weak, high and low, deep-toned and shrill, that only the one who dreamed along with them and cried out with them in the dark of the night is able to grasp what is happening. One voice especially stood out. Some young girl screams in a high, shrill voice that keeps breaking, falling, and then rising again in a scream even more harrowing. Whenever I think of my stay in the border strip, that cry rings in my ears, coming out of thousands of throats. There were nights when it was raining, with cold, lashing rain. Everything became wet, people sank in the mud, tried to cover it with what they could, but all was in vain. Everything was drenched, everything was wet.
Another time, it started snowing. It was a terrible night of the first snow. It felt as if it was going to bury us completely, that none of us would live to see the morning, none of us. Women wailed shrill complaints about the fate oftheir innocent children, men sat dejected, bonfires expired, inundated with wet snow. In the morning, everything was white. The encampment came alive early in the morning. People would run in all directions, buying coffee, bread, even sausages; laying out their things, dressing warmer. All day, from 7:30 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon, everyone was on the move – buying food and eating. Even in the night Christians from nearby villages came to the strip, bringing bread and sausages. You could get a cup of coffee [5] from the entrepreneurial locals, who also wanted to go to the “other side”. It is characteristic that on the day of my arrival to the strip 95 per cent of the 4,000 people there were Jewish, and yet all the coffee companies belonged to the Christians. What a joy it was, therefore, and what an extraordinary cele-bration, when one day the word got out that a new company, the first Jewish one, had been established. Customers congratulated the owner, laughed, joked, and drank Jewish hot coffee with delight. The fact is that despite all the terror of our situation, despite the cold, hunger, and death looming over us – therewas still humour. People were able to joke and laugh. One day I saw a huge group of young people in the distance. When I approached, I heard them singing. Almost all the young people, who were the majority among us, gathered at the edge of the field and sang songs in Hebrew and Yiddish. Apparently their survival instinct forced them to unite in a shared song. For me, it was a protest song against the evil, for me it was the struggle against the foreign, hope-less, and indolent state. And so, of course, they decided to act on that impulse. In the morning, they organised an assault. On the ramparts, there were lines of people with bundles, backpacks, some carrying huge boxes, [6] suitcases,
GENERA L SITUATION OF REFUGEES AT THE SOVIETO CC UPIE D TERRITORIES [ 2] 15
