OPPapers.com

My Story In The Holocaust

On March 19, 1942, I was sent by the Judenrat (the Jewish Council) to build underground storage facilities. Our group was led to a bleak, desolate place outside the city where a tall German with a red, square face told us that if we worked hard we would get extra food rations.
After a long day of digging, breaking up large boulders and carting away the dirt in wheelbarrows, I went home with a coupon for an extra half pound of bread, and, with some pride, I gave it to my father. But I was disappointed when he said, "I've arranged a new job for you. You'll be a carpenter for the German army." I was upset. I did not know carpentry and I did not want to lose the extra bread rations.
Anxious and worried, I left for my new job the next morning. It was still dark outside and lights shone through the small windows. The ramshackle streets were covered with a blanket of white snow. The ghetto seemed quiet and peaceful.
I was assigned to help a German soldier named Hans. He turned out to be a friendly fellow who laughed heartily at my clumsy handling of the saw. "To make a straight cut you have to pull the saw gently. Don't jerk it. Don't use force," he admonished.
I was so absorbed in my work that I took no note of the sporadic shooting that erupted at midday.
At lunch time, I sat at the roadside with Willy, the other Jewish carpenter. A passing Ukrainian peasant warned, "They are killing the Jews in town. Why aren't you boys hiding?"
"Killing Jews? What are you saying?" I asked in disbelief.
"Look, there," he said, "see for yourself."
When I followed the old peasant's pointing finger, I saw, about 500 yards away, heavy German trucks disgorging groups of people who were then forced to walk uphill. The shooting persisted, intermittently, but I could not believe that killings were taking place.
I did not know what to do, but before I could decide, Willy took off, running in the direction of the railroad station. After a moment's hesitation, I bolted after...