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On June 23, 1941, the day after the war broke out, the first of the refugees arrived in Belica from Grodno and its environs. We took all of them into our homes, and gave them food. It was still calm in our area, however, we learned from the mouths of the refugees about the disaster that was drawing near. The government was in disarray, and shooting was heard. Lida was bombed from the air, and burned in fire when the firing of the German planes rained down on it (many fled Lida and came to us).

Only very few of our townsfolk succeeded in escaping by wagon in the direction of Mogilev and reached Russia.

The Germans shot in the street and dropped their first eleven dead, among them, Not'keh Azriel's. The resident gentiles lied that they saw the Rabbi, pharmacist and doctor (the son-in-law of Faygl Banchi's) shooting at the Germans with machine guns… the Germans immediately spread out throughout the town, going from house to house, they poured kerosine on them, and ignited them. The town was engulfed in flames along all of its streets, and everyone fled the houses into the fields, and to the adjacent villages.

My brother and I, together with our families fled to Kriwiec, where we found lodging for the night, and saw the extent to which the town burned. On the following day, the gentile woman, who was the proprietress of the granary where we had found refuge, and said that we were obliged to leave the place, because the Germans had ordered a prohibition against taking in any Jews into homes. We returned to the town in obvious penury, my house no longer existed, and only the houses of a few Jews and the flour mill, remained intact.

Even the old Bet HaMedrash, that had stood for hundreds of years, was burned down. There was a wooden sign put up, not far from the Bet HaMedrash, that had the writing on it that ‘the town was burned down because of shooting against the Germans,’ on the main road connecting Lida to Zhaludok, beside the brick works of Herzl Fleischer.

All local authority was turned over to the local gentile citizenry. One of them, a ne'er-do-well and drunkard – Balabanski, was designated as the head of the town, and the members of the militia were drawn from the worst of the element of the town. They began to rule over us, giving us beatings, and conducting searches.

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Anyone who had even the most minor complaint against a Jew, would now take his revenge, demanding hides or woven goods, bringing the Jew before the Germans. The local gentiles took away all of the horses and wagons from the Jews, and only very few of them behaved like human beings who partook in the bitterness of our fate.

They would purposely come to spread bad news, especially to engender chaos. Many of them in general ‘did not recognize us.’ In previous times, when they needed the Jews, they would come with sweetness on their lips, but now, were it not for them, the Germans could not have done us so much in the way of evil.

An order was given that all of the Jews had to assemble at the outskirts of the town, beside the Polish cemetery. A fear fell on everyone, they came, and were ready for everything. Anyone who was late, earned blows from rifle butts. Those that were so gathered were detained for several hours, surrounded by an armed guard, whose weapons were aimed at us.

A German officer unsheathed a pistol and told us: ‘From this day forward, it is your duty to fulfil all the orders given by the head of the town; there will be no complaints for what is done to you; it is upon you to expedite all work; you are considered to be dogs.’ He passed by us, taking out those from the line who did not please him, and sent the others off to their homes. Among those he selected were the Rabbi and the pharmacist. The murderers tied them to a wagon, loaded it with a load, after which the officer took a seat in the wagon, and those tied to the wagon were ordered to pull the wagon to the village of Paracany (about eight km), which was the place where the Gestapo headquarters were located. There, they were held in a granary, beaten murderously, and after several days were let go, and returned to Belica.

Every day, it was compulsory to gather beside the office of the head of the town, Balabanski the drunkard, to receive orders. Bread was sold in the amount of 200 grams per person per day. A few got help from the peasants who came to use the flour mill, getting a bit of flour from them and baking for themselves in the bakery of Shlomo Kremen, but many suffered from hunger. A few would steal out and ‘jump’ the line to a village, but the militia would intercept and seize them, giving them a beating, and abusing them.

Every day, new orders were cut. Jews were required to surrender their cows and sheep. The elderly were sent out to work, At intervals, Germans would come from Lida and Zhaludok, burst into houses, plunder food and other things, and deliver beatings.

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On The Day of Rosh Hashanah

Before Rosh Hashanah, a young boy came through, who had fled from Eisiskes, and told how he had escaped the slaughter. This was the first mass murder in the area, that was carried out by the Germans and the Lithuanians.

During Rosh Hashanah, prayers were conducted in two homes (that of Moshe Stotsky, and that of Lejzor Moshe'keh's). In the middle of services, we got the news that the Germans had reached Zhetl, and that gentile thugs were directing them and showing them where the Jews were. Everyone immediately scattered and hid themselves. While we lay in the bushes in the potato fields, we hear screams.

The Germans arrived before dawn, and posted guards beside each house. They were looking for the men, and drove them across from the Catholic Church (that has one time been a Russian Orthodox Church). They found me in the rafters, hit me with rifle butts, and threw me down from the rafters. I ran till I was out of breath, and found my lads in that place among others, everyone standing and trembling.

Across from the Jews stood several hundred Germans, with their machine guns trained on us. An officer appeared and began to read from a prepared text, saying that we were akin to dogs, with no rights, and that all the Jews were communists and it was permissible to do with them whatever one thinks of. After this, they read out a list of 14 Jews, who were accused of contact with the Soviets. They were immediately taken out of the ranks, and driven to the Paracany (they were detained there for several days, beaten, and in the end, let go). All of the Jews that were assembled that day beside the church, were beaten murderously with wooden boards that the murderers had taken out of the gate surrounding the church.

One morning, a car full of Germans arrived, and stopped beside the house of Shmuel-Shimon the Tailor. Chaim-Itchkeh Kremen was called to that place, and he was immediately ordered to gather eggs. After he brought them the eggs, that did not let him go, but rather they took him along with them.

As they rode, they met up with Fyvel, the young son of Moshe-David. They took him into the car as well. Several days later, it became known that the Germans had shot them beside the bridge over the Neman.

We would arise before dawn, sneak out and go through the streets, to a place with ruins, and spend the day there. The Germans would be looking for men to do work. We transformed a cellar in our house into a place

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of concealment for those who had ti hide. Jews from other houses would come to us to hide in the cellar.

One day, a large number of Germans arrived, mounted on horses, and also on bicycles. We saw them from the cellar, through the small windows we had. They immediately spread out in the street and into the houses, to look for men, Many did not manage to hide themselves, and many were found in their hiding places. They gathered thirty-six men, among them lads aged 13-14 years, and elderly men. All of them were taken to the outskirts of the town,. Beside the Russian cemetery. They ordered the Rabbi to clean the horses and bathe them, beat him, and broke his fingers, they tortured him, until he died. Afterwards, we heard machine-gun fire. All thirty-six of those people were killed.

Israel Zlocowsky is worthy of respect, because he was a committed representative of the community, who in times of trouble, carried out his mission faithfully. The process of going out to work was conducted in an orderly fashion. He had access to the head of the town, and did everything in his power to extract relief from him, and to forestall trouble.

Talk began that we were to be sent away from Belica. Many did not wait until they were sent, but themselves left, some to Lida, and others to Zhetl.

In the meanwhile, those who were left were burdened with a demand for ransom in the sum of 150 thousand rubles. Twenty-four people were immediately arrested as hostages. The well-to-do people had already left town, and all that remained were the impoverished. Israel Zlocowsky did not lose his composure, and sent three men to Lida, to the higher authorities, and they were able to reduce the demand to 90 thousand rubles. But even this sum was impossible to raise. They wanted to seel off the last pillow, the last undershirt, if only to save the people. But the Polish populace simply waited for the moment when they would be able to seize all of this for nothing. Israel Zlocowsky turned to the Belica residents that had gotten to Zhetl, to provide help in this time of trial. The Judenrat in Zhetl moved to help, resorting to herculean efforts, and raised the money. Everyone gave whatever they had in hand, and in this way, the demanded sum was raised, and the hostages were released.

An order arrived, that by November 10, 1941, everyone must leave and go to Lida. I rented a number of wagons, and I took the few things that remained to us to Lida, and the potatoes. Suddenly, a rumor spread that things in Lida were going to be even worse, the city being big, and thieves abounded. We had people in Zhetl already, and they informed us that the gendarmes there were better. Again, somehow, I rented wagons, and brought back all of our things from Lida (I left the potatoes in Lida). But here, a new trouble started: the order dictated that we were to travel to the ghetto in Lida, and we wanted to go to Zhetl.

After a tiring negotiation, Israel Zlocowsky obtained permission from the head of the town to take the

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remainder of those left to Zhetl. And so our departure began, from the home in which we were born and in which we had lived for generations on end. There was crying and wailing, and our enemies rejoiced. We were still in town when they grabbed everything from the houses that the Jews could not take along with them.

I took potatoes and flour with me (enough for a couple of loves of bread) and we headed out on the road. Beside the wagons, men, women and children walked, all with glum faces, and heads hung low. Adding to this great calamity was the shame, that we had been driven from our own homes. Along the way, my wife ע”ה wept, and said to me as if her heart prophesied on her behalf: Not to worry, if we remain alive, we will be able to regain everything, but only God knows who it is that will remain alive…

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With the expulsion of the Jews of Belica, it did not matter to the Germans if we travel to Scucyn, to Lida, or to Zhetl. They were certain that we will not be able to escape their talons. They were only concerned to be sure that all of the Jews would be concentrated in ghettoes, and this was to ease the implementation of the plan, that they had set down, in the fateful Wannsee conference, regarding the Final Solution to the Jewish Problem.

As did most of the natives of Belica, we went over to live in Zhetl before it suffered so much. Maybe we did this because we had many relatives there, and possibly because Zhetl, like Belica, was close to a forest. In Zhetl, we lived with Moshe Aharon Razvesky. He was called ‘Aharon the Slow.’ He, his wife, and only son, were dear people with good hearts. They loved helping those in need. Their house was not partitioned: one large room – with an oven in the middle. In this room lived: My mother – Yehudit, myself and my sister Batya (Nahum was fighting in the ranks of the Red Army at the Leningrad front against the invading Germans), my sister Penina, and her husband, Lejzor Mayewsky, with their infant daughter aged six months, Lejzor's father ‘The Breadwinner’ with his wife, their little daughter, and their daughter Rud'keh, Yehudit's family from the village of Pogiry, beside Zhetl, and two young boys saved from Dereczin – there, the Germans had already managed to exterminate their families.

Already, on the day that we arrived, my brother-in-law Lejzor didn't sit on his hands. Immediately, he wanted to dig out a refuge under the wooden floor of the house, that could serve us as a hideout from the Germans, but it was difficult for him to convince ‘Aharon the Slow’ the owner of the house, who stood fast on his feeling that the things that happened in the other cities of the vicinity would not happen in Zhetl.

In the meantime, the ranks of the enemy drew closer… In Slonim, the Germans fell upon the ghetto using the excuse that the partisans shot at the Germans from within it. As a sort of response to this, they killed about nine thousand Jews. Operations of slaughter were conducted by the Germans in Novogrudok, in Dereczin, in Kazlouscyna, in Bialystok, and Grodno. A huge slaughter was organized and implemented in Vilna and other cities.

Zhetl is a city which had a patriarchal oversight. A Gaon was born there once, and he will protect it – that is how the owner of the house, in which we lived, argued, as did other residents of Zhetl. But my brother-in-law had the power of persuasion, and he began the work. I would secretly take out the earth, and spread it in the garden in a way that it would not attract attention. After the work was finished, we put an armoire over the entrance, which served us as the entry way into the refuge. We had barely finished the work when the troubles started in Zhetl also.

The natives of Zhetl complained that we, from Belica, brought down the trouble on them. The Germans saw

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that the Jews were living too well in Zhetl, and began to drive them into a ghetto. We moved to live in a new residence. We lived together with the family of Meir Baranchik, and with a few other families. After a number of days, we were again driven out, and we went to live in the home of the Rabbi. My brother-in-law Lejzor built a refuge place in this house as well.

In Zhetl, they sought workers who would go to work in Navael'nja. There were ten of us from Belica who volunteered for this: Myself, Abraham'l Wolkowysky, his brother Israel, Eli Chaim Baranchik, Shai'keh Baranchik (son of Joseph), Ber'l Stotsky, the Yosselewicz brothers, Yankl Kremen (Dvora Kass), Lipa Radominer (Ber'l the Shammes's), Moshe Shimonowicz, and ‘Tzal'eh’ Zhukhowisky (afterwards, he changed places with his brother Zalman, who during the time of the extermination of the Jews of Navael'nja, was killed with them).Together with the Zhetl natives, a few Jews from Navael'nja, and Jewish refugees from Poland, we came to 420 men and women. We were engaged in different sorts of work: in the hospital of wounded Germans, in the station where the spoils from the Red Army were collected, etc. During the nights, we would load sacks, whose weight reached 100-150 kg, onto the trains.

The Germans saw to it that we worked day and night, and they gave us nothing to eat. Once a day, we got a bowl with soup and a 200 gram portion of bread. Despite this, they did not stint on lashing us with a whip. Once, while I was working in the hospital, and I was searching in the ashtray for cigarette butts discarded by the wounded soldiers, a German drew near to me, and when he saw there was no one else about, he shoved a piece of bread, wrapped in newspaper, into my hand.

In Zhetl, I met a young lady named Chay'keh Novogrudsky, who was a good-hearted young lady and also pretty. Despite the fact that death peered out at us from every angle, and our lives hung in the balance before us, this young woman fell in love with me. Her brother, Shlomo'leh, who worked together with me, would always bring me a half a loaf of bread from her. My mother would also give me a half a loaf of bread. I could finish the loaf in one sitting, but I divided it up to last for all the days of the week. Every time I cut a slice of bread from the loaf, I would put a mark in it, so that no one would touch my bread. However, there were experts, who knew how to take a slice from a loaf in a way that was not detectable. We, the people from Belica, lived in Navael'nja in one room, and we were like a family. We began to plan an escape, but the alert surveillance of the Germans frightened us. They notified us early in the morning and at night, that if anyone had the nerve to try and escape from the camp, that person's entire family would be wiped out .immediately. At the same time, I learned that I had a maternal cousin in Navael'nja who was the owner of the pharmacy, and who lived outside the camp. As understood, the Germans had confiscated his pharmacy, but they permitted him to work in it, and to live there. Together with him were his wife, and his aged mother. They would come to visit me at frequent intervals, and bring along a bit of food. On one Sunday, we went in the company of an S.S. soldier to Zhetl, in order to change clothing and to take some food from the house. When I arrived home, my mother wept very bitterly. The day before, the Germans had murdered Ber'l Odzhikhowsky (It'keh's), Moshe Shimonowicz, and Jonah Chana's (Shy'eh's).

Towards nightfall, we gathered at the ghetto gate in order to return to the camp. When a woman who was eight months pregnant was killed, my mother came out to escort me, and with her, Rachel'eh Shilovitzky.

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My mother kissed me and quietly wept and said to me that she felt that our end was drawing nigh, and all of us were going to be killed. ‘Try,’ she said, ‘to escape from their clutches.’ Then both of us cried, and I gave my mother a final kiss, and similarly I kissed my niece Rachel'eh, and we parted. Before we left the ghetto gate, I threw a glance back once more, looking at my mother and relative, and then went off. On the way to Navael'nja, I ruminated over the things that my mother said to me. They rang in my ears: ‘out end draws nigh,’ ‘they will kill us all,’ ‘try to escape their clutches.’ My mother, who was so good and dedicated to us, my mother who knew how to suffer, saw that our end was getting closer. For the entire way I saw my mother, and my niece Rachel'eh, in front of my eyes, as if we had not parted from one another at all… This went on, until I was aroused by the savage scream of the S.S. man, who escorted us by riding on his bicycle, and put us back into the labor camp at Navael'nja.

We continued to work under the terror of the S.S. ‘We captured Stalingrad, and Moscow’ – they would yell at us – ‘and we will wipe out all of the Jews.’

One morning, knocking at the door awakened me. I opened my eyes to see a Latvian soldier before me in battle dress, with a rifle cocked, shouting: ‘Hurry up and get dressed.’ Initially, I did not apprehend what was going on, and I said to my comrades that we had certainly overslept and were late for work, and we are going to ‘pay’ for this. And here, I go out into the courtyard, and see that all the Jews in the camp are standing outside, and S.S. men surrounded them with heavy trucks. One Jew, from Zhetl, named Minsky, was separated from his little daughter, and wept like a child. In less than an hour, they arranged us in rows. We, the people from Belica, stood ourselves beside our own, and discussed possibly escaping from this trap. However, we were unable to take advantage of the time that we had, and we were loaded onto the trucks. During the ride, I called out to my comrades: ‘Chevre’, come, here it is possible to jump off and hide among the tree foliage, and what difference does it make, since they are going to kill us anyway. &8216;A little longer’ – came the reply – ‘Maybe they are not going to kill us…’

I was no hero, quite the opposite, I was afraid to get into the pit. I wanted them to kill me while I was fleeing, preferring to take a bullet in the back and not to see how they were taking us like sheep to the slaughter. We arrived at the designated place. We were still whispering among ourselves, when they ordered us out of the trucks. I apprehended that this was a tract where soldiers practice shooting. We lay down, side by side. We were certain that shortly the order would be given, and our lives would be over… We lay down below, and the murderers that surrounded us were above us. There were many Germans there, and we understood that part of them had come to see the ‘show.’ The leader of this ‘performance’ was an S.S. officer named Reuter, who walked about with a thick stave in his hand. He took a list out of his pocket and announced that all those whose names were called out should get up and stand to the side. And in this way, he began to call out the names of carpenters, shoemakers, and other tradespeople. In instances where a name was called and the person did not appear, someone else would take his place. Ber'l Stotsky was saved in this manner. During this time, I said that even if they call my name, I will not get up. I felt this way, despite the fact that I thought they would not succeed in killing me, because at least one person has to remain alive to tell the story of what happened to our brethren during the Holocaust. I lay and waited for the order to be given to shoot the remaining ones, at which point I would raise my head, in order that the bullet hit me and cause a speedy, easy death. In the meantime, the officer began to read the names of those in the building trades. The last one on

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the list was me, ‘Leon Stotsky.’ Not expecting this, I was slow in getting up. I did not want to step on the heads of people. Another person got out in my place. After a few seconds, some inner force drove me, and I got up and showed the officer my identity card. The officer raised a shout: ‘Which shitty bastard got out in his place?’ He then began to lash out left and right with is stave. I saw that he was assaulting the young man who went out in my place. I was terribly saddened that I had got up at all, and responded to the call. Afterwards, the officer called out an additional two names. One was my mother's nephew, the pharmacist Isaac Yellin, and the second, the head of the Judenrat: Poblonsky. These last two refused to join us without their families.

We were taken to the synagogue in the city. After several seconds, we heard gunshots, and we knew that these were not the shots of soldiers practicing, but – killing fire, by which our brother Jews were being murdered. We were forty-four people in the synagogue. From Belica, the following remained: Myself, Abraham'l Wolkowysky, and Ber'l Stotsky. I sat beside the Holy Ark, I did not cry, but I shook. I trembled in my heart, and laughed inside my heart. I did not laugh because I thought myself to be lucky that I had remained alive. No, no. This was the laugh of the contemptible Germans that was reverberating within me. Therefore, I said in my heart, they, they are the ones who brought us to this synagogue, so we could search for Our God. I was reminded of a line from Job[3:3]: ‘Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, There is a man child conceived.’ I bent over to the Holy Ark, and whispered into it ‘Master of the Universe, you, who chose us from amongst all the nations, and elevated us, now you throw us alive into the pit? You, who can do everything, You, who do miracles and wonders, how can You stand by and see what they are doing to us and remain silent?’

Even my mother would ask: ‘How can this be? How is it that they don't have their hands paralyzed at the time that they are shooting Your Jewish people? And how is it, that You can permit them, these murderers, to tie our Rabbi's beard to the tail of a horse, and then make sport of him?’… At that time, I hid myself amid the brush in the potato field, and I heard the screams of the Rabbi and all of the dignitaries of the city. At that moment, the gentile woman Kacnicza went by, and noticed me, and whispered: ‘Aryeh'leh hide yourself, they are killing the Jews, there is no God in Heaven.’

Now, in Zhetl, the door to the synagogue was opened, and the last of the Jews from the town were taken inside. Even here, they organized a pretty ‘performance,’ on the same day that they wiped out all of the Jews in the vicinity. I searched for some member of my family among those that were saved, and I found my uncle Meir Zelikowsky and his son Chaim. My uncle Meir fell into my arms and burst out into bitter weeping. It was from him that I found out that the Germans had thrown a grenade into the house of the Rabbi, the place where we had lives. My dear mother, and all those who were in the refuge were killed.

We were up to 160 people in the synagogue already. I said to myself: Now there is nothing to fear. they have already killed everyone, and it is necessary to flee. They didn't give us much time to think, and they began

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to count the people. According to the rumors, they were prepared to send part of us to Smolensk, and part to Novogrudok. I said to my uncle: Let us go to Smolensk, the place closest to the front, and it is possible we will be able to cross the lines. However, my uncle argued that it would be better to travel to Novogrudok, in our area, with ‘our gentiles.’ He still had faith in ‘our gentiles.’

In the courthouse in Novogrudok, about twelve hundred men were assembled from the entire district. Apparently, even this number of Jews was too large for the Germans. And so, once again, they began to count, selecting tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, doctors and the like. The remainder were sent back to the ghetto in which they had liquidated most of the Jews only minutes before. I said to my uncle that it made no sense to remain in the labor camp, from which there is no possibility of escape, because it is closed in on all sides and it has a wall with barbed-wire on it, and guards in watchtowers with illuminating searchlights that rotate. My uncle persuaded me to remain, arguing that now, after all this, perhaps we will be permitted to stay alive. My answer was that I was astonished that he could believe what Amalek has to say, after all that he has done to us. In the end, he said to me: ‘What is there to do? After all, there is no place to go. Everyone hates us, everybody.’ These wee the last words I heard from his mouth. The right words were: ‘Everyone hates us.’

My uncle Meir, and his son Chaim (who afterwards fled to the forest) remained in the labor camp. The two sons of David-Hirsch'l Meckel – Yaakov and Ber'l, and the doctor – the son-in-law of Faygl Sotsky, were killed on the barbed wire at the time they attempted an escape. In the ghetto there were myself, Abraham'l Wolkowysky, Ber'l Stotsky, and his brother-in-law (Lejzor der Kayder)and the son-in-law of Yosh'keh Leib'keh's Lejzor. They concentrated us into several buildings in the ghetto. We began to settle down. At night, we secretly broke through the fence, and began to look through the houses for food. The stench of the corpses that were tossed about here and there, went up our nostrils. These were the corpses of the Jews who tried to escape, and perhaps even offer resistance.

I thought to myself: Up till a few hours ago, people still lived here, and now the place has been transformed into a cemetery whose dead are scattered all over the ground. I have to admit, and not be ashamed, that at that moment, my heart was so hardened, that the death I saw before my eyes did not affect me, and all my thoughts were focused on escape.

Prior to escaping, we went out of the camp grounds to get bread, butter and pork; boots, a shirt and trousers. However, on our way back, the guards of the camp sensed our presence and they shot in our direction. Lejzor Gapanowicz was wounded, and his screams were heard all over the city. A policeman that reached him, expended a string of bullets into him and Lejzor was dead.

After Lejzor was killed, we said to ourselves that we are compelled to flee, otherwise they will kill us all.

Abraham'l and I began to talk to Ber'l Stotsky about escaping. He replied that he and Shy'eh are going to gentiles who know them, and they cannot take us along with them. In the morning, he was given permission

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to leave the ghetto to bring water. Ber'l Shy'eh my brother, his brother-in-law Reuven, Abraham'l and I left together. On the way, we parted from Ber'l and Shy'eh and we wished them success. The two of them fled into the forest, and Abraham'l and I quickly returned to the ghetto and began to prepare for the journey. During this preparation, I thought to myself: ‘Good, we will flee from this place, but to where? Ber'l went to ‘his gentiles’ but where are we to go? I have no gentiles that I know, I don't have a single soul that would want to have me.’ It was decided between us to flee into the forest, and we ill build ourselves a shelter for refuge in the ground. At night, we will come out and steal food from the fields, and during the day, we will lie still in the ground. At that time we did not know about the existence of the partisans. We thought we would be the only ones, among the animals of the forest. We began to search for partners in this escape undertaking, in order that we not be alone in the forest. We spoke about this with two young men and several young women. We told them about our plan, and asked them if they were prepared to join us, because if not, we were prepared to act immediately before it is too late. Not'keh and Shlomo'leh, who were our age, agreed immediately. We were elated, because they were local people and knew their way to the forest. We invited the girls to a ‘kumzitz.^[1]’ Someone from the group brought a bottle of vodka that he had found in the ghetto. We fried latkes, under the open sky, we toasted each other ‘L'Chaim.’ The young women wished us success. We asked that they go and ‘distract’ the police that were guarding the ghetto, in order that they not pay attention to the fences on that night.

Silently, we approached the fence with knapsacks. We made a small hole in it, Abraham'l being the first one out, and me after him. We lay down in a section of wheat, and signaled to our other two companions. However, these two became frightened, apparently, and did not follow after us. Abraham'l went to see what had happened to them, and came back with them, it becoming clear that they were afraid to cross the fence. We crawled for several hundred meters on our bellies. After that, we rose, and began to run with no knowledge of what lay in front of us. I do not remember for how long we ran, but what I do recall is that we inadvertently ran into a gentile of about 14 years of age, tying up his horse, who understood the purpose of why we were running. He warned us of the Germans who were found about two kilometers away, in a settlement called Szlyb. We asked the boy for the way to the forest, and he explained to us how to reach it. We continued our journey for the entire night, and before dawn, we found ourselves in the forest.

Upon reaching the forest, each of us took up a hiding place behind a tree, and we were each out of the line of sight of the other. For the entire day, we lay, without uttering a sound, and without moving. This was in the month of August 1942. The summer was at its peak. The day was hot and suffocating. I was very tired, but despite this, I could not sleep. All manner of thoughts ricocheted around in my mind. In this regard, I was reminded of the day we were expelled to Zhetl, at which time I walked with Hirsch Shimonowicz to Belica. On the way, an automobile with S.S. troops passed us from Novogrudok. After it had gone about 50 meters past us, it stopped. The fascist wild beasts of prey perceived that we seemed to be Jews, even though we were dressed as gentiles. I said to Hirsch then: ‘Come, let us flee into the forest that is before us, the Germans are afraid to go into it.’ But my companion was afraid, and I did not want to flee alone, and leave him in the hands of the murderers by himself.

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As we drew near the auto, the Germans stopped us, and asked us for our permits to leave the ghetto. Seeing as we had no such permits, we were ordered to get into the auto which continued towards Belica. This was during the Sukkot holiday period. The Germans were cold, and they ran off to get somewhat warmed up. Beside the village of Nesilovtsy, a flock of sheep went by. The shepherd rode on a horse with a number of people beside him. The murderers saw that these people were Jews, among them a young girl wearing a fur.

The Germans stopped the auto, jumped out of it, and only one remained to keep watch over us. At a distance of a few meters from us, the Germans killed the girl, and a few more of the men who were with her. Afterwards, I found out that this girl was in the company of her brother and father-in-law, and they had fled from the Vilna ghetto together. If I am not mistaken, they also killed my uncle Fyv'keh there, and Chaim-Yitzhak Kremen. After seeing the murderers, warmed up, climbing into the auto, it occurred to me that they may be planning to throw us off the bridge over the Neman. But we crossed the bridge without incident, and they took us to the ‘Gmina’ where they related to the police officer, Kaczin (Ziruk) in German, that they had apprehended these Jews outside without permission and there is grounds to execute them. To this Kaczin curtly replied: ‘Ja, ja,’ The police began to assault us and drive us outside. We began to cry and plead for mercy. The officer Kaczyn said he would call the burgomaster Balabanski who understood German. Balabanski, who was a fried of Mul'yeh, and with the help of Israel Zlocowsky, who gave Balabanski 500 rubles, pleaded, upon arriving at the police station, to have us released. At the police station, the Germans turned over the pictures they had found on the persons of the Jews they had killed, and they were afterwards turned over to Israel Zlocowsky who went out with several additional Jews, in order to bring the bodies to a proper Jewish burial. When they got there, they found the murdered people already stripped naked, ‘our gentiles’ having succeeded to strip them of their clothing.

When I was pulled away from my thoughts, it was already after sunset. And so, our first day of freedom went by. But woe unto those who fear even a tiny bird in the forest, where every slight sound terrifies, and you think you are being pursued. In the main, such a fear brings along an emotion that regardless of what will happen to us, it will not pe4rmit us to remain alive, but end up in the pit of death. And despite the fact that we as yet did not know what awaited us in the forest of thick trees, the sense of being free was pleasant, and we breathed more easily.

Night fell. We sat, and rolled some cigarettes. We waited until it got darker, and then continued to walk. After walking for two nights, we reached a place where we encountered our first partisans, among them Jews who had saved themselves from Zhetl. We grasped that we were not the only ones in the forest. The people from Zhetl began to organize a brigade of partisans that afterwards was called by the name ‘Orlansky,’ and they did not want to take us into the brigade. While we were there, we heard from a woman, that beside Dereczin there was a Jewish doctor that is also organizing a brigade, and he would most certainly take us, because we were young. We did not wait a long time, and went to locate him. Without fear, we walked through the forest, day and night, to find the doctor (Atlas) and his Jewish warriors. We met up with a band of young people from Zhetl who were returning from him, because he did not want them. Despite this, we continues on our way, and we were certain he would accept us. According to what the youths from Zhetl told us, we had to reach the village of Wola, and find a house there with red shingles, and to let the master of the house know we seek to meet with Dr. Atlas. When we arrived there, the woman of the house refused

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to reveal the place where Dr. Atlas could be found, out of fear that we were spies. Despite this, she gave each of us a pancake and asked that we leave. We began to speak among ourselves in Yiddish, and this, in order to convince her that we were Jewish and there was no need to be afraid of us. This step really helped. She said to us that we should go near the Szczara River and if we go there on a Sunday, we will encounter partisans that come there to bathe in its waters.

The first person we met there was Israel Kwiat from Dereczin – a young lad who was armed with a rifle. We asked him if he is from the Atlas group, and when he responded affirmatively, we went with him to the group. Before our entry into their base, a young woman stopped us who was standing guard, with a rifle in her hand. she did not permit us to enter within. When we explained to her that we had come from a distance, and our purpose was to see Dr. Atlas. To this she replied that Dr. Atlas had gone off on a mission, and he was expected to return to the base that evening. Until that time, we went to sit outside and wait. They brought us a container of honey, which we ate without bread. At night, Dr. Atlas and the officer Kulko returned, exhausted from the journey. They told us that they had blown up a bridge beside Grodno. (Dr. Atlas, born in Poland, who studied medicine in Milan, Italy, did not want to serve as a doctor in the forest, but rather to be a fighting partisan. He fulfilled his desire, up to the very minute when he fell in an operation against the enemy, from a bullet that penetrated his heart).

Dr. Atlas organized a Jewish brigade worthy of its name. He gathered to himself selected young men and women. The Russian partisans and also the gentiles of the area accorded him, and his brigade respect.

On a Sunday soon after, beside the Szczara river, we had a conversation with Dr. Atlas. After he came out of the river, he came over to us and asked us what it was we wanted. We told he that we wanted to fight the Germans and to avenge the blood of the Jews they had spilled. Dr. Atlas asked if we had rifles. Our reply was one of emptiness. Kulko asked us if we had boots, We sho9wed him that all of us had boots. In the end, he asked whether we were members of Komsomol.^[2] I replied that I was a member of this organization. When Kulko asked for my membership credentials, I replied that I had burned them, in order that it not fall, by chance, into the hands of the Germans, and then they might kill me.

‘Bravo, – you did the right thing!’ To his question as to whether we were craftsmen, we responded by saying we were still young, and had not yet had a chance to learn a trade.

The result of this conversation was that the partisans accepted us. Dr. Atlas held a short talk in front of us, and I can still remember the things he said as a prelude to having us accepted into the brigade. He said: ‘Comrades, bitter destiny has brought us here, not in order to hide in the forest and wait for salvation that is to come, and we are to remain alive. We have come to the forest in order to fight the Germans, in order to avenge the Jewish blood that has been spilled, to remove the shame of not having fought against the aggressor until now.’ And at the end of his remarks he said: ‘In any event, not one of us will remain alive,

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so let us, by whatever means, kill as many of our murderers as we can.’

On the first night, I received the order to stand the night watch. I was given a pistol, and a watch, and I was ordered to remain awake for the entire night.

I was lucky. I walked about the entire night, around the tent of the deputy. The deputy emerged and said to me that I was not required to be on my feet all the time, because it was permissible for me to sit as well. I responded to his intent, and sat down at the side.

The partisans of the Dr. Atlas brigade did not sit on their hands. Each and every night, they would go out on missions: some to bring back food, some to derail trains, ambushes, or to cut down telephone poles. We burned the bridge in Belica. In a like manner, we participated in the attack on Kazlouscyna. We killed them all. There were not few ‘German heroes’ that we found cowering under beds, and we shot them.

The Germans wanted to reach the heart of the Ruda-Jaworskaja Forest. But before they had time to dig themselves in and build themselves stands, we launched an attack against them, in which the ‘Bulak’ and ‘Orlansky’ brigades participated. We fought in the forest where a battle lasted for six hours of face-to-fact combat with the murderers.

The brigade of Dr. Atlas belonged to the Division of Bulat^[3] (there were four brigades in this Division). In total, we had 600 partisans of which ten percent were Jews.

In December 1942, the Germans launched a massive attack against the forest. They brought 40,000 armed soldiers from the front, tanks and airplanes.

In one of the battles for Velikaya Volya, Dr. Atlas was wounded in the side of his hip, and he died in a half hour. His last words were: ‘I have not taken sufficient revenge.’

Dr. Atlas fought like a hero and died like a hero. The Jews in the forest lost a great leader. At the same time, the deputy of the Orlansky brigade was killed, by the name – Kaplinsky. A short time before that, my cousin Jonah Odzhikhowsky was killed. A few days later, Henokh Baranchik (Chaim-Rubin's) was killed. The Germans burned all the homes of the gentiles surrounding the forest, and killed its owners. After this, it was published in the papers that 10,000 Jewish partisans had been killed.

An order was received from the central command of the partisans, to disperse into small groups, and that everyone should save themselves. This large aktion against the partisans lasted for several weeks.

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When the massive aktion came to an end, we began to organize anew. In walking towards Belica, I met Eli Kovensky from the Dr. Atlas Brigade. Eli told me that my two sisters and my brother-in-law are hiding in the forest beside the Neman, in the Belica vicinity.

Along the way, I met Lej'szka Fleischer, and I walked with him, going to search for the remnants of my family. Therefore, you can imagine how great was my joy, when I found them, and their joy also knew no bounds.

After a while, I joined the ‘Orlansky’ Brigade, and much later on, to the Paratroopers Brigade of Captain Sabarny. I was active in this Brigade up to the liberation.

Translator's footnotes:

1. An informal social gathering. From the Yiddish kum zitz, meaning ‘come, sit.’ Return
2. The Communist Youth Organization Return
3. It is important that the reader understand that there were two different partisan commanders: one named Bulak, and one named Bulat. Return

Saturday June 28, 1941. It was already the seventh day since the Nazi German army invaded the Soviet Union.

The ranks of the Nazis moved eastward with lightning speed. To every place they came, they brought destruction and ruin. Cities were bombed and burned. Many of the residents were left with nothing. the roads were full of refugees: men, women and children. Many of them were Jews whose homes and possessions went up in flames. Here and there, one could still see groups of Russian soldiers that remained, without any command. German planes relentless pursued the remnants of the retreating Russian army. The sounds of bomb explosions and gunfire could be heard nearby.

On the morning of that very Sabbath day, the last of the Soviet soldiers, from the division that was stationed in the same place, were still milling about town. At noon, two German scouts on bicycles appeared. At their appearance, the fear and trembling in the hearts of the Jews of the town intensified. All of the predations of Hitler's minions, against the Jews of captured Poland since 1939, were known to us, and we personally saw that their fate was now going to be visited upon us.

A tightening of the heart gripped everyone in our family.

We found no place for rest, and crestfallen, we went from one corner to another.

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My father picked up his prayer book, prayed the afternoon prayer, and read from The Ethics of the Fathers. I lay down on my bed, when disturbing thoughts began to dominate my thinking. What will be our fate now? Rumors reached us about the cruelty of the Germans towards their Russian captives. Will they behave this way towards us as well? All manner of bizarre thoughts occupied my mind. I wanted to sleep, and I shut my eyes. However suddenly, I got up, as if someone had pushed me out of bed. I walked over to the window.

At the edge of the marketplace street, I saw a detachment of German soldiers riding on bicycles, drawing near to the Catholic cemetery, at the intersection of the roads to Zhaludok and Zhetl. It was late afternoon already. The silence surrounded me and oppressed me. From time to time, it was broken by the hoarse cries of the Germans.

Suddenly, a loud explosion was heard, and immediately afterwards – machine gun fire and exploding grenades. The voices were coming from the direction towards which the Germans were heading. After a few seconds, tongues of fire and columns of smoke appeared from that direction. The shooting continued for about another hour.

As was later made clear, a short but intense battle had ensued between a group of Russian soldiers that remained behind, and the advancing German army.

In this battle, a number of Germans were killed, but almost the entire Russian unit had been wiped out.

After the battle, the murdering soldiers spread through the streets of the town, and anyone who happened to be in their way was shot to death. In this manner, about 15 people were killed in that same hour. But their anger was not quenched by this.

Bands of Germans went out to avenge themselves on the Jews, and this based on the excuse that they had, so-to-speak, shot at them from the synagogue. They went from house-to-house, putting them to the torch.

Three soldiers also came into the yard in front of our house. Calmly, they poured gasoline on the straw roof of the stable that abutted our yard, and set it on fire. A panic seized us, and we thought for sure that the murderers were going to come into the house and shoot us. To our fortune, they left the yard, in the knowledge that the fire would spread by itself and engulf the house.

As quickly as we could, we let ourselves down into the cellar that had been made of bricks, with everything we could lay our hands on: bedding, clothing, whatever food could be found in the house, utensils, and we blocked the entrance with a large iron bar.

We loaded a loaf of bread and several of life's necessities on bicycles and fled the house. Almost all of the houses on the street were engulfed in flames. No living thing could be seen, except for us. We crossed the street running and fled in the direction of the fields, westwards.

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The day wore on. Dumb and terrified, we stood in the middle of the field that was lit by the flames of our burning town.

The Holocaust had just begun.

The Children of H. Baran and Y. Kamenetzky

As a result of an inhuman effort, twenty-five hostages were redeemed, whose lives hung by a hair, and here came a new decree: all the Jews in the Lida district had to leave the place of their domicile, and all were to go to the city, and as is understood, the Jews of Belica were among these. This news fell like a clear clap of thunder from the skies. People wrung their hands and their hearts raced. Are we to leave the place where generations upon generation had lived, and then gone to their eternal rest? Are we to leave the place where fathers and sons grew up and spent their lives, rejoicing during good times and worrying during times of trouble? Are we to leave these piles of ruin, on which just a short time ago, there stood the houses that were sustained by the sweat of our brows, and the cemetery in which our dearly beloved remain? Are we to pack up our meager belongings and leave? Is this possible?

But was does our Tormentor care about this? Within ten days, not a single Jew is to remain in the town. It is a decree and it cannot be changed.

The town comes together to take counsel, and try to figure out how to sweeten this decree, and to find whatever means may be available to ease this departure without, God forbid, causing any loss of life. For, it is evident, that the life of the Jew and his possessions are considered to be expendable. But so long as the heart beats, there is hope in it, and it is imperative to do whatever is possible in order to get through this crisis as well.

A number of women were sent as a delegation to Lida, the district center city, to see and hear what was going on there. In two days time they returned, with the news on their lips, that all the Jews from the city and its environs are ordered to enter a ghetto. Many of the Belica residents, who did not wait for the return of the delegates, went to Lida with the rest of their belongings, and when they learned of the situation there, they returned with deliberate speed. Despite this, a number of them remained there, having relatives, and not willing to incur the dangers of a return trip.

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Once again, the town came together to seek counsel, time being of the essence, and there was a need to act. The Novogrudok district was identified, before the expulsion decree was issued, but it was forbidden to Jews from the Lida district to cross over to a second district. Israel Zlocowsky put his life at risk and went knocking on all doors, in order to get something going for the good of the community. He did not stint on himself, ignoring his own personal issues, in order to do what was best for everyone. In the end, he succeeded, by using gold coins, to obtain permissions from the head of the town to leave for a city in any district of their choice. The date of the expulsion was set as November 10, 1941 which was drawing nigh.

Autumn entered its last phase. A cold, soaking rain fell from morning until night. The street was full of mud and refuse from the rainwater. The last of the leaves fall from the trees, and a north wind blows through the bare branches. The black-gray ravens soar above them, cawing monotonously. The church, which in the summertime, was hidden behind the tall green trees, now stands unadorned, the two bells in its belfry tolling from time to time, and their clang rings out like the blow of a hammer, a harbinger of bad things to come.

Time flies, and everyone is getting ready to leave. In order to cover the large expenses of the freight, the ‘remainder of one's pittance’ is sold off, because the ‘good’ gentiles who agreed to convey these belongings demanded inflated prices. After redeeming the hostages, there was practically nothing left of value, and everyone sold off the last of their meager possessions. The gentiles in the vicinity began to swarm toward the town, in order to be able to buy a ‘bargain’ from the Jews: clothing, bedding, copper vessels, that had been handed down from generation to generation as an inheritance, junk that was left after the fire, everything that had any value. The Jews were selling and the gentiles were buying, at half the value. When there was no possibility of a sale, the item was simply given away, on condition that half would be returned after the war, and they take it willingly, because in any event, these possessions are going to remain with them….

And so the last day arrives. It is now necessary to part from the town and leave it. Starting on that morning, a light rain began to fall, and upon hitting the ground, turned immediately to ice. A damp cold reigned outside. The entire ground, the roofs and the trees were covered in a thick sheath of ice. The more fragile branches of the trees broke off under this great weight, and on snapping, they sounded like explosions that came one after another, from different places. The elderly gentiles recounted that they recalled an autumn of this kind many years past, and said that it was an ill omen, that blood would be spilled, that many people would die, because the wrath of God had been poured out on humanity.

The state of mind in this cold air – was depressing, darkening our mood, making us full of fear in this damp cold, at a time when legs fail to provide support on the icy, slippery ground, and we go to the cemetery to bid farewell to those that will not be leaving this place, going to pour out one's heart before them, and to beseech them to plead before the Master of the Universe to take pity on His oppressed and suffering children, and to send them salvation soon.

With an aching heart, everyone returned home, in order to do the final preparations. It had been ‘arranged’ with the police that there would be no difficulties with the departure. With the ‘generosity’ of the head of the town, it became possible to go off to other cities than Lida. Permissions were given to groups of ten families. While these permissions were granted, no guarantees were given as to what might happen along the way.

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On the night of November 9, 1941, the exodus began.

Quietly, the wagons began to leave, one after another. A long line of wagons slowly stretches on in the darkness of the night, in the direction of Zhetl. The town of Belica remains to the rear. The lights from the houses of the peasants can still be seen, and here, they too disappear, after the first turn. We cross the long bridge over the Neman River. The high bank with the old ‘palace’ surrounded by ancient trees, is indistinct in the darkness. Oh, the lovely Neman, how many memories we have of the beautiful places along its banks, like a dream that has passed, never to return. The summer Sabbath days beside the banks of the river, under the trees and branches, couples sat and whispered to one another, while the older folks took a Sabbath nap, while children sat beside them, chewing on a tasty bit of baked goods. Athletic young men swim in the river, diving into the water, swimming, or rowing boats, far, far away… even now the river silently flows, lazily, just as it has for hundreds upon hundreds of years, and it appears that it will continue to do so, without change, without ever stopping…

And here, now the long bridge is also behind us. We still can hear the sound of the last of the wagon wheels on its roadbed, and now this too falls silent. A light snow begins to fall, its flakes falling silently on the ground, covering it in a white sheet.

We draw close to the village of Nesilovtsy, and here we can already discern the silhouettes of its impoverished houses. In the summer mornings, the children of this village would come to the town, wake up the women of the houses, and sell them pickled vegetables, from which a tasty vinegar was prepared, as well as cut flowers that had a wondrous perfume…yes, this was just a short time ago.

The caravan moves on slowly, for the entire length of the white road. Women, with heavy hearts, sit on the bundles, with children at their side. The men walk on foot beside the wagons. From time to time, the cry of a child, is heard, or the wail of a mother. The wagons are proceeding on the side of the road that is not paved, in order not to make noise. Only now and then, does a wheel encounter a rock by happenstance, causing a bump and the sound of squeaking.

Another village off to the left is swaddled in the peace of the night. The peasants are fast in their quiet sleep in their small dwellings. In one small hut, a dog barks, as it senses movement out on the road. A calf lows in the barn. A rooster crows, and is answered by a second one. At this hour, the roosters most certainly crowed yesterday also, and the day before, and certainly will resume their routine tomorrow and the day after…

And again, silence falls from both sides of the road. But how great is the chasm between that silence and the terror that fills the heart. There, with a safe and secure sleep in a warm house, and here the wanderings of the expelled, at the sufferance of murderers. A great pain afflicts the heart, were it only possible to burst out into tears, to pour out the bitterness that is pent up in an aching heart. But the heart has turned to stone, and not even a single tear will appear in the eye.

The snow has stopped falling. Isolated settlements are seen in the distance. White stands of trees and white

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fields are on both sides of the road. We pass the villages of Naharodavicy, Joukovsina, Kargli, and even Zaset' are near. There, is a police station with Byelorussian police of bad reputation. They are capable of causing trouble. But, with good luck, we get by them as well.

The night of expulsion and the wandering goes on and draws to its close. The light of a new day begins to break in the east. From the darkness of the morning, it is now possible to spy the belfries of the church in Zhetl. Just another bit of way, and we enter the town. With resignation, and a diminished hope, we begin a new day in a new place –

What will the day bring?….

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From the left: Hirsch Baran, his wife, Baylah (Radominer), her sister Hasia (Kamenetzky) and their children

Our spacious home was burned down immediately as the Nazi murderers entered our tranquil town of Belica. The gentiles who worked for me in the tar and pitch works, and whom I provided for their bread, now were the ones who provided my bread. I was very happy when they responded to me, even if my request was not a substantial one, a slice of bread and a bit of milk for the small children. Many times I felt that they give only because it was not suitable to them not to give. Occasionally they would say: today we have nothing – tomorrow, but it was not possible to go out of this house on every ‘tomorrow.’

Ber'l the Shoemaker lived as a neighbor to Israel the Dyer, who had a large stable, and also his cows and those of Israel the Shoemaker^[1]. Bedside one of the walls, three wooden bed stands had been laid, and between the wall and the bed stands the width was about a meter. The entrance to the stable was through the attic, and one used to slide down from top to bottom, and we would sit in this stable for days on end. At a time of need, in order to get out of there, an escape way was dug under the foundation that led out to the garden of Faygl Stotsky.

Once, when I was sitting in the stable hideout, I sensed that someone was rummaging about our neighbor's shack, and my heart began to race, since I felt something was afoot. As I started to come out of the stable, I saw the barber, Hirsch'l Baran from Lida, the son-in-law of Ber'l the Shoemaker, and Yitzhak Kamenetzky, both of them running toward the garden to hide. They dragged me after them, and only after we had laid down and spread ourselves on the ground in the middle of the garden did they tell me that my son-in-law, Yankl the Coppersmith was taken away by the Germans, and they don't know where he is.

The Germans knew that the Jews were hiding in the gardens, and because of this, they were searching and probing through the undergrowth. I managed to signal somehow to Hirsch'l Baran and to Yitzhak Kamenetzky that we should move over from the garden into the stable, be they didn't hear me. I left them, and jumped into our shack to find out what was going on with my family. I immediately retreated in my own footsteps, and I saw two Germans leading Hirsch Baran and Yitzhak Kamenetzky in the direction of the

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police headquarters that was beside the Christian cemetery. One German went into our house, but I passed him, and grabbed my two little children in my arms. Then he called out to me: leave the children, and you come with me. I kissed the two children, Yekhezkiel aged 6, and Elchanan age 4, exchanged glances with my wife Bracha, and with all the other people in the house, taking my leave of all of them by a glimpse of the eye and without words, and I went…

Beside the house of Shlomo the Baker, a German stood guard over Mul'yeh Shimonowicz, the son of Fish'keh (Sholom) and another young girl. The two Germans led us off to the horse market, where there was another German who stood guard over us for sawing wood for the kitchen, and to wash the baskets. After we finished the work, the German gave us food to eat, and afterwards ordered us to wash the wheels of the wagons beside the kitchen, and this was how the time passed until four o'clock in the afternoon.

Before nightfall, a policeman arrived on a bicycle (a gentile thug from Belica, whom we shot at into his house at night, when we were in the partisans) and conveyed to the German that the division is demanding the turnover of the four Jews. Suddenly, shouting was heard, and the sounds of rifle and machine gun fire. The voices subsided, but we became very noisy and nervous. The German responded to the policeman that we will be let go in another half hour, but we perceived that the face of the German began to change colors. Our nervousness grew from minute to minute, and he held onto us for about another ten minutes, and he said to us: ‘you are free to go, go home quickly.’

We went, but not by a direct route, but rather through the gardens, crossing the street on the run, and getting as far as a side street beside the house of ‘Niom'keh’ the Wagon Driver, and Avru'chkeh (their houses were burned down). There, one by one we pushed our way through, again crossing a street on the run, beside Michal Stotsky the Tailor, and through the gardens, we reached the house of the father-in-law of Mul'yeh Shimonowicz, beside Yosh'keh the Shoemaker. Mul'yeh's wife and the other women, burst out with a shout when they saw us: You are alive, hide yourself, all the men have been shot!

We fled to the attic in Mul'yeh's house, a small house whose roof was thatched with straw. Each of us grabbed a corner, digging deeply into the dirt that was in the eaves, and covered ourselves in rags. We heard the reverberating voices of the murderers bursting through our small house, asking where the men were, and were told that the men had already been taken.

With the arrival of night, the women told us what had happened: 36 men were shot, among them – my son-in-law Yaakov Kotliarsky, his son, Yehoshua Kotliarsky, and his son-in-law Yehoshua'keh Peretz's, the Rabbi, the pharmacist Wismonsky, Yitzhak Kamenetzky, and his brother-in-law Hirsch Baran. With the last two, was I not just with them during the morning hours, in the middle of the garden, and I pleaded with them to come with me. Fate caused us to part, and it was decreed that they be put to death that day at the hands of the bloodthirsty murderers. With the handsome and accomplished Yitzhak Kamenetzky, we were like kin, with the feelings of comradeship and fondness tying us together. I swore at that time, that if it were only possible, I will avenge the blood of my family and his blood, because he had no one left behind him. (His wife, Hasia, and his handsome and accomplished son were killed afterwards in Zhetl). תנצב”ה

Before morning, I decided to jump over to the shack of my house, which was a distance of two houses away. When I was seen in my house, everyone began to weep with joy, because they thought I was among the

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murdered. I could not stay for any length of time in my house, because the morning began to get light. I put on an old, torn, half-length jacket, and put on a large hat that covered my eyes, girded up my trousers, put a knapsack on my back with a long walking stick, and le the cows out of the stable of Israel the Dyer into the street. Just like a shepherd, I led the cows through the marketplace, and the street in which the Germans were milling about in that area. The truth of the matter was, that every time a German passed beside me, my heart would stop, and my soul dangled on a strand of hair, and in this way I continued to proceed with my head held up. In this manner, I succeeded in transferring the cows through the entire town, to the roads leading to the pasture, and when I got there, I thanked God for getting me their in one piece.

A Christian drew closer to me, and I recognized him from the Netzana Street, because he also worked for me at the tar & pitch works. I greeted him with a ‘Good Morning,’ and he responded in kind, recognizing me, and he said, that there were a lot of Germans to be found beside the Neman, and therefore it would be better if I returned to the town. After a short time to weigh my options, I decided not to return to town, but rather to continue forward. In the distance, beside the crossing points, three people appeared, and then vanished into a stand of trees beside the Neman. The closer I drew to the Neman, I see people dressed as civilians without insignias, but in spite of this, I think that perhaps the Germans have disguised themselves as local citizenry. As I got to within 150 meters of the stand of trees, I was able to distinguish three grown men and a boy. They looked about them and vanished quickly, and I understood them to be Jews from Belica. I entered the woods, and found Shlomo the Tailor there, Chaim Hanger, Herzl Fleischer and others, all of whom hugged me, and asked what was going on in the town. I told them the ‘news’ and what had happened to me, and how I rescued myself and came here.

In the evening, women arrived to convey the news that the unit of murderers had left Belica, and then each of us returned to their respective houses. However, the days of our being able to reside peacefully did not last very long, because the issue of levying ransoms on the town began. They deceived us into being led into a ‘meeting’ in the Gmina, and we were immediately imprisoned on the spot. The doors were locked, and a police guard was placed around it, with no possibility to exit. After this, they notified us that if we will not come up with 150,000 gold pieces within three days, they will murder us all. We began to plead that they let Ziss'l the Miller and myself out, in order that we might raise the money. After a great deal of effort, they let Ziss'l go, and he, together with Israel Zlocowsky began the task of raising the money immediately. They ran between Lida and Zhetl, asking for help. Because of this, the Jewish elder, R' Israel-Lejzor from Zhetl who was renown, and did not fear for his life, and brought a large amount of money, and this is how we were set free.

Then began the period of providing pairs of boots for the police, but the matter didn't last very long, because, in the meantime, the order came to evacuate the town and to transfer to either Lida or Zhetl. Accordingly, those Jews from Belica who were remained, left and went in a number of directions, so to Lida, some to Zhetl, and some to Scucyn. Ultimately, they were all trapped into the mass graves of these three cities: head to head, heart to heart, body to body, for all eternity. הי”ד

Translator's footnote:

1. This seems to be an erroneous designation, having already identified the individual as Israel the Dyer. Return

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