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Uvyn (Uwin)	491 – 517
Baryliv (Barylów) - Volytsya (Wolicą)	518 – 556
Vyhoda (Wygoda)	557 – 561
Skryhove (Skrilov)	562 – 579
Zavydche (Zawidcze) Mykolaiv	580 – 594
Dmytriv	595 – 601
Nestanychi	602 – 611
Sin'kiv (Sienków)	612 – 628

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What happened to you, Uwin [Uvyn], the cradle of my childhood and youth? What happened to your kind-hearted people who saved my mother from the hands of the rampaging, plundering Cossacks during World War I? Can we believe that you shed your humanity and became the hunting dogs of the German Nazi monster? Can we comprehend that your descendants, the children of those kind-hearted people, quenched their thirst for Jewish blood by ambushing my mother and sister in the village fields, as they tried to escape the savage jaws of death?

I will whisper this prayer to the end of my days: May the grace of your parents not shield you. May the eyes of the victims, staring in terror at death and destruction, pursue you all the days of your life. May their pleading looks accompany you to eternity – to your graves! And let that be but only the faintest edge of the retribution for your vile deeds.

Uwin (or Uvin in Yiddish) was a village in the Radekhov district, a border settlement between Austria and Russia until the First World War. It looked as if it had been taken from a painting by a cubist artist: a row of thatched roof houses lined one side of the road that ran through the village and lead to the neighboring village of Barylov [Baryliv]. On the other side of that road, there were square vegetable gardens, and in another parallel row beyond that lay a strip of meadow, also divided into large squares. That strip of meadow bordered the banks of the Sidlovka stream and seemed to create a frame for the squares and cubes that characterized the village.

Both banks of the stream were sparsely covered with riparian trees which obstructed the view in the summer. It was as if the houses of Romanov and Habsburg agreed to peek into each other's houses only during wintertime when the trees stood bare of their foliage. The symmetric layout of the village changed when you reached the center. Here, nature abandoned its grid-like plan and spread the wings of its imagination. Indeed, something like a geological fault unfolded before your eyes – a steep hill and a valley, a blend of human handiwork and the work of nature. Here, the square network of houses, gardens, and meadows disappeared and was replaced by an anarchic landscape: a gushing spring that forced the stream from its banks turned it into something resembling a lake with mired edges. River plants, reeds, and fruit tree orchards grew alongside the water. There was also a flour mill there that made use of the dam formed by the rise in the water level when water poured downhill in the summer.

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All this lay at the foot of a steep wall, above which the village extended, and at the end was the estate of the “paritzim” [wealthy].

This picturesque section of the village attracted imaginative artists and landscape lovers. Over time, it became known that the estate was home to a famous painter who was Professor Martin Buber's sister. She was married to Dr. Bernard Wittlin, the estate's owner at that time. She would spend her summer vacations alternating between Uwin and Vienna, where both Professor Martin Buber and Dr. Bernard Wittlin resided. During her time at the estate, she immersed herself in the beauty of the landscape, which inspired her with creativity.

It was not easy to be a Jew in the village, where the number of Jewish families ranged between five and six.

Moshe Fisch's Family–This was one of those families that was deeply rooted in the village. Moshe Fisch himself was also known as Moshe Uviner (after the name of the village). Though he lived in a village – a place often synonymous with primitiveness and ignorance – he was respected as an observant Jew, a God-fearing individual, and a profound scholar. He was diligent and well-versed in the various branches of rabbinic literature. Most nights, instead of sleeping, he dedicated his hours to studying the Mishnah and Gemara. During the wee hours of the night, he could often be found hunched over a book, and when the roosters crowed, a sweet voice could be heard rising from his house, reciting the Ma'amadot [Torah, Prophets] and Psalms. Moshe was a modest and honest man. Though he was ordained as a rabbi, he never turned Torah into a means of livelihood or self-advancement. That he had completed reading the Mishnah and Poskim more than eighteen times in his life was made known only by others. He was blessed with a large, extended family, having had eight sons and daughters who were scattered throughout eastern Galicia. Two of his children reached Budapest (during the Austro-Hungarian period), and now are counted among the “guardians of the walls of Jerusalem”^[1].

The following are the names of Moshe Uviner's children and their fate:

Yekel-Yaakov–He and his family settled in Shtervitz [Shchurovychi]. He passed away in the 1920s.

Revtzia-Rivka–She married Israel Letzter in the city of Nemirov [Nemyriv], where she, her husband, and daughter Sara perished in the Holocaust. My cousin, David, survived and lives somewhere in Europe or America.

Wolf–He moved to Hungary and perished in the death camps along with his family.

Hersh-Leib–He and his wife perished in the death camps in Poland. As mentioned above, their son and daughter live in Jerusalem.

Yosel-Yosef–He resided in the village of Dmytrov [Dmytriv]. He struggle to make a living, despite being a vigorous and dynamic individual, except during a certain period when he served

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as a farm manager. He died in 1939. His wife Debusia, son Fishel, and his two daughters perished in a death camp in the Lvov [Lviv] area.

Chana–She married a man by the name of Mentsch, but was widowed before the war. She perished in the death camp near Lvov along with her daughter, Sara, and her two sons, Fishel and Hersh. Hersh was married to Sara Ornstein.

Shmuel-David–He became a widower before the Holocaust. He perished in the Belzec camp with his son Nuta, his daughter Sara, his son-in-law Yona Adler, and their four children.

Mindel–She was married to Hersh Ornstein, who perished in a death camp near Lvov. She and her daughter, Meyta, were captured by the villagers in an ambush while attempting to find a new hiding place. The villagers handed them over to the Germans.

The last two children carried on the family line in Uwin.

Shmuel David Fisch–He was the epitome of a solidly built, broad-shouldered Jew – a figure one would never find among Chagall's characters, for he was the very opposite of the ethereal Jewish “luftmensch.” When you stood before him, you saw a man firmly rooted, with both feet on the ground – no force could uproot him. I recall an incident from his military leave when he served as a soldier under Emperor Franz Joseph in the Austrian army during the First World War. When I saw him wearing his military uniform and carrying a weapon, I told my mother that she would not need to hide from the Cossacks. When Uncle Shmuel David was at home, I felt certain the Cossacks would not dare to enter the village, knowing my uncle was there. I believed they would be frightened away just by looking at my uncle's eyebrows, which resembled spears.

He was respected by the gentiles in the village, due to the combination of being a God-fearing Jew and a farmer. He was not content with the traditional Jewish occupations of shopkeeper or tavern operator, but instead, he was the owner of an agricultural farm in the village. Only the “Final Solution” could overpower this strong personality. His wife, Aunt Kerusha, was the authority figure in the family. With a graceful and commanding stature, she held the reins at home; she was a “woman of valor” in the traditional sense of the phrase. Their four children were Sara, Nuta, Rashi and Meir. Sara, her husband Yona Adler, their children, and Nuta the youngest sibling, perished in the Holocaust. The other two arrived in Eretz Israel after the Holocaust: Rashi died at a relatively young age, and Meir, may he live long, became one of the people who lived to memorialize the horrors and terrors of the “Final Solution.”

Mindel nee Fisch and her husband Hersh Ornstein were the mother and father of the author of this article. Hersh stood head and shoulders above the people of the village and would wander around in the nearby village of Skrylov. He tried to support his family from there, but due to his honesty and lack of business instincts, he was not one of those who was successful in trade. The following song by Ibn Ezra could be applied to him:

The stars and heavens in their place Were bent, at birth, to block my grace; Were candles all my merchandise– The sun would shine till my demise!

I strive for success, yet all in vain, The stars above have warped my lane; Were I to trade in shrouds and death– None would die while I draw breath!

He would smile into his mustache whenever anyone praised the Rebbe

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and his miracles. However, during difficult times, when worries about making a living weighed heavily on him, he would strengthen his bond with the Master of the Universe by paying a visit to the Rebbe of Belz.

Mindel Fisch embodied the essence of a Jewish mother with her endless dedication to her children. In the early hours of each morning, she would tiptoe out to gather food for the cow in the cowshed, ensuring that the cow would provide a plentiful supply of fresh milk for her children. She would even protect her children with her own body when their father raised his belt to hit them.

To this day, my conscience torments me for not having repaid her kindness. Despite all her pleas that I pray with sincerity and completeness, I would skip half of the morning prayer, and though she sensed it, she never reproached me for it. She pretended that her son was a good child who worshipped his God with devotion and loyalty. How could such a good mother and others like her be destined for a “Final Solution?” Only God, not men, considers a “final solution” as a solution.

The fate of the family members was like that of many good and noble souls during the dark days of the Holocaust.

Sara was married to Hersh Mentsch. After her partners in the bunker where she hid, advised her to strangle her infant fearing that his cries would reveal their hiding place to the Germans, she left the bunker and surrendered herself to the Germans. She was murdered in a death camp along with her baby.

Meyta was captured with her mother by village Ukrainians while trying to move from one hiding place to another for the fear that the first hiding place had been discovered by those who sought to take her life.

Fishel was killed during his service in the Polish army when it suffered the first blow in Pozan on the border with Germany.

Israel Shlein's Family–He was a native of the town of Droshkopol [today Zhuravnyky], in Volhynia. Thus, the nickname Israel Fonye [a derogatory nickname for Russians]^[2] stuck with him. A vigorous and industrious man, he had a short temper, but a strong sense of humor, often joking about everyone, including Jews and non-Jews, as well as his sons, daughters, wife Batya, and even himself. As a Cohen, he performed the “Priestly Blessing”^[3] during Shabbat and holidays. When he covered his face with a tallit, he exuded a sense of respect and authority. His covered face held an aura of mystery in the eyes of the children. They were told not to look upon the “Shechinah” [divine spirit] that rested upon him as he gave the blessing. We too refrained from looking at him when he spread his hands, lest our eyes be harmed. When he was asked why he was covering his eyes, he would joke: “I feel shame before my own self and before the Master of the Universe upon seeing whom I am blessing.”

To illustrate the ignorance of the village gentiles, he would often say: “A goy veyst a liter hirzsh darf aroyskumen a tap kashe,” which means, “The gentile thinks that a liter of

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millet after it's been cooked, would fill a pot with porridge, no matter how large the pot is.” Unfortunately, the sharp wit of this clever Jew was silenced by illness shortly before the years of the Holocaust.

There were four sons and daughters in the family, and their fate mirrored that of others during that tragic time:

Tzipora (Tzipa) and the youngest son, Moshe, perished in the death camps.

Batya, the mother, the older son Isik, and the little daughter, Frida, were killed by villagers from Skrilov from whom they were seeking shelter. They were murdered after many months of hiding with honest gentiles or in abandoned houses.

The Family of Reuven Charam–This family had a long history as lessees and village merchants. They settled in the village after arriving from the Potoki estate. Proverbs attributed to Reuven's father once circulated among the villagers. One of these sayings, which reflected the family's longstanding presence in the village, went: “Shines hob ikh gezen ober a ban nokh nisht,” meaning “Railway tracks I've seen, but I have not yet seen a train.”

Everything that was good or valuable was summed up this way by Reuven's father: “A matse mit hanik,” which translates to “A slice of unleavened bread with honey.” When he wanted to praise any respected young woman who had come of age, he would say: “A meydl vi a valenke,” meaning “a plump girl, round like a boot made of ‘valenke’” (coarse felt boots worn by the villagers to protect their feet from snow and frost).

The head of the family was a devout and learned Jew with a serious demeanor. Laughter for no reason could provoke his anger. He often said that laughter and merriment befit shkotzim [derogatory word for non-Jewish males] and shikses [derogatory word for non-Jewish females], whereas a Jew ought to laugh modestly, so as not to provoke Satan – God forbid. He was also one of the strictest with regard to matters between man and God. His wife passed away a few days before he settled in the village.

He worked in the livestock trade, assisted by his three sons, and found success in his business. He had three sons and one daughter: Moti and Chaim perished in the Holocaust, while Zelig emigrated to Brazil and later died there. Dvora, who survived the war, died in France after the liberation from the Nazis. The head of the family passed away before the Holocaust.

The family of Yona Shraga–As I reflect on the beginnings of this family's settlement in the village, a misty veil clouds my eyes, and I find myself tapping into memories now buried deep within my childhood. Their story did not start in the village itself, but at the estate located on its outskirts. The head of the family served there as the estate's “Kassierer” (treasurer) and also held other positions. Near the end of World War I, he leased the flour mill from the estate's owner and moved into the village with his large family. He was a Jew of aristocratic appearance, as the term was understood in those days: sporting a short, well-groomed beard, impeccably dressed, and radiating dignity.

He would only come to pray during the ““High Holidays” and the “three pilgrimage festivals” [Sukkot, Passover, and Shavuot]. The congregants would whisper behind his back, passing it on from one mouth to another that he was one of those who did not lay tefillin. He was regarded as someone from whom the village's Jews could seek advice

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when dealing with governmental institutions. He had a large, extended family, being a father to eight children, mostly daughters. His wife, Chaya-Ita, resembled a mother hen with her chicks around her, all responding pleasantly and obediently to her calls.

The children were: 1. Avraham, 2. Beilah, 3. Shifra, 4. Etel, 5. Yenta-Yehudit, 6. Leibish, 7. Mirtzi (Miryam), and 8. Feiga-Tzipora. Among these siblings, only three settled in the village.

Beilah–She married Hersh Brin, and together they had two daughters, Pepi and Eltzi. Only Pepi, who arrived in Eretz Israel in the 1940s, survived.

Etel–She married Chaim Eidelheit. They chose to remain in the village even after the rest of the family left. Etel passed away in the village, leaving no descendants behind. While her husband remarried (see below), he did not survive the Holocaust.

Shifra–She left the village after her first marriage and after her husband died, she returned under different circumstances: she married Chaim Eidelheit, the widower of her sister, Etel.

Yenta-Yehudit–She married Zelig Krantz, who was a prominent Zionist activist and leader who was involved in many activities in Radekhov. They made Aliyah to Eretz Israel in 1934 and both passed away in Israel.

Leibish–He emigrated to Canada after he and his wife Clara of Zafrany[?] managed to escape from the Nazis by hiding with a Pole.

Mirtzi-Miriam–She married Goldsheider from Radekhov and perished in the Holocaust along with her entire family.

Feiga-Tzipora–She was the oldest child in the family. She was married to Yitzchak Kabtzan and they made Aliyah in the 1920s and currently live in Israel.

It is worth noting that the two heads of the family passed away before the Holocaust.

The Family of Meir Shieldhorn–Meir was one of the managers of the estate in Uwin. After the estate was leased to the Ecker-Bardach partnership, he and his family remained at the estate as residents for some time, even though he was no longer employed by the new lessees. During the time he was the estate manager, the Shieldhorn family did not mix with the other Jewish families in the village. Their attitude toward the local people resembled that of the upper class toward the common people. Meir appeared at the synagogue to pray only during Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, and that appearance became an attraction for the other worshippers. He was considered to be completely assimilated because the family's primary language was Polish, a language that the Jews in the village learned only through reading (The language of the local population was Ukrainian). When Meir lost his job, the family left the village abruptly, leaving no trace behind.

The Family of Shmelki Kremnitzer–The typhus epidemic that raged in the village at the beginning of the 1920s claimed the lives of Shmelki, the head of the family, and his wife, Alteh, within a few days. Shmelki was a simple, hardworking, and kind-hearted Jew whose profession as a fisherman was uncommon among the Jews. Despite his arduous labor, he struggled to support his family.

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Shemlki was a father to one son and three daughters. His son Berish immigrated to France, where he tragically perished at the hands of the Nazis. Two daughters, Gila and Chaika, left the village; Gila moved to Vienna, while Chaika relocated to Rovno [Rivne] in Volhynia. Both girls ultimately made it to Eretz Israel. Gila passed away in 5,730 [1969/70], while Chaika continues to live in Israel.

Yehudit Idis–worked in trade and was a long-time resident of the village. She was captured by the evil people in the village and was handed over to the Germans to be annihilated.

Ben-Zion Kabtzan–Reverence and trembling enveloped the worshippers as Ben-Zion stood before the ark; his heartfelt tears during prayer resonated deeply, creating an emotional connection to the words of prayer, even among those who were not known for their religious devotion. His cries during the reciting of “Shir HaMa'alot MiMa'amkim” [“A song of ascents from the depths”– Psalms 130], or “B'Rosh HaShana Yikatevu” [“May you be inscribed for a good year”] would create an atmosphere of “awe-inspiring majesty.” His fervent prayers captivated even his own sons, who, out of respect for their father, chose to attend the public prayer. Ben-Zion was a kind man and beloved by all. As the head of the only Jewish family in the neighboring village of Skrilov, he chose to participate in Uwin's congregation. As long his seven sons were at home – they constituted half of the worshippers – his home served as the center for the public prayer on Shabbat, holidays, and especially during the “High Holidays” and the “three pilgrimage festivals.” Worshippers from the nearby villages of Pulhan [Pil'hany] and Buzhany also joined in these prayers.

Ben-Zion's house was located at the edge of the village and was surrounded by an orchard of fine fruit trees. As one of the participants in these public prayers, I felt a deep sense of guilt for a long time afterward and I regretted not restraining my urges to sneak away on Yom Kippur to the pear and apple trees that beckoned to me through the windows.

It is important to mention here Yankel (Yaakov) , Ben-Zion's son, who taught Hebrew. He frequently visited Uwin, and anyone who wished to learn Hebrew from him could do so free of charge. He perished in the Holocaust. We should also pay tribute to Ben-Zion's grandson, Yosi Kabtzan, a sharp-minded youth, who was notably distinguished by his intellectual maturity that far exceeded his age. Yosi lost his life during one of the Haganah's^[5] activities in the [Jezreel] Valley, a short time after arriving in Eretz Israel, amidst the tumultuous events that began in 1936.^[6]

The rest of Ben-Zion's sons and daughters left their family home, and as was typical of many Jewish families, they all went their own way. Moshe passed away in Droshkopol [now known as Zhuravnyky]. Chaim, the only one who built his home in the village of Skrilov, perished with his family in Berestetchka [Berestechko]. Gitel returned to the village after her marriage. Yosef Immigrated to Argentina. Tzipora, who is married to David Parnes, along with Eliezer and Hersh Leib, all currently reside in Israel. The youngest, Yitzchak, who is married to Tzipora Shraga, also lives in Israel.

The Family of Yaakov Fisch–Unexpectedly, a caravan of wagons arrived in the village in the early morning hours and unloaded its cargo at the yard of Uncle Yaakov's relatives. The wagon carried Uncle Yaakov's family and belongings. During the night, the family was forcibly removed from their home which was located on the neighboring estate of Brzyshtza-Manshovka.

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The estate where he had been living was owned by a partnership of German colonists (Swabs) [from the Swabian region of southwestern Germany]. In addition to being a minor partner, Uncle Yaakov was employed there as the estate's manager. This is how a years-long conflict among the German colonists was resolved, and that was before the Nazis brought the “Final Solution” upon this large and warm-hearted family. After a brief stay in the village, the family moved temporarily to the village of Zavitsh [Zavidche], and later settled in the town of Shtervitz, where both heads of the family, Uncle Yekel and Aunt Chaya, eventually passed away.

The remaining family members, left as “double orphans,” having lost both father and mother, served as an example of family unity, sacrifice, and selflessness. Two more children were added to this group: the orphaned children of the older brother Chaim Hersh, whose wife tragically died during the birth of the second child.

Together, the family consisted of the following members:

Mindel–She was the oldest sibling. She married Moshe Eidelheit, and together they had two sons and a daughter. The entire family was murdered by the Nazis (may their name be blotted out) in Radekhov.

Chaim Hersh–He perished in the Holocaust along with his 8-year-old son, in the Rimanov camp near Lvov.

Sara–She married Moshe Distenfeld in Lopatyn. She and her entire family perished in the Holocaust.

Nachman–He lived in Lvov and perished there in the Holocaust along with his entire family.

Fruma–She married Yitzchak Sterlin. She and her children perished in the Holocaust in the Brody Ghetto. Yitzchak passed away in 5,735 [1974/75].

Reuven–He and his family were victims of the Holocaust and perished in Lvov.

Fishel–May he be blessed with long life in Israel.

Shalom–He was the youngest of the siblings. He perished in the Holocaust in Brody.

David Hersh–He was the ritual slaughterer from Shtervitz. He was a good-looking Jewish man, neatly dressed in his traditional attire, and he possessed a pleasant and melodious voice. He traveled throughout the villages in the area, providing kosher slaughtering services to his customers. He was a devout, God-fearing Jew, from the fringes of his head to the tips of his toes. He adhered strictly to all matters between men and women. When he opened an entry door, he would first peek inside to ensure that he would not come into close proximity to a woman. Once inside the house, he was cautious around doors, making sure he avoided any contact with women, even refraining from touching the edges of women's clothing. He would never enter a carriage if a woman was already inside. He was resolute in his beliefs; even if a woman had no other way to reach town, either he or the woman had to get out of the carriage.

Shlomo Zacharstock– He was known by his nickname, Kokish. Even among the airy, floating figures of typical Jewish types, it was hard to find someone similar to this ephemeral guest.

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He was adorned with a slightly unkempt white beard that was proportionate to his frail frame, making him look like a bent-over walking bundle of bones on two legs. He appeared in the village in the 1920s-30s as a melamed, teaching small children. The full extent of his intellectual ability was limited to reading Hebrew words, even though he did not understand their meanings. With a mix of pride and heartache, he would point out the rabbis from nearby towns and claim that he taught all of them the alphabet. Those same former pupils eventually became rabbis while he himself continued to teach the alphabet to Jewish children. His family, consisting of a wife and two daughters, resided in Radekhov, while he was drawn to the village, interacting with both Jews and non-Jews alike.

He lived an ascetic life–his clothing was worn with patches upon patches, yet he was meticulous about his cleanliness. He dried his bread into rusks and ate them, making the sounds of a gravel crusher. He claimed that it helped to keep his teeth healthy and indeed, he had two rows of big shiny teeth. His main food source, in addition to the dried bread, was milk, which he bought from the gentiles in the village. He always insisted on witnessing the milking to avoid getting milk that was traif [non-kosher], God forbid. He never slept in a bed. In the summer, he slept in the barns of the village farmers, and in the winter, he squeezed into a dark, somewhat closed warehouse, which, despite the cold, was warmer than an open barn. Throughout the week, he went around the village selling goods to the farmers, mainly packages of needles and saccharine. On Shabbat, he would provide a “mitzvot” to the Jewish people in the village if he was willing and agreed to the pleas of one of the villagers to serve as a guest for Shabbat.

Freitzi from Brandysovka–She was a poor and forlorn woman whose eyes reflected the entire world's sorrow. She used to knock on the doors of everyone in the village, carrying her wares in her bags. She tried to trade her wares, which consisted of some cloth remnants, among the villagers. She was divorced from her husband, and her entire effort in “trade” was intended to sustain herself and her poor, blind father, who spent his days fasting and praying. Some considered her one of the Lamed-Vav [36] righteous individuals^[7] since only that could explain her sacrifice of her present and future for lighting the darkness of her father's old age.

Zelig–The menaker^[8] from Zavitsh [Zavidche]–He was a one-eyed man who would drag his feet in the village carrying a sack on his shoulder, to perform the nikkur on the meat of the calves ritually slaughtered by Reb David-Tzvi, the ritual slaughterer. One of the village's Jewish children, who until the appearance of the menaker thought that only one Zelig existed in the world (his brother), widened the circle of the Zeligs and ultimately determined that there were actually only three Zeligs in the world: His brother Zelig, Zelig the menaker, and Gat Zelig ([meaning]passed away in a foreign language).

This is the place to mention the names of several other Jews who resided, and temporarily stayed in the village, but details of their lives are not available to the author:

The lessee, Eker, his partner, Bardach, who passed away on the estate, and the estate workers, Gruber, Halperin, and Pohoryles.

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Torah VaDa'at [Torah and Knowledge] in the Village and its Bearers

Before the implementation of compulsory education laws in Poland, the “cheder” served as a blended institution where Jewish boys learned both Torah and arithmetic. During the 1920s, the rise of Zionism introduced a new subject into the village cheders: the study of Hebrew.

The first teacher in a cheder of that type in Uwin was Leibish Kiefer from Droshkopol. He was a kind man who was loved by both the parents and the students. Encouraged by Kiefer's success, the parents looked for the same kind of teacher when he left the village. This led to the hiring of a new teacher named Papo. He was regarded as a man with broad horizons, according to the standards of that time and place. However, since he came from somewhere far away, little was known about his character. Unfortunately, it turned out that he was a troubled and anxious man. When he thought that the students were mocking him, he quarrel with the parents, blaming them for not providing him with adequate food. He even accused them of attempting to poison him. Bitter was the fate of a student whose parents fought with the teacher on a particular day. The student would return home crying after he had been pinched and beaten by the teacher. In an attempt to justify his behavior toward the student, Papo would pull from his pocket a sample of the food the parents brought him that day and “prove” to the other students that there was something suspicious about it. When the students remained unconvinced, he threatened to involve the police and even followed through with his threat. The parents and the students breathed a sigh of relief one bright morning when the teacher Papo did not show up at the cheder. He vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving no trace behind.

With the disappearance of Papo, the star of a new dynasty, the uncle and his nephew, began to shine. They taught Torah to the Jewish children in the village, one after the other.

Yehoshua Charap–In his appearance, he looked more like a melamed than a teacher. In his lessons, he placed more importance on the traditional Torah studies and less on secular subjects. During his time, the cheder expanded and became a regional cheder for the Jewish children in the villages in the surrounding area. During the days of Yehoshua Charap, children flocked to Uwin to study Torah. The cheder had returned to its traditional character. Pinching and beating the children with a strap were reintroduced, and so was the repetitious study of the weekly Torah portion. The rhythm and melody typical of the traditional cheder could be heard from afar, serving as an expression of the revival of the “good old days.”

Isser Charap–He was the nephew of Yehoshua. Unlike his uncle, he was a modern man, clean-shaven, with a pale face that resembled a “Matmid” [diligent Talmudic student] who had only recently left his study bench in the yeshiva. Isser placed a strong emphasis on secular studies and encouraged his students to read modern Hebrew literature. He used the works of Mapu, Kabak, and Frischman

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as study material. He introduced the students who were attracted to poetry to Bialik's work. Isser, who aimed to be an innovator, preserved every bit of knowledge he came across and every word he learned, and he passed it all on to his students. He neither subtracted nor added. He would often position the fingers of one hand on the palm of the other, like a disciple standing before his rabbi, and this gesture accentuated his paleness. With Isser Charap, the era of the traditional cheder in the village came to an end. The boys who had grown up began to move to other Torah centers in neighboring towns. Those who came after them faced their own educational challenges, which were ultimately swept away with them by the tide of the “Final Solution.”

In the years 1925-6, the estate located in the middle of the village served as a training location, primarily for female pioneers. This period was marked by a vibrant spirit among the young people from Jewish families in the village and the surrounding areas. The hachshara camp illuminated for them the concept of Eretz Israel, which until then, had been merely the subject of prayers and dreams, in the sense of the phrase: “May our eyes behold Your return to Zion in mercy.”^[9] The increased cultural activity during these years was demonstrated by the establishment of a drama troupe, in which several youths from the village and nearby communities participated along with the members of the hachshara camp.

The Zionist sentiments and the desire to break free from social isolation prompted the Jewish youth from the villages in the area to attend frequent meetings, especially on Shabbat. Such behavior displeased some parents, as walking beyond the Techum Shabbat^[10] did not sit well with them. The meetings took place in Vigoda [Vyhoda], at an estate owned by several Jewish partners. The estate was on the main road connecting Uwin to Radekhov but located several kilometers away from most of the villages that the participants came from.

One of the participants used theoretical arguments based on the Mishnah to justify the gatherings. He interpreted a particular statement in the Mishnah, to suggest that such activities were permissible on Shabbat–especially for women–citing the phrase: “Women are light-minded”.^[11] This interpretation allowed the women to take on special activities in preparation for the meetings thereby outsmarting both the divine and the parents. At the location of the meetings, a branch of “Just Zionists”^[12] was established. It was headed, among others, by some people who now reside in Israel.

The author, who was absent from Uwin for several years due to his work in Radekhov, was an activist in the “Gordonia” Movement.^[13] In this role, he served on the ballot committee for the 16^th Zionist Congress, which took place in the “Just Zionists'” branch in Vigoda.

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The emissary [of the Hitachdut party (see footnote 13)] was an ascetic who tried to avoid being drafted into the Polish army. He set out on foot from Radekhov early in the morning intending to reach Vigoda at eight in the morning, the scheduled time for the opening of the polling place. He arrived, breathing heavily, and found no one there. The room designated for voting was locked. After waiting until noon and seeing neither voters nor members of the ballot committee, he returned to Radekhov feeling rejected and embarrassed and reported back to his supervisors. In response to the Hitachdut's appeal regarding the voting in Vigoda, the townspeople claimed that the voting took place at a different location to prevent outsiders from interfering in their internal affairs. To further support their claim and justify their action, they innocently pointed out the fact that, for their part, they did not send any emissaries to intervene in the affairs of others in different polling locations.

The meeting place in Vigoda became a center for Zionist activities. It received support from several students studying in Lvov and Krakow, who often returned to their homes in the villages. With their assistance, cultural activities began to flourish. A drama troupe was formed, and reading evenings were organized to promote a love for literature. All of this took place as part of the ongoing efforts for Keren Kayemet [KKL-JNF] and Keren Hayesod [Israel Foundation Fund].

Every Monday was fair day in the powiat (district) of Radekhov. On this day, all the village Jews would travel to the city–in the summer in carts on wheels, and in the winter, in sled carts led by horses. Grocery shopping in the village was primarily done by bartering. Gentiles from the village who came to buy goods brought produce from their farms as payment instead of cash. Throughout the week, various types of produce accumulated in the village, and on the fair day carts would be filled with an assortment of items: grain and wheat, barley, alfalfa, beans, eggs, chickens, butter, week-old calves, swine hair, polecat fur (tchoyr in Yiddish), among other goods. In the summer, these journeys usually went smoothly, making it easy to predict when parents would return home from the fair. However, in the fall, the trips did not always go smoothly. On dirt roads, the heavily loaded carts frequently sank into the mud, forcing the passengers to become makeshift horse helpers to ensure they reached their destination. They would push the carts and arrive in town out of breath.

Traveling in the winter on sled carts could be quite enjoyable, provided the snow was not from a blizzard. However, it was not always appropriate to envy those sled cart passengers in the winter. Often times, the snow would be so deep that the road became obscured by the vast amount of snow. As a result, the passengers would sometimes find themselves arriving

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at another village along the route instead of their intended destination. Clearly, they would not return home that day; instead, they would come back a day or two later, embraced by their worried family members, who welcomed them home with joy.

There were only five or six Jewish families in the village, yet their challenges mirrored those faced by families in larger Jewish communities. Each individual among them constituted a universe in its entirety. Dozens of Uwin worlds collapsed and were cast into ruin, along with the worlds of all the pure souls in the House of Israel, for whom crime and barbaric cruelty had sealed their fate and led to their tragic deaths.

May these lines serve as memorial candles for Uwin Jews, who perished in the Holocaust.

Mindel and Hersch Tzvi Ornstein, parents of the author [Zelig Ornstein] and the aunt Chana Mentsch, may God avenge their blood

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Tzvi Mentsch and his wife, Sara, nee Ornstein		Fishel and Meyta Ornstein of blessed memory

From left to right: Meyta Ornstein and Sara Mentsch, nee Ornstein, may God avenge their blood

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For many years, life on the agricultural estate near Uwin [Uvyn] named Menshovka, whose geographic name was Boryshtsha, proceeded calmly and peacefully. The estate was better known by the name of its owner, Menashe Fisch, who was the brother of my grandfather, Reb Moshe Fisch of blessed memory. It was likely named after him because, during his time, the farm was managed exceptionally well. Reb Moshe dedicated himself to working the land, leaving a lasting mark on the estate.

On Shabbat and holidays, Jews from neighboring villages would come to pray at his home, and he dedicated one of the halls in his luxurious house for this purpose. It housed the ark containing a Torah scroll and the room also contained many holy books which were part of my grand-uncle's spiritual possessions. My rabbi and teacher, Rabbi Elazar Galatzer, passed before the ark during the “High Holidays.” He was a descendant of a family of renowned Torah scholars from Brody, but he temporarily resided in Uwin. The worshippers, including the homeowner, were delighted and deeply moved by the pleasant voice of the cantor, which truly stirred hearts with its prayer. As far as I know, Menashe's son and three daughters did not inherit their father's love of agriculture. Instead, they pursued higher education in Lvov [Lviv], focusing on other fields. One daughter married Rabbi Yeshayahu Shapira, the rabbi of the city of Galatz [Galați] in Romania.

A Jew named Abish Halpern served as the estate manager. He had a lovely family, a pleasant personality, and dressed elegantly. Devoted to his work, Abish treated the estate as if it were his own, likely enjoying the complete trust of his employer.

World War I and the invasion by the Russian army, particularly the Cossacks, caused significant turmoil for the Jewish community, which faced pogroms and robberies. However, the estate only suffered minor damage during this period. While the estate experienced substantial financial losses, its residents navigated the tumult without any major shocks.

In 1918, with the end of World War I, the Jewish population that had been uprooted due to its proximity to the front lines returned home, hoping to restore and rebuild a normal, humane life.

These were tumultuous times marked by the disintegration of the Austro-Hungarian regime, and battles between Ukrainian gangs, Petliura's militias, Bolsheviks, and anarchists created an atmosphere of fear and anxiety, particularly for the Jews.

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And so, on one wintry night, murderers, likely from the neighboring village, knocked on the apartment door of Abish Halpern. Unaware of the danger, he opened the door. A gunshot was heard immediately, ending his life. This occurred in a time when there was no effective government worthy of its name. There was no investigation following the incident, or perhaps an investigation was conducted, but yielded no real results. Either way, the family was orphaned, and their lives were shattered. I remember my father, of blessed memory, rushing to the scene upon hearing the terrible news; he was the first to assist the devastated family. For a long time, this tragedy instilled fear and embarrassment among the Jews of the nearby villages.

I do not have detailed information about the history of grand-uncle Menashe and his family, but I will share what I recall. He and his wife passed away from old age, after World War I in Lvov [Lviv]. Following their deaths, not only did their son and daughters become orphans, but the farm was left without supervision and was set to pass into non-Jewish hands. Soon after, three parts of the estate were sold by the son and two daughters to German residents of the area. The Germans were confident that they could easily acquire the fourth part of the estate as well.

However, the third daughter, the rebbetzin, on the advice of her husband, Rabbi Shapira, attempted to save at least part of the property from falling into the hands of the gentiles. She succeeded in selling the remaining portion to Jews who engaged in agriculture. My uncle, Yaakov, who managed the estate during the last few years, was a partner in the group that purchased the fourth part.

When the Germans found out about the sale of the last portion, they were astonished and became very angry. They decided to harass and intimidate the Jewish partners and take the fourth portion over by force. My uncle, Yaakov, as the manager of the estate, resided in the estate's main building. One thick morning, they attacked the building and its residents with the help of the estate workers and hired thugs. They pulled the residents out of the house by force, loaded them and their belongings onto carts, and transported them far from the estate, to my family's yard in Uwin. Despite the legal battles the lawful Jewish buyers waged against this act of violence and assault, they were unsuccessful at getting back the stolen property through the courts. The Germans succeeded, using bribes or false testimony, to drag out the court battle for a long time. Ultimately, the victims found themselves being forced to settle, to save at least part of their property. Even then, decades before the Holocaust, the Jews received a hint of the acts of robbery and atrocities that the German race was capable of committing in times of peace and under the Polish regime.

Rabbi Elazar was an outstanding scholar with exceptional communication skills, a remarkable educator, and a talented cantor with a powerful voice. When he led the prayers before the ark, he deeply moved all his listeners. The words he spoke

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were clear and resonant, making their meaning accessible even to those worshippers who were not well-versed in the intricacies of the Hebrew language. The verses from the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot are still etched in my memory: “ [This is the way of the Torah] you will eat bread and salt, you will drink measured water, you will sleep on the ground, and you will live a life of suffering, and you will labor in the Torah” [Pirkei Avot 6:4]. Challenges in making a living likely caused him to leave Brody and settle in our village. His wife, Rebbetzin Miriam, was a peddler, serving as a helper alongside him, but the family did not earn much despite owning a small farm. He returned to Brody even before the First World War since his relatives lived there. I vividly remember that Rabbi Elazar would often speak of his scholarly brother Chane, who taught young men in Brody. Rabbi Elazar maintained his connection to our area and continued to teach there for several years. I continued to study under him in the town of Stremiltsh until the outbreak of the First World War. After that, I did not receive any updates about his life. He passed away in the 1930s. May his memory be blessed.

With the end of World War I, and when the local battles between Denikin's and Petliura's militias, and the Bolsheviks against the Poles ended, we breathed a sigh of relief. Every Jewish individual hoped in their hearts for better days, calm, and salvation. The Balfour Declaration felt like the beginning of redemption. The Jewish youth often met for discussions about Zionism, especially when the news broke about the resolutions of the “San Remo” [conference]^[1] in early 1920 to hand over the rule of Eretz Israel to Britain in order to establish a home for the scattered Jewish nation. The spontaneous demonstration held by the local Jewish youth following the conference left an unforgettable impression on us. It was a wonderful parade, with blue and white flags, from Uwin to the Zaliski Estate owned by Borak, which was the limit of the Techum Shabbat. The local farmers wondered about the meaning of the colorful appearance of the Jews carrying flags, an unusual phenomenon in the area.

The pace of life accelerated, with the feeling of the end to the darkness of the diaspora, and progress in giant steps toward national salvation. We followed curiously the news from Eretz Israel and the responses from the wider world. The sermon given by Rabbi Ch. L. Hamerling, a Belz Chassid from Lopatyn, emphasized the [following] verse as a background for the current events: “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” [Psalms 118:22]^[2], and spread quickly, particularly since the Belz Chassidim were not fans of the Zionist ideology.

Zionist activity intensified significantly. In addition to the existing Zionist institutions in the city, a Zionist association called “Achva” [“Brotherhood”], and a committee for the Keren Kayement L'Israel [KKL] were established. For many years, our villages served as a base for pioneering “Hachshara” [agricultural pioneering training], since there was a Jewish-owned or leased estate in every village. These owners willingly hosted pioneers at their estates, feeling that they were contributing their part to the nation's salvation. Our village was vibrant with social life, featuring parties and amateur plays,

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alongside other activities aimed at benefiting Eretz Israel as it was being developed. These activities mirrored the Zionist work taking place in the cities and larger Jewish communities.

My grandfather Moshe Fisch, the son of Yerucham-Fishel, was known in the area as Moshe Uviner. He was an enthusiastic follower of the Rebbe from Belz [Rebbe Yissachar Dov Rokeach until 1926, and later, Rebbe Aharon Rokeach]. He was sharp, knowledgeable, and dedicated his time to holy studies. During holidays, he often traveled to visit the Rebbe. My father of blessed memory, accompanied him on many of these trips and told me about his impressions and the spiritual joy a Chassid experiences while visiting the Rebbe's court. My grandfather was eager to share at least some of his extensive knowledge of Torah and his God-fearing ways with his grandson, the author of these lines. He frequently invited me to study a page of Gemara with him. However, he was not fond of my interest in secular studies, which he viewed as a waste of time. He often quoted the sages, saying that anyone who wanted to acquire knowledge must first deal with Dinei Mamonot [laws of finance]. His eyes would shine with happiness whenever he noticed that I had grasped something from his teachings or way of life. I spent a significant amount of time with him and I was deeply impressed with his unique way of life: He woke up very early with the call of the rooster, and would walk slowly around his room, studying and praying in the dark from memory, persisting until the light of the morning broke. He simply never stopped learning.

Here are some of his comments that I have committed to my memory. One remark was made in a sukkah, which had walls made of white fabric and was adorned with greenery and golden apples. When I entered to recite the blessing over the etrog [citron], he said to me, “The preparation for a mitzvah is often greater than the mitzvah itself.” And why is that? “To prepare for the Sukkot holiday's mitzvah ‘Velakachtem lakhem… Pri Etz Hadar’ [‘And you shall take for yourselves…the fruit of a citrus tree’], the Jew goes to great lengths. He travels to the city, selects a flawless and elegant etrog, and asks for the Rabbi's approval to ensure that the etrog is strictly kosher. In contrast, when he recites the blessing, he may not even hear himself speaking, which illustrates that the preparation is indeed greater than the mitzvah itself.”

To counter the secular literature, I recall the poems he read to me:

The world, in all its breadth and height, Is empty mist, a fading light; Its people pass like shadows thin, And leave no mark where they have been. I strained to hear the market's call, But found it hollow – naught at all.

Or another poem of a different kind:

What has been is gone, What will come not yet born, God's salvation can dawn In the blink of the morn – So, from where could come worry forlorn?

Toward the end of his life, his health declined significantly. A severe illness ultimately overtook him. He passed away at an old age after enduring much suffering during the Passover holiday 5683 [1922]. May his memory be blessed forever.

I did not have the opportunity to meet his wife, Sara, as she did not live long. However, from my parents and relatives, I heard stories about her intelligence and her exemplary deeds. The maternal grandfather, Shmuel Roychfleisch,

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was the elder of the village of Niestanice, which had a small Jewish community of about 10 people. He was loved and admired by all. A wise scholar, he dedicated most of his time to studying the Torah, purely for the sake of learning. He would wake up at midnight to observe “Tikkun Chatzot”.^[3] He truly devoted days and nights to prayer and study. Although his sources of income were modest, he generously spent money on charity beyond his means. Legends were told about his kindness and his efforts to help those in need.

His wife, Grandmother Leah, a woman of valor, always appreciated what she had. The visits from her grandchildren brought a joyful, festive look to her face. My parents lived about 40 kilometers away, but my mother visited her parents frequently. She was always concerned about their well-being and made a point to correspond with them at least once a week.

It was customary to visit them during Passover and Sukkot. We would secure our home, and the entire family would travel to Grandfather's home in Niestanice. These gatherings were always emotional and created unforgettable memories. I remember the excitement my siblings and I felt in anticipation of these visits. Both of my grandparents passed away from old age. May their memory be blessed.

My parents, Shmuel-David and Krusha-Ita, studied diligently and absorbed their parents' legacies deeply. They maintained a traditional household filled with love and generosity, making superhuman efforts to impart Torah knowledge to their children. Because of the distance of our village from a Torah center, educating the children was sevenfold more difficult. They often brought teachers from the city, and at other times, they sent the children to study in a distant town. Education was their top priority.

My father, of blessed memory, dedicated the early morning hours to praying and studying, despite his vigorous activity in agriculture and in trade, thus fitting the saying: “The son follows in his father's footsteps.” In the evenings too, he did not rest until he devoted a few hours to holy studies.

Friday nights and holidays celebrated at home were particularly memorable. As sunset approached, an effort was made to disconnect from the work and problems of the regular days. With the lighting of the Shabbat candles, the entire house became enveloped in a holiday atmosphere and Its dwellers were elevated to a state of holiness.

After the prayers, the family gathered for meals, adhering to their usual customs and seating arrangements. The highlight of these occasions was singing Shabbat songs, including Ibn Ezra's piyyut, “My soul thirsts for You…” and Shabbat's “Song of the Unique.”

For one day each week, the sorrows of exile were set aside, and a sense of spiritual awakening from above filled the household.

Like most of the Jewish homes in the village, my parents' home was always open to any passerby. Anybody seeking shelter was welcomed and made to feel like it was their own home. However, in 1938 [there is a contradiction between this date and the date of death mentioned below], my mother fell ill, and the atmosphere in the house turned somber. All efforts were made to ensure she received quality medical care. After consultations with physicians from neighboring towns, she was transferred to the care of Professor Renski, a renowned cardiologist in Lvov. After two months in his clinic, her loving heart stopped beating. She was buried in Lvov on the 2nd of Tevet, 5698 [December 6, 1937]. Thanks to her merit, she was spared the horrors of the Holocaust.

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In the center: My mother Krosha-Ita Standing: My sister Sara, Mindel Tenebaum, Reschi Roychfleisch, and the author [Meir Fisch]

And now, a few words about life in the village. Four or five Jewish families lived in the village. On Shabbat and holidays, we traveled to the nearby village for public prayers, often joining together with the Jewish family from the agricultural estate to form a minyan. The estate was owned by Bernard Wittlin and his wife, whose maiden name was Buber, making her a relative of Professor Martin Buber. Jewish lessees leased the estate. Recently, it was leased by Moshe Ecker and his partners. Moshe Ecker was also an estate owner in Volitsa. He was a religious Jew and a cultural man. His son, Tzvi, was among the first pioneers to make Aliyah from our area and now owns a farm in Ramat HaSharon.

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Ecker's second son is a senior official at the “Telrad” corporation. Only these two sons survived from that large and wonderful family.

In the village, it was customary to fulfill the mitzvah of visiting the sick. When someone became ill, the community understood that they were obliged to maintain night shifts by the sick person's bed to ease the burden of the exhausted family members. This practice of mutual aid was carried out organically without any specific organization. I recall a case in which one Jewish lessee of the estate fell seriously ill and was bedridden for many weeks. Even though the Jewish families of the estate lived separate lives, when word spread to the village about the sick man's condition, several Jews, including myself, came to assist at the sick person's home. This support enabled the man's wife to get some much-needed rest at night, as she was also caring for their two small children. Sadly, the man did not recover from his illness, and ultimately, a minyan had to be gathered to pray and offer comfort to the widow and orphans at their home. The widow, expressing her sincere appreciation and gratitude for the help and comfort provided during her time of sorrow, remarked, without fully grasping the weight and implications of her words, “I truly cannot describe how much I value the presence of a Jew today.”

Editor's note: Zionist youth, Uwin, Barylow, and the vicinity

It was on June 22, 1941, the day when evil was unleashed. Nazi armies poured in from every direction. The Jewish population of Uwin, four families among about 100 Ukrainian families, was bewildered and, with every fiber of its being, felt the approaching Holocaust catastrophe. Rumors from various sources came as a shock on top of the already gloomy mood and foretold disaster. Seemingly, the number of Jews here was negligible, and perhaps there was even some thought

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of seeking refuge in times of trouble with the Christians–a few were regarded as decent, or even as [possible] Righteous Among the Nations. Yet, in truth, most of the local inhabitants, if they did not openly display their glee at the misfortune of the enemies of Israel, were nevertheless steeped in antisemitism.

– The space here is too limited to recount all the details, and I shall not attempt to set down on paper all the persecutions and murders that befell us during the 34 months before the departure of the oppressors, may their name be blotted out.

I will only quote a few cases that were etched deep in my memory. Without a doubt, more significant things have slipped into the abyss of oblivion. One thing is clear: the few survivors who were saved from the Nazi inferno survived it only by a miracle.

In the first few days of the conquest, a Ukrainian police force composed of volunteers was organized. This group included criminals and thugs, the dregs of the local population. They conducted searches of the Jews, with robbery and theft being their main pursuits. Joy filled the hearts of the nationalist Ukrainians upon hearing about the establishment of a Ukrainian organization headed by their leader, Bandera. They were further encouraged by the German announcement in support of the creation of an independent Ukrainian regime in the country, a long-held dream of that nation. As they anticipated the new regime, terror and fear would settle upon us.

The days of that first police force were short-lived. It likely did not earn the trust of the new rulers, and the Ukrainian hope for independence also vanished. And at that time, we said, “So may all your enemies perish, LORD!” [Judges 5:31]. Shortly thereafter, a new authority emerged: the border police. The force was composed of German and Austrian soldiers whose primary responsibility was to guard the old border between Russia and Austria that had been erased after the First World War. They established their base in the local school building which was on the agricultural estate.

The Jewish residents in the village were forced to perform all the menial work for them, becoming cleaners, woodcutters, and more. Initially, their attitude was tolerable, and therefore, despite the rumors about annihilation and cold-blooded murders, an illusion was formed that perhaps the storm would pass. The first decree in our village mandated that Jews must wear a white ribbon with a blue Star of David on it, and it prohibited them from leaving their place of residence. In other areas, Jews were required to wear a yellow Star of David both in the front and in the back. The isolation from other Jewish settlements, along with the uncertainty about the future, added to the overwhelming sense of despair that was already present.

Most of the agricultural estates in the area were owned or leased by Jewish families. These individuals had already escaped during the days of the Soviet regime, prior to the German invasion.

After the Soviet departure, these estates fell into the hands of the new rulers. Jews who remained were forced to work on these estates. In a cruel twist of fate, every Jew–whether young or old, healthy or known to be sick– sought to be among the estate's laborers, hoping naively

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that doing so, would help them avoid being sent to a distant labor camp or even to an extermination camp.

Through severing ties between Jewish communities and employing various means of deception, fraud, and hardships, the oppressors managed to divert attention from the unfolding tragedy and the impending catastrophe. Thus, a year passed in torment for every Jew in this place who had not yet drained the bitter cup to its dregs. Despite their shattered livelihoods and the disgrace of hunger and constant fear, a glimmer of hope lingered in their hearts: “Perhaps there will be mercy.”^[4] The extermination policy and its implementation were overseen by a special government mechanism that meticulously planned the timing and managed the process gradually and with German precision. Initially, these actions were carried out in secrecy. We received details about the “Wannsee Conference”^[5] and its resolutions concerning the “Final Solution” from a local farmer, who likely had some connections to those in the know. However, even among those who anticipated the worst, the news was difficult to comprehend, perhaps due to a deep-seated Jewish optimism, or simply due to a belief in miracles.

Yaakov Kremnitzer, may God avenge his blood, was a devout Jew and a carpenter, dedicated and agile in his work. His native town was Stremiltsh, and his reputation for quality workmanship was well known among the local farmers from the surrounding villages. He had no competitor, and the farmers waited in line for his services, trusting his quality of work and integrity. The Germans from the border police force recruited him to work for them, and they were struck by his talent. He fulfilled their demands flawlessly and to their satisfaction, of course, without receiving any payment. Nevertheless, the venom of hatred toward the Jew ran deep. Overcome by blind antisemitic rage, one of the Nazi policemen set upon him, savagely beating him and ending his life. It was a cold-blooded, brutal murder, carried out by a wild beast, before the very eyes of the Christian neighbors, who now learned that Jewish blood was regarded as worthless, free to be spilled without consequences. Not long after this atrocity, the deportation and concentration of Jews from neighboring villages to the town of Berestechka took place. Policemen from the border police station actively participated in this operation. They received a lesson in the craft of killing by the professionals whose sole occupation was the annihilation of Jews.

In the second year, all the Jews from the area villages were deported to Radekhov. The homes and the farms of every Jewish family were confiscated and handed over to displaced Christians and mere vagabonds. In Radekhov, a hunt for Jews was often conducted, or they were collected by deception based on all sorts of empty promises and offers of work. Toward the fall of 1942, they moved the remaining Jews into a ghetto, which was surrounded by barbed-wire fences, and guards were posted at the gate. A short while later, this ghetto was also emptied of Jews as they transported them to death camps, or other ghettos in Sokal and Brody. Ultimately, Radekhov was declared free of Jews – “Judenfrei.”

The fate of the Radekhov community was documented in articles written by other survivors in this book. I will focus on my own sorrow, mourning for the relatives I lost, who were taken to Radekhov and perished along with the rest of the community.

In Tishrei [September-October] of 1942, I lost my father. Along with him, my sister Sara, her husband Yona Adler, and their three children also perished. Additionally, my brother Yosef Nuta, my uncle Tzvi Ornstein, his daughter, Sara, and her husband, Tzvi

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Mentsch, their son, my uncle Aharon Roychfleisch, and his large family were all among those transported to the death camp, Belzec.

It was 1942, and our despair grew day by day. In addition to the lockdown and isolation imposed on a handful of remaining Jews, it became increasingly clear that the chances of rescue were diminishing. In a desperate attempt to survive, they clung to the last available lifeboat. Young women who had an Aryan appearance sneaked out to join Christian women working in Germany, having received appropriate certificates from a priest who was willing to help. One young man took the risk of joining them. There was always the possibility that somebody might suspect or recognize these individuals and would report them to the Germans. However, they felt there was no other choice. Most of those who chose this path to save themselves were successful. Their stories deserve to be included in history books.

In the summer of 1942, most of the young people were confined in forced-labor camps. It was well known that the purpose of these camps was to starve the Jews, to break them physically and mentally, and to render them indifferent to everything. Concerned for the fate of the starving, emaciated people in the camps, our neighbor, Tzvi Krantz from Wygoda– whose brother was the head of the Jewish council in Radekhov–organized a shipment of food to the Gezeshenda[?] camp near Lvov. Radekhov's Nutrition Committee donated the provisions and hired a Christian coachman to transport them. I volunteered along with another Jewish man, Herman Wasser, to accompany the transport to its destination. Our mission had another goal: to try to bribe the camp commander into releasing some of our young men so we could bring them back home with us.

Armed with the necessary documents, we set out on a treacherous journey. Our papers were checked and accepted at several checkpoints along the way, and we successfully reached the camp in the evening. Our meeting with the camp commander went smoothly. He received the “gifts” in the form of jewelry and promised to fulfill our request. However, upon leaving the camp, we were attacked by a German thug in civilian clothes who was apparently serving in the camp in a special capacity. Beaten and bleeding, we barely managed to escape the place. We were hosted for the night by a lone Jewish family that miraculously survived and remained in that village.

The phrase of our sages: “Those who perform a mitzvah are not harmed” [Pesachim tractate 8a] was only partially true in this case. Although my companion and I emerged from this ordeal alive, we were battered and broken, clinging to life by the frailest thread. In the end, the young men were indeed released after some time; the bandit kept his word. Sadly, however, this was only a temporary reprieve. They fell into the hands of the oppressors a few months later.

“There is no expert like one with experience,” says an old proverb. Despite my strong desire to share my experience – so that future generations may know – even a fraction of the horrors and suffering endured by Holocaust survivors who lived in hiding,

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moved from one shelter to another, fell into traps, escaped as if by a miracle, as I did – I often feel powerless in this task. There are well-known cases of Jews who were murdered by Christians pretending to offer them shelter. However, after receiving the payment, they handed their victims over to the Germans or executed them with their own hands. And so, I carry in my heart, and always recite the prayer: “An eternal curse and everlasting disgrace shall follow the murderers and their accomplices until the end of all generations.”

After I was betrayed by a Christian who had sheltered me, I was arrested by a border police officer in town and thrown into jail. I managed to escape and ran nonstop for two kilometers, eventually hiding in a haystack until the evening. It occurred on the Fast of Esther [the 13th of Adar] 5703 [March 20, 1943]. I went out into an open field in the darkness of the night and decided to reach the place where my sister and brother-in-law found refuge.

It turned out that the person who had been sheltering us was suddenly overcome with fear. One day, he asked us to leave for a few days, “until the storm passed,” he said. We spent one night outside, exposed to the elements, and the following day we found a large pile of manure in a nearby field. We cleared out the contents inside and carved out a small space–just large enough for three people to lie down. To conceal it, we camouflaged the entrance and the top with dried manure so that it would blend in with the surroundings. I wish upon every antisemite the same suffocating terror we had to endure inside that manure pile. This story represents only a small fragment of the anguish and harrowing experiences reflective of three years of suffering, hardship, and bereavement endured by a Holocaust refugee.

In April 1944, the oppressors were defeated and suffered heavy blows from the Russians. During their retreat, we continued to endure the horrors of the war, but the sound of the Russian artillery was, to our ears, the music of redemption and a trumpet of vengeance upon the enemies and destroyers of Israel.

A few days before Passover 5704 [April 1944], the Russians conquered our area, and a minyan of survivors gathered in Shtervitz [Shchurovychi] to celebrate the “holiday of freedom.”

Translator's footnote:

1. The San Remo conference was an international meeting of the post-World War I Allied Supreme Council held at Castle Devachan in San Remo, Italy, to address the future of the Middle East, including Palestine. The San Remo Resolution passed on April 25, 1920, providing international legal backing for the Balfour Declaration and significantly strengthening the Zionist movement's claims and aspirations. Return
2. This verse is a metaphor for how something or someone considered insignificant or even worthless can become essential and foundational. Return
3. “Tikkun Chatzot” [“Midnight Rectification”] is a Jewish ritual prayer recited after midnight as an expression of mourning for the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. It is not universally practiced, but is popular among Sephardi and Hasidic Jews [From Wikipedia]. Return
4. The phrase “Oh God Have Mercy” or “Perhaps He will have mercy” is from the famous Selichot piyyut composed in 1556 by Rabbi Shmuel HaCohen. Return
5. The Wannsee Conference took place on January 20, 1942. It was chaired by Reinhard Heydrich, who was chief of the Reich Security Main Office (Reichssicherheitshauptamt; RSHA). At the conference, Heydrich outlined the expansion of Nazi mass murder to encompass 11 million Jews in Europe. The carefully revised minutes of the conference are known as the Wannsee Protocol [From https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/wannsee-protocol] Return

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