Turist

Initially my work was to sweep the grass in the destroyed, burned streets of the town, which was under the German whip. My parents still worked in their profession as dentists. My sister worked in the hospital. After a while, I obtained a job at the German cemetery. I anticipated at all times that we would be ultimately killed. My one thought was to escape and not to wait in the Ghetto. Alas, my parents did not understand me and thought that I lived in a dream, under the influence of the romantic writers.. 

They accused me of thinking that a fly can fight an elephant. In the summer [7 August] of 1942 the second slaughter took place. I managed to take my sister with me to work at the cemetery. We were taken from the cemetery to the military barracks where they sorted us into two groups: one to live and the other to die. One group was standing close to a forest the other next the buildings. I soon realised that we, who were close to the forest, would be killed. I took my sister by the hand and we ran to those who were standing close to the buildings, disregarding the Germans who were shooting at us. And we survived.

At the barracks we were kept in stables for three days without food or water. There we were subjected to all sorts of physical and moral degradations. In the end they chased us through the streets to the buildings of the district court, where we found our parents. We were the only family which, so far, had survived.

In the court house I decided not to go to work but to escape to the forest to Bielski, and later bring my parents and sister.

I knew of Bielski from the partisans, who returned to the Ghetto and from the posters in town, which promised a large sum of money for Bielski's head. The only way of escape from the Ghetto was by way of the water pump, where we were led in small groups, guarded by the Belarusian police, to fetch water. My friend Jarke Tiles and I agreed to tear off the yellow patches, wait for the time when the two policemen were busy trading with the Jews and slip out. We went unnoticed through the gardens to Brichinke and from there onto the Wsielub highway to Litowka.

Someone informed on us and we were caught not far from the Litowka forest. They flogged us with whips and took us to the town's police station, which was manned by Belarusians and a few Poles. In charge was a local man by the name of Gonsior, who was a client of my parents. He asked me where I was going and did I want to stay at the police station or be taken to the German gendarmes. I answered that I was looking for food and I would like to be transferred to the gendarmes. I just could not look at the policemen among who were my fellow pupils from the gymnasium [Polish high school] and I did not want to give them the pleasure of shooting me. They took us to the command post. It is difficult for me to describe my feelings. My throat was dry and constricted with fear. But I tried to think that perhaps this time I would remain alive. I was not a hero, but my friend and I decided not to cry and not to beg to be spared. The main thing was not to change our story that we going to find food. We had to make sure that we did not mention the name Bielski or the names of our gentile contacts. We wanted to maintain a certain pride and not be in despair. I was troubled by the thought that my parents and sister knew what happened to me and knew how I felt, but they could not help us.

After a delay we were transferred to the gendarmerie. We were fortunate, Meister Wolf, who had the reputation of being a fair man, was in charge. Usually Miller, a known Jew hater, led the gendarmerie. Meister Wolf asked my friend to wait outside. He asked me to sit down and spoke to me at length. He was a rotund, older German with pink cheeks and blue eyes. I wondered how a German murderer could have such a pleasant face. He told me that he believed that we were going to buy some food and we did not know where the partisans were. He told me in confidence that he had a Jewish wife and a son in England. He knew my mother during the First World War. It was a real piece of luck to meet him in our circumstances. He promised that we would be unharmed, but he had to work out a plan so that the others would not know about it. He had to send us first to jail. After a day or two, when a truck would be taking prisoners from the jail to be shot behind the barracks, we would be on the list of those to be shot. But on the way we would be taken of the truck and conducted back to the court house. As I was going out he asked me with a smile: 'Did you really go for food? Don't worry, you will survive the war. Will you spare my life if you catch me somewhere when you will be a partisan? Don't answer and don't deny it but think about it. Life is like a wheel: today it is you and tomorrow it could be me'.. The old, smart German knew where we were going.

They took us to the jail and put us in a small room with some dirty straw on the floor. We were frightened, hungry and doomed to die, because we could not believe a German. I told Jarke what the German promised me. We cuddled each other and waited. A face appeared in the small window in the door and my name was called. It was my friend Avreml Iwiniecki, who was arrested some time ago for Rassen Schande [race disgrace], because he visited his gentile girl friend. He was caught and arrested. He brought us bread and water and wished us luck. On the second day they assembled us in a group to be taken for execution. Around us were people in a state a fear. We too did not believe that we may be saved. And yet we thought that perhaps… At that moment the adjutant of Meister Wolf, named Boyd, appeared. He called out our names. I took Jarke for her hand and we both went out the gate.

He led us to the court house. I opened the door of our barrack and saw my parents and sister. Suddenly the barrack was filled with laughter, shouting and questions. I noticed that in my absence my mother's black hair had turned to grey. My father too looked older. As I looked at them I thought that I could not stay there. It was better to die than to have an existence like that: to sit and wait for the end in a barn with forty bunks. A short time after my return they counted us and sorted us in the yard behind the court house. I was afraid of that procedure and I hid under the bunk in a small hole. My sister told me that the gate in the fence surrounding us could be opened, because they had made a duplicate key. I begged her to escape with me, but she refused, because she worked as a cleaner in the police station next to the court house and if she disappeared our parents would be shot. She did not want to risk it.

It was late in 1942. There was no time to lose. I did not see my father, but my mother did not want me to go. I just left the barn, waited till the policeman walked away from the gate and I left. I crossed the street and got to the small forest opposite the court, on the way to Gardielovka. I could hear the voices of the Jews and the Germans in the yard of the court. The snow creaked underfoot. After I reached the forest I decided to wait till dark and than go to Litovka to the house of the gentile who served as the contact with the partisans. Sitting in the forest I noticed shadows of people under a tree. To my joy they were four people from the court house, who left in the same manner as I did. I was more encouraged, it was better to be in company than alone. This time I got to Bielski.

Three days later I joined the partisans. This was the start of a new phase in my life which lasted till the autumn [early July] of 1944. My parents were killed in May 1943 in the last mass murder of the Jews from the court house. My sister Rita left the Ghetto through the tunnel in September [26th] but she did not get to me and I don't know to this day what happened to her.