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As soon as the Warsaw Uprising began [18] I worked with them in a mechanical workshop. It was in Wspolna Street 46. We were putting together weapons for the uprising. At the time the English were making deliveries of arms for the fighters, but they had to be assembled, because they came in separate parts – these ‘stens’, as they were called, or automatic guns. We kept working for another two or three weeks into the uprising, as long as there was electricity in Warsaw. It was pretty good there. They brought us food.
I would sometimes go to the ghetto walls. I remember, I was even there several times with the other boys, to watch the ghetto burning [the ghetto was burning in the Spring of 1943, during the uprising]. I was afraid someone might recognize me. There were so many onlookers around, the Poles staring. I avoided people, let’s be honest here, I had no direct contacts, I was afraid. I can remember the explosions, the fire going up in flames. If I am not mistaken, there were cannons in the square, shooting into the ghetto. Because they [the Germans] did not bomb from airplanes – they only used cannons. So there was shooting, explosions, howitzers, shells, machine gun shooting in series. I could not discuss this with anyone, but you can imagine what I was thinking. I couldn’t even touch any topic vaguely connected to it. I was afraid of all that. Among the orphanage boys we rarely talked about such things, and I never had anything to do with older folks, and the boys were pretty indifferent to it all. I kept as far away from these topics as I could. I preferred not to touch them, because I knew that a single word could do me in, I would get tangled up, give myself away – I was conscious enough of my situation to know this.
After the [Warsaw] uprising the Germans began moving everyone out of the city. I ended up in Puszkow [small town about 20 km from the center of Warsaw], but soon I ran away from there as well. Where to go? Near Grojec I got myself a place with a farmer, in a sort of colony, with several buildings. They needed some men, and I worked for this man until liberation. He was glad to take me on, not knowing I was Jewish, thinking I was an escapee from the uprising. Nobody ever asked me who I was exactly. I showed them my kenkarta, everything was in order, last name, first name. Whatever happened to your parents? I don’t know, my parents ran away. But are they alive? I don’t know, maybe later I will try to get in touch with them after the war.
I would sometimes go to the ghetto walls. I remember, I was even there several times with the other boys, to watch the ghetto burning [the ghetto was burning in the Spring of 1943, during the uprising]. I was afraid someone might recognize me. There were so many onlookers around, the Poles staring. I avoided people, let’s be honest here, I had no direct contacts, I was afraid. I can remember the explosions, the fire going up in flames. If I am not mistaken, there were cannons in the square, shooting into the ghetto. Because they [the Germans] did not bomb from airplanes – they only used cannons. So there was shooting, explosions, howitzers, shells, machine gun shooting in series. I could not discuss this with anyone, but you can imagine what I was thinking. I couldn’t even touch any topic vaguely connected to it. I was afraid of all that. Among the orphanage boys we rarely talked about such things, and I never had anything to do with older folks, and the boys were pretty indifferent to it all. I kept as far away from these topics as I could. I preferred not to touch them, because I knew that a single word could do me in, I would get tangled up, give myself away – I was conscious enough of my situation to know this.
After the [Warsaw] uprising the Germans began moving everyone out of the city. I ended up in Puszkow [small town about 20 km from the center of Warsaw], but soon I ran away from there as well. Where to go? Near Grojec I got myself a place with a farmer, in a sort of colony, with several buildings. They needed some men, and I worked for this man until liberation. He was glad to take me on, not knowing I was Jewish, thinking I was an escapee from the uprising. Nobody ever asked me who I was exactly. I showed them my kenkarta, everything was in order, last name, first name. Whatever happened to your parents? I don’t know, my parents ran away. But are they alive? I don’t know, maybe later I will try to get in touch with them after the war.
Period
Interview
Stanislaw Wierzba