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[Page 122]
FIRST VISIT TO SKALAT
Spring, 1970
Outside of Skalat in the mass graves are the remains of my mother, Necha Rosenzweig-Goldberg (nee Rubin), and my sister, Ginia Goldberg. I saw the graves only once, in 1944, a few months after the liberation, when I, together with a group of Jews, went to say our farewells before leaving for the West.
Twenty five years later, during the height of the 'cold war,' my husband and I decided to visit our respective home towns once more. It was with great difficulty that we obtained permission to visit Skalat and my husband's town, Kozowa also located in the Tarnopol district.
When we finally arrived in Skalat accompanied by Russian intourist guides, who were also members of the police, the drastic change in the appearance of former Jewish sections of our town made it difficult to recognize what were once familiar houses and streets. I walked around the town with memories of the happiest and most painful years of my childhood.
An older peasant woman saw me and asked who I was. I told her my name and that my family owned a dry goods store before the war. She immediately told me that she knew my grandfather, Meyer Rosenzweig, quite well. She attached herself to us and accompanied us as we walked around the town. Along the way she also told me many other things.
After a while I started to walk up Panska Street towards the cemetery and mass graves. “Don't go there,” the woman warned quietly. I told her that I had to go, since these sites were the main purpose of my trip. Again, she tried to stop me. “Why?” I asked. She told me that the Jewish cemetery had been made into a soccer field. I also found out from her, to my horror, that there were no more mass graves to be seen. They had been leveled and plowed under to make the site blend into the surrounding fields.
Who did such a thing?” I asked.
You know who,” she answered cautiously. I knew that the local people had good reason to have the graves leveled. They were anxious to cover up their cooperation and culpability in the crimes which exterminated the Jews of Skalat.
And the authorities, didn't they do anything about it?” I asked.
No,” she whispered, “no one cared! Besides, the soil there is good and they wanted it for planting.”
The soil there is good!” I almost screamed. At that moment it was as if the Holocaust was still with me. I was grief stricken and stunned. There seemed to be no hope, no end to evil, and no bottom to human baseness.
My husband and I were so shaken, that we stood silently unable to shed tears. Then we turned around and walked back to the marketplace.
Lusia Milch nee' Rosenzweig
New York, 1970
[Page 123]
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