A very sad chapter in the life of the Jews of Staszow concerned residents of the "Big Beis Hamerdrash." I doubt that any of them survived. I also doubt that anyone who survived the war ever saw the conditions there. By chance, I did. What I saw remains in my memory till today. Before the war we had many places of worship. We had a beautiful synagogue and two Beis-Hamedrashem. The Hassidic Beis-Hamedrash in the eastern part of the city was used as a kitchen for poor Jews of the city during the war. The second one was in the western part in front of the synagogue, called the "Citis" or "Big Beis-Hamedrash." In addition to these places, Staszow had many Hassidic "shtiblech" and halls owned by various organizations and were also used as places of worship. Staszow was bombarded in the first day of the war. In addition, a fire broke out, destroying many homes. When people who fled to nearby villages or forests returned, they had to look for a roof over their heads. Those who had money found places. Those who didn’t, invaded any available public place. The Big Beis-Hamedrash was also occupied. Later on, more refugees were placed there, too. The crowded conditions were unbelievable. Some time later, as hunger worsened, typhoid broke out. Under the pretext that the Jews were "typhoid spreaders" (the old Christian accusation), the mayor of Staszow, Suchan, fenced in the building with wire and placed his underworld men as guards. They did not let anyone in or out. Once, when passing that building. I stopped to talk to one of the guards, a young Pole whom I knew well from my school years. He asked, "Would you like to see how hell looks? Go in for a few minutes." When I opened the door a wave of dampness and terrible stench hit me. It took a while until I could see. The air was wet and smoky. The floor was rotten, muddy and full of holes. Many families lived there, old and young, men and women, half-naked children running all over. Every bit of space was occupied. Wherever one put his possessions, that was his place. Here and there I could see a bed or a piece of furniture. Some families set up iron stoves with pipes sticking out of the windows. Others, trying to have some privacy, surrounded their place with curtains made out of old rags. It was unbearably noisy. Screams, laughter, cries everywhere. That was how these -people languished.

That was how their days and nights dragged on without any hope, any future, any prospects for a better morning. How did they get water? A person has to wash himself. Where did they have toilets? From where did they get wood to make a fire and cook? After all, the building was fenced in and watched by guards and nobody was allowed to leave. I recognized some families whom I knew before the war. They were nice, quiet people, not rich, but not bad providers. They led a quiet life, never hurting anybody and were never in anyone's way. How terrible circumstances can change human beings and how quickly! Overwhelmed, I found my way out. One time, they had their day, one time, they had an abundance of food. It happened a few days before the expulsion, before the Jews of Staszow were annihilated. It was in the first days of November 1942. A wave of panic swept the city, like a sinking boat in the middle of stormy seas.

The Germans with their Ukrainian henchmen kept emptying the neighbouring villages and towns of their Jews. These people were thrown into Staszow to be added to the transport which took them to their annihilation. Chaos took over the city. People ran like madmen looking for places to hide or to obtain working papers which might save them. Some parents told their children: "We are releasing you from the mitzvah. "Kibud av vaeim." (Honour your father and mother). Forget about our existence! Try to save yourselves. Maybe someone will be lucky enough to survive this hell so that our name should not be erased from the surface of the earth!" In many homes parents were walking around in a daze. Mothers were wringing their hands and quietly crying. Fathers would stare into space and mumble loud enough for the children to hear: "You are looking for a place to hide, you will leave us. What will happen to us?" From the beginning of the war our beautiful synagogue was taken over by the Germans. Now, Jewish tailors slaved there, sewing uniforms for the German army, hoping that maybe this would save them from being dragged away. Jewish women could not longer go inside the synagogue to open the Aron-Kodesh (Holy Ark) and cry their hearts out, the way Jewish women used to do for many, many generations. Jewish mothers gathered outside the synagogue, hitting their heads against stone walls. -Their cries and laments could move stone. They talked, pleaded and begged - "God why should such a bitter end come on us and our children?" Old pious Jews wrapped themselves in taleisim and cried out chapters of the nilim (psalms), waiting for the beasts. Homes were abandoned. The door left wide open. The fright had driven away the previous owners. The newly arrived refugees from the neighbouring towns were running in and out in panic. It was like two thousand years ago when Jerusalem was surrounded by the Romans and the Jews understood that everything was lost. The rich men of the city opened their warehouses and storage age houses and said to the poor: “Take as much as your hearts desire!" The same happened in Staszow. When people realized that the end was near, the opened their doors to the needy and poor. The people of Beis-Hamedrash broke through the fence wires and ran to the homes of the wealthy taking whatever could be carried. Yes - even they had few satisfying days. On Friday the 6th of November 1942 the "angels of death" arrived.

The next day, Saturday, the Sabbath, Staszow was surrounded. The Germans had the Polish police and firemen, as well as the Jewish police on standby. All through the night we heard terrible cries, screams and gunfire. At dusk Sunday November 8th, all Jews were forced into the market place. The screams and shootings continued groups of Jews were marched off towards the town of Stopnica. The experienced murderers did it quickly. By noon the last group was marched off kilometres to the train station Szczucin, on the other side of the Vistula River. Those who survived the march were loaded into cattle cars on the way to Belzec. I believe between six and eight thousand Jews were taken away on the black Sunday. (The exact number of victims will never be known.) The Polish fire brigade started to wash off the blood-soaked streets. The Germans forced a group of Jews left be hind to bury the few hundred corps murdered that day. A group of German and Ukrainian murderers started looking for Jews in hiding. Whoever was found was shot on the spot. This is the tragic end of the "ho kehilla of Staszow," whose Jews were mentioned in the local chronicles early as the year 1526.

“T’hei nishmosom zrura b’tz hachaim. T’hei zichron baruch.”