I Shall Live (7 page)

A minority, of whom I was one, had a sense of much more serious danger: perhaps great numbers of Jews would actually be killed. But these forebodings were not clearly defined, and no one certainly, seriously considered the possibility of mass killings that would include old people, women, and children. Most of us believed too that, however harsh, the occupation would be brief; perhaps a few weeks would be enough for the Allies decisively to defeat Hitler.

But attempting to escape presented many problems as well. In the first place, transportation was virtually unobtainable. The Polish army had requisitioned all the horses. In defiance of the orders the peasants had kept some, but they were unwilling to sell any because the future of the Polish złoty was so uncertain. To the owners of the few horses still remaining in the area, a horse was worth more than almost any amount of paper money. Besides, we could see that even those few fortunate refugees who had horses had the greatest difficulty keeping them moving in the mud. Many animals were collapsing on the roads, weakened from lack of fodder and from being forced to pull enormous loads day after day.

Nor was there any clear escape route to follow. The Germans were approaching from three directions, leaving open only the east, toward the Russian border, and the southeast, toward Rumania. The Russians were very unpredictable, and there was no telling whether they would open their borders to refugees. Certainly we couldn't count on any compassion from Stalin—we knew all too well how many millions of innocent people had been deported to Siberia, and how cold-bloodedly he had murdered most of his closest associates. Rumania was more likely to open its borders, but it was much farther away. The speed of the German advance and the slow pace of
movement through muddy roads with horse and wagon meant that our chance of reaching the border before the Germans overtook us was almost nonexistent.

Both options were risky, but time was running out and we had to make up our minds. In the end we decided to join the tens of thousands of refugees. Father went all over Hrubieszów looking for a horse to buy, but found that even his Polish so-called friends who still had several horses were unwilling to sell him one. Eventually he managed to buy a horse from a peasant whom he had helped many times before the war, but not before the man demanded and received in gold coins much more than the horse was worth. We decided to head east, toward Russia. The Soviet border was nearer, and time was running out.

On the morning of September 15 we loaded the wagon with a few belongings, mainly food and clothing. Having seen so many refugees get stuck in the mud from overloading their wagons, we were careful not to take too much. Mother supervised the packing to make sure we didn't leave behind anything essential, such as Father's asthma medicine.

We took the road to Włodzimierz, but it soon became obvious that we were going to have trouble with our horse. We already knew that he was underfed; now we discovered that he lacked spirit as well. We walked alongside the wagon, from time to time climbing on to ride for a while. The roads were full of refugees. Fortunately it wasn't raining. Even so, the ground was muddy, but most of the traffic was moving, more or less. Our horse was capricious; from time to time he would stop without warning and look defiantly back at Father, who was holding the reins. I hated to see him whipped, but it was the only way we could get him going again.

By midday we had crossed the river Bug and stopped to eat. With all her other preoccupations, Mother had thought to prepare and
bring with her many of our favorite dishes. We couldn't stop for long, though, and before dark Father found a Ukrainian peasant who was willing to let us sleep in his barn. As we lay down exhausted in the hay, it smelled good. Despite all our worries, our flight, I thought, at least had an element of adventure.

It rained that night, and when we started out early in the morning, we found the road very muddy. We kept getting stuck, and it took all our combined efforts to get the wagon moving again. The horse was not cooperating; now even whipping him didn't help.

At last we reached Włodzimierz, a town of about twenty-five thousand inhabitants, and passed through it without much trouble, since most of its roads were paved. But after we left the town it started to rain again, and the going became even rougher. The horse grew weaker, and we had to push the wagon to help him. Late in the afternoon the wagon got stuck so deep in the mud that we couldn't get it out by ourselves. Father went searching and found a peasant who brought another horse with him to help pull us out. After we got going again traffic was lighter because of the rain, but our horse was too tired to make much progress.

We decided that we had traveled enough for one day. Luckily we found a
karczma
(inn) with a room available. They even served us a hot meal, which was a comfort after all the hours on the road. We slept fully dressed. In our room there were two beds, which made it very uncomfortable for the six of us, and the next morning we were all tired. It had begun raining again, and soon after we got started we realized that we were fighting a losing battle—our progress was too slow. A couple of times the horse actually fell down, and it was harder each time to get him up again. At last it stopped raining, but we were moving at a snail's pace.

Father, who normally dealt very energetically and capably with any problem, found himself helpless. We were dirty and exhausted,
and we still had covered no more than a quarter of the distance to the Russian border. In a small town twenty miles or so east of Włodzimierz we found a Jewish family who were willing to take us in for the night. We were gratefully resting and drinking tea when a neighbor came in and said, “Did you hear the news? The Russians are coming.”

We were stunned, but the man assured us that it was true. The Soviet government had announced on the radio that because of the “unstable situation” in Poland they felt compelled to enter eastern Poland in order to protect the Ukrainians and White Russians who constituted the majority of the population.

This changed everything as far as we were concerned. Obviously, it made no sense to proceed toward the Russians when they were coming toward us. We knew of course that the Russians hadn't made a major move of this kind without the prior knowledge and probably the cooperation of the Germans. The critical question for us was: What would happen to Hrubieszów? Would it be occupied by the Russians or by the Germans? It seemed clear that the Russians would occupy the entire territory east of the river Bug. Hrubieszów was on the other side of the Bug, but there were many Ukrainians in the area, and it could therefore be considered part of the Ukraine.

We discussed these new developments late into the night. For the time being, at least, we didn't have to face the onrushing German army. As far as our hosts were concerned, of course, the war was over. The nightmare of German occupation no longer threatened them. Our own situation, though, was different. We were glad of the respite, however temporary, but now we were faced with a new set of difficult decisions. Should we go back to Hrubieszów, perhaps now occupied by the Germans, or should we stay where we were, with only a few of our belongings?

We decided that in the morning we would head back west and
see what developed as we approached Hrubieszów. Early the next morning we were on our way home. The skies had cleared, and we found the going a little easier, although the roads were still very muddy and we all had to help push the wagon. But we felt much better. At least we knew where we were going.

Soon we were back in Włodzimierz, where we learned that the Russian army was not far away. We stayed overnight there, and the following morning the Russian soldiers entered the town. They were friendly; clearly they were under strict orders to behave like liberators, not conquerors, which was a pleasant surprise. The local people didn't know what to expect, but soon they felt at ease and even began telling Russian stories and jokes.

It was obvious from the soldiers' behavior that the newly “liberated” territories were far more prosperous, with a much higher standard of living, than they were used to in Soviet Russia. Butter and meat were a tremendous luxury to them, and they were avidly buying things like fabrics and watches, which apparently were scarce in Russia. The soldiers were too proud to admit to any shortages of consumer goods in the Soviet Union and always asserted that everything was abundant in the Socialist paradise. The local Jews soon made a joke of it, and would ask the soldiers, “Say, soldier—you got plenty of
tsures
[troubles, in Yiddish] in Russia?” The soldiers standard reply was, as always,
“Dovolno”
(plenty).

The day after the Russians arrived in Włodzimierz, we learned that the Soviet army was also in Hrubieszów. Immediately we set out for home, arriving there in the evening. The horse collapsed just before we reached the house, and the last couple of blocks we had to push the wagon ourselves. But here everyone knew us and helped us. It was a relief, too, to find the house undisturbed and everything in order.

We unpacked, bathed, and rested. Mother was just as tired as
everyone else, but she immediately started cooking dinner, and soon we were all sitting around our dining room table enjoying one of her delicious meals.

For the next few days the town buzzed with conflicting rumors. The Russians were in Hrubieszów, but the Germans were not far away. No one could predict what would happen.

To our surprise and disappointment, the Western front was strangely silent. Our hopes and expectations of a quick Allied victory had proven groundless. The “phony war” was on between the Allies and the Germans, and Poland was once again occupied by both Germans and Russians, just as it had been for more than a hundred twenty years before World War I.

Near the end of September, a new set of rumors swept through Hrubieszów: The Russians would be withdrawing behind the Bug River after all, and Hrubieszów would soon be taken over by the Germans. This unhappy news was soon confirmed by the Russian troops in Hrubieszów as they began preparing to depart.

Once more we were faced with hard choices and the tortuous process of analyzing the pros and cons. Should we leave our home again and start a new life in a Communist country? We knew it would be very risky to stay in Hrubieszów and face the dangers of Nazi occupation, but the other choice was scarcely preferable. Father was known to be a rich man, and sooner or later would be singled out by the Soviets as a capitalist enemy. He and perhaps his family too might well be deported to the Siberian labor camps. The prospect of undertaking to make a new life for ourselves under the oppressive Soviet regime was almost as difficult to face as was the grim possibility of life under the Germans.

Should the Allies finally launch their long-awaited offensive and defeat the Germans, then Poland, and Hrubieszów, would be liberated from them—but what would happen in that event to eastern
Poland, recently occupied by the Russians? Would the Allies be in a position to force them to give it back?

At last, after prolonged and agonizing discussions, we arrived at a decision. The men in the family—Father, Sam, Felek, and I (Fred was still in Warsaw, and we had had no contact with him)—would go to the Russian side. Mother and Hanka would stay home. Men, we thought, would be in much greater danger from the Nazis than women, who might be subjected to fines and indignities but whose lives wouldn't be at risk. Mother and Hanka would be more comfortable at home, where they could look after our property, perhaps even get some income from the shop. As refugees under the Soviets we knew it wouldn't be easy to make ends meet, and we hoped Mother would be able to send us some money. We believed too that, especially in the beginning, it would be possible to cross the border between German-and Soviet-occupied territory. Perhaps we could return home before long, and be with Mother and Hanka again.

With heavy hearts we packed some of our clothing, hugged and kissed Mother and Hanka, got into a waiting horse-drawn wagon we had hired, and waved good-bye as we left on our second journey to Włodzimierz.

We arrived in Włodzimierz that afternoon and spent the rest of the day looking for a place to stay. We found a small house in which an elderly Jewish couple lived and arranged for room and board with them. We had with us a substantial amount of cash in złotys, which were still in circulation along with the new Soviet rubles, and Father had also brought along a few of the gold coins that he had prudently saved for such an emergency. There was only one room with two beds for the four of us, but it was the best we could do for the time being. We unpacked, and soon our landlady called us for dinner.

She was not a very good cook, and I had been spoiled by Mother. I could hardly eat a bite. Not wanting to hurt our hostess's feelings, I told her that I was too tired to eat. After dinner, Father took me aside and explained that I could not expect to find the comforts of home in our new situation. “You're going to have to learn to adjust to a new set of realities,” he told me.

During the next few days we walked around town getting acquainted with Włbdzimierz. It was a livelier and more civilized place than Hrubieszów, with a large Jewish population of about twelve or thirteen thousand. I was very curious to learn about life in Soviet Russia, and engaged in conversations with Russian soldiers who could speak a little Polish. They were very friendly, but wary of talking about life in the Soviet Union. They gave only the typical, stereotyped answers, and it was obvious that they were afraid to speak openly with a stranger.

Finally I came across a Jewish soldier from Leningrad who at first was unwilling to talk, but after a while he sensed that I could be trusted and he loosened up. He told me that for the time being, Stalin was friendly to the Jews, so things were not too bad. But he warned that Stalin was unpredictable, and there was no telling when his mood would change. He told me how the people in the Soviet Union were scared of the NKVD (now the KGB), and how one had to be constantly on guard. He warned me to be careful whom I spoke to, because one could never tell who might turn out to be an NKVD agent.