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[Page 116]

Nazi Criminals Receive Life Sentences

Stuttgart, 15 (Palestine Telegraphic Agency)

Two of the principal defendants in the trial of the murderers of the Jews of Tarnopol, Herman Miller, aged 57, and Paul Robel, aged 60, were sentenced on Friday in Stuttgart to life imprisonment with hard labor.

Among the ten defendants, five others were sentenced to prison sentences ranging from two–and–a–half years to ten years, whereas three others were acquitted due to lack of proof.


[Page 117]

Witnesses from Israel
at the Trial of the Nazi Laks

Sergeant Major G. Landsberg, who brought about the capture of the Nazi criminal P. Laks, left yesterday at the head of a group of ten witnesses from Israel in order to appear at the trial of the lieutenant commander of the SD in the Tarnopol vicinity in Galicia during the war.

Laks's sentence began to grow clear in the city of Graetz, Austria, at the beginning of the week. The Israeli witnesses will appear during the trial. Laks, who is considered responsible for the deaths of 80,000 Jews, is accused of the murder of thirteen Jews with his own hands. He was responsible for the local Gestapo's Jewish division and served as Eichmann's representative.

Sergeant Major Landsberg, who was sent by the Israeli police force's Division to Investigate Nazi Crimes to trace the steps of the criminal, found him in 1960 working in a Catholic church in Graetz, and brought about his imprisonment.

Laks's commanding officer, the head of the Gestapo in Tarnopol, Herman Miller, and 22 of his aides will be brought to trial in September of this year in Stuttgart, Germany.


[Page 118]

My Little Town

by Moshe Speiser (New York)

Zbarazh, my little town,
Zbarazh, my little home,
Where my cradle stood,
Where I went to cheder.

From this small, out–of–the–way town,
My relatives went,
Driven away by murderers.
Only graves remain.

The little town is no more.
The pain is great.
Crushed by Nazis,
Choked in gas chambers,

Chased and pursued,
Those who remained alive,
All of their hope is in ruins,
Everything was covered by the earth.


[Page 119]

Berta–Batka Rosenstraukh–Goldwasser
(of blessed memory)

Berta, born in 1932, lived in Paris and was married to Aaron Goldwasser, a Jewish sculptor. They had an infant. The husband and infant perished. She jumped from a train car, was cared for by nuns, and volunteered for the Resistance. She received many outstanding citations for her dedicated service in the French underground.

After the war, in 1949 she moved to Argentina and established a new family. The couple had an only daughter, who is at present married to an Israeli, a professor in the University of Krakas [sic].


[Page 120]

The Holocaust

by Moshe Sommerstein (Tel Aviv, 5743–1983)

1
Krystallnacht, 1938,
And the bitter year of 1940,
All mankind trembled.
The Holocaust began.

2
Days of threats and worries
Days of rape and persecution,
Days of uproar and trembling.
The Holocaust began.

3
The days of the Second World War
Into which all Europe was dragged,
Country after country conquered.
The Holocaust began.

4
Every city, town and village
Went up in fire and in ash,
Refugees on dirt roads.
The Holocaust began.

5
Fleeing on the way, which was no way,
Men, women and children,
From every place and city.
The Holocaust began.

6
Crowded roads and trains,
Crowded cars and wagons,
All of them going east.
The Holocaust began.

7
And the faces of everyone anxious,
And all of them seized by trembling.
Has the end of the world arrived?
The Holocaust began.

8
And the refugees feeling
That their days had ended,
That their tongues were stilled,
That the Holocaust began.

9
Thousands upon thousands of our people were split open,
Rivers of blood of our fathers poured forth,
Bodies and corpses were burned
In the fiery ovens, they were silenced.

10
The Nazis' rampage ended,
The work of bitter horror,
The wretched in the camps of the savages roared.
The Holocaust continued.

11
Judaism was destroyed,
Life was stilled
In water and in fire,
In choking and in auto de fas,
In gas ovens,
In bunkers and in fields,
In forests and in ghettos,
Everything rose in smoke and in uproar,
And no memory remained of the vile deeds,
Because the Holocaust ended.

12
And with the passing of days, today and tomorrow,
And in all of the days, in the present and future,
The nation will remember the unjust hatred,
The nation will remember the valley of weeping,
It will not forget any of the distress.
The pain and the suffering will remain forever.

Therefore, remember, remember, that which Amalek did to you, forever!


[Page 123]

Translations from the German by Osnat Ramaty

zba123.jpg

 

Protocol

The Roman Catholic nun Maria of the female “Polizianer” appeared and declared:

In front of the Roman Catholic nursery, on the 14th of November 1942, a female child, about one year old, was found around 8 pm. She was wrapped in a bag.

I tend to believe that it is a Jewish child. I would like you to clarify what should happen with this child.

Zbaraz, 16th of November, 1942

Read and authorized (by)
(Signature)

 
General government
District Office (of) Tarnopol
The country commissioner of Zbaraz

To the commander of the security police
Branch office (of) Tarnopol

I surrender the above protocol with the request to decide what should happen with this child. The opinion of the Roman Catholic nun Maria that the child is a Jewess seems to me to be correct. I was told that a Jewess whose name can't be identified, offered a child to a few different farmers. She wanted to pay 20,000 zloty for the them to take the child into their homes, but the farmers refused. I'm trying to determine in which village this process took place.

The country commissioner

[Page 124]

zba124.jpg

 

Gendarmery Guard Zbaraz
District of Tarnopol
District of Galicia

Zbaraz, 19th of August, 1942

Certificate

Evidence of the Jews and Jewesses currently working at the Gendarmery Guard (of) Zbaraz

No. Surname First name Birth date Birth place Residence in Zbaraz
1 STEIFEL Johann 13.5.1924 Krosno Szawaczanka 4
2 SEGALL Osias 1.6.1906 Zbaraz Ha-Olgi --20
3 LANDESBERG Mendel 24.12.1907 Zbaraz Szawaczanka 6
4 BRANDES Koler 02.02. Zbaraz
5 WITRIOL Salomon 20.11.1903 Tarnopol Krausa 23
6 WINOGRAD Beniamin 25.12.1918 Zbaraz Kruta 57
7 GOTTREICH Oskar 25.02. Krakau Zajaczkiwski 85
8 STEINER Ferdinand 05.01. Puchow Mitlerplatz 5a
9 KOHANA Wolf 24.03.97 Zbaraz S iatorstr.41
10 PRADIS Josef 06.06.1891 Zbaraz Lubowycza 3
11 WEIGLER Osiason 24.10.1897 Tarnopol Mitlerplatz 38
12 LILEIN Leib 06.01.1902 Zbaraz Ka.Homona 6
13 GOLDBERG Rosa 08.01.1891 Zbaraz Mazopy 20
14 NUSSBAUM Berta 25.07. 23
15 DUBENER Zuzanna 09.01.1927 Triest Michnowskoho 25
16 SEGALL Dorota 12.01.1915 Krosno Szowezenka 14
17 SOHNEREIGENBAUM Sala 14.07.1924 Tarnopol Krausa 6
18 GASTFREUND Pena 19.07.1924 Dubowce
19 PECZENIK Gusta Zbaraz Micnowskoho 1
20 SCHAPU Laura 22.05.1923 Mitlernplatz 75
21 KRONENGOLD Lyda 10.02.1912 Krakau Doronzocka 7
22 WECHSLER Anna 06.05. Zbaraz Mitlerplatz 23
23 KAHANO Laura 23.07.1923 Zbaraz Hilasa-Pan 27
24 WALTUCH Gala 02.07. Zokraz Mitlerplatz 18
25 SILBER Klara 2.09 Zbaraz Lesi Ukrai Ki 37
26 BLAU Hela 28.03.1921 Lesi Ukrai Ki 37
27 GOLDROSON 06.06. Zbaraz Mitlerplatz 7
28 GUELEMANN 23.08.1912 Konovalca 6
29 LANDESBERG 23.08.1917 Zbaraz
30 NUSSBAUM 22.06.1928 Tarnopol Konozalca 58
31 SCHWAJUK Regina 28.08.1928 Zbaraz Wurka 15
32 KORNBERG Nusia 27.07.1925 Zbaraz Lubowycza 5
33 FISCH Estera 15.07.09--1904 Zbaraz Losi Ukrainki 10

Explanation: serial numbers 1 are permanently working as an errand boy (messenger) and as a waterman (pitman),
Serial numbers 2 and 3 as woodcutters.
Serial numbers 6 and 7 are temporarily working as a painter, ??,
Serial numbers 4, 5, 8 12 are working as auxiliary workers in the construction of horse stables,
Serial numbers 13 33 are [female] workers in the garden and in the field.

The Jews and Jewesses will be transferred to the employment office after they complete their temporary work here working on the railroad.

Main Protector of the Gendarmery
and Gendarmery Guard
/Krützfeld/


[Page 125]

Neftostroi

by Yosef Lilien (from Zbarazh; the Bronx, New York, 3.1.1983)

A grave of a thousand victims.
In the middle of the field stands a stone.
Breeze, carry my thoughts,
I will not forget what happened.
Fly, breeze, fly to my little town.
For you, there is no border, no wall.
There, where my dear ones are lying,
Carry my hurt, carry my sorrow.
Tell the souls about my great pain and my lament.
And for the innocent victims, recite the Rabbanan Kaddish!
Fly, bird, good brother,
And when you get to Zbarazh,
Place my sorrowful song on the grave
Like a wreath of flowers!


[Page 127]

The Battle for Redemption in the Land of Israel

Our townspeople recorded magnificent pages in aliyah, in labor, in settlement and in all aspects of the development of our land.

This began in the 1920s, when a large group made aliyah. Most of them settled in the kibbutzim of Tel Yosef and Ein Harod.

After that came a second group in the years 1926 and 1936. And afterwards came the group of pioneers from Gordonia. They too settled in the kibbutzim and kevutzot (communes): Nir Am, Mizra, Mishmarot, Kiryat Anavim and other places.

Most of them joined the defensive forces.

This column will note a few of the people of Zbarazh who are no longer alive but who gave their strength, energy and even their blood for the sake of redeeming the nation and the land.


[Page 129]

Letter to a Friend

From a letter of Israel Harodi–father of Chaim–to Yehudah Raznitshensko,
who dedicated his composition, The Third aliyah, to Chaim's memory

…In those days, shortly before Chaim was born, conditions in Tel Yosef were not particularly congenial for women in childbirth, and even less so in the hospital in lower Ein Harod.

I took Chanah to the hospital a number of times, but after a day or two she returned shamefaced, because the female medic had said, “You were a little early, you were too hasty!”

As I recall, the last time I went to the stable to harness a pair of animals to take Chanah to the hospital, I didn't find a harness. That was on the Sabbath. The wagon drivers had apparently hidden the harnesses to keep anyone taking out their animals, because animals too need to rest on the Sabbath. Only one harness was in its place–that of the horses Saadia and Lotus. I harnessed them and held the reins to take them out of the stable, but they didn't move. I pulled and pulled, but all of my efforts were in vain. I was about to give up when an acquaintance came to the barn and pointed out that their legs were hobbled by being locked to a pole–something that I hadn't noticed. I ran here and there until I got the key. The next day, the secretariat was informed that there was no suitable place in the hospital for women in childbirth, and that if we wanted Chanah to give birth there, we ourselves must supply a proper shed. At that time, Sh. K. lived in a small, light shed. At my request, he moved elsewhere. I took apart his shed and loaded it onto the wagon. With the help of one of the wagon drivers, I got hold of various work tools. I flattened a patch of ground near the patients' ramshackle building and I began to set up the walls. When I was almost finished, the female medic came to me and told me that my wife had given birth to a boy and that I must run to Tel Yosef and bring a Primus stove to heat the water, because they did not have a working Primus.

I had son….

At first, I ran for some distance as I reviewed the medic's words: “Your wife gave birth to a son. You need to bring a Primus stove.”

For some reason, I ran across the fields and not on the road fully along the length of the Gilboa. Little by little, I forgot why I was moving. I only knew that I needed to run. As I ran, I began to compose songs out of deep happiness and joy. These songs–where did they come from? I don't think that I had ever heard them. They were created as I ran. I came to the swampy area, quite far from Tel Yosef. I sank into the mud, but to the beat of the song I skipped and leaped from one dry spot to another. The day set. Dusky shadows. The last rays of the sun reflected off the swamp puddles. The silence that grew and took over enveloped me. Everything was blended into great happiness. The Gilboa was the sole witness of my joy, and so I was not embarrassed, but I leaped and sang. Without noticing it, I approached the kibbutz.

The lights in the long stables reminded me about the Primus stove. The wagon drivers in the stable laughed to hear my request … a Primus stove! They also laughed at my mud–covered face and soaked and filthy clothes and shoes.

“Look at the celebrant….”

And they brought me the Primus.

**

23 years passed (more precisely, minus seven days).

That Sabbath, I was with my brother in Ein Shemer. From the noonday radio news, I learned about searches in Tel Yosef and about the murder of Hodi … and that there were roadblocks.

Right after that I tried twice to get away from my brother and brother–in–law so that I could walk home by way of the mountains. But they clung to me and brought me back to the kibbutz. Toward evening, however, I accompanied the local mukhtar to the beginning of Wadi Ara. The mukhtar asked the officer on guard to take me in the car that would be traveling in the direction of Tel Yosef. During the hours that I waited for the car and then as I traveled, dark thoughts assailed me. “Chaim, Chaim!” Thoughts about him drilled through my mind without cease. “But why must it be Chaim? There are hundreds of Jews in Tel Yosef. I had wanted to telephone him to come to Ein Shemer for the Sabbath. Why didn't I do it? No! It is not Chaim.” It was growing dark when I entered the armored car. The officer, who spoke German to me, told me that he was traveling in the direction of Tel Yosef. Five armed soldiers were sitting in the car. It traveled quickly, for about twenty minutes. I felt that I was reaching my goal. I wondered if I were hurrying home only out of my worry for Chaim, or because of my worry for the kibbutz, for my friends. I had no doubt whatsoever that if Chaim had been with me in Ein Shemer, we would have traveled in this way together, despite all of the difficulties.

Suddenly, the car stopped. A convoy of cars rushed toward us. In their faint headlights I could distinguish the Jewish youths with white and tired faces who were standing in the vehicles. The convoy flew by. The officer said something to the driver, and our car joined the convoy. The car traveled quickly, and as it did it struck another military car and threw it a distance of a few meters beyond the culvert. We stopped. Everyone in our car was all right. One after another, the soldiers said, “We were lucky.” I don't know what happened to the people who were traveling in the car that turned over, nor were the soldiers traveling with me interested in their fate.

This incident delayed us for an hour. I looked toward the mountains of Ephraim shadowed in the dark. I was apathetic about the incident that had occurred, but I felt that I didn't want to tell myself, “We were lucky.”

“My dear Chaim! Why were you so faithful?” I said to myself.

“But how do you know that Chaim was killed? Why would it be Chaim? “Why? He always said that he wouldn't allow himself to fall into their hands.” And again: “But there was no organized opposition; was this just some fatal accident?”

I didn't notice when the car turned east and traveled in the direction of Tel Yosef. I was surprised to see where we were. The soldiers appeared to be irritated. I wanted to ask a question, but something stopped me.

And again I rebuked myself: “You wanted things to be like this. You educated him in your spirit. Why did you only think about yourself and not about his life? But certainly nothing has happened! Chaim is alive, he is in detention together with his comrades. He certainly followed directions together with everyone else. He followed orders.

“So why are you making yourself suffer when you don't know for sure that it is he who was killed? You will do better to stop thinking. Soon you will come home, and you will see that that there is no basis to your fears.”

The car came to Afula. When we passed the brightly lit town teeming with couples strolling and happy young people in the streets, I felt better. I showed the driver which direction to drive in. Now I felt at home. The Gilboa was to my right. This mountain that crouches to the length of the valley, crowded with the weight of generations and events, looked at me at this hour, steeped in its silence.

The soldiers had apparently had fallen asleep. Even the officer sitting next to the driver had lowered his head as though he was dozing. Only I stood on my feet and forced all of my being to focus on receiving news. I turned around. Unwittingly, my hand touched the submachine gun of a soldier who had fallen asleep. “Pick it up and put an end to everyone in the car!” I heard a voice. My hand touched the gun bolt. I grew tense. “You are mad, what are you doing? … But they killed Chaim. … You are mad! How do you know that it is Chaim who fell? … But what difference does it make? And what do you have to lose?

“But it is not possible that Chaim is no longer alive.

“And why do I deserve such a thing? Why am I guilty? And what was the guilt of my Chaim?”

The car stopped next to the road going up to Tel Yosef. I jumped out and began to run. After I had gone a few meters, I realized that I had veered left off the road. I wanted to turn back to the road, but for some reason I was unable to. I went on to the culvert, and alongside it I felt myself falling.

I bent my knees and leaned on my hands on the ground. I felt that I was about to sink down onto it. I aroused myself and got up. “What's with me? What has happened to me?” I ran a few more steps and again fell. This time I knew that Chaim is no more.

I got up slowly. Dark and quiet around me. Before me, a short way home. I walked slowly. A little more and I was in the kibbutz. But it was very strange: in all of the kibbutz houses there was no light except in the office and in my room.

“And why is the light on only in my room?”

When I entered, I saw Chanah looking at me quietly. Rina lay on the bed and seemed to be asleep. She opened her eyes and called out weakly: “Woe, Abba has come!” It appeared to me that she shut her eyes again. For a moment, hope glimmered in my heart: “My fears had no basis, everyone in the family is fine.” I asked how everyone was, and finally how Chaim was. When Chanah told me that Chaim had been wounded and taken to the hospital, and she didn't know anything about the man who had been killed in Tel Yosef, I understood that people had hidden the disaster from her.

Yehudah! Forgive me for having not yet having gotten past the first page of your work, The Third aliyah, which you dedicated to Chaim's memory. Nor have I as yet read your letter to me. Your dedication to your work aroused many thoughts about the life of the third aliyah. It is a pity that its historical account has not yet been completed.

Israel Harodi


[Page 135]

Chaim Harodi
(of blessed memory)

Israel Harodi (Solko Schmutz) was one of the first pioneers from Shomer Hatzair to make aliyah in the 1920s. He settled in Tel Yosef.

In 1923, Chaim was born in Ein Harod to Chanah and Israel Harodi, both of them from Zbarazh, both of them among our first pioneers. Chaim was one of the people active in defense in the area, one of the first of the new generation.

On June 29, 1946, on a “black Sabbath,” a criminal hand shot him with a fatal bullet when he refused to surrender our pure weaponry to the British wretches who wanted to steal it from our hands.


[Page 137]

In Memory of Dear Chanah

by Yosef Blaustein

Now we have been deprived of Chanah. She was taken from her comrades before her time, leaving behind heavy pain in the hearts of her friends, acquaintances and family, a pain enveloped in many memories of her ways and her endearing relationships with others. She supported people and inspired them to hope in a proper communal type of life marked by participation and mutual responsibility.

As I stand above her fresh grave, I see the high points of her life. She was active in the pioneer movement in the city of Zbarazh in Poland where she trained, and she spent her subsequent years in the land of Israel. She came from a traditional Jewish family suffused in Zionism, which impressed its character upon her way of life. The house in which she grew up was a center of pioneer movement activities. There, the dreams of the Hakhalutz movement youth for building the homeland with a communal way of life were formed.

In 1938, Chanah made aliyah. In those days, there were many tensions on the Jewish street. The Polish populace, saturated with anti–Semitism, proved that there was no longer a future for the Jews in Poland. All eyes were turned hopefully toward the land of Israel, but the gates of the land were half–locked to the pioneer aliyah.

The pioneers sought means and ways out of the crisis. Chanah organized long discussions. She always found the proper phrase to express thoughts, yearnings and ideas, whose central axis was a fulfilled life in the land of Israel.

When she made aliyah, people worried for her. They wanted to help her live more easily in the city, but Chanah gently rejected their help, saying: “For my entire life, I dreamt of communal living and spoke on behalf of this type of life. Will I deny my own words and yearnings?” And the tradition of the pioneer women, which had begun in the city of Zbarazh, continued forward.

A person who brought things about and who withstood many tests, Chanah volunteered for the movement's missions, which she fulfilled with great grace and responsibility. She was well–acquainted with communal existence. Therefore, she could withstand crises. And there were such–even if no one else was aware of them.

Chanah educated her family in the spirit of the movement's values, with a motherly softness that she had received from her parents' home, but without compromises. She proved that faithfulness by half is impossible. She persuaded others of the rightness of her path, and shared her many ideas with them.

This was Chanah–a comrade, a mother, a sister–by whom we were all beautified and blessed. In the midst of her days, Chanah was taken from us–the fruit tree planted upon many waters that gave forth a blessed fruit, love and shade to all who took refuge in it.

Her memory will never be forgotten.


[Page 140]

Mother

by Ruti

Mother.

You were–and you still are.

And so it is hard to say anything about you. We miss your being, your ways, your soul, which had been woven into us all. Whenever I do or say anything, it appears that you will come back from some place, that you will be with us again.

To speak about you, mama? To think about you, my beloved? How is it possible? I am not resigned to the terrible truth that I will no longer see you. And how terrible this truth is.

How deeply I feel the chasm, the emptiness, the sense that I am about to be swallowed up. My world is emptied of its content. Its joy is taken from me. How will I find happiness and meaning, when you are not with me?

Why did this happen? In my deepest depths, I believed that as long as some supernal justice exists, it would not allow anything to happen to you. You so much wanted to live. You were so permeated with hope and the will for life. And you knew how to give these to everyone else, until your last moment.

I recall that bitter day, that day that will be carved in my memory forever, that time of your most difficult moments. You took us one by one, you drew us to your heart and kissed us silently in your great pain and in your terrible sufferings. That was the last time for you. You wanted to be our mother to the end–and you were. Therefore, it is so difficult to imagine the future, whatever future it might be, without you.

Mama, I want things to be good. Despite everything, I still believe that the world is fundamentally good. This too I received from you, and I try to live in accordance with these values. You knew how to live, how to find meaning in life. You knew how to love life and always see beauty and goodness in everything. That is how you were, and that is how I want to be. In my difficult moments, I will draw that strength from you–because in the depths of my heart I hear your voice calling me to live and go on.

Rest in peace, mama. And know that wherever I am, you are always with me. Your good smile, your caressing hand and the tones of your words are an indivisible part of me. We will continue on our long way, until we come to you.

Your loving daughter,

Ruti


[Page 142]

To Moshe, best wishes!

by Chaveleh

I hope that you received the letter I sent you. If so, to get to the point, I have now attained the necessary material about the time when father was on the kibbutz.

And I will immediately send it to you. I hope that before the book is printed you will be able to arrange this material and incorporate it into the book, and I thank you.

Warm regards from mama!
Shalom!
Chaveleh


[Page 143]

Yosef Karni
(of blessed memory)
Kiryat Anavim

by Shmuel Nardi

Yes, the row has been thinned. Another comrade has been lost and is no more. Another incidence of sudden death.

A comrade got up to go to his daily work. He walked out to the road to await the vehicle that would take him to his job in the city, but he buckled under, fell, and lay without a breath of life. He finished his work and left his life behind.

The hand of fate was very cruel, and there is no way to console and be consoled.

As we survey the 25 years that Yosef lived with us, as we pause to consider the long journey that we traveled together, we see that he was faithful to his work and to his position. He was a comrade dedicated to this kibbutz, a communal life, toward which he had been educated in his childhood in the town of Zbarazh in Galicia, experiencing a lively Zionistic life and a youth movement, in one of the towns that supplied the pioneer material that built the kibbutz movement in Israel.

Yosef dedicated himself with all his heart to this life. He was involved in everything, a comrade who did not find it hard to adapt to kibbutz work. It came to him easily. He was blessed with capable hands, and he proved his ability in everything he did.

He was lively by nature. He did not tolerate conditions that were not to his spirit. Years ago, he left this place with his family and attempted to live a private style of life, but he soon felt that his place was not there, and he quickly returned to us, to his permanent home.

Besides his main profession, Yosef tried many types of work on the kibbutz: as a driver, as a field worker in Kubaibah (when he was drafted at the height of the occurrences of 1936), as a tinsmith in a smithy that he set up with his own hands, which supplied all of the needs of the kibbutz. He was eager to see the enterprise take its place among the other enterprises that work with sand.

Recently, when he undertook the position of coordinating manufacturing activities, we all felt that he grew wings. He prepared the work and applied himself without growing weary. He spent day after day in the city and devoted his evenings to close discussions with the secretarial workers. Many plans lay before him, which he spoke of on various occasions.

We saw that Yosef was always ready to help a comrade. His ear was always turned to the request of a comrade to come to his aid as best he could.

We saw also Yosef as the head of his family, lovingly concerned for them. I often had the opportunity to hear him speak of his concern for Chanah and their precious daughters, how much effort he spent in his daughters' upbringing and education.

And we knew that only his great energy kept him going. We knew that he was plagued by illness. But Yosef did not surrender to his sufferings. He was always confident that he would overcome his pains.

As we stand at your open grave, broken and shattered, feeling no strength before the hand of cruel fate, we want to tell Chanah and her daughters that the community will do its best to help in the education and growing up of these daughters. We will try to help them so that they will be able to take their place in the community, and you will all be a living monument to his connections with this place and to the years of his life that were interrupted so cruelly.

May your soul be bound in the bond of life among the builders of our way of life.
May your memory be blessed.


[Page 146]

The Wars of Israel

by Moshe Sommerstein
(Tel Aviv, 3 Shevat, 5743, 17.1.1983)

Fortunate are you, Israel, who is like you,
A nation saved by the Lord, your helping shield,
The sword of your pride. Your enemies will collapse before you,
And you will tread upon their heights.

Deuteronomy 33

In the wars of Israel,
All of the nation's tribes,
The entire nation of Israel,
Battled and bled.

In the wars of Israel,
All sons and daughters,
All were bound together
Around the homeland of Israel.
Fortunate are you, Israel…

Facing the enemy, at the gate stood
The entire congregation of Jacob,
The entire walled house,
The entire city fortress.

Reuben at the head of the tribe,
Simon went after him,
Levi did not hesitate before his foes,
Judah like a lion, greatness is his.

Issachar from Ta'anakh and Beth Shean,
Zebulun from Nahalal and Shomron,
Dan from Tzora and Eshtaol,
Naphtali from Beit Shemesh and Eilon.
And the children of Joseph cared nothing for their lives
(Ephraim and Menashe fought on everyone's behalf, and on their own behalf),
The children of Gad from the east gave their blood,
Asher from Mivtzar Dor, from Edom,
Fortunate are you, Israel…

So did the children of Jacob battle,
Against their foes, they gave their blood,
They fought with no concern for their lives,
These tribes of the nation
Fortunate are you, Israel…

Generation is linked to generation,
Back to the mighty forefathers,
The fire of the forefathers flickers
For the sons in public

And the enemy will know
And will remember this forever:
That the glowing coal of the forefathers
Was not destined for nothing.

The flame of the generations
Sanctifies the blood,
The glowing coal of the forefathers
Propels the nation. Fortunate are you, Israel…

And it will be told from generation to generation
How our sons fought, how a brave and mighty son
Overwhelmed, took vengeance, fought and conquered,
And crushed the might of the foe,

For then might will awaken anew.
The new generation will recall the past with praise,
It will be girded with power, a reward
Inherited, bridging the past to the future
Fortunate are you, Israel…

And in the war, “Peace of the Galilee,”
The north was in fact
Filled with anxiety and fear,
The fainthearted and the hawkish unified as a nation,

The nation that spilled its blood
Over the years without thirst
Rose to Lebanon to free
The nation and the north from degenerating

In this way, its sons fought keenly and faithfully
And the house of Israel gave its blood,
The martyrs among its sons, anew
Upon the altar of freedom and redemption
Fortunate are you, Israel…


[Page 151

Tzvi Segal (of blessed memory)

by Moshe Sommerstein
(lawyer, chairman, Organization of Emigrants of Zbarazh and Vicinity)

He was a wonderful son of a Jewish family who dedicated all of his life to educating his family's children to lead nationalistically–informed lives. When the Zionist idea came to the town of Zbarazh, Tzvi was among the first to carry the torch of national awakening. He left the bench of learning in a Hasidic yeshiva and his pious family, and dedicated himself to the great camp of dreamers and fighters on behalf of the Zionist idea. From then on, he engaged in many deeds in the field of national work. He was a leader of the city's branch of Hitachdut Poalei Tzion, the Zionist–socialist movement. He was a teacher and educator in the Tarbut school in Zbarazh. He raised and educated a young Hebrew generation to be prepared to make aliyah. He got along with others, pleasant in his ways and universally beloved. It was a pleasure to speak with him. He was knowledgeable about everything, and the conversations that people had with him about participating in the city's branch of the party always left them with the impression of a fine man with pleasant ways who loves others.

He was one of the organizers of the network of Hebrew education in Volhin, and in particular in the city of Shumsk, where he educated an entire generation.

He made aliyah after the Holocaust, broken and shattered, after he was only able to save his daughter, Anita White. His wife, Devorah Segal, also survived. But they lost their only son, Aharon (of blessed memory), who fell during the Holocaust in 1943.

After the war, he spent time in Germany. There he was among the organizers of the socialist–Zionist Poalei Tzion movement and its Palestinian secretariat. In 1947, he was manager of the cultural division of the Central Committee of Refugees in Munchen, and that year he also participated in the first post–war Zionist Congress.

He was a straightforward, truth–speaking man who acquired the trust of all who knew him. He was modest and responsible, and pleasant to people. In particular, we people of Zbarazh felt him to be our comrade linked by bonds of friendship. With his quick gaze and warm smile, he was always open to the requests of his comrades and friends.

When he came to the land of Israel, he adapted well and he was filled with satisfaction at the fact that he was in the homeland for which he had yearned all the days of his life. Until his retirement, he worked for HaSneh, Hamerkaz, in Tel Aviv.

He always spoke about publishing the Yizkor book and said that it must be produced by the emigrants from Zbarazh. But because of his illness and his wife's difficult illness, he could not proceed with the project.

I recall how the couple gladly helped prepare for the bar mitzvah of their grandson Aaron, the son of Anita and Dr. Sidney White from the United States. There was no end to their joy.

To our great sorrow, the husband of Peninah, Dr. Sidney White (whose Hebrew name was Yishayahu ben Feivel White, of blessed memory), also passed away quickly, in April, 1982.

With the death of Tzvi and Devorah Segal, precious comrades of our flock of Zbarazh left us, but they will remain in our memories forever.


[Page 153

Moshe Hindes
(of blessed memory)

by Moshe Sommerstein

The deeds of a man are his memorial. From them, we may discern his image and his accomplishments.

He was among the first of the activists helping arouse the national movement, one of the activists of the nationalist movement and one of the builders of the Zionist socialist movement, Hapoel Hatzair (afterwards, Hitachdut Poalei Tzion), in the city.

He donated generously to Jewish national funds and recruited others to join the camp of dreamers and fighters and to make aliyah.

Until his last moment, he was a person of many deeds in the field of national service, a man of pleasant speech and warm to others.

He made aliyah after the Holocaust, when with superhuman efforts, literally risking his life, he saved two of his daughters, Marilla and Stella, who live today in Israel together with their families.

He was enthralled by the land and filled with satisfaction by seeing his children and grandchildren, and by the fact that he was living in the land for which he had yearned all the days of his life.

He was pained by the splitting of the Poalit movement in the land of Israel.

He traveled to Argentina to visit his brother Zalman. He wanted to be involved in producing the Yizkor book dedicated to the martyrs of Zbarazh, but he grew ill. He returned to the land of Israel and concealed his pains.

With his death, we lost a precious comrade with a warm Jewish heart. His name will remain carved in the memory of all of his comrades and the people of Zbarazh, who loved him.

May his memory remain forever!

 

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