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Those were sad times, the principal of the Jewish primary school, Belo Brunner was deported. Right before the deportations, Belo had a child born to him. They deported him along with his wife and baby. Another colleague of mine, Alica Rosenbaumova, hid along with her mother. After the war I found out that they had been in hiding. After the suppression of the uprising [Slovak National Uprising] they caught them, and dragged them off to Nemecka [Banska Bystrica region] where there was a limekiln. There they shot them all and threw them straight into the burning lime. Gradually my class began to empty. Until one day it was completely empty.
Before the deportation from Trencin, they created a collection camp by the station, and there they collected children, which is how they would trap their parents. I found out that they were guarded by a Guardist. I said to myself: “What should I do, as a teacher?” So I bought two, three kilos of candy and went to at least sweeten those children’s lives a bit. We didn’t yet know that it was going to be the extermination of Jews. We knew that they were going to be very badly off, but we didn’t know about the murdering. At that time the Jewish Center [12] was spreading information, whether for consolation, or whether they had to, that people are going to go work. When I came with the candy, the Guardist immediately addressed me in a familiar tone: “Where are you going?” I said: “I’m these children’s teacher. I want to say goodbye to them and I want to give them candy.” “I’m not gonna let you!” And that’s when my nature showed itself. I don’t know who I inherited it from. Maybe it’s because I’m a village boy and as such I was used to fighting. I grabbed that Guardist by the shirt collar and said: “When I whack you one, you’ll let me all right!” And he stood there surprised. “Go then, but I won’t let you out! You’ll go with them!” I said; “We’ll see whether you won’t let me out.” So I said goodbye to the children, and at least gave out the candy. When I was coming back out, I looked the Guardist straight in the eyes. He stood there with his rifle as if hypnotized, and let me out.
In 1942 the Guardists didn’t take me and my wife. We only had to move out of our apartment, we couldn’t afford to pay for it any more. At the beginning of June 1942, though, they deported my parents, my mother and stepfather. A few days before their deportation, the postal carrier, who was a friend of my parents, sent me a telegram. She informed me that the Guardists had taken my parents away. The postal carrier was related to Marencin, the Protestant priest from the town of Chmelov. I knew that they’d send them to the collection camp in Zilina. The camp’s commander, who was named Marcek, was bribable, but I didn’t have any money. So I turned to the Jewish community in Trencin. The chairman of the community helped me organize a collection among people that they hadn’t deported yet. We collected ten thousand crowns. I arrived in Zilina on the day that the train from Eastern Slovakia that my parents were on was also due to arrive. They herded people from those cattle wagons to the camp. Suddenly you could hear singing. Right at that moment, a Catholic procession carrying holy icons was passing by, of course also with the Virgin Mary, and the Guardists that were driving the people along stopped beating them. As soon as the procession passed, they continued in their “work”. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to buy my parents out, because the camp commander was already asking for 15 thousand. On 6th June 1942 they transported my parents to Auschwitz.
Before the deportation from Trencin, they created a collection camp by the station, and there they collected children, which is how they would trap their parents. I found out that they were guarded by a Guardist. I said to myself: “What should I do, as a teacher?” So I bought two, three kilos of candy and went to at least sweeten those children’s lives a bit. We didn’t yet know that it was going to be the extermination of Jews. We knew that they were going to be very badly off, but we didn’t know about the murdering. At that time the Jewish Center [12] was spreading information, whether for consolation, or whether they had to, that people are going to go work. When I came with the candy, the Guardist immediately addressed me in a familiar tone: “Where are you going?” I said: “I’m these children’s teacher. I want to say goodbye to them and I want to give them candy.” “I’m not gonna let you!” And that’s when my nature showed itself. I don’t know who I inherited it from. Maybe it’s because I’m a village boy and as such I was used to fighting. I grabbed that Guardist by the shirt collar and said: “When I whack you one, you’ll let me all right!” And he stood there surprised. “Go then, but I won’t let you out! You’ll go with them!” I said; “We’ll see whether you won’t let me out.” So I said goodbye to the children, and at least gave out the candy. When I was coming back out, I looked the Guardist straight in the eyes. He stood there with his rifle as if hypnotized, and let me out.
In 1942 the Guardists didn’t take me and my wife. We only had to move out of our apartment, we couldn’t afford to pay for it any more. At the beginning of June 1942, though, they deported my parents, my mother and stepfather. A few days before their deportation, the postal carrier, who was a friend of my parents, sent me a telegram. She informed me that the Guardists had taken my parents away. The postal carrier was related to Marencin, the Protestant priest from the town of Chmelov. I knew that they’d send them to the collection camp in Zilina. The camp’s commander, who was named Marcek, was bribable, but I didn’t have any money. So I turned to the Jewish community in Trencin. The chairman of the community helped me organize a collection among people that they hadn’t deported yet. We collected ten thousand crowns. I arrived in Zilina on the day that the train from Eastern Slovakia that my parents were on was also due to arrive. They herded people from those cattle wagons to the camp. Suddenly you could hear singing. Right at that moment, a Catholic procession carrying holy icons was passing by, of course also with the Virgin Mary, and the Guardists that were driving the people along stopped beating them. As soon as the procession passed, they continued in their “work”. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to buy my parents out, because the camp commander was already asking for 15 thousand. On 6th June 1942 they transported my parents to Auschwitz.
Location
Slovakia
Interview
Jozef W.