Testimony of Nusia Frankel

It is late afternoon in a forest outside of Skalat. The Germans are sweeping through the forest, hunting for the small number of Jews who survived the 'actions,' escaped the ghetto, and are now hiding in the forest.

I'm six year's old and running for my life. The Jews are running towards another hiding place in the forest and I know I must not lose sight of them. I'm the link between them and my mother who lags behind, slowed down by the weight of my little brother whom she is carrying. My eyes are darting in every direction as I try to keep up with the group without losing sight of my mother. Gunfire breaks out around us and shots echo ominously through the woods. Panic drives me to run much faster than my short, skinny legs are normally capable of.

Everyone scatters. The woman ahead of me has been shot and falls to the ground. She's dead. Intuitively, I throw myself on the ground and lie motionless holding my breath. I hear screams, more shots, and the cracking of twigs under heavy German boots. Suddenly there is silence, complete and utter silence.

I am terrified to open my eyes or get up. Hours pass and night falls. Not a human sound. is heard anywhere around me. I am all alone. Slowly I get up, whimpering silently. I have long ago learned not to cry. I begin to look for a familiar landmark, but all the trees and bushes look alike. Which direction should I take? Will I find my mother and brother? Is everyone dead?

Cautiously, I move through the woods. Suddenly, a human shape is walking towards me. I stop, frozen in my tracks. I see a woman approaching and I begin to tremble uncontrollably. A sigh of relief. She is one of the women from our bunker. She tries to console me, although she seems as terrified as I am. The Germans have left she says, and assures me that my mother is looking for me and will probably find us by morning. It is too dark to proceed so we hide under bushes huddling together to keep warm. Exhaustion and the reassuring presence of an adult watching over me allow me to drift into sleep.

I awake at dawn. The woman is convinced that our people are looking for us and insists that we stay where we are. I urge her to start walking so as to try and find our way back. I think I would recognize the trail leading to a brook, from which my mother and I fetch water. I would also recognize another trail which we use at night to go into the fields to forage for food.

We begin to move tentatively through the underbrush trying to avoid the clearings. After walking for hours, we come to a path which I think is the one leading to the brook. We are too weak and exhausted to continue. We hide at the edge of the path hoping that sooner or later some of our people will come for water.. It is dusk and another night without food or shelter looms ahead.

Listen! What? Listen carefully! The faint sound of steps on the trail. Steps and whispers. Yes, someone is approaching. They are Jews from our bunker and they lead us back.

In the bunker the atmosphere is full of gloom. Not everyone has made it back. My mother is mourning. She is sure that I was either captured or killed. Yet she clings to a faint hope. She knows that at the age of six I have already acquired the skills of a survivor. Tears of joy, hugs, kisses, and prayers of thanks surround me. For us, another miracle had taken place! The three of us are alive and once again together.

Nusia Frankel nee' Bernhaut
North Miami, Florida 1995

[Page 101]

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14