Murder story of Hoszcza Jews in the Symonovo Birch Grove

…It was a week before Shavuoth, when all at once everybody in town became sad. Did something new occur? They were digging trenches in the woods bordering the road to the village of Simanoff [Symonovo], about five kilometers south of Hosht [Hoszcza]. Because birch trees grew there, the woods were called the birch forest. A terrible panic spread all over Hosht. The terror was indescribable! Five days and five nights, we walked about without eating, without washing, without sleeping, we didn't undress, nor even remove our shoes. An unknown dread gripped us. Every day, every hour, all kinds of rumors spread, all kinds of stories. Our community representatives [i.e., the Judenrat] kept on assuring us that all was well, we should not fear. They said the ditches were being prepared for military purposes; to hide camouflaged artillery. Others said the ditches were to hide explosives. All kinds of rumors were in the air. But the Jews of Hosht wouldn't believe these statements…. They were petrified with fear. Their hearts told them that something awful was coming. No one knew what to do. We returned from our hiding places, and went back to our homes; we looked at each other in silence and dismay…. Tuesday, towards evening, the panic in town rose to new heights. Somehow, we were aware that the end was near, and we saw death in front of our eyes. We walked about in the streets talking in whispers. The council-house [Judenrat building] was crowded with people, but the council representatives were not there. Everybody wanted to escape, but how? Where? Some did not have money; others were too weak to walk far, still others had no place to go to. Most of us had neither money, nor health - and, above all, no place to go. So we tried to console ourselves that nothing would happen; everything will pass over in peace. And so we pushed the fears from our thoughts, for we had no solution. We dared not go to sleep, we sat ready, waiting for the Angel of Death, by day and by night. …The fearful slaughter took place on Wednesday – the bloody Wednesday – the 4th of Sivan, 5702; May 20, 1942. At 2:30 AM, several trucks drove into Hosht. The guards notified all homes that the Angel of Death was coming! The people began running in all directions without any plan. They ran wherever their feet took them. It was a horrible sight – men, women, children, old people who ran quietly, so that the Angel of Death would not see nor hear them. The murderers carried out their tasks to perfection. Soon they spread out over the town in all directions and began to pursue the fleeing people…. As soon as it became dark, we went out of the pit [hiding place] and looked around in all directions. We saw no one, nor was there a sound anywhere. We walked over to a peasant's house, nearby. He was not yet sleeping, though it was late at night when we reached his house. I entered and asked for a little water and a match. I inquired about news of our town. He told me that, just that day, he happened to be on duty with his horses at the city administration, and that he had to drive the slain from the town to the public grave. He related how they had caught all the people, in the streets, in the fields, in the woods, and in the houses. They pulled them down from the attics and pulled them out of the cellars. Then they were driven to the Ukrainian administration building. They searched each person and took all their valuables and documents, for when they ran, they took such things with them. Everything was recorded, and the people were told to sign. Then, they were made to sit on the ground in the midst of the market street and wait until more people would be brought. When they had collected a hundred or more persons, the murderers made them stand up and walk out onto the road. I asked if the people were crying. "No, they would not let them cry." The murderers, standing with guns in their hands, mercilessly beat those who cried. Thus, they drove them like sheep until they reached the Simanoff [Symonovo] Birch Forest, about six kilometers from town. Freshly dug trenches had already been prepared. The murderers told everyone to strip down to their underwear. When they undressed, they were told to go into the trenches, ten at a time, and lie face down. [With the victims] lying thus, the murderers shot each one separately. Then, another ten people were forced to lie down [over the victims' bodies] and were shot. In this manner, they sent all the Jews – by tens – into the trenches and shot them. Mercilessly, cruelly, they killed the small children, bashing their heads with the heels of their boots and throwing them into the trenches. No matter how much one were to tell, it is not possible to describe even a fraction of the horror, of the cruelty of the murderers – an approximate four hundred Jews – men, women, and children, were slaughtered that day. As I write theses lines, my heart contracts, a numbness seizes me. I stop – I can't write anymore. I make a cigarette, light it, and again take my pen in hand. But where are my wife and children? Tears begin to flow from my eyes. Yes, they are better off than I. I was uncertain whether they had been saved or not, but my heart told me that they were in the "good world – the true world." They were no longer being tortured; they would no longer suffer. I would still be tormented and suffer pain to write the horrible tale. I must tell the story of the fearful deaths of my family, of my dear relatives, friends, acquaintances; of the holy dead, the martyrs of my dear and lovely town of Hosht: It is time that the world should throw off the veil of falsity and dress in a little truth, a little equity.… Otherwise, let it perish completely with everybody, with everybody.… where are you all, the decent people of this world? Or perhaps decent people do not exist at all? Why are you silent? How do you stand by and watch and agree that unprotected, guiltless people, small children that did no sin nor transgress, nursing babies, little angels on earth, should be thrown living into the grave? I ask why it was done to them? Was it due them? Wherein did we offend? Wherein did we sin?… Next day, when Mrs. Weissman moved over to Ochrim [Sirotzuk, a Ukrainian peasant who served in the fire department in Hoszcza and was hiding some Jews], she sent a letter to her daughter Batya. Ochrim came to deliver the letter. He told us that, in the massacre which occurred on the 14th day of Tishri, 5703, 350 souls were killed – of these 350, forty had been shot in the town on the property of David Silverberg in the center of the town, but it is not known who were led to the birches, near Simonov[o], and who were destroyed. We only know that Isarel David Utzenik and his family were shot.… When Ochrim came to us the second time, he gave us more details about the third massacre in Hosht.… Five days in Kislev, 5703; November 14th, 1942, early Saturday morning, two trucks with police drove to Shamai's house, and everybody was ordered to get into the trucks and go to work. Seventeen men escaped, and thus saved themselves. The remaining unfortunate souls were driven away to the Symonov[o] wood, where they were shot and dumped into the ditches where the earlier victims lay buried….