There was widespread distrust. I went to their place, they were afraid of me, they thought I may be in the NKVD. They didn’t even offer tea.
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Displaying 27001 - 27030 of 50826 results
Michal Nadel
It was a deeply orthodox family. Father with a beard and so on. Before the war they had a textile store. The son had passed the high-school exams – his name was Richter, he was such a mama’s boy. Most of us were sportsmen, rascals, and he was a mama’s boy. He was never active, only thought about the high-school exams. When the war broke out he escaped from the camp on Janowska Street. The same one my brother was in. He ran away to the partisans. And later he showed up one day in an SS uniform and took his entire family out of the camp. I would have never believed if somebody had told me that before the war, that he would be capable of something like that. He took his family to the forests in the Volyn area, to partisans. I don’t exactly know what groups those were, Russian, Ukrainian, or some mixed ones, but his entire family survived. I learned about my family’s fate from them.
,
During WW2
See text in interview
When the Germans were near Stalingrad [25] in the summer of 1942, all forces had to be mobilized to the front, a telegram came to our camp that all military specialists should be sent back to Chelyabinsk. There were many specialists, but the commanders wanted to get rid of those weakest, those worst ones. Because there was no use for them. And I was a specialist, so they picked me. I could have gotten out of it. Guys were trying to talk me into it, but… it’s the war and there was no place for me there. So I went to Chelyabinsk and to an air force unit from there. I wasn’t able to serve in the air force, but as an air force specialist I was assigned to PARM. PARM stands for a Mobile Air Mechanic. We had a tent and a bus, and in that bus there was a turning lathe and other tools needed to fix planes. I think we were 15 people there.
In PARM I found out that the Wasilewska Army [26] was being created. Well, first there was Anders’ Army [27], but we didn’t know anything about it. Just some gossip, reached us. And we had no way of getting out of the camp. Only when we were back in the normal army, we had access to information. A Polish army was supposed to be created in Riazan [ca. 200 km south-east of Moscow]. We started writing rapports asking for relocation. There were huge difficulties.
In the end they moved us to a rallying point in Chelyabinsk. After a few days it turned out that we were about to be sent not to a Polish, but to a Russian unit. Then we started to rebel. Heniek Poringier was the leader of the protest. They arrested that Poringier and two others, and they thought they’d break us this way, but they didn’t. The news about us got to Wanda Wasilewska. We put our foot down. In the end an order came in and they finally sent us to the Polish unit. First we went to Moscow, and from there were supposed to be sent to the Polish unit.
In Moscow I met a Polish soldier for the first time. It was a huge joy for us, to see a man in a Polish uniform. It was Franek. There were so many Franeks before the war! He was surprised we were wearing Russian uniforms, and we started telling him why and what, and he bought us beer. We were surprised there was beer. We thought things like that didn’t exist in the world. And in Moscow there was beer and… later we found out that for commanders there was even some cognac.
The second night we spent at the Kursk train station, on stone floors, wrapped in greatcoats – one end under the head, the other under the legs, so that it was warmer. In the morning – suddenly a loud noise and from the speakers we heard a Polish fight song. Such a beautiful melody. The ceiling was very high at the station, and it really made an impression, it could really get you up. We checked in at the command, they gave us documents and a military permit to the unit in Chelm [150 km north of Lwow]. It was fall 1944.
We were supposed to go from Moscow to Minsk and then to Chelm. But we decided to go to Kiev and Lwow. It was desertion, but it was all chaos then, a mess. We spent three days in Lwow because everyone wanted to visit various places. There was martial law in Lwow then. It meant that Lwow was seized by Russia [then USSR], but Ukrainians were terrorizing everyone wherever they went. I went to my house, but didn’t find anyone. The house was there, but some Russian lived there. The door was locked. And later I was afraid to go there. I met one Jewish family that survived. Apart from them, everyone died [28]. Only that one family from the neighborhood was saved, and it happened in an interesting way.
In PARM I found out that the Wasilewska Army [26] was being created. Well, first there was Anders’ Army [27], but we didn’t know anything about it. Just some gossip, reached us. And we had no way of getting out of the camp. Only when we were back in the normal army, we had access to information. A Polish army was supposed to be created in Riazan [ca. 200 km south-east of Moscow]. We started writing rapports asking for relocation. There were huge difficulties.
In the end they moved us to a rallying point in Chelyabinsk. After a few days it turned out that we were about to be sent not to a Polish, but to a Russian unit. Then we started to rebel. Heniek Poringier was the leader of the protest. They arrested that Poringier and two others, and they thought they’d break us this way, but they didn’t. The news about us got to Wanda Wasilewska. We put our foot down. In the end an order came in and they finally sent us to the Polish unit. First we went to Moscow, and from there were supposed to be sent to the Polish unit.
In Moscow I met a Polish soldier for the first time. It was a huge joy for us, to see a man in a Polish uniform. It was Franek. There were so many Franeks before the war! He was surprised we were wearing Russian uniforms, and we started telling him why and what, and he bought us beer. We were surprised there was beer. We thought things like that didn’t exist in the world. And in Moscow there was beer and… later we found out that for commanders there was even some cognac.
The second night we spent at the Kursk train station, on stone floors, wrapped in greatcoats – one end under the head, the other under the legs, so that it was warmer. In the morning – suddenly a loud noise and from the speakers we heard a Polish fight song. Such a beautiful melody. The ceiling was very high at the station, and it really made an impression, it could really get you up. We checked in at the command, they gave us documents and a military permit to the unit in Chelm [150 km north of Lwow]. It was fall 1944.
We were supposed to go from Moscow to Minsk and then to Chelm. But we decided to go to Kiev and Lwow. It was desertion, but it was all chaos then, a mess. We spent three days in Lwow because everyone wanted to visit various places. There was martial law in Lwow then. It meant that Lwow was seized by Russia [then USSR], but Ukrainians were terrorizing everyone wherever they went. I went to my house, but didn’t find anyone. The house was there, but some Russian lived there. The door was locked. And later I was afraid to go there. I met one Jewish family that survived. Apart from them, everyone died [28]. Only that one family from the neighborhood was saved, and it happened in an interesting way.
I stayed in the hospital for about five or six weeks. After two weeks my temperature dropped down to 35 degrees C, I was very weak. Then they signed me out because there was a rule – ‘no fever – go back to the camp.’ I remember there was a snow storm on that day. I started walking towards the camp, but then that Franciszek called, ‘Hey, stop!’ It turned out he convinced the medic I should stay. And so I stayed in the hospital again.
After some time I returned to the camp. It was terribly freezing again. I took a shortcut through a lake. Night. Taiga, wolves howled. It was extremely windy on that lake. Once I got to the camp, I was sick again. I was shivering in the dugout. They didn’t take me to the forest the next morning. Some people they used to take by force, but they didn’t take me. I lied in bed at the camp then. I dried my bread on the stove and sliced it. Then I would put the slices around me, no one had any doubts I was very sick, I had so much bread around me.
Once the battalion commander came up to me and started asking whether I had any family in Russia, they wanted to get rid of me. But I had no one, so I stayed. There were a few of us sick, there were also a few marauders. Just like at Svejk’s [Josef Svejk, a Czech literature hero: a dim-witted and good natured dealer of dogs from Prague, who, due to ill fate, is sent to war]. There was one guy at the camp – Fryderyk and another one from Lwow, I don’t remember his name. At night we would sit around the stove, they would lean against the wall, one would play a mandolin, the other sang. This is when I heard the song ‘This is why I miss summer’ for the first time, it was a very popular song, but I didn’t know it then. There were some other songs, too, but this one was the favorite one. My memories are often tied to songs. Or to sunshine.
Once in a while a sanitary vehicle used to come with clean underwear. What did it mean – clean?! They would put all dirty clothes into one steam boiler. The steam was never hot enough, so after washing – it was even worse. Not everyone got dirty to the same extent… some would get more dirty, I can’t say, but once they put everything into the same boiler. Then everyone had it even. But we got used to even that.
And one more thing: despite the conditions in the camp, people were somehow surviving in our group. We weren’t dying there. There was one suicide, a young man hanged himself in the forest. Another one died – fell through a hole into the frozen lake – because we used to fish and catch crawfish in holes in the lake to have some more food. But until the time I left nobody from the group died of emaciation.
Not far from us there was a camp of the Estonian battalion. Estonians, large men, because Estonia was wealthy before the war. They used to call us the army of Saint Kinga because we were very small, I was 1,71 meter tall and was one of the tallest [St. Kinga: a patron of the poor and unfortunate]. And those were huge men, and they were dying in masses. They must have had other needs that their organisms couldn’t take it.
After some time I returned to the camp. It was terribly freezing again. I took a shortcut through a lake. Night. Taiga, wolves howled. It was extremely windy on that lake. Once I got to the camp, I was sick again. I was shivering in the dugout. They didn’t take me to the forest the next morning. Some people they used to take by force, but they didn’t take me. I lied in bed at the camp then. I dried my bread on the stove and sliced it. Then I would put the slices around me, no one had any doubts I was very sick, I had so much bread around me.
Once the battalion commander came up to me and started asking whether I had any family in Russia, they wanted to get rid of me. But I had no one, so I stayed. There were a few of us sick, there were also a few marauders. Just like at Svejk’s [Josef Svejk, a Czech literature hero: a dim-witted and good natured dealer of dogs from Prague, who, due to ill fate, is sent to war]. There was one guy at the camp – Fryderyk and another one from Lwow, I don’t remember his name. At night we would sit around the stove, they would lean against the wall, one would play a mandolin, the other sang. This is when I heard the song ‘This is why I miss summer’ for the first time, it was a very popular song, but I didn’t know it then. There were some other songs, too, but this one was the favorite one. My memories are often tied to songs. Or to sunshine.
Once in a while a sanitary vehicle used to come with clean underwear. What did it mean – clean?! They would put all dirty clothes into one steam boiler. The steam was never hot enough, so after washing – it was even worse. Not everyone got dirty to the same extent… some would get more dirty, I can’t say, but once they put everything into the same boiler. Then everyone had it even. But we got used to even that.
And one more thing: despite the conditions in the camp, people were somehow surviving in our group. We weren’t dying there. There was one suicide, a young man hanged himself in the forest. Another one died – fell through a hole into the frozen lake – because we used to fish and catch crawfish in holes in the lake to have some more food. But until the time I left nobody from the group died of emaciation.
Not far from us there was a camp of the Estonian battalion. Estonians, large men, because Estonia was wealthy before the war. They used to call us the army of Saint Kinga because we were very small, I was 1,71 meter tall and was one of the tallest [St. Kinga: a patron of the poor and unfortunate]. And those were huge men, and they were dying in masses. They must have had other needs that their organisms couldn’t take it.
There were a few Jews among us. They had a Jewish calendar. One day we heard that Yom Kippur falls on a certain day. I decided not to eat. Because to us it’s a day of a very strict fast. I wanted to do it to honor my parents. I said I was sick. I didn’t get up from bed in the morning, they brought me bread from the kitchen, but I didn’t eat. In the camp, when someone didn’t eat, that meant he was very sick. The commander came to me: ‘What’s up?’ I said, ‘I don’t know.’ They made me walk to the hospital point – about 10 kilometers from our camp. A shack made of bare stones. It was terribly cold in there. There was one doctor, a medic really, and one orderly – Franciszek, a Pole, who liked me. And that medic wasn’t a bad man either, an older man. The only medicine he had – no matter what you were sick with – he dyed your back with some brown liquid and gave you an aspirin.
There was a big army camp in the forests near Kursk, a large one, there were about 500,000 people there. They took us there. It was a training camp. Recruiters walked around with no shoes on, with nothing, and as soon as they got weapons, they went to the front. But that was the healthy element. We were kept there idle, nothing – we just sat there and ate. Other battalions trained, and we did nothing: there was only breakfast, lunch, supper – mediocre… We lived in dugouts and tents. It lasted for eight, ten days. In the morning, on our way to the canteen, we would hear Polish songs somewhere in the camp. We heard they were going to create a Polish army, that there are some Polish units in the camp. Others said we were going to be taken to Siberia.
In the end they removed us from the camp. We went to Kursk, to the train station, one company after another. We were many – about 1 000 people for sure. People who came from Lwow and surrounding areas. Mostly those uncertain elements. Everybody sang legion, shooter songs, they also sang the funeral march [Polish patriotic songs]. I think we stood on the train station in Kursk for a full day, there was no available railroad track. It was the time of general withdrawal from the west, railroads were busy, trains bombed. In the end they gave us a piece of lard and bread, and later put us into cattle cars. We went east, we ended up on the border of Siberia and Ural, on the Kyshtym station [100 km from Chelyabinsk].
From Kyshtym we went on foot about 15 kilometers into the woods. There was a lake there. In the deep forest it turned out that we were a special battalion, a so-called spec-battalion, with military discipline, any disobedience was punished with a shot to the head. We were commanded by Russians. They considered us spies and traitors. Our military ranks were disregarded. I was of a senior rank then, that was more or less a sergeant, but it meant nothing there. Those Russians – they abused us. They were criminals. There was a rule in Russia that a criminal doesn’t go to the front – they stay at the back. Only those with no criminal record went to the front.
What was it like in that camp? We got off in the forest, they made us walk on foot tens of kilometers, in the end we ended up in some grass, who knows where. It was tough. It was late fall. There was already snow, freezing temperatures, at the beginning we slept on the bare ground. Later we dug dugouts ourselves, everything from scratch. Our task was to build a railroad to Kyshtym. They found graphite deposits in those forests. And they started to mine it. A factory was supposed to be built there.
When we got there, there was nothing around. We started some fire and built dugouts. Some of us were digging holes, others were cutting trees. A dugout’s walls and the top were covered with wooden beams, branches and undergrowth placed on top, and then all that was covered with soil. It was fairly warm inside. But moist. It was terribly wet out there. We had small metal stoves, we called them ‘fishes.’ They were in the shape of a prism lying on a side, the chimney went through the roof. There was a lot of fire wood, since we lived in the forest. During a day those who were sick and couldn’t go to work took care of the fire.
The food was very meager. Once, when some inspection from Moscow was supposed to come, they started feeding us all of a sudden. They gave us ‘galushki’ then – that’s Russian, those were noodles made of black flour. We all got sick then, because they gave us a lot of it, full bowls, and our stomachs weren’t used to eating then. We usually got up at 5am and marched to the canteen a couple kilometers away from the camp. They would give us cabbage broth… well, there were a few cabbage leaves floating in it. The cook also had a pot from which he would give us a spoonful of oil. That’s what the food was like.
In the morning we also used to get a daily portion of bread. The bread was moist, made of that dark flour – they said there was more bran, potatoes, than flour. And now you had a problem: should you eat it all at once, or break it into three parts; some people ate it all at once, others hid it somewhere in the dugout to have something after work. Some others took a pot and cooked the bread in salty water. The bread would swell up, and you could fill yourself up with it, but it ended up with swelling. And they were tall sprightly people. They used to bring us lunch to work, to the forest. It was usually the same cabbage broth, sometimes we had dried fish. The fish was very hard, it was quite difficult to eat it. I always said we’d get used to it.
We were furious. When we fought in the war, we had distinctions, here we were degraded, dishonored, brought down to the rank of a regular soldier. Our commanders were bandits. The temperature went below -45 degrees C, and they brought us there in summer clothes. After some time donkey jackets, hats and boots arrived, but those thugs sold them. Criminals. We didn’t believe a word they said. We thought they would loose the war. We wondered where we’d withdraw: to Manjuria, to China? But we didn’t believe they would win the war – no way. No one believed it.
In the end they removed us from the camp. We went to Kursk, to the train station, one company after another. We were many – about 1 000 people for sure. People who came from Lwow and surrounding areas. Mostly those uncertain elements. Everybody sang legion, shooter songs, they also sang the funeral march [Polish patriotic songs]. I think we stood on the train station in Kursk for a full day, there was no available railroad track. It was the time of general withdrawal from the west, railroads were busy, trains bombed. In the end they gave us a piece of lard and bread, and later put us into cattle cars. We went east, we ended up on the border of Siberia and Ural, on the Kyshtym station [100 km from Chelyabinsk].
From Kyshtym we went on foot about 15 kilometers into the woods. There was a lake there. In the deep forest it turned out that we were a special battalion, a so-called spec-battalion, with military discipline, any disobedience was punished with a shot to the head. We were commanded by Russians. They considered us spies and traitors. Our military ranks were disregarded. I was of a senior rank then, that was more or less a sergeant, but it meant nothing there. Those Russians – they abused us. They were criminals. There was a rule in Russia that a criminal doesn’t go to the front – they stay at the back. Only those with no criminal record went to the front.
What was it like in that camp? We got off in the forest, they made us walk on foot tens of kilometers, in the end we ended up in some grass, who knows where. It was tough. It was late fall. There was already snow, freezing temperatures, at the beginning we slept on the bare ground. Later we dug dugouts ourselves, everything from scratch. Our task was to build a railroad to Kyshtym. They found graphite deposits in those forests. And they started to mine it. A factory was supposed to be built there.
When we got there, there was nothing around. We started some fire and built dugouts. Some of us were digging holes, others were cutting trees. A dugout’s walls and the top were covered with wooden beams, branches and undergrowth placed on top, and then all that was covered with soil. It was fairly warm inside. But moist. It was terribly wet out there. We had small metal stoves, we called them ‘fishes.’ They were in the shape of a prism lying on a side, the chimney went through the roof. There was a lot of fire wood, since we lived in the forest. During a day those who were sick and couldn’t go to work took care of the fire.
The food was very meager. Once, when some inspection from Moscow was supposed to come, they started feeding us all of a sudden. They gave us ‘galushki’ then – that’s Russian, those were noodles made of black flour. We all got sick then, because they gave us a lot of it, full bowls, and our stomachs weren’t used to eating then. We usually got up at 5am and marched to the canteen a couple kilometers away from the camp. They would give us cabbage broth… well, there were a few cabbage leaves floating in it. The cook also had a pot from which he would give us a spoonful of oil. That’s what the food was like.
In the morning we also used to get a daily portion of bread. The bread was moist, made of that dark flour – they said there was more bran, potatoes, than flour. And now you had a problem: should you eat it all at once, or break it into three parts; some people ate it all at once, others hid it somewhere in the dugout to have something after work. Some others took a pot and cooked the bread in salty water. The bread would swell up, and you could fill yourself up with it, but it ended up with swelling. And they were tall sprightly people. They used to bring us lunch to work, to the forest. It was usually the same cabbage broth, sometimes we had dried fish. The fish was very hard, it was quite difficult to eat it. I always said we’d get used to it.
We were furious. When we fought in the war, we had distinctions, here we were degraded, dishonored, brought down to the rank of a regular soldier. Our commanders were bandits. The temperature went below -45 degrees C, and they brought us there in summer clothes. After some time donkey jackets, hats and boots arrived, but those thugs sold them. Criminals. We didn’t believe a word they said. We thought they would loose the war. We wondered where we’d withdraw: to Manjuria, to China? But we didn’t believe they would win the war – no way. No one believed it.
They announced in the army the attack was an effect of sabotage, and they started picking out ‘uncertain elements’ from the units. Every day during the assemblies reports would come in, and you could hear: ‘Step out, step out, step out.’ I, like other Poles, was called out as well. Those who stayed were probably serving in the NKVD [24]. They tried to recruit me as well, but my father had told me: ‘Remember, don’t get into any, absolutely any, espionage.’ And I listened to Father and wanted to avoid it at all cost. It was in the fall of 1941. There was tall grain standing in the fields. There was no one to harvest it, so it stayed. They sent us in the direction of the forests near Kursk.
When the war broke out in 1941 [23] – we were in Kursk – our unit was supposed to move east. We were standing at the main train station, there was a huge disarray, chaos, lots of trains. Some of my friends from Lwow decided to wait for the Germans to come. None of us believed the Germans murdered so badly. It was June, there were grain fields around the station, they decided to go in the field and wait there for the transport to leave. They tried to talk me into it, but I said I was a soldier and I wouldn’t go. In the end three guys ran away: two Jews and one Ukrainian. When they were sitting in the grain, a horrible air raid began, fire broke out. They were certain our train had burned down, and when they got back to Lwow, they told my family that I had died. I am almost certain Father didn’t believe it.
There were 57 airplanes in our unit at that time. Fifty new ones and seven of an old type. In a few weeks all 50 were shot down. What turned out? That they were designed in such a way that the board shooter was in the field of fire of the airships. When they figured out what was wrong, they put the shooter in the tail of the plane. I was such a tail shooter.
In 1941 I was wounded during a German air raid on the airport. I had general injury, I was wounded with shrapnel – I had a damaged eye and I lost my hearing. I got to a field hospital in Chelyabinsk [city 1500 km from Moscow, to the east of the Ural Mountains], where they removed the splinter from my eye. Conditions in that hospital were such that I don’t even want to talk about them. I remember once we got as a treat some curds – not even half a glass. I stayed in that hospital for a few months. Maybe two, I don’t remember exactly. Then I returned to the unit. The Germans were shooting at our planes from nearby forests. Those were far-reaching bullets, but it was still far to the front, they were called DB3. They used to shoot at the most dangerous moment – during the take off of a plane – you can’t jump out or maneuver then, because the plane is falling down. Those are the worst moments.
There were 57 airplanes in our unit at that time. Fifty new ones and seven of an old type. In a few weeks all 50 were shot down. What turned out? That they were designed in such a way that the board shooter was in the field of fire of the airships. When they figured out what was wrong, they put the shooter in the tail of the plane. I was such a tail shooter.
In 1941 I was wounded during a German air raid on the airport. I had general injury, I was wounded with shrapnel – I had a damaged eye and I lost my hearing. I got to a field hospital in Chelyabinsk [city 1500 km from Moscow, to the east of the Ural Mountains], where they removed the splinter from my eye. Conditions in that hospital were such that I don’t even want to talk about them. I remember once we got as a treat some curds – not even half a glass. I stayed in that hospital for a few months. Maybe two, I don’t remember exactly. Then I returned to the unit. The Germans were shooting at our planes from nearby forests. Those were far-reaching bullets, but it was still far to the front, they were called DB3. They used to shoot at the most dangerous moment – during the take off of a plane – you can’t jump out or maneuver then, because the plane is falling down. Those are the worst moments.
Since I was a mechanic, I was sent to serve in the air force. They sent me to an air force base near Kursk [400 km east from Kiev, today in Russia]. Oh, what vicissitudes… how they transported us there, how we got there… that’d be a long story! And the conditions that were there… in the Russian army. Well, but we were young. At home, Mom used to cry when I had a sore throat, but there I simply never got sick.
I considered using one of the underground organizations, which dealt with moving people from Vilnius to Israel. Those scout, Jewish youth organizations took care of it.
They drafted men born in 1917, 1918, 1919 – there was nothing I could do about it, I had to go. It was 18th October 1940. That’s an important date, that was the Sukkot holiday. Just like now it is the Holiday of Booths. And I remember on the last day of Sukkot I was supposed to go to the drafting point. I was waiting for Father. Father was in the prayer house, and I was ready to say goodbye. I remember as if it was today, Father, Mother, they hugged me somehow, and Father gave me a prayer: ahl tirah mi-pahad pitom… Do not be overwhelmed by sudden terror. Because there used to be kosher food at our house. As a goodbye Father said: ‘You’ll be forced to eat everything there. Remember, life requires compromise, but when you eat pork, remember not to lick the bones!’ It was supposed to be humor. He went with me with Mother and my girlfriend at the time, Ania, whom I probably would have married if it hadn’t been for the war.
The drafting point was in the 5th High School in Lwow. They, the Soviets, made us volunteers. There was a big class in the school, a large table and Russian officers sat there, and some civilians, and on the left there was a female doctor with a scale. She measured the height and we had to stand in front of her naked, like the day we were born. She checked whether you had venereal disease. Can you imagine, a young boy, I was completely innocent, really. I was shocked, stressed.
The drafting point was in the 5th High School in Lwow. They, the Soviets, made us volunteers. There was a big class in the school, a large table and Russian officers sat there, and some civilians, and on the left there was a female doctor with a scale. She measured the height and we had to stand in front of her naked, like the day we were born. She checked whether you had venereal disease. Can you imagine, a young boy, I was completely innocent, really. I was shocked, stressed.
When the Russians entered Lwow, I was employed at Neuman’s. The factory was then state-owned and functioned as a workers’ cooperative. I worked there until October 1940, until I was drafted into the Soviet Army.
After some time the only ones happy about the Russians were small groups of communists. There weren’t too many communists in Lwow, most Jews belonged to either Zionist or Assimilators Organizations [20]. Bund [21] was rather weak.
After some time the only ones happy about the Russians were small groups of communists. There weren’t too many communists in Lwow, most Jews belonged to either Zionist or Assimilators Organizations [20]. Bund [21] was rather weak. That small group of communists – they were the only ones greeting the Russians happily. Most Jews knew it was a misfortune.
In 1939 the war broke out [17]. The Germans reached Lwow and stopped on the perimeter of the city, captured Execution Hill, they were pushed out of the station and the fighting lasted ten days. I have no proof, but I did take part in the defense of Lwow [18]. In the Jewish unit of the scouts. There were several regiments. I remember 19, 26, 40… so these regiments went to the front and there were many Jewish men there, because that was a normal recruitment. Only so-called administrative, quartermaster units stayed. And they fought against the Germans in the city. Firemen, police, school scout regiments, and just young people: there were also very many Jews there. I remember that the recruitment headquarters was on Batorego Street. A lot of people went there, but they didn’t accept everyone, because they didn’t have enough weapons for everybody.
We volunteered to defend Lwow and we had an opposition point in the ‘Dublany’ Agricultural College. The center was in Polish, our hands, and the Germans were up on the hills from which they were shooting at us. After ten days of sitting in the shelters we heard, all of a sudden, that Russians are coming to aid us. They were saying the Soviet Army was entering in order to liberate those areas. We didn’t understand their real goals [19]. The Germans issued a notice urging all civilians to leave the city in the southern direction, through Lyczakowska Street, because they were going to attack the city as a military target [Lyczakowska: the main street of the district in the eastern part of the city, leading to the city limits]. They decided to bomb the entire city, so they ordered the civilians to leave the city.
It was a tragedy. Some decided to leave the city; others decided that whatever happens, happens. I began going around, saying goodbye to relatives, to friends, because my family decided to stay – Father was handicapped, there were small children. We stayed in a shelter. At night – silence. Usually there was shooting at night – then silence, and in the morning a Polish soldier comes in and yells: ‘The war is over!’ Literally: ‘The war is over!’
It turned out that those who had access to a radio in their basements, heard that Russians announced on the radio that they are entering Poland to help their brothers. They, Russians, meant, of course, help for Ukrainians, liberation of Ukraine. But people didn’t understand. If they were entering the city, against Germans – they were allies. So when there was this silence and it was known that the Russians were coming, to those who had been expecting death, it was joy! And the Germans withdrew. You could still hear some far away machine gun shots.
After a few hours the Russian army marched in. They looked very disappointingly, they behaved very disappointingly. First of all, Polish uniforms, compared to theirs, looked very elegant, we looked like aristocracy. They, the Russians, were wearing some poor belts, not leather, but some canvas, and those big hats. And there were some Mongol units with them. And those guns on strings. Yes, I’m not kidding, many had them. They walked silently. People came out to greet them, and they started shooting. Over there, in Lyczakow, there were still opposition points, but usually everyone, both Poles and Jews, were treating them like saviors, because they imagined that the Germans entering the city would have been the worst possibility.
We volunteered to defend Lwow and we had an opposition point in the ‘Dublany’ Agricultural College. The center was in Polish, our hands, and the Germans were up on the hills from which they were shooting at us. After ten days of sitting in the shelters we heard, all of a sudden, that Russians are coming to aid us. They were saying the Soviet Army was entering in order to liberate those areas. We didn’t understand their real goals [19]. The Germans issued a notice urging all civilians to leave the city in the southern direction, through Lyczakowska Street, because they were going to attack the city as a military target [Lyczakowska: the main street of the district in the eastern part of the city, leading to the city limits]. They decided to bomb the entire city, so they ordered the civilians to leave the city.
It was a tragedy. Some decided to leave the city; others decided that whatever happens, happens. I began going around, saying goodbye to relatives, to friends, because my family decided to stay – Father was handicapped, there were small children. We stayed in a shelter. At night – silence. Usually there was shooting at night – then silence, and in the morning a Polish soldier comes in and yells: ‘The war is over!’ Literally: ‘The war is over!’
It turned out that those who had access to a radio in their basements, heard that Russians announced on the radio that they are entering Poland to help their brothers. They, Russians, meant, of course, help for Ukrainians, liberation of Ukraine. But people didn’t understand. If they were entering the city, against Germans – they were allies. So when there was this silence and it was known that the Russians were coming, to those who had been expecting death, it was joy! And the Germans withdrew. You could still hear some far away machine gun shots.
After a few hours the Russian army marched in. They looked very disappointingly, they behaved very disappointingly. First of all, Polish uniforms, compared to theirs, looked very elegant, we looked like aristocracy. They, the Russians, were wearing some poor belts, not leather, but some canvas, and those big hats. And there were some Mongol units with them. And those guns on strings. Yes, I’m not kidding, many had them. They walked silently. People came out to greet them, and they started shooting. Over there, in Lyczakow, there were still opposition points, but usually everyone, both Poles and Jews, were treating them like saviors, because they imagined that the Germans entering the city would have been the worst possibility.
I didn’t manage to go to Palestine – there were restrictions when it came to leaving. England imposed some limitations, we had to wait in line [14]. Here, in the country, there were special places which prepared you for going to Israel, they were called hakhsharah [15]. They were prepared you for the living conditions in Israel in kibbutzim. Hakhsharah were organized on farms, not only Jewish, sometimes those were Polish farms, which employed members of our organizations, usually students. The organization decided who would go to a hakhsharah. Akiba had arrangements with some farms, and used to send people there. Going through a hakhsharah gave you the possibility of obtaining a certificate for going to Palestine. I was at the end of the line, because there were older people than me, I was younger than them.
I spent three months on a hakhsharah, it wasn’t long, usually the stay lasted half a year, but I had a specific profession already then – I was a mechanic, I counted on specializing before going to Palestine. Our hakhsharah was co-educational.
I spent three months on a hakhsharah, it wasn’t long, usually the stay lasted half a year, but I had a specific profession already then – I was a mechanic, I counted on specializing before going to Palestine. Our hakhsharah was co-educational.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
Various Zionist organizations didn’t keep in touch with one another. If we ever discussed political issues with each other, we did it only if we knew each other – if you knew someone, you’d discuss it with him. We knew each other from schools, we knew about each other. Each organization had its own idea about the country, we never talked about how it would function once the country existed.
There was a special Jewish organization there. Keren Kayemet Leisrael [10], they were collecting money from Jews all over the world to fund buying out the land. There was also Keren Hayesod [11], a fund for settling there, for building house complexes and so on. We never talked about military action. Other organizations might have been leaning more towards it, especially a revisionist organization, under the command of Jabotynski [12], they had a youth scout organization, called Brith Trumpledor [13].
One of us, Akiba activists, was Rabbi Fiszman – an activist of the international level. In the 1930s, I was 15 or 16 at the time, Fiszman came to Lwow for a Zionist organizations convention. I didn’t take part in that convention, because I was a bodyguard for Fiszman – me, Aldek and Lutwak. We were kind of stewards. We accompanied him everywhere, we even went to the hotel he slept in.
That’s why I quit high school and went to the industrial college. Even though my parents were very much against it. Mom dreamed about me becoming a doctor, Father wanted me to become a rabbi. But I thought differently.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
We had various brochures in Akiba, and we had discussions. We used to read, we read a lot. Newspapers, books, whatever we liked. Activists carried out propaganda. ‘Be like any other nation.’ Our slogan was ‘Let’s be kehol hagoim!’, ‘like other nations!’ Let’s have our own doctors, locksmiths, farmers. Because Jews in Poland dealt mostly with trade, handicrafts, craftsmanship. And there was intelligence. And we were saying ‘No.’ We should be locksmiths. We are supposed to build a country in Israel [Editor’s note: Palestine].
My parents didn’t plan on going to Palestine, because of their health and finances. For such a large family to leave to Israel [Editor’s note: until 1948 – Palestine], we’d had to have strong financial backup. Father would have no existence there – he was an invalid, his leg was injured. But I was preparing to go to Palestine from the earliest years. We were to build kibbutzim there – back then Palestine was desert and swamps.
I started working for real later, at Gasper’s. It was a bicycle and scale factory. At the beginning I worked at Neuman’s, a factory of precious metal products. We made tableware, silver – everything was handmade. We mostly worked with galvanization, with which we could cover silver with color. The production mostly went for export, to England. Aside from that we made some things by die cutting, for example spoons. It was called ‘sznyty’ in Lwow. First we’d cut it, then work on processing it. The salary at Neuman’s was very poor, the only thing that kept me there was hope that when I learn it, I’d have a profession.
I trained in track and field in Dror. Dror was a sports club. In Hebrew it’s the name of a bird, a swallow. It may also mean freedom, but in this case it was a club, ‘Jaskolka’ [Polish for swallow]. It was located where Execution Hill was. Before the hills there was a field, a stadium, we used to go there to train. Later I practiced boxing. It was a sports club, Hasmonea [9]. It was known in Poland, especially when it came to soccer, they had been Polish champions for I don’t know how many years. In boxing too. So I trained in boxing, but not for long. I got hit in the nose once, and later, while I was protecting my nose, I got hit in the stomach. At the end I also practiced jujitsu, but I wasn’t a professional. And we played soccer. We had our own scouts’ team. I remember I played in midfield or in defense, because in soccer there is a close co-operation between midfield and defense.
After I graduated from elementary school I went to a public vocational school. It was an Industrial Technical College. It was located at Snopkowa Street. It was a public school. There were really very few Jews there. Teachers were also mostly Polish. I went there for four years. We learned technical subjects: learned about materials, and also bookkeeping for the needs of a small company. There was also mathematics, physics. I wanted to become a mechanic, but I graduated as a metal technician. After finishing the school [1936] I received a special diploma. I was still young, to tell you the truth, I didn’t like work much. It was summertime, I wanted to go to Wysoki Zamek [Higher Castle, one of sites on the Lwow Hill], to go to a pool. I was also a sportsman.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
For summer holidays we used to go to relatives, to a small town near Lwow, which was called Prusy [ca. 8 km from Lwow]. I could have been 14, 15 at the time. The last name of those relatives was Diamant and they were farmers, they had land in Prusy.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
My religion was really just about following tradition. We used to have discussions among us friends. Also about whether God exists or not. Opinions varied. We all had doubts. At that age you had doubts in general. I conformed to the religion, but not in a barbarian way, in a more humane way. As long as I was little I used to go to the synagogue with Father to pray, on holidays and always on Saturdays. Later, when I was 15, 16, I did it less and less. In the end I decided there is some higher power that controls the world without our knowledge. It definitely has no beard and no human shapes. It’s just a spirit. Because the Jewish religion sees God not in a human form, but in the form of a spirit. But later I had a depression, to be honest, when the war broke out, I decided that in reality everything is inconceivable.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
As for my bar mitzvah, that’s the way it was like: It happened on Saturday, when I turned 13, it was probably on 15th August 1931. Because I was born, I think, on 15th August, but in Russia they made it 15th June. But among Jews, when it comes to bar mitzvah, we use the Hebrew calendar. It was kuf zayin Tammuz, the 27th day of the month Tammuz. So then, on the Saturday morning, I went to the synagogue. The entire family was there, friends as well. There is a bimah in the synagogue; during the prayer, the person reading the Torah called me out at some point. I got the tallit, said the prayer and read that verse by myself. After it finished they tossed almonds and various candy at me. Everyone congratulated to me. Afterwards there was a special dinner at home.
My entire youth was concentrated around Akiba. Everything I did, one way or another conformed to the scout organization. Bene Akiba [Bnei Akiba] was a Jewish scout organization, organized by the same religious party as the school [Mizrachi]. In the school building there was even a special room for the scouts. Religious-nationalist youth belonged to it. And normally like in all scout organizations: scout uniforms, trips, badges, we learned orienteering, using maps.
When I finished that four-year school and I was already in another school, I used to go to Bene Akiba every day. Especially when I stopped going to cheder, I was twelve, thirteen, I used to go there every day, in the evening. I spent there and hour or two, because I had to be back home by 10pm. At 10pm there was a szpera, the gates were being closed [‘szpera’ – from German: ‘sperren’ – to lock]. So I absolutely had to be back at 10. That was Friday.
At some point I even was one of the organization’s leaders. Our unit was co-educational. After I graduated from public school, I decided to go to a vocational school, because that was the trend in the unit. We propagated the slogan ‘let’s be like all other nations.’ That is, let’s be a nation like all the other ones, let’s not be a nation of only merchants.
There was among us, friends, one girl, her name was Helena – we used to call her the beautiful Helena. We all had a crush on that beautiful Helena. I was almost 13. I was supposed to prepare for my bar mitzvah. That’s a big celebration, you have to know how to say various prayers, and you have to know a lot about the synagogue. Father paid one teacher who was supposed to prepare me, but I would, instead of going to the teacher, go out with friends to Chytra Gora [Crafty Hill]. It was really called Gora Stracenia [Execution Hill] – its name came from the fact that they killed four soldiers of the January Uprising [8], there was even a monument, but we called it differently.
We would meet in the place where once there used to be a sand mine, and only slag heaps were left there now. We used to jump up from those slag heaps, whoever jumped further. Helena would kiss the one who jumped furthest. A few times I jumped furthest, but then my other friend, Zafyk Goldfinger was better. In fact, they went out together, he and Helena, he was hers and she was his. He was a handsome, tall boy. Later he went to London to study. During the war he was in the English air force. He died.
When I finished that four-year school and I was already in another school, I used to go to Bene Akiba every day. Especially when I stopped going to cheder, I was twelve, thirteen, I used to go there every day, in the evening. I spent there and hour or two, because I had to be back home by 10pm. At 10pm there was a szpera, the gates were being closed [‘szpera’ – from German: ‘sperren’ – to lock]. So I absolutely had to be back at 10. That was Friday.
At some point I even was one of the organization’s leaders. Our unit was co-educational. After I graduated from public school, I decided to go to a vocational school, because that was the trend in the unit. We propagated the slogan ‘let’s be like all other nations.’ That is, let’s be a nation like all the other ones, let’s not be a nation of only merchants.
There was among us, friends, one girl, her name was Helena – we used to call her the beautiful Helena. We all had a crush on that beautiful Helena. I was almost 13. I was supposed to prepare for my bar mitzvah. That’s a big celebration, you have to know how to say various prayers, and you have to know a lot about the synagogue. Father paid one teacher who was supposed to prepare me, but I would, instead of going to the teacher, go out with friends to Chytra Gora [Crafty Hill]. It was really called Gora Stracenia [Execution Hill] – its name came from the fact that they killed four soldiers of the January Uprising [8], there was even a monument, but we called it differently.
We would meet in the place where once there used to be a sand mine, and only slag heaps were left there now. We used to jump up from those slag heaps, whoever jumped further. Helena would kiss the one who jumped furthest. A few times I jumped furthest, but then my other friend, Zafyk Goldfinger was better. In fact, they went out together, he and Helena, he was hers and she was his. He was a handsome, tall boy. Later he went to London to study. During the war he was in the English air force. He died.
,
Before WW2
See text in interview
I used to go to Akiba [7], my scout organization.