The siege of Stalingrad began on 13th September 1943 [see Stalingrad Battle] [27]. The plant was totally demolished because of systematic shooting by the Germans. Only bricks were left of the plant. Bombings and shooting were almost constant. Germans had been firing from morning till night, so we had to move to the basement of a semi-devastated house. We used bunks as operating tables. The most important was that the wounded were put on the bunks so we could remove the fragments of shells, suppress hemorrhage. The squads that were fighting in Stalingrad brought us the wounded straight from the battles. There was no light in the basement and some Uzbek soldiers were told to help us. They were afraid of the blasts. And the latter were constant, sometimes with the interval of a few seconds. As soon as the blast started, the Uzbeks lay down on the floor. There was no way we could interrupt operations. Such a fragile girl as I had to command, 'Get up, immediately!' They got up, and lit the candles at once.
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Displaying 4411 - 4440 of 50826 results
Eva Ryzhevskaya
In summer 1942 our division was sent to Stalingrad. We approached the left bank of Stalingrad, but we were supposed to cross to the right bank. There were not enough boats. We were told that boats were used to transport equipment. Those who knew how to swim were supposed to swim to the opposite bank. I was lucky that I had been a good swimmer since childhood. I took off the uniform and boots and put them in a bundle. I tied it up to my head and swam to the other bank in my underwear. The Volga is a very wide river, and the place where we were positioned was a rather narrow part of the Volga - not exceeding 500 meters. I managed to reach the opposite bank. At that time the Germans had not started fire yet.
I was assigned commander of the operative and dressing platoon. During the battles there was an acting forward detachment. A surgeon and two or three nurses went to the battlefield to administer first aid to the severely wounded - the most drastic measures - to remove fragments of shell and suppress hemorrhage. Then the orderlies took the wounded to the medical battalion. When our commander asked who would go to the forward detachment, I was the first to say that I would go. I was the chief of four men, who were permanently trying to talk me out from taking up the most dangerous tasks. I felt no fear to go to the forward detachment. It was not a kind of bravado or the desire to stand out by courage. It was just because nobody was waiting for me at home; my family had perished. And my subordinates had wives, children, parents, who were waiting for them. If I were to perish, nobody would suffer from that, but me. I kept saying that and it was true. My elder brother was the only survivor of my kin. He was also in the lines, and might have died any minute. Combat engineer was one of the most perilous military professions with a very high lethality rate.
Only later on, in the year 1943 when our troops had liberated Dnepropetrovsk oblast, I asked the regiment commander for a leave to go home and find out about my parents. I was given a truck and went to Pismennoye. I was told by the neighbor that the Germans had taken my family away. There was only one Jewish family in the village: I mean our entire family, including my father's brothers and their families. The whole family was arrested and kept in some sort of jail. There were about 30 of them. Then the Germans took them somewhere, and there was no trace left. They must have been shot, but it is not known where and when. Before the arrest, my parents had brought the pictures and most precious things to the neighbors, including the Singer sewing machine, and asked them to give them to me. Of course, I couldn't take anything but the pictures. I left the rest of the things with the neighbors, as I came there for just a couple of hours to clear things up and then went back to the front. There was nothing I could do, just mourn over my kin. During the relocation of our hospital, when the war was about to end, somebody stole my backpack with some personal things, photographs and the last letter from my parents.
In general, the first years of war were the most complicated in terms of working conditions and moral state. Before the war we had been convinced that if somebody dared to attack us it would be an overnight war on the territory of the enemy. We believed in that, but it happened to be the other way around. Germans were moving forward, and our troops had to leave more and more towns and villages. We had severe casualties and it seemed to us that the end was near. At the beginning of the war our militaries had hardly any trucks. We weren't able to transport the wounded. The soldiers had to carry the wounded on stretches to any populated place that wasn't captured by the Germans. Due to the lack of trucks there was a bad supply of equipment and medicines.
There were mostly young women in medical battalions. Apart from a weapon and the sack with an anti-gas mask, each of us was supposed to take the required tools, trying to lift as much as possible. Often there wasn't even drinking water, nothing to say of food. We were drinking from the dirty puddles, and that water seemed to taste so good! We walked for many kilometers each day. Maybe this is the reason why my legs and veins are hurting now. When we stopped the soldiers and orderlies were making huts and dug-outs for the operation unit. Lightly wounded ones weren't sent to the rear, they just stayed in the medical battalion. They were like attending nurses, taking care of the severely wounded.
Sometimes we were lucky, when we entered some sort of populated area and were able to take some devastated building. These were the cases of relative comfort. We were operating all day long. The operating unit was teeming with wounded. At daytime we operated in daylight. Of course, we couldn't even dream of operating with surgical lamps. At night we used any source of light we were able to find. If there were trucks close by, we were operating using the light coming from the car headlamps, which were removed from the car and connected to an electric generator. Some lightly wounded person was turning the handle of the electric generator. If there was no truck, we used a jar, poured oil in there and put a wick in there. The wick light was very dim, so somebody had to stay very close to the operating table and keep the jar very close to the surgeon. We were almost working by grope, but we had no other way out. One minute of hindrance might end in death. There was no fear; we simply had no time for it. We were focused on the operation, things we were supposed to do, and succession of our actions. There were three to four surgeons in a medical battalion and the chief surgeon of the medical battalion - the only one who was an experienced surgeon. The rest were like me, graduates of the medical institute with work experience of less than a year.
There were very harsh conditions of personal hygiene. We had soap, but we didn't always have water, even drinking water. Of course, it was the reason why there were so many lice-ridden people. When we took a train to another location, we were put in a sanitary car. We were told to take our uniforms, which were sent to the sanitary processing, and after taking a bath we were sitting naked, waiting for our clothes in the anteroom. I had thick curly hair of copper color. I had to make a crew cut, so as not to be ridden with lice.
There were mostly young women in medical battalions. Apart from a weapon and the sack with an anti-gas mask, each of us was supposed to take the required tools, trying to lift as much as possible. Often there wasn't even drinking water, nothing to say of food. We were drinking from the dirty puddles, and that water seemed to taste so good! We walked for many kilometers each day. Maybe this is the reason why my legs and veins are hurting now. When we stopped the soldiers and orderlies were making huts and dug-outs for the operation unit. Lightly wounded ones weren't sent to the rear, they just stayed in the medical battalion. They were like attending nurses, taking care of the severely wounded.
Sometimes we were lucky, when we entered some sort of populated area and were able to take some devastated building. These were the cases of relative comfort. We were operating all day long. The operating unit was teeming with wounded. At daytime we operated in daylight. Of course, we couldn't even dream of operating with surgical lamps. At night we used any source of light we were able to find. If there were trucks close by, we were operating using the light coming from the car headlamps, which were removed from the car and connected to an electric generator. Some lightly wounded person was turning the handle of the electric generator. If there was no truck, we used a jar, poured oil in there and put a wick in there. The wick light was very dim, so somebody had to stay very close to the operating table and keep the jar very close to the surgeon. We were almost working by grope, but we had no other way out. One minute of hindrance might end in death. There was no fear; we simply had no time for it. We were focused on the operation, things we were supposed to do, and succession of our actions. There were three to four surgeons in a medical battalion and the chief surgeon of the medical battalion - the only one who was an experienced surgeon. The rest were like me, graduates of the medical institute with work experience of less than a year.
There were very harsh conditions of personal hygiene. We had soap, but we didn't always have water, even drinking water. Of course, it was the reason why there were so many lice-ridden people. When we took a train to another location, we were put in a sanitary car. We were told to take our uniforms, which were sent to the sanitary processing, and after taking a bath we were sitting naked, waiting for our clothes in the anteroom. I had thick curly hair of copper color. I had to make a crew cut, so as not to be ridden with lice.
All my simple chattels fit in one suitcase. I sent the suitcase to my parents as well as a letter, and went to the collecting point. We were given uniforms according to our size. At the beginning of the war there were no uniforms for ladies. We were given soldier trousers, jackets and boots, and even warm underwear, though it was warm in summer. We got assignments straight at the collecting point. I was sent to the operative dressing platoon of Medical Battalion 264 of Division 244 of the Ukrainian front as an attending surgeon. We were not given transport. I was taken to the hamlet of Kornevo, in the vicinity of Kharkov. It was the place where my division was positioned. I was assigned to the advanced detachment of the operative dressing platoon. From Kornevo our division had to walk to Krasnograd, then to Poltava, then Kremenchug... We were retreating, and there was no end to it.
Our divisions were in close battle being besieged by adversaries. We tried to walk through the forest, which was a kind of a cover. There were a lot of wounded. We had no opportunity to deploy a medical battalion. We made halts in the forest to assist to the wounded. Sometimes we managed to get at least one tent to be used for operations, and in most cases we made some sorts of huts from branches. We put the branches on the earth, covered them with a waterproof cape and made operations on the so-called impromptu table. There were so many wounded that the orderlies didn't manage to bring all of them to us. I was walking around the forest with the crew of orderlies to see who needed to be aided in the first place, and who might wait a little bit. I was making marks on the jackets: 1st, 2nd and 3rd priority. Of course, the first priority was to take those who were hemorrhaging. There were no conditions to conduct operations. Often there wasn't even water to wash your hands, let alone for a thorough hand-wash before an operation. Good thing we had a large reserve of abacterial surgical gloves and tools.
Our divisions were in close battle being besieged by adversaries. We tried to walk through the forest, which was a kind of a cover. There were a lot of wounded. We had no opportunity to deploy a medical battalion. We made halts in the forest to assist to the wounded. Sometimes we managed to get at least one tent to be used for operations, and in most cases we made some sorts of huts from branches. We put the branches on the earth, covered them with a waterproof cape and made operations on the so-called impromptu table. There were so many wounded that the orderlies didn't manage to bring all of them to us. I was walking around the forest with the crew of orderlies to see who needed to be aided in the first place, and who might wait a little bit. I was making marks on the jackets: 1st, 2nd and 3rd priority. Of course, the first priority was to take those who were hemorrhaging. There were no conditions to conduct operations. Often there wasn't even water to wash your hands, let alone for a thorough hand-wash before an operation. Good thing we had a large reserve of abacterial surgical gloves and tools.
On 22nd June 1941 [the beginning of the Great Patriotic War] [25] Molotov [26] made the announcement on the radio that Germany had attacked the USSR without having declared war. It happened on Sunday. The next day we were told about demobilization at our courses.
I worked as an ambulatory surgeon in the medical office of the coal mine. Of course, I didn't have any experience, just the knowledge acquired at the institute. I had to read a lot of textbooks and ask experienced doctors for advice.
The majority of my patients were coal-miners. I tried to study their labor conditions, their duties, and the main industrial injuries. I thought I had come there to stay. I had no idea that our peaceful life would be over soon. I descended into the mine to see how the miners worked. I was given a helmet and overalls. I went in the cage with the crew of miners. We went down a few hundred meters. It was scary, I could hardly breathe. I was constantly being reminded to breathe calmly and steadily. I wanted to see the working conditions for each profession. There were a lot of them. There were coal cutters, then there were timber men, who were supposed to set coal face, so that the walls wouldn't collapse. Chunks of coal were cut, sorted and loaded on trolleys. The trolleys ran on rails and were drawn by horses. Those horses stayed underground, and weren't brought back to the surface. They were buried in the mines as well. Trolleys came to special hoisters, in which the coal was taken to the surface. I was scrutinizing which traumas were most likely for each profession.
I had worked in the mine for a few months, and in spring 1941 I was summoned to the military enlistment office. Medical officers were supposed to be drafted into the army, no matter what they were specialized in. They told me to attend the courses of surgeons in Kharkov [440 km from Kiev]. Probably, in the highest strata of the government they had anticipated war and thought that there should be more surgeons. I didn't manage to finish the courses. On 22nd June 1941 [the beginning of the Great Patriotic War] [25] Molotov [26] made the announcement on the radio that Germany had attacked the USSR without having declared war. It happened on Sunday. The next day we were told about demobilization at our courses.
The majority of my patients were coal-miners. I tried to study their labor conditions, their duties, and the main industrial injuries. I thought I had come there to stay. I had no idea that our peaceful life would be over soon. I descended into the mine to see how the miners worked. I was given a helmet and overalls. I went in the cage with the crew of miners. We went down a few hundred meters. It was scary, I could hardly breathe. I was constantly being reminded to breathe calmly and steadily. I wanted to see the working conditions for each profession. There were a lot of them. There were coal cutters, then there were timber men, who were supposed to set coal face, so that the walls wouldn't collapse. Chunks of coal were cut, sorted and loaded on trolleys. The trolleys ran on rails and were drawn by horses. Those horses stayed underground, and weren't brought back to the surface. They were buried in the mines as well. Trolleys came to special hoisters, in which the coal was taken to the surface. I was scrutinizing which traumas were most likely for each profession.
I had worked in the mine for a few months, and in spring 1941 I was summoned to the military enlistment office. Medical officers were supposed to be drafted into the army, no matter what they were specialized in. They told me to attend the courses of surgeons in Kharkov [440 km from Kiev]. Probably, in the highest strata of the government they had anticipated war and thought that there should be more surgeons. I didn't manage to finish the courses. On 22nd June 1941 [the beginning of the Great Patriotic War] [25] Molotov [26] made the announcement on the radio that Germany had attacked the USSR without having declared war. It happened on Sunday. The next day we were told about demobilization at our courses.
In 1940 I graduated from the medical institute. I got a mandatory job assignment [23] to Donetsk oblast, Gorlovka [about 600 km from Kiev].
Politics wasn't my cup of tea at that time. I had my own 'realm,' and I didn't care what was going on beyond it. Only when the war in Poland began in 1939 I began to listen to the radio and follow the events. After the war [Editor's note: Interwar Poland was divided up between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union in 1939.] there was a division of the Polish territory [see Annexation of Eastern Poland] [21], and we sincerely believed that we had set the Poles free from the suppression and given them the chance to live under the Soviet regime. When Hitler and Stalin concluded the Molotov- Ribbentrop Pact [22] I felt at ease. We knew that the USSR was assisting Germany, sending provision there. What was the sense in attacking if the assistance was coming from us? Of course I couldn't have pictured the horror that was to come.
In the middle of the 1930s repressions began [during the Great Terror] [19], reaching their peak in the year 1937. There were many articles in the papers and radio broadcasts on divulged saboteurs, the enemy of the Soviet regime, the so-called enemy of the people [20]. Key military commanders, party and state activists were arrested. We believed in things we were told. We were blind, and tried not to notice the obvious. Though, now it is obvious to me. Back then we didn't question official information. Our belief in the Party and in Stalin gave no grounds for doubts. Sometimes, we discussed the topic of arrests, but we never questioned the guilt of the arrested.
When we were transferred to the 9th grade an experiment in the educational system was undertaken. The students of our school were entitled to enter the institute after the 9th grade on condition that they had all excellent marks for the entrance exams, or one good mark and the rest excellent marks.
My father wanted me to become a doctor. He thought it was the best thing to heal people. I liked that profession very much. After I had finished nine grades in 1935, I submitted my documents to the Dnepropetrovsk Medical Institute. Of course, I had worked very hard preparing for the exams, and succeeded. I passed all entrance exams and was enrolled in the first course of the therapeutic department. There were quite a few Jews in my group in the institute as well. Teachers were also of different nationalities, there were also Jews among them. There was even one German teacher, because close to Dnepropetrovsk there was a German colony [18], and there were many ethnic Germans there. I studied well. I wasn't involved in any Komsomol activities, I preferred studying medicine. Anatomy is the scariest subject for a freshman of the medical institute. I liked that subject very much, and I was aware that a good doctor wouldn't be able to work with poor knowledge in anatomy. In all the years of my studies at the institute I had mostly excellent marks in all subjects.
My father wanted me to become a doctor. He thought it was the best thing to heal people. I liked that profession very much. After I had finished nine grades in 1935, I submitted my documents to the Dnepropetrovsk Medical Institute. Of course, I had worked very hard preparing for the exams, and succeeded. I passed all entrance exams and was enrolled in the first course of the therapeutic department. There were quite a few Jews in my group in the institute as well. Teachers were also of different nationalities, there were also Jews among them. There was even one German teacher, because close to Dnepropetrovsk there was a German colony [18], and there were many ethnic Germans there. I studied well. I wasn't involved in any Komsomol activities, I preferred studying medicine. Anatomy is the scariest subject for a freshman of the medical institute. I liked that subject very much, and I was aware that a good doctor wouldn't be able to work with poor knowledge in anatomy. In all the years of my studies at the institute I had mostly excellent marks in all subjects.
Dnepropetrovsk was a large and multinational city. There were a lot of Jews. A third of the students in my class were Jews. There were Jews among the teachers as well. Students accepted me well, without bias, which was usually felt towards the novices. I joined the Komsomol [17] in the 8th grade.
Having finished seven years of school, there was no place for me to study. I went to Dnepropetrovsk at the age of 13 and entered the 8th grade of a Russian ten-year school. Mother came with me and rented me a room from an elderly Jewish lady. Mother couldn't stay with me, she just found a lodging and left. I remained by myself. My parents sent me some money each month for me to buy things. I went to school. Besides I cooked for myself and did the laundry. I had to take water home from the water pump, located outside, and stoke the stove. All those things were easy for me, as I had been raised in the village. On holidays I came home to my parents to get some rest, and help them.
In 1932 there was dreadful starvation in Ukraine [see Famine in Ukraine] [15]. Maybe it was not so noticeable in the towns, but in villages people suffered a lot. There were villages in Dnepropetrovsk oblast where almost the entire population died of hunger. Not very many people died of hunger in our village, but still there was great suffering. We had some potatoes and mother cooked a pottage from it, and she made fritters from potato peelings. We went to pick nettle and sorrel. Good thing, my parents had their wedding rings. Mother took them to Dnepropetrovsk, to a Torgsin store [16]. ?here were some stores, where it was possible to buy food products for currency and gold. Mother was able to buy two sacks of millet for two golden rings. Once a day my mother cooked millet porridge and added nettle to it. So, we were able to survive those hard times.
In the late 1920s collectivization started. Our village was also affected by it. The Soviet regime divided all peasants into three categories: kulak [14], middle and poor. Our family belonged to the third category, and we had nothing to lose. There were so-called kulaks in our village - hard- working people, whose families, including children, were involved in hard agricultural labor from morning till night. Of course, they had good houses, horses and cows. Everything was taken away from those people, and they were sent to Siberia. We weren't touched, as there was nothing they could have taken from us. The kolkhoz was founded after the dispossession of the kulaks.
There was only one school in the village. It was a seven-year school. All subjects were taught in Ukrainian. I started school in 1927. There were very few Jews in the village: only our family and Father's brothers' families. In my class there was only one Jewish girl, the daughter of my father's brother Simeon. Both teachers and students treated us very well. There was no anti-Semitism at all. I was an excellent student for the entire seven-year period. I was a young Octobrist [12], then a pioneer [see All-Union pioneer organization] [13] like the rest of the children.
We were rather poor and were able to buy a dainty thing, a lollipop only with the Chanukkah gelt we got.
He lived in a house in front of our house. There was no synagogue in Pismennoye, so Abram prayed and read the Torah at home. Sabbath was always observed in his house. On Friday night Abram's wife lit candles. She didn't do anything after she had finished praying. Abram spent Sabbath at home. He put on his tallit and read religious books. I came to them to put on the light in the evening, light the stove and help about the house. Abram always invited us to come to their house on Sabbath and on Jewish holidays. Our family got together in his house. On Chanukkah Abram gave us petty money [Chanukkah gelt] and we were agog to get presents from him.
Jewish traditions weren't observed at home. We, children, were not brought up as Jews. After the revolution my father's brother Abram was the only one who remained religious.
We had books at home. Mother brought the classics of Russian literature - Lev Tolstoy [9], Chekhov [10], Pushkin [11] - from Ingulets. We had known about those authors since childhood. Mother used to read us the books before we went to bed. Later we read books ourselves. I learnt how to read before I started school. Father was also a book-worm. He spent his spare time on self-education. After the revolution he started writing articles about village life and sent them to the local Dnepropetrovsk paper. Sometimes my father's articles were published. They even sent a certificate for part- time reports. Father took pride in it.
Russian was mostly spoken at home, though all the villagers spoke Ukrainian. Maybe the reason for it was the fact that Mother used to teach Russian before she got married. My parents spoke Yiddish on very rare occasions, usually when they wanted to conceal something from me.
Mother worked the hardest. She got up earlier than anybody. When we woke up, the bread had been baked and the food had been cooked. Mother managed to do all the things. First she helped Father with the field work. When the kolkhoz was founded, she worked there full time. She also had to raise four children. Except for her main job, my mother did odd jobs as well, as there was a need of money. She was teaching a few schoolchildren to cram them for the studies in the city. Mother was also a good seamstress. She had a Singer sewing machine. It was her dowry. Mother sewed things for our family, and besides she took orders from our neighbors. Some people paid her with money, others with food. All house chores and husbandry was in my mother's hands as well. Mother never showed that it was hard for her to do all those things. She was always smiling and joking. We, in our turn, tried to help her out as well.
Father became a farmer after his return from the army. We had a plot of land, which almost reached the river Sura. Father uprooted the trees and made an orchard there. His brother Simeon's plot of land was nearby. When the Soviet regime began to divide land, Father was also given a plot of land. He began to grow and sell wheat. When the Soviet regime introduced collectivization [7], my father was one of the first ones in the villages, who joined the kolkhoz [8]. Mother also became a kolkhoz member.
In 1917 the revolution broke out in Russia [see Russian Revolution of 1917] [6]. My parents were rejoicing on that occasion. Before the revolution Jews had very restricted rights. There was a pale of settlement. Jews weren't permitted to live anywhere they wanted; besides there was a quota of admission to institutions of higher education. My parents were poor, so they didn't lose anything when the Soviet regime was established. There was nothing to sequestrate from them. My parents were happy that their children would be able to study and do what appealed to them.
Father was a signaler in the army, and he was responsible for telephone communication. There were times when he had to restore torn wire in the moment when the adversary was firing. Father was awarded with a St. George Cross [5] for bravery. It was a very precious award, and there were very few awardees. He came back from the lines in 1917. Father came straight to Ingulets.
When World War I was unleashed in August 1914, my father was drafted into the tsarist army.
My parents settled in a small house, which was built on the territory of the yard of my grandfather's house. Our house was a small adobe house with a thatched roof. There were two small rooms, one to the left of the hall, and the other one to the right. In front of the hall there was an entrance to the kitchen with a big Russian stove [4]. To the right of the house an annex was built, which was used as a pen for the cattle. We kept a cow there. The door to the pen was from the hall. There was a door to the shed on the other side of the hall. There was a hatchway to the cellar right in the center of the hall. Mother kept firewood in the shed. In fall we put vegetables in the cellar to be stored for winter. Mother used to make a lot of jam. She also made sauerkraut and pickles in large barrels, which were also stored in the cellar. We had the earth floor covered with clay. We had a primitive house, even for a hamlet. We had an orchard behind the house. The village was facing the bank of the river Sura, which was a feeder of the Dnepr.
My mother told me the story of how she met my father. One of my mother's relatives asked to invite my father to the family get-together on the occasion of the engagement of my mother's sister Manya. Father attended the party. He saw my mother there and fell in love with her. When he came back home, he wrote a letter to my grandfather in Ivrit, in which he asked for the hand of the middle daughter, Sofia. Grandfather was so moved that the letter was written in Ivrit that he blessed the coming marriage. The wedding took place in Ingulets in accordance with the Jewish traditions. My parents left for Pismennoye after the wedding.
I know that before getting married, Mother worked in the local village school as a teacher. She taught Russian language and literature.