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[Page 16]
by Gershon Shachar (Shlechter)
Translated by Yael Chaver
Now, as I edit the memorial book commemorating the martyrs of our town, and read all the entries, I become aware of everything the cursed Nazis did to our dear ones, the torture they inflicted, the killing of invalids, the elderly, and mothers holding their infants. My beloved family suffered all of these. It wasn't a large family. My father was Mordechai (nicknamed Motyeh) and my mother was Leah (nicknamed Leytshe). Father worked in construction and built houses. Most houses were constructed of wood; thus, one builder could construct a house. The foundation was made of oak, which was slow to rot underground. The roof was built by a different expert and was usually covered by shingles. The planks had to be cut straight, and fitted together with great precision. All this was done with an axe, as machines were not yet available. When he had work, Father worked from dawn to dusk. Often, there was little work in the town, and he had to work in other locations.
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Mother was a seamstress and was considered excellent at her trade. We owned a sewing machine. When Mother had much work, she would call in another seamstress to help. People usually worked long and hard; work was not always available, and people worked hard whenever they could. Most people were not well off, and prices had to be set accordingly. Thus, although both Mother and Father worked, we were not prosperous. There were only two of us children. My brother Hirsh was born in 1910, and I – in 1912.
When I completed my studies, as a teenager aged 16 or 17, Zionism was becoming popular in our town. I was one of the first members of Beitar, and later – of HeChalutz.[1] We all dreamed of immigrating to the Land of Israel; finally, I joined the kibbutz training center in Pinsk in 1933. I remember my trip to the training center vividly. Parting from Mother was hard; she wept as we said farewell. That's the way of the world. A mother is forever a mother. She was always concerned for us.
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[Page 17]
She would always murmur mournfully, “Only two children,” probably because she had no more than two.
I spent five years at the training camp, and couldn't visit my parents due to the high cost of railway travel. My only visit was for the wedding of my brother Hirsh, who married Tsivia Segal, the daughter of Avraham (son of Tsivia). She helped my mother with sewing, a circumstance that sparked their romance. Naturally, I couldn't miss their wedding. It was a very joyous occasion. I returned to the training camp after the wedding, and finally immigrated to the Land of Israel in 1939. Parting from my parents was very painful. I remember very well how Mother hugged and kissed me before she fainted. “Who knows whether we'll see each other again,” she cried.[2]
I arrived in the Land of Israel illegally, on the ship Atrato on May 28, 1939. It was a freighter. As we approached the port of Haifa after an arduous journey, the British Navy discovered us and forced us to sail to the port.[3] When we arrived in port, British soldiers encircled us and took us to the Atlit detainee camp prior to being shipped to Cyprus.
It was only thanks to the intervention of the Jewish Agency that the British allowed us to remain in the country. We had decided, while still at the Pinsk training center, to join Kibbutz Ma'oz Haim, close to the Jordan River. It was May 28, 1939. A few months later, the horrible war with Hitler broke out. I did manage to write a few letters to my parents, but all communication was cut off at the start of the war.
On January 12, 1940, I received a letter through the Red Cross, stating, “Hirsh and Tsivia had a son, named Efrayim.” I'm sure that under regular circumstances my parents would have been overjoyed. But by then the Jews were well aware of the gruesome fate that awaited them under Nazi rule. Now, as I read all the contributions to our book, I see the details of the merciless murders of the Jews of Dubienka.
I read about my family and their murder, as well, in Avrom Mastboym's essay. He refers to my brother Hirsh as follows. “Word was out in town that Hirsh Shlechter and two other young men had fled, and had probably gone to hide in the forest. They were en route to Skryhiczyn when the Germans pursued them, caught them at the cross, shot them, and buried them in the field. Some weeks later Noyekh Gayer and I went there, with others, exhumed their bodies and buried them in our town cemetery.” I don't know whether Father and Mother were still alive and knew that their son had been murdered.
Moshe Brener writes that he and other Jews fled to the forests and dug large bunkers for Jews to hide. They worked without food or water, in rain and snow. They couldn't even light a fire, for fear that the local Gentiles would see the smoke and let the Germans know where the Jews were hiding. Yes, Moshe Brener experienced all that. As he writes: “We were in the bunker. Life there slowly became more comfortable. We thought that there were no more Jews in the forest, but a few turned up. These were Motyeh Tsishler, who worked in construction, Moyshe Terker, and Moyshe Katuta with his son. They knew that we were in the Stepankovich forest, but didn't know our exact location. The newcomers dug a bunker in the forest, 150 meters away from the road, and lit a fire for heat, not realizing that the woodsmen would discover their whereabouts. Apparently, that is what happened. The woodsmen told the Germans about the Jewish bunker.
Two groups of Germans came the next day. One group went directly to Motyeh Tsishler's bunker and murdered everyone. The other group went to Moshe Brener's bunker. The people in the latter bunker had apparently found out that the Germans were on their way, and were able to leave before the Germans arrived.” I read these details, as well as information about my brother Hirsh's death, and my father's murder in his bunker at the hands of the Germans. I don't know what happened to my mother and to Tsivia with the baby. They may have been taken to Sobibor with all the other Jews.
It is painful to think about what suffering and torture they endured before their death. I couldn't sleep for weeks. May their memory be blessed!
Translator's Footnotes
[Page 18]
Translated by Yael Chaver
There were two rabbis in the town. The official town rabbi was Yissachar David Kavartovski (may his memory be for a blessing). People came to him with all their problems and issues. He was the religious judge.
Usually, Jews did not turn to government courts. The rabbi was the address for all issues of inheritance, divorce, and interpersonal disputes and conflicts. He would listen to each party, and always strove for compromise. His decisions were always accepted. I remember Rabbi Kavartovski from my childhood days. He prayed at the small synagogue that my father attended. I have written to several Dubienka natives, in Israel and in other countries, asking for their memories of the rabbi, but received no answers.
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I am therefore including copies of letters from Rabbi Kavartovski, which I discovered in Rabbi Sirkis's book Ish Ha-Emunah.[2]
The other rabbi was Rabbi Mordechai Sukhachevski (may his memory be for a blessing). He prayed in the large synagogue.
Translator's Footnotes
Translated by Yael Chaver
Shaul Grinberg was the synagogue cantor, and was considered the official town cantor. He would be invited to family occasions such as weddings. However, the town was small, and he could not make a living doing this. At Purim he would knock on everyone's door and accept donations, which varied according to each family's ability. He was also a scribe who spent entire days inscribing a Torah scroll. This was very exacting work that required a great deal of patience. His voice was very pleasant.
Efrayim Brener was the cantor of the large synagogue. He was tall and upright, with a powerful tenor whose performance impressed the congregation. People loved his chanting, and he was in high demand throughout the region. He was often invited to the Hrubieszow synagogue. Each small synagogue and study house had its own prayer leaders. The cantors of the small synagogue of the WÅ‚odawa Hassids were Chayim Rapoport, Berl Dach, and Shmuel Tsukerman.
[Page 19]
The cantors of the Turisk small synagogue were Avraham Shochet and Refa'el Schwartz, who were excellent. My father and I attended that synagogue, and I knew the cantors well. Shiyeh Yantchis was tall and had a luxuriant beard. His voice was strong and pleasant, and people loved to listen to him. No one left the synagogue when he was chanting. The other cantors were Yisra'el Katz and his son, Shalom Reiz, and Akiva Kramer.
Translated by Yael Chaver
The klezmer musicians played a major role in the life of the town. They were part of the town's culture and entertainment, and were very popular.
The musicians were Shmuel-Leyb (first violin), Yitzchak-Leyzer (second violin), Moshe Vorziger, Betzalel's son (clarinet), and Yona, Yitzchak-Leyzer's son (drummer). It was a good band, and it was always a pleasure to listen to them. They usually played at weddings.
Everyone certainly remembers weddings in the town, in which the entire town participated. No wedding was without a klezmer band performance. They were even invited to weddings in the poorest families. The Yiddish phrase “It's like a wedding without klezmer musicians” was used to describe something people didn't like.
The ceremony itself was memorable, and proceeded as follows. En route to the chuppah location, the groom and his friends marched around the market square. The bride was then ushered in. The rabbi read the Ketubah and blessed the bride and groom.[1]
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The building was destroyed by the Nazis. |
The groom placed the ring on the bride's finger, the glass was shattered, and everyone called out Mazl tov, mazl tov! The band played a lively, upbeat freylachs tune.[2] People danced around the couple before resuming the celebration. The couple was given a wedding gift, with the following ceremony. The professional entertainer stood on a chair and was given the gift to hold. He then announced the name of the benefactor and followed it by a series of amusing rhymes that added to the celebration. Dancing to the klezmer music continued all night. Finally, the “seven blessings” were said to the couple.[3]
I don't know whether the musicians were able to read music. Shmuel Leyb, the first violin, may have been able to read music. He was a good violinist, and people enjoyed listening to him. The band didn't play at weddings exclusively; they were booked for every celebration in the town.
However, it was hard to make a living by means of music. Each of the band members had an additional trade. Shmuel-Leyb was a rope-maker, and lived very modestly. His son turned out to be musically gifted, and began to play violin at an early age, becoming popular. People suggested that he send his son to a music school in Warsaw, where he would train to be a great violinist. He had no money, of course, not even for travel expenses. A few young guys, including myself, volunteered to collect money for this purpose from local residents.
Simcha Dantsiger and I went to one neighborhood, and Ben-Tziyon went with Yehuda-Leyb to a different area. We collected quite a sum. I remember how happy we were when
[Page 20]
we gave Shmuel-Leyb the money. He embraced us, and jumped for joy. Shmuel-Leyb and his son traveled to Warsaw. The leaders of the music school were very excited when they heard him play, and he was admitted to the program for gifted young musicians.
Shlomo-Leyzer, the second violinist, had a barbershop that provided his livelihood.[4] Moshe (Betzalel's son), the clarinetist, was an excellent musician, with a wonderful technique, but he made a living by house painting. He whitewashed and painted houses all over town. Dov Weiss of Skryhiczyn mentions him in a Yiddish article about the klezmer band that spread joy in the town.
Translator's Footnotes
Translated by Yael Chaver
As we know, there was no railway service to the town. The nearest train station, in Dorohusk, was twenty kilometers away. The Polish government apparently had no money to extend the line to Dubienka. We had no choice but to ride a cart to that town. The difficult situation had an adverse effect on the town's development. The cart-drivers controlled transportation.
The Dorohusk station was important. The line connected with Warsaw, the country's capital. Shopkeepers and traders would transport their wares from Warsaw. There were several drivers who made this trip. The regular drivers to the railway station were Yasheh Mendele and his brother, Itzik Grintzis, and Chayim Teller. The line to Chelm was served by Efrayim Baumgarten; the line to Hrubieszow by Mati (Sheyndl's son); and the line to Liubomil – by Shlomo Leyzer.
Traveling by cart was very difficult. When the cart was mired in mud on rainy winter days, the driver asked the soaked passengers to get off and help him to push the vehicle out of the mud. Travel was also very expensive. People only took trips that were necessary. This might amuse the reader, but most of the young people never saw a train until they were drafted into the army. As for me, I saw my first train when I was 20 years old and on my way to the kibbutz training camp in the city of Pinsk.
Translated by Yael Chaver
One of the first directors who initiated a theater in town was Yisra'el Helfand, along with his wife Esther (Ostashi). They were gifted artists who were also fine singers. They saw to all the preparations, were the directors, and the actors as well. They assembled townspeople who could act, and thus created a local theater troupe. Yisra'el's brother-in-law and his wife Leah were also first-rate artists and actors, and helped Yisra'el direct. Another good actor was Motl Ressels, who shone as a wonderful comedian. People would start laughing as soon as he came onstage. I remember him in “Two Kuni Lemels.”[1] His speeches and movements were extremely artistic. Everyone adored him. Other actors were Rachel Lantsberg, Piness, Chantshe Nagelshteyn, Weinstein, and others. The performances were held in the large metal hall that belonged to the town firefighters. The hall included a stage and curtain, as well as a dressing room and prompter's booth. The prompter was usually Shlomo Babrazhis, who was very good at his job.
The audience sat on benches, with all the firefighting equipment stacked behind them. We children never had money for tickets. We always sneaked in, or entered while helping someone bringing in equipment. The plays were all in Yiddish, and included “Two Kuni Lemels,” “Mirele Efros,” “The Dybbuk,” “King Lear,” “The Stranger,” and more.[2] The hall was also used on other occasions, such as holiday festivities. One performance was enough for the audience in our small town. The money from ticket sales was given to the director; the actors were unpaid. Everyone volunteered their time and effort. We could produce three or four plays a year, at the most. Naturally, this couldn't provide anyone with a livelihood.
Yisro'el Helfand and his wife left our town and moved to Warsaw. He was replaced by Y. D. Mitelpunkt, who left Hrubieszow with his family and settled in our town.[3] We soon found out that he was a great director and actor. He gathered all the actors
[Page 21]
and started to direct plays. He soon became renowned for his shows, and was also a good singer. He acted and sang, riveting the audience, and loved to work with young people. When we were Beitar members, we invited him to help us with various holiday festivities that we organized. He would work with us on short sketches and songs. We admired him greatly. He was also a painter, and made all the stage sets by himself.
I remember one occasion when we were 17-18 years old. We had mounted a successful series of sketches, and he came up with a proposal to our leaders: he would work with us to prepare a full-length play. He even had a play in mind: Goldfaden's “The Stranger.” Naturally, the leaders agreed immediately. We gathered at the clubhouse, as usual, and he explained the play's plot. As we talked, he decided on the roles, and assigned me to the lead role. Leykeh Foldmuz would be my wife. At first, he talked to the players separately, and required us to learn our roles by heart. I had the largest speaking role, which I studied devotedly. While at home, I would repeat the text over and over again in whispers. Mother would wonder and ask, “Why are you always reciting Psalms?”[4] We worked on the play for several months, and did many rehearsals. In the end, though, Leykeh Foldmuz did not come to the final rehearsal, though everyone else was there.
Mitelpunkt was irate, and sent people to find out what had happened. Apparently, her parents had forbidden her to appear in the show, on the grounds that she would have to change clothes in the company of men. This would be immoral and unbecoming in a girl so young; and they would not let her participate. When Mitelpunkt heard this, he became angry, quickly went to talk to her parents, and explained that the boys and the girls had separate dressing rooms, in the hope that that would calm their concerns. Besides, she had a leading role. “We have already advertised the performance for next Saturday, and the date can't be changed.” At the end, they agreed to let her join. We were all delighted when she came to the rehearsal.
Preparations for the performance were complex. Artistic posters, done by Mitelpunkt himself, were put up in the town center. Before the performance, the hall was packed full of spectators.
The curtain rose, and the show began. I was in the middle of an important monologue addressed to my wife (Leykeh), when I spotted my mother sitting in the audience, next to one of our neighbors. This was a complete surprise, and I was struck dumb. Mother had not told me that she would be coming. Adults didn't usually come to these performances. The prompter thought that I had forgotten the text and began shouting them out loud. Mitelpunkt, behind the scenes, was also very annoyed and supplied me with my text. This incident did not last long. I quickly overcame my surprise, and continued the show. Apparently, my friends wanted to surprise me and never told me that they had brought Mother into the hall after the lights were down. I had no idea. When I met Leykeh in Israel after the war, she reminded me of the incident. We had a good laugh!
The show was a great success and was wildly applauded. Mitelpunkt was delighted, joined us onstage at the request of the audience, and told us to take a bow. Audience members then hugged and kissed us. Mother leaped onstage and kissed me, weeping. Mitelpunkt was the happiest of all. He received many compliments and handshakes for having mounted such a good show with boys and girls. Mitelpunkt was a well-known director who was in great demand, and directed in various towns, including Hrubieszow.
Translator's Footnotes
by Gershon Shachar
Translated by Yael Chaver
I knew Mitelpunkt as a great director. As a boy, I acted in many of his performances, but we weren't aware of his talents as a writer. After the war, he and his family immigrated to Israel, and he proved to be a fine writer. He wrote books, mostly in Yiddish but in Hebrew as well. He was also on the editorial board of the Yiddish newspaper Yidishe Tsaytung. Mitelpunkt was a popular speaker and lecturer.
His book titles follow:
Fun Alts Tsebislekh
Ha-Zot He HaDerech
Gezamlte Shriftn
Ver iz Shuldik
[Page 22]
Gezen, Gehert, un Farshribn
Me Ashem
BaBayit u-VaSadot
Me'achorei Hasoreg[1]
His work was favorably reviewed in Israel by prominent writers such as Shlonsky and Zalman Shazar.[2]
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Translator's Footnotes
Translated by Yael Chaver
Mordechai Mitelpunkt (may his memory be for a blessing) was born in Dubienka on April 4, 1922, to his parents Henya (née Pintuk) and Yosef David Mitelpunkt. He began painting at an early age. He was active in the HeChalutz HaTza'ir Socialist Zionist movement. Mordechai graduated from a Polish school, and traveled to Kherson in the USSR in 1939, where he studied art until war broke out and he was drafted into the Red Army. He fought the Nazis, was wounded twice fighting for the liberation of Poland, and was a member of the first army unit that entered the Majdanek death camp. The horrendous scenes he witnessed made a strong impression on him.
This impression was visible in his early painting. He wrote to his parents and two sisters, Rosa and Hannah, who had fled from Poland to the USSR, as follows: “Don't be sad and don't mourn for me if I don't return alive. It is the sacred duty of every young Jew to fight and destroy the Nazi monster.”
After the war, when he was discharged from the hospital in which he was recovering, he connected with his family, and went to Polish Silesia with them. He immediately volunteered for Zionist activity. He completed the leader-training course in Lódz, where he met his future wife Clara. He was one of the founders of the Dror Zionist group, which included among its members many former ghetto fighters.
Following his training course, he organized and led a kibbutz training center named for Ber Borochov in the town of Bielawa.[1] After the pogrom in
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He is seated in the center of the second row, between two women. |
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[Page 23]
Kielce, he led a group of orphaned children who were in the Dror kibbutz training centers.[2] With the help of graduates of kibbutz training centers, he was able to connect these children with the organization that set up illegal immigration to the Land of Israel. Mordechai accompanied the HaMa'avak (The Struggle) group through Czechoslovakia to France. All of them, including Mordechai and his wife, boarded a ship that tossed on the waves of the Mediterranean for almost a month. The British authorities discovered the ship, and a fight ensued between the Jewish refugees and the British army. The refugees were eventually sent to a detention camp on Cyprus. Mordechai continued his education work in Cyprus, with the youth group. He was also a member of the board of Zionist organizations in the camp, organizations whose members had been detained by the British on other immigration ships. This board organized all the defiance actions undertaken by the detainees, such as hunger strikes. It also organized cultural events. Mordechai's daughter Miriam was born in the Cyprus camp.
After eleven months in the detention camp, he reached the Land of Israel in November 1947, and joined Kibbutz Giv'at HaShlosha. He left the kibbutz when his parents immigrated to the country, and settled in Jaffa. Mordechai was able to overcome his physical limitations, the result of his World War II injuries, and served in the Israeli army during the War of Liberation. He worked at the Jaffa Labor Exchange and helped new immigrants who settled in Jaffa after the establishment of Israel. He was a member of Achdut HaAvoda, and continued to be active after the party joined the larger Mapai.[3]
His son Hillel was born in 1949. In spite of all his activities and responsibilities, he decided to follow his old dream and pursue artistic creation. Mordechai began taking classes at the Avni Art School in Tel Aviv, and in 1963 graduated from the Institute of Plastic Arts in Bat-Yam. Mordechai was a member of the Association of Artists, and a regular participant in group exhibitions in Israel and abroad. He also had solo exhibitions.
In 1967, he moved into the artists' neighborhood in Jaffa, and exhibited in his studio. He died of cancer on September 3, 1982.
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Translator's Footnotes
Translated by Yael Chaver
Shmuel Templer's memories of his life in Dubienka follow.
His parents and grandparents lived in a village 15 km from Hrubieszow. His parents realized that there was no Jewish school in the village, and their son wouldn't be able to learn anything about Judaism among all the Gentile boys. Their only choice was to take him to Dubienka, to his great-uncle and his wife, the Kotlers, who were childless. They took him in lovingly and made sure that he received a Jewish education.
He was four and a half when he moved to Dubienka. His great-uncle immediately enrolled him in kheyder, so that he would learn the Hebrew alphabet, as was customary in the town. As is well known, children in the kheyder were not grouped in classes as in regular schools. Once a boy learned the alphabet from the melamed Fishl Belfer and was able to follow prayers in the prayer book, he was sent to another melamed who taught Torah and Talmud. Shmuel eventually began studying with Akiva Kramer.
[Page 24]
Akiva Kramer was a gifted teacher who treated his students well. He would take the boys to a nearby river every Friday, for swimming lessons. He himself was a good swimmer, and he showed the boys tricks, such as swimming sitting up, and the crawl stroke. However, he was never able to teach Shmuel to swim. He would fling the boy into deep water, yelling, “Beat the water with your feet, or you'll drown!” Nothing worked. Little Shmulik was only able to swim in water he could stand in. On Lag BaOmer, Akiva Kramer took the children to Strzeleckie Forest.[1] Each boy brought a sandwich and a bottle of borsht. Strzeleckie Forest, with its fresh air, was renowned as a vacation destination, and beloved by young people and courting couples.
When Shmulik grew older, he wanted to study in the Polish government school (Szkoła powszechna). Father tried to convince him that this was a bad idea: he would be studying with Gentiles who didn't want him there. His parents wanted him to study Judaism, and maybe even become a rabbi. But Shmulik was stubborn, and continued to attend the Polish school.
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Shmulik had many memories of the town, among them the weekly fair on Thursdays, when the village farmers came in with their fruit and vegetables to sell in town. The market square was surrounded by shops with wooden walkways. Young folks had fun riding their bicycles around the square every evening. Shmulik also remembered things that he had liked less. Occasionally, he would be grabbed by Itshe-Meyer, who owned a store selling sodas and candy, and forced to repeat what he had learned that week.
Shmulik was especially fascinated by the Beitar youth movement, whose members wore brown uniforms. The members marched through the market square and sang songs in Hebrew about the Zionist settlements in the Land of Israel. The clubhouse was decorated with pictures of Jabotinsky and Trumpeldor.[2] Evening activities there included dancing the Hora. Another youth movement was HeChalutz, which attracted many young people.[3] They were later sent to kibbutz training centers; agricultural training was a prerequisite for settling there. Thanks to these youth movements, some of our friends were able to emigrate to the Land of Israel before the outbreak of the recent horrendous war.
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Translator's Footnotes
by Simcha Dantsiger
(In memory of the young people of Dubienka who perished in the Holocaust)
Translated by Yael Chaver
The young people of Dubienka, like the majority of young Jews in Poland, were spurred by the spirit of pioneering, and wanted to fulfill their dream of emigrating to the Land of Israel. There were many factors that worked against this dream, mainly the following: the British Mandate authorities had closed the gates of the country, travel expenses were high, most young people were unemployed and had no trade to offer, and their parents were too poor to help.
[Page 25]
Besides, most of the young people belonged to Beitar, which did not run training camps at that time. HeChalutz required its members to attend a training camp in order to become eligible for immigration certificates. Some of our friends realized that it was only way to reach their goal, and decided to establish a branch of HeChalutz in our town. These were Gershon Shlechter and Ya'acov Pergament. Anyone who was interested in going to a training camp could go. Thanks to their initiative, our comrades in the Land of Israel were able to survive the cursed war. Among them were Gershon Shlechter, Ya'acov Pergament, Sha'ul Vertsiger, Ayzik Goldshtaf, Mordechai Hodes, Moshe Vaksman, Moshe Gruber, and Nachum Blender.
Let me mention some of our Zionist comrades who were unable to immigrate.
Yitzchak Grinberg, the son of Sha'ul the cantor. He became a Zionist as a young boy, and served in all the movement's major positions, from heading the local Beitar club to being the community's secretary. He had all the qualities of a charismatic leader.
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Even his opponents listened to him and joined the conversation. He was a very persuasive speaker. Thanks to him, the local Beitar club played an important role in the life of the town.
Fishl Epltsvayg, Moshe Epltsvayg's son. He lost his father while still young, but life taught him the skills required to deal with the terrible tragedy. He grew up and was a good student. While still a boy, he took over the management of his father's business. He worked in a shop for his livelihood during the day, and was active in the community in the evenings.
Leybl Pergament, Avigdor's son. He was kind and generous, always willing to help others as much as possible. He was considered well educated.
Yaacov Hodes, the son of Berke Hodes, who was famous for his wit and intelligence. Yaacov was a member of the Orthodox Agudat Yisra'el party, and dressed like a modern Hassid. He had a mind of his own, but was unable to fulfill his passionate desire to reach the Land of Israel.
Chayim David Feldmuz, who was truly gifted and knew Hebrew well. His teachers expected great achievements of him.
Yitzchak Segal, the son of Avraham and grandson of Tzivia. He came from a poor family, yet attained high financial and social status in the town. He was always ready to give charity to the needy, or provide someone with a day's work in his sawmill. With his kindness and integrity, he was one of the community leaders. One of the founders of the Yavneh school, he also carried out other public duties, and always treated everyone kindly regardless of their economic or social status, manual laborers as well as merchants.[1] He, too, dreamed of settling in the Land of Israel, but wasn't able to fulfill his plan. When the war broke out, he fled into the forests, where his laborers worked. They murdered him when he sought refuge with them.
Moshe Epltsvayg, Levi Epltsvayg's son. He had a sweet singing voice. When he led daily prayers in the Yavneh school, people would stand at the windows to listen; among his admirers were established cantors as well as young people who enjoyed his prayers. He, too, was among the founders of the Yavneh school, and held other public positions all his life.
Yonah Piness was well-educated, and welcomed young people who would gather at his house almost every evening to discuss and confer about community matters.
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David Piness, the librarian of the Y. L. Peretz Library, which was housed in Shaul Elazar Viener's apartment. Piness was there every evening, checking out books to young and old. He volunteered his time, and recognized the importance of spreading knowledge in the community.
Leybl Mandel was a member of the religious Agudat Yisrael party. In spite of his zeal for his party, was capable of respecting his opponents, as they did him.
Alter Cohen, a devoted Zionist, was a steadfast community activist. He was familiar with all the community institutions. Everyone treated him with respect. He was a great supporter of the local Beitar club, and defended Jewish interests in all the city institutions. He was not rich, but his deeds were many.
Avraham Mendel was known to everyone in town, young and old. Even the Gentiles treated him with great respect. He was a member of the city council for many years, as well as a member of the Jewish community's council and of many large and small Zionist organizations from the Jewish National Fund on down to the smallest club, including the League for Justice.[2] He always received us young activists graciously in his beautiful home, and encouraged us. On Sundays, we enjoyed seeing him in action on the street, discussing local problems with the Gentiles. They all stood and listened to him respectfully, agreeing with him at the end. He employed Gentile laborers in his business of floating logs down the Bug River to the port of Gdansk. All these connections, however, were useless in the end. Poles as well as Nazis murdered him. May his memory be for a blessing.
Chayim Lemberger was the son of Yitzchak Hersh, the Jewish community's accountant. Chayim had a stall in which he sold flavored seltzer drinks; his stall was a favorite meeting place for old and young alike. Everyone came to have a drink and look at the Yiddish newspapers Haynt and Moment.[3] Arguments developed about the situation in the Land of Israel, and other matters. He would leave the stall to attend the meetings of various bodies he was a member of, such as the local leadership committee of the Beitar club, an organization he helped to support.
Yisra'el Goldfarb was known as Ezra's son. He was an honest man who worked in forestry for the wealthy Yitzchak Goldberg, and was one of the founders of the Turisk small synagogue. All his life, he aspired to immigrate to the Land of Israel, but his children were very young, and he felt that he could not do so. His daughter was the only member of his family who fulfilled that ambition. In his Hassidic group, the act was considered a betrayal of Judaism.[4] Yisroel had good relations with the Gentile laborers who worked for him; they all loved him, as he wasn't too strict with them. All this proved useless. Gentiles killed him, and all the other Jews of Dubienka. May his memory be for a blessing.
Avigdor Pergament was an expert on everything to do with forests. He worked for the Shidlovskys of Skryhiczyn, and was a member of the Turisk Hassidic faction. As such, he was the initiator and chief driving force in creating a small synagogue for the Skryhiczyn Hassids. He was a good, honest person who was always ready to help the needy, whom he knew very well.
Berke Hodes was a Hassid of the Radzyn faction. Smart and incisive, he was a Talmudic expert who taught young people and adults a daily portion of the Mishna and Talmudic tractate Yoma. He was a kind of small-scale lawyer, who listened patiently to people's differences and to fighting couples, clarifying everything, and offering them advice and solutions. One of his major successes was restoring harmony to many married couples. Berke was much beloved and admired. He was lucky: three of his sons were able to reach the Land of Israel (Mordechai, Zalmen, and Yisra'el of blessed memory).
Translator's Footnotes
by Simcha Dantsiger
Translated by Yael Chaver
“May others praise you, not your own mouth” says the Bible.[1] However, I must mention my own father. He was not materially wealthy, but rich in insight and wisdom. He could carry on a conversation about anything, whether related to religion or on secular topics. He was fluent in six languages, and his Hebrew was especially eloquent and beautiful. He knew Polish as well as he did Russian. Yet he was not proud of his achievements; he was modest and self-effacing. I could not value him properly, but strangers as well as friends and acquaintances, mine and his alike, still mention him with high praise. He never demanded respect, in spite of his wide-ranging expertise and knowledge. Although he was a Radzyn Hassid, he taught Mishna and Torah to people who were unlearned. His lessons, not only those on the Talmud, were attended by the scholars of the town. His interpretations of Torah verses were easily grasped.
[Page 27]
Even the Gentiles in town had a high opinion of his integrity.
He wanted his own children to be scholars, but could not afford to educate them. The family was large, and making a living was hard. Yet despite his worries, he knew how to inject learning into daily life. He always made Friday nights and holidays a learning experience, whether religious or national. I remember the last Seder night before I left for the Land of Israel. He explained the meaning of Passover, the festival of freedom, to the younger children. It was a great pleasure, and Mother would beam with pride and happiness. She was beautiful, and very devoted to her family.
Father was well known in town as a melamed, a teacher of Torah and Mishna. He could really connect with the young children. Studying with Ben-Tziyon was a privilege, as those of his students who live in Israel can attest. They all had a fine education. However, I should mention the errors of my own ways. He wanted me to serve as a good example to the others, and I was often a kind of scapegoat. I evaded all his reprimands, which I know was painful to him. When I grew older, I began to choose a different way of life (which Father called “falling into bad ways”). I shaved my sidelocks, began to read secular books, and sought a different culture. At that time, a Hebrew school was established (I was one of its supporters).[2] I was also unhappy with his decision to become a melamed. After all, he had been a forest assessor. After he lost his job, friends suggested that he become a melamed, thanks to his proficiency in teaching Torah and Talmud.
As he had no other source of income, Father became a melamed, and a very popular one at that. I must admit that I was ashamed of Father's occupation. When I grew older and saw the results of his work, the high level of his students' achievements, and the pride that people took in having been his students, as well as their accomplishments – proficiency in Hebrew and other subjects – I stopped being ashamed and began to respect him. Father was also a fine prayer leader in the synagogue. I did not attend the same synagogue as he. Most of us were Zionists who prayed in the Yavneh school. Once, though, I happened to pass by his synagogue on a holiday, and saw people standing outside. As I approached, I heard people saying, “Here's the son, the apostate!” Father's beautiful service was attracting bystanders. I stood there too, listening, and enjoying the pleasant surprise. I knew that Father had a fine singing voice; we sang religious songs around the table welcoming Shabbat every Friday night. But I didn't know him in this capacity. Although he was not a cantor, the congregation considered him one. Such was my father, may his memory be for a blessing.
Translator's Footnotes
by Irit Halperin, Jerusalem and Bella Hadar, Tel Aviv
Translated by Yael Chaver
Three sons of the Hodes family survived World War II. They were Mordechai, my father, and his two brothers Yisra'el and Zalman. They never said much about their home in Poland. Most of my father's stories concerned his father, my grandfather Dov Hodes. My father greatly admired his wisdom and common sense, his love for humanity, sense of justice, and physical prowess. Besides teaching his sons Torah and the opinions he held, he also fostered their health. One example was that he taught them swimming when they were very young. My father, his son, did the same with his own children and grandchildren.
Dov (known in town as Berke) seems to have been someone people looked up to. Friends and family members who knew him reported that he was wise, strict, concerned about details, industrious, and ingenious. People would come to consult with him and learn from him. He was observant and deeply religious, but also enjoyed a broad sense of humor. He educated his sons strictly, but also with laughter and the forgiveness that seems to have been necessary toward my father, the prankster.
My grandfather had one daughter – his eldest child – and five sons. The daughter, Masha, married in Poland and had two sons. Her husband escaped during World War II, while she and her two young children were killed. We know that her husband went to Israel and raised a new family, but my father and uncle hardly mentioned him, and unfortunately I know very little about him. Two of the five sons – the oldest and the youngest – were murdered during the war, as well as my grandfather and his wife Bilha, of course. My father and his two brothers reached the Land of Israel before the war. My father loved to sit and share reminiscences with his brother Yisra'el, but we were only onlookers at these conversations and could only get hints of their experiences.
[Page 28]
Perhaps more importantly than facts, we learned of their feelings and sensations. The brothers deeply loved their father, longed for the sensations of their home, the town, the river, and the climate. When I visited the United States with my father, many of the sights reminded him of his childhood landscapes. He became emotional when he gazed at the forests and the rivers; they reminded him strongly of his home and its special atmosphere.
Grandfather had four grandchildren: my brother Dov (named, of course, after Grandfather). Very sadly, Dov was killed during the Yom Kippur war, leaving the three of us: two girls, my uncle Yisra'el, and me. We spend time with our children trying to create a family tree, but we have too little information. Many slots are blank. Our fathers are no longer alive, and we will never be able to fill in those blanks. We feel that we have missed so much by never knowing our grandfather Dov, about whom we've heard too little. We're trying to teach our children about Grandfather's integrity, hard work, precision, kindness, and his need to learn and know – qualities that informed our upbringing.
My brother, Dov Hodes, was killed at age 21 in the Yom Kippur war. The pain, the loss, and the longings that my parents and I felt, and that I still feel, are indescribable. Our family was created by two survivors, my mother and my father. My mother is the sole survivor of her family, all of whose members were murdered during the war. Despite their tragic background, they created a wonderful family and a calm, safe environment. My brother was a happy child, who loved life and nature, and had many close friends. His death put an end to his plans, and shattered my parents' happiness and zest for life. They were inconsolable in their remaining years.
In short, we can supply very few details about the town of Dubienka and life in it. We know very little, and are very pleased at this chance to provide this important service and memorialize our grandfather Dov Hodes by listing his wonderful qualities.
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Seated: David Lemberger, A. Menaker |
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