Last Witnesses : An Oral History of the Children of World War II

“WHOEVER CRIES WILL BE SHOT…”

Vera Zhdan FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. NOW A MILKER.

I’m afraid of men…I have been ever since the war…

They held us at gunpoint and led us into the woods. They found a clearing. “No,” says the German, shaking his head. “Not here…” They took us farther. The polizei say, “It would be a luxury to leave you partisan bandits in such a beautiful place. We’ll leave you in the mud.”

They chose the lowest spot, where there was always water. They gave my father and brother shovels to dig a pit. My mother and I stood under a tree and watched. We watched how they dug the pit. My brother took one last shovelful and looked at me: “Hi, Verka!…” He was sixteen years old…barely sixteen…

My mother and I watched how they were shot…We weren’t allowed to turn away or close our eyes. The polizei watched us…My brother didn’t fall into the pit, but bent double from the bullet, stepped forward, and sat down next to the pit. They shoved him with their boots into the pit, into the mud. Most horrible was not that they were shot, but that they were put down into the sticky mud. Into the water. They didn’t let us cry, they drove us back to the village. They didn’t even throw dirt over them.

For two days we cried, mama and I. We cried quietly, at home. On the third day that same German and two polizei came: “Get ready to bury your bandits.” We came to that place. They were floating in the pit; it was a well now, not a grave. We had our shovels with us, started digging and crying. And they said, “Whoever cries will be shot. Smile.” They forced us to smile…I bend down, he comes up to me and looks me in the face: am I smiling or crying?

They stood there…All young men, good looking…smiling…It’s not the dead, but these living ones I’m afraid of. Ever since then I’ve been afraid of young men…

I never married. Never knew love. I was afraid: what if I give birth to a boy…