My Trip to Poland

Since the end of the war, it was my dream to go back to the land of my birth, Poland. I only had one obstacle. I could not go to Treblinka by myself, although this was one of the aims of my trip -- to go where my whole family perished during the war. But, a group of young people descended from the residents of Piotrków, a town where I was during the war, was going to Poland from Israel and would be touring Treblinka too. I decided to join them, and the decision was made.

I arrived in Warsaw on August 15 on a Polish flight (Lot airline) direct from Chicago. This was the first time I had visited, after leaving Poland 63 years ago. Waiting for me at the airport was my Polish friend. It was a good feeling to meet a familiar face and so be so welcome. I was very tired, and after a short rest, we went sightseeing in Warsaw.

I was very impressed with this beautiful modern city, built up on ashes after the war. A lot of high rises, parks, very large boulevards, monuments. But I was interested to visit the site where the ghetto had been. If not for the monuments and the streets named after the ghetto fighters, the Umschlag Place, no one would believe that 65 years ago, this place was a living hell. Today they build high rises all over. The only reminders are the stones honoring the ghetto fighters. The most powerful monument is the one built by Rapaport in 1958, Mordechi Aneilewicz holding a grenade.

My next trip was to Lodz, my home town. The city where I was born, went to school, spent my youth, walked the streets with my friends, and lived with my family. What a disappointment was waiting for me.

It was a nice sunny day, the Sunday afternoon when I arrived in Lodz. Not a person was on the street. Filthy buildings, broken windows. And this was the center of the city. It looked like a cemetery and not like the town I remembered. I was running to reach my destination, the house where I had lived. The building was till there, but the entrance was changed by the addition of an iron gate that was never there before, and I couldn’t go in. But someone was coming out, and I went in. To my disappointment the tenant of our apartment was not home, but a neighbor next door let me into her apartment, after I explained the reason for my visit.

Even though I knew her apartment from before, I couldn’t believe that people were living so poorly and in such filth. Homeless people in the U.S. are living in better conditions. I was so heart broken that I took the next train back to Warsaw. I left Lodz without seeing where I went to school, where my brother lived, and where the rest of my family had lived.

The next few days, I stayed in Warsaw. The group from Israel arrived, and I joined then for our trip to Treblinka. Even though we didn’t know each other from before, it took us only a short time to get acquainted. Among them were some Holocaust survivors, but they were too young to remember the atrocities during the war. I was the oldest on this trip and the respect these people showed me was unbelievable.

It was very emotional to stay in a place where I lost my whole family 65 years ago. The Germans destroyed the camp in 1943, after the Jewish revolt, and only a few people survived to tell of the tragedies that happened during their time there.

In Treblinka there are no monuments, but every town or country is represented by a stone. We said Kaddush and laid flowers on the Piotrków stone, and, for the last time, I said goodbye to my dear ones.

It was Friday afternoon, and we drove back to Warsaw, where at the hotel, I met more friends from Israel. Saturday, we went to Nozek Synagogue, the only synagogue in Warsaw, and, after prayers, we were invited to lunch sponsored by the generosity of Mr. Robert Dessan. We got a little rest in the hotel and went for a 3 mile walk to the city of Warsaw.

Next day, Sunday morning, we went to Piotrków by automobile. Out first stop was Rakow, where, in December 1942, 500 people from the synagogue were killed. Waiting there was Rabbi Lau and his brother Naftali. Rabbi Lau made an emotional speech in Hebrew and in English we said Kaddush, lay flowers, and left for the synagogue in Piotrków.

The synagogue, that was once the pride and joy of the Jewish population, is now a library and only a plaque in front of the synagogue written in Hebrew is a reminder of what was once there. If only this synagogue could speak, and tell about the hell that it saw from the end of 1939 until the end of 1942. As soon as the Germans occupied Piotrków, they deported people from small towns and, since they had no homes for them, they put up bunkers and let them live there. The synagogue looked like a barn, with people living without water or sanitation. An epidemic of Typhus Fever broke out. People were dying, the hunger was indescribable. This was going on until October 1942, when the deportations began.

The first to be deported were the people from the synagogue. Then, during the deportation, people who were hiding and were found, or were illegal, were put in the synagogue for the time being. What was going on in the synagogue was like something from Dante’s Inferno. Without food, water, or sanitation people were fighting among themselves. A few people with connections were rescued. Outside the synagogue watching all of this were the most vicious Ukrainian animals (not human beings). At the same time, a few women delivered babies in a nearby hospital. The Ukrainians made a fire in a bathtub and threw the babies in. The mothers were later sent to Rakow to be killed. I didn’t go into the synagogue; the memories of this tragedy were too vivid. I will never forget this as long as I live.

Since the streets of Piotrków were familiar to me, I went walking. So many windows I remembered and the people that lived there, but not one person I knew lives there now. I went to see the house I where I lived when in the ghetto. The front of the house where I lived was destroyed, and no one was around to answer my questions as to what happened, so I went back to meet our friends for lunch at a restaurant.

After lunch, we went to see the Jewish cemetery. A Polish representative, the mayor of Piotrków, the press and television personalities were there, along with a lot of security guards. The speeches were in Polish, Hebrew, and English. Ben Helfgott and the president both delivered wonderful speeches in Polish. Since I speak fluent Polish, the press interviewed me. One of the questions I was asked was why it took me 63 years to come back to visit Poland. I told the interviewer that I didn’t have anyone in Poland any more, not even a monument where I would be able to lie down and cry.

I left Piotrków the same evening and went back to Warsaw. I packed my suitcase, said goodbye to my friend, and thanked her for her hospitality. I’m glad that I made this trip because of my age – 85 years old. And I don’t regret it. But, I was so happy to return home.

Regina Samelson, Skokie, Illinois