Murder Story of Tarnopol Jews at the Tarnopol Catholic Cemetery

…That fatal day of July 7 [1941] arrived. It was about 11 a.m. I sat with Shudrich on the couch and watched Kacyzne [Alter Kaczyzne -a famous Jewish [Yiddish] writer, poet and playwright]. He was busy repairing his torn…shoes…. Kaczyzne had just finished… when we suddenly heard the voice of [our] landlady: "Hide, they are coming!" she warned us through the open windows about the "snatchers" on the street…. We decided to stay in the house…. Two handsome Ukrainian boys with new insignia of their rank came in. They looked decent and spoke quietly and very politely: "We need men for work, you will work two hours and then return home." They looked around the house and then pointed to Kaczyzne: "You too, just for two hours"…. Both of us [I and Kaczyne] left. They took us along a long, gloomy street that led to the cemetery. The two youngsters went ahead of us, talking to each another, while we followed. Only our miserable faces, that contrasted sharply with their well-fed faces, and their new clothes betrayed the fact that we were their prisoners. From time to time they cast scornful glances at us and were generous with their curses. They ordered us to wait next to the wooden fence of some hut. One of them opened the small door and entered. "He is looking for more victims"-I said to Kaczyzne. In fact, within a couple of minutes an old Jew came out of the house, followed by a very young, frightened, pale girl, his daughter. When they approached us, the father took out of his vest an old-fashioned watch with a silver chain and handed it silently to the pale girl. A large tear rolled down her pale cheek and then she bent over and kissed the old man's hand. "Daddy"- she uttered sobbing but could say nothing more. That was their farewell. We continued on our way…. From time to time we stopped at the doors of Jewish houses and, within several minutes, more Jews of various ages joined us…. You did not need to be very smart to realize that the two-faced Ukrainians were not taking us for any kind of work. But it was already too late to flee. At one corner of the street we encountered another group of arrested Jews, proceeding under the guard of several young Ukrainians and of German SS-men. We were lined up [with them] and [we all] continued on our way. Our march lasted another twenty minutes. Finally, we stopped at a walled off park-like place with a large iron gate. We had arrived at the cemetery-the destination of our march. The gate opened with a high-pitched screech and more angels of death appeared from there. On their sleeves they had yellow and blue armbands with the inscription "Ukrainian militia." They said to us "Hayda!" [Move!] and started to push us further on. Fearfully, we went through the gate. "Obviously we will not leave here alive" I said to Kaczyzne. Kaczyzne replied that, since we were already in the teeth of the beast, we should be ready for the worst. We were taken along an alley between two lines of tombs overgrown with green and crosses with big… trees growing between them. When we reached the end of the alley, we saw in the shadows of trees a handful of strange disheveled people with boorish faces distorted with rage. They were holding sticks and crowbars. We reached a clearing surrounded by bushes and young birch trees between which there stood people, men and women. One might have thought that those were also Jews but when we came closer and saw their… angry faces, we understood that they were not victims, but executioners, waiting for us with bloodlust. In the very middle of the place there were hundreds of dead [bodies]. The sight of naked bodies, of… intertwined hands, heads, and bare feet. A dreadful stench permeated the air. Some Jews… uttered half-crazed cries. The mob between the trees responded with wild laughter. We were ordered to line up and then the Ukrainian murderers divided us into groups…. Kaczyzne and I were in the same group. During those tragic minutes we made every effort to stick together… We were ordered to take off our clothes. We remained wearing only our trousers. Before this, we had been subjected to a body search, when we were robbed of anything of any value. This sight was observed from a distance by SS men, who were surrounded by a group of members of the local Fascist intelligentsia, who were covering their noses with handkerchiefs. We were ordered to lie down on the ground. We had to lie in such a manner that our heads touched the wet dead bodies. Kaczyzne and I lay on the wet ground looking at the cloudy sky... above our heads. Silent death reigned; only the hearts in our chests were beating more and more quickly, pounding, in anticipation of the torments which were to soon befall us. They [our tormentors] stood near us with sticks. How terrible was the anticipation of the physical pain that at every moment would attack our defenseless, naked bodies!

At some point I noticed some people digging graves near us. We did not see these people…. It seemed to me that we were going to be buried alive. I felt a shiver running along my skin. I shared my thoughts with Kaczyzne. He responded: "I hope they will just shoot us." I then somewhat calmed down. I did not fear death as such. Only here, in this creepy place, among the murderers and the dead, among the wild crowd eager to see our pain did the idea of death fill me with true horror. The quiet was disturbed by the sound of wheels. A vehicle was arriving at the place between the trees. It brought new [bodies] of murder victims. The vehicle was full: there was a whole pile of dead people, with their arms and legs hanging over the side useless…. A tall SS-man with a pistol in hand appeared. The local Fascists ordered: "Stand up, you Kikes!" When we get up, they forced us to run in a circle around the recumbent dead while the furious mob stood in lines along the route. We had to run between them so that it was not possible to avoid sticks, poles, iron rods and the other implements that they held in their hands. Thus, our running started: it was a real dance of death. I ran like crazy, thinking that the quicker I ran through the line of beaters the better it would be. For me the first "run" was, in fact, relatively bearable. I received a few blows which were not so terrible. My head was still intact; blood was flowing only from my arms. Then I saw Kaczyzne running, straining every nerve and gasping. When I started my second run, some disheveled witch jumped at me and scratched my face with her nails. When I managed to get free from her claws, a tall man threw himself on me and beat me so forcefully with a rod that I almost lost consciousness and stopped breathing. I fell to my knees, wobbling back and forth, unable to stand. A youngster with a raised stick jumped on me and shouted "Stand up or I will break your head!" I knew that if I do not stand up then I would never stand up again, that he would kill me. I could not utter a word so I… gestured that this was beyond my ability. At that moment I heard Kaczyzne's voice encouraging me: "Nachman, stand up!" He then ran right by me. So I stood up and continued running. Then I fell down again and again stood up and ran until the whistle of an SS man sounded and we were again ordered to lie down. I crawled over to Kaczyzne. He was covered with blood, blood was running from his mouth; two of his teeth had been knocked out. He was breathing heavily. Even in such a state, he cleaned his eyeglasses. Since he did not have a handkerchief, he used the edge of the trousers for this. Once again a whistle blew, and we had to stand up again. However, some Jews remained lying in place, indifferent to everything since they were dying. Then we were ordered to unload the vehicle. We had to lift the dead bodies… from which some sticky liquid was running. We took the bodies of those murdered on our shoulders, which themselves were covered with fresh wounds from which warm blood was running. I no longer knew from what we were suffering more, from our own wounds or from the sight of the terribly maimed bodies of those who had been murdered. Some dead had their hands tied behind their back. To increase our torture the murderers ordered us to open with our teeth the ropes of those who had been tied. We did this work with eyes closed, shaking with disgust. When, in order to untie the tight knot of a wet rope, I touched my face against the sticking and bad smelling hand of a dead person and brushed it with my lips and teeth, I became sick and vomited twice. All these disgusting things took place before the eyes of the gang of murderers, who laughed rowdily at our suffering and humiliation…. When Kaczyzne and I were lifting a dead body from a vehicle, I heard him say something not to me but to himself. Or perhaps he was speaking to the dead person. He looked half-crazy… and he had lost his glasses…. When the vehicle was finally empty, we were again ordered to run around the dead [bodies]. This time, however, our strikers did not remain at their posts waiting for us as before, but ran toward us and beat [us] with sticks with all their strength and with murder in their hearts.... The terrible cry of those who were beaten still resounds in my ears…. On all sides we were attacked by the furious murderers, who threw themselves at us, striking with all their might, the heads, backs, [and] limbs of living people. Half crazy, they attacked [us] with extraordinary passion. The blood flowing from our wounds, the cries of the dying incited them even more, raising their murderous frenzy to the highest degree of madness. I saw people falling under the heavy blows and the murderers then kicking them in the face and trampling on their chests with their boots. At some point I suffered a particularly heavy blow. Everything went black before my eyes and I fell to the ground. I do not know how long I was lying there. It could have been only a couple of minutes, or it may have been an hour or more since I had completely lost any sense of time. I felt life slipping away from me; little remained. My only wish was to die immediately and not to feel any more pain, to die in some corner like a dog. Then the thought occurred to me that some dead people were lying near me and I could join them in a way that no one would notice. I would hide among them. I would lie still as if I too were dead. Perhaps then the murderers would forget all about me and no one would torment me anymore. Not far from me an SS man fell into a wild rage…. He took out a pistol and started shooting right and left. I took advantage of the confusion that broke out at that moment and crawled toward a pile of dead [bodies]. When I reached them, I lay down among the dead with my body sprawled there, believing that I would soon be just like them, with the same yellowish distorted face and with the same half-open extinguished eyes. But I did not enjoy my "peace" for long. I was noticed, dragged away [from the bodies], and again began to have heavy blows rained on me. To this day I cannot understand how I was able to endure so many blows….

The whistle of an SS man saved my life. We again had to lie down on the ground. It was an opportunity to catch our breath. How good it would be to die and not to feel anymore any blows. However, the SS man did not allow our souls to rest. He ordered us to sing… a Jewish song. Could any one think of anything worse for us to do? People tormented and tortured for such a long time, worn out to death, oppressed, we had to sing Jewish songs! We were silent, unable to utter any sound, even a lament. However, when the SS man pulled out his pistol and again shouted: "Sing!," all the Jews at the same time, as if we had agreed in advance, started to recite ...: "Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One!" This "song" sounded dreadful and powerful from people barely alive and with smashed, bleeding faces…. We were ordered to lie down in layers - two people lengthwise and two people breadthwise, the way wood is stacked for drying. When the human pile rose to about one meter high, two of us were selected, given sticks, and ordered to strike this human pyramid with all our strength. … The Jews who beat us cried out, weeping: "Brothers, forgive us!" and their beating became weaker and weaker since they themselves had hardly any strength left. Not satisfied with such beating, the murderers took the sticks from them and did the job themselves. Four people got into position, rolled up their sleeves, and started to rain really heavy blows on us. The blows fell on us rhythmically and methodically. The strikers resembled village blacksmiths forging a piece of iron with their heavy hammers. After such a massacre some Jews were dead, while the rest, including Kaczyzne, remained lying on the ground like heavy, living, dirty bags from which everything would soon be poured out…. I saw Kaczyzne…. He was lying three steps from me, with his head hidden in a hollow. I saw that weak breathing was still slowing raising his chest, that he was still alive even though he did not move…. [At that point]They [the murderers] brought new victims…. Time was passing…. We were lying there and hearing the groaning of the new group of Jews, being "treated" not far from us with sticks. At some point we were passed by one of the murderers who, with the sharp end of a digging tool, started to pierce the tortured, motionless body of Alter Kaczyzne. As far as I could tell, he was checking for a reaction, for a sign of life…. The murderer muttered a fierce curse, raised the tool and, with all his might, began striking Kaczyzne's body. I heard the resounding blows striking the naked, wound covered body. I heard Kaczyzne's death rattle, the sound of his agony mixing with the sound of the heavy breathing of the murderer. I saw the latter's face distorted with cruelty and red from effort. He struck and slashed in his long mad stupor until Kaczyzne uttered a loud groan and then became stiff…. For a moment the murderer… stood bent over the dead body, assessing his work. Afterward, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, kicked his victim with his boot, and left. That is the way a Ukrainian "nationalist" murdered a writer who had translated, with great enthusiasm and poetic style, works by the great Ukrainian poet Taras Shevchenko….

…They took [my husband] for work, they [my husband and son] went after [our] neighbor told them that he would inform the Germans if they did not go. So they went. I ran after them and saw them joined to more Jews who had been lined up to be taken to the prison. Their work consisted in exhuming all the bodies from a grave in the prison yard. They worked there and then were taken, along with the bodies, to the Christian cemetery, where they buried all the dead. Then, they too were murdered. One Jew who somehow managed to escape told me how my son was forced to run around some place. I do not know what place that was. He was running and they kept beating him and he was shouting: "You do not have a right to beat me, you can kill me but not beat me." While he was shouting this, they shot him and he fell. My husband had been busy at one grave. When he saw this, he lost consciousness. After he lost consciousness, they shot him too and he died. Afterward, both of them were buried with the rest of the bodies….