Murder story of Byten Jews in the Rudnia and Zapole Area

Friday, July 24, 1942.… Only in the evening, at 5 PM, does the latest news begin to spread in the ghetto: The gendarmes have recruited non-Jews with shovels from nearby villages – Zarzecze, Rudnia, and Zapole – ordering them to dig ditches at a certain spot between the two latter villages. This news was brought by a local peasant, who told it to the blacksmith Moyshe Ditkowski, at whose smithy he had worked some time ago.… The information was corroborated by other peasants.… Now everything is clear. We are on the threshold of a massacre.… We, all the neighbors, are sitting in the house of Shimen Buszelewicz, twenty-six people in all.… Shimen Buszelewicz is utterly apathetic. He says … that he will not go to the schron [Polish for "secret shelter"].… No one can sleep.… At 10 PM, our policemen, Hershl Kowenski and Shiye, are passing by. They tell the people that no one should sleep this night, and that they have to stay alert. The hours drag on with excruciating slowness. These are the last hours, the last minutes, for the 840 Jews of Byteń. It is dawn now, 3 AM. Shiye the policeman [and his family] appear in the courtyard, across from our window. He peeps into our house and says: ‘Are you asleep? Get up! The ghetto has already been cordoned off by the police. It is a massacre. Save yourselves!’ As though electrocuted, we jump up.… Shimen Buszelewicz does not wish to go with us, so his wife Mirl and I are forcibly dragging him to the schron. Although the schron is designed to accommodate eight-ten people, there are fourteen of us crammed in there.… We are on our feet, pressed close together, with no air to breathe.… From the street, we can hear the stamp of military boots and yells in Russian and German. There are also the sounds of cars and running feet.… At 6 AM, we once again hear screams and gunfire from various corners of the ghetto. We hear voices shouting: Vylezai! [Rusian for ‘Get out!’] – our house, our courtyard is swarming with wild beasts. Belorussian policemen and Germans are looking for our shelters. They are leading the Sheynboym family out. From above, we hear a yell: Maslowski! Tu żyduszi siedzą, tu śmierdzi [Polish for ‘There are Jewboys sitting here, it stinks here’].…A shot, followed by another and another, and then a yell: Schnell laufen! [German for ‘Run quickly’… Voices saying: Davai poiedem k iamam [Russian for ‘Let’s go to the ditches’]; reply: ya uzhe byl tam, dostal dobry chasiki – nu, navalili ikh tam do kholery [dialectal Russian: ‘I have been there already, got a nice little watch; well, there are so many of them dumped there’]; reply: Ia tozhe dostal dobry veshchi – naberiomsia teper’ [dialectal Russian: ‘I, too, have got some nice things – we’ll load up now’]. We can hear loud noises from the house of R. Yaffe. The beasts have opened his cellar, and are dragging out Naftali’s wife Feygl and her two children. We can hear her beg the policeman to have mercy on the children. She receives the reply: Molchi, bliad’, vylezai! [Russian for ‘Hush, you whore, get out!’]. We hear the sounds of Feygl getting out of the cellar, and the blows that are raining on her.… From afar, we can hear machine gun volleys.… Later in the morning, the gunfire is fading away, as is the commotion.… The search for Jewish possessions and valuables has begun. We hear the German-language order: ‘Nehmen nur das Wertvolle’ [Take only the valuable stuff!]… Monday morning.… At 10 AM, we hear the sounds of Yiddish.… The aktion is over, and some of us have survived. Esther is the first to speak up: ‘Enough! We cannot stay here any longer. Out of the schron!’ The ghetto has been laid to waste. The massacre lasted from 5 to 10 AM on Saturday, Shabes Nakhmu, the 11th of Av in the year 5702.

July 31, 1942 To: Mr. Vishner, Orange, New Jersey, U.S.A. Dear Moshkele and all my loved ones, On July 25, a terrible massacre took place here — the same as in all the other towns. It was a mass murder. Only 350 people are left. 850 died a terrible death at the hands of the murderers. They were thrown like puppies into latrines. Living children were thrown into pits. I will not write much. I think that someone will survive, and that that person will tell of our torments and of our bloody end. We are alive for the time being... but for how long? Each day, we wait for death and mourn our loved ones. Your family, Moshkele, is already gone. Yet I envy them. I cannot write anymore; it is impossible to convey our torments. Be healthy — all of you. The only thing that you can do for us is take revenge on our murderers. We shout to you: Avenge us! I kiss you fervently and bid you farewell before we die. (Added later on) Dear Father! I say goodbye to you before dying. We would very much like to live, but all is lost — they won’t let us! I am so afraid of this death, because the small children are thrown into the graves alive. Goodbye forever. I kiss you over and over. A kiss from G. Yours, I[ta]