Last Witnesses : An Oral History of the Children of World War II

The day the war began we were at the circus. Our whole class. At the morning performance. We didn’t suspect a thing. Not a thing…The adults already knew, but we didn’t. We clapped our hands. Laughed. There was a big elephant there. A huge one! A monkey danced…And then…We poured out into the street gaily—and people were going around all in tears: “War!” The children all shouted: “Hurray!” We were glad. We pictured war as people in budenovki^*1 on horseback. Now we’ll show ourselves, we’ll help our fighters. Become heroes. I loved war books most of all. About battles, about feats of courage. All sorts of dreams…Myself bending over a wounded soldier, carrying him out of the smoke. Out of the fire. At home the whole wall over my desk was covered with newspaper photographs of war scenes. Here was Voroshilov,^*2 there Budenny…

My girlfriend and I tried to escape to the Finnish War, and the boys we knew to the Spanish War.^*3 We pictured war as the most interesting event in life. The greatest adventure. We dreamed of it, we were children of our time. Good children! My girlfriend always went around in an old budenovka. I forget where she found it, but it was her favorite hat. How did we run away to the war? I don’t even remember which one it was, probably the Spanish one. I’ll tell you in a moment…She stayed with me overnight on purpose, and at dawn we quietly left the house together. On tiptoe…Shh…We took along some food. My older brother probably watched us, because in the last few days we kept whispering and putting things in little bags. He caught up with us in the courtyard and brought us back. He scolded us and threatened to throw out all my war books. I spent the whole day crying. That’s how we were!

But now it was real war…

A week later German troops entered Minsk. I don’t remember the Germans themselves then, but I do remember their technology. Big cars, big motorcycles…We didn’t have and had never seen any like that. People became deaf and dumb. They all had frightened eyes…Foreign posters and leaflets appeared on the fences and posts. Foreign orders. “New rules” came. After a while the school reopened. Mama decided that war is war, but I shouldn’t interrupt my studies and had to go to school. At the first lesson the same teacher of geography who had taught us before the war began to speak against Soviet power. Against Lenin. I said to myself: I’m not going to study in such a school. No-o-o…I don’t want to! I came home and kissed all the portraits in my schoolbook…All my favorite portraits of our leaders.

The Germans used to burst into apartments all the time, looking for someone—now for Jews, now for partisans…Mama said, “Hide your Pioneer neckerchief.” During the day I did, but at night when I went to bed I put it on. Mama was afraid: what if the Germans come knocking at night? She tried to persuade me, she wept. I waited till mama fell asleep and it was quiet at home and outside. Then I took my red tie from the wardrobe, got my Soviet books out. My friend slept in her budenovka.

I’m still glad we were like that…

*1 A budenovka was a distinctive woolen hat with a pointed top and earflaps, worn by Red Army soldiers during the Russian Civil War (1917–1922), named for Semyon Budenny (1883–1973), a Russian cavalry officer who became the leader of the Red Cavalry during the Civil War and was later a close ally of Stalin.

*2 Kliment Voroshilov (1881–1969) was a prominent military figure, one of the first five Marshals of the Soviet Union, and a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party from 1921 to 1961. He played a major role in Stalin’s Great Purge of 1937.

*3 The Finnish War, also known as the Winter War, was fought between Finland and the Soviet Union in the winter of 1939–1940. In the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939), Soviet troops were sent ostensibly to support the Spanish Republic against the military revolt led by Francisco Franco.

“I GATHERED THEM WITH MY HANDS…THEY WERE VERY WHITE…”

Zhenia Selenia FIVE YEARS OLD. NOW A JOURNALIST.

That Sunday…June 22…

My brother and I went to pick mushrooms. It was the season for the best boletuses. Our wood was not big, we knew every bush in it, every clearing, and where what mushrooms grew, and what berries, and even flowers. Willow herb, Saint-John’s-wort, pink heather…We were already going home, when we heard a thundering noise. The noise came from the sky. We raised our heads: there were some twelve or fifteen planes over us…They flew high, very high; I thought our planes never flew so high. We heard the noise: rrrrr!

Just then we saw our mama, she was running toward us—weeping, in a broken voice. This is the impression that remained from the first day of the war—mama, instead of calling us gently as usual, cries, “Children! My children!” Her eyes are big, instead of a face—just eyes…