The Ukrainians murdered 3 Poles.

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

The Ukrainians murdered 32 Poles and 1 Ukrainian woman mainly with axes, knives and bayonets. Among others: 35‑year‑old Zofia Chmielewska and her daughters: 14‑year‑old Lucyna and 10‑year‑old Juliana were massacred with axes; 70‑year‑old Bronisława Murawska was beaten with rifle butts; 9‑year‑old Adam Murawski was beaten with clubs and his 2‑year‑old sister was stabbed with a bayonet. 9‑year‑old Aleksandra Murawska and her 7‑year‑old sister Irena were beaten to death by Ukrainian „heroes”.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „Calendar of the genocide – year 1943 June and the first half of the year”; 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. 251—252

My father Antoni Murawski was a farmer, he owned a small farm in the village of Głuboczanka, Ludwipol commune, Kostopolski county in Volhynia  […] We were all at home – father Antoni, brother Marian – 16 years old, brother Adam – 9 years old, sister Barbara – age 2. At that time, Antonina's mother went to her neighbor, her father's brother, Aleksander Murawski. The bandits met my father in the yard, took him into the kitchen and ordered him to lie on the floor. The clearly pale face of the father is remembered. He said softly to us: „We put the children down, they will rob us now”. In that second I heard the terrible roar of a rifle shot – I was holding little Basia in my arm. In one moment I jump to the open window, Basia fell out of my hands, I hear a few rifle shots behind me. I run out into the yard, I fall into the grain. I'm running away, I don't know in what direction but away from the bandits. Brother Marian jumped to the window after me. However, two bandit bullets hit him – one in the back next to the shoulder blade, the other spray broke his lower left jaw. He fell backwards back in and hung from the rocking cradle standing right by the window. Marian remembered only the two words of the bandit, who at that moment approached the cradle and, grabbing him by the hair hanging down his head, said „Konać Lachu”! Unconscious with fear, I pushed ahead blindly until my strength was completely exhausted. In a safe, as it seemed to me, distance from the farm where the Bandera thugs were prowling, I sat down terribly tired, full of the worst forebodings and thoughts about the other family members. After a while, I noticed a Ukrainian friend walking towards me, Misha Uniszczuk. With a shaky voice, I informed him of my family tragedy. He stood beside me and watched sympathetically as he listened to what I said about killing my entire family. He had new information for me, claiming that he had seen Brother Marian wounded, lying under a hazel bush, just above the ditch near our house. I no longer remember how much time passed before I returned to the yard. In front of the threshold, in a pool of blood lay my father, then the massacred younger brother Adam. Basia in the kitchen was pierced several times with bayonets and thrown through the window onto the yard. Nearby, in the homestead of my uncle Aleksander, there was a dead mother, her head was cut open, grandmother of Bronisław, father's mother, dead [also]. Next lay the remains of the whole family of Uncle Alexander, and he himself, in the amount of three. I feel confused in my head, I am completely powerless, watching the terrible massacre of the people closest to me. The survivors of the village, dodging in the crops and bushes, slowly approach the center [of the colony]. Each other, in a quiet voice, they inform each other about the dead. I run to the bush where Brother Marian is lying. I can see a terrible gash on my face, a torn lower jaw, and frothy blood is puffing from my chest. He gestures with his hand to give something to write and the paper, as nothing can speak at all. He writes on a piece of paper that I should run away quickly and save my life, because he will die soon. A handful of survivors look for their loved ones in terrible fear in the fields and yards. Darkness is approaching. The Jadowski family takes me in. We spend the night in the corn with no hope of getting out of this hell. The elderly are going to get to a large Ukrainian village on the Stucha river north – to Bystrzyce  […] The Germans soon arrived. They looked at the terrible victims of the murder, then ordered to hurry to bury the decaying bodies. They were most likely afraid of an epidemic of some disease  […] I asked the commander of the Nazi unit to take my brother to a doctor again. He briefly examined the wounded man and ordered the soldiers to release one submarine, on which the half–conscious boy was placed  […] I stayed alone in Bystrzyce. My brother was in the hospital in Berezne under the care of doctors and nurses. I literally had no means of subsistence. I was in one dress. Without shoes. I was overwhelmed with despair. It cannot be described. You have to experience it for yourself. It was beyond my strength. Gray hair appeared on my head, and I was only 15 years old. In these difficult days for me and for my friends and relatives from Głuboczanka, however, I met many noble people who understood my fate. Soon I found out from kind people that my brother lives in the hospital.

source: Żurek Stanisław, „Calendar of the genocide – year 1943 June and the first half of the year”; in: portal: Volhynia — web page: wolyn.org [accessible: 2021.02.04]

source: „Account by Bronisława Murawska-Zygadło, a former resident of the Głuboczanka colony”, October 6, 1993; in: „Borderlands Information Service”, in: No. 6/2012