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[Page 352]

A page in memory of our town's soldiers
fallen in the battle against the Nazis

Translated by Marshall Grant

© by Roberta Paula Books

With the end of the list of our dear ones who perished in the Holocaust, we dedicate this page to the memory
of the sons of our city who fought in the Polish military against the Nazi war machine and fell in battle.

 

The soldier Neta, son of Shmuel Laizar, Karal 1916-1939
Azriel, son of Mania, Danialeski 1910-1939
Yitzhak, son of Reuven, Pranankanstein 1917-1939
Yitzhak (Itsche), son of Mania, Danialeski, fell in battle 1917-1939
Naftali, son of Lev, Klodawski 1910-1939
Hanan, son of Lev, Klodawski, his brother 1912-1939
Michael Hirsch, son of Yehiel Yosef, Goldman
murdered by the Germans as prisoners of war
1915-1939
Hirsch, son of Moshe, Tapalski
Fell in battle against the Germans after taking part in the prisoner
revolt and blowing up the crematoriums in the Birkenau death camp.
1912-1944
  May these lines always preserve their memory  
  May their souls be bound in the bundle of life.  

[Page 353]

Sons of our city who perished after the Holocaust

Of eternal memory

Yisrael Rusak, of blessed memory

Son of Moshe Aharon, of blessed memory

Died on 8th of Nisan, 5719

Survived by:

His wife, his daughters and his sister

 

Yisrael Rusak, of blessed memory

[Page 354]

Yisrael Rusak, of blessed memory

Reuven Yamnik

I met him when he was young and still living with his parents in Przedecz. He studied to be a tailor; he was modest, simple and was satisfied with what he had, always with a smile on his face, the son of a large and respectable family in our city. His father, Moshe Aharon, of blessed memory, was the secretary of the Jewish community, a religious and wise Jewish man. He was knowledgeable in Judaism and world matters. He was a good speaker, intelligent, well read, and a supporter of the Zionist movement and a member of the Mizrahi movement. When Yisrael grew older, he left his parents' home and moved to Lodz. There he had a better chance of making his living as a tailor, which he did until the outbreak of World War II.

When Hitler's soldiers invaded Poland, he was able to escape in a difficult and roundabout way to Russia. He worked hard there to make a living, but always maintained his Jewish values – he prayed and kept Shabbat as was required. There he met his wife, Miriam. According to some accounts, when she saw first saw him, he was troubled and living a measly life, alone and lonely and barely making ends meet, but when it was time to pray mincha in the afternoon – he would make time and pray. That was when she decided that this is a man who was worthwhile making a life with, and they were married in Russia. They experienced all the horrors of the war, and when it was over, they left Russia and went to live in Lodz, which was just a stopping point for the young couple. After their first daughter, Zahava, and Rachael, their second, were born, they came to Israel, but there too, their lives were hard. They overcame all the hardships of immigration during those times, the early 1950s, the period of transient camps. They had the most modest life - no home, no livelihood, no work. The couple lived in the transient camp of Pardes Katz in a leaking tent, without any facilities, and raised two infants without even the most minimum of sanitary conditions – and it was terribly difficult. One day when Yisrael was at work, a snake that had snuck into the tent from the surrounding vegetation attacked Miriam. Her screams brought the neighbors to her aid and killed the snake. Some time later, a long time later, they moved to Bnei Brak, to the Hey neighborhood, a religious neighborhood established by the Hapoel Mizrahi movement, and they received a two-room apartment there as they wanted to live in a religious community. Yisrael was a religious man, kept Shabbat, and regularly participated in the neighborhood's large synagogue. He gave his daughters a religious education. After a while, he received permanent work in the Bnei Brak municipality, but then, when his fortunes finally improved and he was more or less stable – he had a steady job, beautiful home and apartment, a terrible disaster hit the calm and quiet home like lightning on a clear day. While at work in the municipality, he felt poor, knelt down and fell. He died on the 8th of Nisan, 5719 and was unable to enjoy the happiness of his daughters with whom he was very close. He was eulogized by the great local rabbi, Rabbi Friedman from the Hey neighborhood. He was buried in the cemetery for those keeping the Shabbat in Zichron Meir in Bnei Brak. May his memory be blessed and may he be bound in the bundle of life.

[Page 355]

Of eternal memory

Mrs. Rivka Danielless, of blessed memory
of the Kronburg family

Your nobility and beauty will always be with me.
Your memory is forever in my heart.
Died in the USA in 1969

Her husband: Moshe Hirsch Danielless

 

Mrs. Rivka Danielless, of blessed memory

[Page 356]

Of eternal memory

Golda, of blessed memory
The daughter of Michael Hirsch Neymark, of blessed memory

A modest woman who was active in the Jewish community.
Died in Brazil in 1972.

Her family and brother, Simcha.

 

Mrs. Golda Neymark, of blessed memory

[Page 357]

Of eternal memory
David, son of Katriel and Masha Yaakobovski, of blessed memory

Died in Boston, USA, on August 16, 1972, aged 70.

 

David Yaakobovski

 

[Yiddish text]

[Page 358]

Moshe Yechimovitch, of blessed memory, the father

Died on the 1st of Iyar, 5732
1902-1972

Meir Yechimovitch, of blessed memory, the son
Died on the 28th of Adar, 5733

1946-1973

 

Prz358a.jpg
 
Prz358b.jpg
Moshe Yechimovitch   Meir Yechimovitch

 

We called him Meir after his grandfather, Yaakov Meir, of blessed memory, one of Przedecz's most honorable men. He was born in Przedecz after the war. We tried to renew the lives we had before the war in our city, but the hostile environment that had assisted the Nazis in eradicating the Jews of Europe and Przedecz would not accept our return. In 1957, we moved to Israel. Meir finished elementary school and jr. high in Tel Aviv and continued to learn a profession. When he was conscripted into the IDF, he volunteered for the navy commando unit and was recognized for his excellent bravery. He played an active part in the Six Day War. Following his discharge, he was accepted to a military factory, and there too, he excelled in his work. He married and the couple had two children. Several months after his father's death he became ill, and after four months, succumbed to his sickness.

Born: April 10th, 1946
Died: April 2nd, 1973.

Survived by his mother, his wife, his two daughters and his brother.

 


[Page 359]

Conclusion

Translated by Jerrold Landau

© by Roberta Paula Books

We now come to the final resting places for the Jews in our town, the end of the journey.

No, not so. It isn't finished.

We wander through the alleyways of our hometown.

From time to time, our memories will wander through the places where the murderous miscreants violently ripped away the lives of people who had no ability to defend themselves.

Coming into contact with some 1,000 of our loved ones, we tried to listen to the frightful descriptions of their lives and deaths. We visited some 200 dwellings. We went from house to house. With minor exceptions, these were single-room dwellings. There were workshops in small living quarters, from which they extracted a hardscrabble living. Families of seven, eight or more people had one table and two beds, a kitchen, bedroom, dining room, as well as hygienic necessities [translator: possibly lavatory]. With one such family in such a room, we did not find any furniture. In a shadowy corner, an area was set apart with two boards where there was straw covered with coarse linen sewn together from sacks. This was the sleeping area for six people. This was the resting place and the sitting place for eating.

In many houses, there was nothing with which to cook or to heat in the kitchen. The people had little joy in their lives. Many toiled to support themselves in a meager fashion.

We met with the leaders and organizers of various legal and illegal political organizations, mostly youth. All were searching for a solution to the Jewish question in Poland. All were concerned with the same issues, even though they were not following the same paths.

Young voices resonated in the party locales. They would sing songs and anthems, including Yiddish folk songs, Hebrew songs, as well as Polish ones. The words of Hatikvah rang out. The melodies of the International and La Marseillaise reverberated. Everything was with seriousness and confidence, but we also heard laughter mixed with tears in the joyous songs.

We also talked with the leaders of volunteer and philanthropic institutions, such as the Gemilat Chesed fund, Bikur Cholim [Society for tending to the sick], Linat Tzedek [for providing lodging], Hachsnasat Kalah [tending to poor brides]. They told us that the need was great and that there were also many donors, but unfortunately, they all could not

[Page 360]

cover everything, because the financial situation of many Jewish families was very difficult.

We talked with elderly people, with young people, with children, men and women, at various hours of the day and night. Summer and winter, in the spring and the autumn, step by step, we traversed with alertness and care through the byways of the town, through the mud and rain, over sand and swamps. We slid over the wet stones with which the alleys were paved. Together with everyone, we survived the invasion of the murderous creatures, the torture of the Jews in the middle of the market, the cutting off of beards. We cried with great sorrow over the fire that consumed the synagogue. We were present during the collection of money for the Germans (contributions) to pay for the burning of our holy places. We stood at the fence of the cemetery when the others burnt and destroyed the graves, and heard the mocking words at the expense of those who had been reposing there for hundreds of years, and had had the merit of dying a natural death.

We saw the glances of people who were accusing us for being alive.

Young children who did not understand death talked like older ones on the way to Chelmno. They knew what crimes were taking place on that accursed ground, and whispered tremblingly that they wanted to live. To this day, we still hear the weeping of the mothers suckling their young babies at the breast. These are memories that burn and sting, and do not grant us peace. One cannot blunt them.

Therefore, we survey the alleyways and seek and listen. We cannot uproot the path.

There is the place, this is the place.

All of our thoughts turn back to there.

 

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