Testimony of Dzidzia Gelbtuch

Before World War II, I, Dzidzia Gelbtuch nee' Dlugacz, lived in Skalat with my parents and younger brother. From my immediate family my father, David, and I survived, but my mother, Sarah, and my brother, Benjamin, were killed. When the Germans occupied Skalat, I was subjected to deprivation. suffering and forced labor. I was hunted during the 'actions.' I was beaten and stabbed by German SS men and till today carry on my back the scars of their bayonets.

From the first day when the Germans entered Skalat, I was witness to scenes of terrible brutality and inhumanity. During the pogrom of 6 June 1941, I was hiding in the attic of our house. Through a small. opening I saw Ukrainians pulling, pushing, and kicking helpless Jews, both young and old, while stabbing them with knives. I saw a bearded, dead Jew wrapped in a talis, laying on the ground in the market square. This scene and others, as well as my two escapes from certain death, took place in Skalat a long time ago, but they shall always be part of my terrible memories.

During the 'actions,' Jews were rounded-up for killing. Of those who were caught almost no one returned. Since I was caught in two 'actions,' and came back. it was as if l had returned from the dead not once, but twice. When I jumped off the train and finally reached the Tarnopol Ghetto, the Jews there called me “uciekinierka” (a fugitive) and looked at me in disbelief.

On 21-22 October 1942 when the “Wild Action” took place in Skalat, I and my family were still living in our own house. Our house had a deep cellar, which led to a long, narrow tunnel where one could only crawl. It was said that the tunnels ran under the market and extended to the towers. Fear of getting trapped and lost in them, stopped us from hiding there.

When the 'action' had started, about ten people living in our house ran down the cellar where we huddled together in a dark corner. There we stayed for some time until two German soldiers with very powerful flashlights came down into our cellar. With them were two or three policemen, though I don't remember whether they were Ukrainians or Jews. They spotted us immediately and we started to yell “Wier arbeiten” (we're working), meaning we're willing to work. to which the Germans answered with cruel irony, “Wir arbeiten auch” (we too are working)!

Then they took us out one by one from the cellar and led us to the marketplace. When we arrived, we saw small groups of terrified Jews standing in different places of the square. I saw a German. drag a crying boy of about four or five, slam him against a wall and then shoot him with his pistol. More Jews were caught. Then we were led to the synagogue where our relatives, friends, and many neighbors were already assembled.

We were being pushed into the synagogue and as I was passing through the vestibule, I spotted an exit door on the left side. Luckily, no one noticed me as I opened the door and entered a small room cluttered with boards and broken benches. Behind the door was a chimney with an opening. I quickly climbed inside and stepped on some debris and protruding stones in the chimney wall. There I stayed the rest of the day and though I could not see the Jews inside the sanctuary, I could hear their terrible screams. Night came, the screams stopped and it became quiet. The victims had all been taken away. Fearing that the synagogue may still be guarded, I remained standing in the chimney during the entire night. In the morning, after the 'action,' I came out and went home. There I found my father who had somehow survived this 'action' as well.

On 9 November 1942, the “Little Action” took place in Skalat. We were no longer living in our house but with the Wilners, inside the ghetto. The house was not familiar to me and I knew of no hiding place or bunker there. At dawn the SS-men and the Ukrainian policemen surrounded the ghetto and closed off all the roads leading outside. Though I realized that there was little chance to leave the ghetto, I, nevertheless, walked out through the back door of the building, in hope of escaping. Near the Ukrainian

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church, a few yards away, I saw a construction site next to the Cooperative store. I ran across and fell into a covered, deep hole excavated for a foundation. On one side of the excavation was a door leading to the cellar of the Cooperative. I opened it, went inside, and stood in the corner of a dark hall. Within twenty minutes the SS-man Muller (whose face, with a few gold teeth in the front of his mouth and whose coat with a fur-covered collar, were familiar to me) stood in front of me holding a lit candle. He ordered me to tell him whether the Ukranian supervisor of the Cooperative provided me with a hiding place. I answered honestly “No.” He then asked me to show him how I got in. I simply told him that I fell into the hole. He was surprised, but did not question me further. He then handed me over to another SS-man who led me to the synagogue.

When we approached the synagogue, and as in the previous 'action,' I heard horrifying sounds coming out of the inside. The sanctuary was filled with people, wailing and praying. When I entered I was overcome by the stench and lack of air. There I stayed for some time. Suddenly, the doors were opened and the loading onto the trucks was begun. During the loading, the SS-men subjected us to merciless kicking and beatings. With me in the truck was my future brother-in-law and his family. When we reached the out of town area, he tried to escape by jumping off the truck, but he was shot in front of my eyes.

We arrived at the Tarnopol railroad station, where under constant blows to the head with rifle butts, we were forced into cattle cars and packed like herring in a barrel. Then the doors were sealed.

In the train car there were no windows, toilets or water to drink. There was one small opening covered with barbed wire. As in the synagogue, we suffered from lack of air and a terrible stench. Our situation was unbearable and some people attempted to escape.

Mr. Ratzenstein pulled the barbed wire from the opening and a man, whose name I do not remember, was the first to jump. He fell on the railroad track and was killed. I was next in line to jump. Someone pushed me through the opening and I fell near the tracks. Not far away, I saw the crushed body of the man who had jumped before me. A German riding on a motorcycle along the moving train caught me and two more people and led us to a tool shed filled with shovels, pitchforks, and hammers. He ordered us to go inside and then he locked the door.

It was a cold, drizzly fall evening and the ground was frozen. I spent the night in the shed dressed in a thin jacket and one shoe, having lost the other one during my jump.

Dawn arrived. A German came, unlocked the shed and told us “laufen, schnell laufen,” (run, run fast). I thought he was going to shoot us, but he did not. The three of us ran in different directions. Exhausted, cold and half conscious, I continued to run till I fell into a ditch. A peasant on his way to a flour mill helped me out of the ditch and told me that I was not far from Tarnopol. Jewish road-repair brigades were working on this road and again I started to walk in hope of finding Jews. I walked till I reached Tarnopol. When I reached the ghetto, the Jews there looked at the few escapees in wonder, but with the full awareness that our attempts at saving ourselves were futile.

On Tuesdays, members of the Skalat Jewish Council would come to Tarnopol on 'business.' Mostly, they came to bribe the Gestapo and try desperately to get “news for the Jews.” Tuesday evening they took me back to Skalat.

As told by Dzidzia Gelbtuch nee' Dlugacz to Lusia Milch
New York, New York 1995

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