How I Survived

It is fifty years since those awful days of the round-up of Jews in Skalat, during the “Wild Action” of October 21-22, 1942.

Over 3,000 Jews - young, old, men, women and children were dragged from their homes and driven to the assembly point of the main synagogue of our town. Among them were my parents, my two sisters and I.

Though fifty years have passed, I still have before my eyes the horrible scene in the synagogue where people stood weeping and children were screaming. A man stood wrapped in a prayer shawl, praying loudly and hoping that God will hear and help. After twelve hours in the synagogue, the Germans and Ukrainian police forced us to walk toward the railroad station. Along the way the local population were lining the streets and enjoying the spectacle of Jews being driven to their death.

At the station the train was waiting for us. All the windows in the cars were boarded up, to insure that no one would escape. With kicks and blows of rifle butts, people were driven at a running pace into the cars and then the doors were shut. In the cars we were pressed together like sardines, without water and without any sanitary facilities.

I knew that we were all going to die. Since we had nothing to lose, I and a few other young men decided to escape. We managed to pry open a board in the window and I told my parents that I was going to jump from the train. My mother told me that if I were to survive the slaughter, I should go to Palestine, and there join my sister Rivka.

After taking leave of my family, I was helped by others to slide through the opening in the window. I jumped from the running train and fell near the track. Immediately the Ukrainian train guards began to shoot. The bullets were falling all around me as the train was moving away, but I was not hit. Noticing a wooded area nearby, I started to run in that direction in hope of finding shelter there.

It was a chilly, fall day and it was raining. When I reached the wooded area, I was wet, very cold and so exhausted that I fell asleep. In a dream my grandfather appeared before me draped in a “talis” (prayer shawl) and a “kitel” (white robe), as if he were dressed for Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement). In his hand he held a sword and he ordered me to follow him. When I awakened, I started to walk. After a while I arrived at an intersection where the road branched out in several directions. I stood there confused and not knowing which way to proceed. Then the shadow of my grandfather appeared and pointed the way. That was how I arrived in Skalat, from where we had departed only hours before.

I realize that it is hard to believe what I have just related, therefore, I have never told it to anyone, until now. When I arrived back in my town, people looked at me as if I were resurrected from the dead. After a short time, I was interred in the Skalat Camp and there I joined the brigade which worked in the rock quarry of Nowosiolka. When the situation in camp became dangerous, I decided to escape. I left the camp at night and managed to reach the forest near Ostra Mogila. There I found a group of Jews from Skalat. Among them were the Koflers, Weinberg and others. We hid in the forests until we were liberated by the Russians in 1944.

After the liberation, I returned to Skalat and joined the Soviet Army. In 1945, at the end of the war, I was demobilized. Then I traveled to Germany, Belgium, France, and in 1946 I arrived in Israel, which at that time was still under the control of the British Mandate.

Translated from Yiddish by Joseph Kofler
Gershon Ratzenstein
Israel, 1992

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