A plaque stands in the courtyard of the District Court in Lancut. Nameless. It commemorates the victims of genocide planned by the German occupier. Aniela Nizioł was shot in this very courtyard in 1942. The resident of Łańcut was 53 years old at the time.
A few days earlier, Józef Głowniak, Mr. and Mrs. Niziołów’s roommate and a Blue Police officer, had brought Kalman Wolkenfeld’s family of three – the owner of the local restaurant until the war broke out – to their flat. Everyone in Łańcut probably knew him.
– Will we be able to keep them? – asked Glowniak in a concerned voice. Aniela looked at her husband Michał inquisitively, and the man returned the look. – Why shouldn’t we be able to cope? We are not going to leave a family with a child to die for sure,” answered the man. The Jews breathed a sigh of relief. But not for long…
– It was Krause. His name was Feliks. And it was him who denounced us at the police station – said later the widowed Michał Nizioł, who had to hide until the end of the occupation. – They came when I was not at home. Only Aniela was there. They found the Jews right away. They took them out in front of the house and, sure enough, they shot them. They shot them. They took Aniela to the station. Somehow, by some miracle, they released her, and she – Michał swallowed his saliva, and tears came to his eyes – returned to the flat… The neighbours begged, pleaded: „Aniela, get away from here or they’ll come for you, you’ll see”. But she stayed. The next day the Germans actually came. And that was the end. Józef Kokot shot her.
Felieton radiowy. Relacja Anny Michno