guard in Moscow in order to receive the permit. There were leaders who were concerned about bringing lists of names to such a dangerous place, but Dr. Warhaftig acted in a levelheaded manner and understood that daringness and bravery were both required, and that if the list of candidates were not presented, it was clear that we would not be able to leave. Even if we were to give in the list, there was a possibility that we would not receive the exit permit or transit permits through the Soviet Union. Finally, we decided to take the risk and present the list of candidates who had been approved for aliya, and to request the transit permits and exit permits. We also added an incidental note that explained that no benefit would accrue to the Soviet Union from people such as ourselves if we would remain and not be permitted to leave.
At the end of December 1940, I received a summons, along with other refugee members, to appear at the Soviet secret police station in Kovno. I remained in the station all night, since many people were summoned there. My turn came toward morning, and I received the awaited transit permit
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and exit permit. We immediately carried out all the necessary actions, and we set out to Moscow under the auspices of the government Intourist Soviet tourist agency. We spent two nights at the splendid Hotel Moskovski in Moscow. In that city, we obtained a transit pass through Turkey from the Turkish consulate, and we then set out by train to Odessa via Kiev.
The train trip from Kovno to Odessa via Moscow and Kiev took four or five days, of which we remained in Moscow for two days. Throughout this brief time we were able to see and get to know a bit the “Garden of Eden” in which we lived, and to our dismay, in which our Jewish brethren still live. This brought us to many tears, of sadness and joy together, in the isolated cases where we had the possibility of revealing to them that we were on our way toward the Land of our Fathers. We were witness to several confessions and expressions of true longing for the Land, which welled up from the depths of the hearts. I recall that at one railway station between Kiev and Odessa, an older woman boarded the train with a basket in her hand containing cheese cookies that she sold the passengers. I was convinced that this woman, whose head was covered in a thick winter kerchief, was not Jewish, and therefore we consulted among ourselves in Yiddish whether we would be able to purchase cookies from her lest they not be Kosher. To our great surprise, the woman understood our language, and when she found out that there were Jews in front of her, she burst into tears and told us that she was also a fellow Jew who kept Kosher, and that her husband was a shochet [ritual slaughterer]. She added, “I wish that I could also join you with my family.” In a parenthetical statement I feel the duty to add and note that her words are accurate even today, thirty years after that meeting, and that the truth of these words applies to the vast majority if not all of the Jews of the Soviet Union
When we arrived at the Odessa railway station, representatives of the Intourist company were waiting for us. They transferred us directly to the port. After the usual inspection, we boarded a Russian ship called Svantia, and set sail for Koshta[6]. This board sailed in a direct line to Odessa-Koshta and we learned later that other members were also transported on the same ship. We spent a week in Koshta, and then set out by train for Syria and Lebanon, and arrived in Beirut. From there, we continued by bus, and arrived in Haifa on January 6, 1941. There, the head of the Aliya Department of the Jewish Agency of that time, Mr. Moshe Shapira, greeted us, blessed us heartily, and wished us success in our new life in our old-new Land.
This episode of aliya to the Land from Lithuania was one of the most splendid chapters in the book of torments that our present generation endured. It was enabled through the faithfulness and uprightness of people dedicated to the public, and was carried out without noise and fanfare – but rather the opposite – quietly and discreetly. Therefore, this episode was not followed by bitter outcomes. It is fitting that the people who worked at organizing this aliya be given appropriate publicity in this episode of salvation – publicity that was not given to them to this day.
[Pages 343-345]
Translated by Jerrold Landau In 1938, I set out for hachshara in the Rovno Kibbutz under the auspices of Hashomer Hatzair, and I remained there from that time and following the outbreak of the war. The following people of Maytchet were together with me in the Kibbutz: Yitzchak Movshovits, Reuben Rabinovitz, Reuben Bitenski, Moshe Vilkormirski, Berl Kroshinski, Vikna Belski, Chana Boretcky, and Chanan Zukovitzki. At the outbreak of the war, the Soviets occupied the district of Rovno, and the Germans occupied the western district of Poland. The Hachshara Kibbutzim in the west escaped to the Soviet district, and the local Kibbutzim absorbed them and even concerned themselves with providing them with work and food.
Thus was the situation for about three months, until December 1939. Throughout this time, we searched for ways to leave the Soviet occupation area in order to go to the Land. A few went to the Romanian border, and a few even succeeded in crossing and continuing on to the Land, but many were caught and sent to prison. As is known, the Russians annexed Vilna to Lithuania, which was still considered to be an independent country. We saw this as a viable possibility for leaving the country, and groups of chalutzim began to stream in the direction of Vilna. With this we should say that the Lithuanian border was open until October 27, 1939, and anyone who arrived before that date crossed in complete freedom; but after that date, we were already forced to “steal” across the border, with all the dangers involved in that.
In Vilna, the refugees were organized by Zionist party, and the kibbutz members organized by their units. These organizations suffered from difficult birth pangs due to the growing number of refugees who gathered there, and whom the city could not absorb and sustain. However, the JOINT filled the void, and offered them great support. If this was not sufficient, the Lithuanian government did not at all regard the large concentration of refugees in Vilna in a positive light, and made plans to disperse them throughout the entire country of Lithuania under the auspices of population dispersal. As a means of coercion to carry out the plan, they utilized the law that forbade refugees from working, so they forced us to suffice ourselves with chopping trees and sanitation work. On the other hand, Vilna was a major Jewish city with many cultural institutions, and during our free time, we found a warm corner to read. We were also happy to use the Jewish bathhouse for free, for the purposes of cleanliness and to warm up.
In March 1940, all of the former members of the Rovno Kibbutz moved to the outlying city of Wilkomir. There, we rented a large building and began to organize. We founded a carpentry shop for men,
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a sewing shop for women, and we also cultivated a vegetable garden. Chanan Zukovitzki who had completed a degree in agriculture in Ludomir, was responsible for overseeing the vegetable garden, and we were almost able to sustain ourselves from independent work. A tragedy occurred in the month of June – Moshe Vilkormirski jumped into the river and broke his elbow. We took him to the hospital in Vilna where he died after a month. This sad event had a strong influence on the Kibbutz.
At that time, Lithuania was annexed to the body of the Soviet Union, but it retained a certain degree of economic independence. The Russians would send their soldiers there from the front to recover, and they confiscated one of our two houses for that purpose. In that manner, we lived next to them for several months. There were many Jews among them. We often held stormy debates with them on the topic of the situation of Jews in the Soviet Union versus the Russian goal of liquidating Jewish schools and other institutions.
The Russians slowly got organized in the area and began to confiscate the large businesses. The belt around our activities began to tighten more and more, and we were finally advised by the local Communist committee to join them as an organized group. As a reaction to this, the center decided to disband the small groups, so that each could exist in an independent fashion.
In the spring of 1941, the border between Lithuania and Russian Poland became friendly and free, and it was possible to move between the two countries, so I decided to arrange a visit home. I arrived in Mickiewicze without any difficulty, and visited with my parents and my family. I remained there for three or four days, and returned to Wilkomir out of fear of difficulties with the law. When I returned, the eve of the outbreak of the Great War was already felt in the air, and the Russian armies began to move in the direction of the German border. In a lightning quick consultation, we decided to liquidate our organization and return home via Vilna, but the war advanced in a sudden fashion, and there was no longer way of return.
We left Wilkomir in the direction of Russia. Two Russian autos took us up along the way, and we continued to the Russian border via Latvia. There we had a bad accident when one of our cars turned over. We lost our path as a result. Some were wounded and taken to the hospital. My wife and I returned to the border town of Shebezh, where they transferred us to trains and transported us to the depths of Russia. The Germans pursued us, bombed the roads, and make the escape difficult, until we stopped in a kolkhoz[1] and somehow managed to maintain ourselves. After we recovered a bit from the difficulties of the journey, we began to search for a different place close to the border, and the lot fell upon Toshkent.
I reached Toshkent in August 1941, and from there, we were transferred to a kolkhoz in the region of Namangan. Since we were the first refugees, they received as guests. At first, we worked with them in a sewing workshop, and then I set myself up as electrician in a dam building business. After some time, we were drafted into a work group in Tscheliabinsk. There I got sick and was returned to Namangan to recover. After I recovered from my illness, I was transferred to Samarkand where I met Reuben Rabinovitz. We also received
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letters from Chanan Zukovitzki, who was in the Lithuanian Army and worked as a watchman on a medical train. We eventually stopped receiving letters, and found out that he had died in an attack on the train. We also received information that Berl Kroshinski, who had served in the Red Army, was wounded and freed in Ashchabad on the Iranian border.
I was still in Samarkand at the end of the war. When Poland was liberated, it was possible to enlist in the Polish Army and thereby reach Poland. However, in the interim, we received letters from Nieśwież, and we discovered that my wife's brothers and sisters had survived there. We set out for Nieśwież, and then moved the entire family to Lódz, Poland. There, a movement of “smuggling” was taking place, and the end of the transports seemed to be on the horizon. We were transferred to Germany, where I met Vikna Belski. From there, we made aliya to the Land with a certificate in the year 1947.
With all the difficulties and tribulations that overtook the members of our kibbutz, each on his own path, hidden strands remained between the members, who returned and reorganized themselves in Nir David.
{Photo page 345: Uncaptioned. A Nazi cutting off the beard of a Jew.}
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September 1st 1939 - Outbreak of World War II September 17th 1939 - Russian conquest of the area June 22nd 1941- German invasion into Russia * * * First Aktion
Saturday, 27th of Shvat 5702, February 14th 1942 – * * * Second Aktion
Wednesday, 18th of Sivan 5702[1] * * * Third Aktion
On Wednesday, Thursday and Friday 1st – 3rd of Av 5702, July 15th -17th 1942 *
On July 17th 1942 – 20 Jews of Maytchet were transported to Baranovichi for extermination. |
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Words of eulogy and lamentation delivered annually at the memorial evening of the Organization of Natives of Maytchet and its Region in Israel
We have gathered this evening, as is our custom every year, in order to reunite ourselves with the holy memory of those dearest to us - fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, good friends and neighbors, along with the memory of all the martyrs of Maytchet and its region, who perished in the Holocaust in the sanctification of the Divine Name and the Nation of Israel during the bitters days of
| 1 to 3 of Av, 5702 - July 15-17, 1942 |
The memory and spirit of the dear martyrs flutter in the air of this hall, among us and over our heads, since they were not brought to a Jewish burial. The situation of the Jewish people,, who have suffered tribulations in the blood-soaked exile, that after every attack and disaster in which victims fell from amongst our Jewish brethren, was that it has been possible to bring the victims to a Jewish burial, to supplicate over their graves and to unite with their memory. This is not the case with this terrible, tragic Holocaust, which deprived the victims of the merit of being buried in a Jewish grave, and deprived us of the possibility of visiting our ancestral graves, to pray and to unite ourselves, to eulogize and weep over the victims in accordance with Jewish custom. Therefore, they hover amongst us, demanding restitution, rectification, and the elevation of their souls.
We are talking about one third of the Jewish people, two thirds of European Jewry, who perished in the Holocaust. You, the survivors of the destruction of Maytchet and its region who witnessed the great tragedy, are living witnessed that in Maytchet, not one third and not two thirds were murdered, but to our sorrow and agony, the entire community of Maytchet was destroyed. Not even one person of the city and two from a family[1] survived to tell the coming generations about what the enemy has perpetrated. As long as we are alive - and we are alive in the merit of the martyrs for in their deaths, they commanded life to us - we have the duty to carry out the will that they charged us next to the pits: “Remember that which Amalek has done to you!”[2]… This is a charge that is not written in ink, but rather in the blood that is screaming to us from the earth and calling upon us to make a name and a memorial to their souls, and perpetuate them in a memorial book for generations.
As is known, Sefer Hachinuch enumerates all 613 commandments in the order of the Torah portions. At the end of Ki Teitzei, we find two commandments among the others. One is the positive commandment, “Remember that which Amalek did to you” - a commandment to remember and to bring to memory, to tell and to repeat
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over in all generations that which Amalek did to us. The second is a negative commandment, namely, “Do not forget!” - to not forget and not to cause to forget. It is said in the sources, “Remember” is with the mouth, and “Do not forget” is in the heart. What can we do to avoid forgetting? How can we ensure that not only ourselves, upon whom the hand of Amalek came to destroy us, but also the future generations will not forget, for they too are obligated in this commandment? The answer to this is found in the Torah portion of Beshalach (Exodus 17:14), also regarding Amalek, “Write this as a memorial in a book!”
Is there a man that is a poet, and are their words that can describe that magnitude of the tragedy?! Maytchet is in mourning, having lost all of its Jews, men, women and children, in one day. Were it not that a small remnant remained, we would have been likened to Sodom and compared to Gomorrah[3]. This event occurred thirty years prior to today. The last of the Jews of Maytchet and the region were taken by force from their homes and hiding places. The arm of the murderers even reached them in the depths of the earth[4], and hauled them to pits that were dug in deceit upon the Chwojnik Hill by the victims themselves. There, they were all slaughtered in cold blood and great cruelty. The martyrs - mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters -- stood next to the pits in silence as they accepted the judgment. No cry of wrongdoing or plea for salvation emanated from their throats, for the victims knew very well that nobody would save them. With great spiritual might that is unparalleled among the nations, they went silently to their own funerals, as they recited Kaddish for themselves, as they sanctified the Divine Name and the name of the Jewish people, as they gave up their souls reciting “Echad”[5].
Not too long ago, we were all witnesses to the great event that was, Heaven forbid, liable to inflict a Holocaust upon the State of Israel[6]. With the assistance of the Rock and Redeemer of Israel, and thanks to the great will to live and the supreme might of the fighters of Israel, a miracle took place for us and we won the war. However, the price of victory was paid in very many houses in Israel, where they are mourning for their loved ones who fell victim on the altar of the native land. Just as in the era of the Holocaust, victims were demanded of the House of Israel to establish the state, and now victims were demanded in the battles to preserve it. Our comfort is that these victims did not die in vain. Both categories of victims[7] are holy and pure as the brightly shining firmament. In their deaths, they charged us with life. May their memories be blessed.
For many years, we, the few who remained alive, could not fulfill the charge of the martyrs written with the blood of their hearts, “Remember and do not forget!...” Not only this, but we never rent our garments, we never recited Kaddish, and we did not carry out any of the customs of mourning in accordance with tradition and law, for we were unable to do so. Over the years, we did not even set up a monument in memorial of their holy and pure souls. However, from now on, we need no longer torture ourselves over this omission, for we are now able to carry it out. G-d willing, this very year, an appropriate memorial will be established in the form of a book that will describe Jewish life throughout the generations, the story of the tragic deaths in Sanctification of the Divine Name, as well as the story of the might and greatness of the brave natives of Maytchet who protected the honor of Israel with their blood and brought us to this point.
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Every Maytchet native in Israel and throughout the world should spend some time in solitude with this book, uniting themselves with the memories, and shedding a tear over this monument. Next to the eternal flame that burns in each of our homes as we bring this memorial book into our homes, we can say with a light sigh, “Today, we have pushed aside the disgrace of the years from our hearts.”
The Blessings of Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan. Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan was a native of Maytchet, who studied in Maytchet in his youth, then in Baranovichi and Minsk, and finally studied in Jerusalem for two years. From here, he immigrated to the United States in 1909, where he served in the rabbinate for many years. After he retired in the United States, he returned to live in Israel amongst his people in general, and amongst the Maytchet natives in Israel in particular. He lives in Tiferet Banim.
He takes interest in the affairs of the Maytcheters in Israel, and especially in the activities of the organizing committee. He is a faithful member of the Maytchet community in Israel, for he remembers the town from his young days. He participates regularly in the annual memorials, where he discussed memories of the town and its Jewish life. He blessed the book committee for its successful efforts to perpetuate the memory of the martyrs of Maytchet and its region in the memorial book.
From the time he was in Maytchet, he recalls a rare event that was a topic of conversation for everybody. At that time, when he was nine years old, the mother of the “Maytchet Genius” died. They placed the Maytchet Genius on a chair and he eulogized his mother.
With regard to the holy ones who are in the earth, they are mighty, and they are my desire! (Psalms 16:3)
From days of yore, even before there was a Chibbat Zion movement[1] to inherit the land in general, it was the dream and strong desire of Jews throughout the Diaspora who were faithful to their people, Torah and the holiness of their land to desire the earth of the Land of Israel, and to wish to be buried in its holy soil, and thereby to obtain the great merit of “its land shall expiate its people…”[2].
It was the pleasant lot of the dear residents of Maytchet, who were beloved and pleasant during their lives, and not separated in their deaths[3], who made aliya to the Land either before or after the Holocaust, to live in the Land amongst their people and together with their families. They merited to fulfill the commandment of the settlement of the Land of Israel, to built it up and protect it, in order to bestow it to their children after them as an eternal legacy. When their time came to go the way of all the earth, for they completed their mission, after their eyes witnessed the wonderful vision of the generations of “When G-d returns the captivity of Zion”[4], they passed on to their eternal world full of honor and reverence from their family members and faithful friends and acquaintances.
Let the clods of their earth be sweet for them, and let their souls be bound in the bonds of life.
Translated by Amir Shomroni
Among the names of the holy martyrs of Maytchet carved in this Memorial Book, and among chapters of Memorial stories of the Shoah, we wish to light a candle in memory of our late father – R' Yehoshua Shomroni (Shike Shmerkovitch) z”l.
Our father was born in Voronovo – miles away from Maytchet – a shtetl like the other shtetls in Poland – in the district of Lida. The fate encountered our father z”l with Tova (Doba) nee Polonsky – may she live long – in Voronovo, where she began her life saga and her evolution to becoming a Hebrew teacher.
When they immigrated to Eretz Israel they built – ex nihilo - their home, a source of pride; which imbibed it's culture and spirit from the beautiful and pure life of their two shtetls.
Eventually, when the collection and editing of the two memorial books for the holy martyrs of the two shtetls was commenced (not incidentally the editing of the two books did commence simultaneously,) the home of our father and mother, our home, turned into kind of a holy center for meetings, discussions, taking notes, organizing, correspondence, et cetera; enthusiastic actions of meticulous work of editing the two books – the Book of Voronovo and the Book of Maytchet. Not once, did it seem to us, that our father's enthusiasm in the preparation of the books, as well as the erection of the monuments for both, his shtetl's martyrs and our mother's, had rendered him elixir of life to continue, and to live to see them published.
But before its completion, on a wintry morning, his heart betrayed him. It is difficult for us –as well as his associates, who turned their nights into days in compiling this magnificent collection – to exactly define what his contribution or influence was in this book. But nevertheless it is clear to us that his spirit, enthusiasm, energy, his profound humor, and his personality in general, left his mark on these holy pages.
We are privileged that this memorial book will be an honorable memorial candle to our father, R' Yehoshua Shomroni z”l.
Translated by Jerrold Landau
He was born to Zev and Genia Rimon (Romanovski) on Kibbutz Yagur on 27 Shvat 5706 (January 29, 1945). Already at a young age, he excelled in his variegated talents, his good heart, his willingness to help, and his positive influence on his surroundings. Among other things, his classmates said the following in their discussions of him: “We grew up together for many years, but the time was indeed too short to understand a small amount of that large, complete world - which was Rimon. He was 'the spiritual father' to all of us. It is impossible to live up to him; it is too complex and cannot be done. He helped us all in extricating us from personal crises. Rimon lives as long as we all live.”
[Page 371]
{Photo page 371 top right: Yehoshua Shomroni.}
{Photo page 371 top left: The soldier Avraham Rimon.}
{Photo page 371 bottom right: Moshe Kleinshtov.}
[Page 372]
Avraham was drafted into the army at the end of 1965 as a reconnaissance officer. During the Six Day War, he was sent with his unit to the Golan Heights to capture the Tel Faher outpost[1]. He was hit by the shooting of a Syrian sniper. His final words were: “I am going to die - continue on.”
Among other things, the members of the reconnaissance unit said the following about Avraham: “He had every good thing in bountiful proportions. But the entire good and the entire truth is that everything that is said of him now - was said of him also when he was alive with us. This is the personal greatness that is very rare.”
Rimon was the best youth in the reconnaissance unit. Everyone said so. In general, when one eulogizes a deceased person, traits that he did not possess are attributed to him. Rimon, however, had all the good traits that are possible to find in a person. I asked myself more than once: How is it possible that he was a person without a taint - perfect in the full sense of the term?
Avraham was praised by the commander of the Northern Command for sticking to the mark and for his self sacrifice. He was 21 when he fell.
Picture of the Young girl, Esther Biribis
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(Bottom of page) and page 373
She was born in a hospital in Afula, Israel July 1, 1949 to parents Avraham Biribis and Sarah Boretsky Biribis, members of Kfar Yehoshua. There was great love between parents and daughter; especially because of the difficulties of her growth and development from an early age, in spite of the indulgence of her devoted parents.
She had very unusual talents; her studies and handicraft, which were wonderfully thought out. She never refused to work in the house and the fields. She was truly a modern version of a woman of valor.
She was also blessed with a beautiful voice and excellent hearing. She filled the house with sounds of joy and happiness -- this was a pleasant reward for parents who had suffered so much in her youth.
And with everything she excelled with a good heart and gentle soul in her relationships with her parents, Rena her sister, to everyone who came to the house, and to children her age. The closets in the house were filled with toys and Purim costumes that she used from time of kindergarten through school. But she never got rid of them. She kept them for those who didn't have. She was very industrious, always offering help for everything, both in the house and outside.
On that bitter morning during the Passover vacation, Esther got up early and prepared to go out with her classmates for an outing from which she never returned. With her death her parents lost a child and their joy and happiness was destroyed. Also her sister Rena and her classmates felt a burning pain of the absence of a sister, comrade and good friend.
The pamphlet “Esther”, which was published at the end of the year of her tragic death, contained her personal diary beginning in the second grade, with lists, poems and letters; reflecting a young and talented author.
Thus the years of her youth passed full of love and joy until the bitter day when the tender flower was plucked and ran it over to death.
Translated by Jerrold Landau
1898 – 1958
He was a native of the village of Zelanshchivna near Kobrin in White Russia. Upon the completion of his studies, he dedicated himself to agriculture and ran the farm of his parents, who were landowners and farmers for generations. After the Russian revolution, during the era of Denikin and Petliura[1], when he bravely stood up and risked his life for the independent defense of the local Jewish community, he was accused by the hooligans and sentenced to death. There was a hairbreadth between him and death and it was only through a miracle that he escaped the noose. Later he did everything he could to make aliya to the Land, and he arrived in 1923, after the tribulations of the journey. Here he worked for several years at difficult outdoor work at a kibbutz, and then he moved to Tel Aviv, where he was one of the initiators of Hebrew labor for porting at the port of Jaffa, and a founder of the Hachof Cooperative. When the unification, he joined Shalev, and bore his load as a man of rank. He was faithful and dedicated, and always suffered with the pain of the union.
His death shook his friends and acquaintances, for everyone who came in contact with him held him in honor and esteem on account of his good temperament, his readiness to help his fellow, and his boundless dedication to the enterprise.
He was a faithful husband and a good, dedicated father to his four children. With his death, we have lost a good and dedicated friend, and an exemplary head of a family.
May his memory be a blessing.
Reb Yehoshua Aharon Lozovski and his wife of blessed memory - see articles on pages 59, 238
Reb Yisrael Zalman and his wife Zlata Shlovski of blessed memory - see article on page 98.
Reb Aryeh Shmulevicz of blessed memory - Born in 1909 in Maytchet. Made aliya to the Land in 1933. Died in the Land on August 30, 1946.
Reb Avraham Kaplan of blessed memory - Died in Israel on 10 Tishrei 5722 (September 20 1961). (Translator's note: Yom Kippur).
Reb Yisrael Savitzki of blessed memory - The son of Moshe and Sheina Savitzki. Made aliya with his wife Buna as chalutzim in 1925. Died in Israel on 29 Elul 5721 (1961).
Reb Avraham Zev Savitzki of blessed memory - The son of Moshe and Sheina Savitzki. He was born in Maytchet in 1895, made aliya with his wife Sara in 1934, and died in Israel in 1959.
Reb Ezriel Korn of blessed memory - See the articles on pages 61, 256.
Mrs. Sima Ben-Hur - See the article on page 221.
Mrs. Sima Ginzberg (nee Dvorjetski) of blessed memory -- She was born in 1906 in Maytchet, made aliya to the Land in 1946, and died on the 23 of Tammuz 5728 (1968).
Malka Chalamish (Rabinovitch) - She was the daughter of Reb Yechiel Yitzchak and Chana Gela Dvojetski. She was born in Maychet in 1880, made aliya to the Land in 1918, and died in Rechovot on the eve of Chanukah, 5732 (1971).
Elkanah Ben-Hur - -- See the article on page 221.
[Page 374]
{Photo page 374 top right: Yisrael Savitzki of blessed memory.}
{Photo page 374 top left: Avraham Zeev Savitzki of blessed memory.}
{Photo page 374 bottom right: Sima Ginzberg, nee Dvorjetski.}
{Photo page 374 bottom left: Malka Chalamish (Rabinovitch).}
[Page 375]
{Photo page 375 top right: Sima Ben-Hur (Abramovski).}
{Photo page 375 top left: Elkana Ben-Hur.}
{Photo page 375 bottom right: Reb Avraham Kaplan of blessed memory.}
{Photo page 375 bottom left: Leibel Shmulevicz of blessed memory.}
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