[ speaks ukrainian ] we went around the neighboring villages, talking to people who would be old enough to remember anything about the war. and before returning to the u.s., we paid a visit to evgenia. man: and what happened to you and your family?

with your family? [ birds chirping ] the reason that my father is not in the mass grave is because he left for palestine before the war. and when he made it there, he worked the land, met my mother, and then, a few years later, found himself completely out of work. he was forced to move to america, where there was work, yet he always felt like america was temporary, even after having a child, and another child, a mortgage, and having his own dry cleaning business.

when his old friends from trochenbrod left palestine, they were shocked. if he left the land of israel, it must have really been impossible to live there. as much as he wanted to go back, time proved that he never would. and, really, he died trying. somebody said that hitler -- first. to america, we reconnected with betty with her to document her story as accurately as possible. when i personally found out was when the refugees started coming from western poland to us.

happening in western poland, what's happening in the world, so well organized and they're killing the jews. man: and did you... in denial -- complete denial. as i remember it. neighbors -- to trochenbrod. for trochenbrod?" then they continued planting seeds and vegetables and flowers, and people warned them, the refugees, "you'll never enjoy the fruits of your labor. why are you doing it?" we continued doing it anyway. we really didn't believe it. until so many people said it that finally it, i guess, hit my father and we had this brainstorm

to protect his family in case it does happen in trochenbrod. and it did happen. that's when he built it. he didn't tell anybody -- just he and my cousin. all right, this is the door. okay. wall was here. because he was afraid if he tells the kids, each one will tell another and the whole town will come to hide there, and, unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to save everybody. there was a hidden entrance right here. like a plank? okay, there were planks. here, i'm doing it. was the door,

so, in august of 2009 about 100 trochenbrod descendants met with shmulk potash and betty gold in the place where trochenbrod used to be to walk the length of the town. absolutely, but -- she does resemble my grandmother. yes. which kessler did she marry? do you know? avrom: people started discovering all sorts of family connections and common stories from past generations. that's where grandpa was born in 1896, so -- wait, my grandpa or your grandpa? feeling about philanthropy or sharing...

she insisted on seeing her cousin evgenia. okay. both of them are forever bonded by the good and bad memories from their childhood. gold: a tank came, i remember, with some nazis, but they didn't bother us. they moved in to one of the houses, and they lived there. they were waiting for further orders, i'm sure. they just came to scout the place.

and they surrounded our town, and they told us that we have to leave our homes. we can take only a bundle or a little suitcase with us, and they escorted everybody with rifles into the forest. ever ybody was walking with their babies and their families and... ...were told to sit down and wait for further instructions. with my grandmother, and i was looking out for my parents and my brothers to come. i didn't see them coming forward. for 5,000 people to come. i'm going to risk it. i'm going to take a chance.

and see where my folks are. and there was no one there, then i remembered the wall. and i walked in the shed. the wall was. they didn't tell the kids. and i said, "i know you must be hiding there. where's the wall? where are you?" there was no response. followed me, and if they would respond to me, there were 15 people in there that all get killed, to sacrifice one kid. i started crying, carry on, and i said, "i also want to live. please." then i said, "nobody followed me. i'm here alone." i thought about that, and that's when that little door opened up in the corner there and an arm reached and was my older brother's arm. and i went and i reached

and he pulled me inside. now we were 16 people. [ gunfire ] and then we heard the shots. it sounded like a war. [ gunfire continues ] and we knew -- they're killing the people. [ gunfire continues ] the nazis came and... did their work. in august 11th, they rounded up trochenbrod's jews and took them to slaughter in pits that had been dug nearby

which still exists today. [ birds chirping ] six weeks later, on yom kippur, they rounded up any remaining jews they could find -- about 1,000 of them -- and slaughtered them. they left alive a few dozen leather workers whom they assigned forced labor to make leather goods for the german army. when the leather was all gone, december of that year, they slaughtered them. and, with that, was wiped out. [ cheering ] the nazi murder machine was very organized and methodical. of exterminations that would leave ukraine

kolki slaughters were scheduled for august 9th, olyka, august 10th, and trochenbrod, august 11th. trochenbrod was essentially just another target out of thousands of other towns and villages in europe, but it is the only town that has completely vanished. ukraine marks a hidden chapter in the history of the holocaust. out of the 6 million jews murdered in the second world war, 1.5 million were killed on ukrainian ground, shot by nazi soldiers and their ukrainian helpers. [ indistinct conversation ]

so, from a nearby village, we began our journey to trochenbrod.

[ thunder rumbles ] avrom: all of a sudden, it began to pour and we had to stop and look for shelter. so we waited and waited for the rain to stop. [ gunfire and explosions ] we were waiting for nightfall to crawl out, and we were blasted with a rainstorm. it created a lot of noise in the shrubs and the trees and the rain itself. [ thunder crashes ] [ bullets ricochet ]

and we crawled out on our hands and knees at night until there was a safe place to stand up. we stood up and we ran towards the forest, then we came to the first bunker, and then hunger set in. didn't know what to do. what are we gonna eat? grass? [ thunder crashes ] avrom: after a couple of hours of waiting, the sun finally came out... and shmulk was very excited that the plan was back on.

[ laughter ] shmulk was one happy man on that trip. so happy to be with his grandchildren. [ speaking native language ] avrom: when we finally started walking trochenbrod's street, shmulk took the lead. his father was a dairy man, and, every morning, shmulk would go from house to house to collect milk, and, as a result, where everyone lived.

he was the one who was able to walk down the street and say, "this family lived here and that family lived there." he was reliving his milk collection route. he was the milk man. what was interesting to me was how many people expressed that they felt they were among family even though they were with people they had never met before. and i saw how much it meant to them

gold: you could sit up in our bunker. you couldn't stand up. and it was very tight, and when one person turned over, everybody had to. and they had a meeting to decide who's gonna go and find food someplace somehow? well, they decided that they can't send the man or the boys so they nominated me. whatever i could find. one day, i came into a barn... and i almost fainted. i saw three loaves of bread.

and i crawled in with the three loaves of bread. everyone's eyes were popping out. they just couldn't wait to devour it. and my father said, "not so fast. unh-unh. oh, no. we're not going to devour these breads. they're gonna have to last for a couple weeks" so his little girl doesn't have to go out and risk her life. so he would cut off a little piece once a day and give each one a little piece. my space was by the wall next to the breads, and that night i thought to myself, "what the heck?" i'm the one who goes out and risks her life all the time to feed everyone and to scrounge food you know, bring whatever i can and keep everybody alive. i think i deserve a little extra. i talked to myself, and what did i do? i poked a hole in one of the loaves of breads,

i wasn't satisfied. i poked another hole again. i felt very guilty, but i felt i deserved it. and that was it. in the morning, my father looked around and looked around and he said, "oh, my god." there are two holes in the loaves of bread. in addition to the misery and the hunger and the cold and the lice, now we have rats." i kept my mouth shut. i didn't say anything. the next night, i did the same thing again. i poked two more holes of bread. and the next morning, my father looked around again and he says, "oh, my god. maybe we should have a new year's party." it looks like the rats are gonna eat up the bread. there are two more holes in the loaves of bread." and i was so scared, and i was just sitting like that, and my eyes were bulging, i guess, and the guilt was on my face, and my father somehow noticed

the way i looked -- and he kept staring at me, staring at me... and he was smart, and suddenly he made an announcement. he said, "i think i found the rat." and he moved me over from one end of the bunker to the other and the loaves of bread were safe. it was his favorite story to tell after the war. yuzef was one of these righteous christians, and he was a very dear friend of my father and did business with him. and he was the only one that my father trusted, and he knew about our whereabouts -- where we were hiding. and he would come occasionally and bring us a little food. he would tell us what's going on with the war and so forth.

and he would tell us. so we were very grateful. one day, he said that... he has bad news. he said that someone discovered us and reported it to the authorities, they're coming to kill us this afternoon. "you must run fast." it was winter. it was cold. it was freezing. my father remembered that there was another bunker about a mile away with 11 hidden jews. we came there, and one of the men said, "take a look. if there's room, you're welcome to join us. now, we could sit up in our bunker. they couldn't. just -- they were lying down. we couldn't even -- there wasn't enough space for us to lie on top of them. we had to leave.

everybody hugged and kissed and said, "goodbye. we'll meet in heaven because we already had hell on earth." and we were crying and grieving and waiting for the nazis. it's enough suffering. [ footsteps crunching ] we heard the footsteps, and they approached the opening of our bunker, and my younger brother was right next to the opening, and my father said, "bernie, take a look who's there," as though we didn't know. and bernie picks up the little cover and looks out. he turns around and he's smirking. it turned out it was a miracle of some sort. it was our friendly christian, and he said, "guess what? there was an error. instead of you having been discovered,

they were all slaughtered." if they would've had room for us, i wouldn't have this story to tell you. so, it was just meant, again, for us to survive. and i don't know if it was a miracle or by chance -- call it whatever you wish. avrom: look behind you. there is a double-row of trees and bushes that mark what was trochenbrod's street. try to see, in your mind's eye, the hustle and bustle of trochenbrod's people buying and selling and arguing and greeting each other. try to see and hear trochenbrod's children running and playing, feeling among family wherever

try to smell the mud and manure and hay and leather and smoke from wood stoves and pine from the radziwill forest. trochenbrod was a uniquely jewish town in the gentile world.

avrom: when i think of the story of trochenbrod, i don't think of it as a story about the holocaust. the story of trochenbrod is about life. and, of course, i think about my father. i could tell, when he would say trochenbrod, there would be this curl of his lip and twinkle in his eye that sort of hinted at the significance in his life that that town was for him.

that people who emigrated all over the world somehow conveyed to their children and grandchildren their love for this place. who can ever know or say what makes a heart go blind what paves the road to hatred or what shadows fill the mind what voice cries out in memories? what sacred words, unspoken demand each generation try to heal what has been broken from the heart of wilderness

the people built this town row by row they plowed the land friday night, by candlelight the ancient prayers were read celebrating shabbas singing songs and breaking bread we remember we remember we are the children of trochenbrod there were whispers on the wind in 1941 that the war would come to trochenbrod there was nowhere left to run rumors of the camps came in with refugees each day

and stay out of history's way we remember we remember we are the children of trochenbrod -- captions by vitac --

beachbody.