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This tranquil June night was disrupted by an artillery thunder barrage. At first, I thought these to be army drills, but I immediately heard the word ‘war’ from my mother, and with dawn, I saw units of the first German troops on the move into the town. I was still at an age when I could not evaluate the implications of war, and what sort of results the Jews were to get from the barbaric onslaught of the Germans. In general, it was already on the next day that I was an eyewitness to how the Germans behaved toward the captured Russians, because without accounting for national loyalties, they murdered them by shooting in the area of the Catholic cemetery.

Our lives in our city underwent a complete change. Without waiting, the Germans began ‘aktionen’ against students, with the aid of a Ukrainian militia that was immediately organized, they gathered and to their first martyr s out of the city to their deaths, among them was our neighbor, Yaakov, as well as Leon Honig, Yekhezkiel Kellner, Dov Falker and Kil. A few days after this, an order came out to all men between the ages of 16 and 60 to assemble in the marketplace square, and from them, they separated 400 men, most of the intelligentsia, who were killed afterwards by methods known to no one. At that time, my brother David Byk was murdered. It was forbidden for Jews to be in the street without physical evidence of their origins; this evidence was in the form of a white band on which was placed a blue Star of David. At that time, the Judenrat was organized, which issued orders, according to the demands of the Germans, ordering that our younger people were to perform the hardest labor. The worker received a Card of Life from the allocator of the labor. My younger sister, aged 14, and I, as well as a group of young women, began to work in the brick factory. To finish the bricks, we carried them in wheelbarrows to be baked, and in this way, we performed work that was usually done by hefty male farmers. We were only girls there, aged 14–17. Our supervisor, Rota, an elderly German, was not a bad man compared with other people; he permitted us to gather turnips in the field, but this happened only when he was in a good mood. The turnips sweetened our cheeks as if they were a produce from the Garden of Eden, because hunger began to press us very hard.

After some time, we were driven from our house, and a Ukrainian family moved in to live there. Because I was a good worker, Rota provided me with a small room in the brick factory, and I lived there with my family, my mother, and two sisters. My father died when I was three.

Because our house was outside of the city, my mother had the opportunity to trade foodstuffs with the farmers, and because of this, our condition was lightened somewhat. Generally,

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this ideal state didn't last long, because the first ‘aktion’ burst upon us. Out of the news that reached us from other cities, we knew that the hidden danger was in ‘aktions’ because the most important thing was a good hiding place, and truthfully, we were able to complete and hide in a camouflaged place made among the bricks. We had freedom of movement in our little room, and we held on with hands for dear life with our companion when we heard the conversations of the Germans and the expert named ‘Andres,’ a Volksdeutsche who helped out the Germans with their searching.

The ‘aktion’ continued for several days. It was not too difficult to uncover the hiding places of the martyrs sent to Belzec. Nobody knew where they were going. There was no lack of broken hearts; many young people who believed in their life's destiny went to their work with a stout heart, but on the way to their work, they were seized and added to the destined mass.

The mood quieted down a little in the city, not to say that there was no day without victims. We got our bread according to [meal] cards; to try and enter a market score was fraught with the danger of death.

In time, the Germans came up with a more successful plan: to concentrate the Jews, they established a ghetto, and they forced into it not only Sokal residents, but also the Jews of neighboring towns and villages. It was in this ghetto of suffering that we learned of hunger, suffering, and typhus.

My work in the brick factory came to an end. A room appeared for us in the ghetto. I received permission to transfer and began to work as a household assistant to a Gestapo man named Luki.

I would arrange things in an orderly fashion in his dwelling, fix his socks, and shine his shoes, which from time to time were covered with blood. He was like a frightening dog. I could watch their parties, but I was not permitted to touch anything edible from there. There were arrangements of good things, but out of fear in case this was sort of a trap to engage me, I didn't have the nerve to touch anything; perhaps he was testing my honesty? I wouldn't have been surprised if such a thing could cost me my life. After I finished my work, I would return to the ghetto both hungry and tired.

It didn't take long, and there, too, I ran out of work; in general, it was forbidden for all the Jews to leave the ghetto. A severe hunger reigned in the ghetto. Before the communal kitchen, and in front of several houses, long rows of hungry children stretched by, and they would put out a hand for bread and a thin soup. Because of the hunger and overcrowding, a typhus epidemic broke out. Twenty people a day, and even more, would perish, and their corpses were flung on piles, placed on wagons, and taken to a mass grave. Those that remained alive looked like mere shadows. The frequency of house-to-house searches in houses increased, and everyone who was sick and was found there was murdered right in front of their family.

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To this day, I cannot forget the earthshaking sight of my residence in the ghetto. A drunken Gestapo man was looking after a young, strong youth, Henek Braunstein from Lvov, who had married a young lady from Sokal named Fafa Salpeter. Henek did not comprehend the order of the German, and the latter took out his revolver and shot Henek in the head. He immediately fell to the ground in a swoon. I stood stone-cold silent under the terrifying impression this made, and I saw how his life was ebbing away, how his body spasmed, how his lips, which a moment before moved with ease, were now stilled, and how he was laying, and like a beautiful statue–he was yet another victim among the victims of our ghetto.

Everyone understands that those who remained alive wanted to go on living, believed in miracles, and occasionally, you could see people in the streets whispering [prayers] that salvation is drawing near. This news gained rapid wings and spread through the ghetto, whose residents believed that there would be an end to our suffering in a very short time, but they ended up in a condition not as they had thought. Suddenly, a second aktion broke out, and with the help of the Jewish militia, this time without any difficulty, they hijacked the quota of people they needed. The wailing and pleading were for naught – they were sent off to Belzec in trains.

My family and I survived this aktion as well, because we were hidden in a deep cellar. The head of the Judenrat was captured during the time of the flight and was shot, along with his family. The engineer Schwartz was given this position, but since he was not able, and also did not want to carry out the orders that the Germans gave him, he too was killed shortly afterwards. He had lived in our neighborhood beforehand.

The summer was marvelous, we wanted so much to live! The sun lit everything above ground, except for us. Heavy clouds covered our sunshine, and all our hope was in vain.

After seven months of suffering in the ghetto, another ‘aktion’ burst upon us, which in this case left no hope for any one of us; cellars and hiding places were of no help to us this time. Every Jew, his faith condemned him to death, because this time around, the city of Sokal must be ‘Judenfrei.’

The disrespectful death waited for all of us. In freight trucks, the Jews were hauled out of the city, behind the brick factory, and there, they were forced to take off all of their clothes, and were shot with machine guns, and they dropped, while still alive, into the deep trenches that had been dug for military purposes at the time of the Russian conquest in 1939.

And once again, I hid myself along with my family in a deep place dug into the ground, and to our good fortune, the Germans did not discover us. We crouched there for three weeks, our store of food ran out, and there was practically no person to see in the ghetto, and then it became clear that there was no way to escape to Wolhyn, where a group of laboring Jews still existed. Because the barbed wire fence was not being guarded, we still decided to get out of the ghetto at night. A Polish lady known to my mother promised to hide one of us, and my mother decided to send me to her. ‘Perhaps at least one of us will remain alive…;’ my mother and sisters went out on the road on foot, towards Wolhyn. My disappointment knew no bounds when the Polish lady asked me whether I had a

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lot of money, and when she received a negative reply from me, she told me to get out of her house. I decided also to head for Wolhyn, not having the faintest idea of how to get there. At night, I returned to the ghetto, I tied the small package to me, and the night after next, I took off on my way out of the ghetto. I did not know which direction I should go. I knocked on the door of the house of people I knew, Poles – a previous teacher of mine, who lived in Wolowka. They fed me and showed me the way that leads through the forest. I made fast time at night, and hid during the Day, and in this way, after several days of wandering, and only with God's help for certain, I reached the town of Poritzk in Wolhyn. There was still a residual number of Jewish men and women working there. They spoke very sparsely to me, because everyone who joined them was a trap for them, and accordingly, I was boundlessly happy that I ran into my mother and sisters, hidden in a granary. No one took care of them, so it was up to me, as a rescuer among all of them, to decide things. After many arguments, I was accepted into a group, and my sister also got work from the farmers. One herded cattle, while the other knitted overcoats. My mother was with me. We rarely saw any Germans, and issues were handled by the Ukrainians, who were eager to establish their own state. They organized a [military] wing called ‘Banderovtsii’ with Bandera at their head, and we, a small number of Jews, worked for them. Their attitude towards us was like the attitude of the Germans, and I witnessed this.

On one night they murdered almost twenty Polish families, and compelled the Jews to bury them. A short time later, we got the feeling that they didn't want us, and one day they ordered us to stand with the tools on the field to send us off to a different place. I was already familiar with their forms of violence, and I convinced my family to flee. We had only one night left to get the thing done. In the meantime, several residents of Sokal joined us, among them: the Margalit family, Mund Leider, Liszik Doner, Lunya Frier, Rivka Ford with her children, but for some reason, no man was in a hurry to leave. Only 16 of us grouped together that night, and we fled into the forest. All those who stayed behind in the field, as was ordered, were killed by shooting.

When we reached the forest, my mother visited my little sister, but since I knew what fate awaited us at every minute, I gave the farmer who lived near the forest some valuables, and he brought me and my mother to the forest. After two days, I sent for my little sister, but I did not get to see her again. Dear Gina was left along the way. This was the first blow taken by myself my mother and me. When was my older sister killed…I will never know. They told me [that she died] in Ibiza.

A hard winter came in 1944. We all crammed ourselves into a bunker dug deep into the ground. The water and food ran out. We melted snow to get water, and the men would go out at night to steal potatoes from the piles, and we lived for three months this way. Under these conditions, I reached the most beautiful year of my life: my eighteenth year. I received one or two potatoes in the camp, that is to say, a full day's portion. Sixteen mouths kissed me on the forehead.

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More than hunger, it was lice that plagued us, particularly clothes lice. Accordingly, their numbers grew. We would sit for whole days and scratch each other till blood ran.

Despite all this, the flicker of life burned within us. We continued to live, if this can be called life. We began to prepare ourselves for liberation, which indeed was getting closer. Up to a point in time, when two of the young men went out to the village to get some potatoes and were captured there. Our bunker was exposed an hour afterwards. I was on the ground waiting for my friends to return, when I saw people approaching with rifles in their hands. I began fleeing when sparks of fire started bursting around me, and it was only after I came out of the forest – this was on February 13, 1944–that I noticed that I was dressed in a thin shirt, an old skirt, and I had a pair of large farmer's boots on my feet. Being out of breath, I sat down, and only then did I realize that my mother had remained in the bunker. I was frozen like a stone, but eventually the fear of death won out, and I once again tried to save my life. I began to wander, and when my feet started rubbing against the big boots, I took them off and walked barefoot in the snow. My whole appearance aroused curiosity; people looked at me, and undoubtedly considered that I was out of my mind. I entered one of the houses, and to my good fortune, these were Baptists – Poles. Of course, I concocted a tale that I was a Polish girl from Wolhyn, that the Ukrainians had killed my parents, that my name was Kirisha Szolorowska (I used to have a friend by this name), but this time I was not able to deceive them. They recognized that I was Jewish, but because the Baptists were good-hearted, they let me lodge for a couple of days, gave me water to wash myself, food and clothing, and they also faked a temporary document that I keep with me to this day, and this helped bolster my confidence to go my way. The wounds on my feet kept opening and were visible. I asked a doctor, and he referred me to the village doctor; Mrs. Rakhinska, who received me for an examination, when she heard my concocted story that I was Polish and from Wolhyn, she received me like her own daughter. Since she was a religious Catholic, I was compelled to pray and kneel. The news spread quickly through the village that a new girl was lodging there, and the boys began to play guitars and sing love songs under my window. My mood was full of good spirits, at the same time that my heart fluttered inside of me, until one day a student who in the past had attended the gymnasium in Sokal recognized me, and burst into shouting that I was Jewish. My doctor immediately forced me out of her house. I went to a small village that had been burned and I hid there for a time. From there, I reached Varenzh. Once again, luck was on my side, and a very poor Ukrainian family took me in. The lady of the house prepared a hiding place for me in the attic of the granary, and they hid me there. And because they had nothing to eat for themselves, they overlooked me more than once. There were a terrifying three months, months of hunger and loneliness. I would frequently dream of freshly baked rolls, bread, and water. I craved with my whole heart to eat bread and drink water to my fill, and not only once. My companions were mice that were sifting in my hair; I would look at them, and I would share with them the bread that was infrequently brought to me.

Happiness and loss of spirit, constantly dominated me on July 20, 1944, when I saw the Russian soldiers, and I was unable to stand on my exposed feet oozing blood.

I found out that Dr. Kindler remained alive. I ordered a small coach to take me to him. He concluded that my rundown condition was due to hunger, and that it would get better in time. For a while, I

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had to walk on crutches, but in general, my condition truly began to improve. This was the last time that I saw the city of my birth, and our house that had become strange to me as it was occupied by strange people. I left the city with an aching heart.

I was liberated on July 20, 1944.

My mother was killed on February 13, 1944.

1. Born in Sokal on January 1, 1926. Return

One of the central methods used by the Hitlerist murderers, in order to realize the satanic plan for the total extermination of the Jewish people, was forced [e.g. slave] labor. This slave labor was the first level in the extermination-aktion. Under the cover of work, Jew were deceived in order to transfer them to the gas chambers. All over the General-Gouvernment^[2] labor camps were created at various points of the land, and along with it, certain crafts were required for the so-called ‘arbeits-gemeinschaften,’ where Jews worked for the German military.

It was not easy to be permitted to participate in such work. Often, one had to pay very well to be allowed to undertake and do such work in such a facility. A general belief reigned in the ghettoes that such work, even under the most difficult conditions will save a person from deportation to death…

Such work-camps were also created in the larger areas, so-called ‘liegeschaften,’ that were nationalized by the German occupants. In once such a camp in the vicinity of Sokal, in Wolica Komarowa, the writer of these lines had the ‘good fortune’ to obtain work. Fate hurled me in that direction a few months prior, before a labor camp was established in this location. I, regrettably, became very ill, and in order to protect me from an aktion during which sick Jews were the first victims, my family paid heavily to have a job create for me as a gardener in this ‘liegschaft’ in Wolica Komarowa, which was 30 kilometers from Sokal.

In this work camp which was established in the spring of 1942, a Ukrainian ruffian was appointed director named Bogdan Sisak, a virulent anti-Semite, just the same as all other Ukrainians. He permitted me to take on this work reluctantly, and that only thanks to the leader of that circle in the ‘liegschaft,’ the engineer Tchwaszak on whom he was dependent and my family made it possible by giving a large amount of money for me to take on this work.

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I had to conceal my illness, because it would have disqualified me immediately, and I would have lost my position. I had to exert all of my energy to suppress the illness in this position and in this condition I was able to work with enough of a large gardening facility.

In taking Jews into his area of work, my chief imposed a double goal: First – a cheap (almost free) work-card, and second he kept a (special) eye on Jews, who were thrown together and could not withstand the heavy and bitter work, and in this way he satisfied his bestial hatred of Jews.

He did not have the slightest sympathy for anyone, not with women, or females that were younger, and not even with those that he knew from the war. All the Jews employed by him were billeted in a forbidding whiskey distillery (gożelnia) in a common hall where the sanitary conditions were frightening. I remained in a little hut, that had been allocated to me before I took on my job, but my chief afterwards expressed his wish that I move over to the gożelnia building.

At first, the women worked with me in the garden and I as the leader in the garden gave out green edibles for the camp kitchen. But this came to an end after several weeks. Herr Sisak who lived in the palace of the prior leaseholder and was now the unchallenged ruler over Wolica Komarova, assessed the production of the work in the garden as being deficient– in other words: he did not want me – a Jew – to have oversight of the work for the women in the garden. Indeed, he sent off the Jewish women to work in the fields and in their place, he brought Ukrainian women from the village.

The Jews that had the skills to do the work were sent to our labor camp, still looked like normal human beings. But here, due to the withdrawal of food rations. Pressure and loneliness – they now looked like skinny paupers, from whose clothing, all that was left were rags.

A Ukrainian priest (a friend of Sisak) once remarked, that the trash container with green stuff that two Jewish women used to get from me for the camp kitchen, seems to be ‘too fully’ loaded. (Vegetables were the one item of food in the camp and Jews were not allocated any bread and fats). Since then, I was forbidden to give out green stuff for Jewish greens and this function was taken over by the chief himself.

The green stuff and other elements of human dignity reached a high point when a new director came to take over the camp, the ‘Herr Verwalter,’ whom Sisak brought from the other side of the Bug and turned the management of the workers in the camp over to him. He was Polish – but an unusual sadist. With blind loyalty he would carry out all the orders and desires of the chief – that despicable scoundrel Sisak.

A new punishment was now meted out to the Jews – beatings. The ‘Herr Verwalter,’ always carried a nagaika^[3] with him, which he used only on Jews. Any Jew (man or woman) who fell behind the

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pace of the Christian workers of the village – or, whoever was unable because of illness to appear for work

The application of the nagaika by the Verwalter plagued the unfortunate Jew beginning from the small entrance into the gożelnia up to the gathering point of the workers.

And despite this hard and inhuman conditions, nobody fled the camp. None of us had anywhere to which we could flee. None of us knew that it would be possible to survive in this surrounded and hostile-occupied forest. One did not flee into the city, because gruesome and frightening reports came from there among o5thers, being train-transports to Belzec, in which at that time we had not yet begun to believe.

At the end of the summer of 1942 – after which a ghetto was created in Sokal – the terrifying deportations began of Jews from the surrounding vicinity. Daily, new transports arrived into the small ghetto of Sokal to deport Jews.

In the month of September 1942 this fate overtook the Jews in the Wolica Komarowa camp. A group of 13 Jews from this transport had the good fortune to escape. They went into the forest where they wanted to conceal themselves, and ran into a cadre of Bandera's men. The Ukrainian murderers pitilessly murdered these Jews from Wolica apart from two of them, who fled and saved themselves These were: Aharon Tiffenbauer, today a land worker in Herzeliya, and Reuben Laness who lives today in Cuba.

The writer of these lines succeeded in creating a Christian birth certificate, and in the first days of the month of September 1942 I fled to Zolkiew. As an Aryan gardener I received work in the ‘liegenschaft’ ‘Wola’ ‘Wisocka.’ Later on, when it became crowded for me there, I managed to get over to Lemberg, where I found work in the municipal gardens.

1. Passed away in Israel during the month of October 1966. Return
2. The General-Gouvernment was the name given to the rump-state of Poland after Nazi conquest. Return
3. A heavy baton used to beat people and animals. Return

Dedicated to the Memories of: My Parents, Benjamin and Leah (of the Livni family) Eisen ז”ל My Sister Nina (Menucha) ז”ל Yitzhak Livni ז”ל – my Mother's Brother Brunya Beriah ז”ל – My Mother's Sister and Two Daughters

I was born in Sokal, but from my earliest childhood I lived in the Borak adjacent to Tartakov. I studied at the local public school in Tartakov, and after graduation I stood for the entrance

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examination to the government high school in Sokal. There were 6 Jewish students among 35 student in all. The Jewish students consisted of for boys and two girls, of them the ones who survived were myself and Shmuel Kindler.

In Sokal, I lived with my maternal grandparents. A year after I came, my younger sister Nina joined me, and two years later my parents left Borak (Tartakov), and moved to live in Sokal, where we lived at No. 3 St. Mary's Street until the outbreak of the Second World War, hat is to say, September 1939. On the day the war broke out, we fled to Borak. On September 13, the eve of Rosh Hashana, my father, my uncle David and a few other men from Tartakov, among them ‘Srulik Linsker, ran away from the Germans on the Russian border. Afterwards, the Russians entered the city instead of the Germans. My father returned after two weeks, all our assets were gone, but since the relationship my father had with the workers was a good one before the war, he was now appointed as a supervisor in his mill which was in Ilkowica, near Sokal.

We lived this way for two years, until June 1941, at which time war broke out between Germany and Russia. It was at this time that the terror of the Gehenna began. On June 29, 1941, the Germans announced the registration of all Jewish men from age 16 to 60. My father, like many others, went to present himself for registration, and I never saw him again. In Sokal about 400 Jewish men were selected, and not one of them returned. The general word was that they were shot near the brick factory. From this point on, I remained with my mother and younger sister. I gave secular lessons, and my sister worked in a soda factory of a known Ukrainian family, whose name was Nawozhokov. In the fall of 1942, we fled at the time of the first ‘aktion,’ along with the Beriah family to the forest near Potozhica, and we hid there for two days and a night, after which we returned to our home in Sokal. After this ‘aktion,’ the ghetto was established in Sokal, into which all the Jews were concentrated.

The second ‘aktion’ was initiated on October 28, 1942. We succeeded in concealing ourselves in a refuge, however, the troops of the Gestapo exposed us, and we were forced to run to the train station, where we were loaded onto train cattle cars. One hundred people were crammed into each car to the point of asphyxiation. There was not even enough room to stand. The narrow hatches were sealed by barbed wire. The train moved at noon. Immediately as it left the station, youths aged 14-15 went to work: they tore out the wooden boards and the barbed wire from the windows and began to persuade us to show us how to jump from the moving train. According to what they said, they saved themselves once before this way. Our mother then turned to us with words that still echo in my ears, as if I had heard them just a moment ago, and this is what we heard: ‘My daughters, beloved and dear! Where am I taking you to? What will your father say about this when he returns home and doesn't find you?’

The train suddenly stopped beside Krystynopol and we hear the sound of shot. The night was clear, and the Gestapo men, who were escorting us detected the fact that people were jumping off the train. They charged after them and seized them, and told them to stand beside a stack of straw and the murdered them by shooting. On the basis of this murder, people thought to pull back the others from trying to escape. But it was no use, because the train had barely begun to move out of the station,

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when the young men returned to attempt to escape. My mother suddenly remembered, that from her sales, there was a Polish woman from the village of Borak, who lived in Podmawca, and therefore she decided that we were obligated o jump off the train in the vicinity of Ohnov, and hide with this Polish woman. And that how it was. A couple of kilometers before the Ohnov station, the first one to jump was Henka Livni (Horowitz), Yitzhak's wife – my mother's brother. My mother jumped after her, and finally my sister and myself. We had talked that after the jump, one of us would go ahead to her friend. That was the plan we made. In the train station with the help of a trainmaster who knew my father, we exposed Nina who was hiding in the train station, and he also advised us to hire a wagon to arrive before dawn to Podmawca. The matter was partly successful, because along the way we encountered one of the Sokal residents who told us, that not far from here our uncle Yitzhak Livni lay wounded, and asked to let us know this. It is self-evident that we rushed to go to him, me and his wife, and from the wagon we went to find him, but we did not succeed to locate him. My mother and sister, meanwhile, continued to Podmawca. At this point the only option we had was to get there on foot.

When we entered the village, we were approached by a young Ukrainian in order to examine our credentials and bring us to the village leadership. The secretary of the town telephoned to the Gestapo office in Ohnov, when he was told that he had Jews in his hands, that had fled from the train sent to take them to Belzec. In the meantime, taking advantage of my good mastery of Ukrainian, I started a conversation with the secretary and begged him to take pity on us and to save us. We sat this way until the evening, nervously disturbed, but the Gestapo men did not arrive. At seven o'clock in the evening, the secretary of the council promised to help us. He fulfilled his promise, because after he closed up the office, he took us to the home of a farmer whom he persuaded to permit us to spend the night in his grain storage, with the promise that at daybreak, he would come to get us. And so we entered the grain storage, trembling from the cold and hungry, though the hunger did not oppress us. We practically did not sleep all night, because of thoughts running through my mind regarding the fate of my mother and my sister Nina. The rays of the sun shone into the grain storage and awakened us. Suddenly someone approached the gate to the grain storage and opened it. The young Ukrainian who led us to the village council the day before yesterday appeared. Henka Livni whispered to me: ‘Mushka we are lost for sure he is going to take us out and kill us by shooting.’ We went a few steps and we encountered the Secretary that brought us to one of the Jewish families in the village, promising that nothing bad would happen to us. We stayed with this family overnight for a day, and on the Shabbat of October 30, we were compelled to leave Podmawca. Our immediate goal was to reach the nearby city of Rawa-Ruska as quickly as possible, where my uncle lived. We set out on a path that would be approximately 30 km. Initially the path led through the forest, but after some time we reached a road and coming toward us was a farmer in a wagon whom we persuaded to take us along to Rawa-Ruska. My aunt Henka Scheffel (of the Eisen family) was, at that time, already living in the ghetto. Upon entering the house I bumped into my uncle Shmuel (younger brother of my father) and my uncle Konrad Scheffel. When I saw Shmuel, I fell into his arms, tears burst from my eyes that choked me so, that I could not utter a word. In these circumstances, he led me to the home of my uncles, that was a place where I calmed down a little, and after a bit of time, it was within my capacity to tell him of all the difficulties that overwhelmed us before being able to reach them. In a similar manner I told them that I did not know the fate of my mother and sister. My

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aunt was not in the house because she had hidden herself, together with her 9 year-old daughter Herma-Paula in the barracks of the German army. Towards nightfall, both returned to the house, because my aunt was running a high fever. On the following day, Shmuel telephoned the Novuzhkow family in Sokal, to clarify the fate of my mother and sister, and it was clearly established that they had returned home.

Because my aunt was running a high fever, a doctor was summoned who diagnosed a case of stomach typhus, and his opinion was that she should immediately be hospitalized. At that time this was not one of the simple quandaries to resolve, but thanks to the great efforts of my uncle Konrad, we succeeded in getting her admitted to a hospital, where she was registered under ‘Aryan’ papers under the name of Ahafya Kostiuk. My uncle Konrad saw her from time to time through the window, because she was in the infectious disease ward, and could not draw near to her bed. A few days before the final ‘aktion’ in Rawa-Ruska, we were given Danuta whose soul went out for the sick mother, and wanted at least to see her through the hospital window. This was their last meeting and it is possible to say – a meeting before total separation, because from that moment on she was never seen alive again.

Danuta was a very smart young lady and demonstrated initiative. She was a good student, and had a boundlessly good heart. Her compassion brought tears to the eyes often, as she would bring out food items from her house, in order to divide them among poor children – and there were no lack of these, because Rawa-Ruska earned the nickname of ‘the city of the jumpers,’ that is to say people like me, who jumped from trains that took them to the crematoria at Belzec.

During this period I ran my aunt's household, until December 8, 1942, when the final ‘aktion’ burst upon us. On the day that the ‘aktion’ started, we ran into a place of refuge we had prepared a long time ago, and stocked with drink and a little bit of food. About 30 people with children bore the burden of the ‘aktion’ for a few days, and the supply of food ran out, and more importantly we ran out of water to drink. Accordingly, the adults among us, submitting themselves to extreme dangers, went out nights and quickly brought back what they could.

The suffering of the children was the greatest. Among us also was a mother with an infant one year old, who frequently cried bitterly, in order to calm him down she gave him alcoholic beverage to drink, which in the end also ran out. Acting from great fear that the crying of her son would reveal us – she choked him to death!

In December 13, 1942, our hideout was uncovered and we were taken out to the street. In exiting the hole we were hidden into the light of day, I saw many Gestapo men and German policemen. One of them questioned Konrad-Scheffel and Shmuel Eisen. Both presented themselves immediately, and they were told that they were required because of their expertise. The other people were concentrated over to the side. At this point my uncle Konrad lost his temper as if he were crazy, and he told them that if his family could not be joined to him, he will go with all the rest. He was permitted to come near to us to identify members of his family. In this manner, to this point, he saved his daughter Danuta. Myself as his second daughter and Henka Livni (Of the Horowitz family) as his wife. The remainder of the group were taken to be exterminated.

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From here they took us to the synagogue. On the way, we encountered many dead and wounded who were writhing in their blood. We met up with several other people inside the synagogue. On the following day, the men were separated to do work. The women and children were ordered to wait for additional commands. Before noon, they were taken to the bath house, and there we underwent disinfection, and from there we were taken to the quarantine camp in Ruta which is near Rawa- Ruska. By contrast, the adults were sent off immediately to labor camps. We were about forty women, and there was a doctor with us who measured our temperature three times a day. Anyone who go sick in the meantime, was taken over to a separate hut – and it was known that this was one to be exterminated. A couple of days later a note was smuggled to me by a certain Pole, and it told me that from now on, I should look after Danuta, because her father, that is to say, Konrad-Scheffel was shot and killed on December 15, 1942. It is self-evident that I did not relay this to Danuta, but she senses something in her heart, because she would not stop asking me why her father is not visiting her, and for moments wanted to flee the camp in order to look for her father and mother. I used to get notes from Shmulik every evening. He wrote to me that the aunt (Henka Eisen) had fled from the hospital and is to be found in Lvov.

On December 31,1942 in the morning, during the taking of temperature by the doctor, the thermometer indicated that my temperature had gone up, and since cases of spotted typhus had been found among us, the suspicion fell on me that this sickness infected me. But luck was with me, and I remained among the healthy ones. On that same day we were notified that in the afternoon Obersturmführer Grzimek will arrive with Gestapo staff in order to take out, it appears, all of the sick. And so it was. At exactly four o'clock in the afternoon, a large contingent of Gestapo arrived with Grzimek at their head. All te sick were loaded onto a freight truck, and the rest were ordered to come out of the huts and line up in two rows in the yard. Grzimek approached us, and forced us with a murderous look, he noted that all of the women standing on his right should also get on the freight truck. The rest, beginning with me, returned to the hut. Bitter fate decreed that Danuta Scheffel and Henka Livni stood to his right, and thus their fate was sealed to be exterminated. I cannot forget the screaming and crying of these people that were crammed into the truck, especially the small figure of Danuta, who waved to me with her childish hand and shouted ‘Here! Here! My Mushka, Go in peace’ – this does not leave me.

Driven, we entered the hut, with the screaming and ululating of our dear ones, who had just been torn out from among us minutes ago, still echoing in our ears.

My temperature, as I have already recalled, rose steadily, and in the end, I fell sick with spotted typhus. The local doctor took care of me in a special way, gave me injections and gave me medicines, but even with all this, he left me among the healthy ones. On January 13, 1943 I received a note from Shmulik. He let me know that I should be ready, that same evening, to escape from the camp. According to what was agreed, two Poles would be waiting for me outside of the camp, who will transport me to my aunt in Lvov. For some time now, I had ‘Aryan’ papers under the name of Maria Jaworska, that my aunt Henka had obtained for me.

Our meeting was very tragic. When she saw me, she understood everything immediately. I told her everything, and the outcome and fleeing forced a closure of her bitter fate.

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Now a new life began, a life of fear and trepidation, especially because I was without identification for a long period of time. The landlady was compelled to house my aunt, and didn't know of my existence. All day, I lay under my aunt's bed, and I ate there like a dog, and it was only for the night's sleep that I went up onto her bed.

My aunt Henka Cohen (of the Eisen family) has documented my stay in Lvov, my exit to Germany using ‘Aryan’ papers to be employed in a labor camp, and our liberation by the American army. I lived with her through all this.

In July 13, 1949 I made aliyah to the Land. Two years passed before I became aware that my mother Leah Eisen and my sister Nina were murdered by the Germans a few hours before the Russians entered Sokal.

In the year 1941 the Nazis entered our town and began to burn the houses and kill their Jewish occupants.

My husband, Nathan son of Joseph Yalka ז”ל was shot to death by the Nazis. I was left with three small children no husband and no roof over my head; with a broken heart I began to wander. I passed through forests and fields, and on the way I encountered a cadre of Bandera's soldiers. They asked me: ‘who are you and where are you going?’ I answered that I was Ukrainian, and finally am returning to my home after the Russians had thrown us out, and now God has helped us, and the Germans came, and we can return home. The gave me a peace blessing and permitted me to go on. After a walk of 7 km in forests and fields, I reached Sokal. In the year 1942 a ghetto was created in Sokal, and they began to take Jews to do labor. Two weeks later, the first ‘aktion’ took place unexpectedly, in which I lost my daughter Sarah aged 11. The transport went to the ovens at Belzec. I and my two children hid ourselves in the attic of David Mintzes and towards evening Mrs. Boshwitz came up with a crying infant girl who was taken out of hiding for no cause. The baby cried continuously because of hunger and thirst, and the mother was unable to help. It was then that the Gestapo heard the infant's cry and came up to the attic and called out: come, come, and he continued, asking if there were other Jews there. ‘I do not know’ – my mother replied, and pleaded before him: ‘let me live’ – and extended to him a gold ring, a diamond and a gold watch. He replied: this changes nothing. Because if not today, then tomorrow in any event, all of the Jews must be exterminated. And he stepped on me but did not sense that there was a human body beneath him. After a search, they found an additional twenty Jews that went like sheep to the slaughter. In the morning them began again to take men to do labor. They took me to work near the Gestapo . I was outside the ghetto and I could bring a bit of food to the children. There were people that died of hunger.

Dr. Kindler and his wife cooked food and distributed it to people, and comforted me every time he came to me – let you have some as well. After a period of time – we will be ‘Judenfrei,’in the course

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of three full days. I, along with my two children and sister fled, and hid ourselves in a broken attic. The ‘Judenfrei’ process took three full days; my children were already blue, and I saw that their lives had stopped. This time I began to cry and pray: ‘Lord God, do a miracle and let some rain fall on us’ – and look, it was a miracle, rain began to fall. We opened our mouths and our souls were refreshed. The ‘Judenfrei’ concluded that Saturday evening. On Sunday, the Nazis conducted a huge celebration at which they got drunk. Among this pandemonium. We came down and fled to the forests, and there I lost my second child Zvi, and with this I conclude my part of the tragedy of the ghetto at Sokal.

Beginning on Sunday April 22, 1941^[1] we heard the first cannon fire falling close to Sokal, we began to get out of our beds, and were frightened. We understood that our fate was sealed.

Among a large number of scared people, we dressed immediately, myself, my mother ז”ל, my small brother and mt sister (today living in Israel) and we left the house. In the street there was an intense pandemonium…Frightened Jews were running about, also in the process of leaving their houses.

Largely, it did not take much time, and the mass of people began to run, returning to their homes… I and my family also disappeared from the street.

Suddenly the cannon fire ceased…[instead] we heard the sound of rifle shots, and immediately afterwards a scream – the whimper of a woman, which cut the silence from the web of fright.

As I found out later, an unrest arose in the street because of the appearance of German soldiers who had already captured the city, and the murder of a Jewish boy by rifle fire, they initiated their criminal deeds of killing, against the helpless Jewish populace.

Leadership of the town was put in the hands of the Ukrainians, and as head of the city, the Germans selected the lawyer Tumaszk, who covered the city with far with the help of Ukrainian militiamen, wearing blue hats with yellow stripes. Their central role was to seize Jews and turn them over to the Gestapo. The Ukrainian masses began, notwithstanding the disruption, to plunder stores and storage facilities belonging to Jews.

Still on the first day, they seized the son of R' Abraham'eleh. His little son ran after him crying and heartbroken. The Ukrainian miscreants took the child with them as well.

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About 100 Jews were so seized during the day. Among them my friends: Meir Meiseles, Sholom Podhoretz, and Israel son of Miriam.

On the following day, Monday, the militiamen burst into the homes of the Jews and drove all of them out of their houses, commanding then to gather at the ‘Targowica.’ There the Jews were compelled to arrange themselves in rows to wait for the arrival of the German executioners, bringing along cameras and cameramen. A frightening fear reigned when the selektion began. The Ukrainians would indicate who should get out of the line and stand at the side… the Ukrainian shoemaker Andruszka took the Jewish shoemaker Shimon Khutt out of the line, and took him to the Gestapo men, and the German murderers understood him in a matter of minutes, and rained down a storm of cruel blows all over the body of the Jewish shoemaker. The Ukrainians dragged him since he had halfway passed out and was bleeding, to the place where the Jews stood that had already been picked during the selektion. This tragic fate overtook about 400 Jews. After the selektion, those that remained of the Jews returned to their homes. Later on we discovered the Germans exterminated the entire cohort of 400 Jews by some hair-raising means, on the road on the way to Tartakov, and there they were all shot to death.

On Tuesday a new decree… to present one's self for work in the city. I was assigned to the section of telephones in the post office, where Sholom Podhor and Yoss'leh the son of the Melamed already worked as letter carriers. There were also Poles who worked in the post office, with whom I had good relationships. I was especially fast friends with the Polish worker from the technical section, named Radacki. Thanks to this work, I received the demanded work cards, and from three to four loaves of bread a day, with which I literally kept my entire family alive.

My central concern was in the street beside the telephone wires. It was in this way that I had the possibility to see, with my own eyes, the awful cruel deeds done by the Ukrainians, when they were cutting off the beards of Jews, or assaulted and murderously hit our precious brothers and sisters.

My work at the paper continued until the day he ghetto opened. Within a matter of hours, all of the Jewish residents of the significant streets in Sokal, were forced to move into the narrow area that had been designated as a ghetto. It is hard to describe in words what the pandemonium and suffering of the Jews was like, who used primitive wagons to move the small amount of effects from their houses…the long line of wagons made a dismaying impression… an even more dismaying impression was made by women carrying their infants in their arms…

Now my work at the paper ended. According to the words of my new friend Radacki, the Germans were planning to take over management of the paper, and because of this he advised me to seek work elsewhere. I had good luck this time as well. Because I had worked in a printing house as a bookbinder before the war, I was retained by a printing outfit whose head was Bulak, whom I knew from my time that I worked in the central telephone office.

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Many helped me get settled in the printing house, my comrades Zisha Horowitz, the son-in-law of Wiener Kreuzer who was working there already with a number of Jews like Herschel Goldberg, Fink Bauman, Herman Mayer, the grandson of Leib Glazer, and others. In this same print shop, the Ukrainian paper, ‘Wielka Ukraina’ was printed, which was in need of carving that I etched in wood. Apart from this, I also engaged in bookbinding for books that were printed there. I was more than content with this work because I was not sent to do different work each day.

It did not take long before ranks of Ukrainians were sent to us for work, and we were shouldered with the responsibility of training the. We immediately understood what this meant. The printing house was located in the marketplace square, in a building across from the courthouse. From the windows, we could see what was going on in the ghetto. We heard the voices and the whining of the tortured Jews.

It is hard to describe our life in the ghetto. There were 10-15 people in one room… it was not possible to overcome the great hunger, because in exchange for money, the foodstuffs in the nearby villages went off.

More dangerous than that was the Typhus, a plague that resided in almost every room. The doctors did not stint on effort, and with ful dedication they tried to help and make the illness more bearable when they would appear before the sick, after being called for assistance. It is a heartache that there were not many they could help, because they lacked even the simplest medicines. I myself fell ill with spotted Typhus… the doctors Falik, Messinger and Babad attended to me on a daily basis.

After a few month went by, the German murderers, with the help of the Ukrainian militia organized an ‘aktion’ on the largest scale in the ghetto. Once again, the innocent Jews of Sokal were taken to the death camps. Bunkers began being built in the ghetto… deep into the earth… I also began to build such a bunker for my family. I worked hard at the printing business during the day and suffered hunger…and at night, I dug with what was left of my energies…

The most difficult concern that accompanied this work was how to smooth out the dug up ground, without leaving any trace, such that even one of our own will not sense that a bunker is being built here…yes/// there was compelling reason to do this because we too had informers, it is an ache to have to say there were those kind as well.

In the ghetto, rumors spread that the Germans were planning a large ‘aktion’ for a total deportation of all the Jews of Sokal. A tumult redolent with panic reigned among the Jews in the ghetto. The fear of the possibility of discovery of the bunker we were continuing to build, added to the worry and anxiety we had. When Dr. Falik told me that the siege is being implemented, I immediately descended into my bunker, while my dear brother was found by the Germans in the house. He was not amenable to being seized…he leaped out o f the window… having his bones broken, he remained in custody, without a breath of life in him, on the pavement of the street.

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Approximately 1,800 Jews were seized and exiled during this ‘aktion’ in the Sokal ghetto. On the following day, at the print shop, the parents of Shushka Horowitz and Herschel Goldberger were missing… the heart ached… but work still went on… we continued to go hungry… and in order to secure for ourselves against being exiled, we dug the bunkers even deeper.

Many Jews from nearby community were brought to the Sokal ghetto after this murderous ‘aktion,’ such as from: Radzhikhov, Stoyanov, Witkow Novy. The crowding within the ghetto became unbearable. The torture of hunger became even more intensely frightening. Again, rumors spread that an additional deportation ‘aktion’ was planned for ghetto-Sokal, I hastened the descent of my family int the bunker. Parting became increasingly difficult… I went up to the top of the bunker and disguised its entrance further with the use of the soil.

I hid myself in a small room in the attic of a house that was across from the court house. A few Jews hid there along with me, who worked at the print shop.

We were up for the whole night… with the beginning we sensed that the entire ghetto was surrounded by Ukrainian militiamen. The cruel work began in the first hours of the morning…from every room… they took people out of ever crevice, pitilessly, old and young… from the attic we saw the murderers leading our panicked brothers and sisters to the market square and from there taking them to the train station.

According to what was told to us afterwards. The train loaded with Jews from Sokal, left for Belzec.

In the evening, after a deep darkness had fallen, all of us left the room in the attic…everyone ran to their house… my first steps were directed to the bunkers where I had hidden my relatives. With a frightened beat, and a heat pounding, I hurried to move aside the earth that hid the entrance to the bunker. And I saw them all… moved to the very depths of my heart, I took out of the bunker my dear mother, my sister, my aunt Pearl, and my cousin Israel Minks with two of his children… it was restoring to the heart to once again be seen with all the members of my family.

And once again, life in Sokal resumed its normal pace withing the constraints of the ghetto. The central concern at this point was: how to still the hunger.

On Tuesday, after the murderous ‘aktion’ I once again returned to work at the print factory. A Ukrainian militiaman already stood beside the ghetto gate, and on all occasions accompanied me to the print factory. At night, after I completed my work, the same militiaman would escort me to my dwelling that was in the ghetto. The manager of the print factory, Bilkiew would frequently task me with various organizations in the city… I took advantage of these opportunities, and along the way I would buy foodstuffs along the way in stores, and smuggle them in the ghetto when I returned at night from my work, and distribute them among the members of my family.

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During the second ‘aktion’ of exile from the ghetto at Sokal, the wife of my brother, a mother and her little son were taken. In the midst of the travel to the death-camp, my sister-in-law jumped from the train… she saved herself. In running, and using her entire strength, she reached Patriczica. My brother was there already, and other Jews, that were being hidden by the property owner, and were busied with shepherding the flocks of the estate.

In the end, the extent of the tragedy did not bypass this small cluster of Jews. The local Ukrainians seized them and turned them over to the Gestapo They were held for a few days and then shot to death.

My brother left his work and returned to Sokal, in which there already Jews exiled out of Stoyanov, Horodow, and other nearby villages.

My family now grew, my sister Yett'i and her child daughter came to us in the ghetto, and lived with us. Her husband and son were murdered on Yom Kippur at the time the Germans seized 300 Jews, and took them out to be killed by gunfire outside the city.

Hunger grew more intense and oppressive from day-to-day, Typhus spread throughout the ghetto more and more. Jews died like flies. The dead were brought to the cemetery in a large container… and on the way back, grain was brought that had been bought with the barter of jewelry and valuables, the exchange of coverings, clothing, and other things.

We would grind the grain ourselves during consecutive nights. We had no flour mill and had to use two tin points. From this dough, that was mixed with fragments of time, we baked pancakes.

And it was in this way that our lives were run in a condition of perpetual want, terror and hunger. In the print factory, with tearing eyes, we would look at the Ukrainians who worked with us, eating until they were full… real bread, from clean flour. It was not only once that we begged before them to give is a slice of bread… infrequently… at very infrequent occasions, there could be found amongst them , and not only one, whose sense of compassion was aroused, and they would give us a slice of bread.

During the entire winter, we suffered and were pained severely by the cold and hunger. After Passover, rumors began to spread in the ghetto, that the Gestapo was liquidating the ghettoes in the surrounding villages. It was said with certainty that after the liquidation of the ghetto at Busk, that would start the deportation aktionen in the Sokal ghetto.

And once again thee was pandemonium… a panic in the narrow ghetto of Sokal. Trembling and with fright, that there is no one of shield us from our bitter end… we would count the days… the ours. My brother Elimilech told someone very secretly, that he wanted to get a hold of a revolver, so he could exact a dear price for his life. Not much time passed before this became known to the ranks of the Gestapo. At night, two militiamen took him out of the house, and led him off to the Gestapo.

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The preparations of the Germans for their murderous initiative, leaving a trail of blood did not take a long time. One dawn, the Ukrainian militiamen surrounded the ghetto. We already knew what this meant. Each person went into their respective hiding place… a flight to the bunkers, that had previously been prepared, began. The first of my bunkers in which I hid myself and my family once, was dug deeply into the ground during this final aktion. This time we also hid there, and camouflaged the entrance.

We organized a minimal amount– water… and in the bunker we created a toilet facility and even an air pipe thanks to someone from Husiatyn, a thing that we would be able to detect what was going on in the street.

This aktion lasted for three days. We lay in the bunker for week, cut off from the world. Almost my entire family was hidden there. Myself, my mother, my sister Yett'i with Israel, my sister Rita with her little daughter… my aunt, and cousin Minkes with his two children. Every day brought a diminution in our food.. With every passing hour, the intensity of our fear and despondency grew.

When we felt that my mother's legs were swollen from hunger, we immediately began to think of abandoning the bunker… for an escape. Except that we did not know … where to escape to?… and who still had the strength and temerity to do this?…

I, my two sisters, and the little girl decided to get on our way. My mother was not capable of moving from her place… Israel Mikes, my cousin of delicate soul could not join us… nevertheless, he advised that we flee. With our eyes running triple tears, and with a heavy heart, we parted from my mother who remained in the bunker, and my cousin Israel Minkes. We left the bunker quickly, covering the entrance with earth, we took off our shoes in order that our steps not be heard and proceeded barefoot into the street.

A terrifying silence and darkness enveloped us…We had proceeded only a few steps and we had already reached the barbed wire that surrounded the ghetto. With the aid of pliers, we cut through the wire fence. We exited the ghetto and ran in the direction of the smoke house. We were surrounded by darkness as we left the houses of Sokal behind us… as we crossed the fields, we reached the settlement at Potozhica… the night paled… we hid inside a haystack, whose sheaves had already gotten large in that season.

During that entire day (this was Sunday) we lay inside the haystack, and it was only in the evening that we emerged from it and continued with our travel.

Our goal was to exert ourselves and reach a village whose residents were Polish farmers. We knew that not far from the large forest we saw, there was such a village.

Late at night – this was after midnight, we reached to village of Komarowa. We did not dally here for a moment. We ran ahead with the last of our strength… in the distance, the first of the trees of the forest appeared… but, suddenly, from somewhere, a Ukrainian youth appeared… and when he sensed

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our presence, he immediately disappeared, and immediately many Ukrainians appeared… they surrounded us and began to interrogate us… from where were we, and where were we headed. We did not conceal the truth from them, and we told them we had fled a German camp, and we do not know where to flee.

The Ukrainians did not hide their zeal from us, conducting a search of our clothing, and in the end, the elder among them ordered them to let us go, and let us continue on our way. He even wished us well and success in our coming travel. We quickly put a distance between ourselves and this Ukrainian settlement. This way brought us to the forest where we reached another Ukrainian village, Yastszimowiec, in which a Ukrainian of my acquaintance for some time lived.

It was daylight by the time we reached the Ukrainian that I knew, who received us graciously. To my request to lodge in his house and hide in it until nightfall, he immediately placed his stable at our disposal, and additionally promised to bring us something to eat. And indeed, not much time went by and he brought us a whole loaf of bread, and water. My sister and her daughter went over to another Ukrainian whom we knew, and as a result, I remained with my second sister Adela.

The news of our hiding in the stable took wings in the village. A group of Ukrainian farmers burst into the stable and immediately after driving us into an open field, almost all the residents of the village surrounded us… however, to our luck, we found ourselves in the midst of a host of the Ukrainian youth a number of whom rescued us, and advised us to get out of the village.

Having no choice, especially since rumors spread that there were German soldiers were seen in the village, we were again forced to go out on the road as wanderers, without knowing where to go.

The thoughts running through my mind regarding the tragic fate that overtook us, gave me the idea of asking for the help from one of the youth of the village who had helped to save us a short time ago.

But how will we find him now? How can we search for his house in night time darkness such as this?

We crawled on all fours over fields and rocks until we reached the home of one of the Ukrainian youths… when he saw us he recognized us, because he asked no questions, rather he led us to the granary that stood beside his house, put up a ladder to the room that was in the attic and ordered us to climb up.

For the entire day, we lay under a ta roof that grew hot under the rays of the sun. Only at night did the master of the house come up to us and told us they were searching for us in the village, and the Ukrainian residents had even prepared a grave for us… because of this, he warned us, returned and warned us [again] that we have to get out of here, especially because his brothers and entire family are living in his house.

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We spent that night in the granary, but in the morning, we descended from the attic. At that moment, the brother of the homeowner saw us. At that moment, we had no doubt that we were lost. However, the Ukrainian that lodged us calmed us down, and advised us not to move at all from the village… he led us to the stable, and went up with us to the attic… there he spread out for us a mattress of straw, and promised us that we would not lack for food. In that attic, we lived under decent conditions, in a manner with good relations, because our Ukrainian rescuer sent us food when, and from time-to-time we would receive encouraging news from the German-Russian front.

Our situation changed when a Bandera cadre appeared in the village, who were bloodthirsty enemies of the Polish populace, and those Ukrainians that gave help to the Soviets. These Bandera troops supported the German murderers, and pursued and tortured the Jews with utmost cruelty that they had in their being.

A terrifying accident occurred to my sister Yett'i and her 13 year-old daughter, who had hidden themselves in the attic of the house of an invalid. As it happens the residents of a neighboring house detected my sister, and informed on her to the leader of the Bandera cadre. In one of the visits after this, hen the invalid went up to the attic with food for my sister, he found her and her daughter lifeless… they were lying in puddles of blood… and the invalid, being of a gentle soul, took the bodies down, and buried them in the nearby forest.

Now, the master of the house warned us as well, that we are to be very careful about being silent in the attic, and with great sorrow, they let us know they could no longer provide us with food, because the Bandera cadre were still in residence in the stable. This was before Yom Kippur. The hunger began to torture us, but to our good fortune, the Bandera cadre left the village, and we could breathe a little easier.

However, new troubles then began. The local Ukrainian farmers, upon gathering, decided to be done with the ‘zhids’ that were hidden in various places. The farmers began to conduct searches in the attics of stables and granaries… yet once again, luck worked in our favor. No suspicion was raised against the master of our house, and no search was conducted of his premises. Again we were saved.

This is the way we managed, and lived in the little room in the attic, until th winter came, a very difficult winter, accompanied by much snow and wind. The cold and frost was so intense, that our water inside the bottle that we had received, froze into ice.

The winter passed laden with trouble and suffering. The spring aroused new hope in us. With the victories of the Soviet Army our faith strengthened that our suffering was drawing near.

We awaited news from the front impatiently. The thunder of bombs, for the first time, reached our ears More and more we heard the noise of Soviet planes that pursued the German Army from the air… through the opening in the middle of the roof of the attic we could see what was going on outside.

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In the village itself, a terrifying silence reigned… no living thing could be seen. The residents of the city hid themselves. The first of the Soviet soldiers appeared in the village… our happiness was indescribable… I exchanged kisses with my sister… it was the end to our travails… we are freed.

The first one to bring us this uplifting news was our Ukrainian house masters. They cautioned us not to descend from the attic, because the local Ukrainians were inclined to cause us trouble. Accordingly, we stayed in our hiding place for two days. Afterwards, with warmth in our hearts, we parted from our Ukrainian savior, and we exited through a back door from the granary, and went on our way. But to where?… We had no idea.

Our first steps were difficult… however, the recognition that we had been privileged to see the downfall of the Nazis, and that we were now free, injected us with fresh energy… we practically ran until we reached Podzhimisz that already was in Soviet hands. The Russian soldiers were responsive to our requests, and permitted us to attach ourselves to the military units that were continuing to advance. In this manner we reached Witkow-Novy, where we encountered other Jews.

We spent the night in Witkow, and on the morrow, we continued to travel up to Radzhikow where we stayed for a few days… after having regenerated some energy, we continued our journey until we reached Sokal.

It is difficult to describe what we saw there. A terrifying destruction…eradication… our home of the past was erased… all that remained of our Jewish Sokal were naked walls…

1. The author expresses doubts about his memory, and whether or not he is providing an accurate representation of the facts. He begs forgiveness if he has been inaccurate or had omitted names and facts associated with the ‘Nazi Gehenna.’ – JSB Return

… A full 25 years that have gone by – since we, Jews from Sokal and the nearby vicinity lived in the ghetto, crowded, without a single ray of hope to extract one's self from the Nazi Gehenna. Hunger, want, and fear of death were the bread of our daily lives.

We were abandoned, worthless entities… our dignity had become worthless… our blood and life [as well]. Every thug, whether from the Nazi murderers or their helpers, the Ukrainians ימאש ruled over our fate.

It suffices to convey two episodes, to get some idea in connection with the plight of the Jews in the ghetto.

Here…During a dark night, a Gestapo-murderer suddenly forced his way into a house and shouted: ‘Heute habe ich

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noch kein Juden-blut gegiesehen’^[1] and immediately took out a revolver and killed and wounded several Jews. On the morning of the next day, this murderer appeared again in the same house this time shouting: ‘Heute bin ich gekommen zu geben eine genade-kugel dem, wer fun die varwunderte noch lebt!’^[2] – and as he said – he carried this out immediately.

Telka Laszkiewicz

This is how we lived through two aktionen, during which time the German murderers killed thousands of our nearest and dearest…

The final liquidation of the Sokal ghetto was not held back for a long time. One day, news spread that the German executioners were preparing for another murder-action. An indescribable panic arose in the Sokal ghetto. In a frightening panic, Jews ran about looking for a hiding place, a bunker, a place where they could hide themselves from a certain death.

My two children and I (my God-spirited husband Meir Linsker was killed by the murderers even before the first action) – and my entire well-branched family were held up in the ghetto in our grandfather's house, Moshe Baum ז”ל, where we had built ourselves a bunker in the cellar, where we would hide ourselves during a time of danger.

This time, so many Jews came running to this cellar that it was simply impossible to breathe. Therefore, seeing a certain death before our eyes, we firmly decided to flee the ghetto with my two daughters. Perhaps God will take pity on us and in this way, we will save ourselves.

Even before the outbreak of the war, a Christian girl, Telka Laszkiewicz, worked for me as a sitter for my baby daughter. She had become so close to me and my children that she was held and loved as if she were a sister. While we were still in the ghetto, Telka would secretly come to the barbed wire and stealthily bring us some foodstuffs, thereby risking her own life.

And when the conditions in the ghetto became worse, she said the following to me: ‘If, God forbid, something happens to you, I will take my life along with you.’

And so, amid the great panic in the Sokal ghetto, we agreed that I hide with my two children in her house. She lived in a small house on Babiniec, near the large

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Catholic Church, together with her little son (the Nazis had previously shot her husband thinking he was a communist).

First, I sent off my older daughter to her, who had managed to sneak through the wire [fence] that surrounded the ghetto running with the shoreline of the Bug, and she reached Telka's house. After her, about an hour later, My younger daughter and I followed the same path until we reached the house of our protector.

Telka hid us in a tiny room, blocking it with a chest with drawers. Only at night did we come out of our hiding to get a bit of fresh air.

It is hard to convey in words just what this gentle lady did for us. After all, she and her child lived under the threat of death for hiding a Jew. It was not only once that she witnessed death along with us, with our own eyes. And just as Telka was, her son too, was a gentle soul; he empathized with us and always stood watch, and with his youthful sense was able to detect danger and immediately let his mother know.

Death stalked us not only from the Nazis and their accomplices, the Ukrainians, may their name be erased – but also from Telka's close relatives and neighbors, who suspected her of hiding Jews with her.

As an example, her sister-in-law came to see her, and in the course of conversation she said to her: ‘You know, Telka, if I knew that your Żhidovka is hiding with you, I would be the first to expose her.’ On a second occasion, one of Telka's neighbors told her how it was that she had a dream, that when she fortuitously dropped in on here, Telka's former Jewish mistress was sitting on the couch with her children… and Telka – the neighbor further told details from her dream – seeing this, she ran over to the couch and blocked the Jewish woman and her children.

Looking at the constant dangers that threatened our protector and her child, one night, I took my children and decided to leave, going in whatever direction our eyes took us. But as we were getting ready to part, I said to our dear Telka that we had no right to put her life and the life of her child in danger – she forcibly detained us, and with tears in her eyes, she spoke these words: ‘if our beloved God willed it that we should survive together up till now, with so many frightening moments – let us share our fate … and what will be will be with you – will also be with my child and myself…’

And it was in this manner that she hid us for over two years, until the Liberation came. She suffered hunger along with her child, shared every bite with us, literally stole, to sustain life.

Today, our dear protector Mrs. Telka Laszkowicz lives as one of the Righteous Gentiles of the World, with her son in Poland… we are in constant contact with her and we ask of God, Blessed be He, that he should reward her for everything that she had done for us, because no person in the world can pay her for what she did.

1. ‘I have not yet seen any Jewish blood today.’ Return
2. ‘I am here today to give a good bullet to those among the wounded who are still alive!’ Return
3. ‘When I don't see – you can do it all, but now your soul belongs to me…’ Return

Dr. Shmuel Babad

Dr. Shmuel Babad (third from the right) and his relatives

There was even a Jewish hospital operating inside the Sokal ghetto and an ambulance service. Still, the small number of beds and the shortage of medicines made the job of the Jewish doctors there, who gave their fullest effort to help their sick brothers and sisters, much harder.

This small contingent of Jewish doctors in the Sokal ghetto, felt all of these difficult burdens, with the greatest commitment, and despite being in danger of being infected with one of the epidemic diseases, which ran unchecked throughout the overly crowded ghetto, none of them shied away from providing medical help to the needy, poor Jews.

It was sacred and precious for us that by some miracle, several of the Sokal Jews remained alive, [and we keep alive] the memory of the gentle Jewish doctors in the Sokal ghetto, who were cruelly tortured by the German murderers.

Dr. Babad was employed in the Jewish hospital and the Jewish ambulance service in the Sokal ghetto; he was born in Sokal and completed his medical studies at a university in Italy. Before the war, he was an active participant in the ‘Mizrahi’ movement in Sokal. He was killed in the Sokal ghetto in 1943.

Dr. Peretz from Chelm came to the hospital during the war, after the deportation-action there, and

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obtained work at the Sokal General Hospital. After the second deportation-action in Sokal, in October 1942, he went over to Warsaw, where he was killed by the Gestapo.

When it was discovered that the Zabuzhzhia field was rich in coal and other valuable minerals, Poland had to leave Zabuzhzhia, and in doing so, this parcel of land was integrated into the city of Sokal.

During the time of Austrian rule, Zabuzhzhia was separated from Sokal by a ‘szlaban’ (also called ‘rogatkeh’), which had been erected in front of the bridge over the Bug. This bridge was covered in dust every year.

Dr. Schmider died a heroic death. He was born in Zloczew, and before the outbreak of World War II, he lived in Sokal for many years. He took the position as the municipal physician, and during the war, he worked in the general hospital. During his entire residence in Sokal he was an activist Zionist worker. In May 1943, he went over to the partisans and was a casualty in one of the conflicts in the forests. His wife and children were exterminated in May 1943 during the liquidation of the Sokal ghetto.

Dr. Ira Stolzenberg presented himself as a decent personality. He came from Zloczew , and in the year 1920 took up residence in Kristianopol (Krystynopol), a shtetl near Sokal, where he was active as a doctor up to the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939. After Kristianopol was conquered by the German Army and after the liquidation of the ghetto there, The German murderers burned everyone in the synagogue. Dr. Stolzenberg and his entire family fled to Sokal, where he worked in the general hospital and the Jewish ambulance service in the ghetto there. During the first deportation-aktion in Sokal, his oldest daughter was deported to Belzec. During the trip, she jumped from the [train] wagon although wounded, and with hard will, she managed to crawl close to the village of Debreczin, where she was killed. As was later told, the surrounding peasantry did not want to give her a drop of water, even though her father had treated them for many long years.

Dr. Stolzenberg, together with his wife and younger daughter, was tortured in August 1942 by the Gestapo in Sokal, where he and his family were dragged to because of an informer, since he attempted to get out using Aryan papers.

Since early youth, Dr. Stolzenberg was active in the Zionist movement and was committed to the Zionist ideal. His refined character stood out in the way he was a model for taking care of the sick, who would come to him for local help. His principal concern was how far he could go in helping his patients, and the matter of pay was a secondary consideration.

He was a dear Jewish man, a committed Zionist, and an outstanding man of character in his role

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as a physician.

In the Jewish hospital, in the Sokal ghetto the physician Dr. Pomeranz Pszedecky worked for a long time, coming from Łódz. He completed his medical training in Lemberg, and in 1940 went over to Gorokhov, where he worked as a doctor. During the liquidation of the ghetto in Gorokhov in August 1943, Dr. Pomeranz fled to Sokal. On the way, however, he was recognized by Ukrainians and he was turned over to the Gestapo in Sokal, where he sat together with me, who was previously condemned to death, and afterwards deported to Belzec. He was able to get away from the train that was going to Belzec and came back to Sokal, where he secretly worked together with this writer, in the Jewish hospital. During the liquidation of the Sokal ghetto, Dr. Pomeranz again fled, this time to Wolhyn, where he is believed to have fallen as a fighter in the ranks of the anti-Nazi partisans.

Dr. Falk was employed in the Jewish ambulance service in the Sokal ghetto. He came from Kamionka Strumilowa and completed his medical studies in Vienna. Even before the First World War, he took up residence in Sokal, where he was active in all aspects of medical practice. As someone committed to Mizrahi, he was active in the local Mizrahi movement. He also practiced in the Sokal ghetto as a general physician until he was killed with his wife and two sons during the liquidation of that ghetto in the year 1943.

Dr. Messinger came to Sokal from Zhiviec in Western Galicia, in 1939, and was active there as a physician until May 1943, when he, his wife, and two daughters were killed during the liquidation of the Sokal ghetto.

To the end, the writer of these lines, who had been involved with medical practice in the General Hospital of Sokal since 1919, directed the Jewish ambulance service and afterwards, was involved with the epidemiological hospital in the Sokal ghetto. In addition, he unofficially worked at the general hospital in Sokal. A day before the final extermination of the Sokal ghetto, on May 25, 1943, he fled with his wife and children from the ghetto and hid himself with the Christian (lady) Kristin Halamayova, and thanks to this gentle Christian woman, one of the rare righteous gentiles of the world, I remained alive with my wife and two children. Immediately after the liberation by the Soviet Army, I took over the direction of the General Hospital in Sokal and worked there until 1945. At that time, we made aliyah to the Land of Israel, where I began to work as a physician in the hospital in Ramat-Gan.

Our dear Jewish settlement in Sokal was erased, eradicated. There are no more Jewish doctors there.

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