Murder Story of Ostrog Jews in the Forest in the Netishin Area

…A month later, on September 1, 1941, the [German] murderers carried out a second murder operation, more brutal than the first one. Most of the youths who had attended our school were killed [in this murder operation]. They were ostensibly taken away to work, but ended up in one mass-grave in [near the town of] Nietyszyn [Netishin]. During this murder operation, the Germans and Ukrainians [Ukrainian auxiliary policemen] demonstrated their cruelty.…

…I remember that, in late fall [sic for September 1, 1941], [the Germans] once again began to drive us out [of our homes]. I recall walking into the street, together with my mother and my two [twin] brothers; my mother had a golden ring…, a wedding ring, [on her finger], and he [apparently, a Ukrainian policeman] pointed [at the ring], ordering [my mother] to take it off. Before my eyes, my mother removed the ring and gave it to him.… And we were driven into the street again, but this time we were not sent to the "nowe miejsce", but rather toward the section near the [former Soviet] border, toward the Slavuta [County], toward [the village] of Krivin…. We were taken to the area of the sawmill…. Usually, the fences of the sawmills were made of planks [standing] side by side. There were no cracks, only a broad gate…. So, we had been brought there, but it was in the fall, and the days were short. And [the Germans] had selected the young ones…, apparently beginning with the 16-20-year-olds. I didn't look my age [but, rather, much younger], so [in the meantime] trucks covered with tarpaulin, loaded with Germans and [Ukrainian] policemen, had approached the gate, and they were taking these young ones away, [leading them] through the fence…. And at this time, 2-3 Germans were standing guard at the gate…. Seeing that one German [guard] was standing with his legs spread wide apart…, I pushed myself between his legs, as the crowd was rolling quickly, like a wave, backward and forward, so I was pushed [by the crowd] toward this German [guard] and toward this gate, and I pushed myself through.… After passing between the legs of the German, I found myself in the street, outside the fence, and thus I could no longer be seen. I did not look back; I didn't know where my mother was; I didn't know where my brothers were.… I returned home…, and I was very sad…. My mother and two brothers came back home, [as well], most probably when it was dark….

…The second shooting operation took place sometime around August [sic for September 1,] 1941. An order had been given requiring all the Jews in the ghetto [sic] to report in the square on the outskirts of the town…, in the courtyard of the [saw] mill. Many assembled there, while others did not go, choosing to hide instead. My mother and two aunts went into hiding, while my fiancée and brother David went to the square. The square was immediately surrounded by Germans and [Ukrainian] policemen. When the square was filled to capacity, trucks covered with tarpaulin drove in. People were loaded onto the trucks [in groups of] 50 and taken out of the town, to the village of Krivin, where they were shot dead. We learned about [the shooting] from some Christians who told us [about it]. I managed to find a hiding place in the square and stayed alive on that day. More than 2,000 Jews, who were capable of work, were shot dead on that day, and my fiancée Roza and brother David were among the victims. By evening, an order was given to return to the ghetto [sic].…

September 1, 1941 When the 30 days of mourning over the victims of the first massacre were over, the second massacre was upon us. It was a "silent" massacre, concealed for all those days under the black wings of the Nazi angel of death, who was as cunning as the Serpent. Actually, the local Christians, who interacted with the soldiers of the military commander, whispered among themselves, and they even told the Jews that a second "operation" was being prepared for the near future. And the soldiers themselves, in their conversations, made no effort to hide the imminent second massacre. Nevertheless, the Jews of Ostróg remained indifferent, refusing to credit the rumors and preferring to trust in the words of the "upper echelons", who allayed the Jews' fears with false assurances that they would come to no harm. It was a rainy and gloomy day, and the sky itself seemed to be weeping on the bitter and unexpected day of September 1, 1941. At 6 AM, as the Jews of Ostróg were getting ready to begin their daily forced labor, they saw SA soldiers (special detachment), dressed in rubber raincoats and with steel helmets on their heads, prowling the streets of the town in a suspicious and unusual manner. They were followed by Ukrainian militiamen, who entered the homes and sent all the Jews, except for the women with children, to work at Zusman's sawmill (the "Tartak"). Everything went on quietly, with no shouts, shots, or blows. The Jews were not snatched or taken away by force, but simply told to go to the "Tartak". The Jews were so frail of body and depressed in spirit that they lacked the strength to ponder the nature of this order; they simply complied with it, and went along. Not even the unusual presence of SA soldiers in the town streets aroused their suspicions. So they went, and none of them wondered why the entire population of the town had been ordered to work at the "Tartak", nor what so many people were actually going to do there. In short, they walked toward the "Tartak" in an indifferent mass, without trying to ponder and think matters through…. Only when they neared the end of their journey did they begin to suspect that things were not as they seemed, but then it was too late. A few tried to escape from the line of marchers, but were unable to. The SA men, who were accompanying the Jews and keeping watch over them without the latter's knowledge, began to fire into the air, to scare the would-be fugitives back into the line. Still, the "treatment" meted out at this time was not as harsh or brutal as before, and there were no casualties at this stage. When they reached their destination, they saw that it was not the "Tartak", but a nearby plot of land in the area of the tannery, which was owned by the Leibl family. It was a large square courtyard surrounded by a tall fence, and there were many militiamen stationed there, having been ordered by the Germans to prevent the Jews from escaping. Some 3000 Jews were now trapped in this pen – men, women, and youths aged 15-20. All of them had fallen for the Germans' cunning ploy. The rest of the Jews had not yet arrived, or else had managed to hide – since, in accordance with the policy of the "silent aktion", there were to be no sweeping searches. When the SA commander learned that no more Jews were forthcoming, he informed those present that they would be sent away to work for ten days. The Jews received this message with good cheer, as long as their lives were spared. When one of the Jews complained that this was too abrupt, and that they had had no time to gather provisions for the road, a soldier "calmed" him with the following ambiguous reply: "Don't worry. When you get there, you will be given food the like of which you've never tasted before!"… When the soldier uttered these words, the Jews became crestfallen – but, sadly, it was too late, since they were now caught in the noose, with no way out. The people assembled in the courtyard began to be sorted into various groups and subgroups: by age, occupation, marital status, number of children, etc. When they had all been sorted out, large black trucks, which resembled funeral hearses, began to arrive…. The people were crammed into these vehicles, 30 persons per vehicle, and armed soldiers were set to guard them, to prevent anyone from getting out. And if someone wished to bid farewell to a relative, they would be explicitly told: "There's no need for that. You will all meet at the next train station!..." A line of vehicles left the courtyard; no more than 40 minutes later, they returned to take on new passengers. The trucks kept shuttling back and forth in this manner, constantly demanding: give us more! The town's Christian managers were surprised when their Jewish laborers had failed to show up for work on that day. They demanded an explanation, and, upon learning what was going on, they asked the Germans to spare the professionals and the skilled workers, without whom they would be forced to shut down the factories and workshops, which were producing materials for the German war effort. Their intervention had the desired effect, but it came too late, since most of the professionals had already been taken on their last journey. Nevertheless, about 500 of the Jews in the courtyard were released back into the town. After these lucky ones had left, the deportation resumed, and was even speeded up. At 2 PM, the SA chief calculated that he had fulfilled the required quota of deportations. He then called for a halt to the operation and sent the remaining Jews – some 300 men and women of advanced years – back home. As they returned to the town, these miserable survivors failed to grasp the magnitude of the new disaster that had befallen the Jewish community of Ostróg. Even when they saw the houses that had just been emptied of their Jewish occupants, the awful truth still eluded them. With their fiendish cunning, the Germans had managed to hide it from the Jews until the last moment, and so it remained. The preparations for this second, "silent" massacre, as well as its actual execution, were so quick and subtle that the demoralized Jews willingly put themselves in the hands of their enemies, with nary a hint of protest. Furthermore, this whole bloody game was carried out by no more than 25 SA soldiers, who were assisted by the town militia. On the next day, the Jewish survivors, plagued by doubts, retraced the path of the vehicles and asked the peasants from the nearby villages whether anyone had seen or heard where the Jews had been taken. Many of them were reluctant to talk, fearing for their safety. Most of them could not even tell where the Jews had been taken and what had happened to them. However, the peasants living not far from the forest near the village of Netishin, 12 km from Ostróg, said frankly that, all over the previous day, they had heard the sounds of gunfire coming from the forest…. Special envoys were then dispatched to investigate. These were elderly peasants who enjoyed a measure of trust. When they returned, they swore, upon their life and faith, that they had seen two large covered pits in the depths of the forest, and that these bore the unmistakable traces of the victims, who had been murdered and buried in them. Even in the face of this dreadful testimony, the scales did not fall from the Jews' eyes, and they continued to believe in the false rumors and fake assurances spreading through the town, according to which the Jews were alive and working, and had even sent their regards. People spent a fortune in order to receive some news, but to no avail. Everything was based on illusions and rumors, but there was no firm evidence of the Jews' survival. Because of the veil of secrecy surrounding this silent massacre, it was impossible to estimate the exact number of victims who had been killed and buried in the pits at Neteshyn. However, based on the actual number of Jewish residents of Ostróg, we know that more than 2,500 Jews had failed to return on that bitter and unexpected Monday. This terrible disaster unfolded in silence; the cry of the victims went unheard, and they were never properly mourned. With calm and cold calculation, the German destroyed another third of the Jewish community of Ostróg in this second massacre. On that day, Ostróg lost its best youth and adults. Only a handful of women and children, along with some 300 men capable of work, were left to mourn them. Thus, when the 30 days of mourning for the victims of the first massacre were over, the second, "silent" massacre took its bloody toll….

…At 6 AM on September 1, 1941, we were supposed to report for labor duty once again, but [suddenly] we saw through the windows that Germans, wearing rain coats and steel helmets, were running around in the ghetto [sic] streets, and this sight made [the Jews] suspicious. They [the Germans] were followed by Ukrainian policemen, who entered the [Jewish] homes and began to drive the Jews out, deceiving the people [by saying] that they had to report for work. Our hearts were filled with bad premonitions. I didn't leave the house to report for work. Outside, one could already hear the constant sound of gunfire.… I saw people, gripped with fear and anxiety, assemble outside, while the Germans and Ukrainian policemen were searching every house and yard, looking for Jews who hadn't gotten out. At that time, [a woman named] Roza… was staying as a guest in our house. I told Roza that I had decided not to report for work, since I was afraid that the Germans were about to carry out a murder operation in the ghetto today [sic]. I suggested that we climb up to the attic and hide [there], and maybe the Germans wouldn't find us. I wasn't wrong. The Germans had indeed decided to execute all the young people, and they selected all the young ones from the crowd…, taking them out of the ghetto [sic] under the pretext that they would be sent to work. My sister Hasia had managed to report for work at the Judenrat offices early in the morning, before the Germans rounded up all the young people, and thus she saved herself from death on that day….