Murder Story of Daugavpils Jews in Pogulyanka

Saturday, November 8, 1941 We were awakened by a commotion outside, and then angry shouts in Latvian: “Arah, arah! (Out, Outside!)” The inevitable was happening. The din outside increased, the sounds vividly describing the events to us: the Latvians surged into the rooms, reeking of liquor and waving clubs .... Yelling, cursing, they hit the people, most of whom were women and children .... The panic ... the stampede down the stairs ... babies wailing ... mothers frantically trying not to be separated from their children .... I had that familiar, terrifying feeling: only a few yards and a piece of tin separated me from the ultimate horror outside. Slowly the noise subdued. I could hear a few shots, and after a while there was complete silence. We heard no sound for the rest of the day. We wondered why our friends had not come to give us the all-clear signal. Wasn’t the danger over yet? Or had everybody been killed? The total silence was unnerving. Monday, November 10, 1941 Early in the morning we got the all-clear signal from one of the friends and climbed out of our molina ["malina"- shelter]. The scene before us was lonely and sad. It was said that 4,000 people or more had been killed. Most of the ghetto was now empty, and the survivors, a little over 1,000, were all living in one corner, far from the gate and from where we had hidden. The place was just a shadow of what it had been only a few days ago, and the people, too, moved around like shadows, keeping their voices low. From our friends, we found out that the Aktion began on Friday, on the anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution, and continued for three days. Already on Friday afternoon, a large number of German SD and Latvian auxiliaries had appeared in the ghetto and taken away many people. The area where we had hidden was not yet affected. On Saturday, the Aktion started early in the morning. None of the workers was allowed to leave the ghetto, and the rooms were thoroughly searched. Only those with red certificates and their families were allowed to remain; the rest were taken away. On Sunday, all those still alive were assembled. Workers were ordered to go to their working places. They felt quite confident, because their wives had also been furnished with certificates, but when they returned later, their wives and children had been taken away, too. Their grief was shattering. But again there was a screening. Everyone had to pass between two lines of Latvians, who picked out people from the slowly moving column. At the same time, the whole ghetto was thoroughly searched, and more people were found. I was told that this Aktion was conducted in an even more inhuman manner than the earlier ones. Joining together, Germans and Latvians beat the people, and some were shot on the spot. Most of the Latvians were drunk. It was in this latest selection that our other friend, who knew of our molina, was taken, even though he had a certificate.