►Interview My name is Genia Asher. I was born on October 6th, 1931, in the town of Bilgoraj. I had two siblings: the firstborn, Abraham, and Moshe the youngest brother. I was 8 years old when the war started.
On September 1st, 1939, the German Army unexpectedly invaded Poland and mercilessly bombed our town. As a result, we were forced to abandon our town, leaving behind everything we had. We fled to the nearest forest, and arrived to a river where we were safe. (My father wasn't with us at that time). A few hours later, we headed back to our town, and found that our house, which was made out of wood, was utterly burnt. Afterward, we headed to my grandmother's house, which luckily wasn't damaged at all. We decided to stay there, until order was reinstated. We still couldn't find our father. Later, the Nazi Military came to our town, and all the men were forcibly taken in order to labor for the Nazis. I cannot forget the intimidating figure of the S.S officers, who were looking for laborers. They took my uncle, and inhumanly hit him with a rifle shaft.
One day, my grandmother decided to smuggle us out to the east via the train. She hired a wagon and we made our way to the closest train station. Regrettably, due to her age, my grandmother couldn't join us. Obviously, the farewell was very difficult. Eventually, we arrived to the side which was held by the Russian forces. Miraculously, we met my father and we were immensely happy. We were accommodated as refugees in various places such as schools, churches, etc. From there, we went on a train to Stalingrad, Russia. The journey lasted a month, and the conditions were extremely humble. Unfortunately, the German bombs reached Stalingrad too. Consequently, we had to leave as soon as possible. We left Stalingrad via a coal rhapsody towards Siberia. At last, we reached Toshkent, Uzbekistan. We stayed there a few days, and then we continued wandering to the city of Samarqand. On our way, we halted at a train station in Kiziltipo, and my brother became ill with Typhus. He was moved to the nearest clinic. He recuperated from his illness, and we continued on towards Kolhoss. We stayed in Kolhoss for a while, and returned to Kiziltipo. Back there, our father worked in a oil-pumping factory. Sophisticatedly, he used some cotton-wool in order to absorb some oil into the wool and exchanged it for food, of course, it is considered forbidden by the law. Meanwhile, my mother became ill with Typhus, and sadly, she died. She was buried in a common grave. I was 11 years old.
In 1944, we heard about the Nazis defeat. Our father did his best to get to Buxoro, and there, we remained for two years. In 1946, I became ill with Typhoid fever. My father tried to save my life, and thanks to him, I recovered.
After the war ended, we went to Poland, a journey which lasted a month. I couldn't leave Poland due to my age, therefore, I stayed there until 1948. The Russians forbade the Jews to leave Poland. Therefore, I left Poland shortly, by using an alias, to France. We sailed towards the Land of Israel. During the voyage, we heard about the proclamation of the State of Israel, and we joyfully celebrated. In 1950, my younger brother, Moshe, died in a car accident. His death was tragic and sorrowful.
Nowadays, I am married to Shlomo. We have two children, Tami – married to Jacob, and Elhanan – married to Batia. Additionally, I have 8 grandchildren. Against all odds – I am proudly happy in raising a large family, who lives in happiness, contrary to those times.
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