officials who had attended the meeting the day before were gathered around the platform. The county Party commissar sat behind a table covered with bright red cloth, speaking into a specially installed telephone. Flanking him were Thousander Zeitlin and Comrade Pashchenko, the new chairman of the village soviet. On the platform stood GPU and MTS Commissars, facing the square.
Several hundred farmers, women, and children, were milling around in small groups. Screams and laments rose from the crowd; children cried; men loudly protested; the sick and weak ones groaned and called for help.
But no one listened to them, and there was no way out. The square was carefully guarded. Closer examination showed us that it was surrounded by GPU soldiers.
All the arrested villagers were divided into small groups, each assigned to certain spots. Special gunmen, chosen from among komnezam and Komsomol members, watched the groups dutifully.
The military truck that had brought the GPU soldiers stood at a considerable distance from the crowd. Horses were hitched to the sleighs and were ready to be set in motion at any moment.
We quickly sighted our relatives; the three families were gathered together. All of them were standing except for old Uncle Havrylo, who sat on the snow. His wife was sobbing beside him.
A cold wind blew snow on the unfortunates, who were not properly dressed, for they had not been allowed to take warm clothing with them. We wanted to help somehow, and since we could assume that they would be banished to Siberia, we had to get them some heavy clothing.
As I was about to leave for home to gather these things, the noise in the square began to grow louder. The ones who had been sitting stood erect, and the protesting ones raised their voices. The various small groups combined in a spontaneous reaction.
The crowd converged on a line of officials. The guardsmen in front of the officials opened fire once or twice, but the line broke, and the officials disappeared in the mass. Another moment and the square would have been empty. Then, at someoneâs signal, a machine gun opened fire. Bullets crisscrossed over and through the square. Vykonavtsi and GPU soldiers fired their shotguns and rifles; the screams, shouts, and protests mingled with the bursts of firearms.
The crowd gave way, and order was restored. A few dead lay scattered in the square. We learned later that three villagers died there.
After a while, we saw the cause of the outburst. Under careful supervision of soldiers, a score of sleighs moved into the square. They were to take the arrested farmers out of the village. Loading of six to eight persons to a sleigh started immediately, controlled through the use of a list. Kinship, age, sex, and health were not taken into consideration. As a result, husbands were separated from their wives, and children from their parents. The old and sick had to share sleighs with strangers.
As one sleigh moved to join a column, a young man sprang from it and raced toward another sleigh in which his helpless and weeping wife and children were riding. The father obviously wanted to be with his family, but he did not reach them. Comrade Pashchenko, the chairman of the village soviet who was supervising the whole action, raised his revolver and calmly fired. The young father dropped dead into the snow, and the sleigh carrying his widow and orphans moved on.
The loading took about half an hour. Some fifty sleighs lined up one after another, with the leading one pointed toward the district seat. Military wagons armed with the machine guns were placed at the front, in the middle, and at the end of the sleigh train. One civilian gunman was assigned to every two or three sleighs. Some militiamen and GPU men followed the train on horseback.
The commissars and the village officials happily chatted among themselves as this parade passed the speakersâ platform. The dead still lay in the road, frightening the horses.
As soon as the
Several hundred farmers, women, and children, were milling around in small groups. Screams and laments rose from the crowd; children cried; men loudly protested; the sick and weak ones groaned and called for help.
But no one listened to them, and there was no way out. The square was carefully guarded. Closer examination showed us that it was surrounded by GPU soldiers.
All the arrested villagers were divided into small groups, each assigned to certain spots. Special gunmen, chosen from among komnezam and Komsomol members, watched the groups dutifully.
The military truck that had brought the GPU soldiers stood at a considerable distance from the crowd. Horses were hitched to the sleighs and were ready to be set in motion at any moment.
We quickly sighted our relatives; the three families were gathered together. All of them were standing except for old Uncle Havrylo, who sat on the snow. His wife was sobbing beside him.
A cold wind blew snow on the unfortunates, who were not properly dressed, for they had not been allowed to take warm clothing with them. We wanted to help somehow, and since we could assume that they would be banished to Siberia, we had to get them some heavy clothing.
As I was about to leave for home to gather these things, the noise in the square began to grow louder. The ones who had been sitting stood erect, and the protesting ones raised their voices. The various small groups combined in a spontaneous reaction.
The crowd converged on a line of officials. The guardsmen in front of the officials opened fire once or twice, but the line broke, and the officials disappeared in the mass. Another moment and the square would have been empty. Then, at someoneâs signal, a machine gun opened fire. Bullets crisscrossed over and through the square. Vykonavtsi and GPU soldiers fired their shotguns and rifles; the screams, shouts, and protests mingled with the bursts of firearms.
The crowd gave way, and order was restored. A few dead lay scattered in the square. We learned later that three villagers died there.
After a while, we saw the cause of the outburst. Under careful supervision of soldiers, a score of sleighs moved into the square. They were to take the arrested farmers out of the village. Loading of six to eight persons to a sleigh started immediately, controlled through the use of a list. Kinship, age, sex, and health were not taken into consideration. As a result, husbands were separated from their wives, and children from their parents. The old and sick had to share sleighs with strangers.
As one sleigh moved to join a column, a young man sprang from it and raced toward another sleigh in which his helpless and weeping wife and children were riding. The father obviously wanted to be with his family, but he did not reach them. Comrade Pashchenko, the chairman of the village soviet who was supervising the whole action, raised his revolver and calmly fired. The young father dropped dead into the snow, and the sleigh carrying his widow and orphans moved on.
The loading took about half an hour. Some fifty sleighs lined up one after another, with the leading one pointed toward the district seat. Military wagons armed with the machine guns were placed at the front, in the middle, and at the end of the sleigh train. One civilian gunman was assigned to every two or three sleighs. Some militiamen and GPU men followed the train on horseback.
The commissars and the village officials happily chatted among themselves as this parade passed the speakersâ platform. The dead still lay in the road, frightening the horses.
As soon as the
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