Read Online I Shall Live by Henry Orenstein - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Henry Orenstein
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At last, after prolonged and agonizing discussions, we arrived at a decision. The men in the familyâFather, Sam, Felek, and I (Fred was still in Warsaw, and we had had no contact with him)âwould go to the Russian side. Mother and Hanka would stay home. Men, we thought, would be in much greater danger from the Nazis than women, who might be subjected to fines and indignities but whose lives wouldnât be at risk. Mother and Hanka would be more comfortable at home, where they could look after our property, perhaps even get some income from the shop. As refugees under the Soviets we knew it wouldnât be easy to make ends meet, and we hoped Mother would be able to send us some money. We believed too that, especially in the beginning, it would be possible to cross the border between German-and Soviet-occupied territory. Perhaps we could return home before long, and be with Mother and Hanka again.
With heavy hearts we packed some of our clothing, hugged and kissed Mother and Hanka, got into a waiting horse-drawn wagon we had hired, and waved good-bye as we left on our second journey to WÅodzimierz.
Under the Soviets
We arrived in WÅodzimierz that afternoon and spent the rest of the day looking for a place to stay. We found a small house in which an elderly Jewish couple lived and arranged for room and board with them. We had with us a substantial amount of cash in zÅotys, which were still in circulation along with the new Soviet rubles, and Father had also brought along a few of the gold coins that he had prudently saved for such an emergency. There was only one room with two beds for the four of us, but it was the best we could do for the time being. We unpacked, and soon our landlady called us for dinner.
She was not a very good cook, and I had been spoiled by Mother. I could hardly eat a bite. Not wanting to hurt our hostessâs feelings, I told her that I was too tired to eat. After dinner, Father took me aside and explained that I could not expect to find the comforts of home in our new situation. âYouâre going to have to learn to adjust to a new set of realities,â he told me.
During the next few days we walked around town getting acquainted with WÅbdzimierz. It was a livelier and more civilized place than Hrubieszów, with a large Jewish population of about twelve or thirteen thousand. I was very curious to learn about life in Soviet Russia, and engaged in conversations with Russian soldiers who could speak a little Polish. They were very friendly, but wary of talking about life in the Soviet Union. They gave only the typical, stereotyped answers, and it was obvious that they were afraid to speak openly with a stranger.
Finally I came across a Jewish soldier from Leningrad who at first was unwilling to talk, but after a while he sensed that I could be trusted and he loosened up. He told me that for the time being, Stalin was friendly to the Jews, so things were not too bad. But he warned that Stalin was unpredictable, and there was no telling when his mood would change. He told me how the people in the Soviet Union were scared of the NKVD (now the KGB), and how one had to be constantly on guard. He warned me to be careful whom I spoke to, because one could never tell who might turn out to be an NKVD agent.
Life grew more normal, but there were significant changes. All businesses and farms, except for very small ones, were being nationalized. The NKVD left most people alone as long as they behaved âcorrectlyâ (a favorite word of the authorities), but people learned to be cautious when discussing anything of a remotely political nature. Former officials of the Polish government and people who were considered wealthy were apprehensive about their future in a Socialist-Communist state, but for the time being they were left alone.
The big question in our minds concerned Soviet policy with regard to the hundreds of thousands of refugees from Poland, mostly
At last, after prolonged and agonizing discussions, we arrived at a decision. The men in the familyâFather, Sam, Felek, and I (Fred was still in Warsaw, and we had had no contact with him)âwould go to the Russian side. Mother and Hanka would stay home. Men, we thought, would be in much greater danger from the Nazis than women, who might be subjected to fines and indignities but whose lives wouldnât be at risk. Mother and Hanka would be more comfortable at home, where they could look after our property, perhaps even get some income from the shop. As refugees under the Soviets we knew it wouldnât be easy to make ends meet, and we hoped Mother would be able to send us some money. We believed too that, especially in the beginning, it would be possible to cross the border between German-and Soviet-occupied territory. Perhaps we could return home before long, and be with Mother and Hanka again.
With heavy hearts we packed some of our clothing, hugged and kissed Mother and Hanka, got into a waiting horse-drawn wagon we had hired, and waved good-bye as we left on our second journey to WÅodzimierz.
Under the Soviets
We arrived in WÅodzimierz that afternoon and spent the rest of the day looking for a place to stay. We found a small house in which an elderly Jewish couple lived and arranged for room and board with them. We had with us a substantial amount of cash in zÅotys, which were still in circulation along with the new Soviet rubles, and Father had also brought along a few of the gold coins that he had prudently saved for such an emergency. There was only one room with two beds for the four of us, but it was the best we could do for the time being. We unpacked, and soon our landlady called us for dinner.
She was not a very good cook, and I had been spoiled by Mother. I could hardly eat a bite. Not wanting to hurt our hostessâs feelings, I told her that I was too tired to eat. After dinner, Father took me aside and explained that I could not expect to find the comforts of home in our new situation. âYouâre going to have to learn to adjust to a new set of realities,â he told me.
During the next few days we walked around town getting acquainted with WÅbdzimierz. It was a livelier and more civilized place than Hrubieszów, with a large Jewish population of about twelve or thirteen thousand. I was very curious to learn about life in Soviet Russia, and engaged in conversations with Russian soldiers who could speak a little Polish. They were very friendly, but wary of talking about life in the Soviet Union. They gave only the typical, stereotyped answers, and it was obvious that they were afraid to speak openly with a stranger.
Finally I came across a Jewish soldier from Leningrad who at first was unwilling to talk, but after a while he sensed that I could be trusted and he loosened up. He told me that for the time being, Stalin was friendly to the Jews, so things were not too bad. But he warned that Stalin was unpredictable, and there was no telling when his mood would change. He told me how the people in the Soviet Union were scared of the NKVD (now the KGB), and how one had to be constantly on guard. He warned me to be careful whom I spoke to, because one could never tell who might turn out to be an NKVD agent.
Life grew more normal, but there were significant changes. All businesses and farms, except for very small ones, were being nationalized. The NKVD left most people alone as long as they behaved âcorrectlyâ (a favorite word of the authorities), but people learned to be cautious when discussing anything of a remotely political nature. Former officials of the Polish government and people who were considered wealthy were apprehensive about their future in a Socialist-Communist state, but for the time being they were left alone.
The big question in our minds concerned Soviet policy with regard to the hundreds of thousands of refugees from Poland, mostly
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