Memories from Exile: Russia - Asia – Persia (Part 1)
by Wiśka Drewniak
Translated by her grandson Tadeusz Borejko
10 February1940
At 4 a.m. – knocking on the window –then an ill-omened voice said in Russian, ‘Open up at once!’ Several militia men entered, checked everything and went out. We sit and wait, wondering what will happen next. Next an NKVD officer entered and my heartbeat violently. I sensed something evil. He uttered a few orders. ‘Get ready to leave!’ Where to? Only God knows. Is this a dream? Is this reality? Yes, unfortunately, it is true. We are arrested and thrown out of our own home. And there was nothing we could do. I began to get dressed. Tears were falling. An awful pain gripped my heart. No! I cannot describe it. Pain and tears cannot be written down on paper. My last farewells (in my mind) with those closest to me, a last glance at what was dearest to me. I have to travel into the unknown. I looked at my beloved house for the last time, where I experienced so many joyous moments, where my first love awoke in my heart. My shaggy dog howled mournfully. I walked along a well-known path pushing aside branches of trees which murmured eerily. Small snowflakes were beginning to scatter. Behind the stable stood my aunt and uncle (surname Chruścicki) but they were not allowed to approach us. I walked towards the sleigh, but my legs buckled under me. My tears poured out like peas. A terrible pain gripped my heart. My sick sister was carried out and laid on a sleigh. I was close to losing my senses. I begged God to give me strength and fortitude. I glanced one more time at everything. We are moving into the unknown. God protect us – do not let us perish.
We are on the move! It is cold, the tremendous freezing temperatures reach minus 30 degrees Celsius. The sleighs slide by one after the other. The situation is awful. We are on the streets of Boremel. They are full of acquaintances, but they remain helpless. They send their last farewells. How horribly hard and sad. We arrived in Demidówka; a moment’s pause and onward we go. We reached Pełcz. Here we spend the night. It is crowded – people calling, children crying –appalling.
11 February 1940
Departure early in the morning – horribly cold. We are travelling further into the unknown. The situation simply cannot be grasped. The journey lasted all day. In the evening, we reached Werba. Oh, horror! We were loaded onto goods trucks with barred windows and locked doors. It was dark in the wagon. The frost on the walls glittered. Our situation was terrible. On this occasion, they had arrested settlers in the region, foresters and gamekeepers. We are being taken to their ‘paradise’ (we whisper fearfully to each other) in Russia. What cruel fate. In what way were we to blame? The men gathered around the stove and discussed what else could be in store for us. In a corner, someone is quietly weeping. Young people and children are praying.
11 to 14 February 1940
We are still in Werba. Our spirits are terribly low. During the day, we saw other people being deported who had met the same fate. We are not allowed to leave the wagons. Onlookers are sent away. In the evening, a roll call was taken and onward we went. We reached Zdołbunów at night.
15 February 1940
We are in Zdołbunów. I am in a terrible state. I do not even have the strength to cry. Dreadful despair and homesickness. A thousand thoughts crowd my mind. From time to time a Soviet official appears, does a roll call, gives orders and slams the doors.
16 February 1940
We are still in the same place. Throughout the day, we see people being deported into the unknown. So many people having to leave their homeland into a life of misery.
17 February 1940
Already a week has passed since we left our family home. How much we have had to endure during these days! We still have not moved. Excruciating homesickness and grief. In the evening, they allowed a few individuals from another wagon to approach us. I only ask God to give me the strength to survive this.
18 February 1940
We can hear a bell in a nearby church, but we cannot go as we are locked inside the truck. Tears are forced out of my eyes. It is extremely difficult to bear. My heart is enduring so much. Such misfortune! Not so long ago, I lost my father and now my first love. He had to go and defend the fatherland. I do not know where he is. Is he alive? Does he know what happened to me? I am left only with photographs. Now a life of terrible hardship. In the evening, we were supposed to change trains, but this was postponed. I sit and cry like a small child. I cannot come to terms with what has happened.
19 February 1940
We are awakened at 5 in the morning and ordered onto another train. We are getting into Russian trucks. Shouting, crying children. We take our bundles. My little sister is sick, mother is also feeling poorly, I must take charge. The wagon is cold – we started a fire in the stove. Then, banging on the doors. Again, roll call. Today, we are meant to move further on. Two o’clock in the afternoon; cries and weeping arose. Oh! What a cursed moment when we bid farewell to the Polish border. Streams of tears flowed from my eyes. People sang ‘Pod Twą Obronę’ (Under Thy Protection) and ‘Żegnaj Ojczyzno’ (Farewell My Fatherland). Farewell my dear cottage, farewell to the sun on its walls and the silvery stars above. We are saying farewell to the bosom of our motherland. Will we ever return to you? It is only in God’s hands. So many people leaving their country into a life of suffering. What a dreadful and horrible fate. My despair is boundless.
20 February 1940
At 3 in the afternoon, we arrive in Ovruch (USSR). Here we found three other train loads of deportees. We wait an hour and then move off. It is generally a flat landscape with few villages but heavily forested. Our home remains further behind.
21 February 1940
We move deeper into Russia. All around forests and ridges of wind-blown sand. Very few human settlements. We travelled through Rozyazd-Tukhachevsky-Slavechno-Mihalka-Pnov to Kalinkovich. We stayed in Kalinkovich until 10 at night.
22 February 1940
We travelled all night and reach Homel in the morning. Quite a large bustling station. We leave Homel at 2 in the afternoon. We passed Dobrush and arrived in Ozirki at 4 in the afternoon. The train waited for 20 minutes before we continued our journey past Klinki and many other small stations amongst endless forests.
23 February 1940
We reached Bransk at 5 in the morning where we waited for four hours. People were not allowed to approach our wagons nor were we allowed to leave them. We then passed the following stations: Sniezhna-Bielye Berena-Mylinka-Kavrov-Shahov-Naryshkino-Zaharskaya-Ariol. The train arrived in Ariol at midday. A very large station where we saw several trainloads of deportees. For the first time, we got something to eat. However, we were not allowed to leave the trucks. Nor were we allowed to speak to anyone through the windows. How horrid to lose everything, go into the unknown and lead a life of misery. There is no strength left even for tears. I have become self-absorbed and do not want to talk to anyone. The train moves further on. Forests as far as the eye can see, ploughed fields but villages appear very rarely. The landscape seemed ugly to me. When would we finally reach our destination? I have resigned myself to everything. My thoughts move back to the past which, full of charm, disappeared like a dream. A happy quiet life was left behind. Wrecked plans and, instead, pain and sorrow. Where are those beautiful moments when I sat at home with Ziutek – my first love? Where might he be? I pine after him excruciatingly.
24 February 1940
The train pulls into Lev Tolstoy at 6 in the morning. We waited for almost an hour. Further on, we passed Mitiahyno, Reninburg and Bohoyavlensk. More plains and endless forests. The train moves on past Alexandernevsk, Rashkin, Chemaydanovsk, Rezan and Rybnaya.
25 February 1940
We travelled through Divovo-Fruktovaya-Apletevo-Luhovitse-Zalutvin-Peski-Moskvoretskaya-Voskresiensk. The train stopped for 5 hours in Voskresiensk. We move on. Endless forests and forests. Already 2 weeks of this awful ill-treatment. Quite a sunny day but so much sadness in my heart. Further on, we go past Kharlov and Ehorievsk.
My feelings: I am most unwell. My head is bursting with pain. I am sitting by the window and looking outside. We are not allowed to leave the wagon. The train surges forward past forests, villages and over bridges and rivers. We are not allowed to speak to the workers on the railways. How dreadful everything is. My little sister is sick, and mother is constantly in tears and deep in thought. I beg God for the strength to stop myself going to pieces.
26 February 1940
We are now in the Ivanovsk region. At 8 in the morning, we reach Buchnay. There is a mad blizzard and frost outside. Next, we pass Raz-Visokovo, Voshod and Zsini. We arrive in Kavrov.
27 February 1940
In the morning, we reach Tolokoltsev. The train waits half an hour and moves on. Not even time to prepare any food because the train moves, jerks and everything spills out of the pots. Cold, hunger and grief. We pass Kolykmno and Osinin. Forests everywhere. A howling wind outside. Its wailing weighs even more heavily on our hearts. What else is in store for us? We are now in the Gorkovsk region. The stations Perehvashki , Vetluzhsk and Uran go by. There is a half hour wait in Uran. We arrive in Shahun at 5 in the afternoon. We stop for an hour. This journey has become increasingly disgusting.
28 February 1940
At 5 in the morning, we reach Komelnich. Always the same landscape, forests and forests. We are in the Kirovsk region. Bystrani and Orichi passed by. They have halted in the forest at a junction. We waited for a whole nine hours. Only forests around us. Perhaps we will have to live in them – how terrible, how frightful.
29 February 1940
We are in the Archangelsk region. The train goes past the Oparina and Pinukh stations before it reaches Kotlas. There are rumours that we are going to get off here. Indeed, we are ordered off the train. My legs buckle beneath me.
1 March 1940
After travelling for so many days, after experiencing so many ‘delights’, we are in Kotlas. Despite our exhaustion, they did not manage to make us afraid of them. The whole train resounded with the national anthem, ‘Poland has not yet Perished’. Let them see what a tough and stubborn nation we are. One of the soldiers tries to joke with the girls. We look on scornfully and not a word is uttered. They divide us into two groups. One group is allocated to some sort of social club and the other to a school. I go to the latter. The hall is full of young people, and we get to know each other. I spent the evening talking to Bronek Sułkowski, Antek Smoleński, Hela Walkowiak and Zosia (Walkowiak?) We played cards and reminisced.
2 March1940
We are still in the school. Time drags on awfully. The younger people play cards and sing patriotic songs. I am immensely sad. I got to know a lot of boys and girls, the children of other deportees. In the evening, it is my turn to guard the baggage.
3 March1940
Nothing has changed. We are still stuck in the school. Today we went to the ‘club’ where the other group of deportees is. Then, we visited acquaintances from our settlement. In the evening, it is my turn along with Hela, Tadek and Janek to guard the luggage. We reminisce. Tadek says I worry too much and must not let everything affect me in this way. I should just accept it, he advised.
4 March1940
Again, no changes. Some people have been taken somewhere else. They are transported into the depths of the forest. How nasty this all is. My thoughts fly back to my homeland, to my family and friends. I try to come to terms with my fate – but how difficult it is. What has happened is hugely heart wrenching. Love, my first love, burst and vanished like a soap bubble. If only I could write a letter and find out where you are Józio (Ziutek). Are you alive? Do you know what has befallen me? Why has such a cruel fate visited upon me? What else is going to happen?
5 March1940
My mood has not differed, that sorrow, that pain, that mad despair. There is nothing worse than to be turned out of your home and wander in another land. Wherever I look, all is foreign to me. It is not like the fatherland. Everything seems to exhale a loathsome odour. Today I feel unwell. My head and throat are so sore. I must have caught a cold.
6 March1940
A tractor moved our baggage. When we will travel further on, I do not know. There are still about 60 families. I feel indifferent. My temperature is high – the evenings are the worst.
7 March1940
I am getting worse. No improvement. They wanted to take me to hospital, but we are supposed to travel tomorrow. I’ve had enough of everything.
8 March1940
Some carts arrived today – we are getting ready for the next stage of our journey. The sleighs have holes in them and the horse can barely stand on its legs. How dreadful. They are loading our belongings. I have been given some pills and off we go. My head aches terribly. The fever intensifies. I am so thirsty but there is nothing to drink. A caravan of forlorn Poles. Why are we suffering so much? At night, we reached a village. We spend the night in a ‘club’. Hela, Ada, Romek and Tadek have come to visit me. I am still indifferent to everything.
9 March1940
We travel all the time along the River Jivno. All around, endless forests and forests. Night has fallen and we are still on the move. We reached another ‘club’ where we will spend the night.
10 March1940
At 8 in the morning, we continue on our journey. In front of us, nothing but forests. In the afternoon, we reached a town, Cherevkov. We are accommodated in a school. The rooms are packed. Murmur of voices, children crying. Acquaintances consult each other. I am lying in a corner of the hall, on the floor, and cannot gather my thoughts. I am given some pills. Hela, Ada,Tadek and Józek try to cheer me up – but, unfortunately, this is utterly impossible. I am in such a depressed state that I cannot find pleasure in anything. Tears are my greatest consolation.
11 March1940
We remain in Cherevkov. We must wait until they segregate us and decide where each of us will go. The young people quickly become acquainted – we all know each other. In the evening, some Russian youngsters visited us. They invited us to a dance at the social club. Naturally, none of us went. The Russians told us a lot about their lives.
12 March1940
Our journey continues. We are destined for Mala Yeluga. There are another 70 kilometres to go. When will this travelling finally finish? I feel even worse. We have reached our destination in the evening. I am unable to describe my first impression. A large forest clearing and two barracks. All around, the forest spreads infinitely. We are supposed to live here. Isn’t this ghastly? How are we supposed to get used to this? My spirits sank further when I found myself in a room in one of the barracks. They prepared a bunk bed for me – I lay down. There was no medical care. My head is splitting with pain. Before my eyes are scratched walls, cobwebs, a bench and all around the walls more bunk beds where we must sleep. I thought I was delirious – unfortunately, it was true. A small room and three families must live there. We are with the Walkowiak and Brzykcy families. Mr Walkowiak is with his wife, his daughters, Hela, who is my age (17) and Gienia. Their son is called Czesiek. They are from the Poznań province but settled in Bortnica in the Dubno region. Mr. Brzykcy has a wife, a daughter called Frania and a son, Józef, my age. A doctor came to do the rounds in the evening. He diagnosed a severe angina. It got worse in the evening.
13 March1940
The first night of torment passed. So hard and bad. The commandant of the ‘settlement’ came and the group leader of the work brigades. They try to joke but my tears flow as large as peas. The leader of the work brigades noticed and approached my bunk bed. Oh, imagine! I simply could not believe how perfectly he spoke in Polish. In a half whisper he said, ‘Do not cry, miss. It is a pity, but nothing can be done to help you. I understand your pain and despair because I have been through it myself. After that, he left immediately. I could not fathom or understand this.
14 March 1940
I feel a little better. Gracious God will perhaps allow things to be bearable. The doctor came again today and I got some medicine. I sit and look through the windows at those fearsome forests.
15 March 1940
Thanks be to Our Lord God on the Highest; I am recovering my health. I went into another room to talk to some acquaintances. We played dominoes in the evening. I wonder what my dear friends and relatives are doing in Wołyń. A huge expanse divides us. However, we are united by memories of shared experiences. Those moments were full of joy and merriment. Will they ever return? Only God knows.
16 March 1940
The men went to work today for the first time. The women, the younger people and children stay in the barracks. In the evening, they talked at length about how the work went,
17 March 1940
A rest day from work. ‘Vyhadnoy’ in Russian. In the morning, I went with Hela and Frania into the forest. Snow everywhere and it was cold. In the evening, people from my room went on visits to other rooms. I remained and started looking through photograph albums and ‘pamiątniki’ (kinds of autograph or scrapbooks where friends write down their thoughts) when the work brigade leader entered. He immediately informed me that he is not allowed to talk to us, but he came on a kind of ‘official errand’ to find out how I was. I discovered that around us are there are people living in other settlements or ‘posholki) who were deported in 1930 from Belarus and most of them are Poles. His name is Leon Sławecki and he has a brother and two sisters (his parents are deceased). The poor souls have been toiling here for so many years. Many, so many of them, have died. He asked where we are from and begged me not to tell anyone of our conversation. He looked at my photographs, and I could see it made him feel very melancholy.
18 March 1940
Today the commandant registered the women for work. I am still in the barrack. I wonder what kind of work awaits us in the forest.
19 March 1940
Today is St. Joseph’s Day. It is the name day of my mother, uncle (Chruścicki surname), aunt (Wysocka surname) and my darling Józef (diminutive Ziutek). My thoughts go backwards into time; how different everything is now. Nevertheless, I send you all, my dear ones, on ethereal wavelengths, my sincere greetings. I spent the evening looking at photographs when Sławecki appeared again. He picked up a few photographs, among which was one of Józef. There was a dedication on the other side, and he turned to me and said, ‘Now I understand, Miss, why you are crying and so lost in your thoughts. I can understand this pain because I was once in love. This torment will pass, please believe me.’
20 March 1940
I am going to work for the first time and, with other girls, we reach the forest. Where are we to start? The snow is waist deep. We are ordered to collect branches, pile them up and light a fire. It is not very easy as the branches are wet. Sławecki (our work brigade leader) came and tried to help us. I returned to the barrack very sad and tired not wanting to talk about the work at all. Will I be able to stand this for very long?
21-22 March 1940
It is Holy Week. My Dear God! It is almost Easter. How heavily and sadly this lies on my heart. On Good Friday, people in the fatherland will go to church but we will be working in the forest. How horrendous this all is. After work, in the main hall, we all gathered in the main hall and the hymn ‘Gorzkie Żale’ (Bitter Lamentations) resounds. Someone is weeping in a corner; my heart is bursting.
23 March 1940
Holy Saturday. How I reminisce about my home – decorated Easter eggs, a basketful of consecrated offerings and today, oh God, sorrow and despair. How hard life in exile is. Why has destiny treated us so cruelly? At home, in our beloved fatherland, people are getting ready for the Easter festivities. We are here in the forests of distant Archangelsk sitting and crying in the barracks. Dearest God! Save us from this captivity. Return to us those joyful moments which have slipped so far away. Sorrow, homesickness. Tadek Walczak, Bronek Sułkowski and Stefa Urban came from the other barrack. We wonder and ponder on what will happen to us next. Then the commandant of the settlement arrived together with our work brigade leader, Sławecki; they tried to joke but this just plunged us deeper into sadness. I keep thinking about my country, my family and what they are doing right now. What has been their lot so far? Do they know anything about us? We are still not allowed to write letters.
24-25 March 1940 Easter festivities
It is time for the first church festivities during our exile. My home and family are very far away. How deplorable. We do not feel as if it is a festive time at all. We went to work. In Poland, our compatriots are sitting down to the consecrated Easter breakfast and then they will go to church. However, tears are pouring out of our eyes here in the forest. Let’s fly in our minds to our fatherland where bells are ringing from church towers calling people to prayer. Inside ‘Alleluya’ resounds from the congregation. We, forlorn souls, cannot hear this. The bells will not sound for us; the organs will not play for us. We hear the ringing of axes and the mournful howling of the wind. Throughout the day, each person is lost in thought and sad. After returning from work, we gathered in a room and sang ‘Wesoły nam dziś dzień nastał’ (A Happy Day has Arrived for Us). Tears welled up in my eyes. I have a choking sensation in my throat. No, I can’t make a sound come out of it. Despair and homesickness prevail over everything. In our thoughts we are united with all our compatriots who are suffering in prison camps, concentration camps and jails under German occupation. We have one firm wish –that Almighty God will give us the strength to endure this distressing banishment into exile. It is more unfortunate and difficult if you are as sensitive as I. When I lay down to sleep, my thoughts fly yonder to my home where I experienced so many joyful times amid my family and friends. Unfortunately, all this has elapsed. I cannot reconcile myself to this. I so mourn those days. My poor heart has been through so much – falling in love for the first time, nurturing my hopes and ambitions and everything has vanished like a dream. Perhaps Ziutek did not take our love as seriously as I do but I so feel the distress of our separation. I do not even want to joke with the boys in the settlement because any merrymaking only reminds me of home.
April 1940
As the days go by, we start resigning ourselves to the situation. We go to work and it is very heavy. Waist high, we flounder in the snow chopping wood. What will tomorrow bring? In Poland, spring has already arrived and here it is still winter. After work, time passes by very sadly. We spend the evenings together in the large hall reading our pamiątniki (autograph books), looking through photograph albums and reminiscing. Remembering the past is all we can do.
1 May 1940
We did not go to work today as it is a Soviet national holiday. In the morning, we had a meeting where they made some announcements and told us about our duties – I was not in the least bit interested. In the afternoon, Hela, Romek, Tadek and I go for a walk by the river. The snows are beginning to melt and spring is approaching. On our return, I wrote some letters. We spent the evening in Upper/Greater(?)Yeluga (Vyerhovna Yeluga in Russian) An invitation was received from the social club. Many Poles, deported from Belarus, live in Upper Yeluga. They gave us a kind and warm-hearted reception. They try to help us as much as they can. I sit in the social club, some boys are playing the accordion, guitar and balalaika. Loniek Sławecki approached me and asked me to dance. My polite answer was that I had decided that as long as the war lasts and my compatriots are dying, I would not dance. I did not stay in the social club for long because grief and sadness would not allow me to do so; I preferred to be alone with my thoughts. I returned with Hela, Tadek and Sławecki. On the way back, we talked about everything. Loniek Sławecki told me that I am a very strange girl because I am always sad, self-absorbed and most unlike my other friends. Perhaps that is true, but it is beyond my control.
3 May 1940
Today is the feast day of Mary, Queen of Poland. After work, we decorated an altar. How horrendously sadly and heavily this weighed upon our hearts. We all gathered and towards the heavens rose our prayers begging the Holy Mother for a speedy return to the fatherland so that we could again enjoy a normal life. When there was a pause in our prayers, we sat in front of the barrack. Complete silence. Thoughts came to my mind of traditional May celebrations in my homeland. I would walk with friends in the moonlight with the scent of narcissi and the sound of the croaking frogs in the ponds. Songs devoted to the Virgin Mary would flow and echo over the fields. Today, all this is so far away.
6 May 1940
We began floating the logs down the Yeluga River. These were the trees we had felled. We throw the logs into the water from the riverbank. This was quite hard work for such young girls. We toiled until late because they wanted as much timber as possible.
8 May 1940
We are still floating the logs down the river. Our fatigue is tremendous. We work with only short breaks. Here in Little Yeluga, this task is coming to an end. We are transferred to Upper Yeluga. How are we to endure this? Everybody is exhausted. We worked until 3 in the afternoon, a short break and then marched off back to work. Mud, damp everywhere, cold. We came to a settlement. They accommodated us in one room, boys and girls together. I was made the work brigade leader of the girls and Romek of the boys. Now I am responsible for the equipment and the accomplishment of the tasks.
10 May 1940
We were awoken at 3 in the morning and then went into the dining room for breakfast before hurrying off to work with what strength we had left. The boys were taken to do another job. I have to supervise 10 work girls and am given the tasks in hand. We arrive; it is cold and ice has formed on the water. Floating the logs will bring feeble results. The work is very arduous. The logs pile up on the ice obstructing one another. We returned to the barrack around midnight. I was so tired that I did not even wash and lay down fully clothed to sleep.
12 May 1940
A beautiful day, the sun is warming us, and the birds seem to be singing ‘Today it is Whit Sunday’. Dear God! How sad and hard it is. The Whitsun holidays have arrived and here we are soaked in sweat. The work is strenuous and obstructions have been caused on the river. Logs have piled up everywhere and we cannot manage the situation. We worked until one in the morning. There is no strength left. We return to the barrack, and I can barely stand on my feet – how much more of this can I take? I can’t even sleep because the bed bugs bite nastily.
13-14 May 1940
Floating the logs downriver has finished. Soon we will return to our barrack in Little Yeluga. I am utterly exhausted and walk with difficulty. Today we were sent new work brigades to help us. We tidy up the riverbank. At 2 in the morning, I return to our barrack with Hela, Tadek and Sławecki. I hardly have any control over my legs.
15-17 May 1940
We do not go to work. After such exceedingly strenuous work, we are given a rest. The days are getting warmer. We spend the evenings chatting.
19 May 1940
Today is my 17th birthday. It is so sad and hard for me. I have suffered and endured so much. In the morning, I go to another settlement in Ushch-Zaruba to visit friends. I saw Ada Smoleńska and Hela Gażdzianek . We spent the time quite pleasantly. Othe youngsters from this settlement joined us. I am walking with Antek Smoleński towards the river, the sun is shining, the birds are singing but my heart is terribly disheartened. In the evening, because of the successfully completed work, a dance has been organised in the club. Whether you like it or not, you must go because the commandant will come to the barracks and simply order you out. However, I can’t even dream of dancing. I spent the evening with Ninka Sławecka, Marusia and Katia. I told them about Poland and my home. Oh God! How quickly this has all passed.
20 May 1941
We are still resting after floating the logs downriver. The youngsters gather, go on walks, sing and play cards.
23 May 1941
After a few days’ rest, we go back to work. Nothing but arduous daily toil. We have again started lumbering. I am now in Masalski’s brigade; he was deported in 1930 but speaks good Polish. My present job is cutting off the branches of fallen spruce trees. Quite hard work wielding an axe all day. A few tears rolled down my cheeks. Finally, a few letters begin to arrive from Poland, and we are allowed to write but everything is censored.
27 May 1941
Quite a nice day, the sun is shining. Bustling and chatting outside. Everybody is out in the sun. Loniek Sławecki has turned up and asks me to go on a walk with him. I thanked him and declined the invitation explaining that I wanted to write to my family and friends. Sharing my thoughts and homesickness with them will provide some comfort to my pain. The girls cannot understand why I do not have a boyfriend yet and am not interested in anyone. There is no way such an idea could fit into my head. My longing is enormous. I think about Józio (Ziutek) all the time. The evening was spent looking at photographs.
June 1940
Summer is approaching. Life continues with the same routine. We work very hard. Presently, I am a brigade leader, we flitch or cut spruce trunks into strips. I work with Hela, Stefa and Irka. The boys are cleaning the river. We must walk very far to go to work. Our brigade works beside that of Franek Poradny (?). The sun is quite strong, and we are bothered mercilessly by mosquitoes in the evening. Time passes by and there is hardly any difference between one day and the other. The evenings are enchanting and we experience the so-called white nights. Only between midnight and one in the morning is there some gloom. We go on walks, chat and sing. This was a joyous month for me as I could hardly believe it but I received a letter from Józio D. My God. He is alive and has remembered me; what a miracle. Immediately a weight is lifted off my heart and I am more cheerful.
July 1940
No changes occur during the days and the weeks. We go to work and must toil very hard for our bread. The heat is oppressive, masses of mosquitoes and gnats. I am still detailed to cutting wood into strips. During the breaks, we bathe to cool down a little. It is not very cheerful in our settlement as the youngsters have been split up and sent to work in other settlements. We go on walks after work. The evenings are spent mainly outdoors. We sit by a bonfire which we hope will repel the mosquitoes and gnats. In the settlement, there is only Władek, Kazik and Józek. Their girlfriends are again in different settlements. We can’t wait for Saturday because everybody will return. On Sundays, we collect wild strawberries, blueberries and mushrooms. Then, in the meadows we pick wildflowers to decorate our barracks. My greatest joy is the longed-for letters from home. I received two letters from our parish priest in Boremel. The letters quite simply give me the strength to endure this struggle with my fate. My sister goes to school; mother does not work because she is sick. Auntie carries water to the dining room to get some food. In fact, I am the only breadwinner. Parcels from Poland are a great help. Also, by exchanging a few personal items, I can get milk and potatoes. Nevertheless, our sorrowful life is hard, very hard.
August 1940
Summer is ending. There are no changes to our lives. The same work, the same daily struggle to survive. I am again involved in felling trees and helping the brigade leader with classifying the logs. In the middle of the month, I am sent to work on extracting oil from birch trees which is to be used as fuel for tractors. They have sent us three tractors to be used for transporting timber. In my brigade, there are 14 women and girls. We saw the birch trees into slices which we then chop up into small pieces. These are then dried. My hands ache terribly; I am very tired. There are now many young people in our settlement. Each girl has a boyfriend or one that she fancies except me. I do not wish otherwise. I met Jurek Opolski; he is quite a pleasant and serious boy from Lwów. We often go on walks and chat.
September 1940
Autumn has embraced the whole of nature. There are light frosts in the morning. I am again detailed to lumbering and belong to Józef Masalki’s brigade. I work along with Romek, Tadek, Stefa and Hela. The work is very heavy and often, when moments of doubt arise, I bemoan my life, my fate, everything. Sometimes, such horrible desperation takes hold of me that I feel that I cannot depend on anything. It is only my strong faith in God and the letters I receive from home that keep my spirits from falling too low. We spend the evenings and our free moments in the large hall talking about bygone times and singing. I am friendly with everyone but do not have a boyfriend in mind. I know that Jurek, Loniek and Tadek have a crush on me but my heart is for someone who is very, very far away from me.
This is how the days, weeks and months pass by. Youth? What kind of youth is this? When will this change? Only God knows. I have had enough of everything and am losing any desire to struggle further with my lot.
October 1940
It is the middle of autumn; the days are cold and cloudy. We continue going to work where I am still employed in felling trees. To get there, we must walk quite far. It is still dark when we get up at six and we return late in the evening. We have already chopped down a large part of this forest. Why has destiny punished us in this way? Now, Hela and Jurek are my closest friends; we share our troubles.
13 October 1940
It has been raining all day, and this has put me in a bad mood. I am going to work with Hela and Loniek Sławecki but I do not feel like talking. On arrival, I immediately lit a fire and Loniek came to warm himself. Naturally, he started a conversation. He asks me if I could find more affectionate words when I address him because he likes me a lot and perhaps even more than that. I answered that I like everybody but love only one person. One’s first love is strong and obstinate. I am powerless otherwise.
15 October 1940
I am particularly sad today and matters are even more burdensome. It is uncanny because it is my Name Day (Saint Jadwiga’s Day) and so different from the preceding ones. I went into the kitchen for breakfast. Loniek was the first to extend best wishes, I don’t know how he found out but he hoped I would be reunited happily with my boyfriend. I am not sure if he was sincere, but I liked him the more for that. Later the boys and girls wished me a happy day, a return to our fatherland where we would meet again. After breakfast, I went with Hela, Romek, Władek and Loniek to work. Once we started, I argued with the brigade leader about the way the trunks were piled up on top of one another. They were wet and slippery. As luck would have it, I was standing on a trunk and chopping off the branches when my leg slipped. I cut myself to the bone with the axe. They called Loniek who made a dressing. It was difficult to carry on but I worked until the afternoon when I was allowed back to the barrack because my leg had swollen. In the evening the boys came with a gramophone. This was no consolation because my leg hurt so much. They changed the dressing. I am afraid of what the night has in store for me.
16 October 1940
Loniek was so kind as to call a doctor first thing in the morning. The doctor stated that it was nothing more serious than a slight cut into the bone. Nevertheless, the pain is intensifying. I lie in bed all day looking at photograph albums and my autograph books. I cannot move my leg and it is swelling as far as my knee.
17 October 1940
While changing the dressing, the doctor stated that the wound was getting worse and that I have to go to hospital, which is in Upper Yeluga. After lunch, Loniek and Romek took me to hospital. Loniek’s sister is a charge nurse in the hospital. I am alone in the ward. Mummy and my sister, Wandzia, visited me but as they were leaving, I burst into a flood of tears. I cannot sleep; my leg hurts and the bed bugs are biting.
22 October 1940
My legs is healing very slowly but it still hurts. While I am lying in bed, I look through the window. I received some letters from my friends. Loniek and the commandant came in the evening; they brought be newspapers and books. Nevertheless, it is such a sad ordeal.
27 October 1940
I have already spent 10 days in hospital and I feel significantly better. My friends and the local youngsters come to visit me. Loniek’s sister is very kind to me. There is already snow on the ground. It is warm in the ward. The brigade leader came with a friend and then Loniek with his brother, Bronek. They told me I would soon be discharged.
2 November 1940
I was discharged today. They changed the dressing for the last time. I can already walk so I went to another ward to visit the sick. I can’t wait until they come for me. It wasn’t until evening that Loniek’s brother and Stefa came for me. When I returned, there was no end to the stories my friends told me. Loniek Sławecki informed me I would have to return to work in a couple of days but first I would have to have a good rest. I must confess that he is a real gentleman and always tries to help if he can.
15 November 1940
I have not been to work for a whole month and I resumed today. Now, I am in Gierasim Kiewlicz’s brigade. A lot of snow has fallen. My job is to gather branches and burn them, but it is not so easy. Everything must be done neatly while I am waist deep in snow. On returning to the barracks, our clothes are so frozen that they feel like sheets of metal. The evenings are now so long, so dismal and empty. Only the wind is howling outside. I can’t sleep because of the bed bugs. Enough of everything! I am left with my firm faith in God and that better times must come.
December 1940
Dreadful frost – below 40 degrees Celsius. Two meters of snow fell. The days are very short. We must walk a long way to work, leaving at 6 in the morning and returning at 7 in the evening. It is a treacherous path with tree stumps and ditches; we must be very careful as the footing is very unsure. God only knows how many times I returned in tears from work. The evenings are so long, and we fill them by talking about former times, playing cards or singing. I often get letters from Poland, and these are my favourite diversion since words of encouragement mean so much. Often, while I sit by the crackling fire with the wind whistling outside, I remember home with myself and Józio (Ziutek) sitting together in a warm room and chatting about various matters. God! Where are those pleasant and beautiful moments? How difficult and bleak it all is. The years of my youth gone to waste.
24 December 1940 - CHRISTMAS EVE
The first Christmas Eve in exile during our banishment far from the fatherland, family and friends. Harrowing and sad. I go to work in the morning. We lit and sat round a fire in the forest remembering bygone days. I remembered 1938 when I decorated the Christmas tree with Józio. Father, God rest his soul, was not there but mother and my sister were and, of course, the person so close to my heart. 1939 was an ordeal; it was a dejected Christmas Eve, but I was still at home – today it is ghastly. I returned to the barrack with my spirit broken. Letters arrived from Poland and a horrific pain is breaking my heart. In the barracks there is a serious and contemplative atmosphere. Everyone is deep in thought and sorrow. There is a tear in nearly everybody’s eyes. We sit down at a table covered with a white tablecloth. The traditional wafers have been sent from Poland. Mr. Brzykcy started the customary sharing of the wafer. We had the same wish in common that Baby Jesus would bring about our return to our beloved country as soon as possible. People started crying and, in our thoughts, we join our compatriots under German occupation, in prisons, in exile and all those who have been dispersed around the world. A merciless fate has befallen our Polish nation. After dinner, the youngsters gathered, carols begin to resound and, in a corner, someone is quietly weeping. The snow is falling outside. I went out on the porch with Hela and Tadek. My thoughts flew yonder to my distant homeland. Poland is so far away. Our poor and tortured fatherland. Yonder snow powders poor Polish Christmas trees on which the tears of our compatriots fall. Only one who has experienced this situation can truly understand the severe grief.
25 December 1940 - CHRISTMAS DAY
Christmas was spent in the forests of Archangelsk. Is this Yuletide? Is there any hint it is Christmas? None whatsoever. We had to go to work as usual. Only God knows what I felt in my soul, what my poor heart suffered. Our compatriots are going to church; we, to toil in the forests. Everybody is most downcast and despondent. I couldn’t work properly since my hands felt as if they were of lead. On our return, we gathered again to sing carols. Loniek and his brother came to listen. He tried to cheer me up a bit but in vain. A horrendous pain was tearing my heart apart. I went outside. The stars were shining as they were yonder over the suffering Polish land. Our poor fatherland is not celebrating Christmas joyously either. Fate has scattered her children around the globe. We retired to bed and, as always, my thoughts travelled far away to my homeland where I would be spending the festive season with my family, friends and loved ones. My God, how things have altered now. Have mercy on us, allow us to survive these painful moments. Return us to our beloved fatherland to our families and those close to us.