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The ones whose house we were living in were super decent people. All people we knew, otherwise the suggestion would never have been put, because it was all in the greatest conspiracy – but it wasn’t the Germans we were hiding from. The Germans had done a round-up, exterminated and taken away whoever they could, but after that, unfortunately, the enemy was your neighbor. Your enemy was whoever found out, whoever tipped the Germans off. That farmer’s wife was the village teacher. They had children, but I don’t remember how many. They had a young nephew too, who I think was in the Home Army [15], because he had a gun. He showed me how to strip a revolver. Their house was under one roof with the barn. The barn was full of crops, because the sheaves were there that hadn’t been threshed. There was a hideaway made for us, sheaves arranged in a special way to make a corridor, which led to a bigger room, and that’s where we stayed. We only went out at night – there was a WC so we could pee. And somehow we lived like that. But I do remember that whenever I saw a dog or a bird I wished I could be a dog or a bird. To be able to go out, fly, do anything… because I knew that just going out would mean death. Mother used to go out to the people who had our stock. One time, Filipowska told her that there were nuns going round Nowe Brzesko saying that the Jews murdered Christ and this was their divine punishment, and you shouldn’t help Jews.
The people, where the four of us were, had obviously gotten cold feet or thought we weren’t paying them enough. I don’t remember exactly now, but it must have been 1944, because I know we’d been living there for over two years. They started… not giving us anything to eat. Nothing. Simply starving us. But because it was a barn, I used to find grains of cereal and eat them, but it was getting worse and worse. Father asked them for food, because after all, he was paying them… and the farmer beat him up. As well as in the barn, we were also living part in the loft, in this lean-to, and you could hear what they were saying, that they were pow-wowing on how to finish us off without making a noise. Yes. One said: ‘With an ax,’ another: ‘With a knife,’ well, it was getting desperate. There was that farmer, and his young nephew, the one from the Home Army. Who was there during that conversation I don’t know – well, probably the men, though the wife must have known, because she starting abusing us too. Mother knew we had to find somewhere else right off, or they would finish us off. She went out on the pretext that she was going to bring them some more gold, because we didn’t have anything on us – and that was lucky, because if we had, they’d have taken it and then murdered us.
Mother found this cottage in the same village, Stregoborzyce. A detached house, of course, a way away from any others. The people who lived there were poor as church mice. Mother told them we would reward them, that we had stock, and they agreed to us being in the loft. We moved in the night. They had children too, so the youngest ones, the little ones, didn’t know, but I think the older girl did. We slept in the loft. I just slept in my clothes. We didn’t have any bedclothes, we just all lay side by side. We had nothing. And when I covered myself in my overcoat, in the winter my clothes would often freeze to my face. My arms and legs were frostbitten.
One day Mother went over to the Filipowskis’ to pick up some stock as usual. She couldn’t take too much at once, but we had to pay our way somehow. They were never too keen to hand it over – it was obvious they’d counted on none of us surviving. At one point Mother realized they’d gone for that fireman, because they were stringing her along and not giving her anything. Instead of waiting for the stock, Mother gave them the slip – it was near the common, way out of town. She didn’t get anything, but she came back to us and told us how things stood, that they wouldn’t give her anything, on the contrary, they’d put the word out that she was there.
The people, where the four of us were, had obviously gotten cold feet or thought we weren’t paying them enough. I don’t remember exactly now, but it must have been 1944, because I know we’d been living there for over two years. They started… not giving us anything to eat. Nothing. Simply starving us. But because it was a barn, I used to find grains of cereal and eat them, but it was getting worse and worse. Father asked them for food, because after all, he was paying them… and the farmer beat him up. As well as in the barn, we were also living part in the loft, in this lean-to, and you could hear what they were saying, that they were pow-wowing on how to finish us off without making a noise. Yes. One said: ‘With an ax,’ another: ‘With a knife,’ well, it was getting desperate. There was that farmer, and his young nephew, the one from the Home Army. Who was there during that conversation I don’t know – well, probably the men, though the wife must have known, because she starting abusing us too. Mother knew we had to find somewhere else right off, or they would finish us off. She went out on the pretext that she was going to bring them some more gold, because we didn’t have anything on us – and that was lucky, because if we had, they’d have taken it and then murdered us.
Mother found this cottage in the same village, Stregoborzyce. A detached house, of course, a way away from any others. The people who lived there were poor as church mice. Mother told them we would reward them, that we had stock, and they agreed to us being in the loft. We moved in the night. They had children too, so the youngest ones, the little ones, didn’t know, but I think the older girl did. We slept in the loft. I just slept in my clothes. We didn’t have any bedclothes, we just all lay side by side. We had nothing. And when I covered myself in my overcoat, in the winter my clothes would often freeze to my face. My arms and legs were frostbitten.
One day Mother went over to the Filipowskis’ to pick up some stock as usual. She couldn’t take too much at once, but we had to pay our way somehow. They were never too keen to hand it over – it was obvious they’d counted on none of us surviving. At one point Mother realized they’d gone for that fireman, because they were stringing her along and not giving her anything. Instead of waiting for the stock, Mother gave them the slip – it was near the common, way out of town. She didn’t get anything, but she came back to us and told us how things stood, that they wouldn’t give her anything, on the contrary, they’d put the word out that she was there.
Period
Location
Stregoborzyce
Poland
Interview
Emanuel Elbinger
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