Small Riga Ghetto

38
the way there, we were beaten again. It was unusually hot and we were tormented
by thirst, but of course we didn't dare ask for something to drink.
Thus we were chased until late evening from one task to another. Once
again we spent the night under the open sky in the prefecture courtyard. The
next day we had to load tires from a large warehouse onto trucks. The wellknown
Riga jeweler Widser worked with us. He was moaning and weeping
because he had lost his son. After we had finished loading the tires we returned
to a large room in the prefecture in which there was a piano. The Latvians,
who clearly were sadists, held truncheons in their hands and made us do
drills; for instance, they forced us to sing and play the piano. They ordered
some of the Jewish singers to sing Nazi songs that they didn't know. Finally
they forced all of us to sing the "Internationale". None of us knew why we
were being forced to sing this particular song. They explained to us, once
again with their truncheons, that this would be the last time we sang it. I felt
my strength leaving me and feared I would be unable to stand the further tortures
of the Latvian murderers. My greatest sympathy was for my young son,
but of course I was unable to help him. Fortunately, at this moment my
neighbor Pukin appeared, accompanied by a German soldier. The soldier requested
that my son and I be released so that we could work as decorators at
the field commander's headquarters.
III.
We now left the house of martyrdom with relief and went to the command
headquarters across the street from the City Opera. I was recommended to
Spiess (Sergeant Major) Lockenfitz as a capable craftsman. He was convinced
of my ability and gave me various instructions. We also received a pass that
protected us from the Latvian henchmen.
My wife's joy at our return was of course indescribable. She told us many
things she had heard in the city during our absence. She had not reckoned on
us returning at all. She herself could still move about unharmed, as she looked
very Aryan. Many of her stories seemed totally unbelievable, but unfortunately
all of them were later confirmed.
From my balcony I saw the burning of the great synagogue on Gogol Street
and of the Old-New synagogue and the Hasidic houses of prayer in the Moscow
suburb. The synagogue on Stabu Street was not destroyed until later. The
flames claimed victims everywhere, because Jews were driven into them to
die. Thirty Jews and Rabbi Kilow were killed in the synagogue on Stabu
Street. The holy torahs (holy scrolls) were dragged out of all these syna-