Uh-huh.
That was that winter. I remember there was a knock on the window. And I got up, came out, and there was a farmer with a wagon--horse and wagon, and my brother was in the wagon. And he asked--he says to me, he says, "Where do you want him?" and I--that my brother was sick with typhus. Obviously, must have been typhus because his face was red and he looked at me and didn't recognize me. I said, "What, what can I do? What?" He says, "Well, I was told to bring him to you." So, here I'm working for this farmer and, and, you know, uh, at that time, there was the epidemic of typhus went on all through the country. And anybody who had a face a little red, they would run from. It was like uh, worse than AIDS, you know, they would shun you, you know, like a leper. So, I said, "What, what can I do? What should I do?" He says, "Well," he says, "if you give me ten złotys," he says, "I'll take him to a hospital in uh, Kałuszyn--same city--and drop him off in the hospital." So that was on Thursday. I said, "Fine, take him there. Put him in the hospital." And I figure on my day off--I didn't want to tell the uh, farmer, you know, that I have a relation that is uh, sick with typhus--and I figure on Sunday--on the weekend, when I'm off, I'll go to Kałuszyn and find him and see what's happening. Well, I did and I, I went there. I found out where the hospital was. It was a Jewish hospital--it was a clinic, I mean, you know, Jews were still in Kałuszyn. It was still open--there was no ghetto, you know. And, I came in there and nobody knew anything about anybody's brought in--nothing. There was no registry. There was no name, there was nothing. I never saw my brother again.
That was the last time you saw him?
That was the last time I saw him. What I found later--I asked around--they said that whoever they brought in, you know, they would leave them lie till he froze to death or died of typhus. They would strip all his clothing off and throw him out. That was the end.
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