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But that was ok, because I went to the ‘Arbeitsamt’ [German: employment office] and I was sent, on the basis of my false documents, to another small town, called Skole, where I got employment in a German construction company called Hochtief. That was at the end of April, beginning of May, 1943.
Skole was beautiful. I was located at the heart of Bieszczady. The only problem was that the town lay on the route to Hungary and a refugee trail ran through it, so in the little town there was a huge, reinforced Gestapo and ‘Grenzschutz’ [German: border patrol]. That posed a serious danger to me. The risk of me being discovered hiding with false papers was much greater there than somewhere else. To make matters worse, the manager of the company where I worked started flirting with me.
I managed to find a job in a rival firm, a sawmill under the authority of the Ministry of War. Its advantage was that it was situated on the outskirts of town. I was supposed to be a stenographer. I had no experience with stenography, but I ordered a textbook from Cracow and managed somehow. Soon, two or three weeks later, the Gestapo came for me. Probably someone denounced me as a Jew.
Usually no one arrested by the Gestapo came back alive. I gave them my false name and lied as best I could. It was a Saturday. They interrogated me all day and then locked me up in a shed they called detention room. The man who was locking me up said, ‘In a few hours you’ll find out if you’re going home or up there,’ pointing to the sky.
I was exhausted, so I fell asleep as soon as I sat down on the wooden pallet. I don’t know how much time passed when I was woken up by the clatter of opening doors. They man who locked me up comes in and says, ‘Guess where you’re going.’ So I ask, ‘Did you consider the matter carefully?’ ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Then I’m going home,’ I say. He looked at me apprehensively and finally said, ‘Congratulations.’
In what I told during the interrogation there was only one word of truth: I was sent to this job by the ‘Arbeitsamt.’ The rest was baloney. I told them I had an uncle, a whole family in fact, in Boryslawiec… some absurd fibs like that. It was a Saturday and they probably didn’t feel like checking it all out. Maybe that man thought that if they lock me up in the shed for a few hours, they’ll break me. I don’t know. One way or another, I stayed in Skole until July 1944, working in the sawmill.
Skole was beautiful. I was located at the heart of Bieszczady. The only problem was that the town lay on the route to Hungary and a refugee trail ran through it, so in the little town there was a huge, reinforced Gestapo and ‘Grenzschutz’ [German: border patrol]. That posed a serious danger to me. The risk of me being discovered hiding with false papers was much greater there than somewhere else. To make matters worse, the manager of the company where I worked started flirting with me.
I managed to find a job in a rival firm, a sawmill under the authority of the Ministry of War. Its advantage was that it was situated on the outskirts of town. I was supposed to be a stenographer. I had no experience with stenography, but I ordered a textbook from Cracow and managed somehow. Soon, two or three weeks later, the Gestapo came for me. Probably someone denounced me as a Jew.
Usually no one arrested by the Gestapo came back alive. I gave them my false name and lied as best I could. It was a Saturday. They interrogated me all day and then locked me up in a shed they called detention room. The man who was locking me up said, ‘In a few hours you’ll find out if you’re going home or up there,’ pointing to the sky.
I was exhausted, so I fell asleep as soon as I sat down on the wooden pallet. I don’t know how much time passed when I was woken up by the clatter of opening doors. They man who locked me up comes in and says, ‘Guess where you’re going.’ So I ask, ‘Did you consider the matter carefully?’ ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Then I’m going home,’ I say. He looked at me apprehensively and finally said, ‘Congratulations.’
In what I told during the interrogation there was only one word of truth: I was sent to this job by the ‘Arbeitsamt.’ The rest was baloney. I told them I had an uncle, a whole family in fact, in Boryslawiec… some absurd fibs like that. It was a Saturday and they probably didn’t feel like checking it all out. Maybe that man thought that if they lock me up in the shed for a few hours, they’ll break me. I don’t know. One way or another, I stayed in Skole until July 1944, working in the sawmill.
Period
Year
1943
Location
Ukraine
Interview
Noemi Korsan-Ekert