1. Juli 1941
We reach the next town. It's Bobrka. Also here anger and indignation prevail among the Ukrainian population. Here, too, persecution of the Jews is in progress. They have just stoned a Jew. After he collapsed by the corner of a wall, he was abandoned and left to his fate. There he lies, bleeding, half unconscious. His breath panting and spasmodic. He has red hair and it is said that he was one of the worst. Some Jews have locked themselves in the house we are standing in front of. Then the Ukrainians set the house on fire. In the meantime, however, an elder has been informed, arrives in a hurry and orders the fire to be extinguished. That is what happens. But now the besiegers break the windows, break the front door and enter the house. Soon we hear blows and the screams of women. I look through the broken windows into the living room. There is an old Jew with a long grey beard sitting in an armchair, rigid and upright, looking at me with a piercing gaze. Another Jew, also with a long grey beard, tries to leave the house. He's spotted, and some men grab him by the kaftan, laughing, knock him to the ground and then run away because other events have attracted their attention. The Jew remains lying in the street with his face in the dirt and looks around carefully with just one eye, looking for his tormentors. But they suddenly come back and attack him again with stones and kicks. They drag the now-unconscious man into a meadow and leave him there. In the meadow there's a civilian, wearing the armband of an auxiliary policeman and armed with a shotgun. A German militia man joins him. I gather from his gestures that he wants to persuade the policeman to give the Jew the coup de grâce. The young man obviously refuses, but his compatriot refuses to stop perstering him until the boy goes up to the Jew, puts the gun on him and misses. But the stubborn compatriot persuades him until the auxiliary policeman finally holds the shotgun to the Jew's head for a second time, hesitantly and reluctantly, and pulls the trigger. We observed this process from the street. When I leave I remind myself of the dreadful crime of the Jews when they cried out to Pilate as Christ was condemned: "His blood be on us and our children!" The Lord has paid them back.
(Translation: R. Hargreaves)