Antonie Kinštová

"Then the Germans came and one of each family had to go with horses and sledges to carry the wounded. So two uncles went, my grandfather went, and my mother wouldn't let my father go, so she went. She thought that if a woman went, they would let her go home. But they didn't, and what the men did, my mother did. She carried the wounded with horses and sledges. Then she told me how many times she stood by the horse's head, just feeee, feeee, as the bullets flew past her head. Then it killed her horse. They wanted to give her another one, but she didn't want to. Then she got sick and she lay about seven kilometers from our village with Ukrainians she knew. They all came back and my mother still didn't go. And grandmother, she was already - you could say on her deathbed, very sick. And they all came back, and my mother didn't. She couldn't, she was so sick. The report couldn't be given because there was shooting. You couldn't go between the bullets. It was only after it died down that they brought mom in. And grandma kept saying, 'If only that Luba would come,' and she did, and Grandma really died by morning."

"I think they said we had four hectares. Of what was left, we used to take it to the market in town. We had the advantage of living about three kilometres from the town of Dubno. We went over the hill and we were in Dubno. And there were holes dug on that hill, and during the Germans' time they shot Jews there. I remember they were leading a man, his hands were tied backwards, and the poor man was walking completely bent over, and the Germans were following him with bayonets and so they were leading him. Probably up that hill. That's where they shot them. Lime was thrown in there when we went over that hill. When I was there, I remembered it, what they were lying there, poor things. And after the war, after what happened there, there were these shot horses, bloated... It was a terrible sight when we went to town afterwards. There was shooting across that village."