…All over the yard there stretched several queues. They lined up all the military men, by fours in a row. We stand and wait. A squad of Romanian soldiers is surrounding us. There are also German SS-men. Around one thousand men were gathered, and outside, waiting – even more. The queue toward the Romanian officer is moving slowly, and he searches every one for the purses and takes the valuables. The clerk sitting by writes the name and the surname. Some people from the queue started to throw away from the purses and into the grass discrediting documents, objects and even pistols. They did it, when the watchmen went aside or were busy.
A noise. The officer hit the registering person two times in the face because he seemed to him not respectful enough.
- Are you a Zhid?! (Romanian)
The one stricken is silent. He falls and shouts for pain:
- I don't understand, what does he want?
- Are you a Jew? – asks the translator.
- There is a cross, to show I am Russian!
They led the stricken one into another convoy, lined up behind the fence, in the open. After that, they started hitting almost everybody around: For the professional booklet, for the Soviet document, for the reason, that he is a "Jew" (pejorative word).
To the brother-in-law there goes a watchman, asking for the pen-knife. The brother-in-law deposits it.
- Are you a Zhid? – Asks the watchman.
- I am Jewish! - Corrects the man.
A hit into the teeth, legs and belly…
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…On the way in the Ghetto she got ill, her physical powers dwindled, the tears of the relatives, the loss of her kinfolks were for her a heavy blow. When deep in autumn we continued to trail the colony in uncertainty, it was clear, that Mama will not go a long way. Granny Hanna, the mother of my mother, asked for help, Papa ran and searched for a doctor, I cried, asked for food. Vain efforts: There was nobody to ask for help – all were helpless, the doctor, whom Papa found, was himself persecuted and nowhere was there to find food….
…When Mama regained consciousness, she asked to lay me next to her. Aware of her situation, perhaps she wanted to warm me up with her feeble body, to whisper to me words of love, perhaps, to part from me? I don't know and I will never know, since the peasant refused to put me on the wagon.
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…The ruins were still smoking, the gates of the surviving enterprises and product-depositories were open, which the citizens returning into town used. In our street a liquor-factory was placed. The citizens carried spirt with buckets, scooped from giant factory tanks. Without shame, they plundered the storehouses with provision and manufactory. Our Mother forbade us to participate in this spontaneous process. Soon the German authorities started to rule order, only this "order" has a specific character: All the men from the ages of 15 till 45 under threat of shooting were offered to be at the registration-point, wherefrom they were directed to the concentration camp "Thrush". At the "Thrush" the Germans selected a large group of representatives of the Jewish intelligentsia and shot them. This was the first evidence, which reached us, not of spontaneous, but of organized massive Nazi killing. Next to our home there were military casernes, where the Germans placed Soviet prisoners of war and did not feed them. I saw through the fence, how the unhappy ones ate up all the grass in the yard. When one of the prisoners crept under the barbed wire, took and apple and returned, he was shot on the spot. Those were the first impressions of the Fascist "new order".
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In the evening I took a firm decision: I run away from this zone, or, as they call it, this colony. I cannot sit here and wait till our Soviet fighters come. Like all the guys in the colony I know – ours are not far. This year, without fail, Odessa will be liberated. But nobody knows, what will be done with us, the guys convicted in the colony, before the retreat. The more so, that in the colony there are no little Jewish boys. I am in their number. We heard from rumors, how the Fascists retreat from towns and settlements and what remains after them.
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At the end of June, 1941 there began the bombing of cities and our family ran into the near-by settlement Ozarnitza. During one of the raids the dam was destroyed, and the irruptive water carried our little house and we remained without clothes and objects necessary for life. During July in Ozarnitza they raided the Jews and seized 28 men, including our father, chased into a synagogue and shot, for being Jewish. The members of the family buried the dead by themselves. Mother lost her milk and our infant brother died of hunger.
Mama dressed me in torn clothes and wiped the face with soot, so the Romanians will not pester me – they raped girls, remaining without a father. To our despair and sorrow there was no limit…
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Sculptor Mary Yuchitilova.
