On Christmas Eve „on December 24, 43, the manager of the NN mine and one worker of NN” were murdered.

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

source: prof. dr hab. Jankiewicz Leszek S., „Supplement to the list of losses of the Polish population provided by Stanisław Jastrzębski for the Lubelskie Voivodeship (2004)”; in: Listowski Witold (ed.), „OUN-UPA genocide in the South-Eastern Borderlands”, in: Kędzierzyn-Koźle 2016, vol. 8

„On Saturday, March 25, 1944, late in the evening, on his way back from the mill, Glazer Franciszek, 50, was beaten up on the road and then murdered with a shot to the head. Before the war, he was the President of the Riflemen Association 'Strzelec'. His body was taken home by Antoni Matusiak (my father). The next night, the same murderers attacked the house, which they plundered and burned with the body of the murdered. His wife, having been informed about the planned attack, did not stay overnight at home and survived. It was a 'warning' signal for the Poles”.

source: Załęczny Jolanta, „Murders not only in Volhynia”, Józef Matusiak memoirs, October 2004; in: „Independence and memories”, in: No. 3—4 (43—44), 2013 — web page: bazhum.muzhp.pl [accessible: 2021.05.30]

During his return from work at the mill, 50‑year‑old Ferdynand Glazer, the former president of the Riflemen's Association, was beaten and murdered.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „Calendar of the genocide – March 1944”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

The author of the memoirs [Józef Matusiak] lived in the village of Dżurów, where  […] most of the farms belonged to the Ukrainian population, there were maybe 20–25 Polish farms  […] He repeatedly emphasized that until 1939 relations between Poles and Ukrainians were good, only later they changed  […]
„In mid–August 1941, the Ukrainian authorities forced Polish youth to leave for a forced labor in Germany. My father managed to exchange my trip for a work in a coal mine in the nearby village of Trościaniec. Sister Marysia (born 1927) worked in the manor estate as a kitchen assistant. I worked in the mine until the Banderites attacked my home village  […]
The day was gloomy, misty and the field was still covered with a thin layer of snow. The service in our chapel did not take place because the parish priest had not allowed his vicar to go to Dżurów for fear of Ukrainian gangs. The German military police left the village. Only the Ukrainian police, cooperating with gangs, remained  […]
That day, in the late afternoon, I noticed Ukrainian youth marching in a column near the People's House. It was evident that they were carrying weapons hidden under sheepskin coats and mantles. In the evening, my father noticed armed Ukrainian patrols walking around the village. Our family feared an attack on Polish farms. My father ordered me and my sister to hide with a trusted Ukrainian neighbor in a hay barn and sleep there that night. I thought we should all leave our house for the night together. However, it did not happen. We stayed at home, dressed and ready to flee. Around 11pm, tired of waiting, we fell asleep.
Suddenly I woke up, heard rifle shots. I saw a glow of fire through the window. It was the manor buildings and heaps of straw in the field that were burning. I realized that this fire was probably a signal for an attack on Polish homes. And I was not mistaken. I saw armed men running from the street towards our house. I woke up my father, mother and sister immediately. The attackers first shot our dog, who was barking, tied at the kennel. Then they broke the windows of our house and started shooting inside the apartment. I saw a dozen or so rifle barrels in the windows. Father was killed with a shot right away. Then the mother came out from under the table and asked a Ukrainian she knew [in Ukrainian]:
«Khrytsyo, for what did you kill him?»
Then he angrily replied:
«I am not Khrytsyo, I don't know you! Me from Bukovyna».
It was our neighbors' son, H. Hrywaczuk, who went to school with me. At that moment, the second Banderite shot my mother straight in the head. Mother was badly injured, she was raging in agony  […]
After this shooting, I crawled under the bed. The Banderites were looking for my sister and me in wardrobes and in the corners of the apartment. Fortunately, they did not look under the beds. I just waited for them to find me and kill me. I was paralyzed, unable to think and run away.
There was a moment of silence! I heard a conversation in Ukrainian that Jozek and Marysia were still to be there. They started shooting at rooms, including the attic. At the same time, the Bandera followers began to plunder the apartment and took out everything they could. I knew many of them by their voice, they were local Ukrainians, including my schoolmates. From the conversations I sensed that most of them were drunk.
After a while, they left the house. A few minutes later one of the Banderites returned and shot my injured mother dead with a rifle, using vulgar words. As he was leaving I heard him say out loud «we are going to set fire on».
They flooded the house and farm buildings with distiller's alcohol or maybe gasoline and set it on fire. I found myself in the middle of a sea of flames. I decided to change the hiding place because I couldn't stay under the bed any longer. The bed above me was on fire, the sheets were burning, and the burning beams were falling from the ceiling. The surrounding smoke irritated and choked my breath. Crawling from under the bed, I noticed that the Bandera followers were at a safe distance from the fire and were watching the area adjacent to the buildings. When I started crawling, J heard my sister, hiding under the other bed. We were alive and we wanted to save our lives.
I heard the calls and shouts of Banderites, the rattling of carts and several rifle shots. There was also the noise of wood burning and shingles from the roof covering. We were in danger of being burned alive in the building. I decided to leave home with my sister. We ran out of the house and luckily there were no Banderites nearby (only the onlookers were watching).
We ran through the gardens towards the wooded hills at the edge of the village. When we reached the hill, we stopped for a moment. From there you could perfectly see the burning buildings in the village. We recognized the owners of these buildings. Then we realized that we had lived through hell and death. We both cried out. We left all our youth, a pile of ash and heat in the family home, and the corpses of those closest to us — the Father and the Mother — remained inside it forever.
After a short rest on the hill, we walked along forest paths and field roads to the village of Rudniki. The Poles from that village, seeing the glow of fires in Dżurów, left their homes, hiding in the forest, from where they returned to their homes only in the morning. Our goal was the town of Zabłotów on the other side of the Prut River. Poles welcomed us by giving us food and then we went on our way (we had to avoid meeting Banderites). We were in Zabłotów around noon. The Poles I met there (I had a few friends there) welcomed us warmly and gave us a temporary shelter. We became orphans. I was 20 and my sister was 17.
I never returned to my home village”.
On that day — according to Józef Matusiak's account — several people died in Dżurów. The blacksmith Karol Wesołowski (50) was shot while running away from home. Paweł Litecki (27) and his mother were first brutally tortured and then killed. Jan Ształt and his wife were killed when they tried to run out of the house, then their bodies were burnt in abandoned buildings.
 […] According to the author of the memoirs, the UPA burnt then 9 residential buildings and a dozen farm buildings, two shops and three blacksmith workshops in Dzurów.

source: Załęczny Jolanta, „Murders not only in Volhynia”, Józef Matusiak memoirs, October 2004; in: „Independence and memories”, in: No. 3—4 (43—44), 2013 — web page: bazhum.muzhp.pl [accessible: 2021.05.30]

The Banderites murdered 22 Poles, including women and children, and 1 Ukrainian, a Pole's wife; they burned down their farms, 2 shops and 3 smithies. According to J. Stróżewski, the following were murdered that night: „1. Glazer Ferdynand s/o Edward, 48; 2. Sanecki Józef, 70 years; 3. Matusiak Józef, 49 years old; 4. Julia Matusiak, 47 years old; 5. Wesołowski Jan, age 63; 6. Litecki Paweł, 25 years old; 7. Shape Jan, 52 years old; 8. The shape of Karolina, 59 years old; 9. Nowakowska Rozalia, 70s; 10. Maria Nowakowska, 65 years old; 11. Świątek Matylda, 76 years old; 12. Sadowiński Antoni, 50 years old; 13. Sadowińska Otylia, 48 years old; 14. Dasiewicz Stefan, 40 years old”.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „Calendar of the genocide – March 1944”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: Stróżewski Jacek

Sz. Siekierka, H. Komański, E. Różański  […] report that Glazer Ferdynand was murdered on March 25, 1944, they do not list all the victims of the attack on the night of March 26–27, 1944, they also state that Dasiewicz Stefan he was murdered with two other NN people on October 22, 1944.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „Calendar of the genocide – March 1944”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: Siekierka Szczepan, Komański Henryk, Różański Eugeniusz, „The genocide committed by Ukrainian nationalists on Poles in the Stanisławów voivodeship”, in: Wroclaw 2008, p. 638

On October 22, 1944, two sisters, Rozalia (46) and Maria (42) Nowakowski, and Maria Wesołowska (c. 35) and her two sons, aged 8 and 10, were shot. [Józef Matusiak noted:]
„Maria Wesołowska of Ukrainian origin was the wife of Stanisław Wesołowski. A mother who raised her children in the spirit of Polishness. They were all shot and their bodies were burned in a fire in the house”.

source: Załęczny Jolanta, „Murders not only in Volhynia”, Józef Matusiak memoirs, October 2004; in: „Independence and memories”, in: No. 3—4 (43—44), 2013 — web page: bazhum.muzhp.pl [accessible: 2021.05.30]

The Ukrainians murdered 3 Poles.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „Calendar of the genocide – October 1944”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]