My parents completed an extraordinary mission – the account by Józef Trziszka

I lived with my parents and sister Krystyna in Krechowice (Doliński County near Kalush, Stanislavov Province) in the plot under lease, owned by good-hearted, noble and honest Jewish-born Enis Bucio, who was the proprietor of a big farm and an imported food grocery store. He and his fragile wife and elder parents would often help us. He had a daughter, Irena, who was my age (born 1935).

As with our Jewish neighbours, we maintained good relations also with Ukrainians, who lived opposite us, further from a village road.

My sister and I played with the children of our neighbours. We knew Ukrainian quite well, but our command of Yiddish and Hungarian was worse. Such were my childhood years I remember.

The arrival of “red oppressors from the East” marked the turning point in our relations, which dramatically deteriorated. The horrendous and tragic mass shipment of Poles to “inhuman lands” took place in February 1940. This was what we call now deportation to Tundra and Siberian Taigas, as far as to the Kamchatka Peninsula.

With the help of God and the help from Enis, who must have approached the NKVD headquarters to temporarily delay deportations, we were able to stay home. You cannot imagine how grateful to Enis my parents were. Even when writing these words, I am full of respect for this outstanding Jewish man.

We know now that approx. 3 million people were deported into the interior of the Soviet State then. This number included Lithuanians, Latvians and Estonians. A lot of people, including children, died on the way; others starved to death or died out of exposure to cold and hard labour in Siberia. The world did not want to or could not believe in the suffering of Poles and other nations inflicted by the cruel Stalinist regime.

We were certain that we and the remaining handful of Poles will be eventually shipped to this “inhuman land” but in 1941, unexpectedly, Nazis attacked the Soviet Union. This saved us for a little while but, at the same time, the Nazi attack triggered Jewish persecutions. Our respectful Jewish friend had to endure dramatic times because his daughter Irena, who was staying at her aunt Adela in Sniatyn, was moved, together with her aunt, to the local ghetto.

Marked for the liquidation, the ghetto was like a death sentence. Our friend Bucio was going crazy. It was then when, after consulting him and our mum Maria, our father Władysław took a risky decision to cycle to Sniatyn, entered the closed ghetto and look for Irena. It was in the Summer of 1941.

He set off early in the morning and returned exhausted the next day. My mother would say that he was “as black as soil can be”. He later told us how he managed to get to Sniatyn and, after immense obstacles, entered the ghetto. He met Irena and her aunt Adela there. They quickly agreed that Irena would be taken away from the ghetto. Our mum was to come for her. On his way back home, near the town of Otynia, father was stopped by a Ukrainian guard. It was a miracle that he was not killed.

One evening, after a few days, our mum embarked on a very dangerous train journey to complete her intricate mission of taking the girl from the Sniatyn Ghetto to our house. The mission seemed impossible. My mother was deeply religious though; and she put faith in God. She wanted to show her gratitude to Enis Bucio for all the good things he had done for our family.

Mother left a small Hołyń train station in Kalush and headed to Stanislavov, and farther to Kolomyja and later to Sniatyn. Junction stations swarmed with guards (Ost Bahn) and Gestapo functionaries. However, the journey to Sniatyn, although paved with stressful difficulties, was only the beginning of what she had to go through in the ghetto. Once she arrived, after a cordial reunion with Adela and little Irena it became clear that a roundup was being organized. Germans wanted to retaliate for the escape of several Jews from the ghetto.

All ghetto inhabitants were lined up and decimated. Mother was eighth so she survived. Taking advantage of a moment’s inattention of camp guards, holding the girl, she sneaked out of the crowd.  She left the ghetto and headed towards the station to catch a train as soon as possible.

Little Irena had Jewish traits so my mother had to disguise her somehow. She covered Irena’s face with a scarf as if she suffered a tooth ache. A Ukrainian conductor became inquisitive about our mum and little Irena on the Sniaslavov-Stryi train. However, our mother’s self-confidence and her excellent command of Ukrainian left them unscathed so that they arrived in Holyn safely. They got off there, before reaching Krechovitze (Krekhovychi)the final destination in order to mislead those who might have suspected something.

Our dad was waiting for our mum at the station. They got home safely. Enis Bucio was beyond happiness when he saw his daughter. Irena threw herself in his arms. This moment, full of happiness, euphoria and tears, was witnessed by my sister Krystyna and me.

We do not know what happened to this kind-hearted nice man. In all probability, he was moved to the ghetto in Dolina or in Kalush.

Our family moved to neighbouring Broshniovo, where I could attend a school. It was not before long that those living in Easter Borderland, from Volhynia to Podole, had to go through tragic times again from 1943 to 1945. Glows of fires were the sign of the cruel terror of OUN-UPA Ukrainian bands in the area inhabited by Poles and their Ukrainian neighbors who supported the former. In late May and early June 1944, we and a few other Poles left for the Dębicki County, where we were warmly received by friendly Poles, who were complete strangers to us.

Today, after seventy-one years from these dramatic events, I am paying homage to war victims, both to those who died and those who are still alive. I am paying tribute to Enis Bucio and his family, to my late brave parents who successfully completed their mission, in line with the Yad Vashem’s message “Whoever saves one life saves the world entire”.

English translation: Wanda Jóźwikowska