Page 54 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Moshe Itzel and his brood

sauerkraut. Those places were not very clean, in general, but Uncle
Chaim’s place was a decent-looking store. His wife was a good-
looking woman, short and stout. They had two children; the boy had
long curly peyos, like the chasidim. Rivka knew him, and later told me
that he had become the owner of a chemical store or factory. Chaim
was liberal: he helped his father and gave loans to some of the
relatives.
When Chaim was of military age I was about four or five years
old, living in Warsaw on the other side of the Vistula River with my
mother’s parents. He stayed in our house for three months trying
different ways not to be taken into the army. He would stand with
one foot on a small box day after day in order to make one leg
shorter. He put a salve on the soles of his feet to make the skin thick
and hard. But after all these tortures they took him into the army and
sent him to Russia. Then my father’s friend, Yossel Yakir, went to
Russia where Chaim was a recruit, got him to a hideout place, and
gave him a rupture. Chaim complained of illness and was put in a
hospital; but in those days they did not operate, so he was freed. One
young fellow had an eardrum burst, some had teeth pulled out or
wore eyeglasses to spoil an eye. The Jews and all other minority
nationals despised army service—but the Muzhiks did not mind: they
got food and clothing, and served the czar.

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