A chapter from the struggle for life
By Klara (nee Tavger/ Tauger) Shud
Translated by her daughter, Frida Shud. Translation supplied by Klara's nephew, Gershon Tauger

Rivka and Gershon Tauger – our parents
The world war broke out unexpectedly on a Friday, of all days, Friday morning, September 1st. Despite the fact that we had an ominous feeling in our hearts, stabbing like a sword, no one could have imagined that we were already on the brink of the inevitable end of Jewish life in Poland and Eastern Europe, a physical and spiritual end. No one could have imagined that we would go through months and years of loss and annihilation of thousands of Jewish communities and their Jewish past. They would burn and turn into ashes and be drowned in a sea of tears and blood. There was a great fear of Nazi Germany, but there was no way of conceiving what it could achieve. All we knew was that the Nazis were our sworn haters, and that was enough to send shivers through each and every one of us. But, to my beloved and unforgettable sister Badanka, there was a clear and precise sense of what was about to happen. She argued and declared tirelessly that Nazi Germany would eliminate and uproot us from wherever possible. The Nazis are the plague of God and mankind, they are the plague of the world and of Europe in particular, so she argued.
In our house, father and mother were very tense. My brother Chaim (everyone called him Motke) had already been drafted long ago, and had been taken, like many others - Jews and gentiles of enlistment age – to the front, after a general draft was declared by the Polish government. Of course, a state of emergency was immediately declared throughout Poland, accompanied by strict emergency regulations, particularly in the northeastern provinces (including our region) and south-eastern ones.
Government radio stations constantly called on citizens to enlist in defensive work by digging trenches and building fortifications against the powerful German attacks coming from all directions, especially against air attacks. They ceaselessly described grimly the bombing of Vilna and Grodno, Lida, and Molodechno. They spoke about pilots who flew very low and unceasingly shot down defenseless civilians using machine guns. Word of mouth news was even more worrying. Fear and panic increased from day to night and from night to the following morning.
We, the Jews in the town, were particularly gripped by fear. We knew very well from past experience that anything that happened meant only bad things for the Jews, and whatever happens, Jewish blood would be the first to be shed. Of course, we were afraid that the Germans would enter the town. But we also had good reasons to fear the arrival of the Polish army at the border. We knew very well the human fabric of the border policemen, recruited mainly from the Poznan province and steeped in anti-Semitic incitement and hatred of Jews from birth. We did not forget the anti-Semitic incidents, the calls for pogroms, and all kinds of attempts and provocations to physically harm the Jews of the town in the 1930s.
The town experienced 17 days of growing fear and aggravation regarding its future, with concern that the Nazi war machine would succeed in reaching it. We spent every day worrying about our brothers, not knowing their fate. Father worried silently. Mother and sister – the looks on their faces were pitiable. We were broken down by worries, but who could have known that there was more to come? That days and months of destruction and final annihilation were yet to come?
All this continued until the arrival of the Russian army. All of the sudden, news spread that the Red Army had already come to the aid of the Polish army fighting against the Germans. To tell the truth, no one wanted to believe it because everyone understood that this was in stark contrast to the Hitler-Stalin agreement. The confusion, the lack of organization, and the chaos were so great that any report of any kind could be believed.
But there was not much time left to be under any illusions. Moscow immediately made it clear in official statements that the Red Army had entered western White Russia (currently Belarus, and eastern Ukraine (eastern Galicia, including Lvov, Ternopol, etc.) to liberate their "Russian minority brethren" (Belarusians and Ukrainians) from the “Polish reactionary oppressors”. They also promised a better and brighter morning and a better life for all the Jews who suffered from anti-Semitism and virulent hatred of Jews. But when we heard all these promises, our hearts were heavy, and it was difficult to be happy ... In our town there were people who had already sobered up from their sweet dream about the Soviet "paradise".
Everyone was sad and angry, not because of the bitter fate of the Jew-hating Polish state, but rather because of the fear and uncertainty regarding our own fate. Jews in Krivich (and probably in other cities and towns) regarded the Soviets as the lesser evil ... Jews and declared Zionist hoped that the Russians would come, because, as already said, the fear of the Germans was immense.
Meanwhile, the first refugees from the cities and towns occupied by the Germans arrived in our town. They had only stories of evil and horror. Among them were Yaakov Katsovich’s brother-in-law; the Dykman brothers from Warsaw; our Zehava Slavadeskis (Zlatka Shteingalds); two relatives who were already famous for their special brilliance, and they became private tutors in the town; Zehava’s uncle, Heschel Gordon, who came from Svintsyan with his daughter Italeh (Yehudit), a 13-14-year-old girl, and the brothers Avraham and Raphael Trachtenberg from Podbrodzie near Vilna, with daughter Rivka. There were others, too, whose names I cannot remember.
On 17 September, the first Red Army battalion entered Krivich. A few days later, high-ranking government officials also came to organize civil services and jobs, and to establish the regional managing council. I do not want to elaborate on life under Russian rule, others will obviously do it better than me, because as a child sitting at home, I was not allowed to see the great "salvation and consolation" of the "liberating Russian government." I can only emphasize that nothing remained from all the expectation and trust, and that none of the promises were kept. Each and every one of us quickly felt the brunt of our "liberators." Private commerce was officially banned, businesses were closed and confiscated, people were arrested and interrogated and sent to remote locations, and various forms of oppression were imposed. We felt under growing pressure. Yaakov Katsovich and others were deported. Not only Jews were arrested, non-Jews were also detained. Wealthy Poles and Belarusians were deported to Siberia. Among the deportees were almost all of the “refugees” who came from out of town, apart from a few people who managed to escape somehow, including the above-mentioned Dykman brothers from Warsaw, who were "Zionists, reactionaries, and staunch haters of the working class and the proletariat." This also happened to Sonia Szmanczyk, the owner of a pharmacy in the town, who was deported with her children Malka and Yosef.
             I want to make do with this brief review. Isaiah Katsovich and our friend Sonia Szmanczyk (Australia) will probably talk about Krivich during the period of the Russian occupation "before the flood". I'll tell more about my life.

Skies closed with anger and rage, An abandoned town
How does the popular saying go? All you must ask for is longevity, the troubles will come on their own. That's exactly what happened. Trouble did not cease to haunt us and we were always unpleasantly surprised. My unforgettable mother was right (her blood will never forgive the wretched murderers!) when she responded to my complaints on the bitter conditions under the Russian regime, "My daughter, never ask for a new kingdom ... how can you know that it won’t be worse?” She was right without a doubt! And indeed a new kingdom came ... and it brought with it days of blood and a flood of fire and destruction!
By surprise, and without warning, war again! On June 22, 1941, Russia was attacked from all directions by the Nazi Air Force and armored forces. The Russians immediately announced general mobilization, and my brother was again taken into the army. But it was too late! There was no way to send the recruits - all the roads were cut off. The high-ranking officers and government officials fled immediately. "Regional officials” and “government officials" packed their belongings. All the new recruits were sent home quickly. A number of the city's citizens who worked in the government offices begged to join the retreating officials, but only a few, like Berl Katsovich, his wife Ida, and his brother Zuska managed to escape with the other retreating officials. So quickly and successfully did the Nazi soldiers march.
The Russians retreated quickly and in panic. The town was abandoned, without even a police station. Everything remained open and abandoned to looting and pillaging. The Germans did not hurry to enter the town. All the military forces moved toward Plock and Minsk, deploying a an extensive pincer movement around Smolensk and its environs where large Russian forces were concentrated, and which was an important junction on the way to Moscow. The Germans were already in all the surrounding areas, in Vileyka, and in the entire district of Myadel, and around Naroch, so they were in no hurry.
In addition, the Germans had excellent deputies and assistants: the non-Jewish residents of the town - the Poles and the Belarusians - all dissatisfied with Russian rule, collaborated with the Germans. With the encouraging approval of the German commander of the Vileyka region, Martin Kranzbraun, they established a temporary civilian administration, including police and municipal administration. Robbery, pillaging, beatings and attacks on Jewish homes were now carried out with government backing, with more lawlessness, and no investigations or trials. The shooting and beating of the Jews were now under law and command. Yaskolski was appointed temporary police chief. He was a dark criminal, and did not hold this position for long. Even the S.S. and Gestapo realized he was unreliable. After German law enforcement battalions arrived, he was forced to resign. But in the short time he served as police chief, he managed to shed a lot of blood and cause a lot of trouble. He remained only a short time in the police force (as a regular policeman), and was finally laid off by the commander of the Vileyka region.
According to the Germans' order, the local police was an auxiliary force composed of urban and rural non-Jews such as the Leshcinskis (the elder and the young one), Kazshimiezesh Savitzki, Adamovich from Kamutna and others (can I remember them all?). In short, we had a lot of trouble. On July 10 or 12, for the first time, a small German police unit was set up for the town and established a permanent police unit near the Krivich railway station. Almost at the same time, the "special governor" arrived with his unit; they were sent by the governor of the Vileyka region. A civil court was immediately set up, comprising of Doctor Makarevich, the priest Krapiewiczky, and the special governor. The high command of the local police was transferred to the Military Police and then to the regional SS headquarters in Vileyka. The civil court that was established was authorized to issue death sentences ... But in the meantime, there were no trials and death sentences were handed down without a trial.
A "series" of victims
As with any murderous regime, victims were killed immediately in the first weeks of July. It was a spring Friday, and an older Jew, Yitzhak Shulman – may God avenge his blood - came out of his house. He walked back and forth around his house without disturbing anyone. A group of gentiles, some of whom were residents of the town and others residents of surrounding villages, who happened to pass by, began to get angry and shout at him. One of them, whose name was Hochle, from Plashina (one of the surrounding villages), uprooted a large stone from the pavement and threw it at the old man’s head. The old man fell instantly, bleeding. He writhed in agony for a few hours, and finally passed away. He was one of the few victims who has a Jewish ceremony burial in the Krivich cemetery.
The second innocent Jewish victim died two days later, on Sunday. Aharon Zilbergleyt, may God avenge his blood, was one of the house owners in the town. He was a quiet and kind man. I do not know how and why he was murdered. I only know that that he was shot in the yard next to his house. The murderer was Yaskolski. He led him out of the house to the police station and then shot him in the yard. The bastard, damned his name, boasted of the great deed he had done. Once, when he met me on the street, immediately after the murder, he said to me (in Polish), "You see Clara, I have now killed this dog Archik, see, the blood is still fresh." He too was buried in the town cemetery.
Two innocent victims fell on that day and the following one. While people were busy with Aharon's funeral, the murderers dragged Shimon Katsovich, a shoemaker. People said that he was taken directly from the cemetery. He was one of the heads of the Hevra Kadisha burial society, and was involved in the burial. Bronka Jakobowicz suddenly appeared. The evil man took him away, and he was never seen alive. He was shot by a Prudnik for being a "Communist." The town that was already in a state of turmoil became even more agitated and confused. Rivke (Rivka Zilberglait) was found hanged in her house. When she returned to the four walls of her house from the funeral of her Aharon, she could not stand it anymore. She killed herself because of the sorrow and pain over Aharon's clean blood, and the fate of her children scattered in all directions. She was thus reunited with her beloved husband in the Krivich cemetery. She may have been the last of the town to be buried there.
And thus, within a few days, from Friday to Monday, four helpless and innocent victims died in our town.
New troubles, evil decrees
The events described above were only the start of the constant troubles and hardships that haunted us relentlessly. We had not yet become used to the old decrees, and already new evil decrees were forced on us. The Jews of the town were ostracized, segregated, and separated from having any kind of relations with non-Jews. Jews were forbidden even to come to the market to buy anything. Gentiles were forbidden to sell anything to Jews or to buy from them. A severe fine was imposed on non-Jews who entered a Jewish home and vice versa. The disgraceful and evil order of the "yellow star" arrived, with the yellow Star of David and the inscription "Jude" in various forms. I will not write about everything, because apparently others have written more and in more detail.
The Judenrat in the town
Some more news came in the middle of a bright day. The "Judenrat" enemy decree arrived in town. Was this a triviality? A "Jewish Committee!" According to the German worldview, they were ostensibly the representatives and "defenders" of Jewish affairs vis-à-vis the authorities. But the real intention was different. What they really wanted was to turn the Judenrat members into their emissaries and servants, and to deliver the rulers' daily evil decrees. This was unsuccessful in our town. The members of the Judenrat were loyal and devoted to the community, and they made sacrifices every day. They did everything they could and even beyond their ability to alleviate and ease the suffering of the town's Jews. Led by, Chlavne Shteingold, they took upon themselves a difficult and ridiculous role (such as exercising, running or hurling themselves into mud). Whether their great efforts and sacrifice really helped or changed anything, that's another question. Was anyone willing to listen to them? Were any of the new rulers (the Germans and their followers) really willing to help? The bitter day-to-day reality showed that no one would even listen. The corrupt and wicked regime, through the stages and forms of its development, had always viciously exploited the devotion of the Judenrat members and the confidence of the townspeople in them. But the members of the Judenrat did not give up and did not want to give up the sense of responsibility and deep love that had been nurtured for generations, which grew in the soul of the Jewish people and in the heart of every Jew. Although no one was eager to accept such a role, they filled it because they had no choice. The rulers proved with their actions that without the Judenrat in the town, things would have been worse. There was immediate proof that the rulers' wish would be carried out, by hook or by crook.
It was already the end of Tammuz, or a day or two days Tisha B'Av, 1941. Mother and I were at home in the early morning. My brothers and sisters were not home, I do not remember why. Father entered the house running, sad, breathless and pale, neither dead nor alive. He shouted loudly with tears in his eyes: "This is the end now, we are facing total destruction! The Nazis and gentiles of the town are attacking our synagogue! Gevald! Heavens, why are you silent!? Torah scrolls, and books are being burned.
Hurry children, run! We immediately ran out of the house. I do not remember where my sister came from then to support my father, who almost fainted. I ran with him to the garden to hide. My mother and sister hid somewhere else. We abandoned the house. We hid for a few hours and saw nothing. When we returned home, we heard that all the Torah scrolls and holy books had been burned. The synagogue was destroyed and only four bare walls remained of it.
Immediately afterwards, the Judenrat began operating in the town. I do not know whether this was a direct or indirect result of the synagogue’s destruction. But I know for a fact that Chlavne Shteingold, may God avenge her death, and others, volunteered to set up the Judenrat. Klevna was elected temporary chairman, and other members were Leibe Gelbart, Eliezer Botvinik, and Yehoshua (Hayshke) Shulman. The Judenrat meetings were held in the large room of our house. This was how we, proud and loyal Jews, protected other Jews’ lives, to the best of our ability. But I must emphasize that over the years and to this day, I have been struggling with the question: How did they force themselves to do this? Perhaps the enemy forced them, or beat them, or used other methods? I do not know the answer. But all this does not detract from the courage in which they carried out this brave activity. I am proud of the fact that we can shine this light on them, on the pages of the book in memory of the town of Krivich.
Trouble does not get old
Troubles of all kinds haunted us, the Jews of the town, from day to day and from night to night. Is it possible to write and describe everything? I will elaborate only on a few of them. A Job-like incident rises from the wrinkles of my memory, and to this day it sends bitter chills down my spine. There was a family in Krivich called Anshilevich, Avraham Moshe, his mother Chaya-Sara, and her beautiful daughters, Frieda (Friedel), Sheina and Henya. From the very start (and I do not know why) people cast an evil eye on them. First the local police (especially Yaskolski and Leshcinski) and then the Germans. They were always persecuted through no fault of their own. Everyone harassed them until the bitter day of the 11th of Iyar 5702, when all the inhabitants of the town were slaughtered.
In the middle of a summer night, the Germans and their friends, who were completely drunk, entered their home and woke them up. There was nothing they could do, and their shouts and cries echoed into the night. The group of drunks dragged Frieda Anshilevich from the house with the clear intention to torture and rape her. She barely broke free and escaped. She hid in our house for a while. All the women, young and old, dared not sleep that night.
For day, weeks and months, between new and old decrees, and with evil inventions and plots, they sucked our blood and attacked numerous victims. We did not even think about our bitter end, which lurked around the corner, despite constantly having terrible feelings about our future. On Elul 5 1941, (if I am not mistaken, it was August 24th or 25th, 1941) a time in which according to popular Jewish saying "even fish in the water tremble" and certainly the Jews - another disaster occurred.
Two young men from our town - Pesach (son of Aharon) Zilbergleyt and Baruch (son of Mendel) Zilbergleyt, may God avenge their blood, were arrested near the bridge on their way from Magdalenow to Krivich by the town’s auxiliary police and handed over to the Gestapo due to to (false!) testimony and evidence that they were Communists. At first they were imprisoned in a prison that had previously served the NKVD. During their interrogation, they were brutally beaten and tortured to make them confess. Attempts by Judenrat members and kind gentiles to release them for money did not help. They were finally released home on Friday night, but not for long. On the following Friday night, they were taken about seven kilometers outside the city, where they were shot. Their bodies were thrown into a pit.
I close my eyes for a moment and then another event appears. It happened a week or ten days after the abominable murder of the two young men. In the afternoon, the auxiliary police arrived at our house and ordered my brother to accompany them, in order to transfer the piano from the house of the old slaughterer to police headquarters. My brother was preparing to go with them, not because he wanted to, but rather out of fear. Our beloved mother expressed her objection, saying he was not feeling well and had no strength to lift it. They left, and my brother stayed home. A few hours later, in the evening, we found out that the police had gathered many young men. The heavy piano was transferred, but as a thank you to the men, they were harshly beaten and they barely managed to return home.

However, the glass of poison had not yet been filled. Was that not enough? No, my friend! Memories of days and nights of agony and sorrow keep coming up over and over again. It was after Sukkot, I do not remember the origin of the fear and bitterness that took over us. By noon we heard that 30 Gestapo men from Budslav and Vileyka had come to town. People started running. Young men and women began to flee to the forest, where Jewish forced laborers from the town cut down trees for the government staff and the local police. Only the older men and women, and mothers and their children remained in the town. My sister was at work that day. Mother was not feeling well. My father and brother fled to hide. I stayed with my mother at home. I saw how the Germans, the Gestapo and the police, entered the houses of Jews. I heard children’s cries in the distance, the sound of glass shattering and wooden furniture breaking. Panic intensified from moment to moment. We were sure that the angel of death had come to town to destroy all its Jews immediately. I felt bitter and sad, and thought that any minute they would storm into our house. But they skipped our house and moved on to another one. Suddenly I saw with my own eyes one of the policemen, Jarashevich, with a loaded rifle ready to fire, leading our rabbi, Rabbi Gavriel Pretzi, who was holding a red flag – a stick with some red fabric tied to it. What an evil and humiliating provocation! He led the rabbi to police headquarters. I was scared to death, but I ran to see and hear what happened.
A few hours later, the rabbi was brought home (if I am not mistaken, by Chlavne Shteingold). The young Leshcinski had released him; I do not know if it was by order of the German commander, or because he received some kind of bribe. We again experienced days and weeks without seeing any end to suffering and trouble. Every day we thanked the Almighty and our fate for having lived another day, in the great sea of ??unbridled wickedness and impulses of despicable people-murderers!
This continued until the horrific mass killing on the 11th of Iyar 5702 - April 28, 1942.
Our great disaster, the first mass killing
On Tuesday, 11th of Iyar 5702, 28 April 1942 - we woke up as usual. My sister Badanka went to work at the Knayhinin train station. My brother was still at home getting ready to go to work. Father and Mother were home alone. Everything was "normal" even though we were in mourning after having experienced a bloody Passover earlier, when our dear and esteemed Rabbi R. Malkiel Perezi, his wife and children, as well as Chana Zut-Katsovich, the wife of Rabbi Shaya and their children, may God avenge their blood, were murdered. All of them, along with several other Jews who were brought in from Smalyarnes and its environs, and several gentiles, were shot for being “communists”. May their innocent blood strangle their murderers wherever they are!
As we sat thinking about our bitter fate, Mother heard someone on the street saying that the Germans had already closed the offices of the Judenrat. She asked me to go to Botvinik to ask what had happened and what was to be done. I ran and immediately felt some sort of commotion. As I approached Botvinik's house, Mrs. Botvinik called me from a distance: "Clara, my girl! For God's sake, run home fast and tell everyone that a bitter disaster has occurred again!" All the members of the Judenrat were taken to a "camp." They are catching anyone they see and taking people from everywhere.”
I ran home with all my strength, I entered the house breathlessly and shouted everything I had heard. Mother ordered us all to go down to the cellar and hide as soon as possible. Our house’s large cellar had long been secretly prepared to serve as a hiding place for times of trouble; We called it Melina. We removed a few bricks and dug a hole under them to create a hiding place. There was no time to think, and immediately our cousins Aharon and Yehoshua Shulman came to us, as well as Yitzhak and Yirmiyahu Shulman; Shalom and Sonya Alperowich and their little daughter Sima; Nachshon Zut and his wife Shoshka and their two children, Zalman Katsovich and Yitzhak Shulman's wife, Zlata with the two small children of their relatives from Vileyka, my mother's cousin Moshe Nehemiah and his wife Rivel Raphaelovich.
All these people and my brother immediately went down into the "Melina". We begged Mother and Father to come down with us to the hiding place, but they refused. Father made a gesture of despair with his hands and said: "We are old, we will not be taken to a camp”. They remained alone in the house.
After a short while, we felt a commotion approaching our house. We heard loud shouts, cries, curses, and people yelling "exterminate all the Jews"! We heard heavy footsteps and a few shots coming closer and closer. We heard heavy footsteps inside our house. We heard Father and Mother explaining over and over again to the murderers that no one was home, and their hopeless pleas. A shot was heard, and then it was quiet for a little while. I heard and felt with every inch of my body the footsteps of our unforgettable parents leaving us forever. I had a strong but illogical feeling, and without thinking for a moment that I was endangering all the people gathered with me, I began to move toward the exit. My brother held me tight and did not let me budge. After the terrible silence enveloping us, we heard all the windows and doors of our house being closed shut with nails. The noises and chatter died down, and the sound of boots disappeared. The crying and begging of the defenseless fell silent. There was a strange calm around us all of the sudden, which was interrupted from time to time by distant voices. We sat for a long time in the darkness of the cellar. How long? Minutes, hours, was it even impossible to know, guess or estimate? We sat in the dark, frightened and in pain, without knowing what was going on a short distance away from us. That is how we spent the day.
The night had fallen and the silence around us became stronger. There was no echo or sign of the cries of help of the previous day. One could have thought that we were surrounded by absolute silence. That it was only us roaming the chaotic world after being cooped up in the cellar. But we wanted to live! If we did not get out of there as soon and as quickly as possible, we would eventually be discovered. Without knowing what really happened, we felt that a frightening disaster had occurred.
A tiny candle in a dark night
One by one, we climbed quietly and slowly from the cellar to our house, but we were unable to go outside because all the windows and doors were nailed shut. We did not think much, we quickly broke a window and went out one after the other. Outside the door lay Mordechai Ginsburg, may God avenge his blood, Mother’s relative, who had been sick all his life and stayed at our house. The murderers dragged him with them, but he did not want to and could not go with them, so they killed him on the spot. This was probably the shot (at close range) that we heard above us when we were in the cellar. But we were amazed when we saw some movement from a hidden corner of the yard, a living shadow approaching us. Aunt Reizel! The mother of the Shulman brothers’ and of Sonia Alperovich. She knew about our hiding place and wanted to reach it, but did not make it. Our town’s saboteurs, the local police, blocked the way, and fearing that she would be caught, she quickly hid in the bathroom, and was caught there later. They ordered her to go out and march forward. Having no choice, she obeyed them and left. But when she felt that no one was watching her, she quickly and carefully jumped out and hid in the corner of our yard. She stayed and waited for us to go out of hiding. She was sure that they had not found us and exiled us as Hitler's demons did to others. Our joy at this unexpected meeting was simply indescribable.
There was not much time left for us to stay. We left the yard carefully and as quickly as possible. We took side roads and walked through gardens and orchards, through neglected and empty yards. We walked quickly to the river (Servetz) and somehow crossed it to the opposite bank. We walked through wet fields and swamps. Some of us went to a Christian farmer we knew. They returned shortly with the farmer, who brought us the only food he had, bread and milk. The farmer was a simple man. He was not wealthy, but he had a heart burning with human love, and his name was Anton Shachavitz. He made us swear in the name all his (and our) saints that despite the bitterness, pain, and grief in our hearts, we dare not, heaven forbid, return to the town. There is still gunfire on the roads, there are Germans and local police everywhere. He said that people were saying that all the Jews of Krivich were murdered! He crossed himself time after time and swore that if he had enough room he would take us all to his house, and then he returned home.
After what we heard from Anton, there was nothing left to do. No one dared to return to the town. We ate the bread, drank the milk, and each of us, individually or in pairs, started looking for a place to stay. My brother and I went to a zadovia, a small plot of land surrounded by a forest, where our parents’ Christian friends, Afanasei and Nicolai Hunke (Belorussian farmers) lived. Contrary to our thoughts and doubts on the way, they welcomed us warmly. They gave us food and organized a place for us to sleep. We stayed with them for a few days. During the day we hid in the forest and slept at their house at night. These were a few candles of friendship that lit up the dark road and the bitter nights and days filled with terror and darkness.
The Hunke family - Christian friends in times of darkness, Disaster lurks in the town
We were constantly troubled by the questions: What next? How and where? Questions demanding a clear answer. The candle gave light and warmth, but it would come to an end. What will happen next? What will happen over time? Could it be that somehow our sister Badanka was alive and waiting for us, and perhaps others? Perhaps, despite the danger, it was possible to return to the house and take things we needed? It was impossible to believe that everything and everyone was gone. At last, we heard from our good hosts that the town was quiet, that the Jews who had survived had already returned, and we dared to return to the town. We thanked our generous hosts and went to Krivich.
Wrapped in the darkness of night we reached the town. We looked briefly at our yard, but fearing that someone would see us and tell on us, we decided to spend the night in the large warehouse. The night passed quickly and the next day we went to our aunt Reizel’s house. This slightly lifted our dark and bitter mood. We found our aunt Reizel and all the people who had hid with us in the cellar. Even though we already knew the details of the brutal murder, as well as our own private disaster of our dear parents being taken away, the desire to live and fight for life made us overcome this. We knew and saw that there were Jews who remained, and a spark of hope supported our faith that our struggle would be successful. We would survive despite everything! But this was not achieved so quickly and easily, a long and difficult road awaited us.
At this moment, we had the desire to live; do not despair, fight! You want to live, you must stay alive to tell the generations after you what was done to us! You are supposed to replant and instill a new life, perhaps even in the Land of Israel! We never went back to our house and stayed with the aunt.
The days went by rapidly! Life again "stabilized" and the situation before the murders resumed, appearing as "ordinary" life. We went out to forced labor again. On my way to work one day, I found out that my sister Badanka also survived and that she was alive and well! Fate had protected her for now. On the day of the great massacre (Tuesday, 11 Iyar), a friendly Polish Christian named Zawadski took her from work to his house and kept her there the entire time. A tiny candle again lit the darkness in my soul! My dear sister was still alive.
I went there immediately after work. Who has the pen and power to describe the encounter between two sisters who survived the great fire and destruction? No, it cannot be described. My emotional powers are too meager to describe this. My silence is much more appropriate. Badanka did not come back with me because she felt much safer there. She stayed there and went to work. Later she came to stay with us in the town, in Aunt Reizel's house. Then she left again, this time to the Hunke family, where she remained from about mid-May until mid-October 1942, when she moved into the forest to carry out partisan activity.
Shalom and Sonya Alperovich
My brother and I remained at our aunt's house until two or three days before Shavuot. I believe it was the last days of May 1942. On the last day of this period, I went to work with two other girls - Tzipi Katsovich and one called Chaya. At the end of that day's work, we went home as we did every day. Everything was normal, I did not see anything special. However, when we passed by the police headquarters, we saw that all the policemen were in high spirits and laughing loudly. We felt that they were laughing at us. Of all of them, Grozad, a Belorussian from a nearby village, approached me and asked whether I was afraid to stay in the town and continue to go to work. Neither I nor the two girls with me answered him. We just stared at him in amazement and continued on our way home.
On the way, Jews told us that a short time earlier, Moshe-Yitzhak Shud had been murdered. He was the uncle of Lazer (Eliezer) Shud (may he live long!) who eventually became my husband. When we entered Aunt Reizel's house it was dark, night had fallen. Everyone’s mood was low and bitter. Only now did I understand Grozad's question. Still, everyone is human, sometimes hungry, after a hard day of work. So I sat at the table to eat something. I did not finish eating my meager "meal" and again, there they were! Krasniewicz from the auxiliary police, damn his name, entered the house, armed with a weapon. He stopped and took my two cousins out of the house, Yitzhak Shulman and Shalom Alperovich (Sonya's husband). I immediately ran out of the house with Zlata (Yitzhak Shulman's wife) or with Sonya (I do not remember clearly) to the street, to at least find out where they were being taken. We tried to run after them, people stopped us and convinced us not to run because there was shooting on the street (We also heard shots). We had no choice but to go home.
We couldn’t sleep all night. Who could sleep? We remained seated, moving, our souls were torn between false hope, doubts, and deep black despair. All the men (Aunt Reizel's sons) who were with us at home immediately escaped from the town. My brother also ran away from the town and did not return to Krivich until after the war. Early in the morning, we already knew that seven new victims had been murdered the night. The hope of seeing my cousins safe and sound ??again disappeared and turned into mourning; they had been shot! That is how they died that night: Nachum Shud (my Lazer’s brother), Polia (Raphael) Weishaus, Gabriel (Gabke Shauls) Gitlitz, Yeruham Botvinik, Yitzhak Shulman, Shalom Alperovich and Moshe Yitzhak Shud, whom I already mentioned, may God in Heaven avenge their pure blood!
So it went on and on until the destruction of the Jewish town. Painful, rife with tears and blood, so much blood! Much fear and suffering until the final "liquidation".
The ghetto - the last action
We had not yet buried the victims of the night, and in the morning a new decree was issued! A new order was declared and signed by the commander of the Vileyka region: all the Jews of Krivich must leave their homes on that same day and assemble in a separate ghetto. Anyone who fails to obey the order by night will be severely punished. What would be the punishment? Everyone knew that - death! Of course, everyone followed the order. All the Jews of Krivich(except for a number of craftsmen who were exempted by the order) moved into the ghetto with the remnants of their meager "possessions" left after the pillaging. Only Benjamin Gitlitz (the tailor, who now lived in Hadera, Israel), Itche (Yitzhak) Gitlich the blacksmith, and Baruch Machanovich the tanner remained in their homes. To be honest, I must emphasize that the ghetto was not constructed especially for us. We were all pushed into two residential buildings at the edge of town, which were separated by barbed wire (for the sake of propriety only). It had been the home of Sara-Mere Volkover and Tzeepeh Kopelevich. If my memory serves me correctly, I will try to list in detail who “lived” (this word is deceiving, as were we not living under normal conditions) in the two buildings.
In Sara-Mere Volkover’s building: My aunt Reizel (Shulman), myself and Mere Bunimovich; Ester Rabinovich and her daughter Chaya (the wife of Mendel Rabinovitz and a younger daughter); Mariashe Botvinik and her daughter Reizele – a little girl, and Sheinke and Beile Tziperlevich, her sister and mother. Eli, Mariashe’s husband and Reizele’s father was already "hired" to work for a farmer in some village. Eli paid him a lot of money just to hide him, naked and destitute. Living in the building were Motale Glamsan and his daughter Dvora, Feige Botvinik (Eli and Mariasha’s sister-in-law) and her daughter. Two cousins from Vileyka – Moshe Nehemia and Rivel Kopelevich, Rashke Meltzer and her daughter Chana and her family, and another important Jew from Krivich, an elderly man, Rabbi Moshe-Avraham Kajdanov, who was beaten half-unconscious and thrown into the ghetto building. He was beaten viciously by the police and other gentiles until he became a piece of wounded and bleeding flesh. This was his permanent condition - neither alive nor dead, and the Kopelevich family from Vileyka took care of him. He slowly recovered and was able to stand up and walk. His proud Jewish conscience, his force of life, his vitality and wish to live overcame everything.
But the fate of this beautiful, dignified personality was bitter to the end. His approaching and inevitable death reached him in Kurenets! Rabbi Moshe-Avraham Kajdanov, the reader of the Torah, had married daughters in Kurenets for many years. When they learned what had happened to their father, his eldest daughter came and wanted to take him away from the ghetto, because he remained on his own after the Krivich killings. But he did not want to leave his hometown. He wanted to stay with everyone and share their fate. The requests and pleas did not help. He refused to budge. His daughter decided to take a very dangerous step; Despite the great danger of moving between Kurenets and Krivich, she returned to our ghetto with her eldest son, Rabbi Moshe-Avraham’s grandson. The old man with the gray hair loved his grandson very much, and with tears in his eyes, the boy begged for his grandfather to join them in Kurenets. The rabbi was unable to refuse, and he finally went with his daughter and grandson to the ghetto of Kurenets, where he perished with the entire community on the day of the last terrible killing. His young daughter Teybe and his two grandchildren - the sons of his son Eli - managed to escape. Teybe died in America, and the two grandchildren - Yehuda and his brother- are in America and remain warm and proud Jews.
The second ghetto building the home of Tzeepeh Kopelevich, was populated by the following: Tzeepeh Kopelevich, her granddaughter Rashke, her daughter-in-law Maita, and an eight-year-old grandson, Mote’le; Yehoshua Bonimovich and his wife Chana; Herschel Gindlin, his wife Sara and their daughter Pesie; Izik Wohlmann, his wife Reizel, their daughter Minye-Leibe, Reizel's two sisters – Henya and Rivka Kremer. Zlata Zilbergleit also stayed in this house, and another Jew, Moshe Hertz, the son-in-law of Shalom Zilbergleit. The Kramer sisters and Reizel Wahlmann and her daughter survived the troubles and misfortunes of those years of annihilation. They left the ghetto through the swamps to the forests. After everything was over, they returned from the forest to the town, and from there travelled a difficult journey to Israel. They all live in Ashdod, but, unfortunately, Reizel passed away.
 Life those days was hard, the wandering and crawling into holes, being hunted and haunted by two-legged animals thirsting for blood. The almost constant fear and panic of the mother for her helpless daughter, of a mother who remained alone and must also fill the father's place. (The father, Izik Wahlman, perished after the killing.) It should also be remembered that Reizel herself was orphaned, both her parents died when she was a young girl of 11-12 years, and she had to take care of herself and her two sisters, supporting all of them with her store. All these affected Reizel's health and she collapsed at a time when she could enjoy a restful and happy life in the home of her daughter Mineh-Leibe. But she could no longer bear the suffering, and entered into eternal rest. May my brief remarks about Reizel be like fresh flowers on her grave.
The situation is getting worse - liquidation
We stayed in the ghetto for weeks that became months. In the meantime, no external changes were felt. We went to work as always, we returned, and the next day again. Nevertheless, everyone knew that our situation was very unsafe. Those who wanted to stay alive must escape from the town, because sooner or later the liquidation will come! We felt it in our heart, for who else but a suffering Jew in a physical, emotional, and social vise is always prepared and alert for trouble? But how can a Jew run away when everything around him is shut and locked, when his body, blood, flesh, and life are forsaken! Even your ragged clothes, anyone can tear them off you and leave you naked.
In the meantime everyone continued to work. I was working with some other women (may the editor and readers of this book forgive me, I no longer remember who they were) every day in Yeger’s yard. One day, in the middle of the work day, the local police arrived suddenly and took everyone from their work places to the regional headquarters. We were ordered to line up, do military parade exercises, and then march and sing Russian songs. Woe to those who did not sing! They were beaten and wounded. We were ordered to undress completely and stay standing like this. Anyone who did not obey the order had their clothes ripped from her (or him) and received severe beatings. They searched us for gold, valuables, and coins. If someone had a mere little pendant – it was taken away immediately. We stood naked and begging for our lives. Our ragged clothes were returned to us after a few hours and we were held all night in the detention room. I will never forget this night and will always remember it well. Together with us in the detention room was a member of the underworld, a criminal and drunk named Alaxandar Janicki (or Palatzansky, or God knows), who was imprisoned for beating his wife until she lost consciousness. He yelled, screamed, provoked, jumped, and harassed us all, cursing left and right with all the curses he knew.

Early in the morning, when it was possible to walk in the street, which was forbidden when it was dark by the ghetto decree and also because of the war, our neighbors from the ghetto called Baruch Machanovich. He ran to us straight away, with an order from the German police chief to release us immediately without any inquiry.
That is how we suffered and were ready for trouble or distress. I remember a very terrible night when death was hovering above us in the form of murderous axes. I cannot remember when it happened. I am already confusing summer days and autumn with velvety spring evenings and cold, dark winter nights. The Christians of the town held a festive dinner in one of the houses and their joy soared! When they were drunk enough, they all took axes, rods, knives, faucets and hammers, as well as firearms. They decided to murder all the Jews in the ghetto once and for all, without asking anyone. Their shouts of "hora" grew louder as they approached the ghetto buildings. Because of the commotion and shouting, a few German soldiers staying in town came running with their automatic rifles and machine guns, dispersed the mob, and stayed there to make sure nothing else happened during the night.
But it was neither the first nor the last time this happened.
I am again reminded of another incident, and I can see the terror before me, and my hair stands on end. It was at the end of a summer day, at dusk, in Elul 5702, August 1942, neither light nor dark. I happened to be outside to get some fresh air. Suddenly I saw a local policeman armed with a rifle, leading Yehoshua Bonimovich and Yitzhak Shklyar, who are returning from work in the dairy. He was standing with his rifle cocked, ready to fire for no reason. Hanna Bonimovich, Yehoshua’s wife, also saw this and ran toward them. The policeman blocked her way with the rifle and would not let her proceed. She cried and begged him to let them go home. They did not commit any crime. "No, and no again! I'll kill them both. It has to be this way!” I heard the policeman-bandit say, pushing them forward and aiming his weapon at Yehoshua. I was grasped by fear. I only managed to see that Hannah had grabbed the rifle and pushed it aside. The dastardly sub-human started beating her senseless with the butt of his rifle. I ran to call others to help, to prevent him from killing her. Then I noticed that the two started running and the policeman was chasing them. I heard two shots and stood frozen in fear. I heard Hannah's cry: "My beloved Yehoshua!”. Immediately she declared festively: they are running away, his shots missed them! I must hide quickly.
Old Lashinsky came running, I do not know from where, and started yelling that the partisans had entered the ghetto. Many policemen arrived, surrounded the two ghetto houses, and made everybody go out to the street. They searched for Chana Bonimovich who, according to Lashinsky, brought the partisans to the ghetto. They searched the entire ghetto for her, but could not find her. She disappeared without leaving a trace. Moshe-Hertz, Shalom Zilbergleyts’s son-in-law, hid in the cellar. The bandits found him, took him out, and shot him on the spot. They took all of us, the remaining Jews, to a regional command.
I must note that this time they arrested the craftsmen and their families with is in the detention hall. Only Itche the blacksmith (Gitlitz) and Baruch Machanovich were not detained. It was very stuffy in the detention hall. People with asthma and coughing could hardly breathe. We were all afraid of what the end of the night would bring. It is impossible to forget the emotional moments when small children, who already understood everything and wanted to live, begged to join the craftsmen’s families, because "they will surely keep them alive and all the rest will be killed that night."
So the children spoke, and it was terrible to hear, the fear was so great! I could not look into their tear-filled eyes or listen to the sad requests of those who no longer had the strength to speak, argue, or prove that they wanted to stay alive. I could not. Was I afraid? Was I ashamed, or perhaps did I feel guilty? I really thought that the blame laid on all of us, because we are all nothing. Why am I drawn to life, why do I still want to survive? But the instinct, the desire, and the lust for life do not need questioning.
In the late hours of the night, a Christian told Baruch Machanovich what happened to us. He intervened again (this time it was more dangerous for him). He ran with fear to the German chief of police and to the regional commander, knowing that the worst could happen to us before he could do anything. Early in the morning, the German police chief arrived with Baruch Machanovich. The German opened the detention hall using his keys and sent us all home. Baruch Machanovich sighed with relief, groaned and walked away. He later told us that he was trembling with fear that perhaps none of us would survive. When we returned home to the ghetto we could not find anything - everything was robbed and looted.
From the ghetto to the forests, I run away
After the unsuccessful attempt to "eliminate" us in order to exterminate and uproot all the Jews of the town to the last, people could only decide individually how to resolve this tragic dilemma; to escape (even alone!) and stay alive (or at least have a higher chance of staying alive), or to share the fate of the community, remain in place, and expect a certain death. There was no third choice. To tell the truth, I did not know what to do and I was unable to resolve this complex problem on my own. I could not decide my next move until finally, I remained cold and indifferent, and everything seemed the same for me. None of the people closest to me were with me anymore. As I already said, my sister had left, my brother had went who knows where, in the surrounding forests, even Aunt Reizel was gone. She left one day and I did not see her anymore. People said she went to Svir. What could I do on my own and where should I go? So I remained indifferent. I did not believe anything. I could have stayed that way and who knows how my life would have ended, but something happened that changed everything. I was given the will to live and my longing and desire for better times was renewed.
Three weeks after the attempt described above to kill us, I returned to the ghetto building from the home of a farmer in the village. No matter the situation, we still had to eat, and we were always short of food. The wife of a farmer I had once visited stilled owed my mother some money. I collected for this debt a few kilograms of flour, some oil and potatoes, to have something to eat. As I approached the town, a well-known Christian woman came to meet me, a young Shiksa from Malinavke (a village not far from Krivich). She was a secret liaison between partisan groups and their headquarters, and between all the farmers who were close or sympathetic to the units that fought against the German occupiers who were torturing the civilian population. When she saw me she was very happy, because she brought a note from the Damaslaw swamps for me and for Shynka Tsipilevich. I took the note and read it, and my heart became lighter. I felt my eyes brighten and shine. At last, I am not alone! People and friends who escaped were interested in me and all of us from a distance! I already knew that there was something to lean on, and that my helplessness had come to an end. No more indifference and apathy. Shlomo Blecher (currently in the U.S.) and Michaelke Sitzkin (currently in Canada) wrote the note. They were two young friends from Krivich who had fled earlier to the areas controlled by the partisans. They begged us to leave as soon as possible and save ourselves. It was possible to move to a remote location, "beyond the front line," to break through the front lines and reach deeper into Russia, where people could manage and contribute to the war effort. Only one thing prevented them from doing this, they were waiting for us and other people from the town to leave their past behind and leave the ghetto.
The loyal liaison to the partisans happily agreed, despite the great danger, to go with me to the ghetto to meet with Mariashe Botvinik, for whom she also had a letter, and another letter for her brother, Eli Zipilevich. After talking to Mariashe and Shainke seriously about the matter, we decided to persuade additional people to join us. We told the woman that our friends would hear from us shortly. Of note is that when we told the ghetto residents about the note, no one took any notice. No one even expressed willingness to escape into the forest, so powerful was their indifference to the fate awaiting us soon. Nevertheless, despite the general indifference, we decided that Mariasheh and I would go on a reconnaissance tour to meet the friends and convince ourselves that this was the only way out of certain death in the ghetto.
It was a beautiful, warm, and gold-drenched Saturday morning in the autumn. We were both dressed as gentile village women and walked slowly, as if on a stroll. We crossed the railroad tracks and walked on. The Germans on the rails and others who met us, did not pay any attention to us and did not stop us even once. We continued until we entered a small forest. As we moved a little further along we saw Eli Zipilevich and Yitzhak Shklyar walking toward us. The joy of the meeting was of course mutual! We were happy to see them and so were they. We told them about the general indifference and what we both decided on our own. They urged us to go to their place so we could see everything with our own eyes and be persuaded to join them. The four of us immediately set off and by midnight we arrived. In the distance we saw only large piles, and only as we got closer did our senses catch a quiet noise, which intensified as we approached. A few minutes later Shlomo Balker, Michael Sickin, Yechezkel (Haczkel) and Rohke Benesh, Yehoshua Benimovich and his wife Chana (how she fled and how she reached the place I do not know to this day), David, Chaim, and Moliye Katsovich and their sisters Yachke (Yocheved) and B. B. from Krivich and his family. We were all thrilled with joy. My language and pen are to meager to describe this event
I must admit that the warm and friendly atmosphere persuaded us to stay. But we had great responsibility. I felt that I simply could not stay without returning to the ghetto and bringing over my sister Badanka. Mariashe also said that she had to go back to bring her husband Eli, Shainke, her mother, and her little sister. Although all the locals rushed to pass the front line as quickly as possible, they understood our situation. They decided to wait a few days until we returned. Of course, Mariashe and I returned to Krivich. I immediately went to the Hunke family to take my sister Badanka with me. I did not know where my brother was. I told Mariashe that my sister and I would wait for them at our friend Hunke’s house.
I waited for them for a long time, but Mariashe did not come with Eli. Only her mother, Beile Zipilewich came with her. They said that people in the town were thinking that more victims would die each day, and Mariashe was unable to meet my brother because of the situation. She had already gone to him and they would probably be there soon. We all decided to wait another night, because as our friendly Christian hosts told us, even the Jews who were employed in Knayhinin were planning to escape. However, the night passed without a trace of Mariashe or her husband. We could not wait any longer and left. It took us a long time to reach the swamps. We were unfamiliar with the roads and got lost. Fortunately, "Zosia Estonitz" came to us. Others must have already spoken about him and I will not repeat the stories. I will only emphasize that this friend must be written down in the memoir books about our area. Many Jews were saved thanks to his efforts. Where is he now, happy and devoted Zosia, with the Jewish passion and Hassidic devotion to save Jews? Is he alive anywhere? May our best wishes accompany him wherever he is! He was the one who led us to our friends. He also led us on the long journey at the head of the convoy.
We arrived there on Yom Kippur eve. Everyone was getting ready to leave. It was decided to leave that night. They were all very sorry that Mariashe and Eli did not arrive, especially after the liaison from Malinovka said that all the Jews of Dolhinov and Nieyka were murdered. In Krivich, all the ghetto buildings were closed and locked - no one could enter or exit, not even to go to work. Everyone’s heart became heavy, as it does on Yom Kippur, it was no longer possible to stay.
 Daylight dimmed, and people took something to chew on, to have their last meal before the fast. We even said the Mincha afternoon prayer. On Yom Kippur eve, 5703, there was an atmosphere of the holy day in our hearts and souls. With broken hearts we said the Kol Nidrei prayer. We did not say the evening prayer, only cried and wet ourselves with our tears. We all said goodbye from a distance to the dead and the almost dead, locked in their hometown in their sealed houses, with graves there and graves in their hearts. Each of us hoped and prayed that fate would award us with a successful journey. We have paid with enough tears and blood! We left immediately afterwards, but there was still more suffering to come.
The journey was difficult and painful. My relatives and I did not complete it and we did not reach our destination. We spent a day or two under the quiet, blue, cold, and alienated skies, when all of the sudden, three or four Jews approached us. When they came closer, I was overjoyed to see my brother Aharon, Yehoshua Shulman, and Yankele Brook, aunt Reizel Shulman’s grandson. We were very happy to meet. My brother Motke knew that Badanka was with the Hunke family. When he heard in the forest that the Krivich ghetto was destroyed, the two ghetto buildings had been bombed and burned together with all their locked residents, he realized he had nothing to search for. He only knew that a group of Estonians was preparing to leave. He immediately ran to Hunke’s house to take Badanka. We were no longer there. When he met Aharon, Yehoshua, and Yankele, they decided to find us. And they succeeded. It was very successful, was not it? But the joy was premature, our suffering was not yet over.
We continued with the entire group to try to cross the front line and get deeper into Russia. Unfortunately, me, my brother and sister, Aharon and Yehoshua Shulman, and Yankele Brook had to stop. Our sister Badanka, whose legs were weak from sitting for a long time, was unable to continue walking. My brother, Aharon, and I had to carry her in our arms. We felt that we were slowing down the entire convoy on a dangerous route, so we decided to return, without knowing how and what to do, and let whatever happens happen.
The saying goes: "Man thinks and God laughs." Who can understand the mysteries of fate? We returned to protect our sister, and of all people, she was lost to us. Her fate tore her away from us.
After we returned from the long journey, we decided not to try to cross the front line again, or even to think about it. We decided to find a way to join the partisan units in the area. My brother Chaim left us quickly. The partisan unit that accepted him was sent to an operation in the Lida area. They were in an ancient forest called Lipitzan, and they were coming closer to our area through the forests of Nalibak. A few decades later I do not remember and I do not know, although I probably heard from him about it. But my sister Badanka, Yehoshua (Heishke) Shulman and Yankele Brook, Aunt Reizel's grandson, joined the partisan units operating in the Palek area, an area of ??forests and swamps that continued to Pleshchenitz through Bahemil and Polotsk. In the camp there were families and people who were not fighters, whom the partisans were protecting. Some of them later received weapons and carried out various tasks and duties. Badanka, Yehoshua, and Yankele were together, while I served a short distance from them, in a different position.

We were partisans, and we carried out missions. Weeks and months passed by. We had already passed the winter months of 1943, and spring was coming. On June 10, 1943, large German forces - motorized infantry, tanks with heavy machine guns, and air force reinforcement attacked the partisans with heavy, non-stop fire. They invaded the forests and marshes to force the partisans deeper into the swamps, to block food supply routes, and to forces us to choose between surrender and death from starvation. They bombarded us day and night, imposed a blockade, and attacked us from the ground. All partisan units retreated deep into the swamps. We lay in the water and the mud. I had no way of contacting Badanka. This was the beginning of the great blockade that continued until June 21, 1943, when the Germans began to retreat after suffering heavy losses. The partisan units tried more than once to break through the blockade, but failed.

Our sister Badana Tauger

Badana Tauger – our sister
On 17 June 1943, a number of units succeeded for the first time to break through the iron blockade, and that was when I met with Badanka, Yehoshua and Yankele in a forest clearing. We decided to run away together, if necessary. But the German attack resumed from the air and from the ground. We were separated again in the commotion. I never saw Badanka again. When the siege ended, I searched for her in vain: Badanka, Yehoshua, and Yankele disappeared without a trace.
A Jew from Dolhinov, I do not remember who, told me after the war that during the second attempt to break through the German lines he had met Badanka and Yehoshua. They told him that they had grenades and that they would use them to blow themselves up if the Germans caught them. He managed to escape, but they remained, possibly because with they couldn’t run because of Yankele. That was how my sister died, as well as Yankele and my cousin Yehoshua. Respect for their memory!
My sister Badanka! I knew you and your nature well, the loyalty to your way in life, and I reject any possibility of you being in captivity. You killed yourself with courage and heroism, together with the people close to you, and you left us, your sister and brother, all alone and orphaned.
My story ends here. Since then, I went on the same journey as others. It is unnecessary to continue. I cannot continue, I have no more strength. I am becoming too bitter and shaken remembering everything again. I had been shaken enough by nights of nightmares when it seemed to me that Badanka was calling me! I wake up and there is no one, she disappeared without a trace.
May my story in the Krivich book shed beautiful light on our precious Jews of our Krivich, which is gone. May the murderous mark of Cain always hover over the fields of Krivich. Have you murdered and also inherited? And may the memory of our holy martyrs, may they rest in peace, be magnified and sanctified forever!