My Memoirs - the story of Harry Krokocki

My grandfather Krokocki Lajzer Berysz was born in Leczyca in 1864. He died in the Lodz Ghetto in 1942. He was the son of Mordchai Shraga and Ruchel Laja nee Firstenberg. After finishing teacher’s seminar in the year 1901 he worked for his father-in-law Hersz Perla in a bookshop on Poludniowa st. 2 until 1918. The same year he opened his own store of antiquarian books, library and stationary material. The store was located on Piotrkowska st.182. He also lived with his family in the same building.

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my grandparents		my grandparents with my father & aunt

My grandfather was married to Rozalia nee Perla, born in Warsaw in 1876. She died in the Lodz Ghetto in 1944. They had 2 children. Son Szlomo [my father] born in Leczyca   1901- died in Toronto 1967. Daughter Bella born 1918 in Lodz died in the Lodz Ghetto, date is unknown.

My grandmother Rozalia was the daughter of Perla Hersz. My great-grandfather Hersz lived in Lodz 1840 – 1926. [I’m named after him]. He was a teacher and owner of a bookshop. In his youth, he organized primary Jewish schools in Lomza, Warszawa and Czestochowa. His literary and journalistic activities started at a young age when he worked jointly with Hebrew magazines ”Hamagid”[story teller], “Hakarmel”, “Hamejlitz”,[Protector] “Ivri Anochi” and “Hatzifera”[Morning Star]. He was also writing articles about science and literary poems and novels.  Also for many years he taught in ‘Cheders’.

In 1900 he received permission from local authorities to sell textbooks and a year later he obtained license to run a public library. Finally after a few years he founded in Lodz the first Zionist association “Dorszim lecijon” [Supporters of Zion].

He obviously was a very bright and well educated individual.

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My Father		My Mother

In 1926 my father Krokocki Szlomo married Rozalia nee Sztejn. She was born in Wloclawek in 1900 and died in Chelmno in 1944. She is the daughter of Ludwik Sztejn, born in Leslau in 1869 and Chana nee Torunczyk born in Wloclawek in 1873. Both parents died in Lodz Ghetto in 1942. My parents had two children, my sister Lily born in Lodz in 1927 and myself, born in Lodz in 1930. In 1933 my father got divorced and in 1934 married Anka Cyprys, born in Zdunska Wola in 1913. She died in Toronto, Canada in 1999.

My mother’s father Ludwik  Sztejn and family lived for several years before the war and during the war on Brzezinska st. 20. My grandfather Ludwik owned and operated a pharmacy on Brzezinska st. 23. Since both my mother and uncle Maurycy were also pharmacists by profession they worked in his store as well. Before the outbreak of the war mother lived on Piotrkowska st.199 and during the war in Lodz Ghetto until she was transported to Chelmno where she perished in 1944.    

I have no recollection of the early years of my life in Lodz. I do remember that in 1937 we lived on Traugutta 2, where my father operated his own business by the name ‘Centrala maszyn do szycia’ [Sewing machine center.] As his business started to expand, he added a sporting goods department and in 1938 he moved to Piotrkowska 81, which also became our new home address. Suddenly that fateful September first 1939 arrived. Almost instantly my father was drafted into the army and we were left in the care of Anka (our stepmother). The following weeks were anxious ones, to say the least. The fact that we had lost contact with father, combined with the bad news that was trickling in daily from all fronts, made us wonder if we would ever see him again. Suddenly, one evening, father appeared in the doorway wearing civilian clothes. I don’t remember the exact date of his return, it could have been the beginning of October. Several weeks later he informed us that while in Warsaw the Polish army became practically decimated so he managed to ‘conveniently’ disappear. In order not to arouse suspicion, he decided it was safer to travel home by night. The daylight hours were utilized for rest and nourishment.

The following is an account of our escape from Lodz. Like many middle-class Jews, we fled east to Russia. I don’t recall the actual preparation of our escape. But it’s very obvious why father was so secretive about our intended departure. It was too risky having us kids unwittingly repeat vital information to friends and strangers. As the saying goes ‘Walls have ears’. However, what I do remember well is the day of our escape. That fateful day came at the end of December. As had been prearranged in Lodz our first stop east was Tarnobrzek. From there we were taken by horse-drawn carriage to the border crossing where German soldiers conducted a thorough search of all our belongings and, before releasing us, “helped” themselves to several pieces of our jewelry. Luckily, before our departure from Lodz it was suggested that father liquidate some assets and purchase watches and jewelry. There’s no doubt that those precious possessions kept us from starving and saw us through those miserable war years.

Our next destination was the city of Lwow. During the following 2-3 months Lily and I attended local school and  among other subjects. We started learning the Russian language. Suddenly, one day the local authorities informed us that we are being taken into custody for illegally crossing the Russian border. Thus we were shipped out by cattle trains with many other Jewish families who were in the same predicament as us, to an ‘Arbeitslager’ (labor camp) located in Yuszkarowa, Kazanska Obl., Marijska, ASSR. The trip lasted about 10 days. Luckily we left in the spring 1940, so the weather was bearable. However, the food rations were at a premium and the hygiene situation was deplorable. Upon disembarking the cattle train we were shocked to see a cluster of small wooden barracks surrounded by an enormous forest. The first impression of the work camp left us speechless to say the least. In fact, father revealed to us much later, that perhaps it had been a mistake to leave Lodz. Of course, in the early years of the war no one suspected the atrocities that Hitler had in store for the Jews……

For the next couple of days every family was assigned a wooden barrack that consisted of one room, table and chairs, a bed and a bunk-bed for Lily and me. In the middle of the room stood a very important commodity namely a potbelly stove. We had a sink and running water. Unfortunately indoor plumbing was not one of the commodities, outdoors was our only refuge. Every night we were bitten by bedbugs and no matter how hard we tried to get rid of the bugs such as pouring boiling water on the infested wooden beds, it was to no avail. They reappeared every single night in droves. Aside from the dreadful living conditions we also suffered from the cold and hunger. To supplement our daily food rations, we were allowed under strict supervision, to occasionally visit nearby farms where we could barter our valuables such as gold bracelets, gold chains and watches for food essentials which were often rotten. The adults were forced to work daily as wood cutters in the forest. Their day started before dawn, and lasted until early evening. They were regularly taken to their place of work by horse-drawn sleighs, regardless of weather conditions. Invariably, during our 2 year stay in the camp, there were several fatal work related accidents when individuals were crushed by falling trees.

In the beginning of 1942 we were at last released from the camp, because now that the war between Russia and Germany was in full swing, we were no longer considered enemies of the Russians. We were allowed to settle anywhere in the country, except in major cities. In order to be far away from the war zone created by the battling Russian and German armies, we, along with several other families, decided to settle in Osh, Kirgizja, a town situated near the Chinese border.

Yes, as I mentioned above we were forced to live in the ‘Arbeitslager’ a full two years, where hunger, harsh discipline and deplorable living conditions debased our human dignity. But at least we survived the hard labor camp. Thank G-D it was not a death camp – a blessing for which we are eternally grateful.

Lily Goldberg

Immediately upon arrival in Osh we rented a very small, primitive house, actually the word 'hut' would be a more accurate description. It was a 'furnished' 2-room house. Its walls and floors were made of concrete. Our indoor facilities consisted of running water, a table, chairs, beds, a simple cooking stove and a small closet. Once again, we lacked indoor plumbing and had to make do with an outhouse. Its 'crowning' glory was a leaky roof. In fact, on rainy days I had the dubious distinction of being appointed to hold an open umbrella over the stove in order to keep the cooked food from spoiling. It's not an exaggeration to state that our accommodations in Osh were hardly an improvement over the ones in camp.

I remember vividly how frugally we were obliged to live. Although father landed a fairly good office job because he knew Russian, his income was not adequate to support a family of four. Consequently, in order to supplement his salary, Anka started knitting sweaters and sold them at the local market. The food situation was pitiful, as well. The bread rations were still in force and the other essentials were seldom, if ever, available, yet in school the children were treated daily to a hot bowl of soup. Lily never failed to share her food portion with me because she felt 'as a growing boy' I needed more nourishment than did she. Yes, my sister always took care of me. Her devotion and compassion have certainly distinguished her as an exemplary sibling and unforgettable person.
Although we lived below the poverty line, psychologically our quality of life in Osh had improved considerably. Unlike our mindset in the camp, the restored freedom here had uplifted our spirits, for human beings have an innate desire to be free.........

Shortly after our arrival in Osh, we were instructed to enroll in the local school. In Russia it was obligatory to attend school at least up to the age of 16. Consequently we attended school for four years until our return to Poland in mid 1946.

The connection with my school in Osh resurfaced in the year 2000, the day I attended a school reunion of former Osh students in Haifa - an unforgettable experience, to say the least. To rub shoulders with old friends after 54 years is an emotional experience difficult to describe. Although most of them now live in Israel, only 26 were able to participate, among whom I counted six of my original 15 classmates. I am still in touch with a couple of them. The whole affair turned out to be a most nostalgic and unforgettable gathering.

Near the end of our stay in Osh, a fair percentage of the population became afflicted by an epidemic of tropical malaria. It's a tropical parasitic disease, spread by mosquitoes, that causes high fever and heavy sweating. Bouts of this disease sometimes reoccur over the years. Although all four of us were afflicted with it at the time, Anka alone became its victim again many years later in Toronto.

In the beginning of 1945, the news from the battle front signaled the imminent defeat of the German army. As a matter of fact, it was a foregone conclusion that the Allied forces would soon liberate all of Europe and crush the Nazi regime. You can imagine how very exuberant we were in Osh to hear the great news. It meant, of course, our being able to return to Poland and to once again assume a normal life style. To our dismay, however, we soon discovered that in the Soviet Union one could not take things so easily for granted. In fact, as soon as the war ended, rumors began to circulate that we would not be able to leave the Soviet Union so fast, if at all. Bureaucracy unlimited was the name of the game in that Communist State.

Finally, by mid 1946, the Russian authorities granted us permission to return to Poland with the proviso that we do so within a few weeks, or be faced by a closed border of undisclosed duration - yet another scheme concocted by the Communist regime. This being the case, we quickly gathered our few personal possessions, boarded the train and embarked on our journey back to Poland. While on Polish soil we were allowed to disembark at any train station we chose. Needless to say, our first stop was the city of Lodz. Upon arrival we immediately began the difficult task of searching, by way of

checking advertisements and approaching survivors for the whereabouts of our dear mother, aunts, uncles, grandparents and other members of our extended family.After several weeks, we happened to meet a lady who knew my mother in the Ghetto and remembered her being evacuated from Lodz at the end of July 1944. Many years later, while revisiting Lodz, we learned that the transports that left the Ghetto from July until August 1944 took Jews to Chelmno from where no one could escape. Sadly, we were resigned to the fact that my mother must have perished in Chelmno.

While residing in Lodz for several months, it became very obvious to us that due to racial persecution and pogroms, Poland, under the Communist regime, was no longer a safe place for Jews. My father, therefore, started to investigate the possibility of fleeing once again, only this time to Germany where most of the 'DP' camps were located.
Fortunately in mid 1946, my sister Lily and her school sweetheart from Osh, Sam Goldberg together with his parents and family managed to flee to Germany to a 'DP' camp in Heidenheim, near Stuttgart. Soon after, in September 1946 Lily and Sam were married. Finally, at the end of 1946, my father, Anka and I illegally made our way, via Slovenia and Austria, to Munich, Germany where we also lived in a 'DP' camp until we were able to move to camp Heidenheim in mid 1947.

Unlike refugees of other nationalities, the Jews had no homes to which they could return.

The few that wished to stay in Europe and reclaim their former domiciles often became victims of pogroms at the hands of those who had illegally seized their homes. Consequently, Jewish refugees were left with no other choice than to apply to Western countries for landed immigration status. Of course, there was always the possibility of being sponsored by a relative residing in one of the Western countries. Unfortunately, we didn’t know such relatives at the time. 

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50th Anniversary Harry & Helen

Suddenly, in the beginning of 1948 Lily and Sam got their big break. Sam’s uncle who had moved to Canada just before the war began, after hearing that his family is waiting for an entry visa to Canada, immediately arranged to obtain mandatory landing papers for the entire family. Needless to say, Lily upon settling in Toronto likewise made an effort to sponsor my father and Anka. Consequently they too finally landed in Toronto.

As for myself, eventually I also immigrated to Canada.  However, as fate would have it, I was given the opportunity to further my education by attending a college in Geneva, Switzerland. Thus, rather than biding my time in Germany, waiting for the ‘holy’ landing papers for Canada to arrive, I decided to take advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity and enrolled in ORT [Institute] in 1949. After a two-year stint in Geneva, I finally joined my family in Toronto in 1951. Settling in Canada provided me with a new lease on life and this time as an adult.

Now that I have reached the end of my memoirs, I’d like to emphasize that what comprises these pages is but the tip of the iceberg of what life was all about during those difficult years. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, a number of incidents have faded into oblivion. While there can never be a replacement for what I’ve lost, I am yet exceedingly grateful for having been blessed with the resilience, thank G-d, to establish a new life following the trials and tribulations of the war years.

The-entire-family

In 1955 I married Helen in Toronto, my devoted life companion of 53 years. Since 1996 we are residing in Israel. We are blessed with three wonderful children and are proud grandparents of 15 precious grandchildren and one great-grandson. These days whenever I admire our beautiful collage of family pictures displayed on the wall, I can’t help wondering whether all this is reality, or simply a figment of my imagination……..