number of Jewish labourers by 80 per cent, including me. This was a dreadful blow to us. After all, work protected us from deportation to a camp, whereas now… . In Lvov there were many refugees from various parts of Poland. I was receiving only scarce news from my family. Until then I had not wanted to return to the ghetto, but now my family was constantly on my mind. There was a spectre of extermination hanging over us. Even though the closure of the ghetto was postponed to 28 February due to the outbreak of an epidemic of typhus fever, the only aim was to exterminate the Jewry using all available means.
I wanted to be in Warsaw, in the ghetto, as fast as possible, to die, hungry and cold, [17] from the typhus-infected air, instead of dying here away from my family in a mass grave at Piaski Łyczakowskie. It was more than two years since I had last seen them. But it was difficult to return. It cost on average a thousand zlotys per person. It was possible to travel only illegally as an Aryan with a guide and at a risk to one’s life. I had no money nor could I receive any from home. Luckily, I made the acquaintance of two Poles, Varsovians, who promised to take me for free. The final days of my stay in Lvov were horrible. I can remember the day of 6 December. It was Saturday. I was living on Panieńska Street in the Jewish district. The tenement residents kept guard on the street all day long, communicating the freshest news. The executions of older men and women continued. All men and women above the age of 50 hid in the cellar. One paralytic had to be carried down. It was dead silent in the cellar. Everybody had tears in their eyes, but nobody was crying. The people’s faces were deadly pale. Suddenly, piercing screams could be heard. A closed car with Ukrainian police and the Gestapo pulled up outside the neighbouring tenement. They searched the entire building from the cellar up. All the older people were taken away to be executed. Children were crying and did not want to let go of their parents. Even beating did not work… . The laments and begging brought no effect… . The older people were pulling their hair out and begging the policemen to kill them on the spot in front of their relatives, but the oppressors refused… . The hideout in the cellar proved to be unsafe. On the contrary, it greatly facilitated the oppressors’ task. Without much thinking the door was forced open. Many did not want to leave the cellar. Be it as it may, death proved to be something inevitable, fatal. One had to run, but where to? Should one prolong one’s suffering by another day or two? Eventually, the will to live overcame that momentary indecision. All
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