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begging for food. But this was a horrible mistake:
two of the girls whom we had sent to the peasant
were detained by him and we never saw them
again.
After this awful misfortune, Yisroel went to
the village of Yadene, where he was born, and
took along the youth from Warsaw. And so I, a 12year-old
boy, was left alone, by myself with death
staring me in the face.
I decided to head toward the railroad station
and somehow sneak into a freight train going to
Russia. To do this, I had to return to Libivne. Since
I was hungry, I tried to go to the Kampyonis, but
luckily a Jew noticed me as he looked out from his
hiding place in a barn. It was Pinye Pleve, who
called me over and told me all about the terrible
slaughter in Libivne. He was planning to go to the
Pulover Woods, since he knew that area well, and
he suggested I go with him.
But nothing came of that plan. For while I
was at the Kampyonis asking for food, a group of
German soldiers came upon us and I barely managed
to escape. I never saw Pinye again.
I evaded the guards, managed to sneak into
the railroad station, and climbed into a slowmoving
freight train that soon passed Masheve
an d reached Kovel. I noticed in the station many
Ukrainian volunteers who wore triangular symbols
on their jackets. I somehow got hold of such
a symbol and pasted it on my jacket.
I continued in the train with these Ukrainian
volunteers until we reached Zdolbunov. Later I
boarded a train filled with German soldiers and
reached Kozatin, near Kiev. I fell asleep in the big
station and later begged for food in a restaurant
from the German officers.
The next morning I sneaked into another
freight train going to Vinnitsa. I was lucky to
meet Mrs. Mialoritska, the wife of the Libivne
lawyer. She told me there were no Jews left in
Vinnitsa and she could not take me in because
she lived there with her sisters. She did, however,
barter for food some things I had been able to hide
when I ran. away. I slept in empty stores together
with some other "comrades," who robbed me and
threatened to call the police.
I was barely able to save myself from them. In
the station I found a train that was going to
Zhmerinke, in Transnistria, about which I had
heard earlier. While crossing the Rumanian border,
I met up with new troubles: the Ukrainians
guarding the border were asking for permits. I
wanted to escape from them by running, but they
began to shoot at me. I was lucky that it had
become quite dark by then. I fell into a ditch and
the guards lost sight of me.
A peasant woman who saw me told me there
was a small ghetto in Zhmerinke. A Jewish
woman wanted to take me in, but she first had to
report me to the head of the ghetto, according to
the German orders. The Judenrat questioned me
and decided not to let me stay in the ghetto but
sent me to Voroshilovke, which was 5 or 6 miles
from Zhmerinke.
In Voroshilovke, I found 10 or 15 Jews with
their families. They were truly fine people, but
they said they could not help me much: The
Rumanian police knew them all by sight, and if
they saw a new face, it would be very bad for me
and them. Having no alternative, I returned to
Zhmerinke. But the chairman of the Judenrat
threatened to betray me to the Germans.
I realized that things were very bad for me.
And so I resumed my wanderings along roads
where danger lurked at every step.
Along the way, a gentile woman saw me and
told me to go to Maropa, and I started off in that
direction. I also met another Jewish boy who had,
like me, been chased away from the Zhmerinke
ghetto.
In Maropa there lived a Jewish doctor from
Tschernovits who helped me a lot. I think his name
was Gutman. The president of the ghetto, Dr.
Baykal from Sutcheve, also helped me greatly,
giving me a place to live, food, and clothing.
Some other Jews warned him not to help me, but
they did not scare him.
Unfortunately, another ghetto president was
soon elected in his place. This one was altogether
another type of man. I could not expect any favors
from him. There, too, the Germans would catch
Jews and send them to work in Trichote, near
Odessa. But those Jews always return ed. I stayed
in Maropa from the end of 1942 to 1944.
There I got to know a doctor from Lublin
whose name was Diamont. I still had a couple of