Then I entered the Food Industry Technical School. It was the only place where they accepted my documents. I don't know why I applied to this place. Firstly, there wasn't a person to ask for advice. In 1946 there weren't so many educational institutions. They hadn't been reorganized yet. Secondly, the technical school was situated in a beautiful place on Palace Square. I studied for three years and after one of the incidents at practical work I decided such a study was not for me. We did practical work at the distillery. Our task was to determine the type and the age, and other characteristics of wines by smell and by taste. But the wines were very delicious. The women who worked there, always carried a noggin and herring or vobla [salted stockfish] in their pockets. For the most part, they drank spirits. But we drank wine as it was our duty. And drank as much as we liked - we were young. And at the distillery, there was the following order: if you managed to walk out through the checkpoint on your own feet, then OK, good luck, go home. But if you fell down at the checkpoint, well, then they left you to spend the night at the factory. Once we were all drunk but managed to leave on foot. Three of us - all girls - went home to together. In the morning, I woke up on a chest and said to myself: 'This isn't for me!' And shortly after, I left work and found another job.
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Displaying 3211 - 3240 of 50826 results
Rita Kazhdan
I was to get a job at the Vavilov State Optical Research Institute, as I knew that a relative of my friend Papshtein worked there. He was a candidate of science and needed a laboratory assistant. We arranged that I should go to see him, and he arranged it with the chief of the laboratory, as it was a secret laboratory. But when it came to the personnel department, I wasn't hired and they said that there were no vacancies. An official of the regional committee was courting me. I told him what happened, and he rang the secretary of the party organization of the Vavilov Institute straight away. A day later when I arrived, I was accepted as a laboratory assistant.
I was to get a job at the Vavilov State Optical Research Institute, as I knew that a relative of my friend Papshtein worked there. He was a candidate of science and needed a laboratory assistant. We arranged that I should go to see him, and he arranged it with the chief of the laboratory, as it was a secret laboratory. But when it came to the personnel department, I wasn't hired and they said that there were no vacancies. An official of the regional committee was courting me. I told him what happened, and he rang the secretary of the party organization of the Vavilov Institute straight away. A day later when I arrived, I was accepted as a laboratory assistant.
Once in the summer my acquaintance Frida, who was already married, invited me to visit her at the summer cottage in Pargolovo. Her baby, husband and mother were there. I was playing with her son on the beach, when her husband's friend arrived. They were close friends. It was love at first sight on his part. I was attracted to the fact that he was from a good family, and he had a separate flat. And love came to me some time later, and we have been together for 48 years. We got married in the summer of 1953.
As for all Soviet people, 5th March 1953, the day of Stalin's death, has remained in my memory. At that time I was studying at a dress-making course. Suddenly they declared Stalin's death. I heard exclamations from everywhere 'Oh! Ah!' and I calmly said: 'Well, thank God!' in some mechanical way. I remember one more incident from this year. I was at my friends' place, at the house of an elderly architect Galkevich. I was on friendly terms with his wife Lyuda. She sewed for me. During a conversation I said of Stalin: 'It serves him right!' Something of that kind. Alexey, Lyuda's brother was there when I said this. As Lyuda told me later, he said: 'I shall imprison her for such words!' And then Galkevich, a Russian, reacted very sharply: 'If you dare do so, if a single hair falls from her head because of you, you will never set foot in my house, even though you are my wife's brother!
My husband, Edgard Grigorievich Kazhdan, was born in Leningrad in 1926. He graduated from the Institute of Motion Picture Engineers there and after that worked at the Institute of Cinematographic Equipment. He's now retired.
I went to work as a passport officer at the Soviet Star industrial complex. And then, having become proficient in the profession of accountancy, I worked at the Trudprom industrial complex up to 1981. Now I am a pensioner.
My maternal grandpa's name was Grigory Vselubsky, or, in Yiddish, Gershen. I don't know, when he was born. I suppose that it was in Minsk [Belarus]. I certainly don't remember grandpa Grigory, as he had died before my birth in the 1920s on some Minsk street of cardiac rupture, or as they used to say at the time - of 'angina pectoris'. Stories and recollections of relatives - that's all I know of him. He owned a plant that produced aerated water and a few shops in Minsk. He was, if we shall speak in present-day language, a big businessman. Grandfather Grigory was a well-known and esteemed person in the city. He, a Jew, was even invited to the government's balls with his beautiful daughter Rozalia, my mum. As they put it, she would be the decoration of these balls. Grandfather Grigory had the financial means to give all his children an education. But none of them, except my mum, wanted to study. All of them longed for work and trade.
Fanya lived in Minsk. She was a housewife and had three children. Her husband Mayer worked at a printing house and was considered a guru in his business. At the very beginning of the war Fanya and her family perished in the Minsk ghetto.
When we visited Leningrad with my father on his business trips, I met my paternal grandpa Semyon - or as we called him Shimon - Fridman and I remember him very well. I recall us arriving in the morning, because the train from Minsk used to arrive in Leningrad in the morning, and I remember him praying. He was always sitting with his face turned to the East, wearing his tallit. I don't know exactly the names for all these gadgets, which one could put on his head and hands - bricks, as I called them - and he prayed. [Editor's note: The interviewee is referring to the tefillin.] There was one more detail: grandpa prayed for a long time, not noticing anyone, and stayed in the corner, but he allowed us to look at him. At that time I sometimes messed about, but all this seemed very interesting to me. Grandpa didn't teach me to pray at that time, I was quite small. Nobody approached him until he stopped praying. The only person acquainted with all the traditions was his younger son Grigory, who lived with grandpa and granny.
Grandfather Shimon was the owner of a dye-house in Minsk before the Revolution of 1917 [1]. He often traveled on business to Poland and Germany. The family was considered to be one of the most well-to-do families in the city. All grandpa's property was nationalized after the Revolution of 1917, and he escaped with a part of the family to Petrograd.
My father, Abram Semyonovich Fridman, was born in 1896 in Minsk into the rich family of his father, the manufacturer and dye-house owner. I don't know if father had even studied anywhere, but he worked as an engineer and director of studios at the State Film Company of Belarus.
Susana Balaszova
I learned Czech in Brno and went to university there. I received my degree
in pharmacy. My husband receives a monthly pension of around DEM 200 per
month now. He was in Ferramonti [see Italian internment camps] [6].
Now that we are old we have no family at all to turn to. My son lives in
Bratislava. When I was growing up, I had such a huge family to turn to,
even though I was an only child. Now there's just the two of us, my husband
and I. Each year it gets worse and worse. The pain I feel for having lost
my entire world, my family, cannot be soothed away. That world cannot be
replaced.
in pharmacy. My husband receives a monthly pension of around DEM 200 per
month now. He was in Ferramonti [see Italian internment camps] [6].
Now that we are old we have no family at all to turn to. My son lives in
Bratislava. When I was growing up, I had such a huge family to turn to,
even though I was an only child. Now there's just the two of us, my husband
and I. Each year it gets worse and worse. The pain I feel for having lost
my entire world, my family, cannot be soothed away. That world cannot be
replaced.
Slovakia
Things turned bad for us beginning in 1938. My father was fired from his
job after the Hungarians arrived [4]. All the relatives in his family
started helping each other in every way they could. I don't know the
circumstances, but I never heard the issue of emigration being discussed.
Still, I went to school and I graduated from high school in 1941.
When the Germans came here in 1943 my mother and I escaped to Budapest. My
father arranged all this for us in advance, and he was to come later, but
first he had to help his own family out. He didn't make it. He was deported
from Kosice in 1944. My mother and I survived in the Budapest ghetto. While
there, I was grabbed and taken to the train station, on a transport bound
for Germany. My mother came to the station and she just pulled me off. This
happened in 1944. When the bombardment started my mother and I hid in a
cellar. She really didn't look like a Jew, and I think that's partly what
saved us.
I remember the Russian soldiers who came into Budapest then. [Editor's
note: the interviewee is referring to the liberation/occupation of Hungary
by Soviet troops at the end of WWII.] It was clear some of them didn't have
any idea of where they were.
My mother and I returned to Kosice. We were the city's urban Jews-well
educated and well off. We suffered horribly over the years. First came the
Hungarians, who took our apartment. Then came the Germans and deported
everyone still here. And then came the Communists [see Communist Party of
Czechoslovakia] [5], who took the houses all over again.
job after the Hungarians arrived [4]. All the relatives in his family
started helping each other in every way they could. I don't know the
circumstances, but I never heard the issue of emigration being discussed.
Still, I went to school and I graduated from high school in 1941.
When the Germans came here in 1943 my mother and I escaped to Budapest. My
father arranged all this for us in advance, and he was to come later, but
first he had to help his own family out. He didn't make it. He was deported
from Kosice in 1944. My mother and I survived in the Budapest ghetto. While
there, I was grabbed and taken to the train station, on a transport bound
for Germany. My mother came to the station and she just pulled me off. This
happened in 1944. When the bombardment started my mother and I hid in a
cellar. She really didn't look like a Jew, and I think that's partly what
saved us.
I remember the Russian soldiers who came into Budapest then. [Editor's
note: the interviewee is referring to the liberation/occupation of Hungary
by Soviet troops at the end of WWII.] It was clear some of them didn't have
any idea of where they were.
My mother and I returned to Kosice. We were the city's urban Jews-well
educated and well off. We suffered horribly over the years. First came the
Hungarians, who took our apartment. Then came the Germans and deported
everyone still here. And then came the Communists [see Communist Party of
Czechoslovakia] [5], who took the houses all over again.
Slovakia
I was born on 25th May 1922 in Kosice. Here in Kosice there was a large
percentage of rich city Jews and they invested in the Neolog school and
synagogue. We, children, had snacks and milk every morning, which was
considered a luxury back then.
We lived in a three-bedroom apartment. My social circle was completely
Jewish and as a girl growing up, I belonged to different groups, like the
Maccabi [3], which even had a center where we could meet. Or, if there was
no organized group, like, say, for ice skating, my Jewish friends and I
would go together.
percentage of rich city Jews and they invested in the Neolog school and
synagogue. We, children, had snacks and milk every morning, which was
considered a luxury back then.
We lived in a three-bedroom apartment. My social circle was completely
Jewish and as a girl growing up, I belonged to different groups, like the
Maccabi [3], which even had a center where we could meet. Or, if there was
no organized group, like, say, for ice skating, my Jewish friends and I
would go together.
Slovakia
My mother was born Malvina Neumannova in Kosice in 1897. She studied
economics at school and after her graduation, she worked in a bank. My
mother had two sisters. Kati Neumann, who got married to Martin Perlmutter.
When World War II began she was deported. She died in Bergen-Belsen. Her
husband didn't survive the Holocaust either. He died in some other
concentration camp, but I don't know which one. The other sister, Helena
Neumannova, was married to Moritz Haber. Moritz didn't survive the
Holocaust, he died in Bergen-Belsen.
Their father, Ignatz Neumann, owned a pub near the railway station in
Kosice. I recall that he died here in Kosice in 1936. He was very kind to
me and he loved having his family around. His pub was on Mill Square
Street, and it simply bore the name of the street. He didn't serve food,
just beer, wine and spirits. He was married to Rosza Lebovitch. She came
from a village near Kralove Chulmec. They went to the synagogue regularly -
the Neolog [2] synagogue. There was also a Status-Quo synagogue and a
Neolog Jewish school here in Kosice.
economics at school and after her graduation, she worked in a bank. My
mother had two sisters. Kati Neumann, who got married to Martin Perlmutter.
When World War II began she was deported. She died in Bergen-Belsen. Her
husband didn't survive the Holocaust either. He died in some other
concentration camp, but I don't know which one. The other sister, Helena
Neumannova, was married to Moritz Haber. Moritz didn't survive the
Holocaust, he died in Bergen-Belsen.
Their father, Ignatz Neumann, owned a pub near the railway station in
Kosice. I recall that he died here in Kosice in 1936. He was very kind to
me and he loved having his family around. His pub was on Mill Square
Street, and it simply bore the name of the street. He didn't serve food,
just beer, wine and spirits. He was married to Rosza Lebovitch. She came
from a village near Kralove Chulmec. They went to the synagogue regularly -
the Neolog [2] synagogue. There was also a Status-Quo synagogue and a
Neolog Jewish school here in Kosice.
Slovakia
My father was Jozef Balasz; he worked in a bank as a clerk. His father was
born in Svinica, near Kralovske Chulmec. He had an estate in Svinica. He
had gone to America for a while and worked there. He was a rich man, but he
had invested everything in his property. He owned 500 hectares. They grew
all sorts of crops and had vineyards. They would bring their harvest to the
city. They also had horses and chickens. One servant lived in the house,
and workers helped with the land. The shochet would come out to his estate
from the village every week to slaughter chickens for him.
My grandfather had three brothers: they were a doctor, a businessman and a
banking clerk. He was married to Hermina Starck, a very strict and hard
woman. She cared for the children and made sure they received education.
She died of breast cancer during the First Czechoslovak Republic [1].
born in Svinica, near Kralovske Chulmec. He had an estate in Svinica. He
had gone to America for a while and worked there. He was a rich man, but he
had invested everything in his property. He owned 500 hectares. They grew
all sorts of crops and had vineyards. They would bring their harvest to the
city. They also had horses and chickens. One servant lived in the house,
and workers helped with the land. The shochet would come out to his estate
from the village every week to slaughter chickens for him.
My grandfather had three brothers: they were a doctor, a businessman and a
banking clerk. He was married to Hermina Starck, a very strict and hard
woman. She cared for the children and made sure they received education.
She died of breast cancer during the First Czechoslovak Republic [1].
Slovakia
sima medved
According to the census of 1901 the population of Novozlatopol was 817 and 669 of them were Jews. The rest, I believe, were Ukrainians living in the neighboring farmsteads. There was one German family living there. I remember this family well. They were good people. They often came to see us. Their yard was very clean, and there were flowers in their garden. We got along well with Ukrainians living in the neighboring villages. Neighbors often came to see us, and we helped each other. We spoke Russian with the non-Jews. They were all farmers and so were my ancestors, there was plenty of land around and there was nothing to argue about.
, Ukraine
After his first wife died my father wanted to have another wife at home. Shadkhanim recommended somebody in Ekaterinoslav. It was my mother to be. We sewed wheat and barney, had horses and cows. We had a big kitchen garden to grow what we needed for life and cellars full of barrels with pickled cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelons and sauerkraut. We kept chickens, ducks and turkeys. It was all a lot of work. We never hired employees. There was Jewish population mainly in Jewish colonies. According to the census of 1901 the population of Novo-Zlatopol was 817 and 669 of them were Jews. The rest, I believe, were Ukrainians living in the neighboring at farmsteads. There was one bigger room and a smaller Deutsch Strasse (German Street), because there was one German family living there. I remember this family well. They were good people. They often came to see us. Their yard was very clean and there were flowers in their garden. We got along well with Ukrainians living in the neighboring villages. Neighbors often came to see us and we helped each other. We spoke Russian with non-Jews. They were all farmers and so were my ancestors, there was plenty of land around and there was nothing to argue about. We never heard anybody saying unpleasant things about Jews. On holidays (Rosh Hashanah, Purim, Chanukah and Yom Kippur) people went to the streets signing, dancing and greeting each other. All inhabitants of the colony got together to chat, joke and enjoy themselves. They all spoke Yiddish to one another. Later they all went to the synagogue, a two-storied building. Men prayed downMy father's two brothers also lived in the colony. They were farmers. One of them Avrum, born in 1865 lived near us. He had 6 children: Isaac, Hana, Esther, Mehame, Israel and Hava. In 1920 during the Civil war uncle Avrum and his family moved to Bakhmach fearing bands and pogroms (2). They never returned to the colony and I have no more information about the family. My father's second brother Mishe-Yankel (born in 1867) lived in Novo-Zlatopol. My uncle built many houses in the colony. He had many children: Tible, Isaac, Dverl, Khasia, Osher and Masha. My uncle died in 1930. His children also died and their successors moved to other parts of the world. My father was a very religious man. He observed all Jewish traditions and followed all rules. He went to synagogue to pray every day, and on holidays he even sang at the synagogue. He also prayed at home with his thales, a cube on his head, straps on his hand, and I even remember what he sang on Saturday "Itzymakh, itzymakh ete shmarekh", but I have no idea what it means. I don't know where my father studied if he studied at all. There were religious books in Yiddish at home. My father prayed with them, but there were no fiction books.
My mother, Khasia, was born in Ekaterionoslav in 1875. When I grew up I often wondered what it was like to marry a man with grown-up children. Only despair could push a young woman into such a marriage. My mother's first husband's name was Rivkin. Their daughter, Freida, was born in 1893. I don't know under what extraordinary circumstances my mother divorced her husband and why the rabbi of Ekaterinoslav gave his approval for the divorce. My mother didn't want to discuss this matter. Of course my mother couldn't have high expectations for another marriage. and inIn 1899 she and her 6-year-old daughter settled down in the colony.
As I said before, my parents met through matchmakers. They had a modest wedding with a chuppah and a rabbi. Only members of the family came to the wedding. After the wedding my mother moved to my father's house. Her share there was hard work in the field and at home, taking care of many children and the numerous duties of a wife and mother. She managed well. She was kind and nice and treated her own and her adopted children with warmth. I don't know whether she was educated or not, but she could read in Yiddish and Russian and knew many prayers. On Fridays she always lit candles. She koshered all her kitchen utensils. Before Pesach everyday kitchen utensils were taken to the attic and replaced with fancy dishes and utensils that were koshered as well. I remember the process of koshering dishes: a big stone was heated in the stove and put in a big bowl into which my mother had put casseroles, spoons, forks and dishes before. We only used kosher dishes and kitchenware. My mother cooked delicious food in a big Russian stove [6]: chicken, goose or turkey stew and many other things.
My parents had twin girls, Feigele and Esther, in 1900. My brother, Iosif, was born in 1903, I followed in 1906, and my youngest sister, Vera, in 1913. I remember that Freida wasn't with us when I turned five or six. She had left for Ekaterinoslav where she worked at a greengrocery and got married. I saw her once because my father took me with him when he went to that town on business. She seemed an adult woman to me, I addressed her as I would address a stranger and everybody laughed at me. Then there was the Civil War, and my mother died, and we lost track of Freida. In the 1950s Iosif and I tried to find her. We found out that she had perished during the war, but her son was alive. We correspond with him. He lives in Israel now.
My mother, Khasia, was born in Ekaterionoslav in 1875. When I grew up I often wondered what it was like to marry a man with grown-up children. Only despair could push a young woman into such a marriage. My mother's first husband's name was Rivkin. Their daughter, Freida, was born in 1893. I don't know under what extraordinary circumstances my mother divorced her husband and why the rabbi of Ekaterinoslav gave his approval for the divorce. My mother didn't want to discuss this matter. Of course my mother couldn't have high expectations for another marriage. and inIn 1899 she and her 6-year-old daughter settled down in the colony.
As I said before, my parents met through matchmakers. They had a modest wedding with a chuppah and a rabbi. Only members of the family came to the wedding. After the wedding my mother moved to my father's house. Her share there was hard work in the field and at home, taking care of many children and the numerous duties of a wife and mother. She managed well. She was kind and nice and treated her own and her adopted children with warmth. I don't know whether she was educated or not, but she could read in Yiddish and Russian and knew many prayers. On Fridays she always lit candles. She koshered all her kitchen utensils. Before Pesach everyday kitchen utensils were taken to the attic and replaced with fancy dishes and utensils that were koshered as well. I remember the process of koshering dishes: a big stone was heated in the stove and put in a big bowl into which my mother had put casseroles, spoons, forks and dishes before. We only used kosher dishes and kitchenware. My mother cooked delicious food in a big Russian stove [6]: chicken, goose or turkey stew and many other things.
My parents had twin girls, Feigele and Esther, in 1900. My brother, Iosif, was born in 1903, I followed in 1906, and my youngest sister, Vera, in 1913. I remember that Freida wasn't with us when I turned five or six. She had left for Ekaterinoslav where she worked at a greengrocery and got married. I saw her once because my father took me with him when he went to that town on business. She seemed an adult woman to me, I addressed her as I would address a stranger and everybody laughed at me. Then there was the Civil War, and my mother died, and we lost track of Freida. In the 1950s Iosif and I tried to find her. We found out that she had perished during the war, but her son was alive. We correspond with him. He lives in Israel now.
, Ukraine
My oldest stepsister, Hana, was born in 1879. She married our neighbor Shmul and they had five children. During World War I her husband, a soldier in the Russian army, perished at the front. Hana moved to Alexandrovsk. She had to leave three of her children in a children's home. She worked as a laborer and was very poor. She died in Alexandrovsk in 1960.
My oldest stepbrother, Ziske, was born in 1886. He finished elementary school in Novozlatopol and worked as a shop assistant at a haberdashery in Gulyai Pole. For those that lived in Gulyai Pole it seemed a big town in the steppe. My brother married a beautiful girl called Olga, and they had two children: a boy and a girl. In 1914 when World War I began my brother was recruited to the Russian army. Ziske perished at the front. His wife notified us about his death. Olga moved to Rozovka where her parents lived. In 1919 a villager stabbed her son in the back with a fork during a row. He died. His mother was trying to help him, but the boy screamed, 'Mother, leave me alone. You can't help me'. Olga and her daughter moved to America in the early 1920s, and we lost track of her.
My second stepbrother, Avrul, was born in 1887. He was a cheese-maker. When I was a child he lived in Alexandrovsk. Later he moved to another town. He seldom came to see us, and I have dim memories about him. I know that he died in evacuation in 1942.
My second stepsister, Sonia was born in 1888 and she was the sorrow and curse of our family. There are people who can't love anybody and are not liked by others either. She was so evil: she hurt her brothers and sisters and never did any good. There was no man willing to share his life with her. She remained a spinster. She was a terrible person. She envied everybody, was a trouble-maker and a problem for everybody. During the Great Patriotic War [4] she was in evacuation and lived the rest of her life in Novozlatopol. She worked at the collective farm from 1928. Nobody liked her. When she was dying she said, 'I shall die and rot'. She died in 1970 leaving no good memories behind.
My third stepsister, Slava, was born in 1891 and she was very kind. She married Iosif, a very nice man. They lived nearby. Her daughter, Fania, was born in 1914. During World War I Slava's husband was hiding from recruitment. He even fractured his foot to stay away from the army. He was hiding in the shed under straw and hay. When a military officer was approaching my mother warned Slava's husband saying, 'Tsi geyt der bik' ['A bull is coming' in Yiddish]. Slava and Iosif had another boy and a girl later. They worked in the colony and later on a collective farm. During the Great Patriotic War their family helped to evacuate cattle from the collective farm [5] to Northern Caucasus [1,500 km from Ukraine]. After the war Slava and her family returned to Novozlatopol, but there was a famine and poverty awaiting them there, so they moved on to Zaporozhye. Slava died in 1976. Fania and her daughter also passed away, and Fania's grandchildren moved to other towns and countries.
Mayer, the youngest of my father's six children from his first marriage, was born in 1895. I remember little about him. He didn't study. In Zaporozhye he collected and sold salvage material. In 1941 he failed to evacuate from Zaporozhye and perished during the occupation. He was single.
My oldest stepbrother, Ziske, was born in 1886. He finished elementary school in Novozlatopol and worked as a shop assistant at a haberdashery in Gulyai Pole. For those that lived in Gulyai Pole it seemed a big town in the steppe. My brother married a beautiful girl called Olga, and they had two children: a boy and a girl. In 1914 when World War I began my brother was recruited to the Russian army. Ziske perished at the front. His wife notified us about his death. Olga moved to Rozovka where her parents lived. In 1919 a villager stabbed her son in the back with a fork during a row. He died. His mother was trying to help him, but the boy screamed, 'Mother, leave me alone. You can't help me'. Olga and her daughter moved to America in the early 1920s, and we lost track of her.
My second stepbrother, Avrul, was born in 1887. He was a cheese-maker. When I was a child he lived in Alexandrovsk. Later he moved to another town. He seldom came to see us, and I have dim memories about him. I know that he died in evacuation in 1942.
My second stepsister, Sonia was born in 1888 and she was the sorrow and curse of our family. There are people who can't love anybody and are not liked by others either. She was so evil: she hurt her brothers and sisters and never did any good. There was no man willing to share his life with her. She remained a spinster. She was a terrible person. She envied everybody, was a trouble-maker and a problem for everybody. During the Great Patriotic War [4] she was in evacuation and lived the rest of her life in Novozlatopol. She worked at the collective farm from 1928. Nobody liked her. When she was dying she said, 'I shall die and rot'. She died in 1970 leaving no good memories behind.
My third stepsister, Slava, was born in 1891 and she was very kind. She married Iosif, a very nice man. They lived nearby. Her daughter, Fania, was born in 1914. During World War I Slava's husband was hiding from recruitment. He even fractured his foot to stay away from the army. He was hiding in the shed under straw and hay. When a military officer was approaching my mother warned Slava's husband saying, 'Tsi geyt der bik' ['A bull is coming' in Yiddish]. Slava and Iosif had another boy and a girl later. They worked in the colony and later on a collective farm. During the Great Patriotic War their family helped to evacuate cattle from the collective farm [5] to Northern Caucasus [1,500 km from Ukraine]. After the war Slava and her family returned to Novozlatopol, but there was a famine and poverty awaiting them there, so they moved on to Zaporozhye. Slava died in 1976. Fania and her daughter also passed away, and Fania's grandchildren moved to other towns and countries.
Mayer, the youngest of my father's six children from his first marriage, was born in 1895. I remember little about him. He didn't study. In Zaporozhye he collected and sold salvage material. In 1941 he failed to evacuate from Zaporozhye and perished during the occupation. He was single.
, Ukraine
The family of my father, Abe-Shmul Medved, comes from a Jewish colony. My grandparents left their ancestors in a small poor town somewhere in Vinnitsa region to head for new land when my father was a small boy. His parents died in this colony in the 1870s. We didn't discuss the past in our family - we had too many things to do to provide for the family. W hen I was born when my father was an aging man and the head of a big family. He was born in 1863. His family and his neighbors were farmers.
My father's two brothers also lived in the colony. They were farmers. One of them, Avrum, born in 1865, lived near us. He had six children: Isaac, Hana, Esther, Mehame, Israel and Hava. In 1920, during the Civil War [2], Uncle Avrum and his family moved to Bakhmach because they feared gangs [3[ and pogroms. They never returned to the colony. My father's second brother, Mishe-Yankel, born in 1867, lived in Novozlatopol. He built many houses in the colony. He had many children: Tible, Isaac, Dverl, Khasia, Osher and Masha. He died in 1930. His children also died, and their children moved to other parts of the world.
My father was a very religious man. He observed all Jewish traditions and followed all laws. He went to the synagogue to pray every day, and on holidays he even sang at the synagogue. He also prayed at home with his tallit and tefillin. I even remember some words from what he sang on Saturday evenings at home, but I have no idea what they mean. I don't know where my father studied if he studied at all. There were religious books in Yiddish at home, which he used for praying, but there were no fiction books.
My father was used to hard work in the village. He got married at 17. His first wife came from the family of colonists. I don't know her name. They had six children. In 1898 my father's first wife died.
My father's two brothers also lived in the colony. They were farmers. One of them, Avrum, born in 1865, lived near us. He had six children: Isaac, Hana, Esther, Mehame, Israel and Hava. In 1920, during the Civil War [2], Uncle Avrum and his family moved to Bakhmach because they feared gangs [3[ and pogroms. They never returned to the colony. My father's second brother, Mishe-Yankel, born in 1867, lived in Novozlatopol. He built many houses in the colony. He had many children: Tible, Isaac, Dverl, Khasia, Osher and Masha. He died in 1930. His children also died, and their children moved to other parts of the world.
My father was a very religious man. He observed all Jewish traditions and followed all laws. He went to the synagogue to pray every day, and on holidays he even sang at the synagogue. He also prayed at home with his tallit and tefillin. I even remember some words from what he sang on Saturday evenings at home, but I have no idea what they mean. I don't know where my father studied if he studied at all. There were religious books in Yiddish at home, which he used for praying, but there were no fiction books.
My father was used to hard work in the village. He got married at 17. His first wife came from the family of colonists. I don't know her name. They had six children. In 1898 my father's first wife died.
, Ukraine
My family lived in the Jewish farming colony in Novozlatopol, Ekaterinoslav province). . There was very rich black soil in the area. There was sufficient land because land was provided per person, and Jewish families were big. Ekaterinoslav province was located within the Pale of Settlement [1] in tsarist Russia. Jewish farming colonies were founded in the 1840s to develop new territories. Jewish families from smaller towns and villages of Belarus and Ukraine moved to richer lands hoping for a better life. There were about 120 families in our colony. Each family consisted of 25-40 people of various generations. When the children grew up they built annexes to their parents' homes and lived together supporting each other.
, Ukraine
Asia was a success at school. I always tried to inspire her to continue her studies. Once her non-Jewish friend said to her, 'You dream of going to an institute? Do you realize that your last name is Kofman? So, why are you even trying?' I said to Asia, 'Well, this means that you've lost a friend'. I advised her to have Jewish friends who were studying and had goals in life. Asia finished school with honors in 1955. She failed to enter an institute at her first try because she was Jewish. She came home crying. I asked her what had happened. She replied that the teachers at the entrance exams had abused her. I couldn't bear it and wrote a complaint to the Ministry of Education. I wrote that the daughter of a deceased officer, who had finished school with highest grades, failed to enter the Construction Institute.
While the official investigation was on I helped her to get a job at a design institute. I went to the Ministry of Education, and they told me that they would help and asked me to come back in three days. I returned there, but my letter was still there and no signs of their promise to help. I said to them, 'I did hope that you would help'. They replied, 'We will'. I had to go back there several times before I got a paper reading, 'Since Miss Kofman is the daughter of a deceased officer, she is to be admitted to the institute'. The director promised that my daughter would be enrolled in additional lists. When additional lists were issued her name wasn't on them. The director told me that she would be admitted next year. I said, 'How do I know whether you'll be here next year? My daughter will be a student of this institute this year'. I went to the Ministry of Education again. After three days I was told that she was to attend classes. You see, it took more effort for Jewish children to get their education.
Asia met Alik Azarkh, a nice Jewish boy. He was shy and taciturn. His father also perished at the front. Asia helped him with mathematics. He was her fellow student. Asia had classes in the evening and worked at the design institute. Alik and she got married. They had a civil ceremony. Their daughter, Alla, was born in 1963. Soon afterwards I retired. I like Alik a lot. He knows that he is my son, not just my son-in-law.
I tried to help Asia about the house and looked after Alla. Asia and Alik spent a lot of time working at construction companies. I continued my activities at the party organization until the Party was eliminated in 1998. All these years that I was in the Komsomol and the Party, the observation of any Jewish traditions was out of the question. Traditions were considered to be 'religious prejudices'. How stupid it was. Now I like to recall how we celebrated holidays in the colony, but our family didn't resume the celebration of holidays. We didn't return to Jewish traditions. Neither my daughter nor I observe any of them.
Perestroika began in the 1990s, and I didn't care much about the crash of communist ideas. I was hoping for a better future for the next generations. I haven't lost my ideals: I still believe that the ideas of communism are very good and correct. I think some people misinterpreted them in the wrong way. Communists are just people, too, and they can be wrong and make mistakes like any other person. Many things have changed. Ukraine declared independence, but I'm sorry about the huge and mighty multinational state that disintegrated. We can enjoy freedom of the press and freedom of speech. People can travel all over the world and have their own business. But old people have a hard life because their pensions are very low. I hope it will change in the future.
My daughter and her husband are pensioners now. Asia is at home and Alik still does some work every now and then. He is a highly qualified design engineer. Alla married her classmate, a very nice Russian boy. Asia and I had no objections to their marriage. Love and understanding is what matters. They get along very well. They own a car business. They have four sons, and they all are the joy and love of my life: Michael, named after his great-grandfather, is 18, Ilia is 15, Daniel is 10 and Leo, my closest friend, is 7 years old.
I will soon be 96, but I try to lead an active life: I help them to boil milk, dust my room and sometimes spend some time in the yard. I like to visit Hesed: I recite poems in Yiddish there. I have a hearing problem, and Hesed provided a hearing aid for me. I'm very concerned about the situation in Israel. I have many dear people who live there. I just hope that no other tragedy will strike my people. When the Iron Curtain [21] fell in the 1990s, and Jews got an opportunity to move to Israel, I was old. Who can move at 96 years of age? And my daughter and grandchildren have no plans to move, either. .
While the official investigation was on I helped her to get a job at a design institute. I went to the Ministry of Education, and they told me that they would help and asked me to come back in three days. I returned there, but my letter was still there and no signs of their promise to help. I said to them, 'I did hope that you would help'. They replied, 'We will'. I had to go back there several times before I got a paper reading, 'Since Miss Kofman is the daughter of a deceased officer, she is to be admitted to the institute'. The director promised that my daughter would be enrolled in additional lists. When additional lists were issued her name wasn't on them. The director told me that she would be admitted next year. I said, 'How do I know whether you'll be here next year? My daughter will be a student of this institute this year'. I went to the Ministry of Education again. After three days I was told that she was to attend classes. You see, it took more effort for Jewish children to get their education.
Asia met Alik Azarkh, a nice Jewish boy. He was shy and taciturn. His father also perished at the front. Asia helped him with mathematics. He was her fellow student. Asia had classes in the evening and worked at the design institute. Alik and she got married. They had a civil ceremony. Their daughter, Alla, was born in 1963. Soon afterwards I retired. I like Alik a lot. He knows that he is my son, not just my son-in-law.
I tried to help Asia about the house and looked after Alla. Asia and Alik spent a lot of time working at construction companies. I continued my activities at the party organization until the Party was eliminated in 1998. All these years that I was in the Komsomol and the Party, the observation of any Jewish traditions was out of the question. Traditions were considered to be 'religious prejudices'. How stupid it was. Now I like to recall how we celebrated holidays in the colony, but our family didn't resume the celebration of holidays. We didn't return to Jewish traditions. Neither my daughter nor I observe any of them.
Perestroika began in the 1990s, and I didn't care much about the crash of communist ideas. I was hoping for a better future for the next generations. I haven't lost my ideals: I still believe that the ideas of communism are very good and correct. I think some people misinterpreted them in the wrong way. Communists are just people, too, and they can be wrong and make mistakes like any other person. Many things have changed. Ukraine declared independence, but I'm sorry about the huge and mighty multinational state that disintegrated. We can enjoy freedom of the press and freedom of speech. People can travel all over the world and have their own business. But old people have a hard life because their pensions are very low. I hope it will change in the future.
My daughter and her husband are pensioners now. Asia is at home and Alik still does some work every now and then. He is a highly qualified design engineer. Alla married her classmate, a very nice Russian boy. Asia and I had no objections to their marriage. Love and understanding is what matters. They get along very well. They own a car business. They have four sons, and they all are the joy and love of my life: Michael, named after his great-grandfather, is 18, Ilia is 15, Daniel is 10 and Leo, my closest friend, is 7 years old.
I will soon be 96, but I try to lead an active life: I help them to boil milk, dust my room and sometimes spend some time in the yard. I like to visit Hesed: I recite poems in Yiddish there. I have a hearing problem, and Hesed provided a hearing aid for me. I'm very concerned about the situation in Israel. I have many dear people who live there. I just hope that no other tragedy will strike my people. When the Iron Curtain [21] fell in the 1990s, and Jews got an opportunity to move to Israel, I was old. Who can move at 96 years of age? And my daughter and grandchildren have no plans to move, either. .
, Ukraine
As for my private life, I didn't meet a man to spend my life with. Asia and I spent our vacations in Novozlatopol. Later Asia went there alone to help my sisters. Esther and Sonia were getting old, and Asia helped them with their kitchen garden and did repairs in the house. After the war the collective farm stopped to be a Jewish collective farm - there were people of many nationalities there. People treated Esther nicely, but they didn't like Sonia. Esther died in 1972. There are only two Jewish families left in Novozlatopol now. They are elderly people. Slava died in Zaporozhiye in 1976, and her children moved to other places.
My younger sister, Vera, remarried. Her second husband was a nice Jewish man, but he died after 5 or 6 years of their life together. Vera met another man, but their relationship also failed. She died in 1980. She didn't have any children. My favorite brother, Iosif, lived in Moscow after the war. He was an engineer. He was a nice person, and I just adored him. I saw him at his 80th birthday in 1983. His wife was ill, and I cooked all traditional food that we were used to in the colony: gefilte fish - I bought 4 kg of fish and the guests ate it all - sweet and sour stew, chicken and honey cake. Iosif invited the commander of his division and other guests. They enjoyed the food. My brother said, 'Sima, I don't know what it would be like if you weren't here'. Iosif passed away in 1988.
My younger sister, Vera, remarried. Her second husband was a nice Jewish man, but he died after 5 or 6 years of their life together. Vera met another man, but their relationship also failed. She died in 1980. She didn't have any children. My favorite brother, Iosif, lived in Moscow after the war. He was an engineer. He was a nice person, and I just adored him. I saw him at his 80th birthday in 1983. His wife was ill, and I cooked all traditional food that we were used to in the colony: gefilte fish - I bought 4 kg of fish and the guests ate it all - sweet and sour stew, chicken and honey cake. Iosif invited the commander of his division and other guests. They enjoyed the food. My brother said, 'Sima, I don't know what it would be like if you weren't here'. Iosif passed away in 1988.
, Ukraine
I got a job as an instructor at the district executive committee. I stayed with my friend and tried to find a vacant apartment. After a year I found one. It was a room in a communal apartment with seven or eight neighbors, but it was a 14-15 square meter room, and I was very happy to get it. Vera lived with me until she got married. Her marriage failed, she got divorced and received an apartment from the plant where she was working.
There was growing anti-Semitism in Kiev. Jews couldn't get an employment; there were meetings to condemn the 'cosmopolitans' [this was the so-called campaign against 'cosmopolitans'] [19] that lasted till 3-4 o'clock in the morning, then there was this doctors' story [the so-called Doctors' Plot] [20], then my Jewish neighbor got arrested - it was scaring. We suffered, but what could we do. I couldn't speak against the general policy because I had a daughter waiting for me at home. Now I come think how could I have possibly managed to bear it all - it was so depressing!
I remember March 1953 when Stalin died. My 15-year-old daughter wrote a patriotic poem about Stalin, but deep in my heart I was glad that he had died. I hoped that things would change for the better. I couldn't forgive him for the war and my husband's death. All people understood that the war was inevitable, so, how could he let the country be unprepared and cause so many deaths.
I got a job at the State Association of Garment Makers where I worked in a guild. We painted shawls, and I was responsible for party activities. My former salary was 3,200 while there I only received 625 rubles.
I became the director of the shop and then I changed to clothes manufacturing. Later I went to make pleated skirts that were in fashion. It was hard work - irons weighed 3-4 kg - but I earned well and worked there until I retired in 1966. I continued to be a member of the Communist Party and was proud of it. I conducted various activities: I spoke at various meetings at schools and higher educational institutions explaining the meaning of the party policy to the students and convincing them to join the rows of communists. I did understand though that there were different people among communists. That chairman of the Oil Industry Trade Unions, for instance, was a communist, but he caused others and me so many problems. There were many others like him.
There was growing anti-Semitism in Kiev. Jews couldn't get an employment; there were meetings to condemn the 'cosmopolitans' [this was the so-called campaign against 'cosmopolitans'] [19] that lasted till 3-4 o'clock in the morning, then there was this doctors' story [the so-called Doctors' Plot] [20], then my Jewish neighbor got arrested - it was scaring. We suffered, but what could we do. I couldn't speak against the general policy because I had a daughter waiting for me at home. Now I come think how could I have possibly managed to bear it all - it was so depressing!
I remember March 1953 when Stalin died. My 15-year-old daughter wrote a patriotic poem about Stalin, but deep in my heart I was glad that he had died. I hoped that things would change for the better. I couldn't forgive him for the war and my husband's death. All people understood that the war was inevitable, so, how could he let the country be unprepared and cause so many deaths.
I got a job at the State Association of Garment Makers where I worked in a guild. We painted shawls, and I was responsible for party activities. My former salary was 3,200 while there I only received 625 rubles.
I became the director of the shop and then I changed to clothes manufacturing. Later I went to make pleated skirts that were in fashion. It was hard work - irons weighed 3-4 kg - but I earned well and worked there until I retired in 1966. I continued to be a member of the Communist Party and was proud of it. I conducted various activities: I spoke at various meetings at schools and higher educational institutions explaining the meaning of the party policy to the students and convincing them to join the rows of communists. I did understand though that there were different people among communists. That chairman of the Oil Industry Trade Unions, for instance, was a communist, but he caused others and me so many problems. There were many others like him.
, Ukraine
Asia began school when she turned 7. She was an intelligent girl and successful at school. My sister Vera returned from evacuation and settled down with me for a year. Then the owner of the room came back from Germany. He brought a truck full of goods with him. I was at work, and he threw my belongings into a shed in the corner of the yard. I was horrified. He returned with his wife, they had no children and they dared to throw me, a widow with a child, out onto the street!
I went to my boss at the Oil Industry Trade Union and told him my story. He was a real bastard. He just said, 'There's nothing I can do for you'. I had a friend, Fenia Demirskaya, and Asia and I went to live with her temporarily. The chairman of the central committee sent me on a business trip to Western Ukraine. I was mad at him. He had no right to send me to a problem area when I had a small daughter whose father had perished at the front. However, I couldn't disobey my management orders, so I had to go.
Western Ukraine joined the USSR in 1940. [Editor's note: It was in fact annexed by the USSR after the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.] [18] The situation was difficult. There were bandits in the woods who hunted for Soviet leaders. (Editor's note:[Editor's note: They were fighting against the communist rule.]) Women weren't supposed to be sent to such unstable areas, but I was an industrious employee and went there. I left Asia with my friend. My assignment was to restore trade unions in the oil industry. I moved from one place to another. I had a vehicle at my disposal. Once we were driving uphill, and the driver stopped the truck to cool down the engine. I asked him about bandits and he said, 'You'll be okay. They only kill zhydy [kike] and communists'. Well, I had a passport with me which had my Jewish nationality in it, and I also had my party membership card with me! We arrived in a town, and I was told that bandits had just left. They had cut off one girl's plait - she was a Komsomol member - and told her that next time they would cut off her head if she stayed with the Komsomol.
I conducted a meeting and asked the chairman of the Oil Industry Trade Union to provide me with accommodation further away from the field. He told me that I could stay in his house. At night I heard five shots. Bandits broke into the house of an oil terminal employee, who was a crook. He escaped, but the bandits shot his mother, father and son. It happened about one kilometer from the place where I stayed overnight. That same night the manager of the local oil industry branch was shot, too. It saved me that I had arrived on a truck. They thought I wasn't that important. I conducted several meetings with inhabitants of smaller towns and villages to explain the party policies to them. I also spoke for the Soviet power. Then I returned to Kiev.
Again I went to my boss to ask for his help, and again I heard, 'There's nothing I can do for you'. I didn't go to higher authorities, although I had every right to complain. I submitted a letter of resignation. Even now I think that I was an idiot to do so.
I went to my boss at the Oil Industry Trade Union and told him my story. He was a real bastard. He just said, 'There's nothing I can do for you'. I had a friend, Fenia Demirskaya, and Asia and I went to live with her temporarily. The chairman of the central committee sent me on a business trip to Western Ukraine. I was mad at him. He had no right to send me to a problem area when I had a small daughter whose father had perished at the front. However, I couldn't disobey my management orders, so I had to go.
Western Ukraine joined the USSR in 1940. [Editor's note: It was in fact annexed by the USSR after the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.] [18] The situation was difficult. There were bandits in the woods who hunted for Soviet leaders. (Editor's note:[Editor's note: They were fighting against the communist rule.]) Women weren't supposed to be sent to such unstable areas, but I was an industrious employee and went there. I left Asia with my friend. My assignment was to restore trade unions in the oil industry. I moved from one place to another. I had a vehicle at my disposal. Once we were driving uphill, and the driver stopped the truck to cool down the engine. I asked him about bandits and he said, 'You'll be okay. They only kill zhydy [kike] and communists'. Well, I had a passport with me which had my Jewish nationality in it, and I also had my party membership card with me! We arrived in a town, and I was told that bandits had just left. They had cut off one girl's plait - she was a Komsomol member - and told her that next time they would cut off her head if she stayed with the Komsomol.
I conducted a meeting and asked the chairman of the Oil Industry Trade Union to provide me with accommodation further away from the field. He told me that I could stay in his house. At night I heard five shots. Bandits broke into the house of an oil terminal employee, who was a crook. He escaped, but the bandits shot his mother, father and son. It happened about one kilometer from the place where I stayed overnight. That same night the manager of the local oil industry branch was shot, too. It saved me that I had arrived on a truck. They thought I wasn't that important. I conducted several meetings with inhabitants of smaller towns and villages to explain the party policies to them. I also spoke for the Soviet power. Then I returned to Kiev.
Again I went to my boss to ask for his help, and again I heard, 'There's nothing I can do for you'. I didn't go to higher authorities, although I had every right to complain. I submitted a letter of resignation. Even now I think that I was an idiot to do so.
, Ukraine
My brother, Iosif, was in evacuation in Siberia, but when the Voluntary Siberian Division was formed he volunteered to join and went to the front. He lost his left arm in the war but returned with many awards.
When I was in Novosibirsk I received a letter from my relatives in Novozlatopol. Young people from the colony went to the front and collective farmers, who had no opportunity to evacuate on their own, went to Northern Caucasus with the collective farm cattle. Seven members of our family reached Mozdok. A number of people stopped on the way to the Caucasus to take a rest. They were captured by the Germans and shot. Life in the Caucasus was very hard. There was a constant threat of German attacks. I wired my family to come join me. They arrived in Novosibirsk: my sister Slava, her husband Iosif, Slava's daughter, Fania, and her baby, another daughter and a son, and my sisters Sonia and Esther. Their trip lasted three months, and they were dirty and had lice. The baby was skin and bones. It was like a dream for them to take a bath. Slava washed everyone in the bathtub and kissed me in her gratitude. They stayed in my room, and I got another room on the second floor of the same house. I also had a plot of land which served as a kitchen garden. Slava, Sonia, Esther and Iosif worked in this kitchen garden. They grew cabbage, potatoes and all other necessary vegetables.
When Kiev was liberated in November 1943 we couldn't wait to go back home. The party leader of the factory tried to convince me to stay at the factory by promising to provide me with all I needed. I was a success at what I was doing. I was good at inspiring people to perform at their best.
In February 1944 my daughter and I returned to Kiev. My relatives went back to Novozlatopol. They worked at the collective farm: Sonia looked after piglets, Esther was a milkmaid and Iosif, Slava's husband, was a vet. Later some younger members of our family moved to Zaporozhiye and either got a job or studied there. Returning to Kiev was a disappointment for me. Although I came back with an assignment of the Central Committee of the Communist Party and had brilliant references from my previous job, I couldn't find a job or place to live. I felt unwelcome. At first I didn't have a clue of what it was about, but then it occurred to me that the reason was that I was a Jew. .I managed to get a 16-square-meter room. I went to the regional party committee where I met my former schoolmate. He helped me to get a position at the central committee of the Oil Industry Trade Union for the southern and central parts of Ukraine.
When I was in Novosibirsk I received a letter from my relatives in Novozlatopol. Young people from the colony went to the front and collective farmers, who had no opportunity to evacuate on their own, went to Northern Caucasus with the collective farm cattle. Seven members of our family reached Mozdok. A number of people stopped on the way to the Caucasus to take a rest. They were captured by the Germans and shot. Life in the Caucasus was very hard. There was a constant threat of German attacks. I wired my family to come join me. They arrived in Novosibirsk: my sister Slava, her husband Iosif, Slava's daughter, Fania, and her baby, another daughter and a son, and my sisters Sonia and Esther. Their trip lasted three months, and they were dirty and had lice. The baby was skin and bones. It was like a dream for them to take a bath. Slava washed everyone in the bathtub and kissed me in her gratitude. They stayed in my room, and I got another room on the second floor of the same house. I also had a plot of land which served as a kitchen garden. Slava, Sonia, Esther and Iosif worked in this kitchen garden. They grew cabbage, potatoes and all other necessary vegetables.
When Kiev was liberated in November 1943 we couldn't wait to go back home. The party leader of the factory tried to convince me to stay at the factory by promising to provide me with all I needed. I was a success at what I was doing. I was good at inspiring people to perform at their best.
In February 1944 my daughter and I returned to Kiev. My relatives went back to Novozlatopol. They worked at the collective farm: Sonia looked after piglets, Esther was a milkmaid and Iosif, Slava's husband, was a vet. Later some younger members of our family moved to Zaporozhiye and either got a job or studied there. Returning to Kiev was a disappointment for me. Although I came back with an assignment of the Central Committee of the Communist Party and had brilliant references from my previous job, I couldn't find a job or place to live. I felt unwelcome. At first I didn't have a clue of what it was about, but then it occurred to me that the reason was that I was a Jew. .I managed to get a 16-square-meter room. I went to the regional party committee where I met my former schoolmate. He helped me to get a position at the central committee of the Oil Industry Trade Union for the southern and central parts of Ukraine.
, Ukraine
My husband served in the Railroad Regiment #6 in Kiev. Later the regiment was transferred to Zhmerinka, a small town and railway joint [200 km from Kiev]. I stayed in Kiev to finish my studies. The commissar of the regiment offered me to become head of the women's council, the (political organization for officers' wives). I told him that I wouldn't mind doing so but that I had to continue my studies. He said that Stalin invited officers' wives to a meeting and that it would be good for me to go, especially because I was politically well-educated. But I had other priorities - to study was my main goal - and refused to go to the meeting. Another officer's wife went there. Stalin received them nicely, and she even brought a record player back, which was a gift from Stalin.
Michael got tired of living alone and began to ask me to continue my studies by correspondence and come join him. I agreed. Asia and I moved to Zhmerinka at the beginning of 1941. We settled down in a communal apartment at the military camp. There were many tenants of various nationalities, and we all got along very well. My husband's mother came from Kremenchug to live with us. We realized that the war was inevitable and that German troops were close to the border, but we couldn't believe in the worst to happen. My husband and I said to one another that we would just pretend nothing bad was going to happen.
In the middle of June I took Asia to Kiev for a surgery on the adenoids. After the surgery I took her home. In the morning of 22nd June 1941 I went out to buy milk. I saw people running around. I returned home and heard Molotov [17] speaking on the radio pronouncing, 'We are at war'. My husband had left me a note telling me to leave for the East. He also left me a suitcase and his officer's certificate. [Editor's note: These were certificates (for officers' wives, whose husbands were at the front, to receive money allowancses.)]
My younger sister, Vera, lived in Kiev. She worked at a big plant that was about to evacuate. She was told that she probably couldn't take us with her and was desperate when she heard it. She said, 'Sima, you need to evacuate before I do because if you don't I don't know what I would do'. I took Asia to the railway station. I didn't have any luggage. I believed we would be back home soon. Besides, I wasn't sure if we would be able to leave at all. There were crowds of people at the railway station. They broke through the gates and occupied the railroad platforms. I don't know how I managed to get onto the platform. We didn't have a bite of bread. Vera, who came to see us off, brought us two French buns and two bottles of lemonade. She gave them to someone on the platform to hand them to me, but I only got one bun and one bottle of lemonade.
We were bombed on the way, but our train wasn't damaged. I got off several times on our way and asked local people whether I could stay there, but the answer was always, 'No'. There were no jobs in those towns, and besides enterprises had a priority to employ women that had no officer's certificates. This was only fair because these women had no provisions whatsoever. Our trip lasted four months. In December we reached Novosibirsk in Siberia [3,000 km from Kiev]. I got a job at the mechanics shop of the ammunition factory. There were 300-400,000 employees who manufactured shells. I was responsible for the completion of schedules.
Once I spoke at the party meeting with an appeal to all employees to improve our performance to help the men on the front. Our party leader liked my speech and offered me the position of the leader of the women's committee. I got a room in a good house with heating and a bathroom - for wartime standards these were the best conditions one could hope for. I had to work long hours. Asia went to the 24-hour kindergarten. I seldom saw her, only when I dropped by her kindergarten or on days off.. Michael got in encirclement, escaped, walked 200 km, got to Poltava, saw his mother, helped her to evacuate and returned to the front.
One day in February 1942 I came home and sat down for dinner when all of a sudden the thought that Michael might have perished struck me. Shortly afterwards I got the notification of my husband's death. Later I got to know that he had taken part in the defense of Kiev. Stalin had issued an order 'to stand up for Kiev'. So many people died in this struggle! Michael got in encirclement, escaped, walked 200 km, got to Poltava, saw his mother, helped her to evacuate and returned to the front.
Michael got tired of living alone and began to ask me to continue my studies by correspondence and come join him. I agreed. Asia and I moved to Zhmerinka at the beginning of 1941. We settled down in a communal apartment at the military camp. There were many tenants of various nationalities, and we all got along very well. My husband's mother came from Kremenchug to live with us. We realized that the war was inevitable and that German troops were close to the border, but we couldn't believe in the worst to happen. My husband and I said to one another that we would just pretend nothing bad was going to happen.
In the middle of June I took Asia to Kiev for a surgery on the adenoids. After the surgery I took her home. In the morning of 22nd June 1941 I went out to buy milk. I saw people running around. I returned home and heard Molotov [17] speaking on the radio pronouncing, 'We are at war'. My husband had left me a note telling me to leave for the East. He also left me a suitcase and his officer's certificate. [Editor's note: These were certificates (for officers' wives, whose husbands were at the front, to receive money allowancses.)]
My younger sister, Vera, lived in Kiev. She worked at a big plant that was about to evacuate. She was told that she probably couldn't take us with her and was desperate when she heard it. She said, 'Sima, you need to evacuate before I do because if you don't I don't know what I would do'. I took Asia to the railway station. I didn't have any luggage. I believed we would be back home soon. Besides, I wasn't sure if we would be able to leave at all. There were crowds of people at the railway station. They broke through the gates and occupied the railroad platforms. I don't know how I managed to get onto the platform. We didn't have a bite of bread. Vera, who came to see us off, brought us two French buns and two bottles of lemonade. She gave them to someone on the platform to hand them to me, but I only got one bun and one bottle of lemonade.
We were bombed on the way, but our train wasn't damaged. I got off several times on our way and asked local people whether I could stay there, but the answer was always, 'No'. There were no jobs in those towns, and besides enterprises had a priority to employ women that had no officer's certificates. This was only fair because these women had no provisions whatsoever. Our trip lasted four months. In December we reached Novosibirsk in Siberia [3,000 km from Kiev]. I got a job at the mechanics shop of the ammunition factory. There were 300-400,000 employees who manufactured shells. I was responsible for the completion of schedules.
Once I spoke at the party meeting with an appeal to all employees to improve our performance to help the men on the front. Our party leader liked my speech and offered me the position of the leader of the women's committee. I got a room in a good house with heating and a bathroom - for wartime standards these were the best conditions one could hope for. I had to work long hours. Asia went to the 24-hour kindergarten. I seldom saw her, only when I dropped by her kindergarten or on days off.. Michael got in encirclement, escaped, walked 200 km, got to Poltava, saw his mother, helped her to evacuate and returned to the front.
One day in February 1942 I came home and sat down for dinner when all of a sudden the thought that Michael might have perished struck me. Shortly afterwards I got the notification of my husband's death. Later I got to know that he had taken part in the defense of Kiev. Stalin had issued an order 'to stand up for Kiev'. So many people died in this struggle! Michael got in encirclement, escaped, walked 200 km, got to Poltava, saw his mother, helped her to evacuate and returned to the front.
, Ukraine
There was an unbelievable famine in Ukraine [15] in the village. I found carrots in the fields and that was my main food for a long time. At first the collective farmers didn't trust me, but it helped that I had grown up in a farming colony. I also took care of the people. When I received the order to give everything to the state including the last stocks of grain, we hid two kilos of wheat so that nobody could find it. We slaughtered all livestock because there was no food to keep them. Women were crying, 'We shall die, we shall all starve to death', but I tried to cheer them up and said, 'Hey, we shall live to bake pies'.
«In spring we sowed the wheat that we had hidden and we did make pies after we harvested it. We also kept some milk to give it to the weakest and sick villagers. Of course I realized that it might cost me my life if someone reported on me, but what could I do? In other collective farms people were dying in hundreds, but in our village many survived. In 1934 our collective farm gradually began to come back to life. We organized an equipment yard and got the first tractors. I became head of the political department at the equipment maintenance yard. Nobody cared about my nationality, and I forgot about it, too. People cared about what kind of person I was and how I did my work. Nothing else mattered.
Once in 1935 the secretary of the party district committee called me and asked, 'Did you submit a letter of resignation?' I hadn't done so. It happened to be Michael Kofman, my acquaintance from the tram. He had graduated from the institute and became an officer with the railroad troops. He found me and wrote letters to all the authorities requesting them to dismiss me. In the same year I married senior lieutenant Michael Kofman. He came from a working-class Jewish family in Kremenchug. His parents worked at the tobacco factory there. His older brother, a Komsomol member, died in an accident at a construction site in 1920. One of his sisters was a prosecutor and the other one worked at the tobacco factory. I only met them after my husband died. Their children still correspond with me - we are in-laws and a family.
My husband got a room in a communal apartment [16] in Kiev. There were three other families in this apartment. They were all nice people. I worked at the Department of Marxism-Leninism in my former institute. I was an instructor and explained the meaning and main idea of Marxism-Leninism. [Editor's note: (All educational institutions in the fSU had departments teaching and researching on Marx, Lenin and their followers.].) I also continued my studies.
My daughter, Asia, was born in 1937. Before she turned 1, I sent her to a nursery school. Later I found a baby sitter. She was an old woman from a dispossessed family. She was a very nice lady but absolutely ignorant.
I spent my vacations with Asia in the colony. In 1939 my father died. He was buried in the local Jewish cemetery. There was no rabbi, so he was buried without any Jewish rituals. My sisters were there: Sonia, the nasty one, and Esther, one of the twins. They worked at the collective farm. Iosif, Slava's husband, worked with the collective farm cattle.
«In spring we sowed the wheat that we had hidden and we did make pies after we harvested it. We also kept some milk to give it to the weakest and sick villagers. Of course I realized that it might cost me my life if someone reported on me, but what could I do? In other collective farms people were dying in hundreds, but in our village many survived. In 1934 our collective farm gradually began to come back to life. We organized an equipment yard and got the first tractors. I became head of the political department at the equipment maintenance yard. Nobody cared about my nationality, and I forgot about it, too. People cared about what kind of person I was and how I did my work. Nothing else mattered.
Once in 1935 the secretary of the party district committee called me and asked, 'Did you submit a letter of resignation?' I hadn't done so. It happened to be Michael Kofman, my acquaintance from the tram. He had graduated from the institute and became an officer with the railroad troops. He found me and wrote letters to all the authorities requesting them to dismiss me. In the same year I married senior lieutenant Michael Kofman. He came from a working-class Jewish family in Kremenchug. His parents worked at the tobacco factory there. His older brother, a Komsomol member, died in an accident at a construction site in 1920. One of his sisters was a prosecutor and the other one worked at the tobacco factory. I only met them after my husband died. Their children still correspond with me - we are in-laws and a family.
My husband got a room in a communal apartment [16] in Kiev. There were three other families in this apartment. They were all nice people. I worked at the Department of Marxism-Leninism in my former institute. I was an instructor and explained the meaning and main idea of Marxism-Leninism. [Editor's note: (All educational institutions in the fSU had departments teaching and researching on Marx, Lenin and their followers.].) I also continued my studies.
My daughter, Asia, was born in 1937. Before she turned 1, I sent her to a nursery school. Later I found a baby sitter. She was an old woman from a dispossessed family. She was a very nice lady but absolutely ignorant.
I spent my vacations with Asia in the colony. In 1939 my father died. He was buried in the local Jewish cemetery. There was no rabbi, so he was buried without any Jewish rituals. My sisters were there: Sonia, the nasty one, and Esther, one of the twins. They worked at the collective farm. Iosif, Slava's husband, worked with the collective farm cattle.
, Ukraine
I had friends and we often got together. We played 'flower flirtation': boys and girls wrote greetings or declarations of love and exchanged them. I didn't spend much time playing with my friends because I was trying to study. It was popular to correspond with military men at the time. It was a common thing. Girls were stimulated to support and strengthen the patriotic spirits of the brave young men guarding the peace and quiet of our motherland. I corresponded with a Russian military. He wrote interesting and smart letters. Once he wrote that he was demobilizing and wanted to take me with him He had a mother, but no father, but all I could think of was studying. I wrote to him about my future plans, and it put an end to our correspondence.
There were big changes in Novozlatopol in 1928. The collective farm Vanguard was organized [during the collectivization] [13], and all farmers, including my father, became collective farmers. Leib Iorsh became chairman of the collective farm and Meyer Ushkatz was the chairman of the town council. They were nice men, and I had known them since we were children. There were vineyards in the collective farm. My brother, Avrul, establish a cheese-making production. My sister Vera moved to Zaporozhiye after finishing school where she went to study at the factory school [(evening higher secondary school]). I spent my vacations and days off at home. .
I went to the factory school in 1929. When I was going to Kiev I believed I was smart and intelligent and thought I knew everything one needed to know. But when I came to school my teacher said to me, 'Medved, in order for you to know that you know you need to study a lot more'. I did my best. After finishing the Rabfak in 1931 (factory school) I entered Kiev Polytechnic Institute without exams. When I was still at the Rabfak I lived in the hostel until a friend of mine, Marusya, took me to live in her apartment. She was a very nice girl. She was arrested in 1937 [during the so-called Great Terror] [14]. I don't know why she was arrested - nobody explained the reason for her arrest. Besides it wasn't a good idea to address authorities with questions about 'enemies of the people'. At that time many active Komsomol members and communists were arrested, but we believed that it was correct and that there could be no smoke without a fire. People disappeared for good.
When I lived with Marusya I commuted to the institute by tram and often met with a young man there. He was my age, and his name was Michael Kofman. He was a 4th-year student at the Polytechnic University. He was a nice and easy-going Jewish man. We had much in common,. He was a member of the Communist Party. But we only met in the tram a few times. Then I disappeared from his horizon because I had to move to a collective farm where I got my Komsomol assignment. I had no time to let him know about it.
I studied at the institute for a short time. In 1932 the Party made a decision to send 25,000 active communists to collective farms. We were to carry out the orders of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. We strongly believed that these decisions were correct and were committed to their implementation. This movement was named '25-thousandists'. I was sent to Oratovo village in Kiev region as the party leader of the collective farm.
When I was leaving Kiev the bread coupon system was being introduced. There were many refugees from villages dying in the streets. They were starved to death. I took my ration of bread with me. When I came to the collective farm, the chairman of the farm invited me to dinner. They served soup but there was anything but food components in that soup - some sawdust and whatever else. The mixture smelled of machine oil. I only pretended that I was eating, but the others at the table were actually finishing their soup.
There were big changes in Novozlatopol in 1928. The collective farm Vanguard was organized [during the collectivization] [13], and all farmers, including my father, became collective farmers. Leib Iorsh became chairman of the collective farm and Meyer Ushkatz was the chairman of the town council. They were nice men, and I had known them since we were children. There were vineyards in the collective farm. My brother, Avrul, establish a cheese-making production. My sister Vera moved to Zaporozhiye after finishing school where she went to study at the factory school [(evening higher secondary school]). I spent my vacations and days off at home. .
I went to the factory school in 1929. When I was going to Kiev I believed I was smart and intelligent and thought I knew everything one needed to know. But when I came to school my teacher said to me, 'Medved, in order for you to know that you know you need to study a lot more'. I did my best. After finishing the Rabfak in 1931 (factory school) I entered Kiev Polytechnic Institute without exams. When I was still at the Rabfak I lived in the hostel until a friend of mine, Marusya, took me to live in her apartment. She was a very nice girl. She was arrested in 1937 [during the so-called Great Terror] [14]. I don't know why she was arrested - nobody explained the reason for her arrest. Besides it wasn't a good idea to address authorities with questions about 'enemies of the people'. At that time many active Komsomol members and communists were arrested, but we believed that it was correct and that there could be no smoke without a fire. People disappeared for good.
When I lived with Marusya I commuted to the institute by tram and often met with a young man there. He was my age, and his name was Michael Kofman. He was a 4th-year student at the Polytechnic University. He was a nice and easy-going Jewish man. We had much in common,. He was a member of the Communist Party. But we only met in the tram a few times. Then I disappeared from his horizon because I had to move to a collective farm where I got my Komsomol assignment. I had no time to let him know about it.
I studied at the institute for a short time. In 1932 the Party made a decision to send 25,000 active communists to collective farms. We were to carry out the orders of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. We strongly believed that these decisions were correct and were committed to their implementation. This movement was named '25-thousandists'. I was sent to Oratovo village in Kiev region as the party leader of the collective farm.
When I was leaving Kiev the bread coupon system was being introduced. There were many refugees from villages dying in the streets. They were starved to death. I took my ration of bread with me. When I came to the collective farm, the chairman of the farm invited me to dinner. They served soup but there was anything but food components in that soup - some sawdust and whatever else. The mixture smelled of machine oil. I only pretended that I was eating, but the others at the table were actually finishing their soup.
, Ukraine