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284 LUBOML
ther after we had separated and asked the gentiles
whether they had seen us. Several of the
gentiles gave them food, but this murderer took
an axe and cut them down! He even made my
brother-in-law dig his own grave.
When I came back to my town and my brother
returned from Russia, we dug up the bodies, made
coffins for them, and brought their remains to the
Jewish cemetery. There we dug two graves and
made covers for them. Probably by now not a sign
of these two graves is left.
I went from Lublin to Luboml to see my father,
for by then Luboml was already in Russian hands.
The Russian border was nearby, at Dorogusk,
but I had no legal documents. I traveled by freight
train together with many gentiles. When the Russian
border guards asked to see our papers, I made
believe I was sleeping. He woke me however.
"Documents!" In a sleepy voice I answered, "The
same," meaning the same as the others who had
been already examined. The man let me go.
We reached Yagodzin, the station before
Luboml. After I left the train, I had 5 miles to
walk. In the dark, I could not find the right road
and struck a barbed-wire fence. The border guards
caught me, put me back on the freight train, and
sent me back to Poland. When I came to Chelm, I
found some Luboml Jews already there and spent
several days with them. They tried to get some
sort of document for me to enable me to travel
freely, but they did not succeed; and I decided to
go to Luboml again.
This time, I went by another routethrough
Brisk. I got off at Podhorodno, the last station
before Luboml, on the Russian side. The border
patrol caught me again and took me to the militia.
I told them the truth; that I had a father in Luboml
and that I had no documents, because I had run
away from the Germans. I said to him, "Take me
to Luboml and I will get documents there." I was
taken to Luboml and was brought before the
militia commander, who interrogated me, keeping
me there a whole day.
Meanwhile the Luboml gentiles heard about
me and spread the rumor through the city that old
Moshko's (my father's nickname) daughter was
kept by the military authorities, who did not
release her because she had no documents. When
my father heard this, he grabbed his cane and ran
to see me. It is hard to describe our meeting as my
father opened the door and saw me sitting there.
The chief, who was in another room, heard
our cries of joy. Coming into the room, he told us,
"Go home. I don't want anything from you."
We came home. The windows had old sacks
for curtains, sacks my father had found in the
street, for the windows had no panesthey had
been shattered. My father told me how he had
hoped all the time that I would come back.
We waited in Libivne until my brother came
from Russia. Meanwhile I was married, and in
1957 we went to live in Eretz Yisroel.