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[Page 240]
Edited by Dr. Rafael Manory
It is evening, and it is dark outside.[2] It can be about half past four in the morning. After so much thinking and after doing this during the entire day and night, they fell into a deep and snoring sleep. But I can't sleep…something oppresses and bites me… I am thinking of something… I don't know what.
For several minutes my mother woke up, and told me about a dream that she had. She told me, she dreamed of small cookies, flour… after this – she traveled off on a train, said her farewells and kissed me. My mother said that this was not a good omen, – during the time of the first and second aktion I too had that dream. ‘But now – it is all the same to me, whichever way it goes, I don't want to torture myself for this entire time, I exhausted myself only for you…’ ‘While still in Sokal, I wanted to surrender myself… because I knew, no matter what, we would not be able to hide ourselves.’ ‘I only wanted to live to see the day when vengeance was taken on those who torture us in this way… but this is impossible… because…, even when they do not find us, we will be frozen by the frost, and the lice will consume us.’ – when they took your father, I cried so much… but your father did not make that much of an effort, he did not suffer so much… and after so much torture and pain, I must die… ‘your father, indeed, was a Tzaddik…’
With these words, my mother once again fell asleep. But I could no longer fall asleep… I wanted to take a nap… but I tried in vain. A variety of thoughts rattled around in my head, and I thought about every word that my mother had said… in the end, I could not control myself, and began to cry.
From time to time, I would stick out a hand… nothing, in vain… every time I took out… I never failed once. My mother would say to me: ‘should the Master of the Universe make it possible– even though it is impossible–and I will emerge free. I will ask the doctor how do lice multiply a thousand times at once?’
While I was thinking this way, I heard the sound of footsteps. I would then hide myself and I immediately heard firm footsteps and a shout: ‘Who gave you permission to sit here?’[3]
It was as if my heart had stopped beating… I could not breathe… I became completely confused. Someone's hand grabbed me by the jacket with which I was covered, and began pulling it. Not knowing what to do out of fear, I shouted: ‘Mamma!’ But my mother was no longer sleeping. When they dragged me out of the cavern, my mother was already there… by herself, she was the first one to crawl out
It was frightfully dark outside, such that I could not see anyone. It was first when someone shone a flashlight that I was able to see three bandits with rifles in their hands.
– ‘|Nu – we go’ – one of them said.
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It became still. Suddenly I heard frightening wailing. The other Jewish woman and her child, who were lying on the other side of the silo, thinking that they would forget her, at no time showed any sign of life…now, only – when they began to drag her out, she began to scream and weep bitterly. The Ukrainian murderers were not expecting her crying, and forcefully yanked her out. It was from her screams that one of the Ukrainians understood some words and instantly became incited his greed.
– ‘Whatever you have to give – give it’ – he shouted out.
A minute didn't go by and in his hands already he had a ring.
‘You have nothing else?’
– ‘I don't have anything!’
– ‘and you’ – he turned to my mother – ‘you have nothing?’
– ‘I have nothing’ –
–‘and if we find something?’
– ‘then you can do with me what you want!’
– ‘good!’
‘Now come behind the barn and we will talk.’
All of us were afraid that, behind the barn, they will kill us and we began to cry and should as loudly as we could. Everyone of us said something, shouted and cried.
The Ukrainian commandant, a short, heavy and swarthy Vlasovite[4], did not want me to wake up the people in the village, and began speaking with us in Russian.
– ‘Why are you screaming like this, and wailing?… I will tell you…’ The situation is as follows. A darkness fell on the Jews, as they let the Soviet partisans know about us. That is why we are searching for you…We will do nothing to you…our objective is to bring you to their leadership, and there,
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and we don't know what they will do to you… I believe that they will not kill women and children… men – perhaps… but you, simply, they will arrange for you to go do work somewhere… and you will work. For now, sit on the wagon and we will ride over to the command.
Hearing such words, caused our hearts to lighten for a minute. We began to get onto the wagon. Just me – because I was barefoot and had swollen feet from the frost, I could not get over to the wagon by my own power. One of the murderers took me, and carried me to the wagon. But in the manner that he carried me, it became clear that they are not taking us to their command, but to a brook.
When I was already on the wagon, I said to my mother, “If you want to, run away!” “I can no longer flee. It was only because of you that I tired myself out this far,” was my mother's reply.
“But… mother dear… I will not run away without you! And moreover, I am barefoot, I have swollen feet, and I cannot take three steps.”
We traveled on further. The peasant, who drove the wagon, was the same one in whose home we hid, and quite likely, he was the one who informed on us. Three Ukrainian bandits went behind the wagon.
“Where are you taking us?” my mother asked the peasant, “tell me”…
“I do not know”…
We traveled on further. Around us are fields covered with snow, everything around us is white. As if to make things worse, that night brought on an intense frost, such that all of us were trembling from the cold. Generally, we were far from the village, because once or twice we heard a rooster crowing in the distance.
Suddenly the wagon stopped and did not move. At first glance, it was a wonder to me, as to why it would remain standing in these white fields. However, this was no time to stop and wonder. Three Ukrainians came nearer to the wagon.
“Down!… Down! Why are you just standing there?… get down…” they began to shout in their Ukrainian language.
Now we understood what was going to happen… we heard a scream… a wail… but what good was shouting on this open field!
“Is this the company command?” my mother went to them and asked.
“Down! What are you standing for?… To death… an end!” and he delivered her a blow with his rifle butt.
We alighted from the wagon and did not stop shouting and crying… we knew though that this was our last minute.
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“Lie down… Lie down quickly!… don't ask a lot…”
“Dear people, what did we do to you…why do you want to kill us?”…
“In what way do we keep you from proceeding… have some pity!… don't kill us…. we fled towards you… we too want to live…”
“Why are you fiddling about?!” one of them shouted and hit my mother with his rifle butt.
“Death and an end!… you Jewish Moscovite partisans!… you betrayed our country!…”
With an ache in the heart, knowing what awaits us, we laid ourselves down on the snow. But I could not lie… even though I was certain that I would not flee. A Ukrainian hit me twice with his rifle butt, and I fell to the ground… but I stood up again. I stood and watched, how three bodies lie on the snow, like starved herring, waiting for death.
Suddenly, I heard an order from the swarthy Vlasovite… his strong voice, like thunder, shook up and tore the silence of the night's stillness.
“Konvodir[5] ! Raz!” his voice echoed back.
At that moment, a shot rang out…light flashed about and lit the area around me. I became ice-cold… I began to tremble as if I had a fever… I became confused.
A minute did not pass before we heard a second order given… and again a shot, that tore apart the night's stillness and lit up everything around me. Now I saw the laid out bodies on the snow… but at the same time, I heard a quiet groaning, which came from the child's mouth… the child, who lay in the snow beside his mother… a bullet has struck the child.
The same scene was repeated in a minute. Suddenly, as I stood there disoriented, and looked at the group, just as one of the Ukrainians hit me on my bare flesh… I fell to the ground.
This time, I did not attempt to stand up, even though I knew that the column had approached me. Suddenly a shot was heard… I remained frozen stock-still for a minute… I curled myself up and remained lying down. As I lay this way, I thought to myself… I don't feel anything here… perhaps my soul is already in heaven?…
Soon the Ukrainians began shouting again: “Throw them into the brook!… tear off their clothing!”
I turned myself in the direction from which I heard the voices. Two murderers came closer to the Jewish woman, who lay wounded even back from the outset, and as soon as they began to tear her clothes off, she began to act wildly, screaming to heaven, and wailing.
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I heard my mother's voice; that voice will forever remain in my memory to the end of my life, because these were my mother's last words: “Have you no fear of God?! Are you going to throw us into the brook while we are still alive?”…
But the Ukrainians wanted to be rid of us as quickly as possible, and because of this, when the [other] Jewish lady did not stop screaming, they all stood around her, and one of them hit her in the head with his rifle butt. Blood spurted into my eyes… I remember nothing else. It was only early the following morning when I awoke, that I took note of the fact that I was in a hospital and my feet were wrapped in lamb's wool.
In a letter of March 16, 1946 to my aunt in Haifa, Dov Zigman writes at the end:
“My dear aunt! In several letters I wrote to you the memories of what I went through. I only communicated one fact to you, how my mother was killed. But this is not even one percent of what I lived through. After I fled the place by the brook, things became a hundred times worse. I was captured many times, and fled many times.”
However, it is impossible to document all of this. When I come on a trip, I will tell you everything.
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Translator's footnotes:
By A. Kh.
Edited by Dr. Rafael Manory
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Dov'cheh Zigman, a child of Sokal, whose father and mother were killed during the frightening Hitler-era, went through all seven levels of Gehenna and by a miracle came out alive from this frightening destruction.
After the war, together with other rescued Jewish children, he was sent for training in Italy, not far from Milano, where he waited to make aliyah to the Land of Israel.
At the beginning, at the training center, the young Dov'cheh felt very much alone. A deep sorrow enveloped his soul. He had remained alone… the frightening experiences weighed heavily on his disposition and tortured his state of mind. What hurt him in particular was the knowledge that he had been orphaned, that he had no one in the world. He did not yet know that he had close relatives in America and Israel.
Being in training, by chance, he got the news that a sister of his mother, Szprinza, lived in Haifa, and that his mother's brother, Henryk Klinger [lived] in America. For Dov'cheh, this started a new segment in his life. A hearty correspondence went on between him and his relatives. In a whole array of longer letters, Dov'cheh portrayed the suffering and pain endured by himself and his mother during the gruesome war years. A number of these letters with these memories were written in the Polish language, and both relatives sent them to the Chairman of the Sokal Landsmanschaft in Israel, Dr. Kindler, noting however, that many letters were regrettably lost.
Dov'cheh's letters to his aunt in Haifa are presented here in Yiddish translation. The letters to his uncle in America have the same content.
The First Letter to Dov'cheh's Aunt, Szprinza in Haifa
Dear Aunt and Uncle!
I did not believe my own eyes when the telegram containing your addresses was brought to me. I was already totally without any hope, because many times, I have written to the administrative offices in other bureaus, but nobody replied. I even received one reply, that you could not be found. Since that time, I did not believe that I might one day find you. Not only you… also my uncle and aunt in America, because I also did not have their address.
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I cannot document all of my experiences during the Hitler Era, because I could not write them down even in an entire month. But how it came to be that I had no address, I must write down for you.
My mother always wanted to give me a note with addresses… I did not want to take it, because I never thought that one day I would be separated from my mother… I always rescued my mother first, even before myself. At that time, I no longer had my father.
And it happened that when the Ukrainians took us to the brook, where they wanted to kill us, I did not even think of running away because my feet were frozen from the frost. But – after they ordered us to lie down, and shot at me, at my mother, and others, I do not know what happened at that time… I heard some shouting in Ukrainian, and how a blow landed on someone's head… blood spurted into my eyes… what happened afterward, I do not know… only when I woke up, did I take note that I was in a stall and my feet were wrapped in lamb's wool.
That is why…I had no address.
Now I am here in Italy, 60 km From Milano in ‘Beyt Aliyat HaNoar.’ Thank heavens I am in good health. Up till this time (until I received the addresses of my relatives – Ed.) I was always sad, and lonely because I had no person as a relative… I never even received any letters. Almost all of the children, who are here with me, have some member of their family, who is looking for them, and writes letters to them. Most have obtained certificates and traveled off to relatives. Only I have received no letters and didn't even have any hope of ever seeing someone from my family again.
But now that I have received an address, I have the hope that I have, just like others, a family, actually quite close ones. Auntie dear, you do not know and cannot imagine how happy I am… not only once did I tell my friends, that I have an aunt in Palestine and an uncle in New York, but I don't know their addresses. And when my friend brought me the telegram from Haifa, he noted: “Now you have to arrange a little celebration… now that you have a reason”…
Dear Aunt! Only 53 Jews survived from our city of Sokal. Dr. Kindler and his entire family remained, and after the Soviets marched in, I was with them for the whole time. He treated me like his own son, he provided me with everything, just like he did for his own family. I traveled with them to Cracow, and from there (also by chance) I then traveled alone on the way to Palestine, and up till now, I am in Italy.
At the end of the letter, Dov'cheh pleads that he should be answered by letter… he repeats this request many times.
[Page 247]
Letter to Dov'cheh Zigman's Uncle Henryk Klinger in New York
Written January 23, 1946
Dear Uncle!
I write a letter to you every week, just as you asked me to. In this letter, I reply to several questions that you asked me in prior correspondence. I am replying to you in a highly abbreviated format, because otherwise, I could not get all this material into three volumes.
First question: When was I deported from Sokal?
Dear Uncle! A week after the Germans marched in, they ordered all Jews – aged 16 to 60 years to present themselves at the Ukrainian field. My mother also went there. The Ukrainian militiamen selected 300 people, among them also my father, and shot them all in the brick factory.
Six months later the first ‘aktion’ took place, during which they deported 3,000 Jews to Belzec, where they were [killed and] cremated.
Two months afterward (we were already in the ghetto) the second aktion was carried out, during which time they seized 2,500 Jews. My mother and I were part of them. In the depths of the train car, in which they were taking us to be killed, we bored out a small opening, through which Jews began to jump out. My mother did not want to escape, but I nevertheless pleaded with her and gave her a push to get her through the opening… Immediately after her, I too jumped. I did not suffer any physical damage. I immediately found my mother. She had a broken nose and was only semi-conscious. With a very strenuous effort, I was barely able to bring my mother back into the ghetto.
All other things in the ghetto had been plundered and we lived from whatever we could get back from the homeowner. My mother would sell these items and buy bread.
In this manner, eight months went by. At the end of May 1943, the Germans implemented the third aktion, but this time to make the place ‘Judenfrei,’ meaning that whatever Jew they captured they killed, and in the Lemberg district there was not a single Jew to remain.
At that time, we spent 12 days in a bunker…it was the way it was, and so forth….I will tell you when I will come to visit you; now I am writing in an abbreviated form.
Because we were there for three days without bread or water, we were forced to go outside. We were 30 people. Fifteen went to Wolhyn… thirteen went in the direction to meet death… my mother and I went to the house structure of Paszkowski. He did not want to hide us… so we went into a corn silo. The militiamen noticed us there, and took everything from us that we happened to have. My mother was already prepared to surrender to be killed… I was barely able to convince her otherwise, and we went off to Wolhyn.
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With God's help and luck, we were able to cross the border into Wolhyn. There were no Germans there anymore, only Ukrainians.
After five months, when the Soviets were about 200 km away from us, the Ukrainian partisans, the so-called ‘Banderaists’ who fought for an independent Ukraine, began to murder Jews, who had managed to survive in Wolhyn. This was exactly in the wintertime, in December. We hid ourselves in straw, but we had nothing to eat. My mother went to the village people, for whom she had sewn, and asked for a bit of bread. With us, there was another Jewish lady with a boy.
In Wolhyn, almost all of the village people were sympathetic to Bandera… they therefore informed on us, and on the Eve of Rosh Hashanah three Banderaists came and took us in custody. But seeing that the other boy and I began to cry and scream, they said that they were taking us to the headquarters and my mother would sew there.
But instead of the headquarters, they led us to a brook… here, they ordered us to lay down, and began to shoot at us. I didn't even think of running away, because my feet were swollen from the frost and I was barefoot. But – but, after the shooting, when they began to tear off the other woman's clothes, and she began to scream, then one of the Banderaists hit her in the head with his rifle butt and blood spurted out into my eyes. Disoriented, then I began to flee…On the following morning, I woke up in a stall and my feet were wrapped in lamb's wool.
Since then, I began to wander from house to house… I had to cry and plead for pity, that I should be allowed to spend the night. I had to run away every day… three times they (the Banderaist – Ed.) inspected the entire town… but I always managed to elude them. This is how I went about for six months from one village to another… life itself disgusted me…
Fifty Banderaists grabbed me and walked me around for an entire 24-hour period…in the end, however, I got away from them at night.
I wandered aimlessly for an entire night and it was first at four o'clock that I was able to enter a house, where ‘hourly students’ lived. I was able to sustain myself there for six months until the Soviets arrived.
This telling is about one 100,000th of an abbreviation… but you can more or less guide yourself from it. I forgot to write is that my mother was casually tossed into the brook.
With this, I end my storytelling for today.
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Frightening Details Regarding Ukrainian Cruelty[1]
It is evening, and it is dark outside.[2] It might be about 4:30 in the morning. After so much thinking and having to do this during the entire day and entire night, they fell into a deep and snoring sleep. But I can't sleep…something oppresses and bites me… I am thinking of something… I myself do not know what.
For several minutes my mother woke up, and told me about a dream that she had. She told me, she dreamed of small cookies, and flour… after this – she traveled off on a train and said her farewells and kissed me. My mother said that this was not a good omen, during the time of the first and second aktions I too had that dream. “But by now, it is all the same to me, whichever way it goes, I don't want to torture myself–for this entire time, I exhausted myself only for you…”
“While still in Sokal, I wanted to give myself up… because I knew, no matter what, we would not be able to hide.” ”I only wanted to live to see the day when vengeance was taken on those who torture us in this way… but this is impossible… because…even if they do not find us, we will be frozen by the frost, and the lice will consume us.” “When they took your father, I cried so much… but your father did not make that much of an effort, he did not suffer so much… and after so much torture and pain, I must die… your father, indeed, was a Tzaddik…”
With these words, my mother once again fell asleep. But I could no longer fall asleep… I wanted to take a nap… but I tried in vain. A variety of thoughts rattled around in my head, and I thought about every word that my mother had said… in the end, I could not control myself, and I began to cry.
From time to time, I would stick out a hand… nothing, in vain… every time I took out… I never failed once. My mother would say to me: “should the Master of the Universe make it possible – even though it is impossible–and I will emerge free, I will ask the doctor how do lice multiply a thousand times at once.”,
While I was thinking this way, I heard the sound of footsteps. I then hid myself and I immediately heard firm footsteps and a shout: ‘Who gave you permission to sit here?’[3]
It was as if my heart had stopped beating… I could not breathe… I became completely confused. Someone's hand grabbed me by the jacket, with which I was covered, and began to pull on it. Not knowing what to do out of fear, I shouted: “Mamma!” But my mother was no longer sleeping. When they dragged me out of the cavern, my mother was already there… by herself, she was the first one to crawl out.
It was frightfully dark outside, such that I could not see anyone. It was first when someone shone a flashlight that I was able to see three bandits with rifles in their hands.
– ‘Nu – we go’ – one of them said.
It became still. Suddenly I heard frightening wailing. The other Jewish woman and her child, who were lying on the other side of the silo, thinking that they would forget her, at no time showed any sign of life…now, only – when they began to drag her out, she began to scream and weep bitterly. The Ukrainian murderers were not expecting her crying, and forcefully yanked her out. It was from her screams that one of the Ukrainians understood some words and instantly became incited his greed.
– ‘Whatever you have to give – give it’ – he shouted out.
A minute didn't go by and in his hands already he had a ring.
‘You have nothing else?’
– ‘I don't have anything!’
– ‘and you’ – he turned to my mother – ‘you have nothing?’
– ‘I have nothing’ –
–‘and if we fin something?’
– ‘then you can do with me what you want!’
– ‘good!’
‘Now come behind the barn and we will talk.’
All of us were afraid that, behind the barn, they will kill us and we began to cry and should as loudly as we could. Everyone of us said something, shouted and cried.
The Ukrainian commandant, a short, heavy and swarthy Vlasovite[4], did not want me to wake up the people in the village, and began to speak with us in Russian.
– ‘Why are you screaming like this, and wailing?…’ I will tell you… the situation is as follows. A darkness fell on the Jews, as they let the Soviet partisans know about us. That is why we are searching for you… we will do nothing to you… our objective is to bring you to the leadership there,
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and there– what they will do to you is unknown to us… I believe that they will not kill women and children… men – perhaps… but you, simply, they will arrange for you to go do work somewhere… and you will work. For now, sit on the wagon and we will ride over to the command.
Hearing such words, caused our hearts to lighten for a minute. We began to get onto the wagon. Just me – because I was barefoot and had swollen feet from the frost - could not get over to the wagon under my own power. One of the murderers took me and carried me to the wagon. But in the manner that he carried me, it became clear that they were not taking us to their command but to a brook.
When I was already on the wagon, I said to my mother, “If you want to, run away! I can no longer flee. It was only because of you that I tired myself out this far,” was my mother's reply.
“But… mother dear… I will not run away without you! And furthermore… I am barefoot, with swollen feet, and I cannot take three steps.”
We traveled on further. The peasant who drove the wagon was the same one in whose home we hid, and quite likely was the one who informed on us. Three Ukrainian bandits went behind the wagon.
“Where are you taking us?” my mother asked the peasant, “tell me…”.
“I do not know.”…
We travel on further. Around us are fields covered with snow… Everything around us is white. As if to make things worse, that night brought on an intense frost, such that all of us were trembling from the cold. Generally, we are at a far distance from the village because one or two times we heard a rooster crowing in the distance.
Suddenly, the wagon stopped and did not move. At first glance it was a wonder to me, as to why he would remain standing in these white fields. However, this was no time to stop and wonder. Three Ukrainians came nearer to the wagon.
‘Down!… Down! Why are you just standing there?… get down…’ they began to shout in their Ukrainian language.
Now we understood what was going to happen… we hear a scream… a wail… but what good was shouting on this open field!
“Is this the company command?” my mother went to them and asked.
– ‘Down! What are you standing for?… To death… an end!’ and he delivered her a blow with his rifle butt.
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We alighted from the wagon and did not stop shouting and crying… we knew though that this was our last minute.
– ‘Lie down… Lie down quickly!… don't ask a lot…’
– ‘Dear people, what did we do to you…why do you want to kill us’…
‘In what way do we keep you from proceeding… have some pity!… don't kill us…. we fled towards you… we to want to live…’
– ‘Why are you fiddling about?!’ – one of them shouted and hit my mother with his rifle butt.
– ‘Death and an end!… you Jewish Moscovite partisans!… you betrayed our country!’
With an ache in the heart, knowing what awaited us, we laid ourselves down on the snow. But I could not lie… even though I was certain that I would not flee. A Ukrainian hit me twice with his rifle butt, and I fell to the ground… but I stood up again. I stood and watched how three bodies lay on the snow, like starved herring, waiting for death.
Suddenly, I heard an order from the swarthy Vlasovite… his strong voice, like thunder, shook up and tore the silence of the night's stillness.
– ‘Konvodir[5] ! Raz!’ – his voice echoed back.
At that moment, a shot rang out…light flashed about and lighted the area around me. I became ice-cold… I began to tremble as if I had a fever… I became confused.
A minute did not pass before we heard a second order given… and again a shot, that tore apart the night's stillness and lit up everything around me. Now I saw the laid out bodies on the snow… but at the same time. I heard a quiet groaning, which came from the child's mouth… the child, who lay in the snow beside his mother… a bullet had happened to have struck the child.
The same scene was repeated in a minute. Suddenly, as I stood there disoriented, and looked to the group just as one of the Ukrainians hit me on my bare flesh… I fell to the ground.
This time, I did not attempt to stand up, even though I knew that the column had approached me. Suddenly a shot was heard… I remained frozen stock-still for a minute… I curled myself up and remained lying down. As I lay this way, I thought to myself… I don't feel anything here… perhaps my soul is already in heaven?…
Soon the Ukrainians began shouting again: ‘Throw them into the brook!… tear off their clothing!’
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I turned in the direction from which I heard the voices. Two murderers came closer to the Jewish woman, who lay wounded even back from the outset, and as soon as they began to tear her clothes off, she began to act wildly, screaming to heaven and wailing.
I heard my mother's voice; that voice will forever remain in my memory to the end of my life because these were my mother's last words: ‘Have you no fear of God?! Are you going to throw us into the brook while we are still alive?’…
But the Ukrainians wanted to be rid of us as quickly as possible, and because of this, when the ]other] Jewish lady did not stop screaming, they all stood around her, and one of them hit her in the head with his rifle butt. Blood spurted into my eyes… I remember nothing else. It was only early the following morning when I awoke, I took note of the fact that I was in a hospital and my feet were wrapped in lamb's wool.
In a letter dated March 16, 1946, to his aunt in Haifa, Dov Zigman writes at the end:
“My dear aunt! In several letters I have written to you my memories of what I went through. I only communicated one fact to you, how my mother was killed. But this is not even one percent of everything that I lived through. After I fled the place by the brook, things became one hundred times worse. I was captured many times, and I fled many times.
However, it is impossible to document all of this. When I come on a trip, I will tell you everything.”
Editor's footnotes:
By Y. Szmulewitz
Edited by Dr. Rafael Manory
We have just recently celebrated the twentieth anniversary of the great Normandy invasion, when the Allied forces, at the beginning of June 1944, broke through the strong wall that the Führer called “his fortress to Europe.” The historic undertaking has preserved memories among the Jews of that dark period; Jews that were left dangling between life and death.
This invasion is remembered in particular by 15 Jews, against whom the sword of the Angel of Death had already been drawn. Were it not for the June 6, 1944 invasion of Normandy, these Jews would have been turned to dust…one of these Jews, Moshe Maltz[2], who today lives in Newark, New Jersey, talks about the miraculous chapter of those days, during which the Jews were thought of as no more than refuse in the eyes of the Nazis.
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‘In connection with the Allied forces on the European front – Moshe Maltz tells – I remember one episode out of a chai, of difficult suffering, that was born by 15 Jews that were a remnant of six thousand in one city, far from Normandy, which, despite this distance, indirectly saved our lives.’
The 15 Jews were from Sokal and the vicinity around Lemberg (Lvov) in Eastern Galicia. Sokal was well-known to the Jewish immigrants in America because, in Austro-Hungary, the city lay on the boundary with Poland – and Holyn[3]. On one side, it was close to Vladimir Volynsky, and on the other side to Hrubieszow. Before the First World War, a very large number of Jews stole across this Russian–Polish border. The Jews of Sokal established a special committee to deal with the intake of Jews who had fled this boundary into the Jewish shtetl. All manner of assistance that they needed was provided to such Jews, and they were transported to a place that enabled them to reach ‘The Golden Land,’ America.
With the outbreak of the Second World War, Sokal was captured by the Soviets, as was all of Eastern Galicia. Organized Jewish life was dismantled and practically vanished; however, the local Jews made special efforts to continue their way of life by accommodating themselves to the new conditions, until suddenly, on June 22, 1941, the substantial tidal wave of the proud Hitler force also engulfed the Jews of the shtetl.
Agony and suffering began immediately for the Jews of Sokal, plunder and murder, and in the end – death. The Nazis ran wild in a manner that aroused a sense of horror in the Jews of the place. Six thousand Jews were killed, old and young…
During this slaughter that was targeted at the Jews of Sokal, only 15 were saved. There were four men, five women, and six children.
‘We fled, possessed by fluttering – Moshe Maltz now tells – hungry and without strength. We felt the presence of death on all sides. We had no hope whatsoever of surviving. And then a miracle occurred. And after that, we were again stalked by danger, and again, a great miracle occurred…’
In the end, after some wandering, during which fear unceasingly accompanied us, these fifteen Jews, consumed by hopelessness, reached a certain village. At night, at a deliberate moment of silence, we knocked on the door of a Christian lady, Franciska Halamayova. The woman was 58 years old at the time, and she had one daughter, Halina.
– I see that you are Jews, the woman said in a delicate voice – Don't be afraid of me; I will help you. You will be with me as if you were my own flesh and blood.
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And indeed, that is how it was. In great silence, Franciska Halamayova brought the 15 Jews, over whose heads hovered danger, to an upper attic above a pigsty. This will be your hiding place. Perhaps a miracle will take place.
More than twenty months – Maltz tells – we fifteen Jews lay in this upper attic above the pigsty. We were asphyxiated by the heat and cold, by hunger and thirst; we were sick and pursued, swollen, and eating vermin who had found for themselves the Garden of Eden in this upper attic above the pigsty. At the same time that we were squirreled away in our hiding place, in the spring of 1942, the war of the Germans against the Jews reached a peak in intensity. Everywhere: ghettoes, hunger, aktionen, plagues, plunder, murder, and deportations to death camps. All around us, the lives of Jews were drowning in a sea of blood and tears. Is it possible that we, the 15 Jews, consumed by fear and suffering in this upper attic, will live to see the death of these murderers?
And so, days went by, weeks and months, under constant fear. First, [the Germans] penetrated deeply into Soviet Russia, and so the danger to concealed Jews was minimal. But afterwards, at the beginning of 1944, when Hitler's armies were rebuffed and retreated along the entire length of the Russian front, the conditions worsened. Life for the hidden Jews became unbearable, and a great sense of hopelessness reigned over them…
When Hitler's armies reached Eastern Galicia, the Poles fled because of the deeds of terror by the local Ukrainians. The 15 Jews who were hidden feared that their savior, the Polish woman who was so noble, would be uprooted from her house, and they would remain abandoned. The retreating Nazis took over every home in the area left behind by the Poles.
The Nazis were to be found in our area as well – Moshe Maltz tells – through cracks in the upper attic we saw their murderous faces…we were forced to hold our breath, and we lay full of fear, our frustration was roiling and we were going out of our minds. Here-here, death draws nearer, what are we to do? Heavens, why do you not say anything? Take pity on us, do a miracle for us!
Around us, the Nazis placed a huge front of cannons, airplanes and tanks. Around us, the murderers' armies swarm, and in the middle, up in the attic of the pigsty, 15 Jews flutter helplessly between life and death.
The noble lady Franciska Halamayova decided not to abandon the house. In the eyes of the hidden Jews she was like an angel who voluntarily enters the lair of the lion, so that she could save the Jews, for which danger gazed. She did not forsake her home like the other Poles, because if so, 15 Jews would immediately fall into the hands of the Nazi murderers who would find them, and without compunction, kill them.
At the beginning of June 1944, in the middle of the night, the gates of the town businesses were burned down, and so were those of where the Jews were hiding in the upper attic. The Hitler troops brought in tanks and additional cannons. The Jews, in the upper attic by the roof, had their souls
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almost extinguished from fear…with the coming of dawn, looking through the cracks in the boards in the attic floor, they saw the Nazi soldiers digging holes, pulling telephone wires and guarding the roofs of all the roofs on their houses, surrounding them. In a short time, they will reach the pigsty where they are crouched in the thrall of terror.
During that entire day, now Maltz tells, the Christian woman did not come to us. They prepared themselves to die… but on the following morning, Mrs. Halamyova arrived. She brought us food, though in a fugitive way; everyone prayed to God, because we were all lost…
However, a real miracle took place. All the houses in the village were empty. The Nazis made use of the shingles to speed up their digging. There was only one house, the house of Franciska Halamyova in which the Nazi officers holed up, and they did not touch. And beside the house, there stood a watchman by the pigsty, in which 15 Jews lay hidden, who for all this time flitted between life and death.
To our surprise, one day, the noble Christian woman came up to the roof to the Jews to tell us “You are saved!“ She gave us this tremendous news: “The Allies have opened a second front in Europe. Tonight, the entire Nazi division is leaving, they are going to France to fight the Allies.”
Immediately after this, the hidden Jews, looking through the cracks that were in the attic walkway, saw that the Nazis are disassembling and packing up all their equipment. “Already by that night, so did Maltz tell, we saw the gates opening, The Nazis left with all of their gear. In the end, we were able to breathe like free people. As you can see, we were saved thanks to the Allied invasion of Normandy.”
The fifteen Jews who were saved by a miracle live today in the United States and Israel. Among them are Maltz's wife, his son, who is now a pharmacist, Maltz's brother, and his two sisters. One of them, at the time, was with her little girl, who is today married.
Among the fifteen Jews who hid in the upper attic of the pigsty was also the well-known Sokal doctor, David Kindler, with his wife and two children. Currently. Dr. Kindler lives in Israel and is the Chairman of the Organization of Sokal Émigrés. Yehoshua Krom, who lives with his wife and children in Los Angeles, was also among those hidden in the attic.
Editor's footnotes:
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