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01. September 1942
Today, 3 October (should read September 1942), it is exactly two weeks since the horrible slaughter in Luck and its surroundings. For two gruesome weeks we – a few Jews who had succeeded in escaping from Luck at the very last moment – have been roaming about without sleeping at night, since death threatens us every moment. Out of the forest and back into the forest.
We have become forest men. It happens that for two or even three days we are without a piece of bread, a drop of water. Our eyes are no longer able to shed tears. The heart burns with pain, there is a pressure so strong as to break it, and there is no help. We are all condemned to death. My dear son David – God knows if he is still alive – your mother was like a dove when they led her to the slaughter. I did not witness this with my own eyes; to my great pain and despair fate willed it that I should abandon my dear wife and son and escape alone like a coward. However they are in a better position now than I am, they have already gone through what they had to, and every moment I expect to be caught.