Chapter 5

Barely a week had passed when, as I was preparing for work, I heard the SS men shout, "Everyone out! Everyone out!" As I walked out I was led to a street adjoining the "Umschlagplatz" by the SS, along with every single Jew who had remained in the ghetto.

The air was filled with anxiety and fear as we stood huddled together awaiting their next move. I was standing near a lady holding a crying baby. The woman tried to keep him quiet but it was useless. Suddenly a guard came up behind her and grabbed the child from the mother’s arms. No longer attentive to the fact that she was surrounded by murderers, she went out of her line and began after her infant. "No please" she screamed and the whip of another German ripped across her back. She fell to the ground in agony as we watched what the German did to her child. With a satanic laugh that sent chills down my spine the guard held the crying baby upside down by his feet, swung him back and brought him crashing onto the stone wall with a horrid thump. Immediately, his life left his frail body and as he fell to the ground, his skull shattered.

As all in the vicinity watched in horror at this demonic display, the satanic laughter echoed in the chilling silence. I had to fight to keep back the tears that were welling up in my eyes. Seeing our horrified expressions the German shouted at us to turn around. We complied quickly. Those who didn’t and tried to help the mother, consoling her, were beaten or shot. She was then carried away by another guard.

For some time we were sorted out into two main groups. Most of us present were skilled workers and were hurled to the left. This distinguished between those who would be deported. Those in my group were tagged with a number and sent to our shops to resume work as if nothing had happened.

As we watched, I turned to look at those in the other group who were being led to the "Umschlagplatz". Amidst the crowd I saw Shalom, a fellow worker. Unexpectedly, I was to see him again.

In the final stages of the deportation the ghetto resembled a camp divided into separate factories and housing blocks. No one was allowed to enter the streets during work hours and I never knew whether anyone I had known from other shops, were alive all dead. So I had no choice but to occupy my time solely devoted to my work. The Germans told everyone that there would be no more resettlement operations. All we had to do know was remain disciplined and carry out our work properly. I made sure to keep up the high standard despite my continual hunger (which had worsened during the deportation) and my aching heart.

After the deportation all the shop workers were transported to the area of the large shops, which became our new home. Economic life was disturbed due to lack of workers but for the workers in the shops, we began to receive more food due to the remaining ration cards. The little money was no longer needed.

Life as we knew it continued and the ghetto became like a ghost town. Many of us just did our work and waited silently for the day to end so we could go home to sleep. Thoughts of my family hounded me constantly. I hadn’t believed the rumors going around in the ghetto about the atrocious death that all those deported suffered in the hands of the possessed Germans. But in October on retiring to my tiny room, I was forced to accept the truth. Shalom was lying on my bed. He had escaped from Treblinka.

I am unable to retell what he explained to me. The thought of my mother’s immense suffering and of my little brother’s torture, bring me to tears. Seven years after it’s occurrence, neither can I retell my emotions, as I can find no words to describe the intense grief and loss I experienced. For the next three months I was oblivious to anyone because my tears daily welled up in my throat, only to be let out every night in the privacy of my own room.

Early in January 1943, rumors again spread in the ghetto concerning the re-commencement of the deportation. This time I took heed of the rumors, as did everyone remaining. Many of us were grim and very depressed. We heard that the Ukrainians had arrived in Warsaw and would see our total downfall.

On the eleventh of January there was an uproar in some of the streets as the Jewish police warned the population not to rove around outside, shouting, "Don’t bring a calamity down on yourselves and us!" Later in one day we realised why they had warned us. Some Jews who were, against German law, in the streets, during work hours spotted three limousines. Running for cover they saw the limousines pass them, harboring the Nazi flags.

For the next week many Jews like myself never lay down to sleep till very late at night, fearing the sudden assault of a new and more final deportation.