I'm Arkadiy Belenkiy. I died in the Fall of 1941 @ Babiy Yar near Kiev. I was 17. Never had a chance to get married, have kids. Never had a chance to fall in love.
But I wasn't innocent - I was Jewish. That was enough…
They made me dig a big grave and cover the bodies of those killed before me with soil. And then they shot me. I felt almost no pain. There was little pain left to feel.
My father, Samuel Belenkiy, was among the next group. He covered my body with soil and mud and then he, himself, fell dead in the grave. My entire family followed. There is nobody left of my family. But you can't forget what happened to us or it will happen to your family...
I'm Sonya Friedman. I died in the Summer of 1941 in Brody, a small town in Westrern Ukraine. I was 20, I had been married for 2 months to a wonderful man - Izik Umanskiy from Zhitomir. I loved him very much. We planned to have a happy family and at least 3 kids. Then came the war. Germans had different plans for us. My loving husband was led away to work in a slave labor camp many miles from Brody. I was severely beaten, raped, and then shot to death the following morning by a zonderkommanda that operated in our area. I don't know what happened to Izik. But I hope he never found out what happened to me...
You know what happened to me. Don't let it happen to anybody. Ever.
I'm Moshe Perelman. I died in the Summer of 1942 in Vitebsk. I was 73. My wife of 51 years, a very smart, sweet, caring woman, Sara, died in 1940. I was a proud man. I was a veteran of Russo-Japanese War in 1904-1905 and WWI in 1914-1918 and was a field doctor in Red Army during a Russian Civil War. As people would tell you, I was the best doctor in Vitebsk. I was shot by a German officer for not giving up a small golden medallion with a picture of my late wife. This was my only remaining memory of her. I was not about to give it up...
Protect the memory of us or our plight will mean nothing...
