Third part of Ilya [Translation]

TABLE OF CONTENTS*

Preface\The Editor. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Dedicated to Her Image and Remembrance\Aryeh Koplovitz. . . . .15

Part One:

The Historical Ilya

The Town's Origins\A. Avi Avihud. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .21

The "Hagar-Tzedek" Affair\A. Avi Aviva. . . . . . . . . . . . .23

Rabbi Menashe of Ilya\The late Tuvia Ben Chefetz. . . . . . . .35

Ben Porath\Aryeh Ben-Abba . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37

Ilya as a "Hostel" for Torah\A.B.A.K. . . . . . . . . . . . . .69

The Great Yeshiva in Ilya\-"-. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .71

The Scholar Rabbi Reuven of Dinburg\-"-. . . . . . . . . .73

The Scholar Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari\-"- . . . . . . . . .74

The Scholar Rabbi Shmuel Zelig\M.TZ. . . . . . . . . . . .77

The Scholar Rabbi Wolf Broide\-"-. . . . . . . . . . . . .78

The Scholar Rabbi Moshe Yisrael Shapira\from

Sefer Ha'Yovel. . .79

Rabbi Ya'akov Efraim Nachmin\Chaim Levin . . . . . . . . .81

The Scholar Rabbi Avraham Eli Remez\Moshe Shlomo Balaks. .82

Part Two:

Between the Two World Wars

Arainfir[i]\Yossef Vinetski - Mexico. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .89

Mein Heim-Shtatele Ilya[ii]\Eliezer Shapira - Mexico . . . . . . .91

The Ties between Ilya and Eretz Yisrael[iii]\Aryeh Koplovitz. . . .145

The Zionist Movement, its Actions and Courses\Aryeh Bar Droma

and Ahuvah Teitelbaum 211

[8] From his Legacy\ Tuvia Ben Chefetz, blessed be his memory . . 233

My Ilya\Devorah Sherman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264

My Ilya (a poem)\A., Miriam's husband . . . . . . . . . . . . 267

From the Remembrance Notebook\Eliezer Dinerstein U.S.A. . . . 269

With the Hebrew Brigades\A., brother of Malkah K.. . . . . . .271

Gashtalten On Anshtalten[iv]\Leibe Gitles. . . . . . . . . . . . 277

Part Three:

The Holocaust

Der Untergang von Ilya\Die Radactie[v]. . . . . . . . . . . . . 303

Yizkor[vi] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305

The Names of the Martyrs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308

The Tale of the Wandering and the Tears\David Rubin . . . . . 317

At the Place of Slaughter, in the Ghetto, and in the Forests\

Bat Sheva Riar (Bronstein). . . 339

The Struggle for Life\Shraga Solominski . . . . . . . . . . . 373

Ein Die Finzere Taag[vii]\Zoshka Gitliez - America. . . . . . . . 403

The Holocaust\Yonah Riar. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 421

A Hand to Friends,to a Sister,and to Parents\Aryeh Koplovitz. 441

Ya'akov Lapidoth (Yankole) " " . . . . 442

Ya'akov Bronstein " " . . . . 443

Reuven Koplovitz and his Mother " " . . . . 444

Mordechai Rogozinski " " . . . . 445

Shlomo Zalman Sherman " " . . . . 446

Eliyahu Avriel " " . . . . 447

My Sister Malkah " " . . . . 448

My Parents " " . . . . 450

Part Four:

The Sons of Ilya in the Diaspora

Die Amigratzia in America[viii]\Fon Ilyer Zamlong - New York . . . 455

Die Amigratzia in Argentina\Dar Radacter. . . . . . . . . . . 459

Ilyer Ein Argentina\Salaman Koplovitz . . . . . . . . . . . . 462

Undazara Landslite In Mexico\Dar Radacter . . . . . . . . . . 464

Yazt Axistiranda Ilyer in America\Dar Radacter. . . . . . . . 465

[9]

Introduction

With excitement and awe, stooping under the burden of our sorrow, loss, orphanhood and helplessness, we present to the reader The Book of Ilya. This is our modest contribution to the communal tombstone, erected to immortalize the memory of tens of thousands of the communities of Israel, and millions of brothers, who perished in the hands of the Nazi enemy and his helpers: who were tortured, starved, murdered, burned, and killed in strange ways - during the days of the horrendous Holocaust, the like of which never occurred in the history of our people and of the world.

We have no words to describe even the minutest part of the vivid life of our town and the dimensions of the tragedy of its destruction, a tragedy that took place before the very eyes of the indifferent and uncaring people of the world. The Holocaust - that cut down a third of our people - cannot be measured by its astounding results only, without considering the quality of those who perished. We lost our best creative talents, who would have been able, perhaps, to provide a more fitting and appropriate description of the town's life and the dimensions of its tragedy.

And although we are not worthy, fate has assigned this mission to us.

* *

After much effort, the collection of material for the Book of Ilya is completed. We can now bless the effort and say that the job was not an easy one, for many reasons; because of the scarce numbers of our town's residents in the world who survived its destruction; since the community's records, where the main events of the town since its establishment were probably written - were destroyed; for lack of reliable sources from which we could glean information on the ancient town and its history; due to the fact that most of the survivors, who live in Israel, are relatively young, and did not have time to absorb within them the town's culture and history, and the few that did, lost it during their many travels and struggle for survival. All of the above prevented us from presenting a correct and full picture of the glorious past of the town and its effervescent life in the period between the two wars. In addition: we should consider the objective fact that the main burden of writing this book was assigned to only few people [10] and that flawed the description. Despite all, we tried to summarize what was available under the present conditions and to include it in the book.

It is our duty to gratefully mention all those who gave of their time, energy and abilities, material or literary, to the writing of this project. First and foremost, let us bow our heads before the grave of our town's resident Tuvia Chefetz, rest his soul, who initiated the idea and forced us to materialize it, taking the editorial task in his own hands. But how strange sometimes are the ways of fate. The man who longed to commemorate the town did not manage to do so, and died before the project began. May his memory be blessed and retained forever in our hearts.

With gratefulness we mention our town's members, the sons of Tzemach Shapira, rest his soul, from Mexico and the U.S., that thanks to their moral support, their crucial financial contribution, and their constant personal involvement - our tiny birth town, Ilya, gained this eternal tombstone.

We are proud of the respectable appreciation letter to our friends the brothers Shapira, written by Mr. Yossef Vintzki from Mexico, and hereby publish it verbatim with much pleasure:

" [in Yiddish] ......."

[11]

* *

A heartfelt thanks also to Mr. Chaim Levin from the Kibbutz of Ramat Hakovesh. Despite the fact that the man is past his prime, he did not worry about his health and came to see us in the evenings, to tell of his memories of the town's events. Let us wish that we will all have the privilege of blessing him on his 120th birthday.

[12] Hearty blessings to all of Ilya's sons in Israel and in the diaspora: in the United States, Argentina and Mexico. Especially to Zusman Geitlitz, Shlomo Koplovitz and Eliezer Dinerstein and to the members of the committee for the union of Ilya's descendants in Israel. To all the friends who contributed their writing, money, pictures and time to the publication of this memorial book - our deep thanks. All have a considerable part in the project of commemorating the town and its martyrs.

To my friend and work mate, Matityahu Bar Ratzon, for his advice on editorial matters and his interest in the progress of this work - my warm blessing.

* *

To my dear and loyal wife Miriam, who encouraged me to continue work despite the many difficulties and unpleasant obstacles I faced - I send the blessing of a loving and admiring husband.

This book enfolds a long history of the life of a tiny, ancient and lively Jewish community, and the details of its final destruction are at your disposal. Let it serve as an eternal tombstone, to bring together the generations of the past, the present and the future.

The editor.

[13]

- P H O T O G R A P H -

The Shapira Brothers, the main contributors to the publication of the memorial book. Standing from right to left: Ya'akov, Yehoshua, Gershon. Seated: Eliezer

[15]

Aryeh Koplovitz

On Its Image and Memory

A "Yizkor" book for the lives that were lost; for the dear souls that were cut down; for whole families who perished; for babies who were slain; for infants who were torn to pieces; for traditional values that were uprooted; for temples that were burned - and for a tiny and ancient community that was erased from under God's heavens. A book to immortalize the lives, actions and death, of simple as well as outstanding people; of those who contributed in their actions to the aggrandizing of our town's spirit and name among our people and in the world; and of all those who perished in strange deaths, invented by the Satanic enemy, in the period of the most tragic Holocaust in the history of our people.

* *

Although our tragedy is too large to bear, and is inconsolable; although our eyes shed tears over our huge and cruel loss, these are but one drop in the general suffering and morning of the nation. When we now immortalize our pure and dear martyrs, we are but adding our tears to a sea of blood and tears; a sea of loss, sorrow, orphanhood and destruction that cries from the depths - Revenge!

* *

Our town Ilya was like thousands of other Jewish towns attacked by the destroyer, but at the same time it was different. Despite its outer similarities to others, it had its own character,[ix] just like people of the same age, tradition and education have different personalities. Maybe its nickname - "silken sacs" (Ziedne Tarbas [in Yiddish]) reflects its character best: poor and proud.[x] Despite the fact that most of the Jewish population lived in want, with tightened belts and in poverty, the sons were never seen begging in other towns, although many of the poor of the vicinity swarmed our streets. Our poor were hungry in secrecy, but were embarrassed to stretch their hands out for alms. They slowly diminished, but pinched their cheeks to seem blushing in health.

* *

The economic base of the town was meager and the Jews' hearts were drawn especially to matters of the spirit, which changed shape with every generation. Thus [16] our town Ilya nurtured men of stature in Torah and values, of dimensions that were very wide in proportion to its Jewish population.

Two famous people, who have a guaranteed place in history, contributed to our small town Ilya's fame. First is Hagar-Tzedek, Graff Pototzki, who is forever bound with our town. The second is Rabbi Menashe from Ilya, of the disciples of the Ga'on from Vilna, the messenger of light and enlightenment and the rebel against conventions; the first preacher for the productivization of the Jewish street; the persecutor of underage marriages; the rebel against poverty and fighter against ignorance.

* *

The fact that genius, famed rabbis occupied the rabbinical chair in this tiny town, testifies to the Talmudic and moral level of the Ilya Jews and made our town famous in the Jewish street.

The Ga'on Rabbi Aryeh Leib Shapira, better known as Rabbi Leibale Kubner, occupied the rabbinical chair in our town and from there moved to Kubno.

The Ga'on who is well known under the name Rabbi Leibale Umner from the town of Uman.

The Ga'on Rabbi Reuven from Dinburg known as Rabbi Reuvale.

The Ga'on Rabbi Shmuel Ben Yehoshua Zelig - who made aliya in the beginning of the 19th century.

Four of the loyal disciples of the Rabbi Menashe Ben Porath, better known as Rabbi Menashe from Ilya, learned Torah from his lips and eagerly drank from the sources of his wisdom.

The Ga'on and God-fearing Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari, to whom miracles are attributed. And lastly, he who perished so tragically in the Holocaust, before the eyes of his parish, the Rabbi Avraham Eliyahu Remez, bless his soul.

Be the memory of the righteous blessed.

* *

In honor of our town we must mention also the existence of a large yeshiva, headed by the sharp and well-versed Ga'on, Rabbi Moshe Yisrael Shapira. Hundreds of students, sons of Torah, swarmed to the Yeshiva to hear Torah from his mouth, and Ilya's residents took care, with all their hearts and souls, of the students' every need.

[17]

* *

As we erect a tombstone today for the commemoration of the town of our birth, we will also praise the wonderful chapter of the blossoming of the Zionist Movement, in each and every one of its branches,[xi] in the period between the two World Wars.

The deep plough of traditional Jewish education and the dream of the Return to Zion that many generations suckled and absorbed in their hearts, surfaced after the end of the First World War. The buds of the organized Zionist Movement, that first trickled among closed circles now increased and conquered wider strata from year to year, until it appeared an overflowing river that sweeps along everything in its way. By the outbreak of the Second World War, our ENTIRE town Ilya was caught in the flames of belief in the Zionist Movement..

What was - is no longer there.

We now cry over the dear hearts that beat there, that stuck with their faith, that bubbled with life and dreamed and struggled. Now the destroyer cut all this down and it was erased from under God's heavens. The old cemetery, commemorating life, creation and tears, was plowed over and turned into a field, and with it, a long and glorious history of about 600 years disappeared: generations of Hasidim, Ga'onim, the righteous, the innocent, the honest, pioneers and warriors, were swallowed by the earth.

Earth! do not cover up their blood.

Yitgadal Veyitkadash Shmei Raba...

[21]

A. Avi Avihud

On Its Origins

(The City of Elijah the Prophet)*

Ilya is in the Vileika region and about 30 kilometers away from the town; it's in the Vilna District and about 150 kilometers away from it, and was built on the western bank of a brook called Ilya, which is a rivulet of the river Vilya that flows into the Nimen, on its way to the Baltic sea.

* *

The origins of our town are clouded in thick fog. Different opinions set different dates for its supposed origination, ranging between the 14th and the 15th centuries a.d., but there is no doubt that it is hundreds of years old. The only reliable facts that testify to its early existence we found in a Polish historical geographical dictionary from the year 1882, part 3, pages 258-269, according to which as early as in 1634, that is in the first half of the 17th century, there was a Christian church, a Jewish synagogue, and more in Ilya. In addition, the afore said geographical dictionary establishes the fact that our town Ilya developed from the mansion of a prince of the house of Redzivil, which name was Ilya as well.

One of the theories as to the origins of our town has a credible historical-legendary background, and is fit to be presented to you:

At the end of the 14th century Prince Witold ruled over the Lithuanian princedom. He was a brave, heroic man who fought courageously all his life, and struggled against the Tartars and overcame them. He encouraged his soldiers to acts of heroism by granting knighthoods and large estates for mansions. The prince was a distinguished soldier but also a wise statesman and settler. By these actions he achieved two aims simultaneously: the widening of the borders and their protection on the one hand, and the loyalty of his knights on the other. One of his heros, to whom he granted large areas around our town, was called Redzivil. It seems that this Redzivil was the father of that famous dynasty in Polish history, the Counts of the House of Redzivil.

[22] The ancient legend tells: "when this Redzivil first reached the spot, to survey the area and find a location for his mansion, he did not find one piece of land worthy of immediate cultivation. Thick forests lay in front and behind, especially huge pine trees. His searches throughout that day yielded no results. The man despaired and in the meantime the sun had set. His fatigue increased moment to moment, and he thus hurried along, aiming to reach the border of the forest. Suddenly he came across a river that blocked his way. Before the man made a final attempt to get out of this unlucky situation, he decided to rest a bit to gather strength. In the meantime, night had descended, the man's fatigue overtook him, and he fell asleep. He dreamt that, lo and behold, Elijah the Prophet stood near him, encouraging him and whispering: upon dawn you will find your way, don't be afraid, I will be with you, and you will expand westward and eastward, and your descendants will be men of fame."

The man who woke up in fright, discovered that Elijah the prophet has disappeared, and made an oath to call the river and the mansion that will be built - Ilya, after Elijah the prophet who came to him in his dream. And the man indeed fulfilled his oath; the mansion that was built on the spot and the river were called Ilya.

Prince Witold - who was kind to the Lithuanian Jews, granted them rights and even published statutes for their protection - continued in his settlement policies. The forest withdrew to make room for the plough, and many mansions were built in the area. Thus the first Jews appeared in the mansions; as tenants, managers and tax officers, who for obvious reason chose of their own free will to concentrate in one spot and live together. Thus our town Ilya originated and became a historical given.

Now it is no longer there.

[69]

A. B. A. K.

Ilya as a "Hostel" for Torah

Although Ilya was a tiny and poor town, it served as a hostel and center for Torah. It's a fact that on its rabbinical chair sat famous, genius rabbis, who achieved glory there, and then moved on to bigger cities and their names became known throughout the diaspora.

One should not credit mere chance with this phenomenon, since chance is usually a singular and exceptional event - and this is not the case here. This fact relates to almost all of Ilya's rabbis, with the exception of a few that due to modesty and humility refused it. We can suppose therefore that this is no simple matter; that this fact was probably deeply rooted in the town and its atmosphere. It seems to us that the close ties between the rabbis -- the spiritual shepherds of the town, and the Jewish population -- their herd, were ties of mutual fertilization. Jewish Ilya influenced more than a little the spiritual transcendence of its rabbis, whereas the rabbis bestowed their grandeur and splendor on the former. It follows that the rabbis found ample and convenient grounds in Ilya for their public and spiritual growth.

We do not have biographical and general details on all of Ilya's rabbis since its establishment, but the little that is known is enough to prove its singularity and our above claim.

We did not include in the list of Ilya's rabbis that famous Ga'on, Rabbi Menashe from Ilya, the late Ben Porath. Although this genius lived in Ilya most of his life and had great impact, he never occupied the rabbinical chair.

The second to be known and famous in the rabbinical world as a genius in Torah and morals, is Rabbi Leib Shapira rest his soul, who occupied the rabbinical chair in Ilya and managed to reach the rabbinical chair in Kubna and became famous in the world under the appellation - Rabbi Leibale Kubner. His descendants - sons, grandsons and great-grandsons, served and are serving to this day as glorious links in a chain of rabbis and heads of Yeshiva.

The third to be known in the rabbinical world as a marvelous genius, sharp and well-versed, is our Rabbi Reuven Halevi Levin rest his soul. As his predecessors, he too occupied the rabbinical seat in our town and when he became famous he was invited with much splendor to the big city Davinsk where he became famous throughout the diaspora under the name of the Ga'on from Dinburg.

[70] The fourth, the Ga'on Rabbi Shmuel Ben Yehoshua Zelig rest his soul, occupied the rabbinical chair in our town, but served in a dual role: the town's rabbi and the head of its yeshiva. He became known in the diaspora as a genius, and active and prolific creator. Like the disciples of the Ga'on from Vilna, he too the left that rabbinate, made aliya, settled in Jerusalem and published a few compositions known to this day.

The fifth is our Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari rest his soul, the son-in-law of Rabbi Leibale Kubner. He was a humble, pious, righteous man in everything he did, innocent, withdrawn, and many acts of miracle are attributed to him. The elderly told that he was interested in the mysticism as well, and our small town constituted a suitable place for him, from where he refused to depart.

The sixth is our rabbi Avraham Eli Remez rest his soul, a distinguished student, a gentle soul, a respectable and enlightened zionist, a servant of the public, and widely educated, he was the last rabbi of the town and perished there before the eyes of his parish. May his soul be blessed.

* *

The origins of the big yeshiva in Ilya are unknown as well, and some say that the seed was sown by Rabbi Menashe from Ilya. There are sources that testify that it was extant at the end of the 18th century, headed by the Ga'on Rabbi Shmuel Ben Yehoshua. In any cases, clear details are known only from the period of the 80s in the 19th century, when it was headed by the Ga'on Rabbi Moshe Yisrael Shapira rest his soul.

* *

It is appropriate that we mention another fact typical of the wise students of Torah in our town Ilya. They did not settle for turning the town into a fortress of torah, but went ahead to conquer important positions especially in the large cities in Lithuania: Minsk, Vilna, Bobroisk and more. Among the known and famous as heads of yeshiva in Minsk: Rabbi Ya'akov Lachovski, known as Rabbi Ya'akov Zabrir, Rabbi Naftali Hertz, Rabbi Leib Akman, Rabbi Gronam Akman, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Parsafa, Rabbi Shlomo Yo'el, the great grandson of Rabbi Menashe from Ilya, Rabbi Yehoshua, Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Sherman, Rabbi Moshe Chatan Kostsakres, Rabbi Ze'ev Wolf Broide, who served as the head of the Bobroisk Yeshiva and the Ga'on Rabbi Yitzchak Pines, head of the law court in Minsk.

[71]

THE GREAT YESHIVA IN ILYA

It is well known that our town Ilya served in the past as an important hostel for the students of Torah. Many of Israel's geniuses and the masters of Judaism of Lithuania and Byelorussia in that period, learned there how to swim in the sea of Talmud. But now, when we are attempting to raise the forgotten, to light an eternal candle for our town, its personalities and actions, we unfortunately do not have reliable sources on its glorious and distant past, to describe the yeshiva that served as a lighthouse and shone forth with its Torah and wisdom. It is especially hard now to research and verify chapters of the past, since the community's book, where the important facts and events that happened in our ancient town were recorded - was destroyed along with the whole Jewish population. But from a few clues in the limited sources that we hold we can deduct that the yeshiva was established about 180 years ago, and had its ups and downs; periods of blossoming when she swarmed with students, and years of diminishment and decline. And again came days of ebbing and following them days of slump and destruction.

According to one version, the seed for the Yeshiva in Ilya was sown by Rabbi Menashe (Ben Porath) the Ilyite, when he established a circle of Torah students, in an attempt to root the studying of Talmud in the grounds of logic and action, rather than in the sophist method that was used in the past. Like his great rabbi, the Ga'on from Vilna, he too saw in the existing method of studying a method intended only for the talented few, but an obstacle for the widening of the circle of students that would encompass as large a mass as possible. In his opinion, it was crucial to heal and simplify the studying of Talmud. There were many among his students who, for the most part, later became famous in the Jewish world as distinguished rabbis and geniuses: Like Rabbi Leibale Shapira known as Rabbi Leibale Kubner, Rabbi Aryeh Leib Umner, Rabbi Reuven Levin, known as the Ga'on from Dinburg, and more. These facts have some support in the book "Beit Natan" by Rabbi Nachman Kornil from Jerusalem, which was published about 120 years ago. The list of patrons supporting the book - along with the Chief Rabbi of that period Rabbi Avraham Ashkenazi and others - includes also the Rabbi Shmuel Ben Yehoshua Zelig, who is presented as Ilya's Rabbi and the head of this yeshiva. More details on the Rabbi Shmuel are published in a series dedicated to the great rabbis of our town.

In a later period we find additional proof for the existence of the yeshiva in our town. In an article published in the newspaper "Hatzfira" no. 166 from the year 1891 we read: "in the last 10 years the Ilya yeshiva is blossoming [72] and flourished and many of Israel's students go there to acquire Torah and knowledge. Heading the yeshiva is the Ga'on Rabbi Moshe Yisrael Shapira who raised its level and made its name known in public. The righteous and humble rabbi of Ilya Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari does much to satisfy the needs of the students. Although Ilya is a small town, it supports the yeshiva students almost on its own and supplies for their needs generously."

Later in the "Hatzfira" article the event of the exploitation of the name of the Ilya Yeshiva is brought forth. It was made known to the community, that a certain man travelling in Russia was presenting himself as the messenger of the Ilya Yeshiva and was collecting money and contributions for it. The Ilya community thus issues a open request not to comply with the man's wishes, who presents himself as the messenger of the yeshiva, because no one has been sent to collect funds. The public is asked not to believe him, even if it sees a letter signed by the rabbi, for the letter is a forgery. One can presume that the "messenger" misled our humble and righteous rabbi. The writer adds: Ilya's small community is proud of its own ability and that of the generous Zaldovitz of Minsk - to provide for its students honorably, and does not need the alms of the public at large.

The reputation of Ilya's yeshiva began to decline after its head Rabbi Moshe Yisrael Shapira left its role as director and moved to the United States, to serve as the Chief Rabbi of Ilya's descendants in the New World. Details on the Ga'on Rabbi Moshe Yisrael are brought in the series on the Masters of Torah in Ilya.

[73]

THE GA'ON RABBI REUVEN HALEVI LEVIN, MAY THE

MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS BE BLESSED

Rabbi Reuvale Dinburger

Our marvelous Rabbi Halevi Levin was son to the rabbi of the town of Smorgon. While still young, he showed transcendent talents and exceptional studiousness. When he matured, he was sent to Ilya to learn Torah from the famous Ga'on Rabbi Aryeh Leib Shapira, who was the head of the court of the town of Ilya and was later known as Rabbi Leibale Kubner, when he was in the rabbinical chair in the town of Kubno.

His great rabbi, Rabbi Leibale, was the one to pave the way for him to the Torah, to honor and glory, and to bestow upon his the adjective prodigy. Indeed, he became known in public as the prodigy from Smorgon. When he was ordained a rabbi by his great rabbi and other Ga'onim, Rabbi Reuven departed from his distinguished teacher and served as a rabbi in many towns, but when Rabbi Leibale was invited to serve as rabbi in the big city Kobno, Rabbi Reuven returned and settled in Ilya, succeeded the chair of his rabbi, and glorified our town Ilya with his presence, and ameliorated its reputation.

It did not take long for his name to become famous throughout the diaspora, and the city Dinburg-Davinsk invited him to serve as a rabbi. The son-in-law of Rabbi Leibale Kubner, Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari, succeeded him in our town Ilya. Now began the important period in the life of Rabbi Reuven Halevi, and his name became known throughout the Jewish world as Rabbi Reuvale Dinburger: as a transcendent Ga'on, a well-versed and profound teacher, as one of the important pioneers. Rabbis and Ga'onim of his generation turned to him for all their difficult questions from far and from near, and his name rose to prominence throughout the diaspora.

In his private life he was a humble, kind, congenial person, righteous in all of his deeds and pious in all of his actions. He was sharp, clever, and his rulings were celebrated for their logic and simplicity. He was very much loved by the masses of Israel, and accepted by all the generation's great. The name Rabbi Reuvale Dinburger was carried throughout the diaspora with admiration and respect. In the last 8 years of his life he glorified the rabbinical chair of Davinsk, and from hence was invited to the yeshiva up above at the age of 71, and the entire house of Israel mourned him.

[74]

OUR RABBI MOSHE SHLOMO KHARI,

MAY THE MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS BE BLESSED

Our teacher Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari arrived in our town Ilya as the son-in-law of the rabbi, the Ga'on Rabbi Aryeh Leib Shapira, who was later known in the rabbinical and Jewish world as the Ga'on Rabbi Leibale Kubner.

The main characteristics of our Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari were: genius, modesty, innocence and awe of God. When the honorable rabbi the Ga'on Rabbi Aryeh Leib Shapira was invited to gloriously serve as the chief rabbi of the town of Kubno, his son-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Khari, refused to occupy the vacant rabbinical chair, for reasons of humbleness and honor. He recommended that the rabbinate be passed on to Rabbi Leibale Kubner's distinguished student - the Ga'on Rabbi Reuvale Levin, later known in the world as the Ga'on from Dinburg. Only after Rabbi Reuvale was invited to serve as the chief rabbi of the town of Dinburg, did Rabbi Moshe Shlomo agree to succeed the rabbinical chair in Ilya.

Although Rabbi Moshe Shlomo was a genius in Torah and well-versed in Jewish Law, as was appropriate for the Ga'on Rabbi Leibale Kubner's son-in-law and for the famous brother-in-law of Rabbi Raphael of Velozin, of a widely branched and deeply rooted rabbinical family of generations, it is his innocence and righteousness that made him famous in public. Different legends and facts circulated about him that demonstrated his innocence and integrity. Even miracles were attributed to him, and we will hereby examine some of them.

A Humble and Withdrawn Man

1) One day it became known in Ilya that a resident of the town, a Jew known as Berale Bashas, was arrested by the Russian police, accused of stealing horses. The rumor spread quickly in town. One of the landlords thought it right to bring this to the Rabbi's attention, Rabbi Moshe Shlomo, and to deliberate as to what is to be done. When our Rabbi heard the story, he became very angry, and admonished the teller harshly for crossing one of the explicit "Do Nots" of the Torah: "Do not gossip," "Do not bear false witness," "Do not embarrass your friend in public," etc. Of course, Rabbi Moshe Shlomo did not believe the teller. "Such a story is impossible," he continuously claimed: "it is explicitly written: Do Not Steal."

[75]

2) As mentioned, our rabbi was an innocent man, withdrawn and distant from worldly events. When his name became known, he was invited to participate in a rabbinical convention in the town of Dolhinov, at a distance of about thirty kilometers from our town. The only means of transportation between the two town was of course the horse and wagon, and it took about 4 hours. After the honorable rabbi passed about half the distance, he turned to the driver and asked: is this still Russia? To the driver's response: "yes," our Rabbbi muttered: it is indeed, then, a huge country.

3) As a withdrawn man he was deeply absorbed in his Talmud studies day and night, and did not feel at all what was going on around him. One night he studied in his room by candlelight, and did not hear at all that his little child was crying and wailing. His father-in-law Rabbi Leibale, who was woken up by the howling, went to calm the child down, but was extremely surprised to see his son-in-law awake and studying Talmud, not hearing what was going on around him. In order not to interrupt his studies, Rabbi Leibale turned to calm the child down himself. After an hour, the whole situation repeated itself. The child burst out crying and again Rabbi Leibale went to the baby to calm him, although Rabbi Moshe Shlomo was still awake and studying the Talmud in front of him.

The following morning, Rabbi Leibale turned to his son-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Shlomo, and demanded that he grants his wife a divorce, since he does not participate in the burden of raising their son. To Rabbi Moshe Shlomo's amazement, Rabbi Leibale told him the incident of the crying at night, but Rabbi Moshe Shlomo apologized and explained that he did not hear nor feel the baby crying. To that extent he was deep in his studies of Torah.

The Righteous shall Live by his Faith

In the year 1905 when rioters made pogroms in the Russian Jewry, encouraged by the government to plunder and kill, rumors reached our town that conspiring peasants decided to take advantage of the weekly market day, when tens of thousands of peasants gather for market exchanges, to rob the property of the town's Jews.

Shocked and sorrowful, mourning, their heads bowed down, the Jews walked about upon hearing this intelligence. Their first deed was to go to the town's Rabbi, Rabbi Moshe Shlomo the righteous, the knower of the visible and the hidden, to tell him of their misfortune. [76] When the rabbi heard of this, he declared a small Yom Kippur. All the Jews from old to young gathered in the synagogue for public prayer, and the rabbi himself passed in front of the holy ark in order to eradicate the evil of the verdict. At the end of the prayer the rabbi turned to his flock and encouraged them to trust in God's assistance, that will arrive instantaneously.

After these consoling words, the spirits calmed down a bit, and the belief in the strength of Israel overpowered the hesitation and fear of danger. The public dispersed to their houses, and with relief the grocers opened their businesses. At the very same time the leaders of the conspirators gathered in the Jewish bakery, to get drunk and cheer themselves up toward the operation. Although this was winter and it was cold and snowy, loud thunders were suddenly heard. One of the bolts went into the bakery, where the conspirators were gathered, hit the leg of a small Jewish girl, and tore her shoe off without hurting or scratching her leg at all. On the other hand, this thunder bolt cut off the right hand of the head of the conspirators.

On hearing the thunder, the peasants who were about to plunder were frightened, and they embarked on a quick retreat from town, accompanied by their shouts: "The Jews are throwing bombs." Indeed, the hoped for miracle, that the Rabbi Moshe Shlomo promised, occurred.

Many years after his death, the elderly still insisted on his mystical force, and his holy name was uttered by all with awe and respect.

[77]

M. TZ.

THE GA'ON RABBI SHMUEL BEN YEHOSHUA ZELIG, REST IN PEACE

At the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th, the Rabbi Shmuel Zelig, rest in peace, served as the rabbi and the head of the Yeshiva in our town Ilya and its vicinity: Khachenchitz, Viazin, Susenka and more. Rabbi Shmuel was a hard-working student, an active public servant, and a capable writer. This we gleaned from his book "Minchat Shmuel," that was published in the year 1802 in Vilna.

As a talented pedagogue and a student of the Velozin Yeshiva headed by Rabbi Chaim, he tries in the aforementioned book, that constitutes an interpretation of the "Brachot" tractate, to use the method of the Ga'on from Vilna. That is, to explain the chapter simply and succinctly, in order to demonstrate to the young Torah scholar how to get away from endless sophistry, that would confuse him and distant him from the core of the matter. Rabbi Shmuel hopes that his thesis on the "Brachot" tractate will serve as precedent for his generation's scholars, encouraging them to publish other books in that spirit, which would make swimming in the sea of Talmud easier for young students.

As was appropriate for his generation of the school of the Ga'on from Vilna, he left the rabbinical crown in Ilya and made aliya to Israel and settled in Jerusalem. Here too Rabbi Shhmuel continued to serve the public with faith and devotion. According to Mr. Pinchas Graveski's book "In Memory of the First Chovevim" Rabbi Shmuel published another book in Jerusalem, in 1809, called "Gates of Tears."

Apart from his being a scholar and a believer he also handled the public affairs of the community. He especially struggled to provide for the poor and unfortunate among Jerusalem's Jewry. The many who lost their property received secret gifts from him without ever knowing who the anonymous giver was.

Rabbi Shmuel's name was made known in Jerusalem as a master of Torah, and among his many close friends was also the chief rabbi of the Ashkenazi community in this period. He was famous, much loved, and popular among the Jerusalem community, and his name was blessed by all its Jewish residents. In the year 1818 Rabbi Shmuel died and found a place of rest in The Mount of Olives.

May his memory be blessed.

[78] M. TZ.

THE GA'ON RABBI ZE'EV WOLF BROIDE REST IN PEACE

Rabbi Ze'ev Wolf was born in 1851 in the city of Minsk that is nearby our town. As was the custom these days, the youth turned to the Torah Hostels, distinguished himself there by his wonderful dedication and by his rapid and clear comprehension abilities. At the age of 18 he was ordained a rabbi by the Ga'on Soloveitsik, the head of the court of the city of Lutsek, and later the rabbi of the town of Brisk.

He was 19 when he reached our town looking for a hostel for Torah and for the right atmosphere for studying. In our town Ilya he married Mrs. Yachne of the house of Hotner. His wife was the one to carry the burden of providing for the household, and thus allowed her husband to study and teach Torah uninterrupted. And indeed Rabbi Wolf climbed from stage to state and became famous as a master of Torah.

Since his marriage and throughout his residence in Ilya, he would allocate time for Torah with the local Rabbi, the righteous Rabbi Moshe Shlomo, and they would both learn together laws and especially the "Shulchan Aruch" tractate.

At 30 he was already well known and accepted in wide circles of Torah in Lithuania and Byelorussia, and was thus invited to head the Broisk yeshiva and during his 25 years of service he brought forth many distinguished students.

During the First World War Rabbi Wolf returned to the city of his birth, Minsk, and along with his colleague the Ga'on Rabbi Leib Rubin from Volkomir in Lithuania, he established a yeshiva and continued to teach Torah. The end of the First World War and the stabilization of the borders between the states left him in Minsk in Soviet Russia, whereas our town Ilya, a distance of only 60 kilometers from Minsk, where his family lived, was considered a part of the state of Poland. This situation saddened his spirit and drew near his end..

On passover 1931, when he was 80, he was suddenly called to the yeshiva up above, and a letter from an anonymous writer, who risked his life and crossed the border for that purpose, told his son, Ben Zion Broide, that his great father was no longer alive.

May his soul be blessed.

[145]

Eternal Light

For my parents Abba and Gitah Koplovitz, of the house

of Broide, and my sister Malkah, who perished

in the Holocaust of our people; this on the eve of the resurrection of Israel.

May their souls rest in peace.

Aryeh Koplovitz

The Ties between Ilya and Eretz Yisrael, Past and Present*

(approximately two hundred years of aliya[xii] from one town)

Like burnt firebrands, to which providence allowed the privilege of coming to live in independent Israel, it is our duty to erect a memorial for our town and for its Jews, who once were and are no more. Our modest contribution will be in telling the wonderful stories of aliya, from the distant past and from the period between the two World Wars. These stories testify to the tight bonds between our town, Ilya, and Eretz Yisrael; bonds that passed the tests of time. We will unravel here chapters of grandeur, magic and longing, chapters saturated with yearning for Israel, for aliya and for Zionism, and stretching over a period of approximately 200 years. Since some of these tales refer to previous generations, however, and since they were transmitted from generation to generation orally, it is possible that here and there the facts are strewn with fiction. We will do our best, hence, to accurately transmit what others told us and also to describe the characters of immigrants from our own time and pass all this on to the next generations.

Numerous factors spurred the different generations of our town to make aliya, but common to all was the love for the land. Whereas the first generation was moved mainly by deep religious fervor, whereas the next generation came in order to fulfill the mitzvah[xiii] of settling the land, whereas those who [146] followed went to Eretz Yisrael to die and be buried there, afterwards a turning point has occurred: namely the development of the nationalist ideal. Now came to the land olim whose hearts' desire was to settle and build it. The motive of those who followed them was the vision of the resurrection of Israel; then came olim who carried in their hearts the readiness to struggle against the conqueror and to liberate the land. We have now arrived at the year 1948, and the next olim, who fought for the independence of Israel and sometime have bravely fallen in the battle field. The state was born. Olim from our town who were wandering across Europe picked up the immigration to Israel. Every survivor directed his steps towards Zion.

Even today, as these words are being written in the year 1961, during the State of Israel's thirteenth anniversary, we still see a feeble stream of olim from "over there" seeping in; their ragged limbs arrive from the valley of tears, to take cover underneath the shadow of the developing state of Israel.

And Our Eyes Shall See

The vision of the Jewish people and its love for the land intertwined for thousands of years. With his mother's milk, the Jewish child received the love and yearning for the land. Already in his childhood his lips were trained to mumble: "and our eyes shall see the return to Zion." All this stamped in him the indelible mark of love and yearning. Thus a secret and burning chain of desires and dreams was formed, that he carried with him throughout his life, in joy and in sorrow, until his descent to his grave.

To counter his impoverished and gloomy life, a life accompanied by constant anxiety and fear from the hostile and conspiring goyim surrounding him, he immersed himself in faith and in the memories of the Bible that were planted in his heart as a child and that awoke in his imagination longings for a glorious past...For we, too, were once a free people in Eretz Yisrael. A people like any other people: with our own royal habits, with our own governmental rule that provided days of war as well as of tranquility. But as long as we were rooted in the land, we knew no despair. There always came a leader who put himself at the head of the camp and for the most part succeeded... Eventually we were conquered. The people were exiled, disseminated among the goyim, and lost its independence.

Close to two thousand years have passed and the people began to recover. Despite their wide dispersal and their oppression through the generations, and because they were special and different from others, their spirit never failed. From the its depth, joyfully and sorrowfully, they turned their soul to Zion and to the renewal of national freedom. This longing passed from generation to generation and thus

[147] penetrated the souls of our fathers. As Judaism suckled from the roots of the holy and ancient

Hebrew tradition, thus our fathers' fathers carried in their hearts, in the darkness of the prolonged exile, the vision of complete salvation. In their hardships and their wanderings, they dreamed about it. Granted, in their difficult living conditions, in their fear, in their poverty, most of them were forced to be content with merely pure prayer. But in all periods there were a few, courageous and heroic, who stood up to fulfil their soul's desire - to immigrate to the land of their fathers.

The yearnings for Zion are no shorter than the length of the exile itself. But we shall skip over some of the better known facts of the history of Israel. In all periods of the bitter exile a few groups and individuals fulfilled the mitzvah of the return to Zion -- before and after the destruction of the First and Second Temples, in the middle ages of the false prophets, and so forth.

But these facts do not bear a particular relevance to our town, and we will now examine the direct participation of our town members in the various aliyot.

The Aliya of the Hasidim

The history of the Jewish people in the diaspora is inherently tragic: due to our loss of national independence, to our willing or forced segregation, and due to our historical destiny. Providential trials of tribulations and pernicious edicts, throughout the exile years, created a series of additional disasters, based on continuous suffering on the one hand, and the hope for salvation on the other. Despite our people's famous persistent and adamant faith in its Protector and Savior, the prolonged disappointments that it suffered created fertile ground for the actions of various radical visionaries. Even if their motive was the hastening of redemption for the oppressed and suffering people, the outcome was disappointment and conversion.

Many God-fearing believers were swept away by this tragic whirlpool. Such was the fate of the supporters of Shabtai Tzvi, of Ya'akov Frank's Hasidim, and of others. These tragic fates taught the leaders of Israel in the next generations to fight every new movement while it is still in its diapers, and to ban every new idea while it is still fresh.

Our purpose is not to explicate the origins of the Hasidic movement, its incentives and goals. This has been done by various historians and writers. Our present purpose is merely to clarify the background, to shed light on and explain the reasons for the bitter and persistent struggle between the Hasidim and their adversaries. To our town Ilya, located as it is in the planes between Lithuania and Reisen, the Hasidic movement arrived in a later generation and in its HABADic manifestation. The

[148] creator and spiritual founder of the Hasidic movement in our area was Rabbi Shneor Zolman Meladi. Although he was not among the direct disciples of the Ba'al Shem Tov, but rather a student of a student, of Rabbi Ya'akov Yossef, he was nonetheless discovered to be a gifted thinker of Hasidic learning and foundations, and a creator, founder and preacher of great stature. The core of this Hasidic learning is to instill optimism and joy of life into the grim existence of the people. His ideas were based on the Zohar writing, the Ari and the Kabbala, and he gathered these in his well-known book "Tania." He assumed that these ideas will provide firm foundations for the survival of a people that tribulations and disappointments brought to decadence and moral disintegration. The group that gathered around him was called HABAD, an acronym for "Wisdom, Understanding, Knowledge."

The most important Talmudic authority during this period and in area was undoubtedly the Scholar Rabbi Eliyahu from Vilna -- better known as the GERA. Among his principles were the objection to the sophist method of learning Talmud, prevalent in his generation and before. Instead, he offered a more simple and practical method of learning. In addition, historians mark the fact that he prescribed the study of nature, mathematics and astronomy as necessary for the plunge into the Talmudic sea and for fathoming its bottom.

It is not our intention to deviate and describe the magnitude of this divine man and his many actions. This is not the task prescribed. We would like to explicate, mainly, the affair of his persistent, bitter and prolonged war against the Hasidic movement; a war that was undoubtedly the main and primary reason for immigration of Hasidic groups to Eretz Yisrael two hundred years ago, and among them the first olim from our town.

The dissemination of the HABAD groups in our area in those days was slow and hesitant at first, and encircled especially groups who did not include the biggest scholars and champions of Torah. The basics of the HABAD teaching were understood by the masses as the preferring of faith, joy of life and fervor over reason, learning, and knowledge of the Talmud, and hence their attraction to it. Moreover, the habit of condescension of the scholars of that period towards the lay "masses" hastened the growth of the Hasidic movement and contributed more than just a little to its integration.

The Scholar Rabbi Eliyahu from Vilna, the light of the Diaspora in this period, who knew the magnitude of the disasters brought about on the Jewish people by messianic and segregational cults, was horrified by the development of the Hasidic movement. The HABAD movement that rose in his area seemed to him to be a new edition of these messianic cults, but of a larger scope and greater force. The

[149] danger seemed real, and so he countered it with a war of annihilation. During this struggle, that took place in Lithuania and in Byelorussia, extremists on both sides used horrible and forbidden measures that even led to the interference of state authorities and to the arrest of the Rabbi and of the Scholar both. Of all the men who tried to reconcile and to prove to the Scholar that his fears were not founded, that no danger threatened Judaism from the HABAD movement, none managed to convince him. Even the special attempt of Rabbi Menashe Ben Porath, of our town, one of the Scholar's closest disciples, to personally examine HABAD by visiting the house of Rabbi Shneor Zalman, has not managed to sway the Scholar from his rigid position. The internal war persisted, accelerated and reached new heights of hatred.

Those were hard and bitter days. This futile hatred amongst the clan of Israel grew and flourished, and was especially felt, bitter as poison, in the small towns. Those were days of sighs and hardships for the Hasidim, but for their persecutors as well. Imagine this: in a small town, where a few hundreds of families emerged, grew, and formed together, tied to each other with family and neighborly bonds, suddenly thirty families segregate themselves from the crowd. The majority of the town were inspired by the Scholar, and thus saw the segregationalists as a real danger to its existence and to the existence of the people as a whole, and started a warfare against them. They were barred from participating in public prayer, stripped of the privilege of "going up to the Torah," their children forbidden to participate in Torah education, no one would have any contact with them - they became virtually lepers exiled from the camp. Those were dark days for the HABADs and heavy blows were dealt to them.

And despite all this, they would not capitulate. The blows toughened them and developed strong feelings of mutual help among them. Although most of them were of the lower classes and with scant material means, they began to recover, and with their special kind of enthusiasm began the construction of an independent temple, "Shtibel." The few men of means among them carried a very heavy financial load, but the poor, too, endeavored to help above and beyond their meager means. But even taking all this into account, it is doubtful whether they could have survived the financial strain on the one hand and the loneliness on the other, if it weren't for their decision to accept a widely branched family, one of the sons of which was involved in the tragic "Hagar Tzedek" affair. Now both sides reached out for each other and their loneliness subsided. The lone family joined HABAD and the HABAD people embraced it. This covenant allowed both sides to widened their social circle and the basis of their sustenance.

As long as the Hasidim were faced with hardship, they found the power and the energy needed to cope with the obstacles. But when the tensions eased a bit and they found themselves in a relatively tranquil position, they realized that in the final analysis they were isolated. This isolation increased day

[150] to day and weighed heavy on them, especially on the sensitive and wealthy among them. When no other solution was found, they decided to immigrate to Eretz Yisrael in order to resolve their special problem. Thus originated a consequential movement to make aliya among the Hasidim, including some of our town's people.

Rabbi[xiv] Isaac Meir Ben Yossef was a tenant of a flour mill in Ilya for almost his entire life. When a boy he was orphaned from his father, and instead of continuing his studies in the Cheder[xv] and moving on to the local Yeshiva, he was compelled to enter the work force at an early age, to provide for his small sisters and brothers and for his widowed mother. The man indeed succeeded in his task and achieved a firm financial basis, although at the expense of knowledge of Torah and education. As a wealthy and recognized community member, that has money but aspires for respect, he tried to gain the latter through public work and honorary community service, but his status as a layman hindered him from doing so. The educated town's people, who were the most influential in public affairs, rejected him for this reason and he thus became embittered.

The formation of HABAD in the town served him, thus, as a springboard for his ambitions. He felt that his time has now come and his dreams of becoming an important public figure will now be realized. Instantaneously, he joined the Hasidim and they provided him with wide grounds for public action and for achieving respect. Rabbi Isaac Meir now financed their actions and took care of their organization. Thanks to his energy and material means, the required sums for the construction of the "Shtibel" were now raised. Under his initiative and financial support, a HABADic scholar was summoned to instruct the children of the Hasidim, and his every need was supplied by the Rabbi: he ate his bread and sheltered in his house. All this made gave him the right to be considered a pillar of the HABAD community in our town. All was well, then, and Rabbi Isaac Meir was adorned by two crowns: wealth and respect. But fate decreed otherwise, and the tables soon turned.

The young scholar Rabbi Naftali Ben Yehuda, a hard working genius well versed in Talmudic law, was accepted as part of the family at Rabbi Isaac Meir's house, for the preceding eight years. He was a gentle boy, perhaps ten years old, when his father brought him from far away to the Ilya yeshiva, so that he could acquire knowledge of Torah and wisdom. The director of the Yeshiva, who liked the boy very much, managed to put him in a wealthy household so that he would be able to devote all his energy to the Torah without lacking for anything. Thus the boy arrived at Rabbi Isaac Meir's house, where he turned Bar Mitzvah and grew into a handsome youth. He made progress in his Torah studies and in his manners and earned love, respect and deep appreciation. But, as we shall see, action has to be preceded by thought. Rabbi Isaac Meir, a man of action, had been devising for some time practical plans concerning the young scholar Naftali; he wanted, with all his heart, to have him wed his beautiful only

[151] daughter, Esther, who was about to come of age. Despite his public success, the fact that he was but an ignorant layman caused him unimaginable suffering. Giving his daughter in marriage to a studious and distinguished Torah scholar would have compensated him for his suffering. He did not doubt for a minute that this plan would succeed, especially since he was not only rich but also an important activist in the HABAD congregation. The fruit was ripe - all he needed was to reach out his hand and pluck it.

Rabbi Isaac Meir's wide involvement in the HABAD congregation and his enthusiastic support, took as of late all of his time. No other cause occupied now so much of his attention and energy, as if he wanted, by his special efforts, to catch up with the years of no public involvement that were forced upon him. Suddenly fate interrupted and loaded the dice. His secret ambitions were shattered to pieces. Still debating how to raise the proposal to his future son-in-law, to speak frankly and negotiate the terms, his wife informed him that the desired son-in-law left the house never to return. He was shocked. The nightingale for whom he has builded the gilded cage flew away. Although this was a blow, he did not lose his senses. Recovering his serenity, his pragmatic and clear brain devised a plan to return Naftali, the intended groom, to his house. He understood that in this case the most promising means of doing so would be direct confrontation, but he hesitated to do so for various reasons. After further deliberation, he decided to plan a "coincidental meeting;" this was the only plan that could result in success. Since he knew his place of abode, and his hour of return at night, Rabbi Isaac Meir was able to ambush the future groom. The planning was impeccably precise. The meeting with Naftali, that occurred at a late hour, seemed absolutely coincidental.

"Greetings, Naftali," began Rabbi Isaac Meir, "what a coincidence. From whence are you coming and where are you headed?" he continued to ask, side-tracking the conversation. When he felt that the conversation flowed easily, he asked, as if by the way, "why do we not see you in our house lately?" The answer that came was hesitant and mumbled - part apology, part evasion. But Rabbi Isaac Meir did not let go of his victim until he discovered the complete truth. The reason had to do with the ties between Rabbi Isaac Meir and HABAD.

The young scholar Naftali stood there ashamed and embarrassed and whispered between his teeth, hesitantly and self-justifiably, "I cannot do harm to my benefactor, but be informed that the GERA from Vilna declared the HABAD Hasidim to be heretics and prohibited any connection with them." To the emotional response of Rabbi Isaac Meir the miller, namely that these allegations have no basis in fact or truth, the young scholar answered that the GERA undoubtedly knew what he was saying! "Who am

[152] I to doubt his deeds and words? His words are my law."

Cold sweat covered Rabbi Isaac's face and his vision grew dark. He felt that he was about to collapse. Such a blow has never been dealt to him in his life, and he realized that his beautiful dream was evaporating. He lost his balance, but did not collapse. His physical strength proved itself. Although the young scholar continued with his apologies, explaining his tough situation and his double loyalty, these words did not register in his brain. This condition persisted for a few minutes. Slowly he began to recover and his brain began to work. His tongue, that was temporarily silenced, now recovered its nimbleness. Despite all, he could not refute the allegations. He stammered: "only your good and the good of my daughter count, I am already old, my entire copious wealth was accumulated for your sake. Do you really believe me to be a heretic?" His heart told him that his response permeated the soul of the young scholar. He felt that the latter's perseverance has slackened, that a crack appeared in the wall, but in order to conquer it completely an additional assault was needed, and for that he did not have the required strength at the moment. He set the date, therefore, for the decisive assault that will take place in a meeting held, according to his suggestion, at the young scholar's house. Rabbi Naftali, whose nerves and conscience were undermined by this conversation, tried to clarify the futility of such a meeting, but he was not strong enough and was forced to agree, on the condition that the meeting will take place in the middle of the night, in an isolated place outside town.

They met in the middle of the night. Rabbi Isaac Meir, the miller, a practical man of much experience in life, was full of ideas and arguments. The young scholar virtually collapsed under the weight of his reasoning and was convinced that his arguments were correct - and yet he did not yield. "What will the people say?" he claimed, "my friends, my acquaintances, the heads of the yeshiva and the entire town? I can not!" To this emotional defense Rabbi Isaac did not have any answer. Morning dawned already and a solution was not to be found. Suddenly, the miller's face brightened. The brilliant, saving idea arrived. The appropriate and desirable solution to both sides was found: marriage and immediate aliya to Eretz Yisrael.

"For years now," began Rabbi Isaac Meir, "you have been dreaming of immigrating and settling the holy land, and now I give you my blessing and my assistance - I will give my daughter a generous dowry, that will last you for the trip and for sustenance for the rest of your lives. This is your opportunity. All over, Hasidic groups are organizing now to make aliya to the holy land. My wife and I will settle our affairs, God be willing, and join you soon. This, to my mind, is the plan that will solve

[153] all the problems and difficulties." The young scholar Naftali was astonished, and in his excitement he became tongue-tied and could not utter one sentence. His excitement was understandable. His life's dream was about to come true. As a sign of consent he was only able to extend his hand.

As the sun came up the two sides parted company and went each his own way, having sealed the agreement with a handshake.

Not many days went by before the young couple disappeared from the town. The mystery was solved when Rabbi Isaac Meir parted from the HABAD people before his family's immigration to the holy land. Rabbi Isaac Meir the miller promulgated the exciting news himself. These two families, therefore, were the first olim from our town, from the HABAD congregation, and they opened the way for additional others.

The Aliya of the GERA's Disciples

The relationship between the Hasidim and their adversaries in our town and in Lithuania in particular were reflected most clearly in our previous chapter. In one sentence we would have described it thus: The hatred between the camps was abysmal. Only one interest did they share in common, the longing to make aliya to the holy land. But even here one aliya was different from the other, in three salient features: in its motives, its composition, and its organization. In contrast to the motives of the GERA's disciples, that were purely religious, those of the Hasidim were, granted, mainly religious, but not solely; in any case not for the Lithuanian Hasidim. They had other motives: to be released from the continuous tension produced by the struggle with their adversaries and by the constant harassments. The second difference between the two camps of olim had to do with the age component. While the makeup of the Hasidic aliya was diversified, from young to old, the GERA's disciples were almost all elderly. And another difference. While the Hasidic aliya was almost a unique and spontaneous act, the aliya of the GERA's disciples was organized in stages and with discretion.

The first olim of the GERA's disciples came while he was still alive. But their organized aliya started, in fact, after his death, in the beginning of the 19th century, when his disciple Rabbi Baruch of Shkelov became their leader. This aliya was better organized, and included the provision for the olim's sustenance once they arrived in the land, using links between Eretz Yisrael and the diaspora. In our area the center of organization was in the town of Volozin, that was famous especially due to its well-known Yeshiva. Here the organization work was done thoroughly and with much thought; the result of a

[154] calculated and well-tried out plan. The material difficulty that the Hasidim in the Holy Land had to endure served as warning to the GERA's disciples. They thus dedicated their utmost efforts to the material side of the problem, in order to allow for an aliya of copious dimensions, even for the poorer classes, and to deprive them of suffering.

The first of the GERA's disciples from our town to make aliya was Rabbi Reuven Tzvi, a distinguished scholar and a God-fearing believer, but too much of an enthusiast. The idea of making aliya and settling the land captured his heart; he was addicted to it with his heart and soul and daydreamed about it, when he went to bed at night and when he woke up in the morning - constantly. But the organizational arrangements, that took many years, displeased him. His tempestuous nature gave him no rest. He wished with all his heart to bring about the salvation, and for that reason he traveled a several times to the organization's center in Volozin but returned empty handed. Out of frustration he even turned to the GERA and complained about the slow preparation and the postponement of salvation. The response, namely that lengthy preparations are crucial for the success of the aliya, did not convince him. He accepted the ruling reluctantly, but upon the GERA's parting he made preparations to be on his way. His wife's attempt to dissuade him, to control him, did not succeed. Her claim that one must follow the crowd was not heeded to. When his efforts to convince his older sons to join him did not succeed, he made aliya on his own. Only 10 years later his wife and sons joined him.

Rabbi Moshe Ben Ya'akov, from the congregation's leading members, product of four generations of scholars, public figures and men of action, stood at the head of the candidates for aliya in our town. Still in the prime of his life, He was tall, lofty, and handsome. His soft and smiling eyes radiated kindness, his black beard was strewn with first grey hairs on the background of his fair face, and his blushing cheeks added a special noble grace to his appearance. Smart, moderate and popular, his speech was slow and calm, convincing, and every sentence he uttered was weighed and measured. He was a wealthy man, partially from inheritance and partially self-made, earned by his work as a supplier for the big landlords. The fact that he could approach the landlords at any time and could talk with them freely in their own language added to his weighty public position. All these combined, naturally earned him the leadership of the community. His influence was thus very big and everything that crossed his lips was accepted unflinchingly.

However, Rabbi Reuven Tzvi's struggle to hasten the salvation and his sudden aliya by himself, that caused the family's disintegration, agitated the spirits and undermined the position of Rabbi Moshe Ben Ya'akov, the leader. The candidates for aliya, that up until then relied solely on his discretion, now began a vocal and public debate. Although the majority condemned Rabbi Reuven Tzvi's hasty behavior, there were many others who condemned Rabbi Moshe's slow pace of action. In fact, this storm contributed to the hastening of the process of immigration of the GERA's disciples from our town. From

[155] now on the pressure on Rabbi Moshe Ben Ya'akov increased. Some of the candidates complained and demanded the hastening of the aliya. Following this development, Rabbi Moshe began applying pressure on the organization center to quicken and to spur the process. In the mean time, the preparations were completed, the candidates settled their businesses and packed their belongings. On Lag Ba'omer holiday 1809, eight families from our town made aliya, all from the GERA's disciples, and Rabbi Reuven Ben Tzvi among them, all in all 54 people. All the town's people saw them off to their new life, the Torah scrolls carried at the head of the procession.

The year 1959, the State of Israel's eleventh birthday, was also the hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of this aliya; and the decedents of those olim, who are dispersed throughout Israel, gathered to commemorate that historical event, known in the history of the Israel as the "Vision of Zion" Aliya.

The Aliya of the "BILU"

Whereas we could only describe the aliya of the Hasidim and of the GERA's disciples of our town on the basis of general impressions transmitted from generation to generation, without being able to separate fact from fiction, we have now reached a period that was witnessed by the reporter of these facts, my late grandfather, Shalom Sheftel Broide, may his memory be blessed, when he was still in the prime of his life. Also, our town's member and our friend, Mr. Chaim Levin, may he live long -- who now lives here with us in the State of Israel at Ramat Hakovesh -- labored to tell us the facts as they occurred concerning this period and the one immediately to follow. We can now progress with assurance and describe with detail the olim, using the facts related to us by the above witnesses.

Again we see our town contributing its share to the general aliya effort, with renewed force.

Every period and its own problems, every aliya wave and its own motivations -- and this time they were the pogroms in Russia. Since the Hasidic and GERA's disciples aliyot and until this current one, the people have advanced significantly. Due to the French Revolution and its principles, due to leaving the Ghetto, and to other factors, lofty national sensibilities were awakened among the people. The place of the former aliya motive -- religion -- now was taken by national consciousness, that developed and found expression in the "BILU" movement, the latter being an acronym for "House of Ya'akov, let us go."[xvi] In contrast to the former aliya objectives, to go to the land in order to live there in a holy and pure manner and to grace its soil in death, the BILU olim posed the objective of returning to the land of the fathers in order to rebuild it and lay the foundations for auto-emancipation.

[156]

The Aliya of Rabbi Yerucham Chefetz

and his family, may their memory be blessed:

The spread of the BILU ideas that created strong waves amidst parts of the Jewish youth in Russia, lit a youthful fire in the heart of our town's member Rabbi Noah Hotner. Since the man was on the brink of old age and could not join the young BILU's and participate personally in the fulfillment of the ideal, he decided to contribute his share indirectly. The fact that his financial situation was stable and firm, since he was one of the proprietors of the glassware factory "Hota," and the fact that his young son-in-law was an enthusiastic supporter of BILU, made the accomplishment of his mission easier.

Rabbi Noah Hotner's desires integrated well with those of his young son-in-law, Rabbi Yerucham Chefetz, from Rogtsov. The former granted his approval to his son-in-law's ideals with the appropriate Hasidic enthusiasm. Moreover, he promised him considerable financial support for his getting settled in the land. While Rabbi Yerucham was still walking around in our town Ilya, making the preparations for the aliya, he was already daydreaming and planning his life in the new country: how he would be integrated into the new liberated society, that is in transformation from an old way of living to a new one, one that his father's-fathers did not know of. How he and others like him will lay the foundations for a new construction. How he would plant the vulnerable seedling that may grow into a multi-branched tree, deep rooted in the earth under the skies of the future national liberation of the people.

At the completion of his planning, Rabbi Yerucham and his wife made aliya to the land and joined its pioneer builders at the mother settlement[xvii] and the planters of its citrus groves.

This event left a deep impression on the town and opened the way for other families to make aliya.

The Aliya of the family of Rabbi Mordechai Zafran - Mazal,

may their memory be blessed

Mr. Mordechai Tzvi Zafran, a young scholar from the town of Cloria in Lithuania and an active BILU member, visited his uncle's house, Rabbi Moshe Mazal, in our town, before leaving for Eretz Yisrael. Although he was a temporary guest, he did not abstain from preaching the ideal he believed in and wished to realize with all his heart. He infected every young man or woman that came into social contract with him with the germ of his fervent belief and with the vision of redemption, first and foremost the members of the household that accommodated him, his uncle's house, the entire Mazal family. The

[157] atmosphere at Rabbi Moshe Mazal's -- him being the son-in-law of Rabbi Benjamin Broide, was saturated with Torah, enlightenment, lofty social background and wealth, and it captured the young scholar's heart. Here the young and cultured youth found peace and pleasantness. This pleasant environment that charmed him was completed by the figure of the young and graceful daughter Tzvia, who was an enthusiastic believer in the same ideals that he harbored. Slowly their acquaintanceship deepened until their hearts beat as one.

The next development was almost natural and certainly understandable: the young scholar took his cousin, Miss Tzvia, to be his wife, and together with her and other BILU's they directed their steps towards the land of their fathers. When they got there they settled in Petach-Tikvah and built their house and their future. The wife's conceiving of a child caused particular happiness to the couple because their first child would be born in Eretz Yisrael. But tragic and cruel fate decreed otherwise; the happiness was destroyed. In giving birth the wife died, on the land that so attracted her and that she so loved.

The Mazal family, remnants of the house of Rabbi Liebel Kubner, may he rest in peace, from the father's side, and of a multi-branched family tree of Torah scholars and men of action on the mother's side, were astonished by this tragedy; they were hard-hit but not conquered. "The lord gave and the lord taketh away," muttered the head of the family, the scholarly, innocent and honest head of the family, when they learned of the bitter disaster. But Rabbi Mordechai Zafran's emotional request arriving from Eretz Yisrael, to allow him to renew the tie with the Mazal family that he so respected and admired, cleared a bit the bitterness. "It is decreed that the dead will be forgotten," mumbled Rabbi Moshe Mazal.

Accompanied by mixed feelings, both hers and her family's, the second daughter, Miriam, started towards Eretz Yisrael and towards her fate, to fill in the position of her sister as wife and to be a mother to her first child. The shocked Mr. Zafran, that has been mourning for a long time over the wife of his youth who died so tragically, gradually found solace in the organization of the first school in Petach-Tikvah and the instruction of the children. He recuperated and waited for his second wife - Miriam. Entering his household, she found considerable courage and quickly adjusted to the new life, to being her sister's child's mother and a loyal wife to her husband.

For many years, Mr. Zafran enthusiastically continued the instruction and education of children. He saw his career as a crucial pioneering mission and thus raised generations of students. But in his spirit he always remained the pioneer. When he realized that the teaching track entered a smooth course and seemed well-established, he sought other pioneer jobs in the virgin land. The ideals that he espoused and preached when he was still abroad never abandoned him, and were always the guiding light of his life.

[158] Since he saw himself as a founder of the future nation he preferred to volunteer for the creation of the first pockets of Jewish self-rule, in which he saw the core of the realization of the independence dream. Thus he undertook the role of secretary to Petach-Tikvah's central committee.

Despite all this, he did not abandon the mitzvah of building and developing the land, and fulfilled it with his own two hands. He planted by himself orchards and citrus groves that bloom to this day. With his second wife, Miriam, he knew happiness and longevity. He raised a large family, that settled in numerous settlements in the land.

The Aliya of Rabbi Benjamin Broide,

may his memory be blessed

In spite of the fundamental change that occurred in the olim's composition and the objectives of the Aliya, some elderly people continued to make aliya in their old age to grace the land's soil. In this trend, too, our town participated directly. One of those olim is my grandfather's father, may his memory be blessed.

My late great-grandfather, Rabbi Benjamin Broide, was a descendant of a lofty family of Torah scholars, most of whom were also men of action. Tall, broad-shouldered, aggressive and full of self-confidence, despite being a scholar and a religious man he did not shut himself up in the domicile of the Torah; Despite him being a successful merchant, a major supplier to all the big landlords in the area whose doors were always open for him, this too did not suffice. He undertook the task of public work as well, a task which he carried out with love, loyalty, pride and determination.

He had two seemingly contradictory, but in fact complementary, characteristics: aggressiveness and gentleness. His public tasks he performed with determination, candor and persistence. But in his private relationships with people and in the circle of his family he was accommodating, indeed as pliable as wax. Outside his private business and his public work, he adopted an additional "career" as a "chanter against the evil eye." Every child that became sick was brought first and foremost to Rabbi Benjamin to be "freed" from the evil eye.

He loved his wife, grandmother Sarah, deeply, and canceled his own wishes for the sake of hers. He consulted on every issue, small or large, public or mercenary, with her, and her influence on him was decisive. My late mother Gitah, may she rest in peace, told me some facts that illustrate the magnitude of grandmother Sarah's influence on grandfather: sometimes (when people outside the family were present) one look from her sufficed to indicate to him the position he should take.

[159] Although he was on the brink of his senior years, he was still a healthy and agile man. Still at the height of his activeness, grandmother Sarah hinted to him that he is no longer a young man and that the time has come to fulfill their soul's desire and to make aliya to the Holy Land. The subtle hint became a command, and he immediately began the preparations needed for aliya. While he was distributing his many assets to his sons, his wife fell ill. He shut himself in her room and would not leave her bedside for months -- and she, before shutting her eyes and returning her pure soul to her creator, entreated him to make aliya to Eretz Yisrael.

Grandfather Benjamin Broide, may his memory be blessed, indeed fulfilled her request and her last will and made aliya on his own.

He was fortunate; his material means allowed him to remain independent in Eretz Yisrael. He was lucky not to require the "chaluka"[xviii] that poor, elderly olim of his age usually needed. Therefore, he felt good, and in his letters to his children abroad, letters that were filled with love and vision, he expressed his sorrow for coming to Eretz Yisrael at such an advanced age, that prevents him from joining actively the builders of the new settlements.

He had merely two years to live in the country of his childhood dreams and to enjoy its radiance and splendor. Still healthy and feeling well, he was suddenly attacked by yellow fever that forced him into a sickbed from which he never arose. He died, and his grave was dug in Jerusalem, on the Mount of Olives.

May his soul be blessed.

THE SECOND ALIYA

Isaac Mazal, son of Moshe and Tibel, makes aliya

The days of tension and pogroms that the Jews of Russia underwent were caused by the awakening of the masses to fight for freedom against oppressive rule of the Czar and his government. Aiming to weaken and oppress the spirit of liberation that increased and encompassed many throughout Russia, the Czar Government directed the anger of the masses against the Jews and gave criminal elements a free reign to spill their blood and thus acquiesced the dissatisfied and freedom-thirsty masses.

[160] The fact that Jewish blood was being spilled to crush a revolution, and that Jewish blood was also needed to oil the wheels of the revolution, gave rise to sad thoughts in the hearts of many of Israel's youth and led to the conclusion that there is no existence to the Jewish people outside an independent Eretz Yisrael.

We return again to the same family, this time to the elder brother Isaac. The teaching he received through his ties with the "Chovevei Zion"[xix] organization, namely to love Zion, led to the natural step of him joining the second aliya, and indeed Isaac made aliya with his friends from the second aliya and settled in Petach-Tikvah.

The crucial meeting between the two primary aliyot of this period - the aliya of the 1880's called "BILU" and the Aliya of the 20th century called "the second aliya" - was difficult, problematic, and rather painful. Although they shared a common goal and their motives originated from the same source, they could not reach a common understanding. The fervent and militant socialist baggage brought by the people of the second aliya estranged the BILU's; whereas the employment of Arabs by the BILU's was coolly regarded by the second aliya people. It was resented especially since it resulted in the difficult absorbance of the second aliya people into the scant agricultural work- opportunities of these days, a phenomenon that caused bitterness and an acute struggle.

Our acquaintance Isaac Mazal's final stop was at the mother of settlements, Petach-Tikvah. And this was natural. First because, like most of his friends among the new olim, he too was recruited to agricultural work at the settlement closest to the port of his entrance at Jaffa. Second, because his married sister Miriam lived in this settlement and was already rooted in the local community and has been for the last fifteen years. But the latter reason did not turn out well. Precisely because of the family relation, he found himself in a difficult and unpleasant personal situation. Why? Because he undoubtedly belonged to the second aliya, considering the date of his immigration and especially his social outlook; whereas on the other side, the one behind the barricades, according to his views, the unsympathetic group that objected to his friends' labor rights, stood his sister and brother-in-law and others like them, veteran residents of the mother settlement.

His inner conflicts continued until the notion invaded his brain that he was no longer trusted by either side. In debating his friends he did not wholly agree with them, and more than once made the

[161] claims of the veterans of the settlement and defended their point of view; whereas in his sister's house he felt that justice was on his friends' side and heatedly and fiercely fought for their position. The conflict increased from day to day and reached new heights. He felt that due to his unique personal situation -- the fact that he was stuck in between -- his loyal friends stopped consulting with him and began to doubt whether he still deserved their trust. On the other hand, it seemed to him that in his sister's house too he felt reservations and caution directed towards him. He walked around gloomily, and no longer had the force to glide over the abyss and fight for his soul and conscience; he needed to make a choice, and the choice was hard and complicated.

He reached the end of his rope at the last shift of labor in which he participated with his friends, especially since this time he needed to stand, fists raised, against friends that he had the honor to meet at his sister's house, from the BILU veterans of the settlement like herself. This confrontation completely shattered the gentle Isaac; the too-tightly-wound string broke, and he fell ill.

After his recovery there was a turning point. His sister, who carefully and with solicitation followed the stages of his disease, understood suddenly that it had to do with pricks of his conscience, and that the solution would therefore have to be found, first and foremost, in the area of pioneering. Indeed the crucial need for physicians in the new and suffering settlement convinced him that the proposed track was best suited to his pioneer ideals for which he has sacrificed so much. Our Isaac thus took a new and important path. With the help of his sister and brother-in-law he started for the University of Beirut and graduated there from medical school. Upon his return he became a doctor in Jerusalem.

For over 40 years he guarded the health of the Jews of Jerusalem under pioneer conditions. But most of his time was devoted to the inhabitants of an elderly home in Jerusalem, to ease the suffering of the aged and the lonely during their final days.

May his soul rest in peace.

[162]

Mr. Meir Dizengof Visits Ilya

A few weeks before the visit of this important guest from Eretz Yisrael to our town, the Jewish population was already full of commotion and alacrity. It is no small thing to have the privilege to see a Jewish minister from Eretz Yisrael, and especially when it was reported that this Jew is also the special envoy of the famous and glorified Baron de Rothschild. Could one miss such a rare opportunity?

During the few weeks of anticipation, the air was filled with legends, rumors, tales and interpretations as to the purpose of the visit. The curiosity to meet a Jew from Eretz Yisrael and see him in person completely vacated the houses of the town. Every inhabitant, young to old, streamed to the entrance of the town to meet the distinguished and rare guest with blessings and enthusiasm, carrying the Torah scrolls in their palms.

The second in order of importance to received the attention of the crowd and who was glowing with happiness was the host Rabbi Noah Hotner, one of the proprietors of the glassware factory. Mr. Meir Dizengof's mission was to visit him. Mr. Meir Dizengof, who later became famous as the founder and the mayor of the city of Tel-Aviv, turned to the Hotner family, the proprietors of the glass factory "Hota" near our town, in the explicit purpose of receiving their help in the instruction and perhaps the importing of a few specialist, for the construction of a similar factory in Eretz Yisrael.

The Baron Rothschild, also known as the "Great Benefactor" was at that time in the midst of his constructive activities for the development of the land. Having planted grapevines, he founded some wineries but in order to export their products abroad and make them marketable, he required a local factory for the manufacturing of bottles that will serve as containers for the exported wine. The Benefactor saw in this project yet another stage in the development of the land and in the creation of further labor opportunities for the Hebrew worker. The success of the plan depended, of course, primarily on the importing of experts, preferably allies.

Our town member Mr. Noah Hotner, who had strong emotional and family ties to Eretz Yisrael, wanted with all his heart to help its construction and development, and therefore did not hesitate for a moment to comply with Mr. Dizengof's wish. Happily and willingly he provided him with the required

[163] experts. Although this act of generosity caused the local factory considerable material loss, there was no happier man than our Mr. Hotner, especially when Mr. Dizengof appeared publicly in the local synagogue to deliver greetings from Eretz Yisrael and thanked Mr. Hotner publicly for the important and generous help that he gave for the development of Hebrew industry in Eretz Yisrael.

Mr. Dizengof's emotional farewell to the Jews of Ilya and the aliya of the experts that he chose to construct and work the glassware factory in Eretz Yisrael, were most impressive events, and very many remembered them for years to come.

The factory intended for the manufacture of bottles was indeed constructed in 1903 at Tantura in Samaria, but unfortunately it did not stand the hard tests faced by the pioneering Hebrew industry at that time and was doomed to failure and liquidation. But the families that made aliya became rooted in the land of Israel.

THE ALIYA OF THE CHALUTZIM[1]

Aryeh Mazal (Chaim Leib) and his Father's Household

Although 35 years of life have passed, his image still stands in front of me, as I saw him in my childhood, close to his aliya in the middle of the 1920's: squat, broad-shouldered, in the prime of his life, wearing a hard, black bowler. His fair face was full, meticulously shaved and embellished by a black "Chaplin" moustache, and expressing strength. He strode with a cane in his hand, that had a round ivory handle. His shoes were polished shiny and his whole being testified to glory and splendor.

When Aryeh Mazal made aliya, the foundations of the town's Zionist activities were shaken; Zionism was still in its diapers, and he was one of its leaders. Especially hurt was the Keren Kayemeth Le'yisrael[xxi] that he led for years. He not only preached Zionism and was the main spokesman for the Keren Kayemeth, but he did the "foot work" as well, going from door to door to explain and seek donations.

He suckled his love and yearning for Eretz Yisrael from two separate sources; The first was, of course, the fountain from which all generations have drank - the Bible, and the second, the one particular [164] and real to him, alive and bubbling: his ties with his sister and brother who made aliya dozens of years ago and became rooted in the land.

He grew up in a house characterized by a tangible Zionist atmosphere. The conversations that took place in his parents' house about the land were not dreams and yearnings, but facts and reality.

in responding Keren Kayemeth Le'yisrael

please mention Vilna Bureau

no. 1920

Permit

Comrade L. Mazal of the town Ilya, Vileika region, is a hardworking activist and for many years worked endlessly and faithfully for the benefit of Keren Kayemeth Le'yisrael, in his town.

All national and Zionist institutions are asked to accept and recognize him.

Keren Kayemeth Le'yisrael

General Bureau in Vilna

Paper issued by KKL to Aryeh Mazal before his aliya

The frequent letters from his sister, who was one of the Petach-Tikvah firsts, told of life's conflicts and of a tough and pungent reality. The letters from the brother, the veteran Jerusalemite doctor, raised the particular problems of the eternal city. Therefore his zionism was less ethereal and more practical. This is perhaps the reason why he devoted most of his strength to the Keren Kayemeth, which was concerned with the large task of redeeming the land.

To Aryeh's praise we should say that he never believed the imaginary ideas of a "redeeming revolution"; even when his friends were burned with their faith - he was concerned only with Zionism.

Suddenly the Czar's chair was jeopardized and Aryeh Mazal was asked to go to the front to aid him. But our moderate and sensible friend did not get overly excited over the Czar's invitation and did not make haste.... Instead he decided to alter his identity: he grew a large beard, equipped himself with the papers of an old man, and disappeared from the scene. At first he tried to hide at his relative's in other towns, but when the searches were made more severe and the chimney, into which he inserted

[165] himself at the last minute, saved him from being captured as a deserter one time, he took a saw and an axe, bribed somebody, and appeared in a new identity: that of a forester....

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Aryeh Mazal as a forester

The regime collapsed and the "comrades" assumed power. They now began an energetic and open search for draft dodgers and deserters and thus they arrived at the forest. The representative of the authorities -- apparently also from the seed of Avraham our father -- looked at Aryeh Mazal's face and asked: "what are you doing here?"; "I chop wood" -- responded our Aryeh. "His visage is not that of a 'worker'" -- declared the representative. "I do not work with my face but with my hands," responded Aryeh, -- "well, then, show me your hands" -- commanded the representative. And when he looked at his hands he added: "neither are your hands those of a worker".... After a moment's reflection he thundered: "come with me!!" But Aryeh escaped once again.

His Zionist activities, began before the First World War, was cut short and renewed only after the end of the World War when he and his friends in action, younger and older, returned from great Russia and the renewed Poland.

The days were those of post-war hardship, hunger and suffering. Aryeh Mazal, returning to his home at the end of the war, was found suitable to head the community and was elected to this position

[166] unanimously. From now on he devoted his time to the problems and worries of the collective: organized the project of "Brother's Aid" of the United States, intended to ease the hunger, took care

- F A C S I M I L E -

Community stamps and

the stamps of the chair and the secretary - 1920

of the organization of medical service, with the kind help of "Oza." He was elected to the position of the community leader, and re-organized community life.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Aryeh Mazal in his

years as head of the local community

[167] Since he fulfilled his job with decency and honesty he sometimes was forced into confrontation with the authorities, but he did not recoil, and as a result was arrested and put in jail.

When he made aliya along with his father's household , his parents, Moshe and Tibel Mazal, and his sister Yocheveth, settled in Petach-Tikvah, while he was absorbed in Jerusalem. There he gave assistance to his brother the doctor in easing the pain of the elderly in the United Elderly Home in Jerusalem, in their last years.

He now rests from his life's labor in Jerusalem and is still strong, clear, and active, and contributed generously for the erection of the memorial for the town.

Tuvia Ben Chefetz, may his memory be blessed

At the end of June 1959, in the early hours of morning, I was startled by a discordant buzz of the door bell. When I opened the door, there stood my childhood friend Yonah Riar. In answer to my question of what his sudden visit so early in the morning might mean, he responded: "I need to find out something urgent from your wife." While they were talking, my heart predicted that something unusual has happened, some disaster occurred. As they were whispering and consulting on now to tell me of the disaster, I surprised them by guessing what has happened.

Tuvia! Dear Tuvia is no longer with us. We are left stricken, astonished, depressed and shocked, gloomy, widowed and orphaned. Surrounded by mourning and abysmal grief - we cry over the biggest loss and the tragic and sudden death of our town's member, our friend, Tuvia Ben Chefetz, may his memory be blessed, who left for the house of his creator, for God has taken him away.

* *

Only yesterday he glorified with his image, his appearance, and his astonishing stature, the streets of the eternal capital; only yesterday he spoke from the stage of Beit Ha'am[xxii] in Jerusalem and educated the public; the day before yesterday he eulogized on Kol Yisrael -- the Israeli Broadcast Service -- the martyrs of the most horrible Holocaust in the history of our people; only yesterday he still walked among us and glorified with his presence our town's assembly; only yesterday he was alert, and alive, and as full as a pomegranate with plans for action in the future -- but modest, humble and shy. And now? "There was a man, and behold: he is no longer," "Before his time he has died, and the poetry of his life was stopped in its midst;"[xxiii]

[168]

* *

- P H O T O G R A P H -

The late Tuvia Ben Chefetz (1899-1959)

I was a small child of maybe four years of age, and he a tall lad of 19. Only his tall stature is engraved in my memory of that time -- he was taller than the rest of the people. then he disappeared from my sight. When I grew up I discovered the astonishing and tumultuous story of his life: the shaking off of the illusory revolutionary ideas; the leaving of his mother's household; the thirst for knowledge and wisdom; the conquering of cultural and scientific values and the aliya to Eretz Yisrael.

* *

Like many young people of his generations, who cultivated foreign fields in their youth, Tuvia became addicted to lofty and illusory ideals of freedom with his entire tumultuous soul. But fate decreet that he would be liberated from these illusions, although not without inner-conflicts, sufferings, hardship, disease and imprisonment.

Tuvia began a new life upon his release from prison. First and foremost he desired Torah and knowledge, and with all his youthful energy he plunged into the fountains of knowledge and drank until he was saturated. First he was a student at the Polish gymnasium, through the Hebrew seminary for teachers in Vilna. But this did not suffice; the desire to plunge into the sea of knowledge and science

[169] brought him later to the university of Berlin, where he studied law and economy, but he turned to Zionist activity as well, this time to "Po'alei Zion,"[xxiv] first in Vilna and then in Berlin. He thus shaped his fate with his own two hands and found his way towards life in the land of Israel.

* *

While in Switzerland, recovering from a serious illness, he met his future wife Victoria. He made aliya to Eretz Yisrael, settled in Jerusalem, and build a nest for his family. Fate wanted him to serve the Hebrew public and educate it with his ideas, to preach for faith and vision in the State of Israel - a far cry from the ideas he worshipped in his youth. For thirty years he stood at the head of Bet Ha'am in Jerusalem and lit an eternal fire of deep faith in the hearts of the masses with his enthusiastic speeches. For thirty years he walked the streets of the capital, until he became a virtual part of the scenery, a rock among its rocks: salient, sculpted, strong, tall and exalted.

* *

When the horrid tragedy of the Holocaust was discovered, the extermination and mass destruction that included Ilya, his home town, and its Jews; when her scorched remainders, burned by the hellish fire of the destruction, began to assemble in independent Israel, he made an appearance among them. He stayed with them, encouraged them, and induced them to commemorate the town and its martyrs, by publishing a memorial book. It was the talented and educated Tuvia, of course, who undertook the weighty task.

Suddenly, we were orphaned. Although he tried to make haste, he was not privileged to begin the project that he so wanted to create. Now he is gone, and the heavy task fell from his wide shoulders to ours, but his will shall be done. We will try to be worthy of it, and will do the best of our limited abilities. And may God help us.

Tuvia Ben Chefetz, the elected and the glorious member of our town in Israel, was plucked away suddenly, and his grave was dug in the mount of eternal rest.

May his soul rest in peace.

[170]

Nechama Rogozinski - Meirovich

If you were to ask our town Ilya's people for Nechama, I promise you that the majority would not know who you are referring to. Some might not even know that you are speaking of a girl from the town. But if you were to ask for Nechemka - I swear by my "tzitziyot"[xxv], that every single member of the town would stand up and exclaim: of course! Which is to say, everybody called her Nechemka, her friends as well as her foes. There must be something special about her temperament. She is hard to argue with. This is how I remember her as a twenty-year old in our town, and this, or similar to this, is how she still responds today, after so many years. In one phrase: an eternal youth.

I knew her father well and admired him. An educated man, he was of a beautiful spirit and free in his opinions. In his youth he cultivated foreign fields and carried to the Jewish street the fervor of the revolution. With the rise of Poland he stayed on that side of the border, a fact that determined the rest of his life. Although his opinions were already shaped, he was tolerant to the opinions of others; he listened and he considered, and debates with him were easy, free and pleasant. When I visited his house I was still a lad and Motke his son was of my best friends. Fate was cruel to him. Still a newly-wed, his wife died and left Nechemka, still a baby, and Motke, an infant, to the grace and mercy of providence.

He married, went into commerce and succeeded, and thus allowed his daughter to have an orderly high school education - something very few of our town had.

There was no considerable age difference between us, only a few years, but we were of two different worlds. I was a small boy and she already a blooming and attractive young woman: her face contours very alert, her hair golden and a bit curly, her eyes small, blue and smiling, her mouth tiny and arched, an eternal laugh rolling charmingly over her lips. Despite her small stature and her round body she was proportionate, agile and quick. Her intonation was clear and her voice carried to the distance.

The father's success in commerce did not last long. The educated, the revolutionary and the merchant do not often combine in one body. Despite his tumultuous past, he was a very naive man, and his partner cheated him of his share of the business. Thus the decline began, and forced Nechemka to stop her studies and come back to town. And the father was forced to return to his previous occupation -teaching, and he taught Torah to Israel's children and raised a whole generation of Hebrew speakers.

[171] Years past and the Zionist movement made its assault, and conquered every house, and our Nechemka was taken captive. The next development was natural: joining the "Chalutz,"[xxvi] undergoing training, and then aliya to Eretz Yisrael.

After a pause of a few years, Nechemka was the first olah from our town in the beginning of the thirties.

Esther Laberferb - Barzovitz and Yehoshua Lapidoth

When I go back to the aliya made by Esther and Yehoshua I recall, inadvertently, the creation of the aliya fund. It was not acceptable in these days to have a fund-raiser or a raffle and to dedicate the income to an intended purpose, but this time we diverted from the town's customs. We transferred our action to the surrounding towns, although each of them had their own numerous problems. The mere novelty of our approach guaranteed its success, and indeed we achieved good results. If you were to ask my fried Yonah Riar, he could tell you about our "trip" for days, about the experiences and adventures that he and the writer of these lines went through. It was a courageous and unforgettable project.

* *

Esther and Yehoshua are cousins, friends, and members of my generations. They joined BEITAR[xxvii] when it was established in our town in 1929. From there they went on to training, in order to be among the lucky who get to make aliya to Eretz Yisrael. Although each got his or her training in a different time and place, they were both among the first; she as a woman and he as a man. Thus they got to go to Eretz Yisrael under the first aliya permit that was given to BEITAR in Ilya.

* *

The bloody events of 1929 against the small Jewish settlement in Eretz Yisrael, shocked the Jewish diaspora and especially the Eastern European Jewry. The effect of the riots was the opposite of what the murderers had hoped for. The life danger did not deter anyone from coming to Eretz Yisrael; on the contrary: it strengthened and reenforced the Zionist movement - and pushed it a step forward, but the

[172] desire of the masses to aid the assaulted little settlement, was met with closed gates.

At that period, the "Covenant of Trumpeldor," or BEITAR, appeared in the Jewish street, aiming to turn the five fingers of the weary hand into an iron fist that would protect life and property and will make way for a life of independence and honor.

Among those that answered that call were Esther and Yehoshua, both on the brink of adulthood. Esther: a jolly, blonde, tall and pretty girl, that attracted everybody's eyes. She was smart, social, and had a sense of humor. She was blessed with a rare ability to find her way on the roads of life. Yehoshua's image was completely different: short, slim, but muscular and strong. He was quiet, and a son to an obstinate race that gave birth to fanatics and warriors, who treat everything seriously, do their work whole-heartedly, advance with persistence and courage, and whose belief never flinches.

A man's character is his fate. Both found their way in Israel according to their character. Esther was married, whereas Yehoshua joined the BEITAR recruit and was his character was forged. During World War II he joined the British Transit unit, and then fought with the commando troops of the British army throughout Africa while, at the same time, being active in the Jewish underground resistance. He participated in the storm of revival of the War of Independence.

Even today, when he hears the trumpet summon - he is prepared.

Ahuvah Solominski - Teitelbaum

Ahuvah deserves that we tell of her harsh, fierce battle over her rights to participate in the "Chalutz," to go to training and to make aliya. Encouraged by the conquests of the Zionist movement and its permeation into all circles and classes of town, Ahuvah began a struggle with her parents over her right to go to training. Even earlier she was forced to fight for her right to join the "Chalutz," but the latter confrontation was nothing compared to this one.

Daughter to wealthy parents, among the proprietors of the mechanized flour mill of the town, who tragically lost their older daughter Roshka as she was giving birth to her firstborn, they could not imagine, even in their nightmares, that they would have to part with the younger daughter, Ahuvah. The strong and bitter struggle continued and exacerbated every day, but the sides would not concede in the slightest. At the decisive moment, Ahuvah was revealed in all her astonishing perseverance and strong character. Rather than stay at home, she chose to sever all ties, albeit not without scruples.

She went to training and made aliya, and at the very last moment the two parties reconciled.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

The late Rabbi Eliyahu Solominski - her father

As the parents of Ahuvah stood in front of their open graves and the machine gun was activated to take its death toll, they probably thought of Ahuvah and felt blessed by her strong character and her wise perseverance.

Tziporah Riar - Korveinik

Rabbi Noah Riar's household was joyful and lacking in worries. The general atmosphere decreed that happiness was of primary importance. Five out of the six children knew how to sing well, and did so willingly and enthusiastically. On wonderful summer evenings, as the sun set, their romantic voices, accompanied by the guitar and the mandolin, were carried as far as the meadows and the river. The mandolin was the national instrument in this home, and all the children, excepting one, played it and accompanied their hearty singing by it. Although none of them could read music, they used the number

[174] method and got hold of every new song after only a single hearing. These shared inherited talents: cheerfulness, absentmindedness and humor, were not part of our Tziporah's character. She was different and separated, a kind of a dissonance in the loud orchestra of the house. Unlike her brothers and sisters she was quite, serious and focused, and when she opened her mouth her speech was weighty and wise, the result of much deep and practical thought. The character differences were so marked, that one felt them immediately. Undoubtedly, this was partially the result of her passing her early years outside her parent's home. This injected much seriousness and independence into her blood.

She joined the Zionist movement and the "Chalutz" on the brink of adulthood. She took the path of visionary fulfillment when she stayed in the town Vishniva outside her parent's home, and went first to training and then to Eretz Yisrael.

THE MA'APILIM[xxviii]

Aryeh Koplovitz - The First Ma'apil

The sun had already set, the evening's darkness was spreading from horizon to horizon, and I, descending from the bus, dragged my weary feet, but my heart was filled with joy. I had just arrived from the regional town Vileika, and a day filled with strenuous activity and endeavors was behind me. Only my Chutzpa helped me in my difficult situation. It seems that sometimes presumption is worth it... Only this morning I was oscillating between hope and despair and crying like a little boy, when the clerk that handled my affairs postponed my departure for another week, while my ship was setting sail in three days. I begged and explained that I had already completed my military service, but received no response. I felt my anger rising in me, and that in another minute I was going to explode. I got up and left, and went towards the office of the regional supervisor to complain. But imagine my surprise when on the two sides of his door stood bully-looking guards, that detained me politely. I repeated the tale of my woe, but they only nodded their heads in sympathy, and could not help me beyond that. I decided to take a courageous step and force my way in, and I succeeded. The guards still shocked, I slipped into the supervisor's room running, and, my breath quickening, stood in front of him and said: "Sir! I behaved

[175] inappropriately when I barged in here, and for that I am sorry, but I met with much hostility and did not have, technically, the time to reach you through the proper channels. Please forgive me." I told him my story, and added: "Men in Poland nowadays call for 'Jews to leave for Palestine,' but he who attempts to do so is detained, what could that mean? The day after tomorrow my ship sets sail, but the clerk who handles my departure permit rejects me repeatedly."

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Aryeh Koplovitz

Tension rose between us... I gazed at him and saw that his face sobered... "I failed," I thought. But I was wrong....the tension was eased. His face slowly relaxed and a fatherly smile appeared instead. He came over and took my hand in his, and walked with me across a long hallway, to the right and left of which were offices, until we entered the room of the clerk in charge: "grant him the permit immediately!" the supervisor muttered, and turned to leave the room. I hurried after him to thank him for his humane consideration, and shook his hand with warmth and gratitude.

The way back home went by quickly. I was engulfed deeply within myself and hadn't noticed at all when I reached town. I exited the bus and approached home quickly. I reflected on my parents who had stood in my way and tried to dissuade me from my determined decision in various ways: gifts, prayer and warfare. First they tried to convince me by proposing only a temporary delay, until the situation clears up, until the wrath subsides. Then they were not reluctant to use the persuasion methods

[176] of a youth group. They used friends and relatives to try and soften me up. But I knew that their fate was in my hands, and deliberated on how to deliver to them this bitter pill with tact and discretion. But despite that, I could not control my excited spirit. When I got home and found my parents, sister, and cousin Shlomo Koifman, seated around the table, my first utterance was: "I succeeded."

A deep silence spread in the room. The last shreds of hope to detain my aliya were gone. My mother gazed at me with tearful eyes and my father's gaze was paralyzed. My sister, who encouraged me all this time, lowered her gaze and cousin Shlomo began: "so you succeeded, huh? can you be held accountable for your own step? How can you, an only son to your parents, abandon them and get entangled in the web of illegal immigration? Haven't you been reading in the newspapers about ships stranded in the middle of the sea and in them the hopeless youth of Israel? Abandoned, with no food or water, and all near-by ports shut. Do you not know about lost and wandering ships that led the youth of Israel and eventually sank? Are you ignorant of the fact that the tremendous British fleet guards the coasts of the country vigilantly, that the Royal Air Force scans the mediterranean sea, that the British Intelligence operates in every departure port? Under these conditions, is there the slightest hope of reaching Eretz Yisrael, is there even one chance out of a hundred?"

"That is true," I answered. "Indeed, the present conditions are tough, but despite them one must

[177] try. Perhaps we would be able after all to break through siege. This is my life's dream we are talking

- P H O T O G R A P H -

My sister Malkah, bless her soul

about. For this opportunity for aliya I've been waiting for years. In my opinion, this is the last hour to leave; it is five minutes to midnight. If not now, who knows if there will be another opportunity. And I have another important reason, that partially cannot be explained and surely will not be convincing, since it has to do with emotions and my inner- feeling: the war is coming. Who knows better than you do that I willingly enlisted in the Polish army and fulfilled my duty as a citizen of this country, loyally and with devotion. And, of course, I would not be willing to fight and die for Poland," I concluded excitedly.

The initiative was again at the hands of our cousin, Shlomo Koifman, known for his wisdom and sobriety, who added: "you claim that the skies are gradually darkening and the tumult of war is at the horizon; first, I must correct you - this is completely false. There will be no world war whatsoever. On the contrary -read closely the article written by your spiritual guide, Ze'ev Zabotinsky, whose every word is law to you, and then you would be convinced that your assumption is wrong. There will be no war. But even if there is a glimpse of truth in what your claim, that the skies are darkening, you need not panic. You know the saying: the dog bark and does not bite. As for your claim that this concerns your feelings and intuition - well, that is a different matter. Although one cannot argue with emotions, I will nonetheless try. Let us suppose that what your heart predicts is solid and true and war will break out, do you really think that in our region, near the border, a mere 10 kilometers away from the Soviet Union, battles will be fought? You see, in ten minutes the Soviets would take over the border regions. Not only will the Polish not have time to muster their forces, but they would not even have time to say a final prayer. Have I convinced you? It doesn't seem like it. Let us, then, continue along with your line of reasoning; let us assume that war does break out, do you think that the great battles will take place on anciently defined, settled and used lands in Europe, whereas the Eretz Yisrael region, where you hope to seek asylum, the Middle East, rich with oil fields and the site where the real interests of the powers of the world intersect, will be a paradise on earth? Is that not naivete?"

I was convinced by the strength of his reasoning and his healthy logic, but did not capitulate. I responded: "Clearly logic is on your side, and maybe even truth, but in matters of intuition one cannot be convinced. But not only that: I do not know where or how the war will break out. Maybe it is closer

[178] than we imagine and maybe I am wrong. But if it does erupt, it will burn in different parts of the universe, and maybe the Middle East as well. I have decided one thing, though. If it is decreed that I should fight or die - I pray that this would happen in Eretz Yisrael, my ancient homeland that is being rebuilt and resurrected."

"The day after tomorrow I leave town. On this opportunity accept my gratitude and recognition of your effort to dissuade me. I part from you peacefully. May God preserve us all."

* *

For weeks now over 800 youths, men and women, from Poland, Romania, Belgium, France and the independent Danzig, have been rocking about on the small ship "Prita" on the mediterranean, beyond the territorial waters of Eretz Yisrael. The ship is unbearably crowded. In the vault, where the suffocation is severe, triple-decked temporary beds were set up in an awfully crowded manner. It is thus natural that from dawn till late at night everyone is on the upper deck of the small ship, to breathe fresh air into their lungs.

In the Middle East the summer is now in its midst. From day to day the heat rises and increases and cruelly burns the olim. The sea's surface is smooth and quiet as a mirror. A few youths are lying on deck, sun-tanning in the scorching sun, as if they were in the Riviera, but their hearts are secretly worried. The journey that was planned to last 10 days has so far lasted about seven weeks. The light ships that were supposed to appear and liberate our ship for other journeys, and bring us to the shores of the homeland, have been indefinitely detained. For a while now we've been on the threshold of the promised land, but cannot reach it. In the mean time, supplies have run out, and the water is rationed, for drinking purposes only. The crackers, our daily portions, have been invaded by worms. Someone uttered a typical saying: "it is better for us to eat the worms than to be eaten by them."

The situation worsens every day and every hour. The communications with Eretz Yisrael and with abroad completely deteriorated. The faith and enthusiasm that characterized us a week ago now evaporated. The percentage of skeptics and plain pessimists, has increased. Attempts at incitement and mutiny against the ship's leadership became common. Although these were crushed with an iron fist, we faced anarchy; the food was gone, the water ran out, and the mediterranean ports were shut with a lock and key. Attempts to enter the Turkish port, Izmir,

[179] to be equipped with food and water and reestablish communication with the emigration organization, met severe warnings of use of force, of opening fire and drowning the ship. We walked around gloomily, mournfully, our heads bowed down, without a shadow of hope and no purpose other than slow death. In this mood a crucial decision was made, intended to test the seriousness of the Turkish warnings to fire and kill those who approach the port. For that purpose 50 swimmers were chosen, who volunteered to swim ashore in order to gain the sympathy of public opinion and reestablish communication. Fate so desired that the writer of these lines was among the 50 swimmers - these bold youths, who were about to test with their bodies the severity of the situation and use their lives to salvage 800 lost ma'apilim. The time for the plunge was set for noon, and in the meantime banners and signs were hung on the masts of the ships, on which the Turkish words "Bread, water and coal" were inscribed.

At 11:15 in the afternoon the deck of the ship was cleared, and only the 50 volunteer swimmers that remained on board watched the yearned-for shore, with hope for salvation. Each sank in his own thoughts and prepared to make his final accounts.

As in a movie, there passed before my eyes childhood, youth, adolescence and adulthood. Childhood filled with learning and love of nature, in the forest and in the river. Early youth, accompanied by a budding yearning for Zion and membership in the "Gordonia."[xxix] In the days of happy splendor of my adolescence I was a student in a yeshiva, accompanied by my grandfather's blessing and his saying: there is no ignorance in our family. In the midst of my adolescence, on the threshold of the teaching seminary, I caught the romantic germs of the Zionist Movement and became drunk with its strong, addicting perfume. In the midst of tensions, events and developments in the Zionist movement, I was captivated by BEITAR. On the brink of adulthood I found myself leading a BEITAR training troop, in Oren near the Lithuanian border, from which I returned to years of activity in the branch headquarters. A tumultuous and unrequited love affair caused much suffering. Then, service in the Polish cavaliers, hoping to use the acquired knowledge for the benefit of my own people. All, everything and everybody, pass in front of my eyes: the town of my birth, my parents, teachers, my only sister, the large extended family, including uncles, aunts and cousins, friends far and close, and my comrades in the movement whose call I answered and that due to which education I am now here. Here...undergoing moments of nerve-shattering despair, on the brink of possible oblivion, or the longed-for realization...

A deafening noise disturbed my thoughts. A plane passed low in front of us. The longed for

[180] assistance has arrived -- my heart predicted, and the lips whispered: "if only a miracle were to happen." The clock moved forward. Ten more minutes to action. Boldly we will plunge into the sea, to live or to die. 7 more minutes are left before the beginning of the crucial operation. Five more. Tension rose to new, never experienced, levels. "Get ready" - I heard the command.

And in the horizon a steam boat rushes towards us with all its might. Soon it will arrive, soon, and through the speaker we hear uttered in clear Hebrew: "Stop! Stop! Stop!" - help is on its way.

And indeed, help has arrived. Mr. Ben-Chorin from the immigration center in Eretz Yisrael, presented himself to the government bureau as soon as he got off the plane and informed them as to the purpose of his visit, to help out ma'apilim who are stranded near the Izmir port. The administration, fearful of a world scandal that would occur if the ma'apilim jumped overboard and were shot and killed, told Mr. Ben-Chorin of the developments of this critical situation and asked him to urgently come to the ship, supplying him with a car and a motorboat. Thus Mr. Ben-Chorin was able to prevent the sad outcome.

Relieved from the enormous tension that we have experienced, there we stood, the potential heroes, with the rest of the ma'apilim on deck, and watched him as he stood on the bridge with the commander of the ship, who informed us:

The small boats that were supposed to replace our big ship and free it for other similar voyages while bringing us ashore, have not arrived thus far and probably never will. We will therefore not wait any longer. As soon as today we will be equipped with food and water and row this ship ashore. In three days we will set anchor, in the middle of the night, near the Tel Aviv coast.

* *

The night of August the 22nd, 1939, its lights turned out, our ship rapidly approached the shores of Tel Aviv. Two lights in both ends of the city pointed our way. With cautious silence, the deck empty in case of any surprise, we stood ready, holding our breath, and waited for the moment that the ship hits a sandbank or penetrates the shore's sand, a sign that we have arrived. The Israelites that accompanied us parted about two kilometers away from shore and rowed a boat in another direction, whereas we found ourselves stuck in the sand on the shore opposite hotel "Kate Dan."

[181] At dawn set anchor opposite the sleepy metropolitan, the waves rocking our ship incessantly. Those who had relatives, or any known address to turn to, slipped away quietly and swam to the safe shore. But the majority stayed, turned the sirens on, and signalled S.O.S. to hasten the approach of the police in order to finally get some rest from the weary wandering in prison.

In the morning we were surrounded by the police and the descent from ship began. For the time being we were concentrated in the garden of the cafe and were served some drinks, food and cigarettes. The WIZO[xxx] women took care of us with exceptional warmth and devotion, by which we were very touched. But the excitement reached its peak when from the buses in which we were taken to the Tzrifin prisoner's camp we saw the entire population of Tel Aviv standing by the road and cheering us. Tens of thousands of voices were carried through the air: "Do not be afraid. We are with you."

Our arrest lasted only seven days. On September 1, 1939, at around noon, we were released, and when we got to Tel Aviv, a huge newspaper headline was there to welcome us: " War has broke out between Poland and Germany."

Today, after 21 years in Israel, as I am writing these lines in commemoration of my hometown and its Jews, the activities I was involved with since I arrived here come to the surface of my memory: enlistment in BEITAR, for agricultural labor, immediately upon my arrival; public service as the secretary of an organization in Netanya; contacting and becoming involved with the underground resistance movement; imprisonment in a British camp; participation in the War of Independence. And until this very day, helping the absorption of immigration and its settlement. Link after link in one chain of ideals that crystallized in my youth, somewhere in a home that was but is no more. I now recall that sharp, hurtful, tragic debate we had. A debate of this sort took place in thousands of Jewish homes in the diaspora, and thanks to those who did not recoil from the hardship, the pain and the disintegration of the family, the vision of two thousands years has materialized.

How I wish you, my beloved parents, my only sister, and my dear cousin, could see our country and the state of Israel being built, developed, reenforced, as the survivors of the Holocaust stream in to build here their new home, a safe and eternal haven. Will the people in the diaspora learn the bitter and rash lesson? I pray they would!

[182]

Devorah Sherman

Devorah was a member of the "Chalutz," devoted and active, whereas her two younger brothers were in BEITAR. That is the way it was in many of households in town, although I could not tell you why. Her brother, Shlomo Zalman, was my friend, and moreover my commander in BEITAR. Although there was only a slight difference in age, he was an adult and I was but a youth, and that was the determining factor. Later, when I, too, became an adult, we became close friends and there were no secrets between us. Devorah's other brother was Yechiel, a cadet of mine. He was a wonderful boy. We loved him very much, and never mentioned in front him how he spoke in his childhood, with broken words. As I was told, they both tragically perished in the horrid Holocaust.

About two months before Devorah's aliya, I ran into her in my parents store, as she was entering to do some shopping. When she finished her business and was departing, she revealed that she received an aliya permit and that she was leaving in a few days. We wished her luck, and I personally added: I hope that you come to one of the ports to welcome me in a few months, but she never came.

Now we know that Devorah did not use the aliya permit, but stayed in Poland another three months and only then, virtually on the eve of the war, she left as a ma'apilah to Eretz Yisrael. Although her trip did not last long, only around 17 days, it was very dangerous. The war has began and submarines were active where her deteriorating ship was rocking on the mediterranean. Upon her arrival she went to Tel Yossef kibbutz where she has been for the last twenty years. Devorah - the only one from our town who found her home in a kibbutz.

FROM RUSSIA TO ERETZ YISRAEL

The Balaks - Remez family

The aliya of the Balaks family in 1941 marks deep changes and great events that have occurred in the life that previously went on for generations "over there;" it emphasizes the sharp turn. We clearly felt that the familiar, regular way of life, within which we dreamt our best dreams, was sinking and disappearing in the horizon. Instead there now arose a new order, one that we did not know in yester-days, an order that uprooted the firm foundations of previous generations, and caused

[183] great suffering. With the arrival of the Balaks family I received greetings from home - a living but sad message. The Balaks family stayed at my parents' house for a while before coming to the country, and the message was direct and unmediated. It contained a gloomy and complete description of present life in town and the fundamental changes that occurred in a short period of time.

* *

I was still a youngster when Soniah Remez married Leon Balaks, an artisan in factories in Simitits and Warsaw. He was a son to a family deeply rooted in Judaism, in Torah, in family tradition and in good deeds, and was a personality on his own accord. She left our town and followed the husband of her youth, and she left an empty space behind. She acquired a special position in town, not only because she was the daughter of Rabbi Damta, a great scholar of Torah, educated, noble and of a beautiful soul (and we will return to him in a separate discussion), but due to her own personality: fresh, cheerful and mainly beautiful, a rare and noble beauty that one does not come across often, not even one in ten thousand. All that saw her stood in their place to feed their eyes on her beauty, to enjoy the radiance of her complexion and to wonder over the fact that nature gathered the most beautiful colors, features and grace in one body. I will add no more - to add too much would be to subtract. Thus she remains in our eyes - the unforgettable.

We befriended Leon in Eretz Yisrael when he made his first steps here and had to start from nothing, having lost his property and undergone a rapid decline. He was approaching 40: an educated, gentle, God-fearing man, and a pleasant conversation companion, although he was modest, humble and shy. Even though he was sickly, this did not reflect in his calm visage and was not made apparent at home either. Conversations with him flowed; he kept track of his wife's town's people and their deeds and gave them advice from his ample experience. We loved and respected him.

Suddenly, his failing heart stopped beating. We all accompanied him to on his way to eternal rest and his memory remains engraved in our hearts. We mourn the loss and will not forget.

Ya'akov Sinder - Ben Eliyahu

On a spring evening in 1942, as a group of us Eretz-Yisraeli friends were sitting in my apartment in Netanya and discussing different issues, a knock on the door was heard. To my invitation to come in responded Yenkel: tall, strong, and wearing glasses. His face reddish, long, embellished by a small

[184] moustache. He was wearing the uniform of a Polish soldier, those he wore leaving Russia and on his arrival here. I was very excited. We hugged and kissed. For three years I was completely detached from home. In my naivete I though that Yenkel will bring me living and palpitating greetings from home. When I asked him how he found me, he quoted jokingly a famous Russian saying: "the tongue will bring you to Kiev."

For a few more days he walked around in his uniform and proudly represented the army of refugees, until we found him a place of employment. Then we held a small ceremony and lowered the honored uniform to its grave. Instead, there now appeared a new Yenkel, as if he was born in Eretz Yisrael.

Yenkel, that is how we all call him, even today. Although in the last few years he does not see us, his town members, often, for reasons that we, at least, do not understand. He was my friend for years and together we studied and progressed in life. We separated for a short period of time, but fate let us meet again, this time in BEITAR.

In his youth he was multi-talented, full to the brim with knowledge. He was not attracted to having fun and to girls. He was always reading and memorizing. We called him a walking encyclopedia. He singled himself out as a talented writer and a pretty good public speaker, albeit a bit lengthy. He was familiar and comfortable with three types of speeches: Zionism, Judaism, and international politics. He knew that the comrades were impatient, but he continued to speak until he exhausted the topic. His Zionist speeches began with Genesis, and his international ones after the deluge, of course, with Noah's three sons. His patience knew no limits and neither did his speeches.

He was considered to be a fanatic in the movement and in the local Ilya branch. We called him "Achimeir."[xxxi] He considered almost everybody to be too compromising, too lenient and pliable. He burned with the fire of Zionist faith, in his own way. He debated, proved, and called for a change of policy. He burned in the fire... until he was burnt. He became "different" when he returned from Russia.

Yenkel loved with all his heart and soul the freedom of expression and of speech, and that is also why he made lengthy speeches. Meanwhile, the times have changed and a new regime came to power, a regime in which freedom of expression is not highly valued. It seems like he had not felt the change and could not keep quite. Interestingly, that is how he was sentenced to live. He was summoned, convicted as a Zionist, and sentenced to 15 years of "stay" in a "national pension house." He was taken - far, far away to the east. That is how he survived the Holocaust.

[185]

THE ALIYA OF THE GHETTO SURVIVORS AND THE PARTISAN FIGHTERS

Shraga Solominski

I only got to know Shraga closely 4 years before I emigrated. Our personal meeting is tied to a special event during which a group of friends went to Vilna to hear a speech by Ze'ev Zabotinsky, who created a storm in the Jewish public in Poland in the summer of 1935. Those were the days of tumult, tension, and great conflicts in the Zionist movement, especially in the main center of Judaism -- in Poland. In his feisty speeches Zabotinsky captured tens of thousands of the young and the old.

Shraga was of the generation of the organizers of the "Chalutz" in our town, who were 5-8 years older than us. Since he was older, he broke the age barrier in our movement and opened the door for the enlistment of more older members. At one period we met in the local leadership and formed a strong bond. I respected, liked and cherished him. With my enlistment in the Polish army our relationship was severed, and renewed only with his aliya.

In the first German "actzia", that is known in the language of our town's survivors as the "first slaughter," Shraga was dramatically saved by hiding under snow for 24 hours, as the German guards were scanning and searching the area, stepping on his body. The ghetto was created only later, and in it were gathered the few Jews that survived, using a thousand tricks. Since he was supervising a mechanic flour mill that was necessary for the war effort, he received a permit to go to work and return. Thus he was able to smuggle food into the suffering, starving, under-siege ghetto.

He sensed the approach of the second "actzia" and the complete destruction of the ghetto by the increasing number of guards on his way back from work one day. He thus immediately strained his brain to find a safe shelter. With a small group he managed to survive, and from his hideout he saw the march of death. At midnight, when it seemed that all was quite again, he exited the shelter with others. They crawled to the fence, broke it and ran towards the forest, as German guards were pursuing them and shooting. Under the shelter of the night, and hopping between houses, they approached the river and crossed it to the forest, a temporary safe haven. Only fortune and blind coincidence led him to the partisan fighters, after a prolonged suffering in the woods, starving, pursued and tortured. For years the bitter yet redeeming struggle continued, until one day the greatest enemy was annihilated, the war ended, and light dawned.

Now he knew the road that he should take. The dream he carried in his heart in the dark days of blood and violence was about to come true. His main wish was to leave this huge European graveyard and to come to Eretz Yisrael. While still in France with a group of our town's survivors, he found his way to the ETZEL[xxxii] underground resistance, and in his heart was the firm decision to make it to Israel and fight its battles. But fate decreed otherwise. Instead of arriving to the country he was caught and imprisoned with his friends in the prison camps of Cyprus, where he was held for about a year. Only a short period before the Declaration of Independence did he arrive in Israel.

Shalom Sinder

I have known Sioma since childhood; he was always chubby, tall, and broad-shouldered, in his childhood as well as in his youth. He was affable, and good-natured. Sioma was one of my cadets, and I used to affectionately pinch his cheeks. When I taught him Hebrew I noticed that he was a very talented writer, but Sioma preferred commerce to writing. I suspect that he sometimes secretly writes, or at least is attracted to it and will one day do so. When we parted before my aliya he said: if you succeed, I will follow you. And indeed he fulfilled his promise, although belatedly, but not due to him. In the period between the making of the promise and its fulfillment our town and its Jews were destroyed, the Jewry of Poland and a third of our people were annihilated.

With the change of regime Sioma made his way eastward, dedicated himself to work, and was considered one of the "heros of labor." He was thus spared the suffering, terror and destruction that his friends underwent. The war passed Sioma by; he was far away from the town of his birth, from his parents, sister, and brother and their bitter fate. At the end of the war he returned to town and found it destroyed and empty of Jews. Only a large community grave testified to what has occurred here. A few wandering and lost survivors who did not believe the tales of horror came back to witness the degenerate cruelty of the beast in man. Here they gathered and began their journey west, across Europe, on their way to Eretz Yisrael.

As a BEITAR man he knew what he was supposed to do, and tried to get to the country in the shortest way possible. On Austrian lands he was surprised by a meeting with his cousin Ze'ev Rodnitski, who was considered lost, and took him along westward. In France he enlisted in the ETZEL and endeavored to quicken his aliya in order to join the fighters. He spurred his friends on and harassed them every day until he found himself on the ship "La'negev," sailing on the mediterranean on the way here. The ship was stopped by the British navy and was forced to turn to Cyprus, to a British prison camp. He ground his teeth, but was forced to be content with directing his gaze eastward, towards Eretz Yisrael, and be cheered by the heroic acts -- the wonderful, bold and unforgettable heroic acts -- of the Hebrew underground resistance in Eretz Yisrael. In his letters, saturated with yearnings and anger, that I received from his prison, he lamented his misfortune that brought him to a place where he is forced to stand idly by while his friends are fighting heroically and spilling their blood on the alter of the ideals in which he believed from early youth.

Only in the beginning of 1947 did he get here. Immediately he enlisted in the forming Air Force, but as an excellent professional he was assigned to ground service, despite his will. His base and mine were close to each other, and our strong bond continued into the tumult of the War of Independence.

David Rubin

David was a young child when his parents moved to our town. When he grew up he found his place in the BEITAR movement. Unlike others who joined, whose reasons were mainly emotional, David came because of logical reasons: he was cool-tempered, logical, moderate, and unexcitable. When he was surrounded by emotions he knew how to control and terminate them, how to dissects things with his healthy brain as if with a sharp knife, and how to draw relevant conclusions. He was well-known as such. Only in moments of elevation he too was affected by sentiment and carried away by the stream of emotions, but these were rare moments.

When he grew up he was incorporated into his father's expansive business and left town. Only at the beginning of World War II did he return. At that time I was already in Eretz Yisrael, but as I was told, David underwent a revolutionary change and became a different person.

Now came the decisive and difficult days of emergency. David felt the changing tide, and was especially fortunate. His entire family remained intact in the first German "actzia," and even afterwards they were not imprisoned in the ghetto. They were free to move about, him, his parents, his sister and his brothers. His father's "tar plant" was, as it seems, necessary for the German war effort and they let his family run it as if nothing was happening. Thus he stayed clear of the ghetto, but this impunity did not last. When the bitter news of the second "actzia" and of the complete annihilation of the ghetto reached their house, whilst the German guards were approaching their home to destroy them, David got

[188] up and left through the back door. He passed a short distance of a few dozen meters and was already under the cover of the saving forest.

Unimaginable suffering was the lot of the few Jews that wandered in the forests and were pursued for their lives. Even when partisan troops accepted one single Jew or another, because of ties from the past, they exploited him shamefully. He was assigned the most difficult and dangerous battle missions. Even if he succeeded he was envied and despised. Normally the hatred for Jews drove the partisans mad, not any less than the Nazi murderers, and they too wished them dead. Our David, too, had to pass this trail of suffering, as one of the first Jews that succeeded in being integrated among the partisans. Thanks to his courage and boldness, the ground was prepared for the acceptance of other Jews.

David undertook very dangerous missions and completed them coolly and courageously. He went through the seven circles of hell during the assaults and withdrawals in the Byelorussian forest, with complete success. By mere chance he remained alive after a farmer woman found him dying in the forest and mumbling: "mother," "mother" in Russian. She though that he was "one of us" and called for help. Thus David was flown to a hospital in Moscow, where his struggled with death and triumphed. In the mean time, dawn arose, the Nazis surrendered, and the war was over.

Like other survivors of the Holocaust and the fighting, he too was drawn to Ilya, the town were he grew up and where he was educated. Although he knew what the situation was, his heart refused to believe, and only the facts of the terrible reality convinced him that what passed is past and will never return. Thus the survivors grouped and planned their way westward, to freedom and light and to the reunion with the rest of the survivors and the abandonment of the piles of ruins and the town of slaughter forever.

From hence on the goal was clear. Although it was a long and difficult way ahead, he and his friends marched on with determination and perseverance. In France he was integrated into ETZEL and joined the band of warriors actively. He tried to rush the aliya, but his ship "La'negev" fell right into the hands of the British fleet instead of arriving in the shores of Israel. He suddenly found himself under arrest in Cyprus, only to continue the suffering for another year. Only after the outbreak of the War of Independence did he arrive. This was our first meeting after years of severance. Our second meeting took place in the fifty-seventh battalion of the "Giv'ati" Brigade, both of us wearing I.D.F. uniforms, during the storm of the War of Independence.

[189]

Bat Sheva and Yonah Riar

I first met Bat Sheva during my childhood days in the "Gordonia," when I was about 11. Bat Sheva was then elected to leadership, and I was a common member. I came to their house almost every day, and was treated like a part the family. Her brother Ya'akov Bronstein was one of my best friends (the talented and gifted Ya'akov was cruelly murdered in the Holocaust). Our ways then parted. Bat Sheva remained in the "Gordonia" leadership whereas the writer of these lines, along with other friends, organized the "Hertzelia." These two Zionist youth movements shared a common fate, however. Neither one lasted and both marked a passing episode in the crystallization of youth movements in our town. We later met again, this time in BEITAR: more mature, developed and better integrated, we now were no longer content with carrying the Zionist vision in our hearts, but made an effort to actualize it.

I met Yonah later, perhaps at age 16 - in BEITAR, but our acquaintance deepened and bloomed into a strong and true friendship, that lasts to this day. We were very different from each other, and perhaps that is the secret of this friendship that withstood so many tests. Yonah is romantic, cheerful, good natured and affable. Even today, after a day of strenuous labor and hard work, Yonah picks up the mandolin and "tells" the memories of his youth through it. He overflows, and drags us all back to our young days, to romantic moods, that withered in the face of reality and are forever gone. Yonah became one of the pioneers of professional physical labor in our town, when he started to work as an apprentice for the goy blacksmith Viramei, while the richer boys wandered around idly. His main qualities are candor, honesty and simplicity, without any complications or presumptions. He does have one weakness, however. He is in love with public work of any shape and form. For this he would do anything, a quality he inherited, as it seems, from his grandfather the late Rabbi Eli Zondel, who loved to perform the public rituals in synagogue. If I were to tell you about Yonah in detail I would have to write a biography, or at least to tell a large part of the history of the BEITAR branch in Ilya, Yonah being one of its commanders, but that is not my task.

Yonah, who last worked in Warsaw, returned home with the outbreak of the war on foot and waited for further developments; what eventually developed astonished the world in its cruelty and dealt a blow to the Jewish people the like of which has never been known before, not even in the course of our

[190] blood and tear saturated history. In the selection before the first "actzia" the various artisans and their families were picked out, and among them Yonah, his wife and his child. That meant they were destined to live. Whereas the others, 99% of the Jewish population, were led like sheep to the slaughter house, to their death and destruction and were even forced to dig their own graves. Again, luck played its game. A day before the final destruction of the ghetto the few families of artisans were taken our and transferred to the Vileika ghetto, and Yonah and his family among them. Although death took its toll, the survivors continued to live and to hope for the moment when dawn will rise and with it the opportunity for revenge over the spilled blood. This moment was detained almost to no end, but finally arrived.

I will not detail the trail of suffering of Bat Sheva and Yonah: in the ghetto, in the forest, among the partisans, and so forth. They tell their story better, in the chapter that concerns the Holocaust. I would only like to mention in passing a few details:

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Yonah Riar, his wife Bat Sheva,

and their son Yehuda, at the end of the World War,

as they left the forests

The war was over, and Yonah and Bat Sheva returned to the burnt, robbed and completely destroyed town of their birth. They discover that everything was gone: property was robbed, the inhabitants murders, and a history of hundreds of years of life, hopes, pain and creation, erased. Only common graves, appearing in the valley of death, testified to the heinous deeds of the murderers. Out of anger and desperation, Yonah and his friends took the path of revenge. Whoever was known to have been a murderer, or cooperator, was surrendered to the government, or gotten rid of by their own hands. But these are so many, who could overcome them? Yonah avenges the blood of his late father, who was cruelly murdered in cold blood by a Christian childhood friend. But revenge cannot be continued, for

[191] now the government has stabilized. Yonah and his friends, Zosman, Gitlitz, Shraga Solominski, David Rubin, Sioma Sinder, Isaac Chadash, and others who lived together, are forced to build a fence around the valley of death, to depart from the graves of their fathers, and to head westward.

Now Yonah and his family are in Italy. He is alert, active, and heading a BEITAR group who is training to start a kibbutz and waiting for aliya. Yonah is married and has two small children, therefore his aliya is postponed again and again. In the meantime he appears in front of committees and sounds his opinions. His eternal war cry is: "Never forget to erase the name of the enemy from under the heavens."

He sends cousin Isaac Chadash here, his adopted son that survived after the loss of his parents and his entire family, and awaits the next opportunity for aliya. And, at last, this opportunity arrives. Yonah, his wife and his family make aliya to Eretz Yisrael.

HONOR BE TO THE BRAVE WHO FELL

Isaac son of Shneor Chadash - bless his memory

A few days after my release from the British prison camp in Latrun, as I was playing with my three year old daughter, Aviva, in our house's yard in Netanya, I suddenly saw two men approach the house. One of them was a youth of about 18 whereas the other was in his mid-thirties. They knocked on the door and entered. In a few minutes I heard my wife call: "Aryeh, we have guests!" I entered the house and there they were, sitting in anticipation. To my inquiry, the youth turned to me and asked, excitedly - "don't you recognize me?" I felt uncomfortable, but did not know with whom I had the honor. I turned to look at him and strained my memory. He is a bit familiar, I thought, but where from? Perhaps from the town of my birth, I thought, one of those that lived in a side alley and I hadn't run into on a daily basis. A child that grew up in suffering and trouble during the horrible Holocaust - but who is he? I returned to town in my imagination, and scanned the faces of the children of every house. Now my gaze passed Tetraska Street, and I noticed a child calmly playing near his house, and I remembered... I smiled and said: "you are the son of Shneor Chadash, aren't you?" - " You guessed correctly," answered the guest. "That is absolutely right. My name is Isaac Chadash." It was now time to introduce the man who accompanied him. "Please meet my cousin," he said, "who lives in Even Yehuda." We shook hands and exchanged a few sentences. I now turned to Isaac and showered him with innumerable questions.

[192] Where was he during the war? The holocaust? How did he come to Israel? when, from whence, etc.? Slowly but surely Isaac unfolded a long tale of suffering, fear and danger, that were his lot in those dark and terrible days.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Isaac Chadash, bless his soul,

fell in the War of Independence

"My father and I," he began, managed to survive through the first "actzia" by hiding in a hideout in our back yard, but at nightfall we crept away like shadows and escaped the town in the direction of my father's home town, since he assumed that there he would be able to hide better and for a longer period of time. We advanced at night and hid during the day, until we reached the place, but neither over there was our peace long-lasting. After a few weeks, when the Jews gathered to pray in public, and my father and I among them, we were surrounded by the German S.S. forces who shot everyone present. I was the only one who crawled under a closet and miraculously survived."

"A new chapter in my life began then: the forest. Hunger, suffering and despair were my lot, but I shall not dwell on these because all those who survived had to go through this trail of suffering. They all oscillated between despair and hope. Hunger, disease, and fear from every passing shadow was their daily bread. Lost, stranded and hungry, I wandered in the forest, ragged, dishevelled, and feeding on forest plants. Gradually, more Jewish youths joined me, as stricken as I was....and so we reached the partisans. I will not fatigue you with stories of our suffering. We all had one option only, and that was to fight for our lives, to avenge and destroy the enemy. This lasted for 4 years, and those who made it to the day of liberation saw the end of the raging beast."

[193] "The purpose of my visit," continued Isaac, "is of course to see you, but I also brought a letter and greetings from my father, your friend Yonah Riar, who is in Italy now" - and he handed me a brown envelope. I was astonished and excited. I did not know that Yonah was still alive. I assumed that he, too, like so many others, was swept by the sea of death, and there he was, alive and well. Tears off joy filled my eyes. I stopped him from talking. "Could you clarify?" I mumbled, "at first you said that your father has died, and now you deliver greetings from your father, Yonah. Yonah is not your father, but your cousin. How do you explain that?" - "You are correct," said Isaac. "My father indeed perished, but your friend Yonah is nonetheless my father. To clarify that, allow me to go back a little bit."

"With the surrender of Germany and the end of the Second World War, I decided to go back to my birth town, Ilya, to see whether someone from the family had survived. When I finally got there, I met Yonah and Bat Sheva. Depressed, mourning, orphaned, lonesome, I wandered by the graves of the Holocaust casualties, and asked Yonah and Bat Sheva to adopt me as their son, and they agreed wholeheartedly. Do you understand now?" - "I understand," I muttered, and a deep sigh escaped my throat. To my question: do you need any help? He pointed toward his cousin and said: "in his house I found shelter, warmth, and employment, and there is nothing more I need." We parted, and good-bye was the last sentence I heard him utter.

And indeed Isaac needed nothing more. When he came here from Ilya, he was already a member of the ETZEL, and his arrival had definite goals: to fight for the liberation of the homeland and to triumph. There was no lack of opportunity for that. Isaac left everything behind him: a warm house, work and family, and threw himself into battle. The days were those of the beginning of the open fighting against the Arabs and the ETZEL troops fought in Jaffa, Yehudia, rosh-Ha'ayin, Ramle, and other places. The enthusiastic Isaac wanted to be on all fronts. A certain inquietude incited him to throw his body opposite the murderer's bullets, and during one assault he was left behind and was registered as missing in action, and probably was buried in an anonymous grave. Isaac did not have the privilege to hear the declaration of independence of the state of Israel, for which redemption he fought and gave his gentle and pure soul.

Rest, heroic brother, in your nameless grave, and we will tell your bold deeds to the next generations. Thanks to you, and others like you, our national independence was renewed.

Your memory will always be kept in our hearts.

[194]

Ze'ev son of Baruch Rodnitzki - blessed be his soul

At the end of 1947 I was suddenly called to the office of the factory where I worked. When I came in there stood Zevik Rodnitzki. When I left my hometown, he was still a boy, and now a young man of 18 stood before me. To my inquiry of how he got there, he began his story:

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Lieutenant Ze'ev Rodnitzki - blessed be his soul

Fell on duty

At the time of the regime change he was about 13 and entered the comsomol; when the war between Germany and Russia broke out he was taken east; In the meantime, he grew up and was drafted in the Red Army, where he was promoted to officer; with the advance of the Russian army westward he reached Germany; there he first heard the news about the destruction and ruin, about the lost survivors who are seeking their tomorrow, about the gathering of the survivors and their advance westward, about the goal and the faith in the vision of Israeli independence.

At a moment of excitement and elation, he stripped off his uniform; bed goodbye to the hammer, winked towards the pentagonal star, and took off.

We meet him again as an enlisted soldier, this time in an escape organization, where he specialized in transferring the survivors through the mountains on the Austria-Italy border, in the middle of the night, on their way to Israel. He devoted all his time and energy to this task, and performed it with love, dedication - untiringly and incessantly. This became his vision: to direct the survivors toward a safe

[195] haven. Although he was always in the center of action, surrounded by many people and keeping busy, he seemed shut from the world and sad. The sudden appearance of our cousin Sioma, as if he was resurrected from the dead, awakened strong familial emotions in him, and he joined him on his way to the west.

Like other town members, he too joined the ETZEL and sailed in the ship "La'negev" to Eretz Yisrael. Like his shipmates, he too was arrested by the British and imprisoned in the camps in Cyprus, though his imprisonment was shorter. Still a youngster, he escaped from Cyprus and appeared here at the end of summer 1947, while his friends and town people, with whom he came a long way, were still locked up behind the sharp barbed-wire fences of Cyprus.

We now went to my house where he found temporary shelter. But Zevik shunned off peace and quite. It was as if danger fascinated him. I do not know where or how, but I suddenly felt that he has managed already to renew his ties with the underground organization, and to be swept by the whirlpool of tension, blood and tears. When I commented to him that this may be too early, that he hasn't rested yet. He smiled and winked: "this is what I came here for!"

These were the days of the beginning of the open struggle for the rule of the land between the Arabs and the Jews, while the "neutral British" stood in the middle. The blood of the young Israelites was spilt in the battlefields as they defended national honor and the right to be and to live. Ze'ev left work and gave his all to this lofty purpose, his body and gentle soul. Now there were no more cheerful conversations between us, but mute tension. He stopped coming home at night regularly, and only rarely, in the middle of the night, he came back weary and tired, and only the sound of the water in the shower indicated his return.

The Hebrew Yeshuv[xxxiii] was getting ready for the decisive battle and organized troops began to appear in the horizon. The ETZEL was annexed to the Israeli army and was sent to the front, and Ze'ev, now a platoon commander, fought bravely. We hardly saw each other now, each one of us, like other young Israelites, performed his duty somewhere in the land. Only rarely did he come home to show that he was alive, with a joke and a smile on his face.

The war was over, the older soldiers were released and returned to their private lives, but the young Ze'ev believed that the nation needs to reenforce its victories and that it still requires his military services. He thus enlisted in the regular army. And this is how things stood. The enemy that was defeated on the battlefield was licking his still fresh wounds and already planning his revenge. And if he cannot do it in the light of day, for fear that he would once again be defeated, he conspires in secrecy. The enemy's messengers are cowardly planting mines in the border regions and needlessly killing peaceful and laboring civilians, who, with their own sweat irrigate the soil of the resurrected homeland. The I.D.F., meant to protect civilians, is forced to send its best officers and soldiered to scan the borders and guard against terrorists. In spring 1950, on the eve of passover, Zevik headed a mission to protect the homeland. His car ran over a mine that was planted by the enemy and crashed. Ze'ev returned his soul to his creator.

As we erect a memorial for our hometown, let us raise the memory of a cadet, a warrior and a friend, who sacrificed everything for the independence of Israel, and let us tell the next generations about him. His memory will be forever engraved in our hearts.

The Aliya of Devorah Rubinchik and Her Family

For a number of days I have been holding on to a message that tells of the aliya of Devorah Rubinchik, the cousin of my late mother, and her daughters, and I am somewhere in the south, with the Giv'ati Brigade, in the midst of the War of Independence. I therefore turned to my commander and asked for a leave of absence in order to visit the Pardes-Chana olim camp, and received a leave for Rosh Ha'shanah 1948. When I got the leave-pass the commander was handed a telegraph from the brigade headquarters and in it was an urgent message that announced that from 10:00 the brigade will start moving. In fifteen minutes begins "Operation Ten Blows." But the commander did not detain me and said: you're lucky. If the telegraph would have been delivered before, who knows how things would have developed.

In Rosh Ha'shanah 1948 I was perhaps the only soldier on leave, and definitely the only soldier from the Giv'ati Brigade on leave. I somehow found a means of transportation, and with my four-year-old daughter Aviva, headed to the Pardes-Chana camp. The message that I received stated an address, but God knows how much effort is needed to locate it. Try to find an edifice in the jungle of 30 thousand olim and in a space of a few hundred acres. No one I turned to could give me directions. The numbers indicated that I was getting close to my target, but it seemed as if the edifice was swallowed by the earth. I tried to ask by family name, but out of the hundreds of people that I met no one knew of her existence,

[197] or, at least, that's what they told me. The clerk in the office where I turned for help located the

family name, Rubinchik, but could not tell me where she lived. I detained people right and left, and asked for assistance, but to no avail. I felt helpless, because my little daughter was tired and cried. I tried to appease her and quiet her down by telling her we would soon find the aunt from abroad. We rested for a little while and embarked on our energetic search once again.

Suddenly I met a woman that with considerable patience listened to what I said, but instead of responding, started to inquire: why am I looking for this family? "because they are my relatives," I answered. "What kind of relatives?" she asked again. I explained that this is my late mother's cousin. "How many people are they?" she continued her investigations with other direct and indirect questions. I assumed that the moment of salvation was nearing, that as soon as the "investigation" was over she would point to the edifice or lead me to it, but the end was much more surprising... "I don't know them," she muttered, and moved on. I was boiling on the inside. Is my uniform to blame? I asked myself, do I seem so unreliable? But I could not change the situation. I patiently continued my search until I found what I was looking for.

We hugged and kissed. After exchanging the first bits of information I could hold myself back no longer and told her of the behavior of the people and the search that took two hours, and mentioned the incident with the "investigating" woman. I barely finished when the door was opened and a woman entered. Believe it or not, but I think you've already guessed... it was the woman who crossed-examined me. I couldn't contain myself and asked her to explain her behavior. She seemed unabashed and said, with determination: "what you don't know can't hurt you." I understood.... This was the theory that developed in the reality of the Nazi death camps, and the woman before me still lived in the dark and terrible past.

Devorah Rubinchik need not be introduced; her personality does it for her: wise, sharp, smooth-tongued, she comes from a very lofty background. If there's such a thing as a Jewish aristocracy, then her father, Rabbi Efraim, was its main representative. His face was handsome and noble. His white beard, large and well-tended, added splendor and honor to his appearance. He spoke quietly, pleasantly, and his speech was smooth and sweet. Rabbi Efraim was the permanent honorary officer of the synagogue, and one of the most respected heads of household in town. He was the son-in-law of Rabbi Micha Ratner, may his memory be blessed, and that's why they called him Rabbi Efraim Michas. But the younger or newer town members called him (with Ashkenazi intonation) Rabbi Efraim Yechus[xxxiv]. He was

[198] identified with the concept to that extent. When Devorah was a young woman I was not yet born, but on her actions in the October revolution legends were told; how she incited the masses of farmers with her speeches; how this thin and petite woman led the goyim by their nose, and they worshipped her. When she married the man of her choice, Eliezer Rubinchik, she gave up her revolutionary theories and stabilized her life according to tradition. Their economical situation improved gradually and they reached a stable financial well being. Devorah is a born public worker, and she thus found her place in the Zionist movement and especially in WIZO, to which she devoted most of her free time. Her life, although intensive in the public and economic realm, were calm in private. She reared two daughters and provided them with the best education. But the outbreak of the war put an end to her way of life.

The outbreak of the war and the subsequent change in regimes "liberated" the Rubenchik family from its property. She lost her husband Eliezer, his memory be blessed, in the horrible Holocaust when he was imprisoned in the Nazi death camps. She and her two daughters went through the trail of suffering and she miraculously managed to save her daughters from certain death. She now lives in Kiryat Motzkin and has settled down.

Pninah Zebudnik - Gutenberg

Their family consisted of three sisters and two brothers, who were deprived at a very young age of both their mother and father. The elder sister, Leah, emigrated to the U.S. when I was still a small boy, and my memory holds only a glimpse of her image. Next was the brother Eliezer, who emigrated to Argentina when I was on the verge of adulthood - his image still stands before me, almost clearly. In Ilya remained the younger children: Pninah, Moshe and Sarah.

Ever since I can remember they were raised by their old grandfather and grandmother, Meitah and Nehemiah. When they died, Pninah, Moshe and Sarah were left on their own, and they were still children. No wonder that under these difficult and cruel conditions Pninah, who was older than Moshe and Sarah, was forced to bear the heavy responsibility of raising and educating them. This had no little influence on the shaping of her character and personality.

Moshe and Sarah were my friends in the movement. They were born unlucky: born in grief, raised in suffering and orphanhood, and snatched by the Nazi devil while they were still young.

[199] May these lines serve as an eternal light in their honor and as a bouquet of flowers on their unknown grave.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Moshe and Sarah Zebudnik (Kompinski), blessed be their memory

Pninah, too, belonged to the same organization and later transferred to the "Chalutz" - probably out of faith and the desire to hasten her aliya to Eretz Yisrael. But fate is fickle; it laughs at us and ruins our plans: Pninah indeed completed her training and was looking forward to immediate aliya, but for some reason was detained.

Pninah is clever, profound and traditional. Each one of her sentences is carefully weighed, thought out and measured. Her speech is quiet and unexcited, but always right on target. When she returned from training with her future husband, Chaim, she already saw herself as a potential citizen of Eretz Yisrael, although the conditions of aliya at that time were extremely difficult. Shortly after her marriage the war broke out, but she still did not give up her dream of aliya. The war was indeed an obstacle, but she did not pluck the dream from her heart. When new opportunities arose and some cracks were detected in the isolation wall, she did not hesitate and used them to get through to Eretz Yisrael.

Upon the change of regimes she moved east and fate, that separated her and her husband, allowed them to meet again soon. Here they underwent days of hardship and suffering, as all war refugees did.

[200] As soon as the war was over they moved west on their way to Eretz Yisrael. She met her future husband, Chaim, in training, where he was, like her, due to the desire to make aliya. But his situation was singular: his whole family had been in Israel for a long time, and only he was detained in Poland. When Pninah returned home from training, he accompanied her.

My first meeting with Chaim took place in her home. Although 25 years have passed, my first impression hasn't evaporated: Chaim had loads and loads of humor. One needs to know him well to detect when he is being serious and when he is joking. That is the way he was, and hasn't changed to this day.

It has been twelve years since fate summoned us together to work for a common and lofty cause.

Yossef Yeruchevski

One day in 1950 I was told that Yossef, the son of Yechiel Yeruchevski, from our town was in Israel. When I met him he told me the story of his life: when the Russians came to town he was just a boy and entered the comsomol; During the evacuations he was transferred to Russia and tumbled from one work camp to the next; he suffered much during these cruel war days; in the camps he met a few of his friends from town and together they bore their suffering quietly; he was then drafted in the army and advanced with the Russian army to the west; when he heard of the survivors' going to Israel he stripped off his uniform - under his friends' influence - and deserted.

The escape organization to which he now turned helped him, and as a bachelor he was high on the priority list for aliya. In the beginning of the fighting that erupted immediately upon the establishment of the state he came to Israel. The situation in the front was difficult, and so he was immediately drafted and sent straight from the ship to the bloody Latrun front. After a short vacation he was sent along with reenforcement to Gush Etzion, where he fought for his life. Despite heroism and desperate sacrifices, the few were forced to yield to the many, and with the other warriors Yossef was taken prisoner of war. His suffering in captivity is unimaginable, and only after a year and half in prison was he released and returned to Israel.

After a few years it became clear that his father too had survived, and he too drifted along with

[201] the stream of survivors that came to Israel. This is one of the rare instances in which someone from our town has had the privilege of meeting his living parent in the land of Israel. Yossef's father is old by now, and found peace in the MALBAN institution for the elderly.

Dan Mendelssohn

Danchik, that is how we called him in town, because he was so small and thin for his age. He was dark, and had burning eyes. Although he was born in Warsaw he spent most of his summers at his grandmother Fridka's house in our town. So it was every year, until disaster struck and his father died. Since then he became a citizen of our town and moved in with his grandmother. One image of his orphanhood is especially engraved in my memory and is there to this day: Danchik saying his Kaddish prayer for the soul of his father. Since he was so small he was put on a bench, so that the Kaddish will be heard in public, and his voice echoed in the space of the synagogue.

Every once in a while his widowed mother would travel to Warsaw, but when the war erupted they returned to town. Not before long the new regime drafted the young for labor camp and like others of his age he too was taken to the camps beyond the Ural mountains. There he suffered unimaginably from hunger and lack. Eventually he escaped from camp and using sophisticated means managed to be drafted in the Polish army where he spent the duration of the war. When he was stationed in eastern Prussia, holding a good, non-combat position, he found out the facts about the survivors and their reorganization toward aliya. By coincidence he ran into "Ha'shomer Ha'tzair"[xxxv] people in Warsaw, and they convinced him to desert and to join them for aliya. To this day Danchik gets excited when he talks about that incident.

With all his youthful fervor Dan devoted himself to the task of organizing and concentrating the survivors. The fire of love to Eretz Yisrael, now burning in his heart, made him restless, and he fought with the leadership to hasten his aliya. The struggle was persistent, because the leadership did not want to forgo the active, enthusiastic and persistent youth, but they were eventually forced to give him up and allow for his aliya. In the midst of the operation he met his future wife and mother of his children, and both crossed the border in the middle of the night on their way to Austria. There, a great wonderful surprise awaited his future wife - she found a large part of her family alive.

His Zionist action continued in Italy too, but on a different plane. Over there his elderly daughter

[202] was born, and thus his aliya was detained for a while, and he only came to Israel after the second cease-fire.

As a new comer still living in an olim camp he was temporarily released from army service to allow his family to settle down. But immediately after being absorbed in Ramle he was drafted in the I.D.F. for two years. During his army service the army held retaliation operations against the enemy at the borders and Dan participated in those.

The Cheikin Brothers

Yechezkel and Mendel are brothers, but each has his own fate. They both arrived in the country after the establishment of the state, Yechezkel from the east, whereas Mendel came from the west. Yechezkel is among the Holocaust survivors who struggled for their existence and miraculously survived. Mendel, on the other hand, came from peaceful Uruguay, from a stable and fixed way of life, and from expansive public work.

They are very different from each other: in their character, personality and talents. Only brothers to the same parents can be that different and contrasting. They have no common feature, no inner or outer similarity.

In my mind's eye I see the house of Rabbi David Cheikin, his wife and his offsprings. The mother was born in Libau, in a wealth and progressive household, and had a German education in the positive sense of the term. She was captivated by the father, who in his younger days was apparently a handsome man. For his sake she abandoned a stable and rooted household and followed her heart's choice far away. Her education manifested itself in the house, the children, and their names. In our town everyone was named by complete Hebrew names, with no short cuts or nicknames - whereas in the Cheikin house Nehemiah was called "Chamke," Zalman was called "Zamke," Yechezkel - "Chatske," Mendel - "Mande," Leib - "Libke," and Getale. We called our mothers Mame, and they called theirs Mama.

The family consisted of six children, five sons and a daughter. Most of them were talented: writers, speakers, organizers, they were persuasive and handsome. Wherever they went they attracted attention. Three of them were "Chalutz" members and three were in BEITAR, why I can't tell you, it's a mystery, but nonetheless a fact.

The parents, too, were split in their opinions. The father supported the "Chalutz" and the mother liked BEITAR.

Nehemiah, the elder son, combined the mother's and the father's characteristics: traditional and

[203] restrained, pleasant and handsome. Well-educated and cultured - he was one of the first Chalutz members and among the founders. He was a "bookworm" and devoted most of his time to books. Zalman had the same qualities, but he was more alert, more dynamic, a sharp and aggressive polemic, but short in stature. Zalman - "Zamke" - was one of the first victims to have been executed by the Nazis immediately upon their invasion, as if to punish him for his communist activities. Yechezkel was different. He didn't aspire to public appearances or to be a leading speaker. Whatever was assigned to him he performed faithfully and completely. Mendel was the spitting image of his brother Zalman in his talents, but is more tumultuous (a descendent of the Cohenim), more presumptuous and taller. He was fortunate to acquire much experience in public work and human relations. Libke was a disciplined soldier - out of persuasion. He honestly believed in the road that he took and was willing to defend it with his heart and soul. Getale, still young, was already felt to be more talented than all her brothers; her eyes burned with fire, her cheeks inflamed, her heart full of enthusiasm, her mouth emanates witticisms, - and her brain remains cold and analytical.

Mendel was a childhood friend of mine and with him I came a long way. In childhood we were both members of the "Gordonia," where Mendel was a chief speaker. We then met again in Vilna - in "Tomchei Tmimim" Yeshiva. We then parted, and each followed his God.

When Mendel matured, he entered the "Chalutz" and became one of their active speakers. He went to training as a step towards making aliya. Since the gates of the country were locked, he went to Uruguay temporarily, and there began a broad public service. He stayed there for 20 years and eventually came to Israel.

Yechezkel and Mendel are the remainders of a widely branched Zionist family who drowned in the ocean of blood and tears.

Risia Sinder - Epstein - Toviashvitz

If we were to call her Risia, as her name appears on her papers, the majority of people would not know whom we refer to, and that is why we should call her by her known name - "Rishka Yenkel Sheines," and all would immediately recall her special appearance: the red hair, both the Ilyites here and those abroad.

Rabbi Ya'akov Sinder, or, as he was better known, "Yaniel Sheines" was her grandfather, and the most famous butcher in town. He was an affable and pleasant man, organized and focused, and especially hospitable. He literally sought his guests out, and without them he was miserable. But let us

[204] not dwell on that, as our late friend Tuvia Chefetz will tell all this in his story. Before my aliya I thought he was in the prime of his life, but those who know better told me that he has passed that age 15 years previously. Despite that fact he was health and strong, and liked to joke around with members of the weaker sex, and the younger the better... One bright day he got married to a woman 50-55 years of age.

Later it was rumored... that he was complaining... that she is too old for him...

Naturally, Rabbi Ya'akov left the mark of his personality on the house: a cheerful house, known for its hospitality, frivolity and amusements. And no wonder. There were four children of the social age, two daughters and two sons, and each had his or her own friends. Thus the house was always full of guests and merry company. The mother Chava, although she was widowed at a young age, adjusted to the house and did not burden the children with her mood. The Sinder household was thus free, cheerful and hospitable, in short: the center of the town's social life.

Every age and its ways of having fun:

I was still a young boy when the Sinder family opened a bar in town, where one could get a variety of delicacies: beer, chocolate, sweets, ice-cream, and so forth. Everybody came to this house, to be impressed by it and, by the way, to taste the goods. The house become the social center of town and was full every evening.

Every once in a while new technologies and games were added to the bar, and among them - a radio. As far as I can remember, this was the first radio in town, a radio with earphones. Young and old, everybody came to see this seventh wonder and to wonder over the miracle, and by the way, taste the goods. My sister and myself, still young children, also were excited over this great miracle, called the radio. Later they installed a pool table as well. I was too young to participate in the game, but followed it with great concentration and suspense.

Every period and its ways of having fun. Later the bar declined from its position and a card club was formed instead; unofficial, but with all the rules and regulations. The writer of these lines too paid for his "experience" there dearly. It was an important social center of town at one time, but declined in the last years.

[205]

The young members of the household gradually got married, and as they left, the social center became empty.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Shlomo Rafson, bless his soul.

Killed in Europe after the liberation.

Risia's husband and the father of her children, Eliyahu-Yossef and Moshe, was Shefsal Epstein, an excellent soccer player in his youth. Then came the political change: the Russians came and left, the German-Russian war erupted, and the Holocaust began. Shefsal, who was a shoe cobbler by trade and necessary for the invading army and was allowed to live, along with his entire family, through the first

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Shefsal Epstein- bless his soul,

Risia's first husband

ghetto "actzia." The artisans and their families were then concentrated in Vileika Ghetto and Shefsal and his family among them.

When rumors spread that this ghetto too would be destroyed, Risia spurred her husband to escape to the forest and join the partisans. But Shefsal, who saved his mother so far, refused to separate from her and leave her behind, and stayed with her to the bitter end. Risia, on the other hand, took her two small sons with her, and hid for years under the cover of the forest and the partisans.

The war ended, Risia and her children survived and searched for their father to no avail. When it became clear that he died, she decided that they needed a father and married Mr. Toviashvitz, who raised and educated them and taught them a trade. The family tried to settle in Russia, but the awful loneliness oppressed them and led them to make aliya.

Risia and her husband are happy and live in B'nai-Brak along with a young daughter that was born to them. The young son lives near Petach-Tikvah and supports himself honorably, whereas the elder son settled in Kiryat Gath and is very content. In short, they are glad that they made aliya.

Rosa (Bronstein) and Shraga Reznik

When I found out that Rosa and Shraga have arrived in the country I expected to find a young man and a maiden, but to my surprised I found a married couple with a child. It seems like time flies. Only yesterday... I remembered them as kids, and here they were, mature and with their own family.

I've known Rosa, I believe, since her birth. We were neighbors, and our parents' walls touched each others. A single fence separated the lots, a source of many disputes.

Rosa was still a baby when her step brother David, the first leader of the BEITAR branch in Ilya - became my friend. We were loyal friends, and called each other by historical and literary names. I called David - "David of the Reuven tribe" and he called me "Leibush Libushizki," after a young historian.

The financial situation in his parents' house was grim. David, the oldest son, who dreamed of making aliya, made desperate attempts to attain this goal to no avail. He was thus forced to immigrate to Argentina with the hope that it will only be a temporary arrangement, and that from there he will head towards Israel. Some say that a temporary arrangement is the most permanent one, and it seems like this

[207] is true. More than 30 years have passed and David is still there. To this day I haven't heard whether he intends to make aliya or not. It seems that he has forgotten our last conversation, on the way to the train station.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

David Bronstein, Argentine

If these lines ever reach David, his memory will most certainly be refreshed, and he will remember that conversation with longing.

Shraga, too, still stands before my eyes, neither a boy nor precisely a young man, sweet and clever. He wasn't born in our town but came to Ilya shortly before I met him. His father, who was widowed as a young man, married an elderly single woman from our town, and he brought Shraga along as his "dowry." Shraga lived in the same house - the house of Chaim Avraham the "hastrosta" - where the BEITAR branch was located; and I, who spend many ours in the branch during daytime too, met the little urchin and exchanged a few words with him. When I returned from my service in the Polish army Shraga was already older and a BEITAR member; pleasant, serious, loyal and cultured.

When the extant Polish regime fell and the Russians arrived, all existing orders changed. Shraga, like others of his age, tried to be integrated into the new society. While they were still in the midst of the absorption process, the German-Russian war began, and changed the situation fundamentally. The approaching Germans spread fear, blood and fire.

[208]

Shraga, along with a few friends, decided to leave town for a few days, until the wrath subsided. But these few days lasted many years. Although he suffered from hunger in the Russian camps, he was saved from certain death in the Holocaust.

In 1942, while still in Russia, he was drafted in the army and served for 5 straight years - until his release. He married a girl form his town, Rosa, and started a family. With his discharge from the army he settled in Vilna and stayed there until the possibility of aliya arrived.

Shraga and Rosa now live in Chadera.

Hirshl (Tzvi) Berman

Hirshl was one of the last olim to come from "over there" - he only came recently. Although he was born in Ilya and lived there many years, a few years before the war he moved to the neighboring Horodok, due to his marriage.

During the war and the Holocaust he experienced much suffering, terror and wandering, but he was lucky. He was privileged to stay alive and make aliya.

Along with Hirshl, his brother was saved as well, Isaac Berman, who also left Ilya to get married and lived in Horodok. But he emigrated to Argentina, to join his brother, Tuvia, who has lived there for many years.

Hirshl now lives in Migdal Ashkelon, and is productive and content.

Leah Zeltzer

Leah, or Leachka as we called her, is the oldest daughter of Chaika Sosnoski, from Batorina, whose family settled in Ilya in the last years before the Second World War. Since I remembered her as a cute baby, whose cheeks I sometimes pinched, I was surprised to see that she was married, to Monik Meltzer. She was fortunate to escape the Nazi hell and to make aliya to Israel upon independence.

Monik, her husband, is a talented and social man, and progressed in life with much success. He was a faithful employee at the Histadrut institution. Later he was put in charge of managing the union of the tires factory "Alliance" in Chadera, a complex job full of responsibility. Suddenly we found out that Monik had a serious illness. We refused to believe that the 36-year

[209] old man was going to leave us. He fought the disease with all his might, but it triumphed over him. Dear Monik returned his gentle and pure soul to his creator.

The young and cheerful Leah was widowed, her children orphaned, and her expression saddened. Although it has been a year since the disaster, she still has not recovered from fate's cruel blow.

Isaac Dokshitzki

Among the survivors who made aliya came also Isaac Dokshitzki. With the Soviet invasion of the Polish borders, Isaac grew wings. He believed in the ideal of "equality and fraternity" that was the law in the country on the eastern side of Poland, until he finally saw it in person, as it operates in daily reality. When he sobered up from his dream and was disappointed with the way it was realized - he came to Israel.

In Israel he built his home in a kibbutz in the Efraim mountains.

Chaya Tzimerman - Ladiselbovski

Chaya, the daughter of Shmuel and Altka Tzimerman, of the Kagan family, was still a baby when her parents left Ilya and moved to Smorgon. She was fortunate, and is the only one from her family who managed to escape the murderers and come to Israel. She married and raised a family. Chaya is the only remainder of a once widely branched family.

The Lavkov Brothers

The Lavkov family was blessed with many children, and lived in our town for many years until it finally moved to Smogon. During the Holocaust the parents, the younger brother and the older sister, Lobah, were killed. 4 brothers: Yisrael, Isaac, Avraham and Mordechai escaped to Russia, where they wandered until the end of the war and gradually all made aliya.

Nechama, their sister, was caught by the Germans and put in a concentration camp. But despite the suffering, she survived, and at the end of the war emigrated to the U.S.

[210]

Even though the Lavkov brothers left our town Ilya 10 years before the outbreak of World War II, their bonds with the Ilya residents remained tight.

Chaim Levin

Mr. Chaim Levin, who was born in our town and lived there in his youth, managed to evade, in his own gentle way, the telling of his story, arguing that it is of no importance.

All we can say, therefore, is that we are proud of him. He is now an old man and still retains his strength. He gave us a helping hand in collecting the material for Ilya's story.

Mr. Levin has been in Israel for 25 years and made Kibbutz Ramat Hakovesh his home. He is still alert and active.

Along with all the sons of Ilya in Israel and abroad we bless him and hope that he will stay with us until he is a hundred and twenty. All the best.

[267] Aryeh - Miriam's Husband

My Ilya[1]

[339] Bat Sheva Riar (Bronstein)

At the Place of Slaughter, in the Ghetto, and in the Forests

On 6/22/41, as I was busy preparing the "Pidion" rite of my eldest son Yehuda, my late mother showed up in my house and informed me: daughter, do not cook and do not bake. The Germans have declared war on Russia and are approaching us fast. God only knows what shall happen to us now. When my husband Yona found out about this, he was working at the time in neighboring Moldocheno, he quit work immediately and made his way home on foot that very night.

Immediately following the outbreak of war and the beginning of the German rapid progress, the Russians lost their heads and retreated in fear and confusion. As soon as the following day our town was no longer under any regime or control, a situation well-taken advantage of by the local peasants, who began a series of robberies and plunders. Jewish property was free for all, and the law of the jungle prevailed. But this fact was, of course, only the beginning of the end, and a sign of what was in store for the Jews in the near future.

Three days later, in the afternoon, as I was standing with my husband Yona looking out the window of our apartment, we were shocked to see the first German arriving, riding a motorcycle. Following him were hundreds of thousands of Germans, in various vehicles: cars, motorbikes, bren-gun carriers, tanks, and other means of transportation. Day and night the German rows moved eastward, unceasingly. Within a week the Germans instituted the police headquarters in town and their first step was to arrest those suspected of being communists.

The first among the Jews to be arrested were Zalman Ben David Chaikin (Zamke) and Baruch Zisman. Their arrest took place on 6/28/41 at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and as soon as the dawning of the next day, they were brought to the forest near "Ubishchik," ordered to dig a hole in the ground for themselves, shot and buried on the spot. In the early hours of that same morning, when their wives Fania and Leah brought them food to their prison cell in the yard of the local "Gamine," the guard informed them that their husbands were no longer alive. The wives did not, of course, believe him, and neither did anyone else in town, but it was true. In order to find out whether this sad piece of intelligence was true, the interested families paid a considerable sum to a few peasants, who dug in the hole at night, cut pieces of the dead's clothes, and presented them as evidence to verify the tragic fact. With much effort and bribe the families managed to [340] transfer their husbands' and sons' bodies to proper graves in the Jewish cemetery and to administer final rites.

The German police headquarters changed hands very frequently, but its system was not hurt by this. A few days later orders were issued according to which all Jews in town were required to show up every morning by the headquarters, from whence they were sent to perform all kinds of jobs: to sweep the streets, clean toilets, and other similar jobs. For accommodations, the German headquarters seized a few big houses belonging to Jews. My mother-in-law's house too was seized for this purpose. The Germans occupied the front part of the house and the back was occupied by my husband's family. These tenants would enter my mother-in-law's house and begin a conversation with my sisters-in-law Yochevet and Taibe, introducing themselves as proper Germans do. But they warned them that following them the S.S. will arrive, who will torture, kill, burn and destroy all Jews, emphasizing that they themselves have warmed their bodies by the heat of burning Jews' corpses. My sisters-in-law told me of these conversations, but did not believe that such atrocious acts were possible in this century. I, too, did not believe, and no one in his right mind could imagine that the things the Germans told of really happened and were systematic, daily occurrences.

One time, after a night of revelry in a dance ball that lasted till dawn, the Germans who stayed at my mother-in-law's returned home. But instead of turning to their rooms, one oppressor tried to break into my mother-in-law's apartment. He found the door locked, of course. Since he tried to forcefully break in, the door knob broke and the man received a blow in the face. His temperature rose in anger over his failure and over the blow he received. He started to run wild, threatening to kill all the men in the apartment, under the excuse that one of them tried to kill him. Hearing those threats, the men escaped through the back window to the yard. When my sisters-in-law finally opened the door for the German, he barged in with his pistol drawn and began searching for the men. Happily, they escaped in time. The raving German did not calm down and went to the neighboring house, belonging to Shenka, where Yona and I lived. Hearing the knocks on the door, I asked my husband Yona to open it, but his heart was foreboding and he refused to do so, asking me to open it. When I opened I was faced with a raving German soldier with his gun drawn, who furiously declared: if I find a man in this house he will be shot immediately. I was frightened, but I tried to control my nerves. I knew that the fate of my husband, who lay hidden in bed, depended on my calm behavior. I invited him inside and sat on Yona's bed in order to conceal him, but seemingly to take care of my infant son Yehuda, [341] who lay in his cradle near the bed. The German left and entered Shenka's apartment, to look for men over there. Her sister Itka Alfrovitz who lived on the other side of the wall heard what was going on and called a German officer over, who took the soldier out of the house. We now understood that the horror stories that the German soldiers told us were true. But we still tried to console ourselves by saying that this was a mere accident and all will be well. More than once we asked ourselves why they should kill us for nothing - it seemed unbelievable.

As mentioned, the headquarters changed hands often. The second headquarters replaced the first, and it demanded the institution of a "Yudenrat." The council members performed their job with extreme loyalty. Although their job was difficult, and involved deliberations and unpleasantness, the public treated them with understanding. The "Yudenrat" would impose taxes on the Jewish population from time to time, so that it would be able to fulfill the German quotas that grew all the time. Under German orders, all the cows were confiscated to begin with, and transferred to the German army. This hurt the non-wealthy population much, for whom the cow served as an important source of economic livelihood. Then the Jews were ordered to supply 400 portions of oats, 3000 meters of carpet. These products were supplied, of course, but it was not easy. Along with the fulfilling of those demands, the Germans demanded through the "Yudenrat" 10 kilograms of gold. There was no end to their demands. Although the "Yudenrat" members knew that the Jewish population could not fulfill the demands, they were forced to rush and spur them on to hurry up and meet the quotas, under the illusion that this will save the lives of the population. When winter arrived the Germans presented the "Yudenrat" with an order to concentrate all the warm clothes that the Jews have and give them to the army: furs, boots, warm blankets, gloves and woolen socks. Much effort was invested and the quota set by the Germans was met fully, under the assumption that this will serve as ransom.

The Germans managed to lull the Jewish population of our town to sleep and create the illusion that it will stay alive, as a reward for fulfilling the quotas that they assigned to it. Whereas in the neighboring towns the murderers and their helpers already raved mad, and the Jewish communities in the area: Radoshdevitz, Moldocheno, Vileika, Kornitz and Dolhinov - already had been destroyed, the Germans had not yet touched the Jews of Ilya. The Ilya Jews saw this as a confirmation of their thoughts. Every Jewish refugee to arrive in town was accepted joyfully and willingly, was given a place to stay and a share of the scarce meals. Despite this, there were a few who warned the public not to delude itself, that its fate was already decreed, although the execution was pending for a while. [342] I remember a Jewish lad from neighboring Plashtzenitz, who demanded that the Jews prepare toasted bread and escape to the forest. A few perhaps paid attention to his warning, but most thought that he was mad.

What we feared has indeed materialized. The bitter day indeed arrived. On 3/17/1942 at dawn, the Gestapo surrounded the town and began taking the Jews out of their houses and concentrating them in the market place. No one exited the house willingly. The Germans and their local helpers took the Jews out of their houses with force. Within an hour the Jews of the town -- the elderly, women and children -- all stood in the market place, surrounded by Germans whose weapons were aimed at them.

I will not describe that bitter day. I have not enough spiritual strength to do that even today. I will try to tell only of a few special events that were engraved deep in my heart: when we were all standing surrounded by the Gestapo and their hirelings and expected death, the local policemen approached us and declared: Jews! these are your last minutes on earth. Give us the property you concealed, the silver and gold, since you will not be able to enjoy it anyway.

The public was past despair and was willing to tell where it hid the rest of the property it had left. After this long organized blackmail, my husband, Yona, took out his pocket knife and wanted to give it away, but I objected to this, fearing that this tiny object will only make them mad.

My eyes saw and my ears heard how Hilel Koplovitz, (Hilel Koplirames)[xl] turned to a German and informed him that in his house he hid silver and gold. The German pulled him out of the row and accompanied him to his house to take the property. But Hilel deceived him, and instead of looking for silver he took the Talith and Tefilin. The German thought that the property was hidden in the Talith bag, took it from him with force, and then discovered the deceit. The German's reaction was cruel. He hit him until he bled. Now I saw Hilel being led back, all wounded and bleeding, and the German cursing him: "you damned lying Jew."

To this day I do not have the strength to describe the awful feeling of vulnerability that surrounded us when the Germans began to conduct the selection: who shall live and who shall die. Only a small part - about twenty families of craftsmen whose services were required by the Germans, and among them my husband, myself and our child Yehuda, were left to live. The horrendous sights have not yet abandoned me. I saw the body of my darling, beautiful, talented brother Ya'akov, laying, lifeless, in the middle of the street; my ears still ring with the cries of my little brother, Elimelech, who cries out for me [343] in heart rending tears and argues: "but I am still so young, why should I die?" The horrendous scene of savage and bloody sadism, when my sister-in-law Yochevet, finding herself among the destined to die, gave me her little, gold-locketed daughter for safe keeping, to save her life and give her later to her sister in Israel. But when the sharp eye of the German executioner saw the act - he approached me and cold bloodedly held the girl in her golden hair, forcefully threw her to the ground, and smashed her skull.

It was 40 degrees below zero and those on the death row stood frozen and shocked. Here and there a few young ones tried to organize an attack on the murderers and an escape, but they were held back by their parents who hoped for godly intervention. Suddenly I heard the voice of my mother-in-law calling on my husband - her son Yona, not to forget to say Kaddish for the salvation of their souls.

Surrounded all over, the decided majority of the local Jews were led on their final journey, indifferent, like sheep to slaughter. Many were wrapped around with Taliths.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Our Family

Standing from right to left: My brother Ya'akov who perished in the Holocaust, myself, my brother Yitzchak in Argentina

Seated: My mother, my brother Melech, and my late father.

When they were shoved into the large storage house that was built on the empty lot near the Vines house, the doors were shut as machine guns were reaping their lives. The building was lit on fire, but the sound of "Shma Yisrael, Adonai is our Lord, Adonai is One" continued to be heard from it although all else was silent and turned into ashes.

Those destined for life were quarantined in the Kartovitz stables until the murderers finished the destruction of the town's Jews and the burning of their houses. They only freed us at night [344] and ordered us to gather in a few houses opposite the big synagogue: from Sara Racha Sinder's house to Baruch Levin's house. Around these houses they erected a barbed wire fence and these served as a temporary ghetto for the survivors.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

From right to left: My brother Benjamin who's in Argentina,

and my brother Baruch who died at the prime of his life in Argentina

The next morning, they ordered Zusman Geitlitz and my husband to gather the corpses of the Jews who were shot near their homes or in their hideouts. I invited my father-in-law, Rabbi Noah Riar, who managed to hide and stay alive, to live with us, but he asked that I go with him to his house beforehand, to pick something up. I refused, and argued: as recently as yesterday you succeeded in escaping death, and already you risk your life again. I will not go with you. My heart saw an evil omen. But my father-in-law insisted on going. His young nephew, Yitzchak Alfrovitz, joined him out of pity. But when they both arrived at the house and opened the door, a Gestapo man appeared in front of them, shot them, and killed them on the spot. Yona and Zusman Geitlitz, who were busy gathering the dead bodies, passed by the house exactly at that moment, and were ordered by the Gestapo man to take these two additional corpses, but Yona refused to do so, and for that he paid dearly. The Gestapo man beat him senseless, until he bled, and as a result he was forced to lie in bed for a few days until his wounds coagulated.

A few days later my husband Yona was transferred to the Vileika ghetto to work, whereas my son and I remained stuck in the llya ghetto. How I wished to join my husband and to be near him, but this was not an easy thing to achieve. Since use of the postal services was not permitted to Jews, I sent him notes on various occasions, but for now without results. In the meantime, life in the ghetto continued, but the survivors [345] did not delude themselves concerning their fate. Most knew that their days were numbered. To survive, groups began to organize for the construction of bunkers and hideouts, but nobody was willing to include me for fear that the child would cry and thus expose the hideout. My soul was bitter and I cried incessantly.

On Shavuot Eve the miracle I yearned and hoped for finally occurred. My prayer and begging were answered. Suddenly, an urgent notice was received in the Ilya police headquarters to provide me and Rishkah Epstein (Yankol Sheiner) with proper means of transportation and move us to the Vileika ghetto, without any delay. On the Shavuot holiday we were finally united with our husbands and allowed to share the same fate with them. Not many days after that the rest of Ilya's ghetto Jews were destroyed, and, although most were in the bunkers, they were found out. The majority were caught, a few tried to escape but were shot in the process, and only 3 managed to escape to the forest: Shraga Solominski, Chaim Riar, and David Rubin. The first and last managed to stay alive and arrive at Israel with us, but Riar fell during a partisan operation near the village of Ulkavitz. Again, it was fate that decided that we should live, at the very last moment.

Life in the Vileika ghetto was too hard to bear. The women were used instead of horses for providing firewood, for piling up the snow in the street, cleaning the toilets and other similar jobs. After a short while they divided the ghetto into two areas: the men were separated under the command of the commissar Shmidt, and the women under the Jew Dinstog from Kornitz. After half a year the women's ghetto was destroyed and most were killed. Then the debates in the ghetto began whether to escape to the forest or not. I supported the idea of escape, whereas my husband Yona claimed that the child will not last in forest conditions. I answered: it is better that he should die of hunger or cold than that we should all die with him.

In the meantime, the feeling that we must escape surrounded most of the ghetto's inhabitants. We turned, then, to make the initial preparations; equipping ourselves with arms and weapons and making a connection with the forest dwellers. As a point of contact between the ghetto and the forest we used a peasant who brought wood every once in a while to the Commissar. This gentile would deliver us regards from the Jews hiding in the forest. My sister-in-law Yochevet, who perished in the first massacre, had a husband who was among the Jews who hid in the forests, and he would transfer through this messenger a firm demand that we join him. Gradually a connection with the partisans was formed, who demanded that we get them bullets and weapons. Through the manager of the ghetto, Shatz, we acquired weapons and arms from the Germans, whatever was available.

[346] In the winter of 1943, a few days before Purim, an unpredictable event happened, that sped up the execution of the escape plan. The messenger peasant arrived at the ghetto and demanded that we transfer through him the goods purchased for the partisans. We packed up the bullets and weapons in a special double-sided board and put it in the peasant's sled. The police needed the sled urgently and took it from the peasant for a while. Hearing of this, a rumor spread quickly in the ghetto as if the police confiscated the weapons in the sled. Fearing the revenge of the police on the ghetto, an almost mass escape began. My husband Yona took off the yellow badge and left the ghetto towards town with rapid footsteps. I too took the badge off and followed his steps through the main streets, my little son Yehuda in my arms. We thus marched on; Yona in front of me, and I following him. When we exited town he suddenly disappeared. Turning to and fro to search for him I saw German soldiers in training close by. I knew that there was no way to retreat and thus walked quietly and with full confidence ahead, out of a strong inner resolution of "come what may," although I did not know where I was headed. I thus passed by the German soldiers, and it did not occur to them that this was a Jewish woman. Where my husband had suddenly disappeared to I did not know, but I remembered that in one of our conversations we decided: if we somehow were separated, each one of us should make his or her way to Khachenchitz. This was now my hope. I was now between the municipal slaughterhouse and the burned bridge over the Vilya river. The little house near the slaughterhouse appeared before me, and I decided to go there. I opened the door and told the Christian head of the household that I was Jewish. I continued: they are murdering us now, and I would rather be killed while escaping. The Christian looked and me and said: it is a shame. You are still young and can still benefit the world. He ordered me to wait until nightfall and then helped me cross the frozen river and wished me luck.

I was now on the other side of the river, in a dark, stormy, wintry night, in an unknown environment, the baby in my arms. First of all, I tried to enter the forest and to disappear in it. This was the first time in my life that I was in the forest alone, in a winter night. When I penetrated it deep, I saw a blinking light in the distance, and marched towards it until I reached a small house. Without making much calculations and weighing the dangers involved, I knocked on the door and entered. I put the child on a bench near the entrance and asked the owners to allow me to rest. The owners first gave my infant a little milk, then gave me too something to dine on and only then started to ask: who am I, where am I coming from, where am I going [347] in such a condition, etc. I did not lie nor avoid their questions, and told them the whole truth: I am escaping the Germans. I was allowed to rest and spend the night, but on the next morning the head of the household asked me to leave; I thanked him for the hospitality, and explained that I do not intend to stay here, that my goal is to reach the Khachenchitz area. I inquired as to what way I should take to avoid the Germans. His answer was that I should continue on this route and I would certainly reach the goal.

Not 10 minutes had passed since I left the house and got on the main road when I felt the German police riding behind me. I was afraid to suddenly turn left or right and return to the forest, for such a step would have surely aroused suspicion. I thus advanced without looking backwards, with one prayer in my heart: let me reach a house near the road soon, that I could turn to until the wrath passes by. I hurried my steps. After a few kilometers, the wished for house stood by the road, but the landlady refused to let me enter, claiming that the Germans have just reached the village. I begged her with tearful eyes to have pity on the baby. The woman looked at me sharply, it seems that I managed to arouse her pity, and signalled for me to follow her into the pigpen. After a few hours she appeared and told me that the Germans inquired of her whether there were any Jews in the village and then took off. Her story incited me to dare and ask her where I could meet with partisans and reach them without using the main road that's swarming with German oppressors. I hadn't imagined so, but she was very generous. Her husband helped me cross the village via a side road and instructed me to go to the village of Pozba, where he said I could contact the partisans.

I now began to believe that I was on the way to my goal, although in reality I still had to pass through the seven circles of hell. I reached the village of Pozba only in the afternoon. When I entered the first house and asked for a little hot water from my child, I was queried on my background, and although I tried to conceal it my accent revealed my belonging to the Jewish people. Although this village was large, the rumor spread instantaneously that a Jewish woman with a baby in her arms was wandering in the village, and the local inhabitants were warned not to provide hospitality for her.

Night fell, and I, hungry, thirsty and freezing, was walking around with my sleeping child in my arms and crying. I did not know where I was going, in the direction of the partisans or directly into the arms of the Germans. Suddenly, the door of one hut opened, and on the threshold appeared an old peasant woman and asked me why I did not turn to her for help. I answered her question: because people are bad here. None of those to whom I turned had [348] allowed me to pass his threshold. In response, the peasant muttered: my daughter, the war isn't over yet, and who knows what shall become of us? Concluding, she opened her house's door wide and invited me inside. She prepared a hot meal for my son and for me, changed our wet clothes with dry ones, and then began to ask: who am I and what I wish for. I told her the whole truth: "I am looking for partisans, because my husband joined them trying to save his life." At this moment different thoughts crossed my mind, that perhaps my husband couldn't pass the difficult route to Khachenchitz. Immediately following I thought that he might be sitting there impatiently, awaiting me, and thus over and over again. When I lay down to sleep the peasant woke me up and informed me that soon the partisans will reach the village. While I was waiting, a Christian woman from Vileika arrived and told the landlady that she saw corpses of women and children rolling around in the streets. Also, many slain men were found in the entrances to the forest. Imagine my feelings upon hearing this. But before I could contemplate this for long, the landlady turned to me and said: leave your child here and you come with me to join the partisans. Now my hope that I shall live to see them was realized. When I met the first partisans I thought: here is my salvation. I told them the whole truth, and when they asked me what kind of assistance I required, I asked them to transfer me to the Khachenchitz area. Although they did not refuse, they could not afford the time, and required that I wait 4 days, which I refused to do. Do as you wish - they answered and went on their way, and I was left to spend the night at my hostesses' hut. At three o'clock in the morning a new group of partisans arrived in the village, a few reaching the house where I stayed. I consulted with them over what I should do. To their question of why I must reach Khachenchitz, I told them that I agreed to meet my husband there, who is somewhere with the partisans. They detailed the villages that I must go through on route to my destination.

The political and military condition of the Germans would change periodically. This was caused to a large extent by partisan attacks. As a result, the Germans positioned garrisons in the villages through which I had to pass. This was apparently unknown to the partisans, since the roads I took were secondary and in bad condition. I came across a brook that barred my way to the first village. I deliberated on how I should overcome this unexpected obstacle, and decided to throw the child like a ball to the other bank and as for myself, to swim across. I decided and acted on it. Believe me, as a result my child stopped speaking and his strange stare [349] cried: "mother, what have you done to me." I crossed the brook swimming and on the other side lay my son, wounded and bleeding. I took off my handkerchief, soaked it in water, washed his face and dressed his wounds, but the blood continued to pour. We were wet, frozen and hungry, but I did not lose my nerves. I approached the village and hence also my destination. When I reached the first hut and entered, I was asked by the landlady what happened to my child. I burst out crying hysterically, but did not reveal the truth. She dressed his wounds, served food to both of us, and then we continued on our way. The next village was close to the town of Viazin and was already apparent in the horizon. I approached it rapidly and persistently, so that I could rest from the lengthy, weary way and allow the baby to lie down comfortably and stretch his bones. I turned to the first hut that I came across, but as soon as I opened the door I was shocked and confused. All my blood rushed to my face. My heart almost burst in fear. A familiar goy stood in front of me, a permanent client of ours, who knew my parents well, even their first names, and me as well. Despite all I managed to control my agitated spirit, to assume calmness, and to muttered in Polish: "good morning." I later found out that he was pretending when he asked me "who are you and where did you come from?" I am a refugee - I answered, from Vilki-loki, a city that was only recently occupied by the Germans and its citizens dispersed in all directions. I told him that I was on my way to the village of Shechkovoshtzizna near Khachenchitz, to work in agriculture. Interesting - began the peasant - I know someone in Ilya who is your spitting image, the daughter of Yudel and Yente Bronstein. I feigned innocence, of course. Where is this Ilya, I asked? But to change to a more comfortable subject, I asked permission to put the child to sleep. The peasant moved to the new subject very reluctantly. Finally he stressed: since you look so much like the daughter of my acquaintances, I will allow you to eat, rest and even sleep here. Indeed, I lay down to sleep, but did not shut my eyes the whole night. I deliberated with myself whether I should tell the truth that I was Yente's daughter, or to insist that I do not know of what or whom he speaks.

At dawn, when I heard the farmer and his wife whispering and discussing the strange resemblance between me and Yente Bronstein's daughter, I decided to confess and tell the truth. The peasant turned to me and thanked me for my frankness. Would you not have confessed, he said, I would have also shown you the way. But you would have undoubtedly fallen in the hands of the Germans. But since he was grateful to my parents for favors they had done for him, he would show me another route that passes through a purely partisan zone, where I could walk calmly and securely. Thus I reached the village of Cozli. [350] I was lucky this time. When I arrived at the entrance to the village, I met children at play. To my question of whether I could cross the river they answered yes, but emphasized that this was not a good time, because the Germans were now in the village. My mood was not very good, but I did not hesitate for long, turned back, entered the deep of the forest and stayed there until nightfall. When the stars came out I decided to go back and reach the other bank of the river. If I could not, I wished to drown, for I did not see any prospects in going on living. I did not wish to enter any house in the village, since even before the war the majority there were anti-semites, murderers and robbers. The first village under the German regime that pogromed the Jews and pillaged their property was Cozli.

When I reached the bank of the river with my son in my arms, I met two peasants in a ferryboat. I bid them "good evening" and asked them to take me across the river. They asked me who I was, and where was I headed? I repeated the old song: a refugee, from Vileiki-loki, going to work in Shechkovoshchizna. I was invited to sit down and after a few minutes I was on the other bank of the river. I tearfully thanked them and in my imagination saw myself already in Khachenchitz, happy. But this was not to be so easy and so simple. In response to my question concerning the direction I should take the peasant showed me the right way, but I was so excited and confused that I turned in the wrong direction, that is: back towards Ilya. Only when I reached the village Zaboriya and saw in the clear light of the moon the cross on the Catholic house of worship, I began to doubt the direction. In the junction of the main road and the road to Zaboriya, I met a peasant, who explained to me that I was a few kilometers away from my town Ilya. I thanked him for the information and continued to advance, but after he disappeared from sight I quickly turned around and escaped into the forest. I ran continuously southward through the forest, but where exactly I was I did not know. I was wet and perspiring all over. After I became very tired and sat down to rest, my dress froze on top of me. My teeth rattled, but fortunately the child slept continuously, probably due to the clean air. I rested a bit and moved on. My frozen dress rattled as I walked, so much so that I imagined that someone was shooting behind me. But I regarded all this with complete indifference. More than once my lips muttered a prayer: let there come a wild beast and eat me alive, or a German who will murder me, but I have not met a living soul on my way. I walked for so long that it seemed like this road had no end. I tripped and fell out of fatigue. I decided to continue sitting down on the snow and dozed off until dawn. Suddenly I heard [351] a dog barking in the distance, and decided to walk in that direction. As long as it barked I continued, and when he stopped I sat down to rest. When the dog went back to barking I moved along, until I reached a hut. The peasants apparently still slept. I knocked carefully on the door and the husband appear and asked me for my wishes. I asked for permission to rest a bit. The peasant turned back and entered the house, seemingly for a consultation with his wife, the echoes of which reached my ears: a woman with a baby in her arms - he said, asking permission to enter and rest. His wife agreed. When I entered the couple began to pose various questions to me. Forgive me, I answered, but I am so tired and fatigued that I have not got the strength to answer you. I lay down on the clay floor with my son to rest, and apparently fell asleep immediately. How long this sleep lasted I do not know, but when the peasants woke me up, the winter sun was already sinking and through the small windows, a few of them without panes - it send its last rays inside.

The peasants served me some food and posed the regular questions: form where, to where, etc. I was past despair and my hope to meet with my husband, that until then gave me the strength to overcome the many obstacles was almost entirely gone. One could say that I lacked the will, by now, to live and continue on. I therefore did not fear what was to come and told them openly of my situation and concluded: you may now surrender me to the Germans to kill me. I meant this with all seriousness, because I could not continue to live under these bitter conditions. The peasant, who understood me, began saying comforting and calming things. "Do not worry, you have finally reached pure partisan zone, you are in the village of Hote." Last night Solominske and Riar from Ilya stayed here. Upon hearing this news, and especially the mention of the name Riar I was excited to tears. I thought that the reference was to my husband Yona until it became clear that it referred to his cousin, Chaim. But still I was encouraged.

In the meantime night has fallen, and I thus decided to continue on my way to Khachenchitz. Perhaps I would meet with one of the Jews among the partisans and receive from him news of my husband's location. The peasant who escorted me said: go ahead with no fear and worry, you will not run into any Germans here. I continued along until I saw in the distance a blinking light. I decided to go to that place, perhaps to receive some additional information. I advanced until I reached the tiny mansion - Brichki. I entered the house, without waiting to be invited, found a spot and sat down. Of course here too I was asked where from and to where. When I answered - from Ilya, they did not hide their feelings at all, and with surprising candor admitted, [352] that they do not have mercy for any of the Ilya Jews, except the Riar family. When I presented myself as a member of this family they did not believe me and added: how come? we know all the family members. I explained that I was Yona's wife. Hearing the last sentence I saw that they were genuinely happy. They gave me a change of shirt for my son, and good food. Since I was in a rush, they suggested that I go to the village of Strinski - near Khachenchitz.

I held my son in my arms and in rapid steps advanced towards Strinski, and although it was still full daylight fear abandoned me altogether. I reached the village only in the evening, and was immediately stopped by partisans who brought me to their headquarters in the village. The investigator posed many questions to me and I answered them fully. - "Shoot her" - he declared, for she is a spy. Is it possible, he said, that young men who escaped the Vileika ghetto were killed and you with a baby in your arms made it thus far? While the road is full of German soldiers - it is not credible! All my explanations were to no avail. Suddenly he asked me: where do you intend to go? To search for my husband, I answered, who I presume is in the Khachenchitz area. In the meantime many of the village peasants arrived to look at the Jewish spy. One of them asked me who I was; from Ilya - I answered, I am the daughter of Yente Bronstein. The goy made the sign of the cross, turned to the investigator and asked him not to shoot me, for he knows my parents and my grandmother. It is impossible that she is a spy, he said. But his interference did not help. When I saw that there was no way out and it is difficult to refute the suspicion especially since this was wartime, I muttered aloud: "oh well, your bullet is a bullet too, and it would be easier to die like this than by a German bullet." This sentence aroused some hesitation in the heart of the investigator, and he thus turned to one of the gentiles and asked him to call to the spot one of Khachenchitz Jews among the partisans. "If they know her I will be convinced that she speaks the truth." The goy went and came back with a few Jews, but I did not know any of them. When they opened a conversation amongst themselves I recognized the voice of Chaim Yossef, got excited and declared loudly, Chaim Yossef! But to no avail. He indeed knew my mother, Yente, everybody knew her, but he did not recognize me. Despite all, the investigator let me go and ordered them to take me with them. But none of the Jews agreed to take me along, for fear that he would have to provide for our food and dress. I promised them that I would be of no burden to anyone, the main thing was that they would take me out of here. Only thanks to the mercy and pressure applied by Elka from Minsk, who lived with Shimon from Khachenchitz, did they finally agree to take me with them. [353] Elka took the child in her arms and we all advanced together towards the forest and the bunkers, until we arrived.

Our trail stopped marching in the middle of the forest. Inside the ground tunnels were dug, covered and camouflaged. This was our residence. When I first entered inside my eyes darkened and I could not see a thing, but gradually they got used to it until they could see what went on even in the dark. The length of the trench was about 10 meters, and its width a meter and a half. The walls were made of pine wood that separated between us and the earth. Along both sides of the long walls beds were erected made from sticks and various branches, so that only one person could pass through the trench at a time. Before we joined this trench 19 people lived there, and now, as I and my son joined we were 21. Under these crowded conditions, with no air or water, no possibility to do laundry, and to wash often, it wasn't surprising that the trench was a breeding grounds for lice, and they swarmed everywhere. We provided for our miserable selves by running around the villages in the area and begging for food. When we returned from a long day of work, and succeeded in the mission of acquiring a dry piece of bread and sometimes a potato, we devoted ourselves to the second most important mission - to kill the lice. Each one held a piece of wood burning with LUCZYNA [sic], took off his shirt and clothes and killed all the lice. At the end of this labor we turned, of course, to eat dinner, without the opportunity to wash hands beforehand. In one of the corners of the trench a kind of stove was constructed where meals were cooked, provided there was anything to cook.

I was treated to my first meal by Chana, Shimon's wife. It was a kind of grits without salt or any fat. I could not eat this and my son too declined it. We were allocated a sleeping place and since I was very tired from the road I slept very well. The mere fact and idea that the long and dangerous travel ended and that I finally reached my destination where I would soon meet with my husband, calmed my spirit and my body. The next morning I woke up fresh and peaceful. Miss Chana served me breakfast consisting of four potatoes, two for me and two for my son, that we ate with good appetite.

I tried to come close and to befriend everyone, but I had strong feelings especially towards Elka from Minsk. She understood me better than the others. It was in front of her that I confessed all my bitter feelings and my worries for the fate of my husband. I tried to comfort myself by talking with my infant son, whom I sometimes asked - is daddy alive? and he nodded his head to say yes. A few days have passed since I reached the place, when I turned to my friend [354] Elka and asked her, where and how does one get food here? She answered that one goes begging from door to door in the area's villages. I was shaken; how could I get used to that especially since I don't know my way around here. But my survival instinct was stronger than my hesitation, my shame and my doubts. Four days later Elka gave me a back-sac and said: for the first time we will go begging together, this will make it easier for you mentally and you will thus get used to it. The hunger that tormented me "destroyed" my feelings and my shame, I got up and accompanied her. I left my infant son, of course, in the bunker, and Elka and I went on our way. When we reached the first village my friend turned to me and said: go in the first house and ask for a slice of bread. I made an effort to overcome my feelings and shame and entered the hut. But when I was asked by the landlord what I wanted, I blushed and turned white alternately, and uttered the phrase - slice of bread, with much difficultly, and immediately burst into hysterical crying. The peasant who understood that I am unused to this "job" muttered: this must be your first time, but you'll get used to it. Hearing her speak I got even more excited and my crying increased. I received half a loaf of bread from her, lowered my eyes and exited, broken and exhausted. Elka awaited me. When our stares met I cried again, but she did not find any words of consolation for me other than: you'll get used to it. She proposed that we enter a few more houses, but I positively refused. I asked her to accompany me "home," fearing that I could not find the way on my own. When we returned, I gave some of the bread to my son and the rest I concealed, as one conceals a valuable treasure.

When the bread was gone four days later and hunger began to torment again, I went with my bunker neighbor, Segal, to beg in another village. When we reached the place I turned in one direction and he in the other. I received some potatoes and a few slices of bread and we returned to our "residence." Upon my return, my neighbor Chana told me that my son was itching and asked me to check whether he has lice, but I insisted that this was impossible. Yet the child was unquiet and cried constantly. I could not guess what happened to him since he could not yet talk. To be absolutely sure, I tried checking his shirt, and what I saw made the room go dark - the child was covered with lice all over. I cleaned the dirt as best I could, but this incident taught me a lesson. Every time the child cried, I first of all checked his shirt.

Considering the tough conditions of our common residence, and considering the effort and shame involved in acquiring a piece of bread, I educated my son not to ask [355] our neighbors for any food. Our life, if you could call it a life, went on like that for a few more months. Then more Jews arrived in the forest and joined us. They were the remains of the Karsano ghetto, who escaped in the last moment before its demise. Among the newcomers were a few acquaintances: Molik Dobrovski - from Moldocheno, his wife Shulamit, Belah Kaminski and others.

In the meantime, spring arrived and I sensed that the group was disbanding. All the neighbors who dwelt with me intended to move to other places, since the exact location of our bunker was known to all the peasants of the area. It was feared, therefore, that one of them would reveal it to the Germans and they would murder us. Unfortunately, these plans were not shared with me. None of the subgroups that formed invited me to join, apparently because my little child was an obstacle. They feared that because of him our new hideout would be discovered. I considered the possibility of staying in that place, but if I were to be left alone, who would watch over the child, when I go out to look for food for me and for him? Since Elka was the closest person to me, I shared my bitter thoughts with her. I told her: it is true that things are bad for everyone, but for me the situation is ten times worse, since I am alone and lonely, with a small baby in my arms. Hunger doesn't scare me, the loneliness I experience is much worse. Although I am here with the others, no one is willing to lend me a hand and comfort me. Elka answered: regretfully, I cannot help you, since I too am tied to a strange family and depend on their mercy. And this was indeed the truth.

The family of Shimon from Khachenchitz was the first to depart and move to a new location. Next left the family of Shimon from Zahortza and following them Chaim Yossef from Khachenchitz and his family. For the meantime the Levin family from Radishkovitz remained in the old bunker and I next to them. But, this family too already prepared a shelter and planned to move there soon, which meant that I was fated to be left alone. This was a terrible feeling that haunted me day and night. At night when all were sound asleep, I rolled over in my bed and my brain whirled with plans how to find a way to overcome my loneliness.

When I became better acquainted with the area I remembered that here were villages that traded with us and knew my parents and me well. The villages in the area closest to the hideout tired of giving us alms a long time ago, to the degree that finally it was difficult to get in these villages even a dry piece of bread. On a certain morning I turned to Chaim and asked him to accompany me to a village [356] slightly more distant, and promised him that we could get food there to last at least a week. He looked at me as if I were an alien, but I did not let go. The reason why I wanted him to join me was twofold: first, not to go alone this long way, and second, to prove to him that I know some peasants from whom I can get considerable amounts of food. This could influence his family to take me along, especially since they too have a small child. Finally I managed to convince him; Chaim Isaac and I left with dawn on our way to the village of Cherviaki, where I knew most of the peasants.

When we finally reached our destination Chaim and Isaac realized that indeed most of the village people know me and were willing to help me. Thanks to me the village people served food to all of us and equipped us with large packages of food consisting of: bread, potatoes, eggs, milk, etc. Under those circumstances, this was great property. We returned to our residence only late at night, since on the way back we heard noises and footsteps and had to literally crawl. At home they revealed to me that my fate would have been bitter had they had to come back empty handed from such a long trip. I now felt that they needed me and would not leave me alone. When we opened the packages in the trench Chaim took everything he wanted, and I clenched my teeth and said nothing. I divided the food I got so that it would last me at least for a few weeks, to avoid long and dangerous trips.

Then the inevitable arrived. On a certain day Chaim informed me that his family was moving to another location and that I will remain here by myself. I answered him that I would not remain alone for one moment, that I too will leave, and God will surely help me. When he saw that my position was firm, he agreed that I join him. I took my son in my arms and a sack of food on my back and wandered aimlessly. We continued like that from one forest to the next, until we met with many other wandering peasants. When we asked them why they were travelling they told us that the Germans were holding blockades in the villages and the forests, looking for partisans and Jews and shooting everyone on their way. We retreated to the east, but in a few days we heard machine guns and planes following behind. We changed direction according to the gunshots. We would escape, of course, in the other direction, until one day we met with all the families that lived with us beforehand.

Yossef from Khachenchitz who knew very well all the roads and pathways in the forest marched ahead, and even the peasants accepted his leadership unflinchingly. Among the other Jews, I met Molik Korovski from Moldocheno again, Shulamit, and his first [357] wife Batia. I do not know why, but it is a fact that this Batia, whom I wanted so badly to befriend, caused me a lot of trouble. I was alone, and during the big retreat I wanted to join them, but she objected to this and more than once drove me away with a stick. Of course, I did not listen to her and dragged myself behind, albeit in a distance. During the big retreat I could not get any food. If the family had men, they would try to steal in the villages we passed by, but I could not do this, since I carried my son on my back, and therefore we both suffered a lot and were bloated with hunger. How I wanted to quiet this hunger; but I had nothing. Quite a few people knew of our situation and ignored us. At night, I would hug my son's hungry body and delude myself that I was easing his suffering. Although the child suffered he did not cry. He too must have felt the great tension that arose from the blockades. On one occasion Zalman's wife gave me a few spoonfuls of leftover from a "Zechirka" oatmeal, and we both attacked it, my hungry son taking from me, and I took from him.

The blockade that the Nazi's erected in the forests ended, as is well known, in failure, but a few thousand villages, including their peasants, were burned down or forced to move. The youth joined the partisans and the elder escaped to the forests that were swarming with people. Now the movement back "home" began, but I, as a woman taking care of a baby, with no husband, was posed with the question of whom to join. Until now no one had wanted me. Now Molik Dobrovski and Shulamit finally took pity on me and invited me to join them. Our group changed direction and turned to the Karve marshes, where we met with many Jews: from Horodok, Karsena, Luzin, and Khachenchitz. Each with his own group.

I befriended Molik and Shulamit for they were very nice. Whoever came into contact with them was captivated by them. They were both kind and devoted friends. When Shulamit managed to get any food she first gave some to my son Yehuda. Now my situation improved, I had someone to talk to and to share my worries and anxieties with. When I was forced to go out to get food to quench my hunger and survive, I left my son in Shulamit's hands fearlessly, knowing that she would do the best she could for him.

Passing through one of the area's villages, I think it was in the eastern village of Mishitz, I accidently ran into the partisan Moshe Eliezer, Menyeka, who was an old friend of my husband Yona. I told him of my situation. When I was asked by him where he could meet me - I explained to him. He promised to come see [358] me soon and asked me not to continue to go from door to door and beg for alms. And indeed he fulfilled his promise. As soon as the next day he arrived in a cart and in it: a sac of potatoes, loaves of bread, mutton, a shirt for my son, and more. My friends: do you know what this treasure was worth? Now everyone tried to approach me, to befriend me, because I had all the goods. This food did not, indeed, last long, but this was a carefree period with no fear of what my son shall eat. As long as this supply lasted I sat at home, but the supply decreased day to day, until it ran out and I was force to renew my "trips," to ask for a piece of bread.

The villages close to where we were now centered, were extremely poor. They didn't have food even for their own self-sustenance. We thus were forced to travel long ways to get any kind of food. We were now in the Karmenitz area, in a nice, dry woods on a hill, but access to this woods was most difficult and one had to sink to his belt and even higher in mud to get from the area's villages, where we were forced to beg for food, to the place where we were centered. Despite the difficulties of passing through the mud nobody helped his fellow, each wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible and go back "home." This situation prevented me from going to beg more often. As a result I limited my, and my son's, food portion to two potatoes a day only. When my son would demand another potato, I hit him, and when he persisted in his rebellion I grabbed him by his hair and wanted to kill him. This summer was rainy above average and we simply rotted from the dampness. We could not erect a hut of any sorts, because none in our group knew how to use an axe and we thus hid under the trees. With almost no exception, we all had swollen legs, and our ragged clothes swarmed with lice. There were only Jews from various towns in the woods. Horodok Jews, for instance, knew how to take care of themselves; they were agile with the axe and the saw, got hold of some nails, and constructed huts, chopped some trees down and lit fire to dry their clothes, terminate the lice, warm up, but they never let anyone else enjoy this. So tough and egocentric they were. They especially did not let me enjoy some of their conveniences, because they had among them a family that strangled their children with their own hands, and when they saw me struggle at all costs on the life of the child, they were envious.

Another family among the Horodok people, nicknamed the "cold blacksmith" had a son in the partisan regiment "The Avenger." When he came to visit his parents he accidently ran into [359] me and I told him that there were no news of my husband since we parted company so suddenly and strangely. As an answer he told me that in his regiment was Chaim Riar, and he is willing to transfer a note from me to him. I wrote to Chaim and told him of my condition and asked him to try and put me up near his regiment. The partisan indeed returned to his regiment, but did not get a chance to give the note to Chaim Riar, because he was sent immediately on a battle operation. But before he left he gave the letter to another friend in his unit, a goy, and asked him to give it to Riar. How strange are the ways of fortune and its vicissitudes sometimes, this goy too was sent away immediately by the headquarters, as a point of contact to another partisan regiment, "The Warrior," and did not get a chance to give the note to Chaim. But when he reached the new regiment he heard of a partisan called Riar, met with him and gave him my note. My husband Yona, who hasn't heard any news of me since our last departure, was astonished and surprised having opened the letter and recognized my handwriting.

From time to time I continued to visit the blacksmith, the father of the partisan through whom I transferred my letter to Chaim, to find out whether his son informed him of anything to do with me, but no news arrived. Although I continued with my suffering-filled way of life, I hadn't forgotten about the letter and my thoughts did not abandon it for a moment. I continued to beg from door to door in the area's villages, to provide for my son and I. More than once false alarms occurred, and fear of tomorrow was our daily bread. It happened one day that as I went out to the villages to collect some food for my house, loud shots were heard as if from a very short distance. Suddenly I met some Jews of my acquaintance, escaping eastward. To my question of what happened they answered that the Germans apparently found out our concentration spot and are bombing it. This time, uncharacteristically, I was carrying a large sac of food products on my shoulders, a fact that slowed me down considerably, but upon hearing what they said I began running "home," where I left my little son with the neighbors. The burden was heavy and I longed to be freed of it, but how could one throw out such a treasure in days of hunger? I threw away, therefore, my boots and ran away barefoot home, where the neighbors were already expecting me impatiently, but asked me not to join them, because everyone objected to it. I was past despair and decided not to move from the spot whatever shall occur, and if I am destined to live - I shall live, and if not, I shall die anyway. I would not budge from the spot. I stayed alone with my son for a few days. We had plenty of food, and I was indifferent to the future. A few days later the scare subsided and my former neighbors came back.

When I found myself again in the company of my friends Molik and Shulamit - and could converse about [360] the past, I was cheered up and my will to live increased. The memory of my letter was revived and whirled in my brain incessantly. I fluctuated between despair and hope, the heart hoped and prophesied, but I was silent. One day towards evening I suddenly heard cries: Bat Sheva! Bat Sheva! I feared that the blockade was renewed, but when I came near the cries became more distinct: Bat Sheva, your husband is here! the heart fluttered but the brain couldn't grasp this, is this possible? Will I cease being lonely and persecuted? Has the cup of trouble finally overfilled? but this was reality: Yona held me and Yehuda in his arms and did not let us go. Even now I cannot describe my excitement. But one thing I am sure of, that along with me the trees of the forest wept. The following day we went to Karmenitz and Yona with another partisan put us in a cart and two days later brought me to his regiment - "The Warrior."

We now had better conditions. A roof above our heads, enough food, is it possible under forest partisan conditions to wish for more? The main problem facing me now was to get rid of the lice. This was not easy under the circumstances of life of constant travelling. Only after Yona received a permit to take me to the village's baths my problem was solved, and it was as if me and my son were born again. But life, it seems, isn't simple. After I began eating properly my stomach ached, but after a short while I got better.

After a relatively short period of time, Yona was sent, along with other partisans, to bomb a train near Vileika, and I and my son stayed with the regiment. I now lacked nothing and was wanted by everybody. In time when the parents and wives of many partisans reached the regiment, a special camp was constructed for us, in a considerable distance from the regiment. I lived together with three other families and befriended all of them, especially the Postchud family from Plantzenitz, and this was probably thanks to Yona. Two partisans were assigned to us and their job was to provide us with food. We were no longer hungry, but in time our clothes tore. The regiment took care of our hygiene, and for that purpose a primitive bath was constructed near by. Eleven cows also belonged to the camp, which were herded in the fields of the peasants of the area, taking turns. When my turn arrived I explained that I did not have a clue as to how to do this, and instead I proposed to do any other work, be it the most difficult. But the people insisted that I too have to herd the cows, and I had no choice but to capitulate. I did not know how to drive them and the cows entered a cultivated field and a garden patch and caused damaged. The local peasants cursed and offended me, declaring that I must be a Jew; "one of us" - they claimed, [361] would know how to herd cows and prevent damage. I swallowed all the curses and did not respond, since I knew that they were right. Just when these things occurred, a partisan trail moved on the dust road nearby, and when a Jew among them heard the curses "damned Jew" he approached me and asked whether I was really Jewish. When I answered in the positive, he helped me collect the herd and led it back to camp.

Upon my return I confronted the camp's manager, Pyoter Iskovitz, and told him: I brought back the cows. I do not want milk for the child and I do not wish to herd them, because I do not know how. What kind of a communist are you? he asked me, if you do not know how to treat cows? He himself was a veteran communist, but apparently did not suffer from excessive love for Jews. Despite all I had a better time here among the gentiles, one Jew among 70 Christians, a better time than among the Jews. With the gentiles I got along well. Pyoter Iskovitz, whom I mentioned, asked me what my parents did for a living. My answer, that my father was a shoe cobbler, my mother a seamstress and my husband a locksmith, which proved my purely proletariat background, satisfied him.

The partisans that provided food for our camp were replaced every once in a while. In place of the veterans Rabetzki and Levinski came two others and they told that out of the participants in the terrorist act in Vileika a few died. Naturally I wished to know of Yona's fate. I dared and asked them: what losses did our regiment suffer? And they answered: a Jew's luck, only one of them participated in the operation and even he came back whole and safe. For me this was sufficient, my Yona is alive!

In the meantime other families arrived from the west, all Christians from Vileika. When I told them that I stayed at the Vileika ghetto and escaped at the last minute they were astonished, because rumor had it that all the Jews were destroyed, down to the last one. Thus another summer has gone by. I haven't seen Yona since he was sent on the terrorist operation and I to this camp, although I received regards from him every once in a while. Although fall has already arrived and it started to rain and the cold started to bother us, we still lived in huts. We awaited orders to build "trenches."

But the order was delayed. Winter arrived and heavy snow has long since fallen and I and my son were still barefoot and our legs swelled from the cold. Finally the order came to build the "trenches." I, along with 30 other families, were put up in the first one to be completed. Notably, these "trenches" were of much better quality than the ones I lived in the Khachenchitz forests.

[362] Fate works in strange ways and they are not to be understood. The fate that was formerly so cruel to me, and dealt unimaginable pain and suffering to me, on the other hand guarded my health remarkably. When I lived in one trench with 30 Christian families, they all caught typhoid, but I was spared; Although I slept with them, breathed the same air and took care of them in their sickness - we did not catch the disease, neither me or my son. The regimental doctor was very busy and could not make time to visit the ill, but my neighbors prayed that we too would be sick, assuming that in such case the regimental doctor, the Jew Kutler, would rush over and help them as well. For that purpose they tricked the regiment and told them that I and my son were sick as well. When Yona heard this he applied a lot of pressure on the doctor, until he finally agreed and Yona came with him to visit the sick in our camp. Then my neighbor's assumptions were verified, although this was pure chance. When Yona appeared in camp with the doctor they found of course all my sick neighbors and I and my son in good health, a fact that surprised the doctor from a medical point of view. The doctor examined all the sick but he had no medicine to give them. Despite this, all the sick recovered.

The political and military situation changed from time to time and we always experienced it directly. The partisans assigned to provide us food were recalled to the regiment and we were forced to take care of ourselves. Indeed, we did not go hungry, but we did not have plentiful supplies. The regiment send packages of food to each family occasionally, and we thus survived the winter. In the spring the camp was dismantled and all its inhabitants were moved to the village of Mistenovitz and put in peasant houses. To say that the village accepted us with open arms would be an exaggeration, but the partisans applied enough pressure for the home owners to accept us, although they secretly clenched their teeth. I was not well accepted in the house in which I stayed, and therefore did not feel comfortable, but since I had no choice I ignored it. The prolonged suffering I had undergone during my travels, and the constant fear I had experienced, apparently had left their mark. It seems that at night I would scream in my sleep and utter unknown names in a language unintelligible to the landlady, and she therefore let the public know that I was mad. Many of the village's inhabitants who met me tried to pose questions to asses my mental health, and when I answered them straight they nodded their heads and added: what does your landlady want from you, you are perfectly sane? I did not respond but said in my heart: were you to undergo even a tiny portion of the suffering that was my share, you would have probably lost your minds.

[363] One night as we were all deep in our sleep, suddenly knocks on the door were heard and a male voice asking: does a Jewish woman with a baby live here. I feared a conspiracy, turned to the peasant woman and threatened her: "if you turn me to them, my husband will kill you." The woman wanted, of course, to get rid of me, but on the other hand she feared that my threat was serious, and thus answered the man at the door - there is no Jewish woman here. But this answer did not satisfy the man, and he continued to knock and shout, threatening to break the door and the windows down if the door wasn't opened. I hesitated, but had no choice but to approach the window and ask, what do you want? The man answered: I am a partisan and a Jew from Kornitz, I found out that a Jew is staying here and I came to ask whether she needed any help. I thanked the man for his readiness and good intentions, and answered: I do not need any help.

The fact that I was Jewish apparently spread. One day a young woman from the neighboring village appeared where I stayed to make my acquaintance. To my question whether she was Jewish, she pretended like she was very offended, but still continued to visit me every week. During one of our discussions in a moment of feebleness, or candor, she told me her background: she is from a Jewish family from her birth town Minsk. During her studies in the university she met a Christian man, married him, lived with him happily, and a little girl is the fruition of her love. When Hitler invaded Russia her husband arranged for aryan papers for the girl and her mother. She then moved with her husband to the village of Kashchinivitz and they both taught there, and the girl knew nothing of any relation to the Jewish people. She played with Christian children, and cursed along with them the children of the Jewish pharmacist. One day the girl came home and told, that on that day she saw many Jews and realized that they were not any different from us. Upon hearing this, continued the mother, I could barely contain myself, I exited the room and burst out crying, but finally did not tell my child that I was Jewish. In the village where I now live no one imagines that I am a Jew and at this period it would be folly to let the thing be known. When I asked her where her husband was she said that he was killed by the partisans.

At last my husband arrived for a visit. When he saw the unfriendly relationship between me and the landlady, he moved me to another family where I felt better. I put myself willingly to doing housework, helped as best I could, and friendly ties formed between us. But my good feelings did not persist. It was suddenly made known in this area that the Germans renewed the blockade on the forests and villages, and naturally I as a Jew had to pick up my travel staff [364] and escape, under constant life danger. The man responsible for the village on behalf of the party, invited me to see him, and very cordially explained to me that the Germans are approaching the village, and that means that first and foremost my life is in danger. He then proposed that I move immediately. I understood. I parted from my landlady with excitement and tears. I took a bundle of food and my son on my back and marched towards the unknown. On the way I met some Christian families of my acquaintance, among them the Postchud family from Planchenitz. To my question of whether I could join them they answered in the positive. We continued our escape from the enemy and moved from forest to forest, on our way east. We were all tired, worn out, and indifferent to our fate. The Christians had a way out - they could give themselves up to the Germans and hope to stay alive, whereas I did not have any choice but to run for my life like a wounded animal. I parted, therefore from my Christian friends and continued on the non-existing roads aimlessly; hungry, thirsty, with swollen weary legs, my son on my back as hungry as I was. The forest swarmed with many escaping peasants who arrived with their carts, horses and cows. I walked among them and asked for a piece of bread that I sometimes received and sometimes not, and quenched my thirst with cow urine.

After these Christians, most of them from Vileika, also decided to give themselves up, I was forced again to get away and continue on. To where? This thought gave me no rest, especially due to the fact that my son Yehuda was circumcised and the Germans would identify him immediately as a Jew. I decided to continue until I reached a place where no one knew me or my background. I took off my skirt and gave it away for a little girl's dress, which I dressed my son Yehuda with, and I put on a sack in place of the skirt. The peasant to whom I offered the exchange thought that I was mad, but in my mind this was the only chance to save my son and myself. I got away from this group too, so as not to be with people that knew me. The plan was clear: Yehuda only speaks Russian. If they will not check, it would not occur to the Germans that he was Jewish and I will introduce myself as a Polish or Russian woman, depending on the circumstances. I continued to follow the trail, and they did not know me and thus did not bother me. When they sat down to rest I sat down as well, and when they got up to go I followed them. Only one strange event occurred that again threw the shadow of doubt on me. In one of the resting spots, when the dirty, lice-ridden refugees sat down to clean themselves, I was asked by a woman next to whom I sat, to kill her lice. Peasants do so with an ease and with agility, but I did not know how to perform this work. The peasant was surprised and said - [365] you must be Jewish. I denied this of course with all my might. I claimed that I was a citizen of a large city and in the cities this was not common. My son Yehuda who spoke fluent Russian did not arouse any suspicion and looked like any girl.

We did not stay long in any one place. The Germans pursued us and we escaped from them, until we reached the back of the city Berisev. The area was very populated and corpses rolled around with not one person trying to take care of their burial. My son asked me a few times: mother, why are they "asleep," but I avoided an answer under various excuses. On the way I met the woman who at one time hid her Jewish origins from me and later confessed. She was with her mother. They invited me to join them and shared their food with me. When they asked me where my dress was and why I was wearing a sac, I told them how I dressed my son as a girl and they commended me on my cunning. One day, it seemed like the Germans caught up with us and bombed the forest where we stayed with cannons and machine guns. The whole forest burned with the fire that was aimed at us. Two partisan regiments, "The Warrior" and "The Avenger" tried to break the enemy lines and fought like lions. We heard the battle cry: "for the homeland," "for Stalin" and hundreds of sacrifices were made. I, the son, the woman Bronia and her mother, entered a hollow tree stub and did not continue escaping, since we ran out of energy. The battle between the Germans and the partisans continued all night. It was a battle for life or death, the partisans fighting with their backs to the Berzina river.

The following morning Mrs. Bronia said to me that she thought that in a few minutes the Germans would arrive. I always walked around with a belt so that in a critical moment we could commit suicide. I tied the belt to my neck and to the neck of my son and began to pull, but Bronia started to shout at me! "After so much suffering you are putting an end to your life in your own hands? This is folly, it's not right." Sighing, I took the belt off the neck and a few moments later we were taken captive by the Germans who transferred us to a concentration place, where thousands of prisoners were already placed. From a distance I saw many acquaintances, among them the Postchud family and the gentiles from Vileika, but abstained from approaching them.

Among the thousands, Bronia stood out in her tidy clothes and her cleanliness. She was therefore the first to arouse the attention of the Germans. She showed them her papers and presented herself as a Pure Russian, as she spoke, of course, colloquial Russian, but this was not enough proof for the Germans. They asked her which one of the people knew her here, and she pointed at me. When I was asked [366] to provide details about her I repeated everything as it was written in her papers. When my son Yehuda saw that I was speaking with the Germans he started to cry and I drew the Germans' attention to this, but they ordered me to take the child and present myself with him. As we approached them, one of the Germans pointed at Yehuda and said: look, a Jewish child! We were then summoned to a special investigation by an S.S. man who spoke fluent Russian who started to ask questions. But I did not lose my senses and answered, a bit in Russian and a bit in Polish, that I come from Vilna and until now I stayed with an aunt in the village. Where is your husband - he asked? In the army, I answered. He beat me with a stick all over my body. But I denied my Jewish origins, "I do not even know what Jews are" - I claimed. The German became angry and yelled: You speak a bit Russian and a bit Polish to confuse me, but you will not succeed. We will put you to a strange death and cut your fingers off one by one for holding a Jewish child. But I stuck with my position firmly and claimed I wasn't Jewish. It did not occur to them to check the child who looked like a girl: dressed in a dress, his long hair brushed, and not arousing any suspicion. The S.S. man did not cease beating me on my head and all over my body, the child wept bitterly, and I continued to insist firmly on my position - I am not Jewish. In the meantime another German approached. The S. S. man told him that he beats me and tortures me but I deny firmly the fact that I was Jewish. The other German looked at my face closely, put his hand on my shoulder, and declared: her nose isn't Jewish. I pretended not to understand their conversation. After deliberation they decided to summon me again tomorrow, for additional investigation.

The Germans, who devoured food and were full fell asleep on the watch and I was surrounded by a chain of sleeping oppressors, the distance between whom was not more than one meter, I being guarded by them. I felt that if I would have to undergo the test of one more investigation tomorrow, I would break down, meaning that death was destined for me and my son. I therefore decided to try and escape at the last moment, to save our lives. The best time and opportunity for this was undoubtedly that night. I took a risk. It is better to die by a bullet in the back than to undergo the seven circles of hell in inquisition and torture, the end of which is certain death. I tied my son to my back with the belt and told him: if you want to live do not utter a sound until we are out of danger. The child was only four years old and precocious - he felt the danger. I lay down on the earth and started to quickly crawl in between the dozing guards, until I left their net 30 meters behind me. I got off the ground, and in quiet but rapid steps entered the thick bushes, [367] where no man has entered before, and disappeared in them. How long I lay like this I do not know, a few days in any case. I could not continue to lie like that, although a sense of security demanded that I do. Hunger tormented us a lot, although we ate all the herbs around us. The quiet and solitude weighed down on us. We therefore tried to advance, feeling our way forward, aiming to reach a settlement of some sorts. Hungry and weary we marched on, not knowing where to. Luckily we found some rotten leftover food dispersed in the forest, and thanks to that we were saved from death.

On the way I thought about my prolonged suffering and was sorry I did not perish in my town along with all the Jewish inhabitants, in the days of the killings. I wondered from where the grand forces that were aroused in me and gave me the courage to continue fighting came. I pondered on the beautiful, peaceful past, so much so that I did not notice that a few meters away stood an peasant's hut. I came close and entered. My look, and dress showed clearly my identity. The peasant woman understood that she has salvaging news for me: my daughter, she said - liberation has arrived.

This unexpected news confused me so that I didn't understand what she meant. What liberation do you mean, I asked her?...The Germans broke their skull, she answered, coolly and simply. I asked for something to eat, but she did not have any bread and gave us baked potatoes which we ate with great relish.

My new situation and location having been clarified to me, I decided to meet with my husband Yona as soon as possible, who, I presumed, was with his regiment a distance of 100 kilometers to the west. The woman warned me not to go through the forest and field paths, where, presumably, the remnants of the German army now hid. Advancing on the main road I dreamt of two things: to see my husband alive and to eat bread until I was full. I now passed through many villages without the shadow of fear. When I turned to a certain house to ask for food, I was always asked: why are you dressed in a sac? I gladly answered: at the price of my dress, I saved my son's life. The trip lasted around two days until I reached the place of my husband's regiment, but I did not find him. I was told that the regiment was away on a mission and will return in a few hours from persecuting retreating and lost Germans. I had no choice but to wait. And indeed, the regiment returned. Although Yona was among the first I did not recognized him, for my eyes went black with faintness. Suddenly I heard voices cry, here is your husband!

When we finally met face to face and he saw me without the child he was extremely baffled and his face expressed fear and disappointment, but he did not mention the child. I felt [368] his excitement and sorrow, and joyfully told him that our son is alive and is staying in an apartment where I was put up temporarily.

My husband could not be detained, for the regiment marched on to free Vileika. I therefore stayed in my hostel for a few days, but was very bored, so I returned to the village of Mistanivitz where I stayed before the German blockade. The peasants who knew me were glad to see me alive, after I underwent such hard and bitter days. While I was sitting in the village and thinking about the future the "Politruks" arrived and began instituting Kulkhozes.[xli] Needless to say, the peasants were not pleased, and claimed: for this we fought the Nazis and turned our village to a partisan base? But, of course, their complaints were to no avail. The construction of Kulkhozes advanced rapidly and I too was offered to join one of them and to give my child away to a child care center. I refused the offer. Instead I took my son on my back aiming to return to Ilya, the town of my birth.

The sun was already setting when I passed through the Tetraska alley, tired, worn out, my legs refusing to continue. As if by a magic wand the gentiles appeared, next to whose houses I passed, to gaze at the miracle - "Bat Sheva and her son returning alive." Many of them invited me to their houses and asked me about my belongings, but I continued silently on. When I reached the market place, the lively center of Jewish life in the past, I saw that it was burned to the ground. Only the houses of the Christians were left standing. As I turned to and fro, confused, a circle of Christians formed around me, one of them told me that my husband today reached the town too. Since I did not know where to find him I presumed that someone will inform him of my arrival and we would thus meet. Although they invited me to their houses I did not go to any gentile for my heart did not allow me to do so, remembering what they did to us Jews in the Nazi era. I sat on a stone and thought: Where did I return to? Who did I come to see? Murderers! Those who destroyed my family, my parents and brother, friends and companions, women, men, the old and young, an ancient Jewish community of hundreds of years?

I wanted to go back immediately, but back where? This whole country was contaminated! Not one piece of earth was not soaked with pure Jewish blood, the blood of productive, innocent, honest people who gave their lives for their God. I gazed from afar on the valley of death, the place where most of the Jews of town were centered, shot or burned alive. I stood astonished in front of that area, rapped in deep morning and dark sorrow, crying, excited and depressed over bitter fate. The town where I was born, grew up, educated and married, where my ancestors of many generations were born, [369] brought down to the ground and destroyed down to its foundations... I felt that someone has put his hand on my shoulder. When I turned around I saw that it was Yona, who like me stood behind shocked and sorrowful over the grave of his parents and his town, his eyes staring in the distance and his mouth muttering: Yitgadal Veyitkadash Shmei Raba...

Night fell, and we turned towards town. Viramei, the gentile for whom Yona worked, stood at the entrance to his house and invited us to stay with him. I struggled with my conscious and did not want to enter, since he was more than a little guilty of the death of my dear brother Ya'akov, by preventing him shelter. But Yona, typically, explained to me calmly: Bat Sheva, none of them are any better, who else will we turn to?

Viramei served us plentiful meal, but when I sat down to the full table my appetite completely disappeared and I could not touch the food that was served. His wife gave me a dress, but I did not even thank her. Although I slept in a comfortable bed with a quilt and pillows, luxuries I quit enjoying a long time ago, I could not close my eyes, but planned my revenge on this murderer. On the next day we received the apartment of Chaya Reizel Kagan (Shimeshlives),[xlii] and although it was small and neglected I was happy to escape the house of the murderous gentile as soon as possible, in whose face I could not even look. In the other part of the house where we moved to lived Hela Rodnitzki.

I began my trail of purchases: I got my parents' bed from Aneta Borkivitz, I took back a blanket and quilt from Stefka Kondertzonok, a washing machine from Velodia, and thus equipped our rooms temporarily. My son would not recognize his father under no circumstances, and claimed: mother, what is this strange man doing here. Throw him out. All these years it was just the two of us. I explained to him that this "man" was none other than his father, who due to the war was forced to part from us and now has returned. Yona was truly miserable and said: the moment that my son will start calling me "dad," I will be the happiest man on earth. My husband always played with him, tried to approach him and buy his love with games and toys, that my son, due to war conditions, has never seen. And these efforts were successful. Gradually he purchased the boy's heart and a connection was formed. One day, when Yona was absent from the house, my son turned to me and asked: where did the "man" go and when will he be back?

In the meantime other survivors returned, two of my husband's cousins, following hardships and wanderings in Russia, Yitzchak Shapira and Yitzchak Khadash. They stayed with us. All [370] the lonely and the suffering, the remnants of the town, found a warm shelter with us, because who could understand better than me the taste of loneliness. Although we were poor, we shared everything with them. My husband had one top shirt that all three used alternately, Yona and his two cousins. Every week it would go to a different one.

My son's initiation to normal life was very difficult for me. First of all he spoke only Russian and did not want to learn Yiddish. Second, when I put salt in the soup he refused to eat, claiming that I was trying to poison him. Generally, he would not eat cooked food, for during our stay in the forest he almost never ate cooked food. We always had to do with bread, potatoes and water. He would thus claim: "bread, water and potatoes are the only things fit to eat." When I indirectly learned that my parents' cow was taken by a certain goy, I took him to court and won. We now had plenty of milk in the house.

When we got a bit organized, the idea of revenge crystallized in my heart and did not let me rest. At first I thought about it and then I took real steps to avenge the murders of my town's people and my family. I called the N.K.V.D. and opened a series of charges against the gentiles who murdered Jews in front of everybody. Viramei, Yanoshkivitz and others.

The justices's seat was in Vileika. I showed up and presented my claim: those standing before you, your honor spilled clean blood of loyal communists in the days of Hitler. I assumed that if I said Jewish blood only, it would not be so effective. But the judge commented: if your sayings are true, the fault is not any less even if they merely killed Jews. Jewish blood is not gratuitous, either. The court sentenced them to life imprisonment. To the judge's question of whether I was satisfied with the verdict - I answered in the negative.

I could not continue to live in a town where every step of the way, every bone and mound reminded me of the terrible tragedy my town's people went through. The gentiles were almost all involved in the plunder and murder, with no exception. On sunday, Sabbath day, they would dress up in the murdered Jews' clothes and go to church to pray, and this would bring my blood to a boil. Not only did they murder the Jews but they inherited their property. It has been a while now since the idea of leaving the place reached fruition, but my pregnancy with my daughter Chaya prevented me from doing so. But a small incident that happened gave me the push to hurry and leave the place and to dwell among Jews. I would do my shopping once a week. One day [371] I stayed in town a bit longer and when I returned I found my son standing in front of the locked door and crying! when we entered the house I asked him what has happened? Did anyone beat you up? Who? No one beat me, he answered, but while you were gone I entered the apartment of Aunt Hela - our Christian neighbor - and she called me a "Jew." I insisted that I wasn't Jewish but she firmly insisted that I was Jewish. Upon hearing him I answered, it is right, my son, the aunt was right - you are indeed Jewish. He rebelled; it is impossible, he said. Throughout our stay in the forest you insisted that I wasn't Jewish, why do you call me Jewish? I could not convince him.

When my husband returned from work, I told him: If you do not wish to raise a "Stephen" let us get out of here.[xliii] Yona agreed, but as was his way he answered quietly and logically: you are in the last months of your pregnancy and the trip will undoubtedly be difficult. Let us wait, therefore, until after the birth and then we will leave. And thus we did. Our scarce baggage consisted of dried bread, a few pieces of soap, a few pillows, and a wooden bath to wash our child, the two week old Chaya. Nothing scared me aside from hunger and lice. We thus left Ilya forever, although it is engraved in our hearts to this day, accompanied by feelings of anger, bitterness, and vulnerability.

Our first aim westward was Poland and then Vienna. The dried toast they did not let us take through the border. In Vienna there was a lack of food, so we continued to Italy, which we traversed east to west and north to south, and we stayed there about two and a half years. First we stayed in Bari, then we moved to Triksa, where we were supported by UNRA and the Joint. Here nothing was missing, but we longed for Eretz Yisrael. For the first time we met messengers from Israel and especially formed a connection with Mrs. Tal, through whom we breathed the atmosphere of Israel. Thousands of refugees that swarmed to Italy organized in parties to which they belonged before the Holocaust, and we thus made a connection with the revisionist party of which we were members. We longed to make aliya immediately, but our two small children were an obstacle. Bachelors and young childless families had the priority, who were urgently needed to participate in the struggle for the liberation of the land.

After a long stay in Triksa, my husband aspired to move to the Tzintzita camp, where members of various nations from all of Europe, even Germany, were concentrated. When my son heard people speak Russian there he came home running, joyful, and happy news in his mouth: mother, here they talk like me. This camp did not suit us because we were interested in speeding our aliya and the situation there was quite difficult.

[372] In Rome there were many displaced Jews in Kibbutzim, whose standard of living was high, and the chances of making aliya were good. We wanted very much to be accepted to the partisan Kibbutz in Rome. But Yona, who traveled almost everyday to take care of the formal side of our transfer, met obstacles that he hid from me. Returning to camp he would tell me that the thing was postponed until tomorrow, then again tomorrow, or next week, over and over again. I understood that Yona refrained from telling me the real obstacles, and therefore decided to go along with him, to see that actual situation. We thus arrived one morning to the aliya bureau in Rome. To my question of whom takes care of our business, Yona pointed at an Israeli messenger named Kropski - now the secretary of the Kibbutz of Ein Charod - on whom the decision depended. I approached the man, said hello, and asked him: sir, would you tell me what gloves are required to speak with you. He was embarrassed, he wasn't used to this tone of voice. He asked me what I wished for and I explained our situation and our requests, to enter a partisan kibbutz in Rome. When he heard of our party affiliation he said emphatically: out of the question. He turned back and wanted to leave, but I did not let him go and in tears told him of our situation. Upon hearing the conversation a second door opened, where another Israeli messenger appeared, named Schwartz, who is now the secretary of Kibbutz Tel-Yossef. He wanted to hear our request. When I explained it to him, he arranged our business on the spot. We thus entered the partisan kibbutz in Rome where we stayed until our aliya to Eretz Yisrael.

As I am writing down these memories, intended for a book that will commemorate our town Ilya, my son Yehuda, who with me underwent the trail of hardship and suffering in the forests, in the ghetto, and during my travels, is in active duty in the Israeli Defense Forces.

[373] Shraga Solominski

The Struggle for Life

I, Shraga the son of Eliyahu and Chaya Solominski, who was born in 1909 in Ilya and lived there continuously until its demise, hereby give my written testimony, aiming to immortalize the events of the destruction and extinction and pass them on to the next generations.

I will forever keep engraved in my heart the horrendous deeds of destruction and blood, of the eradication and loss of thousands of Jewish communities and my town Ilya among them, that was erased from under the heavens by the blood-thirsty Nazis and their various assistants....

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Shraga and his wife Chasya - who perished in the Holocaust

On the night of 3/16/1942 - the date of the first massacre, I was awakened from my sleep by the stamping of boots and marches, the sound of military commands, women's cries and children's wails. I felt that the end has arrived for all of us... I decided to hide and maybe I could escape. I exited the house. Everything around was covered with snow, that was coming down continuously in the last few days. I quickly dug a hideout very deep in the snow. It was indeed very cold, but I lay quietly underneath, fearing the fate that was in store for me. More than once I felt the boots of the Germans over my head and body, they were walking around looking for survivors, as if they had not yet filled the quota they assigned for themselves. I don't know how long I stayed in this condition... I continued to lie down and one prayer in my heart, that the Germans will not discover me...

After many hours I heard the voice of Shlomo Koifman, calling [374] for all the survivors to leave their hideouts, promising on behalf of the Germans that they will remain alive and no harm will befall them. I then realized that I was buried underneath the snow for almost 24 hours.

Very gradually I freed myself from the heaps of snow, shook it off, and stretched my bones, my whole body paralyzed, my hands and feet frozen and their nails dislocated. I took heavy steps as if I was filled with lead. I was hungry, craving something hot... Craving to hear a familiar voice... I was terrified and weary to death. Thus I entered the house of Ben Zion Broide. But fearing the Germans, he would not let me in. He closed the door in my face. I stood outside, lonely... My legs led me to the house of the tailor Pesach Gilman. I knocked and knocked on his door, fearing that another door will be shut in my face and I shall remain outside.... After a while the door opened and I was let inside. Pesach Gilman and his brother-in-law Geitlitz took pity on me, shared their bread and bed with me, gave me food and drink and a place to stay.

Early the next morning Shlomo Koifman came in and added our names to the survivors list, declaring that we must all move to the ghetto that the Germans instituted, where all the survivors will henceforth live. The boundaries of the ghetto were fenced with barb wire and set in the area between the house of Kelman Greenblat and the house of Baruch Levin. Every day the gate opened; through it people were taken out to work and returned in the evening. A specialist in machinized flour mills, I received a pass to go, undisturbed, to work.

Despite that, the constant abuse had not stopped. I too was ambushed on the way to and from work. One day, one step separated me from death.

As I returned from the mill one evening, I was suddenly ordered by the German guard to halt. Since I was used to that, I almost did not pay attention and continued walking. The guard opened fire, I was frightened and began running with all my strength, jumped over the barb wire fence, entered one stable, then another, and finally hid in an old barn. I passed a few hours there in fear of being discovered, and then came out to the sound of Shlomo Koifman's cry, warning me never to repeat this act. Only thanks to his intervention I was saved this time, but if it ever happened again no one could save me.

This is how we lived in the ghetto; isolated, with no connections to the world. Among us was also the rabbi of the town, Rabbi Avraham Eliyahu Remez and his wife, who survived. The conditions were unbearable, the shortage of food was severe, and people [375] were literally hungry. Every evening as I came back from work, I would smuggle food products as much as I could, although I knew how large the danger involved was. Hunger and survival instinct instructed me to do so...

Following German orders, the ghetto elected a Jewish council - a "Yudenrat," that included Shlomo Koifman and the brothers Motel and Isaac Sinder. I must mention the fact that they always did as much as they could to help everybody, and they informed the ghetto in advance of any impending disaster. These representatives constituted for the Germans a regular address for the blackmailing of Jewish property: gold, money, precious stones, jewelry, furs, and expensive clothes. Deluding themselves that they will thus stay alive, the Jews gave everything to save their souls. But after the Germans felt that there was nothing left to extort, they performed the second and final massacre. That is how the brothers Sinder, the members of the council, found their death. Isaac Sinder was shot in the back of his neck by a Gestapo officer, while attempting to extract gold hidden under the ceiling to give to the Germans.

Thus days and nights went by... One clear day, in the early hours of morning, we felt an unusual commotion in the German headquarters at the big synagogue opposite the ghetto. We felt the belt of German guards tighten around us. Upon the command to go to work, I went as usual but had an obscure feeling and fear that not all was normal... And indeed, what I fear has occurred. As I returned to the ghetto that evening I found it surrounded by army and police, who began taking the families out of their houses and concentrating the men, women and children. I understood what was going on. Along with Simcha Feigelman, Feigel Sinder, Rasha Gutman with two daughters, and others, we hid in the cellar of Chaya Dvosha Dobrovski's house. My brother-in-law Yechiel Segelovitz covered the door to the cellar with a rug, and he himself hid in the stables of Kelman Greenblat. Fortunately, the Germans and their helpers did not especially search the house where we hid. I suppose they couldn't imagine that the house standing directly opposite the German headquarters would serve as a hideout. They searched it anyway, checked the walls and floor, and went on to other houses, which they searched more thoroughly.

Shocked and contracted we lay in the cellar. Through a crack we could see how the survivors were being led on their last journey, to the Vines lot - the place of the execution. We could hear the shouts of the women, the cries of the children, and the firing commands and the echoes of the shots. My brother-in-law Segelovitz's hideout [376] was discovered, and they took him out and made him join the death rows. I clearly saw how he was being led, but suddenly he jumped, broke through the rows and escaped running, the Germans chasing him and shooting. Apparently he felt that his end was near anyway, and preferred death in escape. He did make it to the river, but there he fell down and surrendered to the murderers' bullets. Shmuel Kagan went even further, but his fate was similar. He too surrendered to the enemy's bullets.

... The shots continued for a long time but then silence prevailed. We continued to lie down, our hearts heavy. At midnight we clearly saw by the light of the full moon the Gestapo guards near the house. A decision formed in my heart: I told my friends that we could not continue to stay in our hideout, for the Germans could discover us in the morning and we would not be able to escape then. And we acted on this decision. We concentrated the money we had and, crawling, we began to advance through the back door. We thought that the Germans would not discover us so readily, but they immediately spotted us and commanded us to halt. We ignored the "halt!" orders. We ran to the barb wire fence, to reach the river as soon as possible, as the Germans were chasing us and shooting. As we jumped over the fence our clothes tore, but we paid no attention.

We continued to run in order to increase the chances for escape. The Germans did not, of course, cease chasing us and a storm of bullets came down on us from every direction.

... I reached the river first, jumped in the water and swam with all my remaining strength and crossed it. I looked around and saw that only Feigelman was behind me, all the rest still haven't arrived and I knew nothing of their outcome. It seemed that the Germans did not continue to chase us. They probably assumed that most of the runaways are still in the domain of the ghetto and ran to catch them. It was clear that we did not have much time to wait and see what was the fate of our hideout companions. We ran to the forest...

The forest was no stranger to me. I knew it well from those beautiful and distant days. I could therefore serve as a guide to Simcha Feigelman and advance through hidden paths that provided us with safe sanctuary. In the meantime daylight arrived, and our clothes dried. We continued to wander in the forest and so our first day went by. In the evening we turned to the local peasants that we trusted not to give us in to the Germans, in order to get some food and clothing.

We reached the nearby village. We knocked on the door of a peasant whom we knew well. He opened the door, looked at us, and made the sign of the cross. We appeared as ghosts to him. According to intelligence that reached him, all the town's Jews were killed, so how could [377] we be knocking on his door? Having recovered from his shock and fear, we asked him to sell us food for a few days in exchange for a few dollars.[xliv] We also asked him to take a letter to the mechanic in our flour mill, so that he would send us enough clothes to survive in the forest. We let him know that we would come the following night to receive the clothes. After the "deal" we left the peasant's hut and went about 15 kilometers deep into the forest. As we walked we came across chopped wood arranged in rows. We decided to hide inside the "shtibel" and for that purpose we emptied it of wood and settled in the empty space. Thus the rest of the day went by, and again a morning and an evening, and the second day in the forest was behind us...

In the evening we turned toward the village. Taking extra precaution we approached the peasant's hut. The fear that he may have brought the Germans did not abandon us. Having checked the premise carefully, we realized that no danger was on hand and knocked on his door. The peasant opened it and let us in, shaking with fear. He gave us the bundle of clothes that the mechanic send for me. I divided it on the spot, half for me and half for Feigelman. On our request the peasant sold us more food products, and made us swear that we would come to see him no more, since he worried for his family. If the Germans or other peasants would find out that he was helping the partisans, his end would be bitter. We understood his wish, thanked him, and returned to our hideout in the forest...

...Indeed we imagined and hoped that soon the situation would change; the Germans would have to retreat and we would survive. But reality was different. The Germans advanced every day and settled in new places. We felt this even though we had no reliable intelligence. We continued to hide as our supplies were running out and our clothes too scarce to withstand the freezing cold at night. After our food ran out we turned to a peasant and asked him to have pity on us and sell us some food for our money. This peasant, who had dealings with us in the past and sold us wood, knew me well - pretended that his pity was aroused and sold us two loaves of bread and some butter for gold. We returned to the forest.... the next night we returned to the same peasant and knocked on his door. He indeed opened it, but I immediately saw that he did so reluctantly. He refused to sell us food, claiming that he is afraid of the authorities and that anyway we would not be able to break through the German blockade. To save ourselves from further suffering he proposed that we go back to Ilya and give ourselves up to the Germans, perhaps they would not kill us. He emphasized again and again that he saw no point in our deeds, since all the Jews were already dead anyway. We quickly got out of that place feeling depressed and in our hearts we feared that we had fallen into a trap. We got away a distance of about 10 kilometers from that place, moving in a different direction, and reached [378] one of the peasants that I knew well. I knocked on his door. He opened and with fear mixed with astonishment he looked at us: "you are still alive? how is this possible? Kazora bragged to me that he killed you with his own hands!" I answered that I managed to escape and I am now asking him to sell us food for the full price. The peasant who genuinely pitied us gave us food for a week and warned us to take extra precaution. The Germans were setting ambushes at night around the villages of the area to catch partisans. We thanked him very much and went on our way. Only at dawn did we reach our hideout...

...Thus days and weeks went by. We entered our hideout only at night; during the day we stayed in the nearby forest in order to keep a watchful eye and follow all the occurrences. This was indeed beneficial; it seems that our hideout was discovered by a shepherd who saw us going out and told the Germans about it. One day, when we left our hideout as we did every day in the morning and hid in the vicinity, we suddenly heard Russian and German commands to leave the hideout or be killed on the spot. We did not answer of course and began to crawl in the opposite direction without attracting the attention of the Germans. Since no answer came they attacked the hideout with hand grenades and gunshots, from which echoes reached us in the distance. We again underwent a whole day of fear in the forest. Despite this, hunger made us go back to the hideout to see whether any food or clothing remained there. When we reached the spot we saw that our hideout was burnt down and destroyed and the food and clothing were no longer there.

....We decided to leave this area and find a hideout in the forest on the other side of the river, and we did so. In the meantime daylight arrived and we could not reach any village in the light of day. We were therefore forced to wander in the forest during the day, shaking from the cold, hungry, thirsty and freezing. This time our hideout was a bush of forest berries, and when at noontime we saw peasant women gathering the berries, my friend Simcha began to fear for us and muttered: "now we are surely lost." I tried to cheer him up and get his hopes up, relying on our past experience. I claimed: if we thus far managed to overcome dangers, it its not impossible for us to be saved this time. We continued to hide underneath the bush. As she was gathering berries, one peasant approached us, but it seems that she saw us and escaped in fear, assuming that she came across partisans. But I recognized her and began calling her name. I saw her calm down, return, and approach us to talk. I told her that our situation was bad, that for the last few days we [379] had no food or clothing. She, on her own, offered to put us up for the night and give us food and clothing. We reached her house that very night and she served us bread, butter and milk, and refused to accept anything in return. She generously offered to bring us products to the forest every once in a while. Thus two weeks have gone by. We got used to the situation, but did not feel comfortable continuing to accept things from her for free. Since she refused to accept money, we parted from her, thanking her for her important assistance, and told her that we decided to move to another spot. Before we left she told us of the war situation, from which we gathered that there was no hope for its eminent conclusion, since the Russians were retreating on all fronts and the Germans were successfully advancing. The destruction continued but its dimensions grew bigger. What they did previously only to Jews, they now did to the Polish aristocracy as well. It was clear that we needed to be more careful.

...We wandered in the forests, changed our hideout again, and reached another place. One night we went towards the residence of a Polish man - a landlord of a small mansion. We knocked on his door and the door soon opened before us. The landlady saw our condition and our torn clothes and gave us clothing and food. From her speech I gathered that she already knew that I had survived a long time ago and was surprised that I didn't come to her sooner. Moreover: she offered that we come to the hay threshing-floor every night, where we would find food ready. At the same time, she warned us about the son of a neighbor who had joined the German police. We did not doubt her good intentions, but feared lest we would walk into an ambush, because a dog's barking could indicate that strangers were near at hand. We thus decided quickly to get out of that place. We thanked the hostess and went in another direction.

At two o'clock at night we knocked on the door of another peasant and asked him to sell us food. We knew this peasant well, and although he was scared he sold us what we asked for. But with this our money ran out. We left the peasant's house to return to the forest. As we were about 30 meters away from his house someone ordered: "halt." We assumed at first that these were Germans or Ukrainians and started to run. A storm of shots were heard and bullets came whistling by. Only a few more hundreds of meters separated us from the forest. But my friend Simcha began to fall further and further behind. When I saw this I could not abandon him, I returned in order to die along with him. Eight people carrying guns aimed at us approached, calling: "who are you." I understood that these were partisans and not Germans. We told them what we had gone through and that we wanted to join the partisans, in order to fight [380] the Germans and get revenge. They did not listen to us and thought that we were spies, considering the fact that my friend Simcha did not escape at all. Simcha claimed that he didn't escape because he understood that they were partisans and hence friends, but to no avail. I therefore told them that the partisans in the area know us well and can testify that we were not spies, and moreover: among the area's partisans there is a commander called Kabilkin who knows us well. At one time, when he escaped from German prison camp and even before that, I helped him with money and weapons. I felt that they were beginning to listen to me, that the conversation became less suspicious and aggressive, until finally we were given the address of where to meet with the partisans. But under the excuse that they were on their way to a military operation they fiercely demanded our boots. We begged to keep them, since we couldn't walk in the forest barefoot with no food. Our claim that there are rich peasants in the area from whom they could take was accepted. But, to play it safe, they left guards with us and went to search at the peasants'. After they came back empty handed, since the peasants hid everything for fear of partisan confiscation, they took our boots and coats, promising to return them when they got back.

...Depressed and astonished we were left alone with no clothes and no food. My friend began to argue again for the hopelessness of our journey - "in any case we are done for" - he claimed. In response I said: - "there is no room for despair. You saw with your own eyes, my friend, how many hardships we encountered, and despite all we managed to survive, there is thus a foundation for the belief that the sun is yet to shine" - Again I insisted that the only way left for us is to join the partisans; the war will not end so soon and we are consumed by feelings of vengeance. We will fight and avenge. And maybe we will survive. But if we are destined to die, it would be better to die as warriors. I spoke thus for a long time until he was encouraged.

At nightfall we crossed the river and reached a village. We headed towards the house of the peasant Sunitz. I knocked on his door, he opened, and when he saw me he said, conspicuously happy: - "I'd have you know, Solominski, that the commander of the partisans knows you well and is looking for you. He told me that in the past you gave him full aid and even brought forth proposals to send the youth to the forests and direct them to the partisans." From him I leaned that Chaim Riar is also among the partisans. As he stood looking at us he noticed that we had no shoes or clothes, that our feet were wounded and bleeding. He immediately entered the house and called to his wife: - "get up, come out, and see who's here."

She came out, took one look at us and started to cry. She said in tears: [381] "we will give you everything you need to be dressed well." She brought us boots, pants and clean clothes. We changed everything. We received food. I started to feel like a human being again. Finally they asked me to return. "Tomorrow the commander will be here and you can talk with him yourself about everything." We returned to the forest feeling good. Even Simcha's mood improved. We wandered all day until late in the evening, and at around 10 we headed towards Sunitz's house. The night's silence carried from the distance the sounds of riders galloping in the our direction. We hesitated. We feared, might these be Ukrainians and not partisans?... Half an hour went by and complete silence prevailed. We therefore decided to approach the house and came across a peasant standing on guard in his yard to prevent surprises from the German side. To my question whether there were people in his house, he said: "the commander, escorted by a few partisans."

We entered the house. Commander Kabilkin jumped up and shook my hand:

- "Let's drink cheers to your escape. Who is the fellow with you?"

I answered that this was my escape companion, that we ran away from the Germans together. The commander looked at him, examined his face thoroughly and after a prolonged silence he said: "Him I could not accept to the partisans. First of all, we don't have enough weapons. Second, I see that he cannot even walk, and certainly he would not be able to fight." I entreated with him to accept him, since I could not abandon my friend; I asked that he finds some kind of work for him. After some deliberation he answered, that out of a duty to repay me for the help I gave him in the past, he could have Simcha join a civilian convoy that is being led through the forest and across the front line. He immediately gave the right order. My mind was put to rest. We sat down and conversation flowed; he asked me how long we've been in the forest, what was my opinion of the war, etc.

I candidly told him that no matter what occurs, the Germans will not win. The war might indeed last for a long time, but eventually the Germans will lose, just as Napoleon lost in his day. I expressed my opinion that we must recruit more and more partisans to fight the Germans from behind, to disrupt their links to supply centers and to prevent the transport of supplies and equipment to their advancing garrisons. He was satisfied by my explanations and my adaptability, and informed me that soon he will recruit me for action. He asked me whether I knew the way to Khachenchitz well, and when I answered in the affirmative he was satisfied. He poured me a large glass of Vodka and said in a celebratory tone: from now on, know that you are devoting your life to victory, even if it takes a long time. We stood up, shook hands, and drank to victory.

[382] We sat for many hours that night in the house of the peasant Sunitz. We drank and we ate. The commander and his friends burst out in song, but I and my friend Simcha could not adapt to this careless atmosphere. All that we've been through in the forest and until this meeting constituted a barrier that separated us from them. At the same time, we could not get up and leave either. We now tied our fate to their's and our lives depended on this group. We sat down, therefore, and awaited the hour when we will have to make a move. Finally an order was given to get going.

Parting with Simcha was difficult since we went through a long trail of suffering together, and more than once stood in the face of death, and now we had to part, maybe forever. But the knowledge that he would be transported to a safe haven and would be able to work, calmed me down. The hope that one day we would meet again beat in the hearts of both of us. We thus embraced and in our hearts expressed a wish that this hope would be fulfilled...

In early morning I therefore arrived along with Kabilkin and his friends at the partisan headquarters. We began planning for future operations. As I knew that a few days would pass before we needed to be positioned, I began to tour around the headquarters. I aspired to know whether more Jews from Ilya survived. I found out that Shlomo Koifman and his wife, the owners of the pharmacy, survived, my friend Nachman the barber, and Ben Zion Broide the soda manufacturer, since the Germans still needed them. I did not delude myself as to their future. I knew that the minute that the Germans no longer needed them they would be executed. I made efforts to save my friend Nachman, to bring him to the forest through a special messenger that delivered a note from me to him, but he would not hear of it. He assumed that his life was safe and asked the peasant that I leave him alone and never bother him again. He therefore stayed in Ilya awaiting his unpreventable fate...

A few days and weeks went by. Our regiment organized and trained in the meantime. Although its weapons and equipment were scarce, it had the will to fight and avenge. We thus named it "The Avenger," and it lived up to its name.

The Operation at Khachenchitz

Soon the day that we have anticipated with tribulation and yearnings has arrived; the day of revenge on the destroyers of our dear and loved ones. One evening we were told that we were to leave that very night on an operation. We organized in a platoon consisting of 3 sections and I was appointed the commander of one of the sections. The weapons and equipment were, as I mentioned, scarce, and only 2 [383] machine guns were made available to the platoon; guns were few and not enough for everyone, only grenades were given to each and every one. Upon an order we all quickly assembled at the destination spot - near the fork in the road to Khachenchitz. After we gathered, prepared and ready for battle, commander Kabilkin appeared and explained the headquarter's orders, the goal of the operation and the means of its execution. He informed us that in a few hours a German army and police convoy was to pass by on its way to Khachenchitz to collect taxes, meat and other supplies. We were to position ourselves quietly, carefully camouflaged, so that the Germans would not notice the ambush. Upon their return in the light of day, we were to surprise them, attack, and kill the Germans and policemen, but not dare hurt the unarmed civilians who were recruited as forced labor. We were to confiscate the weapons and supplies and retreat unorganized to the base. While he explained the operation the commander asked for our opinion; I suggested that each class operate at a distance of at least 100 meters from another, so that we could cover the whole convoy and prevent its reorganization. My suggestion was accepted. We positioned ourselves thus in between the forest trees near the road. Tense, anxious, but disciplined we lay down in ambush and watched the convoy pass and enter Khachenchitz. We lay and waited...

After a few hours the watchmen informed us that the convoy had left Khachenchitz and is on its way back. The convoy consisted of 38 armed men, equipped with the best weapons, and in their midst the commander of the German police. It also consisted of many unarmed civilians who were recruited for forced labor. We lay down silently and awaited its approach to the fire zone. Since my section was closest to the road we were the first to open fire, and immediately afterwards the agreed-upon whistle was heard. The Germans were baffled. Scared and frightened they began to run around, not knowing from whence the attack came. Our fire increased, and the Germans, who found themselves surrounded, stopped resisting. They began running away as our bullets killed them. Thus we had our revenge on our hated enemy that day. Sixteen Germans lay defeated on the battle field. The police commander and a few other Germans were captured, the rest managed to escape. We earned a load of weapons and equipment and confiscated the supplies that consisted of all kinds of goods. We were very delighted and happy since this was our initiation rite - the first organized operation on this scale.

Our delight increased seven-fold since none of us were hurt and we caught a "fat fish." The commander of the police whom we captured was Ulshuk, the commander [384] of the police in Ilya and the vicinity. He used to boast that he would never be a prisoner but will commit suicide beforehand. The revenge on him and his family was therefore great. We transported him from village to village, from town to town, and made it known among the peasants that Ulshuk defected of his own free will to the partisan camp, hoping that this rumor would reach the Germans and they would destroy his family, which took part in destroying the Jews of Ilya and enjoyed the plundering their property...

After he was no longer of any use to us, we returned him to the forest. It was only so that he would bear the responsibility for the crimes he committed. He was tried before a military partisan court and received a death sentence. How scary and depressing it was to see him on his knees begging for his life. The same traitor who spilled clean blood and dared to enjoy the booty and robbery with inner quiet was now standing and crying for his life. His crimes were proven, his sentence agreed upon: - death by a gunshot! I jumped up and saluted the commander and the judges. I asked that I and Chaim Riar be allowed to be the executioners. Our will was granted. The traitor was made to stand before a firing squad that consisted of both of us. The order was given, and satisfying the feelings of revenge we shot the death-bullets at him.

Who shall brush off the dust from the eyes of our dear and loved ones so that they could see the avenging of their blood? Indeed, among the survivors who gathered, there were judges and avengers.

I embarked on my journey of revenge... This was the first achievement in a long trail of wandering and suffering. As I mentioned, the success of the operation in Khachenchitz encouraged the whole regiment. It improved the mood, increased the stock of equipment and weapons and even contributed to the feeding of the men. Our regiment increased day to day in number as Russian war prisoners and the survivors of the Dolhinov ghetto joined it. We continued to train and organize towards new operations that would serve as payback and revenge...

The Raid on Miadel

...Morning and evening... Evening and morning... One day followed the next and habits became nature and we became perfect forest people. Our scouts and signallers managed to make contact with the residents of the town of Miadel. I found out from them that the Jews of the town were still in the ghetto. I knew that they were destined to die if we didn't get them out in time. There was no shadow of a doubt that they would be destroyed the moment the Germans finished extorting all that was possible from them. I understood that again the hour of revenge was at hand. I presented myself at the commander's and brought forth the idea of raiding the town. I explained to him that the area's vicinity was clean of partisans, that the Germans felt [385] secure and would not think for a moment that they might be attacked. Therefore there was a possibility to act. We would pinpoint precisely the location of the ghetto, become acquainted with the location of the guard and the military camp. After we knew all this we would prepare and surprise them at night, free the ghetto Jews, and capture the weapons and equipment. The commander's answer was that he had to think about it. The plan looked good militarily, but it might bring to the forest elements that are not fighting material, that no doubt exist among the ghetto's Jews. He would therefore consider the situation carefully and decide within two days. I was not unaware of the fact that he wanted to ask the advice of the political instructor of the regiment - the "Politruk" Vulostnoi.

After two days I was informed that an operation was decided upon and the required preparations were being made.

...One autumn evening, the alert was given, and the regiment was ordered to advance to the bank of the river Vilya. In order to reach the destination of the raid, one had to cross the river. There were no bridges near the target zone. The water was deep and very cold. But our scouts had discovered a place where the water was shallower, so the command to take our clothes off was given, and to put the clothes and weapons above our heads, in order not to get them wet. We thus crossed the river. We quickly dressed and began to run the distance of 1 kilometer to warm up. We marched through the forests and approached the town of Miadel, surrounded by lakes and forest from all its sides. At dawn the lakes were visible in the distance...

We settled for a day's rest to finish up the preparations for the raid. Our scouts took care to receive a complete and detailed description of the area and passed it on to the supervisors. The regiment was summoned and at 10 we began our trip on the way to the target. The regiment was divided into 3 platoons; 2 platoons were ordered to operate inside the town and the third was ordered to capture positions near the town to prevent the arrival of German reenforcement and to ensure paths for escape. In response to the commander's call, I volunteered with my friend Chaim Riar and another Christian partisan to eradicate the patrol located in the entrance to the town.

We wore civilian clothes, received guns with silencers, and went on our way. We advanced in a row, I at the head and the two others behind me, without anyone noticing us. It was already midnight when we approached the guard, but he noticed nothing. When we reached an effective distance I shot the guard; the shot wasn't heard but he collapsed. I jumped towards him, he sighed in stifled pain but I, in murderous desire, hit him with the butt of the rifle with all my strength and eliminated him. We quickly told the platoons that the guard was destroyed. Then the command was given to advance towards town. One platoon [386] under my command went towards the ghetto and the second towards the military camp. It seems that the Germans felt some strange commotion and fired some diagnosis shots, and then we were given the order to shoot. Simultaneously from all directions the machine guns, rifles, pistols and hand grenades began to bark. The two platoons attacked the German camp and the ghetto. Terror seized the Germans, and as frightened mice they ran around in pajamas and jumped into the prepared shelters. We washed everyone in our way with gunfire. The platoon under my command, that had been ordered to break into the ghetto, triumphed over the strong resistance of the Germans who guarded it. They expected reenforcement from the headquarters, but instead now saw that the military camp had also been attacked and that soldiers were running away from it in fear. With the first deaths they escaped with haste. We then stormed the ghetto, quickly cut the barb wire, entered the houses, and ordered the Jews to escape to the forest. No one moved.... Instead they complained: what do you want from us? Why are you chasing us to the forest to die of starvation? No one shall leave the ghetto! Our lives were secured until your invasion; We shall not go!!...

I was astonished. I could not believe my ears! Is it possible that these Jews felt nothing and did not know what their destiny was? I do not know whether this was the result of the Germans' anaesthesia machine, or whether this was the result of feelings of imagined peace and false security, that "this too will pass and they too will perish." The same feelings that repressed the knowledge of the destined fate and ordered them to wait, until it was too late... I could not, of course, put up with this fact. I could not make myself the laughing stock of the entire regiment. I entreated with them and warned them of what was to be: the Germans will not let you live. If you do not exit the ghetto immediately your fate will be that of the Jews in other towns. But my warnings were to no avail. I lost my temper and said: we must clear the ghetto quickly and burn its houses, if you do not leave of your own free will we will burn the houses on top of you. Go to the forest, and there we shall deliberate on how to help you!" Only then, hearing those clear things, the Jews were frightened and began to escape to the forest. When the houses were cleared we began to burn them. In the meantime, German reenforcements began to arrive, showering us with continuous fire. We were then given the command to retreat. During the cross-fire a few Jews were wounded, including the wife of the dentist who could not continue running. We took her on the shoulders until we could get a wagon to transport her to a safe place where we could give her aid. We hastened as we could to get out and disappear in the deep of the forest, before the German forces that were summoned for reenforcement arrived, organized, [387] and began chasing us. We approached a village, where we took a wagon, lay the wounded wife of the doctor down, and began racing back to camp. On the way 3 partisans from our regiment expressed their anger that they, who are returning tired from a military operation, have to walk on foot, while the "zidovka" is being led in a wagon. Our claims that she is wounded and cannot walk were to no avail. They forced her down and took the wagon. We of course could do nothing but carry her all the way to the base.

This disregard for a wounded woman and its anti-Semitic undertone did not let me rest. It was as if someone slapped my face hard. I was ashamed and could not restrain myself. As we reached the base I presented myself to the commander, told him the story, and demanded that they be put on trial. He responded that with time I will have to get used to more difficult things even. He was helpless and could not change the situation. "Partisans will be partisans, what is one to do?" I doubted the validity of his claims but did not dare express it. I said that ignorant warriors, who do not have regard for the duty of fraternity for their brothers in arms, could one day defect from the battlefield. But the commander did not respond...

Indeed, not long after that the predictions I expressed to the commander were fulfilled. Within a week these three acquaintances of ours defected from camp. We looked for them for a long time until we found their hideout in the forest. In order to subsist they would raid the area's villages, and rob, rape, kill and plunder; they finally fell in our hands and were put on military trial in the forest. The verdict was clear - death by gunshot! This time also I was assigned with the execution of the verdict. I regarded it as the logic of justice. This was my revenge for their despicable act on the way from the Miadel raid.

This event and its anti-Semitic undertones was unfortunately not singular. In time the attacks on the Jews, their property, bodies, and souls, increased. These caused me much sorrow and pain. But I shouldn't jump ahead. I will return to those when I describe the general context of life in the forest and review the partisan warfare in general.

To sum up the operation of " The Avenger" regiment in Miadel, one could say that this was an extraordinary initiation. The operation excelled in its organizational and practical aspects. Although we left the battlefield triumphant, with a booty of equipment and weapons and no losses to our forces, this operation posed difficult problems to our regiment and its headquarters. In time our numbers increased, but the Miadel raid added non-fighting elements to our regiment, women and children. The question of supervision, defense, and supply organization for these people [388] now arose. Besides, we could now expect a general attack any day from the German side, who increased their guard throughout the area. Their watchfulness caused us to have almost no operational zone in the whole area. I thus advised the commander to abandon the area altogether and transfer our operation to another zone. We should remark here that during my stay with the regiment a deep friendship developed between me and the commander. He would summon me every once in a while and consult with me on many issues. Gradually he began to convince me to enter the communist party, and sometimes even tried to pressure me (out of sincere feelings of friendship though) on that issue. I tried, of course, to evade in all sorts of ways. I told him that right now I see nothing more important than to beat the hateful enemy, to cause his downfall and to triumph. Only one thing fills my heart at the moment: - the duty for revenge on the enemy. But I promise this: if I survive I will no longer hesitate and join the party. The commander of the regiment Kabilkin apparently understood my feelings and no longer returned to that subject.

The objective circumstances of fighting in the forest and of the German's watchfulness caused whole weeks to go by without us undertaking any serious operation. We lived in the deep of the forest and trained, waiting for the Germans to feel secure and to think that the partisan threat was gone. In a conversation with Kabilkin I expressed my opinion on the possibility of harassing the Germans even during the cease-fire. I suggested that we organize small sabotage sections to endanger the enemy's transportation routes, and especially to prevent the smooth passing of army trains and supplies to the front, in the deep of Russia. He accepted this idea, and indeed in a short time a few such sections were organized. I too took part in the organization of course, and was appointed the commander of one of the sections.

In those days a Jew from Warsaw named Rotblatt came to the forest and joined our regiment - a chemical engineer by trade. This was a courageous Jew, who specialized in mine construction and the preparation of explosives. We quickly befriended each other and from that time on he never left my side. Since he had the "Aryan" look and a perfect command of Polish, he made our connections with the civilian Polish population easier, and through them we collected the required intelligence on the coming and going of the trains that transported the army, weapons and supplies to the front. Our prime informer was a young Polish teacher, who believed that my new friend Rotblatt, whom she liked immensely, was a Christian Pole. There was nothing she wouldn't do to get us precise information [389]. One day we found out from her that on the Vilna-Molodcheno railway a train full of army, weapons, supplies and other equipment was due to pass at night. It was very important, therefore, to prevent its crossing. We first carefully checked the railway where the mine was to be planted, in order to increase as much as possible German losses. At night the mine was planted, and a cable 100 meters long attached to it. We lay down ready, tense, and wrapped up in the moonlight of the forest, its light above our heads. We lay so for a few hours, spying on every motion in the silence. From somewhere in the distance a train rattle was heard. In a moment we heard the rattling of the engine, and there was the engine with a long trail of cars following it. "The time of revenge!" - I yelled, and 3 pairs of hands pulled the cable simultaneously.... For a split second it seemed that all froze around us, including our breath. But then came the saving thunder. A huge explosion was heard, the earth split open, and a giant earthquake occurred. everything was thrown up in the air, in a distance of hundreds of meters the tracks flew into the air. The engine broke in pieces. The cars toppled over and caught on fire... The skies were lit with fireworks... explosive sounds echoed... boxes of weapons exploded and burned...the cries of the dying and the sighs of the wounded, confused and frightened commands, were heard. How good it was to see the heros of the "Aryan Folk" running around in fright to save themselves.

In order to increase the confusion and to kill as many as possible of the enemy, I gave an order to shoot. The machine guns, pistols, and light weapons spit out continuous fire, and a few hand grenades were thrown into the running and shouting human stew. Only when the eastern skies began to redden and dawn arrived, did we get up and leave the spot, for fear of German reenforcement. We discovered that this fear was justified. An unusual commotion began from all sides and the German reenforcements flowed in towards the shattered train...

With feelings of unending satisfaction we returned to the headquarters. We found out from the signallers the details of the sabotage act we performed: hundreds of Germans were killed, the train was completely shattered, the treasures of weapons and arms were irreparably damaged. In a special order of the day, the commander commended my persistence and operational capabilities. This success was a turning point in our warfare tactics; we began to prepare other sabotage operations and new raids. Again I earned an hour of satisfaction and exceptional happiness. Following a few abortive attempts to cross over the front lines - the members of the civilian convoy returned to the forest - to the location of our regiment's headquarters, and with them my escape companion, Simcha Feigelman. We embraced. A stream of tears [390] choked our throats and we expressed our happiness with the Russian curse ending with "mother." After the first few moments of happiness went by I told Simcha that I now hope that we will never have to part again. I was convinced in the depth of my heart that after our last operations and thanks to our friendship, the commander Kabilkin will no longer resist accepting Simcha in our regiment. I turned to the commander and accepted the responsibility of ensuring that my friend Simcha will be a good, loyal, courageous partisan. This time the commander of the regiment relented. Simcha joined the regiment, participated in operations, and excelled.

All the regiment's Jews: the engineer Rotblatt, Simcha, Chaim Riar and the others, exhibited their courage in the military operations of "The Avenger" regiment and surpassed in their talents and courage all other men. Thus the libelous stories that were generally accepted, that Jews do not want to fight and that they avoid every military operation, were refuted. Moreover: we proved that we persisted with the revenge mission and that we were ready for every call and any job assigned to us. Indeed, in our presence no one dared badmouth the Jews. But the libelous stories did not decrease and despite our position in the regiment we felt isolated and orphaned. We were, after all, the sole survivors of each family, and two from each city; we knew that all that we had was gone forever. Although the will for revenge beat in our hearts and we proved our courage, it didn't have the ability to disseminate the atmosphere of suspicioun and hatred. A deadly danger always accompanied the Jewish partisans. A Jewish warrior always needed to take double precaution: he needed to watch out not only for the Germans but also for the guns of his partisan friends who wanted to kill him. Dozens and hundreds of Jewish partisans were killed by their brothers in arms. It was an atmosphere of indifference to the lives of Jews, and most of the officers were also part of the anti-Semitic persecutions. This was due in large part to German propaganda, that consistently declared that the war had erupted because of the Jews and that they were to blame for it. Even if the top officers wished it, they could not stop the murderous persecution of the Jews.

During that period Jews from Vilna and its vicinity escaped and reached the forest. They were better dressed and had light weaponry - handguns - and the goal of their coming to the forest was to join the partisans and have revenge. And when they reached the partisans who were a long distance from the regimental headquarters or the brigade the partisans attacked them, took their weapons, striped them naked and killed them, under the excuse that they were spies sent by the Germans. Thus dozens and hundreds of Jews who made it to the forest were shot.

But more than all suffered the Jews who escaped to the forest and were not accepted to [391] the fighting forces. For them robbery and plunder, murder and rape, were daily bread. When sometimes a few partisans were impatient with sitting around waiting for the headquarters' commands, they would get drunk and go on missions on their own. They would attack civilian convoys, rape women, and rob everything at hand. Sometimes they would attack the villages in the area, which were usually friendly to the partisans, and murder, plunder and rape. Thus that Polish village teacher, who served as our signaller, was raped. The poor woman never recovered and lost her mind. But if the offenders against the peasant population were sometimes put on military trial and punished, those who murdered the civilian Jews in the forest walked around free and with no punishment continued their deeds. Among the rapists there were more than once those who had venereal diseases, who passed them on to the raped women. But this did not hinder them from blaming the innocent women for that. This was the fate of that dentist wife who was wounded during the raid on Miadel, who was raped and caught a venereal disease. The rapists blamed her for the disease. The poor woman was put on military trial and was expected to receive a death sentence. I had to work hard until I could prove that she was innocent and bring the real culprits forth.

Thus, then, under these conditions and in this poisoned atmosphere, the Jewish partisans operated and fought. So felt I, and my friends too. More than once we told ourselves that all efforts were in vain. We thought that no Jews would remain until victory, and that we too would be betrayed by our brothers in arms. But the desire for revenge on the Germans was stronger than anything else, and it encouraged us and strengthened our faith that not all was lost. Only due to that were we able to carry on. Thus we carried on, alternating between sabotage acts on German roads and railways on the one hand, and larger operations on the platoon and company scale on the other.

Our regiment's actions during the winter of 1943 were especially remarkable. Our raids on the enemy's army in the area decreased. The enemy's main objectives in terms of supplies and armament were near the Nimen area. In the middle of January 1943 an order reached the headquarters, that the regiment must organize quickly for a trip to the Lida area. On the same day we gathered the maximum number of sleds and horses needed for our movement. Snow and ice covered the land. At night our regiment was prepared; the order was to cross the railway at the Karsena station in the Vilna-Molodcheno route and to advance towards the above mentioned area. We also received [392] an order to eradicate any potential obstacle on the way, in order to reach the target zone as quickly as possible. We were more or less adequately equipped. We wore white robes, that served as good camouflage in winter; we sat in the sleds and advanced towards the railway in Karsena. When we reached the spot we came across a strong German guard and went into fierce battle. Our regiment opened continuous and rapid fire, and we thus swept German resistance away. Eight of them were killed on the spot and the rest retreated. We thus crossed the tracks and continued on. That very same night we reached the town of Horodok. Although we could not estimate the German forces in town, we could not avoid a face-to-face confrontation with them. We stormed the town, and the Germans were frightened and astounded and didn't know what was going on. Many of them were killed on the spot, and the rest escaped, leaving behind weapons, equipment, and supply storage. We thus got some arms, weapons, and expensive equipment. We took as much as we could with us, and the rest we destroyed, bombed and burnt.

- - - We continued our advance that very night and were prepared for anything to happen. Five kilometers away from Horodok we again passed by a German base where a strong garrison and police force were located. Despite that, we did not come under fire we were able to continue on. They may have thought that we were a German convoy that was due to pass by that place; they may have feared the strong force of partisans in the area and therefore did not initiate a confrontation. In any case, our route that night did not cross any additional obstacles. We thus managed to penetrate the thick Naliboki forest. We continued inward to the thick of the forest. There we settled down, and released some of the night's tensions. We rested for a few days, sent out scouts to get to know the area, contacted partisans from another brigade in the area. We continued to wait for the rest of the journey.

- -The rest was predictable. On the way to the forest we needed to reach the Biroza river, a rivulet of the Nimen. According to our intelligence, the Germans gathered on the Biroza a considerable stock of wooden rafts for their strategic needs. Our mission was to prevent this. We therefore arrived at the spot and organized a forceful ambush for the Germans. This was in the light of day... A convoy equipped with automatic weapons reached the spot accompanied by trucks to pick up the wood. They stepped into our ambush. We opened continuous fire. They were astounded and startled. We killed almost unceasingly. A large part of them found their death on the bank of the Biroza. And the rest managed to escape quickly in a few trucks. [393] We bombed the abandoned trucks and retreated to the forest without any loss of life. This repeated itself three days later. This time the Germans arrived with very strong reenforcement and a prepared battle plan, but again they stepped into our ambushes. The fire was deadly. Again the Germans retreated, leaving their dead on the battlefield and unable to load the wood.

A week later an order reached us to have "The Avenger" regiment prepared for a wide-dimension raid on the airport in Lida, to damage fundamentally its constructions. One night the whole regiment was prepared for this big operation. For that purpose we sent a vanguard that included 8 scouts and I among them. We embarked, the whole regiment following us at some distance. This was a cold and cloudy winter night, and we advanced quietly. On the background of the snow that covered the earth we looked like ghosts in our white robes. We reached the vicinity of the Lida airport, which was located about 3 kilometers from the city. We toured the area carefully. At some distance from the airport we saw a well-lit house. Sounds of singing and laughter came from it - a fact that testified to its dwellers' sense of security, that they did not expect anything unusual and suspected nothing. We immediately found out that there were no guards in the area and that we could operate. We informed the regiment behind us of that, and then approached the house and surrounded it. We positioned a few partisans with automatic weapons by the windows, and I with 3 men knocked on the door. Through one of the windows we saw two officers from the airforce and a few women, who ate greedily, drank to excess, sang, laughed and revelled, and all were drunk. When after a few moments they opened the door, we barged in. "Hands up!" - I roared. They were frightened, confused and intoxicated, and lifted up their hands. I ordered their weapons to be taken and informed them that they were prisoners. We informed the regimental headquarters of this through as special messenger and that very same night the right message was transferred to the main headquarters of the partisan army, which flew the prisoner officers immediately to Moscow. In the meantime our whole regiment arrived, raided the airport and destroyed its facilities. Whomever resisted was shot and killed. We bombed a few airplanes that were parked on the runways and began to organize for retreat. Dawn had arrived, and we feared that at any moment German reenforcements would arrive. We accomplished the mission with no loss of life on our side and returned to our base. A few days after this operation we were informed that we had to go back east, towards Ilya. Again, the regiment organized for the journey and we returned to our homeland.

Again the operations and raids began. On one dark and rainy night we went on a raid on the village of Kaschinivitz, located in our area. We were informed that there, inside a Polish church, [394] a German garrison fortified itself. Our saboteurs approached the church, planted a few explosives, and caused it to fly in the air including all the Germans that were inside. In that operation my friend Chaim Riar was severely wounded. I carried him on my back a long way until we reached a center for the wounded, where he was immediately put on the surgeon's table. An operation was performed. A bruised bone was extracted and instead they put a platinum tube that remained protracted. He lay down all feverish and writhing, unconscious and with high temperature. He suffered badly. Being unconscious and due to inadequate supervision he extracted the tube and caused bleeding. Thus he left our world. We buried him in the forest near the village of Melinki.

Weeks and months went by, we got used to the forest and became part of it. This is what our life was like, the life of itinerant partisans. During one of the raid operations - when we bombed the Kaschinivitz railway, a serious mishap occurred. During the retreat to the base my leg muscles cramped and I could not take one further step. I remained lying in the snow, and my operation companions almost abandoned me to the cold and to the danger of falling into German hands. When I began to entreat my friends to shoot me rather than let me be captured by Germans, they finally understood that I wasn't pretending, they lifted me up and helped me reach the center for the wounded. There a Jewish doctor from Minsk took care of me - the same doctor that operated on my friend Chaim Riar. Thanks to him I survived.

The Partisan Manhunt April-May 1944

The raid and sabotage operations of the partisan regiments that operated in all war zones and in the various fronts -- both in the deep of Russia and in the Byelorussian regions that belonged to Poland before the war against Hitler -- bothered the Germans very much. Partisan operations slowed down their rapid advancement during the offense, and on the other hand disconnected their bases in the rear and created obstacles for their retreat. This situation forced the main German headquarters to completely eradicate the partisan force. The order was given, and the enemy's army brought forth 30 divisions of Germans, Ukrainians, other appended forces, and the Volsov army (a Russian General who defected along with his forces and moved to the German side at the end of 1941) who advanced in a row in order to put a blockade on our forces. They advanced into the forests. We were pushed further and further, and the noose of the blockade tightened around our necks from day to day. As a result, all the partisan brigades gathered and united and created one long front. Indeed, those were [395] very difficult days. We avoided as much as we could face to face confrontations, but our camps drew closer and closer and an open battle could no longer be avoided. Eventually we entered into a cruel, bloody battle one day. The enemy came very near: and brought forth tanks, airplanes, and artillery. We, on our side, operated anti-tank weaponry. The enemy's loudspeakers tried to convince us to lay down our weapons and surrender, since we were surrounded by a tight iron noose. We responded with a shower of fire and explosives. Thus a cruel and desperate battle began, a bloody battle that lasted for 3 days. On the first day we managed to destroy and render inoperative a few of the enemy's tanks. But in their place others came. The German artillery continued to bomb the forest, the planes bombed us from the air, and the fight continued....

I and the engineer Rotblatt were sent as scouts to collect information on the gathering German forces. We rode horses and approached the house of one civilian near the forest - the residence of one of our signallers. She ran out in fright and told us: all the roads are blocked and through them an unending convoy of armed German brigades, tanks and canons are coming in. We gave her written information for another signaller, but at that moment we noticed an armed German convoy and we spurred the horses and galloped down the hill. The Germans noticed us and operated their artillery. Our situation was bad. We were surrounded.... We continued to ride as the bombs exploded before and behind us. Suddenly Rotblatt's horse slipped, and I felt that both of them fell down. I shivered and yelled for him to run quickly after me. And then he somehow managed to pull his horse up and we continued to gallop. In order to lose our chasers, we digressed about 10 kilometers towards a big swamp. After we crossed it with much difficulty and managed to make it down, the commander of the regiment and the other officers and all our close friends thought that we were no longer alive. This opinion was based on information given by the regimental watch that saw us surrounded and escaping the Germans, who showered us with artillery. He was therefore convinced that we were killed and told the supervisors so.

...In the meantime a day had gone by and nighttime arrived. The force of the fire we were showered with did not diminish. We, too, did not cease firing on the tanks and convoys that came into contact with us. The real and close danger united the regiment's men with all the other brigades. Everyone knew that the difficult trial was still ahead. Thus the fierce and bitter battles continued for three days. The Germans suffered heavy losses, but [396] they did not spare personnel and equipment and assigned to the battle armed convoys and additional forces... Although our losses were not slight, we managed to retain our strength for the time being. After three days of fighting an order reached us from the Red Army's headquarters to abandon the front and retreat as quickly as possible to the Barzina area. It seemed that the Red Army's headquarters planned a major attack on the Germans; we assumed that we would now hook up with the regular army.

The order was followed. Tired and hungry, craving for warm food, we reached Barzina at night; we settled down for rest. But there was no sense talking about food. Because of the risk of air bombs, there was no possibility of lighting a fire and cooking anything. It had been three days since we tasted tea, not to mention a hot cup of soup. We lay down to rest on an almost empty stomach...

Two or three days had gone by, for now the contact between us and the advancing German convoys was disconnected, but the hunt continued. We felt clearly how the ring of the blockade was tightening around us. From the other side of the front we got some discouraging news. The Red Army's frontal attack hadn't occurred yet; it seems that the Germans found out the details of the plan in advance and that accounted for the delay. Before we got a chance to reorganize and prepare ourselves; before we rested sufficiently from the fights, an order from Moscow arrived that all partisan forces must go back west. Under any condition and for any price we were told to break and disconnect the German front, in order to delay their advance towards Moscow. As I mentioned, the main partisan force was near Barzina in the Smolensk region, and this force had not only to delay the German forces but also to force them to retreat.

The recognition of the inevitability of the situation energized us. All the partisan brigades jumped forth to battle. Our forces had about 40,000 men, surrounded and caught inside the German blockade, a blockade encompassing a wide and big area. Bitter and desperate battles, consisting alternately of offenses and retreats, took place. We fought for every piece of land, and eventually managed, after a few weeks of bloody battles, to break the German front and disconnect its lines. Our losses were many and we lost almost half of our force, but not for nothing! We returned to the Vileika-Ulkovitz line. Again we advanced toward Ilya, to the big communal grave of my family, my friends, my town...

[397] At that time an important event occurred in the western Byelorussian front, that strengthened the partisan movement by much and helped the Red Army's outflank, already positioned at the gates of Warsaw for the last few months. This was the defection of the Volsov regiment with their commander Reyonov. The colonel Reyonov was the deputy of General Volsov that we mentioned above, and along with him he passed with the large force to the German side. For over 3 years they fought against the Red Army and were very dangerous in the war against the partisans. But their big losses on the one hand, and their inability to bring down the partisans and the blows the Germans received on the other, made them hesitate and originate the idea of a renewed and reversed defection. This development did not go unnoticed in the partisan camp.

The Red Army's propaganda began morning and night, through the radio and pamphlet jettisoned in the air, to call on that brigade to return and fight against the enemies of the homeland. It also promised everyone who moved to the Red Army's side amnesty for all the treasonous acts of the past. With the surprising developments against the Germans on the various fronts, a special atmosphere was created to facilitate this propaganda. One morning this brigade rebelled and turned its weapons against its officers who were loyal to the Germans. The General Volsov along with his loyal friends left their headquarter and escaped. His deputy Reyonov conducted official negotiations with the representatives of the partisan movement's headquarters in the presence of a representative of the Red Army's headquarters. The negotiations ended in success and in Badukshitz the brigade joined the partisans. As is the custom in such cases, the brigade was dismantled and divided between the various units in the partisan army. This event strengthened us and we dealt some serious blows to the enemy. We thus managed to pulverize, disconnect and finally break the German front. The breaking of the front by the partisan forces cleared the was for a final general attack by the Red Army, that completely paralyzed for months any German resistance. Thus the way to Berlin was opened....

We then reached the forest of my childhood's region. These were places that I knew as well as the palm of my hand. After bitter, desperate and weary battles, after much spilling of blood and sacrificing of lives, we had to find our way in the zone, to collect intelligence on German advances, to train, to organize and be prepared for new operations. This mission was again given to me and the engineer Rotblatt. Again we rode our horses, equipped with a machine guns, handguns, and a few hand grenades each. This was the summer, the season of the standing crop. At noon we reached a certain village. To this day I do not know whether the Germans themselves spotted us, [398] or whether one of the traitors told them of our arrival. In any case, they ambushed us inside the standing crop, and apparently wanted to catch us alive. Without realizing this, we headed inside the village. A door was quietly opened in one house, and the figure of a Polish woman that I knew well stood in the door way, and whispered in Polish: "Solominski, get out of here quickly, for God's sakes, 10 meters behind the house Germans are lying down waiting to catch you, run for your lives!" -- We ran as quickly as we could. After we got away from the house a distance of about 200 meters, we climbed a hill, from which we indeed saw the Germans lying down in the standing crop. We escaped to the forest quickly, but could not go back to the camp without intelligence. I therefore suggested to my friend that we go to a different village. We left the horses behind and crossed the swamp on foot, reached a mansion at the edge of the forest and entered. We asked the peasant what was happening. With growing astonishment he looked at us and said: "I can't believe you survived. The German's assistants are boasting that they managed to destroy all the partisans." We learned from him the German force in the area wasn't big now, that most of it got stuck in the Barzina region. We drank some water; my friend even suggested that we sit down and rest, but I insisted that we hurry up and go back to the forest.

Not long had passed since we entered the forest when we suddenly saw in the distance columns of smoke and fire... We didn't understand the meaning of this; only later, when we advanced about 10 kilometers into the wood and turned to a different village, did we find out. We turned to a peasant in order to complete our intelligence on the situation in the area. We there learned that the Germans entered the mansion and told the peasant that they saw some partisans enter. Where had he hidden them? The fellow told them innocently that he did not know whether they were partisans, they drank some water and left, and human decency demands that we do not keep water away from a thirsty human being! The Germans were enraged. They shut the peasant and his entire household inside the house and lit it on fire. The cries of the women and children who were burnt alive terrified the whole area. Only then did we understand that as we left the mansion the Germans noticed us. Despite the toughness we developed during our travels, I felt sorry for the death of the innocent that we were the cause of... and our hearts ached very badly. From this peasant we found out also that in the area there were relatively few Germans. The German garrison stayed only in Kornitz and Vileika, areas that now constituted important supply stations for the German army that had advanced beyond Barzina. We were now extra careful on the way to the forest, got on our horses, and returned to the headquarters with our intelligence via another route.

The circumstances of partisan warfare, and our excessive weariness caused a [399] serious pause in our military operations. We now had a few weeks of quiet and inaction. We renewed our strength, trained, and reorganized. I presented the commander with plans for an operation of large scale on Vileika and Kornitz.

In these two places there were supply bases important to the Germans. In Kornitz there was a flour mill and a big sawmill and nearby a train station, storage houses and factories, that worked full strength. The same was true of Vileika. These two spots were defended by a regular garrison, equipped with the best automatic weapons and supplies. We prepared the plans for the raid thoroughly.

Late in an evening in July 1944 - we broke into -- we the men of "The Avenger" regiment that turned into a brigade -- these two spots simultaneously. The Germans in Kornitz fortified themselves well in the police station. We took over the town, bombed for a few hours all the bases and important militarily important locations. We also set an ambush to prevent reenforcement from Vileika. German losses at Kornitz and Vilieka were very big. In Kornitz we suffered no losses, but on the other hand the operation in Vileika cost us three dead and 11 wounded. The bridge on the Ilya river that passes through town was well protected by the German forces. A bitter, courageous and persistent battle took place. Despite the losses, the partisans stormed the town, bombed the train station and the tracks, the mill and the bridge. This coordinated attack on both towns simultaneously worked first and foremost on a psychological level. The Germans -- the garrison -- believed that not only the partisans were fighting them, but that a whole brigade of the Red Army advanced and reached the place. They began to escape, some gave themselves up and others were killed. Our forces operated all night. With dawn we began to retreat. The Germans began to bring in reenforcement from all sides. Our forces retreated in an organized fashion and according to the plan.

A few days later an order was give to raid our town Ilya and the Ubudovtzi mansion, that stood nearby and served as a strong and fortified military base. I was the commander of the platoon that raided Ilya. After a battle the German resistance was broken, we took over the police and Gestapo headquarters, burnt it, and we also bombed and burnt the flour mill - my parent's mill. I first entered the mill to save the Polish mechanic, and when he saw me he fell on my neck and wept. I took him out of there quickly, laid down the explosives and lit them. I thus destroyed with my own hands my parent's property... I didn't get a chance to withdraw to some corner, to be alone with [400] myself, to think and recall the precious memories of my past, my childhood and adolescent in our town. We had to retreat again, but I went back there a few weeks after the liberation of Vilna and the purging of the whole area.

The raid in Ilya and Ubodovtzi scared the Germans, who suffered big losses. The assistants to the Germans among the area's peasants were afraid to move about in the area during daylight. They began to fear for their fate, since they saw that the wheel of fortune had turned...

In the meantime, the Red Army had done its job and went ahead from one victory to the next. In a matter of weeks Minsk was liberated and the Vilna area was conquered and purged. One morning we were told that all the partisan brigades were to gather in Minsk. From now on we were soldiers of the Red Army and no longer partisans. A few days later - on a beautiful summer day - there we stood, the whole ex-partisan army - in a parade in the central square of Minsk, and listened to a special order of the day from the commander of the general headquarters, who recited the partisan operations. Waves of joy overtook all hearts, and us too, the surviving Jewish partisans, were swept by it. But in the secrecy of our hearts there was sorrow and bitterness. The order of the day mentioned everybody, Russian and Byelorussians, Lithuanians and Polish, Latvians and Tatars.... Only us, the few solitary Jews, remained anonymous. We fought as Russians and Byelorussians and Poles, but not as Jews. So we stood and marched in the parade and what followed; streams of blood, our loved ones' graves, orphanhood, loss and bereavement behind us. Before us - waves of joy, the sound of the crowd cheering, and on this occasion too we were foreign and anonymous. The victory is ours, but not the Joy!...

Rays of Light from the Abyss

Thus my testimony ends, but I feel that it would not be complete without mentioning those who loved Israel and loved mankind - among the partisans and among the area's peasants (especially Poles) who helped the Jews and saved them from very many and real dangers. They especially helped the non-fighting Jews, with their wives and children, who found themselves in the thick of the forests. This is the place to mention Captain S. - A Christian Russian, the storekeeper of the brigade - who helped the non fighting Jews with food and supplies, and more than once saved them from death by starvation. We should also mention V., the regiment's politruk - who was later appointed the brigade's commissar. He too helped many civilians. He never distinguished between Jews and Christians. And there is the story of [401] one Jew - a partisan called Levin - who was sent to Vilna to get hold of a topographic map of the town and its vicinity and gather intelligence. This man was a coward and never reached the target. He returned empty handed, without the funds that he was provided with, claiming that partisans from another brigade attacked him and robbed him of the money. A wide and through investigation was held and it was made apparent that this was a lie. No one attacked him and he hid the money. The anti-Semites had an excuse to fling around. A conspiracy against the Jews in general began. He was arrested, put on military trial and sentenced to death. He was barely saved from that sentence thanks to the interference of V. the brigade's commissar. V. turned to the military prosecutor and asked that the sentence be mitigated. That he be given the maximum punishment other than capital punishment. After looking the case over the persecutor agreed to this and Levin was assigned with the bombing of an enemy train. If he were to succeed, he'd be free. And indeed that is what happened.

In the beginning of 1945 I was sent to Ilya in order to rebuild the flour mill and operate basic factories for the Red Army. I stood at the heart of town and thought: Ilya my town! What kind of a sight are you, without all your Jews, without all our dear ones who perished in such cruel circumstances?! I felt in every part of my body that it was time to embark on a new journey.

[421] Yona Riar

IN MEMORY

of my parents, my sisters, my

brother and all the town's Jews,

who stood prepared in the "selection"

rows - ready to die in martyrdom

for the God of Yisrael.

Bless Their Souls.

The Holocaust

As a Jew who was privileged enough to be among the few survivors of the horrors of the biggest massacre in our people's history, I am obliged to stand before the jurors of our nation, to testify and explain the bloody events, incomparable to any other event in history. Although the scope of my testimony includes only the town of my birth and its close vicinity, it undoubtedly exemplifies the general situation - and its main significance is not scientific, but lies in its presenting the naked truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I do not wish to emphasize the facts. My friends have already done so the best they could, and I have nothing new to add. My testimony will therefore strive towards a more general awareness, and I will refer mainly to the spiritual state of those that were condemned to die a slow and prolonged death, a death that really began with the outbreak of the Second World War, when the boots of the Nazi soldiers crossed the Polish borders, but that was actually materialized only with the Nazi invasion into Russian territory. If I do insert facts here and there, I do so to demonstrate the general atmosphere that I wish to convey to our sons and to the next generations.

Ever-Lasting Hatred

At the outbreak of the Second World War I was living in Poland's capital, Warsaw, where I worked alongside my late brother Yitzchak, who later fell in battle.

As soon as the first of September 1939, we felt the ground burn beneath our feet and preferred to be in our family's nest during the hard days that the future had in store. Although the aggressive invaders were the ones who carried the poison of Jew-hatred [422], and this alone should have convinced the assaulted Polish people to hold back their tradition of anti-Semitism, they remained, in fact, blinded and poisoned by their hatred for Jews. Even when they fought with their backs against the wall, they were unable to

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Yitzchak - Bless his Soul

suppress this hatred and to refrain from voicing it publicly. We encountered this strange phenomenon already on board the train. The slogan: "throw the damned Jews off the train" was incessantly heard. Although their own houses were burning, their hearts were glad that they gained "revenge against the fleas." Despite the fact that, aside from the internal war, they were preparing for war from the back -- the Russian invasion -- they did not repent.

We were therefore forced to leave the train and advanced 400 km on foot, in constant fear. This trail was not easy, and here too we experienced anti-Semitism. When we approached a peasant's house for bread and water, he resisted dealing with us, explaining openly that Jews are not wanted in his house. Other similar experiences occurred again and again. We had no choice but to make it home hungry, tired, and feeble.

The Russian Invasion

In Ilya, the confusion was fully felt. The Polish, who retreated for fear of the advancing Russians, mustered all their people and transportation vehicles. The following morning the Russians crossed the border that lay 10 km away from town, and the first "Politruks" arrived. Their reception in town was varied. Some of the inhabitants, fearful of what's to come, [423] walked about gloomily. Those who were "proletariat" were wholeheartedly glad, hoping that the newcomers will save them from their suffering and problems. Official, veteran communists we did not have in town, but there were quite a few potential sympathizers and people who leaned in that direction. We will not provide the details that illustrate the behavior of the "sympathizing" Jews, and how they made the lives of the wealthier town residents miserable. Today, when we are discussing the Holocaust, their actions resemble one drop in a sea of blood and tears of the Holocaust. On their actions we will only say this: if there is a God in heaven, and we are sure that there is - he will pay them back. Three synagogues were burnt and one church was turned into a movie theater. Apartment owners were transferred to the slums and their place was taken by the representatives of the foreign authorities and by the local "ideaologists."

As in other places, there were Jews in our town who hinted at subversion against the "liberating" regime. As a result, and because of informers, they were sent to Siberia and to prisons. The local Christians had already made their first steps toward mastering the art of informing against Jews, in appearing as witnesses of all types and forms.

A Wave of Marriages

The innovations and revolutions that marked this period solved many problems, and especially the problem of the adolescents who reached the age of marriage but could not get married up until then: on the one hand because of class distinction and "family origin," and on the other hand because of the tough economic situation and the heavy responsibility that being married imposes on a couple. Now these problems were solved. The "egalitarianism" and "equal employment opportunities" regulated by this regime opened new horizons for these couples, and finally allowed them to fulfil their dream of getting married. As a result there was a increasing wave of marriages at that time, and the writer of these lines was the last to get married in this long matrimonial chain, before the bloody curtain descended.

The Eve of the German Invasion

The German invasion of Russia was felt in the air even before it began. The Jews, who feared the coming of the Germans, were apprehensive, although they did not believe the rumors of the cruelty of the Germans and deemed them exaggerated. On the other hand, the peasants and Jew-haters reared their heads, and planned the destruction [424] of the Jews and the robbery of their property. A sense of helplessness and of general vulnerability spread among the Jewish population and they clung tighter and tighter to the town of their birth. They did not believe the horror stories, despite the sense of doom that prevailed.

At this time my sister Yochevet's first son was born, and the ritual of his initiation into the B'rith of Abraham was far from joyful, as would have been appropriate. This mood was present in the circumciser's suggestion -- Rabbi Yitzchak, may he rest in peace -- that the newborn be named "Chaim,"* emphasizing that such a name is symbolic and crucial at the present time, when the heavens are darkening and heavy clouds appear in the skies of our fate. A few days later I was supposed to celebrate the rite of "Pidion" for my eldest son, but this never took place...

- P H O T O G R A P H -

My family. Standing from right to left: myself, my sister Tziporah who is in Israel. My sisters Yochevet and Taibe and my brother David Ya'akov who perished in the Holocaust. Seated: my father and my mother

The Beginning of the Nazi Occupation

The Nazi armies, marching from one victory to the next, reached us, too. Rumors of the murderous and horrible deeds that they committed in cold blood passed from mouth to ear, but only a few believed them. This is impossible! The Germans are, after all, a civilized people. We live, after all, in the twentieth century. Those comforting words were uttered, ironically, by the wisest, known publicly for their intelligence. In addition, the murderers were psychologically careful to explain the disappearance of this population or that, by their transference to "productive labor." This explanation suited the Jewish temper [425] very well, at the core of which optimism is rooted, and eternal hope: "things will be well." Even when the first steps of the extinction took place -- the killing of a few individuals as if for just reasons -- even then the eyes of the blind optimists remained shut. Even in the last stages, as they literally stood on the threshold of the grave, they continued to believe in God the savior who will appear momentarily. And with their secret hope they burned.

The Planning of the Extinction

The stages of the extinction were slow, calculated and planned, so as to not incite the Jewish population to rebel, and so as to not put them in a desperate situation while they are still at the peak of their mental and physical strength, and may organize and take certain steps in opposition. First, they had to get used to "life in productive labor," in other words, the imposition of strenuous labor on them, and their placement under the charge of oppressors. The Jews gradually got used to this, and the slogan: "mir volan zie iberlaben" [in Yiddish] was carried from mouth to mouth and from heart to heart. The second stage was of course to starve them under the excuse of war conditions and necessary sacrifices. When his stomach is empty, a man can no longer consider rebellion, neither to save himself or the collective. The third stage was of course to break their spirit, to employ them in degrading labor such as the cleaning of toilets and carrying the manure on their backs during scorching summer days, to persecute them and at the same time forbid them to react, to force them to wear a yellow badge in front and in back, and to make them sick by concentrating them in unusually dense conditions. Everything in stages- planned and consistent, until one tires of life and the spirit of self-defense no longer arises. A sense of indifference to life was created, until they wished for death to save them from the dire straights they were struck by.

The Beginning of the Pillage

And what was the attitude of the neighbors, with whose fathers and grandfathers we lived as neighbors for hundreds of years? First they tried to ask their Jewish acquaintances to give them their belongings - "you're better off giving it to friends than to the enemies that rose against you." These demands were made even before the German enemy has arrived. As soon as in the following day they shed their mask of congeniality. They came and, without saying a word, took things, and in their eyes [426] glimmered hate and murderousness. Although never articulated, it was clear that he who would resist will be murdered. And the Jews read these thoughts and did not even try to resist. The neighboring people, whom we more than once regarded with amicability and trust, were exposed in their sadistic and murderous nakedness, of which they were aware and proud. This zoological instinct was resurrected, and liberated a deeply rooted impulse - hatred for the chosen people. There was full and frank cooperation between the invader and the neighbors, and although each of the partners had his own reasons for murder, the murder and extinction themselves constituted a common purpose.

The Reason Why Only a Few Escaped

The obvious conclusion was that it was necessary to run and hide. Undoubtedly, this is the conclusion of many, especially those of good fortune who were out of Nazi reach. Suppose so. You who support this idea, would you explain where could one have run to? To the villages? To the peasants, who up until yesterday were considered friends? Now at least 90% of them cooperated with the Nazis and delighted over the prospect of spilling the blood of any Jew who accidently came in their way, or that placed his fate in their hands, out of trust of his erstwhile friends. The sons of those who were your class-mates, your sports team-mates, were the first to lend their hand to the murder of your parents. They became militia men and showed lively interest in uncovering hiding Jews, and killing them on the spot or turning them over to the Nazis.

The Treatment of Jews in the Forest

Where, do you suppose, would one escape? To the forest? Do you suppose that here a Jew could find peace? The few that went from door to door to request a piece of bread were turned away or deliberately turned over to the Nazis. And those who were saved from this fate, for some reason, did they find rest and an opportunity to avenge the spilt blood? Are the Jewish partisans that were slain by their "brothers" in arms, likewise partisans, rare? Are there only a few Jewish girls who after a wild escape managed to find shelter in the forest, only to be raped by dozens of "brothers in arms," until their souls expired? Do you suppose that if a Jewish youth managed to escape the storm of bullets that were aimed at him and to reach the forest, he was accepted with empathy by the partisans? If that is what you think, you are [427] mistaken. The hatred for the Jews was so deeply rooted, and the atmosphere so poisonous, that only a few unique individuals managed to be absorbed into the new community. We will not examine the fact that the Jews were purposefully sent first to the most dangerous locations, to evaluate the situation with their bodies and lives. It is not surprising, therefore, that only relatively few were willing, under those conditions, to go toward immediate danger -- and even fewer managed to escape to the forest without getting hit by the storm of bullets fired in their direction.

The Reason Why So Few Rebelled

We have already mentioned that the Germans began their actions with careful planning and that they advanced in stages. It is possible that were they to begin the extinction immediately, things would have developed differently: the Jews would have rebelled and the slogan: "let my soul perish with the Philistines," would have become the rule. But they approached the murder with scientific precision and planning, which purpose was to drain out vitality. First they enslaved them, robbed them of their property, oppressed them, broke their spirit, but did not take away the hope that they will survive, and even encouraged this belief. The plan in its every stage was perfectly detailed, and its main purpose was to create an illusion... that hope was not yet lost...

The "Yudenrat"

For the sake of truth we should not conceal the fact that the youth saw what was coming better than their parents and argued that an escape to the forest was necessary, despite everything. But our parents interpreted everything as the coming of the messiah: in his sermon, the town's rabbi, Rabbi Remez, may he rest in peace, said that the Jews must build "Petom and Ramsis" to be worthy of salvation.

But did the Germans directly enslave the Jewish population with menial labor? Was it only the Germans who made requisitions on Jewish property? Excluding the first and main requisition, that was performed by the authorities of the invading enemy, this task was performed by the "Yudenrat," our own flesh and blood. Yes, they too did it, they too performed the task. I am not condemning the "Yudenrat." On the contrary, they did as they could to alleviate the cruel edict, under the circumstances. They conducted themselves with honesty and supreme objectivity. They remembered their friends favorably. Their friends were the first to risk [428] themselves by meeting directly with the representatives of the forces of destruction. Although they conducted themselves with honor and brotherly love, here and there people complained about the "Yudenrat's" behavior, and perhaps justly so, but undoubtedly these cases were rare. Most of the "Yudenrat," despite their special situation, were fair. They realized and understood what a heavy burden was imposed on them, and their credo was to save whatever was possible, and to postpone the end as much as possible. In case a miracle occurs in the meantime, in case God remembers his chosen people.

"The People of Israel are Responsible for One Another"

Evidently, the only way to counter cruel fate, even if only for a short while, was through bribery. This is the path that the "Yudenrat" took. Common fate led to true love and wonderful unity. "The people of Israel are responsible for one another." Private property, property that is "mine" was out of the question. Everything belonged to "everyone," and if bribe money was needed, those who still had some resources carried the burden. The phenomenon of extreme devotion in helping another was revealed in all its glory. Cruel fate proved that the unity of Israel is not merely a legend. The boundaries that formed in the course of many generation were erased, offenses were forgiven, and traditional family feuds disappeared. A love for Israel, such that was never experienced since we became a people, was now demonstrated.

Hospitality

The love for Israel encircled also the war refugees from the surrounding towns, who stormed our town looking for temporary shelter, their houses having been destroyed, their families killed, their birth-towns erased from the face of the earth by the enemy. Every such refugee was adopted by a family and it provided him with shelter, food, bed and roof. For some reason the refugees believed, unfoundedly of course, that the Ilyites will be saved by some heavenly force.

Strenuous Labor under the Guise of Productivization

Under the guise of productivization, that indeed began under the Russian regime, the Germans worked the Jews strenuously. And, of course, not only in productive labor, but in every type of labor that breaks the body and destroys the soul. The Jews [429] were made available to the local Christians, who could use them for any degrading labor. Cleaning toilets became a regular employment in which Jews became specialists and were forced to perform with their hands. Thus decreed the oppressors, who were really the town's native residents and knew every Jew and his family personally. They were literally delighted by the tragedy that befell the Jews and gloated over their misery.

Persecution by the Militia

The militia, consisting of the Christian-Polish intelligentsia of town, was a full and direct partner of the Germans in their acts of pillage and murder. It performed its job with efficient and consistent cruelty. But not only the "lions" in the herd excelled in cruelty. The weaklings did not remain far behind, and sometimes were more aggressive than the "lions," to cover up their insecurities. And not only the official militia excelled in its dedication to the job. Most Christians turned into Reich patriots and aided the Germans. In persecution and pillage at first, and then in physical destruction. Every person with arms and legs used them to prove his strength by abuse. And needless to say, reaction was forbidden. He who did not control himself was immediately executed. The Jews suffered silently, because in their subconscious they believed in "mir volan zie iberlaben," but their self control did not help and their hopes were disappointed. They managed, in fact, only to prolong their physical and mental agony for a few days, a few months at the most. The militia used every excuse, or a shadow of an excuse, to increase the burden. Every blow at an invader, his property, his loot, or anything he owned, was considered the fault of the Jews and as a response they were pogromed.

The Budding of Resistance

For truth's sake we must assert that the first organizers of partisan resistance troops were the Russian prisoners of war who were concentrated in different locations in occupied Byelorussia. This is not the right forum to determine whether partisan organization was done from patriotic motivation, or for the sake of survival. Possibly, both are true. But, undoubtedly, hunger and homelessness were significant causes in the realization of the idea. These conditions caused fermentation in the camps, and a [430] mass escape to the neighboring forests ensued. Reason and the will to live still ruled in their hearts.

In the forests they needed to seek a new course. The little food that was given to them in the camps was no longer provided. For lack of other possibilities, they began theft operations in the near-by villages. The harsh treatment they received by the peasants forced them to organize in groups, and to arm themselves, so that they could overcome anyone who physically resisted them. The weapons, purchased literally with blood, were later directed towards the enemy. Nazi soldiers who found themselves in the forests were attacked by partisans, disarmed and killed.

When the theft increased and reached serious proportions, the Christian residents attributed it to the Jews, and indeed this is how they presented the situation to the Germans. As a result the Germans ordered the Jews to wear the yellow badge, on which the Star of David was featured. This occasion was celebrated by the "Byelorussian patriots" of the Reich, whereas the Jews were presented with more difficulties, on top of the existing ones.

"From the Depth I Call to You, Lord"

Stress and heavy depression descended on the Jews, and a sense of impending doom prevailed. This time they felt more emphatically that something serious was about to happen, and soon. At this moment, traditional and ancient prayers seemed very relevant, as if they were composed especially for the present time. Although only the lips moved, and no sound was heard, the heart cried:

... Our Lord, Our King - cancel the thoughts of our enemy...

... Our Lord, Our King - cancel the cruel edicts...

... Our Lord, Our King - alleviate the cruelty of our sentence...

But despite all, the prayer did not help. The sense that the extinction plan was being formulated and approached its final form with constant, cold logic was growing.

We were now approaching the final stage, and many illusions were being shattered. The impending end was felt in the atmosphere, a kind of a prolonged day of atonement, that persisted for days, weeks and months and enveloped the Jews. The feeling that the day of judgement was coming told that this time, the "Netane Tokef" prayer was final. Lips prayed in whispers, eyes shed tears -- "for He is terrible"... And the brain, to the extent that it could still function, raised from oblivion the sentences: Who shall live [431] and who shall die? Who has reached his end and who hasn't? Who in water... and who in fire...as if the heart predicted that most of them were destined to perish in fire... The mere though that this is the destiny in store for the individual and for the collective shattered the nerves and deprived them of the will to live. It is no wonder, thus, that very many prayed a quiet prayer to their God: Master of the Universe, until where, until when will the suffering and humiliation continue? For is not death better than life of enslavement and degradation?

Towards the First Massacre

Then the inevitable came. Tuesday, the 29th of the month of Adar 1942, an accelerated motion was sensed from early morning, and we felt that today we are destined to stand before judgement: some to live and some to die. Everything around us bore witness of what's to come: reinforced and fully armed units consisting of S.S. men filled the streets. The assisting militia, comprised of Byelorussians, Ukrainians, Lithuanians and Latvians - disconnected all the roads to and from town, and especially guarded the routes that led to the neighboring forests. Machine guns were positioned to form a wide front that surrounded the town, as if the enemy was about to combat a huge, offensive force. And against whom was this murderous might directed? Children, women, men and the elderly, half starved, broken in their bodies and souls, tired and exhausted by their plight and the constant degradation - ready to go towards saving death together with joy, in order to end this chapter of suffering and hardships.

On the Way to Concentration

The Germans now began to take the town's Jews out of their houses and to concentrate them in the place allocated for the selection, in the middle of the marketplace. Two by two, S.S. men armed from head to toe, entered the houses and extracted any living soul from them. They returned a second time to the house and inspected it carefully, in case someone was hiding. Thus they progressed from house to house. Those who resisted or were ill were killed on the spot, and the others were pushed on, whole families interlocking their arms as if on the way to a wedding, to the marketplace, in front of the late Moshe Zut's house.

The groups advanced together toward their bitter fate, but still their faces were not darkened by sadness. On the contrary, the suffering and prolonged humiliation made them despise this degrading life, and they saw in death salvation and deliverance.

[432]

The Selection

Those candidates for death reached the concentration spot, where the decision would take place on who would live and who would die. They took advantage of a pause to say goodbye to each other - a farewell that bore the traditional character of Yom Kippur Eve, when each and every one awaits his verdict. Each forgives his fellow if he hurt or offended him - the idea is to atone for sins between man and his fellow.

The atmosphere becomes a bit more tense when parents and friends, close and less so, turn to the younger ones -- that they believe have a better chance of surviving -- and ask them to pray "Kaddish" for their souls on the anniversary of their death. Parents give an oral will to their sons, kiss, embrace and cry -- the most important will is that concerning the "kaddish" for the dead -- and many promises are made. Even though they were condemned to die and their oath will descend to the grave along with them.[xlv]

Exactly how the selection was to be performed none of those present knew. Most assumed that the young and healthy would survive and the elderly be executed. But this is not what happened. Very few survived the selection, and those were mainly the various artisans: tinsmiths, cobblers, tailors, and so on. All others departed from the land of the living. Harrowing scenes took place when a husband, needed for labor, was separated from his wife. The husband refused to remain alive, and thus forced the Nazis to let the entire family live.

Towards Death

As the selection ended, two groups were formed. One consisted of the majority of the town's Jews who appeared at the concentration scene, and they were condemned to die. In contrast, the small second group, consisting mainly of skilled workers needed for serving the Germans, were "freed" for the moment from the fate of their friends, parents, brothers and sisters. But, to serve as a warning, they were forced to watch with their own eyes the execution of the "actzia" -- the burning alive of their parents and relatives.

A deathlike silence prevailed in both groups. Each, it seems, had some soul searching to do. Although more than 400 souls were present at the scene, not a word was heard. Even the children understood the severity of the moment and kept silent. As if all had frozen. Suddenly a voice split the air, coming from the middle of the crowd, that, due to the silence, sounded [433] huge: Jews! Brothers! These are our last moments on earth, let us pray in public confession. This was Rabbi Moshe David Vines, a wise and clever and worldly man. For as long as I can remember he was not considered a religious man. He was liberal and that is how he raised his children as well. But thanks to this cry he earned a big privilege. In one second he saved his soul and immortalized his name. On his lot most of the town's Jews were burnt, and hence his lot became a cemetery for evermore.

The confession ended, and now a command was heard: Jews, march forward! The rows advanced. Mothers that held onto their babies' hands moved forward. Fathers who led children marched in front, and following them a large crowd: adolescents, men, women and children, old men and women. All marched towards destiny, towards the unknown. The feeble who lagged behind were killed on the way, apparently to illustrate to the remainder what their fate was. But the entire camp seemed younger, stood up tall and marched to its destiny with courage and pride, as if to say: you cannot beat us! Larger and stronger enemies tried to destroy us. In almost every generation we were threatened with extinction. But, in spite of it all, we are among the most ancient people on the face of the earth.

On Vines' lot opposite the fruit storage house that was erected during the Soviet rule, the command was heard: Stop. This storage house contained a deep pit for ice storage, to preserve the fruit during the summer, that was now empty. This provided an ideal place for the execution of the vile murder. The crowd stopped, and deadly silence spread. The oppressors ordered them to strip naked, and those who refused were beaten until they bled. Especially beaten were our modest women, the pure and innocent daughters of Israel, who refused to strip before the men. Then the sadistic murderers tore the clothes off them with force. Now the miserable women stood oppressed, lowering their gaze to the ground so that they would not be recognized.

Into the Fire

Suddenly, the voice of the master of death was heard. Jews, forward march to the storage house. But, incredibly, although the people did not decide in advance to resist, and marched until then towards death without objection and without hesitation, they now instinctively refused to follow the order. The murderers were taken aback and confused, and silence deepened, nobody moved. Even the wind, stormy until then, spontaneously ceased. Everything stood still. This situation lasted only a few seconds, although [434] it seemed like hours. The murderers recovered their senses and began consulting with each other. What happened? they wondered. Up until now everything went smoothly, and suddenly the Jews are refusing to fulfil the role assigned to them?

The two camps stood ready, as if something is about to happen. And indeed something happened: from the last rows there arose a lengthy Yom-Kippur melody from the "Netane Tokef" prayer... who in fire... who in water...who in stoning...who in strangling... And the crowd accepted these sentences like the ruling of a higher court. Evidently, this was decreed... and now the camp moved forward, to jump into the lions mouth, as did Nachshon Ben-Aminadav in his time, when he jumped first into the bustling Jordan river, out of deep faith in the salvation of Israel.

The first "foursome" entered the storage house and was followed by a hundred additional "foursomes" who crowded into the storage house and were swallowed by it. The murderers locked the gates of the storage house instantly, and used the gasoline barrels they prepared previously. The wooden walls of the edifice were moistened with gasoline and set on fire. The dry storage house caught on fire immediately, like a pile of straw. In a few moments the Jews inside were in the heart of the consuming fire. The cries of the burning children rose up towards the skies... undoubtedly it reached the holy seat... the "Shma Yisrael" chant of the adults split the seventh heaven and echoed in the ears of God... Through blood and fire and columns of smoke the holy souls flew in the air on their way to heaven.

The "Destined to Live" Contemplate

The "destined to live" were locked up in a stable, and from a considerable distance they heard the echoing shots and cries. Through the cracks in the walls they saw the flames of the fire that was consuming their parents, sisters, brothers, and their other loved ones. But there was nothing they could do. Each one in the little group isolated himself in a far corner, withdrew into himself, and contemplated his own fate. As in a movie, each one's life, past and present, passed before his eyes. The shocking fate of his loved ones would not leave him alone. In their agony, they complained to God: Master of the Universe: what crime did these innocent Jews commit, that you delivered them into the hands of the damned ones? What sin have these dear ones committed? Were they not filled with good deeds? Have they not given their bread to the poor? Fed orphans and widows? Given charity in anonymity, and helped the poor and deprived? Why all this misfortune on these people? Why...

[435] Hope flickered in the eyes of each, that perhaps not all of them perished, perhaps his father and brothers, cousin and others that he did not see at the concentration spot managed to hide and survive. Perhaps! Master of the Universe, I pray that this proves to be the truth.

"Home"

An electric current ran through our bodies. We recognized the voices of the murderers approaching us, after the fire ceased "over there." Suddenly they opened the gate. Each one of us stood up instinctively, to hear the bad news with an erect posture. But instead of shouts we hear a quiet order: "go home."

We were surprised, as if cold water were suddenly poured on us. Home? what cruel joke is this, which home? The one where Sister was shot, where her child was torn to pieces in front of her eyes, where Mother, the matriarch of the household, was thrown out and into the flames? Which home to go to, the one where only the violated walls remain? The one where the beds and mattresses where cut by the robbers' knives, who looked for silver and gold? Only yesterday the term "home" had a significance. Only yesterday it was filled with love and life, and now? A deadly silence rules all. The house is empty, abandoned, destroyed, lonely and orphaned, like us.

On the way "home" we passed by the murder scene. The fire had already died, but it was still smoking. A pile of ashes was revealed to us. Here and there burnt bones stuck out, that were once arms and legs. To stand and gaze at length at this death valley we could not, we choked on our tears and our hearts broke. Unconsciously we let our legs carry us to the place that until yesterday was our home, into these walls in the midst of which we first saw light, where we grew up and matured. When we came closer we found the doors broken down, the furniture in disarray, every valuable stolen. But we hardly paid attention to these. The hope that somewhere hides a living dear soul filled our brains exclusively. That thought spurred us to check all the best hiding places, known to us since childhood. And, indeed, our efforts were not futile. We found the father, that miraculously managed to hide although the looters passed right by him, and thus he was saved. Near him lay a cousin, saved as well. In this fashion more than 150 Jews were saved.

Both the joy of finding these dear souls and the agony over losing the rest are unimaginable.

[436]

With Cohen at the "Chevrei Kadisha"

I barely managed to exchange a few words with my father, rest his soul, and with my little cousin, when I heard the sound of the spiked boots of a Nazi S.S. soldier from behind. He brought Zoshka Geitlitz with him and ordered us both to collect all the bodies of those who were shot; in the houses, the streets, the yards, and on the way to the forest, and to bury them in a common grave at Vines' lot. I tried to avoid this cruel task and begged him to let me go, since I am out of physical and mental shape. As a response to my request he showered me with blows until I collapsed. Despite this, he demanded that I do the work.... beaten, wounded and bleeding, I began to work. First we went to the tar mine, a long distance from the Jewish tenements, where I found the body of Mirim Rubin, brother of our friend David, and we mounted him on the wagon and went back to town. The second house we entered was that of the cobbler Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Katzovitz. There we were confronted by a horrid scene. The body of his daughter Itka was perforated by bullets and near her lay her little baby, slain as well, holding his mother's nipple in his mouth and breast feeding. We loaded the corpses on the wagon, went back home, and called in Yiddish: whoever survived can come out of hiding. Suddenly the cellar door opened and on the threshold appeared Rabbi Shlomo Zalman, white as a wall and shivering from cold and fear. We now reached the house of Ya'akov the blacksmith, where we found many corpses in the yard: Faya and her two children literally torn by domdom bullets. Reshka and Meshka and their children. As soon as we finished loading the bodies from this yard, a shot was heard close by. When I turn in the direction of the shot, I realized that those killed were my father and my cousin. Still warm, they twitched between life and death.

Master of the Universe! Where did we find the strength and how did we not collapse during work? We went to our house for a moment to drink a glass of pure alcohol and perhaps put end to our miserable existence. But it did not effect us at all. The oppressor again appeared in front of us, and we were forced to continue to concentrate the hundreds of bodies lying around. We found Teibale Akman's body as two pigs were nibbling on her flesh. Thus we combed the town through. Where weren't there dead bodies? In the yards, in the houses, in the cellars, and in hiding places in the meadows on the bank of the river. Oh, how close were the latter to survival but were shot on the bank of the river, a few meters away from the saving forest.

[437] We brought all of those to a common grave and shut it close as our lips whispered... Yitgadal Veyitkadash Shmei Raba.... Thus ended the first historical mission in Ilya.

To the Ghetto of the Professionals in Vileika

On the following day I was summoned to the regional headquarters where I was informed that I must be on my way immediately to work as a locksmith in Vileika. The car was already waiting in front of the headquarters. Aside from myself, other Ilyite artisans were present: Zoshka Geitlitz, Shefsel Epstein, and a few others. I will not detain us with stories about the way to Vileika, for we were suspicious of the fact that we were indeed sent to perform labor. We suspected rather that we were being led to slaughter. But, despite our doubts, we reached the place. Indeed, this was a labor camp consisting of various types of artisans, each serving the war effort of the Germans. Here I met Jews of my acquaintance from various towns and especially from Kornitz. Vileika was, by then, "Yudenrein" and not a single Jew was left there. During my stay in the camp I found out that Fania Cheikin was in the prison house, employed by the S.D. to search for gold, silver and valuables in the clothes of the slain, to pull gold teeth out, and so forth.

Fear ruled the day. We all knew that our date of execution was approaching, but that for now we were "crucial." For now they will not harm us. What worried me most was the fact that my wife remained in the ghetto in Ilya and I did not have enough details on her life. We all lived under the impression that all the ghettos in the vicinity will be destroyed soon, and therefore my wife's future worried me very much.

On a certain day I was summoned to the camp's commander and he ordered me to make him a gold key. Right before my eyes, he opened a big trunk full of gold and silver. I used the opportunity to ask him to transfer my wife and son to the camp. Since she is a good seamstress and will undoubtedly be very useful. Although he reprimanded me loudly and kicked me out of his house -- "get out, bloody dog" he yelled -- it wasn't long before my wife and son Yehuda were transferred to camp. Now we were all together. This was not a good omen, though, regarding the Ilya ghetto. We understood that the end of the ghetto was near and that all its residents were condemned to die. Indeed, after a few days, what we feared has materialized. The Ilya ghetto was destroyed and its residents all killed.

This event was a turning point for us. Now that in virtually the entire area all ghettos were destroyed (except Kornitz) we knew that our end was near. We therefore [438] began to organize, to gradually purchase arms, and in due course, to escape to the forest and join the partisans. Our secret headquarter consisted of: the professional manager of the ghetto Mr. Schwartz, a Jew from Kornitz, Mr. Yossef Zukerman, Ravonski, and the writer of these lines -- who did everything possible to purchase a few arms or to build them, but the results were poor. Every weapon we collected we transferred to the partisans through a peasant messenger. Thus, days and weeks went by and we lived in a state of continual insecurity concerning our fate.

One day, fate intervened and dealt the cards, and forced us to escape the camp immediately. The event was as follows: our connection, who received from us, as usual, the weapon and bullets acquired with much effort and blood (literally), was summoned to the police, for the purpose of transferring something from one place to another. But, as the saying goes, the hat on top of the thief's head is burning. We feared that the peasant was caught by the police holding the weapons, which will serve as evidence for the existence of a resistance movement, and will lead to our end. We consulted briefly, and, considering the situation, we declared: he who can save himself should do so immediately.

Needless to say, an unorganized escape ensued, that wasted lives and brought on couples the agony of separation, especially the women. In escaping, I too lost my wife, and we were not reunited until a long while afterwards. Our situation in the Vileika ghetto was relatively good. We already mentioned the fact that, as time went by, we contacted the partisans. Therefore, when we presented ourselves at "Atrad" we were well received. Many Jews from other ghettos futily made their way but were not accepted by the warriors, for here, too, anti-Semitism thrived.

Among the Partisans

I will do my best to skip over the agonizing period ensuing my unexpected separation from my wife, Bat Sheva, during the escape to the forest. Only due to her courage she survived and managed to keep our eldest son alive as well. My wife tells this story in detail, and I will only add a few lines on life among the partisans and the main events. But first I must remark that when I finally met with my wife it was after a year of miserable separation. I brought her out from where she stayed and brought her to my regiment.

[439] On life among the partisans there isn't much to add since the topic is well known, as well as the way of life. The Jews were generally disliked, and when they were used for war operations they were send to the most dangerous locations: to blow up bridges, purchase weapons, gather food, and attack the enemy's garrisons. This was life as usual. But when the Germans imposed a blockade and send whole armies into the forest, to put an end to the partisan movement which blocked the way of weapons and food for their troops, the personal situation changed a bit. But the situation in itself was unbearable. Very many died in these operations to break the Nazi front.

Suddenly the Nazi front collapsed and the war ended. Now the situation changed. Instead of us hiding in the forest, persecuted by the Nazis, they were the ones to hide now and ordered us to take them as prisoners of war. Now this wasn't the invincible Nazi, but one who is scared as much as we were in our time. He begged for his life, his knees shaking. A new German revealed himself to us now, very different from the one of the days of triumph.

Despite All, We are Aliens

The war ended. Partisan troops gathered at Minsk - the capital of Byelorussia, and were awarded badges of honor for their acts of heroism and the suffering that they bore with honor. But we Jews were so few among the rows of warriors, among the civil population, that we felt ourselves lonely and isolated. We fought for this country, but we were alien in it. We fought for our lives, and indeed a few managed to survive until the great day of the so-called "military" collapse of the invincible Germans. We Jews gained a bit of revenge, but the full satisfaction that we dreamed of and thought would be gotten was never awarded to us.

By the Graves of our Fathers, Again

This sense of being an alien among the gentiles was not particular to me. Each one of us survivors felt it with full force. Each was lonely, solitary, and abandoned. Though we witnessed the destruction of the town and its Jews, or heard of it from a distance, we still rushed to the town of our birth. There we gathered, the remaining few, [440] and tried to rebuild our home. But here too ruled an atmosphere of hatred and alienation. Despite the freshly-dug graves of our darlings we have not found peace.

Every day we went to the new cemetery to try and grasp the great tragedy that occurred there. We finally decided to erect a fence around the place that was consecrated by the blood of Israel and to plant trees around the area where they found their long-lasting rest, until the coming of the savior and avenger.

To Return to the Land of the Fathers

The idea to move westward to join the builders of the resurrected Hebrew homeland now brewed in our heads. To pick up the travel staff again, but this time with a clear goal in mind: to reach Israel, already on the brink of independence, to build, develop and establish it, and to aggrandize its name. And indeed, we have reached the longed-for goal.

Now that we are well rooted in the land, we must not forget those who died and burned: our parents, brothers and sisters -- who died at the hands of the Germans murderers and whose blood was shed as water. Do not forget the parents' call for revenge -- their spilled blood. Who knows when we will finally be able to pay them their just deserves. Therefore, we commemorated these gloomy events for eternal remembrance until the last of all generations.

When we recall them in the holy land, we must not forget to light a candle of remembrance for the pure and innocent souls. We shall bow our heads to remember their courage and martyrdom, and pray, with tears, for their soul's salvation.

Yitgadal Veyitkadash Shmei Raba...

[441] Aryeh Koplovitz

A Hand to Friends, to a Sister, and to Parents

When I departed from my fathers house, from my sister and from you, and left town on my way to Eretz Yisrael, the impending storm was already felt in the air, but the dice has not yet been cast. I then bore in my heart the dream to meet you again under the blue skies of our developing country. But bitter fate decreed a different future for you: instead of freedom, you were fated for death in the prime of life. We will not meet again, then, except in the sphere of the holy and the pure.[xlvi]

You took the final path, but in your death you gave us life. You assigned us the mission of building the homeland, its establishment and strengthening, through the burden of your fate. You commanded us to fortify and protect it against any enemy who would ever conspire against us. You ordered us to bring the tragic cycle of persecution and extinction to a halt once and for all, the cycle that was our lot throughout history.

Although your bodies were never literally buried, and your bones and ashes are dispersed, your pure souls hover above us and encourage us; the last generation of enslavement and the first generation of salvation - in fulfilling our duty and our destiny.

Rest in peace, wherever you are. We, who were given life, will fulfil the role that you once dreamed you would perform. You who dwell in the glowing heaven pray for the success and continuation of our project - till the end of all time.

Ya'akov Lapidoth (Yankole)

Ya'akov, you were my first friend on earth. Our friendship, that began in the dawning of childhood, when we were 4-5, lasted until I made aliya and you met your bitter and hurried end, murdered by the blood thirsty Nazi oppressor - on your way to forced labor.

As in a movie the scenes of your hard life pass before my eyes. You were an only child. While still a small boy, loved and pampered, your mother died and left you [442] under the care of your father and of heaven's mercy. Your step mother dedicated most of her attention to her children, naturally. But you, being spoiled, felt hurt and abandoned. And this was not the end of your suffering. You were pursued by misfortune wherever you went. One day, when you skated on ice, you fell and was wounded. Frankly, your fate was becoming. You were saved from death but remained crippled for the rest of your life.

Ya'akov, you were full of talents. At the precocious age of 10 you already experimented with writing articles to the Yiddish press, on political and general topics. I am unable to judge these objectively, since I too collaborated in their writing. But you were the originator and creative force. Unfortunately, the articles were never published. I fear not because they lacked in quality, but because the author was unknown.

In Beitar, the activist zionist youth movement named after Yossef Trumpeldor, you were an active member who vehemently preached the resurrection of Israel. You believed with all your heart that this vision will come true in our lifetime. You used your talent for polemics fully. The same talent that allowed you to support and base a certain idea with logical reasoning, allowed you to refute it, with the same degree of success and persuasiveness. Polemics characterized you, and more often than not your opinions were different from the rest. But you were always original, and your position aroused interest and controversy. Your ideas contributed largely to the spiritual growth of our friends, and allowed them to view problems from a variety of perspectives.

You were only 27 when you were murdered. Thus ended your stormy and suffering-filled life. While still in the beginning of you path and with many plans for public action in store - you were cut down.

I lost you, my childhood friend and dear companion- and there is no replacement. But your memory is cherished in my heart forever.

Ya'akov Bronstein

Ya'akov, I first met you at the "Gordonia" when we were all children of 10-12. Already then your wit and eloquence stood out. Your ideas flowed smoothly, and were absorbed with pleasure and readiness. Not one of us was envious of your talent, and nature also endowed you with a quiet and gentle beauty. These two features blended to make you stand out in our crowd.

[443] It is no wonder, then, that you were the first among us to make a public speech in Hebrew, and although you still did not have a good command of the language, it flowed easily from your mouth. This pioneering step incited all of us to be daring....

Your talents were numerous, but the most conspicuous was your gift for educating. You were a perfect type of an "intellectual," in the positive sense of the word. Your special talent for conversation always absorbed your students completely. But not only that - you were also a charming lecturer and we predicted a brilliant future for you.

In our Beitar center you were always among the first to speak and educate, and you devoted your best ideas and your heart to the preaching of the ideals of Zionism and the Jewish state. With your devotion you encouraged love for the growing homeland in the hearts of your pupils. But you did not settle for words - you wanted to fulfill the vision in person. You thus went to training. But cruel fate, that dictates our future, decreed otherwise. Your father suddenly fell ill and passed on to a better word, and you were forced to carry the burden of supporting the household.

Despite all, you did not despair. You hoped that a day will come when you would be able to fulfill your desire and make aliya. But your bitter fate had a different destination for you - to perish in the great Holocaust along with millions of Jewish brothers throughout Europe.

I am very sorry that you were not privileged to join us in building and establishing the land that you preached to love and preserve. We who were so privileged will always remember you with admiration and your name will be engraved forever in our hearts.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

The late Ya'akov Bronstein

[444]

Reuven Koplovitz

Although 20 years have passed since that bitter and fateful day, your appearance still stands before my eyes clearly: your medium frame, your tall forehead, your light blue eyes, the color of our land's skies, your round, full face, your blushing cheeks, only nature can compose such handsome, perfect features. This was your external appearance, but inside was a delicate soul and in your protruding chest - a heart of gold.

Your moderate character and sensible speech made you congenial. Your simple and modest ways made you popular. Even in Beitar

- P H O T O G R A P H -

The late Reuven Koplovitz

you did not speak much, but when you expressed a certain idea it was clear and logical. You came to us from the small settlement of Khachenchitz, and were shy and bashful, but soon you progressed; you acquired education, learned Hebrew, so much so that you reached the position of the center's secretary.

In the last years, in the period when you were about to go to Warsaw to work at the famous film company - "Metro Goldwyn-Mayer" our friendship strengthened. At this period I visited your house often and got to know your mother Beila Malka. Those were the days of glory in your house, after difficult periods of orphanhood and lack. Your mother virtually radiated with happiness, that at an old age she managed to settle her sons in respectable and secured positions.

[445]

- P H O T O G R A P H -

The late Beila Malka Koplovitz

I last saw you in Warsaw, when you came to say goodbye to me at the hotel, before I made aliya. In the meantime the Second World War began and our ties were severed. The Holocaust that destroyed the Jews of our town took away your mother as well.

When the first intelligence concerning the catastrophe of the European Jewry, including those of my town, reached us, we did not know for a long time what has happened to you. We were finally convinced that you too fell in the hands of the German murderers, a long way from your home.

Dear Reuven, our friendship was frank and strong, and I shall preserve your memory in my heart for as long as I shall live.

Mordechai Rogozinski

Fate had a long path of hardships and suffering in store for your, dear Motke. While still a young infant you were orphaned and underwent the experience of having a step mother. As you were growing up your wealthy father lost his fortune and the family knew days of material hardships.

You aspired to learn and be educated but the financial reality did not allow for that. You suffered but did not give up. In time, when you were more mature, the solution that allowed you to study was found. Was there anyone happier than you then? You virtually radiated with joy and invested yourself in studies to narrow the gap that was created due to the rough economic situation.

I still remember your story and your inner conflicts, when your were forced to [446] share the school bench with students that were younger than you. You did not feel comfortable, but you made yourself seem smaller to be like them. When you were studying you were on the brink of poverty and hunger, but despite all you grit your teeth and carried on, until you got your diploma.

I am told that during the Holocaust you were absent from town and served as a teacher in Alecnovitz. But you could not escape your fate. There too the murderers reached you and you fell in the hands of the damned ones.

We were always faithful companions and dreamed many common dreams. How could I forget you, since you stand in front of my eyes alive and well. Your image will never vanish from me.

Shlomo Zalman Sherman

Shlomo Zalman, you were honest, modest and innocent, with a good character and congenial nature. Even when you held the highest position in the Beitar center in Ilya, you were not proud. You did not pretend you were omnipotent. With the modesty that is embedded in your nature, you performed the job as best you could, quietly and pleasantly. With generosity and love you carried the burden of being a teacher, instructor and commander, a burden that would have been difficult for the most talented of members. But when the time came you disrobed and handed the robe of responsibility to another. Without bitterness or complications you became a simple soldier, and thus proved the largeness of your soul.

While still an adolescent, fortune gave you the responsibility of supporting a family, a sister, a brother and a widowed mother. You were the perfect illustration of contentment, and bore silently and proudly the burden. You worked hard and managed to resurrect the family from its financial ruin.

You were always cheerful and lively, but when our conversation turned to the topic of aliya tears were seen in your eyes and your face expressed sadness and sorrow. You knew that this ambition was not for you at the moment. You had the responsibility of providing for the family and educating your younger brother, teaching him trade so that he could be self reliant. I understood your pain and tried to shift the conversation to other topics.

The course of life cannot be stopped, just like the Niagara Falls cannot be blocked. In the meantime you matured and started your own family. But it seems that from your destined fate, decided upon already then - you haven't escaped. Along with all the town's Jews you perished in the hands of the Nazi murderers.

I will always remember your name.

[447]

Eliyahu Avril

When I reflect upon the fact that few of us Beitar members from Ilya survived, your picture comes to my mind. You who excelled as a superb commander of the center, as a talented educator, as a good organizer, as an exemplary administrator.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

Sitting in the third row from above, from right to left: the third is Eliyahu Avril, the fourth is Shlomo Zalman Sherman, their souls be blessed.

You educated hundreds of girls and boys and injected into their blood the love for the land, adherence to the Hebrew language, important facts in the history of the Hebrew people. With your sense for order and a desire to liberate the land and for independence - you did not estimate correctly the importance of regular shipments of soldiers to the front and did not firmly demand this of the center. It was up to you to prioritize this over other important problems: completing education, conducting military drills, but you were wrong in your order of priorities. If it weren't for that, many could have been here with us. We could have saved many souls from the murderers and brought them to the homeland.

Undoubtedly, you did so unwittingly, but it cost us dearly. But now it is useless to conjure up these mistakes, especially since you too were a victim of this unfortunate error.

It now remains to state only facts, and this we shall do: ever since we had educators, commanders and directors in the center, not one of them was superior to you in stature and talent. You were the one who molded the educational patterns, the organization system, the drills and discipline. You were the one who guided the youth in every stage in its progress. You inspired faith and hope for Zionism in those simple youth, the belief in the vocation of the people, and you trained them to fight and sacrifice. The scale that can fairly evaluate your deeds does not exist.

[448]

Since my language is too scarce to raise a tombstone on your grave, it would be better for me to keep silent. The many that you educated perished in the Holocaust along with you, but the few who reached the land, in strange ways, will remember you forever and light an eternal candle for your pure soul.

My Sister Malka

My beloved only sister Malka. Since the bitter day when your youth was cut short, many years have passed. Although it is fated that the dead are forgotten, your admired image always stands before my eyes. During hours of leisure, on Sabbath and during holidays, even joyful days are diluted with sorrow, agony and sadness. Our parents had only two children, but even so, cruel fate decided that we shall be parted. You it tore away form the land of the living while only a youth, I was given a life of eternal loneliness, without a relative - and with no salvation.

My dear sister, when we parted back then before I made aliya, I did not imagine even in my worst nightmares, that horrible fate assigned me the sad, horrid, cruel role of eulogizing you.

- P H O T O G R A P H -

From right to left: David Koplovitz, Lobah Susman, my sister Malka, a guest from Vileika. Behind them - Yitzchak Susman, Yisrael Michael Solonovitz, Chaya Ravonski (Avril), Reuven Koplovitz and Chaya Zisman, all perished in the Holocaust, bless their souls.

[449]

When, along with our parents, we planned the family's aliya to the land, to settle there, we did not know what the future held in store for us. Who could imagine that our fate to perish in the midst of youth was already decided upon.

During World War II we did not know what happened to you; we did not imagine your suffering; we had not heard of your torture; we knew nothing of your humiliation; not a shred of information came concerning your physical destruction. We haven't felt in the slightest that which the Nazi murderers and their helpers did to you. Your cry for help had not reached our ears. Even when you were led to mass slaughter, all was silent here, perhaps even silenced, so that the Holocaust will not be known to us in case we rebel or lose our minds. In case we break open the closed gates and destroy those who locked them.

... But when the disaster became known to us it was too late: all that remained from your bodies and flesh was ashes and dust. Only a few common graves that remained here and there in the valley of death testified to the horrid Holocaust, to the mass murder. But even those were gradually erased and disappeared, so as to quiet down the murderer's conscience. So that the predatory beasts could appear in public like innocent and peaceful citizens.

My unforgettable sister, Malka. How difficult it is for me, as a brother, to conjure up your wonderfully perfect image, your various talents. And for fear of straying from objectivity, I might belittle your personality. But even the little that I shall say in a few sentences is enough. It is faithful to reality without the shadow of exaggeration. It is no secret that you were the most talented girl in town, and in your talents you surpassed all the girls. Anything I shall try to say will be too little. Whoever had contacts with you, whoever worked with you, is full of song and praise for your personality. Everything you ever did you did faithfully, good-naturedly, frankly, with understanding, devotedly and successfully. Everything I have said and will say could only express a part of your being, and it is thus senseless to continue. I am not capable of evaluating you truthfully, and my language is too poor to present your personality fully.

It is only thanks to you that I was saved from bitter fate and made aliya. You were the one who incited and encouraged me to make aliya in your place, and then died in mine. It was an act of sacrifice. Who knows as well as I do how large your desire to settle in the land of Israel was. But since we could not both make aliya at the same time and leave our parents by themselves, you agreed that I will go first. You thus decided your own fate.

[450]

My dear sister! I have no words or strength to continue. The heart aches, tears choke my throat and wet the paper on which I am conjuring up your memory. The wound that seemed to have healed is bleeding again.

The rumors of your deeds reached me. You, who were as far from Communist theory as the east is far from the west, stood up and called, in a public speech during the outbreak of the Russian-German war, for all to uprise against the evil, ravaging beast and to block its progress. It seems that you felt the horrors that this nightmare regime of the swastika bore - stained by the blood of the pure, of babies and infants, men and women. You guessed how cruel and thirsty the crazy brown beast was. You drew the right conclusions and escaped in time. But your destined fate caught up with you. You fell in the hands of the murderers, who executed you somewhere far away from the town of your birth and from your parents.

The place of your murder is unknown. Where your ashes lie is unclear. Whether you received proper burial no one knows. But one thing is certain: that you died a martyr for God and the name of Yisrael.

Forever you shall live in my heart, forever I will remember you and prey for your holy, pure, transparent soul.

May your soul be blessed.

In Memory of My Parents

Dear mother and father! I hereby light a candle in your memory and its light will reach up to the sphere of the holy and the pure - where you lie and rest - and testify that I, your son, have not forgotten you, and carry your holy memory in my heart until my last day on earth.

I found out from survivors who managed to escape everything you went through. I heard about the way in which you were murdered and by whom. This is what fate wanted and decred. If you would have hurried your aliya, as planned, you would have been living today with us in the developing nation. You would have lived to see the independence of Israel and its resurrection. You would have fulfilled your big dream to rest from life's labors in your last days, under the fig and the vine trees.

My dear beloved mother, you wanted so much to make aliya; to take care of your grandchildren and educate them, to raise chickens and to pick oranges - under the blue skies. Sorrowfully, you did not live to do so, and I, my children and my wife, were not privileged to have you [451] live with us. Your grandchildren lack a grandmother's and grandfather's caressing hand and a taste of this joy. They virtually envy their friends who have a grandmother and grandfather. We cannot make peace with this bitter fate.

And yet it is fate that, along with millions of brothers, you were murdered cold-bloodedly by blood-thirsty beasts. It is only due to a handful of survivors that you were brought to burial, albeit in a large common grave, in a foreign and hostile land, away from me, your son, and from the resurrecting homeland of Israel.

There are no condolences for my personal tragedy, as your only son. How can I be comforted in my despair when constant loneliness weighs down my soul. How can I make peace, since when I remember you my eyes shed tears over your bitter fate. How can I calm down whilst you stand before my eyes, tortured and beaten, wounded and bleeding. When I parted from you we all believed that soon I would greet you in Israel. But fate decided that I would eulogize you from far away and greet only your ashes.

Rest, dear parents, in the common grave, and I, your only son, will remember you forever. Forever my lips will bear the traditional prayer for your souls- with holiness and purity

Yitgadal Veyitkadash Shmei Raba...

*Page numbers correspond to the Hebrew edition. Sub-headings shown in bold have been translated, and are included in this document.

* A legend tells that the river and the town were named Ilya after Elijah the prophet.

*Most of the facts attributed to previous generations were related to me by my late grandfather, Rabbi Shalom Sheftel Broide, bless his soul, in my childhood. A few were told by our town's member Mr. Chaim Levin, may he live long, from Ramat-Hakovesh kibbutz, in Israel.

* Many of the children do not appear because their names have been forgotten.