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The small town of Dubienka had existed for hundreds of years. It was a poor town, but its people enjoyed their daily lives; Naturally, they had various worries, concerning their children's education, marriages, and the like. However, everyone thanked God for their lives, were happy with their lot, and often said, “This, too, is for the best,” and hoped for no additional worries.^[1]

Life went along in this way; some had it better, and some had it worse. The town went through various times, including wars in which people were killed. But the war waged against the Jews by the Nazi murderers is unforgettable. In September 1939, when Hitler attacked Poland, there was a feeling of foreboding in the town, though no one could foretell the actual events. We thought that a miracle might occur, and everything would calm down.

On the first day of Rosh Hashanah that year, hundreds of people fled from the town across the Bug River, to escape the Nazis. But they returned a few days later, thinking that it would blow over and life would be the same as ever. No one could imagine that another Haman was now in charge, with the same mission as the biblical figure: destroying and killing the Jews. If anyone had imagined it, they would have left everything behind and fled to a place where they could survive. Actually, thousands of people were killed on the other side of the Bug River, too.

It is difficult to describe what the Jews of Dubienka endured in 1939-1942. Not only the Germans, but the Poles, too, exploited the circumstances, which were favorable to them, and displayed their power. They robbed Jewish-owned shops, and also killed Jews.

The tragic end is well known. In 1942, the Nazis assembled 400 wagons and took all the town's Jews first to Hrubieszow, then to Sobibor, where they were all murdered. I'm not sure of all the details, as I was not in Dubienka at the time. My family was part of the Sobibor transport; I list their names below.

1. Pratsel Unger
2. My sister Sheyndl Unger.
3. My brother, Shepsl (an expert in rabbinical law) and his wife Peshe, daughter of Akiva Kromer.
4. Their two children.
5. My sister Chana.
6. My brother Shmuel Unger.

Once he was in Sobibor, he was not killed immediately. People were taken daily to the gassing halls, but he was retained at his workplace. Thus, he was one of those who decided to mount an uprising. He organized the groups of fighters and gave each man instructions.

The camp included several workshops where there were tools such as hatchets, which could be used to kill the workshop's guards. The prisoners would then take the guards' weapons and turn them against the Germans who would come running. The workers at each shop would kill their overseers, take their weapons, and then attack the Germans at the exits. The plan

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was well-organized and each person knew his task.

The day came. If I'm not mistaken, the uprising was supposed to begin at 5 o'clock on the afternoon of Yom Kippur, 1943,^[2] according to the instructions given by my brother. There were six workshops, each with two armed overseers, who were killed when they arrived at the site, and their weapons taken. Thus, at the pre-set time all the workers emerged from their workshops with weapons. The tumult was such that the Germans couldn't grasp what was happening, A fight to the death ensued; about 30 Germans were killed, along with a greater number of Jews.

The number of Jews who escaped is not known. Six hundred Jews began the uprising; some ran into the fields and forests, joined the partisans, or hid on their own. Fate determined who would survive and who would be killed in the forests. My brother's fate dictated his flight to Chelm with three other men, where he hid in the house of a Gentile who was paid for his service. One day, this peasant killed two of the four men he was concealing; one of them was my brother. The others escaped.

This was how all the Jews of our town, Dubienka, were killed. There isn't a single Jew in the town now. May their souls be bound up in the bundle of life.

Translator's Footnotes

1. This phrase, which is based on a Talmudic story, expresses the belief that even difficult or challenging situations ultimately lead to positive outcomes. Return
2. October 14. Return

Dubienka was a small, poor town, that was surrounded by a rich landscape of lakes, streams, pine forests, orchards, and fields. A large marketplace in the center of town served as the location of the weekly Thursday fair. Many peasants brought products from the surrounding villages, as well as chickens, domestic animals, and horses, hoping to sell them. Many Jews made their living at the fairs.

The marketplace was surrounded by more affluent homes, whose residents ran shops and businesses. Artisans such as tailors, carpenters, construction workers, and other workers also lived in this area.

Many Jews who couldn't make a living in the town roamed the villages as peddlers; they were known as “village-walkers.” The beautiful synagogue was nearby, adjacent to the study house. Artisans and ordinary people prayed in the study house. The town also had several Hassidic small synagogues, including those of the Turisk and Włodawa Hassids.

 

Falik Branshpigl

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Poor though it was, Dubienka was rich in fine, thriving young people, who joined different Zionist organizations such as Beitar, HeChalutz, Revisionists, and Left-wing Po'aley Tziyon. The members of these movements all intended to emigrate to the Land of Israel. A professional union was created in order to protect the workers. There were occasional strikes, and clashes with the workshop owners.

We had a library (named for Y. L. Peretz) that contained the newest Yiddish books and journals, as well as a drama club that would present performances. Progressive young people gathered around the library, where they dreamed of a better, more beautiful future – not only for themselves but for all humanity. These ideas originated in the Soviet paradise. However, as more news arrived from the East, our illusions about the U.S.S.R. were shattered.

It is hard to describe the tragic fate of our town, as well as their experiences under the Germans before they were all sent to Sobibor. Those who fled across the Bug River with the Russians were lucky. But there as well, many died of hunger and cold. I survived thanks to miracles, and endured indescribable hardships. I accidentally found myself in the first Polish Division that was created in Russia. After General Sikorski moved his army out of the U.S.S.R., General Berling and Wanda Wasilewska formed a second army that would help the Russians take Poland from the Germans.^[1] I was sent to several levels of officer training and became a junior officer. Then I was sent to Poland, where I was posted to the front line of battle with the Germans. I was wounded there, returned to Poland, and was discharged from the Polish army. Afterwards, I traveled to Italy and on to America, where I met and married my wife, Malka Walewska.

I would now like to describe my family, as a memorial to my father and mother, grandfather and grandmother, uncles and aunts, as well as my beloved sister Feygele, who were all killed so gruesomely by the German murderers, whom I will never forgive.

Falik and Malka Branshpigl

Pintshe Shvartsberg and Yutkeh

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My parents were murdered near Tarnopol, in the town of Jazerne; and my sister, in Swebene in the Caucasus, after the Germans had collected the Jews and ordered them to dig their own graves before they were shot.^[2]

May their memories be for a blessing!

Translator's Footnotes

1. General Władysław Sikorski (1881-1943) headed the Polish wartime government and was the Polish Commander-in-Chief in 1939-1943. General Zygmunt Berling (1896-1980) was a co-founder and commander of the First Polish Army, which fought alongside the Russians in World War II. Wanda Wasilewska (1905-1964) was an influential intellectual and Polish politician. Return
2. I was unable to identify these towns. Return

A few Germans came into town, took over City Hall, selected a local German from Seliszcze^[1] as Secretary, and instituted German regulations. They demanded that a Judenrat be elected; it would receive all the orders and be responsible for carrying them out in full detail.

The first demand was that the Judenrat collect 30,000 złoty; otherwise, all its members would be shot. Then they required 100,000 złoty, followed by a demand for gold. Then they ordered 25 men to go to the camp in Hrubieszow; otherwise they [the Germans] would shoot three people. Twenty-five young men were sent, including me. I recall that Hersheleh Shochet and Moti (Zaynvl's son) were also in the group. We were held in barracks for four days, without food, and worked in a state of constant dread. My mother, like other mothers, often came bringing food. The next order was for Jews to shave off their beards; those who disobeyed would be shot. The German indeed shot Chayim the tailor, Hershl Kozak, and others.

It is hard to mention all the forms of torture we underwent at the hands of the Germans and Poles. Many people begged for death rather than for life under such conditions. Young people fled to the forests and dug themselves bunkers as hideouts. There was no food. Life was hard. Moshe Brener, the teacher, and I decided to leave under cover of darkness and go to Dombowski's. He detained the teacher and ordered his workers to hang him in the barn. We returned to the forest empty-handed and one man short.

There is much to say about our life in the forest. Those with us were Shlomo Sobel, Moti Lichman, and Yitzchok Kokler. The Germans discovered us as well, and killed everyone. I was wounded near Stefankiewicz. My captors thought I was a partisan and took me to Hrubieszow for interrogation. I was sent to a camp with very harsh conditions, where I stayed until Liberation.

After the end of the war, I didn't return to Dubienka.

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I did not want to share the fate of my brother Avrom, who was murdered after the war.

Camps had been set up in Germany for all the Jewish survivors.^[2] That was where I met and married my beloved wife, Sara Eisler. We took the first chance to go to the U.S., where we worked very hard to establish ourselves anew. We now have a fine family, thank God: two daughters, a son, and six grandchildren.

Translator's Footnotes

1. I was not able to completely confirm this place name. Return
2. These camps were known as Displaced Persons (DP) camps. Return

I remember my town, Dubienka, very well. It was poor and had no train service or hospital. There was no money, either, though there were many children. But Dubienka had a rich spiritual life. There was a beautiful synagogue, study house, small Hassidic synagogues, and the Hebrew Yavneh school; the latter taught Hebrew reading and writing. Girls would come to study at the Yavneh school. I remember that women did not attend school at the time; observant Jews believed that women were created to have children and do kitchen work. Thus, most of the women were illiterate, and couldn't even join prayers. Nevertheless, they would go to the synagogue on Saturdays and holidays. A woman on the top level of the women's section, who could read, would recite a phrase, and the others would repeat after her.

As time went on, cultural advances arrived in Dubienka as well, enabling women and girls to read and write. Girls began attending school; most studied at Yavneh. In 1933, a Beit Yaakov school, for girls only, was established. It provided the girls with a religious education and was supported by the Agudas Yisro'el political party. This eased the burden of payment, as people paid 50 groschen

“O house of Jacob [Beit Yaakov], come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord” (Isaiah 2, 5)

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weekly. Those who couldn't afford it paid less.

The school building consisted of two rooms. There was only one teacher, who taught all the classes: reading and writing Yiddish, Torah, and some grammar; but mainly – the prayers. We would pray at the school on Friday night. Interestingly, men from the Włodawa synagogue would come after their own prayers, to see the young girls praying on their own; they couldn't get over their surprise at the sight. On a Shabbat that coincided with the first day of the Jewish month, we would say the special prayers for the new month in the large synagogue.

After the midday meal on Shabbat, we would all gather at the school for singing and dancing. It was the best fun. We always mounted exhibitions at Hanukah and Purim, and invited our mothers, who took pleasure in our achievements.

Beit Yaakov was more than our school. We had conversations with experts who taught us how Jewish girls should behave, especially as we were on the brink of adult life with all its problems. We also mounted performances and had other cultural events. Girls who graduated from Beit Yaakov showed the world that women, too, could learn and become educated, just like men.

That was my Beit Yaakov school, where I studied and spent my childhood years; they are engraved on my memory. Well, the school is gone and the Jews of Dubienka are gone; they all met a tragic end. It is very difficult to grasp this fact.

Silvia Hirsh and her parents		A Beit Yaakov Class

One of the persons who lived in our town was Avrom Mandel. His wife Freydl died before the war; they had no children. He was truly a person of rare decency and kindness, always ready to help anyone with money as well as with words. His politeness was extreme;

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he never insulted people. Even the Gentiles admired him. He made a living by transporting lumber down the Bug to the Vistula and then to Danzig.

The town was surrounded by dense forests, which supplied many residents with a livelihood, especially the major traders such as Yitzchok Goldberg (Esther's husband) and the Shidlovskys of Skryhicin. They leased large tracts of forest from the government, by means of a trick: as the authorities prohibited Jews from leasing forests and fields, the property would be officially sold to a Gentile. Often, the Gentile couldn't even sign his name, but dipped his thumb in ink and affixed the thumbprint. Even the Secretary at City Hall smiled at that.

There was a large sawmill at Skryhicin, which employed many workers to split the lumber into timber for thresholds and boards; this would be transported on by rail. Round timber logs were shipped by water. Avrom's job was to bring the logs to Danzig.

The trees were felled and cut throughout the winter, providing work for many people. Everything was cut by hand; machines were not yet available. Only Gentiles did this hard work. They shaped the logs and transported them to the river, where they began to load them. This was a specialty task, done by well-trained workers. They would drop the logs into the water and lash them together in barrels, 10-12 logs per barrel. The workers who prepared the barrels for river transport to Danzig slept in special shacks that could accommodate up to three men. Twelve or fifteen barrels were usually sent. The leader of this project was Rettman; he was aided by a deputy. The two men were responsible for shipping the wood to Danzig, a process that could take six to eight weeks.

Avrom Mandel was in charge of the entire project. He located the forest workers as well as the specialists who prepared the barrels for travel to Danzig, and paid everyone handsomely. He was beloved by the workers,

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and was also active in community matters, besides being a fervent Zionist. Other members of the Mandel family were Mates the shoemaker and his brother, Binyomin Halash. Another family member, Yehoshu'a Mandel, lived in Chelm; his father was Aharon Mandel. I recall that, as a child, I studied in Yitzchok Peretz's cheyder. One day Aharon Mandel showed me a letter that Yehoshu'a had written. The script was unusual and quite beautiful; naturally, he was proud of his son's handwriting. I asked him to give me the letter, as I admired the script so much. I protected this letter through the horrors of the war as though it was a precious gem; I was able to keep it safely with me. I would therefore like to see it included in our memorial book.

 

Translator's Note: The letter referred to in the text. Written in ornate Hebrew calligraphy, it is addressed to the writer's father. The salutation “Shalom” is on the upper right side, followed by the formulaic “To begin with, I wish to let you know that I am, thank God, healthy and well.” The name Aharon Mandel was legible.

When war broke out in 1939, I was a soldier in the Polish army, about to be discharged and return home. I was almost killed in the battles between the unevenly matched armies of Poland and Russia. On September 17, I was in Lubawno with the Polish army, when we were told that as the Russians were coming from the East, we were all free to go wherever we wanted.^[1] Naturally, I was very happy and went back home to Dubienka. Everyone was overjoyed when I arrived. My mother and entire family were sure that the war must be over if soldiers were free to leave.

The Russian army entered our town. Most of the officers were Jews, and our conversations were very pleasant. They told us about the great successes of the U.S.S.R., how the Soviets never left a place they had entered, that they would stay in Poland forever, and everyone would be free and happy.

Well, you can imagine our feelings when, instead of Nazi murderers, we were taken over by such dear friends. The Messiah seemed about to come. The officers promised a marvelous future. Of course, everyone was happy to hear such good news, and we greeted them very hospitably.

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Our joy was short-lived. Only a few days later, we heard about the treaty between Stalin and Hitler, which would move the Soviet forces back beyond the Bug River; the river would now become the Russo-German border.

Alas, this proved to be the case. The Soviet soldiers stayed in town for about two more weeks, during which the border was open. Dubienka became a transit area for hundreds of people from Chelm, Lublin, and Warsaw, who were fleeing the Germans. In essence, it became an enormous Jewish ghetto. When the Russians were preparing to leave the town, they suggested that the Jews go with them. They even promised to provide motor transportation for those leaving.

Many young people went with the Russians, but unfortunately, most Jews decided to stay. They remembered their experiences during World War I, when people who fled their homes disappeared or died. My father (may his memory be for a blessing) was then no longer alive; my oldest brother Ya'akov lived in Horodlo with his wife and child. My brother Leybush (peace be upon him) had donned a red ribbon and joined the Russian police during their stay, so that he too had to leave.

Thus, the entire family – Mother, Tuvia, Chana and I – left with the Russians and crossed the Bug into Ukraine and reached Ludmir. Those who left with the Russians were termed ‘refugees,’ regardless of whether they were Jews or Gentiles.

The Russians needed workers for forests, coal mines, and the like. This was very hard work, under difficult conditions, but many registered for it. They returned before long, barely alive, and told us about the hard labor they had done under the Russians. People then stopped registering for this work. The news from the German side was bad, and life under the Russians was difficult.

Somehow, we survived the cold winter. The Russians didn't wait long before their next move. A few weeks after Passover, they entered cities and towns, searching for ‘refugees.’ Everyone was arrested and placed into waiting wagons that took them far away from the border, into the depths of Russia. Most went to the forests of Siberia, and were told, “You'll live and die here; you'll never leave alive.”

Yet we began settling down. Our family was given one half of a room with an earthen floor, on which we slept. The next day, we listed our professions. My brother Leybush, a carpenter, was made a brigadier and ordered to find workers to repair the damaged barracks.

Those who couldn't do construction work were sent to work in the forest. It was back-breaking labor. Our overseers were veteran convicts. Those who didn't work were denied bread, in accordance with Stalin's edict “Whoever does not work shall not eat!”^[2] It was arduous

and miserable. People say that about fifty percent of those sent to Siberia with us died during those sixteen months.

The war between Germany and Russia broke out in 1941. When the Russians had to turn to the U.S. and England for help,

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they remembered the prisoners in Siberia and freed us all. Everyone was given permission to travel freely. Those who had the strength made their way to a railroad station. After weeks of walking, if they managed to sneak into a group that was traveling by train, they could reach warmer places. Three or four weeks of train travel brought us to Tashkent, but we were not permitted to disembark in the city. We had to continue by train for 400 kilometers, until we reached a village where we settled.

Conditions in Russia were very bad. The Germans were advancing unchecked, and the Jews of Russia were well aware of what awaited them under German occupation. Many Jews fled into Central Asia. Things were miserable; food was unavailable. However, it was warm enough so that we could sleep out on the street.

The war engulfed more and more areas, and the Russian army required laborers; they needed our muscles. The army provided accommodations, and even paid us. Conditions were better, and life became possible.

I was drafted into the army at the beginning of 1943, though I was a Polish citizen. They didn't send us to the front, but to what was known as the Labor Army.^[3] From there, I was sent on to Wanda Wasilewska's Polish army. My mother and my brothers Tuvia and Leibish as well as my sister Chana stayed in Tashkent until the end of the war in 1945. I became an officer in the Polish army, and stayed alive, as you see. I was discharged in 1946. My family returned to Poland, but never had the chance to unpack. We immediately had to flee the Polish anti-Semites and crossed into the American zone in Berlin.

Our family expanded, thank God. Leibish married a Jewish woman and had a beautiful boy. We spent several weeks in the large city of Szczecin, formerly part of Germany but now taken over by the Poles.

In the early summer of 1946, we left for Berlin, and went to the Schlachtensee Displaced Persons camp, where I married my former girlfriend Broche Zekel; she had suffered much during the war. After a few years in Germany, we emigrated to the United States in 1950 and settled in Chicago, where we had a large family, including my mother's sister and many cousins; making our resettlement easy. We never went back to Dubienka.

My brother Ya'akov spent the rest of the war in a German concentration camp, and came back to Horodlo in Poland, where he was killed by Poles. My mother Temma died in 1965 in the United States. My brothers Tuvia and Leibish, who had families, are also deceased now. My sister Chana lives in Washington with her children and grandchildren. We live in Chicago; we have a son and a daughter, and grandchildren. That is all that remains of our large family.

Fishl and Miriam, Ezra's daughter.^[4]

Translator's Footnotes

1. I was unable to identify this location. Return
2. A slogan prominently displayed in the labor camps. Return
3. The Labor Army was established to draft people who couldn't be conscripted into the Red Army, such as citizens of other nations. Conditions were marginally better in that the conscripts could not be killed at a commander's whim and had to be supplied with food. Return
4. The final fragmentary sentence is translated verbatim. Return

I also remember the process of making Passover wine. My father placed raisins in a large glass bottle, added water, and placed it where it would never be seen by a Gentile; that would render it non-kosher for the holiday.^[1] My father would ceremoniously strain the wine, while we children watched excitedly, waiting to snack on the raisins. Cleaning the rooms and making the dishes and pots kosher for Passover was another project. Every corner had to be spotless. For the Seder itself, everyone wore new clothes. The atmosphere was unique; I've never experienced it anywhere else. We owned a mortar for pounding matzah-meal; the mortar traveled all over town. When we wanted to use it, we would have to go hunting.

That was a time that will never return, a time that will be in our hearts forever.

Yitzchok Dach with his wife and son		Chayim Soyfer and his wife, Vitia

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In 1911, a few natives of Dubienka were living in New York. As strangers, they felt lonely. Fourteen Dubienka natives gathered and decided to create a fraternal society where they could keep in touch and discuss their problems. That was the beginning of the First Dubienka Society. These founders were Itze Leder*, Yisroel Vagenfeld, Ya'akov Glatkoff, Shmu'el Goldman*, Chayim Yosef Garfinkel, Hersh Me'ir Landsman, Shimon Tsukerman, Dovid Shroyt, Moshe Chayim Vagenfeld, Shlomo Biber, Yisro'el Bobis, Max Mendel, Avraham Loyfer, Mordechai Yosef Shapira.* (Asterisks indicate deceased members.)

Thirty years have passed since then, seemingly in the blink of an eye. We see the great progress we've made during this time. Thanks to hard work and considerable effort, our society has been able to overcome all the difficulties. Because of our children, we felt it necessary to continue the work which we have striven to do in order to ensure the continued existence of our Society.

We will now briefly introduce the members who have helped us achieve success for our Society. The first is our current president, Peretz Bubis. Ten years ago, when all the Jewish Societies were going through difficulties, our Society was no exception, especially as regards finances. We owed a large sum for the cemetery; our interest payments were so high that we had to shut down benefits for seven years. What was the result? Members stopped coming to meetings. Those who needed the benefits could not receive them. Our situation was dire.

We then decided to attract younger people to help with the work. That was when Peretz Bubis became president. His first task was to obtain enough money to pay off the loan for the cemetery and save on the high interest payments. He immediately went into action. Two brethren loaned us money to settle the financial problem; they were none other than our worthy president Asher Goldman. Within several weeks, we resumed our benefits, and the Society revived. Our meetings began to be attended once again. Our meetings are still so well attended that we had to [find] a larger and more beautiful meeting space, because a holiday atmosphere reigns whenever our brethren come together in the meeting hall.^[2] During his tenure, we undertook several projects that proved very successful. Today's celebration is also the result of his efforts. May God grant him health to continue; his work will never be forgotten.

Abraham Strass has had much experience with our Society. There was a time (may it never recur) when many of our brethren were sick with the flu. Abraham went from house to house to help with whatever he could. He was our president 24 times. Half his life was spent working with our Society. We know that he did everything joyfully, and he continues to do so to this day.

Dovid Shroyt, one of our founders, works as devotedly for the Society today as he did during our early years. Although he had a large family and many responsibilities, he has also been dedicated to our Society. It was he who went to all immigrants from our town to ask them to join us. We sincerely applaud his efforts.

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One of the founders, Chayim Yosef Garfinkel, was especially helpful. He never missed a meeting, was respected and honored by the entire Society, and was so financially trustworthy that he was selected as the Society's first trustee.

Heinach Lantsberg, an active worker for our organization, is also worthy of mention. He was always available, day or night, if the Society needed his help; and especially if his help meant saving money. Such members are rare. Let us hope that in the future the Society will be able to reciprocate his service to us.

It is a great honor to have a member such as Me'ir Pearlstein, our lawyer. His work and long hours of service to the Society have earned him the love and respect of all the members.

Max Leider is devoted to our Society and has always stood alongside the President and worked closely with him. He has contributed greatly to the success of our various projects and the revival of the Society as a whole. We look forward to his continued important contributions to our Society, as its next President.

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The Dubienka Society's cemetery in New York

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