30 August 1942 is a tragic date for Nowy Targ and the whole of Podhale. Jews from even the smallest villages were killed on the spot or deported to their deaths in Bełżec, where 400,000 people were gassed. Dr Karolina Panz’s post for today’s anniversary is exceptional, because through Chana Grassgrün we go back 79 years to Nowy Targ and learn how the town died.

“I would like to tell how the town died…” said Chana Grassgrün (by then married, under the name Hornung) in Israel in 1966 to Mala Hollender, who was recording her testimony. According to Mala, Chana was one of “those witnesses on whom the experiences of the war left indelible marks, and who still lives under the impression of those terrible days. She considered giving testimony her duty. And she suffered throughout the whole account.”

This is how Chana described the events of 79 years ago: “Shortly before the deportation itself, the Gestapo announced through the Judenrat that a contribution had to be paid. And if we paid a contribution of a certain amount of gold and money, we would not be deported. And whatever anyone had, whatever anyone could, everyone brought it to the Judenrat. Shortly afterwards, on Saturday, we could already see wagons standing at the railway station in Nowy Targ, cattle wagons, and we knew something was going to happen. We just did not yet know what. On Sunday morning at dawn the Gestapo rode through the town on horses and in cars and ordered all the Jews to be gathered at the Piłsudski stadium, opposite the railway station in Nowy Targ. We were not allowed to take anything with us. The Gestapo and the gendarmerie were already standing there. First they announced that everyone who had gold and diamonds had to throw them into the barrels standing there in the stadium. Then they grouped everyone in tens. The gendarmerie guarded us all. I stood in a row with my mother and my mother’s family. At one moment I heard my name. I stepped out. I did not say goodbye to my mother at all, because I was convinced… I did not know why they had called me, I was convinced they were calling me out to be shot. When I got there, I was told to stand to one side. At one point nine more women and thirty-five men were added to my group. The whole Judenrat and a few more boys and men, cripples, and people who had been found [in hiding places] were brought to the stadium. A certain group of people was singled out and set apart, together with the Judenrat. Then, when the whole stadium was already empty, when all the Jews of Nowy Targ and the surrounding area had been driven to the railway station and loaded into the wagons, we were still left at the stadium. And then we too were lined up in fours and led to the barracks beyond the railway track in Nowy Targ. In the afternoon the Arbeitsdienst arrived in an enormous lorry full of clothes and all kinds of things: shoes, clothes, underwear, some of it bloodstained, some completely clean. This Arbeitsdienst asked us cynically: ‘Ihr erkennt das?’ [Do you recognise this?] Of course we recognised the things of our loved ones who had been shot at the cemetery in Nowy Targ. The whole Judenrat had been shot, and the people who had been sorted out at the stadium. A group of boys had also been sorted out to sprinkle lime over the roofs of the wagons into which the people from all of Podhale had been loaded. And those people too were later taken to the cemetery and shot. I know from people who were grouped with us in those barracks that they recognised their fathers, their brothers, and I too recognised the documents of my youngest brother.”

Chana ended her testimony with the words: “And that is how the town died.” This is how, on 30 August 1942, the Polish-Jewish town of Nowy Targ died.

30.08.1942 to tragiczna data dla Nowego Targu i całego Podhala. Żydzi z najmniejszych nawet wsi ginęli na miejscu bądź wywiezieni zostali na śmierć do Bełżca gdzie zagazowano 400 tys osób. Wpis dr Karolina Panz na dzisiejszą rocznicę jest wyjątkowy bowiem dzięki Chanie Grassgrun przenosimy się 79 lat wstecz do Nowego Targu i dowiadujemy się jak zginęło miasto…

„Chciałabym opowiedzieć, jak zginęło miasto…” powiedziała w Izraelu w 1966 r. Chana Grassgrün (wówczas już po mężu Hornung) do nagrywającej jej relację Mali Hollender. Według Mali Chana należała „do tych świadków, u których przeżycia wojenne pozostawiły niezatarte ślady i która do dzisiaj jeszcze żyje pod wrażeniem owych strasznych dni. Złożenie zeznania uważała za swój obowiązek. A zeznając cierpiała podczas całego opowiadania”.

Tak Chana opisała wydarzenia sprzed 79 lat:
„Krótko przed samym wysiedleniem Gestapo ogłosiło przez usta Judenratu, że należy złożyć kontrybucję. I jeżeli złożymy kontrybucję w jakiejś określonej ilości złota i pieniędzy, to nie będziemy wysiedleni. I co kto miał co kto mógł, każdy zaniósł do Judenratu. Krótko potem, w sobotę widzieliśmy już, że wagony na dworcu kolejowym w Nowym Targu stoją, wagony bydlęce i wiedziało się, że coś się stanie. Nie wiedzieliśmy tylko jeszcze co. W niedzielę rano Gestapo o świcie, na koniach i autami, jeździło po mieście i kazało zbierać Żydów, wszystkich na stadion Piłsudskiego, naprzeciwko dworca kolejowego w Nowym Targu. Nie wolno nic ze sobą zabrać. Tam stało już Gestapo i żandarmeria. W pierwszym rzędzie oznajmili, że wszyscy, którzy mają złoto i brylanty, musza to wrzucić do beczek, które stały tam na stadionie. Potem zgrupowali wszystkich w dziesiątki. Żandarmeria nas wszystkich pilnowała. Ja stałam z moją matką w szeregu i jeszcze rodzina mojej matki. W pewnym momencie usłyszałam moje nazwisko. Wyszłam. Nie pożegnałam się w ogóle z matką, ponieważ byłam przekonana…nie wiedziałam, po co mnie wywołali, byłam przekonana, że wzywają mnie do rozstrzelania. Kiedy przyszłam na miejsce, kazano mi stanąć na boku. W pewnym momencie doszło do mojej grupy jeszcze 9 kobiet i 35 mężczyzn. Cały Judenrat i jeszcze kilku chłopców i mężczyzn, kaleki i ludzi, których znaleziono [w kryjówkach], doprowadzono na stadion. Wysegregowano pewną grupę ludzi, osobno, razem z Judenratem i odstawili ich na boku. Wtedy, kiedy cały stadion był już pusty, kiedy całe Żydostwo Nowego Targu i okolicy zostało wygnane na stację kolejową i załadowane do wagonów, myśmy jeszcze pozostali na stadionie. I potem nas także zaszeregowano w czwórki i zaprowadzono do baraków za torem kolejowym w Nowym Targu. Po południu, przyjechał „Arbeitdienst”, olbrzymim autem ciężarowym, pełnym ubrać i różnych rzeczy: butów, ubrań, bielizny, częściowoskrwawionej, częściowo zupełnie czystej. Ten „Arbeitdienst” w cyniczny sposób pytał się nas: „Ihr erkennt das?” Myśmy naturalnie poznali rzeczy naszych bliskich których rozstrzelano w Nowym Targu na cmentarzu. Cały Judenrat został rozstrzelany i ludzie, których wysortowano wtedy na stadionie. Wysortowano też pewną grupę chłopców, którzy mieli posypywać dachy wagonów, w których załadowano ludzi z całego Podhala do wagonów, żeby posypywali wapnem. I tych ludzi potem zabrano też na cmentarz i rozstrzelano. Wiem od ludzi, którzy byli zgrupowani z nami w tych barakach, że poznali oni swoich ojców, braci – i ja poznałam też dokumenty mojego najmłodszego brata”.

Chana zakończyła swoją relację słowami „I tak zginęło miasto”. Tak 30 sierpnia 1942 r. zginęło polsko-żydowskie miasto Nowy Targ.

Relation Chany Grassgun

“I would like to tell you how the town died…”, said Chana (Hannah) Grassgrün (then already using her married name of Hornung) to Mala Hollender, who recorded her testimony, in Israel in 1966. According to Mala, Chana was “one of those witnesses in whom the war experiences [had] left their indelible traces and who still live[d] under the impression of those terrible days. She considered it her duty to testify. And while testifying, she suffered greatly”.

This is how Chana described the events that took place 79 years ago:
“Shortly before the deportation, the Gestapo announced through the Judenrat that a contribution should be paid. And if we paid a certain amount of gold and money, we would not be displaced. So whoever had anything of value, they took it to the Judenrat. Shortly thereafter, on Saturday, we saw there were train cars at the Nowy Targ railway station, cattle cars, and we knew something was about to happen. But we just didn’t know what. On Sunday morning, at dawn, the Gestapo went around the town, on horseback and in cars, and ordered Jews, all of them, to gather at the Piłsudski Stadium, opposite the Nowy Targ railway station. You were not allowed to take anything with you. The Gestapo and the gendarmes were already there. In the first place, they announced that everyone who had gold and diamonds had to throw them into the barrels that were there in the stadium. Then they grouped everyone in tens. The gendarmes watched over all of us.

I was standing in one line with my mother and with my mother’s family. At one point, I heard my name. I stepped forward. I did not say goodbye to my mother at all, because I was convinced… I did not know why they had called me out. I was convinced they had called me out to be shot. When I got there, I was told to stand aside. At one point, 9 more women and 35 men were added to my group. The entire Judenrat and a few more boys and men, the disabled and people tracked down [in their hideouts] had been led to the stadium. A group of people were singled out, separately, along with the Judenrat, and set aside. Then, when the entire stadium was empty, when the entire Jewry of Nowy Targ and its vicinity had been herded to the railway station and loaded onto the train cars, we still remained in the stadium. And then we were also put in fours and led to the barracks behind the railway track in Nowy Targ.

In the afternoon, the Arbeitdienst arrived in a huge truck full of clothes and various things: shoes, clothes, underwear, partly bloodstained, partly completely clean. This Arbeitdienst asked us cynically: “Ihr erkennt das?” [“Do you recognise this?”] Of course, we recognised the clothes of our relatives who had been shot in the Nowy Targ cemetery. The entire Judenrat and the people selected at the stadium had been shot.

A certain group of boys was also singled out to sprinkle with lime the roofs of the train cars into which people from all over the Podhale region had been loaded. Later, these people were also taken to the cemetery and shot. I know from people who were grouped with us in these barracks that they had identified their fathers, brothers, and I also recognised the documents of my youngest brother.”

Chana concluded her account by saying, “And so this is how the town died”. This is how the Polish-Jewish town of Nowy Targ perished on 30 August, 1942.