My father, for joining the Polish army in a fight against the communist Soviet Union in 1919-20, was given a tract of land 15 hectares in 1922. He married a teacher from southern Poland, Olga B. Sidorów, and had 2 children, my sister Irena, born on 1 January 1930, and myself, born on10 October 1932. For us, the years before 1939 were the happiest years.

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My father (Zygmunt) was mobilized on 23 August 1939, and we had no knowledge of what happened to him when on 17th September the Russian army occupied eastern Poland. His surprising return just before Christmas was most welcome, as, apparently he had been a Russian prisoner. In the meantime, Mother was forced to learn the Russian language and history, so she could teach in Russian.  

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On 10 February 1940, at about 2 am, there was loud banging on the front and back doors. Father had time to dress and hide, either in the loft or a small cellar underneath the house. When the doors were opened, 2 soldiers with guns and some NHKD civilians entered. They soon found my father, and he was forced to sit in the corner of the room so he could not escape. A soldier stood above him, with a rifle on a string instead of a leather strap.

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They gave us 3 hours to pack aur belongings as we would be re-settled to a destination unknown. Mother completely lost her head in the panic. All she packed was a large bag of dried bread, her graduation documents, employment contracts, family photographs, and a jar of jam, into her school satchel, which soon broke in the crowded conditions on the train. The soldiers were saying that they have everything in the Soviet Union, even factories of oranges, which seemed ridiculous.

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Fortunately for us, mother's older sister Rozia and brother Władek, were staying with us, so they packed the either-down pillows, 2 duvets, father’s suits, warm clothing for everybody, and as much food as was in the house. Sister Irena was sent to our nearest neighbour to get some bread, as we had none left.

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Aunt and Uncle were not on the list, so they stayed behind white we were loaded on our own sleigh and horse and transported under guard to the school building in Zaost Rowiecze. Mother went to the toilet and a soldier went with her and ordered the door to be left open, in case she tried to escape. We were among hundreds of strangers, and no relatives.

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At dawn, we rode to a foresters’ lodge, where we spent the night and next day we arrived at the nearest train station, at Baranowicze. It had wider tracks, suitable for Russian trains, and we are loaded into cattle wagons. About 40 people per wagon, small windows boarded up on the outside, with 2 beds of boards and some straw at each end of the wagon. The doors were slammed shut and secured on the outside.

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After a while, it was hot, stuffy and smelly inside. There was only a round stove with some wood in the middle of the wagon and a round hole near the wall opposite the door which was the toilet. Men rigged a screen with blankets, to give some privacy to people using it.

 

The train started with a severe jolt, (experienced many times during the journey, with some people being thrown against the stove and burned, like my great aunt Trojanowska). Men cut small openings in the shutters and read the names of stations passed, so it seemed we were travelling to northern Rusia, to Siberia? We travelled without a break for 4 days, before stopping in the middle of nowhere. We were allowed to leave the cattle truck to pick some snow for water, breathe fresh air, and use the open field to relieve ourselves. The men had to cut trees to feed the engine. An infant died during the journey; the body was just thrown into the snow.                                                                              

 

At a small station, we were loaded onto trucks and driven to the nearest settlement. From there, we proceeded on sleighs for another few days, through impenetrable forests. Finally, we arrived at the Kubalo settlement in the Ustyjanskij region of Archangel, within the polar circle. The snow was over 3 feet deep and the temperature was about -30 C.

 

The settlement contained 6 old wooden barracks below a stream. It was built by Ukrainian prisoners from the 1930s who were now living in a village some 10 km away. We were not allowed to meet them, but they came in the middle of the night to barter.The next day, men and women were given saws and various axes and had to start cutting down the primeval pine trees.

 

The stream led into a river which, in the summer months, was shallow in one place, so we could walk to the other side. We always came out with some leeches sticking to our legs. Further downstream, the water was deeper, and there was a footbridge over it. It consisted of 2 flattened logs resting on concrete supports, dangerous but the only way to reach the other side in the spring.

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The settlement held about 500 people. In the middle was a newly built school, as well as a large platform for dancing when someone would play an accordion. This was rather surprising to me, that in these forced circumstances people could still enjoy themselves. Maybe they were Russians.

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The settlement was 12 km from Bestuzewo, which is 20 km from Wieruskoje Oziero. Many years later, I learned that our aunt Wacia Rytwinska, with her family was in the "Pudla" settlement there. Our barracks were divided into 2 sections; each end was for 4 families. Blankets were hung on stings to give some privacy. Wet clothing was hung to dry on these strings, while boots and the cloth wrapped round the feet were hung near the stove.

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There were also much better buildings, some made of brick, for the NKWD and the administration. There was a "bania" - a sort of Turkish bath – that could be used once a week. There was also a large bakery and kitchen.

 

When father sprained his shoulder, had a high temperature and a very large swollen bruise, he was taken to the hospital in Biestuzewo, where they told him he had TB & gave him an aspirin. Fortunately, it was not TB. He once went with the guards to Kotlas, to a justice tribunal for " progul" - whatever that means. I do not remember what penalty he had to serve.

 

We had 4 large bunks in the barrack - one for each family. In total 20 people: 

• We were 4, father Zygmunt (born 1900) mother Olga Bronisława (born 1906), sister Irka, (born 1930), and myself, Bogdan Marian (born 1932) so I was 7 and half years old.

• The Pyzuk family of 4 (parents, daughter Mirka, and Father Mr. Baran).

• The Dudow family of 6 (parents, children Adolf, Lutek, Stefa, Hela).

• The Gryglik family of 6 (parents, his sister Maria, children Wisia, Henia, Zdzisio).

 

I remember that when somebody got a cold or pneumonia, they were treated with heated air inside small glasses stuck to their back and this did help because there was no other medication. (it’s quite an old-fashioned remedy, well-known on the continent). I remember standing in those long queues for bread on extremely cold days. You had to watch your position and if I had to relieve yourself, you had to notify the person in front and behind you to watch your space. If I got very cold, I used to flail my arms around my body to warm up as well as jump up and down on my toes.

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The large round loaves were very heavy but delicious. It was very accurately weighed at 300 grams per person. If it had an additional small slice, we would eat it without telling our parents. At Home, mother divided the bread into equal portions. I always tried to choose the one that looked the biggest. Father, despite the starvation diet, would swap some bread for a tobacco leaf which he rolled into a cigar shape and cut it into fine slivers to roll a cigarette in newspaper, having read it beforehand. It was the only source of news, though filled with propaganda. He cut the matches into 2 or 4 if possible, but to save them he would light the cigarette from someone else’s cigarette.The other saving was to add water to a paraffin lamp - the water stayed at the bottom while the short wick was in paraffin.

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After a while, a custom spread, that if a person had no money to buy his portion of bread, another person bought it and took half of it. A very thin soup, often fish soup, with a tiny piece of meat in it now and then, or cereal, could also be bought with previously purchased ration cards. Some people who managed to fulfil their work quota received nearly double rations, but this was rare.

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Right after arriving, they gave out various saws, axes, divided everyone into groups and sent them into the forest to cut down old conifers. Those were cut into 3- and 4-meter-long logs and were transported to the piles on the riverbank, to be floated to Archangel in the spring. I remember them as they rolled down to the water, while men with hooks on long poles jumped from log to log to keep them flowing smoothly. There were some jams, and these were blown out with dynamite. 

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Women's work was cutting off branches, stripping bark, looking after the fire where they could warm themselves now and then. A Russian supervisor would measure the piles of cut trees. If possible, the men would transport some logs secretly from one pile that had already been recorded, to another, so that the norm would be met.

 

In the beginning, Mother contacted the camp commandant, saying she was a teacher, but he declared that she would probably teach the wrong things, so she had to go into the forest.

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Father got frostbite on his left thumb and could not work in the forest. The thumb started to rot, he got some potassium termagant from the medical assistant to soak it in. I, on return from school, on seeing that juice, gulped a bit. It was terrible, and I could not get the taste out of my mouth for a few hours.

 

After a few weeks, the flesh on his thumb had rotted, exposing the bone, so father took some cutters and cut it at the joint. Father had to work, for as the famous Russian saying says ,"if you do not work you do not eat", so he was given work in the office, adding columns of figures. He was good at it. He was paid more and was in a warm room. He could buy someone's ½ bread ration now and then, and buy tobacco.

 

In the spring, summer and autumn, on the slope of the hill, I used to dig out a hole for a fire. I would start the fire, and cook pig-weed, stinging nettle and sorrel for soup, and sometimes potato - it was a delicious soup. After a few days, my oven collapsed, so I had to dig another one next to it. In my spare time, I used to make whistles. I tried to make flutes, but it never worked.

 

At the end of summer, bilberries, some potatoes, and mushrooms were the main food source. Clearings in the forest were almost black with wild bilberries. People collected them by the bucketful. Some mushrooms were poisonous and had to be boiled 3 times. Some people died eating them, and some old ones were full of worms.

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There were also wild raspberries, alpine strawberries, and cranberries in the forest. On one of these mushroom pickings, we unexpectedly met my aunt  Maria Trojanowska from Wieruskoje Oziero. We were not aware that they also had been deported with their 4 daughters, as well as my aunt Wacława Rytwinska with her 2 sons, Zbyszek, Janusz and daughter Wiesia, from Tiula camp, while their father hid himself well and was left behind in Poland.

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Our family did not suffer from night blindness or scurvy (lack of vitamins) as many other families did, but we had colds, pleurisy, treated with those glass jars. There was no typhoid, and despite starvation, most people were healthy. Did the frost kill bacteria? or did separation from other people help? One man was killed by a felled tree; others died from starvation or exhaustion. Next to the forest, a small cemetery with small wooden crosses grew steadily larger.

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Children were forced to go to school. To me, it seemed that the teaching was good, they paid particular attention to calligraphy. I remember to this day songs like Wołga Wołga mother river, Katy went to the bank of the river, the national anthem. Now and then we had competitions and if you wanted to get a sweet, you said "Stalin give me a sweet", and a tiny window opened and a sweet tell down from a picture of Stalin.

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Almost all the boys went fishing for sticklebacks. My rod was a thin stick with a pin bent into a hook. As bait, a tiny blob of hard-pressed bread. It was almost black with fish, for they must have been very hungry as well. You just had to sharply lift the stick and most of the time you had a stickleback, either caught properly or by the belly. I usually returned with some 20 to 40 of them in a jar. This was a substantial help with food. Much larger fish were caught in deep water by the "bridge", on true hooks, but I had never seen one.

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In winter, we crossed the river on ice, while the slope was excellent for sledging. We tried skating on wood wedges tied with a string to the leg, but without a wire at the bottom, they would not move.

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Removal of the stumps of trees was above human strength, so they used dynamite to blow them out, a whole series of explosions with a man running fast from them. We boys were very thrilled by the explosions next to the camp, the sight of stumps, earth, stones being hurled up. Once they were levelled, potatoes were planted. They hardly grew before the frosts, and still, we were not allowed to dig them up. The growing season was only 4 months long and the potatoes were supposed to mature in that time.

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Once, a horse died. He was buried, but at night, men dug him up. I remember that the cutlets were rather sweet. (Horse meat was not eaten before the war). Another time, we were given some badger meat, while once, I ran home extremely happy with finding a half rotten pickled cucumber. 

 

Twice, we received a food parcel from aunt Rozia and our servant Teodora in Poland. There were boiled eggs and a whole goose. I do not know how they arrived unspoiled. It must have been deep winter. Mother cut up the goose into 30 portions, one per day, according to mother, but I do not remember this.

 

There was one attempt to escape. After a week, 2 men were found in the forest, half alive. They were punished. Major penalties were dealt with in Wieruskoje Oziero, rarely in Archangel. Small misdemeanours were sent to the local prison.

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One day, Mother was called to the commandant’s office. She went with trepidation, for she did not know where she has transgressed. He was smiling. He had received this telegram. “Forward seventy-three rubles to Buchowskoj Olga". Trying to fathom who is Buchowska, so he could pass on the 73 rubbles, he finally deuced that it must be 73 rubles payable to Trybuchowska. So that she knew how generous the Soviet Union was, he paid out the 73 rubles in full, but she had to change her name to Buchowska. Mother returned home very glad and full of smiles.

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To digress a little, history nearly repeated itself for, as a reprisal for taking part in the Polish January 1863 uprising against the Russian Tsar, whole farms and estates were confiscated. To avoid this, the owners had to change their name to something quite different. In our case, from Trzebuchowski, Coat of Arms Ogonczyk, to Trybuchowski.  Apparently, it was sufficient to keep the property. Many years later, I got in contact with Mrs. Kwasniewska, nee Trzebuchowska. All I can say is that Aunt Halina used to say she knew of the change of the name, but not why. They lost their estate in a court case. The same was confirmed by newly discovered relatives in Poland.

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On another day, the camp commandant entered our room unexpectedly just as Mother was teaching us religion in Polish. He said he knew that Mother was teaching us about that prostitute Mary, who had a bastard son. He threatened her with jail but that was all.

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Many times, I spent watching men sawing tree trunks into boards. It was first squared on the top, bottom and sides. With a string blackened with charcoal, it was marked for cuts. Usually, one man on top and one below of a specially dug large hole, with the log on a trestle, but if the tree was extremely thick, then two below and two above with a giant saw, produced wide boards.

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New barracks were built. Straight trunks of wood were grooved on top so that the next one fit reasonably well and the gaps were filled with moss. No nails were used. I admired people's skill, forgetting that nearly all had built their homes, barns, pigsties, on their farms in Poland. At night, when there was a strong frost, the wood cracked loudly, waking us.There were also a brick works, which was heavy work for women mixing clay, loading it into wooden forms, and arranging it to dry. I do not remember what was built with them.

Most of the workers had to buy new "walonki" that is boots but made out almost 1" thick felt. Very warm, light, but if not worn with galoshes they absorbed water. “Fufajki” were cotton stuffed wind cheaters. Without them one would have perished in those -30C frosts.

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They did not inform us for quite a while about the "amnesty" when Hitler attacked Russia. We could now go out of the camp to the Ukrainian village to swap clothes, pans for potatoes, flour, eggs.

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I especially remember the Christmas Eve supper, traditionally at least a 12 course vegetarian supper at the first sight of a star. Mother had placed a full dish of boiled potatoes in their skins and said those wonderful words, "eat as much as you like". We had not heard these words for 2 years. Our stomachs swelled. Right after this meal, Father loaded us onto hired sleighs that had been exchanged for his last suit, and we drove south for 10 days. The first stop was at Bestuzevo, visiting the Pyzuk family who had left the camp a bit earlier.

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Everywhere we stopped, we were given "kipiatok',' hot water from a samovar and occasionally a lump of sugar for children. The sugar was always in very hard large lumps and one used an axe to break it into small pieces and sucked it with water from a saucer. When not dissolved, one packed it in a paper for the next cup and the next. Local people were jealous of our freedom.

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Very often, I was taken for a girl with a fringe sticking out from a woollen cap, saying what a beautiful girl I was, so one day I found scissors and cut it off and was told off by my mother.

After some 200 miles or kilometres, we arrived at the Siniega station. Sleeping on the floor for a few nights, waiting on the arrival of a train, our father forcefully loaded us onto a carriage full of prisoners, who swore terribly. They were Russian prisoners building a railway further north, moving south to Vologda, a main communications centre. Here, in a large hall, we slept again on the floor, packed like sardines. During the night, I had to go outside, so I had to walk over people’s bodies, trying to step on the chests, which was not always possible, and only people's moans and wheezes signified they were alive. This we endured for 5 days in which time death had an abundant crop. Every few hours, dead people were taken out.

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Here, we were attacked by lice. For the next few months, women combed their heir onto a paper and killed them with their thumb nails, a sound heard for some 4 feet. Everybody did it without exception, yet we did not get rid of them.

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The other occupation was chewing cow cakes that were meant for cattle. When the sunflowers were pressed, the remains were so hard, we chewed them almost constantly, while most were soaked in water for 24 hours. With a bit of flour, Mother made "burgers" baked on the side of the stove. If someone was rich enough to throw potato peelings out, she baked them similarly, and they were as good as modern chips.

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The trains were exceptionally long, with an engine at the front and another at the back, especially in the south of Russia, and always with a terrible jolt at the start or stop, wagons hitting the next one and the next and so forth

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Often men had to dig out the rails from the heaps of snow. Often, the train was forcing its passage through the drifts of snow while people were thrown about inside like packages. The engines had a special plough in front, but it was not enough. We changed trains quite a few times. Once we had a passenger compartment, what a luxury to sit on soft cushions an only some 14 people in a compartment.

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At one of the stations, we met the Mazur family, our nearest neighbours in Poland. They all survived, including 6 sons and a daughter. Many years later I learned that both parents, a son and daughter had not survived the rest of the long journey south to Uzbekistan

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Father looked after the food, hot water, bread, often fresh or frequently frozen. People stole where possible, broke wooden fencing or other wood for burning, stood in long queues while the train unexpectedly left. Trying to catch it, they jumped into wagons, and there was one accident where the wheels had cut off a man's legs. I do not know if the man survived. We spent hours on a siding in Moscow. Often, we stopped to let the transport of tanks, field guns, and petrol tankers going west, or whole trains with wounded soldiers go by. They had priority.

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At one of the stations, we met my aunts, Alina and Wacia Rytwinska. From them we learned that my grandmother, Emilia, had died on the way south and her body was forcefully taken to the" mortuary" by breaking the gate on the Akciubinsk platform and left there. The same station where their ancestor, some tens of years before, had been a station master. However, Aunt Alina said that the body was kept on a small platform of the cattle truck, and once it started to decompose, they just threw it out into a field, in between stations.

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In the south of Russia, we travelled through many tunnels, some unbelievably long. One had to close the shutter over the small window as the smoke was terribly smelly and choking.

At one of the stations, Mother had emptied the potty through the door. When one of the Russians saw the potty, he determined that he would buy it. He offered a fantastic price, as it was an ideal shape to cook food in. There was always a shortage of cooking utensils. We lived for a month with that money.

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We travelled past Tashkent and stopped at a small station called Andjizan. Here, one end of the carriage lifted as the train stopped. We heard people shouting, running aimlessly, some falling. After a few seconds, the carriage settled as if nothing had happened. It was an earthquake. We could see some cracks in clay huts nearby.

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We travelled too far, almost to the Chinese border, and then we went back west the same way. At every station, a man would walk all the length of the train tapping the wheels. Ping, Ping, Ping. Probably checking for cracks.

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The Polish army was forming in Uzbekistan, further west, near Buchara and Guzar, so we travelled there. Women and children were sent to work on collective farms, equally in terrible conditions and starvation. Mother determined that we will never depart from where the soldiers were, so we disembarked at a small station, Jakobaq, where the 6th PAL was forming (light anti-aircraft battery) and the 17th Infantry Division. Father hired a room from a Russian woman, while he enrolled in the army at Kitab.

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For a few days, I would go to the soldiers and beg for bread, any bit that they were willing to give, sometimes half a slice. Together with an extremely nice smelling melon, this was a delicious breakfast. Ever since, if I eat a melon, I remember those days and I have not tasted a melon as good as those in Uzbekistan.

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It must have been July, maybe August, for it was warm and I picked some mulberries from someone's tree. We could buy kisz-misz (dried raisins, apricots, peaches) and katyk (the best sour milk in the world, much nicer than today’s yogurt),in the market.

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After a few weeks, Father arrived, found his wife unconscious and we children with a high temperature. We were in a shed, as the Russian woman was afraid that we would infect her son with typhoid. Father hired a mud hut from an Uzbek, built a "bed", got some aspirin powder from a military doctor, and looked after us until the worst was over with a slight return to health. I remember, while mother was unconscious for a few days, she was shouting very loudly with a terrible voice, something not understandable. The same shouts I heard later in Persia, India, and Africa. She must have been re-living Siberia. My sister Irka and I were only unconscious for 2 days, while Mother for 4. After recovering, we slept under the stars if it was too hot in the mud hut, despite the fear of scorpions or snakes. I remember that sky, full of stars, some 20 cm between them, with a star falling every few minutes. Mother said it was the soul of a dead person going to heaven. And that milky way not far from horizon.

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We children returned quickly to full health but had a terrible craving for food.

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Father returned to his unit, but he had problems, and was being taken as a deserter. To avoid court marshal and being shot, they advise him to enrol with a different unit, and he did so in Guzary, which quickly became known as a Valley of Death.

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I collected "pachta" - dried stems of cotton bushes and semi dried cow " cakes" which when put on the roof of the hut, dries further and is used as firewood, for there were no trees. One day I ran home, terribly frightened, and said that I have seen a very large beetle, the size of an Uzbek's cap. That was a tortoise.

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One day, Mother saw some young homeless children. She took care of them but could not  feed an extra mouth. Every day some more arrived; their fathers having joined the army. There were also some women whose names were not on the list for departure, leaving their children in the hope that at least they may leave Russia. A sheltered group (it was not permissible to call it an orphanage) was formed, with some 90 children and 8 or 9 carers„ At the request of the Polish government's deputy, Mrs. Hodalina, Mother became the head of it. The children were 2 to 12 years old. We were housed in a large room in the station and received an allowance of bread. One day, Mother was cutting the bread, when a slice fell under the table. Mother reached for it, but a boy laying next to it, bit her arm.

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Every day, after a light lunch, we had to lie on a blanket on the floor, in 2 rows, for an hour of rest. After that, some play and some lessons. Short trips on an "arba" (a small primitive cart with 2-meter-high wheels, drawn usually by an oxen or donkey). The Uzbeks rode on donkeys, always hitting their behindgently with a stick so the donkey ran reasonably fast. 

We were taught religion, singing, dancing, poems, because we were expecting a visit from General Anders to review the soldiers and Bishop Gawlina, for confessions and Confirmation. I remember well the "spectacle", rhythmic gymnastics with waving paper flags to the tune of "Wszystko co nasze Polsce oddamy" (AII that is ours we will give to Poland), and trojak – a national dance, mainly for children. I remember how Mother was lying under a bench, covered with a blanket while her hands were dressed as dolls that quarrelled and fought each other. There were a lot of children's and adult's laughter, including General Anders.

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The visit of Bishop Gawlina was very cheerful. Many children took their 1st Communion, me included, and Irka had her Confirmation.

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The first few transport ships to Persia left in April when we were still on the road. The next were missed because of illness. We were on the the last transport in September. The Russians checked every name on the list that had been previously submitted and authorized. We went by train to the port of Krasnowodsk (current name Turkmenbashi). Children of 12 years or more were taken as cadets so Mother reduced our age by 2 years just in case. We left the wagons near the port, by the shores of the Caspian Sea. The heat was severe and we had no drinking water. I walked in the shallow sea and came out with oily black legs that were difficult to clean.

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On the beach, there were piles of clothing and possessions in blankets tied with a string, since we were told to leave everything behind. Mother refused and kept her eiderdown, two duvets and pillowcases. We reached the port on foot, were  loaded onto a small dirty merchant ship with terrible overcrowding and without sanitary provision. Once the ship sailed and started to sway, children became sea sick. Mother tied children's legs with a string so they would not fall overboard. After a terrible night, we reached the port of Bandar -e­Pahlavi, Persia (current name Khoramabad)

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In Pahlavi we stayed about 2 weeks on the beach, under reed shades. We were given vests and men's underpants as trousers. We were then transported through the mountains to No.1 Camp near Teheran. Here we had dysentery, very bad conjunctivitis, and I caught malaria. After about 2 months, we were sent to Ahwaz where we lived in the Shah's stables. We later went to the port of Abadan, from which we sailed to East Africa. On the way, we stopped in Karachi, India, where I caught the mumps and was taken to a British military hospital, where I learned "My Bonny lies over the ocean "

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We landed at the port of Tanga in Africa, and were transported by train, with all the exotic sights, smells and fruit along the way, to the Tengeru  Camp, in Tanganyika. I finished primary school in very difficult conditions, without books and exercise books. I then completed 2 1/2 years of secondary school. Mother was the headmistress of the Secondary Tailoring school in Tengeru.

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In May 1948, we arrived in England. My parents settled in Manchester where I finished secondary school with 6 GCEs, followed by the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology where I earned a degree in Ophthalmic Optics. I was reasonably successful in my profession. I married a wife who was a PhD graduate, who contributed hugely to the health of pregnant women.

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When I retired, I volunteered with a group of optometrists working in Tanzania and Kenya with Vision Aid Overseas, (paying all our own expenses).

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In all, it has been an extremely different and unusual life to what might have been in store in Poland.

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Copyright: Trybuchowski family

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