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band, dressed in a sailor's uniform, shot everybody. The soldiers were all quiet. They asked for no money and did not shout. They remained about five minutes. When they left, I crawled out from under the bed and saw that all were dead. I remained in the house. A little later another band came. I jumped out of the window and ran to the station. There I saw Jews being shot, and heard their cries. But I did not cry. I asked a boy to tell me in detail what he had seen at the station, but he said, "I cannot, it is too frightful." I collected cartridges as if nothing had happened, as if mama had not been killed. I had quite forgotten everything. Then I ran through the city and came to the river's bank. I went along the bank. Nobody touched me because they thought I was a Russian. A soldier came up to me, gave me a sack and said, "Go plundering." Then I began to run to my relatives', but all was in ruins at the house of one aunt as well as the other, and they were not at home. Finally I came to the third aunt and there I remained.
NIUNIA KRASNOPOLSKY.
d. Testimony of Terpiansky
Saturday, at nine o'clock in the morning, there was a knock at the house of Boganovsky. He would not open. Then they began to break the doors in. Seeing this, Boganovsky opened the door. Six soldiers came into the room and asked for money. The women had hidden themselves under the bed. One of the soldiers must have noticed it, for he pulled the women out from under the bed by their legs. After he had pulled them all out, they were told to go out into the yard. There the women had to lie on the ground while the men had their money taken away. After they had taken the money from Boganovsky they placed him against the wall and fired on him.. One shot went through his hand, the other grazed his head. The women raised a terrible cry. The bandits began to fire on the women. Boganovsky meanwhile was left in peace. He lay half unconscious and they thought he was dead. After they had murdered the women, the bandits attacked Mandel and Khazonov. They were taken out on the street. One soldier knocked Mandel down and shot him. Khazonov fell down himself (apparently he fainted), and was shot as he lay. Khazonov left a son, who lost his reason as a result of the horrors. He lay the whole time under the bed and was not noticed by the soldiers.
IV. TOWN OF DUBOVO ( F KIEV)
Testimony of Ben Yankelevich Tsukernik, 65 Years Old, An Innkeeper, Who Can Read and Write
On the i /th of June a man of Koziakov's and Popov's gangs, with arms in his hand, came into my beer house through the window and demanded money. On the approach of the gang I hid my family in the cellar. I, a feeble old man, remained in the house alone. I at once gave the man 100 rubles. Then another soldier came in, said he was the chief and ordered the first one to return the money. Soon others appeared and with the consent of the chief began to plunder my house. After they had taken away everything I had, they demanded that I, being a communist as they maintained, should go to -the Staff with my 50 year old nephew Mendel Vinokur. The Staff were in the cellar of the Feldman house, where there were already a number of victims who had been brought to
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be slaughtered. One after the other was taken into the cellar. The leader was an adjutant of Popov and Shevchenko. The order was "Cut them down, spare your bullets!" Near the door stood the two executioners, a Russian and a Moldavian, with drawn sabers in their hands. The command was, "One, two, three, strike!" As my foot touched the lowest step of the cellar, I received a stunning blow with a saber, one on my hand and one on my head. Although I felt that I was still able to stand on my feet, my instinct told me that it would be better to fall down into the darkness below farther away from my executioners. I fell on the wet, slippery floor soiled with my own blood and that of the others. With one foot I touched a body that, was altogether unrecognizable. I began to feel about me. There were dead bodies all over. Near me there were twelve. Here and there you could hear low groans. Soon a new body fell on top of me. In the dark I recognized my good friend, the sixty-three-year-old Shmul Pasternak. He was groaning, yet he tried to touch me lightly, and whispered, "Sha, sha!" (Keep quiet.)