“I don’t know why it actually matters where it was on the world map,” said the skeleton. “It’s gone, irretrievably, and all the people who lived there, outside of Aren and my mother, they were disappeared along with the place itself.
“You found out the dates the Jews of Pinsk were massacred in those aktions, as the Nazis used to refer to those long days of genetic cleansing, you wrote to Azi about that. Find the email,” said the skeleton.
The pertinent part of the email reads:
On 4 July 1941, the Nazis occupied Pinsk. Within a few weeks they established a Judenrat and in the first week of August conducted aktions, murdering about 11,000 Jews by gunshot and burying them in mass pits. The Pinsk ghetto was established on 1 May 1942, and more than 3,600 of its some 10,000 inhabitants worked outside of the ghetto. On 29 October–1 November 1942 the ghetto was liquidated, with approximately 10,000 Jews shot to death. Less than 200 essential workers and others were herded into a “mini-ghetto” in Karlin and murdered on 23 December 1942. When the Soviets liberated Pinsk on 14 July 1944, they found 17 Jews surviving in hiding.
“So, does it make you feel better to know what happened to Chaski, Yuddle and Volbear, if they were still alive, and to any children and grandchildren they might have had? In those years they would have all been around 60 years old, if they’d lived that long in Truvovich,” the skeleton either yawned or grimaced, it was hard to tell. He could have been roaring too, I suppose.
No it doesn’t make me feel better, not really. For some weird reason knowing that Truvovich was probably on one of these three spits of land divided by the Pina River, on the southeastern border of Pinsk does make me feel a tiny bit better, though I’m sure I could not say why that is.