31 December 1940 – NEW YEAR’S EVE

You can hear the frost snapping and cracking outside; it is below 40 degrees Celsius. It is in effect burning your face and hands. I have difficulty breathing. On my way to work and I do not know how it happened, but my hands froze in the space between the cuffs of my sleeves and my gloves. On reaching the forest, Mr. Dąbrowski told Sławecki what had happened to me. Naturally, he rubbed snow hard into my hand and ordered me back to the barrack. On my return, the commandant was furious and accused me of doing this on purpose. As if the pain in my hands was not enough, now there was a row. I am so resigned to the situation that I cannot find pleasure in anything. What sort of life is this? In the evening, everyone returns from work tired and bitterly cold. It breaks your heart to see these people reduced to a life of misery. After dinner, we gathered in a room but there was no special atmosphere. We bid farewell to the old year; what will be our lot in the new one? We have already endured so much. I sit beside Loniek, Władek and Kazik talking about times past. The boys remark that I have changed because I have again become self-absorbed and lost in thought. God! As if there was nothing to think about! The beautiful years of our youth are going horribly to waste. The clock strikes twelve. We wish each other a better life, that a lucky star will bring us joy. Tears well up in my eyes – the homesickness and sorrow are so punishingly hard.

The old year full of torment and suffering has passed. The new year arrives bright and sunny but the frost clasps us mercilessly. We have a day off work and spend it sitting by the fire and chatting. In the afternoon, I was summoned to the commandant’s office to be interrogated. They keep going on about my frozen hands and threaten me with punishment. I am indifferent as I have had enough of this life. Back among my friends, we start playing at fortune telling with the cards. Luckily, when it was my turn, the cards foretold a favourable future. However, everything is in God’s hands – that is my hope.

 

January 1941

The frosts get worse and the snow has piled up enormously. We still go to work which wearies us horribly. Such are our lives. Wherever we look, everything is alien. I continue with the lumbering. It is cold and dark at 6 in the morning but the bell rings calling us to get ready for work. We will go to the forest, but what will we be able to do? Our hands still ache from yesterday. However, we must persevere otherwise we will be accused of absenteeism. We return at 7 in the evening. Our clothes are frozen solid because they get soaked as we wade through the snow. Sometimes, we our legs give way beneath us. The road is scarcely visible, and we reach the barracks with great difficulty. Immediately after dinner, if you can call it a dinner, we must go to a meeting. We are told that we must fulfil our work quotas; otherwise, we won’t get any food.

In truth, I wonder how much longer we can continue like this. We are forced to fell a determined amount of the forest. Only those who survive this will be able to tell the world about it. To a certain extent, everybody’s health will suffer. Our youth is a chain of suffering and anguish. We toil but with belief in God that better times will somehow come. There is no getting away from the work as we must earn our bowl of fish soup and a piece of bread. A ruthless fate. Immense sorrow and homesickness. We have gone through so much –all those spilt tears and sleepless nights.

 

February 1941

It has been a year since we left our homes. A mournful and depressing anniversary. A year already we have been wandering in a foreign land. A year ‘full of delights’ which are hard labour, cold, hunger, destitution and ill-treatment. An endless cycle of working from dawn till dusk. After work, we go to bed and so the days continue. We fell that forest ceaselessly. When will this torment end? Constant reprimands about not doing things properly and not fulfilling our work quotas. We are working ourselves to death and they still say it is not enough. Only God knows what we poor exiles are undergoing. So utterly miserable, so completely exacting. The evenings are long and we gather in the same room playing cards and sometimes singing. And reminiscing. Often someone will cry over their destiny. Those constant meetings called by the commandant will finish me off.

 

March 1941

Spring has arrived but there are no changes. The same daily grind from morning till night. The ice has started to melt. Our work is hard, our clothes get soaked and, by the evening, they are frozen again. We are shackled this way, and nothing can be done about it. From the middle of the month, we started building a barrack for workers 7 kilometres from Little Yeluga in a large forest clearing. All day the backbreaking labour and in the evening the return to our barrack which is indeed quite far away. Quite simply, we are left without any strength. How am I to carry on? I just do not know. Destiny has brought increasing burdens; I worry about mother, aunt and my little sister. I cannot cope. What have I gained from my youth? These wasted years nobody will return to me. God! God! Let me survive and experience better times.

In the evenings, when the youngsters get together, we sometimes joke, sometimes sing but we often cry. I am now deeply sad and depressed. Apart from one short letter, I have not heard from Józio Draminski. Perhaps he has forgotten or his letters have been lost. But my thoughts are still with him.

 

April 1941

The snows continue melting. Water is gushing everywhere. After many days’ hard labour, we finished the barrack. What these Polish hands have not done! Our next ‘pleasant’ job is again floating the logs downriver. We fell the trees by the riverside. Other trees are transported out of the depths of the forest. In my overwhelming sorrow and homesickness, I have so surrendered myself to my fate. Forests all around and nothing else; they will remain in my memory forever. The evenings are spent in a variety of ways: playing cards, singing and thinking back on former times. All the same, each of us is despondent.

 

13 April 1941 - Easter

This is the second Easter we spend in little Yeluga away from our homeland in the dark forests in the far north. Are these real festivities? Only in our imagination. As usual, we must go to work to reach our quarterly target. Despair tears my forsaken heart. Three brigades gathered around the fire, each person dispirited and deep in thought. The wind is howling mournfully as if in sympathy with our great misery and the soughing trees seem to imitate our groans. We return from work on our last legs. The barracks are doleful and cheerless; the older people are in their circle, and the youngsters gather in the large hall. We try to sing but tears stifle our words. It is so horribly depressing and hard. I received letters from home and from my friends. How distant everything is. Stefa, Hela, Tadek and Jurek try to joke in order to dispel these thoughts, but it is not so easy. At times I ask myself why I cannot be a different person with a different attitude.

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10 May 1941

We began floating the logs downriver. It does not augur well at all as the logs continuously pile up and cause jams. To make things worse, I have been made a brigade leader. I had to sign a statement which binds my brigade to floating 2.500 cubic metres of logs within 5 days down the river. I told Loniek Sławecki at the time that this will probably finish us of. We begin work at 4.30 in the morning and return at 11 at night or even later. A few hours sleep and then back to work. God! Allow us to withstand this.

 

11 May 1941

A beautiful day, the sun is shining but the work is being done in all haste. Workers seem to populate the whole riverbank. I am unable to do much because I strained myself yesterday and have sharp pains in the abdominal area. Instead, I help prepare the tea and the soup. I received a letter from the priest in Boromel. It is already springtime in Poland but there is still snow in this forest. Despite feeling unwell, I had to go to a meeting. Later, I argued with Sławecki for the first time. He told me that I am very stubborn and obstinate, that I am self-absorbed and live in a past which will never return. I answered saying that my memories help me endure the severity of the present.

 

16 May 1941

The log driving has nearly ended at our settlement. There are only the birch and spruce trees to deal with. We also must hack out of the ice what has frozen to the ground and throw it into the river. Workers have come from other areas and we work until late. The director of the log floating scheme arrived and praised us for successfully completing the task. I am terribly exhausted and at times feel I cannot go on much longer.

 

17-18 May 1941

At a meeting this morning, we were informed that the log driving must finish as soon as possible before the water level drops. I am so fatigued that I fall asleep as soon as I sit down. We go along the riverbank hurling the logs, which had been washed onto the banks, back into the water. It is most strenuous work. We must drag the logs with a gaff through the mud. My shoulders hurt but there is nothing I can do about it. We got as far as Yorga.

 

18 May 1941

I cannot describe our exhaustion while we were floating the logs downriver. All day from dawn till dusk with only short breaks. Tractors bring long logs of all kinds of wood which are mixed up and interlocking. To make things worse, the logs have been badly stacked and are difficult to manoeuvre. I must admit that Sławecki in our settlement is much better at supervising. To top it all, rain is falling making it muddy and cold. We return late, rush for our meal tickets begore going into the canteen for our soup. It is crowded, cramped and noisy. We can’t get a good night’s sleep because of the bed bugs. The only way to get some rest is by lying down and chatting about good and bad times. Just one more day and that will be the end of the log driving.

 

19 May 1941

We are woken at 4 in the morning. What can this mean? We were supposed to have a rest day. Loniek Sławecki enters the room and announces we must continue the log driving in Ust Zaruba. I did not think he was serious, but he told me that regrettably an order had come from Lesa Zagotov. Like it or not, we must go and it is a fair distance away. I am with Hela, Stefa, Bronek, Józek, Jurek and Loniek. I am so consumed with fatigue that I do not want to talk. We arrive and go straight to work. Bustling and shouting mix with the gushing sound of the water. Workers have been summoned from various settlements. There are many youngsters. We worked until ten at night. We were quartered amongst our people who live here. I went to Ada Smoleńska’s lodging and thought I would get a good rest there but her brother, Antek, warned me that the bed bugs would not let me sleep. Indeed, he was right. We moved from that room into the corridor, but it was no better. Such is our life. Hard labour during the day – bed bugs and mosquitoes at night. Wholly delightful. It is my 18thbirthday. My youth is passing me by and what will remain? A ruined life, impaired health and sad memories.

 

21 May 1941

Today should be the last day of floating the logs downriver. It is a beautiful warm and sunny morning. I returned from the canteen and bade farewell to Ada, her mother and brother because we are due to return to our settlement. Off to work I go with Hela, Jurek and Loniek Sławecki. We must bestir ourselves good and proper in order to finish the job today. The work progresses satisfactorily. After lunch, we tidied the riverbanks but we were stunned when ordered to throw the birch logs into the river that had frozen to the ground. So, we had to hack into the ice. It is 9 in the evening; we light a fire and have a rest. Loniek came and said we must finish the work. I refused outright knowing I could be punished but I just could not summon up any more energy. After a long argument, I appealed to his feelings, and he retracted saying that we would return to the barracks just because of me. However, the men would stay behind to tidy the riverbanks as far as Piosk. It is a dark night, and the rain is falling while I return with Hela, Stefa, Bronek and Loniek. We argued and quarrelled all the way. We arrived in Upper Yeluga at half past one in the morning and there were still 3 kilometres to go. Loniek and Bronek went off together while Hela, Stefa and I stayed at Loniek’s sister Nina. Utter exhaustion with our legs giving way under us.

There are a few days’ rest after floating the logs downriver but not for everyone. The men and a few young lads went off to tidy the riverbanks. I slept throughout most of the first day and wrote letters in the evening. We have been given plots of land; we help each other as we dig and clear the land of tree stumps before planting potatoes. In the evenings, we go on walks, sing if the mood takes us and talk about former times. However, the general disconsolate mood prevails. I still ponder on my first love who remains in my heart. Certainly, I am friendly with the boys who I joke with and like very much. But these are not the feelings for the one I cherish so far away and who perhaps does not even think about me. I never imagined that such sentiments could be so strong. I miss him so desperately. If only I could write a letter to him or receive one. Will we ever meet again? What will be our fate?

 

June 1941

Summer comes around again and there are no changes here. It is very hot, swarms of mosquitoes, toil and hardship. The youngsters have been moved to the newly constructed barrack. Hela, Tadek and I are in Khashchov’s brigade. For the time being, Loniek has given me a different job. I have to mark trees in a certain area with a chisel. I hammer away all day, and the echoes resound through the forest. We are away from the settlement all week and only return to Little Yeluga on Sunday. The heat intensifies and the evenings are awful since the mosquitoes sting terribly. We have meetings every other day and we are burdened with something else. The beautiful white nights are upon us but it is difficult to get any sleep. We are busy with haulage and are joined by two brigades of quite pleasant girls deported from Belarus. I became friends with Frania Czerniawska and Liza Gawecka. Time passes quite quickly and, because there are a lot of us, the work is completed briskly. In the evening, the boys play the accordion and guitars; people sing and dance. Up to this point, I have not danced even once. I will listen to their music, joke but my soul is too sad and grief laden. Deep nostalgia and an aching heart.

 

July 1941

Hours, days, and months go by barely distinguishable from each other. The same work, the same drudgery, anxiety and homesickness. Why have we been made to suffer so much? God! What evil destiny. I can’t come to terms with it. Why has fate torn me from the midst of my nearest and dearest? I am now into the second year of this banishment. Summer is at its height and very hot. Now, we are working from 3 till 10 in the morning. We cannot work during the afternoon as the temperatures are too high. In the evening, we go bathing so that it is easier to breathe after the scorching heat of the day. The mosquitoes bother us so much that we have to close the windows to get some sleep. From the middle of the month, we were sent to gather hay from the riverbanks. We sleep in shelters and cook from a cauldron on a fire. I am heavy hearted but, when I cry a little, it brings some relief. I am wondering about something – they do not want to give us any newspapers. Loniek and his associates are behaving strangely; in fact, I would say they are hiding something.

 

August 1941

Summer is nearing its end. The days pass quite quickly and there are frequent rains. We are yoked to the daily toil. The youngsters have been scattered over various areas, and we return to the barracks on Sundays. I am deeply worried as all correspondence with Poland has been cut off and I receive no letters. Various thoughts come to mind. One day, I had an argument with Loniek Sławecki at work. I was struck by his words when he said, ‘Jadzia, now be just a little different towards me. Who knows how much longer we will be working together. I do not want you to curse me at some time in the future and have bad recollections of me. Remember that apart from the affection I have for you, we are close because we belong to the same nation. I do not understand what he is getting at. The truth is that something is afoot, and we know nothing of it.

 

2 September 1941

The weather is not very good; rain has been falling all morning. I remained where I had lodgings today as I had to prepare lunch for the workers, i.e. ‘lapsha’ potato soup. During the meal, a messenger came from base camp with a letter. We are informed that at 4 this afternoon we are to be in our usual lodgings. The rain is now pouring; it is cold so why do we have to go back now and so far? It must be another meeting. Loniek intimated that if I knew everything, I would run and not complain. I am returning with Hela, Stefa, Jurek and Tadek. Loniek is with us too but does not want to say anything. We arrive at our barracks. Indeed, there will be a meeting. We waited impatiently – someone was supposed to arrive, but nothing came of it. The meeting was postponed. In the evening, we went into the hall and played records on the gramophone. I asked Loniek what it was all about. He answered that we would not go back to work tomorrow and then we would find out.

 

3 September 1941

It is a sunny morning. We got up early and wait apprehensively for what is in store. I looked through the window and saw some mounted soldiers approaching the community centre. At 10, the meeting was called. I arrived at the community centre; it was full of officials and brigade leaders. The hall is packed and there is a very serious mood. The foreman, Orłowski, read out some brief political news. It was just then that we found out that Germany had attacked the USSR. Then the commandant made a roll call. The manager of the lumber station, Itałowski got up. His first words were, ‘From today you are free Polish citizens. You can go wherever you like.’ We were thrilled and loud cheers and cries arose. I burst into tears like many others. Is this possible? It was unbelievable. Itałowski gave us further information, and the meeting ended. The mood was livelier. I left the community centre and patriotic songs resounded around the rooms. God! I can’t describe the joy. The freedom I yearned for and dreamt of has arrived. Bustling and chatter everywhere. From time to time, the commandant of the settlement appears but we are not concerned. We continue singing and rejoicing. There is a dance in the community centre in the evening – my delight was so great that although it was wartime (during which I had decided I would not dance), I broke my vow and did dance. Loniek told me that I am a completely different person, and he simply does not recognise me. I danced with him a couple of times. Our joy is boundless but the deportees from Belarus are even more dejected (translator’s note: although most of them were Polish, they were considered Soviet citizens and, therefore, were not allowed to leave the USSR). We only had to put up with 2 years but they 11 and more to come. I can’t sleep. So many feelings and emotions.

 

5 September 1941

Today, we are meant to receive our documents. Again, there is bustling about from early morning and deliberation. Two military personnel arrived and a meeting was called. They read out a list of places where we are allowed to go and the conditions we must abide by. A multitude of questions – a murmur and clamour of voices. Each person is called up individually to receive the documents. We must choose the place we want to go to. The elderly give advice, the young listen. Now it is my turn. I reach the table and see a map which does not mean very much to me. How do I know which place is the best? I decide quickly to travel to Sengiley in the Kuybishev region. I now have my documents; I am free and can leave. The singing does not abate in the evening. The only topic of conversation is about the quickest way to escape this place. However, matters are not so easy or straightforward.

 

6 September 1941

Some people are already getting ready to depart. You can constantly hear ‘We’re off, we’re off. We’ve had enough! We’re free. Why sit here any longer? What are you waiting for?’ There is a lot of rushing about, chatter. Everyone is excited and nervous. Some families have already left. We bade farewell to Hela Walkowiak, Józef Brzykcy and Roman Proniewicz. Jurek Opolski urges me to gather my family and travel with him promising to help within his means. It is very difficult to get transport, and I must stay with other people.

We keep felling the forest till the end of the month. Our lodging is now in the new barrack. I am in Kola Bogdiukiewicz’s brigade. We are joined by Staszek Gacy’s brigade – fine fellows. We spend the evenings in the community centre making new plans for our departure. We cannot tarry too long.

 

October 1941

Constant bustling about, confusion, someone departs every day. We bade farewell to Władek Bednaruk, Gienek Bączalski, Tadek Walczak, Kazik and Bolek Wieczorek. There is a sad emptiness. What next? The circumstances under which we are meant to travel are awful. How are we to get out of here? We are knee deep in mud and it is impossible to reach a boat going down the River Dvina. Therefore, I have decided to stay on a little. Now, I oversee two canteens. Very few of us are left and the conditions have got worse. We are made to work in various settlements like Pioksa, Rechushka and Zaruba. However, I am still planning our departure, but it is very difficult to reach Kotlas. The boats have stopped navigating as the Dvina is beginning to ice up. I have received letters from those who have departed. Jurek Opolski is already in Kotlas but his family are still here. The journeys are very hard as officialdom does not want to help us claiming that all means of transport have been transferred to the battle fronts including horses, sleighs and tractors.

We only experience youth once. When we cross the threshold from childhood into a new period, our minds are replete with various feelings, big plans and youthful enthusiasm. The field of our knowledge and experience widens from day to day enriching us internally. We are impressionable and absorb everything that flows into our consciousness. How things would be different if we had not been thrown from the nest of our native country. We acquired knowledge at school, from books, magazines, the cinema, the theatre and from everyday life. Despite what we have encountered, we are still optimistic, full of fervour, we can love passionately. They find it remarkable when we rebel and annoy them. We carry in our hearts a vision of a new world which is better and more judicious. Youth have their own rights and privileges but also dangers. Perhaps one day we will discover that many of our ambitions were ephemeral. Nevertheless, young people have a right to dream. These years have brought us much disillusion but, because we are young, let us hope that, with the help of God, we will persevere and see better times. It is bitterly regrettable that my memory of these youthful years will be so sad. Alas, there is not much we can do about it but with a strong faith in God, we fill fight for a better future.

 

November 1941

The days are getting shorter. There are so few of us left. I have no desire to work whatsoever. Conditions have deteriorated a lot. The delivery of food has met difficulties, and we will probably have to go hungry. 11 families have remained. There are constant meetings and they are encouraging us to stay. If I had been here alone, I would have departed a long time ago. Mother is not feeling particularly well, and my little sister is only eleven. But how are we to embark on such a difficult journey? But we must go while there is time. The Dvina River has already frozen over. Loniek Sławecki advises us to depart now. It is 240 kilometres to Kotlas and we must walk all the way. All those who had already left urge us in their letters to flee as soon as possible before it is too late. Therefore, the rest of us have decided to move off together. We prepare. Mother dries potatoes and bread to make crusts. The men make little sleighs onto which we load our provisions and the rest of our rags. I cannot sleep because so many thoughts crowd my mind. It is a mystery where I found the strength to survive up to now and not go entirely to pieces.

I settle accounts, return the equipment and then went to Greater/Upper Yeluga to say farewell to the people I had met. The poor souls are in despair – I so feel sorry for them (translator’s note: It must be remembered that although most were Polish, they were deported from the Belarussian Soviet Socialist Republic in 1930 and were, therefore, regarded as citizens of the USSR with no right to leave the country). At Ninka Sławiecka’s lodging, they even prepared a small reception for me. Despite everything, we had grown close and, in these difficult circumstances, our leave-taking was painful. After all, they are our people – Poles. Frania Czerniawska, Ninka Sławecka, her brother Bronek, Matwiej and Kola accompanied me back to the barrack.

 

18 November 1941

The last preparations are nearly completed. A few of us are going to Zaruba to claim our pay. The snow is gently falling – silence all around. I am walking along and am reminded of a Polish winter. Unfortunately, the accounts were not settled, and we did not get any money. After returning to the barrack, I met Frania Czerniawska and Ninka Sławecka. We sit and talk about the long and hard trek before us. Loniek came with his brother, Kola and Stefa Urban. Our last evening together in Little Yeluga and we depart in different directions. I do not regret leaving because what is there to regret? Only an acute pain squeezes my heart. Now we must wander again – hardship – suffering. I could not sleep. My head is bursting with pain. How long will we have to roam?

 

19 November 1941

We got up very early and loaded the sleighs, had breakfast and bade farewell to those who were staying. Loniek arrived. I had never seen a man cry. A short but heartfelt goodbye. His words were, ‘I wish you luck on your journey, a return home and that you may see again the one you love and have been faithful to. You are a good and brave girl. Remember me sometimes as one who loved you from the start, but fate has ordained things to be different. May my sincere wishes always accompany you.’ A tear rolled from my eye too. I wondered if my beloved Józio would give the next stage of my adversity a moment’s thought. One last glance and we move off into the unknown. I made the sign of the cross and commended myself and everyone else to God and the Most Holy Mother. We pull the sleighs which is not that easy or light. After an enormous effort, we reached Radloy (?) at 2 in the morning. We had covered 40 kilometres on crusts and water.

 

20 November - 3 December 1941

This two-week period can easily be called a ‘thorny fortnight’. It is indescribable and one would have to live through something similar to imagine it. We dragged the sleighs until we were utterly exhausted, sometimes along bare ground because there was no snow. The ropes put enormous strain on our hands, but everyone gritted their teeth and walked on. We also had to place the children on the sleighs because they were crying and collapsing from fatigue. At night, we looked for shelter in villages but were not always successful. In such cases, we lit fires and slept outdoors; my greatest worry was for the children. We were able to rest a little longer in Cherevkovo. With great difficulty, Władek and I managed to get lodgings at a cottager’s house where we spent two days. Also, I finally wheedled from the logging authorities the money I had earned. They did me no great favour as I had to work so hard for it. We marched on after this respite. It was getting colder with more snow falling. Our next longer stop was at Krasnoborsk. The local people tell us there is not far to go but the most difficult part of the journey is still before us. The terrain from Krasnoborsk to Kotlas is very hilly and we are already so debilitated. It is with what strength we have left, that we pull the sleighs with our belongings. After strenuous efforts, we eventually reached Kotlas. We were accommodated in a school. Crowded and cold. Shouting, the crying of children, many sick people – a sight of misery and despair.

 

5 December 1941

We wait wearily. It is by no means a rest. The temperature falls to minus 35 degrees Celcius. A soldier (a Polish corporal), who was sent here to organise our further transportation, does what he can. At least, we get hot soup every day and 400 grams of bread. Nevertheless, we must queue for hours in the cold for it. Today, I will go to see Ada Smoleńska who is living in a private house. We lay down on the large stove so that our chilled bodies will be warmed up a bit. The tickets to Tashkent have already been bought and we are waiting only for a train to be scheduled for us. More people arrive from different directions, each one weary and cold. What will happen next?

 

7 December 1941

The longed-for day has arrived, and we pack into the wagons. It’s terrible with the bustling, the shouting – everyone wants to get on first. 1200 people are being transported. There are 43 people in my wagon (a goods truck, obviously). I am with Ada Smoleńska, Stefa Urban, Tadek Walczak, Bronek and Antek. We settled in slowly. It’s a very cold night but warm in the wagon as we have an iron stove. We sit and wonder what will be next. Suddenly, a jolt. They are checking the wheels – a moment’s pause, the whistle of the locomotive and the departure.

 

8 December 1941

We reach Kirov in the afternoon. A few days’ rations were given to us, a roll call was taken, and we travelled further without stopping. The countryside is monotonous; all I can see are empty fields. We are going south.

 

22 December 1941

We are still in transit and pass Orenburg and Sverdlovsk. The countryside is still monotonous. Sparse human settlements. Endless desert. We noticed several camel caravans. It appears that they have added two wagons with just men in them to our train. They have probably come from the gulags. My God! When will this wandering come to an end? I have developed an aversion to trains. Every time I hear the locomotive’s whistle, it is like a knife into my heart.

 

24 December 1941 - Christmas Eve

There will never be a Christmas Eve like this one. We celebrate it in the wagon on our journey south from Siberia. There was nothing to eat all day and it was not until evening that we received some crusts and warm water. How awfully sad and difficult it was. The carol ‘Wśród nocnej ciszy’ (In the Silence of the Night) resounds in the wagon. Beside me, someone is crying. I am sitting on a bunk with Ada and her brother, Antek. My tears cannot be restrained. It is quite late at night. The train has come to a halt and there is quiet in the wagon. I am sitting by the stove as I cannot sleep. In my thoughts, I stray through my beloved fatherland thinking about my family, acquaintances and everything that has passed irreversibly. My home, those close and dear to me, the Christmas tree – it is just a dream. Today, locked in a wagon – hunger, cold, homelessness.

 

25 December 1941 - Christmas Day

This Christmas season will never be forgotten. The train has stopped in Turkistan. Our beautiful Polish carols burst out in the wagon. The boys from the extra wagons came to us. Everybody is searching for someone. I got to know a very pleasant boy, Leszek Różanski. He is from Lwów and knows nothing about the whereabouts of his family. Since there was room in our wagon, he stayed with his friend. We tell each other about what we have endured. Then, someone started up ‘Lulajże jezuniu’ (Hushaby Baby Jesus). It is so sad and melancholic. I almost choke as I sing.

 

31 Decenber 1941 – New Year’s Eve

We reach Arys (Kazakhstan) in the morning. The train halted here for a longer period. I go with Ada, Leszek, and Antek to buy something to eat. We have some money but it is difficult to get anything and we are hungry. However, we managed to purchase some dried tomatoes and had to make do with that. In the afternoon, we travelled further. Later, in the evening, we sit around the stove chatting. I have very pleasant conversations with Leszek. He is a charming boy and I can say that for the first time since I left my country, I found a boy I had something in common with. We bid farewell to the old year; what will the new year bring? Sometimes, I feel that my strength will fail me and I won’t be able to go on. My only hope rests with God.

 

1 January 1942 - New Year’s Day

We greeted the new year in Tashkent (Uzbekistan). How strange has been our fate. A year ago we were in the forests of the far north; today we are in Asia. What other changes are going to take place in our lives? It is a beautiful day, and the sun has been shining since dawn. However, we have not been accommodated here. There is a great amount of unloading and we must proceed with our journey. Is there anywhere else where we, poor Poles, have not been? Polish feet have trodden the Siberian land, the Ural Mountains and now the Asian steppes.

 

2 January 1942

We are in central Asia in Katla-Kurgan. A terrible epidemic of measles has arisen amongst us. Many have died, especially children. I went with Ada and Leszek to the market. The Uzbeks seem to be a strange nation to us, and their flowery costumes appear comical with their turbans and rather wild expressions on their faces. A delegate was sent to us in the evening, more busy unloading but he accepted a certain quantity of us in his region.

 

3 January 1942

We descended from the wagons and were accommodated in a ‘chaynia’ (tea house?). Appalling poverty. Everyone is in rags and dirty with lice crawling over them. We are to be assigned to a collective farm. I do not like this idea at all. With Mrs Smoleńska, I look for lodgings and stay in the town. My mother, aunt, sister, Mrs. Smoleńska, Ada, Asia and I settle into a kibitka (a circular tent). Antek and Leszek travel to the nearest military recruitment point. Such is the new life which has begun for us. There is no work and no food. Starvation is staring us in the face. It was a hard week. We sell our last belongings. Everything is so expensive and it is difficult to communicate with the people.

 

February 1942

Ghastliness. Our present life is unspeakable. After great pains, we managed to get ration cards for 400 grams of whole wheat bread. To obtain it is another matter. We must stand all day in a queue, and, in the end, we receive 400 grammes of wheat. Beyond the canal is the so-called ‘Polish colony’. It is very crowded in our kibitka, but it is better than being on a collective farm. There is even more suffering there.

 

March 1942

Nothing has changed. Awful hunger. We gather herbs in the fields. Orach is parboiled, salted and eaten. Our ration cards have been stolen so there is no bread this month. In the middle of March, the army is being transported from Totsk to Guzar, Kitab and Kermine. I go to the station with Ada – perhaps we will see someone we know. Ada’s father appeared. The soldiers try to cheer us up as much as they can. I travelled with Ada and her mother to Kitab to visit her father. We managed to get a certain number of crusts and tinned meat. On the return journey, I paused in Kermine to find out about the chances of the army coming closer to us. I became acquainted with Lieutenant Zienkiewicz who had to leave for Persia in a few days. He told me that if I could get all my family ready to travel, he could register me as a family member of the armed forces since he had no relatives left. Unfortunately, it was not so simple and easy. I could not get back to Kermine.

 

April 1942

My weary sojourn improved slightly. I am working for the identity delegation which guarantees a ration card for bread. On top of that, I earn a few roubles. The worst thing is that a typhoid epidemic has just broken out. My poor sister has gone down with it and she is in hospital. Oh God, protect her! Mother and I visit her and take red wine to fortify her. She is feeling a bit better. Thanks to God on the Highest that I am managing to hold out.

 

May 1942

The weather is beautiful but there are no changes amongst us. My sister was discharged from hospital, and I was able to get her allocated to a Polish care centre. We received some food from the International Red Cross. Our strength is down to its last reserves. In the morning, I look for fuel and then, for the rest of the day, I work at the delegation. The evening is spent queuing for bread. My aunt has died. So many of our people have been laid to rest amongst strangers in a foreign land. Our fate is terrible. After work, I sometimes drop by to see Mrs. Tosia Lubaczewska or Lola Frischman. Having a chat brings some comfort.

 

June 1942

Nothing has changed. It is very hot; there is hunger and disease is killing off people. There are more deaths on the collective farms than anywhere else. How much longer can we hold out? Now I am living together with Mrs. Mila Jarosławska. She has a mother and a young son, Stasio. I received a letter from Leszek. He is in the 6thDivision in Guzar and bids me to try to get to the nearest military point as soon as possible because they are beginning to transport people over the border of the USSR. I must find a way of reaching this place.

 

July 1942

Many changes have taken place during this month. There are new rumours about our departure over the border. A contingent of 75,000 has been drawn up and there is a great influx of civilians to the army bases. Military personnel arrive with greater frequency to collect their families. Bustling about, confusion. I had another letter from Leszek urging me not to tarry. It would be easier if I were alone. The delegate wants me to travel together with the care centre as one of the carers, but I cannot leave my sick mother who won’t manage without me. We shall try, together with Mrs. Mila Jarosławska, to go it alone. For a lengthy time, I was on duty at the railway station so I know a few people there – perhaps they will help. I bribe the deputy stationmaster who promises to try and get us tickets.

 

1 August 1942

We reach Krasnowodsk at 3 in the morning. A bugle signals to us that we must get off. We rest in some buildings. The NKVD perform their final duties when they check us. We must travel 8 kilometres to the port. The heat is unbearable and there is nothing to drink. A glass of water costs 10 roubles and we have no money left since it was all spent – the authorities forbade to take roubles out of the country. At 4, wagons were prepared for the 15-minute journey to the port. The sea is visible in the distance. Again, everything is meticulously checked and we embark. I think I am dreaming. Five thousand people are on board; there is bustling about, shouting and children crying. The gangboard has been raised; a few strong jolts and the waves carry away the ship. The band played a military march. In the name of the Lord, we are away. Tears flooded my eyes but, this time, they appeared from joy.

We sail on; the sea is calm and peaceful. Did anyone ever imagine that they would ever be on the Caspian Sea? I stand on the ship’s side with Lieutenant Różycki talking about our past. My thoughts go out to my homeland, my family, friends and I am so far from everything that is so precious and dear to me. I wonder whether Ziutek Dramiński will ever think about me. So much time has elapsed since our separation, but I still cannot forget. In the distance, lights are twinkling and we are reaching the port. A tugboat emerges out of the darkness. We must disembark because the ship will not anchor at the port. The landing stage appears and the tugboat reaches the quayside. The band plays another march; the place is full of British and Polish military personnel, amongst them are women volunteers. We disembark quickly and the tugboat returns for the others. We are loaded onto military trucks and driven to the so-called 1st or ‘rough’ region where we are registered and taken to huts.

Life in the huts: We sleep on the sand. Help is always close at hand and there is an abundance of food. Soon, we must be transferred to the so-called ‘fair’ region. We are in a transit camp in Pahlevi. A ship can be seen every day in the distance; more people arrive but there is no sign of my sister. I am terribly worried. We go for walks and bathe in the sea. Our clothes are in an awful state; I am wearing a blouse and skirt that mother sewed from father’s pyjamas. I tread barefoot as I have no shoes. Everybody’s attire is just as squalid but that is the least of our worries.

 

3 August 1942

We are resolved to travel. I have given up my work and have arranged everything, including the tickets. The delegate will not allow me to take my sister. Since she is in the care centre, she has a guaranteed ticket with the carers and who knows how she would fare travelling with us. So, for the time being, she remains behind. In the evening, we go to the station. Awful nervous tension. When will this train arrive? Finally, we can hear the locomotive’s whistle. But how can we get into the wagon? They are not letting anyone on as it is full of Russian military personnel. After strenuous efforts and with the help of Russian officers, we manage to board the train. The train is now taking us to Kermine where our 7th Division is stationed. After two hours, we get off. We pile our tattered belongings in front of the hospital and await the morning.

 

4 August 1942

A soldier’s bugle greeted us in the morning. People busying about; the place is crowded with soldiers and civilians. I am going with Mrs. Somchjancowa to the social welfare office. Now, everything is in order, and I am registered for the soup kitchen. Now, I must go to the headquarters where they decide who will be on the departure list. They ask me which relatives are in the army. No-one, I answer. The families of military personnel have top priority. The colonel, however, agrees to place us on the list but the corporal objects. I then mentioned I had an uncle who was a colonel in the army and this helped a lot since there was a major in the commission who was a friend of his, so I was registered immediately with my mother. The departure will take place in a few days. A band plays in the evening and I met many acquaintances. We go for walks and talk about our experiences.

 

5 August 1942

Reveille in the morning and we go to the field kitchen. Bustling about everywhere. The army is withdrawing from Kermine. The first departures are due tomorrow. While standing in the queue for lunch, I cannot believe my eyes. I see Leszek with a young lady and an older lady. It so happened that he had found his mother and sister. He was very pleased that we had met and asked me to take care of them as they are very weak and he must leave to join the General Staff tomorrow. We went for a stroll in the evening. As we said goodbye, Leszek told me that he had become very fond of me and he would try to contact me after we reached Persia.

 

7 August 1942

The army is departing in greater numbers. There is a meeting in the garrison today. We are due to leave tomorrow. Major Duszyński instructs us on the rules we must observe during the journey. I go with Leszek’s mother and sister to the bathhouse and then to be disinfected. I couldn’t sleep all night because of so many feelings and sensations, it is difficult to believe that we are going to Persia. I am very worried because my sister has stayed behind. Still more bustling about, singing and bands playing.

 

8 August 1942

Reveille at 5 in the morning. We go to the headquarters of the garrison for the permit to leave for Iran. Sorry scenes are witnessed. Shouting, crying –some people have been crossed off the list. I am in group 82. We have arranged everything and go straight to the station. A mass of humanity. With thumping hearts, we wait for the wagons to approach. My heart nearly jumps out of my breast. Is it true we are leaving this ‘paradise’? The sun is beating down on us mercilessly. The wagons are ready at the platforms, and we are ordered to board the train in our groups. However, there is great confusion; everyone is impatient to get on. Now the Russians are checking our documents. We are about to pull out of the station. Our friends bid us farewell and we greet the soldiers. Now, off to Krasnowodsk. Major Duszyński is in charge of the train. His deputy is Lieutenant Laskowski. The train is running along, and I cannot believe it is true. I am immensely happy but, on the other hand, I am worried about how my sister is faring. Also, I feel so sorry for those who have been left behind.

 

15 August 1942

Reveille and we go to the bath house and disinfection. Our clothes are burnt and we are issued with new ones. Now off to the huts in the ‘fair’ region. Leszek’s mother and sister keep close by us. I am the commandant of hut number 19, and my superior is a volunteer, Genia Madalińska, who oversees several huts.

 

18-20 August 1942

We are still in the same place, and many people have gone to Teheran. Every day there are more civilian and military arrivals. Leszek has come together with other boys I know. We go on walks and to cafes. The evenings are delightful. However, at the back of my mind, my heart is heavy and sad.

 

25-27th August 1942

Everything would be fine if only my sister were with us. My indignation was huge when I found out that our delegate had appeared but left behind the carers in Kagan. I said nothing to mother knowing that this would have finished her off. Nevertheless, I believed they would sooner or later arrive with my sister. I have a lot of work to do as people are constantly being transported to Teheran. There is a register to be taken and food to be distributed. Genia and I are working without a pause. Leszek comes in the evenings, and we go for strolls by the sea.

 

1 September 1942

With Leszek I went to where the tugboats are moored. The last human cargo from Russia has arrived. After such a long wait, my sister and the crèche with the carers has finally arrived. Now I can be more at ease, but I am so sorry for those who have remained behind. I distributed food to my group and when my sister saw so much bread, she burst into tears saying we would never go hungry again.

 

4 September 1942

Leszek has departed to Teheran with the military personnel. It was rather sad to bid him farewell as I took a liking to him but not in a very profound way. I enjoy joking and having a laugh with the boys, but my deeper feelings cannot be stirred. To tell the truth, during those strolls, it was Leszek who came closest to my heart. Perhaps it is because we have so much in common. He is six years older than me, very polite and well-mannered.

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5 September 1942

We receive orders that the 70 people in our hut will undergo a medical examination. Tomorrow, we shall leave. Endless bustling about all day. I hand over everything to Gienia and am preparing for the departure. On the beach, I gathered seashells as souvenirs. In the evening, I went for a walk with some acquaintances. Again, I feel so sad and do not know what ails me most. Something is lacking and at times I think that my soul will never recover its inner peace. My trying experiences have done their work.

 

6 September 1942

Reveille at 3 in the morning. We shall travel after breakfast. The commandants of the huts call the people together. Plenty of vehicles are waiting. I am pleased we are leaving as it is cold and wet in the huts; on top of that, the roof has started leaking. We say goodbye to each other and move on. The snaking road in the mountains looks very dangerous and I have the impression that we can fall over a precipice at any moment. However, the Persian drivers are very careful. The landscape is so beautiful, and we have frequent stops for a rest. Twice, we received coffee from the British. The sun is now in the west and Qazvin is visible in the distance. It takes us an hour to get to this town where we shall spend the night. Everything is well organised and there is a merry mood as I have so many new friends. Despite our fatigue, we went for a walk around the town.

 

7 September 1942

We got up very early. Teheran is not far and perhaps this will be the end of our journey. The vehicle rattles on noisily but, eventually, we see the contours of the town. A bit more and we will be able to feast our eyes on sights in the capital of Persia. Beautiful gardens, residential areas and buildings. They are taking us beyond the town to Camp Number 3. We reached the gate; a roll call was taken and immediately we were led to the bath house. Then, we were registered, checked medically and accommodated in tents. Ours is number 107. The setting is gorgeous as it is surrounded by trees and a stream that flows in the valley. Busying about and chatter in the camp. Now, there are over six thousand of us.

 

8-10 September 1942

The days fly by quickly. Life in the tents, after what we had endured, is very pleasant and varied. Our morale is good and we are well cared for. Better times have finally arrived. We, the younger ones, live merrily in the camp. The evenings are warm and enchanting. I have met so many girls and boys with whom I exchange numerous stories about our travels.

 

11-12 September 1942

Life in the camp continues to be happy and carefree. More people arrive. The camp is engulfed in lamplight in the evenings and the sound of singing echoes throughout. Twice we had gatherings of scouts and soldiers by campfires. At times, it is easier to forget that we are so far from our country, family and those close to us. However, reality quickly surges back and there are questions about what will befall us.

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