The situation was dehumanizing; five families were moved in
one apartment. Food was running out for most of the people
that had to move, children were looking for food in garbage
piles. Wood for cooking and heating was also running low.
Water was in short supply. For the first time in my life I
felt hungry and mad. I hated everything around me. Why were
we being punished in this way? Nobody had an answer; only
father walked around and kept saying: have hope, don't give
up!
Within me I felt that there was no hope. I realized the
warnings of our Rabbi were really happening. By now the
Germans had occupied all the government buildings in town,
and we heard that Mr. Eichmann was in town to get things
rolling.
Brother Beri was an auto mechanic and he worked for the
German military on their cars and trucks. He managed to
bring home some extra food from the stores outside the
ghetto, which was a great help to our families.
Rumors were flying around that in a few days we would be
taken to the brick factory and then to our new destination:
Western Hungary. Our rebbe the Kliver Rov lived across the
road from us in the ghetto. We prayed in his house, but
there was very little room inside, so most of us stayed
outside. They opened the windows in order for us to hear the
prayers. Father performed as the Bal Tefilah (Cantor) I
never heard him pray like that before. Everybody was covered
with the tallis (prayer shawl) and you could hear the sobs
loud and clear from each and every one. The Rebbe aged very
fast; he looked like an angel ready for heaven and did not
say a word, just kept banging away with his fists on the
Omed (lectern) while the service was going on. No one dared
to go close to investigate his actions. The actions were
clear to every one. Even I, at 15 years of age, could tell
his argument with Hashem (G-D). Things were so bad, no one
talked anymore. After the services, his mother, the old
Zedichov Rebecin, called me into her room, handed me a
bundle of silver Kidush cups from the great Zedichov dynasty
silverware, and two silver candle holders. She must have
been 90 years old. "Take these silver items," she said, "and
bury them in a good place. And with G-d's help you will live
through this hell. Please give these items to my
grandchildren to be able to carry on the family tradition."
She kissed me on my forehead and said, "G-d be with you,
Shikale."
As you can probably assume I survived the hell, and found
all the silverware, which I gave to my sister Ruchel. She
brought these items with her when she emigrated with her
family in 1946 to the U.S.A. and was able to present these
items to Avruhom Eichenstein, grandson of the Late Mnashe
Eichenstein, the Great Rebbi of Zedichov, known for his
great works. Alphe Menashe and Mateh Menashe.
May 15, 1944
One early morning we noticed that the ghetto was surrounded
by the gendarmes with fixed bayonets and dogs barking, held
by SS German soldiers, they were in the hundreds, maybe
thousands. Things looked very bad, a chill went through your
bones, you were frozen stiff, you could hardly breathe,
waiting for the next move. All of a sudden, large trucks
filled with SS troops arrived; they jumped off the trucks
with whips in their hands, holding on to wild dogs that were
ready for the kill. Everybody was given 15 minutes to pack
and be ready on the street. But the soldiers did not wait;
they entered each house and forcefully chased every one out:
Raus, Raus, (Out, Out), they screamed on top of their lungs,
and, with the butt of their guns, they hit people to get out
faster.
Sister Rivczu was slow getting out when the SS hit her in
the back breaking a glass jar with oil in her rucksack. She
screamed! And when I looked back I saw liquid running down
her back. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was
not blood. As we reached the street I noticed our Kliver
Rebbe lying on the sidewalk with his head bashed in. Blood
was all over the sidewalk. Nobody even cared. I ran over to
him and said, "Rebbe can I help?" He just waved with his
hands, "Go, my child, go." We were all standing in the
middle of the road. Sister Heddy was cutting father's beard
off. Father looked devastated. I looked up to heaven and
begged for some help. Please open the skies! Let the floods
destroy our enemies. Let the sun burn them alive! It looked
like everybody was out for lunch, and the suffering did not
stop. Lost children were screaming their heads off, "Mommy,
Mommy!" Mothers screaming, "Where is my child?"
The streets were getting filled quickly. Shots were heard in
the distance. People said some sick people were being shot
on the spot. Within a few minutes the order to start walking
was given. People fell over each other; the dogs were
running wild. Mothers with broken-down baby carriages were
slowing down the march. The SS went wild; they beat every
one with whips, "hurry up, hurry up!" We walk through the
city where we once walked as free men to our Shul, to
cheder. And now the people who lived with us for hundreds of
years were standing on the sidewalks, some of them laughing.
"Good for you Jews, finally we are rid of you," they said.
Policemen that used to come into our tavern to drink, and
many times they didn't bother to pay. Now they don't even
want to know you. We felt degraded like dirt, and maybe even
worse.
We walked for about one hour and we reached the brick
factory. We were chased into the storage area of the factory
and each family was given a space 10 x 20 on the bare floor.
Most of our friends kept close to us, especially the Spitz
family, where sister Heddy worked for years as a wig maker.
They were a wonderful bunch of people. Their son Arthur was
going steady with Heddy, since she started to work for the
Spitz family 4 years ago at the age of 16. They had two
daughters, Livia, brother Beri's age, Gretchen, my age, and
their youngest son, Walter, my youngest sister Eva's age. It
seemed as never before, being together with Mom and Dad and
with friends around us for days, talking about everything
possible, and we all sat around and listened to the
grown-ups talk. It didn't make much sense to us because, for
the first time in our lives, we felt a different atmosphere
around us, family love, and friends sharing their food with
us, really caring for each other. In the factory, a
different painful tragedy was happening.
The police were recruiting young men for work, cleaning the
latrines building additional living spaces. There was very
little room for the people in the brick factory, and the
police were very rude. They beat the workers with whips;
some of the Jews were killed during this painful ordeal.
After a few days in the brick factory, the food was running
short. They were not providing any food whatsoever.
After about a week in the brick factory, we were told that,
starting tomorrow, we would be resettled to Hungary. The
fascist lies were again brought out to relax the Jews. By
now, people were very confused, but they would rather
believe the big lie.
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