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6 Fall 1942 Soon we are sharing our house with even more people: our two cousins, the Luft sisters, who arrive in Izbica after the Nazis liquidate the ghetto in Zamo£ç. Nearly everyone in Zamo£ç, including their parents, have been sent to the camps, but these two beautiful girls, both in their early twenties, have somehow been spared. Before the war these girls, whose family owned a tool factory, had even won a beauty pageant. Now they have been marched with a small group of other Jews from Zamo£ç to Izbica, a distance of about thirteen miles. Many of the weakest Jews had died during the journey. Now that most of the Jews of nearby Zamo£ç have apparently been killed, everyone in Izbica expects that our turn will follow. The only question is the timing. Every day brings new speculation about when the next—and final—roundup will occur. We talk about it obsessively. The entire town is rife with rumors, some of which turn out to be true, but just as often not. Daily life is an ordeal filled with dread of the beatings, murders, and deportations that we have already seen inflicted on others. People now walk around in a kind of stupor, as if they have been pronounced guilty of a crime but are still waiting to be told what the punishment will entail. We develop a survival strategy: leave home only when necessary, remain constantly aware of the signs of the beginning of a roundup, and always carry something of value that can be used to bribe a soldier or a policeman. We also attempt to locate and arrange as many hiding places as possible around town, so that in the event of a roundup, we will always have a place to flee to immediately, no matter where we are at the time. Symcha even arranges with one local Catholic family to make their attic 51 available as a hiding place to us. Concealed as it is in a non-Jewish home, it is perhaps the best hideout of all. We know that a treasured hiding place in a home owned by Poles is available to very few Jews in Izbica. First of all, it takes great courage for this Catholic family to offer shelter to us despite the German authorities’ warnings that anyone who assists Jews will face the death penalty. Second, unlike most Jews in Izbica, Symcha, thanks to his former role as a dance instructor and his current activities as a pharmacist, has enjoyed unique opportunities to build mutual trust with many local Poles, even since the beginning of the war. Jews who have been brought here from faraway cities and lands have had even fewer chances than Izbica ’s native Jews to develop connections with the Poles of Izbica. We feel fortunate. But we know that we are still in great danger. In the middle of October 1942, our worst fears are realized: the transports resume with a vengeance. Alter is among the first to be caught. When the roundup begins, I head straight for the leather factory. Alter is found, however, before he can find a hiding place. Then he somehow manages to escape from his captors. He seeks shelter in the leather factory. But I listen as he is turned away at the door by the factory’s Jewish guard, Jankiel Altman, because there are already too many people inside. I cannot blame Mr. Altman because he is trying to save us. If the Germans were to find us hiding there again, they might not spare us as they had the first time, especially if they were to find people other than workers’ immediate families in the factory. According to witnesses outside, Alter soon had been caught by Schultz, taken to Engels, and shot on the spot. I am not only sad about Alter. I am enraged. I begin to dream of obtaining a pistol and ambushing Engels and Klemm. I want to avenge the deaths of all my friends and relatives whom they have murdered. I cannot stand being powerless any longer. I know I can very probably be killed trying to carry out my plan, but I feel it is something I must do. Also, if I am really going to be murdered one day soon, then why not at least try to take vengeance while I still can? I inform my father of what I intend to do. “Don’t be meshuggah,” he tells me.1...

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