heart-rending. Hundreds of people were lying in a small room, “four-by-four,”⁷¹⁵
including a pregnant woman.
[8] Sunday, 3 September 1939
In the morning, the young people ran on further, because we saw that,
all things considered, this place was not safe either.
Many gave up and returned to Przedbórz to save their possessions, but
they soon came back because the whole town was one great conflagration.
We stayed in that village until Wednesday.
Wednesday, 6 September 1939. We saw that we couldn’t stay there any
longer. We saw that the Polish soldiers were retreating everywhere and the
Germans were moving forward. We had already heard artillery fire. We left
for another village.
When we came to a village in the evening we thought the peasants would
receive us in a friendly fashion. However, the opposite occurred. They wouldn’t
even let our women spend the night in the stables. We kept going. In a third
village, the peasants said that “for 1 zloty per Jew” we could spend the night.
In the morning, people were hungry. Many had fainted and suffered
nervous attacks, and the peasants wouldn’t sell us any food. After lengthy
entreaties, they agreed to sell us potatoes intended for the pigs, for 20 groszes
apiece. Later we sent a shaygetz to Przedbórz on a bicycle to see whether
it was possible for us to return. Perhaps the Germans had withdrawn [. . .]
soon back with an answer [. . .] almost completely burned down and [. . .] by
the Germans.
[9] There was no point in going on, because the enemy was faster. Nor
could we remain, because the peasants had thrown us out and threatened
that, if we did not leave willingly, they would drive us out with sticks. We
were compelled to return to the miller, although we knew we were going into
the fire.
9 September 1939. At 6 in the evening, we left the village behind and
entered a thick forest, when we came across a German patrol of 10 soldiers,
athletes riding on white horses, approaching at lightning speed. Once again,
we saw death facing us. When they drew near, they called out, “Hands up!”
They pointed their revolvers at our chests and asked whether we surrendered.
715 (Hebrew?) expression unclear, perhaps referring to some old measure and meaning a very limited space.
