Martin Koby - April 20, 1999
Autumn, 1942
I think it's uh, in November of '42.
Okay. From 1942 of--say, of Autumn of '42--you know, I was in contact--I used to go foraging you know, go back--knock on the door and get some food. I never--no one ever--you know, that I correspond with Olga. And she's, I think knowledgeable. No one ever told that they saw me.
Hm.
They never talked among themselves, "Hey you know, Sid, you know who I saw the other day? Saw M...Martin the Jew." Right? They did not. After the war, they never spoke about it. Even now, I hear sometimes Olga you know, "What's this?" she says...
Why do you suppose they don't?
Self-preservation, because they already know that you cannot trust even your own.
So their neighbors would be, um...
Yeah, the neighbors would kill them you know, would tell one guy and another guy and some hothead over there will say, "Ah, you, you hid Jews ah, I'll teach you a lesson. Kill them."
Still?
I don't know if it's--it's a new generation that's coming up. I don't know to what extent. The man you know, I had a--Stark's, Stark's...
Yeah.
...grandson...
Yeah.
Mikala? He tells me--we're sitting at the--over here in the house and we're talking to this guy. He says you know, something? I'll tell you the truth. Oy. Now, I sponsored him to come here, right? He sits in my house. He's got a room of his own. I find him a part-time job to earn some money.
This is the grandson of the, of, of the man...
The grandson and the son.
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