It was two days before the massacre of the Jews of our town, that is, August 27, 1942.  When I found out that they were digging graves behind the town, I went five kilometers away, with my wife and two children, to a peasant, Andrei, whom we had known before everything changed.  Trying to leave the shtetl, we were caught by two Ukrainian policemen.  But we managed to ransom ourselves out of their hands for two watches, because one of the policemen was an acquaintance of mine.  We arrived at the home of the peasant, who took us in, of course, being well paid [.....] 

On Friday, after the shooting, the peasant came with the bad news that they had murdered all the Jews, even the workers that the killers had wanted to leave out, but who chose to share the fate of their neighbors.  The peasant told us that he ran too much risk in keeping us, and could not continue. He advised us to go to the woods, and he would bring us food.  Having no other choice, we went into the woods.  For a week we lived there in great hunger, eating only berries; the peasant brought no food. 

Once my son went back to the peasant to ask for food.  He gave him a bit of potato, scarcely enough for one person. 

Our situation was hopeless, desperate.  I couldn’t watch the children die of hunger. I would lie with my head covered and cry, unable to endure the misery of the children.  I considered hanging myself.  The children understood my thoughts and kept watch on me.

Once while standing guard, I discerned four Ukrainians with our peasant in the lead, riding on horses in our direction.  The peasant had led them to kill us, in order to be free of us and have the use of all our belongings.  At the same time I saw in the distance two Jews from our town, who had surrendered themselves voluntarily to the Germans.  The Ukrainians captured them and shot one of them.  The other one ran away.  [I think it says he lived and tells where he ended up. ]

Realizing the situation, I shouted to my wife and children, “Run!”  And we started running, oblivious of our weakened condition.  They ran after us and fired at us.  Still we managed to escape into the woods.

We stayed in the woods till nightfall, and then we went two kilometers away, to a Pole who let us in and gave us a piece of bread with a cucumber.  He let us rest until two in the morning, and then woke us so we could go on.  Suddenly a Jew from our town, Shlomo Appelboim, came in with the Pole.  He kissed us joyfully, because he had heard that we’d been shot.  He soon left us; he was looking for his son, from whom he had gotten separated.

We went twelve kilometers farther, to a village called Radzishon.  We went past a town where Germans were quartered.  On the way we met peasants. [Can’t read this; I think they were looting.] As we were walking, my daughter fell in a ditch and I barely managed to pull her out of the water alive.  Because of the child, we had to stop at a peasant’s house, an acquaintance called Amsunciuk, who gave us food and took us to another peasant. 

That one told us that Ukrainians that day, with his son at the head of them, had caught a Jewish family called Chonie from the village of Chinocie and turned them over to the Germans, who beat them up and then shot them. The Ukrainians had received clothes and boots as a reward.  Seeing that we were in danger from this person, I decided to put him off the scent.  I said to him that we were going to turn ourselves in to the Germans.  He led us out and on the way he asked us not to stray, and maybe we’d save ourselves. 

When the peasant left us, we turned off the road, deeper into the woods, and we came to a Polish colony called Ruta Stepanska.  We went in there, to a Pole we knew.  He didn’t let us in, saying “This is your fate, ordained by God, and I can’t perish along with my family for your sake.”

So as we were going to our end, I asked a Pole, Tomasz Zawadski, where there was deeper water.  He was surprised and asked why I wanted to know.  I told him the whole truth, that we were going to drown ourselves because we had no other way out.  The Christian was indignant and said it was sinful and we should not even think of such a thing.  He immediately gave us his food, which his wife had brought to him where he was working.  (He was secretly distilling whisky in the field..)  Then another Christian came, Josik Turowsky.  They led us out of the woods and consulted together where to hide us.  Suddenly we saw Poles close by.  We scattered and we were alone again.  But in the evening Albiniuk Turova came and gave us a blanket and a basket of food.  Another person brought potatoes, a third brought more food; but each was very cautious in helping us.  [I think it says they didn’t ask us to pay. ] 

The children started knitting sweaters for the peasants.  Winter was coming on.  The peasants built us a booth in the forest  [name here?] on an island that was surrounded by mud and hard to get to. [Translator’s note: Vladimirets and its environs are not far from the Pripet Marshes.  Some of the stories in Sefer Vladimirets talk about how damp and unhealthy these woods were to hide in.] When a police raid was heard of, we were moved for the time to another place.

Once Tomasz Zawadski came running to tell us to save ourselves.  At midnight a couple of Poles came and led us to a second hut.  The Germans had heard that in the region there was a detachment of 20,000 partisans.  A hundred policemen and three German gendarmes were coming to investigate if it was true.  They asked a peasant (who happened to belong to the partisans, who were based not far away) and he answered, “Where are you going?  There are 20,000 partisans in there with tanks.”  They ran away.