One Incident

By Nachman "Niacky" Hofferman (written on 11/1/1978)

How do I pick the most horrifying time of my life? There were quite a few incidents.

In my early youth, I contracted meningitis, was pronounced dead by the physician, revived somehow, and I'm alive to tell about it.

About a decade later, I lived through the chaos of the Russian revolution. Death was all around us, and sometimes the caprice of a stray bullet or the whin of any individual could be the end of life.

In my sixties, while cooling off in the waves of the Atlantic at Rockaway beach, I was caught up in a strong undertow, and there were no people around to see my plight.

Somehow I made it to the breakers, and thanks to a lone woman who happened to be on the boardwalk and summoned help, I'm here to tell the tale.

There were other incidents which I do not recall offhand. But there is one incident I will try to describe.

It happened in 1919. I was home in a small town. The country was in turmoil. There was no government. Chaos reigned. Different armed groups invaded the town; robbed, pillaged, maimed and killed at random.

One day we saw a fairly organized group of soldiers with the Commander on horseback approaching our house. We lived then in a fairly decent house among the hovels of the peasantry.

Hoping that the commander will make his headquarters in our place, we will be protected, we greeted him. But he turned away and established himself in a peasant's hut.

It did not take long, and the soldiers came and took everything they felt like. Mostly all of the stock of grain that my father dealt in.

My family just left everything and ran away. I was not home at the time.

When I heard about it, I went to the commander to complain. He received me, heard my case, and gave me a note to the treasurer of the regiment to pay for the grain.

The treasurer was quartered about three miles away, and I went there.

Before I left, he called in a few soldiers that "requisitioned" the grain and lectured them in these words: "I could have had comfortable quarters in their house and am staying in this pigsty because they are Jews, and you are dirtying your hands to rob them."

When I came to the treasurer and gave him the note, he just turned his back on me and walked away.

Being young and foolish, I went back to the commander where I found the treasurer with him. I told the commander that I did not get paid. When he asked the treasurer why, he said there are no funds. It finally dawned on me that it's a hopeless case, and I walked out.

Just outside, a peasant that was a friend of mine told me to scram because he heard the commander telling a couple of soldiers to "fix" my wagon so I will no bother him anymore. I took the advice and dissappeared.

When my mother heard about my exploits, she wanted to kill me. I think I am smarter now, and would not take any chances like that.