65-year anniversary of Victory in WWII

The Way We Were

Association of Veterans of the Second World War Palo Alto, California 2010

In memory of our comrades, Our friends and the fiercely burning fires We came through together

The Committee of the Palo Alto Association of World War II Veterans

The Way We Were 2010 Palo Alto Association of Veterans of WWII First English Language Edition 2010 First Russian Language Edition 2003 Second Russian Language Edition 2007 Editing and Translation by Yuliya Svist Cover Design by Margarita Svist Designed by Anna Yakuboff ISBN 9780984294015 Library of Congress Control Number: 2010930590 Printed in the United States of America

Years pass, wounds heal, enemies are buried, the burned and destroyed are rebuilt, and many stories become mixed up in the minds of the old and turned into legends. Yet certain things are neither changed nor forgotten with time: the strong feelings of fellowship and brotherhood among those who fought to defend their countries from Nazi Germany. Alexander Dovzhenko The Association of Veterans of the Second World War in Palo Alto would like to thank the following sponsors for all their support. Without them, printing this book would not have been possible. Yan Abelev Alexander Alshvang Leonid Arbatman Galina Balon Gregory Basin Mikhail Benjaminson Alexander Broker Simon Gleizer Alla Gluzman Vladimir Gluzman Naum Guzik Janna Kantor Oleg Kinder Rimma Leonov Vladimir and Lyudmila Lopatinsky Marina Marcus Vladimir Nesendzi Mikhail Portnov Yanna Rabiner Efim Rapoport Yevgeny Rotfeld Alla Skvirskaya Gennady Farber Eleanor Fukshanskaya Yevgeny Fukshanskoi

Live and Remember!

With the passing of time, history is slowly forgotten, distorted and made a mystery. It is our responsibility to preserve it as best we can while we are still able. This book of memoirs was put together by the Association of Veterans of WWII in Palo Alto. The stories contained within are recollections of what Russians refer to as the Great Patriotic War, or, as Americans know it, the Eastern Front of World War II. When the Germans attacked the Soviet Union on June 22nd of 1941, it affected everyone, men and women, workers and students, young and old. There are stories written by brave soldiers who fought on the front with rifles in their hands. There are stories written by the hard-working nurses who were forced to run onto the battlefield during the fight in order to save lives. There are stories written by those who lived through the bombardment and blockade of Leningrad as children, barely surviving each day on a meager ration of 125 grams of bread. There are stories written by Jews who survived the horrors of concentration camps and ghettos. Its difficult, if not impossible, to imagine the horrors of watching your entire family be gunned down in front of your eyes. To imagine what could possibly be going through a deranged executioners mind as he throws starving children into a ditch and tosses candy after them. To imagine how it feels to live on so little food that you turn to eating your own shoes in order to survive. To kill, watch those around you die, and to be the survivor, only to live and kill another day. Millions of men, women and children perished as a result of all of this and more. Those who survived were fortunate and persevered despite great hardships so that we, their children, may live in a better world. We must never forget the price they paid for us. Yuliya Svist, Translator and Editor

Foreword to the First Edition The twentieth century will always remain in human history not only as the century of great discoveries, of the triumph of intellect, but also as the century of the most inhumane wars and bloody upheavals and revolutions. They say, there are no ifs in history, but we can say with a degree of certainly that there would be no October Revolution without the First World War, and there would be no Second World War, had the first two catastrophes not taken place. On June 22, 2005, the world will commemorate 64 years since the day Nazi Germany attacked its former ally - the USSR, and on May 9th of the same year, the 60th Anniversary of Victory. The war lasted only four years, but the world is still recovering from its consequences. It is not, therefore, surprising, that the theme of war, of fighting against the Evil, will remain singularly relevant for a long time yet. That war was so much more than just military action. Its reasons and consequences have not been completely understood, and while we are alive, this war will live within us, and there is nothing we can do about it... The theme of War is inexhaustible. To my regret... It has been 60 years after Victory Day in the war against fascism, the war that took away tens of millions of human lives, and left millions more disabled, orphaned and widowed. Its tragic events have not been fully told, and yet each day there are fewer and fewer people who can personally testify to them. The new generations know about the war only from their fathers and grandfathers, from books, movies and museum exhibits. This memory is alive in the hearts of our veterans. This memory holds the hardest and most heroic years of their lives, the years of fighting for the freedom of their Motherland and other European countries from the brown plague - the anthropophobic fascist regime. The Palo Alto Association of World War II Veterans united witnesses and participants of the war from all over the Silicone Valley. Currently, the organization has 170 members. Yuriy Lyayder, President of the Palo Alto Association of WWII Veterans

To the Reader As the events of the World War II slip further and further into the depths of history, it becomes increasingly important to preserve and pass on to future generations the memory of those, who saved humanity from the brown plague of Nazi occupation. For this reason, each published volume of war memoirs is greeted with great interest and appreciation. It is especially important our children and grandchildren share in this sentiment. The book you are holding in your hands is the Englishlanguage edition of the volume recently published in Russian by the Palo Alto Association of World War II Veterans. This book is one of the best of its kind both in content and in format. It contains the memoirs of about 140 immediate participants of the war. Each of them shares stories of the hardships they were destined to overcome, the friends they lost, the way to survival, the most sacred memories that they had kept in private for many, many years. This work is especially important, since veterans are generally reluctant to share their experiences, considering it immodest to be in the limelight. A special place in this volume is given to Jewish war veterans. During the war, most of them fought as common soldiers, carrying the brunt of the battles. They were infantrymen, minesweepers, radiomen... Their stories come alive in this book. Time did not erase from their memories the painful events of Nazi crimes. In the words of R. Chekhanovskaya, The bloody March 2, 1942 was the most terrible day in my life and in the life of our ghetto... I was lucky, I was not killed. When general panic set in, I managed, with a few people, to sneak out of the column that was led to execution... 7

Children from the orphanage were simply thrown into a pit and covered with sand. Soon the main executioner of Belorussia, Kube, arrived, and threw candy to the kids that were thrown into the pit alive. Blood turned to ice from their heart-wrenching screams. This pit swallowed my sister Regina and her one-year-old daughter. The book also contains stories of guerilla avengers partisans Aaron Gendelman from the Fyodorovs partisan union, Alexander Galburt and Ruzhena Chekhanova from brigade No. 106 of the Baranovichi union, and others. These stories clearly dismiss one of the most wide-spread myths of the Holocaust, that the Jews allowed themselves to be butchered without resistance. Of great interest are the pages dedicated to the heroic work of the workers of the homefront. Naum Reinblat worked on the assembly line of aviation engines at the factory named after Frunze. He was awarded the highest government tribute: the Order of the Red Banner of Labor, the Badge of Honor, the medal For the Valorous Work during the Great Patriotic War, 1941-1945. The same honor was bestowed upon the senior engineer-lieutenant Semyon Ushomirskiy, who distinguished himself during the restoration of power supply centers in the Capital... I would like to add a couple of warm words about the president of the Palo Alto Association of World War II Veterans, Yuriy Lyayder. This Association did not only make the publication of this book possible, but also continually contributes funds for rehabilitation of wounded children (School Lapid), and support of the wounded soldiers of the Second Lebanese War. 8
Boris Rabiner, David Meltser, Ph.D.

Excerpt from Veteran No. 4 (87), July 2007. A Little Bit of History Towards the Second Edition of the Book of Memoirs by the Members of Palo Alto Association of World War II Veterans The second edition of the book of memoirs by the Palo Alto Association of World War II Veterans (Pres. Yuriy Lyayder) commemorated the 62nd Anniversary of Victory Day. The First Edition of this book was prepared by the 60th Anniversary of Victory Day, in 2005. The Foreword to the Second Edition illustrates the need to reissue this book, expanded and supplied with more stories by the workers of the home front, the former prisoners of ghettos, children of the war. The book is illustrated with color photos, and contains letters from President of the United States, G. Bush, California Governor, A. Schwarzenegger, other high officials of the White House, the President of Russia, V. Putin, Consul General of Russia in San Francisco, V. Lizun, and Russian Ambassador in the United States, Y. Ushakov, and many other political figures. The President of the Palo Alto Association of World War II Veterans, Yuriy Lyayder, managed, within stringent deadlines, to prepare for publication additional materials, and raise funds for publication. This is especially noteworthy, since the Association acts as an active donor for children hurt during the Palestinian war ($1859), as well as those hurt in the terrorist act in Beslan ($1395). The Association sent its help to the victims of tsunami in South-East Asia ($956), and the victims of Hurricane Katrina ($1854). Three thousand dollars were sent to support Israel. 9

The second edition of the book serves as another reminder of the importance to keep the peace, and remember at what price it was obtained by our fathers and grandfathers. To our great regret, many veterans - authors of these stories did not live to see this book. They will eternally live in our memory. People, who worked on the publication of this book, especially the President of the Association, Yuriy Lyayder, deserve the highest praise and appreciation. Since, in the words of Robert Rozhdestvenskiy, we should never forget about war: People believe that this memory is needed by everyone... If we forget about the war, it will come again.

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Dear Veterans, We celebrate a great nation-wide holiday the 61-year anniversary of our victory in the Great Patriotic War. The significance and sanctity of this date have not diminished with the years. Those harsh times will forever be written into the history of our motherland with the tears and blood of the Russian people. To the courageous front-line soldiers, officers and privates, soldiers defending the home front, prisoners of the concentration camps, survivors of the Leningrad Blockade, orphaned children and grieving widows all of you are heroes of that horrifying war. I bow to you and offer my undying gratitude on behalf of all the present and future generations. You will always be remembered. It is with no small amount of gratitude that we speak of the courage, resistance and dedication of the military exploits of your generation. You have gone through dire trials and tribulations in order to uphold the rights and freedoms of others, and have saved our nation and world from fascism. We offer a tribute of respect to all those who gave our and future generations the gift of a future. Thank you, dear veterans, for remaining strong in defiance of the odds and illness, and for teaching our children what it means to selflessly love ones native land. Your extraordinary feats will never be forgotten! Congratulations, dear veterans. We wish you peace, health, and prosperity! From the Consulate General of Russia in San Francisco Victor N. Lizun

Congratulations and Happy 60th Anniversary from Vladimir Putin, President of Russia May 3, 2005
To the Veterans of the Great Patriotic War of 1941 1945 living abroad:

Dear veterans! Please accept my heartfelt congratulations for the 60th anniversary of your victory in the Great Patriotic War of 1941 1945. I know that wherever you may be today, no matter which corner of our planet you may find yourself in for the celebration of this anniversary, that it remains sacred to you, and that you will always remember those years, your comrades, and of course, the day of Victory on May 9th, 1945. It is with no small amount of gratitude that we speak of the courage, resistance and dedication of the military exploits of your generation. You have gone through dire trials and tribulations in order to uphold the rights and freedoms of others, and have saved our nation and world from fascism. We offer a tribute of respect to all those who gave our and future generations the gift of a future.

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From: Katrina Relocation Project A project of CrypoRights Foundation 80 Alviso ST, San Francisco To: Palo Alto Assn. of Russian WWII Veterans Thank you for your donation of $1854 and the cell phone. We will be forwarding an official receipt for tax purposes soon.

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John FISHER Organizer

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The Veterans Life in Pictures

Isaac Farber, first president of the Association of Veterans of WWII in Palo Alto. 1992-1996

Gilya Ratner, Second President of the Association of Veterans of WWII in Palo Alto. 1996-2000 Yuriy Lyayder, Third President of the Association of Veterans of WWII in Palo Alto. Since 2000

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The museum of the Association of Veterans of the Second World War in the Golden Castle ADHC center, Palo Alto

Corner of the museum of the Association of Veterans of the Second World War in the Golden Castle ADHC center, Palo Alto

Artist veteran Gennady Volfovskiy paints a portrait of Yevgeny Oleinik in the museum of the Golden Castle ADHC center 20 21

In the Associations museum. From left: Veteran V. Aizenberg, Mayor of Palo Alto, Judy Kleinberg, President of the Association of Veterans of WWII in Palo Alto, Yuriy Lyayder

Attending the 25th anniversary of the veteran organization in San Francisco, 2005

In the Associations museum: Yuriy Lyayder (left), member of the of the veteran organization in Pyatigorsk, Ivan Shalai

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At the Veterans Day parade. November 2005, San Jose Laying a wreath of flowers at the memorial cemetery. San Jose, 2005

Veterans celebrate the Soviet Victory Day. May 9, 2000 24 25

Awarding veterans of the war with the 60-year anniversary medal For Victory over Germany, 2005

At the Veterans Day parade. November 2004, San Jose

At the General Consulate of Russia in San Francisco, 2005 26 27

Celebrating the Soviet Victory Day at the Consulate General of Russia in San Francisco. May 12, 2004

At the General Consulate of Russia in San Francisco. 2004

Third from the left: Consul General V. N. Lizun 28 29

Laying a wreath on Memorial Day. 2003

At the General Consulate of Russia in San Francisco. In the middle: General Consul of Russia in San Francisco Mr. Popov

At the General Consulate of Russia in San Francisco. 2003 30

At the General Consulate of Russia in San Francisco. 2003 31

Attending a celebratory dinner in honor of Soviet Victory day. 2003

Greeting the New Year. 2002-2003

Greeting the New Year. 2002-2003 32 33

President of the Palo Alto Association of Veterans of WWII Yuriy Lyayder hands out certificate of merit and gifts at an awards ceremony From left to right: Randy Richmond (Vice President of Santa Clara Countys Association of WWII and Korean War Veterans), Yuriy Lyayder, Richard F. Murphy (President of Santa Clara Countys Association of WWII), Yuriys wife Genefa

From left to right, members of the Palo Alto Association of Veterans of WWII unless noted: Captain Roman Sokolovsky, Captain Izrail Aizenband (President of the Los Angeles Association of WWI Veterans), Colonel Semyon Teitelbaum (President of the National Veterans Organization of America), Anatoly Kibrik, Association President Yuriy Lyayder, and Colonel Yevgeny Oleinik

Richard F. Murphy (left) and Yuriy Lyayder

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From left: Yuriy Lyayder, Inna Arlovich (Vice president of American Association of Jews from the Former USSR), Alexander Volovik (Chairman of the Board of the Northern Californian division of the American Association of Jews from the Former USSR), Joseph Lekarev (Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Association)

Celebrating Soviet Victory Day. May 9, 2001

Celebrating Soviet Victory Day. May 9, 2001

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Celebrating Soviet Victory Day. May 9, 2001

After the Veterans Day Parade. 1996

Marching in the Veterans Day Parade. 2001 38

Marching in the Veterans Day Parade. 2001 39

Memorial Day Parade in San Jose. 1993

Veterans Day Parade in San Jose. 2009

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Celebrating Soviet Victory Day at the Consulate General of Russian Federation in San Francisco. May 8, 2008 Veterans Day Parade in San Jose. 2009

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At the Consulate General of Russian Federation in San Francisco. Third from the left: Consul General of Russian Federation in San Francisco, Mr. V.Vinokurov 43

Veterans in the Museum of Glory, Mountain View, CA. The museum was organized by the Palo Alto Association of WWII Veterans.

Celebrating Soviet Victory Day at the Consulate General of Russian Federation in San Francisco. May 8, 2008

Counsul of the Russian Federation, C.Rakitin, on the left, visiting the Museum

Our artist, WWII veteran, G. Volfovskiy Palo Alto Association of WWII Veterans meeting with San Francisco Veterans of WWII. 2008 44

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Veterans Celebrating their Birthdays President of the Palo Alto Association of WWII Veterans, Yuriy Lyayder, congratulates veterans with the 63rd Anniversary of Soviet Victory Day. May 9, 2008

Celebrating 90th Birthday of Veteran Mikhail Limanov 46

President of the Palo Alto Association of WWII Veterans, Yuriy Lyayder, congratulates veterans with coming New Year

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Celebrating New Year 2010

Vice Consul of the Russian Federation in San Francisco H.A.Aisin congratulates Veterans with the comming 2010 New Year

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Vice Consul of the Russian Federation in San Francisco H.A.Aisin gives a speech before handing out 65th Victory Anniversary Medals at an awards ceremony. 2010

Awarding Veteran K. Klecko with the Anniversary Medal, 2010 Awarding Veteran B. Vulfovich with the Anniversary Medal, 2010

President of the Association of WWII Veterans in Palo Alto, Yuriy Lyayder, being awarded with a 65th Anniversary o f Vi c t o r y Medal, 2010

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Awarding Veteran G.Volfovskiy with the Anniversary Medal, 2010

Veterans

Awarding Veteran B. Klecko with the Anniversary Medal, 2010

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President of the Palo Alto Association of WWII Veterans, Yuriy Lyayder, congratulates veterans with the 65th Anniversary of Soviet Victory over Nazi Germany. May 9, 2010 53

Consul of the Russian Federation in San Francisco, Andrey Belousov, congratulates veterans with the 65th Anniversary of Soviet Victory Day over Nazi Germany. May 9, 2010

President of the Golden Castle ADHC center, Oleg Kinder, congratulates veterans with the 65th Anniversary of Soviet Victory Day over Nazi Germany. May 9, 2010

Consul of Ukraine in San Francisco, Alexandr Goman, congratulates veterans with the 65th Anniversary of Soviet Victory Day over Nazi Germany. May 9, 2010

A Minute of silence

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Ruzya Rasputina reads poems A Minute of silence

Host of Ceremonies, Inna Golbraikh

Author and singer Vinnik performs his songs 57

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Honorary Members of the Palo Alto Association of WWII Veterans

Simon Komissar, president of the National Association of WWII Veterans

Sophia Shpitalnik sings

Simon Teitelbaum, president of the National American Association of Veterans

Veterans dance 58

Alexander Alshvang,,

Alla Skvirskaya, President of an Insurance Company, sponsor

President, Socium International, Inc., sponsor

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Lyudmila and Vladimir Lopatinsky, Honorary Members of the Association, sponsors

Leonid Arbatman, President of Solvo International, sponsor

Mikhail Benjaminson, President of an Insurance Company, sponsor

Raisa and Mark Khavinson, Software engineers, sponsors 60

Vladimir Gluzman, Owner, Russian Tea House, sponsor 61

Mikhail Portnov, President of an Insurance Company, Owner of a Computer School, sponsor

By Pat French Swendsen

VETERANS OF THE WAR

We lie here in our hospital beds, Us old warriors, While the evening news Shows the sharp, strict, military snap Of the young soldiers On parade dress, Passing and turning In front of the granite monument. We lie here, A judgment tribunal, A council of elders Sick in our hearts Sick in our bodies Sick in our souls. We are those same soldiers, Eyes rolled upwards toward the war sky, Faces ground into the mud.

Oleg Kinder, president of the Golden Castle ADHC center, sponsor

One last look at a photograph, With a prayer Written on the back.

Simon Gleizer, vice president of the Golden Castle ADHC center, sponsor

Contributed by Pat French Swendsen Originally published in We Didnt Know We Were Heroes 2005 K. Ross, N. Black, C.Swendsen. 2005 Hunkus Press 2010 Pat Swendsen

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The Ones Who Forged Victory

Yevsey Abelev
I was born on April 9, 1921. I attended and graduated from Moscow school #173. In 1940, I was drafted into the Red Army. I served as a machine gunner at the 599th Infantry Regiment. In the middle of 1941, Secretary of Defense S. Timoshenko ordered that I be transferred to the 48th division aviary school, which I was removed from ahead of time due to the beginning of the war. On August 6, I took part in my first battle on the Leningrad front as part of the 58th division of light bombers. The regiment suffered losses. The remaining soldiers of the aviary division were transferred to the dive bomber unit PE-2, which carried out missions on the Northwest front. It wasnt long before this unit was destroyed as well there was practically nothing left of the planes on this front. Those who survived this were once again transferred to the 4th Special Forces brigade, which was once again sent to the Northwest front (February September, 1943). The battles took place around the city of Demyansk, where the 16th division of the Nazi army was surrounded. Many bloody battles took place in the Ramushevskoi crossing region on the Lovat River. After that, we entered the town of Staraya Russia. The difficulty of the battles was only further burdened by the impossible to cross marshes and dense forests. We were 64

unable to cross by car. Since we lacked provisions, crackers and pea soup concentrate were tossed from airplanes in paper bags. Wooden roads were constructed in order to transport ammunition and equipment. The soldiers were in charge of transporting their own cartridges and equipment on transports which somewhat resembled sleds. We slept on moist, frozen earth, on the damp branches of fir trees, half of our coats laid on top of these branches, and the other half covering us. In 1942, several of the Special Forces brigades were combined into one division, which was named the 10th division, which I became a part of. The group was awarded with the Order of the Red Banner. Following the liberation of the city Krivoi Rog, the group received the title Krivorozhskoi and was honored with the Order of Suvorov. In 1943, the division was redirected to the Stalingrad battle front. We fought in the Battle of Kursk in the region of Belgorod, helped liberate Kharkov, and crossed the Dnepr River. We then crossed the rivers Berezina and Prut, and entered Romania. For taking part in the battles there and for successfully crossing the Romanian/Bulgarian border, I was awarded with a certificate and personally thanked by the high commander. Traveling on, we engaged in many more severe battles where much blood was spilled. It was on the night of May 7th that news of Germanys defeat and surrender reached us. I was awarded with an Order of the Red Star, two Second Class Orders of the Great Patriotic War, two Medals of Valor, and a medal for my participation in the Great Patriotic War, as well as ten personal awards and the gratitude of the high commander. 65

After the war ended, I attended the competitive Moscow Institute of Medicine. I graduated in 1952 and from 1597, began work as a surgeon/urologist in a clinic in Moscow. Since my son lived in the United States with his family, my wife and I emigrated there in 1994. On October 31, 2001, we became citizens of the United States of America. Ive been a member of the Association of Association of Veterans of WWII in Palo Alto since 1995, having served as its vice president and leader of the household sector.

Vitaliy Aizenberg
I was born on January 9, 1925. At the time of the Great Patriotic War, I graduated from the military academy of communications, after which I was sent to the 117th Communication Battalion of the 56th infantry division. From October to December of 1944, I was on the battlefront. I was demobilized under the rank of Engineering Major. After the war, my area of expertise was radio engineer. I was awarded with the second class Order of the Patriotic War, the medals For Battle Services, For Victory over Germany and 12 various anniversary medals. In 1995, I came to the United States of America

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Joseph and Eva Aizenshtein

1901 1973 1917 - 1987 My name is Raisa Khavinson and I wish to share a story of a war which tore apart people, their fates, and their families. Among them were my parents, Eva and Joseph Aizenshtein. Both were born in Ukraine: Eva in Litin and Joseph in Voronovitsa, both in the Vinnytsia region. Both were born into large families, as was typical of Jewish families in those areas. Both were energetic, beautiful and filled with hope for the future. Children mature quickly in large families. And so, Joseph, after receiving a basic education (he had always been a highly gifted person) and having grown, soon found himself with a family: a beautiful wife named Betya and four sons. The young and beautiful Eva came to Voronovits to visit her sister Fira when she met and fell in love with a man named Misha. They soon wed and had a daughter named Genya. People lived in peace, worked, raised their families, and made plans for the future. Far from the urban centers of Moscow and Leningrad, life seemed perfect. But in the early 1940s, war seemed imminent. Despite the peace treaties formed, the people could simply feel it in the air. Misha and Joseph were called to the front in the very first days of the war. The Germans quickly moved through Ukraine 68

and soon approached Voronovits. Eva and the three-year-old Genya evacuated riding on a horse-drawn carriage. Along the way, they could see the German planes and hear the explosions of their bombs. They made it to Kharkov safely. From there, they traveled by train until they reached the Orenburg region. There, Eva worked for the duration for the war at a kitchen where food for the soldiers was prepared. She fed soldiers and officers, raised her daughter, and eagerly awaited news from Misha. It was there, far from her home and any familiar surroundings that the news of Mishas death reached her. Joseph immediately became a favorite among his comrades. He quickly became an expert in mining, the best in his division. Being slightly older than his comrades, he served as a mentor and helped them out with various chores, from war-related to household. The war took him from Ukraine through Czechoslovakia; he fought under Stalingrad and the Battle of Kursk, never losing faith in himself or the victory of the Soviet Union. Only once did life seem to be unbearable: on the day he found out the Germans had killed his entire family. The news hurt more than any of his war injuries, even more than when a mine detonated and struck him in the face. He was blinded for a long time and only after a series of operations did he regain his vision; his face remained forever scarred and stained by the remnants of the mine trapped within. Even when his arm was severely torn and hung on by a thread, the pain did not compare to that of the loss of his family. The 27-year-old Eva had lived through the difficult evacuation, supporting herself and her daughter. It was there she met Joseph as he returned from the hospital. Both were greatly hurt by their losses and torn apart by the war, yet it was Genya who brought them together. The eight-year-old 69

girl insisted that her mother marry the nice Mr. Joseph. Her wish was granted, and their family was later blessed with two more daughters. The three girls grew up, received a good education, formed their own families and immigrated to America. Unfortunately, their parents did not live to see this... An Addition by Yuriy Lyayder: In 1958, three of my cousins had found and contacted me, asking that Id come visit. I took some time off and traveled to Vinnytsia to meet them. By chance, it was there that I met and later married that very daughter of Joseph, Genya. I fell in love with their entire family and them with me. Genya and I moved to Leningrad, but it took me two years of working as a manager at a construction center to receive an apartment for the family. We were blessed with two daughters. Every year, from spring through the fall, Genya brought them to Ukraine. Our family was a close and loving one. Josephs death in 1973 was a great loss. He was an honest and hardworking man with a kind soul, one who loved his family very much. We all loved him immensely as well. May he live on in the memories of his children for generations to come.

Manya Arbatman
1931 2005 I was born on March 15th of 1931 in a village in Moldavia. From 1933 to 1941 I was living in Odessa, undergoing therapy and treatment for polio. My father was summoned to the battlefront in the first few days of the war, and the rest of the family was evacuated in July of 1941, first to Kuybyshev, then Uzbekistan. We returned home to Tiraspol in 1944. After completing my primary education, I studied at a medical secondary school, graduating in 1950 to become a registered nurse. In that same year, I began work in the laboratory of the city hospital. I worked at that hospital for the duration of my career until retiring in 1991. My husband Nuta and I raised two children and later had five grandchildren. In 1992, with no prior knowledge of English, we immigrated to America with the family. In 1998, we became citizens of the United States of America. I volunteered at the Association of the Veterans of the World War II in Palo Alto.

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Nuta Arbatman
1922 2004 I was born in 1922, in Kishinev. On July 5th of 1941, I was called away to the battlefront at 18 years old, until May of 1945. I was part of the infantry on the southwest front, then in the First Ukrainian Front as Senior Sergeant, second in command of an intelligence agency division. The battles took me through Poland, Czechoslovakia and Hungary. I was a part of the secret services when Leningrad was being defended. I was wounded during the battles to emancipate prisoners of the Auschwitz concentration camp. The wound then became a military disability. I was demobilized in Czechoslovakia in May of 1945. For my efforts in the war, I was presented with the Third Class Order of Glory, First Class Order of the Great Patriotic War, the Medal of Valor, and many other symbols of merit. After the war, I wanted to find out if any of my relatives in Romania survived. I applied for a visa to go search for them, but my request was denied. After crossing the border illegally and being caught, I spent the next 3 years in prison.

Faina Averbach
I was born on February 19, 1922. After completing my primary education, I entered the Leningrad Pediatric Institute. At the start of the war, I was called in to serve in the army and worked from January 5th of 1942 to November 13th of 1943 as a nurse in the 95th military hospital. My rank was Senior Sergeant. After the war, I completed my education at the institute and began working as a pediatrician. I was awarded the medals For the Defense of Leningrad and For Victory over Germany. In 1997, I immigrated to the United States of America.

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Mikhail Avrutin
I was born on April 10, 1927 in Luhansk, Ukraine. My parents and I lived in Yenakiyevo before the war. In 1941, we were evacuated to west Kazakhstan. I served in the military from January of 1945 to December of 1979. I served as a commander for many years and was awarded with 16 medals. The following is an essay written by Mikhail Edidovich for the newspaper Forverts of my difficult youth during the war. A Handful of Seeds Misha mechanically accepted the shovel someone handed him. Only upon looking at the softly crying Lidochka did he at last realize that in the shoddily put-together box laid their father, and that they would never see him again. Some unknown person wrapped his left arm around Lidochka and his right around Misha. They could smell the stale alcohol on his breath as he softly told them, He belongs in the kingdom of heaven now, Semyon Zaharich was a good man. He added, Misha, throw some earth on the coffin. Youre the oldest one left in your family, so its your duty to bury him. Then Ill finish up. The word bury resonated in Mishas ears. His breathing hitched and though his eyes had remained dry until that point, he began to sob quietly. Nodding sadly, the man sighed and took the shovel from Misha and began to throw dirt on the coffin. Lidochka moved closer to Misha and wiped her face with the corner of her handkerchief. She then spoke 74

as an adult, in a voice reminiscent of their mothers: Oh, woe is us. How will we live, Misha? Misha looked at her with no small amount of surprise. It was as though his 13-year-old little sister had suddenly become an adult. He looked away. Misha then recognized the old man burying their father as a kolkhoz guard named Kolya. Not too far from them was a woman named Dusya, cattle-tender who once in a while brought a bottle of milk to their house, and Yekaterina Vasilyevna, wife of the chairman of the kolkhoz who left for the battle front. The cart which brought the coffin was already gone. In spite of the spring sun, Misha was freezing. He had no idea what he was meant to do next. The chairmans wife informed them that their neighbors gathered what they could spare and brought a basket of food to their house. They lived in a small wooden house, one side of which was slightly collapsed. A large Russian oven took up most of the room. Despite its impressive size, it didnt heat too well: rumor had it that a drunken man assembled it in that house. In addition to the oven and the bed on top of it, the house was furnished with a hand-made table with two chairs. It was on that table that the children discovered the small basket of food. Next to the basket was half a loaf of bread wrapped in a newspaper. Misha was standing in line for that bread at the general store when Lidochka ran up to him and between sobs, tearfully delivered the news of their fathers death. He left his spot in line, but someone, maybe even the store clerk himself, felt sorry for the orphans and delivered their bread. 75

Sobbing, Lidochka began to organize the contents of the basket. As Misha worked, he recalled their father, a kind, shy and unobtrusive man, one who was happy with what little he could get. He remembered how his father got an ulcer in his stomach and soon began to refuse the foods and medicines which caused the ulcer to ache. And the naive children didnt understand that they were losing their most important person, assuming that it would get better. He then began to think about writing a letter to his brothers on the front informing them of their fathers death, even though he and Lidochka had yet to receive a single letter from them. He thought about his mother, and whether or not their father would not have died, were she still alive as well. He was torn from his thoughts by the sound of Lidochka whining softly as she held her stomach. This happened to her before, and he knew that it was colic pains and warm milk would help. Recently, there wasnt enough food to go around, and they were unable to get milk at all. On the rare occasion that they were able to obtain some, they saved it for their father. But their father tricked his children and made them drink it instead. As soon as he discovered a half-liter bottle of milk in the basket, Misha deftly started a fire in the oven and boiled the milk for his sister. He poured some in a dented aluminum cup and watched as Lidochka drank the hot milk in small sips. It was then that he began to feel dizzy a side effect of the hunger, he figured. The last time either of them ate was yesterday morning. They pushed the table closer to the oven and hungrily ate the bread, washing it down with waterdistilled milk. Misha helped his sister up to the bed on top of the oven and thought back to five years ago, when they buried their mother. He was only eleven years old then, but he never forgot how his father and all their relatives and close friends gathered at

the table. He remembered how his father began to sob without tears and proclaimed that he would raise his children. Mishas older brother then hugged their father and assured them that everyone would help, and that it was only a matter of time before his siblings all grew into adults themselves. But Misha and Lidochka were now all alone. Where would they go from there? They had little money, but even if they had more, they were not allowed to purchase anything with it. His father would always exchange goods for food, but it had gone on for so long that there was no longer anything to exchange. The milk and a small piece of salty bacon reminded Misha of an adventure he and his family had while traveling as they waited at a train station for a long time. Misha noticed the train beginning to move ever so slowly, but his father and older brother were not around. Trying not to disturb his sister, he got up from his bench and to the platform. The train picked up speed. He saw his older brother standing by the door, and his father running alongside the train. He passed his older son a bottle of milk before grabbing on to the rail and climbing aboard the train himself. He was barely able to make it, but fell on the train at last. As soon as he did, a young man wearing a military uniform jumped aboard the train at the last moment as well. He helped Mishas father to his feet and told everyone in the cabin that he was on his way to say goodbye to his aunt. Misha understood that he was drafted into the Red Army. The man, Kostya, willingly told them of his family, his work in the kolkhoz, and of the evacuees who lived there. Theyre good people, he said carelessly, even though theyre Jewish... Feeling as though he had said something wrong, Kostya looked around and with a laugh, added, Forgive me, I didnt mean to sound cruel. Are you Jewish as well? Its just this saying we have, a Jew is no different from a bur, but until recently, we had never met any. But now we have. Theyre suave and literate. Its just that they dont know the work we

do, and very hungry ones arrived. We helped them for nothing back then, but now, they all work. One seamstress, though very old, keeps on sewing for the entire village. And its not as though all evacuees are Jewish. Forgive me, of course, I dont mean any harm by what I say, Im just far too curious for my own good. Its no wonder my mother always taught me he who doesnt save his words will earn no profits... Everyone laughed. Kostya removed his knapsack and took out the food he had inside: bread, a piece of salty backon, onion, and a potato cooked in its skin. The kind man bid the family farewell and left all the food for them. In the morning, Misha was called to the selsovet (village administration) and given a paper stating that on April 22nd, 1942, his father Avrutin Semyon Zaharovich died and was buried. The secretary looked Misha over, and then looked to a portrait of Lenin. She then said that it was awkward filling out the documents on Lenins birthday. Misha then remembered that his father advised him to keep his distance from that woman. When they were holding a farewell party for Mishas older brother and the other young men about to leave for the army, she cruelly remarked to his father, Its about time that yours went off to fight as well, that way it wont just be ours coming home in caskets. Mishas father was stunned at first, but then calmly answered, I dont know who of yours is fighting, but I hope he returns from the war, healthy and victorious. I have three sons on the front, and Im now saying goodbye to the fourth. Would have gone myself, but they wont take me. But you are a very unkind person... After their fathers funeral, the days went by slowly and painfully, as the orphans were each day concerned with whether or not they would have enough to eat. Misha and Lidochka constantly searched for work where they could. He went to the gang and attempted to find work at the general 78

store, with the fishermen all to no avail. The frail and thin fifteen-year-old did not create the impression of a strong worker. His peculiar shyness didnt help. Hearing Do you have a job for me? resulted in the common reaction of people simply shrugging their shoulders. Unable to push the discussion further, Misha apologized and left. The gang of cooperatives asked him what his skills were, who he lived with, and gave him a few potatoes. He then worked at the general store for some time, filling in for the senior employee. Lidochka, more social and resourceful than her older brother, could found work more often. She would sometimes wash floors, look after children, or feed farm animals. She returned home tired, but fed, and brought her earnings with her: some vegetables, grain, sometimes bread, porridge, and sometimes even a bottle of milk or cottage cheese. They spent their evenings together in their home, sometimes going out to see a movie, where they were allowed in for free. Almost every evening, they would fantasize about how well they were going to live after the war was over, once their brothers returned from the front. But they never received any letters from them... The orphans approached a cold and hungry winter. When they first moved in, their father and older brother took care of the firewood. Even though the oven did not warm up as it should have and they often woke up freezing, they somehow survived the winter. But now they had long ago run out of firewood. They were alone in an unfamiliar region, and as always, hungry. These orphans had no family, and nobody needed them in theirs. Some of the larger cities had evacuation centers which might have helped them, but there in the small village, they had no such organizations to turn to. They had no official affiliation with the kolkhoz, When Misha walked by the wife of the chairman; she simply walked on, not even seeing him. 79

The boy found himself contemplating more and more often whether or not his life was worth living anymore. He was afraid of these thoughts, afraid that without him, his sister would die as well. He remembered his fathers promise to raise his children, and considered himself responsible for her wellbeing. This reasoning was what kept him going and forced him to keep on looking for a place in this unfamiliar world. Unfortunately, frequent encounters with misfortune and the complete indifference of everyone around him brought those thoughts back to his mind time and again. He soon realized that Lidochka was a lot more successful in obtaining food for them, and that it wasnt him helping her, but her helping him. Without me, this food she brought would be enough to feed her twice, he thought, so why does she even need me anymore? This reasoning stayed with him day and night, and he began to assure himself that without him, it would be easier for his sister to live. One evening, they were watching a movie called We from Kronstadt at the theater. A certain scene left a very strong impression on Misha, where the seamen in the movie tied rocks to their necks and jumped into the ocean off a cliff. These are real men, capable of doing it, he thought all evening. The following morning, after eating a piece of bread and half a potato, Misha left to go to the general store to unload the delivery car. The car never showed, but the store owner gave him a handful of seeds for free regardless. He spent a long time wandering the village, weighing the consequences of his decision in his mind. He came home tired, with every intention of committing the act. When Lidochka asked him about his work, he explained that the unloading would take place after lunch. He poured the handful of seeds on the table, saying that he got tired of them. Grabbing a piece of rope, he left. 80

He and Lidochka visited that steep cliff before. Misha climbed up to the top of the slope, about ten meters high, and began to look for rock of sufficient size that would keep him underwater in the river. He couldnt find a rock like that, and the pain of hunger was distracting. Misha then began to sob, accusing himself of being a coward and of purposefully failing to find a sufficient rock. The twilight began to set in. Weak from hunger, he sat there, sobbing once in every while. This was where his sister found him, having guessed where he would be. They returned home, both crying, and promised to live, to care for one another, and to wait until their brothers returned home from the war. They lived. Misha went on to go to school, where he was every day given a bowl of soup. Lida found work as a housekeeper, worked a lot, but was never hungry again. In 1944, they returned to their hometown. Misha left for the army, became an officer, and served for 33 years. Today, he lives in California. Lida graduated from a college of crafts and got married. She died in 1975. Only two of their brothers returned from the front, Zahar and Simon. The oldest disappeared without a trace in 1941 and the fourth, Vladimir, died in combat in 1942.

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Vladimir Bagotsky
By Victor Vodkin from the newspaper Vzglyad Living in Russia, I had a rather extensive social circle. Emigration changed that. Along with the freedoms gained came the chance to look around myself and see the world I was living in. This gave me the opportunity to meet some very interesting individuals, among them, Vladimir Sergeyevich Bagotsky. He was born on January 22nd, 1920. After receiving his high school diploma, he had a choice between pursuing either music or chemistry. He chose the latter and continued his education at Moscow State University. The armys medics discovered that he had a heart condition, so when the war began, he was not called away to fight. He instead did work that would be easier on his heart, from digging anti-tank trenches to working at the ammunition factory. In 1944, Vladimir prepared his Ph.D. Dissertation while working in a laboratory. This gave him valuable experience for his future career, from specialized skills such as working with chemicals, to more tedious busy work such as taking inventory. In 1947, he defended his dissertation and took a vacation in Moscow State Universitys vacation house. It was there that he met Irina Yablokova. 82

Vladimir worked as a lab assistant for two more years before being fired for political reasons. In discussions of politics, he stated his independent point of view. The party functionary commented, Bagotsky is always quiet. I dont know what goes on in that head of his. After spending six months searching for work, he at last found the job he would be working for the next 16 years. In spring of 1952, he married Irina. Vladimir was working as a senior chemist when the University, in order to strengthen their department, brought in a new director of engineering named N.C. Lidorenko. He was recruiting employees regardless of their ethnic background. In spite of his suspicious history, Vladimir was then hired as the manager of the new chemical systems lab. The importance of their jobs protected the useful Jews who worked in the lab. Vladimir was invited to speak with S.P. Korolev (the head Soviet rocket engineer and designer during the Space Race) which brought about an alliance with his company. He became one of the leaders in a project involving rockets, then various other projects including artificial satellites. His work was

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awarded with the medal Labor of the Red Banner, as well as other various Orders and medals. He then quit working for the Institute, disagreeing with the Directors ideas. In 1985, Vladimir retired. He and his wife won Green Cards and Immigrated to the United States of America in 1988. He published many articles in various scientific publications, including two books in the US: Fundamentals of Electrochemistry, of which two editions were made.

Lazar Balon
1908 2006 I was born in 1908 in Ukraine. I worked as a dental assistant in Ukraine and Leningrad. In 1937, I graduated from the 1st Institute of Medicine in Leningrad and continued working on my Ph.D., studying to become an orthodontic surgeon. During the Finnish War, I commanded the surgical platoon. From 1941 to 1944, I was the leading specialist in facial and orthodontic surgery on the Leningrad and Karelia fronts. During this time, I continued my studies and published the results. For my efforts in the war, I was awarded one first and two second degree Orders of the Great Patriotic War and two Orders of the Red Star. After the war, I continued my research and earned my Ph.D. In 1965, I was awarded the title of The Professor of Surgical Dentistry. Over 200 of my scientific writings have been published. Lazar lived in California from 1991 until 2006. He was an honorary citizen of Palo Alto.

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Boris Basin
I was born on June 21, 1920. When the war began, I had just completed my education at a military academy in Simferopol and was awarded the title of Lieutenant. Before that, I graduated from a medical school in Bryansk and was assigned as a commander of the medical platoon. I entered the war in November of 1941 where I was a part of the 17th brigade assigned to defend Moscow. We pushed forward and defeated the German soldiers near the city. I later participated in the liberation of Ukraine, Belarus, Poland and the city of Kennigsburg. I was wounded in Prussia and spent about 20 days in a field hospital. Our division then participated in the takeover of Berlin, next to Reichstag. On May 8th of 1945, we were relocated to Prague. By the end of the war, I was a senior lieutenant. Our division went back to the city of Lida in Belarus on foot. Many of us were wounded and in need of medical attention. I was awarded two second degree Orders of the Great Patriotic War, two Orders of the Red Star and 14 other various medals.

Antonina Basyuk
I was born on August 17, 1913. Before the war, I completed my education at the Institute of Engineering and Economics in Tbilisi. During the Great Patriotic War, I worked as a junior nurse at the 1418th military hospital. I was awarded many medals. In 1994, I immigrated to the United States of America

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Alexander Batratsky
I never did any sports when I was young, nor could I ever boast a healthy immune system or strong endurance. In addition, I never became accustomed to doing physical labor. It is in times of war, especially in dangerous situations, that all the unknown strengths and capabilities of a man can lead him to accomplish that which he once thought impossible. This happened to me in Warsaw, in October of 1944. The staff officer ordered me and another soldier to deliver a packet of top secret information to the command center. To do this, we would have to cross a 50-foot bridge. Both wind and rain threatened the safety of our crossing. Halfway across the bridge, we saw a tank slowly coming toward us across the bridge. It was pitch black and the tank had no headlights. The situation was dire: we couldnt turn back, nor was there enough space for us to go around it. I hardly managed to get one leg out of the way before I felt the other one being pressed against the bridge by the tanks treads. After the tank drove by completely, I fell into the river. I couldnt feel my right leg at all and the freezing water made it hard to breathe. The other soldier jumped in the river as well. We werent too far from the shore, so he helped me get out of the water and onto the rocky shore. He quickly ran back to where the regiment was stationed and returned with a car. Freezing and soaked to the bone, I was taken back. 88

After spending the night cooped up in many blankets and trying to keep warm, I was taken to a hospital, where I spent two months with a broken leg. Though my leg healed, the scars from the caterpillar tread remain.

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Faina Beilina
I was born on May 2 nd, 1917 in Vitebsk, Belarus. My family moved to Moscow when I was 14. There, I attended the Lenin Polytechnic Institute of Chemistry and later the Department of Chemistry of the Lenin Teaching Institute. After graduating, I began work at the Chemical Warfare Academy (Academy of Protection against Chemical Warfare). I first worked as a Senior Laboratory Technician, then as a Junior Associate Researcher. In 1972, I defended my dissertation and earned my PhD. I worked at the Academy for 40 years running various scientific experiments and teaching both native and international chemistry students. During the war, I traveled to the front with groups of colleagues from the Academy. We used smoke screens to hide the American ships that brought us food and military relief. I earned various medals. I was married to Dr. Ilya Borisovitch Beilin who later died in Moscow. In 1990, I came to America with my son Boris, his wife Irina and their two children.

Leonid Belostotsky
I was born in 1912. I was called to the army in August of 1941 as a commander of the organizational division in a fleet of bomber planes. We helped prepare the planes for long flights. In September of 1944, we were relocated to the Far East to participate in the war against Japan. I was awarded an Order of the Great Patriotic War, an Order of the Red Star and many other medals.

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Joseph Berger
I was born on December 12, 1918. After graduating from the Institute of Technology, I worked as a construction engineer. From 1941 to 1945, I was on the battlefront as a Technician Lieutenant. I was awarded with the Second Class Order of the Great Patriotic War, the medal For Victory over Germany and 11 various anniversary medals. I came to the United States of America in 1992.

Semyon Borukhov
Semyon Borukhov is a man of great achievement. He is a surgeon of highest qualification, he has a Ph.D. in the medical field (1970), a professor (1973), the Chair of the Department of Anesthesiology and Critical Care Medicine (19741996), Dean of the Pediatric Department of the Samarkand State Medical Institute (1988-1995), Chief Anesthesiologist and Emergency Physician at the Samarkand District Health Department (1964-1996), the plenary member of the All-Union Society of Anesthesiologists and Critical Care Physicians (1970-1996), the member of four International Congresses, All-Union and Republican conventions and scientific conferences, the author of 170 scientific publications - monographs, manuals, articles and guidelines. S. Borukhov stood at the very source of the sciences of anesthesiology and critical care in Uzbekistan. He was a captivating, enthusiastic scientist, who inspired others with his ideas and aspirations. He is a person of great integrity, culture, and original thought. Semyon Borukhov was born in 1930 in the city of Andizhan (Republic of Uzbekistan), in the family of a shoemaker. His father, Abram Borukhov, was killed in the war in 1942, and his widow, Yail Yagudayeva, brought up their five children alone. Despite all the hardships, Yail did an admirable job - all of her children received higher education. 93

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Among the five, Semyon was the one who most avidly devoted his time to studying science. As a result, he got a B.A. degree, a Doctoral Candidate diploma, a Docent diploma, a Ph.D. in Medicine, and a Professorship. Semyon was a gifted student, so after graduating from high school he easily joined the Samarkand Medical Institute. In 1955, Semyon graduated from the Medical Institute with Honors, and became a surgeon. Immediately after graduation, he was referred to work as an attending physician at the General Surgical Clinic of the Central Republican Hospital. It is at this hospital that he later became an Assistant Professor in the Department of General Medicine, a Docent, a Department Chair, and, finally, a Professor. In 1958, Semyon Borukhov was noticed by the famous surgeon of the time, Professor P. Karlenko. Professor Karlenko sent Semyon to the Leningrad Military Medical Academy, to specialize in anesthesiology. After completing his training, Semyon returned to Samarkand, and started actively introducing the new methods of anesthesiology in his practice. He thus became the first anesthesiologist in the Republic of Uzbekistan, since in those remote times this specialization did not exist there. Semyon Borukhov was a talented and hard-working researcher. In 1962, without completing a due course in graduate studies, he submitted a Candidacy Dissertation entitled, The Development of Aorta ... in Human Embryos (in the light of studies of infants born with cardiac defects). The Dissertation Committee decided to bestow upon Semyon Borukhov the degree of Ph.D. This new profession captivated Semyon so much that each year he would go to Moscow, to the Central Extension 94

Program for Medical Practitioners. In 1964, Semyon specialized in intensive care, studying under the pioneer of this profession in the Soviet Union, Professor V.Negovskiy. Vladimir Negovskiy conducted his first experiments in reviving people during World War II. When he saw the ardor of his new student, he and Professor of General Medicine, U. Aripov created a special course in anesthesiology and intensive care for third-year students, and recommended Semyon Barukhov as a lecturer for the course. Along with teaching, Semyon also conducted practical studies with groups of students. In 1964, Professors Aripov and Damir, the Chair of the Department of Anesthesiology and Intensive care at the Central Extension Institute for Medical Practitioners in Moscow entrusted S. Borukhov with a new research topic, Idiosyncrasies of Pain Management in the Conditions of Combined Radiological Trauma (experimental base). Usually this type of research takes many years to complete. However, Borukhov understood the urgency of this research, and worked with incredible speed, giving it his all. Over time, the results of this research served as a base for his Doctoral Dissertation. In 1970, Borukhov presented his Doctoral Dissertation research in Tashkent. This was one of the most important days in his life. His Dissertation was the first monographic work on anesthesiology, and, therefore, the first dissertation on this subject not only in Uzbekistan, but in all of Central Asia. In 1973, Semyon Borukhov became a Professor at the Department of Anesthesiology and Intensive Care. Semyon Borukhov worked as a Chair of this department between 1974 and 1996, and as a Dean of the Pediatric 95

Department of the Samarkand Medical Institute between 1988 and 1996, the year he moved to the United States. His research in the area of hyperbaric oxygenation allowed this innovative scientist to bring into wider practice the treatment of hypertension in elderly patients, for the first time in the Soviet Union. Semyon Borukhov was the leading professor for eleven Candidacy Dissertations, and two Doctoral Dissertations, thus creating his own school of science - the school of Semyon Borukhov. He and his students introduced many innovations in a wide array of medical issues, including the treatment of blood, into Soviet medical practice. One of their important achievements was the introduction of new methods of anesthesia in obstetrics. Previously, in order to administer a Caesarian section, doctors would put the patient under using ether anesthesia. In these cases, the babies were often born in the condition of narcotic depression, and at times did not survive. Semyon Borukhov and his students introduced a new analgesic, called phentanil, which is 100 times stronger than morphine, and does not affect the mothers life functions, nor endanger the embryo. For this research, Semyon Borukhov earned an All-Union Award, and a patent. Scientific investigation of various uses of hyperbaric oxygenation led to the discovery that it assisted facilitated complete recovery of brain functions after craniocerebral injuries with the loss of speech, vision and movement. The results of this investigation were reported at the IV International Congress on Hyperbaric Medicine held in Israel in 1994. The results of this research were introduced into medical practice, for pain relief following radiotherapy in cancer 96

patients, thyroidal dysfunctions, ulcers, coronary heart disease, asthma, blood infections, and many others. Semyon Borukhov authored over 170 scientific works, including monographs and manuals for students, assistants, intensive care physicians, etc. Most of his articles were published in leading medical journals, including Anesthesiology and Intensive Care, Clinical Medicine, Surgeons Bulletin, and Uzbekistan Medical Journal (UMJ), among others. Semyon Borukhov was three times nominated for the award of Meritorious Agent of Uzbek Science (1980, 1990, and 1992); however, the Presidium of Uzbekistan did not grant him this award. Borukhov was bestowed government awards only three times. Semyon Abramovich is an incredibly interesting person, well liked by many. He is always calm and smiling, chivalrous and handsome. He has earned a reputation of an honest, sincere man, one who always seeks and tells the truth. One of his greatest achievements is the upbringing of his two wonderful, talented children, who are now themselves Doctoral Candidates in Medical Sciences. In 1996, Professor Borukhov with his family emigrated to the United States of America.

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Bronya Braverman
I was born on December 25, 1921. I graduated from the Librarian Institute and began work as a librarian. During the Great Patriotic War, I was evacuated. For my efforts during the evacuation, I was awarded the medal For Valiant Work during the Great Patriotic War. I came to the United States of America in 1996.

Ruzhena Chehanovskaya
For me, a Polish Jew living in d, the war began in September of 1939. I was the youngest of five siblings. The fascists forced all the Jews into a ghetto. We lived there for several frightening months. We were then informed that within 24 hours, we would all have to evacuate the ghetto and stand outside on the square. Those who did not make it in time were shot to death. My sick grandmother who lay in bed at the time perished this way. It was the first death I had witnessed firsthand. There was a line of carriages waiting at the square. Those who could not walk were seated in carriages and everyone else followed on foot. Those who were too tired to walk were beaten, attacked by dogs and shot to death. We walked toward an unknown destination, not knowing what awaited us. Suddenly, the line stopped. One carriage had run into another. We could hear gunshots, dogs barking and screams. People began to panic. I was near the end of the line and heard someone yell in Polish, Run for your lives! The fascists then divided the families into separate lines so that nobody would know where they were. I didnt know where my parents or relatives were. My sister Regina saw me, grabbed my hand, and whispered run! We ended up in a group of escapees. The lines were being led to a death camp. There, all my family and relatives perished. We run toward the border of the Soviet Union. Hungry 99

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and tired, we walked through the frigid nights. On the road, I would constantly freeze and fall to the ground. The cold made me sleepy. My sister rubbed me with sand to wake me up every time. I got frostbite on my feet, but thanks to my sister, we managed to reach the Soviet border. There were crowds of people already gathered in Biaystok. The border patrol would not let us through, warning that they would begin shooting if we did not go back the way we came. The people answered, Kill us, we wont go back. We were soon let through, registered, loaded aboard a supply train, and taken to Krasnoyarsk County in Siberia. The conditions were bad, but we were alive. We were given lodging in barracks, given a ration of bread and soup. The adults worked in coal mines. After a year, we were all given several regions to choose from for a permanent settlement. We were not allowed to live in cities. My sister Regina, hoping that some of our relatives were still alive, asked to be sent to Belarus. We were sent to a village near Minsk. In May of 1941, we arrived there. On the 22nd of June, the Great Patriotic War began. On July 19th, we found ourselves in another ghetto Minsk, the most frightening concentration camp. Flyers were everywhere, informing the people of the Jewish ghetto in Minsk. Within five days, all Jews were required to relocate to the ghettos. Failure to obey this would lead to death. Then began the roads of death: looting, inspections and rape. Death seemed imminent. Every Sunday morning, the Jews were forced to report to the city square for roll call. We had to wear yellow patches and a piece of white cloth with our house number on it. Failure to obey this would lead to death. To escape the looting and inspections, people dug foxholes 100

under their houses. These holes were called malina. There was a malina under our house as well. It was under our kitchen cabinet. Thanks to this malina, we were able to escape the looting and inspections when we made it inside in time. One particularly bloody day was March 2nd of 1942. It was the most frightening day of my life, as well as the lives of everyone else from the ghetto. Five thousand innocent people were shot to death, including the elderly and children. Lines of people guarded by escorts were returning home from their jobs when they were killed and buried in a mass grave on Ratomskaya Street on the territory of the ghetto. Orphans were simply thrown into the hole and covered with sand. Executioner Wilhelm Kube arrived and threw candy into the grave full of orphans. My blood ran cold from the sounds of screaming children. My sister Regina and her one year-old daughter perished in that grave. During the panic, a few children and I managed to run away from our death line. Throughout the entire ordeal, the ghetto was never brought to its knees. The fascists couldnt manage to break our spirits. People were killed, tortured and hung, but they continued to fight. There was an underground organization of typographers and intelligence. Despite the imminent threat of death, escapes were organized and executed. After the horrors of March 2nd, the resistance members decided to bring people out more often. In the ghetto, the fascists began a series of nighttime operations. They would break into houses and kill the sleeping people. I heard shooting, screams and the cries of children. The streets ran red with blood. We were saved by the malina. It was important to get inside as quickly as possible, which was difficult since many people lived in each room. Neither death nor torture would prevent us from fighting for our lives. 101

and children. Commander Shalom Zorin managed to lead his group through the swamp without losing a single person. He later died in Israel. I managed to escape the ghetto in 1943 with a group of people. The Germans put Jews in small rooms, forcing 8-10 people into a room. An old man named Zyama Zilbergleit lived in the same room as me. He once told me, Be prepared. I found out that a group of people will escape to the partisans tonight. You dont belong to this group, but follow. When I give the signal, crawl after them. I cried and didnt want to part with him; I wanted to die with him, since I had nobody left. He hugged me and told me, You have to live. Im old; Ill die with the others. He then told me that if I was spotted and told to go back, that I should threaten to scream. And thus, we parted. Thanks to him, I ended up in this group led by Commander Zorin and remained with them until the liberation of Belarus. The war ended and I found myself in an unfamiliar country. I had no relatives and no friends. Minsk was nearly in ruins. I wandered the streets, looking for a place to live. The group consisted of Minsk residents. After the war, they returned home. For some time, I lived with the friends I made in the partisan group. I could not stay with them for a long time. I was fortunate to find work as 103

Identification No. 424, issued to R. D. Chekhanovskaia by the Association of Jews Former Prisoners of Ghetto and the Nazi Concentration Camps.

The fight against fascism did not stop. The intelligence informed the partisans of a train of military supplies moving to and from the front and of the location of the Germans in Belarus, and the German trains were blown up. The most important task was rescuing as many people as possible and sending them to the forest where the partisans were. A band of partisans was formed. More than 600 Jews rescued from the ghetto joined it. The partisans had medicine and doctors. They had gun masters who would collect and repair guns. They also had typographers who spread the news. The partisan group consisted of more than 600 Jews, but the ghetto still had over 80,000. The population of the ghetto decreased rapidly. People understood that the end was near. The borders of the ghetto were guarded both day and night. Our every move was watched closely. Despite that, people continued to escape. Aiming to destroy the partisan group, several thousand men from Hitlers army surrounded the area they were located in, complete with tanks and planes. The partisans were pushed back to a swamp. The blockade lasted four weeks. It soon turned into a battle. Our group consisted mainly of women 102

a dishwasher at a restaurant. I was still very young, but the people there pitied me. I was happy to eat the scraps left by the diners, and was no longer hungry.

In 1946, I married a Russian and moved to Moscow with him. In 1986, my husband died from diabetes. I was left alone with two children, and life was very difficult. I worked as a hairdresser. On November 4th of 1991, I immigrated to the United States of America. I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and many medals.

Dear Ms. Chekhanovskay! By sharing the memories of all you have gone through during the years of Holocaust, you gave future generations the opportunity to feel a personal connection to history. Your interview will be carefully preserved as a part of the fullest bank of memories ever created. Even far in the future, people will be able to see your faces, hear your voices, and learn about your destinies. They will have the opportunity to hear, learn, and always remember. Thank you for your invaluable gift, for your courage, for your generosity. With deep respect, Steven Spielberg, Director of the Foundation

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David Chireshkin
I was born on July 2nd of 1922. In 1941, I was drafted into the army and served until 1945 on the front. I served on the 77 th division of anti-aircraft warfare as a Junior Lieutenant. I was wounded in battle. For my efforts, I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and various medals. After the war, I worked as a doctor and professor.

Anatoly Dyskin
1908 2006 I was only fifteen when the war started. We lived in Kharkov, Ukraine. My father, Professor Arnold Dyskin died from an incurable disease. In September of 1941, my mother and I were evacuated to Chelyabinsk, Ural. Most of our close relatives remained and perished there. My story is devoted to their memory. My fathers brothers were physicians. In 1941, as the war started, they worked in different military hospitals. My mothers relatives belonged to the Fabricant family, the most famous among them Professor Moses Fabricant, a specialist in General and Facial surgery. Long before the war, he had many friendly colleagues in Russia and abroad. One of them, a German surgeon, Professor Beer granted him a protection passport. Professor Fabricant believed that it could protect him even under the Nazi occupation, so he remained in the city and other relatives followed his naive expectations. As soon as we settled in Chelyabinsk, we began sending letters to our relatives in Kharkov. We only received two postcards in response and understood that there would be no more letters from them when we read in the newspaper about the fascist atrocities and extermination of the Jews. Overwhelmed with sorrow, we sent a letter to another Fabricant, Michael, who was dying from starvation in Leningrad. He answered that Professor Moses Fabricant had 107

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been evacuated from Kharkov by the local authorities, hours before the city was occupied. Michaels wife, who was lying sick in bed, couldnt move and remained there. In 1944, when our city was at last liberated, we learned about the fates of our relatives. Together with many of Kharkovs Jews, they were executed and thrown into a mass graveyard near the mountain Kholodnaya. Professor Fabricants wife as well as the other disabled who couldnt walk fast was shot to death on the way to the mountain. Miraculously, Professor Fabricant came to the city of Frunze, Kyrgyzstan, where he headed a Surgery Clinic in the Institute of Medicine and lived for the next ten years. In 1944, I was drafted into the Red Army. After service in a Border Patrol unit and studies in a medical school, I enrolled in the Military Medical Academy. After graduating from the Academy, I served in the army until 1968. I was awarded medals For Battle Merits and For the Victory over Germany and named a Distinguished Worker of the Russian Federation Social Service.

Moishe Fainblit
I was born in 1912. In the first days of the war, I was drafted into the army. I fought under Stalingrad and in the Rostov region, participated in the liberation of Donbass and Krasnodon, the city of Rovenky and others. In June of 1943, I was sent to the 1st Belorussian Front as backup. I then participated in the liberation of Warsaw, d and other cities and villages of Poland. We took Berlin and other German cities as well. I was awarded two Orders of the Great Patriotic War, and Order of the Red Star and many medals.

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Isaac Farber
1908 2006 I was born in 1923, in the small town of Gusino in the Smolensk region. Most of the towns population was Jewish. In 1939, my parents sent me to my aunt in Leningrad. There, I studied in an industrial school and then worked as a turner at a factory manufacturing printing machines. As the war started, I was drafted into the army and enrolled in a communication unit at the Leningrad front. We were loaded onto a barge and delivered to Kronshtadt and then to Orannienbaum. There we were surrounded by the German, Hungarian and Finnish troops. As a soldier of the 64th Regiment of the 71st Guard Division, I participated in the battles for the cities of Narva and Vyborg. During one of these battles, our platoon was ambushed by the Finnish troops. On August 28th of 1943, I was severely injured. A long treatment followed in many hospitals. When I returned to Orannienbauum, I experienced many difficulties, such as receiving a ration card or getting back into my room in the dormitory, which was then occupied by other tenants. Though it was long ago, I still remember it as though it were yesterday. After all my experiences, Im happy to spend the rest of my life in America with my dear wife Tamara, my son Gennady, and my two wonderful grandsons. 110

Lev Finkelshtein
1925 2006 I was born in Rostov-on-Don, and I finished eighth grades before the War. In October of 1941 the Germans approached Rostov. The entire population of the city, including schoolchildren, was digging trenches, anti-tank ditches, etc. We did it all by hand; we had no equipment besides our shovels. And in November our family mother with children (my father had been enlisted in the army) evacuated to the city of Grozny. The Germans took over Rostov and progressed further inland. Soon they were nearing Grozny. All 16 and 17 year olds were enlisted to protect the city. This was very sudden, and quite nerve-wrecking. This was the beginning of my life as a soldier: I had not even turned seventeen. I found myself in the artillery regiment 351 of the sniper division. With this regiment I marched from the Caucasus to Bratislava through the Ukraine, Poland and Czechoslovakia. I became a scout at the platoon that directed a howitzer battery. We were a part of the infantry formation, and provided protective fire for the infantry. In 1942 the Germans focused all their forces in the direction of the Caucasus and Stalingrad, in order to take over the countrys oil reserves, cut off the south of Russia. Our division was employed in defense in the piedmonts of the Caucasus, near the city of Ordzhonikidze (Vladikavkaz). 111

We were covering the entrance to the Ossetia military road, and did not allow the Germans to get through to the Caucasus. In 1943, when the Germans were surrounded near Stalingrad, we started the offense with the purpose of liberating the districts of Rostov and Krasnodar. In a matter of months we marched from the piedmonts of the Caucasus to the estuaries of Kuban, where the Germans had erected a powerful line of defense, the so-called Blue Line. At the onset of heavy fighting at the Kursk Bulge, we started the offensive action and freed Kuban. After this, our division was sent to the 1st Ukrainian front, the district of Zhitomir, which was involved in heavy fighting. The Germans were once again trying to take over the liberated Kiev. As a part of the first Ukrainian front, we liberated Ukraine, participated in the battles near Korsun-Shevchenkovk, near Ivano-Frankovsk, and thus came up to the borders of our country, further participating in the liberation of Czechoslovakia and Hungary. Those were very emotional days. The people welcomed us as their liberators. We were happy to have been able to make it this far, to protect them from the enemy. We did it. We withstood it! But how difficult it was, from the very first to the very last day, to live under a constant threat of death, to lose our comrades, to see pain and blood all around! I could never forget any of it. This past never let go, it lives within us, in our dreams, in our waking state. For the discovery of German fire units and their suppression on Kuban, I was decorated with the first order that of the Red Star. For battles near Korsun-Shevchenkovsk, I was decorated with the Medal of Honor of the 3rd degree. This medal I received forty years after Victory Day, since I was 112

wounded in Czechoslovakia in April of 1945, one month before victory. I also received the medals For Defense of the Caucasus, For Victory over Germany, and other anniversary orders and medals. On May 9, 1945, I was 19 years old. I still had three years in the military ahead of me, since the soldiers of my age were discharged in 1948; I was still to finish high school, get higher education, and obtain a profession. After that, I worked 44 years in the aviation industry. In 1999 my wife and I joined our son in the United States.

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Samuel Fishman
1918 2006 I was born in 1918. Before the war, I was exempt from military service as a University student. As the war began, I was enlisted into the Leningrad Air Force Technical School. Shortly after, we were sent to fight the German landing troops in the Leningrad region. Because of the repeated German bombardments, our school was evacuated to East Siberia. There, my studies didnt continue for long. Near the end of 1941, I was sent to North Caucasus to serve as a technician in the 562nd Bombardment Regiment. In 1944, the regiment was transferred to the Far East in preparation for the war against the Japanese Army. In 1946, I retired from the military service. I was awarded an Order of the Red Star, an Order of the Great Patriotic War, and other medals.

Tsalel Freedman
I was born on February 9th of 1921 in Staraya Russia. I was two years old when my parent moved to Leningrad and my younger sister Maria was born. In 1940, I graduated from school but was not accepted to any university and was drafted into the army. I served in Sortavala, near Finland. On June 22st of 1941, we found out that the war had begun. On that same day, Finnish planes bombed us, flying planes marked with red stars, masked as Soviet planes. We soon engaged in combat with the Finnish. It was not an even match; many of our soldiers died. We were forced to retreat to the railroad station at Toksovo, about 20 kilometers from Leningrad. The blockade began some time later. The headquarters of the Leningrad Front were located at Uritsky Square in Leningrad. My duty was the delivery of top secret mail to headquarters. I walked 20 kilometers in each direction because the trains were no longer running. With my own eyes, I witnessed the horrors which took place in Leningrad. Those who did not work only received 125 grams of bread per day. Those who worked got 250. In addition, the bread contained filler material. People died from hunger by the thousands. Leningrad was attacked by both cannons and planes. My parents and sister were in the blockaded Leningrad as well.

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I participated in the breakthrough of the blockade of Leningrad and was severely injured in battle. After a long recovery at a hospital, I was declared unfit to continue serving in the army. I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and many medals.

Israel Fukshanskiy
1908 1998 Written by Eleonora Fukshanskaya Before WWII, Israel graduated from the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute with a diploma as a construction engineer. In May of 1941, he was drafted to a military training camp. As the war started, the training was disrupted. Everybody was sent to active military units. On June 24th of 1941, Israel was appointed as a platoon commander. Beginning on July 13th, he commanded an artillery unit of the 47th Reserve Artillery Regiment. A week later, he fought his first battle against the Finnish troops on the Olonetsk Direction at Peterkiryante, east of Lake Ladoga. Together with the 452nd Infantry Regiment, they held their ground along the Tuloksa River for 49 days. On September 7th in 1941, the Finnish troops finally managed to break their front line. During the time they defended that region, Israels unit made 650 shots and lost two guns. Only seventeen of the seventy eight men of his battery remained alive. Israel himself suffered a severe concussion. His comrades helped him cross the Svir River and got him to a hospital. After recovering, he continued to serve in the artillery. From 1943, Lieutenant Fukshanskiys battery launched many attacks on the enemy. The Germans dispersed leaflets promising a reward for the commanders head.

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In 1944, Fukshanskiy was transferred to the Kandalakshi Root in the Polar region. Many men suffered there from the severe cold, vitamin deficiencies, and chicken blindness. Some didnt survive those severe conditions. Fukshanskiy was in Norway on Victory Day. He was decorated with 20 awards. In April of 1946, after being discharged from the Army, he came to work in a Design Institute for the next 48 years.

Aleksandr Galburt
1925 2008 I was born on November 12th, 1925 in Minsk. Before the war I finished seven years of primary school and my first year at the Minsk secondary school of Electrical Engineering. However, in June 1941 I became prisoner of the Minsk ghetto, where all my relatives died in the raids and pogroms (random shootings). I escaped from the ghetto in August 1943 and until the liberation of Belarus participated in the guerrilla movement as a private soldier in Zorins detachment #106, a part of the Baranovichsky division. After all those hard years of fighting, I was assigned a 2nd degree disability. I received my secondary school diploma at a night school for working youth and was then accepted to the Belarusian Polytechnic Institute in 1945. I graduated in 1950 as an auto mechanic-engineer, then worked in various transportation organizations earned my PhD degree in technical sciences. For the next 15 years, I worked as Deputy Director of Research and Development and Deputy General Manager of the Scientific and Industrial Association Transtehnika. I published over 130 works: books, brochures and articles. I also received 17 authors certificates for my inventions and received the awards Inventor of the USSR as well as Partisan of Belarus.

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I was awarded with one gold medal, one silver medal, and three bronze medals by the National Exhibition of Economic Achievements. For my participation in the Great Patriotic War, I was awarded many medals by the Soviet Union, Russia and America. Upon retiring, I was presented with the highest award of Belarus: a Certificate of Honor. In January of 1994 I immigrated to the United States of America with my family.

Boris Galyorkin
Before the war, my family consisted of seven members: my father, my mother, four sisters (Dina, Lyuba, Ida and Sonya) and myself. My father and Ida perished in the Leningrad blockade. My mother and Sonya were shot to death by the Nazis in the suburbs of Leningrad. Dina worked in communications on the Leningrad front and was severely injured. Lyuba worked as a surgeon throughout the entire war. She left her last year of studies at the First Leningrad Institute of Medicine and only after the war did she receive her diploma. On May 22nd of 1941, I turned 14. June 22nd of that year marked the beginning of the war. I was in the sixth grade when the citizens were called to help defend the city and went in my ill mothers place. We dug anti-tank trenches in the suburbs of Leningrad. At the end of September, my neighbor and I were walking to a local government-owned farm to pick up some lettuce when I stepped on a landmine. I suffered a concussion and my right leg was torn off. My neighbor ran away. An old man picked me up and brought me to a school in Pavlovsk on a carriage. The Germans reached Pavlovsk on that very day. A woman (she seemed to be a prisoner of war working as a doctor) bandaged my leg and I was sent with other injured people to a camp of prisoners of war. Somewhere between 50 and 60 people lay on the straw-

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covered floors of those barracks. There we remained for several days before those with the most severe injuries were transferred to a former hospital in Siversky, where that same doctor operated on me. After the operation, she told me to destroy my identification papers, else I would be shot. I later found out that this doctors name was Tatyana Petrovna. I made attempts to track her down after the war, but to no avail. Once daily, we were given soup which consisted of cabbage and the pulp which remained after the oil was squeezed from sunflower seeds. There were four injured people in each room. Understanding my situation, I spent the nights wide awake, making up a new identity for myself. I was Samandor Boris from Tajikistan and I stepped on a landmine. I explained this to Tatyana and that was what she wrote down on my chart. I lived my life one day at a time during those six months spent in the Siversky hospital, never stopping to think of my future. Those who defected from the Soviet Union were given weapons and often came to the hospital. Many gunshots could be heard on those days. They tracked down communists, Jews, Gypsies and all those who looked like them, and shot them right in the hospital beds. The Ukrainian man lying in the bed next to mine was missing both of his legs and despite my claims of being a Tajik; he would constantly frighten me by threatening to turn me over to the Germans since I looked like a Jew. He died of gangrene before he got the chance to do this. I left the hospital in March of 1942 when many patients were dying from hunger or lack of medicine. Tatyana then gave me a document which stated that Samandor Boris, a Tajik born in 1924 was operated on in a hospital in Siversky on October 14th, 1941 and had his right leg amputated following a landmine-related injury. The document was stamped with the official seal of the hospital and I later used it to obtain a passport in Latvia. 122

Tatyana found some clothes for me and I was able to leave the hospital on crutches. There was a wooden single story house not far from the hospital and I went inside. A woman then came out and I asked her for some food. I explained who I was and where I came from; she fed me and let me spend the night. In the morning, she informed me that I could stay there for a while. Her name was Aunt Shura and she lived alone, working part-time at a German kitchen. She was very devoted to her faith and made me pray before dinner and before sleep. She gave me an icon of the Virgin Mary to wear around my neck; I have not parted from it ever since. I lived with her for around two months, sometimes venturing outside and walking by the German kitchen. The chef, a kind old German man named Karl would then give me some rice pudding with raisins and bread. He would sometimes whisper to me, Hitler is kaput. In May, the remaining citizens began leaving the town and Aunt Shura told me that she decided to move further from the front. She gathered a bag of food for me and we parted ways. I attempted to find her after the war as well, but I didnt know her last name and the house she lived in had been burned to the ground. I reached Siverskys train station early in the morning and boarded a wagon carrying goods. The train brought me to the town of Porkhov. There, I walked through the villages with the icon proudly displayed on my chest; without a doubt, it saved me from a certain death. In the spring and summer, I would travel on my crutches from village to village, where I was fed, clothed and bathed by the kind citizens. I did my best to avoid being spotted by the Germans. When they entered a village I was in, I remained hidden. Before moving on to another village, I would ask the citizens if they had heard any news of German occupation 123

there. I dont remember which village he lived in, but a kind old man named Petrovich let me stay with him for a long time. He even crafted a wooden leg for me; I was soon able to walk with a cane instead of crutches. At the end of summer, I found myself in the village of Alexandrovskaya, where I met the Lavrovsky family from Pushkin. Zinaida and Vassily were kind, intelligent people who took a liking to me and let me live with them. I loved them for the kindness they showed me. In the fall of 1942, the Germans gathered all the citizens from the occupied villages, loaded us into train cars and brought us to Latvia where we were dispersed among small villages. We were given as slaves to a wealthy family with a lot of land and various farm animals. We then lived in their barn. Zinaida milked the cows and fed the pigs while I herded the animals and drove to the forest with the farms owner to gather and prepare firewood. We lived there until liberated by the Red Army in 1944. After the war, I began looking for my family in Leningrad by sending letters which remained unanswered. I then decided to return to Leningrad. There, I found my sisters Dina and Lyuba who were still serving in the army. They informed me of the death of our parents and two sisters. With the help of our archived information and my sisters, I was able to get my name and nationality back, as well as a new passport. I then turned 18 and began life anew. I completed my education at the Pavlov Institute of Economics and later at the Leningrad Financial-Economic Institute. I worked as the manager of accounting for various large organizations in Leningrad. 124

My hobby was theater. For 30 years, I was an actor at a local amateur theater in Leningrad. I played many leading roles in classical and Soviet drama productions. I participated and won awards in many local and nationwide festivals. In 1996, I came to America with my children and grandchildren, in poor health. I underwent heart surgery and resumed my active life, even participated in more amateur productions. My eyes were operated on as well, and with my good vision regained, I began to read a lot. Given a new prosthetic leg, I was soon able to walk and even dance. Im grateful for America allowing me the chance to live a long healthy and active life. I am the father of two grown daughters, the grandfather of two grown grandchildren and the great grandfather of a wonderful great granddaughter.

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Vladimir Gelfand
I was on the front from August of 1943 until October of 1944 as a senior sergeant. I was the commander of a division of radio communications. I will try to explain the role of radiomen during the war. It wasnt easy. We were often asked to establish communications with our superiors. After we set up the communications and our commanders spoke with their superiors, the rest of the troops would move on while we rushed to disassemble the devices and catch up. We rarely had the opportunity to rest. Regardless of snow or mud, all the soldiers would lie down and instantly fall asleep for the ten minute breaks we got. When commanded to stand up, we would quickly do so and wake the others. Our marches were arduous, often between 70 and 90 kilometers per day. The sleepless nights we marched through were the most difficult. Radiomen were forced to carry a great weight on their shoulders: a machine gun with spare ammunition, a gas mask (though we later walked without them), a shovel, the radio (16 pounds or more), spare batteries, a winter coat, a backpack, and a small amount of personal items (for those who had any). As for the shovels, everyone wanted the German kind. The handles were sturdier and better constructed. The blade could fold and become a hoe, and the entire shovel collapsed easily for travel. There were soldiers of all ages and professions, even a criminal. All of them were trained in radio operations, but 126

none of them actually knew what their work would entail. The criminal would glare at me with every command I gave and defected over to the German side the first chance he got. A fellow soldier named Valentin Baluyev marched next to me, crying softly during the marches. Another named Vassily Emilianov took Valentins equipment in addition to his own and continued marching in time. Valentin, however, was always able to figure out where we could get food. When our tanks broke or required complex repairs, we were forced to leave them behind. The bodies of dead soldiers and horses lined the roads. The stench of decay followed. The German corpses were always without boots, as our men would take them. German boots were waterproof and wellmade while the Soviet boots allowed water to seep through as though made of paper. We were always caught between hungers and overeating. The military kitchen could not keep up with us, and when it did, we ate pea soup and tasteless porridge. We always craved food and sleep. When we reached empty villages, we would find horses with no owners, cook them, and eat until our stomachs ached. Lice pestered us every step of the way. We would only have to reach under our own armpit and could easily grab a handful of the damn things. We rarely had a chance to bathe, and soldiers were forced to do whatever they could to rid themselves of the lice. We would shake our undergarments over a campfire until they all died and our clothes turned a shade of brown from the flames; this would guarantee a whole day free of lice. Our commander was a terrible navigator. We would sometimes walk for hours only to end up in the place where we 127

started. We began in Kharkiv and marched all the way to the border of Poland and Czechoslovakia.One incident remains a clear recollection in my mind even after all these years. Our entire brigade gathered to view the public execution of a deserter. A young soldier couldnt take it anymore and ran home to Siberia where they were waiting for him and returned him to the brigade. He was shot before our eyes as an example of what happens to those who desert the army. I still recall one of the most difficult episodes of my time in the war. The enemy made an attempt to break through our battalion. Early in the morning of January 24th, 1944, the German planes bombarded our position. There were no Soviet planes in the air. Then came the cannon fire. Two other radiomen and I established a connection with the commander of our brigade. Our commander stated our situation and requested immediate backup. The phrase I transmitted was, Enemy tanks have struck our front lines. The brigade commander told us to hold our ground and await backup. We sat in the basement of an abandoned brick house with several officers. When the commander asked us to state our situation, I looked around to find the officers gone. I responded that there were no officers around and was commanded to go outside and seek them out. As I stepped outside, the battle was raging, yet none of the officers could be found. I reported this. Suddenly, one of our officers, Grinko showed up and made an order for us to pack up our supplies and get out. I ended the transmission, packed up the radio, and made a run for it. We ran toward our brigades headquarters and ended up in a field. As I turned around, I saw many German soldiers and tanks on the horizon. We ran as fast as we could through the snow and sleet. The enemys fire turned into fountains of snow nearby as 128

it struck ground. There were about ten miles to go until we reached the headquarters. It was tiring, and Grinko took my radio and carried it to give me a break. I feared not death, but being taken prisoner. I threw away my coat and continued running alongside the officer. The other two radiomen were running ahead of us. I thought the German tanks were close behind. As I turned, I could no longer see them. Some stayed behind at the village; others fell through the thin ice over the river. It was then that backup finally arrived. The remainder of our battalion joined headquarters. We rested and discussed the battle. January 24th, 1944 became my second birthday. The remainder of our battalion (somewhere between 50 and 60 men) was then taken behind the front lines. Half a kilometer along the way, we were stopped by the Special Forces. Stalins order #227 in 1942 commanded that no battalion was to leave the front. Those who did would be shot to death, sent to punitive battalions, arrested, or returned to their previous location. After a lengthy explanation, only our commander was allowed to pass through. After some time, he returned and took the rest of us along with him. The next episode occurred in the summer of 1944. Our battalion was attacking the Germans with cannons. I was near the commander. We moved forward, keeping as close to the cars as possible. I envied those soldiers only required to carry a rifle. Friendly fire began and the radio communications were established to inform the other part of the battalion, after which the fire ceased. What remained of our battalion was later near a forest when the Germans were firing their cannons. Getting out from our foxhole was dangerous: those who did never returned. Damaged by enemy fire, the trees were frightening to look at. 129

Looking ahead of us, we could see the movement of enemy soldiers. Our own soldiers retaliated with randomly fired machine guns. The commander promised backup via radio and demanded that we attack meanwhile. After 40 minutes, we lied and reported that we had defeated the enemy. We did not have enough men to launch an attack against the Germans; few of us remained as it was. At night, food and mail were delivered. I often received letters from my father, and suddenly, one from a former classmate I had a crush on. How she found my address, to this day, I dont know. The letter felt nice in my hands, but even after reading it twice, I could not understand why she asked my opinion about the relationship between three characters from a famous poem named Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin. The contents of the letter and my current situation were so far disconnected; I didnt even understand who those three people were. I dont remember what answer I responded. In October of 1944, the earth was damp and the foxholes were flooded. Enemy cannons were close by. A fellow radioman and I were placed on tarps and dragged to a nearby field hospital. Without sanitizing our wounds, they simply dressed them. We were both severely injured. The mud was impossible to wade through: few cars were able to get through. The commander of communications of our brigade put in a good word for me and gave his Dodge car which helped us reach the hospital. On the operating table, they removed several pieces of shrapnel, but not all of them. One leg was given a cast, the other, a splint. They bandaged my eye. I was then sent to a real hospital, then another, and finally a third. The first two did not have eye doctors. The doctor was from my hometown as well. The ill were often kept no longer than a week at that hospital. My eye was operated on, but I lost 130

vision in it. I stayed at that hospital for an entire month. At the field hospitals, all my personal belongings had been stolen, including my fathers letters and my only item with real value: a silver German spoon. When I finally left the hospital, they put me on the upper seat of a train cart. The train moved slowly. It reeked of rotting wounds and human waste. My cast itched terribly: either from lice or torn hairs caught in the cast. After a couple of weeks, I removed my splint. The train began to zigzag and I thought we were approaching Dnepropetrovsk. We arrived there and I asked for a nurse to come fetch my mother and brother, but they did not. Eventually, after a month of travel, we reached Tbilisi. Everyone capable of walking got off the train, including myself. I had torn the cast off as well. The unknowing nurses spent some time searching for the one patient who couldnt walk, as their numbers were off. I was taken to the section of the hospital reserved for those with eye injuries and seated on the floor of a long corridor full of other patients. Here, began a beautiful life white bread, butter, sugar, and regular hot meals. It was heaven. I exchanged letters with my mother and my future wife. In addition to my hospital rationed meal, I had wine. After a month, I was put in a four-patient room. The other three were entirely blind and with many wounds; one of them had no arms. We talked about our lives, and about women. In March of 1945, I was discharged from the hospital with shrapnel in my leg and no vision in my right eye. They had done little to heal me, but I was given a chance to regain my health. I was no longer capable of field work. After the war, I graduated from the Polytechnic Institute of Kiev and spent many years working and experimenting with sonar equipment. 131

Aron Gendelman
I was born in 1921, in Zhitomir, Ukraine. Before the war, we lived in Kharkov where I graduated from an Electro-Mechanical College. In March of 1941, I began my mandatory military service. On June 27, I fought in my first battle against the German troops near Velikiye Luky. I was a commander of 45-mm cannon. In our first battle, we destroyed three enemy tanks but were then forced to retreat due to the pressure of the German offensive. We continued to fight for the cities of Smolensk, Vyazma and Yarcevo. In a battle near Smolensk, I suffered a serious wound on my leg. In the first month of the war, the Germans surrounded our three Soviet armies near Vyazma. Our commanders announced, Every man for himself! Together with a friend, I crossed on foot through many Russian regions. It was grueling and painful because of the injured leg. I made a deal with a peasant, exchanging my high soldiers boots for a pair of best shoes. To conceal my status as a soldier, I then exchanged my trench coat for an old pea jacket. In the Kursk region, we knocked on one door asking for some bread. Luckily, the owner was a veterinary doctor. First, he suggested removing the splinter from my injured leg. With no anesthesia and using a veterinary pincer, the doctor removed a piece of metal from the wound. My mastery of the Ukrainian language helped me survive. 132

On December 25, 1941, I came to the city of Kharkov. I hoped my parents were home, but didnt go straight there out of fear of our neighbor: a known Polish nationalist and anti-Semite even before the war. Instead, I went to visit my friend, Victor. Though they didnt recognize me at first in my strange outfit, Victors parents welcomed me into their home. They told me that my parents managed to escape before the Germans occupied the city. They washed and fed me, burned down all my worn-out traveling clothes and gave me clean clothes to wear. For two and a half months, I hid in their cellar. In December of 1941, the Germans ordered the Kharkov Jews to assemble with their valuable possessions at the Tractor Factory. All of them were executed. My uncle, a Jew carrying a Ukrainian last name, Polichenko, and my aunt lived in Kharkov. I found them exhausted from long starvation, finding that the meal on their table consisted only of potato peels. The next day I returned carrying some bread and fat, but my relatives had been taken away. Their neighbor, a Ukrainian man, advised me to visit them at the Tractor Factory... I told him to go to hell. It was clear that they were already executed. The Kuznetsovs were risking their lives by hiding me for such a long time, so I decided to leave and cross the front line. One night, I left the home of my saviors and ran out from Kharkov. I ran all night long until I reached the Sumskaya region. There, a German patrol stopped me on the way and forced me into a concentration camp in Lozovaya. After a few weeks, another prisoner and I found a chance to escape through the gate. It was an opportune moment when the guards were occupied with the arrival of a new group of handcuffed prisoners, Soviet marines. A woman concealed us in her home for a week, then in an empty school building. There, I met a Ukrainian man released 133

by the Germans as a prisoner of war. He had in his possession two certificates of release, one in the name of Victor Milin. I accepted this certificate and became Victor Milin. The document allowed me to remain in the occupied territory for the entire year of 1942. I worked for the peasants cutting grass and digging wells. Unfortunately, the Germans soon ordered recruitment to work in Germany. Along with many other young people, I was forcibly taken there on a packed railway car. When the train arrived in Poland, the doors were opened for a short time. I found a good opportunity to jump out of the running train and once again hiked on foot back to Ukraine. I came to the Western bank of the Dnepr River, near Kremenchug where a man helped me cross the river. I returned to the same village from where I was sent to Germany. Suffering from a cold and cough, I told the locals that I was discharged by a medical examination. But the locals, whose children were taken to Germany, became suspicious. I was forced to run again. It was then that I met a partisan and told him my story. He asked if Id agree to join the partisans and I agreed without a moments hesitation. In 1943, I launched the partisan detachment led by the famous commander Fyodorov. We tried to cross the front line in the Poltava region. When the Red Army moved westward, I underwent an appropriate revision by the military division of the KGB, the so-called SMERSH. I was then allowed to join the army. I served as commander of 120-mm cannon with the 214th Division of the 2nd Ukrainian front. We fought in Hungary and Vienna in a reconnaissance platoon. On May 14, 1945, I completed my warfare journey in Czechoslovakia. I was awarded an Order of the Red Star, an Order of the Great Patriotic War, and many other medals. 134

I am eternally grateful for the generous and courageous family of saviors who protected me. Hiding a Jew was a dangerous and very risky affair. Fedor Kuznetsov died of tuberculosis. The fate of Anna Trofimovna turned out to be very severe; as a native Estonian fluent in foreign language, she was registered as German and worked in a German office. When the occupation ended, a Soviet tribunal sentenced her for collaboration with the enemy. Their son Victor is still alive and currently resides in the city of Yaroslavl. My sister and I found him two years ago and wrote to Yad Vashem about the Kuznetsovs generosity in hiding and saving me from the Nazis. The state of Israel has recognized Victor Kuznetsov as a Righteous Man. After the war, I lived in Ukraine where I met a nice Jewish girl named Ida. We married and have two daughters. In 1996, my wife and I came to the United Sister to live with our daughter.

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Lev Ginzburg
My involvement in the Great Patriotic War began in 1942. I lived in Sukhumi, where the military aviation repair base of the Black Sea fleet resided. Crimea and Novorossiysk were then occupied by the Germans and the Black Sea Fleet was surrounded in Tuapse, Poti and Batumi. The Navys air force was located in Gelendzhik and Pilenkovo. By that time, the Germans had also broken through to the Sukhumi Pass and were within 30 kilometers of the city. Sukhumi was bombed. German submarines surfaced in the bay and fired cannons into the city. The citizens fled Sukhumi and it soon became a ghost town. One of the bombs landed in the dining hall of the air base during lunchtime and around 30 soldiers and officers were killed instantly. It was there at the aviation repair base of the Black Sea Fleet that my service began. My weapons were a wrench and screwdriver for the duration of the war; we repaired and restored airplane motors. Specialists from the factories where the motors were made took care of the most important operations while green workers such as me went through a crash course to learn the skills we needed. The base worked around the clock. Thanks to the efforts of the Primorsk army led by General Petrov (a talented man not liked by Stalin); the Germans were pushed back from the passes of Sukhumi and Tuapse. The air force of the Black Sea Fleet helped make this possible as well. Following the liberation of Novorossiysk, we were relocated 136

to Bolshoi Utlyug in the Melitopol region. There, we repaired torpedo-carrying Il-4 and Boston planes. Odessa was liberated on the 10th of April in 1944. On the 12 , we once again relocated to the citys aerodrome where the Levanovsky summer school once was. We continued work for the Black Sea Fleet and it was there that we met Victory Day.
th

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Yefim Glauberman
I was born on February 5, 1921 in the city of Dnepropetrovsk. Before the war, we lived in Kiev. My father was arrested in 1937, and my mother was expelled from Kiev. After graduating from the 45th Kiev High School, I began studying architecture in the Construction Engineering Institute. In 1939, I was drafted into the red Army, but because my father had been arrested, I was dismissed from the service and allowed to continue my studies. In August of 1941, just before the Germans occupied Kiev, our Institute was evacuated to the city o Kuybyshev. There, I continued my studies and worked on different construction projects, including electrical power stations. After graduating from the Institute, I was sent to the Donbass. There, I was kept occupied by projects for restoration of the destroyed metallurgic industry and construction of new objects. A complex of residential and administrative buildings in the center of Donetsk, based on my project, gained the status of an architectural landmark. My construction designs were implemented in other cities of that region. I remember well the first day of the war, Sunday, June 22 , 1941. I was torn from my sleep by the sounds of remote explosions and immediately jumped out of bed and ran to the balcony. The night was very warm. Over the dark sky, I
nd

saw trenchant arrows of searchlights restlessly scanning the sky, converging and crisscrossing, and diverging in different directions. The sounds of aircraft were heard from afar. From time to time, the searchlights would find the glittering contour of an airplane. While the projector showed that contour, in the same direction followed a stream of tracer bullets from the ground. Having enjoyed the very effective sight, I went back to my bed. I had thought that those were training maneuvers. That afternoon, I had planned to attend a soccer game at the Dynamo stadium; I had bought my ticket in advance. Later in the morning, people were told that Kiev had been bombarded, although the official radio continued to voice its usual programs. Ambulances carrying injured people soon appeared on the streets. A few bombs had fallen on the Bolshevik factory. Only at noon did the radio make an announcement of the important government statement. Molotov, the Prime Minister, began his speech in a disturbing voice. He announced that Germany had broken the Non-Aggression Pact and that the German air force had attacked several cities, including Kiev. A general mobilization was declared. At first, it appeared that the population showed a patriotic and highly optimistic mood. It came as a result of the longtime Soviet propaganda that in case of any aggression, the enemy would be crushed in his own territory, that we would show him where the crawfish spend the winter, and that a proletarian revolution would immediately explode in the capitalists countries. In reality, things didnt turn out that way. In two months, the German troops overcame the weak resistance of the badly prepared Red Army and reached the cities of Kiev and Minsk. A general panic overwhelmed the population. The air 139

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was filled with the ash of burnt documents. It was impossible to even dream of any organized evacuation from Kiev, and forbidden to get out alone and unaided as well. Therefore, most of the citys population had been caught unaware. That was confirmed by the horrible extermination of 75 thousand Jews buried in common graves at the places of Babiy Yar. By the end of August in 1941, our Construction Engineering Institute managed to be evacuated to the city of Kuybyshev. The Soviet government had also been evacuated to that city. We young students were used as a workforce to unload the many boxes delivered from Moscow. A memorable incident remained in my mind from the first days of the war. We had a neighboring family, the Romenskikh. The woman and two beautiful children were already evacuated when the husband was called to the army. A few days later, he came home for a short leave and asked me to take care of the small fish in their aquarium. I think, he said, that the war will end in two weeks and we will all come back home. Unfortunately, the war continued for four long years. But until my own evacuation from Kiev, I kept the promise and continued to feed those small fish. Now, in California, while watching my own goldfish in my aquarium, I continue to ask them, Tell me please, where is my former good neighbor Romenskikh now? Yet my fish keep silence as all fish do.

Avram Gofshtein
1924 2003 By Lyudmila Lopatinskaya Avram Gofshtein and Fanya Rubina were my dear father and mother. Unfortunately, they are no longer with us. Yet in the memories of those close to them, they will always be remembered as cheerful, sociable, hospitable and hard-working people. My mother died on May 8th of 1996 in Kiev, two weeks before we came to America. My father died on March 27th of 2003. Mother did not serve on the front due to her poor vision. The war began as she returned home from her schools graduation ceremony. She and her family were evacuated from Kiev to Alma-Ata where she attended a university and worked in a club. Upon returning to Kiev, she helped rebuild the city, worked hard and later devoted herself to taking care of her family. All the other boys and girls from her class went off to the front and only six returned. After the war, they would meet every year to discuss their accomplishments and bring us, their children along. They did this in the memory of their pre-war lives and those lost classmates who remained forever young in their memories. My father lived in the Kaganovichi region near Chernobyl. When the war began, he volunteered for the army. He was too young, so he was instead sent to the school for radio communications, and later to the front. Surrounded near 141

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Stalingrad, it took him and his comrades three months to break through the German lines. They later forced the Dnepr River and liberated Bulgaria. My father was decorated with many medals. He returned home to Kiev where his family was waiting for him after evacuation in 1946. He studied and later worked. Mother and father met and later married in Kiev. Their home became a place where friends and relatives could always be found. May 9th, Victory Day became the most important holiday for our family. It was a day when everyone would gather around the table with their memories, eat delicious food, drink and sing songs songs about the war, Russian songs, Ukrainian songs, and even Jewish songs. It was a celebration which brought tears to ones eyes, and I myself continue to celebrate it with my own family. My father taught my daughter her first song, The Three Tankers. It is with great joy that recall the memories of my wonderful parents.

George Golubovskiy
1919 2009 I was born in Sevastopol. Those who have seen it only after the war cannot possibly imagine how beautiful it once was. In 1936, I graduated from high school with honors and entered the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute. I was scheduled to defend my thesis on the 26th of July in 1941. Unfortunately, on June 22nd, Germany attacked our country. After I received my diploma, my classmates and I were sent to an airplane motor producing factory in Kazan. We all thought the war would be over soon. We traveled to Kazan by train in the middle of July and began work at the factory. A similar factory in Voronezh was evacuated and merged with ours. Efim Molitsky, the director of engineering told us that while we had a good theoretical education, we were young and inexperienced in the workings of a motor, so we could only perform the simplest of tasks. However, we wore the outfits of engineers and were permitted in the dining hall reserved for engineers. While this declaration shocked us, we soon realized that he was absolutely right. After two to three months of working in assembly, we were promoted to foremen. The work went well, but it was difficult. We were always tired from a lack of sleep: the factory operated in two shifts of 12 hours each, six days a week. For the first year, we lived in dorms twelve kilometers from the factory. 143

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The tram traveled poorly, especially in the winter. We were forced to either crawl in through the windows or sit on the bumper. Otherwise, we would have to walk for two hours. Being late for work was not an option; one of Stalins orders during wartime was that any employee late to work could be thrown in jail. We often spent the nights in the factory, sleeping in the hard chairs, with rats running around underfoot. We were still young, and found it relatively easy to adapt to working under the rule of an iron fist. After some time, I was promoted to manager of a branch located in a penitentiary under the NKVD (which later became the KGB). 600 people worked in this branch. The engineers were regular employees, but the workers were prisoners. Once, a new inmate was brought to my cabinet. He turned out to be that very same director of engineering, Efim Molitsky, who first took us in for work at the factory in Kazan. The reason for his imprisonment was that his factory completed its quota for motor production for an entire month. However, they did not have time to paint a few motors after testing them. I named him my vice manager and helped him as best I could, mostly with food. Unfortunately, after a year, he was transferred elsewhere. During the war, many great minds were repressed and forced to work in factories, mostly those from Moscow. I worked with many of them at my factory. They were all imprisoned for being suspected of anti-Soviet activities. After the war ended, we received newer technology from Germany and began manufacturing newer motors. I later found out that my entire family and all my relatives had been executed by Nazis. I decided to work at the Kazan Institute of Aviation. Several years later, I became the director of a factory 144

which repaired farm equipment. In 1955, I began work at the Kazan helicopter plant. I worked there until October 3rd, 1994, when I immigrated to the United States of America. I received various medals for my efforts during the war.

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Vera Gordon
I was born in 1921. When the Great Patriotic War began, I was a student at the Leningrad Institute of Engineering and Construction. I volunteered for the service and began work at the 1443rd field hospital and donated blood periodically at the Leningrad Order of the Red Banner

Zalman Gork
I was born in May of 1924 to a Jewish family in Voronezh. My father was a cap-master while my mother was our housekeeper. I was the youngest, with two older sisters. My parents dreamed of prospective marriages for their daughters. As the war began, all our dreams and plans were ruined. In July of 1941, we students were sent to the Smolensk region to dig anti-tank ditches. On the second day, the superior ran up, yelling, Guys, scatter! We are surrounded by the Germans. We ran away in small groups, not knowing where to go. There was no food, so we begged for scraps from the poor peasants. They helped us with some bread made from potatoes blended with sawdust and a small portion of flour. We drank water from any stream we came across. Luckily, on our way were kitchen gardens with green onions, so we had some greens. We then came to Smolensk, already in ruins; only the remnants of burnt stoves were seen. Together with the retreating Red Army, we crossed the Dnepr River, red with human blood. Leaving behind some 300 kilometers, we reached the large railway station, Vyazma. From there, we came back to Voronezh. Our parents were very frustrated while waiting for us. We were dirty and wore worn out clothes. My sister didnt recognize me. Soon after that, the German bombardments of Voronezh began, and along with it, a chaotic evacuation of the populace. We came to the Stalingrad region where in July of 1942, I was drafted into the Red Army. I reached the conscription

of Labor Institute.

I was awarded with medals For the Defense of Leningrad and For Labor Valor.

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point in a cart driven by a camel. I began military service in a training battalion. Our unit was transferred to the Altay region. There, we were instructed in ballistics reconnaissance. Though the winter there was extremely cold, we were dressed in old and worn out summer uniforms. My warm leather cap, given to me by my father, had been confiscated by the sergeant major. He rebuked me for violation of the uniform and put my cap on his own head. Only ten minutes were given for dinner. It consisted of a hot, watery soup with an unpeeled, frozen and gummy potato inside. Nearly everybody in our platoon was educated; some even had degrees in science. The training was difficult. When the 50-year-old physicist Sharapov was unable to crawl, the sergeant sat on his back, yelling, and Crawl! Sharapov was a good man. While we felt hungry all the time, he would manage to find some beets, cut them into pieces and share them with everybody. The training process ended soon. We were given sergeants ranks and sent to a military camp in Chebarkul, in the Chelyabinsk region. The barracks we lived in were dugouts covered with logs. Six or eight two-layer plank-beds, 100 meters in length, filled the entire space. There was no hygiene. Under my command were twelve soldiers, newly released from prison. The first night, somebody stole my backpack from under my bed. I reported this to their hillock and he promised that it would return. Eventually, the backpack was returned. Though I was a Jew, they had been friendly to me. Another Jewish soldier in my unit, Vulf Hofman, had gone through hard times. First, because of suspicion that he had been of German origin, that he was denied draft into the Red Army. Later, I saw how our officers would jokingly point a gun at him and laugh at his fright. 148

The bread given to us was frozen. We cut it into portions with an axe. Before leaving the camp, we bathed in a very cold shower room, first with cold, then very hot water for three to four minutes. We then received new underwear and uniforms. Sometime later, we were loaded onto a train and brought to the Leningrad Front. I was enrolled as a ballistics calculator into the 505th Artillery Regiment of the 10th Guard Artillery Brigade. My duties included attaching the guns and observation points, and when necessary, correction of fire. Our location was near the October railway. As we approached the operation, a heavy mortar fire began and continued for some 15 minutes. When it was over, we found our soldier, Chatykov, 50, lying on the ground. A splinter had crushed his skull and his brain was leaking out. It was a terrible and unforgettable sight. We dug a grave and buried him, our first loss. We had to prepare dugouts for ourselves as well. Earlier, I could protect myself by a clove of garlic my mother had given me; now, the garlic was gone. I also suffered from skin lesions on my legs and couldnt walk. It was dangerous for me, a Jew, because it might awaken suspicions or cowardice, so I went to the medical attendant and got a blood transfusion. As the breakthrough of the Leningrad blockade started, we fought on height number 666 of the Pulkov heights. Before the infantry moved, an artillery attack had continued for one and a half hours. The battles were very severe. The ground was full of corpses, both the enemys and our own. The tanks crawled over the dead, plowing them into the ground. An entire bloody mass surrounded us, but the attack continued, and everybody pushed on. We experienced difficulties with the weak homeland automobiles carrying the heavy artillery. Later, we were lucky 149

to receive that American Studebakers. It was a lifesaving help from the United States. Our offensive moved quickly. Our unit of ballistics calculators was transferred from one segment to another of the Baltic Front. My only partner, Vasiliy Ochota, was severely injured by a shell splinter. He was evacuated to a hospital, so I remained alone in the entire artillery division. I began training other soldiers in ballistics calculation since I was well trained in the subject myself and the commanders relied on such knowledge. The movement of the troops and technique on the roads and crossroads was chaotic and often abundant in obstructions. From time to time, I would take up the position of a transport regulator to help our artillery move forward. Once when leading our battery through a forest, we ran into German tanks. They saw us and opened fire. We hardly managed to escape. Throughout the winter of 1943-44, we never had a chance to stay under a roof. We slept on the snow, putting fir tree twigs under our blankets and covering ourselves with our trench coats. Twice in that year, a mobile bath was delivered to wash us. Though it was a great pleasure, we still couldnt get free of the lice and fleas. We got rid of the insects only in Germany, using their silky underwear. In the spring, we suffered from the rains, when all our clothes became entirely soaked. Once, upon returning from an operation, I lost my vision. It was chicken blindness caused by vitamin deficiency. Some drops of cod liver oil on a piece of bread were all it took to cure my vision. I remember entering the Baltic Republics. I stood near a border column with one foot in Latvia and the other in Estonia. We found the living standards in those countries much higher than in the rest of the Soviet Union. The farmers had 8-20 cows, horses and other livestock, all of which were kept in good condition. 150

Continuing the offensive, we entered the city of Tartu. Some soldiers managed to find a barrel full of alcohol. After heavy drinking, many suffered from stomach pain, intoxication, blindness and death. It turned out that methyl alcohol had been in that barrel. When we entered Riga, I found the house where our relatives, the Averbuchs had lived with their three sons before the war. I was the first Soviet soldier who entered the backyard of their house. Some tenants came by and I asked them whether they knew the Averbuchs. Their faces paled. At once, they disappeared. Only later did I found out that many tenants had taken part in the executions of the Jews and had robbed their apartments. The entire family of my sister and my mother had been thrown into the ghetto and executed. Heavy fights took place for the city of Libava (Liepaja), but our forces couldnt capture it. Later, the Germans left that city by the sea. There were many complications on my way from Leningrad to the Baltic Sea. Once, we settled in a house. Many soldiers slept on the floor. At night, an order came to prepare the newly required data for the next mornings artillery attack. To do the work, I needed light. As I refilled an oil lamp with a burning wick, a fire swelled up. The soldiers all managed to escape from the burning house and I finished the necessary work outside, my documents illuminated by the light of the flames. Once, a group of four soldiers under my command stepped on a minefield. I ordered them to follow in a single rank and we passed through the field unharmed. Another dangerous situation occurred when a shell hit the room next to the one we occupied. Some people were injured; I was confused. For a number of days, I felt dizziness and a noise in my head and couldnt hear. Another time, when we were returning from 151

an operation, a mortar attack suddenly began. I jumped into a trench and was shocked to find that I had nearly stepped on an anti-tank mine. And so, many times, God protected me and allowed me to survive the war. We crossed the Baltic Republics, entered Poland, and joined the Belorussian Front under Marshal Zhukov. Things appeared to be in better order there; we received new clothing and boots. However, our commander Major Valko was sent to another unit. We missed him, for he was a well-educated officer and we suffered almost no losses under his command. The next commander, a young captain, behaved childishly. He was responsible for the death of a good battery commander named Bagrov. We crossed Poland quickly, but it was difficult to get into Eastern Prussia. It was then that one general showed up and told our commander about Stalins most recent order: Blood for blood and death for death! It meant that when entering Prussia, the Red Army was allowed to do anything. And so, it began firing at will and raping. The field kitchens were full of meat and poultry; the automobiles were loaded with boxes of vodka, cognac and rum. We entered Knigsberg and reached the Baltic Sea; it was the first sea I had ever laid eyes on, but the shore was littered with the corpses of our soldiers. The offensive on Berlin began with immense artillery and air strikes. Our division participated in those attacks. After the capture of Berlin, we continued to the West and settled near Shwerin, Germany. In June of 1946, I received a nine-day leave to meet my parents in Voronezh. There, I only met my Mother; my father was in Kaunas, Lithuania. In all, I spent five years in the army from 1942 to 1947. The best years of my youth were spent with no joy and no love. I received 28 awards. Among them were medals For the 152

Defense of Leningrad, For the Capture of Berlin, For Courage, For Battle Merits, and orders of the Red Star and Great Patriotic War.

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Leonid Grach
Leonid Israelevich Grach was born in 1923. In 1941, he was called to the army and served in the 912th artillery regiment of the 342nd rifle division. He participated in the liberation of Moscow, Belarus and Poland, as well as the Battle of Kursk. He suffered a severe wound. For his efforts, he was honored with a first degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, the Order of the Red Star, and many other medals.

David Grobman
1922 2008 I was born on November 16th of 1922. I attended and graduated from the Mechanical - Mathematics program at Moscow State University. During the Great Patriotic War, I was drafted into the army. From 1941 to 1945, I marched with the 77nd rifle th regiment of the 5 tank division of the army. I was injured in battle. For my efforts, I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and various other medals. I came to the United States of America from Moscow in 1997.

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Yacov Gurfinkel
1912 2006 I was born in 1912 in Polavle, a suburb of Warsaw, Poland. In September of 1939, we, the citizens of Warsaw, resisted the German occupation. We held the city for a month. We suffered hunger, but tried to support each other as much as possible. I then escaped to my hometown, Polavle. The Germans forced me to do all kinds of difficult work. I managed to escape to the city of Kovel, to the Russians. They sent me to Siberia where I worked in the forests, cutting wood and later drafted into the Red Army and sent to the front lines. Together with the 401st Battalion, I entered the German capital, Berlin. I was discharged from the military after the war was over. I lived in Odessa. There, I married and worked as a tailor.

Berta Gutkina
On June 17th, 1941, I graduated from the 22nd High School in Leningrad. It was located in an ancient hospital building of the former Russian Institute for the noble spinsters. As the war started, our boys were drafted into the army instead of celebrating their graduation. We girls dug ditches, building a defense line around the city. As the number of injured soldiers from the front line increased, we were referred to different hospitals. I worked in a hospital located at my school. All the classrooms, corridors and the assembly hall were filled with injured men. During that severe winter, many soldiers were frostbitten. Due to the shortage of bandages, we had to boil the used ones for repeated covering of the wounds. During bombardments, we remained in the wards with the heavily injured. I brought a portable gramophone to the hospital from my own home and played records to lessen my patients loneliness and sorrow. In the very hungry days of the blockade, Id often find in the pockets of my robe a small piece of sugar or a slice of bread. In this way, the soldiers expressed their gratitude. While working in the hospital, I managed to study and to pass a course to become a nurse. Among all my awards, the dearest to my heart is the medal For the Defense of Leningrad, a reminder of the most horrible time in my life.

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Abram Gutman
I was born in Mogilev, Belarus. In 1940, I was drafted into the army and worked with mines. I was called to the front on the very first day of the war. I was stationed at the Hanko Peninsula when the war began. At night, the alarm sounded and everyone was forced to evacuate and move to the border to install fences and barbed wire. At noon, one of the commanders assistants scolded us for our slow work and informed us that war had begun and men were already wounded and dead. Two hours later, we were officially informed that a war had begun. I fought on the Leningrad front as the commander of my platoon. I received a first degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, two Orders of the Red Star and 20 various medals. I ended the war as a senior lieutenant. I continued working in the army after the war. My total length of service was 37 years and I retired as a colonel. I then worked as a professor of physics and gave lectures in America, England and Israel. I immigrated to the United States of America in 1999.

Bella Gutman
1914 2008 I was born in the small town of Deraznya, on the west border of Ukraine. My childhood was very nice. We lived in a comfortable house built by my father in 1913-14. He was a professional cabinetmaker. He owned a workshop, hiring a few employees. Though my father had no official education, he could speak, read and write in Yiddish, Hebrew, Russian and Ukrainian. He was strongly observant of Jewish traditions, Sabbath and holidays. On those days after dinner, he used to take me for a walk in the nearby forest. He told me many stories. Under fathers influence, I began reading at an early age and became a good student at school. After my fathers death in 1927, my mother had to take care of the four children. She couldnt find a job. It was a time of great unemployment, and later on, of famine in Ukraine. When I was 15, I went to Kiev, to my sister. She helped me find a job as a laboratory apprentice. In 1934, I graduated from a medical nursing school and got a job in a local hospital. In 1937, I enrolled in the Kiev Institute of Medicine. In order to earn a scholarship, I had to keep my grades up and be an excellent student. In September of 1937, I was unexpectedly drafted into the Red Army and commanded to serve in a field hospital. That was the time when the Soviet Union and Germany had divided Poland. My first patient was an injured young soldier who appeared to have tetanus. I have always remembered his sardonic smile 159

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and have never forgotten the necessity to inject anti-tetanus serum to every soldier. At the end of that notorious military company, I was allowed to continue my medical studies in Kiev. In 1941, I finished the fourth year of my studies and found a position for practice in my hometown. But in June of 1941, as the bombardments began and the Germans continued their offensive, we managed to get a place in a good truck and were evacuated. A train then brought us to Tashkent, Uzbekistan. I continued my fifth year of studies in the Samarkand Medical Institute. Once, while on duty on a train, I contacted a passenger with high fever; it appeared to be typhus. I was infected and placed in quarantine. In addition to typhus, my blood tested positive for abdominal typhoid. I was vomiting and grew thin. My hair was cropped short. Though I couldnt stay on my feet and walk, I was discharged and sent to continue military service. Luckily, the military officer to whom I had been directed found me unfit for service and sent me home to my mother. After a month of recovery, I began working in a military hospital under the management of great specialists from the Kirov Military Medical Academy. Professors Novotelnov and Berezkin taught me to perform surgery. In 1943, I was sent to the front line where I worked in hospitals on the 2nd and 3rd Belorussian Fronts as a surgery department manager. During that time, I performed many operations. In 1944, my hospital was located close to Derazhnya, my hometown. I managed to get there, but I couldnt find our home. A local Ukrainian woman recognized me and told me that our house had been demolished following an order of the local authorities. She also told me how my 160

aunt and her small children, ages 3, 5 and 9, had been driven to the local cemetery... I continued my surgical duties, operating during bombardments on many occasions. Once, after an operation, I went outside to my location in the next building. In the darkness, I fell into a tunnel that had appeared while we were operating. I hit my head and was bedridden for eight days. I met Victory Day in Czechoslovakia, but my heart was broken because all the men in our family had perished and we had no home. In spring of 1946, I was discharged from military service and began work as an Oncology Surgeon. I was awarded an Order of the Red Star and other various medals. In 1947, I met my husband. Together, we raised and educated our two daughters. My husband died in 1984. My daughters and grandchildren immigrated to America. I have been in the United States since 1987. I love this country and pray for this its prosperity.

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Maria Ioffe
I was born in Leningrad on July 17 th of 1930. When the Great Patriotic war began, I was only a child. I lived through the blockade, severe hunger and bombardment. After the war ended, I graduated from a medical school with the specialty of paramedic. I later married, had a son, and completed my studies at a school of cosmetology. I was awarded with several medals.

Moshe Iofis
FROM POLAND THROUGH SIBERIA TO VIENNA My native hometown Disna, Poland, became an object of WWII on September 17, 1939. On that early morning, the Red Army crossed the western border and entered Poland. Officially this action was presented as liberation by the brotherly people of Western Byelorussia. Only later, we learned that cutting off half of Poland by the Soviet Union was a result of the MolotovRibbentrop Pact, signed earlier. In a moment, our life was changed forever. We became residents of Byelorussia and future USSR citizens. We, 7th grade students at a Polish Public School were moved down to the 5th grade of the Soviet school. We started studying the Russian and Byelorussian languages. Pictures on some pages in the Soviet history handbooks were covered up. Later, we learned that those were pictures of the Soviet leaders executed by Stalin. Provisions and other everyday needed items disappeared from the stores. Lines became a constant phenomenon of our lives for years to come. Sunday, June 22, 1941 remains in my memory. That sunny morning, I went downtown to buy ice cream. Crossing the street with a little cone of aromatic lemon ice cream, I suddenly heard someone shouting loudly in Yiddish: Milchome! War! Frustrated people repeated the alarming news. Back home, my parents started arguing about the urgency to escape.

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My mother Miriam wasnt prepared to leave the house built by her father, Berl Abramson, with his own hands. But my father, Meir Iofis, remembered WWI, when he and many other Jews from Riga had been forced to flee. Thanks to him and to the energy of my sister, Geula, we fled. With little luggage, we crossed the Dvina River by a small boat and became refugees. (There is data about the fate of the Jews of my hometown, Disna, in the Atlas of the Holocaust. The fascists in the ghetto executed some two thousand of 4200 Jews; others were killed fighting with the guerillas in the forests of Byelorussia.) Thus, our family was saved from the imminent occupation and extermination. We went by foot some forty kilometers till we reached the city of Polotsk. The train to Vitebsk was overcrowded with refugees. The streets of that old city, the hometown of Marc Chagal, were filled with Jewish people. (In 1948, I saw the entirely ruined Vitebsk.) On July 3, 1941, at the Smolensk railway station I heard Stalins speech. HE promised to defeat the enemy. But the Victory was far away. The evacuation continued for a long time and it was very hard. Our echelon was bombarded after Smolensk. Then, from Vyazma, we were transported on open platforms. Here I would like to note that the Russian people were compassionate toward us. Russian women often met the echelon when it stopped and brought us bread and milk. The city of Chkalovsk, on the bank of the Volga River, became our first place of residence. The owner, an Old Russian woman, was very kind toward us. She shared her reserved bread rusks with us. In Chkalovsk, at age 15, I started loading barges and doing other hard work. In the late fall, 1941, we were loaded into the hold of the self-propelled barge Bashkiria. Together with hundreds of people, we spent over two weeks on the barge, day and night, until we came to Saratov. Everyone suffered from cold, darkness, humidity, 164

dirt and hunger. Many experienced bloody diarrhea and some people were sick with abdominal typhoid. I dont remember seeing any medical personnel. Some people died and were thrown into the Volga River. Once, while we stood at the evacuation center in Saratov, I went to a store and waited a whole night in line for bread. But the next morning, when the store opened, a huge crowd of people, including soldiers with guns, stormed the entrance, filled the store and grabbed the bread. I returned home emptyhanded. Nevertheless, my mother was happy because she feared I was lost. In the winter 1941/42, we were dragged by tracks to the city of Alma-Ata. And from there, we were dragged farther, to the North Kazakhstan, through cold Siberia. A family of six, we were settled in a kitchen of a small house. There, the Ukrainian owner, Levchenko, used to yell at us angrily, Jews, why did you come here? Around the house were mountains of snow, which we had to clean daily. My older sister Sarah and I went to work on a collective farm. In the morning, we would receive a small bowl of wheat kasha. Then we managed to harness two stubborn bulls to sleds and drove them deep into the steppe: There, farmers were threshing the autumn harvest. We loaded the sleds with wheat from under the combine and took them to the granary. Once, during a strong snowstorm we could hardly see. Luckily, the bulls instinctively dragged us to the farm. Then, I was ordered to an Industrial school in Petropavlovsk, Northern Kazakhstan. There, we were trained to be workers at a railway electrical communication. We dug pits for telegraph columns in the icy Siberian ground. In the early springtime the food contained no vitamins. For a time, I experienced chicken blindness. 165

In November 1943, at age 17, I was recruited into the Red Army. I started my military service in the 20th Sniper School in Turkmenia. After graduation in August 1944, I was sent to the 350th Regiment of the 22nd Landing Force Brigade located in Teikovo, Russia. There, I became a paratrooper, jumping first from an aerostat, and then from different planes. Stalin ordered to prepare us for landing in Berlin. But in the winter of 1944/45, our Brigade was transformed into the 114th Infantry Division, which was included in the 9th Army. In February 1945, we were transported to Hungary. Our Division entered the Active Forces on March 5, 1945. We marched through ruined Budapest. We fought in the battles near Lake Balaton and the city of Sekeshfehervar. In the very first battle, our 5th company lost 18 men. It happened because we were approaching the frontline in platoons instead of being extended into a chain. Our commander, lieutenant Taran, was shot dead instantly. We were shot in the mouth the moment he gave an order. Even now, I still hear the cry of soldier Khakimov who was hit by an explosive bullet. We quickly dug into the ground and continued to fire and press the Germans to retreat. On March 31, we crossed the Raba River, bordering Hungary and Austria. The next day, we met resistance in Austria. After a period of shooting, we, three snipers, noticed a white flag from the enemy. As we came closer, the soldiers threw down their weapons and raised their hands. I noticed a very pale young soldier with an injured leg lying on the ground. He said to me in German: Dont shoot me, Im young, I want to live. He was one of the youngest generations recruited by Hitlers total mobilization. A corpulent, middle-aged Hungarian was with a group of soldiers. He pointed to another man and said in Russian: Hes a fascist, born in 1925. We collected their weapons and ordered the captured soldiers to carry the injured to our regiment commander. 166

On April 6, we entered the suburb of Vienna. Friendly young Austrians greeted us. One of them showed us our own Marshall Tolbuchins leaflets appealing to the Austrians to prevent Vienna from being destroyed by the Germans. The night of April 7/8, we spent together with our company commander, Nadtochiy, in a private apartment near the North Train Station. We shared our food rations with the f frauowner. She in turn served us a supper of lentil-kasha and coffee substitute. She complained that since 1938 anschluss, the Germans grabbed all product supplies from Hungary. In the early morning, our 5th company crossed the North Stations railways. Sounds of the ongoing battle for Vienna were heard in front of us. I just jumped down from the railway embankment and ran toward the street, when I felt a bullet hit my left hip. I fell down into a wide and deep trench, just left of the place where I was hit. I dont remember how soon our soldier Naumov, a medical orderly, found me and jumped in. He covered my wound with a small bandage. Since he didnt have sufficient bandages, he cut off a wide strip of my undershirt to fix the bleeding injury. At night, I was removed from the trench and placed under a railway bridge. The tunnel was filled with injured men. Next morning, sergeant Tarasenko, another medical orderly, put me on his back and carried me across the railways. He brought me to another embankment and carefully put me into a cart teamed by two horses. Two or three severely injured were already lying in the cart. I sat beside the horseman, an older soldier. The horses slowly carried us along a beautiful and very quiet alley of Vienna. The clatter of the horses hoofs intermittent sounds of Strauss melodies played on a piano, somewhere, far away. It reminded me of the famous pre-war movie, The Great Waltz. But maybe I was dreaming. The surgery I underwent wasnt fast. With no x-ray 167

examination, the surgeon cut my flesh deeper and deeper in order to find the bullet. But she couldnt find it. Some two weeks later, the bullet appeared on the opposite side under the skin. It was removed by a small incision and was given to me as a memento. I kept that little yellowy piece of metal until it was stolen together with my wallet. My treatment continued in a hospital located in the Austrian city of Bad-Veslau. There, in a state of euphoria, we celebrated our Victory Day May 9, 1945. We dreamed about an everlasting peace after that bloody war. History has proven that we were nave. I was awarded the Order of the Patriotic War, medals For Courage, For the Capture of Vienna, and other medals. After my recovery, I continued serving in the Landing Forces. As one of the youngest soldiers remaining in the army after the war, I had to serve an additional five years. Thus, my young years, 17 to 24, were taken away by the war and its consequences. In 1950, I came to Riga, Latvia, my fathers homeland. I studied medicine, earned a degree in medical sciences and worked as a neurologist and psychiatrist for 38 years. In 1995, I came to the United States.

Galina Ivanova
In the early summer of 1941, my mother registered me as a first grader in a local school. A month later, in July, the school ordered us to report with luggage. We were evacuated to the resort city of Borovichee. Loaded on plank-beds in supply trucks, we left behind our homes and our parents. Soon after our arrival in Borovichee, it became evident that staying there was unsafe. We were to be sent eastward to the Ural, but I was instead brought to Leningrad and remained in the blockaded city. At once, the native hometown appeared unfamiliar to me. All around was dark and gloomy. The windows were glued with paper and covered from the inside with screens. The air raids and bombardments happened very often. Teenagers patrolled the rooftops, trying to divert the falling explosive bombs or cover them with sand. The winter had begun, dark, and extremely cold. We were hungry all the time. All furniture was burned in the handmade fireplaces named bourgeois. Mama would go a long way to the Neva to deliver a teapot of river water. Then, the German artillery began shelling the city from the Pulkovo heights. Once, when my mother sent me to the store for our bread ration, hungry adults stole both the bread and ration card from me. In 1942, I began attending a school where dinner was served. When I tried to carry some food home, such men grabbed everything I had.

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When my nanny died, I felt terrible. For several days, there was no one to carry her out and bury her. Her corpse remained in an unheated cold room. Going to the bathroom, I had to cross the room where she was lying. I was terrified each time, and even today, I cant forget the sight. After suffering an inflammation of the hearing nerve, I remained deaf in my right ear. I was the only child remaining alive in the entire townhouse. The support and care I received in the school and the meals given to me had helped me survive. After the war, I studied at the school and graduated from University. I then became a researcher in geochemistry and participated in many ocean expeditions. I later earned my Ph.D. I followed my daughters and came to the United States after both of them managed to prove that they were needed in this country. Still, I continue to contact my former colleagues in Russia and abroad. Ill never stop missing my native city of Leningrad where I survived the blockade.

Lyubov Karlik
I was born on February 25th of 1923 in Tulchyn, in the Vinnytsia Oblast. My father died in 1937 and my sick mother was left to take care of her five children on her own. To help the family, I began work at a stocking factory when I was 14. I worked two shifts at a time so that my young brothers and sisters would be fed. When the Great Patriotic War began, I was 18 years old. The Germans occupied our city and designated our street as the ghetto. We spent five months there until we were relocated to the 1st school. For three days, we sat on that bare ground with no food or water. After that, we were forced to a bathhouse where our most valuable possessions were taken away. Upon leaving, wearing no shoes, we saw many Germans with rifles and dogs. We were forced out on the cold and dirty street. The exhausted and starving senior citizens, the ill and the children all marched to an unknown destination. At night, we were herded into a stable. The Germans then spent all night picking out the most beautiful young women, having their way with them, and shooting them to death. At dawn, we were forced to go to a village where the Germans had prepared a concentration camp in a former sanatorium. The area was referred to as the Death Loop and was intended for the slow murdering of people. The German police officers watched our every move and the territory were surrounded by a tall fence and barbed wire. We were forced to work. Those who couldnt were killed. Every night, I would

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go through the villages and beg for bread so that my family would not die. One night, a policeman found me and struck me on the head several times. I lay on the ground for a long time until I was able to get up and walked to a nearby house. The woman living there allowed me to lie down and rest in her attic where I spent the next five hours. I was then able to bathe and the woman fed me and gave me some bread to take. That evening, I returned to the camp to feed my siblings and mother. The pain from my injuries was great; I was blinded in one eye, could no longer work and could no longer do anything to help my family. Within the next three weeks, I watched as my mother and all my siblings perished from cold and hunger. After recovering, I once again worked and helped others until 1944 when a punitive detachment arrived. They brought us out of the camp and sorted us all: some were designated for work; the remaining 102 were to be killed. The numbers included seniors, children, the ill, and me. Luckily, it was at that moment that a Romanian Commandant arrived and canceled the order. In 1945, I returned home to Tulchyn.

Mikhail Kats
My biography is that of an ordinary person. I was born in 1926 in Cherkasy, Ukraine. In 1934, my family moved to Kiev. In 1941, when the war began, my father was drafted into the army and sent to the front. My mother, sister and I were evacuated to the city of Kara-Balta

in Kyrgyzstan.

In 1943, I voluntarily joined the Red Army. As all boys did, I wanted to become a pilot, yet a recent order from Stalin proclaimed that only those who completed training in an aviary mechanic school would be accepted. I was fortunate enough to end up in the Volchansk School of aviary mechanics. Afterwards, I joined the illustrious 151st Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment, which was later honored with the Order Of Bogdan Khmelnitsky. 11 Soviet Union heroes arose from that regiment. Although I was not among them, I am proud to say that I honestly served my soldiers duties, from cadet to guard sergeant between 1943 and 1951. During that time, I served in Hungary, Bulgaria, Romania and Czechoslovakia. 173

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In 1951, I returned to Kiev and studied at the Kiev Institute of Engineering and Construction. I then moved to Stalino (now Donetsk) and worked at various construction sites and plants, and later at the Research Institute of Construction. In 2002, I came to America.

Raisa Kats
I was born in 1928 in Odessa. My family included my mother, Maria Banchik, my father, Gregory Bobrovsky, my sister Ida and me. My father had a large herd of cows and sheep. Until the war began, we were well provided for and I had a happy childhood. In 1928, the Soviet authority confiscated my fathers property and cattle. My father was exiled. Being a very courageous man, he managed to escape from the echelon on the way to Siberia and lived in hiding for five years. When he returned home, there was nothing to do on the farm, so we moved to the city. In order to support the family, my father had to work hard as a yardman for many years. Before the war, Ida graduated from High School, but I only finished the 4th grade. Our house was on Peter the Great Street. At the time of the bombardments, we used to run down from our 5th floor to the shelter in the basement. As the Germans entered Odessa, our family did not flee the city. Another yardman had advised my father to stay. Later, that man collaborated with the Nazis. My father was very angry at the Soviets for confiscating his property and cattle and life soon became horrible. Police went from house to house to register all Jews. A few days later, all the Jews were summoned into a 5-story school building. We slept on the bare floor and were hungry.

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neighbors had managed to clean out our apartment. A month later, the Jews were again summoned and jailed in the Odessa prison. Romanian soldiers with dogs guarded long columns with Jews, old men, women and children. Those who could not walk and lagged behind were executed along the way. One morning, an old workshop building packed with Jews had kerosene poured over it and was set on fire. The screams and moans from inside were similar to those of a slaughterhouse. It seemed that before dying, the doomed people became mad from horror. While staying in prison on Vodoprovodnaya Street, I saw a young woman resisting a Romanian soldiers demands. He shot her in the middle of the yard. She fell down and her two small children continued to kiss and cuddle their bleeding mommy. Those soldiers were unnatural animals, not human beings. Suddenly, an order came that we could leave the prison. As the first prisoners approached the gate, they were shot down by a machine gun from the railway bridge, and then the gate was closed. Later, women were allowed to leave the prison, but the men remained there. As Jewish people, we were forbidden to ride the tram. Two months later, all Jews were again ordered to return to the ghetto. At that time, the former authoritarian, Vasiliy Ivanovich, who had led in 1928 the confiscation of our property, offered my father his assistance to save us. He helped our family hide in the catacombs. Only my grandmother decided to stay behind. A friend of ours gave a local woman many precious things for taking care of his son, Sasha Furman. Not long after, the woman brought the boy to my grandmother. Soon, the police were informed and both of them were grabbed in the ghetto 176

located at the Odessa cloth factory. There, they both froze to death due to the winters severe cold. Sashas parents had lived in hiding and survived the war. Later, I met both of them and they helped me as much as they could. The woman who had promised to take care of Sasha had occupied my grandmothers house. She continued digging all around the house trying to find more treasures. We remained hidden in the catacombs for 6-7 months. Vasiliy Ivanovich had prepared fuel for us in cans. We dug out a well to get water. In some places under the catacombs were old cemeteries. The partisans were also hiding in the catacombs. My father used to go out to purchase supplies. One day, somebody noticed him and shot him to death. Vasiliy Ivanovich was also shot by the Romanians. His wife and children were jailed. My cousin Fanya Mogilevskaya and her friend Oleg Bikov were tortured and shot outside the catacombs. The Romanians had also tried to expel the inhabitants by forcing gas into the catacombs, but the gas dissipated quickly. We found a hole and went out to look for food. Our clothing was lacerated and our faces dark and dirty. We didnt know where to go. When we asked a shepherdess for directions to the city, she immediately informed the police about us. The police captured and took us to the prison at Babel Street, 12. There, my mother and my sister were interrogated not only as Jewish people, but also as political people who had contacted the partisans. They were both sentenced to death, my mother 38, and my sister only 15. A Black Raven then drove us, the small children of executed mothers, to another prison. There, we met Vasiliy Ivanovichs wife who blamed us for the death of her husband. We slept on beds with bare metal nets and no mattresses. The food was very poor. The prison was filled with criminals and murderers who remained there for a long time before being 177

released. Only the Jewish kids continued to stay in the prison; I spent an entire year there. Later, I was again sent to the ghetto. They gathered us at the train station Sortirovochnaya. An echelon with Jews, before ours, was stationed on a reserve railway line. There, the supply trucks were poured over with water. Everyone in those icy houses froze to death. Our echelon was moving slowly and we had to leave the wagons at every stop to be photographed. We were then stationed in barracks. Many among us suffered from frostbite. One girl, 17, had been in the ghetto from 1942-44. She got gangrene. The manager of that ghetto was very bloodthirsty; he couldnt go to sleep without shooting somebody. Once, he ordered 12 teenagers of similar height to be arranged in a line and shot them all through the head with a single bullet. From the barracks, we were sent to a nearby farm where I pastured calves. Sometimes the milkmaids would give us some milk. The amount of food we were given was barely enough to sustain us. Everybody carried their own metal tureen and spoon. We worked until sunset and were very tired at the end of each day.In our ghetto lived a young woman from Bucharest with her newborn child. Her husband, formerly a millionaire, was in jail. She looked good and was well dressed. Once, a policeman named Kostyuk said to the woman, Ill carry you to baptize your child and Ill be his godfather. On the way to the baptizing, he took the child and threw him into a well. Once, I was hospitalized with typhus. It seemed to me that I was in paradise; it was clean and the nourishment was better. The hospitals chief was a good man. His wife would sit on a bench in the garden and throw some pieces of food for me on the ground, as though I were a puppy. Then one day, 178

I was taken back to the ghetto. Some teenagers managed to escape, but were captured and brutally murdered: they were attached to horses and dragged along the ground until they died. Sometimes, we managed to get out from the ghetto to look for food in nearby villages, and sometimes, people would give us some alms. We had no shoes and our feet were wrapped with rags, but as the rags wore out, we walked barefoot. I still wonder today how I was able to remain alive. I recall one incident when a woman asked me to bring her water from the well, but the bucket was heavier than I was. I fell into the bucket and nearly fell into the well itself. Luckily, a Russian woman noticed me swinging and saved me. I was entirely wet and terror-stricken. Another time, we were relocated to another barracks, a former calf stall. An SS-man of Kalmik origin used to enter there, threatening to burn us alive. On the way to work, the guards liked to beat us with rubber sticks. Not long before the Soviet Army came to liberate us, one prisoner had escaped from the ghetto. We were taken as hostages and held the entire night. We waited to be executed; it was dreadful. Unexpectedly, we were sent back to the barracks. They planned to drive us to Germany, but that did not happen; the Soviet Army came to liberate us. It was unbelievable that we were free and could go home. We walked by foot, several days and several nights, sleeping on the streets. The roads were covered with corpses. On April 10th of 1944, my native city Odessa was liberated. I was full of lice, infected with scab, and had lost my hair. My mothers sister sheltered me, washed me, and cleaned me up. I was then sent to an orphanage. At the age of 16, I began work at the Kinap factory. My first husband lived only five years after our marriage. I then 179

met another man and we were together for 20 years before he died of diabetes. Soon after, I got sick with asthma and became disabled. I have a daughter from my first marriage; she works as a nurse. In the last few years, anti-Semitism began to flourish again in Odessa, so I decided to emigrate. I am very grateful to America for providing me a refuge.

Alexander Khanin
I found out about the war on my way to a soccer match at the Leningrad Stadium. It was unusual to see no crowds around the stadium. At midday, Molotovs announcement of the beginning of the war was announced all over the city via loudspeakers. A few days later, I was summoned to the recruitment office. I had just graduated from school and was a member of the Leningrad Radio Club. This decided my fate and I was sent as a cadet to a battalion of radiomen. The Germans surrounded Leningrad and were closing in. Having suffered great losses, the regiment was redirected to Moscow where we were reorganized. I was sent to a school of young paratrooper lieutenants in early 1942. After the defeat of the Germans near Moscow, a new hope arose that the battle would soon move back to enemy territory. We were trained to jump from airplanes with parachutes and prepared to land behind enemy lines. Once on July 28th of 1942, we were given the order Not a step back! We were sent to the Stalingrad Front. I was named the commander of a platoon of radiomen. Through difficult battles and great losses, the regiment moved west. By August 30th of 1943, we had gone from the Volga River to the Mius River where the enemy had strong

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lines of defense. In one battle, a piece of shrapnel became lodged in my head. After being through two field hospitals, I was sent to a hospital in Tbilisi. Fortunately, the optometrist was from the Leningrad Optical Institute. He managed to save one of my eyes. I was awarded a first degree Order of the Great Patriotic

Simon Khanukayev
I was born in Baku, Azerbaijan in 1922. After graduating from a medical college in 1942, I served as a company paramedic with the 137th Infantry Regiment of the 78th Mountain Infantry Division near the city of Poltava. During one of these battles, though injured myself, I carried out 14 injured soldiers from the battlefield and was awarded a medal For Courage. I later suffered a severe concussion. After recovery, I was sent to Iran for a special assignment. I served there until the end of the war in a sanitary-epidemiological laboratory of the 15th Cavalry Division. I was decorated with an Order of the Great Patriotic War and 14 medals. After the war, I graduated from law school and from the Economic Faculty of the Azerbaijan University. In 1993, I immigrated to the United States.

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Boris Khidekel
1923 1983 By Samuel Khidekel My brother Boris was born on December 23rd in 1923. Only a week prior to the beginning of the war, he graduated from a high school in Leningrad and was sent to a Military Medical School. As a lieutenantmedical instructor, he entered the army in 1942. Boris participated in the breakthrough of the Leningrad blockade as well as the liberations of Latvia and Lithuania. He fought in the severe battles for Riga, Vilnius and Knigsberg. Boris was awarded two Orders of the Red Star and many medals including one For Battle Merits. From 1945 to 1950, Boris studied at the Military Medical Academy of Leningrad. A special in military medicine, he served as a commander of a Medical Battalion and later as chief of a Military Hospital in the city of Sovietsk. In 1957, he retired from the Soviet Army as a lieutenant colonel. After his retirement, he held a position as a district healthcare manager in Leningrad. Boris Khidekel was honored with a military funeral and laid to rest in the Preobrazhensky Cemetery on December 28, 1983.

Samuel Khidekel
In July of 1941, as a fourth year student of the Leningrad Institute of Precise Mechanics and Optics, I was drafted into the Red Army. With the rank of lieutenantengineer, I worked repairing military equipment. In August of 1941, I participated in the defense of the city of Pushkin. We later continued restoration works in other places. At the time of the German bombardments, I was patrolling on the rooftops. Together with my companions of the armored craftsmanship, I fought in the battles for the liberation of the city of Pushkin. In 1944, I was dismissed from the army and went on to complete my studies. My awards include an Order of the Great Patriotic War and many other medals including For the Defense of Leningrad.

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Simon Khmelnitsky
1927 2005 During the Great Patriotic War, I participated in the repairs of many military facilities in Ukraine. For 13 years, I served with the military construction troops of the Soviet Army, beginning as a platoon commander and reaching the position of assistant to the chief engineer for construction management. After retirement from the army, I worked for 34 years as a designer for the Ministry of Defense. I was awarded five medals and a mark of an Outstanding Military Constructor.

Anatoly Kibrik
From the beginning of 1942 until the full removal of the Leningrad blockade, I participated in many battles. First, I fought as a machinegunner and as a reconnaissance platoon commander. After a second injury, I served in an artillery regiment of the 268th Minsk Division. For weeks, we worked hard preparing for the storm of the Shlisselburg-Senyavas ledge, held by five German divisions. It was extremely fortified with many strongholds, several echelons of trenches and many hundreds of aircraft and tanks. On January 12th in 1943, at 9:30 a.m., the squally volleys of Katushas announced the start of our offensive. Thousands of artillery guns and mortars rained fire over the German positions, destroying their strongholds, communication, batteries and reserves. Some years after those battles, we learned that each square meter of land was covered by 4.5 kilograms of metal splinters. After huge artillery landing, our assault groups hurried to the Neva Rivers left bank; I was among them. Then the infantry and artillery moved over the icy surface of the river. It took us some ten minutes to cross the 600 meters, but the minutes of clambering over the icy lumps felt like hours. Then, using all available makeshift means, we surmounted the bank and rushed into the trenches where hand-to-hand fighting followed automatic fire and grenades. The training I obtained before the war in a Moscow sports club proved very

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useful. I suffered an injury to my left hand, but didnt leave the battlefield. Our regiment was the first to occupy and fortify positions on Nevas left bank. On January 18, near settlement number 5, the troops of our front defending Leningrad met with the troops of another front directed to Leningrad. The 900 day-long blockade around Leningrad was removed. I was injured three times and received the highest award given to soldiers: an Order of Glory, as well as 20 other medals including a medal For Courage. I participated in many battles, but never saw such a level of bravery and heroism as that shown by our troops fighting for Leningrad. I am proud of my participation in those historic battles. aerodrome in Gorelovo.

Berta Kletsko
When the war began, my sister and I were very young. These are my mothers recollections of that dreadful time. In 1940, my parents lived in Novgorod. In 1941, my father was sent to Leningrad to construct an

In August of 1941, the Germans approached Novgorod and my mothers older brother told us to escape to Leningrad where my grandfather lived. Leaving everything behind save for her daughters and a small bag of personal belongings, thats what she did. When we arrived in Leningrad, the aerodrome construction administration organized an evacuation. They loaded us onto train cars and attempted to leave, but the city had already been surrounded by the Germans. I recall fire, explosions, and ceaseless screaming. Since we could not leave, 9,000 people were relocated to the village of Toksovo near Leningrad. My father was sent off to the front. My mother walked 25 kilometers to Leningrad and back to help dig anti-tank trenches. Only in 1942 was she given work in Toksovo. My sister, brother and I were always home alone. My mother told me that I had nearly died three times. Once, my skin was dry and scaled like that of a fish. Another time, we were nearly eaten; with not enough food to go around, people resorted to cannibalism. It was fortunate that someone warned

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my mother and someone came to help, since she would not have been able to defend us on her own. Her friend advised that we evacuate to Gorky so that we could survive. My siblings and I could no longer walk. We were ecstatic to receive soup made from mustard powder or pea soup with only a few peas. In early 1944, we were able to evacuate to the Gorky region. A month after our arrival, we received news that my father was missing in action. In August of 1944, we returned to Leningrad. My mother was fortunate enough to find work. We were given lodging in the basement of a house on the Nevsky Prospekt. It was damp and we were all often ill. My brother died of bronchitis. After the war, we looked for our father until we received papers which stated he died in a hospital from severe injuries. We later saw a column in the Leningrad newspaper Smena called Otzovites (Please Answer) in which a war veteran spoke of a commander that saved his life. This column was about my father. My mother and I came to visit the veteran. He told us about the battle in which my father suffered a head injury and was sent to a hospital. As a parting gift, he gave us a photograph of my father. In 1995, my only daughter married an American. In 2001, I followed her to the United States of America. 190

Constantine Kletsko
In 1941, I was seven years old. I was walking to the bakery when I caught my first glimpse of the war. I heard warning sirens and planes flying overhead. Everyone outside at that time stood with their backs to surrounding buildings and looked up to see three large German planes and only one small Soviet jet fighter. I didnt see what happened, but the hum of their motors could be heard for a long time. The German planes bore white crosses and ours had red stars. The war approached Leningrad. Before the war, my father had a single hunting rifle. At the end of every summer, large flocks thrushes occupied our birch trees. He would walk outside and shoot the rifle several times to disperse them. With every shot, five or six birds would drop to the ground and my grandmother would then cook them. When the war began, all weapons were confiscated by the government. My father was 36 years old. He submitted a request to be sent off to the front, but was declined. As a highly qualified worker, he was needed elsewhere. He was then sent to work at a steel factory. When the Germans had reached Leningrad, the citys leaders decided to evacuate all children. After several weeks there, my parents came to pick me and my older sister up. My fathers plant was scheduled for evacuation to Ural. All evacuees were warned to only take soft belongings. Earlier 191

that summer, I received a scooter as a present. I understood that I would have to leave it behind. My grandmother took her sewing machine and my scooter, wrapped them up in clothing, and stuffed the bag underneath the train seats. I only found this out when we had reached Ural. The trip took a month and a half. We began to see the war in front of our eyes a week into the trip on the classification yard of Cherepovets. There were four trains in the yard: two military, one medical, and ours. On our second day there, we heard warning sirens and were forced to evacuate the train. We hid in nearby trenches, but saw no planes. The alarm was canceled. A train was connected to our cars at last and we were told to stay inside. Midday, another alarm sounded and we were in the trenches once more. At that moment, three German planes showed up. One of the military trains fired at the planes. The planes turned around and made another trip over the station. All was quiet, but the alarm was not called off; we remained in the trenches. Soon we heard the hums of even louder German planes. They flew over our positions and dropped bombs. The earth beneath us shook with every strike. Several cars caught fire, but ours remained intact. I hardly saw much, as my parents covered my eyes for the duration. After the first round of bombardment, all was silent save for the cries of the nearby soldiers and the crackling flames of several train cars. We were then informed that our train would be leaving. Everyone returned to their cars. Slowly but surely, the train left that yard at last. Everyone was commanded to sit under the chairs. There was not enough space, and some of the adults had to sit above them. We heard the next air strike coming. The explosions sounded once more, but they werent as close as before. As the train carried us away, it took us farther and farther from the strike. 192

Only once after time did we hear planes overhead once again. We heard a sound on the roof resembling that of a whip cracking. We were allowed to get out from underneath the seats only a half hour after that. There were four bullet holes in the ceiling where the German plane had shot it. Its machine gun had struck five cars of our train. Our train continued on its way. This was my last firsthand experience with the war. At the following stops, of which there were many, wooden corks covered with tar plugged up the bullet holes on the ceiling. The remainder of the trip was quiet and peaceful. At times, the train would stop in the middle of nowhere in forests. Everyone would then get out washing and drying their clothing, cooking hot meals, and gathering mushrooms and berries. Throughout the entire trip, not a single person was lost or unaccounted for. We left Leningrad with 12 cars, of which four were intended for the transport of passengers. We often saw other trains along the way. At the stations along the way, we were able to stock up on water, both cold and hot. Our food was cooked at the stops along the way; people bought and traded for whatever they could. When we finally reached Chelyabinsk, we spent another week living in the train cars while we filled out documentation to receive housing. All those who arrived on the train were given housing 70 minutes away from the main entrance of the factory. We lived in barracks. In each one were around 20 rooms about 15 square meters in size. In one corner of the barracks was the central heating unit. In the other was a kitchen with tables but no stove. Everyone cooked food over lanterns and got water from a standpipe. There was an outhouse in the yard. Boxes kept outside were used for refrigeration. Each family was assigned to the room. My family had seven members: my father, mother, grandmother, two sisters, a brother and myself. 193

My older sister attended school, but I was too young. We rarely saw our father, as he spent most of his time working. The first winter of evacuation was difficult; as temperatures reached -45 Celsius (-49 Fahrenheit). Worst of all was the food situation. Everyone had their own garden and saved potatoes, vegetables and other produce for the winter. Those who had just arrived from evacuation had none of those things. My parents exchanged their personal belongings for food. My father brought back dried casein and dextrin from the factory. These products were used to form a special sort of glue at the factory. At home, my mother would add flour to the casein to make pancakes and water to the dextrin to make candy. We added water to mashed potatoes so that there would be more. Potato skins were carefully washed and run through a meat grinder. To this, we added flour and made latkes. This was all cooked over lanterns placed on chairs right in our room. In the winter of 1942, kerosene was in short supply. People stood in line for a week (in shifts) at a time to obtain some. One day before the rationing out of kerosene, entire families would gather together so that each person would be handed an equal ration. Two liters were given out per person; five of us stood in line to get ten liters each time. Policemen kept order in the lines. There was little forest in the area. Coal was used to power the stoves. As the trains carrying coal went by, pieces would fall onto the tracks. Young boys and girls would patrol the railways collecting the coal. Accidents occurred as children failed to hear the silent oncoming trains. Early in the spring of 1942, we were all given small lots of land behind the factory on which we could plant gardens. Before the war, we had a small garden back home and my 194

parents had gardening experience. The problem was obtaining seeds for planting. We were forced to trade the remainder of our belongings for potatoes and vegetable seeds. Every potato was worth its weight in gold. We located all the eyes and cut the potatoes so that each eye could be planted separately. Thus, a small amount of potato managed to fill the entire garden. With the first harvest, our food situation became better. My father would often bring home soup from work made of sorrel and nettle. My mother would to it and it became a wonderful meal. When this soup arrived, we would all sit around the lantern and eagerly wait for her to finish cooking. In the middle of summer, we were moved along with several other families to the lower village. The barracks in the lower village were newer and looked better. Unlike our former barracks, these were built over a foundation and our floor was not earth. This allowed us to keep potatoes and vegetables in the crawlspace under our floor. Before moving in, we had to clean up our new lodgings, cover the ceiling and walls with chalk and wash the floor. The paint brush we used for the ceiling consisted of a burlap bag on a stick. Instead of paint, we covered the surfaces with wet powdered chalk. After it dried, we used a cardboard stencil to paint bright patterns on our wall. The most commonly used paint was blue, also made from chalk. The wooden floors were covered with water and scrubbed with either a knife or a small metal net. When everything was finished, we placed topchans in the room. A topchan was a wooden platform made of planks laid across a pair of saw horses. A mattress was laid on top. It was a long burlap bag stuffed with either straw or hay. Fitting our seven family members in the 15 square meter 195

room wasnt easy, but we managed. Our clothes hung on the walls, above the topchans. My father brought thick gray paper from the factory and we kept it between our clothes and the wall so that chalk would not stain them. In the summer, when we ate a lot of greens, many children suffered from diarrhea. My youngest sister Valya became ill with dysentery. She was sent to a hospital where she died after a week. She was only two years old. After some time, my grandmother became paralyzed. She could not move the right side of her body and was soon confined to her bed. My mother was pregnant at that time. My only toy was the scooter smuggled by my grandmother. We had no alarm clock, only a manual clock. Every morning at five, the factorys alarm sounded. There were two factories nearby and therefore two alarms. In the fall of 1942, I began attending school. We gathered our first harvest of potatoes, turnips and carrots that season. We set aside the best potatoes for planting next time. No good news came from the front. We only heard of the severe battles and much surrender of cities and villages. At the end of the year, my wonderful grandmother died. Shortly after, my mother gave birth to another daughter. We named her Valya as well. The lines for kerosene remained as large as ever, but grew more organized. In addition to the produce we saved up, my father continued to bring casein and dextrin from the factory. The second winter was a lot easier than the first. Beginning in the spring of 1943, more pleasant news came from the front. We even began to celebrate victories in our barracks with drinks and dance. From the beginning of the war until that spring, I had not seen a happy celebration, only funerals. 196

In the fall, before she had even turned one, Valya died from bronchitis. After her death, many neighbors commented that it was a mistake to name her after her dead sister in the first place. As a tradition, we always had a live fir tree for new years. To celebrate 1942, we had an artificial fir tree fashioned from an old broom and decorated with cotton and paper chains. On New Years morning, there was a single candy and cookie for each of us. For 1943, we had a tree made from pine branches tied together. The decorations were the same, but wrapped candies and animal-shaped cookies were hung on the branches. For 1943, we finally had a real, albeit small tree. Our decorations remained the same, but included a cardboard star for the very top. At the end of January of 1944, the Soviet Information Bureau informed us that the blockade over Leningrad was broken. That very evening, we all celebrated. Near the end of May, my father informed us that a train was organized to take us back to Leningrad. Our train had to stop many times to let military and medical trains through. The trip was very similar to the first one, but we were given coupons for food for an entire month. We were given Spam, stewed pork and condensed milk. The return trip took about a month. Before the war, we lived in a two-story wooden cottage. During the war, since it was empty, it had been taken apart for firewood. Since we no longer had a house, we lived in factory lodgings. Close to the fall, we were assigned apartments. Our family of five was given three small connected rooms. One of the rooms had both a toilet and a wood-burning stove. The second and third had round heaters. Everyone kept their firewood outside. Every Sunday, my father and I would go 197

outside and use a two-man saw to prepare our firewood for the following week. Only after a few years did we receive centralized heating and gas. Long before that, I grew to hate sawing wood. We greeted the new year of 1945 with a real tree and similar decorations with the addition of small mandarin oranges handed out by the factory. All of our real decorations were in the house taken apart during the blockade. Our food situation remained the same. Our troops were moving through Europe. One of the rooms in our apartment had a map of Europe on the wall. Using pins and red yarn, we tracked the progress of our front lines. Fireworks rang throughout Leningrad with each major victory. At last, there came victory. We watched the fireworks from the roof of our apartment. After the war, I graduated from trade school as a furniture maker. In the winter of 1950, I visited Toksovo and saw skiers going down the mountain and fell in love with the sport. I then became a professional skier and alpinist. My only daughter married an American and emigrated in 1995. In 2001, my wife and I followed them to the United States where we now help raise our grandchildren.

Shlyoma Korovskiy
1919 2010 I was born in 1919 in Odessa. In 1933, I graduated from school and attended the Institute of Machinery. After college, I worked in a research laboratory and studied chemistry at the University of Odessa. In 1941, I volunteered for the army. I then attended the air force academy. From August through September of 1941, I worked as an army mechanic on the western front. In September, I returned to the academy. I graduated as a military mechanical engineer in July of 1944 with honors. In 1947, I received my Ph.D. and taught students at the air force academy as well as other universities. In August of 1960, I retired as a Vice Colonel Engineer and continued lecturing civil aviation in non-military universities. Ive written a number of articles and textbooks. I was honored with a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and Order of the Red Star as well as various medals. In 1993, I immigrated to the United States of America.

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Michael Kostyanovskiy
I was born in 1926 in Vitebsk, Belarus. As the war began, our family was evacuated from our hometown. First, we came to the city of Yelets, and from there, to Orenburg, Ural. At the age of 14, I started as a turner apprentice at an armament factory where I became a 5th category specialist. From 1948 to 1951, I studied in the Kalinkovichy Automobile College. After graduation, as a lieutenant, I was sent to the Far East. In 1955, I was transferred to the city of Tiraspol, in the Odessa region. There, I began serving as a training platoon commander and was later appointed Deputy Chief of the divisions repair workshop. In 1964, as a major, I was transferred to Sakhalin Island to serve as a commander of the divisions. In 1970, I was re-transferred to Tiraspol and assigned to serve in the same position until October of 1972. I was awarded a medal For Battle Merits and various anniversary medals. Since December of 1995, I have been living in the United States.

Lev Kruglakovskiy
Lev was born on August 5th of 1924 in Batumi, Georgia. He served in the army from 1942 to 1946 as an Artillery Senior Guard Lieutenant. Lev was only 18 when he was called to the army in 1942 and studied at the Tbilisi Artillery School. The cadets were often sent to guard the Georgian Military Road. After completing his studies, Lev served in the 7th Aviation Regiment of the 18th army of the 1st Ukrainian front. Lev took part in the KorsunShevchenkovsky Offensive. After defeating all the nearby German troops, a part of the division successfully forced the Carpathian Mountains and crossed the border to Romania. During these battles, Lev was injured and spent several months in a hospital. After recovery, he continued his service in the 350th Artillery Regiment of the 1st Guardian Tank Army of the 1st Belorussian front. This regiment took part in the final and definitive stages of the war: the Vistula-Oder Offensive, the East Pomeranian Strategic Offensive, and the storming of Berlin. On April 18th of 1945, Senior Lieutenant Lev Kruglakovskiy was severely injured for a second time. He spent nearly a year in recovery. Lev was awarded both a first and second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, two Orders of the Red Star and many other medals.

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Victor Ksendzovskiy
1924 2008 I was born in 1924 and grew up in Crimea, where my mother worked on a collective farm. In August of 1941, when the threats of German occupation became evident, we were evacuated to Kazakhstan. In the spring of 1942, I was called to serve in the Red Army and after a course in an infantry school, was sent to the 23rd Infantry Division. We spent the next winter on the defense. In the 1943 summertime offense, I participated in the liberation of the city of Mirgorod, and in the fall we crossed the Dnepr River near the city of Zolotonos, suffering great losses. We occupied a bridgehead on the right bank of the river. For two weeks, we made many unsuccessful attempts at breaking the German lines. Again, we suffered many losses. In spite of reinforcements, the number of our troops remained low. Trying to throw us into the river, the Germans continued to attack every day. We stood firmly, keeping our positions and the village of Pekary within our bridgehead. We later learned that the goal of our battles was to divert the German forces while the troops liberated the city of Kiev. The night we left our positions, one of us measured the distance between the craters of the shells and mines. After reinforcement, our division continued fighting for the city of Dnepropetrovsk. There, I was injured and sent to a hospital. After recovery, I fought in the 58th Division. I 202

was injured again in a reconnaissance battle and had to stay in a hospital. From there, I was enlisted into the 10th Special Battalion of infantry equipped with sub-machine guns. With the 108th Guard Division, I took part in the battles for Budapest, Sekeshfehervar, and the lake of Balaton. I suffered a concussion and was sent to a medical battalion for treatment. After recovery, I returned to my 305th Regiment and continued the combat path through Hungary, Austria, and celebrated Victory Day in the city of Graz. I was awarded Orders of the Red Star, of the Great Patriotic War, and many medals including one For the Capture of Budapest.

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Solomon Kurnovskiy
I was born in 1926 in Bobruysk, Belarus. In 1941, I was evacuated to the city of Kuybyshev. My father was drafted into the army. My mother and sister vanished in the city of Bobruysk, which was then occupied by the Nazis. After graduating from an Industrial School, I worked at a factory as a turner. In December of 1944, I was drafted into the army and sent to a regiment school. I then served in Knigsberg, Eastern Prussia and remained in the military until 1951. After graduating from the Kuybyshev Mechanical Engineering College, I worked as an Instrumental section manager at a factory. I have lived in the United States since 1994. My wife and I have two children and four grandchildren.

Yuliy Kutner
I was born and lived in Moscow. I was sixteen when the war began. From the first days, my city was subject to fierce bombardments. The citizens spent their nights putting out the fires and saving their homes. I was working as a sailor aboard a tugboat when objects of great value were evacuated from Moscow: the assets of the government bank, the Tretyakov Gallery and others. Later, I worked at the military supply factory until I was summoned to build fortifications around Moscow. The army drafted me in 1942 into a new kind of group: parachute landing troops. I went through the training to learn proper parachute landing techniques and took part in an operation attacking the enemys rear on the 1st Ukrainian Front. After suffering an injury, I ended up on the Karelian front as part of a newly formed artillery division as a scout and forced the Svir River. We broke through the German-Finnish front lines. I later ended up in the 1st Ukrainian front once more as the commander of a group in anti-tank artillery. We made it to the Oder River through severe battles where we were forced to retaliate against a strong attack force of tanks and cannons. Our cannon became bogged down in the mud. Our ballistics man died and the one who loaded the cannon fled. I was forced 205

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to do everything alone until a German Ferdinand tank struck the shield around my tank. I was lucky enough to survive the strike with only a severe injury. After recovering in a hospital, I had just enough time to participate in the storming of Berlin; I left my signature on the wall of the Reichstag building. We then traveled through Dresden to reach Prague, where we met Victory Day. I was discharged as a disabled veteran of the war in 1946 and received many medals, including both a first and second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War.

Ilya Lemberg
Before the war began, I graduated from Moscow School #242. In August of 1941, the German planes flew over Moscow and bombarded the city. People began to panic. Our family was evacuated; we had few belongings with us. My mother, grandmother, younger brother and I were placed into the hold of a ship, like cattle. After sailing for three weeks, the ship brought us to the city of Molotov (Perm). The trip was difficult, with spoiled food and a lack of water. We were then loaded into supply trucks. Our suitcase with warm clothes was stolen. At that time, many criminals had been released from jail; at one point, such criminals took my jacket and shoes and beat me in the railway station. We were admitted to a remote region. In 1942, we came to my father in Stalinabad, Tajikistan. There, we lived in a small clay house with no light or heating. I became sick with abdominal typhus; it was a miracle that I survived. In March of 1943, I was drafted into the Red Army. I was a soldier of the 5th company, 186th regiment of the 62nd Guard Infantry Divisions. Carrying a machine gun, I took part in the crossing of the Dnepr River. When we reached the right bank of the river, only ten men of the 120 in the 5th company were still alive. The other 110 remained at the bottom of that river.

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In October of 1943, our division was surrounded by German troops near Krivoy Rog. For two weeks, our group of six men hid within straw stacks. We ate only what we could find in the fields and grew weak. We then decided to knock on a window and ask for help; a man fed us and promised to shelter us in his cattle yard. The following night, he brought in a command of SS-men, saying, Here they are, the Russians. We were thrown into a concentration camp. On the way to the commandants office, I managed to discard my Red Army Certificate; had the Nazis seen it and learned that Im a Jew, I would have been killed on the spot. When they asked my name, I replied, Tregubov. Two fellow prisoners from my regiment, Aleksey Trofimov and Porfiroy Glazirin knew my real, name but they did not betray me. I owe my life to them. In the second camp, conditions were even more terrifying. When the commandant asked the prisoners if anyone would like to serve in the Russian Liberation Army under General Vlasov, nobody stepped forward. He chose one out of each ten prisoners and shot them dead in front of the rest of us. The third camp was called the camp of nighttime death. The German guards forced us to dig trenches on their frontlines and would shoot at us for the smallest of reasons. I succeeded in escaping from there. At night, when our column went to the camp, I managed to lag behind and fell under a bearing of a high-tension lane. I later came to a village where a Russian woman, Nina Yeremeyevna, a mother of three, gave me shelter. In two weeks, the Germans fled. I underwent an interrogation by the special service men from SMERSH and was allowed to continue fighting. In March of 1945, I 208

was injured near Lake Balaton, Hungary. I am thankful to be alive after everything Id experienced in the war.

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Olga Lemberg
I was only 12 when the war began, but I recall the German air raids over Moscow well. All of the citys inhabitants, including children, began digging trenches in our backyards. We were then sent to the surrounding farms, kolkhoz, to assist in crop harvesting. I remember October of 1941, when the Germans came close to Moscow and all the people went to defend our city. Together with the adults, I stood on watch and threw high-explosive bombs down from the roofs. All the schools were closed and most of the factories were evacuated to the east. At the age of 13, I began work at Nogins Jersey Factory, manufacturing socks, foot-bindings and many other things the soldiers required. The factory worked around the clock in three shifts, each shift somewhere between 8 and 12 hours at a time. The shops were unheated; we worked in quilted jackets and our hands stuck to the cold metal of the machines. In addition to the manufacturing, we were also commanded to forestry logging and the factorys supplementary farm. There was a food shortage and nearly everything was rationed. In 1943, my mother died of malnutrition and my brother perished on the front. I was left all alone, but the people around me were kind and took care of me. I eventually fulfilled my dream of getting an education and continued working for 52 years, including 26 at the factory. 210

Among the wards I received, the one I hold closest to my heart is the medal For Valorous Labor during the Great Patriotic War. My husband is a WWII veteran. We have two children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and now live in America. The memories of those years of war and hardship remain unforgettable.

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Eugenia Leonova
1917 2006 In February of 1942, as a medical student, I was drafted into the Red Army and ordered to serve in the 310th Medical Battalion of the 277th Infantry Division. The battles were severe and losses were tremendous. I worked on the front line, saving the injured and carrying them from the battlefields. I then worked in a field hospital. Later, as a Regiments Physician, I was transferred to the Stalingrad Front. From that time until the end of the war, I participated in all of the operations under the 5th Anti-tank brigade, the defense of Stalingrad and the liberation of Crimea, Ukraine. To this day, I cant forget the horrors I experienced transporting the injured under heavy fire crossing the Volga, Don and Sivash Rivers. But I am proud of having saved so many lives. I met Victory Day as a Medical Service Captain in East Prussia. I was awarded an Order of the Great Patriotic War and many other medals. After the war, I graduated from a medical school in Stalingrad and devoted myself to medicine.

Leonid Levinson
My biography is not unusual. I was born in a small town of Kryzhopol, in the Vinnitsa province of Ukraine, in 1925. I was the only child, and when I was born, my parents were already advanced in age. In 1932, I went to school, and by the time the war started, I had finished 9 grades. I was a good student. When the fascists were approaching our province, all the young men were sent away to the East of our country. On our way we saw a military contingent, headed to the front. My father was a soldier in that contingent. With the permission of his commander, my father took me into his detachment, having added one year to my real age. And so, I became a soldier. I participated in battles by Pavlograd, near Dnepropetrovsk. Our division was retreating while continuing to fight, but little by little, we gave away Stalino, Donbass, and then Starobelsk, in Voroshilov District. Near Valuyki we were surrounded, but our division was successful in breaking through the enemy lines. From there, we continued to fight near Kupiansk. There I was wounded. After treatment, I became a member of the 45th Sniper Brigade, under the leadership of the Hero of the Soviet Union, General Safonov. With this brigade, we fought near Kharkov, and then in the battlefields of Voronezh. After I got wounded, I found myself in battlefields of Stalingrad, and then, in the 4th front of the Ukraine. As a member of the 846th Sniper regiment, I participated in the take-over of Dnepr, in the direction 213

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of Krivorozhsk. On November 27, 1943, I was once again wounded and shell-shocked. After I was treated, I was sent to fight against the banderovtsi (an underground resistance group), as a part of the Ministry of Internal Affairs military contingent. There was an atrocious battle in the Black forest the banderovtsi were headed to the west, seeking refuge in Europe. After all the banderovtsi were driven out of the Ukraine, I took part in searching and arresting the policemen, the gendarmes, and other parasites. I sought the traitors who destroyed the Jews in death camps, including the one in the village of Zhabokrych, and after that, I participated in defeating the gangs in Odessa, Kiev and Vinnitsa. As I continued working for the Ministry, I graduated from the 10th grade, finishing high school, and after that, graduated from the Beltsk Pedagogical Institute. I worked in schools, first in Moldavia, and then in my native Kryzhopol district of the Ukraine. I was decorated with two Medals of Honor, the Order of Patriotic War of the 1st Degree, many other medals, including Exceptional Contributor to Public Education. For 42 years I worked as a school Principal. In 1997 I arrived in the United States.

Lydia Leznik
I was born on the 9 th of July in 1923. I had just graduated from the 10th grade in Vinnytsia, Ukraine when the war began. My classmates and I were returning from our graduation ceremony in a loud and exuberant crowd, feeling mature and ready to take on the world, discussing our plans for the future and which Universities we would attend. The boys mocked the girls, saying they were only good for either teachers or nursing because they lacked the intellect for mathematics. Truthfully, I had always wanted to study medicine and become a doctor. With time, the crowd thinned out as pairs were led back to their homes by chaperones. It was around three in the morning when we reached the gates of our building that we suddenly heard the unfamiliar droning of loud planes flying overhead and all heading in one direction. My friend and I were shocked, but he calmed me down, reassuring me that it must have been a standard military training maneuver. We then made plans to meet at the park and play tennis the following morning. I remember putting on a sporty dress the following morning, with a sailor collar and pleated skirt. Yet those plans were interrupted by the declaration that a war had begun. It turned out that the planes we heard were German bomber planes on their way to attack Kiev that very night. Thus began the life all too familiar to those of our generation: bombardments, warning sirens and problems

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with evacuation. My mother and I traveled in a caravan of horse-drawn carriages, walking most of the way so that the horse would not be too exhausted. Near Khrystynivka, we saw German soldiers disguised as peasants holding baskets with concealed weapons inside. The city was bombarded and attacked that evening, bullets flying everywhere. We traveled for nearly a month and a half until we were taken aboard a train and taken to Almaty. My mother worked as a nurse while I worked as a nurses assistant in a hospital. We shared an unheated room with several other families. In February of 1942, I began studying at a medical school. I worked by day and attended classes in the evenings. Work at the hospital was difficult. The electricity was turned off in the evenings and we used lanterns to see at night. The hospital was located in a former school and the nurses also worked as janitors, mopping the floors and carrying supplies. There were few of us and many patients who all constantly cried out for attention. I need a bedpan, Im thirsty and I need a cigarette were the most common cries. It was there that I learned how to smoke. At one point before I had even completed my nurse training, I was promoted to the position of nurse. I then worked as a nurse until 1994 when we were re-evacuated back to Vinnytsia. I continued working as a nurse in a different hospital, this time on the graveyard shift. It was difficult, but I felt that I was right where I belonged. After graduating from the Medical Institute, I worked as a physician. In 1997, I immigrated to the United States of America. 216

Moses Leznik
I was born in Vinnica, Ukraine. In October of 1942, after graduating from the Kharkov Aviation School, my older brother Simon and I were sent to the front line as aviation mechanics. From that time until the end of the war, we served in the 568th Aviation Regiment. We checked, repaired and prepared airplanes for flight. Our work was difficult and usually done at night. The winter of 1942 was very cold and the air battles at the Kalinin Front were severe. We also participated in the battles on the Kursk Arch. In 1944, my brother went to Vinnica to see how our parents were doing. The news he returned with was sad: our father, Abram Leznik had been executed by the Nazis. We continued our technical efforts and installed four photo cameras on a plane. It was the single reconnaissance plane in the whole division. We also invented the installation of signal rockets on the tail of the plane and the German pilots couldnt understand what kind of new firearms the Russians had invented. My brother Simon and I were awarded Orders of the Red Banner, of the Great Patriotic War and many other medals.

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Michael Limanov
1913 2003 I was born in 1913 in Chernigov, Ukraine. After graduation from a Construction College in Kiev, I participated in the building of various industrial objects. In 1939, I was drafted into the Red Army. Soon after the war began, I was severely injured and contused in a battle. In 1942, after recovery in a hospital, I served as a quartermaster officer in the 17th Air Army. I remained in the military service until 1957. I was awarded two Orders of the Red Star, the Order of the Great Patriotic War and many medals. I am a disabled WWII veteran.

Lev Lubyanitskiy
Before WWII, we lived in Crimea. On June 22nd of 1941, the morning after the celebration party for our graduation from High School, the terrible news of the war reached us. Our family was evacuated to Caucasus. At the age of 18, I voluntarily joined the Red Army. After graduation from military school, I was sent to the North Caucasian Front. There, I was injured for the first time and after recovering, returned to the front. Fighting the Nazis, I crossed the Caucasus, Ukraine, Belarus, Latvia and Poland, and participated in the seizure of Berlin. At the end of the war, I was lucky to meet the American soldiers on Elbas bank. I served in the regiments reconnaissance. I remember well the heavy battles in the swampy region around Pinsk, Belarus. There were no roads; the Germans defended their fortifications and fired all around. Once, my commander ordered me to capture an enemy soldier, a so-called yazik (one who would talk). Under the cover of night and together with seven soldiers, we surrounded a bunker and waited all day, watching their movements. The next night, we threw a grenade into the bunker. After it detonated, we ran inside and captured a wounded German soldier. As we retreated, a German soldier jumped over me and attempted to strangle me. Luckily, one of my comrades saved

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me. The captured soldier divulged important information regarding the location of their troops. I was injured three times during the war. My awards include Orders of the Red Star and Great Patriotic War and many other medals.

Yuriy Lyayder
My grandfather, Zigmund Lyayder, was born on March 10th of 1876 in the city of Radscov, in the Ternopol region. He owned a barbershop in the city if Zolochev in the Lvov region where he worked as a barber. He was the father of seven sons and a daughter. There were many customers in his barbershop. Some of them brought their own razors. It was also a place for many conversations. At times, the customers would forget their possessions and came to pick them up later. Once, a package was left, but nobody came after it for some days or weeks. My grandfather opened it and found inside a piece of forbidden literature the Communist Manifesto by Marx and Engels. He brought it home and started reading. From then on, my grandfather was involved in and strongly believed in the communist fable. My father, Adolf Lyayder, was my grandfathers oldest son. As a gymnasium student, he also read forbidden literature and was involved in a political circle. In the 1920s, somebody informed the police of their activities and my father was pressed to flee to the Soviet Union. My grandfather was arrested and interrogated for three days until he told them that his son had fled to the Soviet Union. My father settled in Ukraine and began working as a schoolteacher. In 1923, he married a woman from Odessa named Lydia Rubinstein. My older brother Yusik was born in

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1924. I was born on December 31st of 1925. From 1923-1930, my parents lived and worked as teachers in the Vinnytsia region of Ukraine. In 1931, we moved to the North Caucasus. There, we resided first in the small village of Krim, and later in a Cossak village, Bekeshevskaya. The year 1937 was a time of repression. Six hundred residents of the 8,000-person village were arrested. Of them, only two returned home. On the 18th of August, late in the night, three men entered our house and began searching. I remember the layers of feathers from the pillows and feather beds on the floor. The visitors confiscated our radio, photos, letters and other belongings. The following day, my father was arrested in the district village Suvorovskaya. We learned of his arrest much later. A spouse of a late local beekeeper told us that my father had been under arrest for two months. While there, her husband saw my bloodstained father as he was carried on a stretcher after an interrogation. After my fathers arrest, my mother was laid off from her job. We had to sell our possessions to buy food. When there was nothing left to sell, we decided to leave. In November of 1940, we moved to Leningrad where my mothers sister lived. Before 1937, our living conditions were not bad. My parents earned regular salaries for their jobs. As a school principal, my father had the right to buy produce from a collective farm. My mother was a good-natured woman. She used to feed our friends from a neighboring family of five kids without a father. She also gave them our clothes and shoes. But when my brother Yusik decided to join Komsomol (the Communist Union of Youth), one of our friends, dressed in my brothers pants and shoes, raised his voice in the organization meeting. He was against my brothers acceptance into the Komsomol, because his father was arrested. That episode served me well; I never tried or wanted to join the Komsomol. 222

My brother and I decided to obtain a higher education. I was sent to an Industrial School at the factory Sudomech to study as a metal worker. My brother entered another Industrial School. As the war began, all the students of our school were sent to build fortifications on the Luga defense line. Two months later, we returned to Leningrad. The studies were terminated earlier than planned. I was assigned as a metal worker of the 3rd category and sent to the Marat factory. Our workshop manufactured helmets, tops, aircraft stabilizers and many other items needed for the army. It was very cold in the house we lived. There was neither electricity nor running water; the pipes were frozen solid. After a bombardment, the roofs and windows were broken. The room next to ours was hit by a shell. Luckily, at that moment my brother was at the bakery and my brother was at his workplace. We couldnt stay there anymore, so we moved to another room. I managed to construct a self-made heater, the so-called bourgeoisie from the workshops metal. We threw anything that would burn inside books, furniture, clothes and footwear. The windows were covered with blankets. Nobody removed the snow from the streets and yards. There were masses of dirt around. I worked seven days a week with no holidays. There was no transportation and the trip to the factory took 1-2 hours in each direction. As a worker, I was eligible for a monthly ration card. It allowed me to buy 250 grams of bread per day. At the workplace, I received a watery soup with some groats on the bottom of the bowl and a small horsemeat cutlet. I used to drink the liquid, but carry home the solid part of the soup and the cutlet. There, we put it into a large saucepan, added some five liters of boiling water and made more soup from it. In January of 1942, my 223

uncle and then my mothers sister died from starvation. My brother moved away because he worked far from our home, on Vasilyevski Island. Upon returning home, I noticed that some people were carrying coal out of the heating room. I took several pieces as well, but was caught by the groundskeeper. She yelled at me, and then the manager appeared. He punished me severely, took away my passport and locked me into the cold and wet laundry room where corpses of dead tenants were kept. I later learned that the house administrators didnt report deaths for a long time in order to use their ration cards. After the long and arduous day, I was exhausted and couldnt stay on my feet any longer. I had to remove a corpse from a plank to have a seat. The manager kept me locked in the laundry room until the following morning. When I came home, my mother was hysteric; she was afraid that I had been lost in a bombardment. She was very weak from dystrophy, and her daily bread ration was only 125 grams. The story continued. The manager didnt return my passport. When I came to the bakery to register my monthly ration card, the saleswoman requested my passport. Since I couldnt present it, she started yelling at me that the card was not mine, but stolen. She didnt return the card. I hurried to the house manager for the passport, but he took me to the militia. I was kept there for a long time until the official returned my passport. When I came back home, my mother was once again in a state of hysteria. The following day, I came back to the bakery and presented my passport to the same saleswoman. She ignored me, saying she knew nothing about my card. I started crying. Luckily, an officer from the army was there. I told him what happened and he saved me. The officer removed his pistol from its holster and pointed it at that woman, saying, You, bitch, return the card to this boy or Ill shoot you! She 224

found my card and gave it back to me. I happily returned to the factory by midday. The assistant manager noticed that I arrived late and punished me by reducing my monthly earnings by 20%, but it was not a very significant loss. My mother and I were happy that such a complicated situation had a favorable outcome. The large house where we lived in Leningrad was located close to a church at Sennaya Square. Twelve hundred residents lived there. Later, the house was destroyed together with a church and the metro station Ploschad Mira was constructed in its place. In April of 1942, many factory workers were sent to clean the streets and backyards. There was a lot of sewage. During the winter, there was neither running water nor indoor plumbing. People used to throw their excrement out the windows. It was all frozen and hung outside the windows along the entire house. It was extremely important to clean the city in order to prevent an epidemic; I spent three months doing that work. My brother Yusik came home in a state of dystrophy. He couldnt walk. I appeared to be stronger, though my weight was only 40 kilograms. In order to survive, we decided to try and escape from Leningrad. Meanwhile, I got sick after drinking dirty water from an unclean and rusty pot. I began to shiver with a high fever and severe stomach pain and was dragged to the Botkin Infectious Hospital. They mistakenly placed me in the female department and only ten days later was I put in the male barracks. I stayed there with abdominal typhoid for six weeks. Once, my brother came to visit me, but my mind wasnt clear and I couldnt recognize him. I heard somebody saying, He cannot walk. My brother gave me a bagel, but as I tried to bite it, my gums started bleeding. 225

My brother told me that he was working as a moviemechanic on a mill. He managed to bring home some flour and groats from the mill. In ten days, he took me home. We decided to seek permission to be evacuated from Leningrad. The only way out of the city was through the icy Ladoga Lake, the so-called Road of Life. My brother paid two glasses of flour to a Vyborg district official for a document allowing us to be evacuated. We went by train from the Finland railway station to the Ladoga Lake. From there, we took a boat to Tikhvin. There, we were loaded into supply trucks and carried deep into Ural, and farther into Siberia. We first settled in Kulunda, but later moved to Tabuni in the Altay region. Two weeks later, my brother received a summons to serve in the army. I decided to accompany him to the district recruitment office. When we got there, the officer asked me if Id like to serve together with my brother. I told him that I was not ready at that moment, but he said that we had four days to prepare. He wrote a summons on my name, adding the word volunteer. When we returned home and told our mother that we were both drafted, she had a heart attack. Obviously, she felt that she was seeing her sons for the last time. On August 30th of 1942, my brother and I were delivered to Buzuluk through a transit point in Omsk. We were told that we would serve in the Polish Army, but we were sent to the 2nd Guard Mechanized Corps. My brother was assigned as a radio operator of the 6th brigade. I became a machine gunner in the battalion of mechanized infantry. In the middle of December of that year, our corps was sent to urgently assist the 63rd Army defending Stalingrad against the German troops of General Mansteins group. We moved quickly all throughout the night. In the morning, we were given a hot breakfast and a ration of vodka. We were dressed warmly, but while waiting for the oncoming dangers, we still felt cold and shivered to 226

the depths of our bones. After a massive artillery attack and bombardment of the enemys positions, our brigade engaged in battle. We moved ahead slowly by running short distances and crawling. I had witnessed a lot of tragedies and seen many dead and injured people in Leningrad, but in this battle, I felt a sense of imminent danger as well. A landmine detonated next to me and I was thrown by the blast. I was deafened and didnt understand what had happened. My eyes were dusted with earth. The cold air smelled of gunpowder. Seeing that I was alive and not injured, an attendant passed by. Minutes later, I woke up and found my weapon some 3-4 meters away. I carried and moved ahead. Crawling over the frozen ground was like crawling over rakes, but it was necessary. We captured Vyerkhne-Kumsk in the evening. Our losses were great: only half of the personnel of the battalion and only four out of ten men in my unit remained. Our battalion was removed from the front lines and sent in for reformation to the village of Ivanovskoye. Ten days later, we fought for the villages of Sovietskay, Oblivskaya and Verkhne-Chirskaya. On November 1st of 1942, I suffered a leg injury and was sent to the Omsk hospital. After recovery, I was sent to a marching company on March 28th of 1942. In May, we were brought by train to the Ryazan region. From there, we walked to Selci. There, the Kostushko named Polish Division began its formation. My brother also commanded there; he had suffered a heavy stomach wound and was treated in a hospital in the city of Gorky for over two months. He was then enlisted in a tank battalion as a radio operator, and it was there that we met again. As the T-34 tanks were delivered, Colonel Berling, the commander of the Polish Division, came to inspect the 227

armament. My brother found a moment and told the General that he and I were drafted together and asked his permission to have me transferred to his unit. It worked, and I was allowed to join my brother again. Meanwhile, significant events took place in my infantry regiment. Among the soldiers were former prisoners whose jail time was exchanged for going to the front lines. The atmosphere of the regiment was not good. Many soldiers, though of Polish origin were former Soviet residents and atheists, and were not used to the morning and evening prayers led by Catholic priests. Not all of them spoke Polish, as the officers required. Their discipline called for an intensive military training, but one was not given. Some soldiers wrote letters to Stalin, but nobody received a response. One day, the entire regiment stood in formation on the plaza. The commander gave an order: Everybody who doesnt want to serve in the Polish Army three steps forward! Almost half of the regiment, 600 or 700 men stepped out from the formation. Soon, the entire Polish Division stood in formation on the bank of the Oka River. Then a Black Raven came, delivering 11 men. They were tightened with strings to the previously prepared eleven columns. A verdict by the military tribunal followed; for refusal to serve in the Polish Army, those men were sentenced to death as deserters. They were all shot in front of us. I had to stay in that infantry regiment for one more week before I was transferred to the tank battalion. My brother took me inside his tank and instructed me on radio operating. I became a gunner and radio operator of the tank. In addition to me, the crew of my tank included the commander Boleslav Zavadsky, the loader Zbignyev Novotny, the driver Nikolay Pogrebnyak and the aimer Stas Miller. 228

In June of 1943, an official ceremony of taking the Polish military oath was performed. It was followed by a military parade accepted by the colonel Zigmund Berling. There were also several eminent guests at the ceremony: Boleslav Berut, the United Labor Party Secretary, and Vanda Vasilyevska, the famous Polish writer. In September of 1943, our division performed fast and intensive preparations to move to the front lines. Our tanks, artillery and cars were loaded onto railway platforms at the station Divovo. The echelon was driven with no stops. We passed Moscow, then the city of Vyazma, entirely ruined after the severe battles. I dont remember the name of the station where we unloaded and from which we went by foot in the direction of Smolensk. The front line was very close. We could see the glow of fire on the horizon. After the rains, the roads were a muddy mess. We moved along the country roads. Landmines were on both sides of each path. Often, we had to use tanks to remove other cars from the swamp. We crossed the Dnepr River on a pontoon constructed by the sappers, then rested for two days in the forest. On October 10th of 1943, we stayed near the village of Lapino in the Mogilev region, held by the Germans. In the early morning, a German Fokker appeared over our heads and a massive bombardment of our positions followed. It continued until the evening. On October 12th, after the enemy positions were covered by artillery and bombardment, our troopers supported by our tanks began an 229

offensive. Our helmets couldnt protect us from the roaring of the engines, bombardments and artillery fire. As the infantry broke through the enemy lines, we moved our tanks ahead, but our advancement was slow. The Germans held their positions strongly. Our tanks could move easily over the flat landscape and we managed to move ahead after our Katushas sent a salvo over the enemy. But after some 200 meters, a landmine detonated under our tank. It damaged the treads and we became an immobile target. First, the driver left the tank, but he was immediately shot dead. The commander was the next one. Then an armored shell hit the tank. I dont know what happened next. I apparently suffered a concussion and was transported to a hospital in Novosibirsk where I did not regain consciousness for 30 days. After two months, I was discharged from the hospital as unsuitable for military service and returned to Kulunda in the Altay region. I presented the documentation of my disability to the local military officer (the same one who had drafted me as a volunteer). When he learned that I had served in the Polish Army, he refused to issue my ration cards and referred me to a Polish committee. There, I was asked where I was from. I responded, From Leningrad. The official woman then told me, What kind of relations did you have with Poland? We do assist former Polish citizens. Such a response filled me with anger. I took the bottle of ink from the table and threw it in her direction; luckily, it only hit the wall. Sometime later, I received a package from Barnaul with good things inside: a rough training suit, a sweater, warm underwear, woolen socks, boots, soap and a box of egg powder. Some good people had extended their help to a disabled soldier. I came to the village of Serebropol, hoping to find my mother, but she was no longer among the living. First, she had 230

received a notification that her olden son, Yusik, was lost near the village of Tregubovo in the Mogilev region on November 13th of 1943. Sometime later, someone from my crew went a letter, informing her that I had perished in a battle as well. My mothers heart couldnt bear such tremendous stress and it stopped. I remained a civilian for only one month. In February of 1944, a medical examination was conducted in Serebropol. I was identified as suitable for military service and given three days to prepare. Again, I was sent to the Omsk transit point, in familiar Cheryomushki. In the middle of March of 1944, I came with a marching company to the city of Kotovsk. The same 2 nd Guard Mechanized Corps that I had fought with in my first battle near Stalingrad was there. I was enlisted into the 1st battalion of the 6th Guard Mechanized Brigade. Together with this unit, I made my way from Kotovsk to Prague. After the seizure of Budapest, in a battle for the city of Dyer, I hit a German armored carrier using a Faust-patron. It was very helpful to our troopers, who were pressed to the ground by the carriers firing. For this, the commander awarded me. In the battles for the city of Komarom, our company lost almost three fourths of its contingent. The remaining soldiers were sent to protect the Corps headquarters, located in a forest. Once, when patrolling at night, I noticed some moving silhouettes, As I stopped them and asked for the password, they ran away. I fired my automatic weapon. Then our soldiers, aroused by the alarm, followed the intruders and found a shot German on the ground. At that time, our Generals Sviridov and Ployev were talking on the radio. When they 231

were informed of this event, they expressed their gratitude and promised to award me. To tell the truth, I didnt receive the promised award. As we liberated the cities of Brno and Prague, I had to continue the military service until March 8th of 1943. My last units location was in the city of Rene, in the Odessa region. After my discharge from the army, I came to my mothers sister in Leningrad. Immediately, I found a job as a metalworker at an automobile workshop. Studying in the evenings, I finished high school. In 1953, I graduated from the Leningrad Industrial College. I took a correspondence course from the Mechanical Faculty of the Leningrad Polytechnic and graduated in 1960. Having worked at different Leningrad enterprises for 48 years, being educated, professional, disciplined and courteous, I nevertheless felt like a second-class citizen. National identity and affiliation with the Communist party were the main factors in making a successful and prospective career in the former Soviet Union. With only education and professional skills, one could be dismissed from his job at any time. Taking this into consideration, I started looking for ways to emigrate from my native country, the country I had defended, where I lost my mother, father and brother, whose graves are unknown to me. I decided to emigrate for the sake of my children and grandchildren. In 1939, as a result of Polands partition by Hitler and Stalin, the West Ukraine was captured by the Soviet Union. The Soviet propaganda presented this action as liberation by the Red Army of the brotherly people. Not long before our departure to Leningrad, we got some letters from my grandfather, we got some letters from my grandfather Zigmund Lyayder, but my mother was afraid to respond 232

to him. In 1960, I visited my mother-in-law in the village of Voropovica, in the Vinnica region. I told her about my grandfathers children seven sons and a daughter. I wondered if any of them remained alive. She advised me to search in the Lvov region. In the city of Zolochev, I came to my grandfathers barbershop. There, I asked for anybody who had worked there before the war. I was told about Michael Gumanuk. When I met him and asked about Zigmund Lyayder, he recognized me at once and asked, Are you Yulik? He then proceeded to tell me a story. He was a foster child. His uncle, Popadyuk, a local school teacher, had been my grandfathers permanent customer. With his uncles protection, Michael became my grandfathers apprentice. He lived in my grandpas home, knew all our family members, heard their conversations, and remembered the photos. Michael recognized me, recalling my photo. Michael told me that my grandfather and all his family members had been in the ghetto. The Nazis had executed all of them at the time of their retreat. His house at #9 Ueysky Street was not destroyed; it was confiscated by the State and remodeled into six apartments. My grandfathers former barbershop was transformed into a bakery. In 1948, when I had to present documents do be hired for a job, I had to hide the information about the execution of my father. I wrote that my parents had been divorced while my brother and I were young, and that I knew nothing more about my fathers fate. Then, after the well-known Soviet Communist Partys 20 Congress, I wrote a letter to the Attorney General of the Stavropol region. Soon, I was invited to the Leningrad 233
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KGB office. There, I was told, Your father, Adolf Lyayder, has been rehabilitated by the military tribunal of the North Caucasian region because of absence of any composition of crime. A letter arrived with my fathers Death Certificate. From that document, I learned that the cause of his death was unknown. In 1970, I visited the village on Bekeshevskaya. There, I met our former neighbor, Kolokov, one of the only two men released from jail (out of the 600 arrested in 1937). When I asked him about my father, he immediately flinched. Then, he came around and said, No, I know nothing and I never heard of him

Shifra Lyubimova
1923 2009 My mother - Lyubimova Shifra Kalmanovna - had a very unusual destiny, which led her to every corner of the former USSR - from Western Ukraine (Poland) to Central Asia, from Odessa to Kamchatka and back, and, finally, brought her to California. Every time she moved, she had to create a new home, lose friends and possessions... This is why she used to call herself, The Three Times Refugee from the Soviet Union. My mother was a very talented woman - a true survivor. She was always acting as a savior for herself and her family, the person who found a way out from the most complicated situations, an independent, realistic thinker. Her life was shaped by her natural talents, her family, and all the people she met on her way. She used to say that we are hated for having an excellent memory. We remember all the injustice we encountered. By this, she meant Jews and people in general. Herself, she did have an excellent memory. My late younger brother, Yuriy Lyubimov and friends asked mother to write her biography, but I always thought that there is still time for that... This biography is written from my mothers stories about her childhood and her life before my birth. These stories accompanied me all of my life. Childhood and Youth My mothers maiden name was Shifra Fridman. She was born on September 23, 1923 in Poland, in a small town of

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Yagelnitsa, Tarnopolskiy Principality, in the household of her grandmother, Liya Taiber. Her parents father, Kalman Fridman (born 1896), and mother - Frida Fridman (maiden name Kon-Taiber, born 1898) were cousins. The Fridman family lived in the town of Buchach of Tarnopolskiy Principality. Before 1918 this territory belonged to AustroHungary, which in the first World War fought against Czarist Russia. Kalman was enlisted to fight in this war, which later in life brought him many troubles. The Fridman family followed the Jewish traditions: they prayed in Hebrew, spoke Yiddish, spoke Polish to the Poles, and Ukrainian to the Ukrainians. Before 1918 the official language of the country was German, and after 1918 - Polish. Thus, Shifra grew up with many languages. The children grew up with nannies. My mothers favorite nanny was Paulina, who taught Shifra Ukrainian songs. When mom was six years old, she broke her arm. After visiting the doctor, she was returning home late at night, loudly singing a Ukrainian song. Shifras father received traditional Jewish religious education, but did not follow in the footsteps of his father Isaak, who was a respected scholar of Talmud and a Hassidic Jew, instead opting to become a chemist. In 1920 he graduated
1936. Chortkov candle factory. From the left: Kalman and his children Joseph and Shifra at a candle machine - Petro Fedoschak. From the family archive

with the profession of a soap-maker and cosmetic chemist. With his companion, he built a chemical factory Alba, where he worked as an engineer-technologist. The factory produced candles, various laundry supplies and soap. The factory was small, but the demand for their production was constant, so the partners were able to survive through the Great Depression. However, when things started looking up, Kalmans partner brought in his son-in-law, and declared the factory a family business. Kalman had to leave. In 1934 he and his family moved to the town of Chortkov of the Tarnopolskiy Principality. The town had only 20,000 residents, 55% of which were Polish, 30% Jews, and 15% Ukrainian. In Chortkov, Kalman found another business partner, with whom he opened another candle factory. In Chortkov, Shifra entered a gymnasium. Only 30% of all applicants could be Jewish, so it was Shifras great achievement to become a student there. She always remembered her years of studying at the Chortkov gymnasium with pleasure. Among other subjects, students had to learn Religious Law, so the class was divided into three parts, in order to accommodate religious convictions of the three main groups of students Ukrainians, Jews and Poles. Despite this apparent religious tolerance, Shifra always knew that it was dangerous for her to enter a church or a cathedral. The gymnasium gave its student a thorough education. I have always admired the way my mother could quickly name any river, lake or mountain of any continent. When she read books, she always kept an Atlas nearby, tracking the travelers journeys. She could distinguish between Roman triremes and the ships of the Vikings, and new the names of emperors that ruled ancient Egypt, China and Greece. Unfortunately, after two years of studying at the gymnasium, Shifra had to leave because her family could no longer pay for tuition. 237

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Her quick mind and ability to deal with any situation Shifra inherited from her father, who, in difficult times, learned to sow shirts, make packages, and fashion special paper bags that were sold at grocery stores. All of the Fridman family was later involved in the making of these paper bags. This unusual business saved the family in times of great economic challenge, but father always blamed Shifra in disclosing the way of making the paper bag to her friends. Later in life, Shifra showed her Japanese friend how to make the bag out of a piece of paper, and the latter commented, That is a very useful origami. In 1936, Shifra for the first time joined the Jewish boy scouts, Ha Shomer Ha Tsair, which prepared young people to guard Palestinian kibbutz. In Ha Shomer Ha Tsair young people lived in tents, organized by age groups. They hiked in the woods, made fires, and had young fighter competitions. Among other things, the young scouts learned things like how to walk around the city, if you need to leave your home at night, how to hide in the dark, and to always leave the house with a stick or an umbrella, to defend oneself from the attacking ghosts. Shifra learned these lessons well, and they often helped her later in life. Mom often talked about the everyday life in this small town of Chortkov, and her stories did not match what we imagined life in a small town to be. Streets were clean and orderly, watched over by guards who could fine you for any small thing. Saturday was a holiday for Jews, and Sunday - for the Poles. It was not permitted to do any trade on Sundays, so the Jews had to sell their merchandize thought the back door, pretending to loan the produce to their relatives. Chortkov had a movie theater, where Shifra saw many films with Charlie Chaplin, Max Linder, and others. The town 238

also had a library, where the librarian vigilantly watched that the books that were being checked-out were age-appropriate. Here Shifra acquainted herself with many works of classical Russian literature, Jewish literature, and many others. On September 17-October 5, 1939, a part of Poland was voluntarily annexed to Western Ukraine. The locals, according to mom, considered this event to be the start of the war. From the west, Poland was attacked by the Germans, and from the east - by the Soviet troops. The Red Army, entering Chortkov, robbed stores and storefronts; all of the private organizations were made property of the government, among them, Kalmans candle factory. All those who expressed a desire to join their relatives in Poland were registered in special rosters, and sent off to Siberia. At this time, mom was 16 years old. She became the citizen of the USSR, but, having lived on both sides of the iron curtain, she was not as blind to reality as many other Soviet citizens. The War On the eleventh day of the war (July 2, 1941), when Germans had already taken over Lvov, a group of liberal men, including Kalman, decided to go into hiding. They argued that Germans were a civilized nation, and would not touch women, children or the old, so they were only dangerous for the men. Lucky for my mom, her neighbors did not believe in Germans civility. They talked the family into joining their cart, and going into exile. Thus started the familys evacuation to the south. 239

They never caught on to Kalman, walking along the crying soldiers. On this march, my mom for the first time saw how poor was her new country. When 1945. Joseph Fridmans inquiry about the family reached the whereabouts of his parents. Buguruslav Dneprodzerdzhinsk, Bureau of Statistics. From the family archive they were sent to work in collective farms. The men were separated from women, and sent to dig trenches. Among them was Shifras brother Joseph, who neversaw his mother again. Mother and daughter managed to board a train that carried other refugees to its destination - the cities of Andizhan, Uzbek SSR. There, Frida and Shifra started working as seamstresses at a sewing cooperative Tikuchi (flame in Uzbek). At first, the Uzbeks were friendly to Jewish refugees, but later, they say because of German propaganda, their attitude radically changed. Unfortunately, neither Frida nor Shifra spoke Russian, and spoke to each other in Yiddish, which is very close to German. These were hungry years. They sold everything they could. From hunger and worries about her husband and son, Frida contracted typhoid fever and died on June 2, 1942. She was 46 years old. Shifra was left alone. Two weeks later Shifra received a letter from her father. He was in Stalinabad (now Dushanbe), the capital of Tajik SSR. It took three months for Shifra to receive the permission to move to her father. Kalman was not enlisted in the army because he had fought during World War I on the German side, and that was well remembered, and Shifra was not enlisted 240

because her eyesight was very weak. In Stalinabad, Kalman worked as a soap maker and managed a soap making workshop. 1944. Stalinabad. Father and daughter, There, he suggested Kalman and Shifra Fridman using the waste products of cotton oil for making soap. He also organized the production of liquid soap and shampoo at the factory. The process of making shampoo turned out to be a fiasco because of some fragranced conditioning element. Because of this, Kalmans idea was ridiculed in the satirical journal Crocodile. Kalman was rarely praised for his innovative ideas, but would always get the full brunt of blame. In 1942, the Odessa Technological Institute of Canning was evacuated to Stalinabad. By this time, Shifra had only finished nine classes of high school, but since the Institute needed students, she was allowed to apply. Her issue, however, remained the Russian language. She could pass math, but she would need to speak Russian to pass geography and history. In this situation, Shifra was helped by the teacher of the Yiddish language, who volunteered to translate her answers into Russian. And so, Shifra became a student at the Institute. In the evenings, when she returned home, she followed the advice learned at her scout training, and managed to avoid the numerous gangs that terrorized the streets. When Odessa was freed on April 10, 1944, the Institute moved out of Stalinabad. Since all the dormitories were destroyed, the students were accommodated in the apartments of Odessa residents who had not yet returned. Shifra and her course-mates were housed in Krasniy Alley, near the Opera. 241

This allowed Shifra and her friend Lilia to get acquainted with opera productions. The girls would join the crowds of spectators who left the Opera house during intermissions, and returned inside with them. Thus, the two friends saw only the seconds halves of many operas. Life in postwar Odessa was hard. To make ends meet, Shifra took on alteration work. In the meanwhile, her brother Joseph, who was sent to fight in Iran, managed to contact their father as well.

very hard for her to get hired. This was the time when Jews were especially disliked, plus, she was born in Poland, and was never considered quite the Soviet citizen. All of her reasoning proved to be right. Shifra and her friends moved on, looking for work in the Avachi Fish Factory. However, no one needed extra workers. In this instance, she was helped by yet another Guardian Angel - a Jewish lawyer by the name of Lubin. Lubin advised Shifra to write an article to the newspaper, and describe all her troubles with finding work, as well as request the funds for her return to Odessa.

1948. Defense of a graduate project by Shifra Fridman. From the family archive

Kalman tried hard to return to Poland. He started putting together some papers in order to receive permission to leave the country, but on the way back from Moscow, where he had taken samples of his new inventions, he got sick with typhus and died on July 2, 1945. His last request to his friends was not to let Shifra come to see him. Perhaps, this was connected with the fact that the desire of a Soviet citizen to leave the country could have serious consequences. Joseph must have learned about it as well, so, since the rest of the family in Chortkov was killed, he moved to Odessa, to be near his sister. There, he met Shifras friend Lilia Rubanovskaia, and in three years time they got married. Kamchatka In 1948 Shifra defended her diploma and was referred for work to Vladivostok. However, she was sure that it would be 242

Map showing the location of the village of Rybachiy. Fish Factory No. 1, mechanical workshops. Composition created from the Internet data

The very next day mom became a mechanic at the Fish Factory No. 1 at the village of Novaia Tarya (later called Rybachiy). Shifra supervised 30 workers of the mechanical workshops, and about 200 workers of the factory, who in every way tried to make her life more difficult. The change in their relationship started from the repair of a fish conveyer. The workers transported the fish by hand, since the conveyer had been broken for a long time. Shifra volunteered to fix it, and, using her student notes, worked alongside a lathe operator, carefully calculating the location 243

and function of each broken details. Needless to say, she was ridiculed by nearly everyone in the village. However, when the conveyer was fixed and significantly alleviated the workload of many, the relationship between Shifra and her workers changed. Mother rented a room in a communal apartment. Her neighbors were the family of hunting brigade members. She was single, so after a while she started dating a very handsome young military man from Moscow. As a real son of a Jewish mother, the young man consulted her about Shifra, and the mother carried out her sentence: she is too short for you. Most likely, it was mothers documentation rather than her height that scared off the suitor, so the couple separated. Years ago, this young man returned from Moscow to seek Shifra out, but by this time she was already married. In the meanwhile, mother often saw some brazen young man outside of her window. He wore a bears mask that covered his face. Remembering her young scout lessons, mother found a stick, and next time when she saw the young man, she hit him on the head. Thats how my parents met. The man in the bears mask turned out to be her neighbor down the hallway; he used the mask for hunting. The young people married a year later. Shifras husband, Georgiy Denisovich Lubimov (born 1910, according to papers), had an unusual life as well. Details of his biography were carefully held secret from us kids. We knew only partial names of his parents - father Denis, and mother Ekaterina. The only photo of his family was a 1932 snapshot of his brothers Anatoly and Nikolay, two sisters, Anna and Valentina, and a nephew, Valerik. Thats all. Moms uncertain biographical information could not harm father, who could not count on building a career in the Soviet Union. 244

Mom finally told us some things about him only in 1985, thirty years after fathers death, when she was sure that glastnost prevailed, and there was no return to the previous regime. According to Shifras story, my fathers parents were teachers in Krasnoyarsk. They were not aristocrats, but during the civil war my grandfather Denis joined the army of Kolchak, to voluntarily fight against the Soviet regime. While in the army, he contracted typhus, and returned home. The Soviet soldiers who came to arrest him, got scared of being infected, and left him to die. His widow, Ekaterina, in order to save the children, ran to a village, where she worked as a teacher and married a rich peasant. The step-father disliked Georgiy, used him as a slave, and punished him for anything by brutally beating his mother and making Georgiy watch. Many years later, in Odessa, father still cried, telling me this story. He ran away from home several times, but was always caught. In 1932, having added four years to his real age, he enlisted in the army. He became a signaler in Kiev. After discharge in 1934, he was recommended for the school of Red Commanders, yet the authorities discovered his familys anti-Soviet past. Since then, father lived in constant danger of being arrested, and led the life of constant evasion of authorities. In order to stop the compilation of information about himself, father moved to the Far East, and only accepted temporary or contract jobs. Father never learned what happened to his mother and siblings. Before his marriage, his possessions were a couple of hunting diaries and a barometer that he received as a gift for saving the crew of the seine-boat Nagel from storm on October 24, 1947. This barometr belongs to his grandson, 245

During the long winters, our parents had to wake up very early, in order to clear out the way out the door, so we could go to school. It was a bit eerie to walk through a snowy tunnel in the morning, but during the day everything looked very beautiful, covered with sparkles.
1950. Georgiy Lyubiov, his whaler Bechevinets, and the barometer, presented to him by the grateful crew of the seine-boat Nagel. Composition created from the family archive

Artyom Lubimov. Our parents got married in 1950. Father needed to get a better job. With his wifes help, Georgiy carefully created his familys biography, calling his parents village teachers, without mentioning their names. He then was able to join the courses of diesel mechanics of third degree, after which he started working on a tug-boat. In 1951 my parents hand me, Tamara Lyubimova, and in 1952, my younger brother, Yuriy. Living in Kamchatka, we were used to earthquakes, and did not even wake up when they happened. However, entirely different matters were the gargantuan tsunami waves, which could reach up to 18 m in height. They could wash off entire villages. The climate of Kamchatka was very harsh. The snow stayed on the ground until May, and children constantly lacked fresh food and vitamins.

Our parents always took care of us. Mother sewed us clothes, and father fashioned our furniture. For the New Years celebration, 1955. Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy. he would create fireworks The Lyubimov family. From the family from fishermens signaling archive lights, and put together a Christmas tree from pine tree branches. Our apartment was decorated with animal skins and stuffed animals. Mother made sure we read appropriate books and developed intellectually. Later, she told me that focusing on their family was all they could do to survive this system of complete terror. In 1957 our family went on a six-month trip across the Soviet Union. In order to do this, parents worked without vacations for three years straight. First we swam across the Sea of Okhotsk till Vladivostok. During this stretch of our journey my brother and I were thrilled to see real whales. In Vladivostok we switched to a train, and rode across the entire Siberia to Moscow. Lake Baykal even now stands out in my 247

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memory. From Moscow we went to Kislovodsk, where our parents rested at a resort, while my brother and I stayed at the apartment with a huge bath tub. We loved to dive in at one end of this bath tub, and come up on the other. After this we visited mothers brother Joseph, who had just had a daughter - Vera. There, we for the first time swam in the Black Sea. From Odessa we went to visit mothers aunt Sonia in Lvov, and then started our long journey home.

Odessa In Odessa, my parents used all their savings to buy a private home built on a large lot. Parents found good work, and things started looking up. However, in 1963, father and Yuriy got into a motorcycle accident. Yuriy got out of it with nothing but a scratch on the back, but father broke his legs, and badly hit his chest against the wheel. This was his second injury to the chest, and we think it may have become the catalyst for the development of lung cancer. On April 27, 1963, our father died at the age of 49. Remaining respectful to her husband, mother organized a proper Orthodox Christian ceremony for his funeral. Our mother was only 40, I was 12, and my brother was 10. This was the beginning of the hardest period of our life. We were devoid of fathers protection, and after his death, neighbors, even relatives started harassing us. We often saw our mother panicked and desperate - she did not know how to live. She would cry, and we stood next to her, not knowing how to help. However, after some time she managed to pull herself together, and started once again fighting for our survival. She started gardening, growing apricots, selling marinades, and, once again, sewing. Her salary of an engineer could not possibly cover our expenses. Yuriy learned to fight back at school, but the only teacher who defended and understood him, was the teacher of biology. Perhaps, this is why Yuriy later became a biologist. In 1975 mother changed her job, and started working at the factory Kinap as a constructor of second degree. This factory produced equipment for film cameras. This equipment was then sent to India, where it was once again taken apart for lenses. 249

1957. Kislovodsk. The Lyubimov family. From the family archive

At home, all went back to normal. For good work, in 1959 father was elected as a deputy for the Elizovskiy Union of the workers of District of Kamchatka. Once mother was working at the pier, and suddenly saw a rocket carrying a nuclear weapon come up to the surface. All of the people on shore froze with fear. A few minutes later, the shore was full of military men, who tugged the rocket back. It turned out that it got detached from a submarine that was passing through the Avachinskaya Cove. At the end of the 1950s, father started feeling unwell. He needed to change the climate, so the family packed up and moved to Odessa.

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In 1976 Yuriy got married, and in 1977 he had a son, Artyom. At this time mother decided to retire, in order to help with the grandchild. Her colleagues were sorry to see her go, but she considered her family responsibilities more 1991. Odessa. The farewell picture with important. However, grandson Artyom before his departure for immediately after she the United States left her job, her daughter-in-law let her know that Artyom has his own grandparents, and her services are not needed. Mother patiently waited a few years for the situation to improve, especially that it was nearly impossible to find a job after retiring, but in 1981 she returned to the workforce. In 1991 my brothers family decided to move to the United States. The familys preparation for departure was kept in secret, and mother was not even allowed to see her son and grandson off. A few days before departure, I talked Artyom into taking a picture with me and mom. The photographer asked mom to smile, but she did not manage it. The doctors believe that it was at this time that mother suffered from a tacit heart attack, which formed a scar on her heart. Two years later, I defended my Doctoral Dissertation in Leningrad and returned to Odessa, to live with mom. And then, we started receiving letters from California. They were written by my sister-in-law... In 1996, Yuriy invited us to come to the United States. 250

California This was the third major move for my mother. We sold all our possessions, transferring money to the accounts of Yuriys relatives, who hinted that this was the condition that she had to meet in order to be able to have a normal relationship with her son. We settled in Mountain View. Yuriy was very happy to see us, and even took off vacation time in order to spend more time with us. He took us everywhere, and we talked a lot about our family and our father. Thats when he brought me a small tape recorder, and asked me to record all of our mothers memories. We agreed never to speak about his family situation. Yuriy helped me obtain a profession of a QA engineer, and then decided to change his as well. He read a lot about computers, and for the first time we became colleagues. Mother was happy for the first time in a while; Yuriy was once again a part of our lives. In December of 2001 Yuriy told me that he has problems with his intestines, and in 2002 he was diagnosed with intestinal cancer. We prayed and fought for him day and night, but on February 9 of 2002, he died at the age of 49. At his funeral, his tearful wife marched ahead, while mother and I stayed at the back of the crowd. Everyone felt bad for the widow, and only mother kept repeating, My poor Yurochka. Two months after Yuriys death I got the same diagnosis. Mother did not leave me even for a minute. She stayed at the hospital all six hours of my operation, and went to all of my chemotherapy sessions. In this, we were greatly supported by Yuriys son, Artyom. I was luckier than my brother. My mother at that time was already 80 years old. I survived, and now I am considered a part of the group of patients who live 251

for eight years after surgery. Mom and I won. Life continues. Artyom defended a Doctoral Dissertation in Biochemistry, like his father. We moved to Fremont, to be closer to Yuriys grave. His relatives lost interest in us, which is understandable. For my moms 85th birthday, I made her a map with photos. I wanted to show her that not all of her 85 years were sad, and that in her lifetime she went all the way around the world something that very few people ever get to experience. Mother died on December 25, 2010, at 87 years old. Her light image stays with me. We dont choose our parents, but God gave me a gift by giving me my mother.

Dora Malinovker
I was born on August 22nd of 1923 and was learning to become a bibliographer. From 1942 to 1945, I worked in communications in the army as a lieutenant. I suffered an injury. After the war, I was awarded both a first and second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, a medal For Combat Merits and others. I came to the United States of America in 1994.

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Michael Markovich
1925 2006 I was born in Moscow in 1923 and was the only child in my family. Just a day before the war began, I graduated from High School. Each member of my family went in a different direction. My mother, a physician, was drafted into the army. My father was ordered to go to Ural and secure medical provisions for the fronts. I began my studies in the Chelyabinsk Aviation-Mechanical School. After graduation, I served as a mechanic with the 26th Long Distance Aviation Regiment. All of the aircraft in our regiment were American. We worked on many different airfields, but for a long time, we stayed in Borisoglebsk, near Kiev. Later, we operated on aerodromes located close to Knigsberg and Berlin. Once, I suffered a contusion from an explosion on a plane. I was awarded an Order of the Great Patriotic War, a medal For Courage and many other medals. In 1948, I retired from the military and enrolled in the Moscow Aviation Institute. For many years, I worked as a leading engineer, participating in the inventions of new techniques. At the age of 75, I immigrated to the United States with my wife. Our daughters and two grandsons are here as well. We are very grateful to America for welcoming us.

Rafael Mednikov
I was born on December 15th of 1928. During the war, I lived through the blockade of Leningrad. Afterwards, I graduated from the UlyanovLenin Electric-Mechanical Institute in Leningrad. I then worked as an electrical engineer for various projects in Leningrad. I came to the United States of America in 1993.

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Nikolai Melikov-Price
1920 2009 I was born on February 23rd of 1920. In 1939, I was called to serve in the army. During the Great Patriotic War, I served in the 479th Rifle Regiment of the 149 th Rifle Division as a sergeant. I was injured in battle. For my efforts in the war, I was awarded with an Order of the Great Patriotic War, an Order of the Red Star, medals For Combat Merits and For Victory over Germany, as well as others. I came to America from Tbilisi in 1991.

Alexander Mogiliver
I was born on December 30th of 1930. Before the war, our family of five lived in Tulchin. When the war began, my father was drafted and sent off to the front. He died in January of 1943. Our family and relatives tried to evacuate on horse-drawn carriages. Our first encounter with the Germans was during our crossing of the Southern Bug river. We were bombarded. In August, we reached the city of Talnoye, but it was already occupied by the Germans. We found an abandoned house near the river and stayed there, since we could go no further. After several days, flyers mandating that all Jews show up for registration were posted around the city. Those who did not would be shot to death. On August 18th, our family went in for registration. We went in through one door, were questioned and recorded, and left through another door. There, guards were waiting to take us to a church. By midday, there were many people in the church. There were many questions about what was going on and where we were being taken. At about one, we were led outside and sorted into a line. We were led in the direction of Uman. Armed soldiers guarded the sides of the line and a large barrel of water was at the end of the line. It was very hot. Those who lagged behind or asked for water were shot to death. We walked for a long time. There were fields on either side. Suddenly, a large truck with four machine guns showed up in front of us. The line was moved to the fields. The machine

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guns began shooting at us. Everyone screamed. I dropped to the ground and crawled in the direction of the bales of hay. Others did the same, but the Germans then shot at the bales with incendiary rounds. The bales caught fire. Once the farmers caught sight of this, they ran toward us with pitchforks. The Germans ceased fire, as though afraid of hitting the farmers. This saved many lives. Only after the war did I find out that this was one of the first mass-executions of the Jews in Ukraine. Hunched over, I carefully made my way away from the farmers and Germans. I was very thirsty and there was a stream nearby. After a few gulps, I saw a dead and decaying horse in the water. My mother, sister, brother, grandmother, cousin, and my aunt with her infant baby had perished. My uncle, his wife and daughter, and grandmothers sister had remained alive. We then walked to Tulchin, begging for food along the way. Two months later, we reached Tulchin in October of 1941. After some time, all the Jews of Tulchin were forced into a ghetto. We were then taken to a concentration camp in Pechora surrounded by a tall brick fence on three sides and the Southern Bug on the fourth. Some made attempts to escape to the river, but the German bullets reached them more often than not. The winter of 1941 was freezing. Our rooms were unheated. We wore all of our clothes all of the time, for there was nowhere to bathe or wash our clothes. Lice were always present. Many perished from cold, hunger and illness. Those who remained alive took the clothes of the deceased for their own. A group soon began checking for deceased people every 258

morning, loading them onto either wheelbarrows or sleds and taking them away to a cemetery. In the spring of 1942, life became slightly more bearable. It was warmer; we could rid ourselves of the lice and go outside. At first, Romanians guarded the camp. In the summer of 1942, German and defected Soviet soldiers came to take their place. Those who remained alive were forced outside, organized into a line and resorted. The children and senior citizens were ordered into one group, everyone else was ordered into another. After the sorting, the children and senior citizens remained; everyone else was led away. Rumors spread that a mass grave was being dug behind the camp and that all those who remained would be executed the following day. For one reason or another, this did not happen. Rumors also spread of Jews in other ghettos living a different way. In the fall, I decided to escape the camp and run to Tomashpil. I arrived in Tomashpil at night. I did not know the layout of the city or where the ghetto was located. A Romanian patrolman caught me and turned me over to the authorities. I was afraid to say that I came from Pechora, so I told them I lived in ghetto in Bershad with no parents and came to Tomashpil to seek out my relatives. I was locked in a basement and questioned for three days, but my story remained the same. On the fourth day, three armed policemen led me out of the basement and brought me somewhere else. I was taken out of the city and thought I would be killed. We walked along the railroad and reached a booth where a railroad worker lived. We then boarded a train and rode it until reaching Yampil, where the soldiers turned me over to the local authorities. There, I wasnt questioned, but held in a jail cell. At first, 259

I was alone, but with time, 14 other people joined me and we were taken by to train to Balta. We were handed over to the local Romanian authorities and placed in another jail cell. It was a large basement with many people. I found a place to sit and remained there for two hours until an officer came down and called my name. I answered. Led to the commander, I was questioned again and repeated the story I told in Tomashpil. After some time, the commander told me I was free. I thought it meant I was free to go, but apparently it meant I was free to return to Bershad. The following morning, we walked from one city to another. I was taken alone by either officers or policemen. It was raining and mud was everywhere. I was afraid that the officer wouldnt want to walk in the mud and would rather shoot me than continue. We reached Bershad and I was locked in a jail cell once again. I kept my mouth shut, fearing that they would ask where I lived; I did not know the city. I was alone in that cell at first, but soon others joined me again. I listened in on their conversations. From those conversations, I learned where the ghetto was and that it contained an orphanage. I then reminded the officer of my conversation with the commander in Balta, and was set free. I reached the orphanage and told them I was sent there by the Romanian authorities. There were many children and not enough beds. At first, I was forced to sleep under beds. The children were from Romania and from other orphanages; half of them were Jews. Here I met a man named Sasha Gurvits who now lives in Israel. He told me that he works at a supply warehouse across the street from the ghetto. He offered to speak with his superiors and find work for me. I could not have dreamed of a better situation. We loaded and unloaded potatoes and onions 260

watered the wooden barrels so that they would not dry out, and cleaned up around the warehouse and surrounding area. For our work, we were given various vegetables which we then sold for bread. The manager of the warehouse was named Lydia Popsuyeva. She was a very kind woman and helped us as best she could. She made me new clothes from burlap and would sometimes let me spend the night at the warehouse. We would sometimes sleep and eat at the orphanage. Once, I returned to find that the officers had been looking for me and was soon arrested and taken back to the authorities. Once more, I was alone in the jail cell until others had been arrested. We were all then taken aboard a train to Tiraspol and placed in a jail which was once a school. I was taken to a large building and only there did I realize I was on trial. I had no idea what I was charged with, but the trial soon began. They asked me about my parents, where I lived, and whether or not I wanted to hire a lawyer. I was later led outside while they decided my fate. After some time, the judge read his verdict: for leaving the ghetto, I was to serve a sentence, but since I was young, I would be set free. I was returned to the orphanage in Bershad and continued to work at the warehouse. Following the KorsunShevchenkovsky Offensive, the Germans fell back and went through Bershad. I remember seeing them dirty, unshaven and wrapped in various cloths as they sat aboard a tank. They were not the clean-shaven, well-dressed and confident Germans I remembered seeing in the summer of 1941. Later, Lydia Popsuyeva took me to her own house behind the ghetto. I lived there with her until March of 1944. The 261

Germans left, the Red Army came through the town, and life began to return to normal. Lydia offered for me to stay with her and her family, but things turned out differently. Three soldiers from the Red Army were returning to their regiment on a carriage pulled by two horses with a cow tied to the back. They stopped for the night at Lidias and one of them asked me why I call her auntie. I explained my story and he asked if Id like to come with them and join their regiment. We went through Ukraine and Moldavia. I was questioned by officers of the SMERSH about myself, my family, their whereabouts, and how I ended up in Bershad. In May of 1944, the remaining prisoners of the concentration camp in Pechora returned to Tulchin. I later found out that this concentration camp was given the name Death Loop. Only 480 out of the original 8,000 were alive. I told them my story and that I was fluent in Romanian. I was given a green womens coat, American yellow boots, footcloths, pants, and a weapon. They gave me a small horse and had me deliver mail. The regiment was located in a village in Moldavia near the Prut River at the border of Romania. The citizens evacuated. A few kilometers away across the river was a bridge which Germans bombed. We attacked the German planes. Officers, generals, the SMERSH and guards lived in the emptied houses. During one of the bombardments, two German planes deviated from their groups and attacked a house where a general lived. Everyone inside perished and the house burned to the ground. We then found a man killed by the blast who we suspected of tipping off the Germans. I suffered an injury to my left hand. One finger was broken and another was ripped open. This did not interfere with my ability to deliver mail. This was my first battle experience. I was 13 years and 4 months old. 262

During the war, there were no refrigerators or freezers. The soldiers and officers required meat, preferably fresh. There was a small herd of cattle and sheep in the village. A comrade named Tulyasov and I took care of the herd. The Germans could see our pasture. Nearby was a punitive battalion which they bombed. We could see and hear their battles take place on more than one occasion. Once, we heard the same sounds as usual, save for the explosion. We later awoke to find out that we had both suffered concussions. The bombs had struck the herd of sheep. We were lucky to only be covered in the blood of the animals and mud. We remained in that village until August 20th of 1944 when the JassyKishinev Offensive took place. Our army entered Romanian territory. The Germans attacked us. In addition to our rifles, we had a machine gun with interchangeable barrels. I lay next to the machine gunner and held up the ammunition belt. When I tried to put the old barrel into a box, I burned my hands, not realizing how hot it would be. The battle ended, but the Germans were nowhere to be found. We had no way of communicating with other regiments. Lieutenant Bondarenko and I were sent to scout and look for the German position. About a mile into our trip, I climbed a tree and kept lookout. I found the Germans, but they saw me as well, and opened fire. I quickly climbed down, told Bondarenko, and we ran back to the regiment to prepare for battle. The Jassy-Kishinev Offensive defeated the Germans in the area and our regiment moved forward. We stopped at the city of Zamo. There, they remembered that I speak Romanian and sent me in for intelligence training. They explained that I would be trained for a top secret mission and sent to Romania to live undercover. I signed a non-disclosure agreement and 263

went to live with my new family until we were discharged in 1946. 50 years later, in 1996, I immigrated to the United States of America. I was awarded two Orders of the Great Patriotic War and many medals. I also helped clean up the meltdown at Chernobyl.

Rosalea Nalimova
I was born on April 17th of 1926. After graduating from school, I worked in communications. In 1943, after completing special training, I was sent to work as a cryptographer for an aviary regiment on the Ukrainian front. I worked at army headquarters from February th of 1943 until July 25 of 1945. In 1945, I married a pilot. In 1996, my husband and I immigrated to the United States of America. I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and many medals.

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Rada Nedzelsky
Before the war, we lived in a beautiful area on the bank of the Moscow River. Earlier, there was an ancient monastery erected by the legendary Russian warrior Dmitry Donskoy. After the revolution, it became an orphanage, and the town was named Dzerzhinsk. In 1941, at the age of 14, I began working in a bomb factory. The day and night shifts continued for 12 hours. At the time of the air raids, we patrolled the roof of the building. We soon became accustomed to the raids and stopped hiding in the shelters. My father, Ivan Nedzelsky voluntarily went to the front line, leaving behind my sick mother, my little sister and me. I became the head of the family and the breadwinner. In October of 1941, our factory was evacuated to Novosibirsk. We were allowed only two suitcases and two other small pieces of luggage. We were then loaded into railroad cattle cars with three floors of plank beds; the trip was slow and continued for weeks. In Novosibirsk, I suffered from frostbite on my cheeks. As a factory worker, I received a daily ration of 800 grams of bread. My mother and sisters ration was less than half of that. To get more food, I walked to the villages. I was lucky to get a bucket of potatoes in exchange for some linen. Tickets for riding a train were not allowed to the private population. Once, I was removed from the train on my way to the market and walked 266

all night for 20 kilometers to reach the marketplace. Another time, I carried two buckets of potatoes for six kilometers. My shoes were soaked with melted snow. The next summer, I was sent to work in the field to harvest cabbage; it was a difficult time. We slept on straw in a cowshed and wore the same clothes as we worked in the field. There were no conditions for bathing, and I found lice in my clothes. My father came to visit us for a short time; he managed to flee when the Germans surrounded his unit. Then he came to a partisan detachment. In 1944, we returned to Dzerzhinsk, where I worked in a metallographic laboratory. In 1946, after graduating from high school, I enrolled in Moscow University. My father perished in the battle for Knigsberg. There were no remaining men in our family. In the 1920s, bandits had killed my mothers father and five of her brothers in Ukraine. My fathers father and two of his brothers also perished in WWII.

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Natalya Nepomnyaschaya
I was born in 1921, in the village of Rayovka, Tatarstan. There were twelve children in our family, 8 boys and 4 girls. Five of the children died of hunger and illness. In 1930 my family moved to Kazan, where I went to school and graduated in 1940. In 1938 I joined the Kazan Club of Aeronautics, where I studied until 1940. There I received the title of Flight Instructor. In 1940 I joined the Kazan Institute of Aeronautics, from which I graduated in 1945 with the degree of Engineer Technologist of the Aviation Motor-building. In 1942, during World War II, the Aviation Clubs from Moscow and Leningrad were evacuated to Kazan. They became a part of the School of Aviation, which prepared pilots for the war. I received an order from military Headquarters to instruct young people to fly the airplanes. From 1942 to 1945 I worked as a Flight Instructor. In 1945, after the war was over, I got married and moved to Rostov. In Rostov I worked as a Chief Engineer Technologist at the Motor Assembly Facility of the Aviation Factory No. 108. Between 1948 and 1952 I worked as a Flight Instructor for the Rostov Aviation Club. I was nominated as the Director of Training Department of a Civil Aviation Division. Starting in 1956, I was working at the Advanced Training 268

Institute for the Management and Specialists of machinebuilding factories of the entire Soviet Union as an Instructor at the Department of the Scientific Organization of Labor and Economics. Between 1995 and 2004, I was working in Moscow as the Head of the Department of Alternative Medicine. I have medical education and five certificates in Alternative Medicine: 1. Tibetan Medicine; 2. Manual Healing; 3. Bio-energetic Healing; 4. American methodology of healing; 5. Stress relief and detoxification. I was decorated with the medal, For Valorous Labor during World War II, the medal For Victory over Germany, and other anniversary medals.

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Vladimir Neyfakh
In May of 1943, I was drafted into the Red Army from central Asia at the age of 17. Equipped with an old rifle, one grenade and a ration of dry food, I was placed into a cattle truck and brought to the front line of Ukraine along with the other recruits. It was the socalled Kiev Cauldron. We were hungry; the officers warned us to not eat too much due to the possibility of a stomach injury. With no military training, we new recruits took part in our first successful battle and stopped a German attack. The victory was not without its price; most of the new recruits were killed or injured. I managed to survive and was even given a better weapon: a Kalashnikov automatic. In a later battle on August 23rd, 1943, I was severely wounded and lost consciousness. After a long treatment at several hospitals, I returned to the service in January of 1944. I reached Romania with the 4th Ukrainian front. Later, I crossed Poland and Knigsberg and fought in the battles for Berlin with the 227th Infantry Regiment on the 1st Belorussian front. On May 2nd, 1945, I left my signature on the wall of the Reichstag. I was awarded a first degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and many other medals for my military efforts. I consider my participation in the war as a means of honoring the memory of my father who was executed in a concentration camp in November of 1941.

Judith Nikulina
1913 2008 I was born in Leningrad in 1913. After graduating from school, I worked at a factory for 42 years. Between 1941 and 1946, I worked for the army as a nurse in the 86762nd military unit. I was awarded an Order of the Great Patriotic War

and many other medals.

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Gregory Novik
In June of 1941, I was two months shy of 13. Every summer, my parents would take me to Belarus or Ukraine for vacation. That year, we went to Vinnytsia which was teeming with ripe fruit, vegetables and berries. I recall the night of June 22nd clearly because somewhere off in the distance, we could hear a loud noise. We thought it was thunder, but it turned out to be the German bomber planes. Early in the morning, I rode my bike to the city library. Upon returning home, I discovered a crowd of men holding satchels and surrounded by crying women and children. I asked somebody where they were being taken and what they had done wrong. They answered, What, didnt you hear that a war started? The Germans attacked us. They bombed big cities at night. These men are being taken to fight for the Red Army. Arriving at our rented summer home, I asked my mother what we were going to do. Brainwashed by Soviet propaganda, my mother answered that the Red Army was stronger than all others and would soon defeat the Germans. She told me to go swim in the lake and read the books I borrowed. I was too young to be affected by the propaganda and told her that we should return home to Leningrad. Despite her protests, I took some money and rode to the train station where the panic had not yet begun. I calmly 272

bought the tickets and even filled out the form to have my bike taken. I forced her to pack her belongings and we went home to Leningrad. The next day, I saw German planes for the first time. They circled our train several times, but did not bomb us. We returned to Leningrad, where preparations for the war were already underway. Soon, the German planes flew over Leningrad and began bombing. Boys my age from the neighborhood collected shrapnel from the German bombs and played with them. Soon, the Germans began dropping incendiary bombs. One day, when my friends and I were walking to the Neva River, our apartment manager stopped me and said, Finish your games. The situation in Leningrad is getting worse. We expect an increase in the frequency of nighttime bombardments. They will drop incendiary bombs on our houses. We need to organize groups of people to patrol the roofs and attics. There, they will have buckets of sand and large metal tongs for picking up and extinguishing the bombs. Today and tomorrow, the fire department will show up and train you for this. Your job is to organize a group of boys and girls, take down their names, and bring them to the recruitment office. You will work out a schedule and follow it closely. You will take part in the nightly patrols. Thus, my childhood ended and began the harsh days and nights of what would soon become the blockade. The bombs did not fall on our roof every night, but often enough. My command of young adolescents successfully caught and extinguished them. At first, I did this as well to show others how to do it. We received official documents stating that we would receive the food coupons as workers, not as dependents. Instead of 125, we received 250 grams of bread per day. 273

As the winter of the blockade set in, we delivered large boxes on sleds, probably ammunition. We were also called to help the brigades of civilians who brought away those who died of cold and hunger. Not everyone from my command managed to live through that frightening time. Those who survived, hungry and frostbitten, continued to do everything the authorities asked of us. After the lifting of the blockade, those who survived all received medals For the Defense of Leningrad.

Eugene Oleynik
1923 2008 I entered a local air club in 1939, at the age of 16. There I was introduced to aviation and performed a number of parachute jumps. In 1940, I began my studies at the Leningrad Institute of Civil Aviation, which later became the Air Force Engineering Academy. My major was the construction of aerodromes. From the start of the war, the German aircrafts began bombarding the area of our Academy and the aerodrome near the Pulkovo heights. Shortly after, the Academy was evacuated to Yoshkar-Ala. There, our food was very poor and strictly rationed; we were often very hungry and exchanged our belongings for bread. The studies were very intensive with no holidays. We worked on the collective farms in the fall; there were no men under fifty at the farms, so we helped harvest crops. Some students were eager to fight on the front lines and boycotted the studies. Two of them were indicted by the war tribunal and punished by service in the penal battalions. Both of them were lucky to get injured in combat and returned to service in regular subdivisions after recovering. In May of 1944, I graduated with honors from the Academy as a Senior Technician Lieutenant. I presented a project of a workshop for IL-2 aircraft. I was then appointed as assistant commander of the 121st Aerodrome Technical

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Company, 5 th Airborne Army. We restored the Bucechi airfield, from where our aircraft flew to operate on the Yassy-Kishenev front. On March 27th, we captured a major aerodrome in Fokshani. The sappers assisted us by cleaning up the minefields. We also captured six enemy soldiers. One of them was lying on the ground; nearby, his rifle had been stuck in the ground, barrel side down. He appeared to be a botanic instructor. He pointed out the hiding place of the other soldiers and we surrounded them. In response to my proposition, in German, to surrender, they lifted their hands. Following the 5th armys offensive, we got four other airfields. Near Arad and Saranta, we were forced to dig trenches and defend ourselves from a German counter-attack. We later participated in stopping the Romanian troops from running and forced them to turn their weapons against their former allies. At the time of the battles for Budapest, our company provided the Ground Attack Aircraft Regiment IL-2 with appropriate landing conditions. In December of 1944, after the occupation of the Bechesh aerodrome, our 38th Company performed construction and restoration of the landing strips at night. We paved the strips with sand and crushed brakes. Many refugees from the Nazi concentration camps came to assist us and many Budapest residents helped us gather reserve parts from the nearby German air plant. Two of my comrades died under bombardment and I was injured in my right leg by a splinter. On April 15, 1945, our company arrived in the recently liberated Vienna. Many buildings were still burning and all the bridges on 276

the Danube River were destroyed. As soon as we crossed the river, we began restoration of the Schtrassenhof aerodrome. On the night of May 7, we learned of the German capitulation in Berlin and saluted our victory with all of the firearms we possessed. I was awarded three Orders and 21 medals. In June of 1945, before the war against Japan began, our 38th Company was located to the Far Eastern Front.

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Khaya Orshanskaya
I was born to a poor Jewish family in Kublichi, Belarus. My family consisted of seven members: parents, a grandmother and four children. My father worked as a blacksmith at the kolkhoz and my mother worked as a seamstress, trading her work for food. After graduating from school, I was accepted at a Medical Institute. I sent my parents a letter asking for tuition money, but got a telegram in response, saying that they had no money. I was forced to find work. My relative helped me find work as an accountant in Leningrad. My salary was 250 rubles per month and I was happy. On the 22nd, the war began. On the 26th, all the women in my dormitories were given shovels and sent to dig trenches in Ligovo. We were fed well, but the luxury did not last long. On the 8th of September, we saw giant flames coming from the warehouses where the majority of Leningrads food was stored. After this, the food situation became a lot worse. We were also bombarded. The food deliveries came less often and brought less food. Planes flew overhead and dropped flyers. The flyers told us to stop bringing trenches and offered us the chance to surrender and go over to the German side. They promised a good life and lots of food. Some of the girls were very tempted, but I was afraid to do anything of the sort. The names of the villages we dug trenches near may have been forgotten, but the calluses and scars on my hands remained for nearly ten years. 278

Once when digging trenches near our own soldiers, we eagerly awaited the arrival of our lunch truck. The roads were in bad condition and it could only bring bread, but it arrived. As soon as it did, the Germans attacked the nearby soldiers. The truck then left without us, as the driver and commander inside were afraid of being caught up in the battle or taken prisoner. We were left behind. As the truck was leaving, it swerved into a swamp and got stuck in the mud. Try as we might, we girls could not dislodge it. The retreating Russian soldiers helped get the truck out and when they did, the driver and commander refused to take us because we didnt help. We were forced to walk home, hungry, dirty and tired. The following morning, we were forced to return to work as usual. This sort of episode became far too common. In December of 1941, we were redirected to build fortifications near the Polytechnic Institute. It was in ruins and all the furniture was broken apart for firewood. When the snow came, it soaked through my shoes. I tore up my underpants and used them as makeshift footcloths, drying them by the fire every night. On the 20th, I became too ill to work and was not issued any coupons for food as punishment. For the next several days, I was hardly able to live, as I could not eat a single thing. One night, a friend told me to pray to God before going to sleep. I prayed for eternal sleep, but my request was not granted. We then moved elsewhere. My friend managed to obtain extra food and shared with me. Having gone five days without food, I gorged myself on soup until my stomach ached terribly. We worked at a warehouse collecting and loading peat onto trains. Those who did not work were not fed. The food conditions became worse and worse until our soup contained little more than melted snow. 279

We could neither bathe nor brush our teeth and slept in all of our clothes, not only for warmth, but because we would otherwise be robbed. Of the many girls who began working there, only ten returned to Leningrad alive, looking worn and aged beyond their years. I worked various jobs, living from meal to meal until I was able to evacuate out of Leningrad.

Faina Paverman
I was born in 1929 in the city of Mariupole, Ukraine. When the war began, I was to be evacuated with the other workers of my fathers factory Azovstal. However, German landing troops occupied our city on October 8th, 1941 and on October 18th; all Jews were summoned into barracks. After two days, the fascists drew us out of the city to anti-tank ditches and began shooting us in groups. My father was shot dead right in front of my eyes. Without warning, the Soviet aircraft came flying and bombarding. The fascists herded us into a cowshed to continue the slaughter on the following day. My mother, brother and I managed to escape and walked on foot, passing by many villages. After one of the German air raids and bombardments, I lost both my mother and brother. Crossing the Donets River, I caught a cold and a severe case of bronchitis. I then reached the city of Rostov-on-Don where I met a correspondent and told him the story of our escape from execution. The newspaper Izvestiya published the story in December of 1941. I was reunited with my mother and brother at the railroad station of Penza, Russia. From there, we were evacuated to the city of Asbest, Ural.

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Ruvim Paverman
I was born in 1920. Just before the war began, I finished the 4th year of my studies at the Moscow Aviation Institute. All the students were sent to the Smolensk region to dig anti-tank trenches. When the German troops landed near Yelnya, we fled on foot to a railroad station and returned to Moscow. Our studies continued in the evening hours, but I worked at an aviation factory in Khimki by day. The factory was soon evacuated to Tashkent and the equipment was unloaded outdoors; the factory began working under the open sky. I worked as a technology engineer in one section of the factory. After the war ended, I returned to Moscow and graduated from the Aviation Institute. For many years, I worked in an aviation research institute. In 1998, I immigrated to the United States.

Three Brothers Three Soldiers Isaac Pesochinskiy

1912 2005 I was born on February 2nd of 1912 in Vitebsk, Belarus. I began work at the age of 17 and worked in manual labor. In 1939, I was accepted at the Leningrad Medical Institute. Before the war, I completed two years of my studies at the institute. I then volunteered for the local militia as a nurse. On September 6th of 1941, I was severely injured and taken prisoner. They took me to POW camps in Germany and Poland. Few can imagine the horrors of living in German POW camps, especially for those heavily wounded and Jews. They forced us onto a train and brought us to the camps. We were given no food along the way, only the occasional glass of water. I concealed my Jewish ethnicity. At the end of September, they brought us to the first camp. The train contained not only wounded prisoners, but the ill as well. After we were unloaded, they forced us to stand in a line and drop our pants. Flashlights in hand, the Germans inspected our genitals. Those who were circumcised were identified as Jews. I was fortunate: since I was injured, they did not inspect me. I told them my name was Ivan Pesochinskiy, keeping my initials consistent with my real ones. After some time, one of the inmates told the Germans that I was a Jew. A translator 283

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accompanied me to the camp director. The director asked me if I was a Jew. I answered that I was not. He then ordered the translator to bring me to the camp doctor. Dont worry, said the translator, were only doing this for statistic purposes. The doctor looked me over, labeled me as a Jew on my case file and sent me away. I was brought to different barracks, where I found three other Jews. I could no longer have faith in good fortune. In June of 1943, two other soldiers and I escaped the camp and crossed the front lines. I was then assigned as a doctors assistant in the army. I fought until we took Knigsberg and Pillau. I received a third class Order of Glory. In June of 1945, I was sent to the Far East to engage in combat with the Japanese. In October of 1945, in the city of Port-Artur, I was sentenced to seven years in jail for antiSoviet propaganda. The reason for this was that I corrected someone who called Japan a fascist country, arguing that it was military. This person reported me to the SMERSH. I spent seven years in a prison on the island of Sakhalin. The next three years were spent in probation; I was not allowed to live within 100 kilometers of any large city. They let me go in 1955; I was pardoned and given a meager compensation of 6 rubles. I was then able to continue my life. I married, had a daughter, and 14 years later, and was allowed back in the Leningrad Medical Institute. I graduated in 1959 at the age of 47 and spent the next 30 years working as a paramedic and physician. Ive been living in the United States of America since 1992. Isaac Pesochinskiy passed away in Chicago, Illinois in 2005 at the age of 93. 284

Yakov Pesochinskiy
Yakov was born on April 22nd of 1914 in Vitebsk, Belarus. He was a quiet boy who preferred to read and loved the arts. In the mid-1920s, he taught himself English using the newspaper Komsomolskaya Pravda. He then taught himself German as well. He participated in the Great Patriotic War from July of 1941 until the very end as a translator in the intelligence service. By the end of the war, he had reached the rank of captain. He performed various important tasks, often at the risk of his own life. He suffered a severe concussion. He was awarded a first degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, an Order of the Red Star and many medals. He was there on Elbe Day. At the end of the war, he worked as a translator in Vienna, Austria. In 1950, he was discharged and returned to Leningrad. He then graduated from the Institute of Foreign Languages and worked as a translator. He immigrated to the United States of America in 1994.

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Lazar Pesochinskiy
I was born in 1915. I was in Leningrad, teaching electrical engineering and mathematics at a trade school when the war began. As a specialist, I was protected from the draft. I volunteered for a local militia and was told that I would be called if I was needed. I then went to the local recruitment office and submitted an application to fight in the army. They told me I would be called if I was needed. I was called in to the recruitment office in July. They sent me to a military communication training facility. Three days later, I was a cadet. At the end of August, we were evacuated to Biysk. We spent the next three months preparing for the war. We were trained to use radar to detect aircraft within 100 kilometers. I graduated with honors and was given the title of Lieutenant. I then commanded a reserve anti-aircraft platoon located in Zyuzino, near Moscow. It was important to quickly train officers to work as radiolocators. I was sent to the Gorky Anti-Aircraft Academy as an instructor of radiolocation. I helped train several hundred officers who performed well in battle. In June of 1943, I was transferred to the air defense headquarters. Aleksei Gorokhov was the commander there. He was an exceptional man, and a former officer of the tsars army. We worked from 9 in the morning until 10 at night, with one hour set aside for lunch. Though I was a lieutenant, I did the work of a colonel. My job required a lot of paperwork, mostly from the army. 286

In the fall of 1943, General Gorokhov promoted me as his aide. I was given a small office, a desk and many telephones. He then asked me to write technical manuals. From then, I worked as an aide by day and worked on the manuals by night. Lieutenant Pavel Porozhnekov was assigned to help me. By the end of 1943, the book I wrote was published. I went on many business trips throughout the war, traveling to and from various fronts. In 1944, I was awarded an Order of the Red Star. We met Victory Day in Lviv. In 1945, I retired from the army. I met a widow named Sarah Tomusheva and her son Oscar in Lviv. We married and moved to Leningrad in 1945 where we later we had a son named Leon. In October of 1991, we immigrated to the United States of America.

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Lev Pevzner
On the morning of June 22nd, 1941, I noticed German planes in the sky over my native town of Belenichy, Belarus. The war began and soon the first injured people and a stream of refugees appeared on the way to Movilev. Just two days prior, I had gotten a traveling ticket and planned to enroll in a military school. I went to Leningrad with my mothers consent. There, I passed a test, took the oath and became a student. We spent months in a training camp, but were transferred to Leningrad in September. There our studies began and were often interrupted by air strikes. What I remember the most of that time is the feeling of hunger. We were never satiated with a piece of raw bread and liquid pea soup. Food was all we talked about. Everyone would recall what he ate before the war; we dreamed about rolls, butter and sugar. Between the studies and exercises in the Tavric Garden, we helped patrol the streets and stood on duty on the roofs during the air raids. Our teachers were always with us. Among them was our lecturer of advanced math, Professor Leonid Kantorovich, the future Nobel Prize laureate. Wearing a marine uniform, he beat the steps on the line exercises. At the end of October, we were formed into a company of marines and started building fortifications near the Lieutenant Schmidts bridge, along with performing other defensive tasks. We then practiced landing from cutters on different sites 288

of the Finnish Bay, sometimes under artillery cannonade. Our equipment consisted of a rifle, a daily ration and a bottle of inflammatory fluid. Once, my bottle broke and the fluid poured all over my clothes, but luckily, it didnt burst into flame. In the beginning of December, we were ordered to evacuate our school from Leningrad. We began the 40 kilometer crossing on foot through the ice of Lake Ladoga. This path was called The Road of Life. The biting frost and strong winds penetrated our marine uniforms, overcoats and light boots with threadbare socks. We were heavily loaded with our backpacks and sledges with textbooks dragging behind us. When some of our group members grew weak, we were forced to carry them as well. The ice was thin and sometimes cracked. One of our comrades, Lev Goldstein, fell through a fissure in the ice hidden by snow. Though he was pulled out, he didnt live long after that icy bath. It took us the whole night to reach the bank of the lake. In the morning, we entered a local church and huddled together for warmth. It took over two months to reach the city of Yaroslavl, the new destination of our school. Since we had not been provided with any rationed supplies, generous Russian women helped us with food. Some of us ate too much after the long starvation and suffered from gastrointestinal disorders. The rooms we studied and slept in werent heated. Hunger, exhaustion, furunculosis and frequent urination were widespread conditions among us. In the summer of 1942, when the German troops reached the Volga River, we signed under the text of Stalins order #227 No step backwards! We formed a marine crew to participate in the defense of Stalingrad. Soon, a decision was made to continue studies so that we could serve as officers. We were transferred into the city of Kostroma, where we lived and 289

studied in an old Engineering building. Our training included the construction of ferries and pontoon bridges across the Volga River, which made use of various sapper skills. In May of 1943, we passed all of our exams and were sent to the front lines as officers. I was sent to the southwest front. On October 3rd, 1943, our battalion worked at the Dnepr River near Kremenchug. My platoon was ordered to construct a covered ferry across the river. In order to measure the depths, we crossed the river by boat. When we were near the opposite bank, the boat ran aground and I fell into the freezing water. Before we managed to return to our trenches, I was covered in ice. A glass of pure alcohol helped me warm up and recover the next day. We worked at night, while German lighting rockets made us open and easily accessible targets for their forces. After 24 hours of hard work, the ferry was ready to take the troops and tanks across the river. Some time later, we received a more difficult order: we were to transfer two landing stages and a ferry with a division of Katushas across 12 kilometers of river, against the current. It was a job to be performed almost in front of the Germans. We worked in full darkness, trying our best to make no noise. Our efforts paid off and the Katushas were soon able to bomb the Germans. I was very proud of the hard work and the heroism of my soldiers. October 18th of 1943 was a tragic day. That morning, my friend Misha Maleev was shot dead; he was later named a Hero of the Soviet Union. Another eight of our soldiers were killed by the explosion of a shell. Our company assisted the frontier troops of the 6th Tank Army under General Kravchenko at the Yassy-Kishenev operation. We secured the passage of the tanks through 290

obstructions and their crossing over waters. Sitting on the tanks, we rapidly crossed the lines of our enemys trenches. To secure crossing over the banks of the Backluy River, we blew up the steep banks, cleared the way for the tanks and repaired the broken bridge. Moving forward with General Pleyevs troops on the route from Yassy to Ployeshte, we cleaned the roads of mines and repaired bridges. For its successful operations, our brigade received the title Yasskaya. In October of 1944, we constructed a ferry for our new allies, the Romanian troops, who had to fight the Germans in neighboring Hungary. They were not enthusiastic to fight outside their homeland. We constructed a ferry across the Tissa River, working day and night under almost continuous air strikes. We suffered significant losses; one of them was officer Israel Dobromilsky, a ferry instructor from a military engineering school. Our battalion met the new year of 1945 in Budapest, where bloody battles were going on. The people hid in bunkers and tunnels that were in danger of flooding. The Germans blew up all the bridges across Danube. The broken constructions obstructed the river. Working in the icy water, we broke the ice and cleared the way for the stream, protecting Budapests population from an imminent flood. The pontoon units of the 2nd and 3rd Ukranian Fronts delivered equipment and materials to the banks. Working under fire in the cold water, we constructed a 1100 meter-long bridge in a few hours. I later participated in the construction of many other ferries and bridges. On May 7th of 1945, we received news that the German surrender was expected, but the fighting continued. We 291

suffered losses while building a bridge over the Kalenfurt River, near Prague. That was the last ferry I built. My friend, Pasha, Nikolayev, was injured. I havent heard any word of him since that day. On May 9th, heavy anti-aircraft shooting awakened us. We all saluted in honor of our victory and the end of the war. I ended the war as a battalion commander. I was awarded an Order of the Great Patriotic War and many medals. After the war, I graduated from a naval engineering school. Since 1950, I served in the Design and Research Institute of the Navy. I earned a PhD in technical sciences. From 1976, after retirement as a lieutenant colonel, I worked in the system of river and marine hydro-techniques

Peter Portnov
1929 2009 Pyotr Portnov was born on April 29, 1929. He has secondary education. During World War II he served in the internal military forces, defended the Kremlin. He was discharged from service in the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Mr. Portnov was decorated with a number of medals, among them For Courage, For Merits in Battle, and thirteen anniversary medals. He moved to the United States from Moscow in 1993.

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Dina Putilova
I was 14 years old when my mother and I were evacuated from Moscow to a remote village in southern Ural. My father was fighting on the front lines at the time. My mother was in poor health and I became the breadwinner, working in the fields of a state farm and other various jobs. To attend school, I was forced to walk three kilometers on foot and cross through a forest. It was a frightening experience for a girl used to living in a big city. For my hard work on the farm during the war, I was awarded a medal For Valorous Labor.

Peter Rabiner
1920 2005 I was born in Odessa in 1922. After graduating from high school and passing the entrance exams, I was accepted at the State Institute of Art in Moscow. Unfortunately, that was when the war began. Only a month later, on July 22, 1941, I was on the front lines and headed toward Smolensk. The city of Smolensk had been captured by the German troops and the remains of our 43rd army retreated toward Moscow. The nights were cold and there was never enough to eat. In November of 1941, the defense of Moscow began. Fighting severe battles, we liberated many towns including Naro-Fominsk, Myatlovo, Medyn and Maloyaroslavetz. I also fought for the liberation of Dorogobuzh, Gorodok and Vitebsk. Throughout the battles, I was injured, contused and lost many teeth. Continuing our offensive, we fought for the liberation of numerous cities including Kaunas, Panevezhis and Shaulay in Lithuania. I crossed eastern Prussia and participated in the capture of Knigsberg. There, on May 9th, 1945, I celebrated Victory Day. I was awarded an Order of the Red Star, two Orders of the Great Patriotic War and many other medals. After the war ended, I studied at the University of Odessa and worked as a teacher for 35 years.

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were worn and a toe was sticking out, I let him have mine.

Eliazar Rabinovich
1898 2002 My family and I managed to escape the city of Yelgava, Latvia five days after the war began. Had we waited a day or two longer, it would not have been possible. We were lucky enough to be put into good cars and evacuated to the Kirov region, deep into Russia. Our location was some 100 kilometers from the city of Kotelnichy. Only a month after our arrival, I was recruited into the army, ordered to the newly formed 23rd Latvian Division and sent to Staraya Russa. At the age of 43, I appeared to be the oldest in that unit. I became a foreman in a management platoon. In order to secure a proper delivery of provisions, I accompanied the transports to the front line. One day, I was injured by a detonated landmine on the road. After recovery in a hospital located near Lake Seliger, I returned to the Division and then obtained the necessary skills to work as a medical orderly. In 1943, I became a regular fighter; I commanded a platoon and fought on the front lines. I knew that my 18-year-old son Isaac was in the army as well and continued searching for him, asking everyone who came to our Division. Fate looked kindly upon us and we soon found each other. It appeared that my son fought as a machinegunner in a neighboring regiment. The commanders were good to us and allowed my son to transfer to our regiment. From that time on, we fought side by side. Noticing that his boots 296

In the summer of 1944, we continued fighting against the Germans on the territory of our homeland, Latvia. My son was injured in one of the battles and I was the one to give him first aid, bandaging his wound. Later, just at the gate of our capital, Riga, I was injured for the second time. At the end of the war, my hometown Yelgava was in ruins. After my retirement from the army and my familys return from evacuation, we settled in Riga and lived there until our immigration to the United States.

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Simon Raizman
I was born and lived in Odessa. Before the war, I completed the 7 th grade at the 71 st school. We anticipated a war, but with Turkey, not Germany. My friends and I spent a lot of time outside. On the 22nd of June, we were to met up to go to the sea, as usual. A certain area of Shevchenko Park was our usual spot. There, on the concrete slabs, we would spend our summers. On that particular day, we were running late for some reason. After hearing the important news broadcast over the radio, we didnt go to the sea after all. The words of Molotov came as a complete surprise to us, but they instilled neither panic nor fear. Brainwashed by the pre-war Soviet propaganda films, we were assured that the war would be on foreign territory, that the enemy would soon be destroyed, and that victory would soon follow. Soon, the German planes were flying overhead daily. The warning sirens sounded all the time. A group of young men and women gathered various equipment for extinguishing fires and placed it in the yard. Socks and stockings full of sand from the beach were hung on the roof. One month later, on the 22nd of July, the center of Odessa was bombarded for the first time. On the morning of the 23rd, I saw those who were killed in the bombing and the puddle of coagulated blood on Deribasovskaya Street. I will never forget the sight of the womans shoe I saw, and inside it, what remained of her leg. 298

On the night of the 24th, the center of Odessa was showered with incendiary bombs. They were small, 30-40 cm each, but there were many. Four of them fell in our area. Three of them fell in our yard and we quickly extinguished them, but the fourth fell through our roof and set fire to our attic. We tore off the cover of our roof and covered the burning area with sand. Buckets of water were passed from one person to another. With the help of the adults, we saved our house from burning down. This was our first true war experience. We paid no attention to the machine guns being fired or the anti-aircraft shrapnel raining down from the sky. The roof was penetrated in many places, but nobody was wounded. We heard an increasing amount of news of our surrounding cities being surrendered to the Germans. On the 6th of August, my mother and her children were evacuated to Kherson. We were bombed along the way, but fortunately, the bombs landed far away from our truck. On the 12th of August, the Germans descended on the nearby city of Mikolaiv. A panic arose in Kherson and people began looting. Here, I heard the word Zhid (a derogatory term for Jews) for the first time. I remember the feeling of horror I had to deal with. Leaving most of our possessions behind and carrying small sacks of personal belongings, we went to the port. We caught the last ferry which brought us to Tsiurupynsk. While German planes flew over us, we walked 15-20 kilometers east along the railroad tracks. There, a large train with open luggage platforms picked us up. For three weeks, we traveled to Kuybyshev. We spent a week sleeping under the open sky on a square near a railroad station. The train then brought us to Andijan. At 15 years old, I was accepted as an apprentice of a turner. I worked 12-14 hours a day, sometimes sleeping on crates in 299

the workshop. The workshop was unheated save for a lone metal barrel in the center. We threw oil-soaked rags in it to feed the fire and warm our hands which would otherwise stick to metal. We received 500 grams of bread per day and coupons for soup (boiled flour). Many people lived this way during the war, especially for the first two years. In 1943, I sent a request to join the army. I was trained as a sapper and driver. After completing these courses, I enrolled in an aviation school and learned to pilot fighter aircraft. In the mornings, the floors of the barracks were covered with a thin layer of ice. During the winters, two soldiers would share a bed, each facing in a different direction, and share their blankets and coats. Every day at 8, we had four minutes to wake up and prepare for our morning training. Nobody was sick, nobody ran away, and we all dreamed of the day we would graduate and fly aircraft in battle. At the end of the war, our training battalion was disbanded and we were all transferred elsewhere. I ended up in an automobile battalion and worked in a repair regiment near Leningrad. But that is another story for another day. I served in the military for seven years and retired from the army as a sergeant.

Efim Rapoport
Retired Colonel Gregory Katz wrote a book celebrating the 50th anniversary of Victory Day. The following is an excerpt from this book about Major Efim Rapoport. He Was Not Invited to the Front Efim Rapoport ended up in our battalion unintentionally. Nobody invited him, and he himself did not expect to join the army on that particular day in 1942. A recent graduate of the military medical academy in Omsk, he ended up on the railroad platform by accident. At that moment, our military train from Stalinsk stopped at that very station. The young Efim, dressed in a new military uniform with polished boots was walking along the platform. He couldnt help but stare at the female nurses who wore white bonnets with red crosses as they stood on the platform. The stop wasnt a long one. As the trains whistle sounded, the girls climbed back onto the train, but Efim didnt want to see them leave. Something possessed him to run after the already moving train and jump aboard. He asked the commander of the medical train if he could join them. Fortunately, he had all the required paperwork with him and was accepted. Thus began his military career. He soon became the commander of a medical platoon. There, in the midst of battle, nurses had to bring injured soldiers back from the field and

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give them first aid. The battle for the city of Zhmerynka was especially rough. Blood was spilled both day and night. The nurses were forced to crawl over to the injured soldiers during battles to give them first aid. During one of the battles, he himself suffered a severe injury while attempting to reach a wounded soldier and was rescued by two female nurses. Efim refused to stay at the hospital for too long. As soon as his wound had healed, he returned to his platoon. He was later sent to work for a punitive battalion. As a rule, the punitive battalions were stationed in the most dangerous areas. Efim suffered another injury while attempting to reach an injured soldier. After the war, Efim graduated from a medical institute and began work as a doctor. In 1997, he and his family immigrated to the United States of America.

Gilya Ratner
I was born on August 15th of 1924 in Romny, Ukraine. When I was 5 years old, my family moved to Kharkiv. My father died in 1937. My sister and I were left with a mother who was not trained to do any specific work. After th graduating from the 7 grade in 1940, I enrolled in an artillery academy in Leningrad where I was clothed and fed. In early June of 1941, we went to camp. On the 22nd, the war began and we returned to Leningrad. We were given sabers and patrolled the city. Later, seniors were left in the academy and we freshmen were dismissed. At that time, my older sister and her child were given the opportunity to evacuate. She agreed, and took us with her. We were evacuated to Chuvashia on one of the final trains to leave Leningrad. In August of 1942, I was called to the recruitment office and sent back to the Leningrad artillery academy, now located in Kostroma. The army was in need of new recruits. After only 9 months of training, we were named lieutenants and on May 15th, were sent off to the army. I was appointed as commander of a platoon on the Stepnoy Front. We merged with the Voronezhsky Front for the Battle of Kursk. I received two 45 mm cannons. I gathered a group of soldiers who had just recovered from injuries and together, we learned how to use the cannons. At the academy, we were only instructed to use 152, 203 and 305 mm cannons; I had to learn how to use the 45 as well.

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On the morning of July 5th, the Battle of Kursk began. The Germans moved quickly. On the 8th, my platoon joined the battle. The Germans were stopped and on the 16th, the Voronezhsky Front pushed them back. The Stepnoy and Voronezhsky Fronts followed the retreating Germans. The combined efforts of the Stepnoy and Southwestern Fronts then liberated the cities of Belgorod and Oryol. Following these victories, Moscow celebrated with fireworks. After the victory at the Battle of Kursk, we continued to advance. In October, our division approached the Dnepr River. On the 22nd, our battalion moved toward Poltava. My group and I were leading. Knowing that Poltava was liberated by our army, we marched calmly. Suddenly, I saw a column of tanks approaching us. At first, we thought they were ours, but then I noticed white crosses on them and reported this to the commander. He fired a red flare as a signal to the rest of the regiment that a battle was imminent. To protect the regiment, we turned our cannons around to face the enemy and prepared for battle. One was placed on the road and the other was placed ten meters off to the side. The tanks saw us as well and moved toward us. After approaching within 300 meters of us, the tanks were concealed by a valley. As soon as we saw their cannons making their way over the hill, I gave the order to fire. The tanks opened fire as well. After some time, both of my cannons were destroyed. I commanded a retreat and grabbed an injured comrade, Private Gorky, and tried to hide with him behind a bale of hay. The Germans fired at us. Gorky was killed, but I was able to make it to the bale where I lost consciousness. I awoke when I felt my leg burning. The Germans had ignited the hay and it had nearly burned to the ground. I had to get out. I ran toward a nearby ditch. By the time the Germans spotted me, I was already inside. I crawled along the ditch until I reached our 304

battalion in a nearby village. When I reached our battalions headquarters, I explained what happened. They had already written me off as dead, but the message was stopped in time. That very night, the German motorcyclists attacked the village and kicked us out. We dug trenches and prepared for battle near the village, but the Germans did not attack again. In the morning, the commander of our division returned and made an order for the village to be taken back. Since I no longer had the cannons, I was given a rifle. We took back the village successfully. We then continued our march toward the Dnepr River. Instead of my destroyed 45 mm cannons, I received two 76 mm cannons. On the 29th of October, we forced the Dnepr River near Kremenchuk. Our infantry occupied the bridgehead three kilometers wide and 1.5 kilometers deep. I left the cannons at the edge of a small forest behind some hills. One side of the hills was occupied by our soldiers, and the other by Germans. In the morning, the commander of the artillery ordered us to move the cannons forward to neutral territory. I tried to explain that we could not do this by day, as the enemy would see, but he insisted. As soon as we left the cover of the forest, the Germans saw us and opened fire. I then received my first war injury on November 2nd of 1943. I was taken to a hospital across the Dnepr. After recovering in early January of 1944, I returned to my regiment. On the 24th of January, the first and second Ukrainian Fronts began the KorsunShevchenkovsky Offensive to break apart the surrounding German regiments. Our battalion broke through the enemy lines and entered Khutor Antonovka. The Germans closed the gap with tanks and we were surrounded. We held our position for a day, suffering many 305

losses. Our commander ordered us to leave the cannons behind and attempt to break through and return to the regiment. We fought on a field, going uphill. Men were shot by machine guns and died under the tracks of the German tanks. I nearly made it all the way to the end of the field, but a bullet soon found its way over to me as well and I suffered a leg injury. I could walk no further. I rolled over the hill and was fortunately found by two of my men. With their help, I was able to reach the village, hopping on one leg. However, we were afraid to enter the village, not knowing who occupied it at the time. There was a swamp next to the village. We entered the water and waited for someone to come out. It turned out that the soldiers in the village were our own. We got out of the water and made our way toward the village. A carriage then caught up to us, carrying the injured commander Petrov. I was placed alongside him and brought to the hospital. During the KorsunShevchenkovsky Offensive, over 55,000 German soldiers and officers were killed and 18,000 were taken prisoner. Around 500 German tanks and 300 of their planes were destroyed. But there were many losses on our side as well. Our battalion of 150, including the wounded, was down to 15-20 men. After recovering at the hospital in the city of Pyatihatka, Captain Petrov and I attempted to return to our regiment. We ran from the hospital and reached the city of Uman. The commandant of Uman told us that our regiment was there earlier, but left heading toward an unknown destination. We were forced to return to the hospital where we were discharged as punishment for running away. I was named the commander of a reserve platoon on the 2nd Ukrainian Front. 306

On August 20th of 1944, the platoons of the 2nd Ukrainian Front began the JassyKishinev Offensive. We had a lot of cannons, an average of 240 per kilometer. Our strong preliminary fire gave our platoon the ability to successfully move forward. The cannons were so loud that none of us could hear each other. We didnt even notice when the enemy returned fire and killed one of our men. After taking Jassy and other cities, our platoon moved toward Focani in Romania. We merged with the 3rd Ukrainian Front and attacked Galai, Ploieti and Cluj. We then moved toward Budapest, the capital of Hungary. Budapest was divided into two parts, Buda and Pest. We entered Pest in early February of 1945. We could not force the Danube River. In Pest, our cannons were positioned between buildings on the bank of the Danube. We bombed the enemy cannons and lookout positions. On the 10th of February, we were able to force the river and take Buda. There were many rough battles for the city of Szkesfehrvr and Lake Balaton. Our regiment was sent to Lake Balaton, where there was a large tank battle. The enemy was forced back 10 kilometers away from the Danube. However, having a great deal of tanks, the Germans pushed us back toward the Danube. We nearly reached the bank of the river when retreating. At that time, backup arrived and the Germans retreated, leaving their cannons behind. After defeating the Germans at Lake Balaton, we moved further into Hungary. We then took the city of Debrecen. I received an order to shoot our own commanders lookout and asked them to confirm what they had just ordered. I was then informed that the Germans had surrounded the lookout. I opened fire and wasted all of our ammo. Then the German tanks showed up. I asked for permission to retreat, but was 307

ordered to stay. They promised more ammunition and ordered the other battalions to protect us from the tanks. Shortly after that, I saw a neighboring battery turn their cannons around and open fire on the tanks that approached us. We were given more ammunition and and once again opened fire on Debrecen. After taking the city, our regiment made its way toward Miskolc. The city had already been taken by our troops. We dug trenches and stopped to rest. A stray bomb then hit us. Another soldier and I were wounded. He was immediately taken to the hospital, but I went to the local medial battalion where they removed the shrapnel from my leg and sutured the wounds. Afterward, I returned to my battalion. We were then sent toward the border of Austria where our troops were forcing the Germans back. On May 8th, we took the city of Brook. I received an order to relocate to the outskirts of the city where German soldiers were located in a forest. I ordered my battalion to move forward and led the way on a motorcycle. A communications vehicle then drove by. The back door was open and the radiomen were yelling something while shooting up at the sky. I caught up with the car and asked what was going on. That was how I found out that Germany had surrendered and the war was over. I turned around and returned to the regiment to inform my soldiers of the great news. At the same time, I called the commander of the battery to inform him of the same news. They didnt believe me for a long time, thinking I was kidding. However, I got a bottle of vodka for being the first to inform them. After the war, our regiment was directed to the city of Starokostiantyniv, Ukraine. In 1947, I was discharged and returned to Leningrad where I began attending college and 308

working simultaneously. In 1949, a conflict broke out on the Far East and I was drafted again. At first, I served near Leningrad. In 1952, I was sent to the island of Sakhalin. In 1958, I was transferred to Vyborg in the Leningrad region. In 1961, I was discharged again and returned to Leningrad to complete my studies. After graduating, I worked as a designer and was the manager of a design group. Our group designed a threechannel polygraph containing a cardiogram, myogram and an encephalogram. I was awarded a first degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, an Order of the Red Star and many medals. In 1993, I immigrated to the United States of America with my family.

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Naum Reintblat
I was born on February 22nd of 1922. Before the Great Patriotic War began, I graduated from high school. During the war, I worked as an assemblyman at a factory manufacturing plane engines. I was awarded an Order of the Red Banner of Labor, an Order of the Badge of Honor, and various medals. After the war, I graduated from the Institute of Aviary Technologies and Construction. I immigrated to the United States of America in 1997.

Marianna Rossina
Before the war, our family lived in the city of Nikolayev. That summer, along with the other students of the Shipbuilding Institute, I was sent to work at a collective farm. As the war began, our boys were drafted into the army. The front line came closer and closer to our hometown with each day. A chaotic evacuation of the population followed soon after the first German bombardments of the city. The government ordered an organized evacuation to Stalingrad of only the professors and equipment. The rest of the faculty and students had to find their own means of escaping the city. Suffering from the bombardments, malnourishment and poor hygiene, we were taken to Astrakhan on train cars used for transporting cattle. I can still recall how empty the city looked in those days. The shores were empty and the single dining room was available only to those in the military. From time to time, we borrowed uniforms from the soldiers to get into the dining room for dinner. Our studies continued for only two months. When the German troops came close to Stalingrad, the Shipbuilding Institute was re-evacuated to the city of Przhevalsk, Kyrgyzstan. This time, a steamship carried us along the Volgas current to Astrakhan. From there, we went through the Caspian Sea to Krasnovodsk and crossed the Asian Soviet Republics by train.

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After graduation from the Shipbuilding Institute, I was directed to a postgraduate course. In addition, I worked in a laboratory. At the end of 1944, I came to Tallinn where I worked in the Mechanical Department of the Estonian Steamship Navigation. We celebrated Victory Day there, with tears in our eyes. The war took away my brother and sister.

Israel Rubakhin
In April of 1940, we students of the Kharkov Automobile and Road Institute were sent to build a military aerodrome near KamenetzPodolsk, Ukraine. In June of 1941, the construction was almost finished when we received an order to destroy all of the landing strips. We returned to Kharkov and were drafted into the Red Army. I was appointed as technician to the 6th Military Road Management division located on the north Caucasian front. With this unit, I made my way from Stavropol to Vienna. Our mission included providing roads, temporary bridges and other means for moving military forces. Quite often, we worked under intensive enemy fire, and at times we were even forced to leave objects already completed. I took part in the preparations for crossing the large rivers, including the Dnepr, Belaya, Dniestr and Danube. As the Germans retreated, they destroyed many eminent constructions, including the middle spans of the famous Franz Joseph Bridge in Buda, Budapest. To restore the damaged spans, we managed to organize the manufacturing of wood spans in the covered marketplace. While we continued our way westward, we met huge columns of Hungarian prisoners. On February 13, Budapest was liberated. Our next bridge was erected over the Sommering Ravine in the Austrian Alps. We celebrated the end of the war and saluted in honor of our victory in Vienna on May 8th and 9th of 1945. After the war, I continued my education in the same Institute and graduated in 1948. 313

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Gregory Shapiro
I was born on January 31st of 1918 in Bobruysk, Belarus. In 1926, I began attending public school and music school. I played the clarinet. After graduating from school, I attended the Minsk Institute of Music, which I graduated just in time for the

Rita Shehtman
Several decades have passed since Victory Day. The memory of the war lives on in the hearts of those who lived through that time. Not a single person remains untouched by the events which took place. In 1940, I graduated from school with honors. I was rejected from the Kiev University because they had already accepted enough honors students. The war found me in Lviv, where I was a student at Lviv State University, studying philology. Before I had a chance to take my final exams, I was forced to evacuate. The train was often bombed. I then learned all the horrors of the war: the loss of family and friends, hunger and illness. After many trials, I ended up in Kazaly, Kazakhstan where I worked as a Russian language teacher. In 1942, I was sent in for military training in Kyzylorda. After completing the training, I taught military preparation for senior students in a school. In 1943, I received news that two of my sisters had been executed in Yahotyn and my older sisters three children were orphaned. My other sister and went to save them. We worked in the schools and took care of the children. When our hometown of Malyn was liberated, we returned there in February of 1944. Our parents had perished on the front and my brother was fighting on the front. I then began working at the school I once attended. I attended the Institute of Teaching simultaneously. I came to the United States of America in 1997. 315

beginning of the war.

I wanted to go back to Bobruysk, but people were already running from there since the Germans were already there. My parents and brother were killed in Bobruysk. My teacher from the institute and I ran from Minsk. We were bombed and hid in the forest. I wanted to reach my sister in Leningrad. My teacher was sick and could go no further. He told me, Run, youre young. Ill stay here. Whatever happens will happen. He gave me his clarinet. When I reached my sister in Leningrad, I found out that she was going to evacuate to Stalingrad. I was able to go with her, exempt from military services due to my poor vision. From Stalingrad, we were evacuated farther to Ural. There, I went to the recruitment office and asked to join the army. I joined a musical regiment of a wind ensemble, where I served for the duration of the war. When the war ended, I attended the Leningrad Conservatory, which I graduated from in 1950. From 1950 until 1995, I worked in a wind ensemble and taught at various music schools. My wife and I came to the United States of America in 1995. 314

Simon Sheinker
1916 2004 I was born in 1916. Two weeks before the war, I graduated from the Railroad Engineering Institute in Leningrad. I was referred to a locomotive depot as an engineer. Though my position of railroad worker gave me the legal right to be exempt from military service, I volunteered for the army in 1941. I graduated from a military school in 1942 and served as a platoon commander in the railroad troops. I was injured in combat and treated in a hospital in Poland. I finished my service in Germany as a technical assistant-commander. I was awarded an Order of the Great Patriotic War, and various other medals.

Kira Shitova
1918 2010 I was born in 1920. I graduated from the Kiev Constriction-Engineering Institute. After the war began, I was appointed to the Military Academy of Chemical Defense as a civilian engineer. The Academy was the only one among the high-level military educational institutions to not be evacuated from Moscow. The Supreme Commandment assigned the Academy to perform organizational and instructional plans in order to prepare the troops and population for defense in case of a chemical attack. Following the orders of my superiors, I participated in implementing the necessary measures within the military units. I was decorated with a medal For the Defense of Moscow.

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Ninel Shpiller
I was born in 1927. I graduated from a ballet school in Leningrad and worked as a ballet dancer. I lived through the blockade and was awarded medals For Valiant Labor During The Great Patriotic War and For Surviving the

Revecca Shpiller
I was born in Leningrad in 1927. In 1940, after graduation from the Leningrad State University, I was commanded to Archangelsk as a high school teacher. When the war began, I was transferred to a seafaring school where I worked as an assistant manager from 1943 to 1945. Since 1964, I worked in the Leningrad Museum of History. In 1994, I immigrated to the United States.

Blockade of Leningrad.

I came to the United States of America from Leningrad in 1992.

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Michael Shtargot
I was born in 1922 in Gomel, Belarus. In 1940, after graduating from high school, I began my studies at Belarus University. This was soon interrupted when I was drafted into the Red Army. At the beginning of the war, I served in Belarus. I was severely injured in 1941, in the battle for Yelnya. In the following years, I graduated from a military school and served as a company commander, then later as a chief of staff. Together with the 100th Guard Infantry Division, I fought in many battles and crossed Belarus, Ukraine, Romania, Hungary and Austria. I was awarded an Order of the Red Star and two Orders of the Great Patriotic War. In 1946, after two severe injuries, I retired from the military service. After the Great Patriotic War, I graduated from the Kiev Institute of Medicine and worked as a stomatologist until 1991. In 1946, I participated in a special military operation in Iran. In 1992, my family and I immigrated to the United States.

Emil Shtein
I was born in August of 1927 in the town of Gaisin in Ukraine. I volunteered for the army and went off to the front in 1944. I served as a scout on the southwestern front until the end of the war. After the war, I graduated from military school and Belarus State University. I served in the military until 1972, discharged as a Vice Colonel. I was honored with a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and various medals. After the army, I worked as a teacher until my emigration.

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Simon Shulkin
I was born in 1918. Before the war, I studied Hydraulic Engineering at the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute. On June 25th, 1941, I was drafted into the army shortly after graduating. After finishing an officer course, I served at the rank

Joseph Shur
I participated in the Great Patriotic War as a member of the Black Sea Fleet. During the war, I was a senior sailor working in communications. I participated in the liberation of Romania and Bulgaria. I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and 18 medals. I served in the military from November 11th of 1943 until May 28th of 1980 and retired as a colonel.

of lieutenant.

I later received a special military-engineering education at the Military-Engineering Academy. I subsequently served as an engineer with the 27th Skiing Infantry Brigade and as chief of staff of the 221st and commander of the 19th Sapper Battalions of the 24th Guard Infantry Division. Two out of my three injuries were severe. I was awarded three Orders and many medals. After the end of the war, I passed a postgraduate course in Hydraulic Engineering science and succeeded in my career as chief designer, chief engineer of projects, and chief of a department. I have been in the United States since 1992.

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Michael Shvartsman
I was born in Ukraine in 1923. On June 20th, 1941, I graduated from the Kalinindorf Pedagogical College. As the war began and a general mobilization was declared, I was sent to a conscription point located on the left bank of the Dnepr River. I crossed the river at Nicopol-Kamenka and remained there with a militiamen battalion until August 12th of 1942. I was then drafted into the regular Red Army and after a brief time spent training, was sent to the 361st Sapper Battalion of the operating army located on the South Root. As a sapper, I participated in the defense operations of the cities of Berdyansk and Mariupol. In October of 1941, I was sent to the Uryupinsk Infantry School located in Nalchik. After graduating in May of 1942, I was assigned as the commander of a machine-gun platoon with the 89th Regiment of the 226th Reserve Division. After the defeat of the Red Army under Mozdok, our division crossed the mountains and joined the Transcaucasian Front. The division initiated formation and training of the new marching companies of machine-gunners. This work was prolonged in the severe conditions and biting cold of Siberia. The training of the young Siberian men was inspired by the famous Russian slogan, Hard on the training, easy on the battlefield. I took an active part in the preparation of new soldiers for the front lines. I met Victory Day in the city of Balta, in the Odessa region. 324

After the end of the war, I continued in military service until 1954. I was decorated with an Order of the Great Patriotic War, a medal For Battle Merits and other various medals. I accomplished no major military feats, but honestly performed my duties as a soldier to the best of my capabilities. Im proud of our common achievements devoted to the immortal victory over fascist Germany. In 1959, I graduated from the Moscow Pedagogical Institute as a history teacher. For 24 years, I served as an educational manager of a high school. I was decorated with a sign for Excellence in Education of the Russian Federation. I have been in the United States since 1994.

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Mark Sigal
I was born on April 11th of 1924. In 1942, I was drafted into the army and served on the front as a member of the 4th Guard Army until the end of the war. I specialized in radio operation. I received a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War and various

Israel Sinai
Israel was born in 1915 in Vitebsk. In 1927, his family relocated to Pushkin. After graduating from school, he attended a trade school where he learned to work as a turner. He later attended an institute where he learned to make films and operate

medals.

film equipment.

I came to the United States of America from Kiev in 1994.

In May of 1941, he was called to the army and sent off to train at the Mozhaiskiy Academy of Military Aviation Engineering in Leningrad. Due to the increased frequency of air strikes, the government ordered the evacuation of the academy. Israel helped remove and disassemble the equipment and load it onto the train cars which took them to Yoshkar-Ola. He was re-educated for working with aviation equipment and was transferred to Khabarovsk. He worked as a manager of an aviation equipment repair team. In 1943, he was transferred to a regiment of bomber and fighter planes equipped with American P-63 King Cobra planes as an engineer. As planes arrived, Israel made sure they were in proper working order before shipping them off. They included the American models B-24 Liberator and B-34 Lockheed Vega. America sent us ships loaded with weapons and provisions. Israel followed the ships over the Pacific Ocean on a hydroplane.

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When Russia engaged in war with Japan, he took part in the battles for the Kuril Islands. His regiment was then relocated to those islands and they continued to engage the Japanese kamikaze until the emperor of Japan had ordered a cease fire. Israel finished the war as a Senior Lieutenant Engineer. He received a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, medals For the Victory over Japan and others, including the American medal Victory. He left the army in 1948 and worked in Leningrad as a manager for various research institutes. In 1999, he immigrated to the United States of America.

Lev Skvirskiy
I served as an armament engineer with the 3rd Stalingrad Guardian Destroyer Regiment at the Prague direction. At that time (AprilMay of 1945), we fought in Czechoslovakia against the group Center led by General-Field Marshal Scherner. His forces included a million troops equipped with 10,000 guns, 2,000 tanks and a thousand airplanes. On May 5th of 1945, as the Prague insurgence began, Hitler ordered for the city to be destroyed. Beginning on May 8th, Radio Prague repeatedly called for help: Red Army, come to save Prague, we are getting lost! In response to those calls, the troops of the 1st and 2nd Ukrainian Fronts hurried to help the insurgents. Our aviation and tanks performed the main tasks. The Regiments airbase was located near the city of Dolbaneshev, east of Prague. Our pilots raided the enemy positions, bombarding them and fighting German airplanes in the sky. On May 8th, our pilots returned to the base at sunset. The engineers and technicians then began preparing the planes for the following days flights. We inspected the engines, repaired the planes and loaded them with bombs. At 3 oclock in the morning, however, a communication officer arrived to inform us of Germanys surrender. Our reaction to this information was a sheer never-beforeexperienced joy. Salvos from all kinds of weapons, rockets and

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tracer bullets colored the sky. Thus, every one of us celebrated the long expected victory. The following morning, General Velentin Uchov, the commander of our 10th Stalingrad Guardian Air Division came to congratulate us. He also read Stalins order of gratitude for our participation in the liberation of the city of Olmoutz. The General then ordered us to continue the raids against Scherners group Center. Many troops were still under his commandments, including the SS-tank division and deserters from the Red Army. They refused to capitulate. On May 9th, we continued loading the planes with bombs and our pilots flew to their last battles. Unfortunately, the last battle was the most difficult one. Two days after the end of the war, we again lost some of our comrades. Those losses were even more bitter than those before. Our regiment began the count of its air-raids in the defense of Moscow, continued in the battle for Stalingrad, secured the sky over Kuban, fought on the arch of Kursk, participated in the liberation of Kiev, Lvov and Krakow, and knocked down many famous Nazi pilots over Germany. We completed our mission in Czechoslovakia on May 11th of 1945.

Roman Sokolovskiy
I was honored to be among the sailors who graduated from the Frunze Submarine School. My father, Alexander Sokolovskiy graduated from the same school in 1936. Four of his classmates were named Soviet Union Heroes. He himself served as commander of different submarines and later continued military service in the Far East and in Sevastopol. Id like to remind us that we should not forget the assistance received from the United States of America. The large caravans of extremely needed armaments, supplies and fuel helped us significantly in our struggle against Germany. We shouldnt forget the fate of the caravan PQ-17, destroyed by the German air force on its way from America to Murmansk. From 1942 to 1943, my father served as assistant captain on the military tanker Emba. He told me of his friend, captain Sosin, commander of the tanker who regularly carried fuel from San Francisco, San Diego and other ports to Vladivostok. American individuals covered the expenses of providing the fuel for our fleet. One of them was the actress Mary Pickford. The celebrity invited the sailors to her Hollywood villa. The way through the Pacific was hard and severely dangerous, especially through the islands of Japan. The Japanese used to switch off the lighthouses or confuse the signals in order to disorient the navigators. Severe Pacific storms made orientation extremely difficult as well.

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At that time, Japan was an ally of Germany. Though it was not in a state of war with the Soviet Union, they would attack our transports with torpedoes. The commander of the tanker Emba was lucky to survive the war and continued service in the Pacific for many years. Following my fathers tradition, I served on anti-boat ships. As a fleet captain, I worked in a shipping company.

Boris Spitkovskiy
Before the war, I worked as a teacher of literature. In October of 1942, I volunteered for the army and was sent to the front. As a soldier of the 76th Infantry Regiment, 27th Guard Division, I participated in the most severe battles surrounding Stalingrad. Most of the contingent of our Regiment was destroyed. I retired from the army after my fourth battle injury. I was awarded an Order of the Great Patriotic War and 16 various medals, including For the Defense of Stalingrad. After the war, I worked as a teacher and school principal in the cities of Engels and Kiev.

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Mirdza Sverdlova
When the war began, I was sent out of Moscow and to my grandmother. She lived in a village near Ulyanovsk, at the great Russian Volga River. There, I began work as a bookkeeper at a local textile factory. As the news from the front became worse with each passing day, I decided to do something for my homeland. I went to the city of Ulyanovsk with a group of girls, walking on foot in rough slippers. We came to the youth committee (Komsomol) saying that we were ready to defend our country. In May of 1942, a friend and I were drafted to the Red Army and sent in for training as telegraph operators. After graduation, we were ordered to the 165th Special Communication Regiment located in the Bryansk forests. We operated in small groups with the 1001st Battalion and often returned from the operation without several of our comrades, those lost in the battles. In the fall of 1943, the Bryansk Front was liquidated and we were referred to the Baltic Front, but destiny had decided otherwise. Two hours after getting in the echelon, a German reconnaissance plane, a rama, appeared in the sky. Their Messerschmitt then arrived and began the bombardment. There were many casualties; I was badly injured. For seven months, I was treated in various hospitals, including the Vishnevsky Institute of Experimental Surgery in Moscow. I was discharged from service as a disabled WWII veteran. 334

Simon Teitelbaum
I was born on August 2nd of 1931 in Leningrad, where I lived until May 20th of 1941. My father lived and worked in Volkhovstroy. My mother and I spent our summers there with him. After the war began, we did not return to Leningrad and were instead evacuated with the aluminum factory to Kamensk-Uralsky. My mother and father went to work at the aluminum factory and I went to school. In February of 1942, my father voluntarily joined the army and went off to the front. We lived through the many difficulties that all evacuees faced in those times: bombardments, enemy fire, living without sufficient winter clothes, and other complications. When I turned 11, I began working as a member of a wind ensemble. We played for many occasions, but most often funerals. In 1944, I was invited to be a cadet in an orchestra working for a repair battalion. In September of 1945, my family returned to Leningrad where our 24 square meter room was waiting for us. I graduated from school and later a machine building college. In 1954, I graduated from the Leningrad Institute of Military Cartography. I spent 36 years working for the army, from 1951 until 1987, and retired as a colonel. I was awarded an Order of the Badge of Honor and many medals.

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Sima Trebukova
I was born on September 20, 1921, in the town of Priluki, district of Chernigov, in the Ukraine. After finishing high school in 1939, I applied to the Dnepropetrovsk Medical Institute, from which I graduated on August 30, 1945. After graduation, I was enlisted in the army, and sent to the 389th sniper regiment as a Commanding Officer of the medical troop (Southern Sakhalin). I served in the army from 1945 to 1947, and was discharged as a Captain of the Reserve Medical Corps.

Simon Ushomirsky
1917 2008 I was born on March 12th of 1917 in Ukraine. My parents were forced to move to Russia. Having learned the Russian language and graduated the Ivanovsky Institute of Energetics. I worked at various electricity stations in Yaroslavl, Kiev, Taganrog and others. I was drafted into the army in the latter half of 1938. I served as a private, then as sergeant. When I returned from the army, I returned to my work as an energeticist. When the war began in 1941, I was sent to organize a militia. I left my workplace on a bicycle to go home and deliver the news when I was hit by a truck and ended up in the hospital with a severe concussion, loss of hearing and other injuries. I was declared an invalid for over three years. I graduated from a Polytechnic Institute and received the title of Senior Lieutenant Engineer. After the war, I helped restore various energy plants.

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Olga Uvarova-Raush
I was born on April 28th of 1922. I graduated from school in 1941. When the war began, I worked for an enterprise in Leningrad. I lived through the blockade and was awarded with medals For the Defense of Leningrad and For Valiant Labor During The

Efim Vahnyanski
I was born in July of 1925, in Moldavia. After being drafted in 1941, I was transferred to a military medical school and graduated in 1944 with the title Junior Lieutenant of Medical services. I was then transferred to the 160 th artillery regiment as a doctors assistant of th the 10 artillery division of the chief commanders reserve force of the 3rd Belorussian front. In February of 1945, I was injured by a piece of shrapnel which damaged my tibia and was taken to four different hospitals for treatment. I was then declared a second degree invalid and discharged in October of 1945. I was granted two Orders for my services, an Order of the Red Star and a first degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, as well as ten other various medals.

Great Patriotic War.

I came to the United States of America in 1996.

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Vladimir Vaiser
In 1940, an agreement was made between Germany and the USSR which declared that Moldavia (then, Besarabia) would be taken from Romania and become a part of the USSR. As a result of this, I was demobilized from the Romanian army and went home to Kishinev. Eleven months later, Germany attacked the Soviet Union and the Great Patriotic War began. On July 5th of 1941, I received my summons and on the 6th, at six in the morning, we marched toward the old border. The next day, we received orders to disperse among the kolkhozes around Pervomaisk, Ukraine and help gather crops. We would soon find out that those born in the newly annexed territory werent taken in by the Red Army. It was because of this that hundreds of thousands of men were removed from the front and located to the rear. For a time, this saved the lives of many young Jews. These young men, without documentation, with no knowledge of the Russian language, wearing nothing but their summer clothes were thrown away and left up to fate. We were moved back from kolkhoz to kolkhoz further and further as the Red Army retreated until we found ourselves in central Asia. There was no work for us in the kolkhozes of Uzbekistan, so we were forced to work as slaves for the people in exchange for a daily bowl of soup and piece of pita bread; conditions were terrible. When recruiters for the Red Army showed up 340

in 1942, they asked which of us were from the new territory. I kept quiet. In August of 1942, I ended up in the camps of Gorokhovets (between Moscow and Gorki). After three weeks of training, we were sent off to the 123rd shooting brigade located in the region of Sukhinichi. The brigade fought local battles, but mostly remained in the area to guard it. In spring of 1943, after the Soviet victory at Stalingrad, we prepared to move in and attack. However, the Germans were stronger and occupied good strategic locations. Over the course of the summer, the brigade advanced and fought many local battles, freeing a village and a railroad station. In September of 1943, I was injured. The medical battalion could do little more than bandage my wounds, and I was sent to a hospital. I then spent some time in Gus-Khrustalny getting several blood transfusions before being transferred to a different hospital in Sverdlovskiy where my treatment continued. For violating hospital policies, I was discharged early and sent to the battalion of recovering soldiers in the city of Kamyshlov. As soon as my time there was over, I was then redirected to the city of Sverdlovsk and after three weeks, shipped off to the front. I ended up in the 332nd Guard Division where I would spend the rest of the war. In the beginning of 1945, a strong alliance of German troops and Vlasovtsy (former Soviet troops who had since defected and fought for the Germans). The plan was to surround and either destroy them or take them prisoner. We cornered them by the sea and cut off their food and ammunition supply routes. However, there was something in the way of our second battalion: the Germans had occupied a 341

brick fort and impeded our progress. The matter was of such importance that our battalion was given additional cannons and firearms. Suddenly, the enemys cannons knocked out our radio tower and we lost contact with our superiors. We the signal service soldiers were situated about 15-20 meters behind the infantry. The Major, second in command of the regiment, lined us up and asked who would volunteer to go repair the connection. No one answered that first call because the Germans were doing their own heavy bombardment. The Major asked a second time and added that he could order anyone of us to go but, taking into consideration the current conditions, he would prefer a volunteer. I then stepped forward and said that I would go regardless of the danger. The Major commended me, and told me to take everything I needed, and to hurry. When I came downhill, a mortar shell fell very close to me. I did not have time to jump for cover and remained on my feet. When the smoke dissipated I looked myself over. The bottom of my overcoat was cut by shrapnel in multiple places, but miraculously, I was not injured. I ran across the road occupied by the tank column and entered the forest. The old forests thick trees saved me from the heavy enemy mortar bombardment. After several minutes, they moved their targeting and I was able to run forward. I found the hollow where the wires were laid out. All of them had been cut by artillery fire, and I found another injured signal services fellow soldier who had run from the regiment command post. I bandaged his wounds and then got to work. It was complicated as there were many wires and it was not clear which ends needed to be connected to which. However, I successfully unraveled the problem and in about 30 minutes, the connection was completely restored. 342

About a week later I was called to the regiment headquarters along with several other soldiers who were awarded various medals. It was there that I received the Order of Glory. I served honestly and diligently performed my duties, regardless of the unfair treatment I received from the country at first.

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Vladimir Vaisfeld
1920 - 2003 I was born on October 2, 1920 in Moscow. After graduating from the Institute of Engineering and Economics, I was called away to serve in the army. At first, I worked for the intelligence services. After being wounded, I completed my military academy training and was transferred to the the rear division of car troops where I served as a commander. After the war, I remained in the army. I was discharged in 1996 under the title Engineer-Major. For my services in the war, I was awarded with both the first and second class medals Order of the Great Patriotic War, the Order of the Red Star, and 14 various medals.

Gregory Vaistikh
I was born in 1925. As the commander of a mortar platoon of the 3rd battalion, 252nd Guard Infantry Regiment on the 3rd Belorussian Front, I was injured in battle. By the end of the war, I had earned the rank of Senior Lieutenant. In the spring of 1945, our 2nd and 3rd Belorussian Fronts were ordered to storm Knigsberg. The fortifications around that city had been built for 700 years. Surrounded by rivers and swamps, they included 12 chains of basic forts with stronghold walls. Each of the forts was equipped with heavy artillery, barracks, arsenals and storages. Our regiment suffered the first losses near the city of Velau. As we crossed the icy Pergel River and continued in the direction of a village, the Germans met us with gunfire from their armed transports. My mortar platoon had been positioned near a railway station. We opened fire within seconds, then I moved the platoon closer to the riverbank. After our artillery attack, the troops had stepped forward to counterattack the Germans. In March of 1945, we were ordered to capture a railway station at Kobelbud. The Germans had destroyed the bridge across the Fishing River; it couldnt be repaired due to the enemys heavy fire. In addition, they opened floodgates in order to flood our troops. Regardless, we managed to cross the river and took our positions under the railway. The Germans pushed an echelon with the explosives along the tracks, just over our trenches. The roof of the railway station flew away

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for some 300 meters from that explosion. Simultaneously, the Germans attacked. They ran into our trenches and hand-to-hand fighting began. The fire of the rockets, grenades and tracer bullets transformed that night into day. I kept firing from a machine gun. The Germans had retreated and their attack had been cut off. Our soldier, Ivan Belousov, had been shot to death. We continued our offensive in the direction of the Fish-Hoff Bay. The seashore was full of horses shot by the retreating Germans; it was a terrible scene. We suffered great losses in the battles for Knigsberg, especially while crossing the Pregel River. But on April6, 1945, the city was captured by our troops.

Olga Vasilyeva
I was born in 1925. Before the war, I graduated from a musical school in Kiev, specializing in piano. When the war started, I was evacuated to Chardzhou (now Trkmenabat) by the Kharkov Tank Military College, where I then worked as a concertmaster in charge of a community performing group. After the war, I returned to Kiev with my family. After completing my education at the Lviv Conservatory, I worked at a piano school in Lviv. In 1995, I immigrated to the United States of America. I was awarded with a medal for my efforts during the Great Patriotic War.

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Moses Veksler
1921 2006 I was born on May 5th, 1921 in Shpola, Ukraine. After graduating from school in 1939, I attended the Kiev Institute of Chemical Technology and studied mechanics. In October of 1941, I was drafted into the 43rd road maintenance division of the army. From October of 1943 until May of 1945, I remained on the front. For the time spent there, I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, an Order of the Red Star, medals For the Capture of Knigsberg, For the Liberation of Warsaw, For Victory over Germany and ten other medals. In 1945, I attended one of Leningrads military academies and after completion, served as an officer overseeing engineer troops, as a specialist in war communications and the building and maintenance of bridges. In 1974, I left the army, my final rank being colonel. Afterwards, I worked in Leningrad as a manager of engineering and construction. I later immigrated to the United States of America.

Irena Vesich
I was born in Pyatigorsk in 1922. After graduation from high school in 1940, I went to study in Moscow, but returned home to my parents as the war began. When the German army attacked, I was recruited as a labor worker to dig anti-tank ditches and trenches. I worked in Tbilisi, and was married there as well. After the Soviet Army liberated Dniepropetrovsk, my husband and I moved there. In 1948, I graduated from the local Institute of Metallurgy. I then worked at various metallurgical factories of the Donbass and later in Kiev as a chief designer. I have two daughters and five grandchildren. We have been in America since 1922.

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Ioir Volchenok
I was born on October 14, 1912 and completed the Moscow State Academy of Water Transport. When I was called to the army, I served as an engineer. I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, an Order of the Red Banner of Labor and other various medals. I immigrated to the United States of America in 1996.

Gennadiy Volfovskiy
The renowned Road of Life across the icy Ladoga Lake paved the way out from blockaded Leningrad. During a period of four months in the winter of 1941-42, over half a million people crossed through the Road of Life. Otherwise, most of them would have perished from hunger, cold and disease, or under the German bombardments. It was January of 1942. As a 9th grade student of a special navy school, I took my portfolio and went out in the direction of the Bolshoy Prospect. In the morning, I had a hot glass of melted snow. It was hard to drag me feet, so I stepped slowly. A chain of phantoms was seen along the entire Bolshoy Prospect; they were people with their clothing plastered with snow, dragging behind sledges or skis loaded with corpses of their dead relatives to the Poskarevsky cemetery. The legs of the corpses extended outside of the sledges and scratched over the ground. It was a terrible scene with no words and no tears. The sad processions continued from morning until late into the night. There were no coffins in Leningrad. A thought crossed my mind: it was quite possible that I would someday be carried in such a way as well. I stopped at the Tuchkov Bridge to rest and certain that I was too weak to reach the school, turned back and went home. There, my mother was the strongest person in our family. To warm me up, she put me in bed next to my older brother. My father, weak and edematous, could not get out of

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his bed. My older brother, Arkadiy, had come down with the flu and couldnt get to his job at the Industrial school where he worked as an instructor. The pupils admired him and carried his portion of soup from the school and brought it to our home. My middle brother, Yosef, a navy school student, had left Leningrad together with his classmates. They had crossed the Ladoga Lake by foot. One day, Yosef sent us a telegraph informing us that he had safely reached the city of Yaroslavl. My father happily exclaimed, At least one of our family will remain alive. He had no idea that in three months, Yosef would perish on the front lines. Some time later, my brothers friend Tsvetkov came in, saying that the Industrial school was preparing listings of students, employees and their family members for evacuation from Leningrad via the Road of Life. He said that Arkadiy must come to the school, otherwise he wouldnt be included in the listings. That was the only chance to save our family. My brother, weak from sickness and hunger, got out of his bed and went out slowly. Two days later, he came back home and woke me up. Walking slowly and supporting each other, we made our way to the school where we were served hot bouillon. It was wonderful. We left the school in the evening, carrying several pieces of bread for our parents. Somewhere along the way home, one of us fell down, then the other, our faces up. I remember seeing some stars in the dark sky. Arkadiy told me, If I cannot get up, bring the bread home. Soon, all my thoughts disappeared and I managed to shut everything out. Then, a miracle happened. I found myself standing on my feet with Arkadiy next to me. It appeared that Tsvetkov had come from the Industrial school along the same way and found us on the ground. With the assistance of several people who were passing by, he woke us up and lifted us from the ground. We 352

had then been seated around a heater in a room lit by an oil lamp. We conversed about leaving Leningrad and how to prepare for the trip. I spent the final days before our departure in the dorm of the Industrial school together with other boys and girls. Their skin looked thin and yellowish. Though always hungry, they had been actively fighting for their lives. Nearly every day, they would go to the location of the former Badayev storehouses where a fire had burnt large amounts of sugar. The kids would bring home earth from under the snow. After washing it out with water, they would get a sweet drink from it. Before the departure, our hair was cropped and we were given a hot bath. The trip began on a suburban train from the Finland railway station. Everybody carried a backpack with some clothes and a ration of provisions. It was an unexpected wealth: a whole loaf of bread, granulated sugar and rusks. Some boys finished their entire ration immediately. My parents had been settled in a separate carriage. I came there and found my mother in a state of frustration. Next to her stood my 18-year-old cousin Mitya. He had just returned from the front, where he had lost an eye. My mother was begging the officer to allow him to remain on the train. Since Mitya had not been included in the listing of evacuees, the officer threatened to expel the whole family. Mitya then said to my mother, Aunt Sonya, Im leaving and going to die, and left the train. I remember seeing him stand alone on the platform. We later learned that he passed away within two weeks. My mother could not forget him and suffered for the rest of her life. The train stopped near the Ladoga Lake where we were loaded onto covered trucks. We could hear artillery rumbling 353

all around us. The trucks started moving over the icy lake in the darkness of the night. People had been talking about the dangers of the trip and cases when trucks had fallen through the ice, but I felt no fear. I tried to sleep, but couldnt. The trucks moved slowly at first, then sped up. I opened my eyes as we stopped at the village Ladoga, the first point out of the ring of the blockade. We were housed in a well-heated school. In the morning, we were taken for lunch. I still remember the aroma of the hot buckwheat kasha as we approached the dining room. The kitchen workers in white coats served us a good amount of kasha and everybody enjoyed it immensely. Some boys had managed to get in the line again to receive a second bowl, but they had to pay an ultimate price for it. Overeating after a long starvation proved deadly; some of them dropped down writhing with stomach pain, others died. The way from Ladoga to Stalinsk was very slow and difficult. Only my mother made it to the final destination. First, my father was taken from the train in the city of Perm. He died there from dysentery. Then my brother Arkadiy was hospitalized. Then came my turn: I was put into a hospital in Novosibirsk, where I remained for a few months. We lost each other for a long time; my mother had been very sick as well. Later, we got back together and I continued to study in the Industrial school. After graduation, I was appointed as an instructor of the same school. Children 12-13 years old worked at the factory, putting wooden boxes under their feet to reach the machine tools. The war continued. As I grew up, I dreamed of becoming a pilot. Before the age of 18, I decided to go voluntarily to a flight school and left the Industrial school. My students 354

accompanied me as I departed. I left my mother in a hospital bed. To this day I remember her last words, You must be strong like steel.

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Boris Vulfovich
My mother and I faced the beginning of the Great Patriotic War on the 22nd of June in 1941. We lived in a single room of a large apartment near the famous Old Nevsky Avenue. In the rest of the nine rooms of this apartment, there lived nine other families with their children. In 1940, my father, a loader of the sea commercial port, had volunteered to work in the gold field on Bodaybo in Siberia. After WWII ended, I found out that he, knowing nothing of our fate, was called up to serve in the war and was killed in the battle at the Kurskaia Arc in the summer of 1943. According to both my memory and two saved photographs, my father was similar to Chelkash, whose image I conceived later after reading Maxim Gorkys story. He was very tall, with a thick black beard of hair, a turned up crooked nose and deeply set searching eyes. With a red scarf around his sharp Adams apple and in a wadded jacket, he always attracted universal attention and interest. In spite of no systematic education and no formal training in musical notation, he was not lacking in musical talents: he played the violin and whistled artistically, including Aljabjevs Nightingale. A few years before he left for Bodaybo, he had organized the Working Amateur Dramatic Theater. I remember three plays performed by him: Sganarelle by Moliere, something from the events of the Paris Commune in 1871, and Pushkins The Gypsies. I am not sure, but it is 356

very likely that he himself had transformed the famous poem into the scenic material. In any case, I had never heard about such a dramatic performance. It was exciting that I, a ten year old boy, was the busiest actor as the narrator in it: I led the performance, reading the authors text aloud. Both before my fathers leave and after it, we were poor and lived scantily. My mother was a housekeeper; she was always very sickly and weak, and my fathers wages and money transfers were hardly enough for our daily bread. From a pre-war meal, I remember clearly herring and rye bread with apple jam. With a slice of it, I used to come into the large house yard and try to join the other boys games. I had to share my bread, but nobody wanted to deal with me, a Jewish boy, Bebele, as my mother called me often from the window... On the first day of the war, I was 11 years and 8 months old and had already graduated from elementary school. At the very beginning of the war, beautiful summer weather continued in Leningrad; there were no air raids or battle alarms. Everything existed and functioned as usual. At least, it seemed that way to me, when I saw the open shops and the nearest Mytninsky market, the sellers of ice cream and aerated waters, and the working communal bath house and cinema. Of course, my mother and I knew that many schools, including my own, had sent (evacuated) their pupils from Leningrad to somewhere inland. But how could my mother let me go away with unknown people and remain alone? Who could look after her child better than she herself? Why should she have sent me away when nothing appeared to have changed? After my father left, we did not buy newspapers, nor did we 357

have a telephone. Our immediate neighbors (the nine families in the apartment) were disassociated, so the only news we got was by means of radio, which consisted of a black plate hanging in the corner of our room. Because of our poverty, we had no food stored in the house. Our two food cards (one for a dependent, one for a child), issued in July allowed us to barely sustain ourselves. Fortunately, we had gotten used to living sparsely before the war. We had some relatives in Leningrad. On my mothers side, they were her two unmarried sisters and her mother. Sister Zina, 43 years old, was a skilled registered nurse at the Military Medical Academy, but got less than moderate wages. The money was hardly enough to maintain her paralyzed sister Faina, three years younger, and the old mother Enta, my grandmother. They occupied a small semi-basement room on the 8th Lane of Vasiljevsky Island. Aunt Zina was unable to have a social life, having so beggarly of a salary and endless worries about Faina and Enta. She could not be evacuated with two disabled family members from Leningrad, even though such an opportunity was not even offered to all civil collaborates of the Military Academy. By the beginning of December in 1941, both Grandma Enta and Aunt Faina had passed away due to hunger and freezing cold and were buried in the fraternal grave of the Jewish Cemetery. Aunt Zina remained alone forever. Another of my relatives (from my fathers side), Aunt Sarah, lived with her husband, Uncle Boris, in a prestigious house at the Admiralty Embankment. This horseshoe-shaped house bends around the Alexander Garden and the historical building of the Admiralty whose golden needle directs to the vista of Nevsky Avenue. They had a magnificent view; the windows of their flat look to the Neva River, the Senate Square and the rising horse of Peter the Great. 358

Both this aunt and uncle fortunately survived the blockade, most likely due to two circumstances: first, they had decent provisions (sugar, groats, cans of stewed beef) and second, they lived close to the waters of the Neva (in winter, close to an opening cut in the ice of the river). Such proximity to water that was suitable for both drinking and washing was no less valuable than bread. Many people fell dead every day while making expeditions of many miles through frost and snowstorms to fetch a few small cans of water. Only few had large milk cans that could be fastened to a sled and pulled. In June and July, maybe once a week, my mother and I got out to Vasilievsky Island to see Aunt Zina and her sick household. Aunt Sara was visited by us only one or two times; we looked and felt very pitiful there. In July, the air raids had already begun; up to ten alarms sounded daily. By the end of the month, the heavens above the central part of the city became black and red: the Badaevsky Depots, where the main foods (flour, meal, oil and sugar) were kept were attacked and began to burn. These gigantic wooden depots were located comparatively near Old-Nevsky Avenue, and several times I had tried to sneak in there to steal something. These were naive attempts: the burning depots were surrounded by several rows of soldiers and firemen. There was terrible heat; many sirens hooted loudly and the air was impregnated with the rather sweet stench of burnt sugar. Both in and outside of the Depot buildings, frequent explosions were heard as a result of the permanent air raids by the German planes. I dont think the Germans wanted to destroy Leningrad completely or level the beautiful city to the ground, but decided to preserve it for themselves. Therefore, they bombed it, as a rule, with only fire bombs to cause panic and fires. In every building, amateur fire brigades were organized, consisting of 12-15-year-old boys. Fellows of 16-17 were mobilized to dig 359

trenches. Youths of 18 and older were immediately called up to join the Red Army. Our fire brigade consisted of about 15 boys, and my Jewish nationality did not bother them. A military person gathered us, led us to the garret of our 5-story house and explained how we could extinguish a fire bomb when it pierced through the roof, exploded and made a fire on the garret. Although our house was made of stone, its garret floors were wooden. The bombs were filled with phosphorus and burnt well, showering sparks from the fiery center as though they were holiday fireworks. Every such spark set on fire a rafter or a beam. The temperature of the fire reached 1000 degrees Celsius and more; it was very hot, but almost not frightening. There were some large tubs with stale water in the garret. One of the boys once got a bomb with large special tongs and threw it in the water. The effect was not what he had intended. He had forgotten that the bombs could only be put out in one way: sand had to be thrown onto them to stop the intake of oxygen, and water only intensified the fires effect. Our brigade was divided into three shifts, and each duty lasted for eight hours. Nevertheless, the most unpleasant thing was that the store of sand, which had been supplied by somebody, rather soon came to an end. We agreed that each shift before ending his duty and going away had to bring sand from the yard and refill the boxes with it. Lifting and carrying the heavy barrows was difficult. On each trip, we were able to carry only a little, and the operation took two extra hours for the off-duty shift. We considered our work as though it were a game. It often happened that during the entire day, no bomb fell down on our garret. When one did fall (which occurred with increasing 360

frequency), we threw upon it several spades of sand to stop the burning. Once, I was going upstairs to the garret while the air raid was in full swing. The stairs were vibrating, the planes were roaring loudly, the sirens were wailing, and antiaircraft guns were persistently cracking. Upstairs, I saw four boys stooping over a fifth one. He lay in the garrets dust, face up. The upper part of his head had been sliced off, his eyes were wide open... It was the first death that I had seen with my own eyes. Later, in the winter, going for bread or water, we often ran against persons fallen asleep on the ground and lightly covered by the snow. Sometimes they were without fur caps, felt boots or shawls. These facts did not call forth any reaction; perhaps we had become hardened and too acquainted with death... The winter of 1941-42 came suddenly and very early. It seemed to me as though everything grew numb and sank. Nobody knows how or where my mother got the tiny stove she brought home one day. We placed it close to the window so that the shaft could reach the ventilation plane. The red-hot shaft first began to char the piece of veneer attached to the windowpane. We then replaced it with a tin plate. Our permanent trouble was obtaining fuel. Step by step, we set on fire everything that could be burned: the dining table, bookshelf, bureau, chairs, and even a few books. In the yard of our building stood long two-storied wooden sheds where all kinds of lumber was kept. We possessed one small compartment of the sheds. With no small amount of effort, we broke it and set it on fire as well. We moved and slept wearing sweaters, coats and fur caps; our felt boots were taken off only at night. We conserved our fuel as best we could and only lit the stove once a day for one hour. We got water relatively easily: there were only about two 361

kilometers between our home and the Neva River in the region of the Alexandra-Nevsky Abbey. It took us an hour to reach there and about two hours to come back and bring water in three small pans and one small can. The water did not spill out because it quickly became covered with a thin film of ice. It was enough for two or three days if we skimped at washing. The real problem was that lice overcame us. We reacted in the same manner as other families: every day, stooping at the match-wood or at the smoky lamp, we cleaned the seams of our shirts and then hung them out the window to freeze. Our heads were combed out several times a day for a long time. There had been no electricity since November. Since all the windows were tightly curtained by old blankets for the warmth and blackout, people used candles for half an hour (or an hour if they had them). Mainly, the match-woods (wooden candles) and smoky lamps were in use. The petroleum supply ran out very soon and we began to make a stock of match-woods. Our knives were very blunt and our skill was nearly nonexistent, but to prepare a good and long-lasting match-wood was a real art. Some time later, in the childrens homes of Kostroma and Yaroslavl, I showed myself to be a great master both in the struggle against lice and in the preparation of very thin and evenly burning match-woods which we set on fire at night in secret from our tutors. The main thing was bread. There are many who think that so distinguished a ration of 125 grams a day was distributed during all 900 days of the blockade, but that is far from the truth. After the Badaevsky Depots were lost and while the blockades ring was tightening, rations of food were reduced step by step, both by volume and selection. First, stewed meat was cut, and then one after another, butter, oil, sugar, grains, and at last, bread. In reality, during two long months, 362

from December of 41 to February of 42, we had nothing except a small piece of bread that was more like a lump of clay. Maybe that is the reason why the magic 125 grams became the blockades symbol, squeezing our throats even now, 55 years later... At the end of December, on the eve of the New Year, my mother and I decided to call on our Aunt Zina. We went out in the morning, having been bound with shawls above our coats. We reached her at daytime and for a long time, knocked at the iced window from the yard. We hardly recognized Aunt Zina: she had become, and was dressed in some unimaginably loose garment and shawls; her eyes could not be seen at all. At that time, she was already living alone and did not want to tell us how Aunt Faina and grandma had died; she did not cry, but her eyes were constantly wet. Then from the dresser, she took out a tiny pan and a soup plate. There was porridge of lentils in the pan! There was jelly from joiner glue on the plane! It was her royal gift to us, her two still-living relatives, her sister and nephew. If 125 grams is our general symbol, grains of lentils are my own symbol forever; they express by themselves all the happiness and joy of food... It was the last time Aunt Zina would see my mother, but I returned to Leningrad to visit her after war ended in 1945. After that remarkable December day, my mother and I did not leave our home at all, except for bread and water. We walked only together, afraid that we would fall and not be able to stand up again. At the end of February, my mother became so weak that she had no strength to go out and could only lie and wait for me to come home. Unexpectedly, it was announced that the bread ration in March for invalids and children would be increased to 250 grams. I brought the ration cards and tried to explain to my mother, who was already bedridden, how great this increase was. She smiled weakly 363

and spoke in a low voice, soothing me... On March 8th of 1942, she did not awaken at all. There were special brigades that made rounds to pick up dead persons. My mother was taken way the next day, and her final resting place then became the Piskarjevsky cemetery in a large grave labeled March 1942. I was then left alone, needed by nobody. For the rest of March, my mother supported me from a Better World; I was able to use her ration card for myself. As of march, I was back to one card only. On the last day of March, I made my last trip to see Aunt Zina. She was alive, but lying down all the time, having been weakened and made indifferent to everything. She advised me to call my Aunt Sarah and Uncle Boris and to stay with them if they should welcome me. On the first day of April, I did just that. They had two children. Their daughter, my cousin Dusya had been evacuated to the city of Engels on the Volga River (her husband, a military pilot, was in the Red Army). The younger son, Nona, was a sophomore at the Academy of Arts. He was a favorite student of Academician Dr. Uoon and had a promising future ahead of him. In July of 1941, being 19, he joined the Peoples Armed Volunteer Force and was lost in the Leningrad sphere. He remained an open wound in the minds of his parents for the rest of their lives. In those longgone days of April of 42, they hoped, no, simply believed that Nona was alive, maybe wounded, but that he would return home for certain... And then there was a knock at the door! But instead of the long expected son, it was I, a pitiful wrapped, small skeleton who asked to be a hanger-on and for warmth of their home-fortress. Uncle Boris was angered by my unexpected 364

appearance. He had been disturbed for a long time by the untidiness of my trump father, who throughout all his life, hovered in the air and could not keep his family secure, and had at last abandoned them altogether. In addition, my mother was looked upon poorly: she had not sent me out from Leningrad in time, was lost herself, and left me to the mercy of fate! Aunt Sarah, having never had the right to speak up, was silent and only sobbed quietly while looking at him. After a rather long and unpleasant scene, I was allowed to stay with them. Their apartment consisted of two not large, but cozy rooms, a small kitchen and comparatively spacious anteroom. Its ceiling was very high, so an entresol was arranged in the anteroom over the ceiling. It had no doors, but was rather roomy: no less than 2x2 meters. I could sit in it with some difficulty, but it was very pleasant to lie there in the shadow. I was accommodated in it after all of Nonas canvases and oil paints had been taken away. The hosts decision was wise: in what other place could they put a dirty and lousy nephew who had come like a bolt from the blue? And it was stipulated: I would have to return to my room at Old-Nevsky Avenue as soon as Nona came home. Alas, it happened much sooner: in three days after I arrived. On the first night, I found small doors in the wall behind my head; they were closed with an improper padlock. When everything became calm, I quietly opened the doors and groped for the two bags of fabric inside in the dark. One of them had sharp sides. With difficulty, I got it from the shelf and untied the tape. There was real treasure inside: maybe two or more kilograms of lump sugar! It was possible to drink a whole glass of tea with a tiny chip of that sugar. After WWII, such sugar and sugar-tongs for it were still made, but the sugar cubes of today are good for nothing: their pieces instantly melt in the mouth from the first draught of water, destroying 365

the very idea of unsweetened tea with small bites of sugar. That whole night, I enjoyed my first piece of sugar. It was firm as stone, so I had to suck it. When I tried to bite a little, I felt something salty in my mouth: my weak gums bled. In addition, it was dangerous to crunch too loudly. I nursed that piece until daybreak, but soon noticed a large pink spot on my pillow: a mixture of blood and saliva. It could betray me completely! I turned over the telltale pillow in the hope that nobody would notice my theft. All day long, I walked about the flat nervously, not being myself and trembling with fear, but it did not matter. I eagerly awaited the night with impatience to repeat everything. On the second and third nights, I tried to choose the smaller pieces and sucked them too, lying on my back so that the spittle did not flow too much. Unfortunately, after the third night, my theft was discovered. Uncle Boris climbed up to get some provisions and found the badly tied bag of sugar, and in addition, the direct evidence of my offense: there were sharp crumbs of sugar on the blanket I slept on, as well as a bloody pillowcase. My uncle cried out very loudly and called me a base pilferer who had no rights, not only to be among respectable people, but to be alive in general. He did not beat me, but continued to scold and rave both about m e and my papa who had developed such a son as I. At that time, my father was still alive, serving in the war (Uncle Boris had an exemption from the army), and was killed in 1943, never having found out about my disgrace. As Aunt Sarah remained sorrowfully silent, Uncle Boris ordered me to get out of his home, which I did, taking my bread ration card with me. Coming back to this sad history 60 years afterwards, I cannot accuse Uncle Boris of cruelty; it was I who violated the Biblical commandment of Thou shalt not steal. 366

After coming home, I felt well for several days, but then fell into a stupor. With great difficulty, I stood up to get water and bread; I slept a lot and stopped cleaning the seams of my shirts and combing out lice. I dont know how much time passed, but I remember that one day, I jumped from my bed and opened the door on which somebody was knocking loudly... I recovered on a narrow berth in the large hall of the Alexando-Nevsky Abbey, which was filled with beds. It was a special reception area; the soldiers had been bringing in the remaining living children from the devastated and desolate rooms and apartments. Here my life was saved: I was shaved, washed, and laid down on a clean white sheet. Twice daily, we were even given soup. Very often in the early morning, their heads covered by sheets were carried out on the handbarrows. Newcomers immediately occupied the vacant beds. Suddenly there were rumors among us that we were being prepared for evacuation to the Great Land, out of Leningrad. Day after day, the loading of the lorry would start. But on those days, as if on purpose, a severe bloody diarrhea overtook me. I became frightened that I would not recover, that I would die and be carried out, covered by a sheet over my head. Therefore, during the medical rounds, I said nothing of my illness. Over several days, at the very end of April of 1942, a special commission made the last inspection and selection. I endured the brutal colic in my belly with great difficulty. The pictures of our trip across the Icy Life Track of Ladoga Lake are burned into my mind. It was rather warm, the spring sun was brightly shining; the long strings of lorries slowly crept in the water that covered the melting ice. We moved in the daytime, but not at night: we could not waste time because at any hour, the drifting of ice could begin. As we would find out later, our column of Lorries was the last; on the next day, our air force began to explode and break up 367

the ice, preparing the fairway for our propelling barges, boats and cutters. The passage was very dangerous. We were bombed by the Germans three times a day during our travel. Our anti-aircraft guns were located at both sides of our ice track. As each raid started, the dreadful howl of the attacking aircraft resounded and the rumbles of the bombs explosions roared so loudly that the barking of our anti-aircraft guns could hardly be heard. When the first bombing started, our column stopped and a nurse sitting with us ordered all the children to leave the lorry and lie under it on the snow mixed with water. I became utterly weak; the sideboard of our lorry was too high for me, so I remained inside and drooped down on the floor from the bench. Suddenly, a powerful explosion thundered ahead. I raised my head and saw that the empty lorry in front of ours began too sink slowly into the icy water, together with the children hiding under it. Having completed their bombing, the Germans flew away, and a deafening silence descended on the lake. A military person came running crying out orders: while the raid was on, we would have to leave the lorries, run off as far as possible from them, and lie quietly in the icy porridge until the bombing ended. The second time I acted in this manner, but the last time I had no strength to leave the lorry because of an attack of diarrhea and shivering due to my wet clothes. There were no bombings at night, and finally, we happily reached land. At the first railway station, we were loaded onto cargo carriages, and after a very long time, we reached the city of Kostroma; many dead bodies were unloaded at the small stations. In Kostroma, for half a year, I became an inpatient at the local hospital, suffering from severe forms of dystrophy and dysentery. From there, I was transferred to an orphanage 368

in the city of Jaroslavl and made numerous working trips with the concert brigade to the military hospitals of the region. I finally returned to Leningrad in the summer of 1945 after the war had ended. I studied at the Evening Adult School and Higher Marine Academy, worked in the East Coast of the Arctic Zone, completed a postgraduate course, and for about 40 years, taught in the Murmansk Higher Marine Academy as a Professor of Navigation. At last, only a few years ago, we had to relocate and move after out children and grandchildren on other shores. But those stories are different ones, for another time... Those who saved me from death and brought me back to life in those years are no longer alive. My father who served the war for me and instead of me, my mother who gave to me from the Better World her slice of bread, doctors and nurses of the receptions and hospitals, teachers and governors of the kinder homes and schools... Its thanks to them that I have remained alive; thanks to them my children and grandchildren were born in this world, and, God willing, that my small branch will ever blossom and continue on in the endless chain of generations. In January of 1999, the 55 th anniversary of the full raising of the blockade of Leningrad took place. In the city of Murmansk, where I was at that time, the All-Russian Association of Defenders and Residents of the Leningrad blockade had arranged an anniversary party. At 27 tables, old gray-haired men were gathered; they did not need any speeches, and none were spoken. When everything was settled, soft commands were sounded: To diminish the lights! To light two candles at the ends of each table! To fill up our wine glasses with vodka! 369

To hold up something that everybody had covered with a napkin: 125-gram pieces of bread baked specially to mark those memorable days. The Leningrad Institute of Nutrition, according the saved blockades recipe (20% flour, 30% oilcake, 20% sawdust and the rest a mystery) had prepared this bread and sent it to us as a gift. We silently stood by the candles with our bread and vodka. The last command was to toast: For the dead and living people of Leningrad! Then the lights were switched on, but for a short time, we could not return to our senses from the shock. Then we began to feel at east and free, as is natural among people with the same fate. Many of the former front line soldiers and blockade residents, just as I, have appeared in this blessed land for different reasons. There is a shelter above our heads, there are no problems with food, and somehow or other, our children and grandchildren have found their places in this new world. And only we, the old men of 70-80, are wasting away, having no strength to forget our bitter suffering homeland and all that we have endured. And nobody can express it better than our poet Mayakovsky: You can forget when and where Your belly was full of bread, But the places you died from starvation Are impossible to forget! It happened only yesterday...

Its you, Chukotka! Chukotka, its you, Chukotka, Waving at me through the window With your snow-white handkerchiefs. From a 1960s song In May of 1953, I graduated from the naval academy in Leningrad and my wife Alya received her diploma from the 1st Medical Institute. Because of my nationality, my application for the Ph.D program was declined. We decided to move to Pevek. In 1953, we left Leningrad by train and traveled to Arkhangelsk. There, we began a long flight to Pevek. Alyas close relatives and my aunt Zina saw us off. My wifes uncle Hema brought us a large box of chocolates. During our stay in Pevek, we kept this box even when the candies were long gone. It decorated our small room and held our documents, money and letters. We traveled with Alik K. He would return when the ocean froze over and ships would no longer be able to travel. During our trip, I thought about my life. I was 24 years old, and had a beautiful wife who I loved very much. The old train crawled slowly. Only on the second day did we at last arrive at Arkhangelsk. After a few days, we boarded a small cargo plane and continued our journey; commercial flights did not exist yet. The flight made many stops along the way to unload and pick up cargo. It took several days for us to reach our destination. As soon as we left the plane, we were attacked by a swarm of insects a common occurrence in that place. By the time we 371

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reached our new home, we were covered in bites and stings. It was still bright out, despite the late hour. The temperature was a mild 25C (about 77F). We decided to go swimming in the infamous Kolyma River. A small village called Kresty (Crosses) was built on the shore of the Kolyma. Before us, the river seemed to be an ocean, spanning the horizon. Alya and I entered the warm water. After swimming 15-20 meters, I turned back and returned to the shore. I was not yet aware of the capabilities of my wife. Looking out at the river, I saw her swimming in the distance until she disappeared from view entirely. I thought she had drowned. I then spent 20 minutes running along the shore and calling for her, not leaving to call for help. Suddenly, I saw a small dot appear on the horizon. In another half hour, without a shadow of a doubt, there she was, standing next to me on the shore. The rest of our trip from Kresty to Pevek was made on an old hydroplane named Catalina, given to us by America through Lend-Lease during the war. The small village was surrounded by barbed wire fences, since many criminals and enemies of the soviet regime were detained there. There was a meteorological observatory constantly measuring the temperature, wind, air pressure, humidity, etc. This important job made it possible for aircraft and ships to navigate the surrounding areas. The main task of our hydro-base was measuring the depth of the East Siberian Sea. In the summer (which lasted for up to two months), depth measuring was done aboard an old hydrograpy ship called Lot. The hydro-base crew left buoys when navigation began and removed them when it was finished. They also built and 372

operated small lighthouses. In early spring, they distributed gas tanks to lighthouses. In the winter, they made necessary repairs and wrote reports. I went out on the ocean the morning after arriving. When I returned in two and a half months, my wife was head of the regional hospital. The entire hospital consisted of two doctors, several nurses, janitors and a maintenance worker (a former prisoner). The maintenance worker pilfered codeine, but was otherwise a good guy. On May 9th of 1954, Alya bore a son. We named him Gena. I first saw him upon my return to the shore, when he was already 4 months old. After three and a half years, my pregnant wife and I returned to Leningrad with our son and a fair amount of money.

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Leonid Yalomkovich
In June of 1941, the 14 year-old Leonid who had always dreamed of being a pilot was accepted at a military air school. The war crushed all of his dreams. The school evacuated to the east, taking with it only its upperclassmen. Leonid and his family, after many troubles, were evacuated near the Voronezsh-Stalingrad region border. They did whatever work they could. After a short training, Leonid became a tractor driver. In the fall and winter, he walked 8 kilometers to and from school. At sixteen, he asked to join the pilots, but was deemed more suitable for a land unit. The training was arduous and done in an empty field. He was always hungry. In the spring of 1944, Leonid was sent to the Saratov border academy. Conditions were good. After two and a half years, Leonid, then a young officer, graduated with honors and got permission to continue serving in his hometown. There, he completed his primary education and attended the University of Kiev. In the spring of 1948, Leonid was sent to a regiment in the Volyn and Lviv regions where he took part in battles against the fascist guerrillas in Ukraine. This was a continuation of the war. Along with the rest of his regiment, Leonid received an Order of the Great Patriotic War. One year later, Leonid was sent back to Kiev. He continued attending the University and tried unsuccessfully to join a 374

military academy. Instead, he was sent off to the Far East. Without a special military education, Leonid saw no reason to continue working in the army. However, he was not allowed to retire. He was finally allowed to retire, but on the condition that he remained in the Far East afterward. He immigrated to the United States of America. In 2004, he was elected president of the Russian-American Legion. After two years, he was re-elected for a second term. Thanks to his initiative and great efforts, a book of memoirs of veterans of the legion was published.

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Kim Zbarskiy
1925 2008 I was born on March 12th of 1925 in Berdychiv, Ukraine. Before October of 1941, I lived in the city of Mariupol. When the war began, my father was drafted. My classmates and I dug anti-tank trenches on the western border of

shot at us. I could hear bullets flying past my ears. We ran this way until the sun had set. My mother and I located discarded bread crusts on the shore and ate them hungrily, grateful for the food. At last, we reached a farm and fell asleep in a tractor shed. We shivered all night, from both fear and cold. The following day, we reached Rostov-on-Don, which was already making preparations to combat the oncoming German attack. From my fathers letters, we knew that his regiment was stationed near Rostov-on-Don and looked for him. We found him and I was able to join his regiment as a junior recruit. My mother was evacuated to the Stavropol region. At sixteen years old, I was accepted as a Son of the Regiment of my fathers regiment of mine specialists that would later liberate the city. We built temporary bridges for the army while under constant enemy fire and bombardment. I worked various odd jobs and helped in the construction of the bridges. We drove piles into the ground while standing in the freezing shallow water. I fell through the ice once, but caught a nearby plant and was rescued by a comrade. He carried me to a nearby farmers house where I was able to warm up and dry my clothing. I never caught any illnesses during my time in the army. I was charmed by military life, but my heart grew hardened with every burial of a comrade. I spent five months with that regiment from October through February when it was disbanded and the soldiers were all sent to other groups. In January of 1942, my mother was killed in a train accident. In March, my father was discharged due to his health. We traveled to the city my mother was earlier evacuated to. Once the Germans approached Stavropol, we were evacuated to Derbent. In 1943, I was drafted and sent to guard the border. I served in Caucasus until 1945 when I was transferred to 377

Mariupol.

On the 8th of October, Germans bombed the city. Following that, silence. An evacuation was soon ordered. My mother and I lived close to city hall. My uncle Peter Liht who worked there, ran to warn us of the German invasion of the city and told us to run away if we were able to. From us, he ran back to his own family. However, I was informed after the war was over that he was shot on that very same day. I decided that we should run in the direction of the Kalmius River on the eastern side of the city and attempt to cross the ruined bridge to the Azovstal steel manufacturing combine. From there, we would run to Rostov-on-Don. I grabbed my frightened mothers arm and made a run for it. We stopped at every block to make sure there were no Germans in our path before proceeding. In one area, I spotted Germans on motorcycles headed toward the bridge to Rostov-on-Don. Near the river, we ran into another group of refugees and joined with them. After reaching the opposite shore, we made our way through the tall reed toward the Sea of Azov. The Germans 376

Lithuania. From 1945 through 1952, I engaged in combat with nationalist bandits in the area called the Forest Brothers. Only after the war did I find out that the Germans committed a mass-execution of Mariupols entire Jewish populace near those very trenches I dug. Somewhere around 10,000 people were executed. I learned this from a classmate named Boris who managed to crawl, wounded, out of the mass-grave. I was awarded a second degree Order of the Great Patriotic War, a medal For the Defense of the Caucasus and others.

Eva Zborovskaya
I was born in Odessa in 1927. When I was only three years old, my family moved to Leningrad where I then lived until 1995. When the war began, I had just graduated from the 7th grade. My brothers were called to the front right away and my father died from hunger in 1942. My mother and I remained in Leningrad, hungry, under constant bombardment, and devoid of light and warmth. We broke down furniture and burned it when it became so cold that a glass of water on the table froze over. As a result of the freezing weather and the scurvy I developed from undernourishment, my stockings would stick to my skin. Hot water was then required to remove them, but we had no such luxury. For water, we would go to the Neva River with buckets and wait in a line to access the hole that was cut in the ice. During the bombardments, people guarded the gates wearing gas masks. After the bombardments, the hot remains of the bombs were covered with sand. Conditions improved with the arrival of spring: it became warmer and grass began to grow. Lacking better alternatives, we boiled the grass into a sort of soup. The food rations given out were minuscule. In autumn of 1942, the Road of Life was used and both

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my mother and I, nearly dying from the poor conditions, were taken across it to Kirovsky. There, I was able to complete my education in 1945. When the war ended, we returned to Leningrad and I was accepted at the Leningrad Institute of Medicine which I graduated from in 1950. I worked as a doctor and from 1967 to 1982 even helped educate young paramedics on first aid procedures. I have a husband and two daughters. In 1995, our entire family immigrated to the United States of America.

Boris Zuckerman
1920 2007 I was born in 1920 in the city of Lvov. My father was a physician who worked at the local sugar plant. In 1921, our family moved to Moscow and my father died when I was nine years old. In 1940, after graduating from high school, I enrolled in Moscow University. In 1942, I was drafted into the army. After a brief training, we students of an Infantry School were commanded to the front line. My participation in the war began with the 227th Guard Regiment of the 8th Guard Army under the famous General Chuykov. An ordinary soldier, I fought as a tank-landing trooper in the battles near the cities of Belgorod. I was severely injured during an attack in August of 1943. After a prolonged treatment in several hospitals, I was dismissed from military service as a disabled veteran. I returned to Moscow University. After graduation, I worked at the Moscow Institute of Surgery for 40 years. I invented a method of treating cardiac arrhythmia by using electric impulses; it was the topic of my Doctorate. In 1989, our daughter immigrated to the United States because she was experiencing many difficulties in her medical career in the former Soviet Union. My wife and I have been in the United States since 1995. We are very grateful for the opportunity to live in America.

380

My brother Ariel Zuckerman, a man of many talents, spent 381

the wartime as a communicator in a tank brigade. He was extremely courageous and was admired by his comrades. He was injured six times. After the last injury in the battle for Knigsberg, Ariel became disabled because of his broken spine. Nevertheless, he found the strength to work hard and became an outstanding scientist. In 1995, Ariel Zuckerman was elected into the New York Academy of Sciences. Today is the last day of 1998. I sit at my personal computer in the city of Palo Alto, California, writing the memoirs of events that happened fifty five years ago. Why? God only knows. My younger brother, Ariel Alik all throughout the war worked as a signaler in a tank brigade. These troublesome times dictated to him the verses that serve as such a perfect reflection of those times that I feel obliged to quote them below. Here they are:

And if you die in battle, Your sacrifice has worth To family and those you love Will go your just reward. Refrain: Ahoy, my friends, I want to shout how much I love this life! But in our tank brigade, our boys dont cry! 2. Red rocket soaring to the sky Blue smoke obscures our sight We shout and run, we run and shoot At muted bursts of light. The ground explodes beneath our feet Dirt lingers in the skies The truck burst apart Like teeth in a fight And its gone, like fairy dust. The one to the right Won the lottery shot The crew went out Like a candles smoke. Refrain: Ahoy, my friends, I want to shout how much I love this life! But in our tank brigade, our boys dont cry! 3. There is no guarantee That a bullet wont find us, There is no one to give us Insurance to life. But through all of our trials These two words will guide us:

(exerpt translated by Alina Ayvazian)

Tank Crew Dont Cry

1. Attack was called, arms on the ready We have no time to lose. But for a moment we sat down, Inhaled the noxious booze. Go fight, my friends! Our leader called, For Motherland, For Stalin and one more goal we never saw: the life of milk and honey. Our somber, firm Commander Delineates our goals: You are to do what you are told, The rest is none but smoke. 382

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Soldiers conscience and honor Is our true fight. Refrain: Ahoy, my friends, I want to shout how much I love this life! But in our tank brigade, our boys dont cry!

Their Memory Will Live in in Our Hearts

Aizenshtein, Joseph and Eva Arbatman, Manya Arbatman, Nuta Balon, Lazar Bankin, Alexander Bankina, Roza Biberman, Mikhail Braynin, Nathan Brauer, Samuel Donde, Sofia Dyskin, Anatoliy Farber, Isaac Finkelstein, Lev Fishman, Samuel Fradkin, Mikhail Fukshanskiy, Israel Galburt, Aleksandr Glayzer, Josef Gorenshtayn, Genya Gofshtein, Avram Golubovskiy, George Grobman, David Gurfinkel, Jacob Gutkovich, Meer Gutman, Bella 384

1901 1973 1917 1987 1931 2005 1922 2004 1908 2006 1916 2005 1917 1999 1911 2001 1917 2004 1925 2001 1912 2003 1926 2005 1923 2006 1925 2006 1918 2006 1918 2009 1908 1998 1925 2008 1922 2006 1918 2000 1924 2003 1919 2009 1922 2008 1912 2006 1924 1998 1914 2008 385

Kazcov, Paul Kashis, Mikhail Kheyfiz, Mikhail Khidekel, Boris Klistorniy, Mikhail Korovskiy, Shlyoma Ksendzovskiy, Viktor Landa, Feyga Leonova, Eugenia Levinson, Leonid Limanov, Michael Lyubimova, Shifra Mandel, Samuel Markovich, Michael Maryanchik, Avraam Meerson, Semeon Melikov-Price, Nikolai Minz, Efroim Mirskiy, Veniamin Nikulina, Judith Novik, Lea Oleynik, Eugene Paverman, Ruvim Pesochinskiy, Isaac Polisher, Felix Portnov, Petr Povzgitkov, Ilya Prunis, Moses Rabiner, Peter Rabinovich, Eliazar Raykhman, Jacob

1917 2001 1921 2001 1923 2003 1923 1983 1926 2005 1919 2010 1924 2008 1922 2001 1917 2006 1925 2008 1913 2003 1923 2009 1911 2002 1925 2006 1907 2001 1919 2000 1920 2009 1908 1965 1911 2000 1913 2008 1905 2004 1923 2008 1920 2006 1912 2005 1012 2005 1929 2009 1909 1993 1903 2002 1920 2005 1898 2002 1926 2005

Shapiro, Boris Sheinker, Semeon Shitova, Kira Shushkevich, Anna Skvirskiy, Lev Smolyanickiy, Mark Steymatskaya, Anna Sterinzat, Maya Tverskaya, Alexandra Tomusheva, Klavdiya Upcher, Mina Ushomirsky, Simon Vatkovskiy, Moses Vaysfeld,Vladimir Veksler, Moses Velter, Rachel Verkhovskiy, Salomon Volfovskiy, Avram Zbarskiy, Kim Zelinger, Anatoliy Zenter, Khaim Zuckerman, Boris Zvonkin, David

1918 2010 1916 2004 1918 2010 1913 1996 1916 2001 1924 2004 1920 2002 1927 2003 1922 2005 1921 1997 1923 2006 1917 2008 1917 2005 1920 2003 1921 2006 1914 2007 1909 2003 1920 2009 1925 2008 1920 1998 1914 2002 1920 2007 1915 2000

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Table of Contents
Foreword..................................................... Laters of Gratitude..................................... The Veterans Life in Pictures Honorary Members of Palo Alto Association WWII Veterans....................... Veterans of the War, poem by Pat Swendsen.............................. Abelev, Yevsey................... Aizenberg, Vitaliy...................................... Aizenshtein, Joseph and Eva.................. Arbatman, Manya............... Arbatman, Nuta.............. Averbach, Faina................. Avrutin, Mikhail................ Bagotsky, Vladimir................ Balon, Lazar.............. Basin, Boris................ Basyuk, Antonina............... Batratsky, Alexander.................. Beilina, Faina................. Belostotsky, Leonid............... Berger, Joseph................ Borukhov, Semyon..................................... Braverman, Bronya................ Chehanovskaya, Ruzhena.................. Chireshkin, David.................. Dyskin, Anatoliy................ 388 5 11 19 59 63 64 67 68 71 72 73 74 82 85 86 87 88 90 91 92 93 98 99 106 107

Fainblit, Moishe.................. Farber, Isaac................... Finkelstein, Lev.............................. Fishman, Samuel..................................... Freedman, Tsalel..................... Fukshanskiy, Israel..................... Galburt, Aleksandr................................. Galyorkin, Boris................................. Gelfand, Vladimir...................... Gendelman, Aron............................... Ginzburg, Lev......................................... Glauberman, Yefim................................. Gofshtein, Avram.................................... Golubovskiy, George............................... Gordon, Vera.......................................... Gork, Zalman..................................... Grach, Leonid................................. Grobman, David..................................... Gurfinkel, Yacov..................................... Gutkina, Berta......................................... Gutman, Abram.................................. Gutman, Bella......................................... Ioffe, Maria......................................... Iofis, Moshe................................................ Ivanova, Galina....................................... Karlik, Lyubov........................................ Kats, Mikhail.......................................... Kats, Raisa................... Khanin, Alexander.................................. Khanukayev, Simon.................................... Khidekel, Boris.......................................

109 110 111 114 115 117 119 121 126 132 136 138 141 143 146 147 154 155 156 157 158 159 162 163 169 171 173 175 181 183 184

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Khidekel, Samuel............................... Khmelnitskiy, Simon.................................. Kibrik, Anatoliy...................................... Kletsko, Berta..................................... Kletsko, Constantine.............................. Korovskiy, Shlyoma............................... Kostyanovskiy, Michael......................... Kruglakovskiy, Lev................................ Ksendzovskiy, Victor.............................. Kurnovskiy, Solomon............................. Kutner, Yuliy...................................... Lemberg, Ilya......................................... Lemberg, Olga................................ Leonova, Eugenia................................... Levinson, Leonid................................ Leznik, Lidya..................................... Leznik, Moses.................................... Limanov, Michael.................................. Lubyanitskiy, Lev.................................. Lyayder, Yuriy................ Lyubimova, Shifra...................................... Malinovker, Dora................................... Markovich, Michael............................... Mednikov, Rafael................................... Melikov-Price, Nikolai........................... Mogiliver, Alexander............................. Nalimova, Rosalea................................. Nedzelsky, Rada..................................... Nepomnyashaya, Natalya.......................... Neyfakh, Vladimir.............................. Nikulina, Judith...................................... 390

185 186 187 189 191 199 200 201 202 204 205 207 210 212 213 215 217 218 219 221 235 253 254 255 256 257 265 266 268 270 271

Novik, Gregory.................................. Oleynik, Eugene................................. Orshanskaya, Khaya.................................. Paverman, Faina......................................... Paverman, Ruvim................................... Pesochinskiy, Isaac................................ Pesochinskiy, Yakov................................... Pesochinskiy, Lazar.................................... Pevzner, Lev........................................... Potnov, Peter.............................................. Putilova, Dina........................................ Rabiner, Peter......................................... Rabinovich, Eliazar............................ Raizman, Simon......................................... Rapoport, Efim........................................... Ratner, Gilya.............................................. Reinblat, Naum........................................... Rossina, Marianna.................................. Rubakhin, Israel..................................... Shapiro, Gregory.................................... Shehtman, Rita....................................... Sheinker, Simon..................................... Shitova, Kira........................................... Shpiller, Ninel......................................... Shpiller, Revecca........................................ Shtargot, Michael....................................... Shtein, Emil............................................ Shulkin, Simon....................................... Shur, Joseph................................................ Shvartsman, Michael.............................. Sigal, Mark.............................................

272 275 278 281 282 283 285 286 288 293 294 295 296 298 301 303 310 311 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 326

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Sinai, Israel............................................. Skvirsky, Lev.......................................... Sokolovskiy, Roman................................... Spitkovskiy, Boris................................... Sverdlova, Mirdza.................................. Teitelbaum, Simon................................. Trebukova, Sima........................................ Ushomirsky, Simon................................. Uvarova-Raush, Olga............................. Vahnyanski, Efim................................... Vaiser, Vladimir..................................... Vaisfeld, Vladimir...................................... Vaistikh, Gregory................................... Vasilyeva, Olga...................................... Veksler, Moses........................................... Vesich, Irena........................................... Volchenok, Ioir....................................... Volfovskiy, Gennadiy............................. Vulfovich, Boris..................................... Yalomkovich, Leonid.............................. Zbarskiy, Kim......................................... Zborovskaya, Eva........................................ Zuckerman, Boris...................................

327 329 331 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 344 345 347 348 349 350 351 356 374 376 379 381

Their Memory Will Live in Our Hearts.............................................. 385 Table of Contents....................................... 388

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