When World War I began in 1914 my father was recruited to the army. He was almost 24 years old. He served in the rear in Simferopol first. He told me that one of his duties was to stand on sentinel stock-still for two hours. If his sergeant major noticed him stir, he started his countdown anew. Later my father went to the front. He was in the army of General Brusilov.
- Tradíciók 11756
- Beszélt nyelv 3019
- Identitás 7808
- A település leírása 2440
- Oktatás, iskola 8506
- Gazdaság 8772
- Munka 11672
- Szerelem & romantika 4929
- Szabadidő/társadalmi élet 4159
- Antiszemitizmus 4822
-
Főbb események (politikai és történelmi)
4256
- örmény népirtás 2
- Doctor's Plot (1953) 178
- Soviet invasion of Poland 31
- Siege of Leningrad 86
- The Six Day War 4
- Yom Kippur War 2
- Atatürk halála 5
- Balkán háborúk (1912-1913) 35
- Első szovjet-finn háború 37
- Csehszlovákia megszállása 1938 83
- Franciaország lerohanása 9
- Molotov-Ribbentrop paktum 65
- Varlik Vergisi (vagyonadó) 36
- Első világháború (1914-1918) 216
- Spanyolnátha (1918-1920) 14
- Latvian War of Independence (1918-1920) 4
- Nagy gazdasági világválság (1929-1933) 20
- Hitler hatalmon (1933) 127
- 151 Kórház 1
- Thesszaloniki tűzvész (1917) 9
- Görög polgárháború (1946-49) 12
- Thesszaloniki Nemzetközi Vásár 5
- Bukovina Romániához csatolása (1918) 7
- Észak-Bukovina csatolása a Szovjetunióhoz (1940) 19
- Lengyelország német megszállása (1939) 94
- Kisinyevi pogrom (1903) 7
- Besszarábia romániai annexiója (1918) 25
- A magyar uralom visszatérése Erdélybe (1940-1944) 43
- Besszarábia szovjet megszállása (1940) 59
- Második bécsi diktátum 27
- Észt függetlenségi háború 3
- Varsói felkelés 2
- A balti államok szovjet megszállása (1940) 147
- Osztrák lovagi háború (1934) 9
- Anschluss (1938) 71
- A Habsburg birodalom összeomlása 3
- Dollfuß-rendszer 3
- Kivándorlás Bécsbe a második világháború előtt 36
- Kolkhoz 131
- KuK - Königlich und Kaiserlich 40
- Bányászjárás 1
- A háború utáni szövetséges megszállás 7
- Waldheim ügy 5
- Trianoni békeszerződés 12
- NEP 56
- Orosz forradalom 351
- Ukrán éhínség (Holodomor) 199
- A Nagy tisztogatás 283
- Peresztrojka 233
- 1941. június 22. 468
- Molotov rádióbeszéde 115
- Győzelem napja 147
- Sztálin halála 365
- Hruscsov beszéde a 20. kongresszuson 148
- KGB 62
- NKVD 153
- Magyarország német megszállása (1944. március 18-19.) 45
- Józef Pilsudski (1935-ig) 33
- 1956-os forradalom 84
- Prágai Tavasz (1968) 73
- 1989-es rendszerváltás 174
- Gomulka kampány (1968) 81
-
Holokauszt
9685
- Holokauszt (általánosságban) 2789
- Koncentrációs tábor / munkatábor 1235
- Tömeges lövöldözési műveletek 337
- Gettó 1183
- Halál / megsemmisítő tábor 647
- Deportálás 1063
- Kényszermunka 791
- Repülés 1410
- Rejtőzködés 594
- Ellenállás 121
- 1941-es evakuálások 866
- Novemberpogrom / Kristályéjszaka 34
- Eleutherias tér 10
- Kasztner csoport 1
- Jászvásári pogrom és a halálvonat 21
- Sammelwohnungen 9
- Strohmann rendszer 11
- Struma hajó 17
- Élet a megszállás alatt 803
- Csillagos ház 72
- Védett ház 15
- Nyilaskeresztesek ("nyilasok") 42
- Dunába lőtt zsidók 6
- Kindertranszport 26
- Schutzpass / hamis papírok 95
- Varsói gettófelkelés (1943) 24
- Varsói felkelés (1944) 23
- Segítők 521
- Igazságos nemzsidók 269
- Hazatérés 1090
- Holokauszt-kárpótlás 112
- Visszatérítés 109
- Vagyon (vagyonvesztés) 595
- Szerettek elvesztése 1724
- Trauma 1029
- Beszélgetés a történtekről 1807
- Felszabadulás 558
- Katonaság 3322
- Politika 2640
-
Kommunizmus
4468
- Élet a Szovjetunióban/kommunizmus alatt (általánosságban) 2592
- Antikommunista ellenállás általában 63
- Államosítás a kommunizmus alatt 221
- Illegális kommunista mozgalmak 98
- Szisztematikus rombolások a kommunizmus alatt 45
- Kommunista ünnepek 311
- A kommunista uralommal kapcsolatos érzések 930
- Kollektivizáció 94
- Az állami rendőrséggel kapcsolatos tapasztalatok 349
- Börtön/kényszermunka a kommunista/szocialista uralom alatt 449
- Az emberi és állampolgári jogok hiánya vagy megsértése 483
- Élet a rendszerváltás után (1989) 493
- Izrael / Palesztina 2190
- Cionizmus 847
- Zsidó szervezetek 1200
Displaying 4711 - 4740 of 50826 results
Naum Balan
![](/themes/custom/centro/flags/ua.svg)
When the Germans came my uncle's family was taken to the camp in Domanevka [5]. He saw his wife and children being shot by the Germans. He buried them himself. He would have been shot, too, but Manya, a Jewish medical nurse helped him to escape. They kept wandering in the steppe for a long while and they lived with a Ukrainian family for some time. Uncle Minia knew German and pretended he was a German. When the Germans were retreating somebody reported to them that Minia was a Jew. They arrested and beat him so hard that his leg got fractured. It didn't knit properly and Uncle Minia was lame for the rest of his life.
Lidia and I decided to live together in 1995. I moved to Odessa. I had to have my documents changed. Moldavian officials were helpful and so were officials in Odessa, especially when I told them that I came from Odessa. Lidia lived in a communal apartment [18] in the center of the town. After her aunt died she inherited a one-bedroom apartment in Cheryomushki [a new district in Odessa]. We exchanged these two apartments and settled down in a new two-bedroom apartment with a balcony and all comforts in a new district of the town. Our apartment is on the second floor. It's very convenient for us since there is no elevator in the house and we are in no condition to walk higher upstairs. My son Igor often comes to see us here in Odessa. We support him. In my time, children supported their parents, but now things are different.
In the late 1990s my brother Michael, his daughters and their families moved to Germany. They live in the very picturesque area of Turingia: a distric in Darmstadt. Michael and his daughter Tania draw a lot. Michael has been exhibiting his works in Jewish communities in many towns.
I go to the main synagogue in Odessa on holidays when my health condition allows it. I don't pray since I don't know any prayers.
I identify myself as a Jew and wish all Jews to have a good life. I'm interested in everything about Jews and Israel. I knew about the establishment of Israel in 1948, but we didn't get any information about the country at that time. Israel is the life and the capital of all Jews in the world. In 1948 Israel won the war for independence, and I was glad they could stand for themselves since I heard people say more than once that Jews were no soldiers whatsoever. All my relatives, all our men were at the front during the Great Patriotic War and two of my brothers perished during the war.
The Gmilus Hesed Jewish Charity Center, established in 1992, provides assistance to Lidia and me. There is an aid visiting us. She brings us food and cleans our apartment. We receive food packages and medications. Whenever I can I attend events at Gmilus Hesed.
In the late 1990s my brother Michael, his daughters and their families moved to Germany. They live in the very picturesque area of Turingia: a distric in Darmstadt. Michael and his daughter Tania draw a lot. Michael has been exhibiting his works in Jewish communities in many towns.
I go to the main synagogue in Odessa on holidays when my health condition allows it. I don't pray since I don't know any prayers.
I identify myself as a Jew and wish all Jews to have a good life. I'm interested in everything about Jews and Israel. I knew about the establishment of Israel in 1948, but we didn't get any information about the country at that time. Israel is the life and the capital of all Jews in the world. In 1948 Israel won the war for independence, and I was glad they could stand for themselves since I heard people say more than once that Jews were no soldiers whatsoever. All my relatives, all our men were at the front during the Great Patriotic War and two of my brothers perished during the war.
The Gmilus Hesed Jewish Charity Center, established in 1992, provides assistance to Lidia and me. There is an aid visiting us. She brings us food and cleans our apartment. We receive food packages and medications. Whenever I can I attend events at Gmilus Hesed.
, Ukraine
meyer tulchinskiy
![](/themes/custom/centro/flags/ua.svg)
I met my future wife, Alexandra Aizman, a Jew, in 1967. She came from a Jewish family with many children. Her father, Naum Aizman, was born in the town of Gusyatin, on the western border of Ukraine, in 1899, I think. Her father had an elementary education. He probably studied at cheder. Before the war my wife's father was chairman of a shop in Gusyatin. My wife's mother, Sarah, was born in 1915. She finished a Ukrainian elementary school. She didn't have any profession. She married Naum Aizman in 1935 and became a housewife. They had 3 children. My wife's parents didn't celebrate any Jewish holidays or observe any traditions. After the beginning of the war their family evacuated to Middle Asia. My in-laws' children died from dysentery and pneumonia. The food and water were very poor and the conditions of living very hard in the place where they lived. Many children died of infections and lack of food.
After the war my father-in-law went to Shargorod, located close to his hometown. There's a synagogue, a church and a cathedral in Shargorod. This town had Jewish, Polish and Ukrainian inhabitants and people lived in peace with each other. They spoke Yiddish and Ukrainian in Shargorod. During the war there was a big ghetto there. The majority of Jews were exterminated, and the ones that survived left for other places after the war. There are hardly any Jews left in Shargorod today.
They had three children born after the war: Dmitriy, in 1945, my wife Alexandra in 1946, and Dora in 1947. My father-in-law became a soda water and lemonade expert in Shargorod after the war. He created his own recipes and made syrups. The local authorities allowed him to open a store in Shargorod. Although it was a state-owned store he had his own customers and could provide well for his family. His products were in big demand and he earned well.
My wife's older brother, Dmitriy Aizman, finished the Road Transport College and was a driving teacher at a technical school in Shargorod. Dmitriy married a local girl named Anna. They had a big wedding party, but I don't remember whether theytraditional Jewish wedding. He was a member of the Communist Party. They had two children. They led a quiet life, didn't have any hobbies, didn't celebrate any Jewish holidays or observe traditions. In the 1980s they went through hard times when the Soviet regime was collapsing. Dmitriy found a profitable business. He took a course and learned how to make smoked fish. He opened a smoking shed and became a fish supplier. He died when he was 54. His older son, Alexandr, his wife and her parents emigrated to Germany in 1996. Anna also moved there after Dmitriy died. Anna's younger son, Igor, became very religious. He grew a beard.... Nothing of this kind had ever happened in our family before. In 1999 he was in a camp in Israel. He received a student's visa to the USA and went there to study to become a rabbi. I don't know whether he finished his studies or not, but he stayed in the USA. His religiosity came to him somehow even though his mother Anna had never been serious about religious issues.
My wife's younger sister, Dora, was born deaf and dumb. She studied at the boarding school for deaf and dumb children and became a tailor. She worked at a tailor's in Shargorod. Dora married a deaf and dumb man from a neighboring town in 1970. Her husband was a good carpenter, cabinetmaker and welder. He worked at a construction company for some time. They didn't observe any traditions or celebrate holidays in Dora's family. I think the reason was that none of our families ever had any celebrations. Dora's eyesight got so bad that she became almost blind. In the 1990s perestroika began, and her husband lost his job. Dora couldn't earn anything, they had five children and were literally starving. Their family moved to Israel in 1996. They still live there now, but we aren't in touch with them.
My wife was born in 1946. She was 22 years younger than me. She finished a Ukrainian secondary school and a pharmaceutics school in Shargorod and came to Kiev to enter Medical College. She rented an apartment from my Aunt Liza. My cousin, Zina, decided to introduce us to each other. We had a civil wedding ceremony in 1966. Her father came to Kiev at least once a month. Her mother didn't come because she was rather sickly. She didn't even attend the wedding. We often went to Shargorod. My father-in-law died in 1968 and my mother-in-law in 1979. My wife's parents were sociable and had many friends in Shargorod. (Photo 4). They spoke Yiddish in my wife's family. However, Alexandra and all the other members of her family spoke Russian or Ukrainian to me.
After the war my father-in-law went to Shargorod, located close to his hometown. There's a synagogue, a church and a cathedral in Shargorod. This town had Jewish, Polish and Ukrainian inhabitants and people lived in peace with each other. They spoke Yiddish and Ukrainian in Shargorod. During the war there was a big ghetto there. The majority of Jews were exterminated, and the ones that survived left for other places after the war. There are hardly any Jews left in Shargorod today.
They had three children born after the war: Dmitriy, in 1945, my wife Alexandra in 1946, and Dora in 1947. My father-in-law became a soda water and lemonade expert in Shargorod after the war. He created his own recipes and made syrups. The local authorities allowed him to open a store in Shargorod. Although it was a state-owned store he had his own customers and could provide well for his family. His products were in big demand and he earned well.
My wife's older brother, Dmitriy Aizman, finished the Road Transport College and was a driving teacher at a technical school in Shargorod. Dmitriy married a local girl named Anna. They had a big wedding party, but I don't remember whether theytraditional Jewish wedding. He was a member of the Communist Party. They had two children. They led a quiet life, didn't have any hobbies, didn't celebrate any Jewish holidays or observe traditions. In the 1980s they went through hard times when the Soviet regime was collapsing. Dmitriy found a profitable business. He took a course and learned how to make smoked fish. He opened a smoking shed and became a fish supplier. He died when he was 54. His older son, Alexandr, his wife and her parents emigrated to Germany in 1996. Anna also moved there after Dmitriy died. Anna's younger son, Igor, became very religious. He grew a beard.... Nothing of this kind had ever happened in our family before. In 1999 he was in a camp in Israel. He received a student's visa to the USA and went there to study to become a rabbi. I don't know whether he finished his studies or not, but he stayed in the USA. His religiosity came to him somehow even though his mother Anna had never been serious about religious issues.
My wife's younger sister, Dora, was born deaf and dumb. She studied at the boarding school for deaf and dumb children and became a tailor. She worked at a tailor's in Shargorod. Dora married a deaf and dumb man from a neighboring town in 1970. Her husband was a good carpenter, cabinetmaker and welder. He worked at a construction company for some time. They didn't observe any traditions or celebrate holidays in Dora's family. I think the reason was that none of our families ever had any celebrations. Dora's eyesight got so bad that she became almost blind. In the 1990s perestroika began, and her husband lost his job. Dora couldn't earn anything, they had five children and were literally starving. Their family moved to Israel in 1996. They still live there now, but we aren't in touch with them.
My wife was born in 1946. She was 22 years younger than me. She finished a Ukrainian secondary school and a pharmaceutics school in Shargorod and came to Kiev to enter Medical College. She rented an apartment from my Aunt Liza. My cousin, Zina, decided to introduce us to each other. We had a civil wedding ceremony in 1966. Her father came to Kiev at least once a month. Her mother didn't come because she was rather sickly. She didn't even attend the wedding. We often went to Shargorod. My father-in-law died in 1968 and my mother-in-law in 1979. My wife's parents were sociable and had many friends in Shargorod. (Photo 4). They spoke Yiddish in my wife's family. However, Alexandra and all the other members of her family spoke Russian or Ukrainian to me.
, Ukraine
Basically my parents were in favor of the Soviet power. If you ask me whether there was anything positive about the Soviet power my answer would be, 'Yes'. This refers to education first of all. When I went to school we had several textbooks in mathematics written by different authors. After some period of probation the education authorities decided to switch to the pre-revolutionary textbook written by Professor Kisilyov from Voronezh. The Soviet authorities favored him and awarded him the order of the Red Flag. I remember his words: 'The country where almost all people study needs good textbooks!' He didn't exaggerate. Even the poorest could get free education. Young people studied in all kinds of educational institutions including military, engineering, accounting, law and philosophy colleges.
My parents spoke Yiddish with each-other. Sometimes they communicated in Russian, when they also wanted me to get involved in the conversation, or if someone else was in the house and didn't speak Yiddish. I'm surprised that my parents didn't even try to teach me Yiddish. Regretfully, my parents didn't celebrate any Jewish or religious holidays or observe any traditions. I rarely visited my mother's mother in Tarashcha. My relatives spoke Ukrainian to me, and I don't remember celebration of any religious holidays. My relatives got together on Soviet holidays at our place. I was the only child in the family. My mother had babies several times, but they all died.
I studied at a Russian secondary school in Kiev. It was located near the Ukrainian Drama Theater and school children participated in the performances. We often went to the theater. I remember the terrible famine of 1933 well, although the situation in Kiev wasn't as tense as elsewhere. I remember long lines of people waiting to get bread. There were supervisors to watch the order. After the government moved to Kiev from Kharkov in 1934 life improved a lot. Kiev, as the capital of Ukraine, had better supplies of food products.
We lived in the main street of Kiev, Kreschatik. We had a huge room and seven other families were our neighbors in the same apartment. My parents separated my part of the room with a screen, which they bought from the sales. It was a heavy mahogany screen, upholstered in a beautiful manner. My parents and I had iron beds. We had a sofa with a high back, a carved cupboard, a floor mirror and a table in this room. We also had a radio.
My parents spoke Yiddish with each-other. Sometimes they communicated in Russian, when they also wanted me to get involved in the conversation, or if someone else was in the house and didn't speak Yiddish. I'm surprised that my parents didn't even try to teach me Yiddish. Regretfully, my parents didn't celebrate any Jewish or religious holidays or observe any traditions. I rarely visited my mother's mother in Tarashcha. My relatives spoke Ukrainian to me, and I don't remember celebration of any religious holidays. My relatives got together on Soviet holidays at our place. I was the only child in the family. My mother had babies several times, but they all died.
I studied at a Russian secondary school in Kiev. It was located near the Ukrainian Drama Theater and school children participated in the performances. We often went to the theater. I remember the terrible famine of 1933 well, although the situation in Kiev wasn't as tense as elsewhere. I remember long lines of people waiting to get bread. There were supervisors to watch the order. After the government moved to Kiev from Kharkov in 1934 life improved a lot. Kiev, as the capital of Ukraine, had better supplies of food products.
We lived in the main street of Kiev, Kreschatik. We had a huge room and seven other families were our neighbors in the same apartment. My parents separated my part of the room with a screen, which they bought from the sales. It was a heavy mahogany screen, upholstered in a beautiful manner. My parents and I had iron beds. We had a sofa with a high back, a carved cupboard, a floor mirror and a table in this room. We also had a radio.
, Ukraine
My father, Lev Tulchinskiy, was born in Zhivotov, near Tarashcha, in 1891. I don't know anything about his family. My parents told me very little about themselves. I only picked up bits and pieces of conversations. It was my understanding that my father didn't have pleasant memories about his childhood. I remember one little anecdote that my father told me. He recalled how his parents were hiding freshly made bread from the children. There were many children in the family, and they ate too much freshly baked bread whenever they could get it.
My father studied in cheder and later entered the yeshivah in Vilnius to study to become a rabbi. He was probably religious when he was young. He probably observed Jewish traditions, which was common in all Jewish families back then. He never finished his studies because he got disappointed with religion. It was the time of chaos. My father took to another extreme: he participated in the Revolution of 1917 and the Civil War. I believe he was wounded in 1919 and had to stay in hospital. This created some distance between him and his relatives. His family ended up in Winnipeg, Canada, in their effort to escape from pogroms. They settled down there and had a good life. During the famine in Ukraine [11] my father's relatives sent him parcels. They changed their last name from Tulchinskiy to Tulman to make it sound more English. We haven't been in touch with them for quite a long while.
After he was wounded my father still led an active life, but he didn't become a member of the Bolshevik Party. He wasn't really happy about the regime in his country, even though he had been fighting for it. He got disappointed with the idea of communism. My father called people in power 'these smooth-talkers'.
My father and mother moved to Kiev from Tarashcha in the 1920s. They rented an apartment in the center of the city. I was born there in 1924. (Photo 2). My father worked as an accounting clerk at the Kievfuel Trust. This trust supplied coal, wood, kerosene, gasoline and lubricants to enterprises in Kiev. My father was very fond of self-education. He showed an interest in political economy and politics. He wasn't interested in fiction. He liked to read newspapers and sent me to buy Pravda and Izvestiya [communist newspapers.] He enjoyed discussing political issues with his daughters-in- law, Rosa and Riva. Meyer joined them sometimes. Political education was mandatory at that time, and all employees had to take exams at their offices. I remember Riva, my father and somebody else getting prepared for these exams.
My father studied in cheder and later entered the yeshivah in Vilnius to study to become a rabbi. He was probably religious when he was young. He probably observed Jewish traditions, which was common in all Jewish families back then. He never finished his studies because he got disappointed with religion. It was the time of chaos. My father took to another extreme: he participated in the Revolution of 1917 and the Civil War. I believe he was wounded in 1919 and had to stay in hospital. This created some distance between him and his relatives. His family ended up in Winnipeg, Canada, in their effort to escape from pogroms. They settled down there and had a good life. During the famine in Ukraine [11] my father's relatives sent him parcels. They changed their last name from Tulchinskiy to Tulman to make it sound more English. We haven't been in touch with them for quite a long while.
After he was wounded my father still led an active life, but he didn't become a member of the Bolshevik Party. He wasn't really happy about the regime in his country, even though he had been fighting for it. He got disappointed with the idea of communism. My father called people in power 'these smooth-talkers'.
My father and mother moved to Kiev from Tarashcha in the 1920s. They rented an apartment in the center of the city. I was born there in 1924. (Photo 2). My father worked as an accounting clerk at the Kievfuel Trust. This trust supplied coal, wood, kerosene, gasoline and lubricants to enterprises in Kiev. My father was very fond of self-education. He showed an interest in political economy and politics. He wasn't interested in fiction. He liked to read newspapers and sent me to buy Pravda and Izvestiya [communist newspapers.] He enjoyed discussing political issues with his daughters-in- law, Rosa and Riva. Meyer joined them sometimes. Political education was mandatory at that time, and all employees had to take exams at their offices. I remember Riva, my father and somebody else getting prepared for these exams.
, Ukraine
I worked as head of the communications office at the Zhuliany airport in Kiev at the time. We had meetings where people were pointing at the 'enemies', accusing them of embezzlement, espionage in favor of other countries, negligence, carelessness and dishonest attitudes. We were bound to get involved in the persecution of innocent people, as well as in their dismissal from work. Of course, I sympathized with them and understood that they were innocent, but there was nothing I could do. It wasn't wise to fight against the Soviet regime. The situation was very bad, of course. However, I didn't face any anti-Semitism myself. People always treated me with respect. I was head of the medical equipment design office for a few years before I retired in 1989.
My mother worked as a janitor and later, after the war, as a telegram deliverer. She received tips from the people who received good news about their loved ones from the front. Mistakes were made, and families were notified of their relatives' death when in reality they were captives or wounded in hospitals and just weren't able to let their families know that they were alive. Therefore, after the war, many people got news from their loved ones. Once my mother delivered a telegram to an old couple. They had received notification before that their son had perished at the front. The one that my mother brought them was from their son saying that he was fine and heading for Kiev.
My mother had a poor heart and she often felt very ill. Perhaps, it was for this reason that she liked to be visited by doctors. She was very concerned about me not getting married. She didn't care about the nationality of my future wife. One of my mother's sisters married a Georgian, another one married a Polish man. My mother married a Jew and so did her sister, Liza. Riva's lover was a Ukrainian man. So, if we hadn't been continuously reminded that we were Jews, we would have probably forgotten about it once and forever. My mother died in 1963.
My mother worked as a janitor and later, after the war, as a telegram deliverer. She received tips from the people who received good news about their loved ones from the front. Mistakes were made, and families were notified of their relatives' death when in reality they were captives or wounded in hospitals and just weren't able to let their families know that they were alive. Therefore, after the war, many people got news from their loved ones. Once my mother delivered a telegram to an old couple. They had received notification before that their son had perished at the front. The one that my mother brought them was from their son saying that he was fine and heading for Kiev.
My mother had a poor heart and she often felt very ill. Perhaps, it was for this reason that she liked to be visited by doctors. She was very concerned about me not getting married. She didn't care about the nationality of my future wife. One of my mother's sisters married a Georgian, another one married a Polish man. My mother married a Jew and so did her sister, Liza. Riva's lover was a Ukrainian man. So, if we hadn't been continuously reminded that we were Jews, we would have probably forgotten about it once and forever. My mother died in 1963.
, Ukraine
After our wedding we lived in the communal apartment [18] in Podol. Some time later we purchased an apartment in Obolon. My wife was a nurse in a hospital in Kiev. She was a highly qualified medical nurse. She did her job very well, and sometimes she even corrected doctors if they were wrong. She had many acquaintances she consulted on medical issues. My wife was so highly valued at work that she was offered to be admitted to the Medical Institute without exams. Alexandra was planning to study at the Institute, but she died from cancer in 1988. We lived a short but happy life together. I feel so sorry that she spent so much time doing additional work to earn a little more money: she gave people injections, looked after sick people, and so on. Alexandra was a very easy-going person, and we had great family and friend gatherings on Soviet holidays. She shared my fondness of classical music, and we often went to the Philharmonic and theaters. We didn't celebrate any Jewish religious holidays - it simply wasn't a tradition in our family.
Our daughter, Tsessana, was born in 1969. (Photo 5). She finished a Ukrainian secondary school in Kiev and entered the Pharmacological Institute in Leningrad in 1986. She studied there for two years. She married Oleg Impriss, a Jewish man, in 1988. He worked as a locksmith at a plant in Kiev. They emigrated to Germany in 1989. My granddaughter, Alexandra, was born there. My daughter tells me to join them, but I don't want to go. I don't even like the thought of Germany or the language. It probably has to do with my associations from the war times. Besides, all these long process of getting the required documents is a problem for me. I haven't even visited them, although I love my daughter and granddaughter, and I'm very attached to my son-in-law.
It's difficult for me to say what I think about emigration in general. It all depends on how adjustable an individual is. Some cats and dogs could return home covering the distance of over 1,000 kilometers. Scientists call it the 'sense for home'. If animals have this feeling for home, some people must also have it. I think it's alright to go to work at some place and return home afterwards. When it comes to looking for personal happiness it's a different matter. Basically, Israel is supposed to be our historical Motherland. But the situation isn't simple there. I like to listen to the Israeli radio station, read newspapers and books about this country. I would like to visit Israel, but again, it's a problem to stand in lines to obtain documents. Besides, it's expensive for a pensioner to go on this trip. Also, I'm concerned about the latest events in this area: all this shooting and terrorism.
I live alone. I read a lot and meet up with my friends, relatives and neighbors. I feel okay. It's a pity I can't see my daughter and granddaughter more often. I know that there are many Jewish organizations in Kiev. I don't go there. I'm not interested, and I don't need to go there.
Our daughter, Tsessana, was born in 1969. (Photo 5). She finished a Ukrainian secondary school in Kiev and entered the Pharmacological Institute in Leningrad in 1986. She studied there for two years. She married Oleg Impriss, a Jewish man, in 1988. He worked as a locksmith at a plant in Kiev. They emigrated to Germany in 1989. My granddaughter, Alexandra, was born there. My daughter tells me to join them, but I don't want to go. I don't even like the thought of Germany or the language. It probably has to do with my associations from the war times. Besides, all these long process of getting the required documents is a problem for me. I haven't even visited them, although I love my daughter and granddaughter, and I'm very attached to my son-in-law.
It's difficult for me to say what I think about emigration in general. It all depends on how adjustable an individual is. Some cats and dogs could return home covering the distance of over 1,000 kilometers. Scientists call it the 'sense for home'. If animals have this feeling for home, some people must also have it. I think it's alright to go to work at some place and return home afterwards. When it comes to looking for personal happiness it's a different matter. Basically, Israel is supposed to be our historical Motherland. But the situation isn't simple there. I like to listen to the Israeli radio station, read newspapers and books about this country. I would like to visit Israel, but again, it's a problem to stand in lines to obtain documents. Besides, it's expensive for a pensioner to go on this trip. Also, I'm concerned about the latest events in this area: all this shooting and terrorism.
I live alone. I read a lot and meet up with my friends, relatives and neighbors. I feel okay. It's a pity I can't see my daughter and granddaughter more often. I know that there are many Jewish organizations in Kiev. I don't go there. I'm not interested, and I don't need to go there.
, Ukraine
My mother found out that I was in Yenakiyevo and wanted to come and visit me, but she wasn't allowed to leave her work. Then she got a chance by accident. Two majors, who had lost their legs, needed an escort to return to Russia. My hospital was near where they lived in Russia. It was a difficult mission with lots of arrangements to be made on the way, and nobody wanted to take it. The director of the hospital suggested that my mother went. She agreed, but her condition was to have a statement reading, 'Visiting Yenakiyevo to meet her wounded son', written in her route document. The director of the hospital didn't agree with it but she insisted that he did what she was asking for. She escorted both majors home - they were miserable people. She came to Yenakiyevo, and I was released from hospital.
We went to Tbilisi, but I didn't feel at home there. We decided to go to Kiev. We weren't awaited by anyone. Our place had been destroyed, and we didn't have a place to live. It was a good thing that I kept my passport during my mobilization to the army. It was a hectic moment at the military office. There were many recruits, and they all submitted their passports to have them replaced with military identity cards. The clerk sitting at his table had heaps of passports scattered on the floor around him. He probably thought that these soldiers wouldn't need their passports later on. I put my passport into my pocket when he wasn't looking and thus managed to keep it. It wasn't a good idea to have one's passport during the war. If the Germans had ever captured me and seen that I was a Jew they would have shot me immediately. I was hoping to be able to throw it away if necessary. After we arrived in Kiev I went to the social support office to be registered there. The chairman asked me whether I could prove that I had lived in Kiev, and I showed him my passport. He saw my address and gave me a 200-ruble allowance to rent a room.
After the war I had an aversion to everything that I had seen or lived through during the war. I'm reluctant to answer questions related to the war. I had finished 9 years at school before the war. After the war I told my mother that I wanted to get higher secondary education. I need to give credit to my mother because she supported this idea of mine in spite of all misery we were living in. My mother respected educated people. She said that an uneducated person could hurt other people's feelings, however unintentionally, and she avoided such people. I started to study at an evening secondary school in 1945 and finished it with a silver medal in 1946.
I submitted my documents to the Kiev Polytechnic Institute. There were many applicants for the Radio-Engineering Faculty, but I was admitted because I was a medal winner and a war invalid. I lived in the hostel, and my mother rented rooms. Later I received a small room in Podol [14]. After graduating I worked at the Communications Department of the Hydro-Meteorological Center. Later I had several jobs. I didn't have any acquaintances and couldn't get a really good job. I didn't mind because I liked my work. Another reason for my not being able to get a better job was that this was all during the period of the campaign against cosmopolitans [15].
As for the Doctors' Plot [16] I would like to say that there has always been anti-Semitism in USSR. I remember that parents at that time didn't allow their schoolchildren to accept medication from a school doctor if they found out that the doctor was a Jew. I think, the basis of anti- Semitism is people's ignorance and stupidity. Stalin's death in 1953 put an end to this period. Erenburg [17] has an interesting description of this period. The Evening Kiev newspaper published anti-Semitic articles and notes. There were always Jewish names mentioned if something indecent happened. One might have imagined that all existing jerks at that time were Jews.
We went to Tbilisi, but I didn't feel at home there. We decided to go to Kiev. We weren't awaited by anyone. Our place had been destroyed, and we didn't have a place to live. It was a good thing that I kept my passport during my mobilization to the army. It was a hectic moment at the military office. There were many recruits, and they all submitted their passports to have them replaced with military identity cards. The clerk sitting at his table had heaps of passports scattered on the floor around him. He probably thought that these soldiers wouldn't need their passports later on. I put my passport into my pocket when he wasn't looking and thus managed to keep it. It wasn't a good idea to have one's passport during the war. If the Germans had ever captured me and seen that I was a Jew they would have shot me immediately. I was hoping to be able to throw it away if necessary. After we arrived in Kiev I went to the social support office to be registered there. The chairman asked me whether I could prove that I had lived in Kiev, and I showed him my passport. He saw my address and gave me a 200-ruble allowance to rent a room.
After the war I had an aversion to everything that I had seen or lived through during the war. I'm reluctant to answer questions related to the war. I had finished 9 years at school before the war. After the war I told my mother that I wanted to get higher secondary education. I need to give credit to my mother because she supported this idea of mine in spite of all misery we were living in. My mother respected educated people. She said that an uneducated person could hurt other people's feelings, however unintentionally, and she avoided such people. I started to study at an evening secondary school in 1945 and finished it with a silver medal in 1946.
I submitted my documents to the Kiev Polytechnic Institute. There were many applicants for the Radio-Engineering Faculty, but I was admitted because I was a medal winner and a war invalid. I lived in the hostel, and my mother rented rooms. Later I received a small room in Podol [14]. After graduating I worked at the Communications Department of the Hydro-Meteorological Center. Later I had several jobs. I didn't have any acquaintances and couldn't get a really good job. I didn't mind because I liked my work. Another reason for my not being able to get a better job was that this was all during the period of the campaign against cosmopolitans [15].
As for the Doctors' Plot [16] I would like to say that there has always been anti-Semitism in USSR. I remember that parents at that time didn't allow their schoolchildren to accept medication from a school doctor if they found out that the doctor was a Jew. I think, the basis of anti- Semitism is people's ignorance and stupidity. Stalin's death in 1953 put an end to this period. Erenburg [17] has an interesting description of this period. The Evening Kiev newspaper published anti-Semitic articles and notes. There were always Jewish names mentioned if something indecent happened. One might have imagined that all existing jerks at that time were Jews.
, Ukraine
My mother was a very difficult woman, a family despot. She always interfered with my life. But I'm grateful that she taught me how to read. She died with a book in her hands. She preferred fiction. My mother didn't work because she was constantly ill. Besides, there weren't enough jobs for everybody at that time. She was a very good cook. Her stuffed fish and jellied meat were delicious.
I remember 1937 when a large number of people were arrested [during the Great Terror]. I was studying at the governmental school [school for the children of high officials] located in the vicinity of Lipki, an elite neighborhood of Kiev. There were children of high Soviet officials and military in my class. The children's parents were arrested as 'enemies of the people' and often physically maltreated, executed or sent to camps with extremely hard living conditions,0 and the children were sent to children's homes or shelters. They were arresting higher officials and common people. There were two Polish girls in my class whose parents were clerks. They were arrested, and the girls were sent to a children's home. I never saw them again.
My father was an accounting clerk, and this campaign didn't affect him. His nationality was of no significance at that stage. Aunt Fania, who lived in Tbilisi, had her nationality written as Russian when she obtained her passport. She mentioned that she wasn't Russian, but she was told that all citizens were Russian. Many people liked the fact that all were equal and that there were no first or second-class people any more. However, this didn't last long. In 1939 the Department of Judaism at the Institute of Linguistics in Kiev was closed. It moved to Birobidzhan [12]. The authorities closed Jewish schools pretending they were responding to the request of the children's parents.
I heard about the war at 12 o'clock on 22nd June 1941. We had a radio. At that time that was even more prestigious than having a car nowadays. We had the reputation of being rich because we had a radio. We turned the radio on and opened the door so our neighbors could hear the announcement about the war.
After a week the military office sent us to excavate trenches near Goloseyevskiy forest in the vicinity of Kiev. We spent a week there. After we returned to Kiev we were sent to Donets. We were too young to be recruited to the army, but we were to come of age, and it was the right step of the government to send us to a remote area as a reserve for the Red Army. My parents evacuated. My mother's sister Riva helped them. She worked at a bank and they were the first to evacuate. Riva was allowed to take my parents into evacuation. They came to Donets to pick me up. The Germans were approaching Donets and the military office didn't keep young people any longer.
I remember 1937 when a large number of people were arrested [during the Great Terror]. I was studying at the governmental school [school for the children of high officials] located in the vicinity of Lipki, an elite neighborhood of Kiev. There were children of high Soviet officials and military in my class. The children's parents were arrested as 'enemies of the people' and often physically maltreated, executed or sent to camps with extremely hard living conditions,0 and the children were sent to children's homes or shelters. They were arresting higher officials and common people. There were two Polish girls in my class whose parents were clerks. They were arrested, and the girls were sent to a children's home. I never saw them again.
My father was an accounting clerk, and this campaign didn't affect him. His nationality was of no significance at that stage. Aunt Fania, who lived in Tbilisi, had her nationality written as Russian when she obtained her passport. She mentioned that she wasn't Russian, but she was told that all citizens were Russian. Many people liked the fact that all were equal and that there were no first or second-class people any more. However, this didn't last long. In 1939 the Department of Judaism at the Institute of Linguistics in Kiev was closed. It moved to Birobidzhan [12]. The authorities closed Jewish schools pretending they were responding to the request of the children's parents.
I heard about the war at 12 o'clock on 22nd June 1941. We had a radio. At that time that was even more prestigious than having a car nowadays. We had the reputation of being rich because we had a radio. We turned the radio on and opened the door so our neighbors could hear the announcement about the war.
After a week the military office sent us to excavate trenches near Goloseyevskiy forest in the vicinity of Kiev. We spent a week there. After we returned to Kiev we were sent to Donets. We were too young to be recruited to the army, but we were to come of age, and it was the right step of the government to send us to a remote area as a reserve for the Red Army. My parents evacuated. My mother's sister Riva helped them. She worked at a bank and they were the first to evacuate. Riva was allowed to take my parents into evacuation. They came to Donets to pick me up. The Germans were approaching Donets and the military office didn't keep young people any longer.
, Ukraine
It took us a long while to get to Middle Asia. We stayed at a collective farm [13] in Uzbekistan. We worked in the cotton fields and lived in a kibitka [clay hut] with a very small window offering a view of the kishlak [an Uzbek village]. We spent about half a year in Uzbekistan. People were dying like flies. They were dying from eating mulberries and fruit after starvation and drinking water from the river. They died from dysentery and bloody flux. A lot of children were dying. There was even a separate cemetery for children.
Riva, who was living in Tbilisi, came to our rescue again. There was a labor camp for children somewhere in the Caucasus and a factory in it, and Riva was employed as a tutor there. She managed to send us the necessary forms to come and work at this camp for youngsters. We traveled to the Caucasus from Middle Asia across the Caspian Sea. My father had a weak heart after working in the cotton fields. He died on the way at Ursakievskoye station in Middle Asia. He was buried quietly there. We reached Tbilisi, and I entered the Communications College where I studied for several months. I lived in the hostel, and my mother rented a room. In 1942 the Germans came close to Zakavkazye and total mobilization was announced in Tbilisi. 300,000 recruits went to the front, and I was among them. Every third one of them perished.
My mother got a job as a medical nurse at the navy hospital in Tbilisi. The Georgians treated my mother very well. As soon as I went to the front she was registered at the military office as a member of the family of a front line soldier, and she moved to an apartment where she lived until the end of the war. This hospital gave treatment to wounded military of the southern front. I was at the 3rd Ukrainian front. My mother was always looking for me among the wounded soldiers who were being brought to the hospital. I wrote to her but now I think I could have written more letters to her.
I was a private at the infantry, at the Zakavkazie, North Caucasian front, from where we moved to the South Ukrainian front. I was wounded by a stray bullet on a battlefield in Hungary in April 1945. I remember this incident as if it happened yesterday. I was sent to a field hospital and then to Odessa. Later I moved to Sochi where all recreation centers were turned into hospitals. After Sochi I was sent to Yenakiyevo in Central Russia to complete my course of treatment. (Photo 3).
Riva, who was living in Tbilisi, came to our rescue again. There was a labor camp for children somewhere in the Caucasus and a factory in it, and Riva was employed as a tutor there. She managed to send us the necessary forms to come and work at this camp for youngsters. We traveled to the Caucasus from Middle Asia across the Caspian Sea. My father had a weak heart after working in the cotton fields. He died on the way at Ursakievskoye station in Middle Asia. He was buried quietly there. We reached Tbilisi, and I entered the Communications College where I studied for several months. I lived in the hostel, and my mother rented a room. In 1942 the Germans came close to Zakavkazye and total mobilization was announced in Tbilisi. 300,000 recruits went to the front, and I was among them. Every third one of them perished.
My mother got a job as a medical nurse at the navy hospital in Tbilisi. The Georgians treated my mother very well. As soon as I went to the front she was registered at the military office as a member of the family of a front line soldier, and she moved to an apartment where she lived until the end of the war. This hospital gave treatment to wounded military of the southern front. I was at the 3rd Ukrainian front. My mother was always looking for me among the wounded soldiers who were being brought to the hospital. I wrote to her but now I think I could have written more letters to her.
I was a private at the infantry, at the Zakavkazie, North Caucasian front, from where we moved to the South Ukrainian front. I was wounded by a stray bullet on a battlefield in Hungary in April 1945. I remember this incident as if it happened yesterday. I was sent to a field hospital and then to Odessa. Later I moved to Sochi where all recreation centers were turned into hospitals. After Sochi I was sent to Yenakiyevo in Central Russia to complete my course of treatment. (Photo 3).
, Ukraine
My mother's sister Fania moved to Tbilisi from Tarashcha 5-6 years after the October Revolution and stayed there. I don't know what brought her to Tbilisi. She married a Polish man named Kalnitskiy. He was an irrigation engineer. Fania was arrested in 1937 and sentenced to five years of imprisonment for her contacts with an 'enemy of the people', Rosa's husband, who often visited his relatives in Tbilisi. Besides she was accused of not returning books by forbidden Soviet writers to the library. She had the right to write to her relatives and informed them what she was charged of. Fania was in a camp in Perm region until 1939. Rosa, who was studying at the Industrial Academy went to the authorities and said, 'Why did you arrest her? In that case you should arrest me for my contacts with an 'enemy of the people', too'. However strange it may sound, they released and rehabilitated Fania and even suggested that she entered the Communist Party, but Fania refused. Some time later she was appointed director of a Russian school in Tbilisi. After I returned to Tbilisi from the front, Fania and I visited her former students in Tbilisi, and I witnessed the respect they treated her with. She died in 1966. She had two children. Her son, Alexei, became a Candidate of Technical Sciences. He settled down in Moscow when he was an adult. Her daughter, Medeya, married a Georgian man and divorced him later. She lives in Tbilisi now.
My mother's sister Riva finished an elementary school in Tarashcha and helped her parents with their leather business. Rosa was a big influence on Riva and her other sisters. Riva got involved in revolutionary activities. Although she didn't like to study she finished a Russian secondary school in Kiev after she moved there. She remained undereducated though. She was a typical Komsomol activist of the 1920s: indefatigable, energetic and uneducated. My mother used to say about her that she had a strong personality. Riva tried to study at the textile institute but gave it up. She wasn't an industrious student. She changed jobs every year. Before evacuation she worked at the Franko Theater in Kiev. Riva was an assistant trade union leader. A well-known actor called Shumskiy was the trade union unit leader. This was the period of 'red directors'. Riva fit into this role well: she was a party member and was responsible and energetic.
Riva lived in a small room near the Franko Theater and was very poor. She lived in Kiev for over 20 years. I remember that she didn't have any clothes to have her picture for the passport taken, so she borrowed a blouse from the dressing room in the theater. Riva was a straightforward and honest woman. She lived with a Ukrainian man; they didn't register their marriage. They didn't have any children. During the war she was in evacuation in Tbilisi. She kept changing jobs there, too. During the war she worked as a tutor at a labor penitentiary institution near Tbilisi. After the war she was a receptionist in the governmental room of the railway station in Tbilisi. This was a privileged position: only deputies and high officials were allowed into this room. Riva visited Kiev several times. During one of her visits I went to the theater with her, and I was struck by the praises Riva got from the leading actors. They admired her trade union leadership activities. Riva was a very pure and transparent person. She died in Tbilisi in 1974.
My mother's sister Riva finished an elementary school in Tarashcha and helped her parents with their leather business. Rosa was a big influence on Riva and her other sisters. Riva got involved in revolutionary activities. Although she didn't like to study she finished a Russian secondary school in Kiev after she moved there. She remained undereducated though. She was a typical Komsomol activist of the 1920s: indefatigable, energetic and uneducated. My mother used to say about her that she had a strong personality. Riva tried to study at the textile institute but gave it up. She wasn't an industrious student. She changed jobs every year. Before evacuation she worked at the Franko Theater in Kiev. Riva was an assistant trade union leader. A well-known actor called Shumskiy was the trade union unit leader. This was the period of 'red directors'. Riva fit into this role well: she was a party member and was responsible and energetic.
Riva lived in a small room near the Franko Theater and was very poor. She lived in Kiev for over 20 years. I remember that she didn't have any clothes to have her picture for the passport taken, so she borrowed a blouse from the dressing room in the theater. Riva was a straightforward and honest woman. She lived with a Ukrainian man; they didn't register their marriage. They didn't have any children. During the war she was in evacuation in Tbilisi. She kept changing jobs there, too. During the war she worked as a tutor at a labor penitentiary institution near Tbilisi. After the war she was a receptionist in the governmental room of the railway station in Tbilisi. This was a privileged position: only deputies and high officials were allowed into this room. Riva visited Kiev several times. During one of her visits I went to the theater with her, and I was struck by the praises Riva got from the leading actors. They admired her trade union leadership activities. Riva was a very pure and transparent person. She died in Tbilisi in 1974.
, Ukraine
I was born in Kiev on 4 February 1924My mother, Tsypa Tulchinskaya [nee Luchanskaya], was born in Tarashcha. Tarashcha was a small distant town. Jews constituted half of its population; the rest were Ukrainians. People lived in peace and friendship and helped each other. They were mostly craftsmen and farmers. There was a synagogue and a Christian church in Tarashcha. Most of the Jewish population perished during the war. The survivors didn't want to return to the ashes of their old homes and scattered all around the world.
My mother's mother was named Mariam Luchanskaya, and her father's name was Isaak Luchanskiy. I don't know how and when my grandfather and grandmother got married. I don't remember my grandfather either. I believe he died in 1935. My mother's parents had their own small business. They bought cattle skin from farmers, made boots out of it and sold them.
My mother said that my grandmother Mariam gave birth to 18 children. Only 9 of them survived. From what my mother told me I know that few of her brothers emigrated to the US during the Civil war of 1917 - 1920 and the period of outburst of pogroms[1]I have some information about six children. Her oldest son Gitsia (born in 1889) was shell-shocked during WWI and had mental problems. He lived all his life with my grandmother. The next was my mother Tsypa Tulchinskaya (1892), Rosa (1893), Fania (1895), Riva (1900) and Liza (1904). My grandmother was very religious like all other inhabitants of the town. She celebrated all Jewish holidays and followed the kashrut. She went to the synagogue regularly and never left home without putting on her shawl. They weren't a rich family. I remember their small lopsided house, rooted in the soil. There were at least 8 children in a common family in Tarashcha, no matter if Jewish or Ukrainian. People tried to find ways to provide for their families and worked hard to make their living. It's hard to imagine how people lived at that time. They didn't have TV, libraries or movies. The only entertainment was a fair twice a year. The fair was a big thing with fun shows and clowns. The level of culture was very low; people didn't read any books, and the majority of them couldn't even write their own name. They gossiped and made fun of each other. I remember my mother mimicking her neighbors. That way they entertained themselves. It was ... provincial life. You know where a Jew starts? He starts with a funny joke with a double meaning.
There were many young people in Tarashcha in the 1920s and 1930s. Many of them were Komsomol [1] members. They believed that the communist revolution would improve the situation of the Jews, give them more freedom and the possibility to study and live outside the Pale of Settlement [2]. I remember a sad incident: A Komsomol activist, a Jew, publicly rejected his father, who was a shochet, because his father slaughtered chickens and was religious. This wasn't quite in line with the revolutionary ideas and communist principles of the son. The Jewish youth spoke Yiddish to one another, but Ukrainian was the language of communication in town. There was one Ukrainian secondary school in Tarashcha, and all Jews finished this school and undoubtedly knew Ukrainian.
My mother's mother was named Mariam Luchanskaya, and her father's name was Isaak Luchanskiy. I don't know how and when my grandfather and grandmother got married. I don't remember my grandfather either. I believe he died in 1935. My mother's parents had their own small business. They bought cattle skin from farmers, made boots out of it and sold them.
My mother said that my grandmother Mariam gave birth to 18 children. Only 9 of them survived. From what my mother told me I know that few of her brothers emigrated to the US during the Civil war of 1917 - 1920 and the period of outburst of pogroms[1]I have some information about six children. Her oldest son Gitsia (born in 1889) was shell-shocked during WWI and had mental problems. He lived all his life with my grandmother. The next was my mother Tsypa Tulchinskaya (1892), Rosa (1893), Fania (1895), Riva (1900) and Liza (1904). My grandmother was very religious like all other inhabitants of the town. She celebrated all Jewish holidays and followed the kashrut. She went to the synagogue regularly and never left home without putting on her shawl. They weren't a rich family. I remember their small lopsided house, rooted in the soil. There were at least 8 children in a common family in Tarashcha, no matter if Jewish or Ukrainian. People tried to find ways to provide for their families and worked hard to make their living. It's hard to imagine how people lived at that time. They didn't have TV, libraries or movies. The only entertainment was a fair twice a year. The fair was a big thing with fun shows and clowns. The level of culture was very low; people didn't read any books, and the majority of them couldn't even write their own name. They gossiped and made fun of each other. I remember my mother mimicking her neighbors. That way they entertained themselves. It was ... provincial life. You know where a Jew starts? He starts with a funny joke with a double meaning.
There were many young people in Tarashcha in the 1920s and 1930s. Many of them were Komsomol [1] members. They believed that the communist revolution would improve the situation of the Jews, give them more freedom and the possibility to study and live outside the Pale of Settlement [2]. I remember a sad incident: A Komsomol activist, a Jew, publicly rejected his father, who was a shochet, because his father slaughtered chickens and was religious. This wasn't quite in line with the revolutionary ideas and communist principles of the son. The Jewish youth spoke Yiddish to one another, but Ukrainian was the language of communication in town. There was one Ukrainian secondary school in Tarashcha, and all Jews finished this school and undoubtedly knew Ukrainian.
, Ukraine
My mother said that my grandmother gave birth to 18 children. Only nine of them survived. From what my mother told me I know that a few of her brothers emigrated to the US during the Civil War [3] and the period of pogroms [4]. I have some information about six children. My grandmother's oldest son, Gitsia, was born in 1889. He was shell-shocked during World War I and had mental problems. He lived with my grandmother all his life. The next child was my mother, born in 1892, then came Rosa, born in 1893, Fania, born in 1895, Riva, born in 1900, and Liza, born in 1904. My grandparents couldn't afford to give education to all their children. However, all of my mother's sisters and brothers I knew got primary education. In the 1920s the children moved to various towns looking for a job or a place to study. My grandmother stayed in Tarashcha. Her children supported her by sending money and parcels. She didn't receive any pension. She was a housewife and never went to work. My grandmother and her older son, Gitsia, perished in Tarashcha in 1941. Her children were too late to make arrangements for their evacuation. My grandmother and grandfather couldn't afford to give education to all of their children. However, all of my mother's sisters and brothers that I know got primary education. In 1920s the children moved to various towns looking for a job or a place to study. My grandmother stayed in Tarascha. Her children supported her sending her money and parcels. She didn't receive any pension. She was a housewife and she never went to work. My grandmother and her older son Gitsia perished in Tarascha in 1941. Her children were too late to make arrangements for their evacuation.
Rosa was the only one to finish grammar school. After the October Revolution [the Revolution of 1917] [5] she became a party member and an active supporter of revolutionary ideas. She participated in the underground movement in Odessa. Her name, Rosa Luchinskaya, was mentioned in some memoirs of revolutionary figures. I believe she moved to Kiev in 1918. Later her younger sister, Riva, moved to her from Tarashcha. In Kiev Rosa met and married Lavrentiy Kartvelishvili, a Georgian and a Soviet party and government official. He worked in Kiev for many years. During his studies at the Commercial Institute from 1910-1916 he was involved in underground party activities. In 1917 he became a member of the Kiev Committee of the Bolshevik Party, and in 1918, one of the leaders of the underground Bolshevik organization, a member of the all-Ukrainian Provisional Committee. From 1921-1924 he was First Secretary of the Kiev Province Committee of the Ukrainian Bolshevik Party.
It goes without saying that any religious traditions were out of the question for this communist family. Rosa and her husband lived in Kiev for some time. In the 1930s they moved to Moscow. Rosa had a job at the Council of Ministries, but I don't know what kind of position she had there. Her husband was also in the management. In 1937 he was arrested and sentenced [during the so-called Great Terror] [6]. It turned out later that he was executed in 1938. Some time before Rosa entered the industrial academy for the training of higher party officials. This saved her life. If it hadn't been for the Academy she would have been arrested, too. She became a party official. During the war she was in Moscow. After the war she continued to have positions as a party official. She died in 1970.
Rosa's son Yury was born in 1920. He finished a Russian secondary school in Moscow and entered the Industrial Institute in Moscow. He lives in Tbilisi now. He graduated as a Doctor of Technical Sciences and became a professor. He was a lecturer at the Polytechnic Institute in Tbilisi. Now he's retired. He married Dodoli, a Georgian woman. She had a difficult life. In the 1930s her father was Deputy Minister of Education in Georgia. He was arrested in 1938. He was suspected of being involved in anti-revolutionary activities. Her mother had died some time before, so Dodoli lost her parents when she was 14 years old. After her father was arrested policemen took her out of the apartment, locked the door and said, 'And you, girl, go away!' Dodoli had to seek shelter at her distant relatives'. They were very concerned about having to give shelter to the daughter of an 'enemy of the people'. Dodoli had a strong will, which helped her to fight all hardships. She finished a secondary school in Tbilisi and entered the Vocal Department at the Conservatory in Tbilisi. Later she became a teacher at this Conservatory. She fiercely hated the Soviet regime. When her father was rehabilitated [8] posthumously in the 1950s, she made every effort to have all their property, which had been confiscated in 1938, returned.
Rosa was the only one to finish grammar school. After the October Revolution [the Revolution of 1917] [5] she became a party member and an active supporter of revolutionary ideas. She participated in the underground movement in Odessa. Her name, Rosa Luchinskaya, was mentioned in some memoirs of revolutionary figures. I believe she moved to Kiev in 1918. Later her younger sister, Riva, moved to her from Tarashcha. In Kiev Rosa met and married Lavrentiy Kartvelishvili, a Georgian and a Soviet party and government official. He worked in Kiev for many years. During his studies at the Commercial Institute from 1910-1916 he was involved in underground party activities. In 1917 he became a member of the Kiev Committee of the Bolshevik Party, and in 1918, one of the leaders of the underground Bolshevik organization, a member of the all-Ukrainian Provisional Committee. From 1921-1924 he was First Secretary of the Kiev Province Committee of the Ukrainian Bolshevik Party.
It goes without saying that any religious traditions were out of the question for this communist family. Rosa and her husband lived in Kiev for some time. In the 1930s they moved to Moscow. Rosa had a job at the Council of Ministries, but I don't know what kind of position she had there. Her husband was also in the management. In 1937 he was arrested and sentenced [during the so-called Great Terror] [6]. It turned out later that he was executed in 1938. Some time before Rosa entered the industrial academy for the training of higher party officials. This saved her life. If it hadn't been for the Academy she would have been arrested, too. She became a party official. During the war she was in Moscow. After the war she continued to have positions as a party official. She died in 1970.
Rosa's son Yury was born in 1920. He finished a Russian secondary school in Moscow and entered the Industrial Institute in Moscow. He lives in Tbilisi now. He graduated as a Doctor of Technical Sciences and became a professor. He was a lecturer at the Polytechnic Institute in Tbilisi. Now he's retired. He married Dodoli, a Georgian woman. She had a difficult life. In the 1930s her father was Deputy Minister of Education in Georgia. He was arrested in 1938. He was suspected of being involved in anti-revolutionary activities. Her mother had died some time before, so Dodoli lost her parents when she was 14 years old. After her father was arrested policemen took her out of the apartment, locked the door and said, 'And you, girl, go away!' Dodoli had to seek shelter at her distant relatives'. They were very concerned about having to give shelter to the daughter of an 'enemy of the people'. Dodoli had a strong will, which helped her to fight all hardships. She finished a secondary school in Tbilisi and entered the Vocal Department at the Conservatory in Tbilisi. Later she became a teacher at this Conservatory. She fiercely hated the Soviet regime. When her father was rehabilitated [8] posthumously in the 1950s, she made every effort to have all their property, which had been confiscated in 1938, returned.
, Ukraine
My mother's sister Liza didn't have any education or profession. She followed her sisters to Kiev, got married and became a housewife. Her husband was a carpenter. He had a Jewish education. He finished cheder and could read the Torah. His name was Meyer Rabinovich. Thank God the disasters of 1937 didn't affect them. Liza and her husband often visited my parents, and I entertained my cousins. Liza had three daughters. Meyer liked to discuss political and general issues with my father. They were the only religious family among our relatives, they observed traditions and celebrated holidays. I believe, they celebrated Pesach and Yom Kippur. They had quiet celebrations, and I heard about it incidentally, so I don't have any details.
When the war began their family evacuated separately from ours. Liza's husband was working at an enterprise that evacuated their employees and families. They crossed Siberia by train. At one station they had a discussion with the director of an enterprise. When he heard that Meyer was a carpenter he offered him a job. They stayed there. Meyer made boxes for ammunition, and Zina, his older daughter, worked at the same military plant. She received 600 grams of white bread. She was 14 years old at the time. Their youngest daughter died on the way to evacuation. After the war Liza and her family returned to Kiev. They didn't have any problems with getting an apartment. Meyer got his job back, the same as he had before the war, and received an apartment. Aunt Liza never went to work. She died in 1978. Liza's daughters Zina and Sima live in Kiev. They are married and have children and grandchildren.
My mother was the oldest of the girls in the family. (Photo 1). I don't know what kind of education she had. She could write in Hebrew and Yiddish, which was rare for a woman. She liked reading and read classic literature in Yiddish and Russian. She could also write well in Russian. She had many friends and corresponded with them all her life. She was helping her parents with the shoemaking business before she got married. My mother told me little about the years of her youth. I don't know when and how she met my father. I only know that my parents had their wedding in Tarashcha during the Civil War. They were hiding from gangs [8] in Tarashcha and I don't think they had a real wedding party. The situation wasn't good for celebrations. There were Denikin [9], Polish and Petliura [10] units in town. The power in town changed from one to the other, but they all persecuted Jews, of course.
When the war began their family evacuated separately from ours. Liza's husband was working at an enterprise that evacuated their employees and families. They crossed Siberia by train. At one station they had a discussion with the director of an enterprise. When he heard that Meyer was a carpenter he offered him a job. They stayed there. Meyer made boxes for ammunition, and Zina, his older daughter, worked at the same military plant. She received 600 grams of white bread. She was 14 years old at the time. Their youngest daughter died on the way to evacuation. After the war Liza and her family returned to Kiev. They didn't have any problems with getting an apartment. Meyer got his job back, the same as he had before the war, and received an apartment. Aunt Liza never went to work. She died in 1978. Liza's daughters Zina and Sima live in Kiev. They are married and have children and grandchildren.
My mother was the oldest of the girls in the family. (Photo 1). I don't know what kind of education she had. She could write in Hebrew and Yiddish, which was rare for a woman. She liked reading and read classic literature in Yiddish and Russian. She could also write well in Russian. She had many friends and corresponded with them all her life. She was helping her parents with the shoemaking business before she got married. My mother told me little about the years of her youth. I don't know when and how she met my father. I only know that my parents had their wedding in Tarashcha during the Civil War. They were hiding from gangs [8] in Tarashcha and I don't think they had a real wedding party. The situation wasn't good for celebrations. There were Denikin [9], Polish and Petliura [10] units in town. The power in town changed from one to the other, but they all persecuted Jews, of course.
, Ukraine
Henrich Kurizkes
![](/themes/custom/centro/flags/ee.svg)
Demobilization started for older people. I was an officer. I was told I was still young and had to serve in the army. I served in the Estonian Corps until 1949, when reorganization of the army began and the staff was to be reduced. This was also the start of the anti-Semitic campaign in the USSR: the process against cosmopolitans [43], and the murder of Mikhoels [44]. After that reprisals in Estonia began. To tell the truth, when this happened there was more mention of the agricultural population. In the villages, the process of dispossession of wealthy farmers, the Kulaks [45] began. Of course, there were wealthier and poorer farmers in Estonia. Agriculture was well developed there; Estonia prospered from the export of butter, eggs and bacon. Denmark purchased butter and bacon was sold to England. Farming is hard work and all members of a farmer's family joined in this hard work. The Soviet power expropriated land from these people and granted it to the poor; rich country families were banished to Siberia.
I already knew that I was not going to become a staff officer so I got involved in the army finance division. I had no special education and had to learn this specialty on my own. The state anti-Semitism fed by the struggle against cosmopolitans was strengthening in the USSR and of course, it had its impact on me. In 1950, when the Estonian Corps still existed, they made the place too hot for me. They never tried to hide the fact that the reason for this was that I was a Jew. I requested demobilization, but they sent me to the Human Resources department of the Leningrad regiment, and from there to Tikhvin, in the St. Petersburg region [200 kilometers from St. Petersburg] where I was employed as a financier in the military enlistment office.
I already knew that I was not going to become a staff officer so I got involved in the army finance division. I had no special education and had to learn this specialty on my own. The state anti-Semitism fed by the struggle against cosmopolitans was strengthening in the USSR and of course, it had its impact on me. In 1950, when the Estonian Corps still existed, they made the place too hot for me. They never tried to hide the fact that the reason for this was that I was a Jew. I requested demobilization, but they sent me to the Human Resources department of the Leningrad regiment, and from there to Tikhvin, in the St. Petersburg region [200 kilometers from St. Petersburg] where I was employed as a financier in the military enlistment office.
, Estonia
We were not spoiled by awards in our Estonian Corps. I don't know why, but we didn't receive awards as often as they did in other units. I had two awards: Medal for Military Merits [40] and an Order for the Great Patriotic War [41] 2nd Grade. Later, after the war, I received awards dedicated to the Victory and Soviet army anniversaries.
There were commissars, political officers, in the Estonia Corps and in other units in the Soviet army. They conducted political training and engaged themselves in all proceedings. Of course, there were also SMERSH [42] officers, both Estonian and Russian ones. They were involved in hiring informers among us. We even knew some of these informers. A few of our soldiers were transferred to SMERSH and they were even awarded officers' ranks. I was lucky in this respect: they never tried to involve me.
SMERSH representatives were continuously mixing with the staff of the Estonian Corps, but they usually disappeared before combat actions. They preferred to watch the actions from a distance. We also had a rear unit in the Corps. They moved behind us and God forbid if a combatant decided to turn back: they were allowed to shoot and kill. Fortunately, there were no such cases in our regiment, though I came to the front at the turning point of the war. We never retreated. We advanced or stayed where we were, but we didn't retreat.
I joined the Party during the war. These were mass events, and officers were required to be party members. Our political officer convinced me to join. He was a very intelligent man. I wasn't eager to join the party, but nor did I mind.
There were commissars, political officers, in the Estonia Corps and in other units in the Soviet army. They conducted political training and engaged themselves in all proceedings. Of course, there were also SMERSH [42] officers, both Estonian and Russian ones. They were involved in hiring informers among us. We even knew some of these informers. A few of our soldiers were transferred to SMERSH and they were even awarded officers' ranks. I was lucky in this respect: they never tried to involve me.
SMERSH representatives were continuously mixing with the staff of the Estonian Corps, but they usually disappeared before combat actions. They preferred to watch the actions from a distance. We also had a rear unit in the Corps. They moved behind us and God forbid if a combatant decided to turn back: they were allowed to shoot and kill. Fortunately, there were no such cases in our regiment, though I came to the front at the turning point of the war. We never retreated. We advanced or stayed where we were, but we didn't retreat.
I joined the Party during the war. These were mass events, and officers were required to be party members. Our political officer convinced me to join. He was a very intelligent man. I wasn't eager to join the party, but nor did I mind.
, Estonia
In February 1944 the crossing of the Narva began. There were violent battles for the Narva. There were Estonian SS military personnel in the Narva and they had nowhere to retreat. The German commanders convinced them that they were sending assistance soon and they were to hold defense until new forces joined them. And they staged a holdout of this plan. Another desperate thing about these battles was that Estonians fought Estonians, the Estonian Corps of the Soviet army against the Estonian SS division. There were cases when members of one family were on opposite sides. The river was frozen, but the ice was scarlet with blood.
In summer 1944 we managed to destroy the enemy fortifications on the bank of the river. Our battalion took part in these battles, but I would like to emphasize that the main blow was struck by the penal battalion fighting beside us. They were sent into initial attacks, and, frankly speaking, they were just cannon fodder. If it had not been for them our casualties would have been many more. There were few survivors in those penal battalions. They had to fight in penal battalions until 'first blood,' until their first wound, and after the hospital they were assigned to common military units.
One can speak a lot about hardships at the front. We continuously moved from one location to another fighting on a beachhead for one or two weeks before moving to new positions. To begin with, we dug trenches. It's impossible to count how many we had dug. Of all tools we only had entrenching shovels. We started with digging a hole to hide the body before deepening it to the size fitting the height of the body. Then we dug a passage to the nearest neighbor and then it became easier to work. Then, when this trench was completed we were ordered to move to another location and then started all over again.
We slept in the open air for the most part. It was fine in summer, when one could fall asleep on the grass, but winter was worse. We slept in twos on one ground sheet and one top coat and used another ground sheet and top coat to sleep under them. We used our back packs as a pillow and gripped our machine guns so that nobody could take them away. When we woke up three hours later, we were covered with a heavy layer of snow.
There was artillery preparation before each battle. By the end of the war we had sufficient artillery units. At the very start of my experience at the front we had 45mm anti-tank cannon guns called 'Farewell, Motherland!' It took three men to roll it onto an open space. They shot tanks point blank. However, the tanks didn't wait to be shot at. Very often these three soldiers were killed immediately. Later we got antitank rifles and rocket missiles. Also there were more planes attacking the enemy's positions, followed by artillery preparation and then the infantry attacked shouting 'Hurrah! For the Motherland!'
I remember our first battles. We were to rise to attack and it was scary to get on and march ahead, but we knew that we had to march ahead and had to stop thinking that we might be killed at any moment. Later, with more experience, this fear lessened, but never disappeared. It's impossible to get used to such things. But then we would think about our field kitchen delivering food after a battle, which was quite a comforting thought to enjoy. Of course, there were delays with food supplies, particularly in spring and fall, when roads were impassable. At such times field kitchens had problems catching up with armed forces.
There were many more battles after the Narva. We were marching across the territory of Estonia, from the south of Estonia via Tallinn heading to the islands. The Germans must have envisaged that the end was approaching and were hurriedly running away from Estonia.
I remember the battle for Saaremaa Island, which was a strategic point, and our regiment was to capture it. I was in Battalion 3. Battalion 1 was the first one to be sent to the island. It consisted of the marines of the Baltic Fleet on marine boats. These boats were the first to attack. They were to land on the beachhead and later we were to join them there. This landing ended tragically. The boats delivered them to the shallow water and they thought it was the sandbank, but it was followed by deep water and they all drowned.
It happened this way. The night battle on Saaremaa was frightful. We reached our positions. It was pitch dark and we bumped into the Germans heading to their boats. Our attack was quite unexpected for them. This was my first face to face fighting. Of course, we had fought before, but we never knew who killed whom or how many people each of us killed. The main goal was to move ahead and destroy the enemy. Nobody cared whether the enemy was killed by a cannon shell or one's bullet. There were no emotions. It was like a shooting range, while there we were close to the enemy and besides, we had to fight in this inky darkness.
We didn't know Germans before we grabbed them. They had longer hair, whereas we had very short haircuts. We grabbed someone by his head and if we felt the longer hair we knew it must be a German soldier. We fought with whatever was at hand: bayonets, knives, rifle and machine gun butt stocks. I didn't have a feeling that I was killing human beings. There was some animal feeling of self-protection: you were fighting for yourself and for your life. There were no other emotions.
In early 1945 I was sent on a course for junior command staff. After finishing this training I was awarded the rank of junior lieutenant. When we were sent to Kurland I had a platoon under my command. The final combat actions in Kurland were the most violent. Our command was in a hurry to wrest the ground from the enemy and finish the war, while German forces were holding the lines and fighting desperately, supporting some of their units to give them a chance to evacuate.
We were moving ahead very slowly: fighting, shooting, wresting the ground from the enemy, advancing 50-100 meters and stopping again. The location was unfavorable and there was no shelter: grassy clearing, then a spot of wood and then an open clearing again. Even the wounded had to wait for rescue until night and they had to stay there bleeding, if they happened to have been wounded on an open grass clearing.
My close school friend was fighting in the neighboring regiment. During an attack he was wounded in his leg and had to stay in a swamp all day long. There was no way to pull him out. At night he was taken out and sent to the medical battalion and later he was sent to hospital. He was developing gangrene, and the hospital could offer no cure. He had his leg amputated beneath his knee to stop the gangrene.
We fought in Kurland, when we had some period of inactivity. Actually through April 1945 we were only engaged in training. We made earth huts and were having a rest. We knew the war was coming to an end. In early May, Estonian General Lieutenant Lembit Piarn, Corps Commander, visited us. He came from the family of Caucasian Estonians. These families moved to Georgia in the 19th century looking for a better life. We lined up and Piarn told us that in a few days we would receive a signal to begin combat action and we were to prepare ourselves to advance 7 kilometers within one and a half hours and wrest the ground from the enemy.
We started preparations and training in aimed shooting on the run and running. Then, on 8th May 1945 in the late afternoon, we were ordered to start the combat action. We started moving to our positions. The tanks were moving along the road and the infantry was following them. It was still light, when all of a sudden the tank column stopped and I saw a Willis car approaching us from the German front line. It stopped and a general came out. He approached the tanks and pronounced loudly: 'That's it, comrades! The war is over!' Later I heard that this was General Panyushkin. He had already visited the Germans and they had signaled their surrender.
In summer 1944 we managed to destroy the enemy fortifications on the bank of the river. Our battalion took part in these battles, but I would like to emphasize that the main blow was struck by the penal battalion fighting beside us. They were sent into initial attacks, and, frankly speaking, they were just cannon fodder. If it had not been for them our casualties would have been many more. There were few survivors in those penal battalions. They had to fight in penal battalions until 'first blood,' until their first wound, and after the hospital they were assigned to common military units.
One can speak a lot about hardships at the front. We continuously moved from one location to another fighting on a beachhead for one or two weeks before moving to new positions. To begin with, we dug trenches. It's impossible to count how many we had dug. Of all tools we only had entrenching shovels. We started with digging a hole to hide the body before deepening it to the size fitting the height of the body. Then we dug a passage to the nearest neighbor and then it became easier to work. Then, when this trench was completed we were ordered to move to another location and then started all over again.
We slept in the open air for the most part. It was fine in summer, when one could fall asleep on the grass, but winter was worse. We slept in twos on one ground sheet and one top coat and used another ground sheet and top coat to sleep under them. We used our back packs as a pillow and gripped our machine guns so that nobody could take them away. When we woke up three hours later, we were covered with a heavy layer of snow.
There was artillery preparation before each battle. By the end of the war we had sufficient artillery units. At the very start of my experience at the front we had 45mm anti-tank cannon guns called 'Farewell, Motherland!' It took three men to roll it onto an open space. They shot tanks point blank. However, the tanks didn't wait to be shot at. Very often these three soldiers were killed immediately. Later we got antitank rifles and rocket missiles. Also there were more planes attacking the enemy's positions, followed by artillery preparation and then the infantry attacked shouting 'Hurrah! For the Motherland!'
I remember our first battles. We were to rise to attack and it was scary to get on and march ahead, but we knew that we had to march ahead and had to stop thinking that we might be killed at any moment. Later, with more experience, this fear lessened, but never disappeared. It's impossible to get used to such things. But then we would think about our field kitchen delivering food after a battle, which was quite a comforting thought to enjoy. Of course, there were delays with food supplies, particularly in spring and fall, when roads were impassable. At such times field kitchens had problems catching up with armed forces.
There were many more battles after the Narva. We were marching across the territory of Estonia, from the south of Estonia via Tallinn heading to the islands. The Germans must have envisaged that the end was approaching and were hurriedly running away from Estonia.
I remember the battle for Saaremaa Island, which was a strategic point, and our regiment was to capture it. I was in Battalion 3. Battalion 1 was the first one to be sent to the island. It consisted of the marines of the Baltic Fleet on marine boats. These boats were the first to attack. They were to land on the beachhead and later we were to join them there. This landing ended tragically. The boats delivered them to the shallow water and they thought it was the sandbank, but it was followed by deep water and they all drowned.
It happened this way. The night battle on Saaremaa was frightful. We reached our positions. It was pitch dark and we bumped into the Germans heading to their boats. Our attack was quite unexpected for them. This was my first face to face fighting. Of course, we had fought before, but we never knew who killed whom or how many people each of us killed. The main goal was to move ahead and destroy the enemy. Nobody cared whether the enemy was killed by a cannon shell or one's bullet. There were no emotions. It was like a shooting range, while there we were close to the enemy and besides, we had to fight in this inky darkness.
We didn't know Germans before we grabbed them. They had longer hair, whereas we had very short haircuts. We grabbed someone by his head and if we felt the longer hair we knew it must be a German soldier. We fought with whatever was at hand: bayonets, knives, rifle and machine gun butt stocks. I didn't have a feeling that I was killing human beings. There was some animal feeling of self-protection: you were fighting for yourself and for your life. There were no other emotions.
In early 1945 I was sent on a course for junior command staff. After finishing this training I was awarded the rank of junior lieutenant. When we were sent to Kurland I had a platoon under my command. The final combat actions in Kurland were the most violent. Our command was in a hurry to wrest the ground from the enemy and finish the war, while German forces were holding the lines and fighting desperately, supporting some of their units to give them a chance to evacuate.
We were moving ahead very slowly: fighting, shooting, wresting the ground from the enemy, advancing 50-100 meters and stopping again. The location was unfavorable and there was no shelter: grassy clearing, then a spot of wood and then an open clearing again. Even the wounded had to wait for rescue until night and they had to stay there bleeding, if they happened to have been wounded on an open grass clearing.
My close school friend was fighting in the neighboring regiment. During an attack he was wounded in his leg and had to stay in a swamp all day long. There was no way to pull him out. At night he was taken out and sent to the medical battalion and later he was sent to hospital. He was developing gangrene, and the hospital could offer no cure. He had his leg amputated beneath his knee to stop the gangrene.
We fought in Kurland, when we had some period of inactivity. Actually through April 1945 we were only engaged in training. We made earth huts and were having a rest. We knew the war was coming to an end. In early May, Estonian General Lieutenant Lembit Piarn, Corps Commander, visited us. He came from the family of Caucasian Estonians. These families moved to Georgia in the 19th century looking for a better life. We lined up and Piarn told us that in a few days we would receive a signal to begin combat action and we were to prepare ourselves to advance 7 kilometers within one and a half hours and wrest the ground from the enemy.
We started preparations and training in aimed shooting on the run and running. Then, on 8th May 1945 in the late afternoon, we were ordered to start the combat action. We started moving to our positions. The tanks were moving along the road and the infantry was following them. It was still light, when all of a sudden the tank column stopped and I saw a Willis car approaching us from the German front line. It stopped and a general came out. He approached the tanks and pronounced loudly: 'That's it, comrades! The war is over!' Later I heard that this was General Panyushkin. He had already visited the Germans and they had signaled their surrender.
,
During WW2
See text in interview
In the summer I worked in haymaking in the kolkhoz, and in September 1942 I was recruited to the army. My father was recruited a year later, but he was sent to the front before me. He was a driver for the medical battalion of the Estonian Corps [37]. I was sent to a reserve regiment where we were trained in military operations. The regiment was deployed near Kamyshov in the Ural.
We started making earth huts, cutting wood and carrying it to the construction site. We had wagons, but no horses and we pulled those wagons loaded with logs. We had to pull it uphill and one day some big boss visited the regiment and, seeing us, said that people were not horses and were not supposed to drag wagons. As a result, we had to carry the logs on our shoulders instead.
We had eight hours' training each day. We were trained in shooting, disassembling and stripping weapons, crawl and running. We did our best knowing that perhaps our life was at stake at the front and everything depended on our skills. In fall 1943 we were sent from there to the infantry at the front.
The Estonian Corps was a blessing for us Estonians, since before it was established Stalin was sending all Estonian recruits to the labor army [38], where they starved, froze and worked to death, and their only hope to survive was this Estonian Corps. I think that many of us were lucky to survive serving in the Estonian Corps. We understood each other without words, had a similar mentality and spoke one language.
Our front line life started near Leningrad in siege [39]. These were our first battles. When the siege was broken, we went into the city and from there we were to march on. I remember when we were in the city. We saw exhausted and starved women wearing cotton or wool coats, with their heads and faces wrapped in kerchiefs, repairing streetcar tracks, removing brick debris formed by destroyed houses. They were models of courage for us. It was fearful to see piles of dead bodies. It's scary to think about how many people had died during the siege of Leningrad. The suburbs of the city were in ruins. Then we headed to Estonia. We were on our way to liberate our fatherland from the fascists.
We started making earth huts, cutting wood and carrying it to the construction site. We had wagons, but no horses and we pulled those wagons loaded with logs. We had to pull it uphill and one day some big boss visited the regiment and, seeing us, said that people were not horses and were not supposed to drag wagons. As a result, we had to carry the logs on our shoulders instead.
We had eight hours' training each day. We were trained in shooting, disassembling and stripping weapons, crawl and running. We did our best knowing that perhaps our life was at stake at the front and everything depended on our skills. In fall 1943 we were sent from there to the infantry at the front.
The Estonian Corps was a blessing for us Estonians, since before it was established Stalin was sending all Estonian recruits to the labor army [38], where they starved, froze and worked to death, and their only hope to survive was this Estonian Corps. I think that many of us were lucky to survive serving in the Estonian Corps. We understood each other without words, had a similar mentality and spoke one language.
Our front line life started near Leningrad in siege [39]. These were our first battles. When the siege was broken, we went into the city and from there we were to march on. I remember when we were in the city. We saw exhausted and starved women wearing cotton or wool coats, with their heads and faces wrapped in kerchiefs, repairing streetcar tracks, removing brick debris formed by destroyed houses. They were models of courage for us. It was fearful to see piles of dead bodies. It's scary to think about how many people had died during the siege of Leningrad. The suburbs of the city were in ruins. Then we headed to Estonia. We were on our way to liberate our fatherland from the fascists.
I went to work as a pioneer leader [29] in a pioneer camp during the summer. The camp was located about 15 kilometers from Tallinn. I was to start on 15th June. We had just settled down, when on Sunday night of 22nd June 1941 we heard the roar of the artillery cannonade. It never occurred to us that it was a war. We thought it was another military training exercise. Then at noon, on 22nd June, we heard the Molotov [30] speech on the radio, and he said that Hitler's armies had attacked the USSR.
We returned to Tallinn where evacuation began and my parents decided to evacuate. Thank God, they didn't delay. Many Estonian and Jewish people didn't fear Germans as much as they did the Soviet power after the tragic deportation experience. This day played another tragic part in the life of Estonian Jews. Even before the German occupation, Estonians began to destroy the Jewish people. Estonia was one of the first European countries to report to Hitler that its territory was free, judenfrei, [31] from Jews. Hatred toward the Soviet power was so strong that it out-weighed all historical dislike of Germans by Estonians. The Germans were seen as liberators and rescuers, and Estonians were ready to fulfill all of their orders.
There were hardly any Jewish survivors in Estonia after the war. Even those who had been deported to Siberia had more of a chance of survival than those who refused to leave their homes. People thought that they would wear yellow stars, if the Germans wanted them to, and speak German and go along with the Germans. They all perished, but it wasn't until after the war that we heard about the Klooga concentration camp [32], mass shootings of Jews and other horrors.
Meanwhile my mother and father packed some belongings and we headed to the railway station. My father worked in the military supply store [department responsible for food and commodity supplies to military units and organizations of the town], and was to take care of transportation of its stock. My parents decided to go on separately rather than wait for one another.
Evacuation was organized from the very start of the war. There were freight trains at the freight station in Tallinn that moved on when they were full. We evacuated on 3rd July 1941. After our train crossed the bridge over the Narva River, the bridge was destroyed. We were told that all Estonians were to be evacuated to Ulianovsk where the government of Estonia had been evacuated [33]. We traveled for about three weeks. We had some food and clothes with us. We were lucky since some business organizations were traveling on our train and we could buy everything we needed from them: cookies, butter, tinned meat and fish. So we had sufficient food on the train.
We returned to Tallinn where evacuation began and my parents decided to evacuate. Thank God, they didn't delay. Many Estonian and Jewish people didn't fear Germans as much as they did the Soviet power after the tragic deportation experience. This day played another tragic part in the life of Estonian Jews. Even before the German occupation, Estonians began to destroy the Jewish people. Estonia was one of the first European countries to report to Hitler that its territory was free, judenfrei, [31] from Jews. Hatred toward the Soviet power was so strong that it out-weighed all historical dislike of Germans by Estonians. The Germans were seen as liberators and rescuers, and Estonians were ready to fulfill all of their orders.
There were hardly any Jewish survivors in Estonia after the war. Even those who had been deported to Siberia had more of a chance of survival than those who refused to leave their homes. People thought that they would wear yellow stars, if the Germans wanted them to, and speak German and go along with the Germans. They all perished, but it wasn't until after the war that we heard about the Klooga concentration camp [32], mass shootings of Jews and other horrors.
Meanwhile my mother and father packed some belongings and we headed to the railway station. My father worked in the military supply store [department responsible for food and commodity supplies to military units and organizations of the town], and was to take care of transportation of its stock. My parents decided to go on separately rather than wait for one another.
Evacuation was organized from the very start of the war. There were freight trains at the freight station in Tallinn that moved on when they were full. We evacuated on 3rd July 1941. After our train crossed the bridge over the Narva River, the bridge was destroyed. We were told that all Estonians were to be evacuated to Ulianovsk where the government of Estonia had been evacuated [33]. We traveled for about three weeks. We had some food and clothes with us. We were lucky since some business organizations were traveling on our train and we could buy everything we needed from them: cookies, butter, tinned meat and fish. So we had sufficient food on the train.
14th June 1941 is a memorial date for all Estonian residents. At night the Soviet authorities deported Estonians [25]. The lists for deportation were ready before night. They included the wealthier Estonian, Jewish and Russian residents. Soviet authorities had access to all banking documents and had no problems finding the wealthier residents. Estonian communists also took part in generating the lists and I suspect many people were included in the lists for personal dislikes or jealousy. There were also some suspected of a disloyal attitude to the Soviet power, political activists of the pre-Soviet epoch, wealthy farmers and also those whose residence seemed attractive to the newcomers on these lists.
A truck with NKVD [26] soldiers drove to a house, people were given limited time to get packed and that was it. Trains waited at the railway station. Men were separated from their families. They were sent to the Gulag [27], and members of their families were moved to Siberia. In total about ten thousand people were deported on 14th June. This was quite a significant number, particularly considering that the total population in Estonia accounted to one million people.
My mother's younger sister Rosa, whose marital surname was Klompus, was also on those lists. The Klompus family was probably one of the wealthiest families in Tartu. My aunt's husband's father owned a whole neighborhood of apartment buildings and also had some other property. In his will he assigned his property to Wolf, my aunt's husband. He said that his other sons would either drink or gamble it away. So, in the end only Wolf, Rosa and their son Anatoliy were deported.
A truck with NKVD [26] soldiers drove to a house, people were given limited time to get packed and that was it. Trains waited at the railway station. Men were separated from their families. They were sent to the Gulag [27], and members of their families were moved to Siberia. In total about ten thousand people were deported on 14th June. This was quite a significant number, particularly considering that the total population in Estonia accounted to one million people.
My mother's younger sister Rosa, whose marital surname was Klompus, was also on those lists. The Klompus family was probably one of the wealthiest families in Tartu. My aunt's husband's father owned a whole neighborhood of apartment buildings and also had some other property. In his will he assigned his property to Wolf, my aunt's husband. He said that his other sons would either drink or gamble it away. So, in the end only Wolf, Rosa and their son Anatoliy were deported.
I remember well the events of 1940, before Estonia was annexed to the USSR [19]. The Soviet army openly entered Estonia. They expected no resistance. In towns, the Soviet military installed stages where Soviet ensembles performed dancing and singing. However, they were not allowed to communicate with the locals. The communists, who were working underground in Estonia, organized a rally of workers in Tallinn. This was a time of economic crisis and unemployment in Estonia. Unemployment is always bad for people. One could go to any extreme fearing losing one's job. I remember how my parents feared to receive a notice of dismissal from work each time they went to receive their wages.
My friends and I went to watch the rally. The workers were carrying the slogan 'We want bread and work!' They went to the government headquarters demanding resignation of the government with the President of Estonia at its head. On both sides their rows were demonstratively guarded by Soviet armored cars and tanks. When they came to the government building, carrying posters and chanting slogans, it was announced that the government had resigned. The new government was appointed and shortly afterward the State Duma was dismissed and elections to the Supreme Soviet [20] were conducted. The Estonian army was dismissed. All political parties were forbidden, except for the communist party, which became legal.
Then the new government announced the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic and appealed to the Soviet government with the request to annex Estonia to the USSR. On 6th August 1940 Estonia was annexed to the USSR. The majority of residents had a negative attitude to this fact, but there was too much fear to openly protest.
The Soviet power established in Estonia dropped an iron curtain [21] around Estonia. It actually existed in the USSR from the moment of its appearance. Boats and planes to Finland were canceled. It was not allowed to communicate with relatives living in other countries [22]. However natural it might have been for Soviet residents, we found it strange. Struggle against religion [23] began. Religious classes at schools were canceled and we were not allowed to celebrate religious holidays.
Nationalization of banks and commercial and industrial enterprises began. There were commissars [24] appointed to each enterprise. The commissars, who were from the Soviet military, went to stores and factories, took keys and documents from their owners and dismissed them. There was no reimbursement offered to owners. They were just informed that from then on his or her property belonged to people, and that they needed no assistance in accounting the commodities. Some workers and other employees were allowed to keep their jobs. The result was that some Estonian residents were for and others were against the Soviet power.
My parents had a rather loyal attitude toward the Soviet power. They had no property and had not lost anything. They kept their jobs and were no longer afraid of losing their jobs. They received the same salary for their work while all prices dropped significantly after Soviet power was established. So we could afford a lot more and there were many new food products supplied to stores; for example, concentrated milk in tins, tinned crab meat and Georgian wine. So our life improved with Soviet power. However, my parents were skeptical about the very idea of communism. They thought it was nothing more than utopia, and that the idea would never be implemented.
My friends and I went to watch the rally. The workers were carrying the slogan 'We want bread and work!' They went to the government headquarters demanding resignation of the government with the President of Estonia at its head. On both sides their rows were demonstratively guarded by Soviet armored cars and tanks. When they came to the government building, carrying posters and chanting slogans, it was announced that the government had resigned. The new government was appointed and shortly afterward the State Duma was dismissed and elections to the Supreme Soviet [20] were conducted. The Estonian army was dismissed. All political parties were forbidden, except for the communist party, which became legal.
Then the new government announced the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic and appealed to the Soviet government with the request to annex Estonia to the USSR. On 6th August 1940 Estonia was annexed to the USSR. The majority of residents had a negative attitude to this fact, but there was too much fear to openly protest.
The Soviet power established in Estonia dropped an iron curtain [21] around Estonia. It actually existed in the USSR from the moment of its appearance. Boats and planes to Finland were canceled. It was not allowed to communicate with relatives living in other countries [22]. However natural it might have been for Soviet residents, we found it strange. Struggle against religion [23] began. Religious classes at schools were canceled and we were not allowed to celebrate religious holidays.
Nationalization of banks and commercial and industrial enterprises began. There were commissars [24] appointed to each enterprise. The commissars, who were from the Soviet military, went to stores and factories, took keys and documents from their owners and dismissed them. There was no reimbursement offered to owners. They were just informed that from then on his or her property belonged to people, and that they needed no assistance in accounting the commodities. Some workers and other employees were allowed to keep their jobs. The result was that some Estonian residents were for and others were against the Soviet power.
My parents had a rather loyal attitude toward the Soviet power. They had no property and had not lost anything. They kept their jobs and were no longer afraid of losing their jobs. They received the same salary for their work while all prices dropped significantly after Soviet power was established. So we could afford a lot more and there were many new food products supplied to stores; for example, concentrated milk in tins, tinned crab meat and Georgian wine. So our life improved with Soviet power. However, my parents were skeptical about the very idea of communism. They thought it was nothing more than utopia, and that the idea would never be implemented.
When Hitler came to power in Germany in 1933 [15], the local Germans that were numerous in Estonia increased their activities. Almost all Germans in Estonia were wealthy people. There were schools for German people. They didn't mix with other nationalities. When Estonian Jews heard about the persecution of Jewish people in Germany and that Jewish residents were chased away from their homes and sent to concentration camps, they were deeply concerned. This started the movement of passive protest. Jews stopped buying German food products or clothes and didn't go to German movies. In 1939, when Soviet military bases were established in Estonia [16], Hitler appealed to all Germans to move to their Motherland and many Estonian Germans left the country.
In 1939 German forces invaded Poland [17]. We obtained information about the military operations from the Finnish, German and English radio programs. There were the 'lightning' bulletins displayed in shop windows with information about the military progression. This short-term war brought grief into our family. Germans killed my mother's older sister Polina Vigura, amongst other Jews in Katovice. I know no details of this tragedy.
Soon the Soviet army liberated Poland. After he failed to invade Poland, Hitler decided to share it with Stalin. According to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact [18], the Baltic territory was under the influence of the USSR. We had no information about this pact at the time. We only heard about it after World War II. Upon execution of this pact, Estonia remained independent for about half a year, though the Soviet army invaded Estonia in 1939; but the explanation was that due to aggravation of the military situation in the world, the Soviet forces were to be based in Estonia to secure its border. The Soviet forces constituted 25,000 military, while the Estonian army amounted to 15,000 soldiers and officers.
In 1939 German forces invaded Poland [17]. We obtained information about the military operations from the Finnish, German and English radio programs. There were the 'lightning' bulletins displayed in shop windows with information about the military progression. This short-term war brought grief into our family. Germans killed my mother's older sister Polina Vigura, amongst other Jews in Katovice. I know no details of this tragedy.
Soon the Soviet army liberated Poland. After he failed to invade Poland, Hitler decided to share it with Stalin. According to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact [18], the Baltic territory was under the influence of the USSR. We had no information about this pact at the time. We only heard about it after World War II. Upon execution of this pact, Estonia remained independent for about half a year, though the Soviet army invaded Estonia in 1939; but the explanation was that due to aggravation of the military situation in the world, the Soviet forces were to be based in Estonia to secure its border. The Soviet forces constituted 25,000 military, while the Estonian army amounted to 15,000 soldiers and officers.
We wore uniforms at school: grey suits and light colored shirts. They were made by individual orders. There were no poor children in our college. There were also many Jewish children in college. We never faced any anti- Semitic demonstrations from our Estonian schoolmates. Jewish children were well respected at school. Our tutor always told Jewish children about the forthcoming Jewish holiday and we were allowed to stay away from school on this day.
All of my school friends were Jewish. Of course, some of my friends were Estonian. We used to play football with Estonian boys, our neighbors. However, we never visited them at home. My real close friends were Jewish. I don't know how it happened to be this way. All I can say is that my parents never put any pressure on me in this respect. This was my choice. This was the way it happened to be.
My parents were moderately religious. Of course, all Jewish traditions were well observed in our household. Mama followed kashrut. She only bought meat from a Jewish butcher. She also bought hens at the market to take them to the shochet. The shochet worked near the synagogue. Mama took care of the housework even when she went to work.
My father didn't follow the requirement to do no work on the Sabbath. Saturday was another working day for him. However, we followed all the rules on Jewish holidays. Mama kept special dishes for Pesach. They were only used once a year, on Pesach. Also, when these special dishes were not enough, our everyday utensils were koshered in a rather complicated way, so that they could be used on Pesach as well. I remember that they had to be soaked in water for at least a week. [Editor's note: only certain dishes and utensils can be koshered, and this is done in different ways, depending on the material. However, there is no tradition of soaking dishes for a week in order to kosher them]
There was a sweet shop in our street. It was owned by Genovker. There was a cookie shop, which was thoroughly cleaned before Pesach to be used for making matzah. My father's acquaintance Yitzhak supervised the process of matzah making. I remember him showing me how a thoroughly rolled piece of dough was put in an electric stove, and the baked matzah came out the other end. Then this matzah was sold at the synagogue and my parents always bought a lot to have sufficient matzah for the holiday. There was no bread at home at this period, and we only ate matzah.
There was a tradition to have two seder evenings on Pesach: one on the first and another one on the second day of the holiday. We always visited my mother's older brother Marcus on these seder nights. He had a big apartment. My mother's brothers all got together with their wives and children. We sat at a big table and Marcus conducted the seder according to all the rules.
My parents fasted on Yom Kippur. The children could have food, but adults strictly followed the rules. [Editor's note: children under the age of 12 for girls and 13 for boys are not required to fast.] My father was a heavy smoker, but on Yom Kippur he didn't even approach his cigarettes for a whole day and night.
My parents had their seats at the synagogue. My father bought nice seats for himself and mama. My father didn't know Hebrew. He had a thick prayer book in Yiddish and German. On Yom Kippur, my friends and I went to the synagogue with our fathers. I was standing beside my father on the ground floor while mama and the other women were on the upper tier.
Later we, the kids, left the synagogue and headed to somebody's home. The households were wealthy and there were cooks in the families, and we were always greeted by a cook: 'Hey, kids, come on over! You must be starving!' and they treated us to all kinds of delicious food. We also celebrated Rosh Hashanah, Chanukkah and Purim following all Jewish traditions.
As for the holidays organized by the Jewish community in Tallinn, I only remember Simchat Torah. The community arranged a celebration at the synagogue. The children wore carnival costumes and had little torches. We danced and sang and ran. There were also some treats and it was a lot of fun. There were also concerts and performances at the Jewish school on Jewish holidays. Of course, we attended them. All Jewish children knew each other. Tallinn wasn't that big: there were 120,000 residents in the town before the war and about 5,000 were Jews.
I was a member of the Jewish organization for young people, Hashomer Hatzair: 'The Young Watchman.' We had meetings every week. We were told about the history of the Jewish people, and we also had quizzes, tests and various games. We always had a good time there. Besides, from 1937, every Saturday night, all Jewish children who didn't go to the Jewish school, visited Doctor Aba Gomer [14], the Rabbi of Tallinn, and he taught us Jewish history and traditions. Aba Gomer was a Doctor of Philosophy, a very intelligent and interesting man. I enjoyed those Saturday nights with Doctor Gomer much. He spoke to us for an hour and then the rebbetzin, his wife, treated us to tea and cakes.
I was to turn 13 in 1937. Don Shatz, my father's good friend and a very religious man, who went to the synagogue twice a day, started preparing me for my bar mitzvah. I had classes with him at his home every day. I learned a piece from the Torah, but I had to chant it when I had no voice or ear for singing. So I was allowed to recite it. I would say, I had a bar mitzvah and a concert that day. Misha Alexandrovich, a wonderful singer and cantor, conducted the service at the synagogue. He had studied singing in Austria and the cantor of Riga paid for his studies. In the evening we had a celebration for my bar mitzvah. Our apartment was small so we got together at my uncle Iosif's home. He lived in a big apartment near the central park in Tallinn.
All of my school friends were Jewish. Of course, some of my friends were Estonian. We used to play football with Estonian boys, our neighbors. However, we never visited them at home. My real close friends were Jewish. I don't know how it happened to be this way. All I can say is that my parents never put any pressure on me in this respect. This was my choice. This was the way it happened to be.
My parents were moderately religious. Of course, all Jewish traditions were well observed in our household. Mama followed kashrut. She only bought meat from a Jewish butcher. She also bought hens at the market to take them to the shochet. The shochet worked near the synagogue. Mama took care of the housework even when she went to work.
My father didn't follow the requirement to do no work on the Sabbath. Saturday was another working day for him. However, we followed all the rules on Jewish holidays. Mama kept special dishes for Pesach. They were only used once a year, on Pesach. Also, when these special dishes were not enough, our everyday utensils were koshered in a rather complicated way, so that they could be used on Pesach as well. I remember that they had to be soaked in water for at least a week. [Editor's note: only certain dishes and utensils can be koshered, and this is done in different ways, depending on the material. However, there is no tradition of soaking dishes for a week in order to kosher them]
There was a sweet shop in our street. It was owned by Genovker. There was a cookie shop, which was thoroughly cleaned before Pesach to be used for making matzah. My father's acquaintance Yitzhak supervised the process of matzah making. I remember him showing me how a thoroughly rolled piece of dough was put in an electric stove, and the baked matzah came out the other end. Then this matzah was sold at the synagogue and my parents always bought a lot to have sufficient matzah for the holiday. There was no bread at home at this period, and we only ate matzah.
There was a tradition to have two seder evenings on Pesach: one on the first and another one on the second day of the holiday. We always visited my mother's older brother Marcus on these seder nights. He had a big apartment. My mother's brothers all got together with their wives and children. We sat at a big table and Marcus conducted the seder according to all the rules.
My parents fasted on Yom Kippur. The children could have food, but adults strictly followed the rules. [Editor's note: children under the age of 12 for girls and 13 for boys are not required to fast.] My father was a heavy smoker, but on Yom Kippur he didn't even approach his cigarettes for a whole day and night.
My parents had their seats at the synagogue. My father bought nice seats for himself and mama. My father didn't know Hebrew. He had a thick prayer book in Yiddish and German. On Yom Kippur, my friends and I went to the synagogue with our fathers. I was standing beside my father on the ground floor while mama and the other women were on the upper tier.
Later we, the kids, left the synagogue and headed to somebody's home. The households were wealthy and there were cooks in the families, and we were always greeted by a cook: 'Hey, kids, come on over! You must be starving!' and they treated us to all kinds of delicious food. We also celebrated Rosh Hashanah, Chanukkah and Purim following all Jewish traditions.
As for the holidays organized by the Jewish community in Tallinn, I only remember Simchat Torah. The community arranged a celebration at the synagogue. The children wore carnival costumes and had little torches. We danced and sang and ran. There were also some treats and it was a lot of fun. There were also concerts and performances at the Jewish school on Jewish holidays. Of course, we attended them. All Jewish children knew each other. Tallinn wasn't that big: there were 120,000 residents in the town before the war and about 5,000 were Jews.
I was a member of the Jewish organization for young people, Hashomer Hatzair: 'The Young Watchman.' We had meetings every week. We were told about the history of the Jewish people, and we also had quizzes, tests and various games. We always had a good time there. Besides, from 1937, every Saturday night, all Jewish children who didn't go to the Jewish school, visited Doctor Aba Gomer [14], the Rabbi of Tallinn, and he taught us Jewish history and traditions. Aba Gomer was a Doctor of Philosophy, a very intelligent and interesting man. I enjoyed those Saturday nights with Doctor Gomer much. He spoke to us for an hour and then the rebbetzin, his wife, treated us to tea and cakes.
I was to turn 13 in 1937. Don Shatz, my father's good friend and a very religious man, who went to the synagogue twice a day, started preparing me for my bar mitzvah. I had classes with him at his home every day. I learned a piece from the Torah, but I had to chant it when I had no voice or ear for singing. So I was allowed to recite it. I would say, I had a bar mitzvah and a concert that day. Misha Alexandrovich, a wonderful singer and cantor, conducted the service at the synagogue. He had studied singing in Austria and the cantor of Riga paid for his studies. In the evening we had a celebration for my bar mitzvah. Our apartment was small so we got together at my uncle Iosif's home. He lived in a big apartment near the central park in Tallinn.
After getting married, my parents rented an apartment in the house owned by Sweetgauer, a Jewish man. My father worked and my mother was a housewife. I was born in 1924, and I was the only child in the family. Shortly after I was born my parents moved to Raua Street, near where their parents lived. We lived there until the town authorities decided to build a fire station on that site. The house was to be removed, and my parents rented an apartment nearby. We lived in this apartment until the very start of the Great Patriotic War [11].
We spoke Yiddish and Russian at home. My parents mostly spoke Russian to me, but it took me no time to pick up some Yiddish. Children are good at languages.
The Tallinn Jewish gymnasium [12] was located not far from our home and my father wanted me to study in this school. However, I fell very ill when I was six. I had an inflammation of the ear which led to complications with a blood infection. There were no antibiotics at the time, but the doctors managed to cure me. Having spent a while in the hospital, I couldn't attend the Jewish kindergarten where children studied the basics of Hebrew.
The director of the school refused to admit me to the Hebrew class without my knowing Hebrew. He suggested that I went to the Yiddish class. I knew Yiddish well, but my father was against it. Maybe the Yiddish class, in my father's opinion, was associated with Yiddishists [13], and he quite disapproved of them. So I went to the private Russian school.
We spoke Yiddish and Russian at home. My parents mostly spoke Russian to me, but it took me no time to pick up some Yiddish. Children are good at languages.
The Tallinn Jewish gymnasium [12] was located not far from our home and my father wanted me to study in this school. However, I fell very ill when I was six. I had an inflammation of the ear which led to complications with a blood infection. There were no antibiotics at the time, but the doctors managed to cure me. Having spent a while in the hospital, I couldn't attend the Jewish kindergarten where children studied the basics of Hebrew.
The director of the school refused to admit me to the Hebrew class without my knowing Hebrew. He suggested that I went to the Yiddish class. I knew Yiddish well, but my father was against it. Maybe the Yiddish class, in my father's opinion, was associated with Yiddishists [13], and he quite disapproved of them. So I went to the private Russian school.
My parents got married after my father moved to Tallinn. They got acquainted at a party and got married in 1922. They had a traditional Jewish wedding. All local Jews had traditional weddings. Wealthy or poor, there was a chuppah and a ketubbah issued by a local synagogue. Religion was an integral part of the life of Jewish families at the time.
There was a large Jewish community in Tallinn. There were many wealthy Jews, big businessmen and store owners. They contributed significant amounts of money to charity. There were Jewish craftsmen: tinsmiths, barbers and tailors. There were many Jewish lawyers, doctors and teachers. When Estonia gained independence [3], and the first Estonian Republic [4] was established, the higher educational institutions canceled the Jewish quota and Jews got greater access to higher education.
The Jewish community was very proud of the Tallinn synagogue [5]. Built at the end of the 19th century, it was very beautiful.
There was no Jewish neighborhood or Jewish street in Tallinn. Jewish houses were scattered all across the town. There were wealthier houses in the central part of the city where land was more expensive, and the poorer settled down in the suburbs.
Jews faced no anti-Semitism in Estonia. In 1926 the Jewish Cultural Autonomy [6], giving more extensive rights to Jews, was established. There were various Jewish organizations in Tallinn, including the Women's Zionist Organization, WIZO [7], children's and young people's organizations, such as Betar [8] and Hashomer Hatzoir [9], the Maccabi sport club [10] and others. Jews enjoyed many freedoms.
There was a large Jewish community in Tallinn. There were many wealthy Jews, big businessmen and store owners. They contributed significant amounts of money to charity. There were Jewish craftsmen: tinsmiths, barbers and tailors. There were many Jewish lawyers, doctors and teachers. When Estonia gained independence [3], and the first Estonian Republic [4] was established, the higher educational institutions canceled the Jewish quota and Jews got greater access to higher education.
The Jewish community was very proud of the Tallinn synagogue [5]. Built at the end of the 19th century, it was very beautiful.
There was no Jewish neighborhood or Jewish street in Tallinn. Jewish houses were scattered all across the town. There were wealthier houses in the central part of the city where land was more expensive, and the poorer settled down in the suburbs.
Jews faced no anti-Semitism in Estonia. In 1926 the Jewish Cultural Autonomy [6], giving more extensive rights to Jews, was established. There were various Jewish organizations in Tallinn, including the Women's Zionist Organization, WIZO [7], children's and young people's organizations, such as Betar [8] and Hashomer Hatzoir [9], the Maccabi sport club [10] and others. Jews enjoyed many freedoms.
My mother's family was religious like all Jewish families. They observed Jewish traditions, celebrated the Sabbath and Jewish holidays. Of course, all of my mother's brothers had had a bar mitzvah. On holidays my grandmother, grandfather and their children went to the synagogue. They spoke Yiddish and all the members of the family were fluent in German and Russian.
My father's parents were not Orthodox Jews, but they observed all Jewish traditions in the family. In those times it was impossible to imagine a Jewish family that didn't celebrate the Sabbath or Jewish holidays and didn't raise their children as Jews. My grandfather and grandmother went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and Jewish holidays.
In 1956 our son Alexander was born. We didn't give our children Jewish names due to the Soviet environment. However, we never failed to observe Jewish traditions. Of course, there was a ban on them in those years, but we couldn't care less. Besides, it wasn't so hard in Estonia. For example, there were official supplies of matzah to Estonia from Riga or Leningrad. In the late 1980s, the Jewish community of Estonia [50] addressed the authorized representative on religion and the Estonian government provided flour for matzah for Pesach from its stocks. Perhaps this is why we have this attitude to the country and believe it to be our motherland.
Even through the most difficult postwar years and until 1990, we always had the Passover seder at home. Our friends visited us and we celebrated our holiday. The children were involved in the celebrations and knew what each holiday was about. They learned Jewish traditions and the history of the Jewish people. It was very natural for them. My son and daughter had many Jewish classmates. My wife and I never felt shy because we were Jews and felt no different from the others and our children knew and understood this.
The original Estonian residents had a different attitude toward Jews than the newcomers. Usually those who had moved to Estonia after it was annexed to the USSR had anti-Semitic attitudes while Estonians thought that since they were persecuted and humiliated in the USSR like the Jews, they believed they were in a similar situation to the Jewish people. They believed us to be equal: Estonians were unhappy and so were Jews, so it was a good idea to support each other. We had many Jewish friends, but we also had Estonian and Russian friends. We didn't care about nationality, we believed human values were more important.
We also celebrated Soviet holidays: 1st May, 7th November [October Revolution Day] [51] and Victory Day [52]. Of course, Victory Day was special for our family. We survived this horrible war and were happy about it. Other Soviet holidays were our days off and we took the opportunity to spend time with our children, have a fancy meal and socialize with friends. My wife and I worked and rarely had time with our children.
Even through the most difficult postwar years and until 1990, we always had the Passover seder at home. Our friends visited us and we celebrated our holiday. The children were involved in the celebrations and knew what each holiday was about. They learned Jewish traditions and the history of the Jewish people. It was very natural for them. My son and daughter had many Jewish classmates. My wife and I never felt shy because we were Jews and felt no different from the others and our children knew and understood this.
The original Estonian residents had a different attitude toward Jews than the newcomers. Usually those who had moved to Estonia after it was annexed to the USSR had anti-Semitic attitudes while Estonians thought that since they were persecuted and humiliated in the USSR like the Jews, they believed they were in a similar situation to the Jewish people. They believed us to be equal: Estonians were unhappy and so were Jews, so it was a good idea to support each other. We had many Jewish friends, but we also had Estonian and Russian friends. We didn't care about nationality, we believed human values were more important.
We also celebrated Soviet holidays: 1st May, 7th November [October Revolution Day] [51] and Victory Day [52]. Of course, Victory Day was special for our family. We survived this horrible war and were happy about it. Other Soviet holidays were our days off and we took the opportunity to spend time with our children, have a fancy meal and socialize with friends. My wife and I worked and rarely had time with our children.
On 5th March 1953 Stalin died. His name was an icon and Stalin was God for those born in the USSR who grew up with his name. I spent my youth in a different environment and was critical about Stalin's personality. We associated Stalin's name with everything happening in the USSR: cosmopolitan processes, the Doctors' Plot [46] and ever strengthening anti- Semitism. Of course, there was no information available, but we were not blind and we had an inner feeling that these were initiated by Stalin since he couldn't be unawares of whatever was happening.
My wife and I were horrified when Nikita Khrushchev [47] spoke at the 20th Party Congress [48] with the report on the cult of Stalin and his crimes. Only parts of his speech were published, even then there was a ban on information, but what we could read was sufficient for us to feel horrified, though we knew and sensed a lot. We knew it, because so many people were returning from the Gulag telling us what it was like. Of course, it was a shock.
Later we learned that if Stalin had not died, Jews would have been deported to Siberia or farther away. I wouldn't say that this shattered my trust in the Party. By then my membership in the Party became a pure formality for me. It was a requirement for making a career and nothing more.
My wife and I were horrified when Nikita Khrushchev [47] spoke at the 20th Party Congress [48] with the report on the cult of Stalin and his crimes. Only parts of his speech were published, even then there was a ban on information, but what we could read was sufficient for us to feel horrified, though we knew and sensed a lot. We knew it, because so many people were returning from the Gulag telling us what it was like. Of course, it was a shock.
Later we learned that if Stalin had not died, Jews would have been deported to Siberia or farther away. I wouldn't say that this shattered my trust in the Party. By then my membership in the Party became a pure formality for me. It was a requirement for making a career and nothing more.