August 5th, 1942 - Korczak’s Last Journey and Death
From the gate of the house on Śliska Street, one had to cover 2,495 meters to reach the Umschlagplatz. Based on a conversation with Marek Rudnicki, it appears that the group from the Orphans' Home had a peculiar privilege of stopping and resting in the shade. This was mainly due to Korczak's poor health. What happened later can only be surmised based on information about the typical fate of people driven there. They were crammed into cattle wagons, which, according to regulations, were designed to transport eight horses or forty people. However, the Germans would pack between 100 and as many as 150 people into them. To make this possible, the guards beat everyone cruelly. The floors of the wagons were strewn with quicklime and chlorine. The people, crowded to the limit of endurance, relieved themselves where they stood. The excrement flowing under their feet triggered the process of slaking the lime, which caused body burns, irritation of the mucous membranes, and breathing difficulties. According to witnesses, when the wagons rolled onto the ramp at Treblinka station after four hours, steam billowed from the small windows reinforced with barbed wire. According to a report by a Home Army unit (codename "1631"), between 20% and 30% of the people died during the transit. It can therefore be assumed that an ill, 64-year-old man like Janusz Korczak might not have survived the transport under such conditions. Even if he did survive, he likely perished shortly thereafter during the next stage of martyrdom in the extermination camp. We know that as soon as those murdered were cleared, new transports of death arrived every day.
Lucyna Perla - Lunia Rozental (Zofia Wróblewska), my mother, recalls:
“August 5th, my birthday, 10–11 a.m.; it was a hot summer day. I looked out the window because I heard voices and sounds. To the left, I saw a crowd of people walking from the southern part of the ghetto. They were being led down the middle of the street by soldiers in German uniforms. I don’t know if those soldiers were Germans, Estonians, Latvians or Ukrainians. Suddenly, in the crowd of adults and children, I saw Dr. Janusz Korczak. Janusz Korczak walked first, with heavy steps, and the children followed Him. No one spoke. No one sang. A few people stood along the sidewalks. My first thought: Where is my Misza (Michał), who worked as an educator in Korczak’s orphanage? I immediately realized he wasn't there. Misza was very tall, over 1.83 meters, and always towered over the crowd of children in the courtyard of the Orphans' Home. Misza was sometimes called 'the giraffe' by the children because of his height. But now, he was not among them. I didn't look at the other teachers I knew. I saw Korczak, and then I automatically looked for Misza. After a few seconds, the children moved away.
It is known that August 5th, 1942, was a sweltering day. I checked this 30 years ago in newspapers and by contacting the German meteorological institute. It confirmed the stories of the deportation witnesses, including my parents and Marek Rudnicki, whom I used to meet in Paris.
