Yoel-Dov Isaacson – Berl Chaska's. In my childhood, when Haskalah and Zionism were synonymous, he was the trailblazer. He was moderate and good natured. As a child he was known to rebel against the orthodoxy of his family (his father, Reb Ya'acov, was very religious and strict and later was critical of both Haskalah and Zionism). He made a living from his store but found satisfaction in various social activities devoted to his favorite subjects. His store became a center of activity for young Maskilim and Zionists. In his attic, in neatly piled stacks, next to the Passover dishes, were old issues of the periodical, "Hamailitz." My friend Avraham Yitzhak Grodzensky and I would sweat up there for hours at a time reading them. We'd carefully leave the piles undisturbed, so our secret wouldn't be discovered. Berl gladly lent books to anyone interested but insisted that they be treated with respect. His favorite time was speaking Hebrew to his friends (Ben Zion Shepsenbul and others). Later, when he was getting ready to immigrate to Israel – first he sent his son there – he learned how to raise bees, since he wanted to become a farmer. His knowledge of Hebrew grammar was excellent.

Ben Zion Shepsenbul. He was not a native of Radoshkowitz but became one of the leaders of Haskalah and Zionism. He taught Hebrew to many young people, including me. He too, made his living from his store, but his heart was in Zionism. Like Zangvill, he once told me he enjoyed teaching so much that he ought to have paid for the privilege instead of being paid.

Zalman Sara-Dreishaus. If the two above-mentioned men were Cohens, he was a Levite. He provided young Zionists with books and tested them later to see how much they got from their reading. The first Hebrew library was in Zalman's house, all in one big drawer of his dresser. He had a full collection of "Tushia," those thin, red pamphlets. Many a Sabbath, we would come to him for fresh reading material. I must admit that a few times when he gave me the key so I could borrow a book, I walked away with two or three – one in my hand and the others under my coat. Years later he told me that he knew of my "theft."

My brother, Shmuel (Rubin). He was restless and full of inner conflicts and consequently changed professions several times. An enlightened man, he wanted to earn a living working and several times jumped from one occupation to another. When he was married with children he learned watch repair, then he became a tanner. Later he learned to be a shochet and went to America to become a chef. He was devoted to only one passion all his life – to Haskalah and Zionism. He was always reading – studying Zvi Gratz's, "The History of the Jews." When he taught he would excite his students with the Bible, to which he gave interpretations which were a mixture of Haskalah and tradition. He was a fine speaker and original thinker and even published a small book.

Ya'acov Cahanovich (Yankl Grishé-Lea's) was my beloved childhood boy friend, the representative of every progressive movement in our town. All correspondence from every Zionist organization came to his address. Every Zionist guest was welcomed by him. He was the founder of a large Hebrew library. He helped to establish the first Hebrew school and for many years was the spirit of every progressive activity.

Ilia Dude's (Lappidot). One of the first members of the Jewish socialist movement in town. At first he was known as a moderate and modest young man, who helped in his father's leather shop and spent his few free hours reading books. To this day I wonder how revolutionary ideas reached him from afar and excited him so, that he founded the first Socialist group in town. He spent every evening mingling among the groups of young people walking in the woods, looking for converts to socialism. He succeeded in attracting young people, maybe because he was so modest. I can tell you from my own experience. I heard his speeches. He was extremely clear and convincing and could be quite exciting in his soft way of speaking. All of a sudden new expressions were being used among the young people adopting socialism and Zionism.

Eli Dude's immigrated to America and disappeared. In my memory he remains one of the thirty-six righteous men, in a modern edition.

Leibé Yehuda's (Shapira). His father, Yehuda Faygel's was a pedantic melamed, strange, petty and rebellious, always complaining about somebody or something. He was very critical of those on whom he depended for his livelihood. Leibé, his son, grew up like an orphan at his grandmother's and suffered deprivation and contempt. He was rebellious like his father but applied himself to his favorite cause. He was an excellent socialist propagandist. His speech was full of fire and was merciless, but he captivated many young people. He also immigrated to America and was never heard from again.

Henia Mendel's (Tanhilevich) was known around town by the derogatory nickname "Czaritza," meaning, "She would like to have Czar Nikolai dethroned so she could take his place." She came from a nice quiet family, but her own speech was pure revolutionary fire. She was a great organizer and was very influential with young people. Eli Dude's and Leibé Yehuda's were men of theory; she was all action, a real revolutionary.

Hirshel Dude's, Eliyahu's young brother, who died young. In his short life he proved to be very brave and daring. He was not a scholar like his brother, but a man of action to the point of risking his life.

Vavka (Ze'ev - Wolf). He was a tailor-mender, whose house in the synagogue court looked as if it were about to fall apart, sticking out from one angle and unseen from another. The same with its owner. Sometimes he stood out among a group of Jews in the synagogue or the market, talking more than others, and then he would disappear for days.

And yet, sometimes he would come up with the most accurate adjectives for certain people, those whom he disliked most. He could tell about imaginary events in the most descriptive language, to the delight of children, who would listen eagerly to his stories.

Reb Shmuel Vatelier, a pedantic malamed, was named after the village he came from. He lived at the edge of town and thence his second "name," Reb Shmuel der Ekediker. He was very quiet most of the time. Even with his students at the heder he used very few words, and just one day a year, on Simchat Torah, he would talk and sing and conduct a children's choir. That day he was full of joy, as though he were compensating himself for his gloom the rest of the year. I can still see him singing in Hebrew and Yiddish.

Haim Nishka's (Mané). He was the popular town "doctor," the right hand man of the Polish Dr. Zalensky, who was considered the specialist in the area. And thanks to him even Haim had a large practice among Jews and gentiles. He owned the first gramophone in town; his son owned the first mandolin. He was also the owner of the first beauty shop. His daughter became a midwife in Vilna and brought to Radoshkowitz refinements we never knew before: Russian conversation and literary discussions.

Haim Nishka's had but a few medications at his disposal and two or three formulas for prescriptions. He would vary them from time to time, regardless of the illness. And strange as it seems, according to his patients, it helped. The old Polish doctor would not see a patient once he had been seen by his "assistant," Haim.

Yodel Lea-Bryna's (Segalovich). His store was one of the largest in town, and his customers were the richest. He carried attractive and modern merchandise – cosmetics for women, bikes for rental to young people and harmonicas for music lovers. Yodel was the first to enjoy pleasures of the modern world, according to our naïve standards. He was the one who conducted our community choir in the forest, and it was he who introduced dancing (waltz, fox trot, etc.)

Fishel Haim Heshla's. He was a tinsmith but was very creative and artistic and did interesting things in metal. Some of his work decorated the columns near the cantor's stand in the synagogue. They were things he made for his own pleasure. His son and daughter, devoted members of the Socialist Party, were also talented and creative. His daughter embroidered the flag for the May 1^st parades, his son decorated the halls where the party balls were held, and he, Fishel, unlike other parents whose children had joined the party, was their friend. He not only knew about their revolutionary activities and did not protest or interfere but supported them.

Reb Avraham, "the Hat Maker." He was a very good looking Jew, straight and nimble, good natured and ready to assist all in need. Despite his extreme piety he did not clash with the young progressive element. He expressed his dislike, but was careful not to hurt them. He liked to conduct prayers and stubbornly insisted on doing so on Shabbat and holidays. He had a nice voice and sang beautifully. As a young boy, I enjoyed two things which were my privilege as his neighbor – the tasty apples and plums which grew in his garden and his beautiful singing when, every Friday, he practiced for the Torah reading. Reb Avraham was not a scholar but still studied Torah and a page in Gemara every week.

Yacovson, the "Shamus." To this day I wonder why this modest Jew was called by his last name, which was very rare. (Some of the scholarly Jews were called by both their first and last names, like Reb Chatch Shapira, Reb Yoseph Rosenhaus). He was quiet and followed other people's orders all his life. He followed Rabbi Damta everywhere and carried out his every wish at the slightest hint. He performed his many duties at the big synagogue very carefully and silently.

He never lost his temper, even over children's mischief. His wife sold cloth in a small makeshift shop next to my father's. On market day they would carry the merchandise from home and back again at the end of the day. Yacovson was of little help to his wife. He was too quiet, in general and didn't know the "goyish" language, so he couldn't be of much help. But I remember how he used to draw customers to his wife's store" using one word, "tshuish," (which meant "listen" in our local Belarussian), and when he brought a customer into the store he would tell his wife, "I brought you another "tshuish."

Yoshé (Yoseph) the Butcher. The chief "gabai" of the new synagogue was a sort of self-crowned king, but no one disputed his right to the "crown." He was quick to anger, energetic and ready to sacrifice everything for "his" synagogue. The children were scared to death of him, and it wasn't only the children – everyone was careful not clash with him.

Reb Haim, the Shoemaker. He had no children of his own, and maybe that was the reason for his extraordinary love of children. He was always surrounded by children, who loved him and his stories and would follow his every word. In his shop he employed a few workers and treated them well. When the wave of organized strikes by the socialists reached our town, Reb Haim proclaimed that his workers would not strike, and, indeed, they did not, because he raised their pay even before being asked to. His workshop was kind of a "cooperative" – he divided the profit equally among his workers. He was the first to contribute to the settlement of Israel and carried stamps in his pocket which said, "You will reclaim the land of Israel." He once he told me proudly, "It's good that I always carry a sacred Mezuzah in my pocket." He was referring to a share in the Anglo-Palestine Bank. He was kind and supportive of the young socialists, too.

Ziré-Meré and her daughter Sara (Epstein). Righteous women in the best sense of the word. They made their living baking all kinds of sweets, and the many children who

came to their door found in them the same sweetness as in their products. One never heard a loud voice or the sound of disagreement. Ziré gave to charity secretly, and so did her daughter.

Reb Haim Moshe Yerachmiel's. He wore two hats: he was the "shamus" in the new synagogue and a pedantic melamed. But his real talent lay in his third occupation – making tombstones. He taught himself to carve highly stylized letters and even made his own tools. Many stones in the cemetery of Radoshkowitz were made by him. He was able to talk to his students in a simple language and explain the most complex ideas in a logical, childish way. He also made toys for them from paper and wood, which could have served as models for professional teachers.

He lived modestly and religiously. He fasted on all fasting days and even on other days ate sparingly. From his meager income, he gave to charity.

Rabbi Feitl. "Rabbi" was not a title of respect – rather the opposite. There was a rumor that in his youth he had been the leader (rabbi) of a band of thieves, but no one knew if it was true. When I knew him he was old, quiet, modest and among the moderates. He lived all his life in his small house on Minsk Street which was a very busy street. Yet, he was seldom seen on the street, keeping to himself as though wanting to be unseen, like a shadow. His voice was heard only when reading "T'hilim" at the synagogue towards evening on Shabbat, and, unlike other Jews, he read it softly and warmly, which was much more effective than whiny, loud reading.

Izik, the Blacksmith. His shop was near the bridge, on the way to the public baths. The sounds of his hammer could be heard from afar, the sparks flying in all directions. He was always covered with soot, but when he talked he conveyed light and inner peace. He was full of warmth and kindness. He used to praise Jews and gentiles alike. I once heard him say to his assistant, who was replacing a horseshoe, "Be careful, son, don't hurt the animal."

Itché-Zalman the "Zulik" (The Cheat). I wonder where he got his nick name? Was it from his cleverness and cunning? But he was not like this in his everyday life as I knew him. On the contrary, he was honest, the first one to come to the aid of the needy and a peacemaker when people were arguing. And he was clever. He could get to the bottom of things on the basis of the slightest hint, but he never used his ability in a negative way. He respected learning. The first yeshiva in town, under Rabbi Haim-Nachmun from Volozin, was in his house and, for a while, with no payment.

Yoel-Zerach (Yacovson). Son of the above-mentioned shamus. He clearly refuted the saying, "The apple does not fall far from the tree." He was the exact opposite of his father – full of life and joy. In spite of being an adult, he was the first to join in any childish prank at the synagogue or elsewhere. He was a carriage driver, transporting people to and from the train station. On the way, he would entertain passengers with his singing and jokes. People would say that time seemed to fly when riding with him. But in spite of his talent, he had few riders, since most people went with David Ortzica's, the main carrier.

Moisai (Poliacov). For some reason he was called Moisai and not Moshe, maybe because he was half a lawyer. His was an enlightened home; his daughters spoke Russian, and he preferred his poor Russian over Yiddish. In general, he kept to himself and did not have friends. Most people thought he was conceited, but to those who got close to him and got to know him, his strangeness was not due to conceit but to some psychological flaw, since he was good-hearted and always ready to help a friend.

Adelsky, the teacher. As principal of the public school, he kept his distance from most people and socialized with those in authority – the customs director and police commissioner. He came to synagogue only on Shabbat, and when he showed up in his uniform, which made him stand out, people would say, "He's here already." People were a little afraid of him and poked fun at him at every opportunity. I was one of his students and can remember some examples of his skill as a pedagogue.

Reb Yoel, the leather merchant and his sons, Umka and Dudl. Reb. Yoel's house was a meeting place for all Maskilim. The sons, Umka and Dudl , with their father's support, were among the first very active Socialist-Zionists.

Mina Rhoda (Isaacson). Her sons and sons-in-law were well learned in the Torah. All the Torah scholars met in her home, where she received them with open arms. She set the tone, a mixture of refinement and simplicity.

Reb Lima Levine. His home was kind of an illustration of Y. L. Perez's "Four Generations." Reb Hirshel lived to be over a hundred. His son, Lima, was about eighty years old when I knew him. His son, Haim, was interested in Haskalah and Zionism, and his son Moshka, was among the first to appear dressed up, carrying a Russian book. These four went to synagogue together every Shabbat and embodied Jewish roots at their best. They were all kind and polite and never quarreled with anyone. From the open windows of their homes emanated a warm intimacy.

Reb Hirshel liked to tell that as a youngster, a few years before he put on tefillin, he would wrap himself up in a talit. What did this wonder mean? He was married before he was Bar Mitzvah.

All four generations dealt in the forestry trade all their lives and, like trees, stood tall and proud.

The Radoshkowitz community was a uniform group without internal conflicts, and the love of Torah was shared by all. There were no differences between life at the Beit Hamidrash and life outside. The community was unified and peaceful, respectful of scholars and the pious, and of men of action and those interested in the sciences. The leaders were versed in world affairs, aware of city life, polite and moderate; and people looked up to their leaders with respect. My father, the rabbi, used to say, in Radoshkowitz we have no "masses," because our so-called "masses" would be considered "respectable middle class" in other towns.

According to tradition, Radoshkowitz was quite old; some said as old as Vilna and once spread as far as Ragva, a distance of five "viorst." The old synagogue was quite beautiful – there were only three such synagogues in all of Russia. It was destroyed in a fire, but I did see it when I was a baby, and I remember that its walls were covered with lists and quotations. The ark was decorated with two lions with their tongues sticking out. This wonderful building held memories of great Torah scholars who came from our town – Rabbi Izil from Slonim, for example, son of a baker, who as a boy would climb to the top balconies early in the morning and scare the praying men.

Rabbi Haim, from Volozin, said about the Great Rabbi, Avraham Ber, I am afraid of the Radoshkowitz "bear."

Rabbi Simcha from Davinsk counted three rabbis among the generation's thirty-six righteous: Moshele from Baltrimanz, Rabbi Zondel from Aishishok and Rabbi Shlomo Mordecai from Radoshkowitz. And Vatcha, a member of "Habad," said about him, jokingly, "Thank God, we have an impressive rabbi, but he is a coward, he is afraid of God."

After Brudna came my father, Rabbi Meir Rabinson, wise in the Torah and world affairs. He excelled in discussions and sermons. He understood human nature and got along with everyone, big and small. He was well-liked by the gentiles, and Father Troyan, who was a friend to the Jews, used to visit his home and was impressed by the many books which lined our walls.

Some of the great rabbis in other towns were related by marriage to residents of Radoshkowitz, like Rabbi Pinchas Razovsky and Rabbi Hirsh Hominer. Others who came from Radoshkowitz were the great authors, Rabbi Avraham Maskit Eitan and Rabbi Leib Vilkomirer, a great Torah scholar.

From the permanent residents of Radoshkowitz, I must mention a long list of people who were community leaders, learned in Torah and Haskalah:

Yehuda Shalom's and Shalom Edel's, were active in community affairs. Among the Hassidim were some who were good looking and had good taste, like Barka Haim Aba's. Among the unassuming ones let me mention Notké, the melamed, my father's right hand man in doing works of charity. He was my first teacher, and his son is the philanthropist, Axelrod. Among the good looking people, let me mention Hazi Shapira, Yoshé Rosenhaus, Koifman Alterman, and Eliots and Moshe Padarsky. Among the scholars: Rabbi Moshe No'ach Rubinstein, Rabbi Ya'acov Pinchas Gordon, Rabbi Ya'acov Moshe Alperovich, Rabbi Yekutiel Funt and Rabbi Ya'acov Ze'ev Epstein, a studious man, who taught Mishna all his life. Another diligent student of Torah was Yitzhak Ya'acov, the melamed, who left a deep impression on me. My learned friend, Haim Shmuel Lappidot, was the student of Rabbi Shimon Shkep from Telz Yeshiva. But the greatest was Rabbi Yitzhak Zilburg, with whom I studied Torah. In his youth he was friends with Rabbi Avraham Ber who later was appointed as rabbi in Kovna.

Among those close to Torah studies but from the "middle class," I remember a few fine friends. Yoel Honi's, my friend, Avraham Leib's father, was a lovely and honest man. The cantor and shochet, Reb Michel, who lived to be a hundred, was kind and good tempered. His son, Haim David Rosenstein, was an excellent teacher and author and was among the founders of the revised heder in Russia. Reb Pesach Canterovich, my first melamed, was kind and loved by his young students. Shmuel Eliezer's Isaacson was fluent in Midrash and honest. The two shamashim who served our town devotedly for many years, Reb Yerachmiel Ben Hendle, a smart and well-liked man, who was there at the synagogue and completed Thilun every single day, and his son, Reb Yechezkel Rubin, a jolly and kind man, who studied Torah all his life and raised sons who excelled in both Torah and science – Rabbi Shmuel Rubin and Dr. Israel Rivkai (Rubin). Reb Ze'ev Yacovson was a kind and quiet man. He was a shamus at the Beit Din and a frequent visitor at Rabbi Damta's.

Among the newer circle, those who combined Torah, Haskalah and Zionism, I should mention Yoel Dov Isaacson, Ben Zion Shepsenbul and Moshe Lea-Bryna's. The first two were outstanding teachers, well versed in Hebrew and Hebrew grammar. Yoel Dov Isaacson moved to Israel where he died.

Among those who had respect for Torah and Torah students were the butchers, Yoshé and Leibé. They were regular, persistent students of "Ein Ya'acov." Others worthy of mention from the vicinity of the town are Yoshé from Kaleisburg, Itché from Odrei, who would read at the Big Synagogue on the High Holidays, and the father of the honest and highly respected merchants, Moshe and Shimon Zukovsky. Other important and honest merchants were Sinai from Vermeika and his son, Alter; Yehuda and Avraham from Ragva and the mechanic, who was the Ba'al T'filla on the high Holy Days at the new Beit Hamidrash.

The regular students at Beit Hamidrash were young, local men like Reb Nachum Haim from Volozin. Also, the home of Ziré-Meré, a regular supporter of these students, was an "off campus" place of study.

The students of the yeshiva studied in the big Beit Midrash, which was as large as the Big Synagogue in Tel-Aviv, and in the evening there was a lamp on every window sill. Each student studied his own page of the Gemara, but the children were taught in a group and one of the students explained one page of Gemara per day. The study consisted of explanation and logic, and the yeshiva turned out a few brilliant students. Among the oldest students was Mordecai Epstein, now living inTel-Aviv. One other student worthy of mention is H. A. Friedland, from Horodock, who became famous in America as a teacher and writer. The yeshiva existed for seven years under the direction of Rebbi Moshe Padaresky, Rabbi Yekutiel Funt and others.

At 3:00 a.m. on September 18, 1939, the inhabitants of Radoshkowitz were awakened by the noise of heavy vehicles. The houses, windows and doors shook like an earthquake, and frightened, the people jumped out of bed to look out the window and see what was going on. They were surprised to see a long column of heavy tanks advancing through the narrow streets of the town. They did not understand what they were doing there, six hundred kilometers from the front. When they opened the windows, they saw that after the tanks came heavy armored cars and behind them, trucks carrying soldiers. Then, they recognized the "stars" on the soldiers' hats and realized that the Red Army had crossed into Poland. Some of the people welcomed this event, and some were concerned at what might follow.

The Red Army's advance into Radoshkowitz lasted five days. During those days a sea of soldiers, war machines and horses went through town. The Jewish residents were puzzled and felt like in a dream, asking themselves, "What will tomorrow bring, and what will life be like in the future?" Everyone realized that a big change was about to occur, but the question was what kind. Some were hopeful that the future would bring happiness, but others, merchants and wealthier people, were concerned and worried.

Behind the Red Army came the first clerks of the Soviet civil administration. Belarus was declared a part of Soviet Russia, and life in town took on a different character. The Jewish residents adjusted their way of life to suit the new authorities. The first to do so were the young people, who picked up productive jobs and soon forgot the ways of the past. Some of them were appointed to clerical jobs in the new government institutions. Others continued working in their fields – their situation was not bad.

But it was rough on the older people who had been shopkeepers. When the Red Army took over, they liquidated their businesses but had no experience with a more productive way of life. The Soviet authorities were suspicious of former shopkeepers and gave them only menial jobs. Many such people took these jobs out of necessity, but some gave up working altogether and lived off their savings or the earnings of the young members of their families. Those who found it hard to adjust to the new regime hoped that the situation was only temporary and would soon change.

The Soviet regime lasted for twenty-one months, and most of the Jewish population were content. Life was safe; there was no worry about the future. Suddenly the events of the 22^nd of June, 1941 struck and deeply shocked them. On that day the German Army attacked Soviet Russia, and things began to change rapidly.

The German Army occupied Radoshkowitz three days later, the 25^th of June, 1941, and the next day Russian planes bombarded it and destroyed sixty percent of its houses. Among the casualties were five Jews. The fear of war was upon the Jewish population. People tried to hide as news of the German mistreatment of the Jews reached them.

On the first days of the occupation the Germans did not distinguish between Jews and gentiles; they treated everybody cruelly. Then came the first department of military administration, Numbers 50 and 55, and with them, the Jews felt the full brunt of German rule. All Jews, young and old, were ordered to register. Fifteen of them were selected as representatives of the community, and the following orders were issued:

The first thing they did was make a list of so-called Jewish collaborators with the Soviet authorities, and they were to be executed first. On the list were seventy people who were to be shot. When the news of this list reached the Jewish community, some looked for places to hide, and the leaders looked for ways to reverse the decision. They handed out money and gold watches to those who promised to help, and finally, after a few days of fear and spending a great deal of money, the list was cancelled and the Jews saved for a while.

One day the German construction company, "Todd," came to town. They needed workers and planned on employing Jewish labor. Every able-bodied man and woman was ordered to show up at the market every day at sunrise. They were sent to do different, hard jobs, like smoothing stones, digging holes, etc. The only people exempt from this kind of work were mothers of children under the age of two. People who showed up late or failed to carry out the exact orders were severely beaten. One wrong move was punished this way. Every day people returned from work beaten up. No one was spared. Workers had to show up for work the next day in spite of their wounds and bandages.

And so, the people from "Todd," and all others in positions of authority, began to abuse the Jews with other demands, at their whim. They demanded gold watches and gold coins, or cloth, leather for shoes, or fur coats. Those who refused were threatened with being shot to death. The Jewish committee of fifteen was used as the go-between. The German officers would get their loot, fill their pockets and move on. They would be replaced, and the new men would come up with new demands. And so the Jews were abused. The Germans and their cohorts carried away everything, furniture, bed linens, kitchenware, etc. Nothing was spared.

At the same time the German higher authorities (Radoshkowitz was part of Vilaiky County) insisted on collecting "contributions" and fines. The first contribution was in cash equivalence – thousands of meters of cloth and women's fur coats. The next one was of 200,000 Russian rubles in cash. Once this was paid they asked for 1,000 rubles in gold. The Jews lowered their heads and paid, hoping these payments would save their lives. A group of them went from house to house convincing people to pay the Germans and thus save lives. The group was headed by Dvorah Gordon, who gave away everything she owned. The poor Jews did not understand at that point that all these afflictions – the contributions, the hard labor and the beatings – were only a way to break their backs and spirits before the final annihilation.

At that point they first heard of the extermination of a large number of Jews in neighboring towns. In October, 1941, the Jews of Velodeshna were destroyed, and the following December, the Jews of Rakov were savagely killed. The Jews of Radoshkowitz could not believe these rumors. They could not conceive of killing a whole community – the old, the women and the children. They tried to blame it on the Jews, themselves. Maybe they were not loyal to the German authorities, or disobeyed their orders. As a result they bowed down even more, deluding themselves that it would save their lives. They could not conceive that it was all part of a premeditated plan to kill all the Jews, sooner or later.

The condition of the Jewish community got worse. Their possessions had all gone to the contributions and other payoffs – and they were not paid for their labor. Those whose houses were destroyed in the Russian air raids were forced to seek shelter in the homes of friends and relatives. In some cases they were ten to fifteen people in one room. Soon they fell victim to hunger and sickness. Those who were better off tried to help the poor, but even their means were extremely limited. In order to buy food, people sold the little they had. In some cases fine clothes were exchanged for a few loaves of bread, and gold watches, for a few potatoes. And so these grim conditions eroded people's spirit and resistance. They became indifferent to everything, and when the Germans became aware of it, they precipitated the end.

At 6:00 a.m. on March 11, 1942, Radoshkowitz was surrounded by a thick chain of 500 people, among them S.D. men from the local police, gendarmes and men from other departments. A group of Germans broke into the homes of the Jews and ordered them to the market square to register. The Jews realized that they were in great danger, so many sought refuge in hiding places or tried to escape from town, while some followed the order and went to the market square. The chain of guards and the thick snow prevented any attempt to escape town; those who tried were shot and killed. The same fate awaited those who tried to hide in the stables or barns of their gentile neighbors.

At the same time over 900 Jews – men, women and children – were gathered at the market square. Those who were too sick to walk were killed in their beds by the Germans. From the market square the whole group was ordered to walk, under heavy guard, to the edge of town, to the street which led to the village of Odranka. There they were made to march, four abreast before the German authority, who chose 120 Jews with useful skills and locked them up in a special place. The other 800 were beaten with clubs as they marched to a different location. They were made to undress, then taken into a barn four at a time and machine gunned.

Thus, the Jews of Radoshkowitz were taken on their last trip, row after row, young and old, big and small, their heads low, and their hearts full of despair and hate for all humanity. Mothers carried their babies, children clung to the hands of their sick mothers. Among them was Yehuda, son of Nateke, from Aldranka, with his eight small children, all under ten years of age. Also, the old rabbi, Haim Shmuel Lappidot, with his white beard, and his eyes staring to the sky as though expecting a miracle. The orthodox Jews were reciting "Tehilin," with a spark of hope for salvation in their hearts. But the miracle did not happen, and they were all slaughtered.

Their bodies were arranged in rows of four, and after they were doused with gasoline, they were set afire. The fires burned for three days and three nights. In addition, there were fifty more people killed – those who tried to escape. They were buried in a common grave near the cemetery. And so, on March 11, 1942, eight hundred-fifty of the Jewish community of Radoshkowitz were killed, just the first act in this bloody play.

Beside those 120 Jews whose lives were spared, another group of over 200 people survived that day by hiding in Jewish homes. More than 350 people were kept in twelve houses surrounded by barbed wire, in a section they named, "ghetto." And so started the second act of this tragedy.

These Jews were forced to live in horribly crowded conditions, twenty-five to thirty people per house, most of them torn from their families – widowers who had lost their wives and children, widows and children who lost their parents. These wretched people had to continue living, with no future, expecting death at any moment. They were left to the complete control of the "Todd" and its commander, a man with no conscience, called Sneider. In his hands were their life and death – and his decisions were made on a whim.

The movements of these Jews were very limited. The only time they were allowed to leave the ghetto was to go to work. They were permitted to move within the confines of the ghetto until 6:00 p.m. Violators would be shot. Everyone between the ages of twelve and sixty had to show up for work, and in return received 250 grams (about 8?frac12; oz.) of bread a day. The workers had to accept this, because confined to the ghetto, they could no longer trade their belongings for bread and potatoes. Moreover, they had to share their meager portion with about one hundred old people and children, also in the ghetto

For four days less than a year, these poor Jews were confined to the ghetto, hungry, desperate and suffering, forgotten by the whole world. The nights and days were filled with fear and danger – a real nightmare. Once, a drunk soldier burst into the ghetto and shot a young Jewish man to death. Once, a ten year old boy peeked out of the ghetto; a policeman saw him and killed him on the spot. A Jewish woman entered a gentile's house and a German noticed it. The following night the woman was found, shot to death. One of the Jewish workers did not satisfy his German supervisor. He was also shot to death. The residents of the ghetto had to bear all this in silence, hoping that one day these murderers would be defeated.

Accidents and murders were daily occurrences. Six young Jewish women, ages fifteen through eighteen, fell off the wagon they were riding home from work and were crushed to death by its heavy wheels. The Germans did not allow the Jews to participate in their funerals, so they were buried in a common grave in the cemetery. When another Jewish girl criticized the Germans' behavior, this was conveyed to the authorities by a gentile woman, and the girl was immediately shot. In November, 1942, ten surviving Jews from the neighboring town of Gorodok were brought to the Radoshkowitz ghetto, but a few days later, on a winter night, they were taken out and shot.

In the second half of 1942, the Germans began to suffer increasingly from the resistance forces. These fighters were roaming the forests in the area. Hundreds of Germans fell victim to the partisans' bullets. But as the partisans' resistance mounted, so did the cruelty of the Germans to the Jews in the ghettos. As soon as a shot was heard outside town, the Germans, fully armed, would encircle the ghetto, as if this was the source of the danger. This became almost a daily event. The Jews in the ghetto lived in constant fear of death and wouldn't even bother to undress for the night. In daytime they would look forward to the night and at night, look forward to the next morning. After such a night on Erev Yom Kippur, 1943, a few shots were heard outside town, which resulted in German soldiers and police encircling the ghetto and shooting at it for over two hours. The Jews hid as best they could, afraid to move, sure that this was the end. They stayed this way till 6:00 a.m. when they were kicked out their homes, shook up and frightened, and driven to the market square. There they stood while the Germans counted them over and over until they realized that no one was missing. Then every one was given a number to wear on his chest at all times. At that point these living people were reduced to abstract numbers.

The old and the weak among the ghetto population lost all hope of ever getting out alive; they became apathetic. But the younger and stronger Jews did not give up hope and were willing to fight if necessary. They began to organize and collect arms and hoped they could escape and join the partisans and together fight the enemy. Thus, the ghetto residents were divided. In the meantime, the Germans warned them that if anyone was missing, they would all be executed. Therefore, the older people and those with families – children or parents – and those who were afraid of starving to death in the forests, decided to stay and tried to talk the young people into staying, so as not to endanger the entire community. At the same time, the young tried to convince the older people into joining the partisans with them and escape the wrath of the Germans. These discussions continued for a few months, until the 7^th of March, 1943, the second day of calamity for the Jews of Radoshkowitz.

On that day two young men escaped from the ghetto; they couldn't stand life there any longer. When the residents learned about it they went into panic, not knowing what to do. Some ran out of town, and some tried to hide in the cellars of the ghetto. The Germans sensed immediately that something unusual had happened. They surrounded the ghetto and made all the Jews come out. After counting them, they realized that a few were missing. They alerted the C.D. people, and two hours later all the residents of the ghetto were shot. On that day, March 7, 1943, all the residents of the ghetto – 290 men, women and children – were murdered in a barn, and their bodies were burned. Thirty-five people – men and women – did make it to the forest. Apart from them, the Germans spared the lives of twenty-two Jews, those they needed most for their work. They locked them up in two houses in the ghetto, allowing them out only for work.

After these events, the Germans issued an order that, except for the twenty-two Jews, no other Jew was allowed in Radoshkowitz, and any such person would be shot on sight. So, on the next day, March 8, 1943, those few Jews who had tried to hide in the cellars, were also executed. In one of the cellars they found three women and four children, ages six through ten. When they were marched to the execution grounds, they tried to resist and put up a fight, so they were shot on the way, and their small bodies hung on the barbed wire which divided the ghetto.

Two weeks later, five of the twenty-two survivors were killed, so now seventeen remained, fifteen men and two women. These were the sole survivors of the 1,200 Jews of Radoshkowitz who were murdered by the Germans, and these seventeen swore to avenge their community. They took some arms from the German warehouses, and one spring night left their houses in the ghetto and made it to the forest. They were aided by Eliyahu Zukovsky, one of the first to join the partisans, and together joined the fight against the murderers. Eventually, they joined the other Jews from Radoshkowitz who had escaped earlier. Altogether they were thirty-five men and women. They participated in all the battles with the Germans, they blew up many German vehicles and tanks, and many soldiers fell victim to their bullets. They did not repay the murderers very much but did avenge their brothers' blood as much as they could. The partisans took care of women and children and fed them until liberation day, July 1, 1944, when the Red Army came to Radoshkowitz.

Altogether fifty people – men, women and children – escaped from town, and forty of them came back. The other ten died as heroes fighting the enemy. Today there are forty-five to fifty Jews living in Radoshkowitz, most of them employees of the state. Just a few work in other areas. Their living conditions are not bad.

Many might ask why didn't the Jews leave Radoshkowitz before it was occupied by the Germans. This is easy to explain. The town was near the Russian-Polish border, which continued to exist even after the Russian occupation of 1939, and it was patrolled by armed guards. A special permit was required to cross into Russia, and for some reason no such permits were issued. Therefore, the Jews were unable to flee into Russia when the war between Russia and Germany broke out on June 22, 1941. Three days later Radoshkowitz was captured by the Germans and the Jews were trapped by death and destruction.

May, 1943. The blood of our brothers, the Jews, is crying from the depth of the earth. Hundreds of our town's residents were cruelly killed by butchers. Twice the sword came down on us – the second slaughter, with all its dread and fear.

There were about fifteen Jews left in the ghetto. We decided to escape the killers at any cost. We wouldn't follow those who had already perished. As long as we could breathe we would live and avenge!

A night in May. A spring night. The moon is casting its light. On a night like this, in normal times, the young of Radoshkowitz would have a good time, get lost in dreams, innocent dreams of youth. But everything fell apart, like a house of cards. Everything vanished, came to an end. Fifteen shadows are moving secretly, afraid of being noticed, to the forests of Citcivich to find refuge. The partisans are there, and a few survivors of Radoshkowitz are among them. There is a partisan camp named, "The Avenger." Some of the gentiles there were from the local population, which we knew. They had they kept in touch with us and told us where to find the partisans. They knew we were about to leave the ghetto, and we agreed on a meeting place near the forest.

After a night of wading through mud, on rough terrain, and after crossing the river by boat, we arrived exhausted at the Citcivich forests. The partisans greeted us warmly. This friendly encounter was like a ray of light in our dark existence. Our Jewish friends among the partisans didn't leave us for a minute. We were speechless; only our tears expressed the feelings in our hearts.

We spent the first days building huts from tree bark. The young and able among us joined the ranks of the fighters. The old and weak took care of basic menial tasks, like the [biblical] "woodchoppers and water carriers."

My father was also in this camp. He was not satisfied with simple tasks, so thanks to his efficiency, he built something which was needed and was enjoyed by the partisans and the farmers in the area.

In one of the abandoned estates he found machine parts which had been used to produce alcohol and vodka. The Germans had damaged them so they couldn't be used again, but my father collected these parts and built a steam mill. Its operation was a boost to our economic situation, especially at that time of total chaos for the partisans and farmers. From then on the partisans could be the benefactors of the farmers, instead of always asking for handouts. My father was very proud of his accomplishment, and my younger brother, Ari, and I were glad to see our father somewhat distracted from his deep sorrow.

Winter, 1944. The Germans, who at first did not pay much attention to movements of the partisans and thought that their victory over the Soviet Union would mean the end of the partisans, realized that they had made a big mistake. The partisans grew stronger from within, and their many attacks on the Germans became a serious menace to their rear. The partisans attacked the Germans wherever they could, every day or night, until the Germans decided to retaliate. When the news reached us, we prepared to face the enemy.

We decided to move all the equipment, animals, etc. to the forests of Palshechnich, across the Brezina River, because the area was known for its marshes and lakes, and we supposed that the Germans would stay away from there. The "woodchoppers and water carriers" were assigned the task of moving everything and were told to stay there.

I had to join them, since my father was sick, and I had to take care of him. My father was very weak and needed special care. My brother, Ari, in spite of his young age, refused to stay behind. He went with the partisans. The tension and the separation from his young, beloved son took their toll on my father, and he died in February, 1944.

My father did not live to see the defeat of the monsters. When he was in the depth of sorrow, he would say, "What is this suffering? Shalom from Rogovy is still alive, and this is my revenge against the Germans."

Blessed be his memory!

Pessia Parzov-Bumstein

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