The heart broken by the tragedy of loss can’t be healed by time? Yes, it turns out, it can happen.
This heart, throughout its long life, carries the terrible weight of the atrocious tragedy. But its pulse stays steady, unbroken.
It’s the sacred duty that forces us constantly to work to remember those whom we couldn’t save.
Persistent spiritual pain forces us not only to always keep the memory alive; but also to do everything in order to preserve the mass graves and the history of the incredible catastrophe that fell on the Jewish people.
It’s important, extremely important, to tell not only about the tragedy; but also about how those, who survived to safeguard the memory. About those who don’t let its candle expire, and by their example, inspire new generations to continue this tradition. About those, who sincerely believe in its supreme importance and honor.
FIVE SPEECHLESS WITNESSES
The
German-occupied town (shtetl) of Ruzhin, of Zhitomir
Oblast in
A few months went by and by the summer, some former inhabitants who fled in 1941 started to return. They all went to work for the town collective farm and small local companies where they worked before the war. A destroyed town slowly started to spring back to life.
I returned
here after demobilization in the Red Army. I arrived during the night, and in
the morning, I met some old acquaintances. They told me what I already knew
from my friends’ letters – about the terrible tragedy that fell upon the
Ruzhiners during the war years. That same morning, my uncle Shulim
Vaysburg and I went to the collective farm field.
There we found the largest mass grave. My uncle, with other farmers from the
collective, had participated in a mass evacuation by foot of the valuable milk
cattle to the
What we saw then before us was a huge grave, densely covered with overgrown grass and shrubs. There were a few small crooked trees and a 2 meter high pole in the center. That pole had been brought and installed by Moisha Sokolovsky, Shulim Vaysberg and Volko Kushnirsky, the collective blacksmith.
“Right here.” – my uncle waved his hand – “Your father and all seven young sons of your sisters were buried...” Unbelievable grief overwhelmed me at that moment. Tears covered my eyes. I couldn’t say a word.
We went into the forest. Here, as well, I found another mass grave in similar neglected condition: smaller than the first one. The women were killed and buried here: my mother, my three sisters, a 16-year old granddaughter, and many, many of someone else’s mothers, grandmothers, sisters… We lingered for a while there, mourning the lost ones and proceeded further into the forest. Then we found a clearing in the forest with 3 smaller mass graves where elderly men had been buried. There were no signs that those pits contained the remains of the victims killed by the German bandits and their local cronies – the bloody killers, robbers who had stolen everything that the victims earned with very hard work.
Heartbroken and restless we came back home in the evening. To my question of why the graves were in such poor condition, the answer came that the local authorities had too many other - more pressing - problems. They didn’t have the time, nor did they have any wish, to take care of these graves. Those few Jews who were still living in Ruzhin were unable to do much, if anything, about the graves.
Some time
passed. Slowly some former Ruzhiners and their close relatives started to visit
the town from
During one of those gatherings it was decided to call September 10th, the day of the biggest and cruelest pogrom, the day of grieving and remembrance: the Yahrzeit. On that day, every year, sometimes more - and sometimes less – people came there to cry, to grieve over the graves, to talk about their well-being and then to leave. The mass graves, however, continued to stay in the same bad condition, without any permanent caretaker. So we finally decided to act. We gathered in my home. There were three of us: Aba Kolb, Shlema Segal and me. We didn’t talk much. There was no sense in making long speeches. What we had to do was to consider our resources, create a plan of action, then find and contact the right people.
First, we decided to clear the graves from grass and other overgrowth. That should have given the graves a more or less respectful appearance. Second, we wanted to construct a fence from concrete posts and iron pipes. Later, we wanted to build monuments. For all these, we needed resources, time and people. Still the most important issue was the people’s commitment to sacrifice their free time: to be ready to offer their skills and work hard, and be ready for financial sacrifices. One morning in July, we started by gathering in my home and drawing a chart, which we filled out with our names and the amount of our donations. Afterwards, we went to all Ruzhiners known to us. I have to note that we found much understanding in every home we approached. People donated as much as they could. By the end of the day, our spirits raised, and we decided to commit all our free days to this sacred undertaking.
Mr. Katz, the engineer of the publishing company where I worked, offered me large assistance. Together, we drew a diagram of those fences and made drawings of the posts. I took those documents to the leader of Ruzhin’s government. We agreed that all the necessary work should be done with local resources, and by those whose relatives had been killed.
A. Kolb and
S. Segal, who worked in the store selling building materials, managed to hire
local construction companies to produce 120 concrete posts, each 1.5 meters
long, gravestones made of crushed marble and the monument of cubic shape with
an engraving on the black marble plaque. Next, we bought metal pipes at a
discount. Lastly we loaded two trucks’ trailers in order to bring all these
materials from
September 1st, 1958 all three of us took vacation days from work, and went to Ruzhin. On the first day, we started working on the graves of our Mothers in the forest. The work was hard. We got some help from Greesha Kolb and Shiya Benditovich, who came there for a few days. The blacksmith, Yosif Rushnirskyh, used brackets to make an iron frame to hold the plates. Next an expert builder constructed the monument. The fence was put together with everybody’s efforts.
All planned tasks were completed by September 9th, the eve of the Day of Mourning. The next morning, September 10th, many more people than during previous years came. First of all, we went to the forest - to the mass grave marked by the monument. In a slow mourning step and respectful silence, with eyes full of tears, we circled the grave. Everyone who came carried the heavy burden of the memory of those who had been with them until so recently, and had filled their lives with joy and happiness. How horrible and anguishing the moment must have been…when they, the innocent, were killed! And why?! What kind of barbarians must those executioners have been, who killed innocent people with such unimaginable cruelty?! What kind of woman could bear and raise those killers?!
Around the mass grave, Nature seemed to be also in mourning. The sky was cloudy and there was a unceasing drizzle.
An old Jew, a former Ruzhiner, recited a prayer with very deep emotion, “El Maleh Rakhamim”. It deeply touched the praying people, wet from rain, standing near the memorial: also wet with cold currents of rainwater.
Kaddish was read.
The rest of the day was spent visiting other mass graves.
In the evening, tired and depressed, we sat down at a long table having some modest food and vodka. We spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper. It seemed as though we were afraid to disturb the eternal sleep of those who are left to stay forever in those cold, wet graves.
Those present liked what we had done and expressed the wish to raise monuments for all other mass graves. They all agreed to collect the funds necessary for financing such an undertaking.
The next
day, everyone left Ruzhin, except for three of us: Aba
Kolb, Shlema Segal and me, as well as two other
people: Greesha Kolb and Shaya
Benditovich. We worked the entire following week,
together with two hired helpers. We were leaving home early
in the morning and coming back late at night. We set up fences for the
other mass graves. We had to level the ground and build a layer of gravel. Manya Chehtah and Shulim Vaysburg offered us their
homes, clean beds and hot breakfasts and dinners. We struggled persistently to
reach our goals. That week, we finished the fences for all mass graves, painted
posts and pipes. And only on September 30th did we leave Ruzhin to
return to our homes in
A week later, we met in my home. I prepared numerous registries, bills, receipts and so on. We went through all of it and did the calculations. Then I opened the purse that was with us everywhere. We found 1000 more rubles there. What should we do next? There was still so much to be done. We had to build and erect the monuments for the other four mass graves.
We agreed to again solicit our fellow countrymen for help. During the following summer, we collected a substantial sum of money. Isaac Pavlotsky, Mikhail Belilovsky, Yakov Yagnyatinsky and others, all then living in Moscow, collected funds from former Ruzhiners, also then living in Moscow.
With these funds, we ordered and built a very beautiful and tall monument made of gray granite. It was placed on the hill overlooking the collective farm field new the eastern entrance of Ruzhin. Later, a town cemetery was established nearby. During the following three years, granite monuments were erected on the other three mass graves.
Now it seemed we could relax. But it didn’t happen that way. We regretted that the mass grave where our Mothers were buried had a very modest monument. It was the first to have been erected, when we had neither enough experience, nor the funds, for something more fitting.
So we decided to re-construct it. The old cube became the foundation; on top, which we placed a beautiful plaque made of black (labrador) stone. That plaque was then inscribed with the following words: “Your Memory is Forever in Our Hearts”. That Spring, we approached the local forestry and received a donation of 20 evergreens. We planted them around the mass grave of our Mothers.
Years have passed. The evergreens have grown very high, and stand in their constant green color…like memorial candles, guarding the peace of the dead.
From the
day when it was permitted for Jews to leave for
We endlessly appreciate the efforts of this woman who has undertaken such a task, very difficult for her old years.
***
For many centuries there existed a Jewish village – the shtetl of Ruzhin. Jews lived and worked there, gave birth, educated and raised their children, and held true, as much as they could, to their religious traditions and culture. Ruzhin still exists, people live there…but there are no longer Jews there. What is left are only those five mass graves, speechless witnesses of a most cruel execution - by the German fascists and their local cronies - of the honest, hardworking inhabitants of the shtetl - whose only fault was that they belonged to the Jewish tribe, the oldest tribe on Earth.
Let their memory never fade in our minds and our hearts. Let them remain with us forever!
Solomon Vaysburg
***
A little about me. I’m 89. Was born and lived in Ruzhin
until 1938. From 1938 until the beginning of the Second World War, I worked as
a typesetter at a publishing company in