Murder story of Urycz Jews in Nordlicht's Field in the Urycz Area

…In the morning [of August 27, 1941], I saw, on the road and in front of our house, a crowd of people armed with carbines. They were dressed differently, with armbands displaying the national colors of Ukraine.… [Afterward,] the space in front of the house became somewhat emptier, with only a small group of [Ukrainian auxiliary] policemen remaining, along with several civilians. Among those people, I saw one young man whom I had known since childhood. He was a forester from the nearby woods, and his last name was Pirnizer. His presence calmed me down a little bit, giving me some courage. I went out into the garden, approached the fence, and, standing close to this acquaintance, I asked him as to the purpose of this sudden visit. One look at his deathly-pale face convinced me that I had picked the wrong moment for a conversation. For some time, he kept swaying, stepping from one foot to the other. I realized that he wished to tell me something, but was afraid of the [Ukrainian] policemen who were standing nearby. By that time, the policemen… had moved aside. Taking advantage of their distraction, he told me under his breath: People are saying that a meeting will take place in the house on the hill, regarding the registration of the Jews and the provision of work [i.e., digging pits for oil extraction]. His words, without a doubt, referred to [the Jews] from the surrounding area. He could tell me nothing more, and I immediately went back home with this news.… However, the situation was changing rapidly, and various neighbors kept running [up to the house] with some fresh bit of news. And the relative calm that had prevailed in front of the house was now replaced with noise, running, and screams [of Jews]. Suddenly, the sound of gunfire was added to these shouts and cries, ringing out from the other bank of the stream [i.e., from the direction of the village of Schodnica]. This gunfire riveted our attention. Apparently, everyone was thinking the same thing. There would be no meeting for the provision of work. I went out to the veranda, from which one had a clear view of the path leading to the oil well [i.e., the oil extraction site] of the village of Urycz, and of the house on the hill, where the meeting was to take place. Near the house of the cantor of the mine, which stood on the other side of the mountain, I saw a group of people being led by several armed [Ukrainian] policemen. However, a grim spectacle drew my attention. Several dozen steps below this group, I saw a young man who was holding his abdomen with both hands. He was being prodded with carbine butts. I recognized this hunched, almost dead figure as Isaak Geller: He was barely moving, having been mortally wounded. [Before the war,] he had been honored as one of the best sportsmen in our local sports club. [From this,] we deduced that the operation would target the [Jewish] men. I was staying at home with my sisters, and one of them advised me to escape into the [nearby] forest. I ran out of the kitchen doors, and, after taking several steps, I was near the forest stream. The distance from there to the nearby bushes was several dozen meters.… But I immediately saw the outposts dotting the area. I hesitated, and at that moment I heard my sister's voice, asking me to come back. I returned home, where I saw some new people, including the husband of my little sister, Gelka [Hennek] Schleiffer, with his father, and there was also a woman with her two children, who had come over from the neighboring house. Gelka's father told us that we should except a pogrom, like the one that had taken place in Schodnica sometime previously. He told us that, in all likelihood, the abovementioned people [men] would be shot dead. We decided that the men should hide in the attic, just in case. There were four of us [in the attic], together with my fourteen-year-old nephew, Izia. My little sister Helya [Helena] was seeing us off to the attic. Once we had hidden ourselves, she was supposed to block the entry to the attic with various objects, in order to camouflage us. She was also supposed to bolt the doors. When the pogrom was over, my sisters were supposed to release us. In this shelter, all kinds of items and products were kept for a rainy day. The shelter was located above the veranda, which I myself had begun to build back in 1939, after the death of my parents. Owing to the lack of funds, this construction was still incomplete at the time of the outbreak of war. The attic had no floor; there were only beams, on which the floor was supposed to be laid. The roof was sloping, and we had to sit hunched over, resting our feet against the beams [since there was no floor].… Through the crack between the boards, we saw [in front of us] the fence and the meadow stretching from the road toward the stream. As it turned out later, [the Germans] would use this meadow to carry out the [murder] operation. The meadow could be seen very clearly. Little by little, people from the nearby villages began to gather there. Some of them [had come] out of sheer curiosity, while others began to actively assist the policemen [in herding the Jews to the meadow]. They were running about, coming back with some information, watching the roads and paths – in a word, it was just like the pogrom I had witnessed in Schodnica. The victims were driven in from different directions. In general, they stood there quietly, as though really waiting for the meeting. Only occasionally did we hear the sound of crying, or a rough voice mixed with the echo of blows. There were some [among the group of Jews] who were going there with incredible dignity, as though it were a meeting decreed by fate, and not by degenerates and killers. This group [also] included my neighbor and his daughters, who owned the house (beyond the meadow) where they were all being driven. His last name was Nordlicht. They were [all] sitting in total silence, being in a state of shock. They had thought that this operation would not affect them, since they lived on the other bank of the stream [across from the village of Urycz]. If the course of this operation had been altered and affected our side, our shelter would not have helped us – since, in that case, [the house] would have been thoroughly searched, seeing as the majority of the policemen were local residents [of the village], and knew their neighbors well. They would surely have noticed if some of the Jews had gone missing…. We were distracted from further thoughts by what was going on down there. [Suddenly,] we heard an engine, and saw through the crack that the [Ukrainian] policemen, who were directing the groups [of Jews], began to move. Bending down closer to the crack, I saw a gray-green open military automobile that was entering the meadow, some ten meters from our veranda. Three men in German military uniforms emerged from the automobile. They wore common gray-green uniforms, with boots on their feet, pistols in their belts, and helmets on their heads…, and there is one other detail that I recall with perfect clarity: They had black patches and a skull with crossbones [on their helmets]. I knew that their presence did not bode well, and that they had not come to Urycz for the meeting. Nevertheless, my first reaction was complete calm. One of the Germans moved several steps away from the other two, and a Ukrainian policeman ran up to him. Standing at attention, he saluted him and gave him a report in the Ukrainian language. It was difficult to hear the rest of the conversation between the SS man and the Ukrainian policeman, since their words were drowned out by the loud noise of the crowd [of Jews]. Listening closely, I caught several words in Polish and Ukrainian, definitely not in German. The SS man was standing sideways to me. I saw his left side. His sight made my heart beat faster. I recalled his nickname, "Mentel" [i.e., SS-Sonderführer Pieter Menten]. Despite his [military] uniform, there was no doubt that it was he who was receiving the report. Two-three minutes later, the [Ukrainian] policeman saluted him according to regulations, turned about, and called for his subordinates, who were standing nearby. There ensued a loud conversation between the policemen, and one could understand that they were discussing some new task, which required them to show exceptional diligence. They rushed away from the stream and disappeared from view. I failed to grasp the meaning of this maneuver, [so] I looked at the three Germans who were standing near the automobile.… [Pieter] Menten stood next to the first German. I had recognized him, and was sure that it was him, since I had known him [prior to the war] as a kind-hearted landowner. In the meadow, there was total silence. However, along the fence I could see the silhouettes of men, women and children, who were being herded in the direction of the river [i.e., the stream] and beyond, toward the buildings on the hill. These were the Jewish residents of our sector of the village, who had been driven [to the meadow] later on, after the conversation between the Ukrainian policeman and Menten. We saw these people being pushed out through the doors of the [house] kitchen. They went out without a hint of protest, as though they had been waiting for this very moment. Their path led them through the gates of this house, and then directly uphill. We couldn't see this path from [that angle of] our shelter. I felt an irresistible urge to see my loved ones. [Therefore,] I shuffled, barefoot, along the wooden plank, and, after putting my eye to the crack, I saw the small hill beyond the stream, where the people were assembled. A group of people, mainly women, were being led up the path [to the top of the hill]. [Among this group of women] was my neighbor with her two little children. My eldest sister Alka and her daughter were by her side. They were holding hands, as though taking a regular stroll. She [the sister] had lost her husband and son less than two months earlier, in the pogrom in Schodnica.… My second sister was also [in that group], walking with her twelve-year-old daughter Eni. I also saw the mother and sister of my fourteen-year-old nephew Izia, who was sitting next to me. Suddenly, I heard several distant shots.… I got distracted from my observation. Then, a woman cried out stridently, somewhere nearby.… She was the wife of one of those hiding with us in the shelter; his name was Gelka [Schleiffer]. I could see his wife and two little children only through the crack. The young woman was being prodded along with carbine butts, and screaming stridently. She was warning the others, urging them to save themselves, pleading with [the Ukrainian policemen] to have mercy – at least on the children. In the end, she cursed the perpetrators [of this murder operation], calling them murderers, lackeys, and barbarians. On that day, the eldest brother of her husband was not at home, since he had gone away to bring medicine for the children, and would not return until late in the evening. Thus, he knew nothing of what was happening in Urycz. He had been caught in front of his house and shot dead by the Ukrainian policemen. One could distinctly hear the sound of running footsteps and slamming doors in the house where we were hiding. [These sounds were] followed by the voice of my sister, who was addressing someone by name: " Yanko, what do you want from me? I haven't done anything bad." And then, a voice that was so familiar to me ordered her: "Get out quickly!" [Then,] one could hear several thumps, and I watched the rest of the scene through the crack in the plank. I saw a young man in front of me. He was from the same part of the village where we lived; he wasn't a policeman, but a young civilian, who had been born and raised together with us.… They [his family] claimed to be Poles at some times, and Ukrainians at others. At that particular time, it was more expedient for them to pass themselves off as Ukrainians. Being a local, he knew each [Jewish] family well, and he immediately realized that not all the members of our family had left the house. As the roundup was drawing to a close, he entered our house, where he found our youngest sister, who had hidden and camouflaged us. Thus, the house was emptied of all my loved ones. Our shelter was plunged into silence. We didn't dare give voice to our thoughts, not even in a whisper. We were very close to the command center – and, since the voices [of those below] were clearly audible to us, [we understood] that our own voices would carry easily to those standing below. Silence prevailed in the meadow, as well. The first act of this tragedy was over. For the first time on that day, the ominous silence was shattered by a drawn-out and powerful monotone wail, in different voices, coming from the house on the hill. It seemed to me that the sounds were coming from beyond the grave. I think that it was late in the afternoon, about 3-4 PM. We realized what was about to happen, yet we still had some hope…. Once again, shouts and curt orders rang out below, and these were followed by running feet in the street. Suddenly, we heard a heavy noise on the ladder leading to the attic. My heart was beating loudly, and I feared that we had inadvertently revealed our presence in the attic.… The quick footsteps and other noises made it clear that they were searching for something.… As it turned out, they were looking for shovels. After some time – a very long time indeed for us – they left the attic, as quickly as they had come. Shortly afterward, I saw the civilian auxiliaries below, with shovels and picks on their shoulders. They hefted these implements in the manner of soldiers holding weapons on a march. They crossed to the other bank of the stream, talking and laughing all the while.… I wanted to know the exact location where they were going to dig, so I looked in that direction.… I saw a small group of people in a flat open area, at a distance of no more than fifty meters from this place [the attic]. I also glanced to the right, where an automobile was parked, and saw only two SS men there. I was sitting in my shelter and hearing voices that were coming from afar. It was a constant whine, a mixture of cries and prayers. There, squeezed into the tiny area on the hill, the people were awaiting their tragic end. Again, I heard voices, and through the crack I saw two people dragging a box out of the way. I guessed that it contained disks with cartridges. At the same time, someone ran into our house and came out of it shortly afterward, carrying the small table at which, only a short while before, I had eaten my dinner. [I thought] that this small table would serve as one of the props in the tragedy that was about to begin.… Many years later, former residents of Urycz would tell me that the table was placed in front of the door of the house in which the victims were being assembled. As they approached the execution site, these doomed people would deposit their valuables and other items on this table. I bent down to the crack and saw three SS men, one of whom was putting on white gloves, while another was bending down toward the automobile, taking a weapon out of the case. All three then began to walk slowly toward the stream. One of them held a weapon in his left hand. He walked slowly, his legs wide apart, and he was swinging the weapon, as though it were a light toy; Menten walked by his side, proudly, as might be expected of a high-ranking officer, while the third [SS man] was walking behind him, holding slightly back; a submachine gun hung from his neck, and he held some oblong object in his hand. They were headed toward the house where the [Jewish] residents of the village had been held for the past several hours…. One of our Ukrainian neighbors walked into our house, having waited patiently for almost the entire day – now, he finally had the opportunity to loot our stores of cigarettes, sugar, and vodka. Suddenly, the first, brief volley of gunfire broke the silence, echoing among the mountains and forests. It was followed by further volleys, which rang out at intervals of several minutes; occasionally, one could hear individual shots, or sequences of shots.… I peered again through the crack in the roof, looking at the house on the hill. What I saw dispelled all my doubts. A group of 6-7 people – mostly women, including three girls – were being led away from the house by three armed [Ukrainian] policemen. The house and the road on which the victims were walking had been tightly cordoned off by the [Ukrainian] policemen and their civilian auxiliaries. They [the victims] had already followed the road down to the field that used to belong for many years to the Nordlicht family, who were also the former owners of this apartment [house]. Now, it had become the last refuge of more than 100 people. In the field, on the plot of land that was sloping toward the road, I saw three SS men. An SS man with a weapon was standing in the bushes, against the backdrop of the dark forest. Menten stood a step away from him. The first SS man held a weapon in one hand, moving slowly. The third SS man was also moving [toward the field]. One had the impression that he was helping the first SS man fire his weapon. Menten – who, without a doubt, served as their spiritual and professional mentor – was overseeing their work. He stood with his hands on his hips – calm, motionless, and pleased with the work that was proceeding quietly and smoothly. Occasionally, he would turn his head when yet another group of people approached [the murder site].… It seemed to me that these volleys of shots would never cease. I could no longer hear any cries or prayers. We were all sitting in the attic in a state of shock. It became dark, and the sky was overcast. My brothers in misfortune were sitting motionless, propping their heads on their arms, as though asleep…. [As I was watching the shooting,] I could hardly fail to recognize the silhouette of my sister among the group of adults [being led away to be shot]. However, my glance immediately fell on my twelve-year-old niece, Enya. I recognized her by her two golden braids, her pink skirt, her small bright pinafore, and her way of moving. I would have recognized her anywhere, in whatever condition. I understood that the woman standing next to her was her mother, my sister [Sali, apparently Salomea]…. Straining my eyes, I took another look and saw something extraordinary at the site where they were headed. My sister and Enya, their faces turned toward us, walked away from the main group and approached the SS men who were standing close to us. My sister was holding on to her daughter with one hand, and with the other she passed Menten a piece of paper. He took it, bowed politely, and began to read. This unexpected scene gave me a measure of hope that I would not lose everyone [i.e., all his family members] on that day.… Menten gestured politely to the right, toward the rear of the firing position, and my sister and her daughter went in the indicated direction…. The SS man, who had seemed like a gentleman only a minute before, gave a sign with an ambiguous horizontal swing of his arm, and the first SS man, who had been watching this [scene] with indifference, made a 180-degree turn and fired a brief volley with his machine gun. I felt a stabbing pain in my heart, as though these bullets had hit me as well. It grew dark in the attic, and the volleys of gunfire were now interspersed with some single shots…. When it became completely dark, I heard a female choir singing below. When I looked in that direction, I saw a group of young girls dressed in traditional Ukrainian costumes. Standing around the automobile with the SS men, they were singing and dancing.… We saw that Ukrainian policemen were posted at every house where the Jews used to live. There was a Ukrainian policeman sitting in our house, [too], guarding the loot. Occasionally, we heard single shots coming from afar, reminding us that the [murder] operation wasn't over yet. It was still going on, albeit on a smaller scale.…. [The next day,] the sun was quite high in the sky when we heard the rumble of a horse-drawn carriage. The one-horse conveyance stopped in the meadow in front of the house, where they [the victims] had been sitting. A man whom I knew well got out of the carriage. It was the village headman.… He struck up a conversation with a [Ukrainian] guard, and they discussed the public sale of the property left in the abandoned [Jewish] apartments and houses, wishing to prevent it [the abandoned property] from falling into the hands of looters. The headman turned to the guards, asking them to keep watch over the houses for the next twenty-four hours, making sure that the windows and doors were [properly] closed, and not broken….

…My mother's [maiden] name was Nordlicht.… [The name of my] grandfather was Shlomo – actually, he had two names: Shlomo Yafkov [Nordlicht].… [He lived] in Urycz.… That was a village in the vicinity of Schodnica…. [One day after the beginning of the German occupation,] my mother decided to visit [my grandfather].… After she had passed the Ukrainian quarter [of Schodnica], rocks were hurled at her feet, [along with] a piece of wood [studded] with blades. I told her: "Mother, how can you go out like this?" She told me: "Don't worry, everything is OK. I'll be back at 12 AM-1 PM. I'll be home." [Even today,] I can see her standing by the fence in front of our house in Schodnica; I remember the dress she was wearing. She told me: "Don't be angry [with me], I'll be back."… That same morning, four Germans [i.e., SS men] drove into Urycz; people said that they were riding in an open car. They arrived in Urycz and told the Ukrainians – I think, especially those who were guarding the [local] forests, the forest rangers [sic] – to round up all the Jews [of Urycz]. They were all assembled in my grandfather's house. There was an empty apartment there by that time.… My mother was convinced, as were all the others, that, if something [bad] were to happen, only the men would be targeted. Her cousin went together with her…, [to visit] her aunt, who [likewise lived] in Urycz. My mother turned to her and told her: "Klara, go back to Schodnica and tell all the [Jewish] men to hide."… They [the mother and the rest of the Jews of Urycz] stayed [at the site]. Apparently, a death sentence had been passed on them, as I heard from the Ukrainians, [and as a result] they were all executed. [I was also told] that only the "Shema Yisrael" [the "Hear, o Israel" prayer] was heard from everyone. They didn't scream, didn't cry. They had dug a large pit in the field that belonged to my grandfather…. They dug the pit, and they [the victims] were taken there. My brother told me that he had been informed that the people had been murdered [in groups] of ten with a machine gun. The next day, I waited [for my mother to come back]. I went to our neighbors, and they told me: "You know, your mother can't come back; there is a curfew [in the area]." I accepted [their explanation]. On the next day, my father told me what had happened, that no one had survived. It had rained heavily during the night, and a little piece [of the layer] of soil [over the mass grave] was washed away. So, some men from Schodnica, including my father, were taken there to cover them [the victims in the mass grave] again. Seven members of my family [were killed in this murder operation in Urycz]: My mother, my grandfather, my mother's sister, her two sisters-in-law, and her two cousins.… Everyone [i.e., all the Jews of Urycz] was killed [on that day], except for several young men who had managed to hide.…

…In the [Hebrew] month of Elul [i.e., August-September] of... 1941, [the Germans] rounded up all the Jews from the vicinity of [the villages of] Urycz and Pereprostynya. A pit had been dug, and they were all killed [there] with a machine gun….