Alexander
Bogen, author of the below text, was a member of the Svencionys
Judenrat during
the summer of 1941, before he and his wife were moved to the Vilna
Ghetto. Bogen's wife, Rachel (Rela) Bogen (nee Shachor) had been
appointed a high school chemistry teacher in Svencionys
at the
beginning of World War II when Svencionys
was under
Soviet administration. The partisan leader Markov was married to a
Jewish woman
and, prior to his partisan career, was a teacher of Polish literature
and
grammar in the Jewish school in Svencionys.
The
Onset of the Partisan Units in the Forest of Naroch
By Alexander (Shura) Bogen,
originally Katzenbogen
From
With
Proud Bearing, 1939-1945: Chapters in the History of Jewish Fighting in
the Naroch Forests
Edited by Moshe Kalcheim
Published by the Organization
of Partisans, Underground Fighters, and
Rebels in Israel
Tel Aviv, 1991
Translated by Eilat Gordin Levitan
~*~
I
was born in Vilna, the Jerusalem of Lithuania, in 1916. I studied there
in the
gymnasium and when I graduated, I was accepted to the art academy near
the University
of Vilna, named for
Stefan Batory. Both of my parents were physicians. Father came from a
secular
family and Mother was the daughter of Rabbi Tuvia Lobitzki, the rabbi
of the
town Volkovysk, then in Poland. The
atmosphere at home was very liberal, and Mother was involved with
leftist
organizations and connected to Yiddish culture.
* * *
Lake Naroch, the biggest lake in the western part of Belarus, was surrounded by a most exquisite
never-ending forest, with very thick vegetation and dangerous swamps.
During
the Second World War, between the years 1942 and 1944, a partisan
movement was
established in this area. This movement contained hundreds of thousands
of
fighters. Polokovnik Fyodor Grigorovich Markov was the main partisan
leader. He
was not a professional in the military. Before the war, he was a
teacher in the
shtetl Svencian, near Vilna. He belonged to an illegal Communist
cell. He
became a member of this cell as suggested by his wife, Ester Desiatnik,
nicknamed Ethel.
In the
year 1939, the Red Army invaded Belarus and Markov was appointed as the head of the
civilian government in Svencian, as well as member of the Soviet
Supreme in Moscow. He was a good-looking man--blonde, tall,
very clever and educated, cultured and interested in the arts--and many
times I
would be a guest at his home to discuss modern movements in art and
literature.
In the summer of 1941, as Germany invaded the Soviet Union, Markov
escaped with other Soviet officials from Vileyka to the East. Vileyka,
at that
time, contained the main Soviet headquarters in the region. As the
Germans
invaded, the entire ruling party went east; but when Markov arrived in Moscow, he was asked to return to Belarus and establish an underground partisan
resistance movement.
When he first arrived in Belarus, he hid with local comrades. Soon he
established a small partisan unit; and during the night of the 19th of May 1942, they
staged a blockade and killed the head of
the Gestapo in the Svencian area, Kerl, and also the Gvidt-Komisar,
Bek,
as they were traveling from Lintup to Svencian. This mission made a
huge
impression on the local population, and they saw it as a sign that they
should
join the partisan movement in the Naroch
Forest. Soon Markov established the partisan
brigade named for Voroshilov and headed this partisan unit until the
end of
1943. Soon this brigade started to attract Jewish youth from shtetls
near the
forest; and despite all the difficulties they had, they found a way to
escape
from the towns and join the Soviet partisans. The conditions of life
for the
Jewish partisans in the forest were very difficult. A typical Jewish
partisan
had to prove himself to the partisan headquarters. They gave these Jews
missions that were almost impossible to fulfill in order to test them.
They
would be sent, for instance, to get weapons without supplying them with
any
weapons with which to defend themselves. They were also sent to gather information and on other missions that were very
dangerous.
Eventually, there was a
suggestion to establish a fighting independent Jewish otriad,
and many
Jewish partisans who were spread in different partisan otriads
in the Naroch Forest were very eager to join such an otriad.
They knew that if they were members of an independent Jewish group,
their
condition would greatly improve: They would have an easier time getting
weapons; and they would feel safer because, when they were minorities
in the otriads,
they always had to watch their backs, since many of the non-Jewish
partisans
were very prejudiced and backstabbing. They would treat the Jews
with
prejudice and put them down, and [the Jews] did not receive equal
rights. The
desire to belong to a unit that had a unique national identity, similar
to what
other nationalities had, was deeply imprinted in the hearts of most
Jewish partisans.
The head of the brigade,
Colonel Markov, was in support of this idea, both because he wanted to
enlarge the operative missions and because he wanted to establish
contact between the Communist underground and the Jews of the Vilna
Ghetto,
as well as cells of Jews who hid in Vilna outside of the
ghetto. So,
according to the decision of Markov, a Jewish fighting division
Nekama/Miest, or "Revenge,"
was established. All the hopes for enlarging
this
Jewish division were based on the belief that they could bring young
people from the ghettos in the surrounding shtetls to this division,
especially those from the Vilna
Ghetto area, where there was an FPO underground. FPO stands for
Fareinikat
Partisaner Organizatsia.
Another resistance
movement in
the Vilna Ghetto was headed by Yehiel Scheinbaum. The FPO manifesto
was
to get weapons and start a revolt inside the ghetto as soon as there
was an attempt at liquidation. At that point, they envisioned that the
members would break the fences of the ghetto and pull with them the
masses while fighting and would be able to reach the forest and join
the partisans there. On the other hand, Scheinbaum thought they should
join the resistance in the forest and stage a more effective revolt
against the enemy in
conjunction with the Russian partisans.
The first contact
between
the FPO and the resistance in the Naroch Forest was established as a
result of the resistance unit of the Svencian Ghetto. The young people
in this unit took charge and contacted Markov, asking that he help
bring Jews from the ghetto and accept them as fighting members of his
partisan unit. Among them, I would like to mention fighters like Shaike
Gertman,
Moshe Shutan, Israel Wolfson, Froike (Ephraim) Miadjolski,
Yitzhak Rudnitski, Motke Feigl, and Shlomo Jechilchik.
At the beginning of April 1943,
the Svencian ghetto was liquidated. A small number of the residents
were transferred to the Vilna Ghetto. A few others were told that they
were going to be sent by train to Kovno. When the train arrived at
Vilna, they separated the cars and the people who were told that they
were going to Kovno were taken to Ponar, where they were all killed.
[According to Svencian survivor Bronia Porus Chosid, in one such action
some
Jews fled when the
doors of
the boxcars were opened and made it to the forest, where they
joined partisan units. Among them were Chaya Porus, later Chaya
Palevsky,
and her
brother. Ed.]
Long before the
liquidation
of the Svencian ghetto, a small contingent of young Jews organized
themselves and escaped to the forest; but after suffering a period of
starvation and being unable to get in contact with Soviet partisans,
the brothers Yochai and Aviham hid with a Tatar man until they were
able
to make contact with the Soviets. The rest of the people left the
forest and found different ways to return to the Vilna Ghetto, aiming
to bring out groups of young Jews from the Vilna Ghetto to the forest.
When they realized that the FPO was very determined to revolt inside
the ghetto, they decided to take charge and started influencing young
people, especially young people who came from shtetls near Svencian and
were now in the Vilna Ghetto, to return with them to the forest.
During the preparation
to
escape
to the forest, two very tragic incidents occurred. Chaym Hirsh Levin
was caught at the entrance to the
ghetto, and when they searched him they found that he was hiding a gun.
He
immediately pointed the gun at the policemen, who demanded that they
give him the
gun. Chaym Hirsh refused to give the gun, shooting the Jewish
policeman and killing him. Immediately, the head of the Judenrat of the
ghetto - Gens
- arrived and killed Levin. At the same time, the German police caught,
at the entrance of the ghetto, Tevka Bilak who, when he entered, had a
gun in
his hand. He was taken to the headquarters of the Gestapo, where he was
tortured and murdered. After these occurrences, the Jewish police
started
following the young men of Svencian. They arrested Yitzhak Rudnitski,
Froike Miadjolski,
Moshe Shutan,
and Israel Wolfson. They were badly beaten;
but after
some time, Gens agreed to release them. Froike
Miadjolski
was able to
escape from the policemen and ran maniacally
to our apartment and told us what had
occurred. We hid him behind the furnace until they stopped
looking for us. When he left our apartment, two policemen entered our
apartment and found Leibke Gurevich, Jacov Levin, and me consulting a
map and looking
for a
road to get to the Naroch Forest. They immediately arrested my wife and
me
and took us to the police station. We were sure they would torture us
during the investigation. The head of the investigation was Oster. We
told them
that we were partisans and trying to get to the forest. He acted in a
polite
manner, and there was no torture. At the end of our conversation he
released
us. On the 15th of July, Wittenberg,
who
the Gestapo found out as the head of the FPO, received an ultimatum
from the Germans. The Jews received an
ultimatum saying that either they give up Wittenberg
or the Germans would liquidate the ghetto. Wittenberg
did not
wait for
their decision; he gave himself up and was taken to the Gestapo, and
[then] taken to
Lukiszki Prison.
Before the
interrogation, he committed suicide. [Wittenberg was the first
commander of the United Partisan Organization
in Vilna in 1942. A Communist who forged ties with the Zionists, he was
betrayed by a fellow Communist. Published accounts of when and how
Wittenberg surrendered and how he died are inconsistent. Ed]
On the 24th
of July, the
first group of FPO members left in order to reach the Naroch Forest.
The
scout of the group was Shaike Gertman
from Svencian. The group was
headed by Josef Glazman. When they reached the
town Loriskes,
they encountered a
German blockade that started shooting
at
them; and from the 34 members of the group, only 13 survived, escaped,
and
arrived at the Naroch Forest. This tragic event was the reason they
cancelled
all other plans in favor of going to the forest. The connection between
the FPO
and the Svencian youth was severed. On the 29th of July, another group
left the
ghetto to go to the Naroch Forest. This group was headed by Moshe
Shutan.
He was
only seventeen years old but was very brave, fearless, and calculating.
Some
people who joined this group were not members of the FPO. I was also
added to
this group. We left the ghetto and arrived in the Naroch Forest, where
we
joined the Jewish division Nekama
[Vengeance]. At that point, the head of Nekama
was a Jew from Lithuania
by
the name of Botijenas.
He
replaced the first Jewish head of the
division, Bomke Bojarski. Botijenas
was sent to the area from Moscow;
he parachuted into the forest near the partisan headquarters. The head
of
the headquarters was Josef Glazman. The division was still in its
infancy,
and they were busy with building zimlankas
for sleeping and cooking;
and they
built outdoor bathrooms and took care to make sure that there were some
minimal sanitary conditions. They also built a bathhouse.
The
division's main need at that
point was to enlarge the number of young Jews in their ranks. As soon
as I came, I went to Colonel Markov
and suggested that I bring some young people from the Vilna Ghetto.
This
took place in August 1943. His living space was in concealment among
the
thick pine
trees near a marsh. In front of the entrance was an armed guard. I said
my
name and
asked to talk to Polokovnik Markov. After fifteen minutes of waiting
they let
me in. Markov was involved in a conversation with the commander
of the Chapaev Division, Sidiakin,
who was nicknamed Yasonoja Morija
(meaning "the Light-colored Sea").
Sidiakin
had been involved
in previous times with sending Jewish partisans from Svencian
to
Ghetto Vilna to bring them [young people from the Vilna Ghetto] to the
forest. Now
Markov asked me what reason I had for wishing to return to Vilna, 200
kilometers away from this forest, in order to [try to] influence the
members of
the FPO to come
here. He explained that until now, all his requests to the FPO
leaders to
join him in the forest had been refused. For example, he said that the
group from
Svencian that he sent there were received with absolute apathy by the
FPO.
They were determined, he said, to fight in the ghetto against the Nazi
enemy, which had the best and most modern lethal weapons. Markov
emphasized
that this
fight was absolutely useless and it would be much more effective for
them to
bring their weapons and fight in the forest. He said that he knew that
the FPO members had weapons; and, not only that, he also wanted them to
bring physicians from the ghetto to the resistance movement. When he
talked,
he expressed great disappointment and was almost mocking them. I
explained
to him that amongst the ghetto members of the Resistance there
was
ideological debate about whether to go to the forest or fight in the
ghetto. Once
again, Markov asked with what they would fight in the ghetto, a few
guns and
grenades against German tanks? They had put very little thought into
it,
and there
was nothing strategic about their planning. I said to him that there
was an element he did not understand. The fighters were deeply attached
to
their families, and it was very hard for them to abandon them to sure
death. He answered that every soldier in the Red Army had a family, but
the
mission to destroy the enemy had to come first. No army could function
if they considered first and foremost the fate of the population. When
I said
that my aim was to convince the FPO to transfer their members to the
Naroch Forest, he smiled and said, "Well, your
suggestion
is
interesting and
very brave,
so
you may as well try. As you know, we need weapons, doctors, and contact
with the Resistance, so please get in direct touch with the comrade of
the
Lithuanian Brigade, Jurgis, and he will give you more instruction." He
immediately
gave me a pistol, two brigades, and a map showing me where to go.
Leaving
Markov's
headquarters, I encountered a group of partisans. They were very
concerned when they found out the details - they could
not understand why I would want to return to the Nazi Hell. Judka
Salkind
said to me, "You have to be insane to go with a healthy head to a sick
bed. You
are walking into a certain death." Two partisans - Gilman and Moshe
Judka Rudnitski - said to me, "If you really plan to go to the Vilna
Ghetto,
please take us with you." Moshe explained that he had left both his
wife and
mother in the ghetto and would like to bring them here. I was slightly
embarassed now - I had planned to go alone, dressed as a Christian
father. I
thought that, with my blonde mustache, I would pass easily.
Reluctantly, I
agreed to take them with me.
Jurgis, the head of the
Lithuanian Brigade, received me very warmly. He was about 40
years old, of average height. His body was rotund, as
were his nose and eyes. His most distinctive feature was his large and
hairy
mustache, typical of the farmers of the area. His real name was Israel
Ziman. He
was a high school teacher, and was known as being very intellectual. In
his
hideout, I found armed troops that had just returned from a mission
and were exhausted. Their boots were caked in a thick layer of mud. One
of them
said that it was impossible to reach Vilna - the suburbs were filled
with armed
Nazis, and this is why their first unit had returned without even
entering the
town. The expression on Jurgis' face kept changing. Although he
was very
relieved that everyone had returned safely, he was disappointed that
the mission
had not succeeded. This was the second unit that had returned without
being
able to enter Vilna.
He read Markov's
letter, regarding me intently, and said, "Yes, my comrade. You decided
to take part in a very important mission. We truly
want to make contact with the Jewish resistance outside of the ghetto,
but I
must warn you, you should be very careful and take care of yourself."
He
gave
me a letter written in code and said to me, "You must find Sonia
(Szejne) Madejsker
and Anton Korablikov
in
Vilna, and give them this letter." We said our
good-byes, hoping to see each other yet again. Like this, in the
company of my two friends, I left.
We walked during the nights, and
during daytime we hid in the forest or the fields. Once in a while, we
would find empty isolated houses at
the edges of the villages where we could stay. When we needed food, we
would go to the farmers and ask. If they refused to give us food, we
obtained it
from them by force. Usually, when they saw our weapons, they pretended
to be
friendly. On many occasions, when they saw us, their eyes would be
filled with
fear; but once we had talked for a while, they would smile and
encourage
us, saying, "Eat, eat, you bandits!" Usually, we put someone to guard
and
two of us would be inside. While we were there, we never let any
members of the
family leave the house. After we said our friendly good-byes, I would
say with emphasis, "Clearly, I am not suspicious of you; but just in
case, I
must
warn you that if you attempt to say anything to the Germans or the
police,
other partisans will come to your house and burn you."
One night,
we came near the
village Lilovitski and
through
the fields. We
entered the first house
on the road that we found. The room was lit
with small oil lamps. When we knocked, nobody answered; there was total
silence. When we entered, we found the farmer lying on top of the
furnace
pretending to be sick. As soon as we pointed our guns at him, he seemed
to recover.
Per my order, he harnessed his horse to the carriage, and, after a few
minutes, we left. All of a sudden we heard a sound, as if someone was
coming near
us. From afar we could hear the whistle of a bullet piercing the
darkness. We
left Moshe Judka on the carriage to watch the farmer, and Gilman and I
went
to look at what had occurred. With drawn guns, we walked through the
total
darkness, one step after another. We held to each other in order not to
get lost.
We found nothing. When we returned, we found that Moshe Judka had
fallen
asleep on the carriage and the farmer had disappeared. Gilman became
very
nervous; he practically had a panic attack. He was sure that the farmer
was going
to send police from the nearest camp. We pulled Moshe, who was still
half-asleep, out of the carriage and onto the road. We
walked through
fields until dawn
rose and were shocked to discover that we were in an open space near a
village, a few steps from a German camp!
We
immediately ran to a nearby
forest and hid there until evening came. We continued walking and were
getting near Vilna when we found
out from the villagers that the Vilna Ghetto was burning and they were
sending
some Polish people to work in Germany.
My friends decided to return to the partisan base. I tried to convince
them that we must continue with our mission,
paying any price, also pointing out to them that to return was no less
dangerous than to keep going. I was very disappointed, as we had
already passed a very difficult and dangerous road and now I had to
forge on by myself.
After I had walked on by myself for a few minutes, I saw that Gilman
and Moshe
Judka were walking behind me. Their partisan pride and conscience had
caused them
to overcome their fear.
Early in the morning of the 6th
or 7th of September, we arrived at the Vilna suburb Gore [possibly Nowy
Gorod - Ed] and hid
among the bushes. Not far from us we could
see villagers and policemen. All of a sudden, a shepherd came by. We
had no choice, and I started running to the nearest home. A Polish man
-
Rodovich - received me. A Christian man, he looked at me and smiled,
saying, "For a Polish partisan I will do anything." His wife gave me
some clean
clothes. Rodovich worked for the Germans in the sanitary unit,
and he would take
out trash from the ghetto. He knew all the resistance members. His home
was
small and dilapidated and had no flooring, and the roof was broken. In
his
attic, he had some rags and rotten wood planks, as well as roosters and
pigeons
who walked there proudly. In this luxurious condition, Rodovich put me
up.
I could not stand in this narrow space. I could only lie there. I asked
Rodovich to take a note to the ghetto. He was very surprised by the
request,
saying,
"Why would a Polish fighter want to get to the ghetto." I explained
that I
was Jewish, but he did not believe me. "It must be that we Polish need
contact
with the Jews,” he said. He took the note and promised to give it to
someone
from the FPO in the ghetto. He returned in the morning, giving me a
wide and
happy smile, and disappeared again. Deep down, I trusted this simple
man; but
after a few hours of waiting I became worried and something started
eating at
me.
Even if he were honest,
I
wondered if he would be successful or find an appropriate person. I
considered that now that the ghetto was liquidated, it was
perhaps easier to establish contact with the Resistance. I decided that
if he betrayed me and brought the Germans, I
would shoot
them and leave the last bullet for myself. I considered jumping out and
hiding
with my friends outside; but I knew that there were some people
standing
outside and if they noticed me, they would surely betray us and then
our chance to fulfill the mission would be lost. The hope that we could
bring hundreds
of
fighters from the ghetto would not be achieved.
I realized that when in
the
forest, I had always felt myself to be a soldier and in control; but
here I
felt imprisoned and as if I was in a cell. All of a sudden, someone
knocked at the door. The housewife opened
the door carefully. A neighbor had come to borrow some tools. As they
were talking, he whispered in her ear, "Today the policemen are
checking all
the homes." In panic, I sat up and hit my head badly and was in great
pain.
Once in a while, I would reach for my gun as if it was the thing
dearest to
my heart. Finally, at noon,
Rodovich
returned. He said to me, "Get off your throne. Everything is okay. I
gave your note to Sonia Madejsker."
After
a few minutes, he harnessed
his horse to the carriage and I got out. We went on the road. I found
Gilman and Rudnitski and signaled
to them. On Rossa
Street,
we
encountered a German sitting at the window with a big smile on his
face. With one hand he was shaving, and with the other he
waved at us. I waved back at him, laughing inside thinking of this
paradoxical
sight. When we reached Zawalna Street,
we passed by
the
ghetto. The Gestapo members were all standing in a
line on the sidewalk; this line contained older
German people who were lucky enough to be appointed for non-combative
duty. Gilman and Rudnitski walked next to the carriage on the sidewalk.
Gilman put his hand in his pocket, and all of a sudden a gun fell out
of his pocket. He looked around with great fear and immediately took
the gun
and put it back in his pocket. The Gestapo people did not pay any
attention. We continued through Poholenka
Street,
and there I saw a familiar face. This was my professor from the art
academy - Miknas. He was at a distance of
only about two meters from me. I wanted to say something to him, but I
was
too fearful. I ducked quickly so as to avoid being seen. We passed near
the Kailis Camp, where
Jews worked in the factory making
fur coats.
Rudnitski stopped, saying that we would shortly find ourselves among
the Jews.
We
now found ourselves in
an entirely different world. People were very busy making fur coats for
the German soldiers who suffered greatly from the winter conditions in
the never-ending Russian land. When the
Jews
met with us, they were filled with hope. There was a live contact with
the Resistance in the forest, and a dream that they had was coming to
fruition before
their eyes. We ate and washed ourselves and felt reborn. [However,] the
FPO
leaders were
very concerned. This event took place a few days after the Estonian
action,
and the situation seemed hopeless. Everyone became aware that soon the
entire ghetto would be liquidated. I looked from the window and saw the
Jewish
policemen; to me, it was very clear that the Germans would cheat them.
In a short time, all that would be left of them were their blue
uniforms.
After eating something we hid in the malina
- what they called the
blind room. The entrance to this room was through the roof, and it was
used primarily as a hideout for children.
In the Vilna Ghetto
The next day, we
went on a
truck with other Jewish laborers who returned to the ghetto. Near the
gate stood Nikka Dreizin. He was a Jewish policeman who collaborated
with the
Nazis. He
was a secular Jew who was renowned as very cruel. After he saw me, he
went to the head of the
Jewish police - Dessler - and told him that we had arrived at the
ghetto from the
forest. This was our first encounter with Jewish police.
Immediately,
they arrested us. Two policemen took us in the direction of Shona
Street.
All of a sudden, one of them
whispered, "Don't be fearful of us. We work for the
FPO and are taking you to the headquarters." A few of my friends
recognized
me, and immediately the rumors that partisans had arrived from the
forest
spread.
I walked first. The
alleys were
very narrow, and the homes had a
dilapidated yellow tint to them. Near the wall walked people with grave
fallen
faces and eyes filled with fear. They looked lost. They were the eyes
of people
who did not sleep at night. They appeared starved. This was the second
week of suffering from a complete lack of food in the ghetto. It seemed
as if
everyone was looking for something. One older woman walked back and
forth crying, "Where are my children, give me my children back!" She
was
overweight, and her rolls shook like paper sacks in the wind. I saw an
elderly
couple who stood next to the wall. They held each others' hands
tightly. The old
woman leaned her head against a pamphlet announcing a play that was to
take
place in the ghetto theater. Not far from her stood a little girl with
a doll in
her hand. She looked at the surroundings with her big black eyes.
Someone
said that her parents had been taken to the Estonian camp and she had
been
left all alone. I stood next to her - a strong soldier with a weapon in
my hand
- but could not help her. I was powerless, and there was no pain I
could feel greater than that.
The Jewish policemen went back
and forth as if they were in control. Only yesterday they had pulled
Jews out of their homes and looked for
Jews in their hideouts. They took four thousand people out of the
ghetto, two thousand women and children and two thousand men.
Today they walked around not looking at anyone, with eyes downcast. It
was clear that nobody knew what tomorrow
would bring. This entire ghetto was filled with confused and lost
people. In the air there was a smell of
filthy clothes and rotten bedding, and the walls were covered with
grime and
mold. The smell of this reached every corner, every rock, every door;
and it
seemed as if one could almost hear a mephistophelian laugh. One
realized
how
simple-minded Dante's Inferno was, and how limited Michelangelo's Hell
had been by
comparison. This calamitous sight that my eyes saw was part of a system
of annihilation
that was very sophisticated and was performed by truly meticulous
geniuses.
It was the creation of
Ubergrupenfuhrer Kitel.
Kitel's profession before the war had been an
actor's. His face greatly resembled Rudolf Valentino's. He loved music
and was a sentimental man. During the war,
his main occupation had been the "Jewish issue." This particular system
of mass
murder was his brainchild, and for this reason he had been appointed to
liquidate the Riga Ghetto;
and
when this
had been accomplished, he had come to the Vilna Ghetto to start its
destruction. He seemed to truly enjoy his
job. An art aficionado, he had funded a saxophone for the ghetto band.
I
now saw Kitel going quickly to his office. Later we found out that he
was planning the expulsion of another thousand Jews to Estonia.
At the Headquarters of the FPO
We entered a small room in
the library of Straszuna Number 6. The library was used as the
headquarters of the FPO. When we arrived here,
Gilman and Rudnitski fell asleep. Our troubles and our lack of sleep
had made
them very exhausted. I watched the ghetto inhabitants through a small
window
and quickly recorded what I saw - the shadow of a child, an elderly man
and
woman. I recorded these on small notes and put them in my pocket,
feeling as
if doing this would freeze my pain. I said to myself that maybe one day
these
papers would reach the remote enlightened world and would tell
something of
the hell endured here. Once in a while I walked outside of the dark
room; and in
the aisles between the rows of books, I would meet members of the
Resistance, talking to them and trying to comprehend their situation
and point of
view. Sonia Madejsker
had
been a Communist even before the war. I knew
her
very well, having studied in high school with Sofia Markovana Gurevich
together
with her sister. Two of her sisters had perished in the Minsk
Ghetto. Sonia was very beautiful - with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a
strong and beautiful
body. In Vilna and its environs she was known as an Aryan and was used
as a
contact between the FPO headquarters and the Communist underground in
town. She
had a soft expression on her face, but in her eyes there was
determination
and one knew that she would sacrifice everything for the cause;
she was an ardent activist.
Another resistance leader
-
Aba Kovner - I also knew before the war. I remembered that in 1938, I
was a first-year student in the Vilna
Academy of Art. I had already been attending for several years and did
not have
much contact with him, but I remember how different he had looked from
all
the other students. He was isolated in this Christian environment -
only a
few Jewish students were ever accepted to the Academy. Once in a while,
I
would go to the freshman studio to encourage him; but he could not
tolerate this unfriendly environment and, after some time, left the
Academy.
I also met Abraham Kavinik - he
was a member of the Bund. I also knew
him from the University of Vilna.
He was thin and handicapped in one arm. He was a true intellectual.
When evening came, Sonia Madejsker
took me to Chyena
Borovski. Chyena had been a Communist activist before the war and had
now
become one of
the most active members of the FPO. Despite the fact that she tried to
keep up a
cool and collected image - an image she needed to have in order to be a
member of the FPO - I could see that she was very excited. We drank
some tea, and
the atmosphere was pleasant and almost homey, as if we had forgotten
the
total annihilation and the fate awaiting thousands of people with death
sentences. After a short conversation, Sonia looked at her watch and
said, "Alexander, we must go." It was dark; we went to the gate of
the house on Rudnicka
Street 6.
This home took one to a street outside
of the
ghetto. We heard a quiet whistle. Sonia whistled similarly. The gate
was opened mysteriously, and we snuck in through an opening, finding
ourselves in Konarska Street.
In
order not to be noticed, I held Sonia in my
arms and started singing quietly a foolish song. Someone walked behind
us. I
looked at our surroundings and then got out onto the street. The shadow
disappeared. We relaxed a little and continued; but when we reached the
end of the
street, the shadowy figure reappeared. We could see it was a tall man
wearing a
black coat; on his head he wore a cap or something that a Lithuanian
policeman would wear. We started walking fast, crossing Tamanska
Street, and entered Subaciaus
Street. Once again, the shadow appeared.
Sonia
whispered that she had 1000 marks and that perhaps if we gave it to
the man, he would disappear. I
myself felt that a bullet would be more convincing than any piece of
paper. I drew my gun out; Sonia caught my hand and, in a quiet voice,
said, "I recognize him. Don't shoot him. He is a Jew."
We learned
that this guy
had followed us in hopes that we would lead him to the forest. There
were many like him in the ghetto - people who were
following activists in hopes of saving themselves. We continued
walking. Here and
there we would see the residents or policemen; but everyone was in a
hurry to
get home, as the curfew hour was nearing fast. We found ourselves in a
suburb of Vilna, behind the train station. Sonia opened an iron gate
to a house
in a small, dark alley. We entered the yard. The home was surrounded by
a
flower garden and lilacs. Sonia looked around and, finding the key,
opened
the door. We found ourselves in a dark room that was empty of people.
At the
corner stood two wooden beds, on which we sat. Once in a while, I
looked out
the window to make sure nobody was pursuing us. Every sound increased
my
anxiety. At first, the conversation was slow; we just exchanged words.
Soon we
were involved in a deep conversation - each of us wanted to learn of
the
other's world.
Sonia said that tomorrow there
would be a meeting at the headquarters of the FPO. I asked her if there
were some FPO members who would agree
to leave the ghetto. "I know," I said, "that your basic concept is
to fight in the ghetto until the end." Sonia explained that in the FPO
manifesto it
was written that they would go to the forest only once their mission in
the
ghetto was fulfilled, and they would then take with them as many Jews
as they
could. "We will find together a road to reach the forest, and once
there we
will continue the fight against the Nazi homicidal maniacs as a part of
the
general resistance." I said, "Is the answer to the question that you
just gave the agreed
course of action of most FPO members?"
Sonia answered that they
had gone
though times of worries and expectations, desperation and hope. People
were very disappointed by the attempt that was made to resist. "We were
not able to draw the mass
community of Jews in the ghetto toward our course. We wanted to meet
the Germans
with weapons; but after the first shot, fired by Ilya Scheinbaum, the
Germans
blew up the building and everyone retreated to a house next to the
headquarters. There was a mix-up, and the second battalion was caught
by the Germans
in a surprise attack. The members were taken outside of the ghetto; and
they
did not have a chance to reach Spitlana, where their weapons were
hidden.
Only a few escaped and arrived to where we hid in the yard of the
headquarters on Straszuna Street 6."
I said, "What are you waiting
for? You know these are the last days of the ghetto. The imminent
annihilation of the ghetto will be complete.
Do you really think that on that day you will stand with your little
weapons
against the Nazi Army and tanks? And that while fighting them you will
be able
to transport thousands of Jews outside of the ghetto? The ghetto is
surrounded! Thousands of German, Estonian, Lithuanian, and Latvian
soldiers are
closing in on the ghetto. They will kill each and everyone who dares to
step over
the fence. Even if a few of you succeed in getting out, you will be
murdered on
the road." I could not resist and said, "I don't understand why you
agreed to give Wittenberg
over to the
Gestapo."
Sonia
answered that Wittenberg
was
in a very difficult situation. "The Resistance demanded that he should
start active missions in and out of
the ghetto, according to the FPO manifestation that advocated
struggle
during the day of liquidation and opposed the idea that there
should be responsibility to the general resistance and not a specific
ghetto
group. This became hell; during this situation of mass panic and the
fear of
thousands of people who were desperate, we were lost. We could not
reach an
agreement about what constituted an appropriate way to behave. Could
anyone
truly find
resolution for such a fateful situation? The moral pressure was
unbearable. The head
of the Judenrat asked whether it was better to sacrifice one person or
thousands. Only history can answer; Hitler will be destroyed, the
German army
defeated. Its defeat is coming near; the murderers take revenge for
their defeat
on the Jews. We feel that salvation and resolution is very near; we can
truly
feel it, but we know that only a few among us will succeed in seeing
the
day of victory. Still, we have a strong urge to survive and to have a
little
bit of happiness." I said, "It seems ridiculous to sit quietly on this
volcano
and dream of happiness."
I told Sonia that I had a
letter
from Jurgis that was meant to be given to Anton Korablikov from the
Communist Underground in town. I
asked her if this Korablikov
was the same guy that was part of the
Polish
Communist Underground of Pashvilski.
Sonia said that this was true and
he was the
same one. The unit of Pashvilski
had a more intellectual character and
was
not very good at operative missions. Also, the Polish population hated
the
Soviets, and their hate for Russia
was so deeply rooted that they could never forgive the Soviets when
they transferred Vilna in 1939 to the Lithuanians. The Pashvilski
Unit
was not able to root themselves into the mass Polish communities. So
she said, "As soon as the Soviets established a
Communist
resistance, the Pashvilski
group united with them."
While I was sitting across from
Sonia looking at her beautiful blue eyes, blonde hair, and feminine
young figure, I said to myself, "How
many flowers like this will be annihilated in this gruesome field?"
The
night passed; and in the morning, someone knocked on the door. A young
blonde
man wearing a short leather jacket entered. This was Anton
Korablikov. Sonia
introduced me to him, and he took out of his jacket fresh buns, milk,
and apples,
and we ate. From the window, we could see an old woman coming near. It
was the
home-owner, Mrs. Janova. She entered and greeted us. Anton gave her a
glass
of milk and an apple. She had come to see whether there were any
strangers
here. She explained, "You know that the Germans are looking
everywhere," so
Anton explained that we were only his sister and brother-in-law who had
just
arrived from the village and the woman relaxed. He promised not to let
any
strangers enter. He continued, saying he totally understood that
one must
accept the instruction of the police and she could be sure that
everyone here
was of our people: good Polish people. The old woman said something and
left
the room. I took the letter from Jurgis out from under my shirt and
gave
it to Korablikov.
He shook
my hand warmly.
Some
time later I
found out that he was killed in a battle against the Germans.
Once
again, we went out
onto the street. We walked through the streets of my hometown - the
place where the days of my youth had passed. Now everything appeared
so different. When we arrived at the ghetto gate, Nikka Dreizin, the
traitor policeman, saw me. We quickly entered the
office
of the arbeitsauftraggestll
[probably an office with racks for work orders].
From there, you could go directly to the
ghetto.
Before the fearful clerk understood what was going on, we entered the
headquarters of the FPO, where everyone waited for us impatiently. They
did not ask any questions but were happy to see that we had returned
safely. I was very surprised when the members of the headquarters said
that Dessler,
the head of the Ghetto Police, was asking to see me, and I wondered
what he
wanted of me. I could never understand the nature of the contact that
Dessler,
the head of Jewish Police, had with the Resistance. They explained that
Dessler
was a bit fearful of the FPO but pretended to be their best friend. He
tried
very hard to manipulate them so they would not start any armed revolt
in the ghetto.
Before the war, Dessler had been
among
the golden youth of Vilna. Days and nights, he would spend partying and
gambling. He was a tall overweight
man, and only his meaty lips bore testimony to his cruel nature. His
face was expressionless, and his chest protruded. At headquarters
they told
me I faced no danger in meeting him, so I agreed to go to his place. An
old-time Communist - Abrasha Krizovski
- accompanied me. He was the
usual
contact between the FPO and Dessler. When we entered the office, we
found
Dessler to be in a good mood. Abrasha introduced us, and I sat across
from him [Dessler]. Even
sitting across from us in front of a wide table, his upper-body
extended over
the table. Dessler was very curious about conditions in the forest
and
details of how and where people lived. On his face he had a delighted
expression and a happy smile. He said, "I am a friend of the
Resistance." This strange situation made me very
curious, and I
answered peacefully all his
questions and said, "I am very happy to see in the
commander a friend
to the
partisans." Every question he asked, I answered, "Everything
is
wonderful with us.
All
is healthy and safe, and the fresh air in our pine forest does wonders
for
us." I noticed that my poetic answers were not
sufficient for the head
of the
police. All of a sudden he furrowed his black brows and said, "I
am
very excited by your visit. Happily, I will have you as a guest at my
home for
a good dinner with a good bottle of wine." I
pretended to be very
sentimental
about the warmth he exuded.
I answered, "Dear
commander, I am
afraid I am only a soldier and for another visit I must ask for
permission from my superiors." Dessler
seemed
to become enraged. He looked with a darkened expression at the door and
checked his watch impatiently.
All of a sudden the door
opened, and a German man dressed in civilian clothes entered. "Who
are
these Jews?" He yelled loudly, looking
intently at us. I understood that we had been tricked and it had been a
provocation
for us. I put my hand in my pocket and held on to my gun. Krizovski
became pale, and Dessler immediately stood up behind the table. He held
my arm and
pushed both of us to the door, saying, "It's all
right, sir. They are
Jews
from
the ghetto." We quickly went outside to Straszuna
6, where the head of
the
FPO
was located. (After the ghetto's final liquidation, Krizovski
arrived
to
the forest of Naroch.
When I asked him Dessler's intent in saving me from the Germans, he
explained that Dessler always liked to play a double game.
On the one hand, he wanted to prove to the Gestapo that he was able to
catch
any Jewish partisan who entered the ghetto. On the other hand, he
wanted to convince the head of the FPO to trust him and [realize] that
he would
save a
partisan Jew from the hands of the Gestapo.)
After this conversation,
I never
saw Dessler again. I was told that the FPO held a trial against him and
he received a death sentence as a
traitor but was never executed. When I was in the headquarters of the
FPO, I
asked the leader, Abba Kovner, to arrange a meeting for me with my
artist
friends who were in the ghetto. He took me to the attic where Rosa Sutzkever,
who was one of the best-known artists of Vilna, lived. She had
been a few
years ahead of me at the Art
Academy.
Now we found her dressed in tattered clothes across from a canvas
where she was painting a portrait. She said to
me, "Look Alexander. I think that today I was able to put
a
smile on the
face of
my model." This seemed to bring great satisfaction to her.
I wondered
to
myself what force compelled her to create art in such hellish
conditions.
After the Big Action of Four Days
in which four thousand Jews were liquidated, Rosa
was able to escape from the
ghetto; and
she asked her friend from the academy, Panske, who was a Volksdeutcher,
to help her. Panske
was a German agent who tried to get students from the Law Faculty in
Vilna to
join the Nazi underground. I would encounter him occasionally before
the
war. A student by the name of Anastasia Kort told me after the war how,
when
Panske saw his friend Sutzkever he received her very graciously and
promised to help her. He asked her to come to his apartment the next
morning.
When she came through the door, she found two Nazi agents waiting for
her. They
imprisoned her and took her to the Lukiszki Prison and
from there to
Ponar to her death. The same fate befell another painter who Panske
"helped,"
Hadasa
Gurevich.
These were the last days
of
the Vilna Ghetto. The members of the FPO knew that the end of the
ghetto was coming, and all the resistance
attempts had thus far failed. When they called on the members of the
ghetto to
revolt, the population objected. At that point, from the twenty
thousand residents
of the ghetto, only twelve thousand remained.
Before I left the ghetto, I had a
long conversation with Aba Kovner. He was most interested in knowing
whether we could successfully
transfer the members of the FPO the two hundred kilometers that
separated the Vilna Ghetto from the forest - two hundred kilometers of
unfriendly villagers
who
were collaborating with the Germans. After our long conversation, I
read at a meeting the long letter of Markov; and this is what he wrote:
"By the name of the Headquarters
of the Brigade of Voroshilov
in the Naroch
Forest, I, Colonel Markov, support the
attempts
of Alexander and all his people in trying to transport weapons and
people to the Jewish Division
Nekama. Alexander should
instruct the different units about how to
reach us.
Also, I ask that Jewish doctors from the ghetto come and be appointed
to
different divisions of the brigade."
When I
finished reading the
letter, I said, "Comrades, the ghetto is in
its last stage of survival. According to the Nazi plan, everyone will
be
killed and we will have no opportunity for even a symbolic revolt. I
bring the blessings of your comrades fighting in the forest and share
their desire
to unite with you." Most of the headquarters members received my
speech very warmly. After an hour, there was a meeting of all the heads
of the
units that planned to leave the ghetto, among them Chaym Rabinovitch,
Janiski, Jasha Raf, Gilman, and Rudnitski. I showed them how to read a
map,
explaining what they should do if they encountered the enemy, and how
to use a
compass, how to find their way using the stars, [and instructed them
in] when to open fire, how
to get
food on the road, and many other things. Meanwhile, we prepared
some
copies of the map of the area, which I had brought from the
headquarters, and we discussed in detail all the localities that they
would come across on
the way to the Naroch Forest.
After the meeting ended, only
Abrasha
Kavinik and
I were left. He showed me his very thin hands, saying, "Look at my
hands,
Alexander. Do they really need people like me in the forest?" He looked
at me with
a
very stressful look. I was very anxious. I could not say a word. It was
as
if my throat would betray me. I said, "Don't be foolish. Go quickly and
be
ready
to join us." An expression of hope filled his eyes, but this gentle and
noble
man did not arrive at the forest. A bitter fate awaited him on his
route.
When they reached the edge of the forest, he and his two friends, Jacov
Kaplan and Asia Bik, encountered the Germans. They were not
fearful; they
shot them, he himself killing two Germans, and continued shooting until
they ran out of all their ammunition. They were captured and tortured
and were hung in
front of thousands of Jews who stood by train cars that were just about
to take
them to the concentration camp in Estonia.
When I returned to headquarters,
I saw the mother of Moshe Judka Rudnitski. She was
crying. "My son, don't leave me to this bitter fate.
Take me to the forest!" Moshe was faced with a horrible
dilemma. In the library were two women: One was a young
and beautiful woman, his wife, and the second, middle-aged,
was his mother. Moshe stood by the
window and
chewed his nails. Whom should he save? The headquarters allowed him
to take only one relative. He was a loyal son, but how could he let go
of
his beloved
wife? He chose his wife; but the bitter fate was that as soon as his
wife
arrived at the forest, she was killed.
The different units started
leaving for the forest. There were eight units - five units of the FPO
that contained about one hundred and fifty fighters and three units
that were organised independently. In the
unit that was under the command of Moshe Judka Rudnitski were the
authors Avraham Sutzkever
and S. Kaczerginski.
My Unit Goes to the Forest
The day for my unit to go
to the forest arrived. It was the evening of September 11th.
Although I had stayed in the ghetto the whole time since arriving, Aba
now
took me
through
dark halls and wooden stairways and secret openings in ceilings and
walls until we arrived at a locked door. He
knocked three times on the door, and we entered a dimly-lit room.
Thirty young
men who seemed very stressed received us. Aba Kovner said, "I would
like to
introduce Shura, who has come to us as a member of the Jewish partisans
from the
division
Nekama in the forests of
Naroch. Today you will leave for the forest
under his
command. Your meeting will take place in the cemetery Barusa. You
have
to all
meet each other in Jaktowa Street
number
– ."
I explained to them the
details of how they
should behave
on the road. An hour later, they dispersed. At eight, Shmulik
Kaplinski, one of the bravest fighters of the FPO, stood next to the
gate in Jatkowa Alley.
This gate was known as the
Gate of Death, since it had been used as the last gate for the
thousands of
Jews
taken to concentration camps or the Ponar killing fields. The head of
the
Judenrat - Gens - had the key to this gate. Shmulik Kaplinksi had a
secret copy of
the key but said, "It seems like our mission
will fail, as the dog is
here." I looked back and saw the traitor policeman Nikka
Dreizin standing there
and whistling quietly. Meanwhile, I saw dark shadows coming from a
different direction and the entire group arrived and stood there.
Everyone whispered, "Why are we standing here?"
Standing was indeed
torturous; everyone had some weapon among his belongings, and
finally Chyena Borovski
and Vidka arrived. They whispered something to each other standing
aside.
Shmulik came and said quietly to me, "We are going to leave."
We walked to the Rudnitski Alley. We entered a gate and went up on
dark steps that took us to an attic. I held Shmulik's hand, since
everything was dark and you couldn't see a thing. Someone else held my
clothes;
and, like this, we walked in a line, hunched over, until we got to a
certain hall
in the building. "Beware," said Shmulik. "You go
down first, until you
find yourself on the Aryan side. Then knock on the right door and say,
'Mr. Jan, it's
me.' "
Together with a few
comrades
I left. We reached the door, and I pointed
my little light at it. I saw a plaque saying 'Jan Piatshak, dozoratza'.
I
knocked quietly. Nobody answered. Putting my ear to the door, I could
hear
voices. I knocked a little louder. I could hear someone approaching the
door and
opening it quietly. A smell of alcohol and sour pickles was very
strong. In the
fat face of Jan, his little pig eyes moved quickly from side to side.
He whispered, "What do you want, kikes?" in an
angry tone. "Open the door downstairs," I said
quietly. "Misters, not today. They are sitting here, don't you see?"
"But we agreed on this, Jan!" We
could hear the wild singing of drunken Germans. They were singing
'Susana, Eva Susana' rowdily. Simka Palavski approached him and put
something in his hand, and said, "Jan, you know me. Take this and open
the gate." Jan took his
little bribe and looked at us as if he were deaf and dumb.
"Comrades!"
he whispered, "this is not a peaceful day! If they
catch you leaving the gate I will be doomed. And anyway, why are you
giving me papers? What good do they do? I want a watch!"
Someone took a watch from
his hand and put it into the thick, bearlike hand of Jan. "Ok,
we will
see..." he said. "Come back in an hour."
We were very nervous. We
had given him a dirty bribe, and still he did not comply. So I put my
hand in my pocket and, with the end of my gun, I
pressed against Jan's protruding belly. He became fearful and in a very
sweet
voice said, "Comrades, I didn't really mean it. It's just that you gave
me so little..." "Jan! We can't wait any more! Quickly!" We were
shocked and at a loss about what to do. The wife of Jasha Raf gave him
her silk stockings.
Finally, he was satisfied. "Ok, good, follow me." He started going down
the stairs, and we followed him. He approached the gate but could
barely
walk and, in a drunk and
garbled speech, said, "Piasha kariv,
where is it!?" He was looking for
the
hole in which to put the key. Finally, the gate opened and we quickly
passed through.
We found ourselves on Nimjatka Street
- a dark alley with drawn blinds. There was not one living soul walking
on the streets, although occasionally one
could hear the sounds of German officers marching in their boots.
Finally, we arrived at the
Cemetery Barusa and
hid among the gravestones.
Nearby, I saw someone
who was tall and skinny and held a violin case
in his hand. He disappeared. I lay behind a stone; my watch showed that
it was ten o'clock. I
heard a quiet whistle. The moon came out from
behind the
cloud and cast a silvery glow on the cemetery. Behind the gravestones,
people
started standing up. The person with the violin case opened the case
and took out a machine gun. Together, one after another like ducks, we
began
walking. Across from us came a Christian woman. When she saw us coming
out from
behind graves, she started screaming, "Ghosts! Ghosts from Hell!" and
ran
away quickly.
We started walking toward the
forest. We arrived at train tracks. We could see German soldiers on
either side of the tracks. All of a sudden
we heard a train whistle. We came out of the bushes and crawled across
the
track. At one point, I ordered everyone to get up and run. We crossed
the
tracks, but suddenly I heard one of the girls yelling, "Help me! I've
fallen!" I
jumped and pulled her to the side at the last second - the train was
only a few moments away from us. At that moment, I lost my bag with my
drawings
and my
papers fell all over the train tracks. I tried to collect them, but the
wind
blew them away and I was able to collect only a few. I ran to the
forest and rejoined the group.
After walking for seven
days, we arrived at the Naroch Forest and joined the Nekama division.
Now the number of people in the unit was
260. Josef Glazman was the head of the troop, which
split
into five classes, one headed by Chaym Lazar, another by Bomke
Bojarski,
the
third by me, and two others whose names I don't remember. Boris
Groinman
became head of the base. [I spoke to Boris Groinman about a
year ago, in 2003. His grandson got in touch with me. They live in Australia.
Trans.] People were quickly
organized. They had dedication and commitment; we trained them in
weaponry, and we started taking part in combat. We took
part in battles against the German garnisons
[garrisons] in
Miadzol
and Koblinik, as
well
as fighting against the underground Polish White Resistance. We - the
members of Nekama - joined
other units in this mission and were part
of the revolt against the Nazis.
During the evenings we sat around
the bonfire and sang Jewish partisan songs. Conducting the songs were
Shmerke Kaczerginski and the captain,
Vlodya Tichonov. The songs were sung both in Yiddish and Russian.
Especially
talented were the solo singers Yehiel Borgin, Mordechai Posner, and his
daughter
Chana. Each one of them had a beautiful voice and could carry a tune
well. The
entire division would sit around the bonfire telling our war stories.
That
special camaraderie drew other Jews who belonged to other divisions, as
well as
non-Jews, to ask to join our division. Sadly, our division existed for
only
three months. The headquarters of the brigade was against establishing
a
Jewish combat unit, since they did not see Jews as a separate
nationality; and
after three months they split us.
The Brigade of the White Polish
One morning, a messenger
arrived from the brigade headquarters with an order: The division of
Nekama had to get ready for a
mission. All the
fighters had to go with a weapon to a forest thicket a few kilometers
away,
taking position in a frontal line and then waiting for orders. Nobody
knew
exactly what the orders would be. We lay between the tall pine trees
and waited impatiently for instruction. We knew that something
important was about
to occur. We could see from all sides of us that many Russian divisions
came and held position. Messengers ran from one place to another to
transfer
orders from the headquarters of the brigade. We lay there with our
weapons
drawn toward an opening in the forest and waited for the order to open
fire, but
no order came. All of a sudden, we saw a large camp of partisans
walking
toward the direction of the clearing. We were very surprised to see
that all
of these people were without weapons - they looked devastated and
downcast,
walking in
groups of four. I lay down with my drawn weapon and examined the rows
of
advancing people. Externally, they looked like any other partisans. I
could not
figure out what had happened.
All of a sudden, one of them
looked at me. Our eyes met, and I yelled, "Jank, what is happening
here?" I had studied with Jank in
high school. He was the only Polish kid in the Jewish-Polish gymnasium
in
Vilna. He was a good-looking guy, tall and splendidly built, very
friendly and
liked by everyone. Now he was walking here among the lines of Polish
partisans without weapons. They were POWs being taken to their deaths!
I could not exchange any words with him, and he disappeared as if it
had all been a
dream. I could not imagine that Jank, who was so good-hearted, could
belong to
a group of anti-Semites who killed Jews. They were the Armia Krajowa
(AK). Only a short time passed before we heard shots from the direction
of the clearing. Then a deathly quiet descended.
The Polish who lived in White
Russia and Lithuania
had organized themselves into an armed force much like the Russian
Resistance. At
first, they communicated with the Soviet resistance, hoping that when
the war ended
the Soviets would return to Poland Vilna and White Russia. Clearly,
most of
the Polish population supported the AK, which had instructions from the
Polish Government in Exile in London.
The
intention of the Polish government did not seem pure in the eyes of Moscow,
which feared that the AK would strengthen Polish [desire for]
independence. The Soviet government intended to unite the two parts of Belarus
-
the western part, which had belonged to Poland
between 1920 and 1939, and the eastern part, which was a republic of
the Soviet
Union.
Because of that intention, the headquarters of the Soviet partisan
movement in Belarus and
Lithuania
received orders from Moscow
to get
rid of the AK.
Colonel Markov, the head of the
Voroshilov Brigade, had sent an order to all divisions in the Naroch
Forest
to get rid of the Polish brigade that
still had some ties with Russian partisans. On this day, all the
fighters that
belonged to the Polish brigade were ordered to come, without weapons,
to
this
clearing in the forest and meet their Russian comrades. When the Polish
brigade
arrived, the Soviets put fifteen of the commanders in a line and,
after they
[the Soviets] read what [the commnders] were guilty of, which was
resistance to the Soviet
rulers,
they were killed on the spot.
Only the leaders were killed.
Most of the Polish fighters were added to different Soviet regiments.
As time passed, they escaped and
organized their own unit. They started fighting the Russian partisans
and killing
Jews, collaborating with the SS. After the punishment, I saw hundreds
of
Polish resistance soldiers returning from this execution that took
place in the clearing. They appeared very shaken; I looked for Jank, my
classmate,
but could not find him among the returnees.
The Splitting of the Brigade
Nekama
It was the end of summer;
the weather was splendid. The tall pine trees in the forest spread
the aromatic smell of their sap, and the
sun's rays pierced through the needles and stroked the meadows and the
base
of the Nekama Division.
On the 23rd of September, 1943,
Polokovnik Markov
gathered the Nekama Division.
He came, together with people from headquarters
and the secretary of the Communist Party in the Vileyka region -
Comrade
Kalimov. Markov arranged for a roll-call; and in short pithy sentences
he
established that in this division many people had no weapons, no
military training,
and no experience. The weapons that we did have must be given to
partisans who
were more experienced but lacked weapons. He promised that soon the
Soviets
would parachute some weapons from Moscow
and the members of Nekama
would receive new weapons.
Meanwhile, the division would be
split into two parts. One part would become a professional unit that
would be responsible for non-combative
duties; the rest, together with their weapons, would join the
Belarussian
division by the name Komsomolski,
and they would establish a new
division by the
name of Kalinin. The
duties of the
professional unit Proizvodizyana
Grupa, would be to take care of the
needs of combating partisans from other units. They
would be shoe-makers and tailors. He ordered all people of such
professions to
get out of the lines of people who had no weapons. He said that he
needed sixty
people for the professional unit, and they would be transferred to
another
space. They would receive only two rifles and five guns, and with these
weapons they had to get food that would be sufficient for sixty
people and defend themselves. As their commander, Markov
appointed
Boris Groinman. When
Markov was finished, comrade Kalimov started talking. He emphasized
that he principally opposed the existence of a separate Jewish entity,
as the
Jews were not a nation and did not have their own republic. The
partisan
movement, he said, was built according to national territorial bounds
that
existed in the Soviet Union so that all
Belarussian
citizens
should serve in a Belarussian unit, all Lithuanian citizens should
serve in a
Lithuanian unit, and others should also serve according to the republic
they came
from. He suggested that Nekama,
despite the fact that it was a combat
division, caused anger in the local population and contributed to
anti-Semitism, weakening the struggle of the Soviet Union
against the Nazi enemy. He said that many of the non-Jewish partisans
were influenced by Nazi propaganda and did not approve of Jewish combat
units.
Among [those
in] the
headquarters of
Markov was Vlodka Saulovich. Vlodka had taken part in battles against
the Germans already in 1942, ever since the
first battle against the Nazis by the Resistance at the beginning of
the organization of Soviet partisans in the Naroch Forest. Vlodka, by
his
very nature, was not subservient. He was a hooligan and an anti-Semite.
Still, he was very brave and a good fighter; and as time passed, he
started
bothering Markov about the issue. Markov tried to get rid of him. He
did not want
to be responsible for him. He now found this opportunity of uniting the
two divisions - Nekama and
Komsomolski. Markov made him the head of
this new division, Kalinin.
As Vlodka took control,
he walked
among the lines of fighting Jews and took their weapons. From the
women he took the guns they had
brought from the ghetto. The girls started complaining, saying that
they had not
come here to hide but to fight. He also took the machine gun that
Yehiel Borgin
had. The weapons that he took from the Jews he transferred to the
Belorussian
partisans. The Soviet authorities seemed to have done much to prevent
the Jews from organizing their own unit. This event with Nekama was not
the only such experience for Jews. Many attempts to create Jewish units
were
completely denied by Soviet partisans. On that occasion, I received an
order from
Markov to take a group of thirty people a distance of about seventy
kilometers in order to
confiscate horses from the villagers in the area. The aim of the
brigade was to
organize a unit of horseback riders. As my assistant, Markov appointed
a
Soviet
partisan by the name of Ivan Ivanovich. Most of the time I spent with
Ivan
Ivanovich he lay in a carriage with liquor in his hand, completely
drunk. Ivanovich
was a friendly guy who knew all the trails in the forest; but I could
not get
much help from him, as he was always drunk.
Meanwhile, a blockade
started.
About forty thousand German soldiers, equipped with automatic weapons
and artillery as well as air power,
started crossing the forest. They walked in long, long lines through
the
forest, burning villages and killing residents. The headquarters
ordered
partisans to leave the Naroch Forest and try to break through the ring
of German
soldiers in order to get to the Kazian Forest. The situation of the
unarmed
single Jews
and families that lived in the forest near the partisans became
horrible.
Some of the Jews were able to get to the swamps of the Neva and hide
there,
surviving these awful conditions of starvation and exhaustion. When I
returned
after the blockade to the base, my wife Rachel told me what had
occurred while I
was away at the base of the Nekama
division.
The Story of Rachel Bogen (as
told by her)
The Jews were ordered to
come
before the headquarters of the division. One by one, they were
called inside. Saulovich, the head of the
division, informed them that the
division needed
more
weapons, especially as the blockade was to occur any minute. In order
to acquire weapons, he said
that he needed cash, gold,
watches, and other valuables. Each Jew who
entered
his headquarters was thoroughly searched, and any leather jackets or
boots
were taken away. The searches took place the entire morning. People who
waited outside did not understand what was going on. These people were
gentiles, and the only people checked were the Jewish partisans. After
each search,
the Jews who were done had to join another group that stood far away on
the
other side; and they were not allowed any communication with people who
were
waiting in line to enter. This action upset the Jews greatly; the
atmosphere was
filled with explosive spirit.
Vlodka then divided the partisans
into a few groups. He ordered Groinman to take the wounded to partisans
in the swamps of the Neva
together with a doctor and medics. Heading a well-armed unit, Vlodka
left the
base of Komsomolski and transferred to the Chapaev
base, leaving behind
a unit
with no weapons and no form of defense. Small groups of people started
walking
toward the Neva
swamps. Two days before the blockade started, Tusia,
the wife
of Vlodka, went into labor and had a son. At that point, he sent two
armed
units near the Neva
to scout the area and he headed a unit of the best
fighters
and went on the road.
As I said, Vlodka sent all the
unarmed people away; but my mother and I were an exception. He must
have felt some responsibility, since the headquarters of the brigade
had sent my husband on an important mission.
While we were walking, I started walking slowly behind Vlodka's unit,
since my
mother became very tired. We had no choice but to join another unarmed
group
that walked to the Neva swamps.
We used some planks to bridge the
more
dangerous parts of the swamp. This was a very dangerous walk, since at
any moment
we could fall in. In front of me walked a Jewish man who was from the
area
and knew all the trails of the forest. With one hand I held on to him
and
with the other onto my mother. All of a sudden, she slipped the plank
she was
walking on and fell into the swamp. Two men tried to get her out but
were not
able to. She started drowning. In the last minute, in exhaustion and
desperation, I caught her arms and pulled her. She was covered in
sticky mud that came
above her waist.
After we walked for a few more
hours along the planks, we arrived at a dry island and lay down to rest
in a cellar that the villagers had built in
order to store hay. It was night. We were very hungry and exhausted
and
found a sack of flour. We removed the thick hard exterior of the grain,
and made
some sort of soup from flour and water.
I became sick with dysentery and
could no longer walk. Many people had infections and sores all over
their legs. Among the people with us was Garberovich and his wife. She
was sick with typhus and had a fever of
over 40 degrees. Two men helped her walk, and she trudged on with the
rest of
us. After some days she finally recovered and was able to walk on her
own. Finally, the explosives and shots subsided, and one of the guys
was
sent
to scout the area. He returned, saying that the blockade was finished.
Meanwhile, my husband Alexander returned to the Komsomolski base and
sent an armed partisan in a carriage to bring us there. Together with
some women who
were sick and could not walk, we were put on the carriage and taken to
the
base.
When I arrived, a nasty message
had been sent from headquarters. They said that my husband shot at
Vlodka and Vlodka was badly wounded, while
my husband was imprisoned. All of a sudden, in the middle of the night,
my husband came without any weapons. His spirit was broken; he told me
what had occurred the day before and explained that after what had
happened with
Vlodka, he had been sent away from the division and his weapon taken
away.
The Occurrence with Vlodka (by Alexander Bogen)
A morning filled with sun
shone on the somber faces of the partisans, who walked in a grim line
in
the verdant fields and forests. The
surroundings were calm and laid-back. Inside, their hearts were filled
with worry.
People were whispering that Vlodka refused to accept any Jewish
partisans who didn't bring weapons with them. Litman Murawczyk
approached me and
asked me if his bb gun would get him in. I said I would talk to the
commander on his behalf. I knew him from high school; he was a year
younger than I.
Before the war he was already a student in Vilna University. When I
returned
from
the forest to the Vilna Ghetto to bring some young Jews to the
partisans, I had him join my group. I could not stand seeing him so
helpless
without aiding him, so I took his bb gun and approached Vlodka. He took
the gun
in hand and checked it from hand to hand, saying, "We will see."
He did not return the gun and
started walking away. For one minute, I froze and everything came
crashing down. It was as if the ground had
fallen out from under my feet. Only one thought came to my head: I must
return
this gun to its owner. I jumped on Vlodka, who kept walking, and held
on with
all my might to the hand that was holding the gun. His face became red
in
anger,
and his gray eyes were filled with red flames. I would not let his hand
go and
held on to it even more strongly. All of a sudden, a shot was heard. He
[Vlodka] fell
flat on
the ground. I continued holding onto his hand and fell to my knees. I
could hear yells echoing in my ears. Someone shook me strongly and
yelled in my
face: "Spy! Murderer! You killed the Commander!"
Four armed partisans surrounded
me and took my weapon. They started searching me, and from my backpack
they took my notebook with my
drawings and started making fun of the pictures. Slowly, I returned to
consciousness. I saw how they put the wounded Vlodka on the carriage.
Doctor Naomi Gordin
took care of him and addressed his wounds. His face was pale as chalk.
The bullet
had entered his stomach and was stuck his thigh. Tusia, his wife, held
on
to him.
I jumped toward them and yelled
with all my might, "Vlodka! If you are
right, order that I should be shot with the same gun!" The wounded
Vlodka did
not answer; his eyes closed and his face was filled with painful
grimacing.
He tried to say something but could not. He lifted his arm but could
not
hold it up, and his arm fell to his side helplessly. Sounds of anger
came from
the lines of Russian partisans. "Here is the murderer of our
Commander!"
It was like a storm in the atmosphere. A small group of Jews who
had arrived with
me were standing at a distance, and each one stood a distance away with
a weapon
in his hand. They took me to a thicket in the forest. A strange apathy
filled
me.
What difference would it make to
me, I thought, if I lived for a few
hours more or was shot on the spot? I looked at the tops of the trees
and the rays
of sun that painted the pine branches a multitude of colors. Birds were
singing. Soon everything would be gone, and I would be standing in
front of a
firing squad. My comrade partisans would pull the trigger, and never
again
would I see the sunlight and the verdant trees. My ears would no
longer hear birds singing. A thought came to my mind that despite all
the tragedies that
had occurred, I still was able to have Vlodka, this anti-Semite
hooligan,
pay the consequences of his deeds. The headquarters commander
did not
want to take such a responsibility. He did not want to make a mistake,
so
he
decided to wait for permission from the main headquarters before they
would
execute me.
He thought that this was
a
much better idea. It would make the
execution legal and take the responsibility away from him, and he would
not need not
make a report. The messenger that was sent for instructions from
headquarters returned, and everybody was whispering something and
guarding me very carefully. I imagined that I could hear the sounds of
the loading of the
guns. At
that moment, a messenger came to the wounded Vlodka and asked for
permission
to execute me. Vlodka, with all the energy that he could muster,
yelled,
"He
will stay alive, and this is an order!"
At this moment, all of a sudden,
it came to me. Vlodka, who was many times drunk, evil, and
anti-Semitic, had once said to me, "Alexander,
don't tell anyone you are a Jew. Why get yourself in trouble? Here,
look at
me. The truth is I had one Jewish grandmother. But nobody knows about
it."
As soon as I was released
from my imprisonment I went to the headquarters of the brigade and
asked them to return my weapon. With a
letter from Markov, I went to a village near the forest and my weapon
was
returned to me by a commander. My mood greatly improved, but still I
was not
assigned to any partisan unit. I went to Markov, the commander of the
brigade, and suggested the establishment of a new, smaller Jewish unit.
To my
surprise,
Markov immediately agreed. I explained my feeling about Jewish combat
units.
At that point, the Red Army was drawing nearer to our area and
liberating
occupied territories. Now there was an immediate need to clear this
entire
region so it would make their advance easier. Markov agreed with
me; and, on the spot, he dictated a permit to his secretary saying,
"I'm sending Oreg Grupa that
contains twenty people
for
a special mission. The commander of this unit will be Alexander
Katzenbogen. The commissar will be Leizer Shapira. At this point, their
mission is
planned to have a duration of two months." I was very surprised that he
was so
positive, but in reality the brigade was desperately in need of a field
airport
in order to receive weapons that were now much more frequently sent
from Moscow to the
partisans. The front was now nearing Naroch, and Moscow sent
urgent orders to increase the number of sabotage missions and to
forcefully
take over the German. So I returned to the Komsomolski base, where
there
were many weaponless Jews; as soon as people heard about the unit, they
asked me
to let them join. Most of the people who asked were Jews from the area,
especially from Svencian, Kurenetz, Lintup, and a few FPO members. I
remember in particular Leib Gurevich, Shimon Zimmerman from Kurenetz,
the brothers
Moshe and Salim Shnitzer, Simka and Ruvka Levin, Chencinski,
Shaike
Gertman,
Chaym Chlor, Litman Murawczyk, Zalman Gurevich from Kurenetz, Leizer
Shapira,
Ester Shutan, Mishka Gilinski, Hirshke Charmatz, and others whose names
I have forgotten.
The first duty assigned to our
unit was to guard the partisan airport near the village Loz.
This
airport was in a clearing in the forest;
during night time, the planes would come from Moscow and parachute
weapons, ammunition, and other supplies for the fighting brigades. We
were
assigned to keep constant watch around the airport for any German
attacks. We
were told that if Germans attacked, we had to immediately respond with
fire and inform the brigade. Whenever
anyone would come, we had an agreement that we
would burn bonfires and make signs for the planes so they would know
where to parachute their weapons and supplies. Markov saw our job as
very
important because it helped [the partisans] get a lot of high-quality
weapons in large
quantities
that were sent from the distant partisan headquarters.
Markov
visited us
often in the airport, and he would always emphasize how important the
job was. My great disappointment was that we had
taken the assignment in hopes of receiving some of the weapons that
were parachuted
in, but to my sorrow this promise was never fulfilled. After a month we
were
replaced and sent to other jobs. We learned that there were many
weapons in a
certain village. We arrived there one winter night, surrounded it, and
started checking the homes of Polish farmers who were members of the
AK. I
entered one of their homes, where I knew such a person lived. Avraham
Rein, Hirsch Charmatz, and Litman Murawczyk
came with me. While we
talked to the
farmer and his two sons, Murawczyk hit
his rifle on the floor and a
bullet flew
out, hitting the ceiling. The farmer became very scared and
immediately
said that a neighbor across from him had a cellar where he hid many
rifles.
When we came to the neighbor and
asked for the rifles, he denied having them; and in spite of the fact
that we beat him badly, he refused
to confess. So I ordered him to go outside and staged a mock trial
with
him. I said he was to receive a death penalty because he refused to
give
weapons for the Resistance. I made him dig a hole to be buried in; and
as he
worked, I occasionally said, "You can still save your life if you tell
us where
the weapons are." The air was filled with tension and nervousness. I
could
not break this man.
We had no choice but to place him
standing in the hole with a shovel in his hand and half of his body
protruding. Meanwhile, the farmer's
wife, who did not know her husband's fate, told the other guys where
the
weapons were hidden and we found rifles and ammunition there.
We confiscated six sleighs and
horses and left. When we arrived at the village of Malniki near the
bridge
by the lake and the mill, we entered
one of the homes of the farmers and they gave us food. While I was
sitting
there, a partisan came and said, "Commander, the Germans!"
I ordered all the fighters to run
to their sleighs and go in the direction of the forest, but at that
moment the Germans opened fire.
Some jumped into the lake and swam to the other side. This night was
very,
very dark. When we finally all gathered at the hill, we opened fire.
When the Germans' shooting had subsided, we entered the forest. I
walked first
and the rest walked in a line behind me. We all held each other's
hands,
as it
was very dark. I walked with my free hand out in front of me, touching
the trees.
In this way I found the road. The entire night, we walked through the
forest. The next morning we learned from the partisans that a fierce
battle had
occurred between the Germans and the partisans here. This story was
very
strange. Not even one of my people was wounded! We were all healthy and
well.
Here is
what we found out:
The Germans were aiming too high, and they killed all of our
horses and lambs, which
were following us; and when they saw the blood all over the snow, they
mistook it as blood from a partisan massacre. After one night of
walking, we arrived at the edge of the forest and I went with Simka
Levin to the village to see if the Germans were there.
We entered the first home on our road. The very frightened farmer there
said that Germans had searched the village. He was badly beaten. They
had tried
to learn about the partisans. He begged us to leave his house, as he
feared the
Germans would return and torture him. When we returned, Markov invited
me to the headquarters of the brigade. He gave us a very special
mission: to
scout the area, and look for strategic locations, weapons, bunkers of
the German
camp. We were to draw a map of it.
At this point I planned
to
go to Vilna, so I made Abraham Rein the commander of the unit to carry
out the mission. He took nine people
with him - Shaike
Gertman,
the brothers Levin, Hirsch Charmatz, Chencinski,,
Mishka Gilinski, Leibke Gurevich, and Chaym Klor. When they arrived at
the hut
near the village Lintup, they entered the home of a farmer they knew
well.
The second day, they decided to go to a bathouse. Abraham Rhein had
very old boots, so he left the bathhouse and went to the home of a
well-to-do
farmer by the name of Bukovski, whose house was next door. He took from
him some
better boots and happily rejoined the rest of the group. Bukovski sent
his
daughter to the police, [and she] told them partisans were in the house
of the
neighbor. Germans and Lithuanians immediately arrived and surrounded
the house. A
battle ensued. Leibke Gurevich jumped out of the house and ran with
drawn gun
in the direction of the Nazi machine gun. He was wounded but continued
to run
and jumped on the Nazi holding the gun, killing him. Shaike Gertman
was
badly wounded; he kept shooting with his Parablum and threw
grenades. When he
was totally exhausted, he killed himself. Hirshke Charmatz and one of
the
Levin brothers were killed; Moshe Gilinski was wounded in his hand and
Chaym
Klor in his stomach. The two guys who were wounded and the rest of
the
fighters were able to find the rest of the unit, which was at that
point
on the way to
Vilna.
The Road to Vilna
Sometime at the end of
1943, I was given a mission to get weapons from a hideout belonging to
a
Polish man in a suburb of Vilna. I was told
there were twenty automatic machine guns that were to be transferred to
the
brigade. We found out about this hideout from a Jewish partisan by the
name of Yerachmiel Pilovski. When we let Markov know about it, he gave
the okay
for the mission.
We left on a very bright night;
the moon lit the road, and the tall pine trees threw a shadow on the
thick snow. On the way we encountered
two partisan units, both of which warned us not to continue, saying
that
Germans were bunkered on the sides of the road. Despite the warning, I
decided
to cross the road. I was very surprised to see signs of sleighs, boots,
and dogs
on the snow. We went in a long line - first walked the scout, a
villager from a nearby village. All of a sudden, a distance away, I saw
a wolf. I was
ready with my weapon, but as we came nearer I realized it wasn't a wolf
but a
Great Dane. The dog did not move. I turned my head and saw another dog
of the
same kind on the left side. The dogs sat unmoving and looked into our
eyes.
All of a sudden, they started retreating, and just then the Germans
opened
fire. I gave an order to lie on the ground but nobody was listening to
me and
only I
lay on the ground. Under fire, my friends were able to retreat and get
behind a hill to an area where they were safe. I continued to lie in
the deep
snow - I could not get up. The dogs came near me and started barking. I
tried to
get up but couldn't do it. Maybe it was fear that froze my legs - the
dogs
were
only a few meters away from me; the Germans kept shooting, and I felt
sure my end was
near. My life passed before me as if it had been a movie - my
childhood, my
family, my university, and my beloved wife. Finally, I was able with
the
last of my
might to lift my gun; and with my frozen fingers I pulled the trigger
and
started shooting in all directions. The Germans stopped their shooting,
probably
to try to estimate the number of partisans against them. I used this
moment
and, with all my might, was able to get up and run to the area where
the
rest of the group was.
One time, when I returned from
one of the missions, I entered the home of a farmer to rest and eat
something. While sitting there and drinking
vodka, we conversed about the happenings in the area and about the
location of
the
Germans. While we talked, some of my comrades checked the
home of the
farmer and took a few clothing items and food. When we arrived at the
base to
give Markov the details of our mission, I was very surprised to see the
same
farmer standing next to the commander, Colonel Markov. I immediately
understood that he was a contact for the partisans, since one could not
get to the headquarters of the brigade unless one had a special
permit.
After the meeting with
Markov, Fronko, a contact between the NKVD and the brigade, came to me
and said, "You are looting the farmers here."
He drew his gun and ordered me to go to a nearby swamp. My wife came
and asked
him what he was blaming her husband for. Fronko stopped and said, "He
must
return within five minutes everything he plundered from the farmer." My
wife immediately ran to my friends, and each returned what he had
taken.
Momentarily I was released, but a few hours later I was again
imprisoned and put in
a tent made of hay on top of the snow. I was left all alone in the
bitter cold
and wind. Luckily, there were a few Jewish partisans from the
Soborov
Division near where I was imprisoned, and secretly they brought me a
fur coat
and food. I did not know what my fate would be. Meanwhile, my wife
came
to Markov and asked [him] to release me, as I was innocent and my hands
were
clean. He said, "Your husband is responsible for robbery and looting by
his unit
at
the home of a farmer who is helping partisans and is our contact. For
doing
such a thing he will receive a death penalty."
My wife Rachel would not let go
of him and kept begging him. These were moments of great fear for her;
she thought he really would go
through with this grim punishment. It seems that her pleas affected
Markov; he
thought for a while and this quiet moment tore at the nerves of Rachel.
Finally, he said, "This time, I will consider what you are saying and I
will punish him with only five days of imprisonment. But if ever again
such a
thing should occur, there will be no mercy. He will be executed."
After some days I was released
and returned to my unit. To my surprise, the only person remaining was
my wife. While I was
imprisoned, the unit had been dissolved, and the fighters sent to
various Soviet divisions. Now I understood that they had used this
opportunity to get
rid of this Jewish unit in this way. This is one example of many where
the
Soviets dissolved an independent Jewish unit for political reasons.
With Sumauskas, the Head of the
Lithuanian Brigade
Once again, I found myself
without a unit. I went to Sumauskas,
the head of the Lithuanian
Brigade and asked that he let me join.
Sumauskas
knew that I was a brave partisan and also knew that I used
to draw for the partisan paper Silalskiya Gazeta.
The mother of my wife
- Sara Shachor
- lived in the zimlanka that
belonged to the family of Nathan Gurevich
[the brother of the translator's grandfather - Trans.] from Kurenetz. The
condition
in the forest was difficult, and it was hard to get food. The son of
Nathan,
Zalman Gurevich, was a brave partisan in my division. He was a loyal
comrade
and friend and knew all the trails in the forest very well. He knew
about
the situation with my mother-in-law and asked permission of my family
for his family to take her so
she wouldn't be alone. With the assistance of that family, she was able
to
pass this very dangerous period and all the calamities and dangers that
they
faced in the forest. I saw it as my duty to help the family that helped
my
mother-in-law and get them some food. Occasionally I would approach the
commander
of the brigade and explain to him the difficult conditions that the
families
hiding in the forest faced. I explained that they had no weapons and
nobody to
defend them.
The commander, Sumauskas,
would
always say that he would try to help me, but never really gave any food
for the families. I become impatient,
but still I was helpless, not knowing what I could do.
Once when I was guarding at
night, I decided to take some food from storage to give to the
Gurevitch family. So I went there and
carried a sack of peas, hiding it not far from where I was guarding,
hoping to bring
it to the Gurevitch family the first chance I had. It was my bad luck
that at
that moment a unit of Lithuanian partisans were returning from a
mission.
Since I was not guarding where I was supposed to guard at that
particular
moment, when they called the code word nobody answered. This caused a
great stir in
the base, and the whole base became frantic. When I finally returned, I
was
called to Sumauskas,
who said that I had betrayed his trust and
disappointed
the entire base. What did I deserve for such an action? A death penalty.
I was very embarassed, and said
I understood how awful my action had been. Sumauskas
recommended that I disappear immediately
as if I had never been there. I left and returned to the base of
the
Markov Brigade. I must say I was not the only partisan who helped
the families
in the forest. Many Jewish partisans used every opportunity to bring
food to
the Jewish camps that needed help, support, and defense against the
Germans, and also sometimes [help] the women in these camps, who were
occasionally molested
by the Gentile partisans.
At that point, they sent me on a
mission to capture the history of the brigade named after Voroshilov.
The other members of that particular
mission were the poet Avraham
Sutzkever, the author Shmerke
Kaczerginski, two
people
from Russia, and a secretary. I was to draw sketches of the battle as
well
as to sketch commanders and other partisans, so I went to the different
units
with my sketchpad and charcoal. I was always warmly received by the
commanders of the unit, who looked favorably upon being immortalized
for their
missions and bravery.
The Story of Bomke Bojarski
Bomke Bojarski
was the
second commander of the Otriad Nekama. He was a young man, around 21
years old, a native of Dniepopetrovsk.
In 1941, he visited Grodno and
never had a chance to return to his hometown. From
Grodno, he escaped to Vilna, where he served for a while as a
policeman.
Together
with the group of Moshe Shutan, he escaped and reached the Naroch
forest.
Since he was a vostochnik (a
person born in the eastern part of the area
which
was part
of the Soviet Union prior to 1939), he quickly gained
the trust
of the head of the brigade. Since he became friends with them, they
appointed him as head of the Otriad
Nekama. When Nekama
was dissolved, Bomke
became commander of the scouting otriad
by the
name of Kalinin.
Bomke was of
average height, with
wide, thick shoulders. He was very warm, with a good sense of humor,
and very brave. His face always had a huge and very friendly smile. The
only negative thing I can think of to
say about him is that he was at times impatient. In his actions, he
surprised his Belorussian and Soviet friends and was a source of pride
for the Jews.
One time he was sent, together
with two other scouts, on a sabotage mission. The mission was
successful, but they encountered Germans on the
way back. The youngest among them - a twenty-six-year-old Jew - fell
immediately. Bomke
was badly wounded in the stomach and was taken to
the base. He
suffered from terrible pains for a long time; but when he had recovered
somewhat, the brigade assigned him to a non-combat job. He refused to
take it and
said he
had to return to combat and insisted that he wanted to be the commander
of
the scouts, as he had been before. As time passed, he recovered,
many
of his skills returned, and he took part in many combat activities
against the
Nazi enemy.
At the beginning of winter, 1943,
the commander of the camp I traveled to was a very nice person and did
not show any anti-Semitism. I walked
around the barracks and looked for interesting people to draw. I
encountered
a Tatar who was very interesting looking. He was of the highest
military rank,
of strong stature, good-looking, and had a clearly Oriental facial
structure.
While I was drawing this man, the
head of the Otriad - a
Ukranian man
who had only recently escaped from a POW camp and joined the partisans
-
entered the room. When he saw my drawing, he approached the Tatar man
and slapped
his face. Then he came to me, and tore up my paper. Both the Tatar and
I
were in shock. I drew my gun and pointed it at him. When he saw my
weapon,
he
walked away.
I entered
the headquarters
to complain to the supreme commander of the Otriad, Laskov, about the
Ukrainian commander. I showed him the
license I had received from Markov stating that I should interview and
sketch
resistance fighters. Laskov was very uncomfortable, saying that he
didn't know the
Ukrainian well and that he was new in his division and we must
investigate his
past.
While we were talking, a partisan
arrived and said, "Comrade Commander,
the Germans are coming!" We listened and could hear shots from afar.
The
commander immediately ordered Bomke to find
where the enemy was. Bomke Bojarski
jumped
on his white horse and disappeared like a stone in the depths of a
forest. He
was followed by three of his scouts - Kim, Leib Khadash, and
Vaska.
They
arrived at the nearest village and asked if there were any Germans.
Somehow the answers given by the villagers didn't ring true to them;
and
so they
continued scouting, hoping to find the enemy. When they arrived at a
special
clearing in the forest, someone started shooting. It turned out to
be someone from the Belorussian police. Bomke fell
first and was badly
wounded.
He shot at them until [he had
expended] his last
bullet and then fell dead. Vaska, also,
was mortally wounded. Kim was very badly wounded, and Leib Khadash
carried
the wounded Kim on his back while bullets were flying all around.
They arrived at the forest, but
then Kim said to him, "Put me down here. I am dying." When the Germans
reached Bomke,
they recognized him
as Bomke -
a partisan renowned for his bravery - so they took out a
bayonet and
gouged out his eyes. The shots continued, and the whole division
awaited
their
return; but they did not come back. So all the fighters jumped on
sleighs that
were harnessed to horses and hurried in the direction of the shooting.
A few
other divisions arrived and found the bodies that were in the
clearing. We
received an order to come near the lake and bunker ourselves there,
opening fire on the enemy. The last soldiers were able to cross the
frozen lake,
and the Germans retreated. In the evening, the whole division stood at
attention and Commando Laskov made a speech about Bomke, Kim,
and
Vaska, who had fallen as
heroes defending the Soviet nation.
pp. 175-205
____________________________________________________________________
NOTE: Because the above account has been translated into
English
from Hebrew, which employs a different alphabet, some of the names are
likely to misspelled. If you have it on good authority that any
name should be spelled differently from the way it appears above,
please contact me and I will be glad to make the appropriate
correction. Marjorie
Stamm Rosenfeld
Copyright©2004 M S
Rosenfeld
