LEON SZERENIEC A BIALYSTOKER JEW IN PAWJAK (Editor’s note: The author and his wife, who now live in Israel, spent the war years in Warsaw escaping death with false Polish identity papers. Szereniec, born in Bia- lystok, used the name Kazimierz Raczkowski. This arti- cle illustrates how some Jews who passed as gentiles were discovered and suffered Nazi abuse.) The cellar of Pawjak Prison’s main building in War- Saw contained eight sections — seven for Poles and one for Jews. After the Warsaw ghetto uprising in April 1943, only two of the eight sections were used. Not enough Jews were alive to fill the remaining pens. Jewish prisoners spent their first night in 0611 a transition pen. The next morning they were transferred to a burned-out building at 27 Dzielna Street, a hell hole opposite the compound’s main gate. The Nazis held two kinds of people for interroga- tion in cell 258: Jews who produced convincing papers that they were Poles, Gestapo headquarters on Sucha Avenue detaining them at Pawjak for further review, and those who claimed they were Poles but were found circumcised during a physical examination. I was in the second category. Every Sunday the Polish inmates received an extra loaf of bread from an organization that helped political prisoners. This supplement to the inadequate 100-gram ration of bread per day saved lives. Some of our guards believed that since we were only being held for questioning, we might in fact be non-Jews. One Sunday, a soldier named Altmann, a good-natured esrtwhile farmer, gave a loaf of bread to each of us. Ecstatic at the unexpected gift, we awaited the same the following Sunday. After ten in the morn- ing, realizing our supplement was not forthcoming, we demanded more bread. A Ukrainian guard, Zubenko, listened to our plea, promising he would convey it to higher authority. Unfortunately the sadist Harder, an Austrian, was in charge that day. We called him ‘‘rat’’ because he crept everywhere and knew all. He said he would take care of us. Furiously he tore into our cell, shoved us into the corridor and menacingly exclaimed, “Ill give you bread!”’ He then searched us for hidden bread, ordering the Ukrainians to inspect our cell and straw mattresses. A few days earlier, five Gypsies were placed in our cell. At first they were treated better than we, for they were allowed to bring their own food. Subsequently the Nazis discovered many pieces of bread in their posses- sion, finding a gold coin in one loaf. The guards pushed us into the yard, then beat the Gypsies in the corridor. Little did we know what Harder had in store for us 156 when we heard him say “‘frogs.’’ The beast loved spec- tacles. He forced all twenty-five prisoners to jump on elbows and knees like frogs on the gravel-covered pris- on courtyard, while he raved and beat us on our backs. During the first round we jumped at a fast clip. The second time around the yard we were in pain, our knees and elbows bloodied. The elderly and weak needed help so that the Nazis would not notice they were disabled. Completing the third circle required superhuman strength and willpower. Some were already half dead. After the “‘show” Harder ordered us to line up. We had to support some of our friends because they could no longer stand. The commandant told us to lie near the prison wall face down. Surely this was our end and we whispered goodbye to one another. Suddenly the rat ordered his henchmen to clean us up, probably so that we could enter the next world pure. They doused us with water; the mud thickened. Despite our pain we were numb. Then we heard some- one shout: ‘“‘Back to your cells!’” Everyone ran, pulling those unable to move. Near collapse in the cellar, we couldn’t enter our pen because the straw torn from the mattresses covered the floor. Our jailers gave us five minutes to refill the mattresses and tidy up the place. Wounded and in severe pain, we carried out the order and dropped on our “‘beds.”’ Toward evening, the Nazis removed the bodies of our friends who could not bear their pain and died. Harder, at the door, asked sarcastically, “Did you like the bread I gave you today?” This nightmare occurred on a Sunday in June 1943. TELL THE NEW GENERATIONS OF THE HOLOCAUST AND RESISTANCE The Bialystoker Memorial Book