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Oral history interview with Dora Gutterman

Oral History | Digitized | Accession Number: 1990.495.8 | RG Number: RG-50.061.0008

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    Oral history interview with Dora Gutterman
    Transcript
    Today is Thursday, January 31, 1980.
    My name is Fran Gutterman.
    I'm interviewing my mother, Mrs. Dora Gutterman,
    who resides in Norfolk, Virginia and who
    is a survivor of the Holocaust.
    OK, Mom.
    We're going to begin by my asking you
    some questions about your life before the war started.
    OK?
    First of all, could you tell me, who
    were the members of your family and who was in your family?
    I had three brothers.
    And I was the only one girl at home.
    What were your brothers' names?
    My oldest brother's name--
    Pinchas, who survived Auschwitz.
    He lives now in Melbourne, Australia.
    My second brother's name was Chaim,
    who was killed by the German murderers.
    OK, Mom, look at me.
    OK.
    Who were the people that were in your household before the war?
    What was your family comprised of?
    There was my mother and father and my three brothers--
    my oldest brother, Pinchas, and my second brother, Chaim,
    and my youngest brother, Ephraim Menasha.
    My parents were-- my father's name was Eziel Orbach.
    He was a Gerer Hasid.
    He never was away for a Shabbos or any holiday from the home,
    except for Shavuos, where he went to the Gerer rabbi
    and spent there eight days.
    Let me ask you, before the war, you were married, right?
    Before the war.
    I was married in March 25, 1938.
    What was your husband's name?
    Berish Krothstein.
    OK.
    My family--
    Well-- OK.
    I'd like to ask you a few questions about what
    your family's status was in the community and things like that,
    OK?
    What was your family social status?
    Do you know what I mean by social status?
    Like were they--
    Respectable?
    Yeah, right.
    My parents were highly respectable people.
    What would you say, like were they--
    like in the United States, we have lower class,
    middle class, upper class.
    What do you think your family fit in along those lines?
    My family, at that time, was a upper class family.
    My father and my mother were highly respectable people.
    My father was a Gerer Hasid.
    He was devout [NON-ENGLISH].
    Every Shabbos in the holidays, [INAUDIBLE] shtiebel.
    So your family was very religious?
    Highly, strictly Orthodox, very religious.
    My mother was a lady who never ate a meal without giving
    a dinner or two to poor people.
    She was very charitable.
    My father had [NON-ENGLISH],, containers for yeshivas.
    Oh, what was the village that you were living in?
    We were-- the name of it in Polish--
    Wislica.
    In Yiddish, it was Vayslitz.
    It was a very small town, you call it that time.
    So your family was very well-respected
    in the community of Vayslitz?
    Very highly respected and, to that standard, in Poland,
    very rich.
    I don't know how it would be here in the United States.
    But at their standard, they were very rich and very
    highly respected, one from the few families in my hometown
    where people looked up to.
    Really?
    When you say people, do you mean both Jews and non-Jews?
    Jew, yeah, Jews and non-Jews.
    Found there were more Jews in that town than non-Jews.
    But the Jews and non-Jews looked up to my parents very much.
    If somebody had a dispute, they came to my father
    to ask his advice--
    Really?
    --what to solve it.
    Let me give you an example.
    When a poor girl and boy got engaged,
    the custom was that the girl's father gave a nadn.
    A dowry?
    A dowry, yes.
    And the groom was afraid to trust the girl's father
    the dowry.
    And the girl's father was afraid to trust him.
    So they came to my father.
    Was there a judge that would resolve such things?
    Or they would just go to different people?
    No, no.
    They came to my father and put the money to my father.
    They trusted the money.
    And sometimes, it came out a dispute,
    like when the engagement broke off.
    The khosn said, the money is mine.
    The kale said, the money is mine.
    And my father was in the middle.
    And at that time, they made [YIDDISH]..
    They took like a--
    A judgment.
    --a judgment.
    The bride's parents took two or three people.
    The groom's parents took two or three people.
    And they made a judgment.
    Whatever the judgment was my father did with the money.
    Did both?
    Yeah.
    And sometimes, I even asked my father, I said,
    Dad, why are you doing that?
    You put yourself so much trouble.
    And he said to me, he said, it's a very big mitzvah.
    I do it because I want--
    if I wouldn't do it, they probably
    would never get engaged.
    90% of the engagement go through and they get married.
    And this is a grosser mitzvah.
    But it would sometimes happen.
    And it doesn't materialize.
    Then, of course, I do whatever the Torah does.
    And I even tried to discourage him to do it.
    But he will never accept it.
    He always did it.
    Let me ask you.
    Did both Jews and non-Jews come to your father, or mostly just
    Jews?
    Mostly Jews, yeah, non-Jewish didn't, actually.
    What was your relationship with--
    of your family with non-Jews?
    Did you associate with non-Jews at all?
    Or did you have any--
    Well, I didn't associate socially.
    When I was going to school, I had a lot of Gentile friends.
    Because in Poland, the Jews were open on Shabbos.
    Of course, the Jewish children did not attend that.
    You mean, the school was open on Shabbos?
    The school was open Shabbos, yes.
    And when after I have dinner, I always
    had Gentile friends whom I went and took
    the walk, what was given on Shabbos or for Monday,
    I will be prepared.
    How about in your neighborhood?
    Did you have non-Jews that lived in your neighborhood?
    Yes.
    Yeah, we had some non-Jews.
    Were any of them--
    were you friends with any of them in your family?
    They-- officially, everything was all right.
    But inside, Jews and Poles--
    Didn't.
    --hated each other.
    Did you have any friends in the neighborhood
    that you played with that were non-Jews?
    Most of them-- when I was a little girl, most of my friends
    were Jewish children.
    So you got along OK with--
    I got along OK with and openly.
    But there was--
    Hostility, very much hostility inside.
    OK.
    How did your-- what was the means of
    support for your family?
    How did your family make a living?
    My parents had a leather business.
    A leather business?
    Yes.
    They were selling retail to shoemakers, who made
    shoes and boots for customers.
    They were selling also to neighboring town
    to stores wholesale.
    They had a big leather business.
    And they made a very nice living from that.
    OK.
    Who worked in the store?
    Did your--
    Well, it began with my oldest brother, Pinchas.
    He worked in the store since he was 12 years old,
    then my second brother, Chaim.
    And then when I finished school, I was 14 years old then,
    I worked in the business.
    My youngest brother, Menasha, was sent when he finished,
    about around when he was about 12 or 13 years old.
    My parents, at that time, were wealthy enough
    to be able to send him to yeshiva.
    He went to Kraków--
    Kraków.
    And he was there for four years in yeshiva.
    And when he came back from the yeshiva,
    he helped in the business too.
    He helped them with the business.
    Menasha was how old when he went to yeshiva?
    He went to the yeshiva, he was, I would
    say, about 12-13 years old.
    So he returned when he was about 17.
    About 17, yes.
    What did he-- after yeshiva, did he have semicha?
    Or what was it considered?
    He was there only for the simple purpose of learning Torah.
    He didn't went to a school like here
    in the United States, when you go to a school,
    you get the semicha.
    He didn't went like this.
    He was there to learn Torah.
    And he was one from the very few [YIDDISH],, what he was,
    my brother Menasha.
    OK.
    Could you tell me the--
    if you can remember-- the dates that your brothers were born?
    Well, we were three years apart.
    I was born in 1914.
    Chaim--
    Around when?
    You said May?
    My legal birthday is May, you know.
    Because at that time, nobody-- they didn't record the birth
    from children.
    It wasn't required.
    But my mother, olav ha-sholom, always
    told me that I was born eight days before Yom Tovim, whatever
    that was, in 1914.
    My brother, Chaim, was born three years earlier,
    which was 1911.
    My brother, Pinchas, was born in 1908.
    And my brother, Ephraim, Menasha, was born in 1917.
    OK.
    OK.
    You mentioned that Menasha went to yeshiva.
    How about educational backgrounds
    of your brothers and yourself?
    My other brothers went to cheder.
    So Pinchas?
    My brother Pinchas, my brother Chaim went to cheder.
    In Vayslitz?
    Yeah, in Vayslitz.
    And the rabbi taught them write in Yiddish,
    and Chumash, and Russian, and whatever they taught there.
    But they also went to a public school,
    where they learned write Polish, and read Polish,
    and arithmetic, and all that.
    They both finished public school.
    And what age was that at?
    Pardon?
    What age did they finish school?
    They were finished, I would say, about when they were
    12 years, 12 or 13 years old.
    And what was that equivalent to, like here in the United States?
    This was equivalent to-- when I finished public school,
    this is what you call it like high school here.
    Because in the public school, when
    you want to go to a higher learning,
    you went right away to gymnasium,
    which is like college here.
    It was not a middle school, between public and gymnasium.
    And how long would you go-- if someone continued to gymnasium,
    how long would they go?
    I think it was four years.
    And then that was equivalent to a college degree?
    Yes.
    Yes.
    OK.
    So your brothers, Pinchas and Chaim,
    went through until the age of about 13?
    About 13 or something like that.
    And then what did they do afterwards?
    And then they opened the store, the business.
    OK.
    And you yourself, you went also?
    I also went to a--
    finished public school.
    And I worked in the business.
    Our business was a very hard business, a very hard work.
    But I helped.
    You mentioned to me at one time that you were
    interested in continuing to?
    Yes.
    When I finished public school, I always
    was very interested in higher education,
    and more learning, and more developed education.
    And I was--
    I wanted very much continue my education.
    Unfortunately, in the town where we lived,
    there was not a gymnasium.
    I had to go away to a bigger town, like Kraków, or Kielce,
    or Warsaw.
    My parents didn't had relatives in those towns.
    And they were afraid to send me in a-- to a boarding home
    because the antisemitism in the gymnasium was very high.
    Jews had to sit in the back of the classroom.
    Really?
    Even when you were growing up and going to regular school,
    you had to sit in the back?
    Not in the public school, but the gymnasium.
    Because the public school was you had to go.
    Gymnasium was by your choice.
    And if you went to go gymnasium, you
    had to sit at the back of the school.
    I don't know how it was when I was in public school.
    But when I was ready to go to gymnasium, this way it was.
    And also, the students, the Polish students,
    were highly antisemitic.
    And they did all they could to hurt Jews, Jewish students,
    especially girls.
    My father was afraid to take a chance.
    And he wouldn't let me go.
    Because this reason, I couldn't attend gymnasium.
    I was very, very upset about that.
    I want so much to go, to further my education.
    But it's no way my father would let me, not for money reasons,
    because he couldn't afford it, but for the reasons I just
    mentioned.
    Yes.
    And I didn't go.
    OK.
    Did you-- Vayslitz, how would you describe that?
    Was that a big city, a small city, a little village?
    Vayslitz was-- the whole town-- well,
    I would say, about like three, four blocks.
    Right, the whole--
    Very tiny.
    So it's like a village?
    Yeah, a village-- like a marketplace.
    And there were one street down then,
    which was named Ulica Dlugosza, there what
    we lived and had our business.
    Do you have any idea how many people,
    how many families were there or about?
    I really couldn't tell you, maybe
    were there about, I would say, 100-150 Jewish families.
    How about families altogether, Jews and non-Jews?
    Maybe were about 200-250 altogether.
    It was a very, very small--
    in Poland, this was called a town.
    Of course, here, it wouldn't even be a village.
    What did-- how did the town exist?
    I mean, what did people do there?
    Well, there were-- usually, Jewish people had business.
    Jewish people were not allowed to have land.
    They were not allowed to be farmers.
    And some of them had--
    they were shoemakers, some tailors, carpenters.
    And this what they made a living.
    Life was very poor.
    Make a living was very, very hard.
    How close was the nearest--
    the next town?
    We had several towns not far away.
    One town was Busko.
    How far away was that?
    I would say about 20 kilometers.
    Kraków, you said, was the nearest biggest city.
    Kraków was, yeah.
    And how far?
    Do you have any idea about how far away that was?
    I don't have any idea how far it was.
    But when you went by train to Kraków,
    you had to go first on the small train
    and then change to the bigger train.
    It took about, I would say, three-four hours.
    That was the nearest biggest city.
    It was the nearest bigger city.
    How about Lódz?
    Didn't you say to me that Lódz?
    Lódz?
    Yeah, Lódz was a big town.
    Lódz was farther than Kraków.
    Yeah, Lódz was a very big textile city.
    So you'd say that the village you grew up
    was more like country-ish as opposed to city?
    Yeah, it was a very small place.
    OK.
    Could you tell me what you--
    growing up, if you experienced any experiences that
    could be called antisemitic?
    This is before the war, if you can recall any.
    Give me some examples.
    I can't recall, not before.
    When Hitler came to power in 19--
    I think it was in 1933, then when this poison began
    to come in more.
    Then the Poles began to put--
    I don't know how to say this.
    They hired somebody to march back and forth
    in the front of a Jewish store and tell the customers--
    To demonstrate.
    --don't go in, it's a Jewish store.
    You mean, to demonstrate in front of the store.
    Yeah, of the stores, yes.
    Who hired these people?
    Those-- they had formed an organization,
    antisemitic organizations reported that.
    This started after 1933?
    '33 or '34, as soon as Hitler came to power.
    Then they begin to do whatever he did.
    How old were you in 1933?
    1933, I was 19 years old.
    And so before 1933, you don't remember any?
    No.
    I was going to school.
    I didn't-- there was in the air.
    You could feel this--
    the sharpness, but it was never openly,
    while when-- after Hitler came to power,
    it began to get openly.
    They didn't hide.
    They began to openly did.
    But my father one time told me, he was going to the train.
    And a Gentile boy throw a stone at him because he was going
    on a long [NON-ENGLISH] with a Jewish cap.
    And even with a beard, he was always a Jew.
    Payos?
    My father didn't had payos, but he--
    very shortly.
    But he had a long beard, and the long [NON-ENGLISH],,
    and the Jewish cap.
    And of course, he goes, he's a Jew.
    And he throw him-- he throw stones after him.
    And before, this didn't happen.
    But then it began to happen more openly and openly.
    They made a law, the same--
    in Poland, was like the Senate here.
    They made out a law, it is allowed
    to put a man in front of a store and tell them.
    You could do it.
    Because before, you couldn't do it, but then you could do all
    you can to aggravate Jews, to hurt them.
    This was everything after Hitler became to power
    and always become--
    it became stronger and stronger and deeper and deeper.
    OK.
    As a chance of war, as people began
    to see that war was coming, do you
    remember what options you and your family had
    about what to do?
    Well, at the [INAUDIBLE],, nobody didn't think it will actually
    break out because there were many other occasions before
    that it was OK--
    that was-- or the war broke out.
    But something happened, it got smoothed out,
    and never was a war.
    So everybody was sort of hopeful that somehow, it
    will clear out this time too.
    Well, let me ask you.
    You said, Hitler came to power in 1933, right?
    Yes, yeah.
    War broke out in 1938.
    And the war broke out 1939.
    Right, '39, sorry.
    Were you aware as between 1933 and 1939--
    Antisemitism?
    Yes, very much so.
    Did it get worse, better?
    I mean, did-- how did--
    did you see things getting worse and worse?
    Things were getting worse up to the antisemitism.
    And also, in 19--
    not only in 19--
    1928, it wasn't very--
    it wasn't openly.
    But we could feel this inner hate, this antisemitism.
    Prejudice?
    Prejudice, yes, very much so.
    My father then decided that he wants to get out.
    When was this, in 1928?
    It was in 1928.
    He had applied already for a visa to go to then Palestine
    and by the Sephardes.
    And by place, you mean like a field a piece of land?
    Yeah, a field of oranges, that citrus, and settle there.
    And he had already made visas for him and my brother Pinchas.
    Both were planning to go there.
    And so were many other Jews doing--
    going there.
    But when everybody who left took with him the money.
    And the Polish government saw what's going on.
    So they made this called [GERMAN],, which means,
    if you want to go, you can, but money,
    you got to leave here in the country.
    You can't take out the money.
    Of course, if we would have known
    then what's going to happen--
    this is not only the money, but the life is at stake--
    we would have left everything and go away.
    But nobody didn't-- couldn't possibly predict this.
    And how can you leave everything what you-- and for generations
    worked for it, and establish something, and accumulate it,
    just leave everything and go start for the new?
    And then when they gave out this law, you cannot take out money,
    my father said, well, what can I do?
    How can I leave everything and go?
    And then when he resigned.
    He didn't go to Palestine to try to settle there-- and then when
    it happened.
    And in the '30s-- sorry, go on.
    Then the antisemitism was very visible.
    You could feel it.
    When you spoke-- we had a neighbor who lived
    crossed from us.
    And when I spoke with them, openly, we were very friendly.
    But you could feel this inner antisemitism.
    So it wasn't really much trust for someone who wasn't Jewish?
    No, oh, between Jews and Poles, no, no trust at all,
    nothing whatsoever.
    And when the war broke out--
    How about a few years before the war, as the war
    was coming closer and closer?
    The whole time on the [? Torahs, ?]
    everybody was going to everyday business.
    Everybody worked and going to everyday business.
    Nobody didn't think that something will happen.
    I remember, this was about a month before the war broke out.
    And things were very, very serious.
    I was living then in Sosnowiec, where
    my brother, Pinchas, lived.
    My brother had then two little girls.
    One little girl, her name was--
    we called her Cesza.
    She was born in 1933.
    She was six years old then.
    And the other little girl, Helen, was three years old.
    And we decided to take the children to our parents.
    Me and my brother Pinchas went with the two kids
    and our parents.
    And we took two suitcases with the jewelry, silverware,
    all those expensive things we could take in a suitcase.
    And we took it all to my parents.
    Because there, we assumed, in a small city, will be more safe.
    And also, Sosnowiec, where we lived,
    was very close to the German border, which was more risky.
    And we took them over there.
    And we came back and went to our everyday business.
    And I remember, it was a Saturday morning.
    My brother, Pinchas, pointed out to me
    that there is a big fire by the city hall in Sosnowiec
    that was burning all the papers and money.
    This was the 1st of September when the war had broken out.
    We hadn't known then.
    But my brother said, look, they're burning everything.
    What are we going to do?
    And I said, well, let's wait.
    Let's see.
    I spoke with my husband and with my sister-in-law.
    And we all discussed it, what to do.
    And Saturday night, we ran away.
    What year-- when was this now?
    This was September the 1st, 1939.
    It was on a Shabbos.
    And when did the war break out?
    And yeah, then by the war broke out.
    Wow.
    Saturday morning was the first shot.
    Well, in '36, and '37, and '38, was there
    any talk at all of trying to leave Poland?
    Or trying to--
    No.
    No.
    Nobody didn't think about that.
    Because even a war--
    Poland had wars before.
    A war was a war.
    The private population was left alone.
    Nobody didn't bother them.
    So how could you possible--
    how could it possible any human mind foresee this?
    Well, at that time, there was no awareness that--
    of what could possibly happen to the Jews?
    No, of course not.
    We know there's antisemitism.
    We know-- we felt that if a war would broke out,
    there will be hard times.
    But what could be done?
    For everybody, not--
    For everybody, maybe for Jews a little bit harder.
    Were there any ghettos then that had been formed?
    No, of course not.
    There was nothing like that.
    No.
    But where can-- where could we run?
    Where?
    There was nowhere to run.
    Palestine was closed.
    United States was closed.
    When you say closed, what do you mean?
    To go to Palestine then, you had to have a--
    Visa.
    A visa-- not a visa, a permission.
    England gave out only so many permissions to Jewish peoples.
    In order to go to Palestine, there
    was a Zionist organization.
    You had to be for a year or two on Hakhshara,
    which mean you had to go--
    Preparation.
    --preparation for it.
    And then you got this--
    I forgot what the name was of this permission
    to go to Palestine.
    How about for the United States?
    Same?
    The United States, we didn't even think about it.
    I don't think we would go there.
    You got to know people in high places.
    You got to be somebody very famous.
    But usually, normal people, the everyday people
    didn't have no chance to live.
    There was nowhere to live.
    Maybe if we would have a chance to go, to leave,
    we probably would.
    But since there was no chance, nobody didn't think about it.
    Yeah.
    OK.
    I wanted to ask you also--
    you mentioned-- earlier, when I asked you what your family
    consisted of, you mentioned Pinchas, and Chaim,
    and Ephraim--
    Ephraim Menasha, yeah.
    --Ephraim Menasha, and yourself.
    Also, during the '30s, your brothers
    got married, didn't they?
    He got married in 1932.
    Pinchas got married in 1930?
    Yeah, well, my brother Pinchas got married in 1932.
    And who did he marry?
    He married a young lady from [PLACE NAME],, which
    was a suburb from Sosnowiec.
    They were very rich and very respectable people.
    My brother, Pinchas--
    What was her name?
    Her name was Paula.
    Paula?
    And the Yiddish name was Pesel.
    We called her Paula.
    And my brother settled in Sosnowiec
    and opened a leather business.
    Sosnowiec-- how close was that to Vayslitz?
    This was far to-- it was close to the German border,
    Sosnowiec.
    It was in Poland?
    It was in Poland, yes-- or at that time was Poland.
    And he opened up leather business, a wholesale leather
    business.
    And he was pretty successful.
    This was in 1932.
    So how old was he?
    This was 1932.
    How old I was?
    How old was when he got married?
    He was born in 1908.
    He was 20--
    24 years.
    And he had children?
    He had two children.
    What was?
    Cesza and Helen.
    Two girls.
    Two little girls.
    Yes.
    OK.
    And how about Chaim?
    Chaim got married during the war.
    When did he get engaged?
    He got engaged before the war.
    He got engaged-- the pair--
    What was--
    --Chol Hamoed Pesach 1938.
    I got married eight days before Pesach.
    And he got engaged on Chol Hamoed Pesach in 1938.
    And his fiancee was from Jedrzejow.
    What was her name?
    Her name was Paula also.
    And her parents had a lumberyard business.
    They were not highly rich, but they were comfortable.
    And they are planning to get married right
    after the Yom Tovim of 1938.
    But the war broke out.
    And it couldn't materialize.
    And they got married on Shabbos [INAUDIBLE] of 1942.
    OK.
    And you said you were married.
    I got married on March the 25th, 1938.
    It was about eight days before Pesach.
    March 25?
    March the 25th, 1938.
    Yes.
    And what was your husband's name?
    Berish, Berish Krothstein.
    And how long were you engaged to him?
    I was engaged for five years.
    I got engaged in 1933.
    But there were difficulties because he didn't had a father.
    His father died when he was a little boy.
    And his sister, his older sister got married.
    And her husband manages the mill they owned.
    And apparently, he wasn't much familiar in that business.
    And he almost ruined the business.
    They owned the mill?
    Yeah, they owned the mill--
    his mother.
    Where was this?
    This was in Ozarów, not far from Opatowiec.
    And my husband at that time was only 12 years old.
    And he was in Lublin.
    And his father wrote him--
    his mother wrote him a letter about that.
    And he left-- and she came home.
    And he told his brother-in-law to get out.
    And he took it over.
    And he managed to put it on the road a little bit.
    But it was never in a condition like a mill should be.
    And when I got engaged, my father
    was planning to put in money to bring it to a perfect shape
    so we can remain there.
    It would be ours.
    But other difficulties came up.
    How old were you when you were engaged, when you got engaged?
    I was engaged in 1933.
    I was 19 years old.
    Other difficulties came up.
    And my mother, olav ha-sholom, found out
    that my fiance's mother is a tough person.
    And she said, she would never agree for me to stay there,
    to be together with my future mother-in-law.
    And this helped to the other--
    because this helped too.
    And we finally decided--
    my parents decided not to put in the money
    and just to get out from there.
    Was it a-- how did you meet your first husband?
    Was it like a--
    With a shadchen, yes, with a shadchen.
    And my father discussed this with my fiance.
    And they come to an agreement that we will go on our own.
    We will get married and move to Sosnowiec.
    And that's what we did.
    And this took-- he had to find somebody to rent this mill,
    you understand.
    And it just took all those years.
    What did your husband do in Sosnowiec?
    When we moved to Sosnowiec, we had,
    in the beginning with a partner, a wholesale business
    from flour, all kinds wheat products.
    And then after about a year or not quite a year,
    our partners, two brother, and a partner, and my husband
    decided to go into business together.
    They rented a flour mill in Sosnowiec.
    Was this after the war broke out?
    This was before the war.
    Well, you said you got married in March--
    In 1938, yes.
    And we went to Sosnowiec and had the business
    for I don't know how long, eight-nine months or whatever.
    Yeah, right.
    I see.
    And then we decided to go-- shortly before the war,
    we rent this flour mill.
    And since my husband was a professional
    in this business of flour in a mill, there were four partners.
    And we rented this mill.
    It was a very good business.
    When the war broke out, we ran away.
    And when we came back to Sosnowiec,
    there was a lock on the mill, on the factory,
    with a note that is required--
    is required, I mean, taken by the German government.
    And taken off this lock is death penalty.
    When did this happen?
    When did this happen?
    This happened-- we came back right--
    we ran away the 1st of September.
    And we went to our parents.
    We planned to go by train, but the train never moved.
    And most of the time, we were walking.
    And we came to our parents.
    My father had already left.
    The whole thing was crazy.
    Nobody knew what was going on.
    We just was trying to go away as far as possible
    from the German border.
    Everybody was sure the Polish Army will knock him
    down a day or two.
    Everything will be all right.
    So everybody was trying to run away from the German border
    as much as possible.
    I see.
    So when I came home, my father had already
    left, going to Lublin, there where my husband came from.
    Well, this was close to the German-- to the Russian border.
    My two brothers had already left.
    My mother was home by herself with the two children.
    And we came all together, me and my husband,
    my brother, and his wife, and his wife's sister,
    and her husband.
    Three couples came, I remember, all together home.
    And my mother said, we had to run.
    Had to go away.
    I couldn't go because I had to be with the children.
    And women are more safe.
    But men are very dangerous to be here.
    You better go away.
    So the women remained here.
    My sister-in-law's sister had also a little boy, a baby.
    And she remained there, my sister-in-law, her sister,
    and the kids.
    And my mother told me, since you go to your mother-in-law,
    to your home, why don't you go too?
    You better go too.
    And I went together with all those men.
    We were running to the--
    far away from the German.
    But before we had a chance to come to Lublin
    and then go to Ozarów the German came in the front of us.
    They met us.
    Because they came to Poland on several-- you understand?
    Right, several fronts.
    So we didn't even have a chance to go there because they
    were there before we came.
    And we turn around and went back home.
    There was no other choice.
    This was in 1939.
    That was 1939.
    Right.
    OK.
    So how old were you when the war broke out then?
    It was 1939.
    I was 25 years old.
    Yeah.
    And that's what I wanted to say.
    When we came back to Sosnowiec, we found all we had,
    our whole fortune, was taken by the German government.
    We didn't own anything then.
    And the sign on the door was if you taking off
    the lock, the death sentence.
    Of course, [INAUDIBLE] wouldn't touch it.
    And I'm not sure, maybe you already mentioned.
    But how did you first--
    the very first word of the war reach you?
    How did you first hear about the war?
    When-- in that Saturday in Sosnowiec,
    I don't remember exactly, but people-- the neighbors,
    did you hear?
    The war broke out.
    The German are shooting.
    Look there, the city hall is burning.
    The money burning.
    The paper's burning.
    Why the city hall burning money?
    Burning because they didn't want the German--
    because at that time, they thought the Poles will
    [NON-ENGLISH]--
    whatever, will knock him down.
    The Poles will be national.
    And the money will be money, will be valuable.
    They didn't want the German take their money.
    So they burned it.
    Right.
    I see.
    OK.
    So you said then that happened.
    You then all-- everyone fled to Vayslitz.
    And when you got to Vayslitz, you
    found out that everyone was going to Lublin.
    So everyone went to Lublin.
    But by that time, you didn't even
    make it there because the Germans had already surrounded.
    And so you-- then everyone returned.
    So where did you return?
    You returned back to Vayslitz?
    Yeah, turned back to Vayslitz.
    And we were there for a couple of days.
    And my father rented or hired a farmer
    who had a wagon and horses to take us back home to Sosnowiec
    because there was no other way.
    And then you got back to Sosnowiec,
    you found that the Germans had taken the mill?
    Yeah.
    And on the way, in the middle of the way,
    he throw us off on the wagon.
    He went back.
    And we had to walk.
    This way, he got the money.
    He wasn't going-- this is what he did.
    Really?
    Yeah.
    And he didn't-- your father paid.
    He said, get out from here.
    What could we do?
    We went down and we walked.
    So when you found out the mill was taken,
    what did you do then?
    What could we do?
    We couldn't do anything.
    We were there-- one of those--
    of our partners remained that.
    He didn't runned.
    And he-- before the Germans took--
    put a lock on it, before they came in, of course,
    I'm sure they put a lock as soon as they
    came in, as soon as they form some kind office,
    some kind office where they--
    Police or whatever.
    --police, yeah, police, or whatever you call it.
    He managed to take out about 20 or 30 sacks of flour.
    And this was a fortune because as soon as he came back,
    money was nothing.
    But you could have 1,000, 100,000 zloty,
    you couldn't buy a loaf of bread for it.
    A sack of flour was a fortune because this was your life.
    You could save your life.
    You wouldn't be-- you wouldn't starve.
    So he gave us about four or five sacks of flour.
    And we put it in the bedroom and covered it
    like the biggest fortune in the world.
    And from this, we lived for a few weeks.
    So you just basically were waiting
    to see what was going to happen?
    We didn't know.
    Everybody was very-- was like a dream.
    Even nobody didn't knew what's going to happen.
    A shock, you mean.
    Like a shock, a terrible shock.
    Nobody.
    In the meantime, they rounded up Jews, the Germans.
    They shot Jews.
    Were you aware that this was going on?
    Oh, yeah, sure.
    But what could you do?
    You mean rounded up Jews in Sosnowiec?
    Rounded up Jews.
    I went there.
    When I came back, was about maybe a week or two later.
    So this was still in September '39 or October?
    And this was maybe October, at the beginning of October,
    or sometimes in October.
    It took us several days to walk to my parents.
    Then we were there for two or three days.
    And took us about two days to come because the farmer,
    that man throw us off from the wagon.
    And we had to walk.
    So when we came back, we find out that when they came in,
    they rounded up many Jews.
    And they shot them.
    But at that time, it was quiet.
    At the beginning, it was no ghetto, was quiet.
    Then suddenly, they hanged out announcements on the walls,
    with announcements that all men had
    to report to the city hall--
    all Jewish men.
    But also all Jewish men at the age of 18
    or whatever, 17 and older, have to report to the city hall.
    Was this still in '39?
    Was after-- yeah.
    Yeah, it was about when we came back.
    It was about a couple of weeks later.
    So of course, my brother and my husband were afraid.
    They didn't know what they were going to do.
    They know from experience that they rounded--
    called Jews and they shot them.
    They didn't know what they're going to do with them.
    So naturally, we didn't want them to report.
    So they decided to leave.
    To leave Sosnowiec?
    Leave Sosnowiec.
    And they left to my parents.
    This was Uncle Pinchas and?
    It was-- yeah, and Berish, and my husband.
    And what did you and--
    And I and Paula--
    yeah, and the children-- when we left Vayslitz on the way back,
    the children remained there.
    We didn't do children with us.
    The children were there.
    And Sheila and Helen were there.
    And we sent the men home.
    And we remained at here in Sosnowiec.
    And I even wasn't in my apartment.
    I was together with Paula.
    We were standing in her apartment.
    Well, go home.
    There was nothing there.
    So we stayed there together.
    And they were there I don't know for how long.
    How come you didn't go?
    Uncle Pinchas and your first husband
    went to back to Vayslitz?
    Yes.
    To stay at your parents?
    To stay with my parents.
    And why didn't you go with them?
    Because they didn't call for women to register.
    They called for men to register.
    And I had there apartment.
    And I had beautiful furniture and a lot of beautiful things.
    And I just didn't want to leave this.
    I didn't know what's going to happen, you understand.
    So I didn't want to leave this.
    So I remained there.
    And they didn't call for woman to register.
    So natural, I wasn't in danger at that time.
    So what happened?
    Well, they were there for about a couple of weeks.
    And they were-- nothing happened.
    And they came back.
    And about a few weeks later, they formed--
    what it was there-- a Jewish Judenrat, a Yiddish Judenrat,
    about like a Jewish committee, a Jewish office.
    Whatever the German want, they went to this office.
    Like I want $100,000, I want 1,000 Jews to work,
    I want 1,000 women, I want this-- whatever they want,
    whatever they demand, they went to the Judenrat.
    And who was the Judenrat run by?
    The Jews.
    They picked.
    The Jews came together and they picked a Judenrat.
    And there was a president of this Judenrat too.
    I do not remember--
    Go ahead.
    Would you first explain to me a little bit
    about what a Judenrat was?
    I mean, how did they come to pass?
    Was there a Judenrat in every town?
    Every town had a Judenrat.
    This was on the demand from the Germans.
    They wanted to have a office where
    they can put their demands.
    So it was like the new politics?
    It was a new political head?
    It was a Judenrat in every town, no matter how small or how big.
    They were there, I would say, about 10 people, about 10 Jews.
    And those 10 Jews picked between them the president.
    And they formed a police.
    There was Jewish police.
    When the Germans want peoples to go
    to work to build the highways or to send away to concentration
    camps, they came to the Judenrat,
    and they told them what they want.
    If they--
    How were the people picked to be in the Judenrat?
    What was it looked upon as an honor?
    No, it wasn't a honor.
    As a matter of fact, my father was begged to be the president.
    He wouldn't do it for anything in the world.
    Who picked the people to be in the Judenrat?
    The Jews came together and they picked.
    They brought out, I want this.
    And they put votes.
    And who got more votes became a member of the Judenrat.
    And they want to pick my father in my hometown
    for the Judenrat.
    And they wanted to make him the president.
    He wouldn't take it for the whole money in the world
    because it was a dishonor to him to serve the Germans.
    Because in a way, with this, you served the Germans.
    Let me ask you.
    At that time, Poland was conquered,
    was under German rule.
    Well, all Poland was taken to German.
    So what happened to the Poles?
    I mean, the Jews were dealt with under a Judenrat,
    right, by a Judenrat?
    The Poles were-- in a way, they were
    left alone, especially small towns, they
    wasn't bothered at all.
    In the big towns, where there were doctors, or lawyers,
    or the people who make medicine--
    Pharmacists?
    --pharmacists-- all the educated peoples--
    I wouldn't say all, most of them were pretty much harassed.
    They were sent away to concentration camps on the way
    because--
    The Poles?
    The Poles.
    The educated Poles?
    The educated, yes.
    Why did the Germans do that?
    Because they were afraid of a revolt.
    The more-- the everyday common person don't
    have the brains to put out word, while the educated people,
    they were afraid they will form something.
    But with Jews, educated and uneducated saved no life.
    With the Jews, didn't make no difference.
    You could have a penny.
    You could be a doctor.
    You could have a million.
    You could be nothing.
    You could be the most--
    everything-- everybody was equal.
    Weren't the Jews a little suspicious about this?
    Yes, they were.
    What could they do?
    But at the time, you realized?
    You couldn't do anything.
    You couldn't go anyplace.
    There was no way.
    There was no escape.
    When the war broke out, and the Jews
    began to see what the Germans doing,
    they saw that they're very much in danger.
    They never expected that they're going to build gas chambers
    and kill them-- of course not.
    They know that they're going to have to work hard.
    And they're going to have to be hungry.
    And they're going to be in a very difficult circumstances.
    But somehow, they will survive.
    Like happened in the past.
    Like happen in the past, natural.
    They knew that the Jews will be exposed to much more
    difficult times than the Poles.
    But nobody didn't suspect what's going
    to happen because if the Jews would have had idea what's
    going to happen, they would somehow form some kind defense.
    They would somehow try to do something.
    But nobody didn't have any idea what's going to happen.
    OK.
    So you said that in Sosnowiec, there
    was a Judenrat that was formed.
    Yeah, got a Judenrat too.
    And at one time, they hanged-- about a week or two,
    not long after my brother and my husband came back from home,
    they hanged out--
    no, they didn't hanged out.
    Apparently, they sent the men to the Judenrat who,
    I don't know how many, 1,000 or 10,000 men,
    to send away to work camps.
    And the Judenrat picked--
    at that time, they picked most of those peoples who just
    recently moved to Sosnowiec.
    And since I just came, I just got married in 1938,
    so I was the very first one.
    My husband was the first one to get a notice
    to come to the Judenrat.
    And a noticed to come to the Judenrat, we know what it is,
    to send away to the work camp.
    So you were aware at the time that there were work camps?
    Yes, sure.
    We found out then.
    We found out that they're going to send away to work camps.
    And it's-- the way it happened, I was living then
    in your father's parent's house.
    And your father's sister was living there too, above me.
    Your father was living with her then because before the war,
    he lived what was then Germany.
    So he had to run away.
    He lived there.
    And since he--
    Before the war, Dad lived in Germany?
    No, it wasn't Germany, was Poland then.
    But as soon as the Germans took over, they--
    Annexed it.
    --annexed, yeah, right away to Germany.
    And then a few weeks later, they annexed Sosnowiec too.
    But at that time, it was still Poland.
    And since your father had also recently came
    to Sosnowiec, my husband and your father,
    they came at this--
    got the same-- at the same time, they got it.
    This was a Friday afternoon.
    And he came down to me to ask.
    And he's asked my husband if he got a ticket.
    My husband said, yes.
    And he said, what are you going to do?
    So Dad met your-- knew your first husband.
    Sure, he knew him.
    And he said, what are you going to do?
    And well, what can we do?
    We have to run away.
    I'm not going to go there.
    I'm not going to go to German work camp.
    Who said this?
    Either one, either one going there.
    But how could you run away?
    There was the Jewish police.
    They had Jewish police.
    Then they were patrolling the streets.
    They were-- so it was very-- when they see were men,
    young men go, hey, come on, let me see who you are.
    What is your name?
    And they had the list of all the men
    who were sent papers to come to the Judenrat.
    Let me ask you.
    Dad at the time was living with his sister?
    Yeah.
    Was he married at the time?
    Yeah, he was married.
    He had a wife and a child.
    And they were living?
    Yeah, upstairs.
    What was his wife's name, do you remember?
    I don't remember.
    Or the child's name?
    No.
    Was it a boy or a girl?
    Was a girl.
    I knew her name, but I don't remember.
    That's OK.
    Maybe you'll remember.
    Yeah.
    And so we decided, it was Friday afternoon.
    It wasn't quite night, but it wasn't
    a very-- it was already so a little bit
    getting to the night.
    And we decided that they both will run away.
    And I will go in before them, about two,
    three houses before them.
    And when I will see a policeman coming, a Jewish--
    it was only Jewish police taking care on this--
    and they had, of course, those stars
    where you could see he's a Jew.
    When I will see that here a policemen
    coming in front of me, there was a sign.
    I would bend down and try to fix my hose.
    And this will be a sign to them, they will go in in the hall
    there.
    They were going some way home, closest home.
    And then after a few minutes, I will go look for them,
    tell them, it's all right.
    And they're going to come.
    And this way, they runned away.
    And they runned away to Bedzin--
    Bendin, it was called in Jewish.
    Was the next town to Sosnowiec.
    And the following-- about the following day or two days
    later, they came back.
    Why?
    Because they lived there.
    In other words, the workers had already been picked.
    Yeah, well, all the picking sent away.
    And it was quiet down.
    So they came back.
    You understand this way?
    In this way was.
    And then this was about--
    I don't remember exactly the time.
    It was the beginning of 1940.
    It was the 1st or the 2nd of January of 1940.
    And my husband and my brother decided
    to leave, not to be in Sosnowiec,
    to go home to my parents.
    Because was always coming out those announcements, those--
    there it's quiet.
    How did you spend your days during that day?
    You weren't-- nobody worked, right?
    No.
    Nobody worked.
    But somehow, people were trying to do something.
    Like I had a sack of flour.
    I sent a-- I sold--
    I gave nice chunks, like kilo of flour for a kilo of sugar.
    So it was like bartering.
    You would trade goods for goods.
    Goods for goods, yeah.
    Amongst the Jews?
    Pardon?
    Amongst the Jews?
    Amongst the Jews, yes.
    There wasn't no money because the money was paper,
    was nothing there.
    But when you had a pair shoes, you needed for shoes,
    then you go and find who has a pair shoes.
    And you gave them a kilo of flour.
    And they would change.
    I see.
    You know who has butter.
    This was just amongst Jews?
    Amongst Jews, yeah.
    You couldn't trust Poles.
    How big was Sosnowiec?
    Was that a big place?
    Sosnowiec was a big place, yeah.
    It was like a city?
    Oh, yeah.
    It was a big--
    today's standard, the Polish standard,
    I would say it was like consider here Baltimore.
    Really?
    Yeah, a big city.
    They were-- my husband and my uncle, Pinchas,
    were at my parents' house.
    And I decided to go home then too.
    Because I didn't have nothing to do here.
    I was alone.
    And Paula had her family, you understand.
    I didn't have nobody.
    I said, why should I stay here?
    I'm going to go home.
    And I went home.
    To your parents in Vayslitz?
    Parents, yes.
    Yes, my parents.
    And your husband was already there?
    There, yes.
    And Uncle Pinchas was there.
    Then after the-- the border was still--
    there wasn't no border between Sosnowiec and--
    was open.
    You could go there.
    Then after a few days--
    Meaning that there was-- you say no border.
    You mean you didn't?
    Because they made a border.
    After a few weeks, they made a border.
    So that Jews couldn't go from one place to the other?
    No, I mean, they couldn't go to Sosnowiec.
    They took Sosnowiec and all those sections there,
    they put it-- they made it the German Reich.
    I see.
    So they put it as part of Germany.
    Put it part of Germany, yes.
    There was a border there.
    Out of Sosnowiec, a few towns before Sosnowiec,
    there was a border, was a German border.
    I see.
    And Uncle Pinchas decided to go back.
    His wife was there and his wife's family.
    So he decided to go back and start--
    live a normal life.
    There was no other choice.
    So he went back.
    And I was staying home with my husband.
    But then my husband didn't had nothing to do there.
    He didn't have nothing to do there.
    So he decided-- and you got to--
    you couldn't live from the air.
    All-- everything what you own was taken away by the Germans.
    And so he decided, he will go home to Ozarów.
    There he has people, the flour mill.
    Maybe the men who he rented the mill--
    he going to be able to make something, to make some money.
    And he went there.
    And I remained with my parents.
    And I was pregnant at that time with Sheila too.
    This was in 1940?
    Yeah.
    Let me ask you-- did people--
    what did Jews do since Jews weren't working anymore?
    Jews couldn't own anything, nothing.
    Jews-- the Poles had a ration.
    Jews didn't had any ration.
    Jews didn't had a right to anything.
    When a German came in and found by a Jew a bag of flour,
    he could take him out and shot him for that.
    Jews wasn't allowed to have the slightest thing.
    When a Jew had a business, they put in-- if it was a bigger
    business, they put in a-- called it a Treuhander,
    which means a Pole--
    A manager?
    --a Pole who they put him in.
    And this his.
    It was his business.
    The Jew didn't-- the Jew could work there.
    But this was his business.
    And if a Treuhander didn't want a Jew, the owner,
    he could ask him to leave too.
    So the Jews could work there, could
    continue to work in some places whenever they could?
    What do you mean they could work?
    If they have-- the German-- no, according to the German,
    they couldn't do anything.
    But if they couldn't find something to earn some money,
    the Germans didn't know.
    In our hometown, there was not a German office.
    That was in the neighboring hometown.
    It was called Nayshtut.
    In Polish, it was called Nowy Korczyn.
    There was a German office, a Gestapo.
    In our hometown was not a German.
    It was by-- they came by quite often.
    So I was with my parents.
    And suddenly, after a few weeks, there was, I think--
    sometimes in the middle or the end of January,
    we find out with the newspaper that Germany had
    enacted Sosnowiec to Germany.
    There's not more Poland.
    It's the Deutsches Reich.
    This was not under the Poland anymore.
    I had there everything.
    I had my furniture, I had everything what I--
    just to me, was the biggest shock in the world.
    I lost everything.
    First, I lost all my money, all my what I had.
    And then I lost everything-- all my--
    everything what I had.
    So I decided to go there and see if I can save something,
    if I can do something.
    So I left.
    It was a Sunday morning when I left by train.
    Did your husband--
    My husband was in Ozarów.
    I was there at home with my parents and myself.
    I left my home.
    My mother told me not to go.
    OK, so you were saying?
    So I left by train, and I had to stop there in a town
    to get a permission, because in order
    to pass the German border you had to have permission.
    It took me about two days because of the line
    was very, very long.
    And I finally got the permission.
    And I went on the train.
    And when the train stopped on the border,
    and the German Gestapo came up to check the permissions,
    a German Gestapo came up to me.
    And he looked at it and he saw in the name that I am Jewish.
    I don't know if I got a code, if I got something on it.
    But he said to me, where are you going?
    And I said, I'm going home.
    And he said you're going to the German Reich.
    That's not your home.
    Jews don't have a home in the German Reich.
    I said, I have have apartments and my furniture,
    all with my world.
    And he said, Jews don't have nothing in Germany.
    He took me by my arm, and throw me off the--
    he tear apart the permission it took me by arm,
    and throw me down from the train.
    And that was the end of it.
    I had to go back.
    I had to go back home.
    And it took me about two days to go home.
    And finally, I came home.
    It was Friday night about 10 o'clock at night.
    This was in January.
    I had a--
    I could sleep there on the station on a very small train
    station.
    Friday night and Saturday.
    So I didn't have to come home on Shabbos.
    But I knew I would risk my life there.
    And I came in to my parents' home.
    I knocked on the window.
    And my mother opened the door.
    And I came in and I ran to the sofa, and I threw myself down
    and I begin to cry so hard.
    I begin to cry that I had to come to my parents' home
    in Shabbos which was a terrible, terrible thing to do.
    My father didn't said anything.
    But my mother came to me.
    She said, Dora, don't cry please.
    This was [NON-ENGLISH].
    And she wouldn't come now, you would risk your life.
    You could be killed there on this.
    And you didn't commit [NON-ENGLISH]..
    You had a right to come home.
    Please don't cry.
    But my father didn't said one word.
    And this was Friday night.
    And I said to my parents, no, I can't let it go.
    I have to go see what happened to my belongings.
    My brother Chaim went with me to Krakow, but a different way.
    This was through Miechow, other way.
    This was the other way.
    This was a different way, which was a German border too.
    He went with me to Krakow, and he got from me
    other permission.
    And he took me to the train.
    He spoke.
    There were people who told him how to do it.
    And he told me to each gate to go.
    And I went by.
    I went home.
    And I came back to Sosnowiec.
    What could I do?
    It was silly to go.
    What could I do?
    It's nothing I could do to bring home anything.
    I was there a few days.
    And I went back.
    Your apartment, no one was in your apartment?
    The apartment was still there.
    But nothing I could do.
    What could I say?
    It's nothing I could say.
    But everything was there still?
    Everything was there.
    And I left back home.
    So I did a silly thing.
    My mother was right.
    There was no point of going.
    But I was young, and I was so anxious to save what I have.
    And I just--
    I came to the point where I saw there is nothing I can do.
    Were there any Jews there when you were there?
    In Sosnowiec?
    Oh yeah, sure.
    All those who were who had remained were still there?
    Sure, everybody who lived there.
    Why did I left?
    Because I have parents in a small town.
    Maybe a few others left too.
    But the majority were there.
    They lived there.
    They have their homes.
    Everything was there.
    There wasn't no ghetto at that time.
    Was Pinchas's wife still there?
    Yeah, of course they were there.
    But the children were at our home, still at our home.
    So I went back home.
    And a few weeks later, I wrote to my Uncle Pinchas,
    that I think everything over.
    And I gave him advice to take separate the furniture,
    and take every day, at night, a piece of furniture
    and put it in the attic from the building where he lives.
    So Pinchas was still in Sosnowiec?
    Sosnowiec, sure.
    And put it in the attic.
    He lived in a big building.
    Put it in the attic on the very top,
    and cover it with some rags, and with things cover it.
    And it will take you maybe a few weeks.
    But slowly, he can do it.
    And it didn't pass about eight days.
    And I received a letter from my brother
    that he did like I told him.
    That he took everything on the attic, and everything
    is covered, and everything is in perfect order.
    And then when I realized that my furniture is gone.
    The Germans took my furniture.
    Because I knew that he couldn't do it that quick.
    You understand?
    And when I got this, I began to cry very hard.
    And my mother said, she came to me
    and she said, please don't cry.
    My mother was a very smart person.
    She had a vision of it what's going to happen.
    She said, Dora, please don't cry about furniture.
    This is all materialistic.
    And pray to God that we all be together after the war.
    And we will work, and we will start for the new.
    And I have a lot of hidden goods,
    and no matter what, you're my daughter.
    And everything what I have is yours.
    And we will share, and everything will be all right.
    Just don't cry please.
    So I calmed down.
    I accept the fact that everything is gone.
    And I saw my mother is right, that there
    is no need to cry about furniture, about other things.
    So at that time in your house was living Chaim.
    Chaim, Menasha and me, my parents.
    And in our house--
    And Pinchas's--
    And the two children, yes, two kids.
    In our house, it was never a hunger,
    because my parents had hidden some leather.
    And we had some farmers whom we know, whom we trust.
    And when a farmer came in, and he
    wants some leather for her boots,
    my father told him, give me a sack of flour,
    or give me a dozen eggs, or whatever, food.
    I will give you a leather for boots, you give me food.
    In this way we never had any difficulty having to eat.
    There was no problem.
    And the children were there until about Pesach of 1940.
    Then when my brother decided to--
    he was missing them terrible.
    They were two beautiful little girls.
    How old were they?
    Sheila was born in 1943.
    She was seven years old.
    And Helen was four years old in 1940.
    And he sent a Gentile woman to bring the children
    to Sosnowiec.
    And my mother said no.
    Here they have everything.
    They have all the food they need.
    And they are safe.
    Leave them here.
    And she wouldn't give him the children.
    But Sheila was an extremely smart little girl.
    And she understands everything.
    And when this woman left, she was crying she wants to go.
    It's OK, mom.
    She told my mother, she said babciu,
    which is grandma in Polish.
    She said I love you very much.
    But I also love my parents.
    I was with you for a time.
    Now I want to be with my parents.
    Why didn't you let me go?
    I want to go to my mommy and daddy,
    and you didn't let me go.
    And she stopped to eat.
    She wouldn't eat.
    She couldn't eat.
    She couldn't sleep.
    She was crying.
    We thought this little girl is falling apart
    that she is terrible missing, as long as she--
    Did she have any idea what was going on?
    No, no.
    No.
    She had plenty to eat, and she was happy, and she went to--
    Was she aware there was a war?
    Maybe she was.
    We never discussed it.
    I really can't tell you that.
    And she was going there, where my cousin Eve lives.
    She had several sisters.
    And she was always with them, you understand?
    With their family, and they were playing with her.
    At one time she came home and she said to my mother,
    grandmother, you don't have--
    Of course, she said in Polish, the only language
    she spoke in Polish.
    You don't have to dress me so beautiful.
    My mother said, why darling?
    Because my Aunt Balcha or my cousin's older sister,
    told me that I am a [NON-ENGLISH],,
    which means I'm a beauty.
    She was a beauty.
    If she were grown, she would be another Elizabeth Taylor.
    She was an extremely beautiful little girl.
    Let me understand also.
    Next door to where you lived, where did Eva--
    They were living in the same street down the block.
    And how are they related to you?
    Their mother was my father's sister.
    We were cousins.
    What was your father's sister's name?
    Aho.
    And she was married?
    And she had how many children?
    She had-- let's see.
    She had one son and five daughters.
    And Eva was one of the daughters?
    Yes, Eva and Lily.
    They were sisters.
    And there were three more sisters one was Devorah.
    Like my name, because it was my father's mother's name.
    And one was Marmol.
    And one was Balcha.
    And my parents wrote a letter to Pinchas to send this woman,
    because there's no choice.
    They have to go back now, because Helen
    was only four years old.
    She was a little girl and she didn't--
    she didn't know anything.
    She didn't make any response to this.
    But Sheila was coming apart.
    She couldn't-- not she didn't.
    She couldn't eat.
    She couldn't sleep.
    She just was missing so much.
    There was no choice.
    We had to send them back.
    And this woman came, and she went right back to Sosnowiec.
    So how did you spend the rest of 1940?
    Well.
    You said Sheila was born, your daughter.
    Sheila was born.
    My daughter Sheila was born April the 15th or 16th, 1940.
    Was Sheila was named after the same person?
    Yes.
    Yeah, this was my mother's mother's name.
    And she was so smart.
    Because we had taken some leather.
    And given out to a farmer to hide.
    Because in our home there was always revisions
    that because we were rich, we were very famous.
    Whenever the Gestapo came, they always came to us.
    Look, search for goods.
    And everything was hidden.
    But you never could be sure if they will not
    find this hidden place.
    So we took one time at night, hired a man with a big wagon,
    and we took out a lot of merchandise to a farmer,
    to a man who we thought we can trust.
    This farmer, and took most, I would say 95% of this leather
    and hide it, and about a few pieces.
    And he called the police, anonymous.
    He doesn't say what his name is.
    And there is leather, Jewish leather.
    And the police came and confiscated this.
    And he came the following day to us.
    And he said the police came and took everything out.
    We understood what happened.
    But what could we do?
    It was a terrible tragedy.
    Still at this time, nobody knows that the life has
    not-- but I was sure that the war will be over.
    You got to have something to start a life.
    But natural at that time, it was a terrible tragedy.
    We lost almost everything what we had.
    This was in 1940?
    It was in 1940.
    And whenever we talk about that, we took the two children
    and sent them to my aunt who lived across the hall,
    my father's sister, older sister, not Eve's mother.
    And we sent them--
    What was her name?
    Her name was Zlata.
    Zlata?
    Zlata, yes.
    And she had children?
    She had four sons.
    Phil, Kalman, Shlomo, and Eziel.
    And she had three daughters, [PERSONAL NAME],, and Hanna,
    and Roizel, and all were married.
    And all had children.
    Not a sign remained from them.
    These were your cousins?
    They were my cousins, yes.
    And so we were sure because a child, no matter
    how smart you couldn't hide still
    a seven year old little girl.
    We always would come out to talk about this.
    We always send the two kids to [NON-ENGLISH] Zlata.
    And my brother, Pinchas, wrote us when the children came home.
    He wrote us a letter.
    And they came in, the little one, Helen, said, Daddy,
    my aunt Dora had a little girl, Sheila.
    Sheila, it was quiet, but Sheila,
    his little girl called him in the other room.
    She said, daddy, she knew everything.
    She was so smart.
    Despite the fact that we never talked in her place,
    she saw in the faces, in the mood.
    She called and she said, daddy, come in the room.
    She wouldn't even say when somebody else was there.
    Something terrible happened over at grandfather's home.
    I don't know what.
    It was something terrible.
    And see how smart she was?
    And Pinchas wrote us a letter, what
    Sheila told him, to write him exactly what happened.
    Because if not, he will know what a thing.
    To tell him what happened, because he knows
    something terrible happened.
    And we wrote him--
    About the leather and all--
    It's only leather.
    It's only [INAUDIBLE].
    It's a terrible thing, but thanks to God we're all alive.
    So life was very difficult. There was always [NON-ENGLISH]
    in our home, not only by day, at night, during the night.
    They begin to bounce in the door,
    come in, and look and search.
    One time they came in even was a Shabbos.
    We always had people eating, because a lot of peoples
    where they made ghettos in the big towns,
    they came to small towns.
    And they were housed there in the shul,
    and way in the [NON-ENGLISH].
    And every Shabbos, so whoever has some, and here
    come two or three peoples to feed them.
    This was Shabbos.
    It was one Shabbos, after the service
    we had there I remember, a little brother and a sister,
    about 10, 12-year-old children.
    They were eating over at our home, the Shabbos.
    And two Gestapo came in.
    And they asked why we have the merchandise.
    We had merchandise.
    And my father said, I don't have any more.
    Because in the beginning, when the war broke out,
    they made us to sell.
    And we sold.
    We didn't sell.
    It was given away.
    Because the money was nothing there.
    But this what we managed to hide, we hide it.
    My father said, he didn't say that we hide it.
    I sold everything.
    They make me sell everything.
    And they took them to one corner, my father
    and my brother Chaim.
    And they took those--
    they had those long guns, with those one side the heavy wood,
    and they begin to hit him with this wood.
    I was there and my mother was there, and the two children.
    And we all began to scream terrible, very, very
    violent scream.
    And they left.
    But they hit them pretty well.
    And then when after when we went out,
    we found out that the people around were sure
    that they killed my brother, because for the screaming
    we made.
    We made a screaming.
    They were sure that they killed some people in our home.
    But this life was very difficult and very hard.
    And there were a lot of Jews who were starving.
    People who were very rich before the war who were in big towns,
    and they lived in a small town without anything.
    They were starving.
    But our home, we didn't starve.
    And we feed as many peoples as we could.
    What did you do every day?
    What did your father do every day?
    Nothing.
    There was nothing to do.
    Just be in the house.
    Just being in the house.
    And waiting.
    Just trying to get a sack of flour or two,
    so you can have to eat.
    Did religious life continue or?
    Yeah.
    We came together in a private home,
    where we every Shabbos where we made a service.
    But theoretically was it allowed to be, to get together?
    I don't know.
    They probably wouldn't, but they didn't know about it.
    So how come people didn't go to shul?
    The shul was burned.
    Oh, I see.
    They burned down the shul.
    As soon as they came, they burn down the shul.
    Like my father's minyan was about the rabbi's, the rav,
    the rav from the city.
    Over his house was a minyan.
    And my father was there on the minyan.
    And my husband, when he came back, and Chaim, my brother,
    and--
    Well, so what happened?
    Well, everything was they used to take out peoples too,
    like Jewish.
    And then they came to the middle of the night, a Jew,
    when somebody said up order, took him out.
    And they-- I don't know.
    They sent them to Auschwitz or they shot him.
    There used to be many--
    You heard about people disappearing?
    Yeah, oh definitely, very much so.
    People disappearing, and people, we
    had to get counted again, people going to the concentration
    camp, or to the death camps.
    Did you know about concentration camps at the time?
    Like in our hometown, at one time,
    Chaim received a paper to go to the work camp.
    When was this?
    This was, I think it was at the end of 1941
    or the beginning of 1942.
    And, of course, my parents wouldn't send him.
    So at that time, this was common.
    Like, you hired nobody didn't think
    that you go to a death camp.
    And maybe they didn't at that time.
    They really went to work camps at that time.
    But people who could afford hired somebody and send them
    instead of this man.
    Another Jew?
    Another Jew, yes.
    And the reason why the committee, the Judenrat,
    sent the rich Jews, because they knew what's going to happen.
    At least the poor guy will go away.
    He will have some money.
    He will leave some money for his parents.
    Because they were starving.
    They'd be able to get a coat, a hat, a coat, a [NON-ENGLISH],,
    something, you understand?
    Well, if they will send those requirements to poor Jews,
    they will have to go without anything.
    So the Judenrat would purposely ask richer Jews,
    because they knew that the richer Jews would pay.
    Would pay a poor Jew to go.
    And the poor Jew, the poor Jew's family
    will benefit from the money.
    You understand?
    Did Vayslits ever become a ghetto?
    Was there ever?
    This was when Hitler made up his mind
    to solve the Jewish problems, to kill all the Jews, I think
    this was in the beginning of 1942,
    when he had this big shock at Stalingrad,
    when he lost at Stalingrad.
    When Hitler lost in Stalingrad, he
    knew then that he lost the war.
    Stalingrad was Russia.
    Russia, Yes.
    He knew then that he lost the war.
    His only hope was that he had some kind of chemist
    there in Germany who were preparing a bomb.
    Atomic bomb.
    And he was hoping that before he lose the war,
    he will be able to throw the atomic bomb on United
    States, whatever he will pick.
    This was his only hope, just revenge.
    But at that time, he decided to get rid of the Jews,
    to kill the Jews.
    And then when he began to take out peoples at small towns,
    he surrounded a small town.
    And he took Poles and surrounded complete unexpected.
    Nobody know.
    It was a big secret.
    No Pole would tell a Jew what's going to happen tomorrow.
    And when the Jews woke up in the morning, 6 o'clock,
    they saw they were completely surrounded.
    There was no escape whatsoever.
    They had to go.
    Go where?
    They didn't know where.
    That was like a deport--
    a deportation?
    Deport, yeah.
    But how about the ghettos?
    Like in certain towns--
    The ghettos there, they formed ghettos in the big towns.
    In our town too there was a ghetto.
    But the town was so small, you couldn't go out of the town.
    When did this first happen, the ghetto?
    You couldn't go out.
    I think from the very first one, like 1941.
    You couldn't go out of town.
    Right.
    Like the town was there a bridge.
    When you were caught on the bridge, you were shot.
    And there was a woman shot there.
    A Gestapo just happened to go out
    from our hometown go to the other town
    where they had the office.
    And the woman was going from some kind of village,
    I don't know she got a little bit of flour or a few potatoes.
    You know, so her kids will not starve.
    And they saw her.
    Right.
    And they shot her.
    But ghettos were only Jews lived in the ghetto.
    Yeah, only Jews.
    So it was a ghetto formed in Vayslits too?
    And I told you, honey, that Vayslits was too small.
    A very small village, so in the city after
    you could go any place, but you couldn't get out of the city.
    So Jews and non-Jews continued to live amongst each other?
    Yes.
    Yes, but only there was a very--
    I told you it was about three blocks.
    Right.
    So there's no way a ghetto--
    in itself it was like a ghetto?
    But itself, itself, the city, this village by itself
    was a ghetto.
    Right.
    And the big towns like in Krakow, or Lodz, or Warsaw,
    Kielce to form ghettos.
    When did ghettos start to form in Warsaw?
    They start to form get I think in 1941, the end of 1941.
    They didn't wait late.
    So you in the meanwhile continued
    to live with your parents in Vayslits during 1940 and 41,
    during those two years.
    Yes.
    I was there all the time.
    During that time, the incidences would
    be that they'd have people were taken out occasionally, or sent
    to camps.
    But it was nothing organized.
    It was just--
    I don't know what you call it organized.
    It was incidents with [NON-ENGLISH] came
    into our home, and took out somebody.
    Nobody knew why.
    Nobody knew for what reason.
    They took him out and nobody saw him again.
    And they'd also have people get called to go to the work camp?
    To work, yes.
    Not only the work camps, but this was a normal every day.
    Every man, my brother Chaim, my husband,
    went when he came back from Warsaw,
    they went to local work.
    They built a highway there.
    They took the Jews every day.
    In Vayslits?
    Yeah, we had to go to work.
    When did your husband come back?
    He came back when Sheila was born.
    He came back for Pesach.
    Sheila was born, it was about eight days,
    two weeks before Pesach.
    He came back for Pesach.
    And I didn't want--
    I didn't let him go back.
    He didn't go back there.
    He was home then.
    This was in 19--
    1940.
    In 1940, April of 1940.
    He was there just for a short while in Warsaw.
    He couldn't do anything.
    What was life like during those two years in other ways?
    Like how about in terms of you said that food and housing was
    very difficult.
    It was very difficult. Like a Jewish family,
    we had two rooms and the kitchen.
    The first room was our business and we lived there.
    It was a tiny kitchen, and there was the other room.
    So I had my room.
    My mother gave me this other room.
    And my brother Chaim got married,
    he had his room in the kitchen.
    And my parents had the front room.
    Every couple, if a home had a room where no couple was
    living, the Jewish Judenrat put in a family
    from those who came from other towns.
    It was very crowded.
    It was very difficult. I don't think
    I can explain how difficult.
    How about schooling?
    So what happened--
    There was no school.
    No schooling.
    How about any sort of music, or art, or theater,
    did that continue at all?
    No, maybe in the big towns.
    But not in small town.
    No, no.
    How about political activity, any sort of political activity?
    Political activity, the Jews between others
    have politics, what's going to happen.
    Well, it will take only a week or two,
    and Hitler is going to have a [INAUDIBLE] there,
    and Hitler going to have a [INAUDIBLE] there,
    and he be finished right away.
    Don't worry.
    Everything will be all right.
    It won't take any more long.
    We will be safe.
    So there was no thought of resistance of any kind.
    There was no sort of resistance, no.
    No.
    No just thinking that the war will finish soon.
    There was no sort of resistance at all.
    And also, there was no leadership.
    You understand?
    I spoke with Mr. Steinbach.
    He told me there was no leadership.
    For any kind of resistance, you've got to have a leader.
    You've got to have somebody to tell you what to do.
    You've got to have somebody to tell you, come to this place.
    To take charge.
    Yeah, take charge.
    Come to this place.
    Let's get together and give him advice,
    and tell him what to do.
    There is no leader.
    There was nothing.
    You understand?
    People just hoped that it would pass.
    It would pass, that's right.
    That's all it was to it.
    And people knew even it will not pass,
    even we will have to go to a work camp,
    even when we were taken out.
    Because when they began to clean out cities, nobody didn't know
    they were taking them to death.
    Everybody was going to war camp.
    They're going to work.
    There's going to a resettlement.
    They're going to be resettled.
    They're going to work.
    Everybody know it will be a hard life.
    It will be a difficult life.
    But somehow, are we going to survive.
    That they're taking us to Treblinka to kill,
    if other towns knew, I don't know.
    We didn't know.
    We didn't have any idea what's happening.
    And I'm sure most of those small towns, other
    didn't know what's happening.
    Maybe in the big towns, they did,
    where they had-- maybe they had some kind of leadership.
    I don't know.
    Did you ever hear from anyone that
    got sent to the work camps?
    Was there any way of--
    No, no.
    No.
    We understand that the Germans don't allowed any letters.
    They don't allow any mail.
    And everybody accepted this.
    Who was the first one in your family that got notice
    to go to a work camp?
    You mean when I was my parents?
    Yeah.
    Chaim.
    When did this happen?
    This happened in 1941.
    I think.
    Was Chaim married by then?
    No, he wasn't married then, no.
    OK, he was still engaged to that one?
    Yes.
    Yes.
    And so what happened when he got called to go to the war camp?
    How did they get out of it?
    Well, I told you.
    We hired.
    Oh, you did hire someone.
    To go in his place.
    Yeah, my parents hired somebody.
    And they gave them a lot of money,
    and the other man, maybe this man
    survived, most probably because I
    know he was in that work camp.
    In the beginning, they didn't send-- at that time
    they didn't send the gas chambers, no.
    But your husband was never called?
    No, no.
    He wasn't called.
    OK.
    So that continued during '40 and '41.
    '41 there was always those searching with those, always
    the fear for being caught for something.
    Because if God forbid they would caught something in our home,
    we will be shot immediately.
    There's always this terrible fear for that.
    But beside this, we always had sufficient food.
    Our home had always sufficient food.
    And I know I had an uncle in Chmielnik,
    my mother's only brother.
    And one time he was living together with his daughter
    and son-in-law.
    And I think there were four grandchildren.
    And two of them, the eldest two boys--
    [AUDIO OUT]
    --send money to a friend of my uncle, my mother's brother,
    so when they were behind, then they
    can go and get us something, whatever
    they can to get something.
    Because he couldn't possibly support the whole family.
    It was absolutely impossible.
    But this was an elderly couple.
    And when they became hungry, they were old.
    They couldn't take it so he, whatever he could,
    he supported them.
    So this was your mother's brother?
    The hunger was-- yeah, the hunger was so terrible there.
    When they saw this bowl of butter,
    my mother said go ahead, darling,
    put yourself some butter.
    And he said, no, I don't want to take away your.
    And [INAUDIBLE],, no, we will have plenty.
    And they just couldn't believe it that this can happen,
    that a Jewish home can have bread and butter as much
    as they want.
    These two men were the sons of--
    The sons, the grandsons of my mother's brother, my uncle.
    I see.
    Nobody survived from there.
    So when they begin to make those transport from Jews--
    When did that start?
    When was your first memory of that happening?
    It just started I would say in 1942,
    about the beginning of 1942 maybe two or three months
    later.
    When did it happen to Vayslits?
    In our hometown it was a [NON-ENGLISH] as of 1942.
    That was like in October then?
    This was maybe, I don't know.
    Exactly I remember is was [NON-ENGLISH]..
    It was like maybe at the end of September or October,
    at that time.
    OK.
    You mentioned by that time was your brother, Chaim, married?
    He was married, and he was living with his wife, with us,
    with my parents.
    And why did he end up getting married?
    He was engaged to--
    He was engaged.
    He was engaged to Paula.
    And where did she live?
    She lived near Jedrzejow.
    And they got married in Shabbos [NON-ENGLISH]..
    This is of 1942.
    And they came straight to us.
    They lived with us.
    Shavuos, so that was around--
    It was about I would say May 1942.
    Why did they decide to get married?
    My father really didn't want to get married.
    But it was a problem they had with some leather.
    My brother, Pinchas, had hidden by Polish parents,
    and they said he said he wanted his younger
    daughter wanted to get married.
    And he didn't want his younger daughter to get married,
    before the older.
    Because Paula was the older daughter.
    And so because they were very religious
    and in religion supposedly--
    No.
    That wasn't no before at that time, it was sort of it--
    I wouldn't say a shame.
    But it wasn't customary a younger sister
    get married before the older.
    So the younger sister got engaged.
    And the father said that he wanted
    the older sister who was engaged to Chaim to marry first.
    Yes.
    So they did.
    Yeah, they did.
    I also have to mention that this younger sister's
    fiancee, his name was Rubinek.
    He was coming to us during the war
    with merchandise, yard goods.
    He had a permission from the German Gestapo he could travel
    because his profession was to make those [NON-ENGLISH]
    girdles.
    If somebody has a bruch, a--
    I don't know how--
    For women?
    No, no, no.
    No.
    I don't know how to say it in English.
    Sometimes somebody has a physical--
    A hernia?
    A hernia, yes.
    Yeah.
    He was making those girdles for hernias to support the stomach.
    You understand?
    Right.
    And he made this also for the Gestapo.
    And for this reason, he had a permission,
    a stable permission.
    Whenever he wants to go on the train, he could go.
    And he came maybe once a month or twice a month to us.
    And my husband bought from him those yard goods,
    and he sold it to other people there,
    he know who to deal with them.
    Everything was, of course, black, in the black market,
    without nobody's knowledge.
    And this will be important for later on how he knew me.
    He knew me the, Rubinek, and I knew him
    because he used to come to our home quite often.
    Jedrzejow, the town of my sister-in-law, Paula came--
    How close was that to Vayslits?
    I don't know exactly.
    What about I would say 30, 40 kilometer.
    How did Chaim and Paula meet?
    Was that a shidduch also?
    Yes.
    Yes, it was a shidduch.
    [NON-ENGLISH] was deported the first day of Rosh Hashanah
    of 1942.
    And Paula's family, naturally went.
    And also his fiancee, Rubinek's fiancee, went also.
    He remained there.
    They left there, I would say about 20 or 25 people,
    like a doctor, shoemaker, a tailor,
    they left a few Jews, only men, no woman
    whom they need to serve them.
    In the town?
    In the town, yes.
    And Rubinek who came to us, remained
    there, and his brother.
    And then we found out about that Jedrzejow was deported--
    You're talking about transport?
    Transport, yeah.
    Well let me ask you something.
    Was that your first knowledge at all of any sort of transport?
    No.
    They were transported from other towns.
    When was your first memory of transport?
    Did that go on in 1941 too?
    I don't think there were any transports in 1941.
    In 1941, they only took people from the Judenrat,
    ask them to go to the work camp.
    But this was a transport, it was a clean out all the Jews.
    And where did you think those Jews were sent?
    We were told, and we believed, we
    were hoping they were sent to work camps.
    Because I remember at Yom Kippur at that year,
    we knew Jedrzejow was taken out.
    In Yom Kippur, the rav in our town,
    I told you we were doing the service over his home.
    He had a speech telling the peoples
    to pray for those peoples who were taken to other places,
    and they will be strong, and have help,
    and be able to survive.
    But they were dead at that time a long time ago.
    You understand?
    Yeah, I understand.
    He didn't have any lie.
    He asked to pray for those people's [NON-ENGLISH]..
    You later found that they were sent directly
    to the death camps.
    Yeah, I found out this later on.
    At that time, I give you only an example--
    Yeah, right.
    --how the people didn't had any idea where they went.
    So my sister-in-law, Paula, had I
    don't know how close she was, this relative,
    a distant cousin, or whatever.
    A man, his name was Bialobroder He was living in Slomniki.
    And he was a Gestapowiec.
    He served the Gestapo.
    He was part of the Judenrat?
    Maybe.
    I don't know.
    But it was the other town.
    At that time, and you had somebody you could--
    And what was the name of this town?
    Slomniki.
    OK, now let me understand.
    There was a transport in Slomniki, right?
    In other words--
    No Slomniki was still there.
    OK.
    But the town Jedrzejow, where my sister-in-law came from.
    There was a transport.
    A transport and she knew her family left.
    She was hoping, of course, that they left just resettling,
    she didn't know that they didn't live anymore.
    But she wanted to go there to Slomniki
    to be under his protection.
    She was hoping that under his protection
    she will not be deported.
    She wrote him a letter.
    She told him, as you know, my family was deported.
    [PHONE RINGS]
    [AUDIO OUT]
    Paula wrote a letter to this man,
    to Bialobroder was his name in Slomniki.
    And how was he related to her?
    He was some kind distant relative,
    I don't know exactly what kind.
    And she wrote him that since her family was already deported,
    and she doesn't know where they are, and she lives now,
    she got married and lives now in Vayslits
    with her husband, Chaim.
    And she would like to come and stay there.
    She would like to move to Slomniki
    and be there under his protection.
    And she didn't heard from him.
    At the same time, another town, Dzialoszyce, was deported.
    And from Dzialoszyce, a president from the Judenrat,
    from Vayslits, his wife, parents, family
    lived in Dzialoszyce.
    The Dzialoszyce transport wasn't like our transport.
    Our transport from our hometown went straight to Treblinka.
    When you say your transport, do you mean Vayslits?
    Vayslits.
    Not one survived.
    Dzialoszyce, they took the transport
    to Plaszow which was a suburb from Krakow.
    And there, they took off strong men, young men, young women
    to work.
    There was a work camp in Plaszow.
    And the rest of them, they sent to Treblinka.
    You found this out later, right?
    You didn't know it at the time?
    Yes, yes.
    On the way-- sure, I found out later.
    I couldn't know then.
    And on the way, during the transport, a lot of Jews
    also escaped on the way.
    Also from our hometown, Jews escaped on the way.
    But the transport of your hometown
    had not yet taken place, right?
    No, no.
    OK.
    And after a few weeks, some peoples from that Plaszow
    escaped.
    Some of them got killed when they escaped.
    Plaszow was the work camp?
    Work camp.
    And they came back to Dzialoszyce.
    And also some people who were on they way from the transport
    came back.
    And they begin to form a community, a Jewish community.
    The president from Vayslits, from the Judenrat, his family,
    I mean his wife's parents and a brother and a sister
    managed to escape from the road, and they came to our hometown
    to Vayslits.
    And they were with their daughter and son-in-law.
    When the community--
    I want to ask you something, OK?
    Yes.
    In Zialoszyc-- is that what it was called?
    Dzialoszyce.
    Dzialoszyce.
    Yeah.
    You said some Jews escaped and came back
    and started forming a community.
    Yes.
    Well when the transport took place,
    originally were all Jews taken away?
    All Jews were taken.
    Oh, yeah, not one survived.
    Only those survived who hide himself or run away.
    So there wasn't any selection.
    No, no, no.
    Women, men, children.
    No.
    The town was surrounded and everybody
    has to go from one day to 100 years, everybody had to go.
    And when the Jews began to come back the Dzialoszyce,
    Bialobroder came there.
    And whoever want his home back, every home was locked up.
    He had to give them, like give me, whatever he wants.
    I don't know $1,000, 100,000 zloty, or whatever,
    I will give you the keys.
    I will open your home.
    And when our president.
    So he was in Dzialoszyce, the Bialobroder.
    Bialobroder, he was living in Slomniki.
    But he came once a week or twice a week
    for that purpose to open homes for Jews who came back.
    We gave him the money, what he wanted.
    Did other Poles know that the Jews were back in Dzialoszyce?
    [NON-ENGLISH] they knew, sure.
    Was it occupied then by Germans?
    I mean in other words, they were able to return and not
    get made send back?
    Listen, what happened.
    They were able to return.
    They were able to return.
    And when the president from Vayslits, from the Judenrat,
    went to Dzialoszyce, and spoke with Bialobroder.
    to ask him to open the home, to give him
    the home from his in-laws.
    Apparently, I wasn't there.
    I didn't hear.
    Apparently, Bialobroder told him,
    I don't want money from you.
    I have there this young couple, my cousin
    and my distant cousin, Paula, with her husband.
    I want them to send them here to [NON-ENGLISH],,
    and I will take them from here to Slomniki.
    If you will do that, I will open the home for your parents.
    How do I know that?
    It was a Thursday, the following day it was Erev Sukkos.
    And this was Thursday.
    It was about noon time.
    I was standing in the gate there from the home with my mother.
    And we looked up in the market.
    In Vayslits?
    In Vayslits.
    We saw the president with his wife going down
    in the direction where we lived.
    And my mother said, [NON-ENGLISH]..
    I don't want to meet him.
    I don't want him to remember me.
    Because you don't know what he could send you.
    There were some ill feelings between--
    There was ill feelings.
    And a nice human being wouldn't be a president of a Judenrat.
    It's just as simple as that.
    I see.
    You understand?
    He was a tailor, not only was a tailor.
    A tailor is nothing wrong.
    But he just was a very simple man.
    And there was hard feelings, a long story.
    Like I told you, my brother supposed to get married.
    And my mother sent to him coats.
    And he didn't want to return them.
    It's not important.
    But there were hard feelings.
    So my mother said to me, [NON-ENGLISH]
    So we went in, and didn't pass two minutes.
    They both came into our home.
    And my mother said, welcomed them.
    What can I do for you?
    He said my in-laws are going back tonight.
    My wife's family are going back tonight to Dzialoszyce.
    And if you want, your son him Chaim and his wife
    can go with them.
    And my father said, sure.
    Sure, wonderful.
    Because that's what they want.
    And Bialobroder he will come to Dzialoszyce, and take him back.
    Take him to Slomniki where he lives.
    Fine.
    Let me just review and make sure I have this straight.
    OK?
    Chaim's wife, Paula, had a cousin, Bialobroder.
    Bialobroder, yeah.
    Bialobroder.
    Yeah.
    And he was working for the Gestapo.
    Yes.
    So the president of the Judenrat went to Bialobroder
    and because the president had had
    some relatives who had lived--
    His wife's relatives.
    Lived in [NON-ENGLISH].
    Yeah.
    And he made a deal, well, he had asked
    the Bialobroder for that place where his in-laws lived,
    so that he could go there.
    So they can return to their home.
    In [NON-ENGLISH].
    Yeah, they were hoping to form--
    there was one exportation, there won't be another one.
    They will be safe there.
    So Bialobroder made a deal with him that he would do that.
    In exchange, the president of the Judenrat
    would bring Paula, his cousin, and Chaim, your brother
    and Paula's wife to Dzialoszyce.
    Yes.
    Wait a second.
    So OK.
    Go on.
    So he said, since my wife's family are going back tonight
    to Dzialoszyce, to their home, your son Chaim
    and his wife can go together with them
    on the wagon, the same wagon.
    My brother said, very well.
    I appreciate very much.
    Thank you.
    [INAUDIBLE]
    As soon as they left, my father, my husband said, look,
    it's a good opportunity for Devorah with the baby to go.
    Because you never know when it's going to happen.
    You never knew in advance.
    There was no way.
    If we will get up in the morning and find out
    that the town is surrounded, what are we going to do?
    They had made by farmer a hiding place in a farm, in a village.
    Your father had made--
    My family-- my father and my mother had made,
    had prepared a hiding place by farmer.
    In case--
    In case it happens.
    I was hoping it will not happen, but in case it happens.
    They had made a hiding place by a farmer in a village for them
    to hide.
    But in order to go to this farmer,
    you had to go at night when nobody doesn't see.
    But you never don't know when it's going to happen.
    When you say when it's going to happen,
    you mean when Vayslits, when the transport will happen.
    Yeah, well when you wake up in the morning
    and you see the town is surrounded,
    you couldn't go to the farmer.
    So they prepared in our home, in our attic,
    a smaller place where they can hide during the day.
    And at night they will go down and try to escape.
    A lot of Jews were killed this way.
    But there was no choice.
    Do you understand?
    But to hide in this place, there was no way
    you could hide with a baby.
    Because the slightest sound could discover you.
    You were taking their own shot.
    There was no way you could hide there with a baby.
    So my father and my husband said this was a good way for Devorah
    with the baby to go away.
    They will go to Dzialoszyce.
    In Dzialoszyce, they will go together with Chaim in Poland
    to Slomniki, to we with Bialobroder.
    It was a heaven.
    It was something like from the heaven towards a way to escape.
    So my father said to Chaim, go out to this man.
    His name was [PERSONAL NAME].
    Go out to him and tell him that your sister and the baby
    will go with you too.
    So he went out.
    The man said, no way, only you and your wife can go.
    Nobody else cannot go.
    So Chaim came home.
    And he was crying.
    What can we do?
    He won't let Devorah go with the baby.
    And my father, my husband, and Chaim began to discuss.
    And we realized that this man wouldn't do us a favor.
    Apparently, he made a deal with Bialobroder
    to bring Chaim there, and he will
    open the house for nothing.
    And in this case, he didn't have no choice.
    My father said to Chaim, go to him and tell him if Devorah
    and the baby cannot go, you and Paula will not go too.
    Just tell him this.
    Either way you all go together, or nobody doesn't go.
    And guess what he did?
    And he came up.
    He went to him, and he told him this.
    Mr. [PERSONAL NAME],, only we all go together or none of us go.
    He said, OK.
    Go home.
    None of you go.
    None of you go.
    But all later, he sent back a man there,
    telling them that he changed his mind.
    What's the difference?
    There's plenty of room on the wagon.
    She can go too.
    As soon as he came down, I began to cry.
    I said, no.
    I don't want to go.
    I don't want to go to a strange town, to a strange people.
    I don't know nobody.
    I'm with my family.
    As long as [NON-ENGLISH],, I want to be with my family together.
    I do not want to go.
    No way.
    Nobody will make me to go.
    Definitely not.
    I am not going.
    So the wagon, we're supposed to leave at 12 o'clock night time.
    Because it was all black.
    God forbid if somebody caught us, we would be shot.
    This was Thursday night.
    The following day was Erev Sukkos, Shabbos [NON-ENGLISH]..
    So that was like in October or so of 1942?
    Yeah.
    It was about in October, yes.
    And I put the baby to sleep.
    And I said, I'm not going.
    I was determined not to go.
    I didn't want to leave.
    It was about 11:00 or 11:30, my father and my husband
    came to me.
    Wake up the baby.
    Dress her up.
    You have to leave.
    I said, no way.
    I'm not going.
    I don't want to go.
    I don't want to go [NON-ENGLISH]..
    I want to be with my family.
    Is it that much to ask?
    I want to be here with you.
    I do not want to go.
    Then both men, my father and my husband, woke up the baby
    and dressed her up, and pushed me out from the house.
    You have to go.
    There's no other choice.
    If you will not go, we all will die--
    we all-- no die.
    We didn't know we die.
    We're all going to have to go with the transport.
    If you will go, if it happens something,
    the transport will go away, like Dzialoszyce,
    some Jews will come back.
    And then you will come back.
    And we will be back in our home.
    You understand?
    Which way is better?
    To stay for there for a year or two,
    and I starting to go somewhere to work, or to come back?
    See what happened in Dzialoszyce?
    People came back who managed to escape, who managed to survive,
    came back and they're home.
    And the same way will happen here.
    If you be here with the baby, we wouldn't
    be able to hide in this attic.
    No way.
    We all will go with the transport.
    I still remained-- I don't want to go.
    Where was the attic?
    Where was the hiding place?
    The hiding place was, we had in the back of the house,
    we had like a shed.
    And under the roof of this shed, there we had a sukkah,
    you understand?
    And there was an opening to the shed.
    And we made a double wall there.
    And even when you looked up, you saw a wall.
    There was about this much room between the outside wall
    and the double wall.
    And it was about this high.
    You couldn't stay up.
    You could lie down.
    It was just something like you have only
    to kneel down, and bend down like that.
    So the plan was that in case there
    was a transport that your family would hide there
    until the night.
    And in the night, they would go to the farmer
    where the hiding place.
    Yeah.
    But that couldn't happen if you and Sheila were there.
    If I would be there.
    Because Sheila was a baby.
    Because she was a baby.
    You couldn't have a baby.
    The slightest sound, the baby cry.
    Out of there, Poles, Germans, you couldn't.
    There was no way.
    OK.
    So--
    So you went.
    I went.
    I didn't have no choice.
    I went.
    And at that time, I don't know how I should say this.
    It's a very insignificant thing.
    I just will tell you, how my father was with the owner.
    The man who owned the wagon came to my father
    and asked him to pay for the ride.
    And my father said, what?
    Are you afraid I will not pay you when you come back?
    And the man said, he was a Jewish man.
    I forgot his name.
    He said, no.
    I know you will pay me.
    But now it's a war.
    I prefer.
    So my father said to us, children, kids, come on down.
    [NON-ENGLISH] who is asking money in advance.
    No, come on down.
    Because that wasn't usually the custom?
    No.
    Oh my God.
    My father was, he would ask in advance, money.
    No way.
    And my mother began to cry for happiness
    that we are coming back.
    On one side, she wants us to go, to be safe.
    And the other side, she wanted us to stay home.
    So either way, when we left she was crying that we are going.
    And she knows we're going back, she
    began to cry for happiness that we're coming back.
    That we're not going to leave.
    Right.
    But anyway, when my father said this, then
    man who owned the wagon said, OK OK.
    That's all right.
    I know you're going to pay.
    You go back home.
    Don't go down.
    Don't be.
    Well, write it down.
    Go back up.
    My father, OK.
    Kids, go up and go.
    And we went to [NON-ENGLISH].
    And this was Thursday night.
    We come to [NON-ENGLISH].
    It was Friday morning, 4:00 or 5 o'clock.
    It was still dark.
    And I was sitting there with those family.
    They were very nice people.
    Which family?
    With the president's parents.
    I was standing there until Bialobroder will come.
    We will go with him to Slomniki.
    We were there.
    And my mother gave us all challahs, and cake, and fish,
    and everything what we need to have for the holidays.
    Because Sukkos was Saturday, Sunday.
    And it was Monday, and Tuesday Bialobroder came.
    He came.
    And Chaim and Paula went to him, and told him
    that they would like me and the baby to go.
    No way.
    What can you expect from a despot like this?
    If he worked for the Gestapo, what kind of human being
    was this?
    You understand?
    You couldn't expect much from him.
    No way.
    It was out of question.
    So Chaim came to me and told me, don't worry.
    I will go there, and I will take you there.
    I will do all I can.
    You know this very well.
    It will take a day or two.
    You will be with us.
    So Chaim and Paula went to Slomniki.
    Went to Slomniki.
    And you remained in at that family.
    With the family, yeah, and with Sheila.
    Well at that time in Dzialoszyce, it was like that.
    There were only men, young men.
    There were no children.
    Children and women went to traveling camp.
    And they began to go rumors that there is
    going to be another transport.
    They're going to take out the Jews who came back.
    They're going to take them out again and send them away.
    So every night, nobody even slept.
    Everybody had on like 10 pair of pants, and 10 sweaters,
    and everything what he wanted to take on him, in case something
    happened they can run.
    I was with Sheila.
    She was too young to walk.
    She was about close to two years old.
    She was too heavy to carry.
    And I had to have something, a dress for her, nothing for me.
    Never mind me, but for the baby.
    I got to her [NON-ENGLISH],, and she wants to make something.
    It's a baby.
    It was a year and a half old.
    What could I do?
    I was absolutely on the verge of collapse.
    I didn't know what to do.
    I wrote a letter to my parents, that if they will not
    take me back home I'm going to be finished.
    Because you didn't know when it could happen.
    I didn't have an idea.
    There was still everything OK.
    And here, was every night, nobody everybody
    was standing in the gate.
    To look out, and dressed up, everybody to run.
    And I didn't have no chance to run or survive, no way.
    I told them, if you will not send me a wagon to come back,
    I will be finished here.
    I will die.
    There's no way I can live here.
    So another thing, Bialobroder came a day later again.
    And this lady, this mother from the president's mother-in-law,
    she was a very fine person.
    She told me, take the baby and go out.
    And beg him.
    Maybe he will have mercy.
    And her husband said, no, don't do it.
    He's a murderer.
    Don't do it.
    And she said, he will see the baby with you.
    Maybe he will have mercy.
    So I said, what do I have to lose?
    All he could do is say no.
    I don't lose anything.
    So I came to him.
    He was standing in the market there.
    He had this leather switch in his hand.
    And I came to him.
    And I began to say, in Polish, Bialobroder,
    I would like to go join my brother and my sister-in-law
    with my baby.
    As soon as I came to his, he took me here,
    and he pulled me back.
    And I fall down.
    I almost killed myself with the baby.
    And he said then when I came back, this woman's husband--
    He grabbed you and pushed you away.
    He grabbed you and pulled me back
    that I have the chutzpah to ask him a thing like that.
    But he was a murderer.
    And when I came back home to this family, he told me.
    I told you not to go.
    You were lucky.
    He could take out and switch you with a switch,
    and he could kill you.
    It's a good thing he only throw you away.
    I said, this was the end of it.
    So I wrote my parents a letter that the situation,
    how it looks.
    And no matter what, I have to come home.
    It was Friday afternoon.
    It was about, I don't know, 4:00 or 5 o'clock.
    Your father wrote you and said that--
    A man came in who was in Vayslits.
    He came back.
    He lived in Dzialoszyce.
    Chaim Shimmer was his name.
    I remembered that now.
    I remember him so well.
    He brought me a letter and a cake my mother baked for me.
    And he gave me the letter with a cake.
    And my father said that he already
    hired farmer with a wagon.
    But since that this was [NON-ENGLISH] Friday,
    and the following day was [NON-ENGLISH],,
    and Sunday was [NON-ENGLISH].
    And he said, you know, I wouldn't send away a wagon.
    In yontif, it's not allowed.
    Even I don't do it.
    But still I hired him.
    He said [NON-ENGLISH] Sunday, as soon as he will light a candle,
    as soon as it's allowed to light a candle, the man will leave.
    You'll be ready.
    And you will be home Sunday about 3:00 4 o'clock
    in the morning, you will be back home.
    And I was so happy about that.
    Finally, I'm going to be back home with my family.
    It was Saturday.
    About 12:00 or 1 o'clock.
    I put Sheila for a nap.
    And I was standing by the bed and knocking off the flies
    from her with something.
    And their son, the family I was with,
    their son came in and he said [NON-ENGLISH]..
    Which means, did you hear?
    Vayslits is after [NON-ENGLISH],, which means [NON-ENGLISH]..
    They took out all the Jews.
    There was a transport in Vayslits that Saturday.
    That Saturday night, that Saturday morning.
    A day before you were supposed to return there?
    Yeah, and when I heard this, I fell down, I fainted.
    And they began to put water on me.
    And finally came to me, and I got up,
    and I didn't know what to do.
    I was completely lost.
    Where do I go now?
    I don't know what to do.
    I don't know where my family is.
    I don't know if they hide?
    Possibly they couldn't.
    They couldn't hide.
    They left.
    What do I do?
    That there was a transport in Vayslits
    which meant, of course, that you couldn't return, right?
    Of course.
    Did you know when there was a transport, were you aware
    at all of how it was done?
    I mean, of where they were going to be transported,
    whether it was in a by train, whether it
    was an open cars, closed cars?
    Were you aware of anything?
    I wasn't aware of anything.
    But I find out after that they in our hometown,
    in Vayslits, they made the farmers come with their wagons.
    And they took the Jews from our hometown
    and several other towns surrounding to a train station
    together, and they load them on the train,
    and they sent them to Treblinka.
    So they were in closed cars?
    In closed cars, yes.
    When I found out about what happened, I felt complete lost.
    I didn't have nowhere to turn to.
    I didn't have nobody.
    I was alone in the world with a little baby.
    Your husband was with your parents?
    My husband was with my parents.
    Yes.
    And the only hope what I had is that my parents did hide,
    did manage to hide, and did manage to go to the farmer.
    And they are alive.
    And I knew if they will be alive, they will let me know.
    So my only hope was to stay outside.
    I knew the farmer they had those hiding place.
    To stay outside, and look in the direction
    some the road where the farm, the man will come,
    if my parents remain alive, and hoping he will come.
    I mean where the hiding place was, they had to pass by?
    No, the road from this village, the road.
    I know from which road he could come
    from that village, the farmer.
    My parents couldn't come.
    I expected that they will let me through him.
    They will send them to me.
    Oh, I see.
    Because they know where I am.
    They will send him to me, to let me know that they are alive.
    And I was sitting there that Saturday all day
    in the front of the house, looking if this man is coming.
    But he didn't.
    And the same night, somebody came and told me
    that some people escaped on the way, when they
    were going with those wagons.
    Before they come to the train station, some people escaped,
    ran away.
    And there was one woman who ran away.
    She was I think from Krakow.
    She came to my hometown like other peoples from big towns
    came.
    And I never really talked to her.
    But somehow she know who I am and I know who she is.
    Because it still was a small place.
    So as soon as I found out she came back.
    I went to her.
    I was told where she is.
    And I went to her.
    Was she in--
    In Dzialoszyce, yeah.
    And I came to her and I asked her
    if she saw some of my family by the transport.
    And she said, yes, I saw your mother.
    And then when I began to cry, you know, my parents went.
    I didn't have no hope.
    And I cry, and I was tearing up my face.
    I was sure that my parents went.
    I won't have no connection with them anymore.
    And the following day, I heard an other man,
    a man who was living in Wislica, and know me very well
    from when I was born, knew my mother, my father,
    and my whole family.
    His name was Luther Brown.
    And I found out that Luther Brown came, escaped,
    and came back.
    And I went to him.
    I came to him, I said, rab Luther,
    did you see anybody from my family?
    He said, no.
    I didn't see nobody, not your father,
    not your husband, nobody.
    Nobody from your whole family, not from your aunts,
    from your uncles.
    There was nobody out there.
    Because there was nobody from them.
    And I said, well, why did she told me this lady,
    she's my mother?
    He said, look.
    There's no sentiments now.
    I wouldn't have any sentiments.
    If I would see your mother, I would tell you
    I saw your mother.
    He said, she doesn't know your mother very well.
    She just came to Vayslits.
    How does she know your mother?
    I know your mother since she was born.
    And you tell me she was there.
    You go where you are.
    And your mother was not there.
    Your father was not there.
    And if I would see somebody, I wouldn't have mercy on you.
    I would tell you.
    But nobody wasn't there.
    And when he told me that, I realized that they
    didn't went to the transport.
    But there was a big question if they managed to go,
    managed to escape to this farmer.
    Anyway, I was sitting there Sunday all day on the steps,
    looking in that direction.
    Nobody did come.
    Then I found out they escaped, not Saturday Night,
    but Sunday night.
    Because Saturday night was still too dangerous.
    There were a lot of people.
    They were there in this hiding, until Sunday night.
    In Sunday night, they escaped.
    And Monday morning, it was about 10 o'clock.
    And I could see them from a mile away.
    I knew he was far away, but I could see him.
    He's coming, the farmer with my parents.
    And then I got the sign that they are there.
    And I begin to run to him.
    And he told me to get away because he doesn't want nobody
    to see me with him.
    Because some people may put two together, and realize.
    So your parents sent the farmer to tell you.
    Yes, sent the farmer to tell me that they managed to escape,
    and they are there in this hiding place.
    And not only this.
    The point really at that time, they
    wouldn't eat from the farmers.
    When I left to Dzialoszyce, my mother
    gave me a couple of pots, so I can
    cook for the baby, because she knows how much I care
    for the baby, if I was not been able to cook something
    to give to feed her what I want, how miserable
    this will make me.
    My mother gave me a couple of pots,
    so I can cook whenever I want, whatever I want.
    And my mother wrote me to send them
    those two pots because they need it,
    because they don't want eat--
    at those circumstances, they wouldn't eat treif.
    You understand?
    And they told me what else, to send them
    some other things there.
    I send them everything what I want, and the farmer went back.
    And I was staying with the [NON-ENGLISH] It was the same
    thing every night.
    Everybody was dressed and ready, ready to run away.
    Let me ask you something.
    Your parents were hiding at the place of this farmer?
    Yes.
    This place was not in Vayslits anymore?
    No, no it was in a village.
    No.
    It was out of Vayslits.
    Do you remember name of the village?
    The name of the village was, let me see if I remember.
    Well, maybe it'll come to you.
    Stawiszyce.
    Stawiszyce?
    Yes, Stawiszyce.
    Was the village the same--
    It was a farmer village.
    It was all farmers, with all the farmers there.
    Like our hometown, the village was business, was--
    And it was very close to Vayslits?
    It was about I would say 5 kilometers.
    And I send them all they what they want.
    And the farmer went back home.
    And I remained in Dzialoszyce.
    And I was there for about, I would
    say, for about a week more, one week, or maybe 10, 12 days.
    And I was going one morning on the street
    there was a baker who was baking those bagels.
    And every morning, I took the baby and went to the bakery,
    and bought a bagel and gave it to her.
    And she ate this bagel.
    I was going on the street holding the baby in my hand,
    and she was eating the bagel.
    Somebody came to me, you know, your parents came.
    Your husband came.
    And your brother, my brother, Menasha was with him.
    Because Chaim was in Slomniki.
    And there in Dzialoszyce was living my cousin,
    Zlata's daughter who got married with a man who
    was from Dzialoszyce.
    And they from the transport, they managed to escape.
    And they came to that place, because her name was Roizel,
    and her husband's brother was married too.
    And he lived there in Dzialoszyce,
    and they came to him.
    And my parents knew.
    They didn't know.
    But they knew that about his brother, and they came to them.
    And I said, my parents.
    Where are they?
    I don't know where to go.
    They said go there.
    I forgot their name.
    They're there, by those relatives.
    And I went there.
    And I don't know if I can tell you in words what happened.
    How we began to cry about it, and the hugs.
    And what happened, it was terrible.
    It was impossible to explain.
    This was on a Friday.
    Was a Friday about 10:00, 11 o'clock.
    And my mother managed to get some way some flour,
    and she baked a challah, and she made a cholent.
    And about it was about a half an hour
    before lighting the candles.
    My husband came home.
    He said he met a man whom he sold flour when
    we were living in Sosnowiec.
    Who has his wife's parents are living in Dzialoszyce,
    and they came back.
    And they have big homes, and a lot of rooms
    are empty from Jews who didn't come back.
    And they want us.
    They want to give us a couple of rooms.
    There's plenty pillows and dishes and a whole house.
    So you were in Dzialoszyce then.
    In Dzialoszyce.
    Your parents who had been by the farmer
    left a few days later and came to Dzialoszyce.
    Yes.
    And all of you went to those big rooms?
    We went.
    It was a half hour my father said,
    no, let's stay here Shabbos.
    Of course, my mother said, no.
    I can't be on my own.
    We don't have anything here.
    Just the two pots.
    I don't have for the two pots me the food.
    Let's go there.
    We went there right away.
    And we were there for about--
    for about a month.
    I was there, my mother, my father, my husband, and Sheila,
    and my brother, Menasha.
    And my mother was baking bread.
    It wasn't a normal life, but at least we were there in a home.
    We were free.
    And they begin to--
    It was open?
    Like you weren't really in hiding then?
    You were just--
    No, no, no.
    It was open.
    Because I told you they formed a community, a Jewish community.
    There wasn't many Jews, probably 100 or 50 Jews.
    And they formed already a committee.
    And they begin to form police.
    And my father began to work on it.
    And my husband and Menasha became policeman.
    Because when you are a policeman you have a better way
    to know what's going to happen.
    So this was around November?
    This was about November.
    Of 1942.
    1942, yes.
    And there was some Jews who were ran away from the transport,
    from the wagons.
    And they came back to Dzialoszyce.
    And every day was in our home was
    a poor home with those Vayslits who managed to escape,
    who came to us to be together, to talk,
    to find out a way what to do, what not to do,
    to talk about it.
    OK, now about after three weeks, two weeks or three weeks
    or four weeks, something after several weeks,
    it begin to get hard again people.
    Began to talk that there's going to be a second transport.
    They're going to get out, take out a second time the Jews.
    So my father began to say again, what's going to happen?
    We can run away to the farm, to the hidden place.
    What's going to happen with Devorah and the baby.
    She cannot come there.
    We have to do something.
    What do something?
    Polish papers.
    She can go with the Polish papers.
    Now I have to go back when we were still in Vayslits
    before they take me out.
    When we saw that what's happening in other town,
    we were hoping it won't happen in our town.
    But we have to be prepared.
    So we were talking about that, what's going
    to be with me with the baby.
    So my husband said, the only way is to make Polish papers.
    Because I was very fortunate.
    Everybody was jealous that I had an [NON-ENGLISH] That I
    wasn't favored to Jewish.
    I had in the face I was very much like a Polish woman.
    And this was worth millions then,
    that you didn't look like Jewish.
    You understand?
    So I could go on Polish papers.
    Because if you look like Jewish, you couldn't.
    Because your face was Jewish.
    But for me, I could go on Polish paper.
    So my father began--
    I don't know.
    He asked people around.
    He began to talk about the Polish identification.
    The Polish identification, I have
    to have a place to go somewhere.
    So Paula, Chaim's wife's parents,
    were very friendly with a woman who
    lived across the other side of the fence where they lived.
    Her name was--
    I don't remember.
    Anyway, so she said she will write her a letter
    to invite her here that she has a very important thing
    to discuss.
    And we will ask her.
    We will pay her whatever she wants, in case
    it happened when I have to run away,
    I can go to her with the baby.
    She didn't tell her about what.
    She said a very important thing to discuss.
    Please come.
    I cannot come.
    I don't have a permission to go.
    But please come to me.
    It's very important.
    And they know each other very well.
    And her parents also give everything what they,
    they gave to her to hide.
    And she knows--
    Where was this at?
    This was in--
    This was in [NON-ENGLISH],, where my sister-in-law came from,
    Chaim's wife.
    So she didn't come.
    She sent her son.
    She had one son.
    And he came by.
    His mother was sick, didn't feel good, excuse.
    He came.
    What do you want to talk about?
    And we talked to him.
    And we told him, look, does she look like Jewish?
    He said, no.
    She can go away for Polish card, 100%.
    No one suspects she's Jewish.
    Fine.
    This is what we want to do.
    In case happened in our hometown is being transported and she
    has a baby, she cannot go to a hiding place.
    We would like her to go to your mother
    and stay there until we begin to form--
    for a week or two, because we were sure
    certainly is going to begin, community
    is going to come back.
    So he said, OK.
    I can't answer you.
    This is up to my mother.
    And I will come home.
    I will tell my mother everything and she will let you know.
    We never had a word from her.
    Which means no answer is an answer too, no deal.
    OK.
    Then in Dzialoszyce, when it begin to get hard,
    we begin to talk again.
    And I didn't have a Kennkarte.
    I didn't have an identification.
    What was it called?
    A Kennkarte.
    A Kennkarte, mean Kennkarte, Kenn means know in German.
    [NON-ENGLISH]
    Yeah Kennkarte.
    Kennkarte is a card, I means a knowing card, identification.
    Oh, identification card.
    Yeah, with your name, birth place, everything.
    Everything where you're born.
    But in Poland, Europe, you got to have this, you understand?
    Just like you need when you drive,
    you need a driving license?
    So you need this.
    A Kennkarte, everybody had a Kennkarte.
    Jews and non-Jews.
    Even before the war.
    So you wanted to get a Polish Kennkarte.
    In Polish it was called [NON-ENGLISH],,
    which means a personal identification.
    Identification card, so you wanted to get a Polish one.
    Yeah, a Polish, a Polish name and everything,
    and for Sheila too.
    So my father happened to met a young man
    from Wislica, who also was married
    and had a wife with a baby.
    And he made for her this identification.
    In Dzialoszyce?
    No, it wasn't for Dzialoszyce.
    This was made in Krakow.
    But he told him to whom to write, get in touch.
    This was an underground organization.
    He knew about this, who made Kennkartes for Jews.
    And I don't know exactly how he got in touch.
    I know only that he got in touch.
    And a man came over.
    And I don't remember how much my father paid him.
    He paid him something.
    And he said he's going to make me a Kennkarte.
    He's going to make for Sheila--
    because since she was a baby you needed that Christianity--
    that she was Christian in the church.
    Baptized?
    A baptized, yeah, a baptized identification,
    yeah, where she was baptized.
    Everything will be in perfect order.
    And this was from Krakow.
    And he left back to Krakow and he came back.
    He came back--
    Who?
    This man came back with identification card,
    it was like Monday or Tuesday.
    And this identification card was like the first name was--
    the first name was like Dora.
    The second name was Gutterman.
    And they made a mistake.
    Instead of putting first Dora, and then
    they put first Gutterman, and then Dora.
    It was a minor mistake, you understand?
    But my father said, look.
    If you would be a real goya, it wouldn't be any problem.
    But you're not a real goya, and the slightest thing
    can form a question.
    You can't afford any questions.
    But on your identification card, everything's got to be perfect.
    They shouldn't be the slightest error.
    So he told the man to leave this Kennkarte here,
    in case something happened in between,
    and going back with other one.
    The man said he cannot do it.
    Because if he will do it, the organization will think
    he sold this Kennkarte, that they will not trust him.
    So he had to take back the Kennkarte.
    He had to take back this one, in order to get the other one.
    You understand?
    Right.
    And my father said, OK.
    Do it.
    But come back as soon as possible.
    This man came back Saturday night.
    My parents had left Friday night because it was so hard.
    We hired for them a wagon, because they
    couldn't go that far.
    They were too weak.
    And they left Saturday night.
    To go to where?
    To go to this hiding place.
    Again?
    To the farmer.
    Yes, it was very, very hard.
    We could expect any hour another take me out.
    I remained, and my husband, and Menasha remained in this house.
    The man came back Saturday night with a new Kennkarte.
    Sunday morning, Menasha was running around everywhere
    because everything has to be perfect, the signature, what
    I made.
    My name was Sofia Wojcik on the Kennkarte.
    The signature had to be the same ink or the whole Kennkarte.
    Because usually, when you go in a City Hall,
    you make a Kennkarte.
    The man who writes out the Kennkarte,
    he give you the ink pen, and you sign it.
    Right.
    So the ink pen couldn't be an other color,
    had to be the same color what the Kennkarte.
    What was the name that you had?
    My name was Sofia Wojcik.
    And Sheila's name was Celina.
    It was a Polish name, Celina Wojcik.
    Yes.
    And she had a baptized heart and everything was perfect.
    And he spent several hours trying
    to match the same color ink.
    And he finally finds something, and I signed the Kennkarte.
    And I left.
    If the man would come one day later,
    I wouldn't have the Kennkarte.
    I wouldn't have no way.
    I wouldn't have nowhere to go.
    I left Sunday at about, it was about 4:00, it was between day
    and night I left to a train to go away on that Kennkarte.
    I didn't have any idea where I could go.
    My husband told me to go to this woman, which
    didn't answer the request.
    You understand?
    Yeah.
    How can I go there?
    But I didn't have any choice.
    So I made up my mind.
    I'm going to go first to Slomniki where my brother is.
    So you went with Sheila.
    I went with Sheila.
    And what happened to your husband and Menasha?
    My husband and Menasha ran away to the farm.
    They walked.
    So they went back to go to the hiding place.
    They went back with my parents.
    Yes.
    And I went to the train.
    When I come on the train, and the trains
    were always very full there.
    I couldn't, I had the baby on my arm,
    and I had a very small suitcase with a little pot for her,
    that was nothing for me.
    And I couldn't-- I stood on the platform,
    and this was in November.
    It was when Poland was very cold.
    It was freezing.
    And I stood on the open platform.
    The wind was tearing my head apart.
    And I was afraid that this baby will collapse.
    So when I was standing by the door,
    but I was trying to push her in at least in the door,
    so she will be protected from the wind.
    But I couldn't.
    And of course, the trains were always dark.
    There was no light.
    So the man was standing, I told him in Polish,
    if he would please let me move one step,
    so I can have the baby in the door.
    , Apparently there were people inside who knew me,
    because we were in business.
    So I worked in the business, some shoemakers and farmers
    who recognized my voice.
    And I heard right away, what is she doing here, this Jew?
    I'm going to give her a lesson in Miechow.
    Miechow was the town where this train-- where I was going it
    was a small train.
    In Miechow I had the chance to the big train,
    to go to Slomniki where my brother was.
    And she said, I'm going to give her a lesson in Miechow.
    I didn't have any idea who this is.
    I knew only that somebody who knows me,
    because she didn't see my face.
    She recognized my voice.
    So when we went down from this train,
    I never was in Miechow in my life.
    I didn't have an idea where a big train is.
    There were a lot of people.
    Everybody was walking very fast.
    And it was raining.
    And it was muddy.
    It was pitiful.
    And I had the baby in my hand.
    And I had the suitcase, this little suitcase
    and I felt that I won't keep up with it.
    So I know where to go, with other people.
    If I would stay behind in [NON-ENGLISH] in front of me,
    I wouldn't know where to go.
    So when I looked back, I saw only one man going under me.
    And they all were in the front going very fast.
    So I didn't have any choice.
    I told him in Polish, good my thing
    that I spoke a good Polish.
    I said, excuse me, please.
    Would you please so nice, and help me
    with this little suitcase.
    It's too hard for me to hold me.
    He, said sure, sure please.
    I'd be very happy to.
    So he took the little suitcase.
    And I went with him.
    At least, I know where he's going, you understand?
    And when we came there, he said--
    when we came to the other train, he
    said to me, come on in where it's light.
    You can get some coffee.
    I said, no, my baby is asleep.
    And I prefer to stay in the dark.
    I don't want to wake her up.
    So I was afraid to go in the main room,
    because I didn't know who is there.
    So I stood there in the back.
    And there was sort of like the wall was a little bit
    out in the bottom.
    And I sat there with the baby.
    And I was waiting for the train.
    I didn't have a ticket.
    I didn't know what's going to happen.
    I was sitting there at the table, it was about two
    or three hours later they come.
    And there was this lady going back and forth.
    And she came to me and she said to me, some of them,
    some Poles, one in a million were very nice.
    They were trying to help.
    And she said to me, where are you going?
    I said, I'm going to Slomniki.
    Do you have a ticket?
    I said, no.
    She said, why don't you give me the money.
    My husband is going to buy a ticket for me and him.
    He's going to buy it for you too.
    And I said, thank you very much.
    You've been very nice of you.
    And I gave her the money.
    She bring back the ticket.
    And she said, look, you going out to the train,
    my husband is tall, and I am tall.
    Go between us.
    Did she know you were Jewish?
    Yeah.
    How did she know?
    I don't know, because Sheila looked like Jewish.
    And the other thing, they saw how I was sitting there,
    and I wouldn't be Jewish, I wouldn't be there.
    You understand?
    Right, I see.
    You understand?
    And she said, you go between us.
    And we will go together on the train together.
    You go behind my husband.
    I will go behind you.
    And she told me, I will help you hold the baby,
    because she didn't want even to tell me
    that she knew I'm Jewish.
    But she sort of wanted to help me.
    And this is what happened.
    We went out on the train.
    And on the train, we came to Slomniki, and it was pouring.
    We went down from the train, and I had to go to the city.
    On the way, there were a lot of Poles walking through.
    And I heard one to the other one said,
    do you know they're cleaning out the Jews today from Slomniki?
    And I said, no.
    It's not possible.
    No.
    He just-- it can't be possible.
    It's impossible.
    I'm going there.
    And they're cleaning out.
    I'm going and right on the fire, and the tiger in the mouth?
    No.
    I didn't have no choice.
    I went.
    I came to the city.
    And I came there.
    It was quiet.
    I couldn't see a person.
    And I realized what's going on.
    Another transport was happening.
    Yeah.
    I came in right on the transport.
    And when I was going there, Sheila was almost two years
    old.
    When I got tired, I let her down,
    and she walked a few steps.
    But then it was muddy.
    When I picked her up, her shoes were there
    and my coat was all full of mud.
    How did I look?
    And I didn't eat for the past day,
    and didn't sleep the past night.
    You can imagine how I looked.
    So I was walking there and I saw a policeman, a Jewish policeman
    with a star running.
    And I said to him, excuse me.
    I came to Mr. Orbach.
    Do you know where he is?
    He said, he's no more here.
    He left.
    And he ran, ran away.
    I didn't know what to do.
    Where do I go?
    What do I do?
    I was going back to the train.
    I think maybe I will go to this woman.
    So I turn around.
    I was on the sidewalk and turn around to go back.
    There was in the middle of the road going
    in my direction a Gestapo and a policeman, a Polish policeman,
    going right in the front.
    I was going back this way on the sidewalk
    and they were going in the middle, up.
    Up to the direction where I was going.
    They had to pass by you in other words.
    I had to pass, yeah.
    So automatically, what do I do?
    Going back.
    No It would be--
    when I saw them, I turned back.
    In other words, if you turned back, it would look suspicious.
    Yeah.
    Why did I turn back when I saw them?
    Apparently I want to go this way, so why would I turn back?
    I'm going to go.
    I go.
    I didn't know if they're going to stop me,
    or what they're going to ask me.
    I didn't have an idea.
    When they came even with me, they stopped.
    And I stopped too.
    And the policeman asked me, [NON-ENGLISH],,
    which means where, are you coming?
    I said from the train.
    [NON-ENGLISH] which means where are you going?
    I tell him where I'm going.
    I said I'm looking for a cafe.
    I would like to have breakfast with my little girl.
    I'm looking for a cafe.
    And they looked at me in my face.
    The policemen and the Gestapo.
    I don't know how long, 10 minutes, a half hour.
    I don't know.
    And I looked him straight back in their face.
    And the policeman said to me, a cafe
    is right up there to the right.
    And I said, thank you.
    And I turned around and I went back.
    And walked-- of course I walked slowly, and they walked faster.
    And when I saw them disappearing,
    I didn't see them more.
    I turned around and I went to the train.
    When I came to the train, in the front, before the train
    there were children playing, Polish children.
    And I heard they're saying to each other.
    You know who this woman is?
    She's Jewish.
    About you?
    They were talking about you?
    Polish children, in Slomniki, they knew you.
    They didn't know me.
    But they saw how I looked.
    Understand?
    I see.
    The way I look with the mud, with everything,
    that baby on the hand, no Polish woman
    would be in this condition there.
    Did I had any chance to survive to go on a train now,
    there they took daily off Jews from the train and killed them?
    But what could I do?
    I didn't have any choice.
    I had to go.
    I went on the train.
    I was sitting there again in a dark place.
    And when I heard the train came, I went on the train.
    And I went to Jedrzejow.
    I came to Jedrzejow.
    I went out from the train station.
    I know that Polish parents were living on Klasztorna Street.
    Klasztorna was the name of the street.
    But I didn't have any idea of the number on it.
    And it was a long street, because Jedrzejow
    was a much bigger town than my hometown.
    I didn't have an idea of what number.
    And I didn't know what to do.
    There were those not cabs, but those wagons,
    where they took people.
    So somehow, I wanted to go on one of those things.
    I went into a wagon.
    And he asked me where to go.
    And I said [POLISH],, which means to the main section
    of the city.
    I didn't know what to tell him.
    What I'm going to tell him, where Gottlieb lived?
    Right.
    You understand?
    Right.
    So I went there.
    And I came out.
    In [POLISH], he let me off.
    And I stood there.
    I didn't know what to do, where to turn.
    And the Gestapo going by, Heil Hitler.
    Heil Hitler.
    [NON-ENGLISH] all around.
    That was a big town with a big Gestapo office.
    It was full with those murderers.
    I didn't know what to do.
    Suddenly, I saw a Jewish man.
    This was for those people who remained after they took out
    the people from Jedrzejow.
    Because he was wearing a--
    [AUDIO OUT]
    He was walking fast.
    And I went to him, and I say, please, wait a minute.
    I have to ask you something.
    This was this Jewish man.
    This Jewish policeman.
    That you recognized in Jedrzejow.
    Jedrzejow, of course I recognized him
    because he had this Jewish star.
    Did everyone wear-- did all Jews?
    Oh, sure.
    All Jews had to wear Jewish star?
    Oh, sure, the Jewish star, no doubt about that.
    So and he was there legal, because the Germans had
    left a few people.
    I told you about that after they took out
    the Jews from Jedrzejow.
    They left a few people for what they need to serve them.
    Was that unusual that they did that In the big city?
    In the cities where they had an office.
    Like our hometown, they didn't had anybody, like [POLISH],,
    they had this too.
    This wasn't the Judenrat Office?
    No, no.
    This was people who served them, who cleaned for them,
    and cooked for them, and made them--
    Was this like kapos, or is that something else?
    No, no, no.
    This wasn't kapos.
    Kapos was in the KZ.
    In the concentration camp.
    The concentration camp.
    This wasn't kapos.
    These were just Jews that were helping?
    It was Jews who were helping them.
    Yes.
    Who were doing-- make up a shoe for them, a doctor if somebody
    got sick.
    And this man was a Jewish policeman?
    He was a Jewish man.
    He wasn't a policeman.
    He was a Jewish man who remained there.
    I don't remember who he was, some kind reason, they
    left him there in the barrack.
    Did you know him personally?
    No, I didn't know him personally.
    No, I didn't have an idea of who he is.
    But I saw he wore a star.
    And I realized that he is Jewish still in Jedrzejow apparently.
    And I went to him I said, please wait a minute.
    I want to ask you something.
    I said, here was a Gottlieb living on Klasztorna.
    Could you tell me the number?
    He told me the number.
    And he left right away.
    And I went there to this number.
    And I saw the yard with all those shops
    there, where they had those lumber.
    And I looked across from the fence,
    and I saw this house where this woman was living.
    So I ran around the corner.
    And I came to the door.
    And I rang the bell.
    She opened the door.
    And I said, my name is Sofia Wojcik.
    I am Paula's sister-in-law.
    Please let me come in.
    And as soon as I said this it just so
    happened that Rubinek, the same Rubinek who came to us
    was in her house.
    He told me later that he doesn't know why.
    He went there several times by her house.
    But this time he went by, and it sort of like dragged them in.
    Before I came to the door, he was there for about a half
    hour, already just talked to her,
    sort of something like a magnet, sort of asked him to go in.
    He said, because if I wouldn't be here,
    she would slam the door on your face.
    But as soon as I said this--
    This was Paula's mother?
    No this was Paula's sister's fiancee, Rubinek.
    I know, but the house that you were at.
    The house, was not Paula's mother.
    Paula's mother was already dead.
    This was the neighbor, the Polish woman, to whom whose son
    come to us, whom I supposed to go.
    She didn't answer.
    Right.
    But as soon as I said this, he recognized my voice.
    And he said, Pani Wojcik, come on in.
    Come on in.
    He didn't wait for her to say.
    You understand?
    Yeah, I understand.
    Because he knows that she knew what the Gottlieb's give
    to her.
    Everything what they own, they gave to her to hide.
    You understand?
    So she couldn't.
    And he came out, and he said, come on in.
    Come on in.
    He told me after that she would shut the door in my face
    if he wouldn't be there.
    So I came in.
    And I told him what happened.
    This was the house of the Gottlieb's, but
    this Polish women was staying there?
    No, it was her house.
    She was living in the other side of the fence.
    But they were very good friends, very good neighbors.
    They were very close friends.
    But this was her house.
    She wasn't living there, probably
    she was living in the other side of the fence.
    You understand?
    Because their whole business was surrounded-- usually
    a lumber yard is surrounded by a fence, you know that.
    Right, so you went there.
    So I went in.
    And she gave me right away some water.
    And when was?
    Was this in 1943 already?
    1942.
    So it was like--
    It was November all this happened, days how it took.
    She gave me some water to wash up.
    She told me to take off the coat.
    And she gave me something to eat.
    And Rubinek told me what I need.
    And I asked him to bring me some paper.
    I want to write a letter to Chaim.
    He was dead then already.
    Chaim was dead?
    Chaim was dead.
    I found later.
    That when they took out, at that same day,
    they took out the second time the Jewish
    from Slomniki, and Chaim's wife, this
    was a moment what kind of idea you have.
    It's nothing you could see in advance,
    or know what you're going to do.
    I just want to make sure I have this straight.
    When you went to Slomniki, was it to go
    to be with Chaim and his--
    With Chaim, yes.
    And his wife.
    And then when I find out what happened.
    And that's when you found out there was a transport,
    and Chaim was killed then.
    Chaim was killed, and I find this out later.
    I will tell you this later.
    And she gave me something to eat.
    And she let me stay there.
    And she said that--
    I told her that I would like to remain there.
    I have a Kennkarte.
    Everything is legal.
    But she said, no, that she is stating she was a widow.
    I don't think this was true.
    She's dating a Gestapo, yes.
    He told me not because I want to marry him, I date him.
    I'm protected.
    And he comes in quite often to me.
    But I was over her house for about a month and nobody
    came in.
    So apparently, she didn't want me there.
    But she says she's going to find a place for me.
    So Rubinek brought me right away paper, and envelopes,
    and stamp.
    And I wrote a letter to my brother Chaim,
    which he wasn't-- he didn't receive it anyway.
    Anyway, I was there for about a month.
    And she found for me a place by a farmer
    in a village under Jedrzejow, which name is Liskow.
    A farmer who had three daughters.
    One daughter was married, and lived a little bit
    on the other side of the village.
    One daughter was a very intelligent girl.
    Her name was Maria.
    She wasn't a regular farmer girl.
    She was a more intelligent girl.
    She was a maid by a doctor in Katowice.
    Katowice, in the section where Sosnowiec is close,
    by the German border.
    But every year, she came home for a couple of weeks vacation
    to her parents.
    And she came home, usually she came home
    at the end of September.
    And she came home from vacation, and the war broke out,
    and couldn't go back anymore.
    And that's why she was there.
    And the other sister, I don't know
    her name, a big anti-Semite.
    The other sister was a big anti-Semite.
    And she find me a place there under the condition
    they knew I'm Jewish, and I paid them good for it.
    But the neighbors, for the neighbors
    supposed to be that I'm a relative.
    I came.
    I was living in a big town, and my parents
    were killed, a big story.
    I made a big story.
    And I didn't have no home, so I came.
    They told me to come.
    And I'm living with them as a Polish woman.
    I was there for about a month.
    And every night, usually in the farm,
    the farmers go to sleep in the winter when it gets dark.
    And they go to each other's home.
    They sit in the dark, and tell stories, and jokes.
    So her parents and the younger sister
    went always to a neighbor.
    But Maria always remained home with me.
    And I put Sheila to sleep.
    And those we were sitting by the oven, by the fire,
    she taught me the religion.
    She said, if you have to go, maybe it
    will be important if you have to go somewhere,
    if you have to live on your own Kennkarte.
    So Maria was sympathetic.
    Oh my God, she helped me all she could.
    She taught me the religion.
    And she taught me.
    Catholicism?
    Not the Catholic religion, the Catholic prayer,
    the Catholic prayer.
    And they usually they have a morning song
    where they sing for the prayer.
    She told me this song.
    And she taught me the song for a night prayer.
    And she told me how to behave.
    If I have to live on Polish paper, how to behave
    are common to the church, where to kneel down,
    where to cross myself.
    She told me all.
    Of course, I didn't have an idea.
    She taught me all that.
    So after a month--
    When was this already?
    This was already December.
    1942.
    Yes.
    After a month they told me that they're afraid.
    They heard something.
    They're afraid.
    They want me to go.
    But they told me I can go to their daughter who
    lives in the other side of the village,
    their married daughter.
    There were two daughters married, if I remember.
    Two, they had two rooms, one lived in one room,
    and one lived in the other room.
    And I went there.
    And I was there for another month.
    And I did all I could.
    And I brought in water, and I cleaned, and I scrubbed.
    You were living under false papers then.
    I had false papers, yes.
    I did all I could to be helpful.
    And at that time they were poor.
    They were poor farmers.
    They could only-- they had only a certain amount
    of wheat flour.
    So they baked only once a month bread.
    They baked those big loaves of bread.
    So they gave me one loaf of bread for a month,
    and I bucket of potatoes.
    This was my ration for the month.
    And I paid them for this already.
    But they couldn't give me any more.
    They couldn't sell me anymore because they didn't have.
    So their oldest daughter has about three or four children.
    And one little boy was about Sheila's age.
    And he, of course, was always hungry too.
    So whenever I gave Sheila for this bread,
    I didn't touched it.
    I kept it for Sheila.
    I want to have it for her two or three times a day,
    a slice of bread.
    And this was for a whole month.
    So whenever I gave Sheila a slice of bread,
    and if I let her go, so he began to run in hopes
    that she will drop the bread on the floor,
    and then he bent down and picked it up, and at it.
    This little boy from this woman.
    She had one little boy.
    She had about four or five children.
    But the youngest one was a little boy about Sheila's age,
    maybe a year older.
    So whenever I gave her a slice of bread
    I had to hold on my hand, so he will not
    be able to catch a slice of bread.
    This was the condition.
    When I was in the first farmer's house,
    Sunday they usually went to the church, the farmer
    with his wife, with his youngest daughter,
    and Maria remained home.
    And she made those--
    this was a special Sunday dinner from white flour,
    those big noodles, those heavy noodles
    was about that thick and that long.
    Make a big pot, And she took those pig fat,
    and made those fat from the pig fat, and pour it over.
    And she took a big bowl, and gave me
    a big bowl of those noodles.
    And those--
    Pastries
    Pierogi pastries, and pork.
    Called pierogi?
    Called pierogi, yes.
    And they're cold.
    Put on a lot of fat, and she said to me [NON-ENGLISH],,
    she called me [NON-ENGLISH].
    You fast all week.
    Have once a week a good meal, and eat it fast
    before my parents come home.
    Because if they would come home and see this
    they would kill her.
    So I took the spoon and I really want to eat it.
    I was allowed to eat it, because it wasn't [NON-ENGLISH]..
    I was allowed.
    But I couldn't.
    Because it wasn't kosher.
    Not because it wasn't kosher, because the smell from that fat
    was so horrible.
    I know when I will take in my mouth I will vomit.
    Because the smell from that fat, from the pig fat.
    You weren't used to it.
    I wasn't used to it.
    And I couldn't.
    I want so much to eat, but I couldn't.
    At the same time, I couldn't show Marie
    no matter how lovely she was, she would say,
    oh a Jew is a Jew.
    First all she didn't have, and now she
    doesn't want to eat the pig fat too.
    She wouldn't say I can't.
    She would think I don't want, you understand?
    So I couldn't bring the slightest hard feeling to her.
    You were afraid she'd be insulted.
    She'd be insulted.
    Yes.
    I couldn't do that.
    So what I did I took the spoon and tried
    to bring it out from the bottom, which
    hadn't touched the fat yet.
    And I ate it.
    And then when she was finished with the cooking,
    she went out to milk the cows.
    I took a piece of paper and put all this in the bowl.
    And put it in my inside my brassiere,
    and I went out to the toilet.
    The toilet was outside.
    And I throw it in the toilet.
    Flushed it down the toilet.
    Not flush.
    It wasn't a flushing, was an open toilet.
    It was in the yard.
    I just throw it inside.
    A hole in the ground.
    In the hole in the toilet.
    And when she came in, and the bowl was empty.
    And she said, did you like it?
    Oh, it was delicious Marie.
    Thank you so much.
    It was delicious.
    I really enjoyed it.
    And this happened every Sunday when I was there.
    When I went to the other there, to the other place, to their--
    Her sister.
    Her sister's she didn't give me.
    She just gave me a bread and a bucket of potatoes,
    and this is what I lived, once a day a couple of potatoes.
    Anyway, it was the end of the month.
    And it came out a law that every door for every farmer
    has to have a list how many peoples are living there.
    This was in January, 1943.
    It was in January.
    With the name, with the age, everything, exactly.
    What town was this in?
    This wasn't a town.
    This was in the same village, Liskow, yes.
    And this man, the farmer said that he's afraid.
    He cannot put out my name.
    And not to put out, the German will come to check on it.
    How many people they will see me there with the baby.
    He's afraid.
    Even I have a Polish name.
    He was afraid.
    He just didn't want to take any risk.
    He doesn't want to take any risk.
    He told me I had to leave.
    Well, I had to leave.
    Where do I go?
    So yeah, I want to mention also this.
    While I was there at the second place,
    this little boy got sick.
    And he was very sick.
    He was burning up with fever.
    The farmer didn't call a doctor.
    How old was this little boy?
    He was about three years old.
    And the farmer didn't-- if somebody got sick,
    he was strong enough, he remained.
    And if not, he died.
    And this little boy, I don't know what he had then.
    He was burning for several days.
    And he overcomed, and he--
    He got better.
    He got better.
    And as soon as he got better, Sheila became sick.
    And she was, I was with her in the bed.
    The bed was burning.
    It was-- you couldn't touch her.
    And all I could do was cry.
    I couldn't do anything.
    What could I call, a doctor?
    Nothing.
    I only was hoping and praying that she would recover,
    and she did recover.
    And she was all right.
    So then when the man told me, the farmer, that I have
    to leave, I went to Jedrzejow.
    And there, this Rubinek, whom I met there
    by this woman, who used to come to our home.
    He was there at you used to call a barrack.
    It was a street.
    And one of the streets where there about three or four homes
    where all the remaining Jews were living.
    And other side, the Poles were living.
    And the Jews side was called the barrack.
    They lived in the barrack.
    There was Rubinek in a border of his.
    And there were several other Jews living in this house.
    And there were several other houses
    where the Jews were living.
    So I went to Rubinek, and I told him what happened.
    At this time, he was my friend already.
    He helped me when I came into this woman.
    He invited me to the house.
    If not him, I wouldn't be able to go in--
    This was Paula's sister's fiancee?
    Yes.
    And Paula's sister went with in a transport.
    She didn't remain.
    And I came--
    Rubinek was Jewish?
    Rubinek, yeah, sure.
    Him and his brother.
    His brother is now in Melbourne.
    I met him there.
    Yes.
    When I was in Melbourne, I met him there.
    To visit your brother.
    Huh?
    To visit--
    Yes.
    So I told him the situation.
    And he told me that across the street,
    on the other side of the street there
    is this doctor who has a house.
    He's going to ask him, and he said, you can trust him.
    You can tell him you're Jewish.
    He's a nice man.
    And if he has a room, he's going to rent it to you.
    And he talked to him.
    And he had a room.
    You know what kind of room?
    This was January or February, remember,
    which in Poland a normal temperature is 10,
    15 degrees below zero is a normal temperature.
    Sometimes it can happen like it's here,
    happens sometimes that it can go up to 30 degrees.
    But 10, 15 below zero is a normal temperature.
    It snows every day.
    The winter is very tough.
    There were was a winter with those little windowpanes.
    There were two windowpanes out, knocked out.
    So you can imagine how in this room was, this room what I got.
    And I moved in there.
    I moved in.
    He had there a bed.
    And I went to this room.
    And I didn't see how is it possible for me to live here.
    I'm going to freeze to death.
    I didn't have anything.
    So I came back to Rubinek.
    And I told him, how is it possible?
    I'm going to freeze to death there.
    I didn't have a speck of coal.
    I didn't have a piece of food.
    It's freezing.
    And there was happened to be in the same room happened
    to be a doctor, a Jewish, who remained for the same purpose.
    The Germans remained him.
    And he heard the story.
    And he said, I know here a girl who has Polish papers,
    who is from [NON-ENGLISH],, the same town where
    my mother's brother lived with his family.
    She has Polish papers, and her look
    is a perfect goya, a perfect Polish girl.
    She was Jewish under false papers.
    Yeah.
    What was her name?
    She was, her name was Marie.
    I have a picture of her.
    I have to show it to you.
    And she is looking for somebody to share
    a home on Polish paper.
    And she was living there with her cousins who
    also remained for that purpose.
    For what purpose?
    For the Germans remained.
    They were selected by Germans.
    Yeah, the Germans.
    Yes.
    She and a brother and a sister managed
    to escape from the transport where they took out their town.
    And they were living there with their-- it was their cousins.
    And he went to her.
    And he brought her over here where I was.
    And we discussed.
    And we went right away there.
    She said during the day, you can stay with me for my cousins.
    At night-- because during the day
    they usually didn't took out the Jews.
    They only did it early in the morning unexpected.
    At night, we will go to sleep there.
    How are we going to sleep?
    We're going to take some coats, some boots.
    We're going to cover ourselves.
    We're going to come over.
    So during the day, you stayed where?
    During the day I stayed there with her cousins,
    where she was, you understand?
    And for the night, me and Marie and Sheila,
    went there to this room.
    To the house where it was very cold.
    To the house, yeah.
    Yeah.
    Anyway, I realized that I couldn't survive there long,
    not only because it was difficult,
    but because they were living very low peoples.
    And somehow, I understood that they
    will understand that if I wouldn't be Jewish
    I wouldn't live in a room like.
    You understand?
    So I told this Rubinek that it's very dangerous.
    That I'm afraid that suddenly the Gestapo came in at night
    and take me out and shot me.
    And he realized it's true.
    Yeah, in the meantime, the same man who gave me the room,
    you had to go to the City Hall, and be registered there.
    So he took my Kennkarte, and he registered me there.
    And I official I was living there as a Polish woman.
    In the City Hall, I was registered as a Polish woman.
    And this was a big, big good step for me,
    that I had a Polish--
    I was listed in a town as a Polish woman in the city hall.
    And this was very good.
    And it helped me later on which I will tell you.
    So Rubinek told me to go that there are a lot of rooms there.
    And you're saying that a lot of people,
    though, even though they had false papers,
    they weren't listed in the registry.
    No.
    This was just like if someone approached them,
    they could show the papers.
    Yeah, yeah.
    But in terms of checking it out further--
    No, sure.
    They didn't have any foundation.
    Sure.
    Didn't have any foundation.
    But for me, it was the minus was that my identification wasn't
    from Jedrzejow.
    It was from Krakow.
    And in Krakow, I didn't I wasn't listed in city hall,
    you understand?
    If I would fall in, if I would be discovered,
    they would call Jedrzejow, it would be fine.
    But they will call Krakow is the end of it, understand?
    So he told me to go there to a man.
    His name was Lech, to the city hall,
    who is in charge of apartments.
    Because you couldn't go to the owner in the apartment.
    You've got to have permission from the city hall
    in order to get an apartment.
    When you had the permission, the owner
    didn't have nothing to say.
    He had to give you the apartment.
    He told me that there on the street on this Lisakowska,
    there was this bakery, the Jewish bakery
    which is the bakery and a store where they sold the goods.
    So to go to there, and tell him that I have a little girl who
    has some hernia problems.
    And I went to Rubinek and he made a little girdle
    for my little girl.
    And I told them I got to have a good apartment.
    I live apartment where it's cold.
    And I didn't told him there's knocked out windows.
    It's cold and it's damp, and I'm looking for a nice clean,
    dry apartment.
    And since I know there is a vacant room,
    I would appreciate if he would give me the permission
    to get to rent there.
    And he gave it to me.
    And I spoke a perfect Polish.
    But no matter what, if you paid attention, just the idea
    that I had a reference from a Jew,
    if only the Jew came in dispute, if only came in the word Jew,
    you automatically had a--
    A suspicion.
    Suspicion, you understand?
    And the suspicion wasn't good for me.
    So one time, a day later, he came to Rubinek.
    And he told him this Mrs. Wojcik came to me
    and asked me for a permission to rent this room.
    But you know what?
    She doesn't look like Jewish and she speaks a very good Polish.
    But somehow he said, [POLISH].
    Which means she cuts in like a Jewish.
    She this--
    She acts?
    Not she acts, you see the Jewish language,
    and the German and the English, you make it
    so you talk as so you stretch out the word, like in a singing
    voice, voice.
    But the Polish is very sharp.
    You talk the word very sharp out.
    You mean accent, you mean?
    Not even, the accent is good but the way you take the word,
    you understand?
    And he realized that I am a little bit the way
    I speak this Polish has a little bit Jewish background.
    But he said, it's nothing.
    I don't know, I can do, because she has a baby, a little girl.
    If it would be a little boy, I could check.
    On a boy, I can check.
    With a girl I can't check.
    That's all right.
    I don't mind.
    And I was living there with Marie together
    and he sent Marie was a typical Polish woman,
    but her language was terrible.
    She spoke a very, very bad language.
    The grammar was terrible for her.
    And he used to send her very often those cards,
    about going to work.
    Because Polish girls had to go to work to make their highways,
    different work.
    And whenever he sent her, he sent a card,
    I hired other girls because I was afraid to send her.
    I was afraid, not afraid--
    I knew when she will go there, she will be discovered.
    Her Polish was terrible.
    It's no way I could send her.
    So one time-- and he sent it to me quite often those cards.
    And one time he came in.
    And he brought a card again.
    And I said to him, Mr. Lech, why you
    bring me so often those cards?
    And he said he said to me, Mrs. Wojcik, don't talk too much.
    You understand?
    Like he would say, I know who you are.
    If I keep quiet, you keep quiet.
    Understand?
    So I didn't say another word.
    I was living there for about a month.
    And my parents were--
    wait a minute.
    In the meantime, when I moved from this place
    to this bakery place, my parents had to leave their place,
    go to other place.
    On top of all that, the farmer they made this hiding place
    was a very nice man.
    But he had two girls.
    And one of those girls got married.
    And her husband was a bandit, and they
    couldn't stay there anymore.
    And they left.
    And I lost contact with them and they lost contact with me,
    because this happened at the same time.
    How did you have contact?
    How did you keep--
    I wrote letters.
    And who would take the letters back and forth?
    No, by mail.
    If you wrote, like I wrote dear uncle,
    I'm fine and [PERSONAL NAME] is fine.
    And everything is all right.
    I see.
    And I addressed it to the farmer.
    You understand?
    And I put the address there, the other address.
    And they wrote me a letter dear Zosiu, I'm fine
    and my wife is fine.
    And we are looking forward to see you.
    And maybe you will come to visit us, a few words.
    Just to let you know that you're alive.
    And they sent the letter to my address.
    And they wrote some kind other address too.
    In this way we were constantly in contact.
    I knew they are alive.
    And they know I am alive.
    When I didn't receive letters for a few weeks,
    I begin to shake.
    I realized something happened.
    When they didn't receive mail from me, they begin to shake.
    They couldn't do anything.
    But I decided to do something about it.
    I just couldn't live, not knowing what happened to them.
    So when was this?
    This was in--
    This was maybe in March.
    March of 1943.
    In February or March 1943.
    So I told Marie's cousins were in a hiding place.
    And I told her-- and she went to see them
    quite often because she brought them
    things, whatever they need.
    And I told her to ask them if they
    can recommend me a man whom I could go and hire
    to take me to this village.
    How did you know where your parents had gone to?
    I didn't know.
    I just went there.
    I took a big risk.
    But I couldn't live.
    I just couldn't live not knowing what happened to them.
    I just had to take the risk.
    I didn't have any idea where they are.
    And the biggest risk what I took that everybody in this village
    knew me, because they were buying goods from us.
    But I just couldn't--
    When you were living in the village then.
    How were you living?
    What do you mean buying goods?
    Oh.
    I mean they know me from before the war?
    You mean the village that you'd go to?
    Yeah.
    The people peoples knew me.
    The farmers know me.
    You understand?
    Right.
    And they would see me.
    That no matter how good I look as a Pole,
    but they knew me from before.
    They would recognize you.
    Oh, sure.
    So there was a risk.
    Oh, sure.
    Yeah.
    But I just couldn't live.
    I felt like I'm going to go insane.
    I had to go.
    They gave me a name from a man there
    who lived also in Jedrzejow.
    And I went to him.
    And I told him I want to go see a farmer, there a friend.
    I don't remember what I told him.
    And I paid him good.
    And these cousins, Marie's cousins
    said, even when he will be suspicious on something,
    he's a nice man.
    He won't do nothing to you.
    Don't be afraid.
    But don't tell him you're Jewish.
    Why should you?
    Just tell him an excuse, and that's all.
    But you don't have to be afraid of him.
    And that's what happened.
    I went to him.
    And I told him this just whatever I figured out then
    to tell him.
    And I paid him.
    And he went with me on the wagon with two horses.
    We came to this village.
    What was the name of the village?
    Stawiszyce.
    How far away was it from where you were?
    It was close to our hometown.
    But it was not my hometown.
    We had to go by the wagon, I don't know, three
    or four hours, five hours.
    It wasn't so far, but over there you go slow.
    And it was cold.
    And I was wrapped up in a big shawl.
    Where was Sheila?
    Sheila, I left with Marie.
    And Marie was in this apartment.
    And I came to the village, and I went to this farmer
    where I know that they are hidden, they were hidden.
    And he told me he don't know where they are.
    He doesn't have any idea where they are.
    Then I went to other one who was,
    he was making those saddles, everything for horses.
    And he was close by.
    I went to him.
    He was a very nice man too.
    And he said that they were there,
    but they had to leave because he had rumors,
    and one time they came by the shack, those murders who
    were after Jews, those Poles.
    And he managed to find out earlier,
    and he sent them out in the field.
    Although my husband where they are a night
    and subfreezing temperature.
    How they survive there, I don't have any idea.
    Anyway, they came back in the morning.
    And this man told them that those people were there
    and they were searching for them.
    But it's a good thing that he found out not then
    and they were out.
    And he told them he is afraid to take any children.
    They had to leave.
    And they left.
    There was a other farmer who was a shoemaker who
    used to buy leather for us.
    He was a very rough man.
    But a good man was afraid to take children.
    I had a feeling, maybe, they're there.
    And I went there.
    It was already dark.
    And I knocked on the window.
    And he asked me who is it.
    And I told him who I am.
    And I said, are my parents with you?
    And she answered, his wife said, get away from here.
    If you will not get away, I'm going to take a hatchet
    and split your head in half.
    And then he said, yes, they are here.
    But come back later.
    It's still not very dark.
    Come back later and I will let them in where they are.
    And I left.
    I left.
    And I went back to this fearless man who had a son-in-law.
    And I told him that I can't find him.
    I don't have any idea where they are to take off
    the suspicious [INAUDIBLE].
    I don't know where they are.
    But I'm going to still look around.
    And I left.
    So you went back to the first hiding place,
    just to make sure?
    Sure, yeah.
    Because you have to cover your tracks.
    Yeah.
    To make sure that he--
    And I went back to this farmer.
    When I came back, this farmer, he lived on a higher surface.
    And I couldn't remember where he lives.
    I couldn't recognize the place.
    I was so--
    I was--
    Confused?
    --confused.
    My mind was so blank.
    I couldn't remember where his house is.
    And I was wrapped up in this big, heavy shawl.
    And I was so big.
    And I was thinking.
    I couldn't remember where he lives.
    And suddenly I saw two girls, farmer girls going.
    And I said to them, I was familiar with leather goods,
    everything.
    And I said to them, I was in Wislica,
    and Mr. Grenda met me there and he ordered some leather
    from me.
    And I'm having the leather to deliver to him,
    but could you tell me where he lives?
    And they said leather?
    Oh, we need leather.
    We going to buy it from you.
    So I said, no.
    I don't have the soft leather.
    I have the hard one.
    They was making like this, where you make the top.
    But I told them, because I was so familiar,
    I knew what to answer.
    I said, I don't have the soft leather.
    I have the hard, but it's sole.
    Oh, we don't care for hard leather.
    And they told me Grenda, he lives there.
    And I said thank you.
    And they pointed to where he lives?
    Pointed to where he lives.
    And I went there.
    I came there.
    I knocked on the window.
    And he opened the door.
    And he let me in there where there
    was a hole on the place where the cow was.
    He had two cows.
    And from that place where the cow was,
    there was a cover with-- you know, the cover with there.
    But it was a wooden cover.
    It was in a barn?
    The barn, yes.
    And he opened the cover.
    And there was a long, like, corridor,
    like a hall to go down.
    And there was a big hole in the ground.
    And they were there, my mother, my father, my husband,
    and my brother.
    Well, what can I say?
    There was this reunion, was something we can't describe.
    And my mother told me then, how could you do that?
    You risk your life and you risk our lives.
    I said, Mother, I couldn't live not knowing where you are,
    if you are alive.
    I couldn't live.
    And she said darling, you have to understand what's going on.
    And if my mother said this, you didn't know my mother.
    She said if we will try to stick together, we all will be going.
    We all will die.
    Everybody had to do the best he can to save his own life.
    In this way, maybe some of us will survive.
    But if we will try to be together,
    there is no way none of us will survive.
    So you went back there just to make sure they were OK?
    I went back to see if they are alive.
    But not to stay there?
    No, I couldn't stay there.
    I couldn't.
    There was no way I could stay there.
    And your mother was upset that you even
    went to check to see that they were alive?
    Because she knew we were still alive.
    Oh, wait a minute, not only this.
    I was living on a Polish papers, so I was safe.
    And I went back.
    I went back to this farm where my parents were first.
    And I told them and I cried.
    I spent there a night.
    And I cried.
    Because the man made a wagon was there, too.
    He remained there.
    And I cried.
    And I did all I can to make sure that they don't have an idea
    that I spoke with my parents.
    We spent the night there.
    This was after you had already seen your parents?
    Yes.
    We spent the night there.
    And the following morning--
    But when you were there, how long were you
    with your parents, then?
    I was about, I would say 15, 20 minutes.
    And when I went up there were--
    when you went up, there was a big-- like, a corridor
    to go down to this hiding place.
    And there were those wooden sticks knocked in.
    So you put your foot on the wooden stick.
    And this way you went down.
    And this way you went up.
    Because you couldn't possibly get out from there
    without those--
    to have some support for your steps.
    Yeah.
    There were wooden sticks in the ground.
    And when I was walking, when I had my foot on the stick,
    my mother grabbed my foot and kissed it when I left.
    [CRYING]
    And I came home.
    I came home safe.
    And I was in touch with them.
    And this farmer had some clothes what
    my parents brought with them when they left
    this other place, some clothes.
    My parents had some money with them, American money,
    which was very valuable.
    But this farmer couldn't know about it.
    Because if he would, he would kill them
    and take the money from them.
    So he couldn't know about it.
    In the meantime, Marie, when I was living there
    with Marie on this apartment, we needed something
    like a bed, a cover for the table, make it livable.
    So when a neighbor would come in,
    it won't be right away the suspicion
    that Jews living here.
    They need something.
    So she gave me a letter to a man who
    had a mill, a flour mill in Chmielnik,
    the town where she came was.
    Her parents gave everything from their home
    to that owner from the mill.
    And she gave me a letter in her father's name,
    not then she write it, her father
    write it, and ask them for some sheets,
    pillowcase, something you need, this very necessity to make
    it look like apartment.
    And she also wrote, like he wrote, her father,
    that this is Mrs. Wojcik.
    And she's a good friend of mine.
    You can trust her the same way as you trust me.
    Anything you want to tell her, like you would tell to me.
    Knowing she was building up his trust in me, you understand?
    This man wasn't Jewish?
    No, no, of course he wasn't Jewish.
    And I went there on the train on Polish papers
    and I gave him this letter.
    You mean from the farmer?
    What mean, from the farmer?
    When did you go there?
    Was this connected with having gone to see
    your parents in the village?
    No, no, this was after I came back from my parents.
    OK.
    I went there.
    And I gave him this letter.
    He gave me something what I need and I came back.
    When was this?
    Do you remember?
    This was maybe in March or April.
    It was all in beginning.
    I also wanted to tell you a fact.
    When I left this place from my parents,
    my brother went with me, Menasha,
    he wouldn't let me go alone.
    At night, when you see a tree, you think it's a person.
    And every time when I saw, and it happened to be a light,
    but it was the moon was outside and it wasn't dark.
    And I begin to shake.
    And he said to me, don't shake, please.
    We are in God's hand.
    He saved us until now.
    He will save us.
    Don't shake.
    Just have faith.
    So your brother went how far back with you?
    He went with me until almost to the farm.
    And then he returned.
    Because he was afraid I will not be able to find the place.
    And then he went back to the hiding place?
    Then he went back to the hiding place, yes.
    And so I installed communication with this mill,
    with this owner from the mill.
    Then my parents needed money.
    This farmer wanted money.
    So somehow whenever the farmer came to me,
    they send them a letter to me, not
    written in Polish, in Yiddish.
    And he explained it to me, the situation.
    That they have money.
    They have American dollars.
    But they cannot show it to the farmer.
    So when he comes to me, ask him to bring me a suit, a jacket,
    a dress, a skirt.
    Because this farmer had to know--
    he came to me while I was living on Polish papers.
    And I told him I'm going to the church.
    I was living there with Marie in this bakery place.
    And he brought it to me.
    And when they sent us this jacket, they sent a letter.
    And they wrote me exactly where this money is sewed in.
    I don't understand.
    If the farmer brought you--
    I mean, the mill, the guy who owned the mill.
    No, no, no, the farm where my parents were,
    what I went to visit.
    You understand?
    He brought me-- I told him I had to go to church.
    I have to be dressed decently.
    I don't have anything.
    I have there a suit.
    Bring me the jacket.
    So the farmer where your parents were hiding?
    Yeah.
    So the next time when he came--
    To the village that you were in?
    I was living there, yeah, in Lisokowska on Polish papers.
    But did he think--
    wait a second, did he think you were Polish?
    He knew--
    No, the family weren't Jewish, of course.
    All right.
    So you told him you needed--
    OK.
    I needed to go to the church.
    You know, I'm living on Polish papers.
    And I have to go there.
    So he brought me this jacket, whatever I want.
    And my parents wrote in it.
    And told me exactly where they sewed
    in a $10 bill, a $20 bill, or $5 bill.
    A $5 bill was an fortune.
    And I took this $5 bill and I went to this mill owner.
    And I didn't have an idea what the value of that is.
    I told him 100,000 zloty, 50, whatever I told him,
    he said, OK.
    What did I do?
    I made, let's say, like, five tickets,
    10 tickets, two duplicates.
    One I took with me, one I left to him.
    I made one, let's say, 10,000 zloty March the 1st,
    10,000 zloty April the 1st, 10,000--
    You mean checks, like?
    No, the tickets, the little paper.
    Wrote out Sofia Wojcik, $10,000 March the 15th.
    And I said, whoever will bring you that ticket
    will match that ticket.
    Don't ask any questions.
    Just give him the money what's written there.
    Give him 10,000 zloty.
    And when the farmer where my parents were came to me,
    I gave him the ticket.
    I told him a story that my husband was from a mill.
    I told him the story that this mill from Ozerov
    sends money to this mill for my husband.
    You understand?
    Right.
    And to take this ticket and go there to this mill owner,
    not to the other [INAUDIBLE].
    Just give him this piece of paper and.
    He will give you 10,000 zloty.
    For you?
    For him?
    For my parents, the money for me I took with me.
    Right, but the farmer would get the money for the parents?
    For my parents, yeah.
    This way I paid for my parents the farmer
    knowing that this money come from the mill.
    He didn't have any idea that they send me--
    And your parents would give the money to the farmer?
    He didn't want to give me.
    He took the money, keep it to himself.
    Right.
    I see.
    You know, not-- you understand?
    I see.
    So it was like a code.
    Even though you said give it to your parents,
    you knew that he was going to keep the money.
    No, I told him.
    This is your pay.
    This is your money.
    OK.
    I didn't ask him to give it to my parents.
    OK.
    I see.
    This is your money.
    And he gave them food, whatever it is.
    Right.
    This-- you go and that's you.
    You do what you do.
    This is all, everything yours.
    And this way I helped my parents to pay money.
    They were so secure.
    It was usually every Jew was in a hidden place had
    to go out to get somewhere money to pay this man.
    Because the farmer wouldn't keep him for nothing.
    My parents didn't have to go out, you understand?
    They were supplied money from outside.
    They didn't have to go out at all.
    And their place was much more secure than mine,
    than many other places.
    And this was going on, like, for a month or two or three.
    And one time--
    And meanwhile, you were living with Marie?
    Yes.
    One time he came to me--
    no, wait a minute.
    This was I keep on forgetting.
    When I found out about my brother
    was before I established this communication.
    My brother went one time out to try to get some money.
    Which brother, Menasha.
    Was the only one there.
    Chaim was in Slomniki.
    Uncle Pinchas was in Auschwitz.
    Right.
    And I know now who did it.
    Do you know when it was around?
    Pardon?
    When did this happen, that Menasha went out, around when?
    This happened before I established this communication
    with the millner.
    This happened around February.
    1943?
    But it happened not long after I went to see them.
    He went out.
    And he was killed then.
    He was murdered then.
    A policeman [INAUDIBLE] run after him and killed him.
    Menasha went out of the hiding place to try to get some money.
    And how did it happen, exactly?
    Well, he came to my hometown.
    And he went into the house.
    I spoke with Menasha.
    But I can only speculate what happened.
    And I'm sure this way it happened.
    He went into my house.
    And there we had hidden a lot of those goods, what he had bought
    for my brother for the wedding.
    He came in and they had also hidden there
    in one place American money.
    He told to this man who lived there
    I will show you where we have hidden a lot of goods.
    It's worth a fortune.
    But I have a little bit money there.
    Let me take out the money.
    You take everything there.
    And he went by all right.
    And then he went to a shoemaker.
    This was his mistake.
    Next to the shoemaker was a policeman.
    Why did he go to the shoemaker?
    Because he want to find out a way to-- he couldn't give
    the farmer--
    he wanted to find out a way if he
    would change him from this dollar to Polish zloty.
    And this shoemaker happened to be a big antisemite.
    And next to him was living a policeman with two sons.
    They were the biggest murderer.
    They killed many, many Jews.
    And when he came in, apparently this shoemaker
    sent his daughter, his wife.
    [INAUDIBLE] told him he is here.
    Go after him.
    And of course, he wouldn't do anything, this shoemaker.
    And my brother left.
    And this son from the policeman run after him.
    And he was beginning to run.
    And I had there a woman who lives now in Israel told me
    that she was there hiding there after the bridge.
    She was hiding there in a place where he keep
    the wheat, barley, [INAUDIBLE].
    I know exactly what she meant.
    She was there.
    And she could see through, between the boards.
    There were open space she could see through.
    She could see a man run.
    And she would hear Shema Yisrael [INAUDIBLE]..
    You mean that your brother was saying the Shema?
    My brother was saying Shema Yisrael [INAUDIBLE]..
    And the following day, the man told her that--
    The policeman had killed--
    She didn't know who.
    But I can only speculate it was him.
    What was the policeman's name, do you remember?
    Huns.
    That was his last name, Huns?
    Huns, yes.
    I think about that he--
    after they took--
    Was he a Pole?
    He was a Pole, sure.
    After when they took out the Jews from Vayslitz,
    it was there this man and a woman [PERSONAL NAME],,
    where he had a big shoe store, very fine, wonderful people,
    their idea was to hide behind a closet.
    And they did it.
    They didn't go with the transport.
    And those Huns sons, both of them,
    searched the Jewish homes.
    And they came in there and they found them behind the wall
    and took him out on the market and they
    called Gestapo and they shoot him,
    or maybe they shoot him by themselves, both of them.
    [INAUDIBLE]
    So Menasha was killed?
    When did you find out about Menasha?
    This I want to tell you.
    I didn't know.
    But one time this farmer, his name
    was Grenda, the farmer where my parents were hiding,
    the last farmer where I came to see them, he came to me.
    And I told him, again, bring me something, a coat,
    because it's winter.
    It's cold.
    And he said, well, how am I going to get it?
    I don't have any more.
    I said, well, tell Menasha to go to [NON-ENGLISH]..
    Tell him to go to [NON-ENGLISH].
    We have there a lot of goods.
    He could hang there.
    He said, what do you mean, Menasha?
    Don't you know what happened?
    My parents didn't tell me.
    Now when you found out Menasha died?
    Then when I found out Menasha died.
    When you found out?
    About a couple of weeks after I went for them,
    maybe a month after then.
    But he told me that this was my first shock.
    I began to cry.
    And I stripped my face completely with my nails.
    It was-- blood was running here.
    And she said, Marie said, OK, she said,
    I could understand if you would know if he will die,
    your brother will become alive.
    I could not understand.
    But will it help your brother if you will die?
    If you will behave like this, somebody will come in.
    They will see this condition.
    What do you think they're going to think?
    So what are you--
    I realized that she is right.
    That I cannot cry.
    And I cannot have water spots on my face.
    There's no way.
    And she was pleading with me.
    There's no other choice.
    You have to behave humor.
    You have to have a smiling face when somebody comes in.
    There's no other way.
    And I washed out my face.
    And I was two days in the house, not to go out
    until this will healed up.
    And--
    Sheila was living with you then?
    Sheila was living with me, yes.
    And one time, I went out to the outdoor toilet.
    We didn't have toilets in the house.
    There was about three, four toilets in the backyard, one
    next to the other one.
    Every two, three tenants had one toilet.
    And I went out to the toilet.
    And I locked myself inside.
    And sitting there, I forgot complete where I am.
    I just forgot.
    I just was so deep in my thoughts I forgot complete
    what's going on.
    And I was thinking about it, Menasha.
    And I said oy vey.
    When I said this oy vey, I woke up.
    And I said, what did I do?
    You suddenly realized that you said out a Yiddish expression?
    I said a Yiddish expression.
    If the next toilet happened to be a neighbor who
    was non-Jewish, also in this house, this bakery,
    this was the ghetto before the Jews were taken out.
    And in this ghetto, they put in those peoples who
    were knocked out from Poznan.
    Poznan was a section next to the German border which
    had belonged, before the First World War, belonged to Germany.
    And after the First World War, was taken into Poland.
    And the Poles put all their peoples there.
    And when Germany, in the Second World War,
    when Germany took over Poland, they took it back to them
    and they knocked out-- they had to leave all those Poles.
    And this were the biggest antisemites.
    They called it the Poznaniakis They were more than Gestapo.
    Because they had to prove themselves that
    they are really Germans.
    And they were worse than Gestapo.
    So these were the people that were your neighbors?
    These were people were my neighbors.
    But like I said, I was complete 100% Polish in my look.
    I spoke a good Polish.
    I went every Saturday, Sunday to the church.
    Every night when Sheila and I went to sleep,
    I spoke with her very high the prayer, the Polish prayer.
    So Sheila thought that she was Polish.
    Oh, yeah.
    She didn't have [INAUDIBLE],, nothing whatsoever.
    But I did this for the neighbors.
    And every Sunday after the church,
    when it got warm in April or May or whatever it was,
    everybody came out in the backyard and sit around.
    And I came out in the backyard and I sit around.
    And where is Marie?
    I think Marie went out for a date.
    Marie [INAUDIBLE] she had a date.
    She never come out because she couldn't
    speak the Polish language.
    So then I begin to act normal.
    But when you said the oy vey and you went out--
    I went out.
    And the toilet was open.
    And I went into my room.
    So you thought-- and I took and looked through the curtain.
    And there came out this man who lived
    right on other side of the wall from me.
    He had to get up.
    Well, he lived next room but wasn't a door.
    And I knew exactly who this is.
    And Saturday, it was Saturday, I went to get the--
    Do you think that he had heard you?
    Yeah.
    Oh, definitely.
    I went outside to get the meat for the whole week
    because I had a ration.
    And the ration for all three of us was, like, I don't know,
    about four ounces meat the whole week.
    So I came back with this ration.
    And there were two policemen there.
    And I came in.
    And I begin to smile.
    And I said, oh, Marie, we have company.
    What can I do for you gentlemen?
    And I was happy and smiling.
    And I don't know.
    I was a beautiful actress.
    And I can't understand how I did it.
    But I did it.
    And they said Mrs. Wojcik, Pani Wojcik,
    we had an anonym letter.
    An anonymous--
    --anonymous letter that you are Jewish.
    So in other words, you think that man
    heard you and he reported you?
    He said write you a letter, oh, no doubt.
    But we came in, you saw all those crosses on the wall,
    with Jesus, with Mary, with all those pictures.
    With me looking-- and Marie didn't said much,
    but she looked Polish.
    And they said we know it's not true, because you
    couldn't possibly be Jewish.
    And i said, me, Jewish?
    Who can possible even think about--
    who ever thought like that?
    And I spoke in this perfect Polish.
    And he said, we know it's a lie.
    But as policemen, we have to check it out.
    And we would like to have your identification card.
    The letter was on my name.
    Nobody didn't even know what Marie's name.
    You know Marie, but if they know about it, I didn't know.
    But me, I know Sofia Boychick.
    And the letter came on Sofia Boychick.
    And we got to have your identification card.
    And we will bring it back--
    When was this, do you remember?
    This was 1943.
    It was in about April, May?
    April, May, around this time.
    No, wait a minute.
    It was Easter.
    This was Saturday.
    And the following day, Sunday, Monday was Easter.
    Must have been April.
    April.
    Was Easter.
    So I said, OK, sure, pleasure.
    I give him the identification card.
    And they left.
    They left.
    I didn't have-- without the identification card,
    I couldn't go out on the outside of that.
    Was no way.
    And I said to Marie, I was completed.
    I didn't know what's going on in my mind.
    I said to Marie, get away.
    Run away.
    You have the identification card.
    I don't have any choice.
    What are you going to do?
    I don't know.
    I don't know.
    I have to hope for a miracle.
    I don't know what I'm going to do.
    But you run.
    And she said to me, Zosiu, with you, I will live
    and with you, I will die.
    I'm not going to leave you.
    She wouldn't go.
    She stood there.
    Passed about 15 minutes.
    The man, the owner of this home came into me.
    And I knew, Rubinek told me about he was a pharmacist.
    He was living with his wife in Warsaw.
    When the war broke out, this was his wife's mother-- his wife's
    property.
    He came back to live with his mother-in-law.
    And he had a little girl.
    And he came in.
    And he said to me, Mrs. Wojcik, I want to have--
    the policeman came in to me.
    They told me they have anonymous letter that you're Jewish.
    But I know I can tell him, because Rubinek told me
    I can tell him.
    But we better don't tell him.
    But he [INAUDIBLE] Gestapo going down his house [INAUDIBLE]..
    It better he doesn't know.
    But he will know, he will not tell you
    because he's a nice man.
    And they asked me to give, to bring
    to them, the permission what you got from the City Hall
    for the apartment.
    And I fell down to his feet.
    And I said save me.
    Do something for me, for me and my little girl, please.
    And he said, what can I do?
    And a few weeks earlier, he was arrested--
    he was a pharmacist--
    with many others.
    And they send many other away.
    And he came back.
    They send him back home with his wife and little girl.
    So he was Jewish?
    No, he was Polish.
    Why was he arrested?
    I told you that the German took those educated men
    and sent them away--
    Oh, right.
    I see.
    And he was a pharmacist.
    So he tells me, you know, a few weeks ago, by a miracle,
    I escaped their knife.
    You know that.
    What can I do for you?
    What can I do to help you?
    And I said, if you could get me only back my identification,
    I won't sleep.
    I will run away right now.
    And without the identification, then I cannot go out outside
    the house.
    He said, I will do all I can.
    But I can't promise anything.
    I can only promise I will do all I can.
    And he left.
    I gave him this permission what I had and he left.
    And didn't pass 10 minutes.
    He came back with identification.
    He came back with the identification?
    And I said, how did you do it?
    He was a very smart man.
    He said he came back.
    He showed them the identification,
    which was legal.
    They asked him how I live.
    He told them I go to Warsaw, I buy goods.
    Which I did, because I went to this--
    to this man, the mill.
    And I brought back [NON-ENGLISH],,
    different things.
    And I even told him there was one woman in the same yard.
    And I even sold it to them.
    I told her I bought it from Warsaw, you understand?
    I had to make something where it will click.
    So it would look like you had a living.
    So the police asked him how I make a living.
    He said I know I go to Warsaw, I travel, I bring back goods,
    and I sell it, which a lot of women were doing this then,
    which was all right.
    And we talk about this.
    And then I gave him this permission.
    And they all right.
    And they shook hands.
    And they left.
    And they already were almost ready to close the door.
    I said, oh, excuse me.
    I forgot.
    Mrs. Wojcik is a very religious woman.
    She goes every Sunday to the church.
    Tomorrow we have [NON-ENGLISH].
    How you call this--
    Easter.
    And I know she wants to go to the church.
    Without the identification, you know,
    she cannot go out from the house.
    Why don't you take a piece of paper,
    write down all the numbers and everything, and you
    can call up Monday or Tuesday and give
    her back identification.
    She'll be able to go to church.
    They were going to check with Krakow?
    Is that it?
    Yeah, sure.
    I don't ever take the number and the address, everything,
    you can write it down and give her back the identification,
    she can go back she can go to church.
    And they said you're right.
    And they came back.
    And they write down the identification, everything,
    and they gave him back the Kennkarte.
    And they gave him back the Kennkarte.
    Can you understand this?
    Mhm.
    And he gave me back the Kennkarte.
    And the same night I run away.
    Where?
    To the farm where I was started the first to Liskow,
    to the farmer.
    I came up with Marie.
    --that I know I want to go and find a place.
    I want them there for a couple days.
    And he said OK.
    Where did I had my mind to go?
    I know where Rubinek both brothers are.
    I know from the [INAUDIBLE] place.
    How did I know that?
    I didn't have any idea they are there.
    They was about three homes farther where
    I live on the Polish papers.
    How did I know that?
    How did you know what?
    How did I know were they hidden there.
    Who, Rubinek?
    Rubinek and Maly and two Klocki.
    There were there six men.
    By that time, they were in hiding?
    Yeah.
    But how did I know?
    I didn't have any idea.
    How did I find that out?
    When I was living there in this bakery,
    one time a woman came in.
    When they took out the people the second time
    from this barrack, Rubinek, the fiancee from Polish sister
    was in the hidden place.
    His brother happened to be there at home.
    And he went with the transport, you understand?
    Mhm.
    He went to this transport.
    And they send him, this transport they send to a camp.
    And I forgot the name.
    There was the ammunition [INAUDIBLE] not far from there.
    I forgot the name of the town, was in Poland.
    And they sent the whole Jewish-- they took him out
    and they sent them there.
    And this Rubinek, this brother who was sent away,
    knew where his brother is.
    But he didn't know exactly where.
    They had also an order.
    They had made already two places, two hidden places.
    And he didn't know exactly each place
    they happened to be that night.
    So he apparently befriended there a woman, a Polish woman.
    And he asked apparently, paid, I don't know.
    He sent a letter to me.
    He knew where I live.
    And he sent a letter to me telling me
    how they're living there.
    He want to escape.
    He want to take the risk to escape.
    But in order to escape, he has to know where his brother is.
    And since they had two hidden place--
    they had only made one, he wouldn't have no doubt.
    But since they had ready two hidden places,
    and this brother, when he decided to go for that night
    to the hidden place and didn't tell him each one he's going,
    so he doesn't know where this is.
    And he gave me the address from both hidden places
    to go to find out where his brother is.
    So I went first to this place to this-- close to my home,
    because it was closer.
    I came in there.
    He wasn't there.
    His name was Galek.
    His daughter was there.
    I told her that I received a letter from Rubinek.
    And Rubinek told me that his brother is here.
    He would like to come to share with him the hidden place.
    And she called her father.
    And he said no, they're not there yet.
    He even showed me a place where they
    were supposed to be hidden, but the place was empty.
    And they're not there.
    I don't know where they are.
    And then I went to the other place
    which was a house next to this house where I was by the woman
    when I ran away, when I came to Jedrzejow.
    And I went there to this man and I told him the same thing.
    And he said no, they're not here.
    Both places said they're not there.
    But the way they spoke to me, the way they behaved,
    I had a feeling that they are there by this [PLACE NAME]..
    By the first place?
    By the first place.
    I wasn't sure, but I had a feeling, the way he behaved.
    And I wrote a letter back to this Rubinek, what I did,
    what I said.
    And I told him my opinion.
    I think they're there, but I can't promise that.
    But I have a feeling they are there.
    And just so happened the Rubinek was on the way.
    And he came there and he joined them.
    This way I know where they are.
    If not this incident, I wouldn't have any idea where they are.
    So when this happened I took Marie with the baby
    to this farmer.
    And I told him I'm going to go somewhere
    to try to find a place, just for a couple of days.
    And I went to this hidden place.
    And I asked them, asked them to have mercy on me,
    to give me a place for Sheila so I can put him in a home.
    And I will come here to be with them.
    I will write a letter to my parents and go to my parents.
    I told them I got to go to my parents.
    But to do this, I have to have a place for Sheila.
    They said no.
    There wasn't no sentiments then.
    All those people had lost their families,
    their children, their mothers.
    What business they had with me to save me and my baby?
    They couldn't care less.
    They don't have anybody.
    They don't know anybody.
    There's nothing they can do for me.
    But Rubinek told me then that to go to Szczawnica.
    Szczawnica was a resort place in the mountains,
    in the Carpathian in Poland.
    This was about May, June when this happened.
    1943?
    1943.
    And he said, there, look, we know very well that the war--
    by the fall, the war will be over.
    There's no doubt.
    You know what?
    No doubt in nobody's mind.
    So during the summer, they come there
    peoples to this place for the whole world.
    And during the summer, you will be there.
    And when you will have to leave and everything will close up,
    the war will be over.
    And this way you will be saved.
    So this what I did.
    I went in Jedrzejow to the train station.
    And I went by train to Szczawnica.
    To go there, I had to go to Krakow.
    In Krakow, I had to change trains.
    I came to Krakow was about at night.
    I don't know what time.
    It was 8, 9, 10, 11 o'clock at night.
    And the train left tomorrow morning about 9 o'clock.
    And my identification card was from Krakow.
    And if a policeman would come to me,
    he would tell me why did you spend the night?
    You live here.
    And you couldn't go out like from 9:00 at night
    until 6:00 in the morning.
    But there was plenty of time for me to come for the train,
    stay home, and come back.
    Why did you spend the night here?
    It was terrible risky to spend the night there.
    But what choice did I have?
    I didn't have any choice.
    I had to be there.
    I lie down on a bench.
    I turn around.
    And I pretend I'm sleeping.
    And I spend the whole night on that train
    and went by all right.
    Nobody asked me anything.
    I caught a train to this place.
    Sheila was with you?
    No, no.
    Sheila wasn't.
    Marie by this farmer.
    I told you I take him out there.
    Sheila, how could I take her with me?
    I had this train there.
    And on the way, when I was on the train,
    I was sitting by the window.
    And I could see there was sitting a woman about 4 or 5
    places away on the other side.
    And there was this conductor, the man who checked the
    Pass, visa, or the ticket.
    The tickets, yeah.
    And I could see she was sitting not
    in the same line, the other line, about four
    or five seats away from me.
    And I could see when this conductor, when
    this man come to her, she talked to him, pointed at me.
    And he said I don't care.
    Apparently she told him that she think I'm Jewish.
    And would happen to be antisemite,
    sure he would take advantage on it.
    But he made it like it's not of his business.
    And he left me alone, didn't do anything.
    I came to Stravnitz.
    And there was not a living soul there.
    All those motels, hotels, those big villas,
    was a very beautiful resort place, they are all,
    the windows were covered with wooden boards.
    There was nothing there.
    There was not a living soul there.
    And I didn't know what to do.
    I couldn't go back.
    Because on the train to go to this place,
    you had to go on a wagon.
    And what was the purpose of going there?
    To live there, to rent a room and come back and take
    Sheila and Marie and go there.
    You understand?
    They were during the summer.
    Right.
    Live there during the summer because in the fall,
    the war will be over.
    Right.
    Live there during the summer.
    But there was no way.
    It wasn't open.
    Everything was closed up.
    There was no resort place whatsoever.
    And I couldn't go back the same day
    because those wagons will go only once a day in the morning.
    So I had to spend a night somewhere.
    I didn't know, a complete strange place.
    I was walking and walking.
    And suddenly I decided there was this house.
    I'm going to go in there.
    And I went in.
    And there was this couple and a little girl.
    And I came in.
    I don't remember what I told them exactly.
    But I told them some excuse that I came here for some reason.
    Maybe I told them the truth I came
    to rent a room because I'm sick and I didn't know everything
    is blocked up.
    It is nothing there.
    I told them I would like to spend the night so I
    can go back tomorrow.
    I told him I lived in Kielce.
    [INAUDIBLE]
    Said sure.
    They treat me very good.
    They gave me to eat and their little girl.
    And I played with the little girl.
    And even put her to sleep.
    And I said the prayer with her.
    They didn't have any idea that I am Jewish.
    OK.
    So they asked me to stay there with them
    for as long as I want.
    And I would have a beautiful place.
    But how could I?
    I told them-- anyway, I left.
    I left the following morning.
    And I came back to Jedrzejow.
    And when I came back to Jedrzejow,
    when I went down the train, I saw this policeman
    who came to me for the Kennkarte,
    stays there right in the door.
    And I know by then he knows perfectly well I'm Jewish.
    Because he checked.
    There was no doubt.
    And when I saw him, I didn't know what to do.
    To go there, he sees me, he will take me out on the rail
    and he will shot me.
    So I'm going back.
    I couldn't go back to--
    I was going slow and hoping he will disappear.
    And he disappeared.
    And I begin to run fast.
    And I came in.
    And I spent there a whole night because when I came
    I was already couldn't go out.
    Where did you spend the whole night?
    There on the station with many other people.
    And I was always hiding in the back, going to the wall
    so he will not see me.
    And not only this, there was there Gestapo.
    And they put all the peoples on one side.
    And they were checking the identification.
    And they check identification and put it in this side.
    So I wasn't afraid the identification.
    My identification was all right.
    But I was afraid the policeman stood there and he will see me,
    he knows me, then.
    So I was trying to be in the back, in the back.
    And when I disappear to go to the toilet.
    And I begin to run.
    I came close.
    And as long as he checked the identification,
    he told me to go.
    And I went back to the other side.
    And I was always standing in the side so he will not see me.
    And the following morning was 6 o'clock,
    whatever, we could go out.
    I went first to this house where I lived.
    Because I want to ask--
    I don't remember what I did.
    I went there to this people--
    where I lived there on the bakery, I went to the owner.
    I think I went there to get something.
    I don't remember.
    And when she saw me, she said run away.
    You don't know what here happen.
    The Gestapo came by Monday and they searched the whole house.
    Every attic, every basement, and they
    even hit my husband because they said
    he knew that you are Jewish.
    But he didn't give them an idea.
    Run away!
    Because any neighbor who will spot you won't let you go.
    Because there were all those [NON-ENGLISH] were antisemite.
    Run away very quick.
    And I begin to run.
    And I went to this farm, to this farmer.
    Then I decided what to do.
    Yeah.
    Also this.
    I have to go back.
    When I was living on this Polish paper in this bakery,
    I had to be prepared always.
    In case I have to run, I have a place where to run.
    So I went one time to Kielce.
    And it's a long story how I rent it.
    I won't go into it.
    But I rented a room also where was the ghetto from the Jews.
    There were no Jews there in Kielce.
    Everything was goyim, not openly.
    Wait, so you rented a room where?
    I rented a room in a building which was in the ghetto.
    The Jewish ghetto?
    In the Jewish ghetto.
    At that time there was a ghetto in Kielce for Jews?
    At that time, the Jews were taken out.
    There were no more Jews.
    But it used to be the Jews, before they were taken out,
    used to live in this ghetto.
    I see.
    You understand?
    I see.
    And I, because at that time, when
    I tell you the story, when I was living on Polish paper,
    there were no more Jews openly.
    I see.
    There were no--
    There had been transports in all cities by that time.
    Everything was finished.
    They were only in the forest.
    They were in the camps.
    They were in hidden places.
    Openly, there was no Jew in Poland.
    So you rented a place?
    What was I talking about?
    You rented a room in Kielce.
    Yeah, I rented a room in Kielce.
    And this room was also the water was running down the walls.
    But what could I do?
    And I rented from the janitor.
    There was a big building.
    Where you go in, you go in here through the gate,
    and here was, like, a big, big yard,
    and all [INAUDIBLE],, buildings all around,
    five, six stories building.
    And I rent a room on downstairs right next
    to this you go out in the street, on the first floor.
    And this saved me, too.
    So when I came back from Szczawnica,
    and I couldn't do nothing, I said Marie, there's no choice.
    We have to go to Kielce.
    I want to do all I can not to go there.
    Because Kielce was famous for a very big antisemitic town.
    And I want to do all I can not to have to go there.
    But there was no choice.
    I had to go there.
    And we all went to the train and went to Kielce
    and moved in there in this room.
    And when was this?
    This was about, I would say, in May, or in the same time.
    Everything happened very, very close by.
    Right.
    We came in there.
    And all this building were living former Jewish maids,
    janitors, all those very low class people were living there
    in the Jewish ghetto.
    Because after the Jews were transported, Poles came.
    People moved in, yeah.
    Well, a respectable Pole who had a home didn't move there.
    All those, you know, low class people, those prostitutes,
    those strip cleaners, all those very low population
    moved into these Jewish homes.
    So I lived there.
    Why did you rent there?
    Was that the only place you could get?
    I couldn't rent nowhere else.
    There's no way I could find anything.
    You think I want to rent there?
    I had to have someplace, if something happened,
    I had to run somewhere.
    I didn't have any choice.
    I had to rent what I could get.
    Just so happened that a janitor there from this building
    was a very fine man.
    I later realized that he knew I'm Jewish.
    And I'm going to come to this, too.
    And one time, like I said, there were a lot of Jewish maids.
    You mean people who worked for Jews?
    For Jewish, yes.
    And somehow it didn't take him long to understand
    that if I would be a Pole, I wouldn't live in this room.
    Right.
    One day, we were living there for just a few days,
    two Polish policemen, not those uniform, those un-uniform,
    [NON-ENGLISH] secret police.
    Plain clothes.
    Plain clothes men came into me, came into the room.
    And I was home there and Marie was home.
    Sheila was there.
    And they told me that they have an anonym letter--
    Anonymous letter?
    --that I'm Jewish.
    And I began to make the same things.
    But it didn't help at that time.
    One policeman took me out to the hall.
    And the other one with Marie in the house.
    And they begin to ask me--
    To interrogate you?
    --they asked me if I know Marie's parents,
    How tall Marie's mother is, because we told we are cousins,
    if I ever was in Marie's home, how many rooms in her home was.
    And they asked the same questions Marie about me,
    if she ever came to my family, if she
    know my mother, how many-- and this of course couldn't fit.
    When they came in to compare, so when I said yes.
    Marie said no.
    How could we?
    We didn't know.
    When they compared those statements,
    they saw it's complete difference.
    And one policeman said well, we have
    to take them to the Gestapo.
    And then why don't you all give me some cigarettes?
    Buy me some cigarettes.
    Buy me some cigarettes, this was a sign to me
    that I can deal with them.
    And I said to him, look, I'm not Jewish.
    My mother was Jewish.
    I was raised in a Catholic home and I'm 100% Catholic.
    But the Germans don't recognize that.
    The Germans, you have to be from the third generation.
    And if you will give me, take me to Gestapo,
    you know they're going to shot me.
    But I am a Catholic.
    Do you want that?
    I know your salary is not very high.
    I know you have to make a living.
    I have some money.
    Let me live and I will help you to live, too.
    I took out everything what I had and gave it to him.
    And he said, all right.
    But run away.
    Don't stay here.
    Because you won't remain long here.
    Just run away as quick as you can.
    How can I run away?
    Where do I go?
    I have to find a place for Sheila.
    The following day, morning, I went out.
    And Marie was home with Sheila.
    I begin to go from one children home
    to other one, those children home.
    There are several.
    It was a big place.
    It was a big town.
    And whenever I come in a big children's home,
    there were the secretary, I begin
    to say I would like to see the sister, the elder sister.
    They called her the [POLISH],, which
    means the manager on this.
    She said for what reason?
    Well, I had to tell her.
    I can only make appointment with the sister
    if you will tell me what you want for her.
    And I told her I want to place my little girl.
    And the home, he had no--
    we don't have-- no way.
    No need to talk.
    So there's no way.
    I went about five, six places.
    No way I could even get to talk to anybody.
    Then finally I came into a place which was a small place.
    They didn't have any of those secretaries.
    And I came in and I say I would like
    to speak to the elder sister.
    And she came in to me.
    And I begin to talk to her.
    I told her a story that my husband was in the war.
    And he is in the German--
    he is a war prisoner in Germany.
    And I have family in Krakow.
    And I'm here by myself with my little girl.
    And I don't have any money.
    I want to work to make a living.
    But in order to do this, I have to have
    a place for my little girl.
    And I want to go to Krakow to place
    my little girl by my relatives.
    But I cannot take it with her because I don't know where I
    will have to the big family.
    I want first to find out which family will accept,
    then I will come back to have my daughter and take her there.
    I said I want to leave her here only the most for a week,
    the most.
    And I will come back and take her, and take her with me.
    Where was this at?
    This was in Kielce.
    Yeah.
    And she told me, and this was true.
    She said, you know, I cannot take in a child without
    permission from the Gestapo.
    You know that.
    And I was crying very bitterly for my bad luck,
    if my husband wouldn't be in the German prison,
    I wouldn't have to go this through.
    I would have our home and I wouldn't have to work.
    And she said to me we're taking your little girl
    in without permission.
    I'm risking my life.
    She said but you--
    I don't know how to say it in English--
    your tears took me so over, I cannot tell you no.
    I'm not strong enough to tell you no.
    But be sure to come back in eight days.
    I said sure.
    That's no problem.
    There's nothing to worry about.
    And I left there.
    And I left there.
    And I went out the following day and I
    bought a couple of dresses.
    And I took Sheila there to this place.
    And when I came back, this took about two,
    three days before I find a place.
    The first day when I came back home without any result
    and I came in the house, there was nobody there.
    Marie wasn't there.
    Sheila wasn't there.
    And I found out that they made a oblava, it mean,
    they saw near the section.
    And they took girls to send to Germany to work.
    This is what they did.
    They took Polish girls to send to Germany to work,
    unless somebody was married or had a baby or whatever.
    Since Marie was with that baby, with Sheila,
    they couldn't send away Marie.
    Marie told it's not her girl.
    But her mother is not here.
    They took her to the police and they kept her there
    until I will come back.
    So when I realized that, I went to the police.
    What choice did I have?
    I went to the police.
    And I came in.
    I told them my name.
    And they gave me back Sheila.
    And they took Marie and sent her away to Germany.
    And that was the end?
    For the first--
    I would say for the first half a year, I had letters from her.
    Because in the place where I was, in the hidden place,
    because she knew where I'm going to go, I told her this.
    If I cannot go to my parents' place, I will be here.
    And she sent me letters.
    And I asked her.
    I wrote her letters, too.
    And of course, I didn't give my address, I gave other address.
    But I asked her if she needs some help.
    And she said, no, I don't need any financial help.
    I only need your letters.
    The letters what I sent her was a proof to anybody
    that she had a Polish address.
    They understand that she is Polish.
    But I don't know if she died because--
    bombard was a lot of Germans died,
    when they put the bombs down.
    Or she died because she was discovered, I don't know.
    But after a few months, the letters stopped.
    And after liberation, I went there to her town.
    And I found out she didn't return.
    I'm sure she died there.
    So the following day, they took Marie away
    and they sent her away to Germany.
    And I remained with Sheila.
    And the following morning, I took Sheila to this place
    and I left her there.
    And I went back home.
    And I was told that the same night should
    be some kind of oblava, some kind of game,
    some kind looking for girls.
    And since I didn't had nobody with me,
    I was afraid that they're going to take me.
    I will tell them I have a child there?
    Well, she's in the children home.
    She doesn't need you, you understand?
    So I was afraid to spend a night there in this home.
    So I went to this place where there were those wagons, where
    they took people to Chmielnik.
    And from Chmielnik, I would go by train to Jedrzejow,
    to this hidden place.
    And I spent a night there.
    And this was a big home with several wagons,
    with all were spending a night there.
    And I spent a night there.
    And apparently the wagon where I was lying on,
    the owner apparently, I don't know,
    he had a suspicious that I'm Jewish.
    Apparently, I looked terrible, you know, worn out.
    And in the morning, when we were ready to leave,
    he said no, we're not leaving.
    I'm taking you to the Gestapo.
    I said what?
    You're doing what?
    You crazy?
    You lost your mind?
    He said no.
    He said to me those words, if you are not Jewish,
    a hair will not taken from your head.
    If you are Jewish, I want them to kill you.
    What could I do?
    Run away?
    There was no way.
    I had to go with him.
    There was no other choice.
    I had a Kennkarte.
    He took me to Gestapo.
    He came in in the Gestapo.
    And he told them the story, what happened.
    And the Gestapo, they asked him, do you know this woman,
    she's Jewish?
    He said, no, I don't know her from home.
    But I have a feeling.
    I think.
    I'm almost sure she's Jewish.
    And when he said this, it was early in the morning.
    The other Gestapo came in even in his shirt.
    He wasn't dressed in uniform, came in from the other door.
    In the same room where I was, and the Pole the Gestapo.
    And this Gestapo was sitting by the desk asked
    the other Gestapo, told him what happened.
    And he said to him, what do you think, Hans or whatever?
    Does this woman look Jewish?
    Do you think she's Jewish?
    And he looked at me straight in my eyes.
    I didn't look at him.
    Because I pretend I don't know what he's talking--
    I shouldn't know he told him to look at me.
    But I could see he looked at me.
    And he said about a long time.
    And he said no, that's not a Jewish woman.
    That's a Polish woman.
    No, she's not Jewish.
    And when he said this, he went to this Pole.
    And he gave him one side and the other side.
    And he said, you Polish swine.
    I mean, you Polish pig.
    And the Pole left.
    Despite this, they wouldn't let me go.
    They took me to jail.
    They took away my identification card.
    And they put me to jail.
    Why?
    Because they had to check.
    They wanted to check.
    Because he said I'm not I'm not Polish.
    I'm not Jewish doesn't mean that they
    couldn't be-- his opinion could be I'm not Jewish.
    But I could be.
    They had to check my identification card.
    They put me to jail.
    And I came into jail there were about seven,
    eight other women in this room.
    And when I came in and they asked me--
    most of them were prostitutes.
    It's very low, very low class woman.
    They asked me why I'm there.
    I told them--
    I was afraid to tell them that I was a Jew.
    I told them that they caught me by stealing something
    and they put me to jail.
    Well, just so happened that this policeman who took me to jail
    spoke with the warden from the jail.
    And he told him why I'm here.
    And the warden told this woman, this woman why I'm here.
    Now did they had any doubt that I'm Jewish?
    Right.
    I understand.
    They begin to torture me, not physical.
    They told me that there was there a Jewish woman like me
    before.
    And she said the same thing, that she is not Jewish.
    And they shipped pieces skin from her.
    They stripped the skin from her to say that she is Jewish.
    But she wouldn't say.
    And they took her out.
    They took her out in a dying condition
    and killed her and shot her.
    And they told me they had mercy on me.
    Why should you suffer that much?
    Tell them you're Jewish and they will kill you.
    You will not suffer.
    And I said I am not Jewish.
    And I can never admit something I am not.
    And when they say this prayer song at night, I kneel down,
    and I sang with them the prayers and good night.
    And when they get up, and they sing the prayer night
    and the molitva with their hands like this,
    and I sign with them, and I sat with them, everything.
    But despite this, they were sure that I am Jewish.
    And they wouldn't let me sleep.
    They had also not a bed, like benches.
    They wouldn't let me sleep with them.
    I had to sleep on the floor.
    They wouldn't touch a Jew, a dirty Jew.
    I had to sleep on the floor.
    They wouldn't let me sleep there.
    Anyway, the following morning, I had with me a $20 bill.
    And I went into the toilet.
    And I was afraid when the Gestapo
    would come in and search me, they would find a $20 bill.
    This will be a moral ground that I am Jewish.
    So I went into the toilet and I almost dropped it in the bowl,
    in the toilet.
    But then I said if for any chance I will survive,
    I will be lost without a penny.
    So I took my shoe and pushed away the sole a little bit
    and push it in between the sole.
    And I saved the $20.
    The following day the door opened and a Gestapo came in.
    Sofia Boychick, come with me.
    I was sure that he takes me out behind the wall
    and going to shot me.
    I didn't have no doubt.
    But he didn't.
    He began to walk to me.
    [INAUDIBLE] with Kielce.
    Walk, walked, then when he came to the section where I live,
    I realized that he's going with me to my room.
    I didn't know what he want.
    I didn't know.
    I didn't had any idea whatsoever.
    He came in to the room with me.
    But didn't they tell you?
    Hadn't that woman told you not to go back to your room?
    With this man?
    I didn't go--
    Never mind.
    Never mind.
    I'm getting it confused.
    That's all right.
    Go on.
    I didn't go there voluntarily.
    Yeah, right.
    He came in.
    I unlocked the door.
    He came in to me.
    And he looked.
    He searched the closet, everything he searched.
    Then he sat down.
    And he told to me, you're a very attractive woman.
    And I would like to become your friend.
    I said wonderful.
    He talked to me, like, broken Polish.
    And I behaved like I don't know one word English.
    But he told--
    My name is Fran Gutterman.
    Today is Thursday, August 21, 1980.
    I am once again at the home of my mother,
    Mrs. Dora Gutterman in Norfolk, Virginia.
    And we are continuing to tape Mrs. Gutterman's experiences
    during the Holocaust.
    Before we continue with where you left off,
    I wanted to ask you if there was anything
    before taping the session right now,
    you listened over to the four hours of taping
    that you had done last January.
    And having listened to them, I wanted
    to ask you if there was anything that you would now
    like to add or to clarify regarding what you
    said during our first session.
    Yes, I would like to clarify one fact.
    You asked me if I had any friends.
    This was on page 1 I think.
    You asked me--
    In side one, you mean.
    Side one.
    you asked me then how was the condition
    between Jews and Poles, then if I had any Polish friends.
    And I said, no.
    But when I think back, I remember
    I had one Polish girl, a good friend.
    We were in the school from almost from the first grade.
    And we in a way need each other, because at that time
    the school was open on Saturday.
    Wait, wait, wait a second now.
    You had mentioned that--
    So when I asked you if you had any friends that were Poles,
    you at the time had said, no.
    But now you remember about one girl, a Polish girl
    that you had become very good friends with?
    Yes, I do.
    And in the beginning, we helped each other.
    How did you meet her?
    In school.
    We were in the same class.
    And I needed her for the reason the schools were closed
    on Saturday, and the Jewish children, of course,
    didn't go on Saturday.
    And also, this was a very small school
    with maybe four or five teachers.
    And we had two terms during the day.
    The first term was I think from 8:00 to 1:00,
    and then it was from 1:00 to 6:00.
    And I was in the class from 1:00 to 6:00.
    And in the winter, the Friday, the days are very short.
    I had to be home a half an hour before lighting the candles.
    And sometimes on those short days,
    I have to leave an hour or two before school was finished.
    And this girl helped me with giving
    me what the teachers gave for homework,
    for the time what I missed Friday evening
    and also for Saturday.
    I went to her every Saturday night,
    and she gave me all the homework what was given at that time.
    And she needed me, because she was slow in arithmetic,
    and maybe some other subjects.
    And I helped her very much in that.
    So in the beginning, we helped each other.
    But then we began to know each other better,
    we became very close friends.
    And it happens, not often, but sometimes
    where I spent the night over her home,
    and she spent the night on my home.
    This was literally her room, because she came from a farm.
    Her parents live in a very small village.
    And once in a while, when we were late in our walk,
    sometimes she spent the night over my home.
    And I spent the night over at her home.
    She was living with her grandparents,
    because our parents were living in a small farm
    and she was staying with her grandparents.
    So you all became good friends?
    So, we became very good friends because we together
    graduated from school, and we became very close friends.
    And we graduated from school in 1928.
    And then, of course, she left her home to her parents.
    And we didn't see each other until this was in 1940.
    The war broke out in 1939, September the 1st.
    And this was sometimes the beginning of 1940.
    I happened to be on the street.
    And she was walking about a block away.
    And I thought this is Selena.
    Her name was Selena, the way she walked, and her size.
    I thought it's Selena.
    And I began to call Selena, Selena!
    And when she heard her name, she turned around her head.
    And I began to run to her because I thought
    I was friends we would embrace each other,
    and tell them how we are doing and everything.
    But it didn't happen like this.
    Because when she saw me she told me,
    [NON-ENGLISH] which in English means--
    it's hard to say an English.
    But I will try to find the word.
    Like, get lost.
    It means get lost, you dirty Jewess.
    And she just shows, when she grew older how she was.
    So what happened when she said that?
    You just walked away?
    I just stood there.
    I couldn't believe it.
    She said this, and she began to walk.
    She walked past on her way.
    And I just stood there for a few minutes.
    I couldn't believe I heard this.
    Because I knew her.
    She was a very lovely and very gentle girl.
    And this just shows how much this poison she got,
    she got in her during those years
    when she was not in school.
    And this, when I came home, it was just to me
    such a slap in my face that it was just hard for me
    to accept it, despite the fact knowing
    how the Poles hate the Jews, how antisemitism is big.
    But knowing how I was with her, it
    was very hard for me to accept the fact
    that she changed like that.
    And when I came home, I told my mother the story
    and I began to cry.
    Because I said to her, mom, you don't know
    how serious the situation is.
    If the girl could change like that we
    are in very, very much trouble.
    Because I can see how terrible the situation is.
    This is what I wanted to mention,
    put in about that girl.
    What did your mother say to you when you said that?
    My mother told me not to pay attention, not to be upset.
    The typical things that mothers say.
    Yeah, not to be upset.
    Everything, that we will be all right, and that and that.
    OK.
    OK.
    Before we continue then, is there anything else
    that you would like to add?
    Well, if I want to tell you what happened every day during five
    years, I would have to sit here for several months.
    I just want to tell you the main important things,
    because the small everyday things is
    impossible to say everything.
    But I don't think I have anything to add
    as far as very important.
    OK.
    All right, well so, let's see.
    We left off as you were in Kielce at the time that the--
    just to review for a little bit.
    That the farmer had turned you in.
    This was in around May or June of 1943.
    It was about the end of May or the beginning of June.
    Right.
    The farmer had turned you in suspecting for being--
    It wasn't a farmer.
    It was a man who had a wagon.
    And he made a living from it.
    It was several people, several Poles.
    They had a wagon with a horse.
    And they were going back and forth from Kielce
    to [NON-ENGLISH],, back and forth and taking people back
    and forth.
    OK.
    So was that man who was supposed to take you,
    and he turned you in instead.
    Yeah.
    And we left off last time, the police,
    German Gestapo had come to take you out.
    And you thought that he was--
    Going to shot me.
    Going to shoot you, but instead he took you back
    to your apartment.
    To my room, yes.
    And when we came in, he searched all the closets.
    I don't know what he was looking for, if I have some guns
    or whatever.
    He searched everything to make sure nothing is there.
    And then he sat down, and he began
    to tell me that he likes me.
    He would like to become my friend.
    And I said, sure.
    I would love this very much too.
    You're very nice young man too.
    And I like you very much too.
    He was in the beginning, he was speaking in German,
    but I pretend I don't understand.
    Because the German knew the Jewish people
    understand Jewish.
    I would like to add also that I really
    don't know what happened then.
    If he would call, if he called [NON-ENGLISH],,
    then as far as this, I was a--
    You mean if he called [NON-ENGLISH] to check out
    your papers.
    Yeah, and checked about me, then I was a kosher Catholic.
    Because you were a registered in [NON-ENGLISH]..
    Because I was there registered legal.
    But if he called Krakow, then he'd know I was Jewish.
    Because the papers were complete false.
    And I understood that he wanted to make me his mistress.
    So I don't know if he knew I am a Catholic,
    and he anyway want me as a mistress,
    or he know I'm Jewish.
    And he want to save my life in order to become his mistress.
    So he sit down and I told him that I like him very much too.
    And I would like to get to know him closer too.
    So I was living then on the first floor,
    not far from the gate where you go out
    to the front of the street.
    And I had every window in that building
    had shutters for the night.
    When it gets dark, I always close the shutters.
    But during the day, I always had them open.
    So he pointed out to me to go out and close the shutters.
    I told him I can't do that now, because I've been living here
    for quite a while.
    And I'm good friends with the tenants
    and I'm a respectable woman here,
    and I can't do that because they will see what I'm doing.
    I say at night, when it gets dark.
    I do close every night the shutters.
    Why don't you come then?
    And the shudders will be closed, and nobody
    will suspect anything.
    And he said, you're right.
    I'm going to come when it gets dark.
    And I will bring some wine.
    I will bring some whiskey.
    And I will bring some food.
    And you will have a good time.
    I said, wonderful.
    I can't wait a minute to see you here again.
    And he left.
    As soon as he left, I waited for about 10,
    15 minutes to make sure he was away.
    And I closed up the room, and I went back to this garage
    where those wagons were.
    And I went to [NON-ENGLISH].
    I came to [NON-ENGLISH],, and I went into this hidden place.
    And I told them that I would like to stay there.
    Now, wait-- I don't really remember.
    Have you already told us about how you
    got hold of this hidden place?
    I told you about how I found out,
    how Rubinek wrote me a letter to check where his brother is.
    Yes.
    Because the night when they took out the Jews the second time,
    the older one with other Jews happened
    to go to the hidden place.
    The younger one-- and the older's names was Yisroel,
    The younger's one was I think Benjamin.
    I don't remember exactly.
    So Yisroel was in the hidden place with two brothers of
    [PERSONAL NAME].
    One man, his name was Mawel.
    And one name was Goodman.
    But the younger Rubinek, Benjamin,
    decided to spend the night in the barrack at home.
    And at that night, that happened they took out the Jews.
    And they took him to Skarzysko.
    I remember Skarzysko was in Poland,
    was an ammunition factory, where the Germans made ammunition
    for them.
    And they took him there.
    And he wrote me a letter.
    I told the whole story.
    I'm sure you will find it out.
    And this woman came, and I checked
    and I wrote him he wouldn't send me a letter at all.
    But he knew his brother had two places.
    He was prepared two hidden places.
    And not being sure in each one he went,
    he couldn't risk to go just for maybe he's there,
    maybe he's there.
    He had to be positive way, so he can go in.
    So I checked.
    And then both places told me that he's not there.
    But the way I suspect, the way this man in this hidden place
    who was not far from the place where I was living
    in this bakery, the way he talked, the way he behaved,
    I had a feeling that they are there.
    And I wrote him that.
    That I have a feeling, despite the fact
    they both said not there.
    I have a feeling that he is, by Garlick.
    His name was Garlick.
    But of course, I didn't know if he came,
    or when he left, if he wasn't shot on the way.
    Because a lot of people started to kill
    us Jews, and they were shot on the way.
    So I didn't have no way knowing where he is if he came.
    But one time, one occasion, a few weeks later, I was going.
    It was like an alley.
    Where?
    In Jedrzejow.
    Wait a minute.
    I will go back to.
    When I came in to ask for him, this man,
    Garlick was suspicious that somebody discovered
    that are there, and I'm a really Polish woman,
    and they are all in danger.
    I just came to check out.
    And he told him the story.
    And they were all very shaky.
    And they were talking over there about just
    what to do, where to go.
    Because [NON-ENGLISH] was a really Polish woman,
    and something's going to happen.
    The Gestapo was going to come and going to take him out.
    But on one occasion, I went for some reason
    to Liskow, to the farmer.
    I don't remember what, and when I was going back home,
    it was the way between this Liskow
    and I had to go by his home, this was to go to my home.
    And he saw me then.
    And he went down to the hidden place,
    and he told the people this Polish woman went
    just back from my home.
    And I saw, and Rubinek knew where I lived.
    And he asked him, where did she went in?
    And he said, there, onto the bakery.
    He said, is she a short woman?
    Yes.
    He said, this is Wojcik.
    She's not a Polish, she's a Jewish woman.
    When you see her, and he had a son whose name was--
    I don't remember.
    And tell your son--
    [AUDIO OUT]
    I remember now Garlick's son's name was Jurek.
    So Rubinek told him, tell you what.
    When he will see next time Mrs. Wojcik, he told him,
    don't be afraid.
    She is Jewish.
    She lives on Polish papers.
    I know her very well.
    Tell Jurek to call her, and tell her want to talk to her.
    And then she will come to you, and I to talk to her, too.
    So one time I was walking in a small alley.
    And I heard somebody calls Mrs. Wojcik, Pani Wojcik.
    And I turned around.
    And I saw this boy.
    Because when I came to find out if they're there,
    the was there too, this boy.
    And he came to me, he said, Pani Wojcik, my father
    would like to speak to you.
    Come anytime to your convenience.
    I said, I'll be there this afternoon.
    And I came by, and he called Rubinek.
    Was Rubinek the guy that you knew there?
    Yeah.
    But he wasn't there yet?
    Yeah.
    No.
    Wait a minute.
    There were two brothers.
    Yeah, but was Rubinek the one that was in the house that--
    I remember at the very beginning of the story,
    there was a Rubinek.
    Yeah, this was.
    Yeah, he was there in the hidden place.
    He was.
    And the younger one is the one who was in Skarzysko
    and wanted to contact to.
    OK.
    He was the one who came to our home.
    So yeah, it was my husband, he was the one.
    And he called Rubinek.
    I didn't go there at that time to their hidden place.
    He called him out to the room.
    And he spoke to him about two hours.
    And at that time, he told me that Chaim was shot there.
    That day, he told me somebody who ran away, somehow survived.
    I think he told me that he dreamed about
    or somebody told him.
    I don't remember, that when that day
    when I came by, when I met this policeman, the Gestapo
    on the street, that day they took out the second time
    Slomniki.
    They took out all the small towns the second time,
    cleaned out complete all together--
    [NON-ENGLISH] Slomniki and other towns,
    all the towns where the Jews happened to come back,
    and formed a community, they cleaned them out a second time.
    And he told me, Rubinek told me that he knows that at that day,
    when they took out the second time
    the Jews, Paula, my brother's wife, decided to run.
    And she ran.
    It was a decision for the second.
    And nobody doesn't know if the right side is good
    or the left side are good.
    She decided to run away.
    And she was shot while running.
    Chaim decided to hide with several other Jews,
    some kind of hiding place there, and they were caught.
    And they taken me out and shot by the Germans.
    Well, you told me the story of your other brother's death.
    Who was that?
    That wasn't Chaim's death?
    That was Ephraim Menasha's death?
    That was Menasha.
    Who did you tell me he was?
    Did you tell me it was Chaim?
    No, no.
    I told you Menasha, when I went to see when my parents are.
    Yeah.
    This was Menasha.
    Chaim was already dead then, but I didn't know about that.
    You understand?
    Rubinek told me.
    He was in Slomniki?
    He was in Slomniki.
    I didn't know--
    That all happened that day that you
    went into Slomniki too, right?
    That's right.
    That's right.
    They shot there a lot of Jews at that day.
    Do you know was your brother found that day in hiding,
    or did it happen later?
    He told me that it was the same day, that they
    found him the very same day.
    Apparently, they didn't had a good hiding place, whatever.
    I don't know.
    But this is what he told me.
    And this way, I found out that Rubinek came back,
    you understand?
    That he is there, because he told me then,
    because you wrote him the letter and told him that you
    have a suspicious he's here.
    He understood you're right.
    And because this was a better place anyway,
    a better hide-out, a bigger hiding place.
    Wasn't he there with you in the room?
    Who?
    Rubinek.
    Not the younger, the older one.
    Not the younger one.
    The younger one hadn't arrived yet?
    Yeah, he was there.
    But he was in the hidden place.
    Well, I thought you came to the hidden place.
    I came to the hidden place.
    When I walked there the first time,
    when I ran away from the bakery, I went to the hidden place
    to ask him to give me a place for my baby.
    But this was after Rubinek came back.
    And when they finally got together and realized,
    Rubinek told them that I'm not a Polish woman.
    I told him I'm a Jewish woman living on Polish papers.
    I understand that.
    But the meeting you were at now, when you were talking,
    were both Rubineks there at that meeting?
    When I came, when his son told me to come down?
    Yeah.
    No, because I didn't went down to the hidden place.
    And Rubinek come up to the room.
    Both Rubineks?
    No, the one, only the older one.
    Because I know better the older one, because the older
    one used to come to us.
    And I knew him better.
    OK, that's what I was trying to understand.
    Yeah, no this was the older one.
    This way I found out that because despite the fact
    how much I suspected they're there, I couldn't be 100% sure.
    And I couldn't go there if I wasn't 100% sure.
    But because this, I knew that they are there
    and I knew there.
    And when I came back from Chmielnik,
    I went there to them.
    From Kielce, you mean?
    From Kielce, yes.
    Well, I went from Kielce to Chmielnik.
    From Chmelnik, I came with a train, you understand?
    Oh, I see what you mean.
    Wait one, second.
    OK, go on.
    I told him then that I would like
    to stay there for a few days.
    I want to write a letter to my parents.
    I want to go to to be together with my parents.
    But I cannot go there.
    I know what village they are.
    And I know the name of the farmer.
    But I don't know where the farmer lives.
    I don't remember.
    And to go there, and also other thing, I couldn't--
    I had to go the whole village through look for this house.
    And I could make a mistake.
    And I can't take this chance.
    So I went write a letter to my parents.
    Tell them for this man, for this farmer to come to me.
    And I will go together with the farmer at night when it's dark,
    you're going to go to there.
    And I will come to their hiding place.
    And I wrote them a letter like this.
    And a few days later, I got an answer from them.
    They said, if I don't have a place to be,
    they will send the farm immediately.
    But if I have a place to be, They
    would be more secure because if I will come there,
    the farmer will know.
    There's nobody outside who knows about that.
    You understand?
    And for this reason, it sometimes
    happen he will not be happy, he will kill us all.
    But when he knows somebody in outside knows about him,
    he will be more careful, and they will be more secure,
    if I do have a place to be.
    But if I don't, they will send him immediately.
    So I told them, yes.
    And they told me you can stay here.
    And I told them, yes.
    What can you expect?
    We were hidden then in a chimney.
    What can you expect?
    It was very difficult. It was very, very hard.
    How many people were there?
    Six.
    Not counting you?
    No, with me.
    There were five men, and I was the only one woman.
    And I said, I have a very good place.
    It's a very nice place.
    It's very comfortable.
    And I'm going to stay here.
    And this way I remained here for that.
    Did you have to pay the man for staying there?
    Sure, I had to pay.
    For them was a rescue, for them it was the biggest help,
    because most of those people had given
    people's clothes, different things,
    different valuable things.
    And they give me a letter, and addresses
    where to go to pick up stuff for them.
    And I also went.
    I know them that the millner in Chmielnik, I went out for them.
    And then I went--
    But wait a second now.
    Even though you were in hiding, you still
    had false papers, so that you did go out once in a while?
    Once a month, not once in a while.
    Every month, I went out.
    I was out there for two days.
    And every time when I came out, when I went out,
    I risked my life because in Jedrzejow everybody--
    So this was in June of 1943?
    This was I came to this hidden place
    I would say about the middle or the end of June of 1943.
    And I was there until the 15th of January 1945.
    I was liberated from the Russian army.
    So you were there for a year and a half?
    For 18 months, yes.
    And during that time, what's the name of the town?
    Jedrzejow.
    Jedrzejow, you were in Jedrzejow.
    You would go out once a month for two or three
    days to run errands.
    Yeah, the first six months I had several occasions
    where I came in for them to pick up goods.
    It was one time I came in the morning to a man.
    And they gave me a letters.
    And I gave him a letter.
    This was [NON-ENGLISH].
    I gave him a letter and he told me,
    if you will not get out from here, you stinking Jew,
    you're going to have right away the Gestapo here.
    Because no matter how much I didn't look like a Jew,
    if I brought a letter from a Jew--
    What was a letter for?
    For clothes, for suits.
    So he had clothes there.
    And--
    He sent--
    [CROSS TALK] had clothes there?
    Yeah.
    I brought back the clothes.
    And Garlick selled it, and this way they paid him.
    So I helped them to pay.
    You understand?
    But this time he told you to get out.
    Many times I risked my life.
    I didn't have any choice.
    Because in order to stay there, the men had to be paid.
    And this is the only way they could get their money.
    So what could I do?
    Well, what did they do up until then?
    I don't know.
    Maybe they had some money.
    I don't know.
    I never asked them.
    Anyway, they went in into this hidden place.
    It was the end of February.
    It was only in March, April, and May,
    so it was only two or three months.
    All of them survived the hidden place, didn't they?
    No, one died.
    This older Rubinek died about a month before the liberation.
    How did he die?
    A natural death.
    He couldn't take the circumstances.
    How old was he?
    He was about at that time I don't know, 26, 27 years old.
    He died at 27 years old?
    He was a young man.
    But you mean he got an illness or something?
    I don't know what it was.
    He died.
    You couldn't get a doctor.
    I think he had some lung problem.
    His lungs were not in very good condition.
    Was this the one who made those--
    Both made those girdles.
    But this is the older one.
    This is the older one who died.
    The one that was engaged to--
    Yes, yes.
    Yes, he died and we buried him there in the--
    there was a big empty room.
    We buried him there.
    And he told you about your brother Chaim's death?
    Yes, he told me about his death.
    And what was your reaction?
    What was my reaction?
    What was my reaction?
    I began to cry what was my reaction.
    Did you up until that point believe
    that everyone else was alive?
    I knew Menasha wasn't alive.
    But I knew you knew that Menasha wasn't.
    I didn't know what to believe.
    I was hoping and praying that they are alive.
    You knew that Uncle Pinchas was--
    did you know that he was in Auschwitz at the time?
    I knew he was in Auschwitz, yes.
    Because I had sent him a letter.
    Anyway, let me continue, this what happened during the time
    when I was in the hidden place.
    Like I said, I went out every month.
    I had there a woman.
    Her name was Balachowska.
    Who lived across the street from Goldberg Paula's parents.
    At that time I didn't know her.
    But the man who was together with me
    in the hidden place, Mawel, was very good friends
    with that Balachowska.
    Her brother was taking care of Mawel's wife.
    He took her to Warsaw and made her Polish paper.
    Who's brother?
    Balachowska's brother.
    I think he was some kind dentist.
    He was a very highly educated man, very intelligent man.
    And they were very good friends.
    And now his wife looked like a Polish woman too.
    And he made a-- the Mawel also had a little girl
    the same age was Sheila.
    So where was the wife and the child then during the war?
    Well, I'm trying to tell you.
    This Balachowska's brother took care of her.
    He made her Polish papers.
    And he went with her to Warsaw, and he found for her apartment,
    and she lived there as a Polish woman with her little girl.
    And the Balachowska with Mawel were very close friends,
    very good friends.
    And one time, Mawel gave me a letter to her about things.
    And this way, I got to know her.
    And she wasn't a woman.
    She was an angel.
    Because
    She was Polish, German?
    She was Polish.
    Whenever I went out, there were very few women
    like this in the whole Poland.
    Whenever I went out once a month,
    I usually went out when it got dark.
    And I went to her.
    As soon as I came to her, she made for me, of course,
    I wasn't clean, because we never had any water.
    I want to tell you how much water we had.
    If it was-- no, just let me tell you the condition
    of the hidden place.
    Why don't you finish the story first about what
    it was she'd go.
    When I came out once a month, I went to her.
    And I wasn't clean, because we didn't never washed up.
    Never had even water to make wet at the tip of our fingers.
    So she took me in the other room.
    She got a big container, filled it up with water,
    and said take a bath.
    Wash up yourself.
    She gave me her nightgown.
    She put on a table, a full of container of butter and bread
    and milk.
    I don't want to give you any meat
    because it's not good for you.
    You will not digest meat.
    Meat, cheese meat whatever you can say, she say, eat.
    Eat as much as you can.
    You eat only once a month.
    I know you don't eat there too much.
    Then she told me to sleep with her in bed, because she
    didn't have any other place.
    I can't do that.
    Because in spite of the fact I washed myself
    and I had a clean shirt, my hair was not clean.
    I had lice in my hair, and I did.
    She said, I don't care.
    You're going to sleep with me.
    And she wouldn't let me go.
    I had to sleep with her.
    And when I left the following morning to the train,
    she gave me again breakfast and whatever money for the road.
    She made me a sandwich.
    And I left to Chmielnik.
    In Chmielnik, I stopped by that mill man.
    And I gave him whatever I had, $5 or $10,
    and I made those cards, what I told you.
    And I took some money with me.
    And I finished-- and no wait a minute.
    No, I didn't do like that.
    When I left for Chmielnik, I left
    to Kielce to see Sheila once a month.
    This was for six months.
    After six months, I will tell you why I didn't go anymore.
    I went to Sheila.
    I was with her a few hours.
    And every time when I came, she cried.
    And she told me like this.
    First, she spoke only Polish.
    She said, mamusiu.
    How old was Sheila at the time?
    She was then how old?
    It was 1943, three years old.
    She said, mamusiu, mommy, I love you, and I want to be with you.
    Is this much to ask?
    I said, no.
    She said, well, I'm here.
    Why don't you stay with me?
    I said, I can't.
    I have to go make some money and work,
    and be able to support myself, and to pay here for you
    for being here in the home.
    She said, OK, if you cannot stay here, then take me with you.
    I want to be with you.
    What could I tell her?
    Well, the thing I don't understand
    is that you had told when you left
    Sheila there to begin with, you told the woman
    that you'd be back soon.
    Yes.
    So how did you convince her to keep her there?
    Well, I came back.
    And I told her that my family--
    I told her then this is my husband's family.
    My husband's family is very mean.
    They don't want to accept Sheila.
    They don't want her.
    And I was crying very hard.
    And I take this little girl, we walk on--
    [AUDIO OUT]
    How many children did you say were in the children's home?
    There were about 100, 125 children.
    It was a very small place.
    So you would-- so you visited Sheila--
    Once a month.
    And--
    [AUDIO OUT]
    OK, so when Sheila told you, take me with you,
    and you just--
    I explained that it's impossible that her father isn't a Germany
    war prisoner, and I have to work to make some money
    to support myself.
    Did she think she was Polish or German?
    Oh, yeah.
    She knows she's a Polish girl.
    She didn't have any idea about Judaism.
    Because we were prepared for it.
    Somehow when she was born, my father, my mother, my husband
    said not to speak to this child Yiddish, to talk to her Polish.
    And to say not to mention anything
    about Zhyd because maybe in the future she shouldn't know that.
    Sheila was born in 1940.
    Yes.
    And the war broke out like five months later.
    The war started in 1939.
    '39, sorry.
    So it like six months earlier.
    Yeah.
    Yeah, so I tell her that it's impossible.
    I have to go.
    I have to go.
    But I will visit her once a month.
    And I will bring you something.
    And then her father will come back.
    We will be again together.
    And from there I went to back to Chmielnik,
    to stop by this millner to get some money from him,
    and to make sure I--
    I didn't bring money every month.
    Whenever.
    I was out, I bought money, and make sure I
    those tickets from my parents.
    But the millner, I spent again a night.
    And who was this man?
    In Chmielnik, whom I gave American money,
    and he gave me Polish zloty.
    And but then I spent again a night.
    And the following morning, I left.
    I went to the train from Chmielnik to Jedrzejow.
    And usually, I came back it was about dark,
    and I went in into the hidden place.
    This was going on like for about six months.
    No one ever saw you go in and out of the house?
    I always went in--
    I forgot about it, what you remind me.
    One time when I came out from Garlick, going out,
    and this house was like going, it was a highway.
    It was like out of town, because between the house I lived
    and the bakery, there was a little bridge.
    And on this side of the bridge was like all out of town.
    It was like a highway, a wide way.
    And this house was like to go down from the highway.
    So when I came out from the house,
    I couldn't see who was on the highway.
    So when I came up and it was already dark,
    when I came out up to the highway,
    there was a girl walking who lived in the same house
    where I lived in the bakery.
    They were from Poznan, the biggest anti-Semites.
    And I was always when I brought some things back
    from the flour mill, when Marie was still home,
    and I didn't need it.
    I sold it to her.
    I told her I was in Warsaw.
    And I brought it from Warsaw, and I sold it to her.
    To pretend for her that I'm really dealing,
    I'm really working for making a living.
    She had about three or four daughters.
    Her oldest daughter was there going on that highway,
    and I came to her like face to face.
    She looked at me.
    And I looked at her.
    And I kept on going.
    And she kept on going.
    After I was liberated, this lady who owned the house,
    the wife of this pharmacist told me
    that she happened to be in their home.
    When she came home and she said to her mother
    that she saw the Wojcik and she said, what did you do?
    Did you take her to the Gestapo?
    She said, no, I let us go.
    When discovers her mother, her mother wanted to kill her.
    Why didn't you took her?
    She knows she's a Jew.
    Why didn't you took her to Gestapo?
    And this woman told me then, you risked your life so badly.
    And this her mother would be there, you would be dead,
    because there's no way she would let you go.
    You look worse.
    Well, if she would have tried to turn you in,
    couldn't you have just--
    I mean it was a woman against a woman.
    What were you going to do?
    You could just fight to get away from her?
    How can I fight?
    If I fight to get away from her, she puts out a scream.
    Other Poles would come out.
    You think I could escape?
    No way I could escape.
    But running was not easy.
    Other towns where the Gestapo didn't know me, it wasn't bad.
    I could go like I wasn't kept in the Gestapo.
    And I escape them.
    But here, the Gestapo looked after me, you understand?
    If he would find me there, it would be no way I could escape.
    Anyway, I just wanted to mention this.
    When did that happen about?
    This happened about several months
    after I was in the hidden place.
    I don't remember exactly.
    But it happened maybe three, four, or five months
    after I went there.
    This happened on one occasion, on time.
    OK.
    Let's just review a little bit, OK, before you continue.
    That were in hiding with five other men.
    Yes.
    Could you tell me the names of these men.
    There was two men, [NON-ENGLISH] in Melbourne, in Australia.
    What were their names?
    I don't know if I remember the names.
    The oldest man's name was I don't remember.
    The younger I don't remember.
    Well, there were two brothers that were named Kloske.
    Yeah, that was in Jedrzejow.
    There were two brothers Rubinek, Yisroel who died,
    and I think his name was Benjamin,
    who lives also in Melbourne.
    There was this man, a Goodman, who lives now in Israel,
    and Mawel, who got his wife remained and his little girl.
    And he got together with her, and they live now in Israel,
    too.
    So there were actually six men and you so there were seven?
    No there were--
    Two Kloskes.
    There are six men and me one, yeah.
    That's seven.
    Seven altogether.
    Yes.
    OK.
    And the situation in where we were hidden
    was, this was like in a chimney.
    It was built, the chimney was built was small above the roof.
    And was getting wider and wider to the bottom.
    It was built to the bottom.
    And to the bottom was a place, I would say like that much.
    I would say 4 or 5 foot by 4 or 5 foot.
    And there were seven peoples.
    And then there was also like a ceiling.
    There was a ceiling.
    There was a floor.
    And on the ceiling, there were sleeping about four men
    upstairs, and here on the floor, we
    had a bench and both sides of the walls.
    And we had put on this bench a brick, on this bench a brick.
    And we took together those wooden boards
    where we slept on, and make it like a bench.
    And we put it on the bricks.
    And we sit on those benches against the wall.
    And here was like a table.
    We put all one board on the other one.
    You understand?
    And there we were spending during the day.
    And at night, we put off the light.
    And I slept in one corner.
    And two men in the other corner, and above that
    was the four men.
    Was it difficult being in such close quarters
    with six other men?
    It was very difficult. Sure, it was difficult.
    Did you wish there had been another woman there
    in hiding or anything?
    Yeah, I would feel more relaxed.
    But it wasn't any problem.
    Because in a situation like this--
    Well, I didn't mean--
    No, no, no, no, no.
    Wait a minute.
    I just meant for companionship.
    Yeah, well the men needed me, you understand, very much.
    Without me, I will tell you later.
    They helped me with Sheila.
    Because I will tell you later What happened.
    And without me, they couldn't survive
    because the men wouldn't keep them without money.
    He couldn't keep them.
    The reason why the man kept them is because the man
    was a very sick man.
    He had some kind of lung disease.
    He had to eat very good, very rich food.
    But he couldn't work.
    He needed a lot of money.
    So he took him those shoes.
    And they gave him money.
    And he had all the money he needed to get food.
    At the same time, he didn't have to work.
    Understand?
    So he always, he came down to us maybe once a month,
    depends on the situation.
    If the political situation was good, he came down more often.
    Was he sympathetic at all?
    Could you tell that you didn't have to be afraid,
    or you really didn't--
    Well, no.
    No.
    He wasn't sympathetic.
    Our good luck was that he couldn't kill.
    He couldn't see blood.
    If he could kill, we would be killed a long time ago.
    His wife was a murderess.
    And she caught a chicken, and she
    took the chicken, turned around the head,
    and this way she killed the chicken.
    And he told us many times if I would listen to my wife,
    you would be dead a long time ago.
    He told us very openly.
    Your good luck is that I cannot.
    I'm not a murderer.
    I cannot stand blood, and I cannot kill you.
    If I could kill you, you would be dead a long time ago.
    He also needed your money.
    But then he somehow his wife began to go to Warsaw
    and get money.
    It was very dangerous.
    So there were Poles that you were hidden by?
    Yeah.
    They were Poles.
    And OK, so what did you do about food, and clothing, and all
    that?
    He gave brought me clothing.
    I had a dress, which when I was liberated,
    I didn't know each one is the old-- was
    one patch and the other one.
    But when I went out, I had a put boots, what Marie left me.
    And I had--
    I don't remember maybe this lady gave me there.
    I don't know.
    A [? pelt ?] with a short coat, which
    was made like a brown suede, with fur trimmed around.
    And I had a skirt.
    And when I went out once a month, I put on this outfit.
    And I had a lot of powder, because I was very pale,
    being on the sun, not being daylight,
    I was very pale and very thin.
    And I put on a lot of powder, and rouge and makeup
    to look all right.
    But when I came back, I put on this dress.
    How old were you at this time?
    This was in 1943.
    I was born in 1914.
    I was--
    29.
    29 years old, yes.
    And this way was, yeah, the man gave us
    every day he gave us every evening, he opened
    there was here was the chimney, and here was
    a room like a hall.
    And here was another big room where nobody used.
    And he lived here.
    He had here this place.
    So here, he had put a big hole down in the ground.
    And then you went underneath.
    And you came up to the chimney.
    And here was covered with a wooden cover.
    And he put up those boards, and nobody
    think there was anything there.
    So once a day when it got dark, he opened that cover.
    He had there a bucket everybody went out,
    one went out then the other one, single men,
    single by we used as a toilet.
    And he gave us there water.
    So you had could only go to the bathroom once a day?
    Once a day.
    And what if you had to go before then?
    That was too bad.
    You had to wait.
    You can't--
    You could hold it in?
    Well we had there in this place where we went down,
    there was a little pot.
    But we used this only in extreme emergency.
    Because if not, it would run over,
    and we couldn't let it happen.
    And he gave us a bucket of water.
    If the situation was good he gave us a little bit more,
    he gave us maybe 3/4 of the bucket.
    If the situation was bad, he gave us a half bucket of water.
    He gave us once a month, he gave us a big loaf of bread,
    and a big bag of oatmeal.
    This kept us alive, because this is very nourishing.
    So this he gave us once a month.
    So we had to cut this bread in 31 pieces,
    to last us for a whole month.
    And this every piece, from those 30 pieces, we ate once a day.
    And the morning, we had a hot plate.
    And we had a big pot.
    In the morning we took this pot put in this water.
    If he gave us 3/4 pot of water you
    could save a little bit for everybody a few drops of water,
    there were seven glasses.
    And it was divided in equal amount.
    In case you want to make wet his fingers.
    If it was a bad situation, we even
    didn't have enough to put it in this pot.
    And we put in, I don't know how much it was the ration.
    1 cup or 2 cups of this oatmeal.
    And as soon as we got up in the morning,
    we put-- it was a very small plate.
    And it was a big pot.
    We put on this plate and this was cooking until the night.
    Was like a bunch of dirty water.
    It wasn't much.
    And every night around, let's say 6:00, 7 o'clock.
    We took out.
    We had the seven bowls.
    We took out this piece of bread and we cut it
    in seven thin slices.
    And during the months, if it was wet there, it got rotten.
    It was through and through like this yellow rotten,
    but it was better than chocolate cake now.
    And we divided this bowl of you call it soup and seven bowls.
    And every bowl we put a slice of bread.
    And make sure that one didn't get
    a drop more than the other one.
    One turned around, one person, he said, whose is this?
    This is for [NON-ENGLISH].
    Whose bowl is this?
    He called out the name.
    Because it was like a [NON-ENGLISH]..
    I see.
    You understand?
    I see.
    And this way, nobody--
    also in the beginning, we begin to fight,
    one man said, put another cup of water, another man say,
    we you won't have enough.
    So we made-- I really give the idea.
    I said, look, we can't fight here, because when we fight
    or something, you can make a higher voice,
    and we can be shot for that.
    I said, we have to continue that.
    What is the solution?
    Everyone will have a [NON-ENGLISH]..
    He can do whatever he wants.
    He can put 1 cup, a half a cup, 10 cups.
    Whatever, he will put in 10 cups,
    he will not do it because he know if he will do it,
    he will starve all the rest of the month.
    So he can't do it.
    Because he is here too.
    We shared together the [INAUDIBLE],,
    and he will not do it.
    So this way will be the man who has the [NON-ENGLISH],,
    whatever he does, you can't say one word.
    What's [NON-ENGLISH]?
    [NON-ENGLISH] means responsibility.
    OK.
    Obligation, to put the water, to put the oatmeal,
    to divide the seven bowls.
    He did everything.
    You understand?
    And this person who is in charge this week, nobody
    can tell him one vote.
    Whatever he does, everybody has to accept, and then
    when those fighting stopped.
    So no one ever bathed or anything?
    Huh?
    For the whole year and a half--
    No, no.
    No, you can't imagine how they felt, the smell.
    What can you do?
    After a while, did you get used to the smell?
    We had to.
    There wasn't any choice.
    I took a bath once a month when I came out to Balachowska.
    But the men never.
    And they never got sick?
    No.
    Wait a minute.
    Well, Rubinek died.
    All the other things, when the day when I went out,
    he gave me then extra water.
    Get an extra bucket of water and a big bowl,
    so I can wash up my hands.
    Why was he so stingy with the water?
    Was water so expensive?
    No, it wasn't expensive.
    But I don't know.
    He wanted to keep us short.
    I don't know.
    He was anti-Semite.
    He didn't want to.
    He didn't--
    And could he have given you more food?
    He didn't.
    He said it's dangerous to buy.
    People still ask him why he needs so much food.
    Maybe he didn't.
    His wife was.
    He wasn't so bad.
    But his wife--
    And the oatmeal, so you had oatmeal once a day?
    Once a day we had this soup, this oatmeal soup,
    and a slice of rotten bread.
    And that was.
    And when I come to the end, the last two or three months
    before the liberation, we got so unused to eat,
    I hardly didn't have any more food.
    When I was liberated, it was January 15, 1945,
    I had my hands, only the hands and the legs
    until here, they are covered with blisters and pus
    from malnutrition.
    I was liberated in January.
    How much did you weigh?
    Do you remember?
    I weighed, I don't know how much I
    weighed, about 40 or 50 pounds.
    I was like a skeleton.
    And when it came about, I went to [NON-ENGLISH]..
    I went to a doctor to help me to get clean up.
    You want to explain to me before you go into that,
    explain to me exactly for the first six months,
    you went to see Sheila, and then you stopped.
    And I stopped.
    Why did I stop?
    And this was in January 1944 that you stopped.
    Yes, around January.
    I came there one time to see her.
    And as soon as I came in, the children-- the children
    knew me and they said, Oh, Mrs. Wojcik, the elder sister
    want to see you.
    And right away my heart began to sink.
    I know it's something wrong.
    Because she never wanted to see me.
    Why would she want to see me?
    And I said, OK.
    I will wait here.
    She came out, and she began to talk to me.
    She said, look Sheila looked like a Jewish child.
    She said, look a lot mothers came here in this home.
    And everybody tells me that Selena
    looks like a Jewish child.
    I don't even have your address.
    I don't know where to write you.
    She said, I can be no more responsible for your daughter.
    You better take your out, because it's very dangerous.
    If this will spread, and the mothers will go to the Gestapo,
    what will I do?
    I don't want to see her killed.
    You better take her out.
    And I begin to think, what some women [NON-ENGLISH] say that
    my child a Jewish child.
    I'm sure they have their husbands home,
    and they live very comfortable.
    If my husband will be home, I wouldn't
    have to have my child here.
    My husband happens to be in German prison.
    He fought for our country, and for this he's in German prison.
    And send women to come in.
    I began to cry, and to how terrible upset I am that
    somebody had the [NON-ENGLISH] to say on my child that she is
    Jewish.
    How a terrible thing this to say on anybody.
    And I said, OK, I will take you out.
    If they say like this, I don't care.
    I'm going to take her out.
    And this farmer's while was in Liskow, the first farmer
    he had a daughter in Kielce.
    And I knew her.
    And I went to her.
    And I was there for several hours
    crying, and thinking what to do, what
    to do to get out from the situation.
    I made up my mind that I'm going to go back.
    I couldn't leave without going back and talk with the sister.
    I went back and I gave her an address.
    It was a Krzrymowski.
    He was selling those pig meat, all meat, all different salami,
    everything from pigs.
    He was a very rich man.
    And him, I knew through Rubinek, because Rubinek
    has a lot of stuff by him.
    And I knew him.
    And I told her I lived there.
    And whenever you want to ask me something, you write there,
    and I'm going to get the letter.
    And this is what happened.
    What did I do?
    When I came back, I went to him.
    And I told him that.
    And he knew I'm a Jew.
    He knew everything.
    I said, you will get a letter, keep it for me.
    When I will come out, I pick it up.
    When I picked up the letter, I wrote an answer with
    the address from [NON-ENGLISH].
    So they were sure later I was living there.
    I gave her the address.
    I said, no problem, I forgot to give you the address.
    I'm sorry.
    But here you got the address.
    I live there.
    And it was a Polish address.
    This made her easier.
    I said, well now, I cannot take my child now.
    I'm going to go back to Krakow, and speak with
    my [NON-ENGLISH],, and I'm going to make him to take her.
    I don't want anybody to tell my child that she is Jewish.
    I am almost sure that I'm going to convince
    him to take her now.
    Just give me a few days.
    What was my plan?
    My plan was I know that those people can help me.
    And I know they need me, the people in the hidden place.
    I know when I will come back and tell them
    that my child is in danger, will be like talk to the wall,
    because there wasn't any--
    they couldn't care less.
    But I know the only way I can make him to help
    me is to tell him I'm leaving.
    This is what I said.
    I have to leave.
    I came back to say goodbye I have to leave
    because Sheila is in danger.
    I have to go out.
    I have to find a place.
    I can't be here anymore.
    Well if it's leaving, then their hearts opened.
    Rubinek told me that several years before the war, a guy--
    he told me he was his cousin, a girl,
    it doesn't make any difference married, converted and married
    a Polish boy, and left with him, left Jedrzejow with him,
    married him and left.
    He was very good friend with a preacher from the church there.
    This was a Catholic preacher, a Catholic Church.
    And he knew him very well.
    Because he was making for him those [NON-ENGLISH]..
    He told me he's going to write him a letter,
    and tell him that I am that woman who ran away then,
    who married a Polish guy, and left Jedrzejow.
    My husband is a German prisoner of war.
    And I don't have any money.
    And I gave my daughter to a children's home
    in Kielce in order to work and support myself.
    But now he didn't say that it was [NON-ENGLISH],,
    because he would be afraid to go.
    He said, since it's very crowded there
    and any child has a mother or father,
    they don't want to keep the child anymore.
    And since the child he said this woman have a daughter.
    She had a she had a daughter with her husband.
    And since the mother is alive, she
    has to take out her daughter.
    If she will take out her little girl,
    she won't have no way of supporting herself.
    And the other things [INAUDIBLE],, the Germans
    don't accept this.
    She came from Jews.
    Her parents were Jewish.
    But you know she's a Catholic now.
    And to you she's 100% Catholic.
    But the Germans don't want to accept this.
    So you go.
    It's your responsibility to go to Kielce
    and tell them that Selena, to ask them to keep her there.
    And you don't know what this mean that a Catholic
    priest come to our home and knows the sisters,
    and tell them I know Selena.
    Please keep her here.
    This was more than millions of dollars.
    So that's what happened.
    That's what happened.
    He wrote a letter.
    You think it was so easy?
    He wrote a letter, and at night a lot of people
    know me and Sheila.
    I had to go through the town at night.
    I went there to a preacher.
    And when I came in.
    I know how to kneel down, I know how to kiss his hand.
    I know everything, [NON-ENGLISH],,
    all those things what you have to do you come in a Catholic
    home, especially one for a preacher.
    And I gave him the letter from Rubinek.
    He read this letter and he called in, usually I had
    a [NON-ENGLISH],, means a housekeeper.
    She brought me food.
    And there were several maids, and cleaning,
    but she was like the housekeeper.
    She was in charge to see what to cook, what to buy.
    And I wasn't a [NON-ENGLISH].
    But usually a misses like this was
    the mistress from the preacher.
    And he called her.
    And he showed her that letter.
    And he said to her, and they both
    said, well, what can you do?
    He said, well, I think I'm going to go there.
    He took it, and he said, I'm going to go there maybe-- no,
    he told me the date when he's going to go there.
    And I kneeled down again, I kissed his hand,
    and I said again, [NON-ENGLISH].
    And I left.
    He told me to come back in about eight days.
    He's going to tell me what the story is.
    I came back in eight days.
    And he told me that I told him that I know Selena,
    and I know you, and a Jew with a kippah there.
    But he said to me, look, there's a very shortage of food there.
    And it's really overcrowded.
    Why don't you really try to take her out.
    What happened?
    When he came by, he found out that the nurse told him
    that other mothers things that she's Jewish.
    You understand?
    And he didn't want-- but since he read the note,
    and I told him the kid, he's a highly respectable, a preacher,
    not like a preacher here.
    This is something you have to look up to.
    He couldn't take back his word, you understand?
    So to make his mind easier, he told
    me to make sure to take out.
    But I knew that there she is like in a perfect place.
    Nothing will happen to her.
    Since this preacher said that he knows her
    and he said, keep her here, I know
    that this is more than the best thing in the whole world what
    could happen to me.
    And this way, Sheila remained there.
    But I couldn't go there anymore.
    Because I was afraid when I would come in,
    they're going to say, here, you have to keep her.
    So I didn't go there anymore.
    But what did I do?
    I still went to Slomniki once a month.
    And I still went--
    I went every time by this woman, by this Balachowska.
    And when I came by, I gave her I don't
    know how much to buy a piece of salami, a pound of butter,
    bake a cake, a few cookies, and then Sheila a package.
    Every month she send her package and I
    told her to put the address from Sofia Wojcik,
    the address from Krzrymowski, not from her, from Krzrymowski.
    So it will be I send her this, you understand?
    And every time when I came to Krzrymowski,
    I had an answer that they received this and this.
    And they thanked me for it.
    And everything was wonderful.
    I told him the reason I'm not coming
    because I feel I am sick, and I don't have time.
    And instead of coming I prefer to send her
    those food packages there.
    And every time when I received a letter,
    was much more there then I give her money.
    She sent a letter from her home, you understand?
    Oh really, this kind of woman she was.
    A lot of food she send.
    And when I came in next time, I want to pay her for it.
    No way she would take it.
    You understand?
    When you would come back from hiding,
    would you bring food in for your people too?
    No.
    No.
    No, he always checked.
    No.
    Who would check?
    Garlick.
    I couldn't buy.
    He told me not to bring in anything.
    Why not?
    Because first of all, I didn't want to go buy.
    Every step what I make was risky.
    Going in a store was risky.
    One time they want me to buy cigarettes for them.
    I said, you expect me to go in a store and buy cigarettes,
    and somebody will be there who knows me?
    I will lose my life.
    No.
    I go out, risk my life to bring goods for you to keep you here.
    That's more than I should do.
    Buying cigarettes, no.
    And one occasion happened.
    He thought that I took out letters from them, and I did.
    Every time when I went out, they gave me an letters, from Mawel
    to his wife.
    They had some-- they gave me a different letters,
    and I took out a letter to my parents too.
    Because sometimes I want write and say something
    I didn't want him to know.
    Not only this, he never knew where my parents are.
    I never wrote them a letter through him.
    You understand?
    The letter came to me through the mail to him.
    But there was no address there.
    You understand?
    And every time when I went out, I sent a letter to my parents
    not with the real address but with a forged back address,
    and a wrong back address.
    And I don't know.
    I don't know was a nurse, so many miracles
    happened to me that it's hard to believe in it.
    Usually, when I went out, I had hoses,
    and I had to keep my hose up.
    I did have a--
    Garter.
    A garter belt, yeah.
    I usually I put in the letter here behind the garter belt
    here.
    In your hose?
    In the top part of your hose?
    Yeah.
    Yeah.
    At this time somehow, I don't know why.
    I put it in here.
    In the inside.
    In the inside.
    Was several letters under the hose, nobody couldn't see.
    When I came out from that hidden place, there are two rooms.
    She said to me, [NON-ENGLISH] to go in with her.
    She wanted to check me if I could find a letter.
    I said, oh sure, sure.
    With pleasure.
    She took me in the other room.
    She told me to enter the address complete.
    The only things I had on is my panties and my brassiere.
    I said, do you want me to take off my panties and brassiere?
    She said, no.
    It's not necessary.
    And I stood--
    I stood like this.
    You stood with your legs close together.
    Why should I stay like this?
    I stood like this.
    It's ladylike to stand with your legs together.
    She put her hand everywhere.
    She looked at my legs.
    I took it up like that.
    She never looked here.
    She never looked in between your legs.
    No.
    So she never saw the letters.
    She never saw the letters.
    So she just happened that one time you mean?
    One time.
    Why?
    Because she suspected that you were taking out letters?
    She thought I take out letters, yeah.
    Because every letter who came, what came, he opened.
    The letter from my parents, he opened.
    Why?
    This is the way he did.
    He wants to know what was going on.
    And the letters came back, apparently--
    OK.
    So when I came back from that trip
    and I came in at a hidden place, and I
    told the man that Mrs. Garlick searched me,
    they all lost their voice.
    Because they thought that she found a letter,
    and he would find the letter and he would
    know what they wrote there.
    We probably would have lost our lives then.
    We were very much in danger.
    So, why were your lives in danger?
    What did you write in there.
    Because they begin with, there all
    different things what they didn't
    want the Garlick to know.
    And if they would find out what I wrote,
    because they told him always that they tell him everything,
    he knows everything from their lives.
    And if he would know that not, he got mad.
    In a place like this, you couldn't
    afford to get this man mad.
    Because if he got mad, you don't know what he's going to do.
    But when I told them, what happened, how she searched me,
    and how I accidentally for no reason, where I put my letters,
    then so it's just a miracle from God
    that this happened that we all will be saved,
    that he didn't find the letters.
    Another thing, I didn't want him--
    I never wrote a letter to him to my parents,
    because I didn't want him to know the address of my parents.
    I never knew when I go out if I will come back, if something
    will not happen on the way.
    If I have not some [NON-ENGLISH] and I will get killed.
    And on this occasion, I didn't want
    them to know the address from my parents,
    because I wasn't sure what he is going to do,
    if he's not going to go into the Gestapo
    and tell them, just to get even with you or whatever.
    Kill another Jew you mean?
    He'd kill other Jews.
    For that reason, I didn't want him
    to know, not so him, like her.
    She was a terrible anti-Semite.
    And I didn't know what she is going to do.
    For that reason, he never knew the address for my parents.
    And whenever this man, the farmer
    when my parents came to me, I told him not to tell him,
    because I didn't want him to know.
    He never told him his address.
    All right.
    So you spent a year and a half in hiding.
    Yes, I did.
    And what did you do every day?
    Every day, from the time we got up
    until the time we went to sleep, we talked about food,
    all the time, we never were tired of talking about food.
    Why were you talking about food?
    Because at the beginning, we were hungry.
    And talking about food, for some reason,
    apparently it was satisfying just to talk about food.
    We were talking about home, what kind things we throw away,
    how in the world could we throw this away.
    You couldn't understand.
    I remember my mother, [NON-ENGLISH],,
    she always cooked different food.
    And one between those foods there, those sugar--
    those big sugar beans.
    And when she cooked them, now she put them on a string
    and throw away the water.
    And I say, for goodness sake, how in the world
    could anybody throw away such delicious water?
    I just thought to save my life, I couldn't understand it
    at that time.
    There was no way anybody could explain it to me.
    Like I would say, you take a most delicious steak now,
    and throw way, and suddenly I couldn't understand
    how they could throw away some delicious food like,
    this just throw it away.
    We always were talking about food.
    And you spent every day talking about food?
    Only about food.
    We didn't have any games.
    We didn't have anything.
    Sometimes, we talked about politics,
    what's going to happen there, what's going to happen there.
    Wait, were you aware of what was going on outside?
    No.
    No.
    We never had any paper.
    The only time when we were aware is
    when it was a good situation when
    something happen or was some hope that the war will finish.
    The Garlick came down to us and discussed it with us,
    that the Germans was beaten there.
    The Germans were beaten there.
    And there's a hope that the war will end.
    Did he want Germany to lose, Garlick?
    Of course, you want Germany to lose.
    Poles were bitter German enemies.
    They're enemies from the Russians.
    They never liked the Russians.
    And Poles were not communists.
    Nobody will tell you that Poles are communists.
    Wait.
    But they didn't like the Germans either?
    No.
    No, they didn't like the Germans.
    But they remember like they were divided after the First World
    War, and how the Germans were there.
    But they liked the Germans' idea of getting rid of the Jews?
    Oh, yeah.
    Oh, then they came to the Jews, it's just
    like now between the Arabs.
    The Arabs between each other, they're enemies.
    They're fighting.
    But when it came to kill Jews, they are together.
    They unite forces.
    The same thing in Poland.
    They are German enemies.
    But then they came to kill Jews, they
    do all they could to help them.
    So OK.
    So why don't you tell me exactly about the liberation,
    what exactly happened?
    OK.
    So on several occasions, we sometimes heard during the day
    and sometimes during the night, we heard shooting,
    like somebody shooting.
    And the first time when we heard this, when the Garlick came
    down to us, we asked him.
    What was the shooting?
    Was something going on?
    And he said, no.
    Nothing is going on.
    It's just the Germans make [NON-ENGLISH]..
    How do you say this?
    Military maneuvers?
    Maneuvers, yes.
    They're maneuvers.
    There's nothing going on.
    And this was January the 15th of 1945.
    Like I mentioned before, when I was out in December,
    I spoke with this Balachowski.
    He said, now it can take five years, 10 years.
    The Russians went back to Bug.
    And they can stay there--
    they can stay there for several years.
    What do they care?
    Oh, right.
    So as far as you knew the war was going to continue?
    As far as I know, the war was--
    the hope was very slim, and we were very, very down
    with no hope of surviving.
    And this was January the 15th of 1945.
    It was in the morning, around 8:00, 9 o'clock.
    Suddenly, the Chaim and I just opening,
    and we know there's something wrong.
    But yeah, we heard shooting in the same night.
    But we thought, it's the same thing.
    They're German maneuvers.
    But then we heard he opens in the morning,
    he never opened in the morning.
    Only opened in the evening when it got dark.
    And we hear Garlick said the Russians came forward,
    and there was a big fight going on
    between the Russians and the Germans now here in Jedrzejow.
    People are running away.
    I'm leaving too.
    I will this door are open.
    If you want, you can go out.
    If you want, you remain there.
    Whatever you want.
    And he did that, and wait a minute.
    And we figured he was going out, whoever poor, especially
    the other people, they lived there.
    They were born and lived there, the other peoples
    in the hidden place.
    Anybody who would see them know who they are.
    Taking those chances now was ridiculous.
    We said, no.
    Now, at the last minute getting killed, no.
    We will stay where we are.
    And we told him, cover the place.
    Put that on it.
    We stay in here.
    And we did.
    For the whole day what's going on shooting, not shooting.
    When we went out at night and as we were liberated,
    there was a German--
    they call it [GERMAN].
    In Polish, is [POLISH].
    They go on--
    Tanks?
    Tank.
    There was a tank right next to the road from the house
    where we were.
    And every time when this tank [NON-ENGLISH],,
    this house that we were, were jumping up and down.
    And every minute these [NON-ENGLISH] because we know
    it's something terrible wrong.
    And we were afraid that this building will collapse,
    and we will be buried under the debris from that building.
    And every minute of that day, we were holding on
    because when the building was jumping, we would fall down.
    We were holding onto something, to a nail, to whatever.
    Did you know what was going on outside?
    We didn't know.
    What was it?
    Was a German tank that was firing?
    The German tank was firing.
    We find this out after.
    This was going on all day long.
    Suddenly, it was about--
    I don't know, 4:00 or 5:00.
    It was in January.
    The days are short.
    3:00, 4:00, 5 o'clock, everything stopped.
    It quiet down.
    We didn't know what happened.
    We know that something happened.
    We didn't know if the Germans ran away
    and the Russian came in, or the Russians ran away,
    and the German are still there.
    We didn't know, no one.
    After about an hour quietness, the opening
    suddenly opens again.
    And Garlick came in and said, [POLISH]..
    It means, came out.
    You are free.
    The Russians are here.
    So to tell you what happened then is impossible.
    It's all right, mother.
    Everybody get to scream and cry so loud.
    We didn't know.
    I was especially, I was crying so loud
    because I was so sure that my parents survived.
    My husband survived.
    I was more sure about--
    I'm talking about Sheila, because Sheila
    in the house where she was, was very close to the train
    station.
    And Garlick came to us, whenever he came to us, he told.
    He said how whenever there's bumping, the bump, the train
    station, the bump the railroads, and he said everything
    around that train station, the train,
    everything is knocked down.
    There's nothing there.
    And I was afraid that something happened to Sheila.
    And I can't explain what happened then.
    We were there for about an hour screaming and crying.
    Then we went out.
    And I can't remember how Rubinek went--
    his father was buried there.
    He died before the liberation.
    His brother died--
    OK, his brother died.
    His brother died about a month, or five,
    six weeks before the liberation.
    So he lied down on this place where he was buried,
    and he was crying so bitterly.
    Because if he would have survived a few more weeks,
    he probably would have taken him to a doctor,
    and he could probably--
    and even, I forgot to mention.
    When he was sick, when I was going out at one time,
    they had a doctor there, a very good, very close friend.
    They asked me to go to him, and ask him
    if he could come and check on him.
    And I did.
    I went to the doctor.
    But he said he can't do it.
    He's afraid to risk his life.
    If you could bring him to him, he
    would be more than happy to check him.
    But there's no way he could do it.
    And his brother died.
    Anyway, we went out.
    And it was dark already.
    This was in Dzialoszyce, right?
    This was in Jedrzejow.
    I'm sorry, in Jedrzejow.
    We went out.
    It was already dark.
    And we all want to go to [NON-ENGLISH]..
    But we couldn't because the street was lined up one vehicle
    [NON-ENGLISH] those [NON-ENGLISH]..
    All kinds of war equipment was one next to the other.
    There's no way we could go through
    because in order to go there, in order to certify the route,
    we had to cross the street.
    And there's no way we could do that.
    We spent that night still in the hidden place.
    Well, let me ask you.
    When you went out, were there other Jews then that you'd see?
    When we came out some Jews came back from hidden places
    from the forest.
    There came back, I don't know, about 25, 30 Jews.
    And when I left that hidden place in the following morning,
    I told Garlick that I will be by Balachowska.
    And I told him when somehow come from my parents, any sign
    from my parents, to tell him where I am.
    Because I couldn't be 100% sure.
    Because I didn't got from them a letter for the past six months.
    But I know for the past six months,
    there was no private mail.
    So this sort of calmed me down that I couldn't have a letter.
    How could I if there wasn't any private mail?
    So this gave me a hope.
    Were there Russians in the village?
    Yeah.
    They were full of Russians.
    And what did they do when they came over to you?
    I mean, did you get food right away, or what?
    Wait a minute.
    There was no problem of food, because the Russians,
    whenever a Jew or anybody come to the Russians,
    they gave them food.
    There was no-- as a matter of fact,
    some Jews died because they gave him those canned meat,
    and canned fish.
    They were not used to it.
    Their stomach was not used to eat so heavy food.
    And some of even died because they ate those too heavy food.
    And I told Garlick, when he had the slightest
    sign to let me know immediately I am by the Balachowska.
    Did you think that every place had gotten liberated then?
    When you were liberated?
    When I was liberated, I know they come from the other side.
    I know my parents were liberated before me.
    I didn't know how the other direction is.
    But the Russians couldn't come from other way,
    because there were Germans on the other side.
    OK.
    The Russian army could only come from the side
    where my parents were.
    So I know if I was liberated, they are liberated.
    But I also knew that there was no train.
    There is no nothing for any communication.
    And I didn't know if this farmer had a horse or whatever.
    So I told Garlick, if anybody will come,
    any sign from my parents, to tell them that I am
    [NON-ENGLISH].
    Well I waited about till the middle of the day,
    and I came back.
    Did anybody showed up?
    No.
    Then I waited a few other hours, a few more hours.
    And I came back.
    Did anyone showed up?
    No.
    I was there several times during the day.
    And then the following day, when the following day nobody
    would come, I began to realize that I
    was afraid something is wrong.
    And I waited an other day.
    And the third day I began terrible--
    Well how-- they knew you were there?
    They knew I was there, sure.
    Right.
    And when the third day I hadn't had any sound,
    I told Balachowska I want to go there.
    I want to see what happened.
    Well, she was such a fantastic woman.
    She hired a German soldier who had a truck, and she brought--
    I don't know how she got it or she could do it.
    But she bought several bottles of whiskey,
    because that's the way you could only do it with them.
    She gave them several bottles of whiskey.
    And she told them that I would like to pick up my family what
    I had there in a village.
    And she also talked with [NON-ENGLISH]..
    She convinced him to go with me, because she was afraid for me
    myself to go with this Russian soldier.
    German soldier.
    Russian soldier.
    You said she hired a German soldier.
    It was Russian soldier, a Russian soldier.
    I couldn't figure out why you said German.
    Well, I made a mistake.
    I'm sorry.
    OK.
    Understandable I didn't hire a German soldier.
    Well, I don't know.
    I get so confused between who the good guys are
    and who the bad guys are.
    You said there were good Poles around.
    Maybe there was a good German, you know?
    No.
    The Germans are all gone.
    Not only was there a good German,
    when the Russian came in they somehow trapped
    several Gestapo.
    And the following day, they told me there several shots,
    from the Gestapo on the court from the Gestapo building.
    And I went there and they were lying dead.
    What could I do?
    All I could do is spit on them.
    Everybody Jew that came there and spit on them.
    That's--
    I read stories where sometimes Russians gave guns to Jews,
    and told the Jews to shoot them.
    Yeah, for the German because I mean--
    the German.
    Yeah.
    Well, they know by the Russians they can be sometimes
    [NON-ENGLISH], how it is--
    Punish?
    Punish before they killed a Jew.
    Anyway she hired this Russian soldier with his truck.
    And I went there to my parents.
    And with Mala.
    Now where were they?
    They were supposedly in hiding?
    They were in Stawiszyce.
    But it's not-- this was all I know.
    They were all were there.
    They should have been at the first farmer.
    This was not [NON-ENGLISH].
    I forgot the name of this village.
    And I know where they are.
    This was the village where I went there where I met him.
    And I came there.
    And at that time, I wasn't afraid to ask
    where he lived because I with a German soldier.
    A Russian soldier.
    A Russian soldier.
    And I came there.
    And when I came there, I asked where my parents are.
    And he wasn't there.
    He ran away or whatever.
    She was there and her son.
    And she said, they left.
    I said, what do you mean they left?
    They were here.
    Well, she said, a few weeks before the liberation,
    they decided to go.
    And I went there.
    I opened that, because I knew where they were.
    I opened that hole.
    And I came down.
    There was nobody there.
    But I saw my father's tefillin there hanging there.
    And I don't know if my father would
    have left without his tefillin.
    I don't know.
    Talk a little louder please.
    When I saw there not there, my mind went blank.
    I thought I lost the hope to see them anymore.
    I realized that they got killed.
    Did you make her tell you where they were?
    She said, they left.
    She don't know where they are.
    Well, did you believe her.
    No I didn't believe her.
    I had a feeling that she killed them, they killed them.
    I don't know what.
    I didn't know what happened.
    And what could I do?
    What could I do then?
    So you never found out how they died?
    No.
    I never found out how they died.
    I was in the same place.
    And I began hysterical to cry.
    I didn't want to leave.
    I was there in now I can know they won't come.
    I said, no, where am I going to go?
    I don't have no nobody outside.
    I said, it's all same for me, I better stay here.
    There's nothing for me to go out to.
    And right now, he was there with me too.
    When before I came to the cemetery,
    I went to the [NON-ENGLISH].
    And there was this Dzialoszyce survived.
    And I was hoping before I went to the farm,
    I went to [NON-ENGLISH].
    Maybe I went to camp at Wislica.
    They could walk.
    It wasn't far.
    I was hoping they were already there.
    But when I came to this house, there were about 10,
    15 Jews who came out from the forest, from the hidden places.
    And when I came to this home, and they were not there,
    I realized that there is no hope.
    Because to me, maybe they couldn't somehow
    they couldn't let me know.
    But to there in a hidden place, when here is about a half hour
    walk, or hour walk, I they would be there, to Wislica.
    You're right.
    So Wislica was like a half hour away.
    Yeah.
    And when they're not there, I know
    that's something terrible happened.
    And I have to go Dzialoszyce.
    He said, wait a minute.
    Let me go with you too.
    And there was a meeting in Dzialoszyce
    who was from Wislica and Mala who went with me.
    And they both came down, and they both
    dragged me up from that hole.
    I didn't want anybody.
    Let me be here for a day or two.
    And I left this place, and where could I go?
    I said, now, I don't have anything left over.
    I have to go to see if Sheila was alive.
    Let me see where she is.
    But let me ask you.
    There was no way you could get that lady
    to tell you the truth?
    Wait a minute.
    I will tell you about that.
    I went back to Jedrzejow with the truck.
    And I went to Kielce.
    And Sheila was there.
    I didn't see her for about a year.
    But when I came into this home, and when I came into the door,
    everybody recognized me.
    And they called her in.
    And said Selena, Selena, your mother is here.
    No they didn't.
    They said, Selena.
    Selena they want to see if she would recognize me.
    And she came in I was standing round at the door.
    And she came in through the other side.
    And when she came in, and she told me, she began to cry.
    She said, [POLISH].
    She said, mommy why didn't you come to me?
    Why you left me here alone?
    I said, darling, now we'll be together.
    I'm going to take you out and we'll be together.
    Your daddy hasn't come back yet, but he will.
    And--
    How old was she then?
    She was then not quite five years old.
    And I took her out then.
    And I took her out, and I went to Jedrzejow.
    So did the sisters give you a hard time?
    Pardon?
    Did you tell them that you were Jewish?
    No, I didn't tell them I'm Jewish, no.
    No, it was a good thing I didn't.
    Because I had to put her back there.
    I didn't have any choice.
    I came back to Jedrzejow, and I was there for a few more days.
    And there was nothing there for me to do.
    I didn't know where to go.
    I didn't know what to do.
    I was complete-- my mind was completely--
    Were you in Vayslits then?
    Or were--
    I was in Jedrzejow.
    I came back from Kielce to Jedrzejow.
    After being there a few days, I decided to go back to Vayslits.
    There are people who know me, and maybe I will know-- maybe--
    Did you think Pinchas?
    No.
    I didn't have no hope to see him.
    I didn't.
    Because you knew he had gone to Auschwitz.
    I know he'd go to Auschwitz, yes.
    Right.
    OK.
    I didn't have an idea he will survive or not an idea.
    And I didn't know.
    However, I was concerned, I was sure the war is over then.
    Because there wasn't any paper.
    There was nothing.
    But at that time, I was sure that Germany
    left the whole Poland.
    The war is over.
    There was no fighting going on anymore.
    And I was waiting for a month or two.
    And he didn't showed up.
    I lost hope.
    So when Uncle Pinchas didn't come back,
    you thought it was because he was killed.
    And you didn't know at the time that, in fact,
    where Uncle Pinchas was, it still
    hadn't been liberated yet.
    No, he was in Auschwitz.
    He still was--
    That was Germany-- but Auschwitz is--
    Auschwitz was Poland, was in Osweicim.
    Yeah, I forgot to mention when I saw my parents are not there,
    I didn't took out Sheila then.
    I decided to go to Sosnowiec.
    And see if anybody came back, anybody from my brother's
    wife's family.
    And if I could get some pictures from my--
    because I had a big album with pictures of my home.
    And my brother had a big album in his home.
    So I decided to go to Sosnowiec.
    It took me about, I don't know how long, a week or two,
    because all the trains were knocked down.
    That when I got on the train and the train
    was going a half an hour, and they came to a place
    where they railroad was knocked down, we had to--
    the train stopped.
    I had to go on the other side, and wait there again.
    You could wait a day or two.
    There was no schedule.
    There was nothing.
    And most of the time I was walking.
    And when I finally came to Sosnowiec, I went to the place
    where I was living.
    And there was this, of course there were no Jews.
    And there were several Jews then.
    But this place was liberated.
    And I went to the place where I was living.
    And there was this janitor, a woman.
    And when I came in, I asked her.
    I asked her if anybody came back.
    She said, no.
    Nobody had come back yet.
    And I told her if anybody will come back and ask about Orbach
    or [PERSONAL NAME] tell them that I survived.
    And then I asked her if I can go to the apartment,
    if I have any pictures, if I can get any pictures.
    She said, no.
    You can go if you want.
    But everything when the Jews left, what the Poles could
    take, they took.
    And everything else I've taken out in the middle of the yard
    and burned.
    It was remained only the empty walls, nothing was there.
    Then I went to the place where my brother lived.
    And there was living--
    I went there to this janitor too.
    And he said, nobody hadn't come back yet.
    Then I went to the apartment where he lived--
    Where Uncle Pinchas lived.
    Yes, and there was a Polish family.
    And I told her.
    I told the janitor also, and I told
    her because I know somebody will come to his apartment.
    looking for pictures.
    And I told her, look, if anybody come and mentioned the name
    Orbach, or mentioned the name of what was my sister's
    name from the home--
    Varga, Varga Orbach, tell him that Orbach's sister survived.
    She is living.
    And she said, OK.
    And I went back.
    I went back to Jedrzejow.
    And then I went to Kielce and I took out Sheila.
    And after a few days, I decided to go to my hometown, Wislica.
    Well, we were there, and I was there in my hometown
    about I would say about two or three months.
    We were there about 25, 30 people, all survivors.
    We were living in a home, two rooms.
    Vayslits?
    This was like during February and March?
    It was February, March, April.
    And Sheila-- and Sheila was around
    the time she was in this Polish children's home,
    the antisemitism was so high, she became such anti-Semite,
    you couldn't mention to her that I am Jewish.
    When you mention that I'm Jewish, she became hysterical.
    So she didn't know she was Jewish.
    No.
    My mother is not Jewish.
    My mother is Catholic.
    And it was Sunday.
    She was urging me to go to church.
    But in the beginning, I said I don't want it.
    And I don't want you to.
    She got mad at me.
    Why don't you?
    You don't want to go to church?
    It's a big sin.
    We are Catholic.
    So I had to say either way I am sick, and I had headaches.
    Every time I had to find excuse.
    I couldn't tell her that I don't want.
    And on one occasion, I found out that there
    is a committee in Warsaw, a Jewish committee,
    which tried to help Jewish people to emigrate go
    to Palestine in they go.
    But most of them what they do, if there is a Jewish child,
    they do the best they can to send the child to Palestine,
    and then the mother or the father, whoever survives,
    can go to this child.
    So what do I do?
    I decided to go to Warsaw.
    But it was the same thing.
    There wasn't any communication.
    It took about a week or two before you
    could come to Warsaw.
    Did you know at the time still--
    did you know at that time that the war was not over yet?
    I didn't.
    I was sure the war was over.
    You mean, no one ever mentioned anything?
    No, we didn't discuss much politics.
    Everybody was only a single member.
    And everybody was looking away, how to get out from Poland,
    how to survive Poland.
    Because at that time, Polish people killed Jews.
    It was very risky, very dangerous to stay in Poland.
    So what kind of politics do you have in your mind
    if you went to sleep, you didn't know the night the Poles are
    now coming to kill us all?
    Were you aware of the fact, I mean
    did you learn later perhaps that,
    was it any different the treatment
    you got being liberated by Russians as opposed
    to people being liberated by Americans?
    No, I didn't have an idea.
    I don't know.
    I don't know.
    But anyway, when I came to Vayslits,
    there was no more Russian military there.
    There was nobody there.
    Because if there would be Russian military,
    I would do something about my parents.
    But not being a Russian military,
    and I would never go to the Polish police
    and tell them what I want to do.
    I wouldn't have no way to survive.
    I couldn't do anything.
    Do you understand?
    Because it took about two months before I come to Vayslits.
    There was no way I could do anything.
    And I even discussed it with the other Jews
    who were living there.
    He said, OK, if you want to find out, we have to run right away.
    Because you can't stay here.
    Because as soon as the police will find out
    what you want to do, they're going to notify this farmer
    and there's no way.
    He's going to come and kill us all.
    So I went.
    I took Sheila and I was trying to get to Warsaw.
    But on one occasion, when I was waiting
    on this train station for a train to come,
    apparently I was tired.
    And I fell asleep.
    And I always had Sheila, her hand in my hand,
    because she always liked to run around and find
    what everything.
    And I woke, I don't know how long I was asleep.
    When I woke up, she was not there.
    And I began to look around where she is.
    And I came out outside the front of the station.
    And she was sitting on the step and next to her
    was a Russian soldier.
    And she had his gun.
    He had a big gun, they already carried on the shoulders.
    She had this gun, playing with it.
    And I said Sheila what are you doing.
    And she said this man is teaching me how
    to operate a gun, how to shoot.
    I said, why you have to know this?
    Why you have to know how to shoot?
    And she said, [NON-ENGLISH],, which means mommy and I--
    [AUDIO OUT]
    OK.
    Which means if I will know how to use a gun,
    I will know how to shoot.
    I will kill all Jews.
    Which is what she learned when she was--
    She learned this when she was a little girl, when she was there
    for 18 months.
    And this is what they were fed there,
    this antisemitism was so spread in Poland.
    So I was there in [NON-ENGLISH] for about a couple of months.
    And it was bad again to leave.
    And most of the Jews left to Krakow.
    There was a Jewish committee, and most of them
    went to Krakow.
    I didn't went to Krakow, because one of my cousins,
    my father's brothers or some Avrum Orbach lived
    in Radom with his wife.
    And there, he was there.
    And a partner of an other men, a Jewish man, a partner
    were in charge of the warehouse from the leather goods.
    Because Radom, most of the leather factories
    were in Radom.
    And after the war, everything was communism.
    So there was no private store.
    So all the leather what was made in the factories
    went to the this warehouse.
    And you could only get a leather when
    you had those cards from the city hall,
    like a worker, who worked in the factory didn't
    got paid with money.
    He got paid with cards.
    And he came to the warehouse, and he'd get leather.
    And I went there because I know--
    Let me ask you something.
    After it was after Poland after you were liberated,
    they had elections right afterwards?
    No.
    There wasn't-- there wasn't an election, no.
    So how was it communist?
    I don't remember how it was.
    But it was communist.
    Maybe it was election.
    I didn't know.
    I really can't tell you that.
    I know it was a communist regime, just like it's now.
    But still--
    It's still a communist regime there.
    But the war was still going on.
    The war was still going on farther out in Poland.
    And maybe the Russian, their Russian officers, they control.
    I just don't know.
    OK.
    The only thing I know what was going on.
    About politics I didn't have the slightest idea then.
    So somehow, I had a feeling that there he will help me.
    And I will be able, since I came from leather,
    I was raised by leather, I know what it means.
    I know what-- and I was thinking that I didn't have any money,
    that he's going to give me some leather,
    and I'm going to go and sell it in small towns.
    Because I couldn't stay home.
    I just couldn't stay home, because when I was home,
    all I did is cry.
    And I came to Radom.
    And in order to go, he told him he's going to give me leather.
    But where will I have Sheila?
    I couldn't take Sheila with me.
    There was no way.
    I had always left her in Sunday night,
    and I and I came back sometimes Friday night
    and sometimes Saturday night.
    So I didn't have no way to leave her.
    I didn't have nobody.
    I had to go back to the Children's home,
    and I left her there.
    I didn't have no choice.
    And how did I left her?
    They wouldn't accept her.
    I walked between two walls.
    When nobody was in the room, I left her and I ran away.
    But I was afraid to leave her like this.
    I ran a few houses, and I stood behind the wall.
    And I looked out.
    What are you going to do?
    And after about 15, 20 minutes, I
    saw two children, two older than her,
    maybe nine, 10-year-old girls, came out with her.
    They were holding her each by a hand.
    She was in the middle.
    And they were trying to find me.
    And I saw they went one home and the other home.
    They couldn't find me.
    They went back with her.
    And as soon as they went back and they closed the door,
    I knew she's safe.
    And then I went back to [NON-ENGLISH]..
    And this way I was living there about until it was I
    think June or July.
    My life consisted of going from town to town, selling leather.
    I came back Saturday night.
    And Sunday all day, I was lying on the bed and crying.
    And Sunday night, I went back to the station
    and went back there.
    And I had there.
    I forgot to tell them, I came to Radom.
    My cousin, his wife wouldn't accept me,
    because like I told you, I was--
    she was a very, very, very, very strange woman.
    Yeah, as I told you, I was covered with those pus,
    with those pus and blisters.
    When you were liberated, you had some sort of physical--
    Yeah.
    I had those blisters with pus.
    And I--
    Where did you have them?
    I had it all my arms and on my legs.
    That was from malnutrition?
    From malnutrition, yes.
    Well I was under a doctor's care,
    and they were healed up in a way,
    but they still, I had some signs, some dark--
    Scars?
    Scars, yes.
    And when I came in, and this was about, I don't know, May, June,
    July, I have a short sleeve dress.
    And she saw this.
    Right away to me, you can't sleep over at my home.
    I said, don't worry.
    I don't intend to.
    What a jerk.
    Her, my cousin Eva knows her too.
    She was the meanest person, the meanest, the meanest
    thing in the world.
    And I told my cousin, I want to go with me.
    I still had my Polish identification card.
    And he found a room with me for a woman who lived by herself.
    Where was she during the war?
    She was in Warsaw with her husband.
    And she survived somewhere underground.
    I don't know exactly where.
    I didn't even ask her.
    I didn't care.
    And there was a woman who had on the third floor, a room
    and a kitchen.
    And she lived in the kitchen, and she gave me the room.
    And my cousin, a [NON-ENGLISH] was very much like a Jew.
    And sometimes when I came home Sunday,
    he came to me to see me for a half hour,
    for a hour sometimes, once in a while, maybe once in a month,
    once in two months, or whatever.
    And when he came, I couldn't tell her
    that's my cousin because if he's my cousin, then I'm Jewish too.
    I'm afraid she will throw me out.
    So I told her it's a friend.
    Well there's nothing wrong for a Catholic woman
    to have a Jewish friend.
    Is she going to have a bad opinion about me?
    I couldn't care less.
    So when he came in, I always closed the door,
    and we there there for half an hour.
    I tell her it's my friend.
    And one time, and I was doing this.
    This was my life for the next I don't know.
    Whatever happened to him?
    Where did he go?
    He's now in Germany.
    He made a lot of money in Poland.
    And from Poland, he went to Israel.
    He lost all the money as well.
    And he had a brother before the war in Germany
    who had a big house, a big building in Germany.
    So he went back and he took it over as his brother,
    and I understand he's a big dry goods.
    What part of Germany?
    I think it's in Berlin.
    I can't tell you.
    So we have cousins in Germany?
    He lives in Germany.
    This is your--
    This is my brother and my uncle's son
    on my father's brother.
    So your first cousin?
    Yes.
    But we were not close.
    You never kept in touch then?
    No, no.
    Not my cousin Eve, not really know--
    because of her.
    She was so rotten.
    She just thought of it-- it's impossible to tell
    how rotten she was.
    Right.
    Anyway, he found this apartment.
    It had room for me.
    And I was there only Sunday and Saturday night, I came home.
    I closed the door.
    I was lying on the bed and crying.
    I never was home.
    And this was my life at that time.
    Then how did my brother find me?
    I didn't have an idea.
    I was when people begin to come back from Auschwitz,
    when I met somebody, I was trying to explain him,
    if he saw and how he looked.
    No, nobody didn't see him.
    No, no.
    I lost hope to ever to see him again.
    And how did my brother find me?
    One time, when he came back from Auschwitz,
    he naturally come to Sosnowiec.
    He found out there's no Jews in Vayslits.
    And then he came back to Sosnowiec,
    there was already then a committee.
    When I was in Sosnowiec, there was no committee,
    because there were very few Jews.
    And whenever a Jew came back, he went to the committee,
    and there was a paper he signed, and when somebody come,
    he can see his name.
    This is how people found out one about the other one.
    And my brother came back too.
    Sometimes he looked at the list.
    He didn't see my name there.
    So he was sure I was killed.
    But one time he was going on the street, and he met your father.
    And the house where I lived was your father's father's home.
    This building belonged to you.
    What?
    The house that you lived when?
    After I got married in Sosnowiec.
    Oh, in Sosnowiec.
    This building belonged to his father.
    Right.
    And I told him, coming back I spoke with that janitor.
    And she knew me.
    So when your father came back, he went there again.
    He asked if somebody came back.
    She said, yes [NON-ENGLISH] which means that little
    [NON-ENGLISH].
    This was my name from my first marriage.
    That little [NON-ENGLISH] came back.
    Nobody else didn't came back.
    She told this to dad?
    She told to your father.
    And now he said, I came back to find somebody,
    I came back to look for pictures.
    But there wasn't any pictures.
    So he knew I am back.
    But when he met my brother.
    He knew my brother.
    They met each other.
    They fell on each other's shoulders and began to cry.
    Here, I don't have anybody.
    I don't have anybody.
    Now, your father had some nephews.
    My brother said, I don't have anybody.
    And your father said, what do you mean?
    Your sister survived.
    He said, my sister?
    Her name is not in the committee.
    How come she-- the janitor's name was Kasia.
    He said, Kasia told me that the [NON-ENGLISH] came back,
    and she looked for some pictures.
    So he wouldn't believe him.
    He went there.
    And she said, yes.
    She was here.
    After the war, as it was in February or March.
    She was here.
    She spoke with me.
    So what can you do?
    How can he find me?
    He knows I'm not in Sosnowiec.
    Because if I would, my name would be there.
    So he found out that there are some Jews I don't know
    how, some Vayslits in Krakow.
    So at that time, Jews didn't need any money.
    They didn't need to buy a ticket to go
    on the train as survivors.
    Right.
    They didn't need anything.
    So he went straight, because he did any money anyway.
    He went straight to the train.
    And he had only this certification.
    He came back from KZ, he didn't need anything there.
    From concentration camp.
    Yeah, from concentration camp, he didn't need anything.
    So he went to Krakow.
    And when he came to Krakow, he went to the committee
    to look for Jews.
    And there he found names from my home town.
    So he went straight to them, to this place
    where he found the Jews were living in one home,
    usually they concentrate together.
    And when he came there, sometime early in the morning,
    late at night, and he began to knock in the door,
    like the building would be on fire.
    And he opened.
    He said, is [NON-ENGLISH] here?
    And they said, no.
    She's not here.
    But she's alive.
    She's in Radom.
    She went to Radom, because her home is there.
    So he didn't hear another word.
    He run to the train again, came to Radom.
    Came to Radom, and he went again to the committee.
    My name wasn't there, because I didn't feel
    why should I write in Radom.
    Who's going to come to Radom?
    I know.
    But he saw a Avrum Orbach.
    He saw his name.
    And this was the name and the address where he lived.
    So he came there by.
    Was again he began to knock on the door
    like, it would be terrible.
    And a woman came to the door.
    And he said is [NON-ENGLISH] here?
    And she said, no she's not here.
    But she's alive.
    She's on the road with leather.
    He said, oh, I did something wrong.
    Everybody is telling me she's alive.
    But she's not here.
    You tell me the truth please.
    And he said, the girl is alive.
    But she's not here.
    She usually comes back Saturday night.
    And this was like Tuesday, Wednesday, whatever was day,
    If you don't believe me, I will show you her handwriting.
    Because she can stay, she usually
    give me a bill, what she sold, what she didn't sell.
    You know I wouldn't have this before the war.
    And then when he showed him bill, he read my handwriting.
    He began to cry very, very loudly.
    Because he finally realized that I'm alive.
    And he said, well, you have to wait until she comes back.
    Because there's no way.
    I don't know where she is.
    She can be in Chmielnik, in [NON-ENGLISH],,
    in [NON-ENGLISH].
    She goes, every day she's in another town.
    And you have to wait until she's come back.
    OK, he was there.
    In the meantime, [NON-ENGLISH] went to this woman where I
    lived, I shared the apartment.
    And he said, when [NON-ENGLISH] come back,
    tell her to come to me.
    She will be very happy.
    So when I came back, I always had bags and leather.
    I was very dusty from the road.
    So it was [INAUDIBLE] on this leather.
    And there wasn't no bathtub.
    There was a big container.
    And I put in some water.
    I started washing myself, my hands, my face,
    take off the dirt.
    And I came in.
    And at that time this woman told me your friend was here.
    And he said, when you come, to come to him.
    You'll be very happy.
    And I didn't pay attention.
    I didn't.
    She told me, and to me, it just didn't cling.
    And I was standing by this container.
    And I had my hand full of soap and my face and washing myself.
    And suddenly, it hit me the idea.
    I said, the woman said that I'd be very happy.
    What in the world could make me happy?
    Money?
    The whole world of money couldn't make me happy.
    The only thing could make me happy, I know where Sheila is.
    I know my parents are dead.
    I know my Chaim and Menasha is dead.
    I know my husband is dead.
    The only thing, what I'm not sure of that is Pinchas.
    Could he come back.
    That's the only thing that could make me happy.
    And as soon as this idea hit me, I didn't wait.
    With this soapy hand and face, I begin to run.
    And I ran in the street and a woman
    was living about two blocks away.
    I ran so far, all people were thinking that I went crazy.
    With soapy face and soapy hands running so wildly.
    And I ran and I ran.
    When I came to the door I begin to bounce in the door
    like I would break the door down.
    I couldn't ring the bell.
    There was no question I just bolted the door.
    And he was there living in a room.
    There was a Polish family.
    This building belonged to her parents.
    And they had one room, which was to the right
    from the apartment.
    And the left was the kitchen.
    And the family who lived there had a maid apparently.
    The maid came to the door, opened me the door.
    And when she opened the door I ran in the room.
    And my brother was sitting by the table.
    And when I saw him, I ran to him.
    And I began to cry, to scream so wild.
    I didn't know.
    But I screamed like they were cutting pieces from me.
    I screamed so wild.
    I can't explain you.
    And the woman, this maid over there,
    ask what this lady went crazy?
    And I screamed and I screamed more.
    And [NON-ENGLISH] cried we are here.
    Please, please cry.
    The more hard to cry there and the harder I screamed.
    And I screamed I don't for how long, a half an hour, hour.
    I don't know.
    I just screamed until I became hoarse.
    I couldn't scream anymore.
    And finally after a minutes, I began to cry.
    And we were one on each other.
    How can you explain when you see a person who she never
    expect to see again?
    And I would see my mother, my father, the same way
    like I saw him.
    I didn't have no hope to see him.
    And after some time, I quiet down.
    And we went to my room.
    And I told him--
    I told him what happened.
    And I think that I was trying to tell him a little bit.
    Talk a little louder.
    And I told him also at home, it took a little bit.
    I don't know maybe it was her idea, maybe she didn't let
    him do anything.
    He took a little bit advantage of me.
    He didn't treat me like he's supposed to.
    He sent me one time to Radom with leather with something
    to buy American doll.
    I don't remember which was risky.
    And my brother find this out.
    And he went to our room, and he said this room,
    if I would have survived and your sister would come to me,
    I wouldn't treat her like you treated my sister.
    How dare could you send her to places like this,
    after this, what she survived.
    You didn't even know if I'm here,
    and one cousin, one member from our family.
    How dare could you?
    And he said you will not see my face again,
    not my sister's face.
    And that's what we did.
    And that's why I'm not in touch with him.
    He lives in--
    I think he's in Berlin.
    But I don't care.
    How old was he?
    Was he your age?
    He was about my age, maybe a year or two older.
    He was my age, around.
    And we went to Sosnowiec.
    And we went, there was a family Bitner with whom
    we were related, the Bitners, there
    was a Mr. and Mrs. Bitner.
    She is, and they went to Israel.
    She's in Israel now.
    Her husband died.
    And they had a daughter, and they
    had daughter with already grown grandchildren.
    And her name from the home was Orbach, the Mrs. Bitner's name.
    And they had a big apartment.
    They were our relatives?
    Yeah.
    They were-- I told you already, Yeah.
    And they rented-- they gave us two rooms in their apartment.
    But then after about a month--
    When was this?
    This was about I would say in July.
    Of 1945?
    1945, or August.
    Did Uncle Pinchas try also to find out if your parents had--
    did uncle Pinchas also go back to the farm?
    I mean, how did he find out?
    No, he didn't go there.
    Because he found out there was no Jews.
    [NON-ENGLISH] was a very small village.
    So he didn't find out any more information
    either about how your parents died?
    He didn't-- no, no.
    You couldn't go there.
    There's no way.
    You couldn't do anything because if you would come there,
    they would kill you immediately.
    It's nothing you could do.
    OK.
    Not only there, if you could go to a police
    station or other town, they would find out
    that you tried to prove a Pole killed a Jew,
    they would kill you immediately.
    All right.
    So let's just review this.
    There was your mother and your father were killed.
    Right?
    My mother, my father, and my husband.
    And your husband.
    And Uncle Pinchas' wife?
    Uncle Pinchas' wife and her children died.
    And Helen and Sheila, their two children, died in Auschwitz.
    Yes.
    And Chaim, your brother--
    Chaim from [NON-ENGLISH],, at the same day when I came by there.
    So Chaim, your brother Chaim, and his wife were killed?
    Yeah, by the Germans, yes.
    And Ephraim?
    Ephraim was killed by the Poles.
    When he was trying to get--
    To get money, to try to get some money, yes.
    OK.
    So Uncle Pinchas was the only one in your immediate family
    that you and Uncle Pinchas survived?
    Yes.
    And you made searches for everyone else,
    and nothing came of it, right?
    Nothing happened.
    OK.
    When I visited Uncle Pinchas in 1969,
    he told me when he came to Australia,
    and they came by ship.
    And when he came there, they were looking for their luggage.
    He saw a big container, a big wooden box.
    And it was-- and the name was Orbach, Chaim Orbach.
    And he had a brother Chaim.
    And even I told him what happened.
    He just couldn't leave that box.
    He waited there for hours.
    If there was the slightest hope that he will show up.
    And he waited there, he told me a whole day.
    He sat on that box and waited.
    Who's going to come collect that box?
    And finally, a man came.
    And he was sitting on that box.
    It wasn't my brother.
    And he told the man why he was there on that box.
    And my brother said, well, I'm very happy that you survived.
    But only the reason why I'm here is because I
    had a brother Chaim Orbach.
    And I was hoping, I was wanting him to come.
    And then when I was there, there's a big family over.
    But there were two brothers and they had family before the war.
    So when I was there--
    Where, in Australia?
    But they're not related to you?
    No.
    But anyway, even not related, I was there New Year.
    I came there about the 24th or the 23rd of December.
    When?
    In 1969.
    I was there about till the middle of January.
    So New Year, my sister-in-law, Jean,
    she had to go to a New Year's party.
    And I had to go too.
    And I went to the New Year's party.
    And the Orbachs were there too, this family.
    So they seemed to gather on one table.
    And he said, well in the long run, I'm sure we are related.
    Right.
    We are spending together--
    Because they were survivors too.
    Yeah they were survivors too.
    And one man said, well, I'm sure in the long run, somehow,
    we are.
    Anyway the Jews know the Jews are related,
    especially we have the same name.
    This is even more closer.
    So they're always in contact.
    What was Uncle Pinchas' condition then?
    I mean he had been--
    After liberation?
    Yeah.
    Was he sick?
    Well, no.
    He wasn't sick.
    He told me when he was liberated,
    he didn't know they were liberated.
    He told me that during his being in Auschwitz,
    it's hard to explain, but one time he became sick on typhus.
    And there was there this room, where all those sick,
    they took him there.
    He could sleep on a wooden board, and they left him there.
    And he didn't know.
    The way he remembered when he became sick,
    and whoever was strong enough to overcome, survived.
    And who didn't, died.
    And most of them died.
    But anyway he became, he was unconscious he said maybe
    for two months.
    He couldn't understand because when he gained consciousness,
    he asked what time it is.
    What day?
    And he realized that for the last past two months,
    he didn't know about anything.
    So that when he became conscious,
    he was already liberated.
    No, no.
    He wasn't liberated.
    But he became to gain strength.
    I don't know how much he went down.
    And finally he went back to work.
    But he remained very weak all the time.
    So suddenly, he said when he was there, he saw the gate is open
    and Jews go out.
    So he said, what's happening?
    They said, we're liberated.
    So he began to go too.
    He was so weak.
    He went on all fours on his hand and on his knees.
    This way he was crawling.
    And a Jew saw him coming.
    He said, why don't you go-- don't you
    see there away is a truck with American soldiers,
    and giving out food.
    Don't you see this?
    And he looked up.
    And he saw it.
    And he somehow managed to crawl there,
    to come crawling to this truck.
    And when he come by, a different Russian gives meat conserves.
    The American gave only cans of milk,
    and big bars of chocolate, which gives quick strength
    and it's easy to digest.
    So they gave him I can of milk, and a big bar of chocolate.
    And he ate this.
    And when he ate this, he asks for another one.
    And they give him another kind of milk
    and another those chocolate.
    And when he finished the second portion,
    he said he was like a new man.
    Really?
    He felt stronger.
    He got up.
    And he began to walk.
    And he wasn't hungry anymore.
    But he was there for a few more weeks
    because he still wasn't strong enough
    to try to go to Sosnowiec.
    But after, I don't know, a week or two when he gained more
    strength, he came to Sosnowiec.
    Right, so once you and your brother got back together?
    Once you got together, we went to Sosnowiec.
    And where we lived in the beginning with those Bitners.
    And then we rent a home of our own.
    And I began-- we were living there for about--
    we were there for about until about the fall of 1946.
    And--
    So you were there for over a year?
    No.
    Not over a year.
    Uncle Pinchas came back about June, I think of 1945.
    And we left Poland sometimes in the spring of 1946.
    We were there just the end of the summer through the winter,
    about almost a year, not quite a year.
    So you were there in Sosnowiec until how long?
    We left Poland, it was in the late spring.
    So when you left Poland, when you left Sosnowiec,
    you left Poland?
    Left Poland, complete.
    Yes.
    And we left on--
    And what did you do until then?
    We were dealing on black market.
    In leather goods?
    You have to have something.
    Yeah, right.
    In leather goods?
    Yeah, I went to Radom by the train.
    And I was dressed in the same boots like a farmer girl.
    And I didn't look like Jew.
    Let me ask you did you.
    Did you know at that point?
    Did you begin to realize about the massive effort about
    and killing Jews?
    I mean was that when you found out about the--
    Oh, we know about the killings, because I know how
    they made the pogrom in Kielce.
    Yeah, but when did you find out about--
    is that when you began to [CROSS TALK]??
    Yeah, oh we knew then what happened.
    Did you know about the gas, about the ovens?
    Yes, I told you, I find it out when I was in the hidden place.
    That I was in the hidden place, the man there told me this.
    They somehow they spoke with somebody who
    managed to escape from there.
    Between hundreds or thousands, one
    escaped who was left to help sorting the clothes.
    He escaped I think by hiding in between the clothes,
    and somehow he escaped.
    I don't know.
    Some people went to DP camps, right?
    Well, after the war, they formed those DP camps, not in Poland,
    in Germany.
    This was from the United States government.
    OK.
    And a DP camp was like they took a section in a town,
    like I was in Stuttgart.
    They took a section of a town, and they made a DP camp.
    The Jews, and any survivor who came back
    got a home in this DP camp.
    When I came to Germany, I didn't want in Stuttgart.
    We went.
    There was like several homes like on a little mountain.
    And we were there.
    This was a DP camp.
    I don't know, it was before a German place for soldiers,
    whatever.
    We were living there.
    I was there for several months.
    And there came quite often trucks with food.
    That was in the spring of 1946?
    The spring and the summer of 1946.
    OK, well what made you decide--
    when did you meet dad?
    Well, I met dad right after we came back to Sosnowiec.
    So when you--
    With my brother.
    You and Uncle Pinchas were living in Sosnowiec.
    Dad was living in Sosnowiec too?
    Yeah, yeah.
    And this was in--
    This was in 1945.
    Right.
    And that's when you, dad and you, I
    mean, how did you get together?
    Well, my brother wasn't the same.
    When did you marry dad?
    I married your dad I think about 1948 in Germany, Stuttgart.
    But so when you were in--
    Yeah, we left Poland, I left Poland with my brother.
    Your father left separately.
    So you weren't a couple then?
    No, no.
    No, we knew each other.
    But--
    And you met again in Stuttgart?
    In Stuttgart, in a way, we was in touch all the time.
    And he went to the same camp where he went.
    We were always at the same place.
    And my brother began to, in Germany,
    we were dealing on the black market
    too, always together in partnership.
    You understand?
    But we wasn't married until about--
    I don't really remember exactly what time it was.
    But it was I think at the beginning was
    1948, or maybe 1949, or 1948.
    I do not remember exactly what year.
    And what were the circumstances that
    caused you to leave Poland and go to Germany?
    We didn't want to be in Poland.
    We couldn't--
    All right.
    You couldn't stay in Portland for several reasons.
    We couldn't walk the ground, which is soaked,
    with our family.
    I remember when I came to Wislica, to my hometown
    after the war.
    The first time, when I was walking,
    there was a long road to the train.
    I came by train.
    At that time
    I don't remember how it is.
    But I saw I can't walk on the sidewalk.
    I saw the sidewalk was plastered with Jewish stones
    from the cemetery.
    When the German took out the Jews,
    they destroyed the cemetery, and they plastered the sidewalks
    with Jewish stones, with the matzevahs.
    So I went there, and I didn't want
    to walk on those matzevahs.
    Gravestones.
    Those gravestones.
    Yes.
    And I went there and I walked in the middle of the road,
    because I didn't want to walk on those gravestones.
    And if we knew we could make in Poland $1 million a day,
    we couldn't stay there.
    Why did you stay there as long as you did?
    Because we couldn't leave so early.
    We had to be prepared.
    Right.
    We had to somehow to know where you're going.
    So you made plans when you were in Poland that you
    were going to leave Poland?
    Oh, yes.
    Definitely.
    And also in Poland we couldn't leave legal.
    The Polish border was closed.
    They didn't want the Jews to left.
    You were in the Russian zone?
    What do you mean the Russian zone?
    In Poland, it was all Russian.
    OK.
    And we had to go on the black border.
    We risked our lives to go.
    And it cost a lot of money too.
    Why?
    Because legally, we couldn't leave Poland?
    How come?
    Poland didn't want the Jews to go at that time.
    Why not?
    Why they didn't want?
    You want to ask the Polish government questions, why
    they didn't want?
    They think-- maybe you would ask them.
    They said, they will say, we love our Jewish people.
    Why should they leave us?
    You understand?
    Nobody didn't ask them any questions.
    We left on the black border.
    But didn't you have a choice then
    to emigrate if you wanted to?
    Not from Poland at that time, no.
    No, we couldn't leave, not legally.
    We couldn't go on the train and get out from Poland, no way.
    And we came to Germany.
    And this was a long story how we came to the American zone.
    It was very difficult. It's not important now anymore.
    But it was very difficult.
    But we finally came to American zone
    because this is the only zone we wanted.
    We didn't want to be in the Russian zone.
    We didn't want to be in the English zone.
    We want to be in the American zone because we were hoping--
    at that time, of course, there wasn't any Israel.
    There was still a Palestine.
    We were hoping maybe we will be able to go to Palestine.
    If not, we will go to the United States.
    Because, of course, there was no way.
    We didn't plan to remain in Germany.
    So we came to Germany.
    It was about in the summer of 1946.
    And we were there.
    First, we were there on this DP camp, on this--
    it was special, a few separate, a few homes.
    Where was this at?
    In Stuttgart?
    It was in Germany.
    But it wasn't Stuttgart.
    I forgot the name of this place.
    We were there for a few months.
    And then my brother went to Stuttgart.
    And he found-- he got a permission from the city
    hall in Stuttgart for apartment, to share apartment
    with a German family because the DP camp was filled up.
    There was no more room.
    And the law, the German law, was that any German family, who
    belonged, who were members of the Gestapo, any part
    of the Hitler regime, had to share,
    had to take in a Jewish family, a DP family.
    It was called DP families.
    And there were four rooms and a bath and a kitchen.
    And we had two rooms and they had two rooms.
    And we shared the kitchen and the bathroom.
    And we were living there for about three years.
    And during that time, what did do there?
    During that time, we were handling a black market.
    With leather?
    With leather.
    Yes.
    Did Uncle Pinchas meet his wife there?
    Uncle Pinchas met not his wife who he's married now.
    He married in Stuttgart.
    Her name was Eva.
    Yes, he met her there, and they got married a few months
    after I got married.
    And she lost her first husband somewhere
    I think in a concentration camp.
    And her first husband's brother was there in Australia,
    in Melbourne, from before the war.
    And she found out about it, and she wrote him a letter.
    And he agreed to take her down with her husband,
    with my brother.
    And they went there.
    I couldn't go there because my brother couldn't ask him.
    To have her, my husband's brother
    to send for help for his sister and her husband and two
    children.
    Right.
    Because he wouldn't do it.
    So my brother told me to remain in Germany, in Stuttgart.
    Until he will come to Australia.
    And there he will try to find somebody
    who will send me a permission to go to Australia.
    But I said, no.
    I don't want to be there anymore in Germany.
    I want to go.
    And we were preparing to go to Israel, because the United
    States, you could go only if you were liberated from United
    States Army, if you were in a camp which
    United States liberated.
    Right.
    Your father was liberated in a camp, was
    liberated from the American--
    What camp was that, a labor camp?
    It was a labor camp.
    I don't know, labor camp, concentration camps.
    I don't remember the name of the camp.
    Do you remember the name of any of the camps that dad was in?
    One camp was [NON-ENGLISH],, I think it was [NON-ENGLISH]..
    I think it was in Poland.
    And this camp where he was liberated for was--
    oh my gosh, I don't remember the name.
    I don't remember.
    Well, all right.
    I can't.
    I can't remember the name.
    But dad was never in a concentration camp, right?
    He was only in labor camps?
    This camp was liberated with the concentration camp.
    Was it one of the major camps?
    No, it wasn't a very famous like Bergen-Belsen or Auschwitz--
    Majdanek?
    No it wasn't Majdanek.
    No.
    Chelmo, Sobibor?
    No, no.
    No, it was a small concentration camp.
    All right.
    I don't remember the name.
    Well, we can discuss the another time.
    Anyway, he wrote a letter there to send him identification
    that he was liberated there, because it's the only way he
    could go to the United States.
    But a few months passed, and he didn't get any answer.
    Well, there was no way we could go to the United States.
    So we decided to go to Israel.
    I also remember after waiting several months not getting
    an answer from that camp your father was liberated,
    he decided to go to the Jüdische Kultusgemeinde in Stuttgart.
    This was the office from the Jewish community in Stuttgart.
    And he asked them to write a letter to that camp,
    hoping that they would pay more attention to an organization.
    A few months--
    Hoping that Israel would pay more attention?
    No, this camp.
    The people who were there in the camp, who took care,
    there were somewhere places you can write for a paper
    where they said you were liberated at that camp.
    I see.
    And he asked those people there in this Jüdische Kultusgemeinde
    [GERMAN] to write a letter to ask them to send him
    a paper that he was liberated there,
    so we can go to the United States.
    Well, several months passed again and nothing came.
    And we gave up hope.
    And we decided to go to Israel.
    And there were many, many people going to Israel then,
    of course.
    And nobody took any money.
    If somebody had money, he bought furniture,
    and goods, merchandise because nobody
    didn't want to take any money.
    And we bought also, we had furniture.
    And I have even the dishes where I have every Passover,
    they come from Germany, which I took with me.
    And we bought a lot of leather.
    In order to take this, we had to have
    made wooden boxes to pack this, and to come
    to get us to go to Israel.
    And since a lot of people were going,
    the carpenters were very busy.
    And everybody had to wait for the line in order
    to get those boxes made for him.
    And the carpenter was supposed to make
    our boxes told us that right it was Pesach of 1948.
    It was the first, right after this holiday,
    the first boxes would be ours.
    Then, for some reason, it was Chol HaMoed Pesach.
    And for some reason, your father had
    to go to the Jüdische Kultusgemeinde [GERMAN]
    The organization?
    Organization.
    When he came there, he said, wait a minute.
    We have a postcard from you.
    It has been laying here for several weeks.
    Why we just didn't had a chance to tell you about that.
    And they gave him the postcard.
    And this was where they wrote that he was liberated there
    by the United States Army.
    And this gave us permission to go to United States.
    But since everything was ready, I said, no.
    Maybe it's [NON-ENGLISH].
    We have everything ready.
    Maybe it was destined that you go to Israel?
    Maybe it destined, yeah.
    If the carpenter would have made our boxes earlier,
    we had already been left.
    We only here because we had to wait for the boxes.
    So in this case, we better go there.
    We already have everything.
    No, we're not going to change.
    We're going to go there.
    And then Pinchas find out about it.
    I didn't even want to tell him, because I
    was afraid he will do something about that.
    Wait?
    Pinchas wanted you to go to the United States?
    Yes.
    And there we were living by German family.
    Pinchas was living in DP camp.
    And we had all our leather, everything
    stored in his apartment because everything was, of course,
    on the black market.
    Leather and everything was black market.
    And the German police, ordered to go
    in search anything in the DP camp
    had to get a permission from the United States office
    there in Stuttgart, while the place where
    I was living, in a German family,
    they could come any time, any minute.
    They didn't need any permission.
    And for that reason, we had everything
    stored in Pinchas' apartment.
    And when he found out that this card come,
    which we can go to United States, he came down.
    He said to me, Devorah you're going to the United States.
    I said, no.
    I'm prepared.
    Everything is ready.
    I'm going to go to Israel.
    It apparently has to be like that.
    And he said, no, you are not.
    And he left.
    A couple of days later, he came to me, and he put on the table
    all the money what I spent for the leather, for the furniture.
    He sold it.
    And he gave me the money.
    And I said, why did you do that?
    He said, look.
    Life in Israel is very hard.
    People living in those tents, and those almost
    like paper tents.
    You went through enough hell in your life.
    You have two children now.
    Why do you have to suffer again?
    Was Ruth born?
    She was on the way.
    Yeah, she was a few months old only then.
    And Sheila was about eight years.
    Wait, this was in 1949?
    1949, yes.
    Oh, OK.
    And I think the Pesach was the Pesach of 1949, not 1948.
    I made a mistake when I said that.
    And he said, you go to the United States.
    I am going to Australia.
    If you don't like the United States,
    a few years I can send you.
    You can come to Australia.
    We'll be together.
    Maybe we both will not like.
    I will not like Australia.
    You will not like the United States.
    And we both will go to Israel.
    Right now, I would prefer if you remain in Germany
    and wait until I get an [INAUDIBLE]..
    Since you don't want to remain here,
    you absolutely refuse to do that, I just
    can't let you go to Israel now, in the condition Israel is now.
    And when he had sold everything, I didn't have any choice.
    I had to go to the United States.
    I didn't know what to be, if we be sad or will be happy.
    Just something what happened, and I had to accept it.
    Were you angry at your brother?
    I was very angry.
    Yes, why he did it.
    But it was done.
    And there's nothing I could do about it.
    And we went right away to--
    There was an American--
    I remember her name was Levin, Miss Levin.
    She took care on all those people
    who went to the United States from Stuttgart,
    or from whole Germany.
    I don't know.
    She had there an office in Stuttgart.
    And we went there and we prepared the papers.
    It took a long time.
    And we finally came to the United States.
    OK.
    You married Sam Gutterman in '48.
    I think it was '48, yes.
    And you had a child about a year and a half
    later or so, or a year later.
    Yeah, yeah.
    Ruth, your daughter.
    Yeah.
    And she was your second child.
    But she was the first child that you had after the war, right?
    Yes, yes.
    OK.
    What kinds of feelings did you have
    in terms of the fact that after all this death and everything,
    Ruth was the first?
    What kinds of feelings did you have about your first child,
    and about having your first child?
    Did you have any fears or anything?
    I didn't have any fears.
    I don't know what kind of fears?
    For example, a lot of women went through a lot of hardships
    during the war.
    And they were afraid that their babies would be affected
    by it, that maybe their ill health or something.
    I didn't think about it then.
    I felt healthy.
    And I didn't think this will affect my child.
    Were you looking forward to having your child?
    Yes, I wanted to have a child because I had only Sheila,
    and I wanted to have more children.
    Of course.
    And I was looking forward to it.
    I didn't think what I went through
    in the war will affect my children.
    I didn't think about that.
    I didn't know.
    Well, I just meant even in terms of physical health right now.
    I mean like you didn't have any worries about that?
    No, no.
    I didn't because after a year or so after the war
    I was perfectly healthy.
    You had gained back all your weight and everything?
    Yeah.
    I was in very good health.
    You can see now.
    Now I'm-- at that age, I'm still in good health.
    You're--
    I'm 66 now.
    Right.
    OK.
    How religious were you after the war in comparison
    to before the war?
    Before the war I was enormous religious.
    You were very religious?
    Very religious.
    I was raised in a very strict religious home.
    And it just was the way of life.
    Nobody didn't question it.
    Nobody said anything.
    After the war, when I found out I didn't have anybody
    because I was alone from January until Uncle Pinchas came back,
    I think in June.
    Well, you had Sheila.
    I had Sheila.
    But Sheila, I had to give up again.
    I couldn't-- I just, there was no way I can keep her.
    Yeah, I understand.
    And what is a four-year-old, five-year-old child know?
    When I was going on the train with the merchandise,
    the trains were always full.
    There's no way I could go on inside.
    I always had with me those heavy string,
    and I tied up to the bench in the front.
    And I was holding my hand at the door, standing on that bench.
    And I was always traveling at night because during the day
    I was going around in stores and selling the leather.
    And you never know.
    I figure when I was doing this, my gosh,
    I said if for some reason I should fall asleep
    for a second, and I fall down and get killed,
    nobody would know.
    Nobody would know if I'm alive, if I'm dead.
    What does Sheila know?
    She was a little girl.
    She was a child.
    And she doesn't know.
    She knows me now.
    She probably misses me.
    But after a year or two or three, she will forget.
    She will never know she had a mother.
    And many other things what happened, this what I saw,
    I lost faith complete.
    I just didn't believe in anything.
    And this was all those time when I was alone,
    when I was going, dealing that.
    I was on the road.
    I left Sunday night, and I came back Saturday night.
    And Sunday I was lying on the bed and crying.
    This is how I lived for about five or six months.
    And then I told the story of how Uncle Pinchas came back.
    And we went.
    I went right away and took Sheila out
    from the children's home.
    And we went to Sosnowiec.
    And we find a room.
    And at that time, I again became a human being.
    I had a home.
    I had to go buy food.
    I had to cook.
    I had to wash clothes.
    I had my brother.
    I had my daughter.
    And I had a home.
    I had a responsibility.
    I had somebody to live for.
    I had somebody to look forward to.
    You understand?
    When I didn't feel good.
    I had somebody to tell, I don't feel good.
    When I was happy, I could share my happiness or my sorrow
    with my very close people what I love and care very much.
    And I realized that I couldn't explain
    what happened, of course.
    But I realized that living like I did didn't have any meaning,
    didn't have any--
    it didn't had anything.
    It was empty.
    And then when I began to gain back, I believed in God.
    I began to go to the synagogue.
    And I just became, again, a human Jewish being.
    What were your feelings?
    What kind of feelings did you have about being Jewish
    after the war?
    I was always very proud of Judaism, of being Jewish.
    And even then, I was proud of being
    Jewish because I know how--
    I don't know if I should say this,
    because I know a little bit from the Jewish religion.
    I know how empty the other religions are,
    how artificial other religions are.
    And I figure, well, if the Jewish religion is nothing,
    the other one is absolutely nothing
    because they're all formed from the Jewish religion.
    You understand?
    So, I always was very proud of being Jewish.
    And I always was very happy being Jewish.
    Even the time when I lost faith, I was very happy being Jewish.
    What do you think kept you going during the war?
    During the war, to began with I know I was hopeful
    that I will have my family.
    If not this, I don't think I will survive, because I
    wouldn't fight that much.
    I know I have my mother, my father.
    I know I have my husband.
    I know I have Sheila.
    I know my two brothers died.
    But I have something to look forward to it.
    And this gave me a lot of courage,
    a lot of strength to do what I did.
    If I would have known I won't have my family,
    I wouldn't have the strength and the courage
    to do things what I did.
    And I don't think I would have survived.
    And secondly, everybody where I was in the hidden place,
    and then after I met other Jewish people who survived,
    they all didn't know about each other.
    But they all had the same prayer.
    They said, all begged God, please
    if I live only one day after the war, I want to see Hitler dead.
    This was the biggest hope and the biggest prayer in me.
    If I will only see Hitler dead, then I can die.
    I don't mind to die then.
    But I want to see the end of Hitler,
    and the end of the German nation at the same time.
    I saw the end of Hitler.
    I don't think I will ever see the end of the German nation.
    What's interesting is that you should
    say at the end of the German nation.
    Because you told me earlier that if you had a choice between--
    Yeah, yeah that's true.
    But if you're speaking about Hitler.
    Why don't we go on?
    Oh, I see.
    You understand?
    I think Hitler wasn't a problem--
    You told me earlier, I don't remember if it was on tape
    or not.
    But if you had a choice to see one nation
    destroyed you prefer Poland.
    Poland, because the Germans, at least of course
    there's no excuse why anybody should kill innocent people.
    But at least they had an order.
    They were asked to do it.
    The Poles were not asked to do it.
    They did it.
    And not only this, when the Germans found out,
    a German Gestapo find out that a Pole killed a Jew,
    he killed the Pole.
    You don't have the right to kill Poles.
    We have the right, not you.
    You can't do that.
    You mean if a German found out that a Pole killed a Jew,
    the German would kill the Pole?
    Yes, because he didn't want Poles to kill Jews.
    This was his--
    There was a lot of hatred between Poles and Germans,
    right?
    Oh, yeah.
    Poles never liked Germans.
    And I don't think they liked them now.
    Do you think that perhaps Poles might have
    saved Jews because of that?
    That Jews might have been saved as a result of that, even
    though Poles hated Jews, they still hated Germans
    equally or just as much?
    They hated, like I told you before, Fran,
    the same way like now the Arab Nations don't like each other.
    They are enemies between each other.
    But when it came to kill Jews, they are together.
    They help each other.
    And the same way was at the war.
    The Poles hate Germans, and they hate Russians.
    The Poles are not communists.
    But when it came during the war, when it came to kill Jews,
    they helped them all they could.
    I read somewhere that, in general, Poles
    seemed to be better able to detect Jews than Germans were.
    Yeah, definitely.
    Yes.
    They did.
    And that Poles helped, and that was
    why Poles were such a great help, that they were able to--
    They were able to recognize a Jew.
    Because a German and the dialogue and the accent
    wouldn't recognize.
    When a Pole spoke with a Jewish person--
    I told you one time [NON-ENGLISH]
    Just dialect?
    It was the accent.
    Because the Polish language is spoken very sharp.
    The German language is spoken like Yiddish,
    with a singing tone.
    Like English, the same way you stretch the word,
    in Yiddish, and English, and German.
    The German would never recognize that the accent that is Jewish.
    And also in the face, the Germans
    didn't know a Pole could recognize you were the Jew.
    Between a a thousand Poles you would take out a Jew,
    he would recognize them.
    In general.
    In general.
    There were exceptions, who were not like I was--
    I didn't look like a Jewish woman.
    And there were also others who didn't look.
    But the majority did look.
    They could recognize them.
    And the Germans also, of course, the Germans
    were very, very strong.
    And big, big men against innocent people,
    against Jews who didn't hurt anything,
    against people who didn't have any guns
    and anything in their hands.
    But when they came in, they know the Jews
    were hiding in the forest.
    They know they have knives, and guns, and everything.
    And when the Gestapo wanted to look for Jews in the forest,
    they didn't go in by themselves.
    They sent in Poles.
    Right.
    Or when they made a--
    when they took out Jews from this town, when they emptied
    a ghetto, they didn't went in the homes
    in the apartments themselves.
    They sent in Poles.
    They were afraid.
    A Gestapo never took any risk for being killed.
    He always used the Poles.
    May I ask you, after the war, did
    you talk about your experiences with anyone?
    There was here one time they had this the Jewish,
    the Jewish center made a--
    I forgot the name of it.
    How long ago?
    This was about a year ago, I think.
    I'm not talking about now.
    I'm talking about after the war when you were still
    living in Europe, in Germany.
    No, I didn't talk to nobody.
    And you were with other survivors too.
    Were you in a neighborhood with other survivors or not?
    Pardon?
    Were you in a neighborhood with other survivors?
    What mean the neighborhood?
    The camp where we were, were only survivors.
    But you said you weren't in a camp,
    that you lived outside the camp.
    Well I was in a camp before we came to Stuttgart.
    And then we went to Stuttgart, we lived by the German family.
    And then when Uncle Pinchas got married,
    he married his wife had a room in the DP camp
    and he moved in with her.
    OK.
    So did you talk about your experiences then
    immediately after the war?
    Between, no.
    Between the survivors, no.
    No, everybody went through--
    Or with non-survivors, with Germans or with--
    Maybe on some occasions, not much.
    No.
    I didn't.
    If somebody asked me something what they went through,
    I told him like I told you many times.
    Look, if I am telling you what I went through, day by day,
    I would have to stay here several days to tell you.
    What are your feelings about what you had gone through?
    I mean you had gone through something
    that nobody in history had ever gone through.
    What were your feelings?
    What was your feelings?
    What were your values?
    How did you feel about the world?
    I felt about the world that the world is a bunch of bandits,
    that they let it happen.
    You were angry.
    Very angry.
    How could the world outside let it happen?
    How could a world let take innocent children
    and kill them, innocent men and women,
    strong, sick, small, big.
    One year old, 100 years old, anybody, just killed them.
    How could the world see this?
    How about Europe itself?
    How about Poland and Germany?
    I mean--
    Poland and Germany, Germany was controlled by a madman, Hitler,
    you understand?
    Well, you said how could the world let this happen.
    I mean you knew that--
    The world on the outside world, United States.
    But were you surprised that the inside world
    could let that happen?
    That Poland, no matter what?
    Yeah.
    Yeah.
    Well, I don't know if I was surprised.
    I know that Poland, Poles who have a chance, they will do it.
    Do what?
    Kill.
    But do you think that even Poland would allow a deliberate
    attempt?
    Were you aware after the war that, in fact, it
    was a deliberate attempt to wipe out the Jewish race,
    I mean to kill all Jews?
    I found out when I was in a hidden place.
    And I found out about Treblinka.
    They took all those trains and put them in the gas chamber.
    Then when I realized that he was determined
    to wipe out the Jewish nation.
    Did that ever cross your mind before?
    Before now, no.
    No, not at all.
    But also, I want to tell you.
    In fact, like I told you, we had very often we
    came in to search.
    Yeah, go on.
    I want to mention that, like I said before, in our home
    we were quite often, the Gestapo came in and searched
    for merchandise, for goods.
    And on some occasions, they said the American Jews
    started the war.
    But since we cannot reach them, you're going to pay for it.
    The Jews in Europe will pay for it.
    Why did they feel that the American Jews had started?
    Why?
    That's what they said.
    Well, of course, they didn't.
    But this is what they said.
    The American Jews started, and the Jews in Europe
    will pay for it.
    But knowing what you had gone through, well first of all,
    what kind of reception when you came to the United
    States, which was when?
    We came to the United States October 29, 1949.
    And at that time you were?
    October 1949?
    Yes.
    And tell me a little bit about that.
    Where did you come into?
    Well, we came into New York.
    We were in New York for about eight days.
    We could have maybe remained there.
    But we didn't even try it because New York was too loud
    for me, too many people.
    But we originally had the papers from the Jewish Family Service
    in Norfolk.
    So we decided to go to Norfolk.
    Norfolk, Virginia.
    Was there any reason why you were given that paper, why
    you were given Norfolk?
    Did you have relatives here?
    No, no, no.
    We didn't have.
    The peoples, the Jewish people who
    were liberated, I mean the survivors, the Jewish survivors
    who were liberated in a camp which was liberated
    from the American army, if somebody had relatives,
    he went.
    The relatives sent him papers.
    And he went to the town where the relatives are.
    If somebody didn't have a relative,
    the Jewish organizations sent them paper.
    And they sent them to different cities.
    And our papers happened to be to Norfolk.
    And the reason why you came to the United States
    was because your husband had been liberated in a camp
    by Americans?
    Yes.
    Otherwise, you wouldn't have been allowed to come?
    We wouldn't be able, no, no.
    You had to prove.
    We had also a lot of difficulties,
    because Sheila couldn't go with us.
    Because Sheila's name wasn't Gutterman.
    Her name was Kurtstein.
    And as far as the American government is concerned,
    if it's not the same name, she couldn't go.
    So I went one time to Miss Levin,
    and she told me to leave Sheila here with somebody,
    until I will take her down, until I will send her papers.
    I say, you are expecting to leave
    a eight-year-old little girl at home with a German family?
    And she said, well, there's nothing I can do about it.
    That's the law.
    What can I do?
    I said, look, it's a very funny law
    who does not permit me to go to the United States
    because the Germans didn't kill my little girl.
    If they would kill her, I would go.
    But if they didn't kill her, I cannot go.
    Do you think that's fair?
    Do you think that's right?
    If they didn't kill her father, I would have that name.
    They killed her father.
    And I remarried.
    But they didn't kill her.
    And for that reason, I cannot go where I want to go.
    And I began to cry, because it was very horrible.
    She said, look, go home, and come back in a couple of days,
    and we're going to talk about it.
    So I went home and I came by there about two or three days.
    And she said, you're going to go on your name.
    [NON-ENGLISH]
    [NON-ENGLISH].
    And you can take your husband--
    I don't remember exactly what she made something
    that the papers were on my name.
    It was Dora Gutterman.
    Do you understand?
    And I can take even her name.
    Because she is my daughter, I can take her.
    But she wasn't your father's daughter.
    So your father, he couldn't take her.
    If I went on his paper, I couldn't take her
    because I was on his paper.
    I see.
    But when I went on my name, I had my paper,
    I could take my husband, I could take Ruth,
    and I could take my daughter, even
    if she didn't have my name.
    Oh, I see.
    I see.
    And this was-- she made a big--
    because I wasn't liberated by Americans.
    You understand?
    But under those circumstances, she understand what happened.
    And she did something which was really not legal,
    but of course it was legal.
    [INAUDIBLE] situation.
    This way we came to the United States.
    So then you got settled in Norfolk, Virginia
    by the Jewish Family Service?
    Yes.
    And they found a job?
    We were in New York for eight days.
    And we came on a Sunday.
    We came to New York on a Saturday morning.
    And then the second Sunday, we came to Norfolk.
    And there were those two Jewish ladies waiting for us.
    I think we came by ship.
    I think so by boat, by boat from--
    From New York?
    We had to go from New York by train.
    From the train we had to change to a boat.
    But we didn't speak a word English.
    So how do we know where to go?
    So the lady there in New York gave us a letter.
    She wrote that we do not speak English.
    She told in that, the letter, where we want to go.
    She said, wherever you see a policeman or any man who looks
    honest, give him this paper.
    And she said, please take those people to the boat
    because they don't speak English,
    and they will be lost if you will not help them.
    And we met somebody and they took us to the boat.
    And this how came to Norfolk.
    And at Norfolk, two ladies from the Jewish families
    are waiting for us.
    And they found--
    They could speak Yiddish, though.
    They speak, oh yeah.
    Sure.
    And you lived in an apartment?
    At the beginning, we lived in on 35th Street, in an apartment.
    We were there for a month.
    And then we moved to Berkley.
    Why did you move to Berkley?
    Because this rent there was too expensive.
    But I noticed that we grew up in a neighborhood with survivors.
    Is that why you moved to Berkley?
    I mean because--
    There were not any more survivors.
    I don't think so.
    The only in Berkley was only Horowitz, me, us and Horowitz.
    There were no more survivors.
    But how about the Orthodox synagogue?
    Well, the Millers, they're not--
    The Millers they're not.
    They are not--
    Wait one second.
    But in Orthodox in B'nai Israel was mostly
    survivors, a lot of survivors.
    Well, we were in Berkley from about the end of 1949
    until 1957, I think, about eight years.
    And then we were going to the synagogue [NON-ENGLISH],,
    another synagogue.
    But then the Horowitzes moved about two
    or three earlier before us.
    But weren't the other survivors that went to Berkley Synagogue?
    Not in Berkley, no, no.
    We had a lot of friends, American friends.
    But they were not survivors.
    It was a very small Jewish community.
    But I just remember growing up surrounded--
    I mean there were always survivors.
    I mean there were the Weissbergs and the Lefkos and the--
    Well, you know them, maybe sometimes we went to them,
    and they came to us.
    But they didn't live in Berkley.
    We were always in contact, yeah.
    We were always in contact.
    We always were close.
    You found out each other, right?
    Oh, yeah.
    We found out about each other, sure.
    What kind of reception did you receive from non-survivors?
    I want to mention also that the Jewish Family Service was
    trying to get us together.
    And let's say when it came--
    I remember the first year when it came to Thanksgiving,
    they made a Thanksgiving dinner.
    And they invited all survivors.
    And they invited the mayor of Norfolk,
    and all those leaders from Norfolk
    to meet all the survivors.
    It was the first Thanksgiving.
    And this way we met.
    And then we met each other, when I met a survivor,
    and it was a woman, I felt like to my sister.
    I mean it was we always felt very close.
    Because you had a common background.
    Because we all went through the same, not exactly the same.
    But we all went through the--
    Did you feel closer to someone if they were close
    to your hometown, if they were from Poland?
    No.
    They were not close to my town.
    But I know a lot of people.
    One I met one Mr. Lefko who lived in Sosnowiec.
    It happens often about a year before the war broke out.
    But we all felt very close.
    What kind of reception did you get from non-survivors?
    I mean were able to share your--
    It depends.
    Some people were very friendly and very nice.
    And some of them were not very friendly.
    They looked down.
    A lot of peoples looked at the survivors
    like a lower grade, lower-grade people.
    Because it was a common knowledge that before the war,
    who went to the United States?
    Somebody who couldn't make a living in Poland, or who went
    bankrupt, or left a wife.
    I wouldn't say most of it left for reasons
    they couldn't stay there.
    And people like our family, we didn't have any reason.
    We made a good living.
    We were very respected.
    And we felt very good there.
    Why should we go to United States?
    And so somehow, I think the Jewish people in the United
    States think that those people came after the war,
    they're also this type of people.
    But this wasn't so.
    All the survivors who came here now, wherever they went,
    left Poland only because they didn't want to be there.
    Because when I came to Wislica, every stone,
    every house remind me something.
    When I came in, when I--
    Everyone who survived Hitler's concentration camps
    or her, whatever he was, did not want
    to remain in Poland for different many reasons.
    Don't you think people in the United States knew that?
    I don't know.
    I'm not sure.
    I don't think they realized this.
    I don't think they think about it.
    I think they still looked at the refugees as lower people.
    Immigrants.
    Immigrants, that's right.
    And I very much didn't like it.
    I very much-- how you say this?
    When somebody tells you something and you
    are against it.
    I was very much-- it was very upsetting to me.
    That what?
    I very much rejected this that somebody can look down at me.
    I was in my home.
    I don't necessarily agree with it,
    because I think every human being should
    be great at what he is, not what his parents are.
    But this way was in my home town.
    I'm only stating the facts.
    That this was [NON-ENGLISH].
    And not everybody could say to me good morning.
    Not everybody.
    Right.
    So highly respected was my family and me,
    and the whole our family.
    So, you're saying that you had a lot of status.
    Very much status.
    In Poland, also here you were looked down upon.
    And here, and suddenly I came, and I was a refugee.
    I was nothing.
    And I rejected it very much.
    I never said anything.
    I was living with Mrs--
    I don't know if you remember Mrs. Harfield.
    Yeah, I remember her.
    And she treated me like trash.
    And many times, I cried about that.
    It was hurting me so much that I realized
    she would be a nice person, she wouldn't do that.
    I understood that.
    But despite this, I just refused to accept it.
    I just couldn't accept it.
    Did non-survivors ask you about your experiences
    or other survivors?
    Were you able to share your experiences
    with other survivors or non-survivors?
    When we came between survivors, sometimes we talked about it.
    And sometimes I tell a few words to mine.
    Sometimes but not often, because we all know that everybody
    went through a lot, and everybody
    survived not because he was smart,
    not because he had a lot of money,
    not because he knew what he's doing.
    It just happened.
    Because I was in many places I didn't know
    where to turn left or right.
    Did you feel--
    And if I would turn somehow, I turned maybe left,
    and if I would have turned right I would have been killed.
    I didn't know where to turn.
    I just turned this way.
    Did you ever discuss--
    did any non-survivors ever ask you about your experiences
    during the war?
    Yes, sometimes.
    Yes.
    And did you feel comfortable in telling them about it?
    I never discussed, no.
    Especially if I talk about the experience
    only with the survivors.
    With Americans, I never discussed this.
    But did they ever ask you?
    Yeah, they did.
    But I had a feeling, I could be wrong.
    But I had a feeling they ask me for entertainment.
    They want to know what happened, not to feel with me, not to
    really to feel the pain what I went through,
    but just to listen to a story.
    And that's the reason I didn't want to talk with them.
    When an American person asked me, what I went through,
    I told them.
    It's too much to say.
    It's not important now anymore.
    And I prefer not to talk about it.
    Did you join any survivor organizations?
    Oh, yeah.
    Sure.
    There were survivor organizations here?
    Before I came here, there were not.
    I mean once you resettled?
    In Norfolk?
    Yeah.
    Oh, yeah, sure.
    We have now meetings there.
    Did you join any--
    there is a survivor organization now in Norfolk?
    Yeah.
    Let me tell you something until this movie, Holocaust--
    Which showed on TV.
    Made our lives a little bit hard,
    because until then nobody didn't talk about it,
    nobody didn't come together.
    And there was just nothing.
    Since that Holocaust--
    Since the Holocaust movie.
    The Holocaust movie--
    Which was on TV.
    Which really was nothing.
    What they show was absolutely ridiculous.
    But this made such a roar between the people
    that they begin to talk about it.
    And they begin, like we heard about a year ago,
    I think Mrs. Rosenblum I think, Rosenbaum or Rosenblum is--
    she was in charge of it.
    And she brought down speakers.
    And we had for about two weeks there were almost every night
    speakers at [NON-ENGLISH].
    There were a big thing going on.
    And also I was on TV.
    Several were on TV, at Channel 15.
    But this only happened after this TV show, Holocaust.
    Which was on TV a couple of years ago.
    Yes.
    But until then, nobody mentioned anything.
    So until like two years ago, there
    was no survivor organization in Norfolk?
    No, not at all.
    No.
    There were survivor organizations in other cities.
    Yeah, maybe, but not Norfolk, no.
    Did you apply for reparations after the war?
    I did when I was in Germany.
    I didn't want their money.
    I had a feeling that I would get their money, like you tear out
    a hair from a pig.
    Why leave it with them?
    And I will give it for you for charity.
    I did apply and I had some--
    I don't remember how much I got, a few, 500 mark, or 1,000 mark.
    I got a down payment on it.
    And then right after that, I left to the United States.
    And when I came to the United States, I applied again.
    And I lost everything.
    And the reason why I lost is because when
    I applied in Germany, only those peoples
    who were in concentration camps were allowed to get money.
    Since I wasn't in concentration camp, I was on Polish papers,
    I was in a hidden place, for this they didn't pay anything.
    And I want to get out of them as much as I can.
    So I said I was in concentration camp.
    Well, I never was a liar, and a liar has to have a good memory.
    And when I applied--
    when I was in the United States, several years after I came,
    after that, I applied again.
    And apparently everything didn't match.
    You understand?
    I didn't remember exactly what I said.
    Then I don't remember what I said then, and didn't match.
    And I lost.
    But later on, even if you were in hiding,
    you could get reparations?
    Yes, I can get now for everything.
    But I don't know where to go.
    But then it was too late because once you had lied.
    No, I think I can prove now.
    I think now is when you can only prove if you were in Poland
    and you were Jewish.
    If you were born in Poland, you had
    to suffer because a Jew, whatever you was, whatever
    you did, you were a Jew.
    And you were surrounded by enemies who want to kill you.
    Did Uncle Pinchas apply for reparations?
    Uncle Pinchas was in Auschwitz.
    He didn't have any problems.
    So he gets reparations.
    Oh, yes.
    What does he get?
    Do you know what he gets?
    I don't know how much he got.
    But Uncle Pinchas has also applied for--
    you could apply for furniture what you lost, for jewelry,
    and he had something he got sent,
    after our parents were took away.
    And received about, I think, $1,000,
    because he sent me half of it.
    He sent me $500.
    And I took right away, a check in the mail,
    and send it to the JF.
    I didn't want to keep that money.
    When was this?
    This was several years ago.
    I would say about four or five years ago, maybe more.
    What languages were spoken primarily at your home
    when you were growing up?
    Only Yiddish, between us, we spoke Polish in the business
    for customers.
    But between us, my parents, my brothers, only Yiddish.
    And what language was spoken primarily
    when you were raising growing up in the United States
    with your children and stuff?
    Well, I didn't spoke to them Yiddish,
    because I lived between English speaking peoples,
    and I had a maid.
    I worked in the store.
    And she spoke English.
    So I spoke to the children English.
    And I'm sorry.
    I never had time to learn them Yiddish.
    And I'm very sorry for that.
    I just was too busy to do it.
    And this was really wrong.
    What did you communicate to your children about the Holocaust?
    I didn't told them much.
    I didn't want to talk much to my children about the Holocaust.
    When they were little, of course they were little.
    And then they grow up, I don't remember, maybe
    on some occasions, I said something.
    But I don't remember discussing very much with my children
    what I went through during the war.
    I didn't think it was serve any purpose.
    I didn't think it will do him any good.
    Why talk about it?
    What can you do?
    But I think it's good that--
    Did you talk about the past at all?
    What do you mean?
    About your parents.
    Yeah.
    I talk about my parents, about my home.
    Yes, I told them what home I had and everything.
    But what I went through during when Hitler time,
    I didn't talk much about that.
    Do you remember me talking something?
    Yeah.
    I personally have a memory of your talking
    a lot about, but not really--
    you talked a lot about your family.
    But you talked a lot about hiding,
    about when you were hiding.
    About hiding?
    Not in hiding, sorry.
    When you were under false papers.
    You talked a lot a lot about your experiences.
    But usually they were--
    having listened to you tell this whole story,
    I realized there was an awful, awful lot
    that you never told me.
    So you tended to tell me the same stories.
    Pardon?
    You tended to tell me the same stories.
    I really don't remember what I said, what I didn't said.
    Maybe I told them then some episode of what I went through.
    What kinds of feelings do you have about the United States
    now, or about living in the United States?
    United States is a very wonderful country,
    a good country.
    They gave me a home.
    And they gave me a home, and they gave me
    an opportunity to establish a home
    for myself and my children.
    But the United States is not my home.
    My home is Israel.
    My land is Israel.
    I was born and raised in Poland.
    I think every day in the school, the Polish hymn,
    the Polish pledge.
    I always put my hand on my heart and made a Polish pledge.
    And when Hitler came, everything was going.
    Do you ever--
    No country in the world is mine except Israel.
    Israel is the only country where I will never
    hear you stinking Jew.
    And I wish so much I didn't have to tell you
    the feelings of mine that my parents died, my brothers died.
    But my feelings would be completely different
    if they would die in Israel fighting for Israel,
    instead of the German gas chambers,
    or to the Poles' knives, or to the Poles' guns.
    It's an honor and it's an opportunity
    to die for Israel for any Jew at least in this country.
    Any Jew in the United States who think this
    can never happen in the United States,
    I hope they will never experience it.
    And I hope it will never happen.
    Well, you grow up in Poland.
    They don't know how wrong they are.
    You grew up in Poland.
    I mean you were part of the everyday life of Poland.
    You spent 30 years in the United States now.
    Yeah.
    And so you've experienced United States.
    Do you think another Holocaust is possible here?
    Any place in the world is possible.
    And in Poland, I could expect it.
    But in Germany, you don't know how the Jews and the Germans
    lived.
    When I was after the war, when I went,
    during the [NON-ENGLISH] to the synagogue,
    there was there in this Jewish office.
    There were there how many?
    About five, six survivors.
    There were several hundred people, all German Jews.
    And I couldn't to save my life, not one of them
    I couldn't see any Jewish.
    They were all like German.
    They were living together.
    They were intermarrying.
    They went to each other's parties there,
    are complete assimilated.
    Complete, all together.
    In Poland, when you saw a Jew on the street it's a Jew.
    In Germany, you could never see this.
    If this could happen in Germany, and Germany
    is a very intelligent people, highly educated people.
    No matter how I feel about them, I
    have to say what I saw in Germany.
    So if there wasn't as much antisemitism in Germany
    as there was, let's say, in Poland?
    Maybe there was antisemitism in Germany.
    I don't know.
    I didn't live in Germany.
    But all I know is that the German
    Jews and the German people, they're one nation.
    They were very assimilated.
    Very assimilated.
    And if this could happen in Germany,
    it can happen any place in the world--
    United States, Australia, any place.
    All you need is just a leader to become an antisemitic leader.
    The right circumstances.
    Yeah, the right circumstances, there
    will be a severe, like in Germany,
    when you want to buy a loaf of bread,
    you had to take a wagon with money
    to pay for a loaf of bread.
    You mean inflation.
    Inflation, you will get severe inflation.
    There will be a severe hunger, whatever.
    And there come antisemitic president.
    The people spoke to me yesterday,
    when they will pass you, they will
    seem like they don't see you.
    They will turn around.
    I experienced that.
    In what ways do you feel that the Holocaust has changed
    the course of your life?
    Well, that's hard to say, honey, how changed my life.
    My life changed completely, of course.
    Right.
    Do you think it's--
    what you were just telling me before about,
    about how that one day a person will say hi to you.
    The next day that they'll call you a dirty Jew.
    Yeah.
    Yeah.
    What you're saying to me is that you don't really
    have very much trust towards people that are not Jewish.
    Oh, no.
    No, not at all.
    I have very many American friends, very nice people,
    very good people.
    And I like them all.
    And they deal with me and I deal with them.
    But I know--
    I don't doubt that.
    I know like I see now the sunshine outside.
    I know if God forbid, if something will change,
    if the wind will blow in a different direction,
    they will be right away here again
    and everything will blow in different direction.
    So you don't feel any sense of security here?
    In the United States, no, not at all.
    So would you say that that is as a result of the Holocaust
    that you have those sort of feelings?
    Yes.
    Because I wouldn't have the experience
    of another Holocaust, sure.
    I wouldn't see what happened.
    In other words, if the Holocaust had never happened,
    you think you'd be more trusting of people.
    Yes.
    Yes.
    I would.
    Because I wouldn't have experienced what I had.
    Right, right.
    I wouldn't have the opportunity to see how people change.
    Right.
    Well that's what I mean when I ask you
    in what ways do you think the Holocaust has affected
    your life.
    Sure.
    It gave me a lot of experience.
    And I'm still sorry why, despite everything
    what I haven't been against United States,
    and I made a good living, and not materialistic or nothing,
    and I can afford.
    But despite that fact, I'm still sorry I didn't went to Israel.
    Whenever I meet when I was on the bridge
    there in Washington with Mrs. Techel, whenever I see her,
    I said, Pila, I made a lot of mistakes in my life.
    But the biggest mistake I made is not going to Israel.
    You mean Mrs. Techel's daughter?
    Yeah, yeah.
    I met there--
    Why do you feel that way?
    Because in Israel, I would be home.
    Here I'm not home.
    Everything what I have, I somehow I could be wrong.
    Somehow, I have a feeling it's not really mine,
    because if God forbid something happen in one day
    they come and they put on a lock on the apartment, whatever
    I have, it's not yours.
    Just like in Poland.
    Maybe in the United States, it couldn't
    happen as quick and as easy.
    But it can happen, the same way exactly.
    What kinds of values do you feel you have
    tried to give to your children?
    I'm trying to give them to be proud of being Jewish,
    to work for the Jewish nation, to work for Israel,
    to work for the Jewish people.
    It is possible to go to Israel and settle in Israel.
    I was trying to give them an education which I never
    could get.
    I was trying to develop them a sense of ambition,
    to get as high as possible in education,
    and human development.
    That's what I was trying.
    Is there anything that you can think about
    that you'd like to add now that hasn't
    been covered in these tapes?
    I might think about something later on.
    Right now, I really don't think.
    Maybe later on, if I remember we can add something.
    OK.
    How have you felt about answering these questions?
    I want to answer those questions because nobody
    doesn't live forever.
    And I will be going.
    I want people to know what happened in Jewish nation.
    I hope they will draw some conclusion,
    and I hope they will work and it never happen again.

    Overview

    Interviewee
    Dora Gutterman
    Date
    interview:  1980 January 31

    Physical Details

    Language
    English
    Extent
    7 sound cassettes (60 min.).

    Rights & Restrictions

    Conditions on Access
    There are no known restrictions on access to this material.
    Conditions on Use
    No restrictions on use

    Keywords & Subjects

    Geographic Name
    Poland. Sosnowiec (Poland)
    Personal Name
    Gutterman, Dora.

    Administrative Notes

    Holder of Originals
    One Generation After
    Legal Status
    Permanent Collection
    Provenance
    The interview with Dora Gutterman was conducted on January 31, 1980 by One Generation After, a Boston based group of children of Holocaust survivors, for the One Generation After oral history project. The tapes of the interview were received by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum on January 7, 1990.
    Record last modified:
    2023-11-16 08:10:01
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    https:​/​/collections.ushmm.org​/search​/catalog​/irn510153

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    Oral history interview with Max Michelson

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Rose Murra

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Pinchus Orbach

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Xavier Piat

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Marann Rockocz

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Ellsworth Rosen

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Laurie Klaper Schiff

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Jordan Silin

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Albert Tilles

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Helen Tilles

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Sigmund Turner

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Brenda Wluka

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Icek Wluka

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Esther Wolrich

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Leo Wolsky

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Edgar Krasa

    Oral history interview with Edgar Krasa

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Arje Latz

    Oral history interview with Arje Latz

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Sima Manela

    Oral history interview with Sima Manela

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Victor Penzer

    Oral history interview with Victor Penzer

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Helena Herman

    Oral history interview with Helena Herman

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Maurice Vanderpol

    Oral history interview with Maurice Vanderpol

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Arnold Wininger

    Oral history interview with Arnold Wininger

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Charlotte G. Goldberg

    Oral history interview with Charlotte G. Goldberg

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Denise Schorr

    Oral history interview with Denise Schorr

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Sidney Rachlin

    Oral history interview with Sidney Rachlin

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Hana Fuchs Krasa

    Oral history interview with Hana Fuchs Krasa

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Janina Greenwood

    Oral history interview with Janina Greenwood

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Irene Woods Hofstein

    Oral history interview with Irene Woods Hofstein

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Gizi Mark

    Oral history interview with Gizi Mark

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Charlotte Koopman

    Oral history interview with Charlotte Koopman

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Netty Schwarz Vanderpol

    Oral history interview with Netty Schwarz Vanderpol

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Kip Winston

    Oral history interview with Kip Winston

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Sidney Wolrich

    Oral history interview with Sidney Wolrich

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Denise Schorr

    Oral history interview with Denise Schorr

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Beatrice Simkovich

    Oral history interview with Beatrice Simkovich

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Samuel Stern

    Oral history interview with Samuel Stern

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Franya Russak

    Oral history interview with Franya Russak

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Carl [Karl] Schlesinger

    Oral history interview with Carl [Karl] Schlesinger

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Eva Schlesinger

    Oral history interview with Eva Schlesinger

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Clara Rev

    Oral history interview with Clara Rev

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Anna Riemer

    Oral history interview with Anna Riemer

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Marie Rosenberg

    Oral history interview with Marie Rosenberg

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Cecelia Perera

    Oral history interview with Cecelia Perera

    Oral History

    Cecilia Perera, born in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia (now in Bosnia and Herzegovina), discusses the relations between Jews and non-Jews in Sarajevo before the war; being one of seven children of a religious family; the Italian occupation; living with her husband and 14-year-old son at the time of the occupation; her husband’s olive oil factory; the fate of her family members during the war; going with her family to Italy (November 1943 until 1947); living in Bari and then Torino; immigrating to the United States after her son received a scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology; working as a seamstress; her sister who survived Bergen-Belsen; and two of her siblings who live in Israel.

    Oral history interview with Hugo Princz

    Oral history interview with Hugo Princz

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Szlomo Reff

    Oral history interview with Szlomo Reff

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Zezette Larson

    Oral history interview with Zezette Larson

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Sam Natanson

    Oral history interview with Sam Natanson

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Stella Penzer

    Oral history interview with Stella Penzer

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Berko Kolodner

    Oral history interview with Berko Kolodner

    Oral History

    Berko Kolodner, born in 1893 in Krynki, Poland, discusses his five brothers and three sisters; his father who had a leather factory; his religious upbringing; being sent to Bialystok, Poland for high school; his desire to attend university, but not being allowed to because he was Jewish; serving in the Russian army during WWI; his family being poor after the war; moving to Switzerland, where he earned his medical degree at the University of Bern in 1925; working as a physician in Vilna (now Vilnius, Lithuania); the Germans bombing and invading Vilna; being sent to the Vilna ghetto; the terrible conditions in the ghetto; his medical practice in the ghetto; his wife, who was also in Vilna; his family in Krynki being deported to Treblinka; Jacob Gens, a ghetto leader, who tried to hold the people together in the ghetto but was eventually killed; the liquidation of the ghetto; his wife being sent to Auschwitz and killed; being sent to several camps in Estonia, including Vaivara, Kuremäe, Lagedi, and Goldfields; the conditions in those camps; being taken by boat to Germany and then Stutthof, where he worked on roofs; being in Buchenwald for two weeks, where he felt like he was dying but people gave him a little more food; the overwhelming hunger at that time; being sent to Colditz in Saxony, Germany; being sent on a starvation march to Theresienstadt; working as a doctor in Theresienstadt, but having no medications to treat people; being liberated by the Russians; one friend from Vilna, Dr. Brijetski who wrote a book about their experiences and eventually moved to Israel; believing he survived by a miracle; being very sick at liberation and spending several months in the hospital in Prague, Czech Republic with a serious staph infection; recovering; working in a monastery, St. Ottilien Archabbey, near Munich for three years; working as a physician the monastery, which was partially transformed into a hospital; meeting his wife there; his positive interactions with the Americans; going to the Netherlands in 1950; immigrating to the United States; the difficulty he has experienced adjusting to life in the US; and not receiving reparations from Germany.

    Oral history interview with Ralph Kornberg

    Oral history interview with Ralph Kornberg

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Esther Krakowski

    Oral history interview with Esther Krakowski

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Ben Jacobs

    Oral history interview with Ben Jacobs

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Rita Kesselman

    Oral history interview with Rita Kesselman

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Judith Kochavi

    Oral history interview with Judith Kochavi

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Mania Kohn

    Oral history interview with Mania Kohn

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Frieda Grayzel

    Oral history interview with Frieda Grayzel

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Rachel Helfgot

    Oral history interview with Rachel Helfgot

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Ed Herman

    Oral history interview with Ed Herman

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Joseph Fischer

    Oral history interview with Joseph Fischer

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Hala Goldstein

    Oral history interview with Hala Goldstein

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Mayer Goldstein

    Oral history interview with Mayer Goldstein

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Steve Collins

    Oral history interview with Steve Collins

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Yael Danieli

    Oral history interview with Yael Danieli

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Barbara Farkas

    Oral history interview with Barbara Farkas

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Elsie Baumann and Henry Baumann

    Oral history interview with Elsie Baumann and Henry Baumann

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Jacob Birnbaum

    Oral history interview with Jacob Birnbaum

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Eugenia Boroff

    Oral history interview with Eugenia Boroff

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Lonia Albeck

    Oral history interview with Lonia Albeck

    Oral History

    Oral history interview with Mira Birnbaum

    Oral History

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