Murder Story of Proskurov Jews at the Leznevo Fruit-Drying Factory

… At the beginning of December 1942 we heard that the shooting of the Jews who were in the Proskurov ghetto had begun. For this purpose in Leznevo village, located about 3 kilometers from Proskurov (this village doesn't exist anymore; it became a part of the city), on the territory of the fruit-drying factory… pits had been dug. Soldiers [i.e.]POWs, dug these pits.… In these pits the Jews from the ghetto in Proskurov were shot to death, and afterwards we [i.e Jews from the labor camp of Proskurov] were shot to death there as well. I was going to be shot to death. At the end of December 1942 it was my turn to be shot to death. On Saturday a new group of about 100 prisoners was selected from the [labor] camp and taken to Leznevo village. We already knew that our time of death had come. In Leznevo we were held in a large cold shed near the pits that had been dug. It was already evening. On Sunday there were no shootings, the [Ukrainian auxiliary] policemen were resting and perhaps praying to God…. On Monday, early in the morning, trucks with new people arrived. Those were the surviving Jews from the Proskurov ghetto. Whole families with children were brought. They still had good clothes, along with suitcases, bags, and packages with their belongings. They were told that they were going be taken to another place but were taken to the pits. These ones who had just arrived were the first to be shot even though we had arrived [at the site] almost 24 hours earlier. Perhaps they were shot to death first since they were close to the doors of the shed. They were ordered to come out of the shed and on the spot, near the wall, to strip naked. They were ordered to strip the children naked as well. The clothes were put into a single pile. This pile continually grew. Then the [Ukrainian] policemen ordered the adults to line up and separated them from their children, except for the infants whom their mother were holding in their arms. The policemen passed by the rows and made people take off their rings and examined their teeth and pulled out the gold ones. Many people took out their false teeth themselves and handed them over. Those who couldn't take their rings off had their fingers cut off.… The adults and teenagers were shot to death separately [but] in one pit. They were shot in the back of the head. The little children, including nursing infants, were grabbed from the arms of their mothers and just thrown into another pit. When 10-20 children were thrown into the pit, a policeman would fire his submachine-gun [at them] and then throw other ones into the pit. Many children were not killed [immediately]. The ones who were unharmed by bullets froze to death in the pit, along with those who had been wounded. When we were taken out of the shed, I looked at the children's pit. The mass of children were moving, the crying and screaming of the children were heard from the pit. Could one possibly forget that even if one lived for a thousand years?… While the killing of the Jews from the ghetto of Proskurov continued, sometimes even the shooting couldn't be heard because of the sounds of the groaning over the steppe. The crying and desperate screaming of women, the crying of children, and the cursing of men - one couldn't hear all this. We even forgot for a while that we were next [to be shot to death] after these Jews. While this killing was continuing several young girls committed suicide in the attic of the shed. Seeing how the killing was being carried out, in order not to be forced to have to strip naked before the eyes of the executioners and to lie in the pit and get a bullet in the back of the head, several of our brave young girls decided to commit suicide in order not to give this satisfaction to the executioners. From blankets or clothing they quickly made … something like ropes and hanged themselves in the attic. I too decided to hang myself but when I went up to the attic and saw several girls who had already hanged themselves, I couldn't stand it and lost consciousness. When I regained consciousness, I couldn't hang myself. I didn't have the strength for this.... When the shooting of the Jews from the ghetto ended, they turned to us. I was taken to the pit. Wide boards were placed down to the bottom of the pit. The people descended via this board and had to lie down in rows, head to head. When the first row was filled, the next one had to lie down, etc. A [Ukrainian] policeman was standing on the lowest board and shooting everyone in the back of the head. When I was standing near the board, I heard this policeman telling his fellow "take my place my finger can't move any more, it doesn't work." Then when he turned in order to get out of the pit and saw me, he spoke once more to his comrade: "Oh well, this is my neighbor, I have to finish her off myself." This was Bronislav Zhukovskiy. At first I didn't lie down where I was supposed to, but rather began to scream, pleading not to be shot to death, "lie down" – shouted Zhukovskiy – "your life in this world has ended." I closed my eyes and threw myself on top of the bodies. A shot rang out but I didn't feel any pain. I felt that I was still alive. I tried not to move. I heard how, one after other, people were descending via the board, I heard shouting, screaming, crying, and shooting. And then a man fell on top of me, a shot rang out and I felt a sharp pain. I believed that the bullet had gone straight through this man and wounded me. Perhaps I was wounded by the first bullet. I lost consciousness and didn't feel any pain at first. I didn't know how it happened, but I was lying there, aware that I was only wounded, that I was still alive. The pit began to fill up and, since I tried not to move, there wasn't enough air for me to breathe; apparently without knowing what I was doing, I began to pull myself out from under the bodies that were lying on top of me and to reach the top of the pit. Otherwise I would have suffocated. I must have been noticed since a submachine-gun volley rang out right away and I felt a pain in my back. As I realized later, I had been shot from above with a submachine-gun: the bullet didn't hit me but I was wounded by its fragments. Several pieces of flesh were torn from my back. I probably lost consciousness due to the terrible pain and all this horror. I regained consciousness when all this was over. It was quiet: no shooting or crying could be heard. It was late at night. I hardly felt any pain, but I did feel that I was starting to freeze. I began to move the already frozen bodies and reached the top of the pit. It was freezing cold. I couldn't climb out of the pit. It was only half filled and, when the policemen left, they took the board away from the pit. I began to lean the bodies against the wall [of the pit] but they fell down, I again piled them up and eventually climbed out of the pit. But I wasn't saved yet. The guards were standing near a large pile of clothes. Maybe the guards had been left near the pits with the uncovered bodies to prevent people [from the surrounding area] from approaching the site. I was seen immediately and I heard one guard shouting to another: "Look, a kike got out of the pit!" I began to run without knowing where or why. Where could I escape to from two armed policemen when I was totally naked and wounded? Right away bullets whistled by me and then one bullet penetrated my leg; I was lucky that it didn't hit the bone. I fell and the policemen approached me. Since I was covered with blood, they decided that I was already dead, but still one of them struck my head with his rifle butt and I lost consciousness. I regained consciousness again in the pit. Those were the guards who took me and threw me into the pit. I remained alive. I don't know how long I remained unconscious, several hours or several dozen minutes. When I regained consciousness and realized that I was still alive, that I could move, [I realized that] I had to get out of the pit.… During the time I was in the pit and was conscious, I talked to my [dead] mother. It seemed to me that my mother was with me, that she was protecting me from death, keeping me warm. … I again leaned the bodies against the wall [of the pit]. I used them as a kind of stairs and got out of the pit. Then I didn't get to my feet but rather crawled quietly toward the pile [of clothes], put on some items from the top – a boot on one foot, a rubber on the other, somehow wrapped some torn trousers around my head and crawled away. I crawled for a long time and, when I had moved away from the pits and guards, I got to my feet and began walking. My mother had probably asked God to give me strength.…