This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2010, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
Editor's note: Part One, "Caught in the Holocaust," appeared in the Oct. 10 edition of The Salt Lake Tribune, and online on Oct. 9, 2010. Find it at sltrib.com
In June 1941, Nazi Germany occupied the Polish city of Kolomyja. They seized Jewish property, imposed severe restrictions, torched the city's great synagogue and hunted down Jews as they tried to escape.
By February 1942, the Nazis created the Kolomyja Ghetto within the city. It was an appalling three-sectioned, walled-off area into which an estimated 70,000 Jews would be deported — nearly all destined for extermination.
Ravaged by hunger, ill health and disease, bodies young and old littered the ghetto streets. Thousands of Jews were taken to the Szeparowce Forest where they were forced to dig graves, tormented, stripped and shot. Thousands more were sent to the Belzec death camp.
Before the war, Moses Spiegel was a merchant, tavern keeper and farmer in rural Kolomyja.
"My father loved to debate, had many friends, would do anything for them, and they for him," Herman Spiegel told me in his Salt Lake City home.
When the Spiegels were ordered into the ghetto, a Ukrainian friend stored their possessions. A Polish woman offered loaves of bread. Johan Rippel, a German, secured work papers so Moses could "exit the ghetto to collect feathers and down for the German army and hopefully smuggle back food," Herman said.
Once inside, 9-year-old Herman, teenage siblings Hilda, Jacob and Moses, as well as Sally Spiegel survived numerous police Aktions (raids) by hiding. Five-year-old Lunia Spiegel was killed while sleeping.
In September and October, more than 13,000 Jews were murdered. Moses scrambled to find safe places for his family in cellars and behind walls. A profoundly grieving Sally relied on instincts.
"Once, my mother spotted a glimmer of light in the dark and quickly pushed us towards a building and trapdoor across the street," Herman said. "As we were running, the SS were jumping a fence 100 yards away. We were lucky."
After 10 terrifying months, Aktions decimated the Jewish population and reduced the ghetto to rubble until only two streets remained. There was nowhere left to hide. Wearing what they had, Moses led his family to a splintered fence and they disappeared.
"It was winter, midnight and cold," Herman said. "We walked through deep snowfields. When we reached the Ukrainian's farm, he looked surprised to see us. My father didn't like his eyes, so as soon as he walked away, we moved on without a word. I don't remember eating anything."
A Polish friend, Mr. Straszewsky, offered short-lived relief.
"It wasn't safe. He was too close to the city," Herman explained. "He did know a farmer who would take us in for a price. And somehow my father had known to hide some gold coins."
At night, buried under burlap in Straszewsky's wagon, the family was taken to a gated farm and an unattached barn near the forest.
Told to hide and be quiet, Moses paid dearly.
"You had to be careful," his son said. "They could take your money and kill you."
Confinement in a loft behind bales of hay for 11 months took its toll. Lice bred in the seams of their woolen clothes. Hygiene was near impossible and medicine unavailable. Exhausted, Moses and Jacob risked discovery seeking food in nearby villages.
Moses continued paying the farmer, who, "with a wife in rags, wore great pants and wonderful boots," Herman said. "Neighbors became suspicious."
During harvesting — and to dispel rumors he was harboring Jews — the farmer routinely opened his gates. The Spiegels fled to other barns, into the woods or onto open fields.
When the farmer suddenly evicted them, he was brutal. Their nerves were shattered and the risks were high.
"That night, my father signaled Mr. Rippel [the German who had helped them before]. The man was hesitant. He represented the law. Nazis visited daily. He had children. What would happen to them if we were caught?" Herman said. "But he said, 'If I send you away, I will never see you again.'
"For five months," Herman said, "We hid in his stable and never spoke above a whisper."
Their liberation would come in 1944, courtesy of the Soviet Red Army, a year before the fall of the Third Reich.
Eileen Hallet Stone is an oral historian and may be reached at ehswriter@aol.com.