Ukrainian „partisans”, including locals, slaughtered over a dozen Polish families, 92 people. „Children were abused in particular – the smallest ones were drowned in wells, the rest were thrown into a potato shed and covered with earth, some were killed with” rifle butts.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „75th anniversary of the genocide – July 1943”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: Siemaszko Władysław, Siemaszko Ewa, „The genocide perpetrated by Ukrainian nationalists on the Polish population of Volhynia 1939 - 1945”, in: Warsaw 2000, p. 338—339

Konstanty Jeżyński, a 17‑year‑old boy, lives with his family in the village of Aleksandrówka. He goes to school with his Ukrainian friends. Once Konstanty is standing with his friends in the church. He listens to Pop's speech. „Christians, Ukrainian brothers, it is your duty to fuck Poles and there will be an independent Ukraine. And for this slaughter I bless you” hears. He's running home. He tells about everything to his parents and neighbors. There is a commotion in the village. On July 15, 1943, members of the UPA will slaughter entire Polish villages in the vicinity of Lutsk. „They tied barbed wire around my brother's neck, tied them to the horse's saddle and dragged him to the nearby” forest, he says. Konstanty's neighbor is murdered by her Ukrainian husband, and with her their children. Only because she was Polish.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „75th anniversary of the genocide – July 1943”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: portal: stankiewicze.com — web page: www.stankiewicze.com [accessible: 2010.01.01]

„In the Aleksandrówka colony, the Ukrainians ordered the people to gather under one hut. Then they started shooting at the crowd. Little children were thrown into the well. The older ones gathered in the basement and threw a grenade into it. Teresa Radziszewska's uncle watched them hidden in the hedge. Later he related how one of the Bandera followers snatched a child from his mother's hands and smashed his head against the edge of the cottage. He pierced the mother with a pitchfork. On that day, the UPA killed 92 people in Aleksandrówka. – Our family escaped alive then, because we did not go to the” hut – says Teresa Radziszewska.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „75th anniversary of the genocide – July 1943”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: „Recollections of those who survived”, portal: Volhynia of our forebearers — web page: www.nawolyniu.pl [accessible: 2021.04.11]

In 1943 (I was ten at the time), our village of Aleksandrówka in Volhynia was painfully affected by several attacks by Ukrainian „resuns” [butchers] coming from our and neighboring villages. The most tragic of them took place on July 15 at about 9 pm  […] I remember exactly how my parents approached us, to the four children, saying that the gang is very close and we have to flee the village. Desperate, they said goodbye to us in a hurry. My father put on the knots prepared by my mother / instead of money, which was not in the house robbed by the war / a bottle of moonshine, saying that when we are hungry, someone will give us a slice of bread or a plate of hot food for it. We ran in different directions. When I got to the wheat bed, a shot was fired and my leg felt terrible. A rifle bullet passed through the foot. Stunned by a gunshot, I fell and began to crawl through the grain to the nearest high bay, under which I dug a hole and lay there until dawn. Until the morning we could hear the sounds of shooting and terrifying screams of people tortured and murdered. The leg hurt worse and worse. I was close to fainting. Then I remembered about the vodka in the bundle. I made a dressing from a shirt soaked in alcohol. I scattered the ground next to the dug hole in handfuls over the grain so that no one could guess that someone was under the copper. Day after day, the meager supply of food was exhausted and my hunger and thirst began to bother me more and more. My drink was moonshine, and my food was grains from the ears of cereals. After a week, on Sunday or Monday – I don't remember exactly – I heard noises in the village. After a while I recognized the voice of a Ukrainian woman – Ulana Sidor, our neighbor, with whom my parents lived well, and I even called „aunt”. Hungry and sore, I dared to go to her, but I couldn't stand on my injured leg, which was swollen and hurt a lot. With difficulty I crawled to the nearby yard where the „aunt” was and with tears in my eyes I started asking her for a piece of bread. She looked at me menacingly and with hatred in her eyes she blurted out: „You, Polish mug, are you still alive ?!” Then she grabbed the hoe by the wall. I didn't feel the pain of my injured leg out of fear, I just jumped up and started running away. A vengeful Ukrainian woman, chasing after me, lost my trace. She must have thought that I had escaped onto the road, and I, wandering between the buildings, returned to my hiding place in the grain under the copper. My leg was so swollen and it hurt so much that I couldn't move. There was no foot visible under the swelling. I ate only grains of grain and, praying constantly as my mother had taught me, thought more and more about death. Most likely, after eleven days, the Ukrainians decided to clean up after this attack, because there was an amazing stench of decaying bodies all around. So they went from yard to yard, along paths and through grain crops, and when they found a dead man, they buried him on the spot. The persecutors were getting closer and closer to me, and I was terrified, I didn't know what to do, and at that moment I heard the voice of one of the Ukrainians, with whom my parents always lived in harmony with me. His name was Harasym Łukajczuk. He walked slowly and discreetly said to me: „Don't get out of here, they might not notice you. I'll come for you tonight. Your brother is already with me at”. He walked on, and I was lucky because no one else came near my hideout. In the evening, Łukajczuk, as promised, came to me. He put me in a sack, slung me over my back and carried me to his house. In the room, he inspected the shot leg. It was very swollen and all red. After thinking about it, he decided that you should not delay, you should only go to the hospital, to Kowel. A Ukrainian, Łukajczuk, bound my face with a handkerchief and put me in the so–called a maniac who feeds horses during a stop. Then he covered me with his side and put me on the cart. On the other hand, my hidden brother Stanisław, who had been wounded in the beard while escaping from the rezunami, sat down next to him and we set off. When we reached the Świniarzyński Forest, bandits jumped out of the bushes and began to question the coachman, where and why is he going. Our savior, Harasym Łukajczuk, explained to them that he was taking a very sick son to the doctor and pointed to my brother. The Rezuni believed him and let us go. This is how we happily reached Kowel, where we were admitted to a crowded hospital, and I was operated on. My brother recovered earlier and was discharged from treatment, I stayed longer. After about 20 days, my mother came to visit me, about whom I had not known anything for a long time. Unfortunately, my mother could not stay with me any longer, because she had left my father and siblings hidden in the forest, near our house. One day the doctor announced that the leg would be fine, because it would not heal and it would have to be cut off. I cried terribly, but what could I do? On the same day, my savior, Łukajczuk, came to the hospital. The message he gave me had me completely killed. My parents, brother and sister were brutally murdered. The parents, aware of the fact that they had always lived in exceptional harmony with all The Ukrainians and had no quarrels with anyone, left the forest and returned to the village. On the same day (August 29, 1943 – S. Ż.), Local rezuni surrounded our house, broke in and first stabbed my 11‑year‑old sister Irena with bayonets. Later, they started bullying my mother. The father broke free from the hands of the torturers and stood up for her. Then one of the Ukrainians shot him. They then abused their 13‑year‑old brother Henryk for a long time before giving up his ghost. They were all buried in a chest of drawers in a burnt barn. they left the forest and returned to the village. On the same day (August 29, 1943 – S. Ż.), Local rezuni surrounded our house, broke in and first stabbed my 11‑year‑old sister Irena with bayonets. Later, they started bullying my mother. My father broke free from the torturers' hands and stood up for her. Then one of the Ukrainians shot him. They then abused their 13‑year‑old brother Henryk for a long time before giving up his ghost. They were all buried in a chest of drawers in a burnt barn. they left the forest and returned to the village. On the same day (August 29, 1943 – S. Ż.), Local rezuni surrounded our house, broke in and first stabbed my 11‑year‑old sister Irena with bayonets. Later, they started bullying my mother. The father broke free from the hands of the torturers and stood up for her. Then one of the Ukrainians shot him. They then abused their 13‑year‑old brother Henryk for a long time before giving up his ghost. They were all buried in a chest of drawers in a burnt barn. They then abused their 13‑year‑old brother Henryk for a long time before giving up his ghost. They were all buried in a chest of drawers in a burnt barn. They then abused their 13‑year‑old brother Henryk for a long time before giving up his ghost. They were all buried in a chest of drawers in a burnt barn.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „75th anniversary of the genocide – July 1943”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: Wira Paweł, „Account of Leokadia Skowrońska”; in: „Bulletin”, in: No. 5

Orthodox feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary: during the second attack, over 30 Poles were murdered.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „The 75th anniversary of the genocide – August and the summer of 1943”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

The UPA murdered a family of five. „When on July 16, 1943 the Ukrainians were murdering the inhabitants of the Aleksandrówka colony in the Kovel district, nine‑year‑old Teresa Radziszewska survived the slaughter hidden in the barn of Paweł Kyc, a Ukrainian neighbor. Sometimes she regretted being saved, or didn't care. When her parents died two months later, she did not know what to live for. – My parents wanted to cross the Bug River, to escape to their family in the Zamość region. My heart broke in despair when Dad asked if I would stay with Grandma. I nodded yes. I didn't want to be a burden. He remembers his father walking in the pouring rain, carrying his three‑year‑old sister. The pregnant mother had a brother and a half in her arms. At the end, five‑year‑old Henio walked with his head bowed. When she heard the shots she realized she would never see them again. Then she wandered for a long time with her grandmother towards the town. Ukrainian villages full of peasants were bustling about in the farmyards. There were carts on the roads, the men had pitchforks and scythes, their sleeves were rolled up and they were splashed with blood. As they passed through Polish villages, her grandmother made her look away. But still she saw children stacked on rails, people with ripped bellies lying by the houses. Grandma warned me not to say anything when they passed someone on the road and not show fear. Needless to say, she was so dull that she couldn't speak and couldn't feel anymore”.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „75th anniversary of the genocide – September 1943”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: Narbut Maja, „Pigtail splattered with blood” — web page: historia.uwazamrze.pl [accessible: 2021.04.11]

Radziszewska recalls that day. – Although it was already September 4, I am still barefoot, in a thin dress. My parents came to us at the barn, my mother brought me a sweater. I said goodbye to my parents, I cried a lot. I wanted my brother to stay, but he didn't. He said he was afraid, and they left with Dad. On the same day they heard shots. Grandma said right away: „Our children are dying”. The Ukrainian who kept them denied it. However, he went to check. He comes to us and sees that I am crying. Grandma asks: „What, our kids are dead? Say, let us know”. He says: „They killed you motherfuckers!” – Teresa Radziszewska is crying. Years later, when she came to Aleksandrówka to find the grave of her parents, she found out how they died. One of the Banderites noticed them and stopped them. They knew each other because they were almost neighbors. – Mom asked them not to kill them. Then she realized it wouldn't do any good. So she begged them to kill her and her husband first, so that they would not have to watch their children die. They knelt and prayed. Then they killed them. Teresa and her grandmother were saved by a Ukrainian acquaintance. She dressed the old lady in a Ukrainian striped skirt. On the way, they saw children stuck on fences, nailed to the door. Grandma warned us not to look around. However, it was hard not to look at the dead bodies lying around. They also encountered rezuns returning from action. They were bloody, but they sang as they rode in carts. They stopped and eats. – The Ukrainian woman says: „Don't show that you are afraid of”. But it didn't matter to me. I knew my parents were gone. – My grandmother kept her blood cool and convinced in Ukrainian that they were going to a friend from a neighboring village. Radziszewska is convinced that her life was saved by the rosary. Dad brought it for her from Częstochowa. She put the rosary in her pocket as she set off. Teresa Radziszewska went to Ukraine after 49 years. Thanks to the help of the Ukrainians, she found her parents' grave: – Something strange has happened. In these swamps, on this grave a wild rose was planted. How did it get there? After all, it did not grow anywhere. She exhumed the remains in 1991. – Both parents were lying and the children were thrown to their feet. I picked up every skull. My mother's hair was still hanging on because her braids were so coiled. And after 49 years I brought them to Zamość. Thanks to the help of the Ukrainians, she found her parents' grave: – Something strange has happened. In these swamps, on this grave a wild rose was planted. How did it get there? After all, it did not grow anywhere. She exhumed the remains in 1991. – Both parents were lying and the children were thrown to their feet. I picked up every skull. My mother's hair was still hanging on because her braids were so coiled. And after 49 years I brought them to Zamość. Thanks to the help of the Ukrainians, she found her parents' grave: – Something strange has happened. In these swamps, on this grave a wild rose was planted. How did it get there? After all, it did not grow anywhere. She exhumed the remains in 1991. – Both parents were lying and the children were thrown to their feet. I picked up every skull. My mother's hair was still hanging on because her braids were so coiled. And after 49 years I brought them to Zamość.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „75th anniversary of the genocide – September 1943”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: Rybak Agnieszka; in: „Do Rzeczy - History”, in: No. 5/2013