THE LOSS OF TATIANA
We lived at a strange location. The borders between Russia, Ukraine, and Poland were somewhere in the neighborhood, but there was little agreement as to where they were. My parents had a farm, and a few tenants, clustered around. The place looked more like a fort surrounded by marshes, scrubby trees, and low lying fields. Nobody knew their way around except us, which is perhaps why we were left alone until late 1939.
We had heard on the radio that the Germans had attacked Poland. Everyone became very worried, as we all thought that the Russians would join in. News was strictly censored at that time, so we had to guess at the real meaning. The English call it "reading between the lines."
I do not remember the exact date, but one morning a local peasant who cut reeds came running in. He told my father that we all must hide, as he had seen some Russian soldiers looking for a crossing point over one of the many slow rivers.
Mama said that all the menfolk must hide, but she and the old woman would look after the farm until we could return. There were no young women of marriageable age, and at twelve, we all thought that my sister Tatiana would be safe. My parent's generation remembered all the atrocities of the 1921 Russo-Polish war.
Papa was very worried, saying that the Russians might set fire to the farm, but Mama said that they might steal some pigs, but we all spoke Russian, so there shouldn't be a problem.
We took some sausage and dried hams with us, and followed the peasant. There was my father, two young laborers, an older farm hand, his wife, and ten year old son. They had left their three younger children with my mother, as we thought that living off the land would be too dangerous for small children.
Fortunately the weather was dry and still warm. We went deep into the reedy marshes. The mosquitoes and midges swarmed all over us, and soon my face was raw and painful. It was even worse for the younger boy. He must have tasted very sweet to those insects.
We spent the night in a small hut perched on stilts above the water. Our clothing and packs were wet through. I couldn't sleep as all through the night millions of frogs kept croaking, shrieking, whistling, and murmuring. The sound was deafening. Nobody could understand what it was like until they had experienced it for themselves. The insects kept on biting us as well!
The next morning was very misty. Standing on the platform outside the hut, my head and shoulders were in sunshine, but my back and legs were quite cold and damp, in a pool of low lying fog. As the sun climbed higher, the mist began to rise forming thin low clouds that began to disperse as they rose. It was like being in a cold steam bath.
We were all wondering what to do next, when we heard a low rumbling noise in the east. We had only ever seen about half a dozen airplanes in the whole of our lives. This noise was being made by hundreds! They took ages before we could see them. They looked like masses of black dots high up in the sky moving very slowly. Nobody knew if they could see us, or whether they would attack. They just kept rumbling on. The air itself seemed to vibrate. It took well over half an hour for them to pass overhead, and disappear in the direction of Poland.
There was some argument as to whether it was safe to stay where we were. The peasant said that there was nowhere else to go. Papa was very unhappy about the younger boy whose face was very puffed up. His lips were swollen and split, and it looked as if he had a temperature. We had to drink the water, which tasted all right, but we should have boiled it. Everyone was afraid to light a fire in case the smoke was seen by the Russians. By the next evening I was feeling very ill, and had bad diarrhoea. I had to wade some distance from the hut, to find some reeds to use as a bathroom. Soon everyone was wandering off to find private clumps of reeds. Only the peasant seemed to be unaffected.
After another terrible night, it was agreed that the peasant would sneak back to the farm and see if the coast was clear. He left in the early morning while it was still misty. All through that day the young boy became more and more ill. His mother was crying, and his father kept straining water through a cloth into a tin mug for the boy. I felt so weak, that I couldn't face the thought of going back to my own reedy "bathroom." My father had to carry me at least four times. I could not face any food.
The peasant came back shortly after sundown. He was punting a long flat-bottomed boat, with some bales of reeds in it. He looked very upset. He told us that the coast was clear, but there was nobody around. He had waited for a couple of hours then left without seeing anybody. There were no dead bodies, so he thought that the Russians hadn't shot anyone. We all made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the boat, and the peasant punted off. I don't know how he found his way back. There was no moon or stars, and the frogs were once again deafening. It started to rain lightly which gave us a little relief from the insects. I think it was about midnight when we got back.
There were no lights to be seen, and there was no sound of any animals. Papa called out for Mama and Tatiana. Suddenly my mother was there. When she saw my father she started to cry.
"We thought you were Russians coming back!"
Tatiana was not there. When we got into the kitchen, my mother closed all the shutters then lit an oil lamp. Other people, some of whom we did not know, started coming into the kitchen from other parts of the house. We later learned that most of them had been fleeing the Germans, then found the Russians firing at them. There were no wounded, they had either died soon after being hit, or were too ill to be moved. One said that the Russians were using "dum-dum" bullets which splintered when they hit you. He told me that once you were hit, you were as good as dead, or you quickly caught gangrene.
I kept asking what happened to Tatiana, but my mother just burst into tears. Much later I learned that the Russians had turned up at the farm demanding a guide though the marshes. They had chosen my sister. Mama had dressed her up in her finest Sunday clothes, and pretty headdress, thinking that if she looked sweet and appealing that the soldiers would treat her well. She did not see her again. Some of the other refugees had found a young girl about an hour's walk away later in the day, stripped and bayonetted to a barn door. My mother had gone with the old people to find the body. They found instead a little mound of earth with a rough cross on it, and hanging from the cross was Tatiana's bonnet. She had no idea who had dug the grave.
"I don't even know if she had been violated!" My mother kept sobbing this for the next couple of days. My father looked very old all of a sudden.
After another terrible night, it was agreed that the peasant would sneak back to the farm and see if the coast was clear. He left in the early morning while it was still misty. All through that day the young boy became more and more ill. His mother was crying, and his father kept straining water through a cloth into a tin mug for the boy. I felt so weak, that I couldn't face the thought of going back to my own reedy "bathroom." My father had to carry me at least four times. I could not face any food.
The peasant came back shortly after sundown. He was punting a long flat-bottomed boat, with some bales of reeds in it. He looked very upset. He told us that the coast was clear, but there was nobody around. He had waited for a couple of hours then left without seeing anybody. There were no dead bodies, so he thought that the Russians hadn't shot anyone. We all made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the boat, and the peasant punted off. I don't know how he found his way back. There was no moon or stars, and the frogs were once again deafening. It started to rain lightly which gave us a little relief from the insects. I think it was about midnight when we got back.
There were no lights to be seen, and there was no sound of any animals. Papa called out for Mama and Tatiana. Suddenly my mother was there. When she saw my father she started to cry.
"We thought you were Russians coming back!"
Tatiana was not there. When we got into the kitchen, my mother closed all the shutters then lit an oil lamp. Other people, some of whom we did not know, started coming into the kitchen from other parts of the house. We later learned that most of them had been fleeing the Germans, then found the Russians firing at them. There were no wounded, they had either died soon after being hit, or were too ill to be moved. One said that the Russians were using "dum-dum" bullets which splintered when they hit you. He told me that once you were hit, you were as good as dead, or you quickly caught gangrene.
I kept asking what happened to Tatiana, but my mother just burst into tears. Much later I learned that the Russians had turned up at the farm demanding a guide though the marshes. They had chosen my sister. Mama had dressed her up in her finest Sunday clothes, and pretty headdress, thinking that if she looked sweet and appealing that the soldiers would treat her well. She did not see her again. Some of the other refugees had found a young girl about an hour's walk away later in the day, stripped and bayonetted to a barn door. My mother had gone with the old people to find the body. They found instead a little mound of earth with a rough cross on it, and hanging from the cross was Tatiana's bonnet. She had no idea who had dug the grave.
"I don't even know if she had been violated!" My mother kept sobbing this for the next couple of days. My father looked very old all of a sudden.
Alex Smirnow-Wisniak
Polish
Engineer
Aged 10
CHILDREN OF THE STORM
No comments:
Post a Comment
do not be shy just say hi