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For a while life in Zolkiew was not so bad. Food could be found and, most importantly, they felt strong being at home, surrounded by people they knew and loved.
Then the Germans began taking some of the men to work. Next the Germans demanded gold from the Jews. Gladys' father collected all the family jewelry, including a little gold ring Gladys wore. He tried to console her by saying they really had no choice. Gladys' mother, though, refused to relinquish her wedding band, which she kept throughout the war. Today, Gladys has that ring. How grateful she is that her mother's insistence enabled her to hold onto this symbol of her parents' loving union.
The Germans soon demanded silver. Then they demanded furs. Not complying with these orders could bring a swift and fatal punishment. Every day there were new demands. Finally, all Jews were ordered to wear a white arm with a blue star of David.
The first evacuation took place in the spring of 1942. People in category A, those able to work, were allowed to remain. Everyone in categories B and C, those unable to work, would be "resettled" in Belzec. In the summer the Landaus moved to an aunt's house. At that time they first heard about random shootings of Jews on the streets. They began to hear rumors that Jews were not being resettled in Belzec but massacred, shot to death and then burned in large ovens. Such reports seemed outrageous, and no one believed these stories. Then, in November of 1942, the first Aktion took place, and the ghetto was created immediately afterward. Jews from all parts of Zolkiew, and from surrounding towns and villages, were crowded into a fenced-in area in the town. Many families had to share the same apartment. There was little food and sanitation, and hope declined rapidly.
Awareness of what was really happening to the Jews was spreading. One source of information was Jews who had escaped from trains on the way to Belzec. There was a sharp curve in Zolkiew where trains had to slow down, giving Jews an opportunity to jump off. Knowing that certain death was awaiting at the end of the line, whoever could, jumped. Many were shot right away, but some managed to roll away undetected. A system was organized within the ghetto to go to the tracks every night and search for bodies. Whoever was still alive and could be saved was brought into the ghetto and tended. The others were buried.
By January 1943, hunger was widespread in the ghetto. Sometimes, local Ukrainians would slip in to sell food to starving Jews for a very high price. One day Gladys' father came to her and said, "I've arranged for you to go into hiding. There is a Ukrainian farmer who has agreed."
"I'm not going," Gladys said firmly. On that day she did not go.
A few days later her father said, "Get dressed, you're going." His tone of voice indicated he would not be contradicted. Being a respectful and obedient daughter, Gladys knew there was no point in engaging her father in a fight. His tone indicated that there was nothing left to discuss.
In order to get past the ghetto gate, Gladys' father paid off a Ukrainian guard. The two walked through, and there stood a man waiting to take Gladys away. She had already said good-bye to her mother, who promised she would be following soon. Then she hugged and kissed her father and began to walk away with the man. She looked back at her father, standing there waving in a reddish tweed coat with matching hat. This would be the last time she would ever see him. It is the image that always remained with her.
The man took Gladys by train to Lvov. He told her to hold on to him and not say a word. They went to an apartment in a formerly Jewish area. Once inside, the man sat down beside his wife at the gas stove to warm himself while Gladys was told to go to sleep in a cold, dark bedroom in the back. The couple had also taken Gladys' winter coat under whose fur collar her mother had sewn in some money. Terrified and cold, Gladys wondered why she had allowed herself to leave her parents. Better to die with them, than be alone with people who might kill her, she thought. Somehow, Gladys managed to sleep through the night, and in the morning when she got back her coat, it was clear that they had found the money but had not taken it. This stopover was all part of her father's arrangement for her, and eventually her mother and other family members, to go into hiding.
The next morning, Gladys went with the man to a big house on a corner on the other side of town. There was a great deal of activity going on inside, and the man told her to sit down and wait. After a while, another man entered. He was, she later learned, only fifty-seven years old, but to Gladys, at fourteen years of age, he seemed ancient. She immediately felt comfortable and safe with him. His name was Marian Halicki, and he reminded her of Wolf, a man with no family of his own who worked in her father's gasoline station, ate meals with her family, and slept in the local synagogue.
Afraid of being caught on a train, Mr. Halicki decided to take her by foot to his house on the outskirts of town. The snow was deep, and the going was rough. Finally, they reached the house and when they got inside, but before anything more could be said, there was a knock on the door. "Go," he said to the woman, and she took Gladys to hide inside a cupboard built into the wall.
It was only his brother who had knocked, but everyone was afraid of everyone else, and there could not be enough caution exercised. After some time, Gladys' aunt arrived. After that another aunt came. Finally, her mother arrived. They were in hiding for a few weeks when they received news that the entire ghetto had been liquidated. Gladys' father had remained behind. Because of the bus company, Gladys' father knew many Poles and Ukrainians with whom he was on excellent terms. He had calculated that when the time came, he would have an opportunity to get both himself and his aged father out of the ghetto and into hiding - if not with his wife and daughter then with any number of other Gentiles he knew. Tragically, he had misjudged the Germans' effeciency and had not had time to make further arrangements. He was killed on March 25, and his father, Itzhak Landau, was killed a week later.
from: "Darkness and Hope," pp. 163-166, by Sam Halpern, Shengold Publishers, Inc., New York, 1996
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