Chapter IV
Life in Poldniewica
The name of our slave labor camp was Poldniewica. Its full address was: Posiolek Poldniewica, Szarynskij rejon, Gorkowskaja Oblast. The closest larger city, Gorky, was 400 miles away. There were eighteen wooden barracks, which housed twenty five hundred prisoners. The barracks were built from rough logs. The cracks in between were filled with dry moss full of bed bug eggs, which later multiplied and infested our wooden beds and attacked us during the night interrupting much needed sleep. The slave laborers who were brought to this God forsaken place sometime before us built the barracks very poorly. We never found out who they were or what happened to them. The barracks were empty when we came.
For two weeks, my family (Lukaszewicz) lived in a two story barracks, number 17 which was fairly new and soon became a hospital. It was much needed because people were being injured while working in the forest and some came down with pneumonia and typhoid fever.
Our family was moved to barracks 18, which up to our arrival was used as a garage for tractors. Instead of two tractors, seventy people were condemned to live in that hole. The cracks in the walls were large enough for the light to come through. The cold came through too, as it was -40ºC outside.
As in every barracks, we were housed on wooden platforms called "pricze". Ours was only large enough for the five members of the family to lie down side by side. There was no room to curl up during the sleep. During the day, the middle board was removed, the bedding pushed back and a sitting space was the result. Above us was another platform for another six-member family. The cracks between boards (the ceiling) were large and whenever someone up there moved, the dust and dirt fell into our plates and water. Dividing the two side's pricze was a long passage. In the middle of it stood a huge rough table and at the end a range stove with four burners. The wooden stove provided some warmth and was used for cooking. Thirteen families used the stove in a very orderly manner and I do not remember even one fight-taking place.
In reality we had very little food to cook. The small supplies that we brought from home did not last very long. Although our men worked hard cutting down the trees in the forest, deep in snow, they did not get any money for three months. We were forbidden to have any dealings with the local people or visit a "kolchoz" (collective farm) to barter for food. However, the hunger was forcing us to break the rules. People left the gulag during the night and tried to sneak back unnoticed though the police were watching constantly. The people who were caught lost the food they bought and were imprisoned in the cellar of the administration building. There was no heater and the weather outside was still very cold with the temperature dipping to -40ºC. The prisoners were let go only when they became ill or almost frozen to death. Often they ended up in the hospital.
Since my father and my fifteen year old brother, Antoni were ordered to work in the lumber camp, my mother had to take care of my nine year old brother Janek. She also prepared meals for the family. It was up to me (fourteen years old at the time) to acquire some food by bartering away some of our clothes. It was much needed by the family.
My initiation to the "trade" came on a very cold day at the end of February. My cousin Pola, an older friend, and I, left Poldniewica at dawn, very quietly, and were successful in avoiding arrest. We felt very cold as we walked through the knee-deep snow (there were no roads) to Kolchoz located fifteen kilometers from our camp. My face, hands, and knees were painfully burning from frostbite. In the first village, the people were so poor that we could not buy any food. There were already other people before us looking for food. We had no choice, but to walk farther to the next kolchoz. My clothes were not warm enough for the Siberian winter. Hungry tired and frostbitten, we returned to the camp after walking thirty kilometers. Carrying potatoes and vegetable (some bought and some given out of compassion) made our walking even more difficult. However our ordeal was not over, as we entered the clearing close to our barracks we saw a policeman walking toward us. He was a very mean man who never showed any mercy. To be arrested by him meant imprisonment. At the same time we saw many people coming out of the barracks walking also in our direction. The policeman was distracted by another group of "illegal traders" entering the clearing. He was shouting threats and ordering us to walk toward him. The approaching crowd was shouting, "Come with us! Run into the barrack and change your clothes, he will not recognize you!". We did as we were told and it worked. After we joined the crowd, the policeman could not recognize us. He was too far to see our faces. Although he checked the crowd closely, he did not know who were the offenders. We knew that he would have carried his threat as he promised to get even with us in the future. After the day of humiliation, cold and physical exhaustion, the cold jail would have been unbearable. We were happy to be safe for the time being.
The village stores brought in clothes and linen only in very small quantities, there was never enough to go around. The quality of it was very poor. Even our second hand things looked wonderful to them, because they were of a much better quality. The "kolchozniks" (villagers) hid in the bushes bringing some food for barter. They gave some signals to get attention of the inhabitants of our camp. One day, very early in the morning, my mother was told that someone was selling milk. She took a risk and walked toward the bushes. My father was getting ready to go to work. He waited for my mother for a long time then began to worry. To be late for work meant being sent to jail located far from our camp, away from the family. My father could not go to work without breakfast and not knowing what happened to my mother. As we were discussing what to do, a child came in and said to me, "Your mother is in jail. A policeman arrested her". It was the same policeman who wanted to arrest me. Indeed he carried out his threats. There were many arrests in our barracks. My father put on his coat and walked out. We saw him going toward the administration building and began to worry. Our mother was in jail and now they would arrest our father. We knew he was angry and he was going to see the policeman. After a while, to our great relief, we saw both our parents coming home. My father had a plan. He told the policeman that he was going to go to the commandant of the camp and tell him that the policeman was preventing my father from going to work. Everyone knew that the commandant wanted his project to be finished on time to please his superiors and did not tolerate anything or anyone holding back the workers.
There were many of my old friends among the people who were brought to Poldniewica on the night of February 17, 1940. Later I was to meet and befriend many others. Little did I know at the time that among the strangers, going through the same tragedy, was my future husband, Aleksander Romanko, son of Magdalena and Mikolaj, born in Szpakowce, July 21, 1921. Olek (short for Aleksander) had two older brothers, Wladyslaw and Mikolaj. Olek was fond of his family and lived in Szpakowce till he was sixteen years old. Later he moved to the city, Baranowicze, where he studied mechanics. There were many friends and cousins to have fun with but that pleasant life was tragically interrupted.
On September 1st, 1939, when the German army invaded Poland, Olek also (as did I) experienced the bombing of Baranowicze. Many other cities in Poland were in ruins, thousands of people lost their lives and many others had to abandon their homes in order to save them. The stores were empty. It was difficult to buy food and clothing. There was a shortage of fuel. Luckily, the Romanko's owned their farm so they had their own food. However, life was difficult and uncertain.
On September 17th, the Soviet Union invaded Eastern Poland. Szpakowce, same as Haciszcze fell under the jurisdiction of this enemy who brought fear, death, and destruction. Red Army soldiers were everywhere. People had to follow their orders. No one dared to complain or criticize the authorities, army or militia. If they did, they ended up in jail or dead. There was no freedom. Poland was divided between Germany and the Soviet Union. It ceased to exist on the map, but the Poles loved their country very much and were ready to fight for its freedom even if they had to do it on foreign soil. Escape across the borders was very difficult and dangerous.
The time under the enemy occupation went very slowly and the winter was very cold making our sad life even more difficult. Often the temperatures dropped to -40ºC. On February 10th, during the night, there was a loud hammering on the Romankos' door. Someone was shouting in Russian, "We are the soldiers of the Red Army. Open this door or we will break it down!" When Olek opened the door, a group of soldiers with ready guns and bayonets entered the house. They pointed their bayonets at the family members and ordered them to pack some food and clothes within fifteen minutes. The Romankos were arrested, put into the horse drawn sleigh and brought to the railway station in Baranowicze. Their safety and warmth were lost and so were all their possessions. Their hearts were breaking with despair. Olek's mind was wondering, "Where are they taking us? What was to become of us? Will they drive us away into the forest and kill us? How much of it can my elderly parents endure?" To be accused of being "the enemy of the people" was the strongest condemnation punishable by long imprisonment, slave labor or death. Which was it to be? The only thing the prisoners could do was to pray to God asking Him for His divine care. After hours of driving, frightened and cold, the Romanko's were led by the soldiers into the snow filled cattle carriage, which was a part of a very long train at the railway station in Baranowicze. Here they saw that hundreds and hundreds of families were sharing the Romanko's fate. After sweeping the snow from the platform the family put their belongings in and sat down. People were packed so tight that it was impossible to move. The door of the carriage was shut with a bang and the soldiers stood guard on the outside. No one was allowed to leave the carriage. Not even to bring in some firewood or water. The train was being filled with victims over a period of two days. So many were arrested!
One could hear people praying, crying and sadly saying good-bye to their beloved country and life such as they knew so far. The unknown future was very frightening.
Olek and I were on that fatal train and from now on we became a part of the same kind of life affected by the same events. Without knowing about each other, we were in it together. During this journey, we all tried to keep our spirits up hoping that this nightmare was all a mistake and that we would return home in the near future. At the end of the seven day journey, the Romanko's were part of the long line of a sleigh procession on the road leading from the railway station is Szabrycha to gulag Poldniewica. They were assigned to barracks #10 and were given a "pricza" along with sixty other people who shared the long hall and the stove at the end of it. All barracks contained the same kind of accommodations and "facilities". From now on we were known as the prisoners of gulag "Poldniewica". Things could not be much worse.
Finally, after three months, the Russians began to pay for the hard work done by our people. The wages were very low, but having a few rubles made it possible for us to buy some groceries, which were sometimes brought to our camp store. One could never choose what to buy or decide how much to buy. Everything was rationed and distributed according to how many people were working in the family. Those that did not work did not receive any rations, they were not expected to eat. Sharing their rations with the rest of the family the workers never had enough to eat and often went to work hungry.
The line-ups at the store began early. No one knew what, if anything was going to be sold on the given day and we often came home empty handed. If we were lucky, we could sometimes buy some cookies, salt, shoes or some fabric. Whatever there was, we bought it because we needed these things very badly. Not knowing what was in the store, people asked each other, "What will they give us?" "Give us" was an interesting expression because we had to pay for everything with the money earned by slave labor, but the word "give" indicated how happy we were to buy much needed necessities of everyday life. Standing in line was my job. After many long hours of waiting at the door, the store would open and the people would storm into it. Many times I would come home with a torn sleeve or a lost shoe and empty handed. All of us had hungry families at home and there was never enough food to satisfy all the customers. People pushed and shoved to be first.
Our meals were very simple and not very nourishing. For breakfast, mother cooked soup by using some flour and water. Sometimes a little milk was added to improve its taste. It did not happen very often because milk was difficult to obtain.
Sometimes in April, we were permitted to write letters to our families and friends in Poland. I became a secretary not only to my family, but also to many other people who could not write Russian. However, in this area also we had problems. Very few people thought of bringing some paper or envelopes. It was necessary to find a piece of paper-thin bark as a substitute. Writing such a letter required a special skill, which one had to acquire out of necessity.
Letters were our only link with the outside world. They brought some news from family and friends who were worried about us. Many of them believed that we were dead. We had to be very careful about the content because the letters were censored. We managed somehow between the lines to indicate how difficult our life was. Our families managed to obtain permission from the local authorities to send some parcels of food. These were received with great joy often expressed through tears.
My Uncle Bronislaw, my father's brother, sent us packages at regular intervals. Sometimes it was flour and salt pork, sometimes barley porridge, some cheese, and very seldom butter. Our life became a little easier to bear. We were in great need of better nourishment. Hard labor in lumbering exhausted the strength of the people working. Those at home tried to give larger portions to the working members of the family half starving themselves.
The parcels were not brought to our camp. I had to go to the regional post office some twenty kilometers from our labor camp. Often the country roads and fields were muddy and made walking very difficult. I had to wear my mother's boots which were too large for me. It made walking much more difficult. Going to the post office and back took a whole day. Often I returned home when it was dark. Every muscle in my body would ache unbearably. At the back of my mind, however, I would realize that my mother would be able to cook a more nourishing meal for the family and that was a sufficient reward for my efforts and suffering.
The month of May brought warmer weather. Budding trees brought a promise of the new life and lifted the spirits of the people drawn by hard work, lack of food and the harassment of authorities. But a new enemy quickly destroyed these hopes for slightly easier life without bitter cold. The lack of hygiene due to overcrowding with the lack of soap, primitive toilet facilities (outhouses), and contaminated water brought in a typhoid fever epidemic. The funerals of the victims at first turned into demonstrations and protests against the authorities that forbade us to walk even to the cemeteries. Soon the epidemic took on frightening proportions. Two huge barracks were turned into make shift hospitals with no doctors, medication or nurses. The few that arrived were young, poorly educated and inexperienced. The death toll became unbelievable. Whole families were wiped out. In many cases, parents became very ill or died, leaving young children to fend for themselves. There were no people to attend the funerals. The epidemic lasted two months. At the end of it, the population was cut in half. I had lost so many of my friends so quickly. One of them was Adela. I remember speaking to her one day about the loss of her parents. We said goodbye not realizing that it was a final one. In three days, she too was gone. It was difficult to accept and as young as I was, I tried to come to grips with that tragic turn of events. I prayed a great deal, hiding somewhere in the bush trying to find some solitude. Praying and contemplating, I came to the conclusion that I can keep sane only if I accept the fact that I will die soon. I found it necessary to reconcile to my death believing that it was the phase of a new life, a life in eternity. As I was loosing so many friends, I would say to myself "Today you, tomorrow me". This phrase had a certain soothing power. I kept my emotions on hold and it helped me to function when my mother and my younger brother Janek were taken to the hospital. Both of them had typhoid. Both of them were very ill. My father and my older brother were sent away to another lumber camp. I was all alone and also very ill. I was told that I had typhoid fever too, but there was no room for me in the hospital that was overcrowded. Patients were left on the floors in the hallways. I spent my time lying down not able to get anything to eat or drink. People around were coping with the illnesses of their loved ones. No one had the strength or the will to help others. My father was allowed to come only once a week to visit us. At that time, he brought me some food. The days turned into weeks and weeks into months. I had to move around a little. I felt that I had to visit my mother in the hospital and managed to walk by it at a distance, but emotionally I could not bring myself to walk into the hospital. I was afraid to find out her true condition. I could not face the prospect of her death. My father brought the news to me about my mother's and my brother's condition. After six weeks in the hospital, my mother was able to spend sometime at my brother's bedside and to nurse him. I still could not bring myself to visit them. Loosing weight, I became very weak. I had a constant stomachache. When I described the symptoms to the doctor years later, I was told I had an ulcer. People began to shy away from me being afraid that I had developed tuberculosis in my lungs. No one wanted to take the risk of being contaminated by me. I had accepted that and did not blame anyone, but I felt very lonely and sad. Sometimes I heard women say that I was lazy and that I could do more for myself. That really hurt because I had no physical or emotional strength left.
In July, my father was given the responsibility of overseeing a building project. He was given a group of younger men to work with. They all had families to look after and worked very hard to earn some money and a slightly larger ration of bread. The project therefore was completed in record time. This made the Russians quite happy. They said they rewarded good work. As a reward they decided to move us to the newly constructed barracks #19. That meant a little more living space and no one over our heads. Two other families were assigned to our room. That made twelve people altogether. Beside our family of five, there were also five people in the Nowak family and three in the Romanko family. The wooden beds were quickly constructed by the men and were arranged very closely. There was hardly room to walk by. Cooking was done inside the wood stove and again we had to take turns using it. My father knew the Nowak family from Poland. I met Aleksander Romanko shortly after our arrival at Poldnewica, but I did not care for him a great deal! I considered him to be a flirt. He teased me a lot trying to convince me that I was old enough to have dates. I was only fourteen, I felt like a child. On the other hand, the life we lead was full of serious problems that weighed heavily on my shoulders. I had no interest in any foolishness. The Nowak's son (thirty years old) treated me with a little more sensitivity. There were also two Nowak girls about the same age as me. We became good friends instantly.
After two months, my mother and my brother came home. The three of us were very thin. Every bone in Janek's knee joints could be seen through the skin that held them together. I found out that he owed his life to my mother who fed him and nursed him after he regained consciousness. It was necessary to give him very little food at the time because his intestines were too weak for proper digestion. My weight worried my mother a great deal. She became very upset when a neighbor advised her to wash my eating utensils separately because she thought I had tuberculosis. Luckily the parcels from my uncle were arriving from time to time. The camp authorities permitted some trading with the villagers. We had more food, which was really needed for building up our bodies, our strength and our health.
In August, the epidemic of typhoid slightly decreased. After few weeks of small but regular meals, I began to feel somewhat better physically and emotionally. Than I suffered a set back again. Pola, my cousin, became gravely ill with diphtheria. The news of her illness came as a shock. A week before that, I paid her a visit to borrow a wash basin, which I needed for a common steam bath house. At that time Pola told me how terribly worried she was about her two little sons, Karol, three years old and Lonek, eighteen months. If anything happened to her, what would happen to the children? She did not trust her husband. She married him because her mother wished her to do that, although Pola did not love him. She didn't think he was capable or cared enough to look after the children. I asked her if she was ill but she assured me that she was well. A week later, she asked to see me because she was dying. On her deathbed, she asked me to look after her children. I was only fourteen years old and had no experience in caring for the little ones. The cooking and washing in such difficult conditions was hard for the experienced housewives. Every morning, I went to their barracks and looked after the children while their father was at work. The problem became even more serious when he did not want to stay with the children after work. After a few months, my parents decided to bring the children to stay with us. Now I looked after them under the watchful eye of my mother, who helped all she could. We shared our space and our food with the little ones. Their father did not contribute any money and his visits were very rare. This arrangement didn't seem to work. The children have lost their mother and they needed their father. Finally it was necessary to have a good talk with him about his responsibilities. He agreed to make home for his children. I continued to visit them and do my best for them.
The memory of Pola's funeral haunted me all my life. I took the children to the morgue to see her. Both children called out "Mama" in happy voices glad to see her, expecting her to move. When she didn't, somehow they felt their loss. Karol began to cry pitifully, heart-breaking Lenek screamed and went into convulsions. Later when I heard about him, he was almost three years old and still did not speak. I felt that the shock of his mother's death was the cause of it. My own feelings at that time were difficult to describe. I felt such despair and then I became numb. The children's loss became my loss also. Why did she have to die? She was so young and needed so. Why did she choose me? Why not someone older? How could I come up to her expectation of looking after the children properly in such a difficult situation? How? How? How?
Our life in Poldniewica was very difficult from the very beginning. Longing for the lost freedom and home magnified from day to day and was enough to bring despair to the down trodden people. This of course would be disastrous. To loose courage or to let our enemies destroy our spirit would equal death. To keep up their hope, people constantly created reasons for our return to our homeland. People claimed that they had heard of someone receiving a letter from home with the news about the incidents of people returning home from Siberia. Palm readers were very popular with everyone. All of them predicted a wonderful future and travel back home. I think they were very wise and had done a better job then a psychiatrist could do. Extraordinary formations and coloring of the northern lights were considered to reveal a hopeful message from God. During the typhoid epidemic despair became stronger. There was even great need for "good news". Among the members of the camp administration there were hints about the preparation to transport some of the people to a new location. As usual we were not told clearly. People became elated. No one would believe that the prisoners were going to be moved to a different oblast, different region of Russia. Many asked, "Why would they do that?". The only reason for them to move anyone would be to return us home. They changed their mind about keeping us here. No one could explain why our enemies would want to treat us well. Why would they want to change their minds. The transport was organized. The Nowak family was sent too. Hundreds of people were driven to the railway station. After a few months, we received the letters from them from Archangielsk region. New barracks had to be built and the slave labor was needed there. The Russians were planning more deportations. As we were to find out later such deportations took place April 13, 1940 (320,000 people), in June 1940 (240,000 people) and June 1941 (200,000 people). Many new camps had to be prepared. Many new barracks were being constructed in the vast Russian forests.
In spite of epidemics people still were driven hard. There was a great deal of work. The treeshad to be cut, the lumber had to be prepared and more barracks had to be built. During the summer next to ours, barracks #20 was completed. Shortly after that a group of teachers arrived. The school was opened in the autumn and the children had to attend it. Janek, my brother went too. Parents were unhappy to have their children brain washed by the teachers with the communist ideology. Everyone hoped that there would not be enough time for that. In the meantime, the children's health would suffer less if they attended school because the other alternatives were a child slave labor in the forest.
The school accommodated only the lower elementary grades. At fifteen, I was "too old" for the school. I had to begin my work in the lumber "industry". During the winter, my father somehow managed to obtain my release from work. But my reprieve lasted only during the two unbearable cold winter months. In the early spring, I began working at cutting the trees, taking the bark and branches off them. The snow was still deep and soon it started to melt. We were standing deep in the water. I had no proper shoes. My feet and my clothes were constantly wet and very cold. After a while I became quite ill with a bladder and kidney infection. The pain was unbearable. I could not turn in bed by myself during the night, but I had to go to work during the day. A woman doctor (about twenty years old) told me that I did not have a temperature, therefore, I had no excuse to stay home. There was no medication. My excruciating pain didn't count for anything. Luckily our neighbor Josefa Maj had some medication from Poland and shared it with me. It seemed to work. After months of suffering the pain decreased and became bearable. The condition remained with me for the rest of my life. The bladder infection became chronic. My ulcer and beginning of arthritis was my legacy from the two years of slave labor in this communist "paradise".
The days seemed to drag. They did not differ from each other. Life was monotonous and sad. There were many personal tragedies of sickness and death of loved ones. People were exhausted physically and emotionally but they kept their hope. In this, faith and prayer played a dominant role. Everyone believed that there must be a change for the better. Everyone expected a deliverance from the Power above.
Socializing, a necessary part of life consisted of conversation, and card playing. Books were scarce, reading was considered to be a rare, but wonderful diversion. From time to time, young people got together for a dance. Since our room had no partition, it was usually used for such gatherings. Olek Romanko and my brother were all for it. Olek thrived in having fun. On such occasions, I either left home or stayed at my friends or went to bed, which was surrounded with blankets to give me some privacy as the only girl in these living quarters. No one knew that I was there for a while. I could not do it too often because Olek would check it out and his teasing would drive me to tears. I did not participate because I considered dancing to be a frivolous activity during such sad times. I felt we should not be dancing as long as our country was not free and as long as people were fighting and being killed. I loved dancing but this sacrifice made me feel that I was serving a cause in my own way and I was making a worth while contribution. Considering that all my other friends were enjoying their dancing, I was making my mark as an individual. This part of my character became stronger later in my life. It brought me happiness but it also caused some difficulties with other people. I felt that one has to serve ones ideals rather than doing things to gain popularity.
The first snow fall in the middle of November awakened a sentimental feeling in my heart. I always loved the first snowfall. Everything looked so clean. Snow was a promise of new fun, games and sports. We loved playing on the way from school and received many scoldings from my mother for coming home quite late. Soon came the realization that the snow in Poldniewica did not mean fun and games, but caused many problems. We had no proper boots or clothing for the 40 below zero weather that followed shortly after the first snowfall. My father's brigade was building a school. They were working on the second story. Heavy boards had to be carried up on the slippery scaffold. There were many accidents. Low temperatures, a blistering wind, and poor clothing were the cause of severe colds, flu and pneumonia. To get permission from the official to stay home was almost impossible. My father coughed all night. In the morning, he dragged himself out of bed and went back to work day after day after day. Both Mother and I were very worried not only about my father but also about Anthony, my brother. He was working with the team of horses and sleigh getting the timber out of the bush. No one helped him to load. He had to do it all single handedly working in deep snow, which reached well above his waistline. Every night his clothes were soaked through (when the snow melted). The heater with a small opening did not supply enough heat for drying clothes. Early in the morning, while it was still dark outside, it was necessary to put the damp clothes on and face a long, bitterly cold day of slave labor. Breakfast consisted of piece of glue-like dark bread, hot water, or light very watery soup. Tonek, my brother, was only sixteen, quite tall for his age but very, very thin. The whole family depended on my father and Tonek's wages and their ration of bread (400 grams a day), which we all had to share. Sometimes I was lucky to "get" (buy) some cookies in the camp store. There was no sugar. Cookies were the only sweets we could have though very seldom. A combination of bread, a little bit of cookie and boiling hot water was considered to be a good meal. The mail deliveries, during the cold and heavy snowstorms came almost to a stand still. There were no news or parcels from the relatives. The camp store had no deliveries either. The time kept passing .
On the whole Olek was glad that he could work with a tractor rather then in the forest in such perilous conditions. Deep snow, very low temperatures and primitive equipment (saws and axes) endangered the life of the workers. Lack of experience at this kind of work resulted in trees falling down at random injuring people.
However, traveling on the tractor for long distances on the roads lined only with wooden planks was without many difficulties. Mud in the spring and summer and deep snow in the winter caused the tractor to go off the planks and becoming stuck. As it was a huge and clumsy vehicle many people were needed to put it back on the track. Before the necessary manpower was sent to do the work, a rigorous investigation took place. Olek never knew whether his explanation would be accepted or he would face some trumped up charge, which could easily put him into prison.
Cargo loosely placed on the floor of the huge trailer during the bumpy drive could shift very easily and fall off. During the winter an item could be buried in the snow and become invisible especially in the dark. Often it was necessary to travel during the night.
In spite of the fact that Olek was extra careful the inevitable happened. The tractor loaded with flour was travelling from Nea to Plodniewica, a distance of 40 km. Upon arrival the cargo was checked very thorough. It was two bags of flour short! One was found in the snow, the other not. Olek was charged with sabotage. A very serious charge! The court trial took place in Sharya. Olek was joking and pretending not to worry. All this was done for the sake of his parents who were very upset. Naturally it affected us all as we lived in the same quarters where we shared our experiences every day and night. What would the verdict be? We thought, we talked, and we prayed.
Olek was asked many tricky questions meant to confuse him. He was as brave as he could be stating over and over again, his innocence. He was not guilty of a "sabotage". They let him go free but not without a threat for the future. I feel that the verdict was in Olek's faver because there was no one more qualified to take his place as he did his job very well. Also, somewhere deep in his conscience (little of which he had) the judge had to realize that Olek was also, an honest man!
The first Christmas in exile was upon us. Our hearts ached with memories of Christmases passed. Christmas in Poland, at home, with relatives and friends. It was a happy time of preparing tasty dishes and decorating our Christmas tree with pride. I put up my hand made decorations. Wanda, my cousin and I spent many evenings working together, helping one another, sharing our skills and creative ideas.
All twelve meatless dishes for Wigilia (Christmas Eve supper) had to be prepared on the same day. We were encouraged to fast during the day. Everyone made up for that at the supper table. What a feast! Barszcz, uszka, lamance, kisiele (jellies), fish, vegetables, fruit, and cakes. Family and friends joined together in celebration. But these were only wonderful memories. The reality of Christmas of 1941 was very grim.
Our hearts were filled with sadness, emptiness, and longing. There was no Midnight Mass, and no relatives or friends to join us on the way to church or visit us at home. No cheerful carefree voices will surround us. There was no Christmas tree decorations, no colorful surprises in the contents of the parcels. There would be no traditional Christmas Eve dishes.
It was getting dark. At home, in Poland, the children would be watching for the first star, a sign for the festivities to begin. The Siberian sky was dark, cold and menacing. My mother was not busy in the kitchen. Actually, there was no kitchen and very little food to be cooked. There were only a few potatoes for the soup and a slice of glue-like dark Russian bread. My mother was sitting quietly. She was praying. I know she was worried. We all were. My father kept looking out through the little pane of glass in a frost-covered window. I knew that he hoped to see my brother, who did not come home from work. It had been a very cold day. The snow fell constantly. The horses would have trouble pulling the sleigh in the deep snow. There were no roads in the thick forest. The horses sometimes got stubborn and refused to move. Sometimes they became wild and ran away leaving a helpless driver behind, lost in the thick, vast woods. Many people ended up with severe frostbites by the time they were found. It was so dark. Where to look? The forest extended for hundreds of miles. Russian officials would not send out a search party. I felt a burning ulcer pain in my stomach. The situation became unbearable. As many times before, I looked for refuge in my day dreaming. The horrible Russian barracks was disappearing. I felt warmth inside me and saw myself standing next to a Christmas tree in our home in Poland. I could almost touch the familiar decorations such as stars, angels, and beautiful bobbles. I could almost taste juicy red apples, cookies, and chocolate candies. The chain, which I made out of straw and multicolored tissues, was beautifully hugging our Christmas tree. I could hear familiar children's voices. "Mother, Mother, the first star is out. Beautiful bright star...
" The voice persisted until it brought me back to reality. "He is here! He is here!" Thank God. My brother was back. He looked exhausted and very cold, but he was alive and home. It was going to be a Merry Christmas after all!
January was extremely cold. My most dreaded chore was to bring water from a well located about a kilometer from our barracks. The snow was deep and it was difficult to walk even a small distance carrying an empty pail. Getting the pail filled with water was an extremely difficult task. A very thick layer of ice covered the opening of the well. It was almost impossible to get the pail down into the well. Many times the pail got caught in the ice and fell into the well and was never recovered. To replace a pail was almost impossible, as there were none for sale. To avoid this disaster, it was necessary to make a larger opening in the ice by using an axe. The ice around the well was very thick also and one could easily slip into the well. Throughout my grown up life, I had a recurring nightmare trying to get my pail out of that Russian well.
With the arrival of cold winter weather, the typhoid epidemic had come to an end, or so we thought. However, in February, a number of people became very ill with it again. Among others, my friend Wladzia and Olek Romanko were in the hospital gravely ill.
The symptoms of this kind of typhoid fever were quite different and at first misleading. Patients complained of a severe back pain and experienced very high fever. Shortly they lost their consciousness for about six weeks. Since Olek's parents lived in the same room, we were informed of the stages of his illness. His father and mother took turns staying by his bedside day and night. The doctors and nurses did not enforce the strict rules imposed by the Russian medical staff because Olek was not expected to survive. Death was expected at any time. We watched the suffering of his elderly parents with great sadness. Luckily after six weeks, there seemed to be some improvement. The fever decreased. There was however another reason to worry because Olek was having some hallucinations which he readily described to anyone who came to visit him. My friend and I went to visit our girlfriend Wladzia. I decided to see Olek, whose bed was in the same ward. Only a curtain separated female and male patients. Olek was very talkative. To the amusement of my friends and my embarrassment, he told me that he would build a home for his future wife. He also intended to raise his seven sons in it. At that time I was not even his girlfriend so teasing did not last too long. However, Olek's predictions did not come completely true, because when we got married nine years later, we had only four sons.
This period of hallucinations lasted for a few weeks and Olek's parents were afraid that the extremely high fever (42ºC) caused some brain damage. Although the typhoid patient felt constantly very hungry and would eat everything in sight, the wasted intestines could tolerate only small rations of food. Parents had to continue their constant vigil to keep Olek from eating too much, which caused death of many patients recovering from typhoid fever.
As if all this was not enough, the additional complications set in as Olek began experiencing excruciating pain in his knee joints. This was soon diagnosed as rheumatic fever. The series of very painful intravenous injections seemed to have brought some improvement. The recovery was very slow. Olek's illness lasted four months.
During this time his family had no income. Since no one worked the bread rations received were very small. The loss of weight, due to lack of food, was quite visible. Olek's return to health and to work was a very welcome event.
Our life in the kulag went on at a slow dreary pace. It was filled with deep longing for the homeland. One day resembled another. The deep longing for our country that filled me with sadness was bordering on depression. To keep up hope became more and more difficult. This sad monotony was often interrupted only by even more tragic events such as illness, injury, or death of loved ones. Severe climatic conditions, cruel treatment and punishment by the captors, hard labor, near starvation took its toll among the hard driven people. Graves increased in numbers. Many families were wiped out by death. In many instances, children were left orphaned and had to take care of themselves. The Russian's interest was such that often they were not even aware that there were orphans. We did not tell them because they would take those children to the Russian orphanages and brainwash them into being good communists. The parents considered such fate worse than death. On their deathbeds, parents asked friends or even strangers to prevent their children from being placed in the Russian orphanages. I spent much time with my friend Bernadeta, fourteen, her little sister, seven, and her brother, nine years old. Bernadeta was the head of the family. She worked in the bush as a lumberjack, side by side with strong grown men. The Russians saw to it that she produced as much as others if she wanted to qualify for the increased ration of bread to which only hard working prisoners were entitled. Bernadeta left home at dawn and came home at dusk. She was physically exhausted beyond human endurance. Younger children went to school during the day. They ate very little. At night, Bernadeta had to prepare the meal, which was not easy. Most of the time, the family shared their ration of bread and ate some soup consisting of water and few pieces of potatoes or a mixture of a few spoons of flour. Other vegetables were nonexistent. After supper the washing of clothes, cleaning the hut and mending kept the family busy till late at night. When finally they went to bed and the little ones fell asleep, Bernadeta worried about the future. How to save the little ones? Asking the officials for help meant separation most likely forever. But what if the children would die due to malnutrition? Did she have a right to decide their fate? At such times, Bernadeta, like all other exiles, felt that this kind of suffering could not go on forever. Things must change soon. In the meantime, the consolation came from being able to pray to believe that God was always there seeing our suffering, loving us and willing to take care of us. A prayer and these thoughts usually brought on some sleep and much needed rest. After all, the next day would again demand super human strength to endure extreme cold, hard labor and a constantly starving body.
The second spring in exile came slowly and was late. All around us the people were recovering from the very cold and very long winter. The letters and a few parcels arrived from home. Since the letters were censored and listening to the radio was forbidden under a threat of severe punishment, we had no news about the progress of war. The Russian officials were still boasting about their great friendship with Germans. People were becoming depressed. No one was allowed to go home. In fact, two young people who escaped from Poldniewica were caught and brought back to our camp after a few months. They never talked about their ordeal, but Wladek, a 24-year-old escapee had a number of teeth missing. After that no one dared to escape. Bringing the prisoners back to the camp worked as the Russians expected it to. But there were a few who secretly constructed a simple radio. One of them, Professor Hofman was caught listening to it. He was arrested and taken away into a prison. No one knew his whereabouts. His wife, who was quite ill, was left to fend for herself in our kulag. It seemed that everything worked against us. Everything worked well for our cruel captors. Life was more and more difficult. Much needed articles of clothing and linen were almost all bartered away and there was little to exchange for food. Luckily we were given small garden plots. At the end of May, we planted potatoes and some vegetables. We were longing for those things to grow a little faster, but the ground froze very deeply and cold did not encourage the growth of our sickly looking plants.
A group of Russian engineers came to Poldniewica. Since they were mostly young men, they tried to make friends with our youth. As a token of goodwill, the engineers were invited to a dance, which took place in our living quarters. Although most of the time, the alcohol was not available, this time the engineers managed to get some from the nearby kolchoz. After a few drinks, they "forgot" that they "befriended" their Polish prisoners. Their remarks became quite offensive. The fight was short. The "enemy" retreated. When the excitement subsided, the anxiety and worry began. "Victorious" Poles knew that this would not be forgotten and that they would be punished severely. To be separated from the families and put into a restricted Russian prison often meant death.
Early in August, it was observed that there was unusual movement around the camp administration building office. There were wagons, horses and new policemen. All of us were frantic with worries. No one knew how many people would be arrested. No one knew who was accused. However, everyone was certain that there would not be a hearing or fair judgment. The Russians were the accusers and executioners. No prisoners would have a chance to defend themselves or even to explain. Olek was one of the suspects. He was also the only working person in his family. His elderly parents depended on his support. Without him, they would starve. His good friend, Wladek, who had two other working brothers, decided to take most of the blame on himself and state that Olek did not take part in this fight. Luckily, we did not find out whether this friendly generosity would work or not. Suddenly, the militiamen, horses and wagon disappeared. People began to breathe. However, no one believed that this was the end of the trouble. Everyone was glad to have the tragedy delayed.
No one was surprised when after a few days many men were called to the comendantura (office). The arrival of the N.K.W.D. (secret police) was earlier observed. No one really paid attention that the men called in were not the youths involved in the infamous fight, but that these were the heads of the families. The hush ruled the labor camp. Frightened people were quietly praying with more fervor than ever. Waiting for the men to come out was almost unbearable. What if they were arrested? What would happen to the women and children? Suddenly the doors opened and the men came out quietly. Their faces carried a mysterious look. They refused to talk in the vicinity of the commendantura , trying to walk as fast as they could to join their families. The news came out in hushed voices. "Germany declared war on Russia (June 1941). Churchill and General Sikorski were in Moscow for talks with Stalin. We were declared free people. The Polish army would be organized to fight the Germans. Unbelievable! People were laughing and crying. Everyone was making plans. All this happy excitement was restrained by the realization that we were still in the hands of our enemies. Not for a moment did we believe that the Russian communists would suddenly became our friends. We knew how they worked and that they had some underhanded plan up their sleeves. We were deep in the Russian forest. How will we get out? How will we get to a location where the Polish forces would be organized? Where were we going to get food for the travel through the vast Russian country? How are we going to get to the train? Where were the Germans? Endless questions. Our local authorities answered, "My niczewo nie znajem!" We don't know anything. Since the beginning of the Russian German war, there was no mail or parcels from home. There were no deliveries to the camp store. No food to be obtained. The threat of hunger became real. We could not wait for our potatoes to grow. As small as they were, we dug a few leaving the plant still growing. My visits to the villages became more and more frequent. The last articles of clothing had to be bartered. The villagers were feeling the effects of the war. Grain and farm animals were sent to feed the army. To be able to sell I had to walk about thirty kilometers every day. Uncomfortable shoes caused many blisters on my feet. As an "easier" job, I was given a destination of fifteen kilometers a day. It was a cold September day. Every step I took was very painful. My feet were burning. I was alone and so very tired. Why not daydream? I imagined the victorious Polish army bringing freedom to Poland our beloved land. I saw my family arriving back home. Our relatives and friends welcomed us and brought us enough food to satisfy our hunger. I almost tasted fresh, homemade bread with fresh homemade butter. When I returned to reality, I was still smiling and humming a happy tune. I also realized that I was entering our barracks. I brought some food and I could take off my shoes and rest my very painful feet.
After a few days rest, it was necessary to go into another kolchoz. This time it was very far into an unknown territory to me. It was necessary to cross the Vietluga River. There were many frightening stories about the danger of crossing this very wide river. The "bridge" was made out of planks loosely thrown together and filled with dirt that fell through. Through the crack, one could see a roaring river that seemed to want to swallow us. It was necessary to keep good balance in order to stay on the narrow bridge. An early frost made the planks slippery. Every step was an effort. My heart was beating very fast and I was mortaly afraid. My friend's and my trip lasted three days. After successfully crossing the river (back and forth), it was a relief to walk on the land. My body was protesting. It was numb from the exhaustion. Arriving home was like having won another victory for life. This time I even brought home a little bit of honey. This was carefully put away into a small cellar where we were saving some supplies for the journey to southern Russia where the Polish army was being organized.
Some young men decided to travel earlier. They left in September, taking very little food, clothing, and money. They took a lot of enthusiasm and courage, which they needed, for the uncertain journey awaiting them. My seventeen-year-old brother, Tonek went with them. We worried about him, but did not dare to stop him. It was necessary to get out and traveling without women and children was easier or so we thought. My mother found it very difficult to say good-bye to her first born. She kept saying, "I will never see you again". He was annoyed with her and felt that she was exaggerating, but her fear turned to be prophetic. The three of us never saw Tonek again. Only my father saw him briefly in the Polish army in Iraq. Our family never met again as a whole.
Many Russians were called into the army. We knew that the Germans were slaughtering Russians unmercifully. On one of my trips to the village, I saw a procession of people taking a young man to the truck, which took him to a Russian Army post. This procession looked like a funeral. People were saying their good-byes as if the young man was already dead. It was very depressing and based on the fact that, many families were receiving the announcements of men "being killed defending their Mother Russia". These were sad and difficult times for everyone.
Due to this drain of the labor force, it was difficult to harvest the crops of grain and potatoes and villagers asked us to help. My mother and I went into a village (15 km away) to help to harvest potatoes. For the long day's work, from dusk to dawn, we were to receive 30 pounds of potatoes a day. We were allowed to stay with one of the families who out of their generosity fed us and gave us a place to sleep, often on the hard floor or on top of a brick stove. During the two weeks, which we spent, working in this kolchoz, our host told us a tragic story of his family. Both of them, he and his wife, were about 70 years old. They still worked very hard. Two of their teenage grandchildren were living with them. Marcin and Agata, the elderly couple, raised seven children. One of them was a very high ranking official in the communist government in Moscow. Now that the Germans were approaching the capital, the son asked his parents to give shelter to his wife and children. We were very surprised when the old man refused his son's request. The father explained that he found it necessary to disown his son and his family because of the tragic fate, which befell one of his daughters, her five children and her husband. She was also the mother of twins (a boy and a girl) which were raised by the grandparents. About ten years ago (in the early thirties) during very cold winter, the young couple and their five small children were arrested during the night and deported to Siberia. In the winter, they were left in the forest and told to build their own shelters. The whole family perished. They were never seen or heard from. The twins were visiting their grandparents. They were only five years old at the time and they were the only survivors. "How could I love my son after that? He was one of those who gave the orders for such deportations and therefore caused the suffering and death to his own sister and her family. Now he wants me to save his family?" The poor heart broken old man! We understood his difficult decision and why both of them were so kind to my mother and me. In us they saw the fate of their beloved daughter. We had that in common with her. Helping us slightly eased their suffering, because they could not save their loved ones from a fate the same as ours.
After the potato harvesting was done, it was again my duty to walk 30 kilometers every day to bring back our pay. I carried about 40 pounds of potatoes on my back while walking through the fields and the forest. The worst part of it was that I had to do it alone. My friend worked in other villages. Often when I came home it was already dark. Walking alone through the forest was a frightening experience. There was the consolation of having some food for the family.
While we were coping with every day problems of staying alive, grown-ups were trying to arrange our departure from Poldniewica which still was a forced labor camp for us. Nothing actually changed since we were given the small piece of paper which declared our freedom. A few men left our camp and traveled to Buzuluk. Some came back with news but still empty-handed. The Russian authorities refused to assign a train, which would carry us to the southern part of Russia. They needed the slave laborers and they were determined to postpone our departure. Finally in October, Antoni Maj comes back with some good news. He was successful in acquiring a train for which we had waited for many long months. How he accomplished that was a mystery to many. We were told to pack very quickly and in a few days we were given horses and buggies, which took us to the closest railway station, located about 20 kilometers from Poldniewica. The first snow had fallen. Our belongings were deposited on the ground and we were left outside to wait for the arrival of the train. No official could or wanted to tell us when this would happen. We had fires going but the snow was falling, our clothes became damp and we felt very cold all the time. The nights were the most difficult. All our cooking utensils were packed away. Cooking by the open fire was quite impossible anyway. We ate very little and only the dry foods. The only hot drink was boiling water "keepiatok".
After waiting in this misery for three days and nights, the train arrived at the station. It was a cattle train; same as the one that brought us to Russia. We were allocated a space on the "prycze" (platform like shelves) and we had started out journey into the unknown, hoping for a better tomorrow and praying to God for His guidance and help in this yet another difficult journey, which we had to undertake again. Will we survive this difficult journey? Will our health stay with us? How are we going to get some food in this hungry, empty land? What awaits us at the end of this journey?" A lot of questions, but no answers. No assurances, only more delays and long stops on the side railway track. The communists hated to see us getting away from them. After all, as they told us when they brought us to this God forsaken land, they did not expect us to live! "The more of you that die, the happier we will feel!" Chapter V Our Journey South-Escape.
