first cruelty. Afterward, there were many more, but the first is unforgettable.
It happened, if memory serves, in the Zolochiv region which lies along the
Ternopil-Lviv highway (Western Ukraine). The military SMERSH ("Death to Spies", as
military counter-intelligence was named during the war) instructed us intelligence
officers to investigate the cause of death of one of our sabotage units. On the
second or third day, we came upon the tracks of the perpetrators who were responsible
for the death of our comrades, and caught them relaxing in broad daylight in a large
house on a forest farmstead. There were three men sitting around a table with
moonshine and snacks: a thin, tall German, a heavily-armed policeman, and a
fat-faced, unshaven Banderite [Ukrainian fighting for Ukrainian independence] wearing
a service cap with a yellow-light blue [colors of the Ukrainian flag] cockade and
some kind of stripes sewn on his sleeve. It goes without saying: a merry band.
We had to shoot the policeman right there in the house, his abundance of weapons not
helping him a bit. We took the German and the Banderite out into the yard. The
Banderite, a huge man with long hands large as shovels, just stood there with a
crooked smile. On his unshaven face, his eyes darted nervously about like gimlets.
Evidently, the worsening situation was completely unexpected by him and he didn't
know what to do, and couldn't hit upon any course of action. Of course, under
different circumstances, he could have tossed us boys around like puppies, but this
time the inveterate beast could not do so: we were the ones with the weapons.
Oh, yes! By that time, we had seen a lot of these nationalists, as they were
contemptuously called, the "Samostiynyks" ["Independents"] (the motto of the
Ukrainian Nationalists was "For an Independent Ukraine"). These were veritable
beasts, worse than some Fritzes [Germans].
Volodka Seliverstov hit him first, in the solar plexus. The Banderite groaned,
gripped his stomach with his hands, and doubled over like a folding knife. Then
followed a knee upper-cut to the face. A sobbing was heard and the Banderite started
falling backwards. But we didn't let him fall. There were five of us. We stood in
a small circle and knocked him from one to another. We struck silently with backhand
blows, putting into them all our accumulated rage and hatred. We struck viciously,
probably like hunters striking huge and especially dangerous maddened beasts. By the
time the Banderite's face was turned into a bloody-hairy pulp, we were exhausted.
The Banderite slumped to his knees, then fell flat on his face. We shot him. The
German, we delivered safely across the front line and turned him over to the SMERSH
people. (We followed the same practice afterwards. When police, Banderites,
Vlasovites, or Germans fell into our hands, we usually delivered the latter
untouched, but the traitors we executed ourselves on the spot.)
[...]
The original of the beginning of Israel Roitman's article appears below, the portion
translated above shown enclosed in a box:
I Expand My Summary Table Once Again
The table which I have been developing in my previous three letters to you can now be
elaborated with the Israel Roitman entry. As Roitman gives no dates for his crimes, I
conjecture that they began in 1941; as Roitman could have continued his service in the
Soviet secret police for several decades, there is no telling what span of time his
crimes occupied:
Date of my letter
Subject of my letter
Date of Attack