[Page 76]

I was born in Lutotów, a small town near Łódź. For economic reasons we moved to Kalisz and there I finished elementary school. In order to continue my studies in Kalisz, I would not have been able to keep the Sabbath and my late father, who was an observant Jew and a Gur Chassid, objected to this. So my sister and I continued at a seminary in Krakow and at the end of my studies, I was sent to teach in Stanisławów. From there I was transferred to Radekhov. The mission of the Beit Yaakov school was: diligent Jewish studies, the Tanach (Bible) and more, as well as strengthening ties with the students.

There were four classes for 7 to 14 year olds. The girls attended the elementary school in the morning, while studies at the “Beit Yaakov” school took place in the afternoon. According to these girls who had already finished elementary school, the last grade always stayed and socialized together till a late hour. Shabbat was reserved for the upper grades and on the Sabbath eve we met for prayer. Each girl wore white Sabbath clothes and an innocent angelic expression on her face. We sang in the choir and then left only to meet again the next morning, And if it was “Shabbat Mevarchim” we got in a line and went to the synagogue to participate in prayer together with the congregation of worshipers. In the afternoon, in the summer, we would take a hike to the field and there we talked about current events. In the winter, the gathering took place in the classroom. The bonds between us were very close. The Hanukah and Purim parties and the performances we held were other valuable factors that strengthened our connections.

First, I assigned the roles. After each girl learned her part at home, we held rehearsals. On the eve of Hanukah, there was no end to the joy. Almost the entire town streamed into “Sokolnia” Hall. I especially remember the performance of the story of Hannah and her seven sons. The “actresses” performed the roles with emotion, as if it were a recitation of what was about to happen in reality. The impression of the show in the town was immense. I remember that the physician, Dr. Milgrom once invited me to organize a play in collaboration with the “Tarbut” school since we were friendly with the people in charge of it. But unfortunately, I refused to carry out the plan as I was instructed by the center.

[Page 77]

In the summer we went on trips on Lag B'Omer. We rented a horse-drawn cart, that was the transportation^[1] then, and we visited Toporów where my sister Adela ran the Beit Yaakov school. How great was the girls' excitement when they saw the white tablecloths spread out on benches with food fit for a king. This was a pleasant sight for many, for there were many households in Radekhov where the livelihood was not very good. Schools in Poland did not go on trips with children, so that day left a strong impression in the girls' memories and they returned home happy.

Two years later I was replaced by another teacher and I was sent to Kielce. I kept in touch with the students and they told me exactly everything that happened at school and in the town. You could say I got love letters. The relationship did not end until I returned to Radekhov, this time not as a teacher. I liked that small town and decided to settle in it. I wanted to build my home there. I was even drawn to a good circle of friends, Fela Schonenfeld, D. Rosen, Lalo Wurm, Shmuel Katz and others. It is unlikely that a remnant of their families remain.

I returned to Radekhov in 1939. The idyll in the peaceful town of my loyal students and beloved and innocent neighbors did not last long. At the outbreak of war on September 1, 1939, things changed and hell began. I was cut off from my family who were already under Nazi rule. In our house we were afraid of deportation to faraway Russia, since my father-in-law was a wealthy merchant. He did not know rest until the day he died. May his memory be blessed. In the summer of 1941, with the entry of the Nazi soldiers into Radekhov, our fate was determined and the tribulations began, one following another.

We were expelled from our homes so that the murderers could more easily both kill the Jews and rob them of their property. Certainly the cruel behavior of the Germans will be described in more detail. I just want to mark the holy and cruel day when the town was widowed of her best sons, my beloved family included. On the eve of Yom Kippur, a minyan was organized in our house for “Kol Nidre.” The city's rabbi was also among the worshipers. My brother-in-law Avigdor was the cantor due to his pleasant voice that night. To this day, the sounds of the worshipers in the last prayer of their lives resonates in my ears.

The next day everyone lined up for a death march to the nearby town of Kamionka. It is worth mentioning here the devotion of a devoted mother. Her name was Tila Zeiger, the wife of Ephraim Asher Zeiger. Her son was among those who had supposedly reported to work. The mother brought her son a coat and when she saw that her son was walking in the line, she joined him. The son wanted to save his mother and stepped out of the line. At that moment, he was shot to death. His body remained in place and his mother continued on her way to death with the rest of her family.

[Page 78]

A heavy mourning fell upon those who remained. These were the elderly and a very few young people who miraculously survived. In December, all my family members, five in number, were deported to Sokal. The Gestapo in Sokal were notorious. Every day the ghetto residents felt this. We, the strangers, were especially the scapegoats. On the way, the Ukrainians robbed us of the little we had left from our house. We were dragged to hard work every day. In addition, we were also beaten. We walked around the ghetto and when we saw the human skeletons, we often thought: could the world abandon us? And that's what really happened.

In May 1943, the ghetto was liquidated with the murder of all the Jews. Only a few managed to escape, among them were both my husband and I. We stayed in the attic and through the window one morning we saw two Nazis armed with rifles leading two children, a boy and a girl, barefoot and dressed in rags. Once they led a Jew wrapped in a tallit. We escaped from the ghetto at night and crossed the fence. We did not know for ourselves what to do. We did not know the way. We wandered for two weeks on the road from Sokal to Radekhov and we nourished ourselves with what we picked in the field.

All day we hid and at night we got up and walked. Once I went out to ask for food and here was a young man galloping towards me on a horse and he said to me: “You are looking for a way out of the village, here it is in front of you,” and he showed us exactly which way to go. He was a Jewish boy who worked in the village and wanted to help us. He immediately disappeared so that God forbid they would not see him or find out that he was also a Jew.

Once another young Ukrainian saw me in the village. He grabbed me by the hand and said to me: “You are certainly not alone, you are a whole gang, now you will tell me and come with me to the police.” I stood frightened and trembling and along came a young woman with a baby in her arms and told the lad to choose: “In the name of my children and in the name of God do not harm her.” As she spoke, she held the young man's hand and she turned to me: “Run away, as long as you have the wherewithal.” How great was our despair when we arrived after life-threatening dangers on the way home to finally find – no way home. The Ukrainians did not allow us to cross the threshold of our house. Only one woman named [Marija] Bihun^[2], took us in for three days. On the third morning we set out for the field with a loaf of bread, hoping to reach the nearby forest. It was a forest where I would hike with my students. Here we found shelter for a period of time. In this gloom, a light came on. The old woman promised to share her bread every Saturday night and to place a loaf of bread in a certain place. To our surprise, we met once more on Saturday night, with two more souls shaking from cold and hunger, Peshi Kardasz (today Hochman) and a 13-year-old boy named Chaim Finger. The “family” grew but the source of sustenance remained as it was, and thus did we divide our bread among four individuals.

[Page 79]

Our suffering was great in the winter with frost, rain and snow. The danger to life grew with the fortification of Germans in the forest. This was also the reason for the capture of the rest of the people, of whom, a few remained: Dr. Lenchner and Issachar Kurtz, the boy who was swollen from hunger who went out to ask for bread one day. The Ukrainians handed the boy over to the Germans for a monetary reward. After the liberation, we were told that the Germans took the boy to the forest so that he could show them the place where Jews were hiding, but the boy misled them. The Germans ordered him to dig his own grave. And so there were only three of us left.

That summer we were liberated, but our joy was not complete. How were we to rejoice in a cemetery, for such was the appearance of Radekhov. We therefore collected abandoned and lonely children and handed them over to institutions. One of our ambitions was to build a home in our homeland. We took tortuous paths (it was not yet legal to make aliyah) and arrived in Israel in 1949. Time covers the wounds but it does not cure them.

Hebrew School in Radekhov

[Pages 80-81]

I remember our town as a peaceful little shtetl, clean and civilized, surrounded by woods, in which we, the local youths, took hikes, picnicked, and in the winter took trips from there in winter wagons. In the summer, the school children along with their teachers would also take trips from there, and this was a real celebration. The children were joined by soft drink and sweets peddlers. We used to buy their goods, spend the entire day playing, rest beneath the trees and return full of new experiences.

In the town there were beautiful gardens, and in the center of town, the count's park with its sitting areas was very pleasing. There were rows of large linden trees all around, acacia trees with white and fragrant blossoms, and white and purple lilac bushes. Most of the public buildings were surrounded by gardens of seasonal, sweet-smelling bushes and flowers.

In my time, the cordiality between the Ukrainian Christian youths and the Jewish youths was fairly decent. The Jewish youths sought education and were very interested in Zionism and going to lectures for self-enrichment. Additionally, they sought to better themselves financially. The boys played chess a lot and we organized plays and dances. When we felt the need for a library, I, together with two other girls, decided to establish one. For lack of funds, we went from door to door asking for books. I remember that in every house we visited we were kindly given books and we felt that this bestowed good luck upon us in our goal. Only later were we able to purchase additional books, thanks to subscription fees and monetary donations. [This went on] until a more substantial committee was established to care for our library. This committee moved the library to a more spacious place and expanded the collection.

My grandfather, Aharon Katz, opened his house to all, and there everyone found something to his liking: from perusing a newspaper, to playing chess or finding a partner for a game, to arguing about politics or other current affairs. I remember the fair days, colorful and noisy, full of activity and clamor. During these days Jews used to come, call my grandfather aside (“seit moichel Reb Ahron”^[1]) and ask him for some money to be returned on market day or at the end of day for provisions for the coming Sabbath, or for a loan for the week, or for settling a bill. Then Grandfather took them to a corner so as not to shame them, took a handful of coins or notes from his pocket, and gave them out as need be without a word and always with a smile of kindness. I never saw him annoyed. I remember the nice custom we had of honoring guests (“tzum tisch”^[2]), especially on the Sabbath and holidays. In the morning, my grandmother as well as my mother filled a basket with Sabbath goods, covered it with a white cloth and sent it over to poor relatives or other poor people, especially those who had lost their fortunes. I recall many times when I was the emissary of these mitzvot (good deeds). Charity without publicity was the foundation of my grandfather's house.

I remember the people of our town as people of high morals, humble people, hard working, each attending to the needs of his house. One could find a newspaper in most progressive homes. The young people worked to increase the membership of the local Zionist organization and no public function ever lacked volunteers.

Hebrew school in Radekhov First row, from the right: Michael Schrage, Feige Barach, Zwia Barasch, Henia Wittlin, [Beila] Ecker, Malka Samet, Gila Friedman, Nissan Axler. Second row: Faki Floh, Shmuel Gertwagen, Weissman Lea, Tolci Kurzer and others

Footnotes

1. “begging your pardon Reb Ahron” [Yiddish] Return
2. “to the table” [Yiddish] Return

[Page 82]

On Sunday, June 22, 1941, we were awakened in the morning after the Germans threw the first bombs on our city. Then we knew that war between the Germans and Russians had broken out. That day, we all ran about like crazy people, for we knew what was awaiting us from the Germans. However, at 2:00 p.m., Soviet tanks began to arrive on the road from Brody. We counted them, and there were 26. We all thought that they would save us and that the Germans would not enter the city. The Russian tanks stood at the western side of the city around their church, in the direction of the railway station. That day, the Germans reached the railway station.

My parents Yitzhak and Scheindel who died in Brazil, my brother – David and his wife Zosia, in whose house the entire family hid

The Germans began their activity immediately. They went from house to house and chased out all of the Jews, shouting “Get outside!” They beat them mercilessly. I saw a caravan of Jews, with three Jews in each row. They began to arrange everyone in an orderly fashion, until we reached the post office. They put us in the yard. They chose about 20 people to go and collect sheets, rice, sugar, and all sorts of other things. I was included among the 20. We were given an order to bring everything including the money within two hours or everyone would be killed. One must believe the Germans especially if they threaten to kill, for “they have no problems” with that. I went with another group, and as we were standing next to the house of Kalman Goldscheider, a group of policemen arrived, captured us along with 200 other people, and sent us directly to the Podgaye. They ordered us to pour all the gravel onto the road. We were about 300 people, and anyone who could not work was beaten with murderous blows. They beat Abish Silberman over his glasses with a stick. His glasses broke, and blood flowed over his cheeks. Yossi Menaker also received blows.

Toward evening, I miraculously returned home. Soviet bombers arrived and began bombing. I was as black as a Negro, and for two weeks, I could only sleep standing up. This is how things went week after week. We were chased out to work every day.

The Soviets had built several airfields in our area. The Germans brought wagons with rocks. We worked at a fast tempo. There was no work without beatings. We worked in this fashion without food, and we were also not permitted to go home. If we wanted to drink a bit of water during work in the heat of the day, they would not give us any, and when an elderly gentile wanted to give us a pail of water, the Germans poured out the water. The young gentiles treated our suffering disparagingly, and even appeared satisfied with it.

My main worry was: what would happen to the people who were taken as hostages. At 11:00 p.m., we heard that they freed these people. The next morning, the Germans began to go around in groups, taking whatever they found in houses and also administering beatings. I had prepared a bit of sugar – and they took everything. We were abandoned like dogs and cats. Any person who was considered to be a Jew was not even looked at. Thus, they went from house to house until Wednesday, beating people everywhere. On Wednesday at 10:00, 18 Soviet bombers arrived. I stood in the yard and watched the bombs falling on the Germans 20 meters away from me. Tens of them were killed. Moshe Gleicher was also killed. He was the only Jew killed during the Soviet bombardment.

On Sunday, they imprisoned four Jews, including Yossi Menaker the son of Nisan, Chaim Wasserman and his son Pesach, the grandson of Hershel Lozik, and Stumfeler from Chołojów, who was in the militia and Komsomol (youth wing of the Communist Party). At night, they murdered them all in the gymnasium building. Pesach the son of Chaim Wasserman saw how they cut off his father's foot. They poured benzene over Yossi Menaker and set him on fire. They beat the wounds with a stick in order to try to put out the fire. Lozik was already dead, as was Stumfeler from Chołojów. When they threw a chair at Pesach, they thought he was already dead and left him. Pesach woke up from his faint in the middle of the night, and saw that the rest were no longer alive. He lifted himself up, approached the open window, and saw a German sentry making rounds. The sentry was startled and turned aside. Pesach succeeded in escaping through the window and reaching his home. He survived until they transferred the Jews of Radekhov to the Busk Ghetto. Nothing is known of his fate after that.

Later, they began to organize the Judenrat. Adolf Kranz was the head, and he selected the Judenrat from among his family members including: Adolf Ecker, Prager, Yosef Wasser, Leibish Goldenberg, Bedner, and others. The Judenrat organized the Ordnungsdienst (Jewish ghetto police). The policemen included Leiber Alzufrom, Reis, Shabtai Rosenberg, Asher Dubner of Chołojów, Hersch Brunn, and others. They set up a labor office with a Jewish division and began to send Jews to do all types of work. Things continued in this manner until the winter of 1941–1942. Then they began to talk about sending workers to Płuhów [labor camp] next to Złoczów. More than 100 young men who were chosen by the Judenrat were sent there. Not one of them returned from there. The poor people were sent, and the wealthy people managed locally.

Two days after Rosh Hashana, the murderers surrounded the city and removed 1,500 Jews for extermination from amongst those who came by. They sent them by train to Bełżec. Only Moshe Windbeutel and one other person remained alive.

However, those two were also killed later on. Two days after this roundup, announcements were posted ordering the men who remained after the first deportation to present themselves at the marketplace in order to receive permits to remain in the city. They reported on Yom Kippur at 10:00 a.m. I was among them. We were more than 500 people. The head of the arbeitsdienst (labor service) of Kamionka Strumiłowa, Schindler may his name be blotted out, arrived along with Ukrainians and Germans who surrounded the entire square. We immediately realized that the intention was murder. They brought them all to Kamionka except for a few professionals who were left behind to continue working. I was among them. From that time on, I fast on Yom Kippur because that was the day that we escaped from the pits of Yom Kippur, September 21, 1942. Leib Gold was also among them.

All of those who remained already knew that the end was approaching even for the survivors. There was a rumor that they would transfer the people to Sokal. The Jews from the area were brought to Radekhov, and housed in the empty houses of the city's Jews who had been killed. People began to escape in order to save own their lives. They began to set up the ghetto after Yom Kippur. The ghetto continued in a westward direction until [the home of] Hersch Hoch to the east. They surrounded the city again on October 7 and gathered all the remaining people – about 1,500 – and transferred them to Bełżec. Not one of them survived.

Epidemics and various diseases spread in the ghetto throughout the half year. Anyone who had the opportunity to escape did so. On December 1, 1942 they loaded up almost all of those who remained on sleds hitched to horses and transferred them to the Sokal Ghetto. Left behind were 100 people to clean the ghetto. The Sokal Ghetto was liquidated on May 25, 1943. They also murdered the final Jews of Radekhov.

On March 15, 1943, they surrounded the ghetto and removed the remaining 100 people. They brought them to the Pukaczów Forest and murdered them. The tens of children were placed in a pit and suffocated alive. Yosef Barij, Sender Barach and I were among the few who survived.

[Page 86]

The first Aktzia took place two days after Rosh Hashana 5702 [September 22, 1941], on a Tuesday, lasting from the morning through the evening. The Gestapo surrounded the city and forced all residents-including women, children, the elderly, and notable figures like the rebbetzin, Golda Barash, and Bluma Segal-to leave their homes. They murdered more than 30 people on the spot. The remaining residents were taken to the train station, shoved into train cars, and transported to an unknown location. The bodies of those who were shot were taken to the cemetery and buried in a mass grave. Those remaining were brought to the empty homes and ordered to clear them of all the furniture and personal belongings and load the contents onto vehicles. The contents were then transferred to trains, filling 20 train cars,, and sent to Germany.

Some people who managed to hide during the Aktzia and the members of the Judenrat remained in the city.

Yom Kippur fell on Monday, with “Kol Nidrei” recited on Sunday night. The Germans issued an order requiring all those remaining to report to a work assignment on Yom Kippur, replacing those taken in the Aktzia. Everyone had to gather at a designated location in the morning. Anyone who did not show up would be shot, and the entire city would face destruction. In secret, I chanted “Kol Nidrei” along with the local rabbi, Rabbi Asher, and several other Jews. We discussed our options and ultimately decided to comply with the order. We all ventured out in the morning. My late wife, Biltza, did not go, as the labor office said that sick people were not required to attend.

I joined members of the Judenrat, the rabbi from Choliv [Vuzlove, Cholojów], Rabbi Asher of Radekhov, Yosef Wasser, and Chaim Kurtzer. We all gathered in the street. Suddenly, the Gestapo soldiers surrounded us, preventing any of us from escaping. The head of the labor office ordered everyone to surrender their work cards (about 800 cards altogether), claiming we would receive new ones later.

They ordered us to march, and we walked four to a row. Some people attempted to escape, like Sara Kratz, Israel Isar's sister. They shot and killed her. Anyone who tried to step out of the line was shot.

[Page 87]

Mosheleh Hass was in the hospital. The Germans murdered him along with everyone else there. They loaded my son Melamed onto a cart and took him with us. They urged us to walk faster and faster, and along the way, they killed and murdered people.

We walked without knowing our destination. I fasted and prayed along the way, reciting everything I had memorized by heart. Rabbi Asher, his sons, and the rabbi from Choliv joined in prayer. Eventually, we reached a bridge. Near the bridge, additional Gestapo men from Sokal, including Schindler, arrived. They ordered individuals with badges (like Shmuel Weissman and others) to step aside while they loaded the rest of us into vehicles and drove us to Kamionka. As we passed through the city, we noticed all the houses had been broken into and they were missing their windows and doors. There were no longer any Jews in the town; everyone had vanished.

They led us to a bridge over the Bug River and there they ordered us to take off our clothes. They demanded whatever money we had in our possession, promising that in return, they would offer good jobs. Yosef Wasser attempted to escape; they shot him in the leg and brought him back. Those of us who still had any hope finally understood that this would not end well. They ordered us to strip naked, and the Gestapo soldiers walked along the rows of people, instructing each of us to open our mouth. They hit people in the chin and pulled out all of their teeth and gold fillings. Then they took the people and placed them in large pits. It was already time for the “Neilah” prayer [concluding prayer service of Yom Kippur], and the sun became red. They shot everyone on both sides of the back of the neck. The Gestapo shot me too, and I fell into the pit; it was only when they ordered the “shkotzim” [a derogatory term for Gentile boys] to cover the pits that I heard the Nazis calling: “Where is your Avraham? Where is your Moshe? Why aren't they helping you? Cheers to German technology! Contempt for Communism!” I heard everything. I stayed lying down, and they covered me with dirt. In the middle of the night, I raised my arm to get some fresh air and attempted to pull myself out of the pit. It was already 1:30 in the morning when I got out of the pit. Some others, like Welti Sigal, Efraim Alzufrom, and Chaim Barij, tried to escape earlier. The Gestapo yelled at them: “Where are you going?” and took them. I do not know what happened to them.

I woke up and instinctively pushed myself down; I was naked. It was a cold, moonlit night. I was afraid that the Germans would catch me too, so I crawled on the ground like a snake. After about 100 meters, I rose and began to walk. I spotted a forest and entered it. The cold was intense; I gathered leaves and covered myself with them. I curled up and lay down until dawn. As daylight broke, I noticed some red berries and picked a few. They gave me a jolt of energy, helping me satisfy my thirst and hunger after the fast of Yom Kippur. I continued to lie down until daylight and then stayed there for the next two days, Tuesday and Wednesday. I relied on the red berries to sustain me during that time. It is extremely hard to describe what I felt, so I will only provide a glimpse.

[Page 88]

A non-Jew approached and asked if I was from the pit in Kamionka. I answered that I was not. I explained to him that I was captured while working, stripped naked, and had been lying there in the forest without food since then. I told him I knew nothing about the pit in Kamionka. He responded: “Do not be afraid. Lie down here, and I will bring you a slice of bread and some coffee.” I feared that the man would report me to the Gestapo, so I moved to another spot in the forest.

Five minutes later, the same non-Jewish man brought me coffee and a few slices of bread. He told me he would show me the way to Choliv. I sat down to eat and drink. He gave me something to cover my head and body. I then began walking barefoot on the sharp gravel along the railroad tracks. I jumped from one side to the other until I reached Choliv on Thursday morning.

I noticed a house and knocked on the door, but no one initially wanted to open it. Moshe Krauss from Choliv and Motia Reis answered. Inside the house, there was a double-walled chamber. They took me into the chamber and cared for me until I recovered from my ordeal. They offered me black coffee, and I shared my story, explaining that everyone else had been murdered and I was the sole survivor. Since they were members of the Judenrat, they were able to arrange for a cart to transport me back to my home in Radekhov.

I came home, and Avraham Krantz, the head of the Judenrat, visited me. I told him everything. He asked me not to tell anyone in the city what happened, as it would put everyone's lives at risk.

The following morning, Reb Feivishel came by, and I recounted the story to him and his late wife, Beila. He pulled my ear and said, “You had a great privilege.” I also spoke to Sheindele, the wife of Rabbi Asher, who was still in hiding. I informed her about Rabbi Asher and told her that everyone had been murdered. They all asked me not to tell anybody else. This was the policy of the Germans, damn them, to keep everything hidden and silence us. They told you that they were sending you to work, so to speak, to confuse you and dull your mind.

Another Aktzia took place on Sukkot. Yaakov Leider, Ziss, I, and several others hid in our bunker. We heard gunshots on Friday. A few hundred additional people were murdered during that Aktzia. Two or three days after that, all the remaining city residents, along with those from the towns of Lopatyn, Shtervitz [Shchurovychi], Kryve, Dubyny, and others, were ordered to be brought to a ghetto in Radekhov, leaving everything they owned behind. I told my wife, Biltza, that I would not comply and planned to go elsewhere. I decided to hide with a non-Jew, and my experience there is a story unto itself.

[Page 89]

We lived in Belz, eastern Galicia when the Second World War broke out. Five days later, the Russians, with approval from the Germans, conquered Galicia. A month later, there were changes to the border: The Germans took a part of Galicia, while the Russians received the rest. This marked the beginning of suffering for my family, me, and the Jewish communities in that area. We left Belz on Simchat Torah and moved part of our belongings to my husband's hometown, Radekhov. His family gave us a room where our family of four settled down. The Russians forced us to sustain ourselves by selling our belongings. They did not allow us to work, as we were considered wealthy. The Germans conquered Radekhov on June 22, 1941, and shortly after that, they issued new decrees targeting the Jewish community. They demanded various items be handed over. They first demanded that Jews surrender their radios and then their clocks. This was an effort to disconnect us from the outside world and the events unfolding around us. Not long after that, the Germans established a ghetto.

Men and women over the age of 50 were taken for forced labor. In August 1941, the Germans rounded up a large group of young people in one day, and none of them returned. Non-Jewish residents later informed us that all of those individuals had been murdered immediately after leaving the city.

At the beginning of 1942, I began receiving letters from my friend, Avraham Wrubel, in Kraków through Christian acquaintances. In these letters, he described the troubles he and the area's Jewish population were experiencing. I had to pay a substantial sum for each of these letters. We reached a point where we could neither live nor die in peace; every night, we begged God to allow us to die a natural death so we would not fall victim to the murderers.

On October 28, 1942, I lost my husband along with his entire family: his parents, Tzipora and Moshe Steinwurzel; his brother Meir; and his sister, Adela Grossman, along with all four of her children. The eldest were taken on Yom Kippur along with 1,000 other people and thrown alive into pits. Adela's husband was the first victim. That afternoon, they came to take

[Page 90]

my husband from the hospital where he worked. When he heard their voices, he jumped from the second floor and was killed instantly. I rented a cart and took his body, and with my two daughters, I went to the cemetery. There, we found many dead bodies collected from the streets and homes, the result of the slaughter that took place that day. As I stood in front of the grave, I was left wondering who was better off: me or my husband, especially since he had received a Jewish burial. I found a stick and wrote his name on it. I never returned to that place.

I then sent away my older daughter, Yocheved, who was 13 years old at the time, passing as a Christian with forged papers –an expense that cost a fortune–to a labor camp in Germany. This left me with my younger daughter, who was eight and a half. After enduring much suffering, we were taken to a concentration camp in Lvov, where there were about a half million people. When the camp was finally liquidated, only 110 individuals were left, including seven children, one of whom was my daughter. In 1944, we walked on foot to the concentration camp at Plaszów, near Kraków. We were forced to wait outside the camp while the German camp staff deliberated on our fate. I learned later that they discussed what to do with us, especially the children. They debated whether they should annihilate the children immediately, since 40 days earlier they had sent away the camp children in train cars to Auschwitz. In the end, we were allowed to enter the camp. Once inside, everyone was forced to work. I was assigned hard labor jobs outside of the camp.

After an endless journey, we arrived in Auschwitz at midnight, amid rainy weather. The guards ordered us out of the train cars and moved us in rows to a long barrack, where we were held without food or drink. In the afternoon, we were told to be ready for the showers after a selection by Dr. Mengele and SS women officers. That selection would determine our fates–some of us would live and others would die. When it was my turn for the selection, the cruel doctor asked my daughter for her age, but she did not answer. She was then asked whether her mother was among the other women. She called out “Mother.” I turned and joined her in the line with those being sent to the “showers.” At that moment, I decided to part ways with this world. They dressed us in striped gowns, and a truck awaited us outside. As they began to load the children and women onto the truck, we hid under the clothing that had been taken off, and we went undetected. It was only when the truck and the selection officials had left that a Jewish worker who aided in the selection found us. He helped us change our clothes and moved us with those selected to live. After 21 days, we had to undergo another selection to determine who would be leaving Auschwitz. Dr. Mengele was again in charge of the selection. Those selected to leave the camp moved to a large area, while those marked for the crematoriums were left in a closed hall. There were about 5,000 women, with only two children remaining in Auschwitz.

[Page 91]

From Auschwitz to Bergen-Belsen (November 1944)

We were loaded onto train cars in Auschwitz, supplied with bread and sausages–likely from horse meat–and began a long journey. Eventually, we arrived in Bergen-Belsen. We were among the first to enter the camp and we slept in tents. The attitude of the officials was not too harsh, especially for my daughter, who was the only child there. We were 800 people in the barrack block, but only 80 of us remained at the time of liberation. A substantial number of those who survived the ordeal at the camp died shortly after the liberation from tuberculosis, typhus, and dysentery, which were rampant in the camp. On April 16, 1945, my daughter and I were transferred to Himmler Hospital near the camp. In June 1945, we moved to Sweden to recuperate. My daughter and I arrived in Eretz Israel on May 28, 1946. Before we made Aliyah, I received a telegram, the first notice I received informing me that my older daughter had also survived. She arrived in Eretz Israel in 1947 and joined us.

Today, I live happily with my two married daughters and enjoy spending time with them and their children.

From right to left, top row: Kratz Yehuda, Steinwurzel Yaakov, Gertwagen Ettel, Ecker Dov, Friedman, Floh Faki, Barach Matityahu From right to left, second row: Stricker Kreindl, Kober Reizel, Lewit Hinda, Stricker Gitel, Barak David, Frima Meir, Menaker Rivka, Stricker Rivka From right to left, third row: Weissman Lea, Maier Eidel, Menaker Peshy, Maier Ester and Kurzer Tolci

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