THE TESTIMONY ON Wednesday consisted of a succession of villagers. Kat secretly agreed with her father's opinion. It would have been just as effective and much cheaper if one or two of them had testified. They all said the same thing: that Danylo had walked a tightrope in his role as an auxiliary police officer. He had to make the Germans think he was obeying them, while all the time he was working against them. None had witnessed brutality on his part.
One witness from New Jersey had a different story to tell. Kat watched as the white haired man with piercing blue eyes entered the witness stand.
"What is your name?" asked Mr. Vincent.
"Sergei Kovalenko," he said.
"Can you tell me about yourself?" asked Mr. Vincent.
"I am a retired insurance salesman," said the man. "I was born in Russia. I came to the United States from a Displaced Persons camp after the war."
"How do you know Mr. Feschuk?" asked Mr. Vincent.
"I will never forget that man," said Mr. Kovalenko, nodding in Danylo's direction. "I was a prisoner of war, and he helped me escape." Sergei then told the courtroom of that fateful time.
Within the barbed wire enclosure, the odour was overwhelming. Some of the prisoners had died, but the guards didn't remove the bodies right away. The stench of the corpses competed with the smell of dried vomit and feces. The prisoners were not fed, and they were not given water and so it was a wonder they were able to create such a mess, but the mess was there for all to see. And smell.
Sergei had tried to stay away from the other prisoners of war. Although he had no hope of surviving beyond a couple of days, he felt a moral obligation to try to stay as healthy as he could for as long as he could.
Within the barbed wire enclosure, there were perhaps 500 men. Each day, more were brought in, but each day many died, so the number was constant. Sergei was already in his second day, so he knew his time was near. He would sit as still as he could to conserve his energy, and he would watch the guards.
One day, a Ukrainian auxiliary policeman brushed past him, just inches from his face. "Watch the gate. Escape," the man said, then continued walking.
Escape? Could he even hope for that? And what was he to watch the gate for? Something different, he presumed. He gestured to a couple of others who were healthy like him and told them what the policeman said. So there were about five of them, surreptitiously keeping their eyes on the gate, not knowing what they were supposed to see.
It happened the next day. A beautiful, young and healthy girl walked past with a basket of eggs at the exact same time the corpses were being removed. The one guard left at the gate was momentarily startled when the girl tripped and fell.
Sergei and his friends were ready. They slipped out.
Sergei and the others went to the forest, and they found many others like themselves. Some of the villagers came out to find them and brought food. Others brought weapons.
Sergei never saw the policeman again until one memorable day in February of 1943, when thousands of Ukrainian policemen escaped to the woods.
"Mr. Kovalenko," Mr. Vincent asked. "What was the approximate date of your escape from the POW camp?"
"It was in 1941," replied Sergei. "I do not know the exact date, but it was in the fall."
"So as early as 1941, you witnessed Mr. Feschuk performing anti-Nazi activity."
"That is correct."
"What would have happened if Mr. Feschuk had been caught helping you to escape?"
Sergei shook his head in dismay. "I don't even want to think about it," he replied. "He would have been killed, and many other villagers would have been killed too."
"Thank you, Mr. Kovelenko," said Mr. Vincent. "No further questions."
Mrs. Caine stood up. "Mr. Kovelenko, how did you become a prisoner of war?"
"My whole unit surrendered to the Germans."
"You refused to fight the Nazis?" asked Mrs. Caine.
Mr. Kovelenko sat up straight in his chair and regarded Mrs. Caine sternly. "I fought the Nazis once I was in the UPA. In the Red Army, we were issued one rifle for every two soldiers. The Germans arrived in tanks. What did you expect us to do?"
"I would have expected you to die with honour," said Mrs. Caine. "No more questions."
It was only 2:45.
The judge looked from the plaintiff to the defence. "We have one more witness," he said. "And that is Danylo Feschuk."
Then the judge removed his glasses and regarded Danylo.
"Would you like to testify today, or would you like to wait until tomorrow?"
Danylo leaned towards a microphone to answer, but before he did, Mr. Vincent stood up.
"We ask that the hearing be adjourned for the day. Mr. Feschuk is tired."
"Fine," said the judge, banging his gavel. "The court will resume tomorrow at 9 am."