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Aunt, I and Uncle and Aunt's niece, Mirka, went to Klimczak's apartment. There was only one room there, the door was always open, no one bolted doors in those working-class apartments - if the neighbor wanted to enter, she simply entered. And we were hidden in a 'done' bed. During the day we had to lie flat under the eiderdown, you weren't allowed to move. During the night we went out. And the men and my sister went to the house that had been bought, pretending to be the foreman's helpers. That may have lasted some two weeks.
Then Uncle and Aunt hid with Domzal's father, and we set up in the shelter. The place had been prepared quite decently, three young people made the design. Both cousins completed technical studies before the war, Bolek in Belgium, Lucek - I don't know where. The house had some 90 square meters of floor space, a kitchen, two rooms. One of the rooms had been shortened, and the missing space was the shelter - a tiny room, 6 square meters. A three- level bunk bed, three people per level. You latched the door from the inside, and outside was turpentine, shoe polish, various kinds of chemicals so that when the dogs came, they wouldn't be able to nose out people. And a tiny narrow corridor where you had to squeeze through sideways.
In the daytime we sat in a room with a view of the road, far from the window, and kept guard, so that if someone went through the gate, we'd raise an alarm and - down to the hole. In the night Klimczak slept there with his wife. We stole power from a nearby pole, had electric heating. We also had a radio - Domzal's father had brought it, even though listening to radio was punishable by death. Klimczak's father, a simple old peasant, but of great decency and goodness - a wonderful man - brought us food.
I remember Uncle tried at the time to make sure we had as many such hideouts as possible, where you could flee in the case of an emergency. He paid someone to prepare another such cache, I don't remember in which part of the city. One day he said we needed to go there to check whether anything had in fact been prepared. He sent me. And I remember there were heads in every window watching me - watching the hunted Jewish animal. Everyone knew the Jews were preparing something but they were decent enough not to inform on us. I found the people who had taken money from us - of course they hadn't prepared anything. I returned to the shelter safely, I don't think anyone followed me.
One day Uncle and Aunt come to us and say: 'The old guy Domzal said someone had ferreted out there were Jews in his house, and he's afraid to keep us any longer'. And they stayed with us. A couple of days later we see someone enter through the gate - and so we all right into the hole, fast. A guy comes in a black leather coat, high-top boots. And he says: 'We know you're here, eight people' - and lists everyone's name and surname. He takes Uncle by the hand, 'What a beautiful skin, so delicate, it'll be good for gloves'. And he says it has to cost, the money will go to the underground. And so all the money he had Uncle had to withdraw from that guy Pastuszko. And we had to wait - either it'll work or it won't. We no longer had any means of escaping.
Then Uncle and Aunt hid with Domzal's father, and we set up in the shelter. The place had been prepared quite decently, three young people made the design. Both cousins completed technical studies before the war, Bolek in Belgium, Lucek - I don't know where. The house had some 90 square meters of floor space, a kitchen, two rooms. One of the rooms had been shortened, and the missing space was the shelter - a tiny room, 6 square meters. A three- level bunk bed, three people per level. You latched the door from the inside, and outside was turpentine, shoe polish, various kinds of chemicals so that when the dogs came, they wouldn't be able to nose out people. And a tiny narrow corridor where you had to squeeze through sideways.
In the daytime we sat in a room with a view of the road, far from the window, and kept guard, so that if someone went through the gate, we'd raise an alarm and - down to the hole. In the night Klimczak slept there with his wife. We stole power from a nearby pole, had electric heating. We also had a radio - Domzal's father had brought it, even though listening to radio was punishable by death. Klimczak's father, a simple old peasant, but of great decency and goodness - a wonderful man - brought us food.
I remember Uncle tried at the time to make sure we had as many such hideouts as possible, where you could flee in the case of an emergency. He paid someone to prepare another such cache, I don't remember in which part of the city. One day he said we needed to go there to check whether anything had in fact been prepared. He sent me. And I remember there were heads in every window watching me - watching the hunted Jewish animal. Everyone knew the Jews were preparing something but they were decent enough not to inform on us. I found the people who had taken money from us - of course they hadn't prepared anything. I returned to the shelter safely, I don't think anyone followed me.
One day Uncle and Aunt come to us and say: 'The old guy Domzal said someone had ferreted out there were Jews in his house, and he's afraid to keep us any longer'. And they stayed with us. A couple of days later we see someone enter through the gate - and so we all right into the hole, fast. A guy comes in a black leather coat, high-top boots. And he says: 'We know you're here, eight people' - and lists everyone's name and surname. He takes Uncle by the hand, 'What a beautiful skin, so delicate, it'll be good for gloves'. And he says it has to cost, the money will go to the underground. And so all the money he had Uncle had to withdraw from that guy Pastuszko. And we had to wait - either it'll work or it won't. We no longer had any means of escaping.
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Interview
danuta mniewska
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