Selected text
For me the war began in September 1941, when we together with Grisha joined a voluntary youth partisan group. The staff of the group was situated near to our house: at the Lesgaft College of Physical Culture (in Decabristov Street).
Our group was sent to the area of forthcoming military actions near Volkhov. On our way there Grisha got seriously ill (running temperature, etc.). I did not want to leave my sick friend to his fate, but the commander of our group did no give me his permit to stay with Grisha. We left him at a roadside station. The commander took away his weapon and even his flask of vodka. Grisha remained there alone, and since then nobody knew anything about him. Later after the end of the war his relatives tried to find Grisha or at least some information about him, but failed. I want my memoirs to become a monument to my lost friend…
Our partisan group was placed in earth-houses near the neutral territory: a large mine-field about 2 or 3 kilometers long. Several times a week a person came to pilot us across that field. We usually reached the highway where German and Finnish transport moved, or the railway. We fired at the German columns in march or put explosive under the railway bed.
In December 1941 our group was sent back to Leningrad. We moved along the Road of Life across the Ladoga Lake [6]. Trucks with evacuating people were coming in the opposite direction. We saw several trucks breaking through ice into the water together with its passengers…
We returned to the besieged city and I found a job at the Baltic factory as an assistant to the mechanic at boiler shop. I went through all horrors of the hungry and cold winter in the besieged Leningrad. In winter water supply was cut off. Bread ration was scanty. We used to divide the ration into 3 pieces, fried them using a small stove, and ate one piece after another during day time. People who could not keep from eating their bread ration at once, often died.
Hard times came in December and January: bread ration became awful (125 gr). We ate everything we could: coffee grounds (we cooked cakes), leather belts (we boiled them), glue (made jelly). Everybody slept dressed. It became very hard to bring rations home from the shop because of the frequent bombardments. I remember that together with our neighbor we went to the shop to change our ration cards for bread and came under bombardment. A bomb exploded near the house where we stood in line. A lot of people were killed.
It was impossible to get anywhere. Municipal transport was in collapse. People walked (if they were still able to walk!).
Dead citizens were buried not in coffins, but sheeted. Their relatives brought them to the cemetery (if they managed) or left them in the street (if they did not). It was possible to see trucks full of dead bodies piled carelessly.
In February I got ill with dystrophy, but was saved by a miracle. It was Mom who saved me: her love, go-go spirit, and quick wit. To save my life, she sold different things, exchanged, bought food. For example, she changed her gold watch for 5 loaves of bread (she made that bargain with a seller at a baker's shop). Our acquaintance, an engineer from the Kirovsky factory brought us linen oil, and took away good woolen suits of my father and my bicycle. [The Leningrad Kirovsky factory (former Putilovsky factory) was one of the largest machine-building and metallurgical enterprises of the USSR.] I’ll never forget mess of linseed cake and jelly made of joiner's glue: at that time I admired its taste.
Our group was sent to the area of forthcoming military actions near Volkhov. On our way there Grisha got seriously ill (running temperature, etc.). I did not want to leave my sick friend to his fate, but the commander of our group did no give me his permit to stay with Grisha. We left him at a roadside station. The commander took away his weapon and even his flask of vodka. Grisha remained there alone, and since then nobody knew anything about him. Later after the end of the war his relatives tried to find Grisha or at least some information about him, but failed. I want my memoirs to become a monument to my lost friend…
Our partisan group was placed in earth-houses near the neutral territory: a large mine-field about 2 or 3 kilometers long. Several times a week a person came to pilot us across that field. We usually reached the highway where German and Finnish transport moved, or the railway. We fired at the German columns in march or put explosive under the railway bed.
In December 1941 our group was sent back to Leningrad. We moved along the Road of Life across the Ladoga Lake [6]. Trucks with evacuating people were coming in the opposite direction. We saw several trucks breaking through ice into the water together with its passengers…
We returned to the besieged city and I found a job at the Baltic factory as an assistant to the mechanic at boiler shop. I went through all horrors of the hungry and cold winter in the besieged Leningrad. In winter water supply was cut off. Bread ration was scanty. We used to divide the ration into 3 pieces, fried them using a small stove, and ate one piece after another during day time. People who could not keep from eating their bread ration at once, often died.
Hard times came in December and January: bread ration became awful (125 gr). We ate everything we could: coffee grounds (we cooked cakes), leather belts (we boiled them), glue (made jelly). Everybody slept dressed. It became very hard to bring rations home from the shop because of the frequent bombardments. I remember that together with our neighbor we went to the shop to change our ration cards for bread and came under bombardment. A bomb exploded near the house where we stood in line. A lot of people were killed.
It was impossible to get anywhere. Municipal transport was in collapse. People walked (if they were still able to walk!).
Dead citizens were buried not in coffins, but sheeted. Their relatives brought them to the cemetery (if they managed) or left them in the street (if they did not). It was possible to see trucks full of dead bodies piled carelessly.
In February I got ill with dystrophy, but was saved by a miracle. It was Mom who saved me: her love, go-go spirit, and quick wit. To save my life, she sold different things, exchanged, bought food. For example, she changed her gold watch for 5 loaves of bread (she made that bargain with a seller at a baker's shop). Our acquaintance, an engineer from the Kirovsky factory brought us linen oil, and took away good woolen suits of my father and my bicycle. [The Leningrad Kirovsky factory (former Putilovsky factory) was one of the largest machine-building and metallurgical enterprises of the USSR.] I’ll never forget mess of linseed cake and jelly made of joiner's glue: at that time I admired its taste.
Period
Year
1941
Location
Leningrad
Russia
Interview
Boris Iofik
Tag(s)