I saw the starving population for the first time in the winter of 1932-33. These were mainly groups of emaciated people moving from agricultural areas in the direction of big cities in search of food.

They looked starved and wore rags. Once a day, the cook in our village prepared soybean soup and salt which was piled in bowls on the table. These people, starving but without the right to get any food, grabbed the salt from the tables and ate it For many of them, this meal was the last

Some of them died not very far from the kitchen, and some left red spots of bloody diarrhea around the building. The rest continued to move further. Criminal acts were unheard of, but freshly seeded potatoes were removed from the soil by transients and members of the local collective farm of the village.

One woman was caught in the night digging such potatoes, and by order of the state farm director, she was driven by a horse carriage bearing the sign on her back: I stole seeding potatoes.

She was driven around all day in her native village and also the neighboring village. The next day, she and her children and husband were taken to the railroad station and dispatched away somewhere.

A bit later in the spring, the regional government mobilized me, directing me to the village to organize and supervise the seeding and planting campaign in the collective farm, about 25 to 30 kilometers from the state farm.

I received a two-wheeled carriage, some hay for the horse, and two pounds of bread for myself. The head of the village soviet assigned me to stay overnight at the house of a collective farm member and left me at the door.

Inside the half-dark house, I saw a very thin man in rags. He did not answer my greeting and sat motionless. I heard groans from atop the hearth and asked what it was. “Dying,” the man said.

I looked at the top of the hearth and saw a grotesque half-naked swollen body. Rags lay around it, and the stench was atrocious. I broke off a piece of bread for the man, and ran back to the village soviet office.

The watchman was heating the soup, and I shared the rest of my bread with him. He told me there were no feeding or planting supplies in the collective. Only a few members of the farm had meat or reserves of food left. About half of the village population had died of starvation, and all poultry, cats and dogs had been eaten by transients and the local population.

Younger and stronger people had left the village. The occupants of the house where I was supposed to stay the night were scheduled to be buried the next day. Before sunup, I left the village without accomplishing my mission. The state farm director was very happy to have the horse and the carriage as well as me back again, but I kept having nightmares about abandoning my task and expected severe punish¬ment which never came.

I was not punished, because everyone, especially the leaders, knew the horror that
was going on.

Senator DeCONCINI: Thank you for that testimony. How did you escape not being punished?