Night was approaching and I was overcome with fear. What would become
of me, I thought. Would they bury me here like a dead horse and my name
forgotten forever?
Summoning up my last strength, I stood up and crossed the road to the
other side. [16] It wasn’t easy for me to get across. I was like a fly with several
legs torn off, which takes a step and falls, then takes another and falls again.
Or like a chicken just slaughtered, hopping around on one leg. That is how
I was at that point. I took a step and fell, and continued like that until I got to
the other side, where a small hut was standing. When I got there, I collapsed
with no strength left. A peasant came up to me and said I should come to his
house with him, but that he would go first and I should follow. I set off, but
I had no strength. To save myself, I simply crawled on all fours. When I got to
his house, his wife stood there with tears in her eyes. Weeping, she turned
to me and said, ‘I would gladly take you in. I feel great pity for you. My children
are crying. They know what happened to you, but what am I supposed
to do? The yevonim have told us that if they find a Jew hidden in someone’s
house, they’ll deal with him just like they deal with the Jew. [17] She gave
me some sweet tea with syrup and a small piece of cheese, and told me to go
back to the hut.
Having no choice, I dragged myself back there. The hut consisted of two
empty rooms. I was afraid to remain in the first room and so I went into the
second one, but there was water and mud all over the floor. Exhausted and
worn out, I stretched out on the ground to rest my broken bones, regardless
of the mud. Now I began to feel my wounds. I was bleeding copiously, and
I had nothing with which to stem the flow. I groaned and wept, but who could
help me at that moment? I lay there all night in great distress, contemplating
my bitter fate. At dawn I heard voices in the first room. One person said
to the other, “Go in and see what’s happened in there.” The second person
answered, “I’m scared. [18] You go in.” Suddenly the door opened and a man
appeared. I was frightened to death. Then he asked me what had happened.
I described my dreadful misfortune and he shook his head in sympathy.
I asked him where he came from, and he told me he lived in a village near
the town of C[iechanów?]. Because of the gunfire, he had fled the village
with his whole family, loaded a few belongings onto a cart, and taken refuge in
flight. Now he was going back home. You weren’t allowed to travel at night, and
for that reason, he and his family had come in here to spend the night. He had
