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

Whenever Yakov Mironovich saw the least possibility for us to have a break, he ordered, “Off you go to the electrode room!”

He didn’t need to tell us twice: there was no cozier or warmer corner in the whole factory than where the electrodes were dried by hot air. We climbed onto a warm wooden shelf and instantly fell asleep. A quarter of an hour later Yakov Mironovich would come to wake us up.

Once I woke up before he began to rouse us. I saw Yakov Mironovich looking at us. Drawing out the minutes. And wiping his tears with his sleeve.

“HE HUNG ON THE STRING LIKE A BABY…”

Liuba Alexandrovich ELEVEN YEARS OLD. NOW A WORKER.

I don’t want to…I don’t even want to repeat this word war…

The war reached us quickly. On July 9, after a few weeks, I remember, a battle was already going on for our regional center of Senno. There were many refugees, so many that there weren’t enough houses to put them all in. For instance, we had six families with children in our house. It was the same in all of them.

First came people and then an evacuation of livestock began. I remember it very well, because it was frightening. Frightening pictures. The nearest station to us was Bogdan, it still exists, between Orsha and Lepiel. Livestock were evacuated in that direction not only from our village but from the entire Vitebsk region. It was a hot summer, the livestock were driven in big herds: cows, sheep, pigs, calves. Horses were driven separately. The people who drove them were so tired they no longer cared…The cows weren’t milked. They would go into a yard and stand there by the porch until somebody milked them. They were milked onto the road, onto the ground…The pigs suffered especially badly. They’re unable to stand heat and long walking. They walked and fell down. The heat made their bodies swell, and it was so scary that in the evening I was afraid to go outside. Dead horses…sheep…cows…lay everywhere. There was no time to bury them, and they swelled more each day…They swelled and puffed up…

Peasants know what it takes to raise one cow, how much work. How much time. They wept watching the livestock perish. It wasn’t like a tree that falls down silently; there was noise, whinnying, bleating. Moaning.

I remember my grandfather’s words: “And these innocent ones, why must they perish? They can’t even say anything.” My grandfather was a bookish man, he always read in the evenings.

Before the war my older sister worked in the regional party committee, and she stayed behind for the underground work. She brought home many books from the committee library, portraits, red banners. We buried them in the garden under the apple trees. Also her party card. We did it during the night, and I had the feeling that the red…the red color…would be seen from under the ground.

For some reason I don’t remember how the Germans came…I remember that they had been there, had been there for a long time, and then they drove us all together, the whole village. They put machine guns in front of us: Where are the partisans? Who do they come to? Everybody was silent. Then they counted off every third person and brought them out to be shot. They shot six people: two men, two women, and two adolescents. And drove away.

Overnight fresh snow fell…It was the New Year…The dead people lay under this fresh snow. There was no one to bury them, no one to make the coffins. The men were hiding in the forest. Old women burned wood to heat up the ground at least a little and dig the graves. They spent a long time beating their shovels against the frozen ground…

Soon the Germans came back…Several days later…They gathered all the children, there were thirteen of us, and put us at the head of their column—they were afraid of partisan mines. We walked ahead of them, and they drove behind. If, for instance, they had to stop and take water from a well, they sent us first. We walked for ten miles like that. The boys weren’t much afraid, but the girls walked and cried. They followed us in trucks…Impossible to run away…I remember we walked barefoot, and it was just the beginning of spring. The first days…

I want to forget…I want to forget this…

The Germans went from cottage to cottage…They gathered those whose children had joined the partisans…They cut their heads off in the middle of the village…We were ordered to watch. In one cottage they didn’t find anybody, so they caught the cat and hanged him. He hung on the string like a baby…

I want to forget it all…

“YOU’LL BE MY CHILDREN NOW…”

Nina Shunto SIX YEARS OLD. NOW A COOK.

Aie-aie-aie! My heart begins to ache at once…